sels ᢉ𐭩

…

yuji itadori was not subtle, even when he tried his absolute hardest to be.

it showed in the way his voice would jump half an octave whenever you spoke to him, in how he suddenly forgot what he was doing mid-sentence if you were nearby.

in the deeply unconvincing way he insisted he was “totally normal” while standing just a little too far away from you, as though proximity itself had become something he needed to manage carefully rather than simply exist in.

at some point, it stopped being something he could explain away. it was in everything.

how he always ended up sitting closer than necessary in group settings, how he volunteered for errands that conveniently overlapped with yours, and how his attention snapped to you so quickly it gave him away before anyone even had to say a word. by now, it wasn’t really a secret.

nobara had long since stopped pretending she didn’t notice, often sighing dramatically whenever yuji looked your way, while megumi had settled into a quiet, exhausted acceptance that suggested he had been watching this unfold for far too long already.

even panda had once casually asked if yuji needed “emotional support or something,” which yuji had responded to by nearly tripping over absolutely nothing.

the worst part was that yuji knew. he was painfully aware of it all, just completely unequipped to do anything useful about it.

outside the school building one afternoon, standing with megumi and nobara, he tried anyway to deny it out loud, though it came out more like wishful thinking than conviction. “i’m not obvious… i’m normal,” he muttered, like saying it might make it true.

megumi barely glanced at him. “you stared at her for ten minutes without blinking.”

yuji flinched slightly, then recovered too fast. “i was thinking.”

“about her,” nobara added immediately, not even looking up from where she was standing.

he opened his mouth, closed it again, then tried weaker. “that doesn’t prove anything.”

“you literally light up when she says your name,” nobara continued, now fully invested.

“that’s not- no i don’t,” yuji shot back, though his ears were already going red.

“you do,” megumi said flatly, like he was stating something scientifically verified.

yuji dragged a hand down his face, groaning under his breath. “okay, even if i did… what am i supposed to do about it?”

that made both of them pause for a second, like the answer was so obvious it didn’t deserve discussion. “talk to her,” nobara said.

“like a normal person,” megumi added.

yuji looked genuinely distressed by how simple that sounded, like it was a trick question he was about to fail anyway.

eventually, there was no more room to stall. not because he suddenly became brave, but because he ran out of chances to avoid it.

he found himself outside the classroom door where you were just about to leave, feet planted a little too firmly, like he was afraid moving at all would make him disappear.

when you noticed him, he straightened immediately, expression flickering between determination and panic as he stepped into your space before he could overthink it out of existence.

“i need to tell you something,” he said quickly, voice a little unsteady, like it was already trying to escape him.

you tilted your head slightly, waiting without pushing him.

yuji swallowed, shoulders tightening once before he forced himself to continue. the words came out all at once after that, slightly messy but honest, he liked you, had liked you for a while, had been acting weird about it without meaning to, and was pretty sure everyone else already knew.

he didn’t try to make it sound smooth, just real, like if he stopped talking he might lose the courage entirely. when he finished, he stood there quietly, waiting, tension coiling in his posture as his brain immediately started preparing for the worst possible outcome.

then you laughed.

it was soft, not sharp, more surprised than anything else, like the situation had finally confirmed something you already suspected.

yuji froze instantly, expression tightening as his mind jumped straight to rejection before he could even process the sound properly.

“…you’re laughing,” he said carefully, like saying it out loud might make it worse.

you shook your head slightly, still smiling. “yeah, i know.”

that made him stop completely.

“…you know?”

“you’re not subtle,” you said simply, amused in a way that didn’t feel unkind. “you’ve been like that for weeks.”

the tension in yuji’s shoulders dropped all at once, though it quickly turned into embarrassment settling in deeper, slower. “oh,” he said quietly, staring at you like he was recalculating reality. “so that’s a no?”

the assumption came out automatically, already halfway into retreat.

you reached out then, lightly tapping his arm, grounding him before he could spiral further. “i’m laughing because i already knew,” you said, voice softer now. “not because i’m saying no”

yuji blinked, once, then again, the information clearly taking a moment longer than expected to fully load. “oh.”

the silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore, just a pause while everything caught up. his posture loosened slightly, though he still looked like he didn’t quite trust the situation yet.

“so…” he started carefully, still a little red but steadier now, “would you maybe want to go to the movies sometime?”

you looked at him for a moment, just long enough to make him nervous again, before nodding. “yeah.”

the relief that hit him was immediate and obvious, his shoulders dropping as if he’d been holding his breath for hours without realizing it. “cool,” he said, then corrected himself almost instantly, “cool. i’ll plan it properly. like a normal person.”

you blinked a little, catching on to the way he said it. “what?”

yuji froze for half a second, like his brain had tripped over itself. a faint flush crept up his neck as he quickly shook his head, forcing a small laugh that didn’t quite land. “nothing, uh, never mind,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “forget it.”

you didn’t push it, just watched him with that same knowing look that somehow made him even more aware of how much he was failing at acting normal.

as he finally pulled out his phone to get your number, still visibly flustered but undeniably lighter, it was clear the embarrassment hadn’t disappeared.

it had just shifted into something softer, something warm enough that it didn’t feel like something he needed to escape from anymore.

[requested by @only4sukuna ]

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…

the music is too loud to think, which is exactly why you came.

bass pulses through the walls of the frat house, rattling cheap picture frames and vibrating up through the soles of your shoes, a steady, numbing thrum that drowns out everything else.

the conversations, the laughter, the way your thoughts tend to spiral when given even a second of quiet.

it’s easier this way, tucked into the noise, red cup sweating in your hand as you hover on the edge of someone else’s conversation, smiling at the right moments, nodding like you belong.

across the room, gojo is the center of it all. he always is.

it isn’t just that people gather around him, it’s that they orbit, drawn in by something effortless and blinding, like standing too close to a light you know you shouldn’t look at directly.

he leans back against the counter, head tipped slightly as he laughs at something someone says, one hand loosely wrapped around a girl’s wrist as if he’s known her forever.

his touch looks careless. easy. like it doesn’t mean anything, which it probably doesn’t.

your gaze lingers a second too long, and maybe he feels it, because his eyes flick toward you, just for a moment. recognition sparks, brief and unmistakable, before it disappears just as quickly.

he doesn’t wave. doesn’t call you over. just looks away, already pulled back into the gravity of everyone else. you swallow, forcing your lips into something that resembles a smile, even as something small and sharp settles under your ribs.

it’s fine. it’s always fine.

you turn back to the conversation, but the words start slipping, losing their shape before they reach you. someone says your name, you think, and you nod again, too quickly this time, the smile straining at the edges.

the room feels warmer, tighter, like the air has thickened into something you have to push through.

it shouldn’t matter. he’s just, he’s just gojo, and you’re just- you don’t stay long enough to finish the thought.

the hallway is quieter, the music muffled into a dull, distant rhythm that follows you like a heartbeat you can’t escape.

you don’t know where you’re going, only that you need out, away from the lights, from the people, from the way your chest feels like it’s caving in on itself. the bathroom door barely clicks shut before it hits you.

it starts small, like it always does, a tightness in your throat, a burn behind your eyes you try to blink away.

one shaky breath that turns into another and then another, until you’re gripping the edge of the sink, staring at your reflection as it blurs.

“don’t” you whisper to yourself, like that’s ever worked. “not here.” your voice sounds thinner than you expect.

the first tear slips anyway, carving a warm line down your cheek, and something in you gives way all at once, the careful composure you’ve been holding together all night unraveling faster than you can catch it.

you press the back of your hand to your mouth, trying to muffle it, trying to stay quiet, because the last thing you need is someone walking in, seeing you like this.

the door opens, you freeze.

for a second, neither of you speaks. you don’t even turn fully, just enough to see him in the mirror, tall and unmistakable in the doorway.his white hair catching the dim light as he pauses like he wasn’t expecting to find you here, but not surprised, either.

of course it’s him, it’s always fucking him.

“…hey” gojo says, softer than you’ve ever heard him. you laugh, but it comes out wrong, uneven and wet. “don’t. just… go away.” of course he doesn’t.

the door clicks shut behind him, and you can hear his footsteps as he crosses the small space, unhurried, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

you grip the sink tighter, knuckles whitening, refusing to look at him as he stops just behind you. close enough that you can feel the heat of him, the faint scent of something clean cutting through the stale air.

“you’re gonna ruin your makeup” he murmurs. something in your chest twists. “i don’t care.”

“i know.” there’s a pause, and when you finally glance up, he’s already watching you, really watching.

not the fleeting glance from across the room, but something slower, more intent, like he’s taking in every detail. “you don’t look at anyone like this out there”

you breath catches. “like what?”

“like you’re about to fall apart.”

the words land heavier than they should, settling somewhere deep and uncomfortable.

you shake your head, turning away, but he reaches out before you can move past him, fingers gentle as they tilt your chin back toward him.

you should pull away, but you don’t.

up close, his expression is different, quieter, stripped of the easy amusement he wears around everyone else.

his thumb brushes just beneath your eye, catching a tear before it can fall, and the touch is so careful it almost feels like it means something.

“you’re prettier like this” he says. the breath leaves you in a sharp, disbelieving exhale. “what is wrong with you?”

“nothing.” his voice is light, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “you just stop pretending.”

“i wasn’t-” you cut yourself off, because even you don’t believe that. not really.

silence stretches between you, thick with everything you’re not saying. you can hear the music through the walls again, louder now, like it’s reminding you where you are, what this is, just another party, just another moment that shouldn’t matter.

“you didn’t care before” you say finally, the words slipping out before you can stop them. he tilts his head slightly. “before what?”

“before this.” you gesture vaguely, at your face, your shaking hands, the mess of you. “you saw me. you just, didn’t come over.” something flickers in his expression, quick and unreadable.

“and now you’re here,” you continue, quieter. “funny how that works.”

he doesn’t deny it. instead, he steps closer, close enough that your back presses lightly against the counter, his hand still resting at your jaw like he’s forgotten to move it.

“because this is when you need me,” he says. the words should feel comforting. they don’t.

they settle in your chest like something heavy and wrong, because there’s a difference, a subtle, terrible difference between being needed and being wanted, and you’re starting to realize which one this is.

your throat tightens. “that’s not”

“what?” he interrupts gently. “not true?” you hate that you hesitate.

you hate that your eyes sting again, that your body betrays you so easily, leaning into his touch just slightly, chasing the warmth of it even as your mind screams that you shouldn’t.

“you only come around when i’m like this” you whisper. another pause. longer this time. then, quietly, “yeah.” no apology or excuse, just the truth.

it should be enough to make you step back, to push him away, to finally break whatever this is before it settles into something permanent and impossible to escape.

instead, you let out a shaky breath and close your eyes, and when his hand shifts, sliding from your jaw to cup your cheek more fully, you don’t stop him.

because he’s here now.

because he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters in this moment, like he sees you in a way no one else does, even if it’s only in pieces, even if it only happens when you’re breaking.

because some part of you, the part you try not to listen to, wonders if that’s enough.

his thumb traces the path of another tear, slow and deliberate, and you feel it all the way down to your bones.

“don’t cry too often” he murmurs, almost absentminded. “i might get used to it.” your breath hitches, something fragile and aching splintering under the weight of it, and still, you don’t move.

somewhere, distantly, you think about tomorrow, about the way he’ll laugh again, the way he’ll look through you like he did tonight, like this never happened.

you think about how it will hurt. and how, eventually, it will happen again.

his hand in your hair, his voice soft, his attention yours only when you’re unraveling. you think about all of that, and stay anyway.

because right now, in the quiet space between the music and your uneven breathing, he’s looking at you like this is the only version of you he’s ever wanted.

and you don’t know how to stop wanting that back.

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⌞a.n⌝: i’m trying to get to everyone’s requests but im really busy with exams, i also won’t be posting as much because of that

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જ⁀➴ Satoru Gojo .ᐟ

You and your boyfriend were lying on the ridiculously large and comfortable couch of his living room. You were sat up with your cheek in your hand, elbow propped on the armrest, while Satoru lay down. He was currently using your lap as his pillow— as he so often did. Your hand played with his hair, twirling the tips of it between your fingers. 

You had insisted on putting a romcom on, which he wasn’t too eager about, admittedly. But it wasn’t like he was complaining about it. He simply remained silent, too unbothered to hide his disinterest. 

And frankly? You hated it. You almost wish he’d whine your ear off about your bad taste in movies rather than just being indifferent. Because it made you feel as if he couldn’t care less whether you were here with him or not.

That’s when an idea popped into your head. The words spilled out of your mouth before you could think them over. 

“It’s getting late, I think I should go back now.” you nudge his head lightly in the same way you usually did when you needed to get up to grab some water or use the bathroom, signaling for him to get off your lap.

Refusing to lift off of you, he remains silent for a moment, before slowly turning his head to look up at you. “What?”

“I said it’s getting late.” you repeat, holding back from smiling as you were already starting to find this amusing. You point to the window. “I want to get back home before it’s completely dark out.”

“And why would you want to go back home…? I don’t understand.” he frowns.

You furrow your eyebrows as well, mimicking him for the sake of playing along. “Why would I stay?”

“Because I want you to? I thought you were spending the night like usual.” He sits up, the blanket previously draped over him pooling at his waist, and folds one knee up to rest his arm against it as he looks back at you.

Now that he’s finally off of you, you seize the opportunity and stand on your two feet. You glance around the room, as if looking to gather your things to leave. Man, you were really selling it. “No, not tonight.”

“Why?” He immediately stands up. Walking over to you, he blocks your path, all 6’3 feet of him towering over you. “... is it because I wasn’t paying attention to the movie?” his voice grows quieter. 

You scowl at him and fold your arms over your chest, even though you wanted to burst out laughing. You had a part to play after all. 

“I’m sorry, okay? It’s not my fault I don’t like corny movies like that.” He shrugs, putting his hands on his hips. His gaze drops to the carpet beneath your feet. “Besides, it’s kinda hard to pay attention when you’re touching my hair like that…” his voice trails off.

“Well that’s a heartfelt apology if I’ve ever heard one.” you roll your eyes back. 

He groans and rakes a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I mean it.” the tall blue-eyed man sighs. “Don’t go, please?” he finally lifts his gaze off the ground to look at you. Satoru gives you his signature pleading look, accompanied with a playful wink. “I promise I’ll be super-duper focused this time.” he leans down so both of your faces meet.

You let out a sigh and look away, completely ignoring the fact his lips were just a breath away from yours. You pretend to give it some thought for a couple of seconds. 

“Alright, fine.”

His lips meet yours in a quick peck, and his arms encircle you as he lifts you up, throwing you over his shoulder. 

“Satoru! Unhand me—”

“Can’t, sorry. Don’t want you running away from me.” he shakes his head, patting the back of your thighs gently.

“I already said I wasn’t going anywhere!” you squirm in his grasp. 

“Better safe than sorry though, yeah?” he chuckles, making his way back to the plush sofa in the center of his living room.

“You can be so annoying sometimes, you know that?”

“Mhm, I love you too baby.”

જ⁀➴ Kento Nanami .ᐟ

You played with your necklace as you let your eyes sweep over Kento’s familiar apartment. The kitchen where you had made meals together, the corner where you forced him to dance to jazz music with you, and the front door where you’d shared as many kisses as goodbyes. 

Your boyfriend had excused himself for a moment and left you alone at the kitchen counter where you were previously chatting and enjoying a drink after coming back from your nice dinner date. 

Knowing the routine the both of you shared by now, he was probably going to come back with a spare set of clothes for you to change into and sleep in. 

And you curse yourself for the mischievous idea that squeezed itself into your brain. Perhaps you were feeling playful because of that dizzying kiss you shared earlier. Or maybe it was just the drinks. Either way, you were set on teasing him. 

So, you quickly stand up from the stool and grab your bag. Kento comes back before you can make your way to the coat hanger at the entrance, however. 

You hear the pause in his footsteps and turn around to face him. 

And just like you’d assumed, he had a fresh change of clothes in one hand, and the makeup removing wipes you kept at his place in the other. His gaze stays stoic, although you’re sure it doesn’t reflect what’s going through his mind. 

“You’re leaving?” He speaks in his usual steady tone.

You clear your throat and avoid his piercing gaze. “Yeah, it’s getting pretty late.”

He puts the clothes and makeup wipes down on the counter. “... I assumed you’d be staying the night.”

“Oh, no. Not this time.” you readjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“And why is that?” he lifts one of his eyebrows

“I don’t know… I’m tired.” you blurt out. You should’ve thought this through more thoroughly, clearly. 

A confused expression makes its way onto his face. “You’re tired, so you want to go out of your way to go back home instead of just spending the night here?”

You shrug and let your eyes trail away from him. 

He takes a couple steps forward until he reaches you. “Did I do something wrong? Is that why you want to leave so urgently?” he searches for your gaze.

But you’re determined to keep playing along, and don’t even spare him a glance. 

At your silence, he sighs. “… At least let me drive you home. It’s not safe for you to be out this late. Especially alone.” he suggests, but he’s already walking past you.

He grabs his car keys and slips them in his pocket before reaching for his coat. 

You quickly turn on your heels and reach him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “I’m not going anywhere Kento.”

He halts his movements and looks back at you over his shoulder. “... What?”

“I don’t actually want to leave.” you look up at him, your chin resting against his back. “Just wanted to see how you’d react.”

He lets out a heavy sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

You let go of him so he can take his coat off. He hangs his keys back up and turns around. 

“Don’t do that again.” he runs a hand through his blonde hair, the motion making some strands fall against his forehead. “I thought I upset you, or made you uncomfortable in some way.”

“Sorry, you know I like to keep you on your toes.” you chuckle and reach a hand out to grab his. Despite his frustration, his hand finds yours almost instantly, as if it was second nature to him. His large and steady palm encircles your smaller hand, thumb tracing circles against the back of it. 

“There’s that, and those few glasses you had earlier which I definitely shouldn’t have indulged you in.” he grumbles and lets himself be pulled forward by you.

You giggle in response, unintentionally proving his point. “Not my fault you can’t say no to me.” your free hand finds his firm shoulder and you start swaying side to side while humming a soft tune the both of you liked. He lets out a huff and shakes his head before a small smile breaks out on his face. He follows your clumsy lead and moves in sync with you. Kento speaks up again, his voice softer now. “You’re right. It’s not your fault you’re so charming.”

જ⁀➴ Yuji Itadori .ᐟ

You scrolled on your phone mindlessly, letting out the occasional laugh at a funny video. You’d been doing so for the past hour and a half now, while Yuji flipped through his comic book, deeply enamored in the story. 

The both of you were lounging on his bed. Him sat up against the headboard, plush pillow supporting his back, while you were more slouched against him, head carefully caged in between his bicep and chest while he held up his book. 

That’s when you fell upon the video. The one where you saw a girl in a similar situation as the one you were in right now, pulling a prank on her boyfriend. The prank consisted of her pretending she was leaving, just to see her boyfriend’s reaction. Luckily for you, you were wearing your earphones, and Yuji was far too focused on his reading to sense the imminent mischief coming his way.

Unable to stop yourself, you turn your phone off and lift his elbow to free yourself from his grasp.

“‘Kay I’m gonna go now.” you scoot yourself off his bed and stretch your arms once you’re back on your feet. 

He closes his book and lets it fall on his stomach. “Huh?” 

You chuckle at his cluelessness. “I said I’m leaving, Yuji. I wanna go to sleep.” 

He sits up. “So sleep here.” the pink haired boy states simply, as if it was the obvious answer.

“... I wanna sleep in my room though.” you put a hand on your hip. 

“What’s wrong with my room?” he stands up and steps closer to you, completely invading your personal space. He had a tendency to do that.

“Nothing’s wrong with it, I just— why are you so offended?” you snort.

“I’m not offended… I just don’t understand why you don’t wanna sleep over. You always do.” he tilts his head, the gesture reminding you of a puppy.

Thank god for your resolve, because if you didn’t have any, you already would’ve caved in and kissed him stupid.

“Not always.” you roll your eyes.

“You slept over last night and the night before though…” he scratches at his head, confused.

“That’s besides the point!” you huff. “Okay you know what? I’m just gonna go.” 

He doesn’t even let you take more than two footsteps before his arms trap you in a tight embrace from behind. “You can’t just go without giving me a good reason to!”

“Yuji let go of me—” you move around, trying to slip free from his hold. Curse him and his superhuman strength. And although you try to sound angry, you can’t help the giggles erupting from deep within your stomach.

He ignores your demands. “Come on just tell me— did I do something wrong? Or do you just not like my room?” he laughs along with you, the sound booming in your ear. 

“It’s not that!” you continue giggling, as he was now relentlessly attacking your neck and cheek with sloppy kisses. “God, you’re so gross! Stop it—” You push a hand against his face.

He pouts and gives your hand a small lick. “Me? Gross?”

You yelp and wipe your hand against his thigh. “Yes, you!”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? I’m just trying to show my girlfriend I love her.”

Feeling him settle down, you do the same and try to catch your breath from all that laughing. 

His voice is quieter. “Seriously, why do you wanna go so bad?” he juts his bottom lip out. 

“I don’t… I just wanted to see if you’d care whether I left or not.”

“... You for real?” Once he sees you nod, he lets out a sigh, feeling reassured. 

At the sight of the overwhelming relief washing over him, you chuckle. “You’re acting like you avoided a catastrophe.”

“I really did.”

“Me not sleeping in the same room as you is a catastrophe?” you deadpan.

“Of course it is.” He gives you a small glare, as if it were a stupid question. “Wait— you don’t feel the same?”

You hold back from smiling too hard. He just kept giving you opportunities to tease him on a silver platter. “I mean… I’d live.” you shrug.

“Sometimes I think you might secretly hate me…” he sighs woefully. 

You grab his hand abruptly and drag him back to bed. “Would you quit being dramatic? I never said I hated you.” letting yourself fall against the mattress, you tug him along so he falls on top of you. He catches himself at the last second to hover above you, supporting himself with his forearms. 

“But you act like it—”

You cut his sentence short by pressing a kiss to his adam’s apple. It bobs against you as he swallows hard, his face and neck flushing red.

He lets out a shaky breath. “... You’re going to kill me one of these days.”

જ⁀➴ Megumi Fushiguro .ᐟ

The sound of rain hitting the window could be heard through Megumi’s room. It was late in the evening, and the two of you were resting in his bed. 

His front was pressed against your back, and his chin rested against the top of your head. He had an arm draped over you. You weren’t doing anything in particular, simply lying down entangled with one another. Enjoying the other’s warmth. But you could tell he hadn’t dozed off yet.

Although he was probably about to. Today’s mission had been more rough than usual. And you could tell he was going to wake up sore all over tomorrow. 

So, you concluded he needed some good rest.

“Megumi?” you speak up softly, not wanting to startle him. 

His hand tightens around your waist. “Hm?”

“I’m gonna go back to my room now, okay?”

He lets his head dip down to be closer to you. “Why?” he murmurs against your ear.

You purse your lips together. Of course he was going to be difficult about this. “You need to be well-rested tomorrow.”

“... Still waiting for you to explain why you’re leaving,”

You sigh. His ability to remain a sarcastic jackass even while tired was truly impressive. 

“You’re going to end up even more sore if you sleep with me like this. You know I move around a lot in my sleep.”

He goes quiet for a moment, as if thinking your words over. A heavy sigh escapes him. “I’ll be fine.”

Your hand moves to rest on top of his. You let it sit there for a moment before you try to detach his hand from your side. “No, you won’t. And I don’t want to be the reason you feel even worse tomorrow.”

His grip on you only tightens once he notices you’re trying to get rid of him. “Would you stop overthinking this? I told you I’ll be fine.”

“You say that now, but you’re going to complain and blame me later when you’re hurting all over.” you click your tongue and huff.

Megumi ignores your disdain, and pulls you back to him, pressing his chest against your spine even tighter than before. He nuzzles his face even closer, and you can feel his bangs against your ear, and his lips against your neck. His soft breath fans across your collarbone as he speaks. 

“... I won’t, I promise.” he mumbles, his voice almost getting lost with the sound of the harsh rain tapping against the glass of the window.

“And how do I know you mean it?”

“I always keep my word, don’t I? Stop worrying over this.”

Your hand that was previously trying to get him to let go of you gives up, and instead runs down your face as you groan lightly. “Megumi, this is for your own good. I want you to feel better tomorrow.”

“And you don’t want me to feel better now?”

Your hand falls from your face to land on the pillow under you. “What are you talking about?”

“What about right now? Don’t you want me to feel good now?”

You stare down at his hand that was around your waist, stunned. “Well… yeah. Of course I do.”

“Then let me have this.” he huffs, burying his face against the collar of your shirt. He speaks up again, his voice softer this time. “Stay with me.”

“... You’re way too stubborn. I hope you know that.”

He hums, paying you no mind.

“Fine, I’ll stay. But if you say one word about it being my fault that you—”

“I get it. Stop nagging me.” he groans. But the second he feels your tense form relax against him once more, he whispers. “Thanks.”

“For what?” 

“... you really gonna make me say it out loud?”

You chuckle softly. “Yes.”

He clears his throat, and lowers his face. His eyes flutter shut, and you feel his eyelashes brush up against your shoulder. A soft kiss is pressed against your skin. “Thanks for being here,”

“I always will.” you respond.

જ⁀➴ Toji Fushiguro .ᐟ

You twirl the ends of your hair mindlessly as you watch him. Toji was hunched over in the midst of his small kitchen, rummaging through his fridge. The buzzing light of it highlighting his sharpest features, currently pulled into a small frown as he groaned about forgetting to buy a pack of beer.

He’d been in a pretty foul mood for the last hour or so. You’re not exactly sure why. He’d gotten off the phone with Shiu all bitter and angry. 

You were hoping the two of you could share a nice evening— or night, but it seemed that plan had gone to ruin now. And you weren’t sure exactly what to do. 

So there you were, sitting on the bed of his small one bedroom studio, keeping quiet out of fear of angering or stressing him out further. 

After contemplating, you sigh and stand up. “Hey, Toji?” 

“Mmh?” he grumbles in response. 

“I’m leaving, okay?”

He closes the fridge and watches you as you make your way to the front door, grabbing your stuff along the way. His eyes widen in disbelief. He reaches you in two steps.

“Where you going?”

“... Home.” you look up at him, fingers tightly gripping your bag. You had hoped no argument would come out of this. He wasn’t one to fight or anything, but still.

“Why?”

“I don’t know I just…” you trail off. He stays silent, giving you the chance to think. You take a deep breath and speak up again. “Just thought I’d give you some space. Now’s not a good time for you, clearly.”

“Who said that?” his eyebrows knit in confusion, his frown only worsening.

“No one— it’s obvious.” you fold your arms over your chest. “I mean… you’ve been groaning and grumbling to yourself since earlier.”

He lets out a heavy sigh. “So?” he throws his head to the side, gaze landing on his window.

“So… I’m leaving you be.” you say, your tone leaving no room for discussion as you turn your back to him, reaching for the doorknob and twisting it.

His hand immediately lands on the door and he pushes against it, slamming it shut. You look to your left, his large and rough palm laying flat against the wood right next to your head. “Don’t want you to.” he states, his other hand moving against the door on your right side this time, caging you in.

You sigh. “Why not?”

He stays still for a moment, before leaning forward, his forehead landing on your shoulder with a soft thud. “Need you here with me.” he mumbles.

You’re slightly taken-aback by his words, but out of fear he might deflect or retreat back in his shell, you say nothing. You simply reach a hand up, your fingers carding through his thin black hair.

“You sure? I don’t want to make you more upset than you already are.”

He clicks his tongue in response. “You don’t upset me doll,”

Unsure of what to do, you remain motionless and quiet, for the sole exception of your hand massaging his scalp.

“Don’t go. Stay here.” he mutters against your shoulder. His arms detach from the door to wrap themselves around your waist. That was probably the closest you would ever get to hearing him plead. 

“... Alright, I’m staying.” your free hand moves to caress and trace along the veins of his arms. 

A soft groan slips past his lips at the sensation of your hand in his hair, and he tightens his arms around you.

“Whatever Shiu said must’ve really upset you, huh…”

His hand slips under your shirt and traces the soft lines of your stomach. “Say his name one more fucking time,” 

You hold back a laugh and scoff instead. “Okay, okay, calm down.”

His hand loosens around your waist, and he pulls away from you. You finally turn back around to meet his gaze. Your eyes soften at the sight of him. Hair just a tad greasy and disheveled, eyebags more prominent than before, shoulders not as upright and confident as usual. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” he grunts and looks away.

“Like what?” you inch closer, hands finding his waist.

“Like you pity me.”

You shake your head with a smile. “I worry about you. It’s not the same thing.”

“Yeah well I don’t need you worrying over me like I’m some kid that needs help.”

“Sure, sure.” You nod. “How about you hop in the shower and I wash your hair?”

His eyes trail back to you instantly, and he looks down at you with a conflicted expression. He considers it for a moment. “Fine, but you’re getting in with me.” he grins.

You run a hand down your face but reluctantly agree. “I’m just going to wash your hair, Toji. That’s it.”

“You always say that and then end up—”

“In the shower you go!” you raise your voice to drown out the sound of his, and start pushing him towards the bathroom.

જ⁀➴ Ryomen Sukuna .ᐟ

Warm water flowing from your fingertips and trickling down his back, gentle candlelight bouncing off of the hard planes of his body, and the quiet breeze of the night air slipping past the lavish curtains and into the room. 

It was currently late into the night, and Sukuna had summoned you to his chambers to bathe him. Just like he did every other night. He’d complained to you about his needlessly tiring and grueling day. 

Dealing with—what he deemed to be—incompetent servants, his food being too cold for his taste, and the arrogant members of his court ordering him around (they were merely giving him suggestions on political matters).

You’d just finished giving him his bath, and were currently standing with his short-sleeved robe held out for him to slip into. You watched carefully as he finished drying himself off and turned his back to you, black tattoos and hardened muscles on display. They flex and contort as he slips his four arms through the large loop holes and shrugs the light robe on. 

He turned around to let you tie the garment and your hands moved fast, tying a small knot around his waist, your eyes trained on the fabric in-between your fingers. Once finished, you took two steps back and bowed your head, hands clasped together at your front. 

“If you do not need me for anything else, I will be taking my leave, my lord.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” He huffed, running a hand through his wet hair.

You let out an involuntary twitch. “... Is there something else you’d like me to do for you?”

“No.” he responds simply.

You raise your gaze for the first time, and look at him. “May I ask why you’re keeping me then?”

“You may not.” The tall man retorts and turns around, making his way to his bed. And you know, without him having to tell you, that he expects you to follow after him. So you do.

You stand with your hands still joined together, posture upright, your eyes glued to the floor, with your back against the wall. 

He throws a glance at you and a sneer graces his lips. “Must you stand in the corner like a potted plant?”

You clench your hands, holding back from shooting a snarky response his way, and manage to stay quiet. 

“Join me,”

Now that breaks your resolve. 

You look at him across the room. “Sorry?”

He makes himself comfortable against his pillows, and folds one knee up, elbow propped up against it and his chin resting in his palm. “Have you gone deaf? Do not make me repeat myself.” he glares.

You swallow, hard, and make your way to him slowly. 

“Before the sun rises again, would you?” he orders, and you pick up your pace. 

You stand at the foot of his bed, quiet. 

Once you’re finally close enough for him to scrutinize your every expression and feature, a smirk forms on his face, and he pats the space next to him.

Heat flares up in your stomach and you feel fear, anger and confusion (and maybe a bit of arousal), all at once.

“My lord… I am afraid I can not provide you with what you desire. Allow me to remind you I am but a humble servant.” You speak firmly. Well… as firm as you could manage considering you were probably going to lose your head in the next five minutes. But you’d rather be beheaded than get in bed with him against your will. “I could ask for a concubine to be called if that is what you wish.” you bow again, hoping to appease him.

His hand drops from his face and his smile fades. He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Would you calm down, you vixen? I can practically smell the fear oozing out of your pores.”

A frown makes its way onto your face without you wanting to.

A beat of silence passes and he looks away before speaking up again in a softer tone. “You misunderstood my intentions. I simply wish for you to lie down with me.”

Your scowl melts into a confused expression, now more perplexed than anything. 

But the most perplexing part of all this is the fact that you don’t find yourself completely opposed to the idea. On the contrary, you were almost tempted by it. 

“Do not make me wait,” he speaks. Although this time, it sounds like a request disguised as an order. “Don’t you think you’ve already made me wait far too long for you?” He adds, voice quiet. 

You finally comply, albeit hesitantly, and sit down next to him. You move carefully, as though one wrong move could mean the end for you. And considering you were dealing with Sukuna, you weren’t exercising unnecessary caution. 

“Loosen up. I won’t eat you.” He scoffs and instantly pulls you by the waist. 

All four of his arms pull you against him and make you lay on your side. One of them moves to pull the soft covers over you. He clutches you tighter against his form. Almost as if he were a child tucking himself to sleep, holding onto his favourite plushie. 

You barely hold back a small chuckle at the mental image. 

“Is this amusing to you?”

You freeze, cursing yourself for failing to conceal your emotions. “... perhaps.” you blurt honestly.

He lets out a short grunt, and nuzzles his head against your neck. “Just go to sleep.”

masterlist a/n: reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated. also pls dont be shy abt commenting i love it when ppl do that <3

…

it happens, yet again, at his desk.

there is nothing unusual about the setup. papers are arranged with the same careful precision, a case file open between you.

his pen resting exactly where he left it as if even the smallest movement must serve a purpose.

the office hums quietly around you, the low, steady sound that usually helps him focus, something reliable, something neutral.

it doesn’t feel neutral now, because you’re standing too close.

not in a way anyone else would question, not in a way that could be called inappropriate without scrutiny, but close enough that he notices it immediately.

you don’t stand across from him anymore, and you don’t keep that safe, expected distance. instead, you take your place beside him.

just near enough that your shoulder nearly aligns with his, just near enough that any slight movement would erase the space entirely. as always.

it has become a pattern, subtle enough to go unaddressed, obvious enough that ignoring it is no longer accidental.

he has noticed, and worse, he has allowed it to continue and that, more than anything, is the problem.

“here” you say softly, pointing to a section of the file, your voice quieter than necessary as if the rest of the room no longer matters. “this part, i wasn’t sure if the argument holds up.”

he follows where you indicate, or at least he makes it appear that way. the words are familiar, structured and precise, but they fail to settle into anything meaningful because your presence beside him disrupts the rhythm he depends on.

when you shift slightly, your sleeve brushes his arm, and the contact is so faint it should be negligible.

it isn’t. it never is.

he exhales slowly, steadying himself before responding, forcing his attention back where it belongs. “it does, but only if the precedent is framed correctly. otherwise-”

he stops. not because he has lost his place, but because you haven’t moved.

you remain exactly where you are, still leaning just enough that the distance between you feels less like a boundary and more like something fragile, something that could give way without effort.

he turns his head. and immediately regrets it. you’re already looking at him. fuck.

there is no fluster this time, no quick recovery into professionalism, no attempt to disguise what sits quietly in your expression.

it is softer, yes, but steadier too, as if whatever uncertainty once existed has been replaced by something far more dangerous awareness without denial.

it lingers.

“you didn’t finish,” you murmur. your voice is quiet, but it settles into the space between you with a weight that has nothing to do with the case in front of you.

his jaw tightens slightly. “i was explaining-”

“i know.” you don’t move. neither does he. the silence that follows is not empty.

it stretches, heavy with everything that has been building in smaller moments, in passing touches, in the almost that neither of you acknowledged and yet neither of you forgot.

he should look away, he really should. he doesn’t.

instead, his focus narrows in the worst possible way, drawn to details he has been deliberately ignoring.

the slight part of your lips when you breathe, the way your hand rests against the desk, the faint trace of ink still visible against your skin.

he remembers touching it, too clearly.

the memory settles in, and something in his composure tightens in response, the same restraint he has relied on up until now pulling sharply into place.

it falters anyway. not all at once, not dramatically, but enough that he feels it, enough that ignoring it is no longer an option.

your breathing shifts, subtle but noticeable, and the change pulls his attention back to you immediately.

you haven’t stepped back, haven’t created distance, and the realization lands with quiet certainty that if he moved even slightly closer, you wouldn’t stop him.

that should be enough, but you both know it isn’t. because he doesn’t move back. he moves forward.

the decision is deliberate, made with full awareness of what it means, of what it changes, of what cannot be undone once it happens.

his hand lifts slowly, giving you time to react, to step away, to stop him. you don’t.

his fingers close around your wrist first, light but certain, grounding the moment rather than controlling it.

when you don’t pull away, his grip shifts, guiding instead of holding, and he steps closer, closing the distance that had been lingering between you for far too long.

the space disappears, and for a brief second, nothing happens. not because it shouldn’t, because the reality of it settles in all at once.

your breath meets his, uneven now, and he feels it, registers the way you’ve leaned in just enough to erase whatever hesitation might have remained.

that is what breaks it, and it happens without warning.

not rushed, not careless, but immediate in a way that makes it feel inevitable, like something that has been building toward this exact moment without either of you allowing it to happen until now.

his hand shifts from your wrist to your jaw, fingers settling there as he tilts your face slightly upward, the contact firm, controlled, and entirely intentional.

it isn’t tentative.

there is no uncertainty in the way his mouth meets yours, no hesitation left to soften the impact of it. it carries weight, restraint still present but thinner now, stretched by something that has been held back for far too long.

for a moment, it stays like that. still. as if both of you are registering it at the same time. and then you respond.

your hand tightens where it rests against him, your body leaning in instead of away.

the shift is immediate, pulling something deeper from him before he can stop it.

the control doesn’t disappear, but it bends, gives just enough that the kiss deepens, becomes something fuller, something harder to step away from.

his grip tightens slightly at your jaw, his other hand moving to your side as if to steady you, though it only brings you closer.

the distance between you disappears completely, replaced by the quiet intensity of something neither of you is holding back from anymore.

he pulls you closer. not abruptly, not forcefully, but with a certainty that makes the movement unmistakable.

the world beyond the two of you fades, the office, the desk, the open file all becoming distant, irrelevant.

leaving only the space between breaths, the warmth of proximity, the tension that has finally collapsed into something real.

it lingers longer than it should, long enough that the moment stops feeling accidental and begins to feel like something chosen, something neither of you can pretend didn’t happen.

by the time he pulls back, it is slow and controlled in the way he forces himself to be, though his hand remains at your jaw for a second longer than necessary.

his thumb barely shifting as if he hasn’t fully registered that he’s supposed to let go, as if the act of doing so requires more effort than he is willing to show.

your breathing is uneven, and he notices, distantly, that his is no steadier, that the composure he relies on hasn’t returned as cleanly as it should have.

the distance comes back, but it doesn’t feel like distance anymore.

not when you’re still this close, not when neither of you makes any real attempt to create space between you.

his hand drops first, deliberate and precise, a clean break that feels more practiced than natural, as though he’s relying on habit to carry him through a moment that no longer follows the rules he’s used to.

but he doesn’t step away. and that, more than anything, is what changes the moment.

his gaze stays on you, steady at first, unreadable in the way he so carefully maintains. but not distant, not detached. there is something there now that wasn’t before.

something quieter and heavier, like the restraint he held onto so tightly has shifted into something thinner, something far less certain.

your lips part slightly, as if you might say something, but no words come, and he doesn’t give you the chance to find them.

his attention flickers, brief but unmistakable, dropping for just a second before returning to your eyes, and this time he doesn’t look away quickly enough to pretend it meant nothing.

the silence stretches again, but it isn’t the same as before. it isn’t uncertain or hesitant, but filled with something that feels newly understood.

something neither of you is trying to ignore anymore.

his jaw tightens slightly, like he’s catching himself, like he’s aware of something slipping further than intended.

and for a moment it looks like he might step back, might finally put distance between you and restore what should have been there all along.

he doesn’t.

instead, he exhales slowly, controlled, though it does nothing to steady the tension sitting just beneath the surface.

“we should-“ he starts, but the words fall short, unfinished, because neither of you moves to follow through with them.

because the space between you remains too small, because whatever just happened didn’t end anything so much as it changed it entirely.

his hand shifts slightly at his side, subtle enough that it could be missed.

but not by you, not when it looks so much like he almost reaches for you again before stopping himself.

and that is what makes it worse, because you see it, and this time, he knows you do.

the moment holds there, stretched thin again, but not fragile, not uncertain, just waiting, like something else is about to happen, like neither of you has decided to stop yet.

only paused.

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

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

He stops.

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

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

A frown graces your features. 

“No, I didn’t. C. O. M. P. L. I. M—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone walks past without another look at you.

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

“I’ll wait outside.”

His eye twitches. 

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

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

He groans. “Jesus fucking Christ, woman.” 

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

God, he’s so stubborn. 

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just fun to be in the know.

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

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

No one replies. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sit up, blinking and processing his reply.

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

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

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

.

.

.

“Hi.”

“Fuck off.”

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

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

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

So damn rude.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah.”

He’s still here when you come back. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Remind yourself what?”

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

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

A pat on the head ruffles your hair. 

“Still a no, kid.”

.

.

.

“What if I suck your dick?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nah, you think to yourself. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t wanna.”

“You’re fucking killing me here.”

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

Tutting, he wipes away the wetness from your skin. 

Oh fuck, he really is big. 

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

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

“Quit it,” he commands through gritted teeth. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Both,” he answers. “Both, doll.”

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

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

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

The door opens before he even finishes the word.

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

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

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

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

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

Of course he did.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

A sheet of paper slides across the desk.

“You see this one here—”

From below, you hear Toji pick it up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm.”

“I suspect the workshop helped.”

Toji lets out a quiet huff that might be agreement.

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

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

He grunts, knee crashing up on the wood. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You too, Professor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off before I regret it.”

“Lacy thong it is!”

.

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They bother you or something?”

“No, not at all. I’m just curious.”

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

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

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

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

Another hum. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp. “Fuck, Toji!”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You do. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh. “Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he enters you in one go.

You scream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, he’s dirty.

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

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

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

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

And his lips?

They smack against yours.

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

Inside you, his cock throbs. Toji’s hips swing back and forth, pelvis grinding on yours, rubbing your clit and wringing our more obscene squeeeelches. 

“Oh god, I’m so full, Toji. You’re so fucking big.”

“You’re -hngh- t-taking me so well,” he praises, littering sloppy kisses all over your face and neck all while he pinches and rolls your nipples. “Moaning so adorably, all pretty and finally keeping this mouth quiet of smartass comments. You should be like this all the time.”

The rocking of his cock inside you is even better like this. The closeness, the warmth, the taste of him — you wonder why you waited so long to do this. 

Tits squashed to his chest, your nipples scrape his skin, slipping and sliding with the sweat beading down your bodies. The hard planes of his chest feel magnificent. Nothing about his muscles are for vanity only, and the knowledge of the strength he’s holding back has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. 

“You’d miss my smartass comments,” you tell him, head thrown back and hips working their way down on his cock of their own volition.

Toji groans against your neck, licking droplets of sweat. “Yeah, maybe. I definitely wouldn’t miss your spelling errors though.”

Smiling, you tug his head up by his hair, and bite his bottom lip. You pull and let go so it’ll snap back into place like he’d done with your lip when you were under his desk. “Maybe if you taught me like this, I wouldn’t -hah- make so m-many mistakes— deeper, Toji! Fuck me deeper.”

His hips plough deeper inside, like you wanted, hitting that spot inside you till you’re sure it’ll be bruised in the morning. Moans after moans are fucked out of you; his neighbours will give him an earful tomorrow, you’re certain. 

“Book more office hours just to see me and not because you want something from me, then we can see if I can fuck your stupidity out of you,” he retorts. 

You peck his lips. “Aw, does poor, needy Toji want me to give him more attention? Does he miss me when I’m not there? What a cute little baby.”

“Yeah, he does, actually,” he says, smirking. “That a problem?”

“It will be if you don’t make me cum.”

Toji reminds you, “You’ve been cumming around my cock this entire time; you still want more? Greedy girl.”

He pulls away from the window, stalking over to the sofa instead. Each step burrows him deeper inside you, kissing your cervix and pushing out gasps from your lips, all of which he swallows. 

Carelessly, he throws you on the sofa. You bounce with an oomph!

Ankles held by one hand, he keeps your legs upright, hips lifted up to meet his. Toji presses a kiss to your ankle bone before he pushes his cock back inside. Your back arches with a mewl. Like this, his huge body becomes even more glaring — he’s casting a shadow over you, completely dwarfing you, reminding you how easily he could break you, how he could take whatever he wants from you. 

Every time he buries himself to the hilt, a bulge pops through your tummy, right under your belly button. 

“Look at that,” he mutters, brushing a thumb over it. You whine. “Feel me deep inside you? You’ll be feeling me inside for days, won’t you? Once it starts to fade, you can always come back for another fill, you know.”

“Promise?” you ask, grinning ear to ear. 

Toji pulls out, leaving just his tip before he slams back in, jostling you down on the sofa. His abs contract, cock throbbing at the sudden clenching of your walls around him. “Fuck, yes, doll. Promise. I fucking promise.”

His glasses have slid off, rattling somewhere on the sofa with the impact of every thrust. He doesn’t seem to care about them anymore. You’re nearing another orgasm, head whipping around at the intensity of the pressure building in your core. He’s bullying his cock relentlessly in your cunt, chasing after his own high and sending you to yours. 

When your eyes clash with his piercing, green ones, unobstructed by his glasses, you explode with a scream. 

“F-fuck,” he grunts, following soon after. 

Searing cum spurts inside you, cock pulsing, cum painting your walls. His thumb rubs your clit, aiding you through your orgasm. Your moans are vibrating against the walls, definitely disturbing his neighbours, but so are his groans. 

He slumps over, rolling the two of you on the sofa so you’re resting naked on his heated body, his heavy arm preventing you from falling off. Your pussy’s sore, a mix of your cum and his dribbling out and creating a sticky mess on your inner thighs. 

Absentmindedly, as you both catch your breath, he rubs your back. You draw shapes and letters on his chest. Toji combs his hair off of his forehead, chest rising up and down with his breathing. The dirty marks you two left are still on the glass, though it’s no longer foggy. 

Reaching up above him, he gracefully finds his glasses, sliding them on his face. You like him with and without them. 

“So,” you begin, “about those extra marks.”

Toji lifts his glasses up to rub a hand down his face. “Jesus, yes, you’ll get the marks.”

“Thanks!” you chirp. 

“God, you’re a pain in the ass.”

.

.

.

“Fuck, Toji,” you moan. “I already came three times. It’s too -hic- too much.”

Your TA ruts his cock inside you, face buried in the crook of your neck. His glasses are on your nose bridge, blurring your vision; he gets so frustrated when the thing gets in the way of kissing you or eating you out.

“Shut up,” he rasps, hand pressing down on your lower belly so you can feel him even more. “You’re the one who dragged me here. Take every orgasm I give you and be grateful.”

That’s true — you were supposed to have an office hour with him, which is really an excuse to see your boyfriend before you have to attend the internship induction session, but then you took one look at him and his amazing body and started soaking through your panties so here you two are.

Oh yes, you did say boyfriend.

After he blew your mind out, you’d been visiting his apartment after classes so often, you were practically living there, and he didn’t mind. It started out casual, but after realising you two would go grocery shopping, watch movies together, and text each other practically every day, you decided to just seal the deal and make it official. 

In short, he fucks good, and he can tolerate your personality, so you two stuck together. 

A month in, neither of you are really regretting it. At least, if his desperate thrusting and sloppy kisses to your neck’s anything to go by. 

“Missed you so much, Toji,” you whine, hips fucking back into him.

Toji groans, hand groping your tit from under your shit. “Yeah, baby?”

“Mmm.”

“Missed you too,” he confesses, licking a stripe up your neck and scraping his teeth down. Goosebumps rise on your arms. “Been wanting to see you all morning.”

You giggle, holding onto the stall for purchase and so his thrusting won’t make you smack face first onto the door. “You’re so cute w-when you’re needy.”

“Fuck off,” he says with no real heat to his words. 

In the near distance, the door to the men’s toilets opens with a dull metallic creak, the sound echoing faintly off the tiled walls. Feet pad in—slow, unhurried. The steady rhythm of someone who expects the place to be empty.

“Fushiguro?” a voice calls out. “You in here?”

The two of you go very, very still. Toji’s entire body stiffens behind you, muscles locking. His hand clamps firmly over your mouth for extra measure, warm palm pressing tight enough that you can feel the tension in his fingers.

Your heart slams against your ribs, loud enough that you’re half convinced it might echo under the stall. What the hell is the professor doing here?

“Susan told me she saw you walk in this direction. You got a minute?”

Toji releases a tense breath through his nose, annoyed at the interruption but left with no choice but to answer. He lifts you up so your feet hang over the floor and won’t be seen by the outsider. “Yeah, prof. But I’m kinda in the middle of something.”

The professor laughs. “Yes, yes, I’m sure. I do apologise for interrupting you. I was just locked out of my account and can’t send emails for the next hour. You know how terrible I am with technology.” He enters the stall next door. He unzips his pants. You cringe. “I only wanted to ask if you’re prepared to host the internship induction later.”

You go still, this time for a different reason. 

Your boyfriend releases your mouth. Fingers creep over to between your legs, where you’re still connected to him, where he’s still throbbing inside you. He slowly rubs your clit, keeping you from squirming in complaint with his strong arms. Toji responds, “Yeah, got all my notes ready.”

The bastard’s trying to distract you…

“Ah good, good,” the older man joyfully responds. His stream hits the water, and you fight the urge to face palm. “I had a look over the plans and the schedule. Very well organised, I must say. The competition was fierce, which is a testament to the success of the event, so props to you.”

Do men hold conversation so casually in the toilets?

Toji carefully begins moving in slow and shallow thrusts, prodding your g-spot over and over with his fat cockhead. You bite your lips to keep from moaning. Your nails dig into his thick arm. He ignores you. 

“Don’t mention it, Professor.”

The man zips himself back up and flushes, exiting the stall. Outside, the tap runs, and you’re both still as quiet as rocks, afraid that any sudden movement will out you both as sexual deviants. 

He adds, “Oh, and thank you for handling the applications for me; you know I hate all that paperwork nonsense.” 

Your jaw drops. 

Beyond tense, Toji replies like he’s aware of the weight every word exchange carries, “I do what I can do to help out.” 

“I couldn’t do what I do without you,” the professor continues, sincere and ignorant to the fact that you’re there. The rustling of paper towels echoes. “Well, I’ll see you later. Apologies again for interrupting.” 

The exit door swings open and you relax, but then his voice fills the space again. 

“Do say hello to your pretty, little girlfriend for me.” 

Your heart? 

Drops to the fucking floor.

Toji’s grip on you tightens just slightly, barely noticeable unless you’re pressed this close to him.

Your mind races. Did he see you come in? Did someone tell him? Did Susan, whoever the hell she is—

Toji speaks before you can spiral further, his tone sharper now, suspicion threading through it. “What do you mean, Professor?”

“Oh, you know, the girl you’ve been eyeing for a while now — she’s on the internship, yes?” Then he laughs the kind of laughter old men do, all paternal and wise. “Don’t worry, son, I’m not accusing you of pulling strings; I know she’s a very intelligent young woman. Ambitious too. Almost as ambitious as you. I hope you two work something out.”

Your heart slows its beating but you’re not any less tense. 

Sighing, Toji responds, “I’ll let you know if we do.”

“Yes, yes,” the professor says before he leaves for good. 

Finally, it’s just you two in the men’s toilets again. The silence and emptiness is maddeningly relieving. Although, you’re seething, practically vibrating with accusations and anger.  

Toji lets you down. Your feet touch the ground again. You pull him out, whirling on him with a disbelieving glare. You snatch his glasses off your face with one hand and smack his chest with the other. The man doesn’t budge.

“You sneaky piece of shit!”

He gathers both of your wrists with one hand, rolling his eyes. Toji takes his glasses from you and slides it on his face. Seeing you clearer now, he guides his cock back to your pussy, re-entering with ease. You moan, allowing him to hike your leg over his hip so he can press in deeper.

Kissing your lips, he mutters against your lips, “I did what I had to to get your attention. Sue me.”

“God, you’re the worst,” you breathe out, chest jutting out to his, nipples aching and clit throbbing. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I’m the big, bad wolf, and you’re creaming all over my dick right now. Let’s not act like you got the short end of the stick here.”

“Master manipulator,” you hiss, kissing him back, fingers tangling in his hair as soon he lets go of your wrists to grope your tit and ass.

“Whore,” he fires back.

Then the two of you smile, clutching each other tightly as you both rock into each other, nearing your mutual orgasm and riding the pleasure growing in your bodies. Fuck, he feels so good.

“We’re gonna be together forever and ever, aren’t we?” you ask.

Toji’s scar brushes your forehead with his kiss. 

“That’s the plan.”