his length springs out from its restraint, buoyantly slapping against his stomach from the force of your movements, making him jump.

“i-i’ve never done this before…”

a smile overtakes your lips and you respond by splaying your soft hands over his toned quads, tenderly rubbing the muscle there to calm his nerves. just that little touch makes precum ooze down his shaft, his lashes fluttering. he’s surprised at how hard he is and you’re surprised at how big he is—with a pretty blush-toned tip and a long vein down the side to match.

but he can’t help being nervous. not when he’s silently pined after you for so long. too shy to court you or actually make a move, constantly hiding behind excuse after excuse. surely his studies would leave him far too busy to even think of messing around with a girl, let alone date one, so he tried his best to ignore that nagging feeling in his chest.

but you saw right through his attempt at hiding his little crush on you, if the long glances searing through the side of your skull everyday during lecture were anything to go by. or across the dining hall while you talked with your friends, where you’d caught him a few times, eyes flitting to see his already on you. a grin and a fluttering wave of your fingers was all it took to have him blushing like a schoolboy, his head dropping down in an instant. little did you know, he’s jerked off to the photos on your instagram an embarrassing amount of times so it’s no wonder he could barely keep eye contact.

you found his timidity adorable, loved it, even. he was always so nice, so helpful. giving you his notes to copy off of when you missed a lecture without you even asking, offering to carry your books for you whenever they looked heavy. nearly tripping over his own feet to rush in front of you and open the door to the classroom so you didn’t have to lift a finger. it’s something about sweet, shy boys who are just aching to be ruined that does it for you.

you’d told him you needed some extra help for the upcoming exam, asked if he wanted to come over to your place to have a study session. he was more than happy to oblige in your seemingly innocent request and barely let you finish asking before he blurted ‘yes’. and now, here you have him on the couch of your apartment, his colored coded notebook tossed to the ground and his cock out. he’s certain he had a wet dream about this exact scenario a couple days ago.

“calm down, pretty boy. just relax, okay?” you smile up at him through dense lashes, having to stop yourself from giggling at how quickly he flinches when your fingers curl around his attention-hungry erection. he’s a bundle of nerves and all you can think about is how much fun you’re going to have unwinding him.

“then stop looking at me like tha-that,” he stutters through gritted teeth. one hand used to prop himself up, he brings the backside of the other up to his mouth in a fist. he has to resist the intense urge to bite it in an effort to quiet the obscene noise he almost makes when your tongue flicks out to lick the salty-sweet essence off his tip.

he’s red in the face, blushing that of something fierce as you keep eye contact with him through fluid movements. yuta thinks he’s on the verge of a heart attack with how hard it’s slamming against his ribs.

“we can stop anytime you’d like, y’know.” you remind him sweetly.

gentle strokes to his cock threaten to crumble his composure, your wrist curling in a half-circular motion that drives him wild. you use your thumb to brush the underside of his most sensitive area below his tip and a broken moan fights its way past pursed lips, rumbling his chest as he tries his hardest not to curl inward and away from the touch he craves so.

hell, he couldn’t even if he wanted to. Your other hand has an iron-clad grip on his hip because you already know how fidgety he gets, and honestly, you’re making him feel way too damn good for him to tell you to stop.

his brain is absolute mush at this point, but he still manages to get it out, maybe a little too eagerly.

“n-no! i… i want to.”

you’re teasing him on purpose and he can tell. he’s only done this with you once before, and yet you already know how to touch him, how fast to stroke him, how hard. he’s dumbfounded and honestly a bit embarrassed at how reactive he is to your minuscule touches. you’ve barely gotten started. why the hell doesn’t it feel like this when he does it himself?

he watches you with slightly widened eyes, and you can’t really tell if the look in them is one of astonishment at how quickly you can have him writhing, or fear due to how easily you can do so. Probably a mix of both.

after a few more kitten licks to the throbbing appendage , you can’t bear to hear his whining and whimpering any longer without feeling sorry for him. your wet, sappy lips spread around the angry head of his cock and draw him in, cheeks hollowing out so the inside of your mouth drags against his veins tortuously.

“h-hahhh,” the warmth of your mouth has his eyes nearly rolling back. he had no idea this would feel even better than the first time. his balls tense (along with the rest of his body) the second you seal your mouth around him and you can tell he stopped himself from cumming right then and there.

his mind is sent into a haze instantly and slowly you lower your head, taking as much of him in your mouth as you possibly can. having him a little over halfway into your mouth, you can already feel your eyes watering so your hand takes the rest of what you can’t and it moves in sync with the bobbing of your head.

yuta sighs, head dipping back when you take his length into your throat, eyes pinching shut while his hands crumple into tight fists at his sides— a method to keep himself in control, a futile one, at that.

his breathing is shallow but it only makes you pull your cheeks in harder, increasing the suction of your sucking as well as the speed. You’re determined to make a mess out of him.

he’s holding back and you can tell, trying to quiet and shrink himself. he’s always been so shy and reserved, so it’s no shock that even now, while the two of you are completely alone, he’s still won’t let himself relax fully.

you pull off him with an audible pop, and his head instantly snaps back up at the sudden loss of contact. spit pools in your mouth before it’s dribbling down your puckered lips and spilling onto his swollen tip, and you smile up at him when he mewls for you to please keep going, melting further into his seat as you stroke him.

your gaze is sweltering. your eyes have such a hold on him that he can’t help but stare right back at you, chest heaving, face flustered and all.

“you’re a good boy, right, yuta?” the question comes with an almost mocking tilt of your head, but you continue to tug at his cock nonetheless. blinking up at him as if you’re unaware of how difficult it is for him to form words while he’s trying to focus on not covering your face in a sheet of white.

he gulps, nodding his head fervently, an impatient shift of his hips, up and into your hands following afterwards. “y-yes, yes, hmmnn—i’m whatever you want me to be. i’m a good boy.” he forces out in one fast breath, his leg jerking slightly at the feeling of your fingers brushing lower near his base. “just—hngh—please… keep going.”

you hum, the sound of it indicating that you don’t believe him. you dip your head down, leisurely dragging the flat of your tongue against his balls in a derisively slow manner and he almost cries at that, an open-mouthed kiss set upon one before you’re stating your demand. “then let me hear you.”

“s-shit,” he chokes out almost instantly at the new feeling, basically bucking his hips up into your hand at this point. you purr in approval and engulf his shaft back into your mouth, reveling in the throaty moans that waft past his trembling lips. they’re laced with need and music to your ears.

if your mouth wasn’t full of him, you would’ve gasped when he suddenly grabbed onto a handful of your hair with a firm hold. actively surrendering to the fight against his own pleasure, he lets out a wanton moan and a string of curses as he thrusts his cock into your mouth. yuta barely swears but it seems like it’s all he can do today. his movements are urgent, no set pace as he chases the orgasm he can feel brewing in the pit of his stomach.

“m’sorry,” he pants out in response to the sound of you gagging due to how deep he’s forcing his cock, though the increased force of his movements heavily contradict the genuine remorse in his voice. he’s so greedy with you, he knows. but plunging his length into the back of your throat feels too good for him to try and reason with himself.

you halt your movements and let him do the work seeing as he’s enjoying himself so much. you’re so proud of him. the sting of your scalp should probably concern you, but it only makes your thighs rub together and your core tingle with a newfound need that would later be quelled with his avid assistance.

“f-fuck, your throat feels so good,” he groans out, both of his hands cradling your head now as he uses your mouth to his satisfaction. one of your hands drop down to rub quick circles over your clothed pussy, anything to soothe the ache of your desperate walls fluttering.

the noises flowing so freely from the man above only rile you up more, and you’re restless to make him cum so he can hurry up and clean up the mess growing between your thighs. you can’t help but moan around him, and the muffled vibration against his length is all that’s needed to send him over the edge.

there isn’t enough time to warn you before your mouth floods with a wave of white, and his chest heaves from his weighted breaths as he empties his hot seed directly down your throat. you swallow as fast as you can, struggling to keep up with the hot spurts that shoot out and coat your tongue. he’s never came this much before, that he’s sure of.

your squeal of surprise is stifled when his hands push your head down as far as it can go, the tip of your nose ghosting the soft patch of hair at his pelvis while his hips sputter out short, sporadic thrusts to ensure you take every drop of him. blinded by his own surge of ecstasy, he quickly comes to when a choked cough forces its way from your chest, causing his own cum to leak out past your lips and onto his balls.

he huffs, hands immediately releasing their hold as he lets you come up for air and apologizes more times than you can count with that oh so sweet look he gets in his eyes. you gasp and reel back, lips swollen and coated with a mix of your saliva and his seed.

he watches with a dazed look as you clean them off with a quick swipe of your tongue, and when you swoop down and languidly lick what you couldn’t swallow off his hot skin he groans.

“oh my god…” hand over his mouth, he drops his head back and gulps like he’s scared of how you managed to pull such a reaction out of him. and with the look you’re giving him, maybe he should be.

batting your lashes, you kiss at his cock as it twitches against your flushed cheek and his head pops back up when you tease him with a hum,

“think you can give me one more?”

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© plumkissed 2026

if it hadn’t been for the embarrassed, rosy flush of his cheeks after he’d briefly side-eyed you with a scowl you happily ignored, you would’ve thought he hadn’t heard you.

“no, i just have these stupid things on my face for fun,” he grumbles, the side of his head listlessly dropping against the heel of his hand, spiky hair flopping with it as he looks to the front of the room. “yes, i wear glasses.”

you laugh at that and his brows pin together in confusion, earning you another side glance. he usually regrets almost everything he says right after it’s spoken. always thinks he sounds dumb when he talks. but you must think he’s the funniest guy on earth with how much you giggle at all of his poker-faced responses and now he’s second guessing himself.

you’re fully leaned over into his space now, head wafting around to try and get a better look at him, so much so that he can smell your perfume. vanilla and something warm. he accidentally glances at the slight spill of your cleavage in your low cut top and lets it linger there for just a second (or two or three) before he quickly looks elsewhere. he doesn’t even think you realize that your chest is pressed up against his tensed arm because surely you would’ve moved if you had. right?

“they’re so cute on you! lemme see,”

then you’re reaching over and grabbing his chin and turning him back to face you like it’s the most normal thing on earth. your touch interrupts his thoughts completely, and now his head is just blank aside from one thought— is this how you act with everyone or is this just how you act with him?

his face is redder now, tips of his ears to match and your smile bigger while you examine him, eyes scouring every inch of his hardened face to drink the new look in until they land on his dark, indecipherable stare. he thinks you’re pretty and really wishes you’d back up a little bit.

“i like them.” you hum sweetly.

“i hate them.” he retorts moodily, lashes fluttering as he gently moves your hand away from his face by your wrist.

“you should wear them more often.”

“okay.”

he grabs his contacts from the pharmacy once class is out—just like he’d planned. but when presented with the option while getting ready the next morning, he reaches for his glasses case and slips them on anyway. huh.

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© plumkissed 2026

and now you’re turned around to see your fluffy haired boyfriend inconspicuously zipping his collar back up over his tattooed mouth before he tilts his head at you in greeting, corners of his eyes crinkled in lieu of an innocent smile.

“kelp!” he chirps, a possessive hand coming to slide around your waist until you’re jabbing your finger into the apex of his chest, hard.

“did you just do what i think you did?”

he tilts his head. then quietly coughs and your jaw drops. fuck.

“that was you, wasn’t it?”

his eyebrows raise in question as if he has no idea what you could possibly be referring to.

“bonito flakes?”

he shrinks a bit when your eyes narrow at him knowingly.

“don’t lie to me, toge.”

his arms flail out instantly, stiff and straight as if they can help him in the defense of his actions. he tries his best to explain what the situation looked like from his perspective.

“tuna! caviar, salmon cod roe!”

your hand comes up to unzip his collar before you gently grab his jaw, his words muddled and lips mushed together as you hold his face.

you guys stare at each other like that for a few long seconds, his adams apple jumping when he swallows, lashes kissing his cheeks when he blinks rapidly because now he’s genuinely a little scared.

“toge.”

“salmon.” his answer is immediate.

“you cannot interrupt my conversations simply because you feel like it—“

“mustard leaf—“

“i’m not done talking.”

his mouth closes immediately. he looks like a puppy being scolded as you hold him in front of you, his shoulders drooping and pout forming the best it can between your fingers. he nods, begrudgingly, but it’s there and that’s enough for you to continue. he listens so well.

“i can handle myself, okay? we were only talking because i helped them with some homework answers. if someone’s openly flirting with me, i’ll tell them off. you know i will.”

his eyes drift to the side and you can tell he feels bad, hands stuffed in his pockets and nose crinkling like he’s smelled something he doesn’t like. you bring his gaze back with a little nudge.

“blink twice if you understand.”

he does as he’s told, and you soften because you can never be annoyed with him for very long. you know he hears the gossip, people talking about how you deserve someone better than him, as if they know anything about your relationship. as if you’d ever believe there’s anyone better than him. they just don’t understand the connection you two have and they don’t have to, because you don’t care.

“there’s no need to worry, okay? everyone knows you’re my boy, toge.”

his cheeks redden as you smile up at him, batting those pretty lashes in the way that always makes his heart float and his insecurities vanish. his heavy stare drops to your lips, violet eyes clinging to them because he really wants to kiss you right now and he wonders if you’ll let him. you hold his face with both hands now, thumbs dusting over his facial markings.

“my protective, strong, incredibly handsome sweet boy that i’m sooo lucky to have.” he’s like putty in your hands at this point, heart beating faster with each trait you add, demeanor melting into something sickeningly saccharine as he leans into your palm.

“salmon?” he asks.

you can’t help the roll of your eyes, giggling when you confirm, “yes, baby, really. i can never stop talking about you.”

he’s closer to you now, neck craning to reach your lips, eyes already half shut and head swimming with the thought of you. his voice is low and hopeful when he asks for permission.

“mustard leaf?”

you’re standing on your toes now, hands fisted at his collar to tug him closer. head tilted and lips brushing against his expectantly as you wait for him to kiss you.

“yes, you can.”

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© plumkissed 2026

“cho…” you whine.

“i know, babygirl. you’re being so patient.”

he applies pressure just where you want it and a gasp chokes from your throat, back bowing and nails sinking into the vein ribbed skin of his forearm. a large, gentle hand caresses your cheek, just before his deft thumb dips into the shaky ‘o’ your mouth has formed.

“yeah… there’s my girl.”

the sound of your delicious little whines are muffled as your lips come to a close, but it’s worth it when he sees the look in your eyes as you look up at him, wet tongue swirling, saliva glistening around his thumb just like it does on his cock every time you sink to your knees for him and suddenly he’s starting to second guess his plan of taking his time with you, but he keeps on. because you come first, always.

he can’t help but admire you like this, letting his head weigh to the side when he sighs, “you’re so pretty.”

your throbbing, slick moistened clit rolls over the area above his knee when he tenses his leg and you squeal, eyebrows bunching in the middle, a desperate plea for him to give you more than what you’re getting.

he kisses his way down your torso, low-lidded intense eyes never breaking contact with yours, a dampened trail of his affection left from his descent. he stops just at your navel, tonguing at the skin there because he knows it drives you crazy, his theory only proven as your hand cards through his hair. you’re near tears and he hasn’t even done anything.

“choso, please…”

“alright alright, m’sorry,” he chuckles lowly, whispering “was just havin’ a lil’ fun.”

licking his lips, he positions himself to lay on his stomach, a full view of your glistening cunt on display and you shudder when he all but growls. it’s primal and feral, has you clenching around what you wish was something. his pupils blowing with that blood thirsty glint he always gets when it comes to you.

he’s got the underside of your thighs in his hands, keeping them open for him because he hates to be interrupted when he eats. nose scrunching slightly as he takes a large inhale, holding the air of your enthralling scent in his nostrils before he exhales loudly, eyes slamming shut to steel himself.

“god, you smell so good… can i taste you, baby? please?”

you’re not sure why he’s asking, the answer is always the same. definitely maybe just to hear that impatient split of your voice when you muster out a response, or to witness the pool of arousal that seeps down between your cheeks and onto the sheets below you because he asked you so nicely. his tongue is already licking impatiently at the slick smeared skin of your inner thigh, like he can’t help himself, eyes that of a man hungry and starved and it only makes you wetter for him.

“say it.” voice soft yet stern in his demand, you whine,

“yes please.”

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.

.

now normally in the off campus student apartments partnered with your university, roommate matches were strictly curated on a same-sex basis. however, since ‘megumi’ is traditionally a female name there was a slight mix up with the leasing office and by the time they’d been made aware of their mistake it was too late to do anything about it as all available leases had been signed.

neither of you were necessarily thrilled about it at first, in fact, you found out from housing management that both of you had come on different days to complain and see if another arrangement could be made because just a few days afterwards an email addressing the both of you was sent out, essentially saying ‘no, good luck with that though!’.

but you’d since become accustomed to the little mishap. it came as a pleasant surprise to you that megumi wasn’t terrible company to keep around, and he was actually kind of funny when he wasn’t busy hating the world. he kept his music low enough to not bother you, he didn’t eat your groceries, he never left the toilet seat up, and he even took on the responsibility of taking out the trash because he knows you hate touching icky things.

his ink colored hair is messier than usual as he stands before you and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him with bedhead this intense. he looks like he’s been shocked.

“jesus, it’s almost 2am in the morning,” sharp eyes peer down at the slight sway of your smaller frame. “where have you been?” his voice is rough and it sounds like he’s reprimanding you, but you’ve come to find out that’s just how megumi talks. he’s actually worried about you and that’s clear in the way his eyes flood with genuine concern.

but you don’t notice, because he’s shirtless as he stands in front of you with a hand on his hip like a disgruntled father, and that only further directs you to the basketball shorts that hang low on his waist. your eyes float down his etched torso and flutter a little when they reach the gentle brush of his raven happy trail, finally stopping at his prominent v-line before he’s kissing his teeth and tugging you inside because all you can do is stand there and look dumb when you’re supposed to be answering his question. and although you look cute while doing it, he’d never actually tell you that.

with a quiet yelp you shuffle your way in and he locks the door behind you, turning around to face you with a less than pleased look.

“how did you get home?” he interrupts you before you can answer. “did someone drive you? you’re drunk.”

you bring your hand to and away from your head in a ‘duh’ motion.

“nooo shit sherlock, couldn’t tell,” you snicker, because right about now everything is absolutely hilarious, even down to the slight slur of your words. you bend over and nearly fall forwards with a ‘whoops!’ while you slip the heels off your feet and his hands are already out just in case he needs to catch you. like a reflex. he watches you bring your wobbly body back up and brush the hair from your face, the whole act taking a lot more effort due to your tipsy state. hell you’re nearly out of breath when you finally answer him.

“my friends wanted to stay, i didn’t, so I took an uber.” you shrug, suddenly sticking the tip of your tongue out and plucking one of those small white fibers that float in the air from it.

his eyes almost blow from his skull.

“you took an uber? alone? in that little ass thing?” he huffs out in exasperation and uses a hand to gesture down at the tiny, tight black fabric you have the nerve to call a dress that stops just above your upper thighs.

you look down like you don’t know what you’re wearing and he frustratedly ruffles through his hair because you’re even more clueless than usual.

“why didn’t you call me? I would’ve came to get you!”

“stop yelling at me!” you whine. your hand goes to cradle your pounding head and your bottom lip pokes out into a pout. “i didn’t wanna wake you up…”

“i’m not-“ his agitation falters at the look you give him and he exhales, quickly nodding his head because he knows better to upset a girl when she’s drunk. you seriously sound like you’re about to cry and the last thing he wants to deal with is a show of tear-filled dramatics.

“okay, okay. i’m sorry.” megumi reaches forward and takes your bag and keys from your hands to set them on the kitchen counter across from you. “just… call me next time. they’re a bunch of weirdos out here and I don’t want you getting into any trouble. i won’t be mad if you wake me up, i do it for my sister all the time.”

megumi is rarely helpful let alone worried about you, at least to your knowledge, so it makes your chest heat up with what you really hope is happiness and not bile from how invested he seems in your well being. little do you know, he was tracking your location and that’s how he knew you were at the door in the first place.

chin lifting slightly, your lips slowly pull into an undeniable smirk, eyes narrowing at him and your expression is one he knows all too well because yuji gives him the same one everytime he talks about you. sighing, he dips his head to the side, shaking it as your smile only grows wider.

“don’t—“

“you care about meee!” you drawl, arms extending outwards as you ungracefully make your way towards him.

“no, not really.” his response is immediate, a brow raising as you approach him. he wears a small snarl now, hand held out apprehensively. “uh uh, do not-“

your arms wrap around his torso despite his resistance and his body tenses when you give him a tight squeeze, attempting to swing the both of you side to side. It doesn’t work, obviously, because he’s much larger than you and basically unmovable.

“you’re sweet when you’re worried, ‘gumi.” you hum and ignore him when he tells you not to call him that, and he’s quick to deflect because his face is suddenly getting hot and it’s annoying him. and maybe, if you weren’t off your ass, you would’ve noticed the gentle warmth of his hand resting over the small of your back. to steady you, of course.

“let go. you reek of desperate party goers and tequila. i hate tequila.” he grumbles, dramatically covering his nose to support his deflection. “i also think a shower wouldn’t hurt.”

you abruptly shove him away with a scoff and he can’t help but laugh at the look on your face, at the way your jaw drops in astonishment and your eye twitches. you can’t even sputter out a response, so you spin on your toes to stalk off instead which was a very bad idea seeing as you’re already dizzy, but you quickly regain your balance and continue on.

“you sure you can find your way there?” he teases, crossing his arms.

“oh, wouldn’t you just love to help me. I can feel you looking at my ass you perv!” you shout from down the hall, middle finger raised behind you.

he inhales sharply, eyes snapping up from where he didn’t even realize they’d fallen. he pulls the inside of his cheek between his teeth and curtly nods to himself.

“yup, i’m going to bed.”

once megumi hears the shower shut off after about twenty minutes, the normal for you, he deems it safe to close his eyes and sleep— the fear of you passed out because you’d somehow slipped and hit your head on the tub long gone from his mind.

he’s laying on his side with an arm folded under his head and asleep when you carefully crack his door open, a big t-shirt you used to love (that now has a few unfortunate bleach stains on it) and a pair of cotton sleep shorts on your body as you slip through the opening. you move at a snail’s pace when you go to shut it, but then the door creaks, and with an eye pinched closed your face screws into a wince, shoulders tensing and you immediately freeze in your tracks.

dreadfully, you peak over at the lump in the dark that‘s megumi’s figure, but the sound didn’t wake him up and you let out a small breath at that. he’s still turned over with his bicep tucked under his head. tiptoeing your way over, you nearly trip over a stray sweatshirt on the floor but quickly catch yourself with a crabbed huff.

trying to cause as little commotion as possible, you delicately peel his blankets back with just your pointer finger and your thumb, the same way you’d done to that random pair of his boxers that had somehow ended up mixed in with your load of laundry last week. a silent prayer to somehow become weightless recites in your mind as you carefully sit down on the opposite side of his bed, head swishing over your shoulders to peer at his back every now and then in hopes of catching any sign of him stirring so you can bail before it’s too late.

and you’re sure you’re in the clear now, but just as you go to swing your legs over, your ear catches a faint grunt from beside you. your teeth catch your lip, eyes shutting as you steel yourself and mouth a muted curse.

megumi was up the moment he felt the bed dip, sleep immediately leaving him once he’d turned his head and saw you sitting on his mattress. certainly he’s hallucinating. certainly, you are not sitting on his bed right now. he rapidly blinks the mist from his vision and you can feel his searing gaze boring into the back of your head, even more so when you continue to lay down as if what you’re doing is completely normal.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing?” his voice is groggy and oozing with irritation, you can tell by the way his tone harshly nips at your ears. he’s even grumpier when his sleep is disrupted.

“um… going to bed.” you mumble, hesitantly pulling the linen fabric over your shoulder as you sink lower.

megumi can’t tell if he’s dreaming or having a nightmare. he’s propped on his elbow now, face screwed into one of incredulity at the gall of your answer.

“have you lost your mind? or are you that drunk where you’ve forgotten where your own room is?”

while your head is still spinning and that clearly explains why you’d even had the courage to walk your ass down the hall and to his door, that’s not the reason you’re here.

you wish the mattress would just open up and swallow you whole.

“i threw up on my bed.” your voice is small when you answer.

it’s silent for a few seconds but you swear it feels like a minute, and the only thing you think you can hear is the blood rushing to your face from sheer embarrassment. with bated breath you roll your lips between your teeth.

he mutters something unintelligible, quiet enough so you can’t hear, his body collapsing onto the bed and your lungs filling with much needed air when his bare back turns towards you once again. the sheets tugging in his direction when he pulls them over his body.

“if i feel so much as one cold toe touch my leg i swear to god you’re sleeping on the floor.”

and if only god knew megumi was bluffing, the heavens would strike him down right where he lay.

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“i haven’t seen your face in almost a month and you show up to wish me happy mother’s day?”

you’re seething, and yet he’s calm as a river.

“what’s with the bat?” he asks with an upwards tilt of his head. you’re still too scared to get the gun from the safe, he thinks.

your scoff is one of pure disbelief.

“what do you think?” your arm outstretches as if the answer is obvious, because it should be. “i live alone and just got a knock on my front door at four am in the morning. my son is here. sleeping.”

“our son.” he corrects you, and he hates that he has to.

“yeah,” you huff. “no need to remind me. i carried him for nine months and one extra week only for him to come out looking just like you.”

“you say that like its a bad thing.”

it feels like there’s an elephant on your chest when you let out a sigh. there are so many things you want to say, so many things you want to ask, but you don’t even know where to start so you settle with, “what do you want, toji?”

“can i come in? or do i have to stand out in the cold while i explain?” he’s the one who sounds irritated now.

you move over begrudgingly and with one whiff of his cologne you’re shutting your eyes and willing away the urge to jump on him.

once all three, yes, three, locks that he personally installed are in place, you turn to face him with folded arms, a bobbing head and a popped hip. it only reminds him of how much he missed you and that fire of yours. he has to bite back a smirk because he’s supposed to be winning you back and the last thing he wants to do is piss you off even further.

“so?”

but he’s playing it cool because that’s all he knows. his defense mechanism, if you will.

“so what, i can’t stop by?”

“cut the shit, toji. i made myself very clear when i told you it was that life or us.”

he nods. “you did.”

he takes a step forward and you take one back without even thinking about. he can’t lie, it hits him somewhere deep to see you looking at him with so much apprehension. he sets the bear and the bouquet of your favorite flowers onto the coffee table and then he looks back at you with those same eyes that made you fall for him all those years ago.

“don’t.”

he barely even reached for you, so his hands find their way into his pockets because he doesn’t know what else to do with them.

“i came by to tell you that i’m done with that shit now. wrapped up all those loose ends.”

you don’t ask what he means by that, and judging by the glacial look on his face you can tell he doesn’t want to clarify. your jaw clenches as your gaze rips away from him and falls to the crayon scribbled sheets of paper megumi left on the floor from earlier. they remind you that this isn’t the first time he’s said something along those lines and it’s not the first time you’ve made the naive mistake of believing him. and as much as it hurts you to wake up everyday to toji’s side of the bed empty, you know it hurts your son more when you can’t tell him why daddy hasn’t come home yet.

it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why you and toji never worked. he was a man of many secrets and little to no answers. and you tried to act like it didn’t bother you back then. tried to pretend that the obscene amounts of cash you’d find stashed in obscure places of the house didn’t have you tossing and turning at night, an uneasy feeling nestled deep in your gut. tried to act like a piece of your heart didn’t chip off everytime he’d return from the random ‘work call’ he’d dropped everything to rush out to a few days prior, knuckles battered, lids heavy and tone cold when he’d tell you to drop it already. as if it wasn’t your first time speaking to him in days. as if he wasn’t injured. it was only a matter of time before you caught onto the unfortunate truth— toji’s ‘job’ was anything but a proper one and he was involved in some seriously sinister shit.

but he was a good father, you’d give him that. you and megumi never had to want for anything, so you did what toji asked. turned a blind eye and wouldn’t inquire about the kind of ‘work’ he did as long as he came home to you in one piece, whether that be days or even weeks later.

a wire transfer would make its way into your bank account on the first of every month without fail, each time from a random untraceable address. it was always more than enough to cover your rent in the modest, tucked away house he’d moved you all into, as well as groceries and anything you or your boy needed. and every time you’d pick up the phone to ask toji where the hell he’d gotten that kind of money from he’d tell you not to worry about it, that he loves you and the little one and to never call him unless he called you. always leaving the most important questions unanswered: where are you? are you safe? when are you coming home?

you’d already tried to act like you were okay with living this way, but you simply couldn’t do it anymore and he couldn’t blame you for that.

it was the night you’d opened the front door to find him leaned against the frame, barely conscious and bloodied— far too much of it to only be his. he’d greeted you the same way as always, with a stupidly cocky ‘hey doll’ or at least he’d tried to, until his effort was interrupted by a pained wheeze and his head lolled to the side to spit blood onto the pavement.

it takes all your strength to haul toji’s dead weight into the house on wobbling knees, his muscular arm tossed over your shoulders, the blood you prayed didn’t belong to him staining your night robe as he clutches his side with a crimson coated hand and groans in pain.

somehow you manage to get him into the bathroom and sat down onto the closed toilet seat, hands trembling violently and eyes already bleary with tears as you frantically lift the stained cotton from his body to find a deep gash. he was fine when he’d kissed you goodbye a few days ago.

“oh my god—“ you cry out, a hand rushing to cover your mouth and silence your scream as much as you can as to not wake your son who’s fast asleep. you scramble for your phone. “i’m calling 911—“

“no!” he musters up all the energy he can to choke it out and you jump because toji has never once raised his voice at you. a large hand remains clamped down on your wrist to stop you from dialing the number, his grip almost painful. “no cops.”

“t-toji you need to go to the hospital! you’re fucking bleeding out—“

“i’m not. just— trust me,” he winces, jaw tensing as he struggles to sit up. “just lost a lil’ blood. you’ve patched me up before, you can do it again.” his forehead is beaded with sweat, skin pale and voice strained.

“but it’s never been this bad— i—i don’t know what to do.”your chest heaves out a sob, cheeks wet with tears and he wishes he could wipe them for you but he doesn’t want to stain your pretty face.

“it’s not all mine,” he reveals through gritted teeth and you swallow the bile that had been rising in your throat, a small part of you relieved, but a bigger part even more terrified because if he was in this bad of shape, was the other person even alive?

“look at me,” he’s panting and you’re on the brink of an anxiety attack, eyes big and wide, afraid if you blink he’ll disappear. “get the first aid kit, i’ll walk you through it.”

things weren’t the same after that and you’d given him an ultimatum, quit whatever he was doing and come home for good or leave. he’d chosen the latter, and “i’m doing this for you and him. it’ll all make sense later.” was all he left you with.

“hey,” you’re brought back to the present when a rough hand manages to be delicate in the way it turns your head back to face what it’s avoiding. “i’m serious, mama. i’m done. no more late night calls. no more lookin’ over my shoulder.”

you hate the way your voice cracks when you try to use it, the lump in your throat incredibly painful to swallow around.

“you said that last time, ‘ji.”

his thumb swipes a fallen tear from your skin, like he’s angry it’s even there. you push him away. “i can’t keep doing this. i can’t keep wondering if it’s going to be you i open the door to or the cops telling me you’re dead.”

“you don’t have to anymore. listen to me,” his gaze falls to your trembling lips, then back up to your watering eyes that still look at him as if he hangs the stars. he’s always hated seeing you cry.

“you remember when i told you i had some debts to repay? that i couldn’t be around knowin’ it was people out for me?”

you nod. it’s barely there but he sees it.

“i don’t owe nobody nothin’ no more, baby. i’m done.”

your stomach twists with something scarily close to hope and you shake your head as if you can shake the feeling away, too.

“i don’t believe you.”

“you think i came here this late just to bullshit you?” he doesn’t let you answer. “i got a gig now, a straight one. kuna’s gonna let me work at the garage, fixin’ cars n shit like i used to do when you first met me. before i got myself into all this mess like a dumbass.”

the hand at his side hesitates for a beat but he can’t help himself. he gently grabs onto yours and you let it happen. he can tell you’re listening now and that gives him the courage to continue.

“the pay ain’t nowhere near what i was bringing before, but it’s enough for us. you, me, megumi. and it’s clean money, baby. clean.” he’s almost begging.

“toji…”

his grip on your hand tenses, but his voice is lighter and softer now. like he’s scared you’ll shut down if he speaks too loud.

“i know. i know you’re scared— look at me” and you do. “you ain’t gotta let me come back or nothin’, i can get my own place, find somewhere to stay. but i wanna be here for you ‘n our boy.”

“i want you here, too. he misses you.” your heart betrays you before your mouth can disagree. “i miss you. i’m tired of sleeping alone, toji.” you can’t stop yourself from leaning into the hand that’s cradling your cheek, wet now from your tears. it’s calloused, scarred and familiar and your chest aches when you remember how much you missed his touch and how much it hurts everytime he leaves.

it’s as if he can read your mind.

“i’m not goin’ nowhere. not anymore, okay? i promise.”

he’s closer now, head dipping to your level because you’re closing off and he can’t have that. his eyes chase yours with that softness he’s reserved for you until you look at him again, and then he’s kissing your hand and your knuckles.

“lemme take you out tomorrow, start makin’ it up to you. i’ll make you n megs breakfast in the morning,” a kiss is placed to your open palm and you can almost hear your walls crumbling. “then we can go to that one restaurant we used to. get those crab cakes you loved so much back when you were pregnant.”

his hands are on your waist now, pulling you to him until your chin has to lift to maintain eye contact due to your height difference. “put you on a pretty lil’ dress, make the whole day about you. we can do whatever you want, ‘n i’ll get yuji to watch the brat, yeah?”

he knows he has you when your lashes bat up at him, all shiny from the tears his words sought to quell. he takes that as permission to kiss your forehead and quickly steals the opportunity to take a deep, lung-rattling inhale of the faint scent your shampoo always leaves behind.

“you got me lillies.”

it’s a quiet observation but he hears it. you’re talking about the flowers now, pointing out the obvious as your way of saying thank you because all you can do is press your ear to his chest and listen to his heartbeat, the only sound that has ever calmed your own.

“‘course i did. they’re your favorite.”

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©plumkissed 2026

the two of you are sat under a tree on a breezy day with your back against the bark and choso’s head tucked in your lap contently. he has his eyes closed but you can tell he’s not sleeping, just resting, his pretty lashes kissing his cheeks. chest rising and falling slowly. if anything, his relaxed stature should mirror onto you but it only makes you more nervous.

gently, you move to hold his face in your hands, thumbs dusting over his cheeks which makes him exhale a breath through his nose a little heavier in response. though no longer a stranger to your touch, it still makes his heart skip all the same. choso and affection had never crossed paths until he’d met you.

and slowly, you lower your face to his, eyes drawing to a close when you carefully slot your lips over his own. you remain there for a beat before you pull away to see a pair of alerted, intense eyes staring directly into yours.

“what did you just do?”

he’s so matter of fact. you still aren’t quite sure if you’re used to how much weight his voice has when he uses it. how it feels like he’s speaking into you instead of to you.

“um, I-“ you swallow, hard. “it was a kiss. i kissed you.”

you hadn’t really thought this through, you realize as your mouth runs dry. feels like it’s been filled with sand.

“why? what is a ‘kiss’?” he’d paused to taste the word, like he’d never spoken it before. because he hadn’t.

“it’s what you do when you like someone. when words aren’t enough to show it. you put your lips on theirs, and… move them.”

you were going to kill maki.

he nods, but he still seems to be thinking on it. “what does it mean?”

“it’s kind of hard to explain. but it’s supposed to be a good thing, you know… that couples do.” he shifts slightly, arms coming up to cross under his head instead. his knuckles brushing against the skin of your thighs, the feeling of his hands making you fidget a bit. they were almost hot.

“how’d it make you feel?” you ask.

“do it again.”

“what?”

he repeats himself, “do it again. you caught me off guard the first time.”

so you do as you’re told. once. just a peck, barely a second. then again, but this time, you stay long enough to feel his lips tentatively start to move against yours. to feel them press deeper into yours when his chin tilts upwards.

a breath is shared between the two of you, lips ghosting against each other’s before you pull away completely.

your heart is beating fast and you know he can sense it.

“so? now how do you feel?” it comes out really soft because you’re nervous and you truly can’t read him right now.

he looks… confused. curious? you don’t know, but there’s a harsh line between his brows while he mulls on his answer.

“warm. like my blood is about to burst through my veins any second now… like—“ his lips close, then part again, but it takes a few more seconds for words to escape and for the first time ever you hear choso trip over his words. “like the feeling you get when you’re getting ready to fight someone. but… different. more intense.”

“cho, it’s okay if you didn’t like—“

he doesn’t let you finish.

“give me more,” and he tacks it on for good measure because yuji’s told him he needs to work on his manners. “please.”

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“sorry, I— I didn’t—“

“It’s fine,” stopping mid speech, your professor blinks his irritation away. “just find a seat, mr. itadori.”

“yes sir. sorry, sir.” he obliges, and then his eyes scan across the large lecture hall.

you’re now aware of the open seat next to you and you slouch down a little as if you could fuse into your own.

he climbs the stairs, one hand clasped onto the strap of his book bag that’s slung over a broad shoulder, feet skipping one step each time with ease until his sneakers stop in front of you.

“could-“ voice a little hoarse, he clears his throat. “could I sit here?”

you nod.

“bet, thanks.”

his book bag plops down first, then his body, rather unceremoniously at that, into the neighboring chair he’d pulled out for himself.

brief murmurs are spoken in the short intermission but die down once your professor clicks onto the next slide, everyone’s focus centering back onto the screen in front of them.

except yours.

your mechanical pencil strums restlessly between your thumb and pointer finger because you can feel his eyes glancing at your temple every few seconds and you’re just waiting for him to say something already.

and then he leans in, close enough to whisper, which he happens to be absolutely terrible at you might add.

“you have a pencil i could borrow?” he whisper yells.

“seriously?” you whisper back.

he looks to the side, then back at you. “uh… a pen is cool too, i guess, if that’s all you—“

“what do you even have in your backpack?” you hiss through clenched teeth.

“uhh,” he genuinely searches his bag as if your question wasn’t rhetorical. “a clif bar,” another side pocket is unzipped, and he grimaces apologetically when his eyes return to yours with a less than favorable answer. “and a highlighter... but it’s yellow.”

you roll your eyes and reach to grab your pencil case.

jock!yuji who effortlessly catches up to you in the courtyard after lecture with just a few long strides, scaring the shit out of you when he nudges your shoulder with his elbow, maybe a little too hard given how you stumble slightly.

“jesus fucking-“

“you’re a fast walker!” he notes, sounding impressed. and then, his hand outstretched in front of you to reveal the hello kitty themed writing utensil you’d given him just thirty minutes ago. “forgot to give your pencil back.”

you wave him off, “keep it.”

his brows rise, “you sure?”

a curt laugh huffs through your nostrils. “trust me, you need it more than i do. or are you gonna rough it with your yellow highlighter for the rest of the day?” you tease.

it’s boyish, crooked, and just a little bit cute the way he smiles down at you. a little bit.

“very funny.”

jock!yuji who finds you in one of the library’s quiet study rooms later that week with your head down, brows clenched, and focus unwavering as you meticulously drag a stripe of translucent blue over the capitalized header of your notes.

it takes you a few seconds to notice his big brown eyes gazing at you intensely. and when you do, all you can manage to get out is an, “um—?“

“i need you to tutor me.” he blurts, “please.”

your brow quirks suspiciously, “who told you i’m a tutor?”

his thumb juts behind him when he says, “the giant ‘tutor’ sign outside the door i just came through?”

you forgot about that. “right.”

but you swore you didn’t see his name on the list when you checked this morning, and you confirm that thought when you grab your phone and pull up your agenda for the day.

“what day did you sign up for?” you scroll through, seeing nothing but a blank page.

“huh?” his head tilts like a puppy in response to a dog whistle. “sign up?”

“yes. you have to sign up for a time slot.” he scratches his head like he doesn’t get it, so you continue with a deadpan expression. “the qr code? you know, on the giant sign you just—“

his bottom lip juts out. did he just fucking pout? oh my god he’s pouting at you.

“just sit down.”

jock!yuji who eventually uses your qr code to sign up for a tutoring slot with you every tuesday for the rest of the month so he doesn’t accidentally interrupt another of your solo study sessions, and it’s the one thing he’s actually on time for because he really needs to pass this exam.

sharpened down to its last leg now, the same hello kitty pencil is used to scribble his answer down on the loose leaf that you also provided him. it looks comically tiny between his fingers, his penmanship a little strained due to its inconvenient size. he flips the sheet to face you, pencil slamming down determinedly and eyes looking to you with anticipation.

craning your neck slightly, you click your tongue after a heavy moment of silence. “wrong.”

he scoffs. “what the fu— how?”

“you missed the second step,” his eyes squint at where your finger is on his sheet of paper. “yuji, if you miss the second step the entire equation is wrong, no matter what.”

groaning, he lets his head drops down onto his arms like bummed child. he was never good at math, let alone statistics.

you chew on your words for a beat, but curiosity gets the best of you so you ask anyway, arms crossing over your chest.

“why are you always late?” after a brief pause, you tack on, “—to lecture, i mean.”

a sheepish, quiet chuckle leaves him when he sits up and rubs the back of his head. it lacks the humor it should have, like he’s ashamed to talk about it.

“track. i have team lifts every morning,” he fiddles with your his pencil. “and i would’ve chosen another day to take the class but there was only one option, so,” his hands gesture to the air to complete his sentence.

“so track is more important than passing this class?” it comes out sounding harsher than you intended.

“uh, nah, it’s kinda complicated.” his jaw tenses, and it’s like you can see into him for just a moment. “i have a scholarship through track. it was just me and my grandpa for a while before he passed, so… that’s how i pay for school.”

guilt instantly drenches you, lips opening and closing like a fish out of water before you finish his explanation for him. “and in order to stay on the team, and keep your scholarship… you need to pass this class.”

his hands are flat and pressed together for emphasis. “really need to pass this class.”

he sees your eyes soften and waves you off immediately, he doesn’t want you feeling bad for him, it’s not your fault.

“i-i shouldn’t have assumed, i’m sorry.”

“don’t sweat it.”

jock!yuji who’s starting to impress you by his fourth tutoring session. he even has his own pencil and notebook now!

but now that his understanding is starting to pick up, he can’t stop his mind from wandering away from what you’re explaining to him on your laptop’s screen. he thinks about how put together you seem, how smart you clearly are. how you intentionally save a seat for him next to you in the lecture hall using your backpack now, with zero judgment and only understanding because you know he’s on his way. how your brows push together and make that cute little line between them when you’re double checking his work.

you glance up to ask if he comprehended what you just said to him, just to see his eyes on you instead of the very detailed tutorial you’d put together and recorded for him last night.

the tips of his ears run red and he’s brought back to reality, and your chest tightens with the intrusive feelings you’ve been trying to ignore when he blabs,

“what?”

your brows have that cute little line he was just thinking about between them right now.

“did you hear anything i just said?”

“yes.” he answers confidently. blindly.

“repeat it.” you demand.

his lips make way for words that never come, then they close.

your head dips to the side a little when you sigh, “yuji.”

jock!yuji who’s stomach flips when you say his name like that and he doesn’t know why. maybe it’s how you’re looking up at him through your lashes expectantly, like you want him to listen because you know he’s capable of getting this. like you believe in him.

swallowing hard, he sits up straighter, “sorry,” then runs his sweaty palms run over his jeans, thighs tensed. why are his hands so sweaty?

“i’m listening.”

jock!yuji who parades into the library like he just won the lottery, slinking into your study room cooly without pushing the cracked door open any further. all five fingers slap a stapled packet down over the notes you were reading. he has the most shit eating grin on his face.

“yuji—“

“read that,” he points to the top right corner, taps on it. “tell me what that says.”

so you do, eyes flying back up to see him so loaded with excitement that you find out he has a dimple.

“you passed!”

“b-minus,” his hands shoot up like he just won the super bowl, voice booming, “i fuckin passed, baby!”

a few very agitated students glare at him so you shush him and grab his wrist, yanking him to sit down with you. you try your best to stifle your laugh and ignore the sensation that blooms deep in your gut at what he called you, even if he didn’t mean it like that.

jock!yuji who is utterly shocked when he offers to treat you to lunch and you actually say yes (he was going to resort to begging if you said no). granted, he did phrase it as being a form of compensation for helping him pass the exam, since you volunteer as a tutor in the library for free and all.

he knows he was a pain in the ass to teach so he insisted, also because he couldn’t find the balls to ask you out without a reason beneath it as a safety net. what he didn’t know, is that you would’ve said yes regardless of his declaration of ‘owing you one’.

all his nerves wash away and replace with a small bout of confidence when you simply ask. “when?”

though they’re quick in their return, hitting him like a freight train the very next day as you stand at your front door where he’s picking you up from, beautiful as ever with a smile he selfishly wants to keep for some reason. but he won’t get ahead of himself, it’s only lunch, nothing more.

jock!yuji who is so much more than what you expected that you curse your past self for judging him before you really got to know him. he’s ridiculously funny, incredibly kind and insanely attractive. and while you’ve always known that last part, actually getting to know him made it all the more apparent.

he laughs at every joke you make, a real belly laugh, the kind that’s not the slightest bit polite and makes you laugh too just by hearing it. and he listens to you with his entire body as you talk about something he truly has no reason to care about, chin in hand, eyes peeled and face emotive.

but you won’t get ahead of yourself, and you’ll repeat it in your head until it’s what you believe. that as he places his card down on the bill and scribbles what’s supposed to be his name in cursive under the tip portion, that this is only lunch and nothing more. a kind gesture.

until the two of you are back in his dorm room and jock!yuji, who is beet faced and kiss drunk genuinely thinks he might pass out from how fast his heart is drumming against his ribcage when you break away from him to breathe, a string of shared saliva connecting you both. breathing is overrated, he thinks, flushed lips chasing after yours like they’re two halves of a whole that shouldn’t be separated, his body pressing into you with a hunger that makes your stomach churn. and you duck your head down to his tensed jaw instead, mind feeling hazy because his cologne smells so good it’s making you dizzy.

large hands squeeze your denim clad hips as you’re perched in his lap and if you shift them forward one more time he might lose his composure, but he still can’t stop himself from helping you rock down into him and he doesn’t think he wants to. the sensation of your heated gasp tickles against his skin, makes his adams apple bob dangerously in his throat and he’s really trying to be gentleman but you aren’t making this easy for him.

your lips are so much softer, so much better than he imagined and his tongue darts out to lick at his own, tasting the faint hint of strawberry you’ve left on them. you don’t know how many nights he’s spent wondering what your chapstick would taste like.

he relishes in the feeling of you nibbling at his skin, maybe a little too much, he realizes, when a strangled mewl claws its way from his throat and makes you pull away to look at him with adorable concern.

“should i get off?”

jock!yuji who’d do anything to keep you right here— who’s so quick to shake his head that you can’t help the giggle that escapes you and he can’t help but feel a little embarrassed for being so eager.

“please don’t.”

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©plumkissed 2026