#eclipsehashira

➴ summary: a drunken bet by sukuna left toji chasing the only thing he thought he'd never have: love. but playing with fire tends to mean you'll end up burning.

➴ pairing: frat!toji x fem!reader

➴ warnings: alcohol, drugs (weed and some pills), virginity, virginity loss, heavy language, men, sex, nasty positions, men, bet trope, actual human feelings (scary). not proofread (never will be).

➴ wordcount: 1.4k

➴ author note: happy holidays. this was rushed as fuck and is shorter than my will to get up in the morning. thankfully i have two weeks off so i'm gonna write like my life depends on it. also writing another frat!toji x oc fic, plus a frat!jjkmen series.

Morning crept in through the half-closed curtains, bathing the room in a soft, quiet gold. The light brushing over his skin and the sheets tangled around your legs.

Toji woke up before you did. He didn’t mean to, his body just snapped awake the moment it felt warmth against him that didn’t come from a nightmare.

You looked peaceful, lips morphed into a sweet pout. Your arm draped over his stomach like claiming him was the most natural thing in the world. Your face pressed against his chest, letting him feel every breath. Your body molded into his like you belonged there.

It should’ve been enough to make him move. He didn’t.

Instead, the arm around you tightened its hold unconsciously, and his gaze moved up to the ceiling, looking at it like it was personally offending him.

You shifted then. Soft, sleepy, unaware of the way his entire body went taut with the smallest brush of your lips at his skin. Your eyes blinked open, lashes dragging lazily, and you looked up at him like waking up to him wasn’t something that should terrify the both of you.

“Morning,” you whispered, voice soft.

He made a low sound in his throat. Not a word, hardly anything. You smiled at it either way.

Slowly, you untangled yourself from his grasp, sitting up on the edge of the bed. Your feet touched the cold hardwood floor, and you leaned down to pick up your clothes.

Toji watched you from the corner of his eye while he pretended not to. Every movement you made sent something sharp through him. The marks he’d left on your body. The faint tremble in your thighs as you pulled your shorts on. The soft, shy blush rising on your cheeks every time you caught him looking.

“Getting shy on me, ma?”

You slapped his arm with a laugh. “Shut up, idiot. Not everyone’s a hoe like you.”

Toji smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned back, arms behind his head. His mind replaying every curve of your body, every sound from the night before. He didn’t know how  he got here. Didn’t want to admit how much he liked it– how much he liked you.

“Breakfast?” You asked, tilting your head.

He glanced at you through half-lidded eyes that were no longer dull, nodding. “Let’s go.”

You stood, stretching. He followed, getting dressed in the process. You turned around and he caught your hand. He froze for a second, unsure of what had gotten into him, then sat back down and tugged you to him.

You laughed as you landed on his lap.

“Toji–”

“What? Don’t want a morning kiss?”

You laughed again. “Do you?”

He nodded.

Your arms found themselves wrapping around his neck as you adjusted yourself on his lap. Still trembling thighs caging him in. He circled your waist with his and leaned in, your lips connecting in a kind of kiss he never thought he’d give.

He did not take it further.

Yet the kiss broke due to lack of air.

The campus was louder than it needed to be. Too much movement, too much noise. People were laughing like the world wasn’t about to chew them up and spit them out.

Toji hated that kind of ease. It was fake. Something he couldn’t trust.

You walked beside him. Not pressed up against him, not clinging. Just close enough to brush against him from time to time, making the hairs in the back of his neck spike up.

“You sure you wanna hold my hand?”

He kept his gaze forward when he said it, jaw set, like he was asking about the weather. His fingers brushed yours but he didn’t hold your hand. A test. An escape route.

You looked at him like he had asked the dumbest question to mankind.

“Pretty sure,” you replied. Before he could pull back, your fingers closed around his. Firm, certain, and he didn’t know what to do with it. “Or you think somebody gonna beat me up?”

He snorted, finally looking at you through amused eyes. “What?”

“A jealous ex?”

“I don’t have exes,” he said. Too fast, too defensive.

You laughed. “Sneaky link?”

“Hm,” he tugged you closer with your joined hands. He lowered his head until his lips were hot against your ear and you could hear the smirk dancing around his lips before he even spoke: “better to leave campus, mama.”

You both knew it wasn’t a joke, but laughed regardless. Your hand squeezed his a little harder as if grounding yourself, but then he let go of it so he could wrap his arm around your shoulders and brought you even closer, bodies almost flushed together as you walked.

The rest of the walk was silent. Your arm wrapped around his waist.

You both ignored the stares and gasps, though he squeezed your shoulder from time to time.

It was reassuring.

It was also driving him insane.

Toji didn’t know what to do. He had never acted like this. And as much as he told himself he was pretending, he knew something.

If someone dared to take this from him, he’d kill them.

And that thought alone was scarier than life itself.

Toji Zenin walked into the frat house with his mask on. It was pathetic how good he was at it.

Satoru was sprawled on the couch, eating cereal straight from the box. Suguru leaned against the counter scrolling through his phone. Choso had the fridge’s door open as if looking inside would make his problems disappear. Nanami sat with his laptop open as he nursed a cup of coffee, looking like he regretted every decision that led him here. Sukuna nursed a hangover like the word was to blame instead of himself.

Satoru spotted him first. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Loverboy himself.”

Toji snorted, dropping his keys on the coffee table. “Shut it.”

“So,” Sukuna smirked lazily. “How’s the little bet going? Clock’s ticking, bro.”

“Hm,” Toji pretended to think as he lit a cigarette. As if he didn’t feel your lips against his still, your nails scratching his back or the way you moaned his name every time you came. As if the mere memory of you sleeping against him didn’t give him goosebumps. “Think you’ll survive that month of abstinence?”

Sukuna shrugged, smirking. “I think you haven’t won yet. Didn’t give you an easy target.”

“You didn’t,” Toji looked back at his friend. “You gave me a virgin, though.”

Six eyes widened as they looked at Toji.

Suguru whistled low. “No way in hell.”

“So? You haven’t fucked her yet?” Choso asked.

Toji chuckled. “Last night. She didn’t hesitate to open her legs. Cherry popped and bet won,” he flipped Sukuna off without looking. She’s probably already coming up with baby names.”

Nanami’s voice cut the air clean in half. “You don’t believe a single word you’re saying.”

All heads turned.

Nanami closed his laptop, tucked it inside his bag. Coffee mug in hand and gaze sharp. “You’re lying to us, to her, and worst of all, you’re lying to yourself. You’ll regret speaking about her like that.”

“And why’s that?” Toji’s voice was sharper than he intended. “You think she gonna be the first bitch crying at my door?”

Nanami didn’t raise his voice, he didn’t have to. His words were sharp enough to cut clean. “I think you’re in love with her and you don’t know what to do with it. I think you’re hiding behind the bet because it’s easier if she leaves you for it rather than for yourself. I think you believe so low in yourself that you’d rather destroy any attempt at happiness than risk pain.”

Something twisted inside Toji’s chest. Old, ugly and wounded. Telling him to punch, or run, or deny. His fists curled at his side, his jaw closed, his pulse picked up like it was trying to escape out of his body.

He scoffed. “Y’r outta mind, bro.”

“And you’re not gonna survive the aftermath of this little game.”

Sukuna snorted. “Toji catching feelings. Sure, what’s next, hell freezing?”

“As if,” Satoru joked.

They kept talking, but Toji didn’t listen. He turned around and disappeared upstairs. Climbed two at a time like it’d take him further than his room. The door locked behind him. He sat at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands.

Nothing helped.

Not the silence.

Not the dark.

Not the lies he’d told in under three minutes.

Nanami’s voice was still ringing in his head, laughing and cursing as his words danced around. Toji shouldn’t have bragged. In fact, he shouldn’t have said a damn thing.

You don’t believe a single thing you’re saying.

I think you’re in love with her and you don’t know what to do with it.

You’re not gonna survive it.

Every word formed a crack somewhere Toji couldn’t reach.

And he knew exactly why.

please do not translate, repost or claim as your own.

➴ summary: based on this ask, for @gentlenightmare (also, i love your username!)

➴ pairing: enjin x fem!reader

➴ warnings: smoking. smut. virginity and virginity loss. enjin (he's a menace to society, that's why he my type). lack of proof reading (very common, not truly sorry heh). squirting.

➴ wordcount: 3.3k

➴ author note: don't be hard on yourself. you may think you're not enjin's type but that's your brain lying to you, trust me. hope you like it and sorry it took long, i truly just dissociated for a while.

Cleaners’ HQ was quieter than usual, with people preparing for their next missions or choosing to sleep before them.

You couldn’t do either.

You sat on a chair in the dining hall, drawing circles on the table. Watching Enjin sprawled across the couch, consuming the cigarette between his long, tattooed fingers down to the stub. The air felt heavy– like a dangerous storm hiding behind a treeline.

He looked calm, collected, too carefree for someone that would walk into hell tomorrow.

You wished you could be like that.

You wished for too many things, actually.

Enjin tilted his head, catching you staring. Under other circumstances you would have blushed, apologized and busied yourself with imaginary things, but something in his eyes made it impossible to move, to stop staring.

He gave you that cocky, wide smile that made your chest tighten painfully. “Nervous?”

You nodded, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. “You ain’t?”

He shook his head no, letting the stub die on the ashtray. He got up from the couch, walking lazily to your table and sitting down on the chair next to you. You did blush this time, but hid it behind your arms as you crossed them on the table and buried your face on them.

“Thought you might go see your lil’ boyfriend before the mission.”

You laughed, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “What boyfriend?”

“Ain’t got a man?”

“No,” you said softly, your eyes returning to the invisible spot on the table.

Enjin leaned back in the chair, stretching his legs out, boots clacking against the floor. “No man, huh. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

You raised an eyebrow, half offended, half amused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He smirked, smoke still lingering in his voice. “You don’t look like the kind that settles for the idiots ‘round here.”

You snorted, fingers tracing the rim of your empty cup. “Or maybe I just never had the chance.”

Enjin lit another cigarette, humming in thought. For a moment the two of you sat in silence. The world outside felt distant– the missions, the fear, the chaos that awaited for the morning. Maybe that’s what made your words slip out, because the silence was too much, too heavy.

“Never been with anyone, truly.”

He blinked, smirk fading slightly as he exhaled the smoke. “What?”

You shrugged, leaning back in your chair and not meeting his eyes. “Never had the chance. I joined the cleaners young and, well…” your voice faded into a whisper.

Enjin stared at you for a long moment. The air between you shifting. “And?”

“I’m not exactly the type of woman people look twice at. I’m not as smart as the others, not the type of pretty that makes people want to approach me,” you laughed dryly. “Pathetic, right? People always assume given my age that at least I’ve had something. I haven’t.” You let out a tired sigh. “I’m not people’s type. Not your type.”

You met his eyes, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your own.

He shook his head, chuckling in disbelief. “Y’r wrong.”

“About what?”

Enjin leaned forward, elbows on the table, spreading his legs further and forcing his knee to grace yours. He took another drag before answering, voice thick with smoke. “You got no idea how many bastards here can’t even look at you ‘cause they’d trip over their tongues.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I ain’t lying.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words got tangled with the ache in your chest. You couldn’t tell if it was fear, or something crueler– hope.

He leaned closer to you, voice dropping low enough to make your pulse stumble. “You really think I’m sittin’ here wastin’ a cigarette on someone I don’t notice?”

“You notice everyone.”

“Nah,” he said softly. “Not everyone.”

He took the first step. It was unsure, tentative, and gave you enough time to pull away if you wanted to.

You didn’t.

His lips were soft to the touch, a little cold. He smelt of cigarettes and the slice of pie he had eaten during dinner.

You kissed him back clumsily, your hands shaking.

It soon turned heated. Enjin kissed you hungrily, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. You felt his tongue against your lips and opened them, and suddenly he was everywhere.

The cigarette was forgotten atop the table, one of his hands moving to cradle your head while the other found home in your hip. He tasted every inch of you, groaning softly when he felt your legs moving. He took a quick glance down to see you closing them, thighs flushed.

When he looked at you again your eyes were wide, your lips parted– wet and red from him.

The hand on your thigh sneaked up, dangerously close to your clothed womanhood.

“You can say no,” he said. Voice low and rough. “Or we can go back to my room.”

You couldn’t answer him, your voice lost somewhere between the way he sounded and the way he looked– eyes glossy, lips plump from the kiss. So you grabbed his hand, tightly as if to reassure him, or maybe you just wanted to reassure yourself.

Enjin wasted no time. He was up in a second, pulling you to your feet and tugging you behind him as he made his way out the dining hall and into the hallway.

Turn after turn after turn– after what seemed like a fucking lifetime you found yourself at his room door. He pushed it open with enough force that it collided against the wall. Then, he pushed you inside and followed, closing it behind him and making sure to lock it.

He was on you again, hungrier, desperate. You moaned when he grabbed your ass and felt him press against you, no hesitation, no flinch at the give of your stomach. You could feel it even through your layers of clothing.

Enjin was huge. Sure, you didn’t have anything to compare it to, but the fact that it felt as long as your fucking forearm was enough to excite you– and scare you.

Would it even fit?

You let out a little gasp. Enjin smirked, his lips moving from yours to your neck, where he left little kisses and bit away as his will. His hands moved from your ass to the soft curve of your waist, pressing down the flesh to leave marks.

Who knew Enjin was such a territorial man, huh. You weren’t complaining. If you died tomorrow, at least you would’ve been marked as his.

He pushed you back until your knees hit the bed and you fell back on it. Looking up, panting and eyes wide you saw him take off his clothes hurriedly, desperation evident in the trembling of his hands and the quick rising of his chest.

You took a minute to admire him– the tattoos that hid scars he didn’t want the world to see, sharp golden eyes with pupils blown from lust, the glinting of his rings each time they caught light. Enjin looked majestic, as he always did, sure, but something about having him naked in front of you– for you, made the familiar rush of blood feel different.

Every inch of your body felt hot and seemed to call his name.

“Enjin?”

“Yeah, babe?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, avoiding his gaze as you spoke. “Are you sure ‘bout this? I mean, I just don’t want it to…”

“Wanted you since the first time I saw you,” he cut you off. His hand grabbing your face to force you to look at him. “I just didn’t think I had a chance, pretty girl.”

He lay on top of you, one arm holding himself up. His cock rested nestled between his stomach and yours, leaking with pre-cum that felt hot when it dripped down to your skin. He leaned in, mouth inches apart from yours.

Enjin looked one second away from breaking completely. Not that you were much different, to be honest. Flushed flesh, parted lips and your own pupils matching his. You slowly raised a hand to his chest, then moved it up to the back of his neck.

You kissed him. Your other hand came up to cradle his face and he bucked his hips as he effortlessly kissed you back. He moaned at the friction.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you said in between kisses.

Enjin took your hand, guiding it down to his cock. You grabbed it softly as he guided you with his own. He guided your thumb to his slit and applied pressure, moaning at the feeling. Then, as his own hand engulfed yours, he started thrusting. “Just like this, pretty girl.”

You did as you were told, your own hand going up and down his cock in sync with his thrusts. Your thumb helped spread the pre-cum so it wouldn’t be painful. Enjin hid his face on the crook of your neck, his lips right next to your ear as he continued moaning and groaning and pleading, kissing and licking while he trembled.

Seeing him lost in pleasure had an effect. Your own cunt wetter by the second, begging for something– a touch, a kiss, anything. You had to bite down your lips to stop yourself from whining, but after a particularly low thrust in which his knee grazed your clothed cunt, you let out a whimper.

He stopped, removing your hand from its grasp. You were about to complain when he kissed you again, all tongue and saliva this time. He picked some of his seed on his thumb, then he pressed the finger to your lips and watched you open your mouth to taste him.

Salty, hot, not unpleasant.

“My turn,” he said, moving to kneel between your legs.

Skilled hands removed your trousers, then your underwear, until you were bare in front of him. You saw him lick his lips, moving down to face your cunt.

Something felt weird, then. Like it was wrong, like this wasn’t supposed to happen. You had no experience, but had enough knowledge. You knew what he was about to do, but shyness took a hold of you before you could stop it.

“Wait,” you grabbed his hair. “You don’t have to.”

“Please,” he begged. High-pitch and everything. “Please let me eat you out, babe, lemme eat this pretty pussy.”

Was it the begging? Was it the way he eyed your pussy like a starved man eyed food? You didn’t know nor did you want to know. All you knew is that you liked him, that he liked you, and that you wanted to find out what it felt like.

You let go of his hair.

Enjin groaned, lips closing around your clit and sucking. You moaned out loud, grabbing his hair again–this time to push him closer, as you bucked your hips up. Enjin grabbed your thighs again, this time his nails sank into your flesh and the combination of pain and pleasure had you rolling your eyes and throwing your head back.

He ate like he moved through life: confident, skilled. His tongue pressed against your closed entrance and prodded, finally going in to continue tasting you. By the way he moaned against it you’d think you had the sweetest nectar between your legs. To him you did.

When his lips returned to your clit: his tongue flicking it over and over, rolling itself. He then bit it before sucking again and you felt a single digit against your entrance. Your cunt so desperate to be filled that it sucked on air.

He slowly introduced it in, curling it inside as he pumped in and out. He picked up the pace, but not so much that it felt wrong. He took his time, making sure you were ready when he added a second finger. The stretch felt so good you sighed, tightening your hold on his hair.

It seemed Enjin also felt good, good enough to chuckle against your clit and hump the mattress so he could alleviate some of his needs.

With two fingers inside he didn’t just curl them and explored the inside of your cunt, he also made scissoring motions to stretch you further, open you up, get you ready for him.

But his fingers and his mouth, it became too much. That known knot in your lower belly was forming fast–faster than it ever did when you touched yourself. Your legs trembled against his sides and something else, something you had never felt before, arose in your body.

“Enjin,” you whined. Attempted to push him back due to the unknown feeling.

He caressed your flesh, looking up at you as his fingers continued to move. “It’s fine, babe. It’s gonna feel good, I promise. Trust me, yeah?” You nodded.

He let himself enjoy the pleasure of adding a third finger– for good measure, of course. The further stretch burnt, but in a good way.

His fingers had found something inside you that you had never been able to reach on your own, and he was abusing it as much as he could. His tongue worked wonders on your clitoris, lapping at it like a thirsty dog.

You saw white when your orgasm came. Your legs closed against Enjin’s head, your head thrown back against the bed and your eyes rolled to the back of it. You screamed his name, letting go of his hair to grab the sheets under you. He fucked you through it, only stopping when your whines became whimpers and the overstimulation was too much.

Enjin sat back on his knees, looking down to see the mess. You looked at him, too–at his face dripping with your cum. Well, his face, his lips, his neck. He was covered in all your glory.

He stroked his cock and licked his lips clean, then his fingers–slightly covered with blood.

With no innocence left to resist the intrusion of his cock, he lined himself, slapping your cunt with it and using your release as lube.

He looked at you again, whispering. “Y’r sure?”

“I just came on your face.”

He grinned. “Such a good meal.”

You laughed, slapping his arm. “Y’r nasty.”

“I can be a lot worse, but I don’t wanna hurt you babe.”

“I’m sure,” you said, locking your legs around his waist.

Enjin thrusted, letting his pretty reddened tip go past your lower lips, pushing slowly to not break you in half. As much as he wanted to bury himself in you, he knew he still had to be careful and let you adjust to his size. You whimpered and clawed as his arms, his lips let out sweet praises against your ear as he disappeared inside you inch by inch.

So good, so tight, you’re doing so well, my pretty girl, your cunt feels so good. As he pushed in further, his words became more and more filthy and all you could do was moan at them.

He bottomed out with a long groan. “Y’r gripping my cock like you want it to stay inside you forever,” he chuckled. “Want that, babe? I wouldn’t complain.”

You couldn’t answer, just gasp. It felt so big and you felt so full that you wanted to feel even fuller, filled up to the brim with his salty cum inside of you. You whimpered when he didn’t move, because although he was doing it for you, all you wanted was for him to move, to let you feel his cock going in and out your cunt, so you bucked your hips up.

Enjin began thrusting. Long, deep thrusts that resonated throughout the room in wetness. You moaned and moaned, tightening your legs around him and asking, begging for more.

Nothing had ever felt as good, as satisfying, as getting fucked by the man you loved.

You couldn’t get enough.

He built a rhythm, going faster than before. Dragging his cock back out to the tip and then all the way in, over and over. He was so vocal it made your skin tingle.

You could feel him clearly, the veins of his cock touching your walls, the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot all the time. He truly knew what he was doing.

And it built again, that fire, that knot that told you you were close to release again. By the way your cunt clenched around his cock he knew it too and his pace became relentless. Quick and sharp thrusts left you gasping for air as he chased your orgasm.

You came with a silent scream, clawing at his back and lifting its skin, leaving sweet and red markings behind. He hissed, throwing his head back in pleasure and kept going.

“Enjin,” you whimpered, already tired of your second orgasm and the overstimulation that came with him still fucking you through it.

“Just,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just a second, I’m close, so close.”

You felt him shudder, his hips stuttering as he lost pace and just decided to brutally fuck you. It was so raw, so intense. The squelching sound of his cock bullying your cunt, the sound of skin against skin as his balls slapped your ass each time he thrusted in. He hooked your leg up and against his shoulder, the position made you even tighter than you already were.

“Please, please, fill me up, Enjin.”

Your words pushed him to the edge and Enjin came with a deep, throaty groan, burying himself to the tilt inside you. You felt his cum shooting inside, long ropes of thick release coating your insides and making them feel so, so warm and good. You matched his thrusts as more and more cum escaped his cock, enjoying all–his cum and cock inside you, his voice, the feeling of his balls slapping your ass still.

Enjin fell next to you with a thump. He was panting, his chest rising and falling in mirror to yours. Your legs and hands shaking. His cum–and yours–leaving your cunt like water flowing in a riverbed.

“I’m fucking these next,” he said, fondling your breast. You blushed, letting out a gasp that was half-laugh. He kissed you then. “And this pretty mouth of yours, too.”

“Enjin!”

He laughed. “What? Can’t a man appreciate his woman?”

“How is that the same?”

“It is!” He defended himself, propping himself up in an elbow to look at you. His lazy grin was back in place and in full force. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever.”

Enjin frowned, his smirk disappearing as he looked right into your eyes. “Hey. I mean it. I want to be with you, I’ve wanted to for a long time. I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.”

“Why? I just don’t understand.”

“What do you mean, babe? You are smart, you always listen and critique people when they’re doing something wrong, know what people are feeling even before they realise. You care so much about everybody that not a single motherfucker in this place would hesitate to protect you. And you’re hot, specially when you wear that fuckin’ white t-shirt. I have to use Umbreaker to hide my boner every time you crouch down to pick something up.”

You were silenced at his words. Enjin was so good at lifting others up, but he never lied. It was a little promise he had made to himself a long time ago. He didn’t need to lie for people to give their all, just be themselves and comfortable in their own skin.

After, when he fell asleep against your back, you lay awake in his bed. You thought about every little moment Riyo teased you, every little comment made by Zanka, even Corvus’ knowing eyes when he spotted you and Enjin together.

It made sense, you guessed.

The following morning, you and Enjin walked to the car holding hands. And once the mission was over and done with, you knew he didn’t lie to you that night.

Because the first thing he did was throw himself at you and wrap his arms around your frame, kissing you in front of the entire team. “Let’s go home, my pretty girl.”

➴ summary: late summer nights and broken promises make you reach out to enjin for a quick fix. you're tired of running: turns out so is he.

➴ pairing: plug!Enjin x fem!reader

➴ warnings: drugs (weed, lol), sex, slapping, spitting, degradation (soft), unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, heavy language.

➴ wordcount: 4.8K​

➴ author note: this is a modern!au of gachiakuta. if you guys haven't watched the anime, i truly recommend it. this was supposed to be a soft, fluffy story, ended up being a fuck your depression away (don't recommend that, trust me).

01:36 am

You looked at the time, fingers hovering over the screen.

The emptiness of the room became larger with every passing second, and the stillness of the outside world made way into your heart to add a weight that shouldn’t be there.

You couldn’t hear much aside from a passing cricket and the soft, mechanical whirring of the AC cooling your bedroom.

You didn’t feel cold, though.

You felt tired.

Not the tiredness that came from lack of sleep or an exciting evening, no, the kind in which the bed was no longer a bed but a shrine, and you the forgotten spirit that lies in it hoping for a small change that would bring you back to life.

Sighing, you got up from the bed and made your way outside the bedroom and into the living room, where the couch looked uncomfortable and uninviting.

You sat down, phone in hand once again, message app open.

You: got something?

His answer came quicker than expected.

Enjin: told ya i ain’t selling you no more.

You smiled, small and brittle. He’d said that before, true. Every time. He still showed up.

You: u always say that… Enjin: u should start listening.

You could almost hear his voice, that bored pitch with a rough undertone. It slipped into your mind easier than the drugs ever did.

You: i can’t sleep, jin. Enjin: not my problem.

You couldn’t answer. He beat you to it.

Enjin: you home?

You heard the rumble of the engine before you saw the lights illuminate the empty street.

The clock read 1:51 am when he stopped in front of your house. You stood on the doorway, arms crossed, wearing an old and beaten t-shirt and the kind of expression that said you had been waiting there even when you didn’t–shouldn’t– want to.

Enjin just sat in the car for a second, tattooed hands gripping the wheel as he looked at you. The shadows covered his eyes, but you didn’t need light to know he was watching because you could feel it. The way his golden eyes were fixated on the bags under your eyes.

His gaze always made you feel seen and cornered at the same time.

He killed the engine, silence taking over the street again after he exited the car and closed the door with a heavy thump. He walked up the small path to the front door, jaw tight and unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

“You shouldn’t be calling this late.”

You shrugged. “You shouldn’t answer.”

He gave a smirk– soft, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes. “Touché.”

Enjin pulled a lighter from his pocket, lit the cigarette, then his hand returned to his pocket and when it came out again, he held a small bag of weed and handed it to you.

You didn’t take it right away, as you would’ve done in the past, when whatever this was was still fresh and felt dangerous but not soul consuming. Instead, your fingers brushed his and you could almost feel the way he tensed under your touch.

“You keep saying you’re done selling to me,” you said quietly. “Yet here you are.”

Enjin looked at you for a long moment, sharp eyes softening for a fleeting second.

He flicked his cigarette. “Guess I’m a liar, pretty girl.”

You chuckled, looking at the ground.

Truth be told, you should’ve handed him the cash, turned around and closed the door. Tell yourself this was another late-night trade. You didn’t move.

Neither did Enjin.

He took a long drag, the smoke curling around his mouth as he exhaled. The light from your doorway caught the edges of his grin before it softened again.

“You look tired,” he whispered.

You huffed, not looking at him. “Didn’t call for small talk, Enjin.”

“Still,” he said, exhaling slowly. Smoke lingering above the both of you. “You look worse every time.”

You looked at him then, huffing in offense. And you wanted to scream at him, to push him, to tell him it was all his fault. You didn’t. Whatever words were at the tip of your tongue died as soon as your eyes locked into his.

His gaze wasn’t soft, it was sharp– and yet the way he looked at you made the world blur around you: always a little too long, a little too knowing.

“Truly know how to charm a girl, huh?”

Enjin took a step closer, towering over you. His voice was soft. “I think we’re past that.”

“I just want the weed, Enjin,” you said, but it came out quieter than you had hoped. “You can stop pretending to care.”

“I don’t care.”

His voice betrayed him. It was low and rough and far too quick, the kind that came when he tried too hard to appear detached and nonchalant. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard it.

You smiled, looking at the ground. “You’re a terrible liar.”

He took another step, his hand brushing yours. His lips came down to your ear. “So are you.”

Something shifted, the air felt heavier, the humidity of the summer night clung to your skin.

You should’ve taken the bag and bid him goodnight, truly should’ve had. You couldn’t.

You never could.

Instead, when you turned around and went into your home you left the door open.

Enjin followed.

He always did.

The door shut with a soft click as you sat down on the couch again, pulling the weed from the bag and grabbing the pack of cigarettes and the paper from the table. As you rolled the blunt, Enjin sat down on the further end of the couch, legs open.

You noticed he had discarded his boots and his coat, and that he didn’t have that umbrella he liked to take with him. He looked serene as his gaze locked on the ceiling.

You lit the blunt, taking a long drag that did nothing to alleviate the aching pain of your heart, nor the slight shaking of your fingers as you handed him the blunt.

He took it in silence. Every word the two of you could’ve shared were wasted outside. The smoke filled the air around you, offering some peace.

It was always like this.

As the two of you passed the blunt back and forth, the space between you seemed to shrink. Enjin’s knee touched yours, his hand lingering dangerously close to your thigh, and when you turned your head to look at him, you found him looking at you already– faces barely apart.

For a second, both of you held your breaths, smoke lingering around your lips and his, an otherworldly veil that didn’t hide the way his eyes flicked down to your lips.

His hand came up to cup your jaw, fingers–rough from years of fighting–, caressed the corner of your mouth trying to wipe off a smile that wasn’t there.

“Ain’t selling you no more,” he murmured, voice low and vibrating against your skin.

You sucked in a breath. “Liar.”

His lips came crashing down against yours, teeth pulling at your bottom lip trying to bury the softness he wanted to shower you with. His hands cradled your face like he wanted to make sure you were real, his fingers burying themselves in your hair like you’d disappear if he didn’t hold you tight enough.

Your hands moved to his chest, grabbing his shirt and bringing him closer.

You sighed into the kiss, your tongue tasted smoke and mint and something bitter you couldn't quite name. It was messy, too rough, too desperate, the kind of kiss that hurt instead of soothing, that said everything he couldn’t bring himself to.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. Breath laboured, eyes closed, lips parted like saying your name would ruin him and he was close, oh so close, to let himself be ruined.

“Don’t want ya to call again,” he lied.

You lied back. “I won’t.”

And his lips were on yours again. His hands moved from your face to the back of your thighs, lifting you with ease as he moved you to straddle him. You rested comfortably on top of him, your hands once again moving to his chest, then his neck, his hair. Your fingers brushed over the scar on his fade, earning you a soft gasp from him.

Enjin’s hands grabbed your ass, fingers applying pressure in a way that would leave marks.

He always liked to mark you.

As proof, maybe, that he’d never truly stop coming.

And you let him, because you needed him to come.

The blunt was left forgotten in the ashtray.

Enjin got up from the couch, strong arms wrapped around your waist to keep you in place. You wrapped your legs around his waist, tightening the grip, not letting go. He made his way into your bedroom like he had memorised it. He probably did.

He lay you on the mattress, hovering over you. A tattooed forearm took its place besides your head as his lips kissed and bit away at your neck while soft gasps and moans left your lips.

Your house wasn’t all that he had memorised– he also knew by heart that biting your pulse point made your legs tremble, and he did just that. That caressing your ribcage with the tip of his fingers made you arch your back into him, and he did just that.

His fingers went under the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down and throwing them by the end of the bed.

He settled between your legs, kissing all the way up from your ankle to your jawline, then let his lips brush against yours. Slower this time, not hungry or desperate, just lingering.

You felt him breath you in, in the way his chest rose and fell against yours in sync.

Enjin pressed his forehead against yours, eyes closed as if the sight of you under him burnt him. In a way it did, you guessed.

“Y’know you’re trouble, huh?” He said between kisses that didn’t last enough.

“Takes one to know one.”

He laughed, soft and broken. “Shouldn’t have picked up that phone.”

“You always do.”

“Cause it’s you calling,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “And I keep coming back every fuckin’ time.”

You kissed him, soft and longing, your hand sliding up his neck, nails against skin making him shudder against your touch.

“Why?”

He kissed you again, rough and angry. “‘Cause I like to ruin ya,” his hand gripped your waist as he pressed you against him. “Makes me forget I’m fucked up.”

You froze against him. Your hand rested on his hair.

Then you pulled him closer, because what was left to do?

You felt him press himself against you, the bulge in his pants right against your bare cunt.

Your mouth found his again and you begged against it: “Then ruin me.”

Whatever control he had been keeping, he lost it at that moment.

Enjin leaned back, taking his shirt off. Your hands fumbled against his belt buckle, earning a desperate whine from you and a low chuckle from him. He took your hands in his and undid the belt himself, pushing his trousers all the day down and taking them off.

Then, he took your t-shirt, licking his lips as he eyed you under him. Naked and desperate.

Just like he liked you.

He kissed you again and it was rough, as it always was when this situation arose.

Enjin was a simple man when it came to feelings: he preferred not to have them. So he buried them. Buried them under aggressiveness and desperation.

It never scared you.

Why didn’t it scare you?

It drove him mad. Perhaps that’s why he always answered when you called even if he knew he was driving you closer to madness every time he fucked you stupid and then left before you even fell asleep.

His hands were everywhere, manicured nails leaving red trails behind as he scratched your thighs and stomach. You moaned against his ear, your own nails scratching his back. He once more found your pulse point and bit down, kissing his way down your body until his lips closed around your nipple. He sucked, bit and lapped at it, one hand steadying himself above you while the other travelled further down to your cunt.

Enjin groaned when his fingers pressed against your crying cunt, two fingers opening your labia. His thumb hovered above your clit, his touch ghostly against it.

“Don’t fuckin’ tease me,” you gasped out.

He chuckled. “I want you desperate,” he pressed his thumb, “I want you begging,” he made soft circles on it, “I want you fuckin’ dripping when I fuck you.” He picked up the pace, now adding enough pressure for you to feel his touch.

You moaned and tried to buck your hips against his hand. Enjin slapped your pussy, leaning back until he sat before you. One hand gripping your hip to keep you in place, the other thrusting two fingers inside you as his thumb returned to your clit.

“Enjin,” you whined, clawing at his biceps to bring him closer.

He kept fingering you, watching amazed as your wet cunt swallowed his fingers and clenched around them while it begged for something else, something larger, something thicker.

He groaned, picking up the pace. He felt you clenching around him harder, so close to your orgasm that your back arched into the air while you grabbed the sheets underneath you. Your legs began to tremble, familiar fire coiling inside you and you gasped, moaning through laboured breaths.

You were so close, almost there, just a second longer.

But he removed his hand entirely, ignoring the way you cried his name out although it made his cock twitch against his stomach. Actual tears prickling at your waterline as you looked up at him with an open mouth.

Enjin tickled your lips with the same fingers he had used on you.

“Open up, pretty girl.” You obeyed, sucking on his fingers and tasting yourself.

Your hand grabbed his wrist, sucking more viciously as your other grabbed his cock.

He didn't push you away, just buckled his hips into your fist and let out a low moan.

God, you loved how vocal he was.

He took his fingers out, kissing you again in similar fashion. His tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as he kept slowly fucking your fist.

“You're desperate,” he stated. Not asked, stated, both because it was obvious and because he liked to be an asshole when he had you like this.

You nodded.

“You're dripping.”

Another nod.

“Didn't I say I also wanted you begging?”

A deep blush crept up on your cheeks, but you begged nonetheless. Anything he wanted, there was nothing you wouldn't give him. “Please, Enjin, lemme cum. I need to cum.”

“Where, hm?” He closed his hand around your throat, applying enough pressure to make your cunt clench around nothing. “Where does my pretty girl need to cum?”

You saw the way he licked his lips, his tongue looked so delicious against the moonlight you almost cried again.

“Your mouth, please, please, please.”

Enjin pecked your lips and let go of your throat, moving down until he was comfortably between your legs. He used both hands to open your thighs, kissing, biting, sucking on them until tiny yet noticeable red marks appeared on your skin.

He looked up at you through long lashes. “Keep them open f’me, yeah?”

You nodded, whining when he let go of your flesh as you immediately missed the contact. He chuckled against your cunt.

“Don't laugh,” you said, grabbing a fist of his hair. He moaned.

“Can't fuckin’ help it. I love the way you become such a needy whore when I'm about to eat you out.”

You buckled your hips up, clit grazing his nose as you sighed happily.

Enjin locked his arms under your thighs, palms flat against your stomach and he pressed you down into the mattress.

You looked at him through half-lidded eyes, biting your lips as you begged him again: “Please, ‘Jin.”

He spit into your cunt, then took your clit into his mouth and sucked hard, using his tongue simultaneously to stimulate you. You cried out, tightening your grip on his hair and earning a groan against your flesh that vibrated throughout your entire body. Your legs trembled and you had to remind yourself to keep them open, wanting nothing more than to close them around his head and bury him against your cunt.

You were dripping, both from the stimulation and from having your previous orgasm denied. Your juices dripped down your ass. And Enjin moaned again as his tongue lapped at your lower lips, picking your sweet juices up with his tongue and swallowing like they were the bloody fountain of youth.

Enjin was dirty. Slurping your cunt, inserting his tongue inside and lapping like a thirsty dog. He always ate your pussy like a hungry man and you loved every fucking second of it. He moved again towards your neglected clit, flicking it with his tongue over and over again. You shuddered, your orgasm fastly approaching.

You thought he'd made you cum like this, and it was enough, all you wanted to cum on his pretty mouth and ride him until sunrise.

But he slapped your tit with a hand, then moved it down to insert two fingers at once inside your dripping hole. His long fingers curled inside you to find your g-spot. It took him less than a second, having engraved it in his brain from all your previous encounters, and abused it immediately. Hitting it like it owed him blood, sucking and lapping at your clit, biting it when he felt your legs start to close.

“C’mon, babe, cum f’me. Squirt all over my fuckin’ face.”

You did just that. With a scream, your back arched off the bed, the iron grip on his hair made him let out a loud, long moan around your clit as he sucked hard and fingered you deep even as your orgasm had passed.

You whimpered, trying to pry him off of you, but failed miserably as he cleaned you up, picking up every last drop of juice from your cunt down to your ass.

When he finally let go you were shaking, hands desperately locking behind his neck and forcing him up until your lips met. You kissed him like he might disappear. Once the kiss broke off, you licked his face and cleaned him up just as he had done for you.

He groaned, bucking his hips against the mattress for some friction.

“Slut.”

“You love it.”

“I do. My pretty slut, cumming over my face like that.” He said between kisses.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and brought him closer, his cock resting against your stomach. He sighed.

You two stayed like that for a couple heartbeats, your hands still laced behind his neck, thumbs caressing the sensitive skin of his undercut. Enjin shivered against your touch yet mirrored it– his thumbs drawing soft circles on the skin of your hips.

When he finally lined himself up, he looked right into your eyes. Thrusting slowly, stretching you out with his thick cock in ways you still didn't imagine possible, Enjin never once broke eye contact.

It was almost too much.

His touch, the way his eyes bore into yours with such devotion, the feeling of fullness as he bottomed out.

You wished you could stay like that.

Forever.

Let you be buried with his cock in you.

While he looked like he loved you.

The moment didn't last long– as soon as Enjin felt too much, or maybe when he felt your cunt clenching around him, he moved.

It started slowly, because Enjin wanted you ruined for him, but he couldn't stomach the thought of physically hurting you (unless you begged for it).

Then he picked up the pace. He grabbed one of your legs, threw it over his shoulder. The angle made his tip hit your g-spot over and over again.

He leaned in until his lips were against your ear and your knee was pressed firmly against your shoulder, the burnt of your stretched muscles made you moan even harder.

“Like this, huh? The way I fuck you,” you whined a yes, but it was swallowed by his moans and the wet slapping sound of his cock going in and out your cunt.

The way he fucked you was brutal. What started soft and slow had become violent and needy, his hips moving faster than you'd ever seen.

You could feel him everywhere, inside and out. His cock still too thick for you to be able to simply take it, instead your cunt closed around it, unsure if it wanted him out or just fucking deeper. The hand that had once grabbed your leg lay flat beside your head, keeping himself up, the one that has been free slapped at your tits to watch them bounce.

Enjin twitched inside you, loving every second of it.

“‘Jin!”

“Don't ya fuckin' dare cum. Ain't done with you yet.”

“Please, Enjin please.” Your begging did nothing.

He wasn't done.

Wouldn't be for a while.

He wanted to feel you, to have you for as long as he could before disappearing again, because this once he might go through with it and never answer the phone again.

At least that's what he told himself before he pulled up to your house.

But that's the same shit he had been telling himself for years and he always ended up there–on your bed with his cock buried deep inside your cunt or your throat.

“Said I ain't done. Fucked you dumb already or what, whore?” He grabbed your face and forced you to look at him, squishing your cheeks. “Open up.”

You did, mouth open and tongue peeking out. He spit directly on it, watching as you swallowed instinctively and moaned, moaned at the taste of his spit.

“Good slut. Always so good f’me.”

You clenched at his words– his degradation and his praise laced together to make a mess out of you.

Enjin pulled out, yet you didn't have time to complain as he was already manhandling you, turning you around to lie on your stomach. Then, he grabbed your hips and pushed them up, one hand slapped your ass and you pushed your hips against him, earning yourself another stinging slap. His other hand found its home on your hair, pressing your head into the mattress.

He thrusted in again, this time in one swift, painful motion. You screamed, clawing at the sheets, clenching your cunt around his cock.

And Enjin moaned, loud and throaty, throwing his head back in bliss as he felt the way your walls clamp around his cock. He started thrusting, fast and deep and with enough strength that he needed to grab your hair so you wouldn't move.

He slapped your ass again.

And again.

Again.

Each time you moaned and clenched, and each time he let out his sweet little moans into the air of your bedroom.

Enjin just couldn't resist the way your pussy called for him.

“Y’ always do this. Hit me up in the middle of the night, with your sad eyes and your pretty cunt already wet.”

“‘m sorry!”

He laughed. “You ain't sorry for shit.” He slapped you again, your skin already red and burning. “Just. Need. My. Fuckin'. Cock. Huh?” He emphasized each word with a thrust, your mind going blank as your mouth hung open and drool made it out and into the sheets. “That's what helps ya sleep, ain't it?”

When you didn't answer, Enjin slapped you hard, harder than ever before. Grabbed your ass cheek and fondled it, not to sooth the pain but to multiply it.

You nodded desperately against the sheets. Eyes wet with tears that mixed with your spit and you looked at him over your shoulder.

He had never seen a prettier sight.

His pace became relentless, chasing his high as much as he was chasing yours. The tip of his cock hit your g-spot over and over and over again and the grip on your hair brought pain and pleasure through your body.

“Touch yourself,” he groaned between thrusts. “I want you to squirt again. Want you all over me, pretty girl.”

You obeyed with a trembling hand, playing with your clit.

Moans filled the silence, both yours and his, the sound of skin against skin, the wet noises your cunt was making for him.

It was all too much.

Your orgasm washed over you with brute force, your own fingers moving faster and faster trying to match Enjin's thrusts. And you screamed, screamed as you squirted all over Enjin: his cock, his abs, his thighs, your release dripping down your thighs as you shook from it.

He leaned forward. “Where do you want me to cum, pretty girl? In this slutty cunt of yours? Your ass?”

“Inside,” you cried, looking at him again. “Cum inside me ‘Jin.”

“Inside?” He laughed, breathless. “Want me to breed this pretty cunt of yours so you'll always have sum’ to remind you of me?”

You nodded shamelessly and the way you clenched told Enjin you weren't bluffing.

You wanted him to breed you.

You wanted him to stay.

His hips stuttered, losing rhythm but never force. He thrusted once, twice, finally bottoming out as ropes and ropes of his warm, sticky cum painted your insides white.

Fuck, he wished he could see it.

And he kept moving, fucking you and himself through your orgasms. Moaning obscenely at the feeling, shuddering each time he felt you tremble under him.

Enjin pulled out at last, falling next to you with a thud. You couldn't remain in place without his support and fell too, your ass pressed against his thigh as both your releases dripped out of your cunt.

He gathered them with a couple fingers and pushed them inside, gloating at the way you whined.

A sick part of him wanted his sticky cum to actually stick where it was supposed to.

The aftermath was silent. Not the kind of silence that brought peace, but the one that carried unspoken words and empty promises and made the air too heavy to breathe.

The room still smelt like smoke and late summer. The faint orange glow of the streetlights snuck in through the blinds, casting shadows around your skin and his tattoos.

Enjin moved, sitting at the edge of the bed, his shaking hands grabbing his trousers and pulling out his pack of cigarettes. He took one between his fingers and lit it.

His elbows rested on his knees as his head bowed.

You looked at him through tired eyes. Tired from the sex, tired from the games you two had been playing for far too long.

The way his back glistened with sweat, the soft tremble of his breath, the way he took drag after drag to calm himself down.

“Stay,” you whispered.

He looked at you. Truly looked at you like he often did after he claimed you.

There was no detachment, no coldness.

Just the quiet love that blooms in people that never quite learnt how to hold things without breaking them.

Enjin could've laughed, he could've left.

He didn't.

He took another drag, then passed you the cigarette. “You don't know what you're askin’ for.”

You took it, taking a drag for yourself. “Yeah. I do.”

Because you did.

Because Enjin wasn't always like this, you remembered the kid you grew up with, who never feared anything, not even love.

You could still see him in the man he had become.

Just as you saw his fears.

The violence, the pain, the uncertainty. The fear of ruining you just by staying close.

You wanted it all.

“You keep me here,” he said, hesitating before continuing, “there's no going back.”

“I don't want to go back. I'm tired of games, Enjin. I love you.”

Enjin sighed, taking the cigarette from you and killing it into the ashtray you kept in your nightstand.

You had expected him to leave.

He didn't. He lay beside you, draping an arm around your waist and bringing you closer. Your head rested on his chest.

For a man that liked to pretend he didn't care, he sure held you like he was afraid you'd disappear on him. Maybe he was. Maybe he had always been.

He didn't say I love you back.

Long after you fell asleep against him, to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, he remained awake. Eyes fixated on your sleeping face, the soft furrow of your brows, the way your lips parted with a pout.

Enjin realized he hadn't been ready to let himself be ruined, he had been ruined all along.

Because he had been yours since the beginning.

“I love you,” he murmured.

You stirred in your sleep, and your hold around his body tightened.

➴ summary: a drunken bet by sukuna left toji chasing the only thing he thought he'd never have: love. but playing with fire tends to mean you'll end up burning.

➴ pairing: frat!toji x fem!reader

➴ warnings: alcohol, drugs (weed and some pills), virginity, virginity loss, heavy language, men, sex, nasty positions, men, bet trope, actual human feelings (scary). not proofread. too poetic bc i wrote it at night (not recommend)

➴ wordcount: 2.8K​

➴ author note: i said this would be a short series, yah? i lied. anyway, enjoy getting dicked down by toji (this time is not explicit, but y'all will see). i got my bestie beta reading it and she don't give a crap 'bout toji but she says she likes my writing (she prolly lying so i buy her something for xmas).

Toji let go of your hand like it was nothing. A part of the plan, the smart thing to do.

Except his fingers tingled and curled in on themselves as if missing the heat.

Satoru shoved a drink in his hand, Choso was laughing at someone that had passed out after one too many drinks. He nodded like he was listening, but he wasn’t sure of what they were saying– their voices and laughs blurred like background noise the moment he took the first long sip from the cup, grimacing at the burning sensation that even he knew didn’t come from the alcohol itself. His free hand hid away in his pocket, curled into a tight fist.

He pretended to not notice you standing there, looking confused as your hand remained in the air where his had been holding it less than a minute before, like you weren’t sure what to do with it. Pretended that the look on your face and the slight hurt in your eyes didn’t wrap itself around his throat like a snake killing its prey.

So he didn’t look your way. Like a coward pretending he wasn’t running.

He told himself it was the right thing to do. That his friends were vultures with big mouths and no filters. One wrong joke, one tease, and it would all blow up in his face. He’d lose the bet and he’d never hear the end of it.

The bet. It was just a bet. You were nothing but the means to an end.

Toji repeated it in his mind like a desperate prayer. Each repetition quicker, sharper yet barely audible in the back of his mind. And the more he told himself you were nothing special, the more something inside of him refused to believe it.

He hated it.

Hated how much he noticed you, how he remembered your laugh long after it had died, like a melody that stuck to his head against his will. Hated the way letting go of your hand stung as a wasp bite. How it stuck with him longer than it should.

Toji took another sip. He listened to Satoru tell a joke– the rest pretending to laugh because it was impossible to understand him with how much he slurred his words.

Someone laughed not far from him. You. Light, stupid, warm. It hit him harder than it should've had. His jaw tensed and he had to stop himself from crunching the red solo cup in his hand. Something twisted and tightened in his chest in a way he didn't allow, ever.

His palm still burnt at letting you go.

He dragged his tongue against his teeth, settling back into the only rhythm he knew, the only rhythm he trusted.

Don't get attached.

Don't get comfortable.

Don't pretend anything lasts.

It was the code he had lived by his entire life. Not rules; it was closer to scar tissue that learnt to talk even before he did. A not so gentle reminder that, in the end, he was and would always be completely alone.

He exhaled sharply, swallowing the lump in his throat. He needed to refocus. This was supposed to be simple, a distraction, a way to obtain some excitement. You were supposed to be something he could walk away from whenever he wanted.

He needed to think. No, scratch that: he needed to stop thinking so damn much.

Someone fell behind him. The thud hit the floor the same way it always did in his memory: heavy and final. It was loud, but the scream that followed was louder.

A stupid fight had broken out. Satoru was joking about betting on the winner, Choso agreeing and telling people to ‘let them fight it out’. He turned around but didn’t move further.

Toji didn’t mean to get involved. Believe it or not, he avoided fighting as much as he could.

But the idiot that started the fight made the mistake of swinging at him in the chaos.

That was enough.

Toji didn’t even feel the punch itself, just saw it coming. His muscles tensed and he let go of the cup, raising his hand to block the incoming fist, though he was late.

Then he punched back.

Once, twice. The guy fell on his back and Toji straddled him, hitting him again. His knuckles stung as the skin opened and he could hear the bones cracking under him. The music thinned out into a low drum, his heartbeat louder and sharper.

He didn’t think, just acted.

It was fast, it was efficient. It was ugly.

Someone grabbed him. Strong arms forcing him to his feet. He tried to break free, his vision red from blood and rage. He couldn’t. Not when the hold on him tightened and he swallowed and he tasted iron on his mouth.

“Toji,” Nanami said. “Not here.”

Nanami’s voice was grounding, too grounding. Nanami didn’t let go, instead dragged them both through the crowd and up the stairs towards Toji’s room.

The door closed for the second time that night. This time his breathing wasn’t ragged for lust. Toji sat on his bed, elbows resting on his knees.

That’s when he looked at his hand; shaking and bloody.

The blood wasn’t a lot, but it was fresh and warm, streaking across his knuckles in thin lines.

His chest tightened at the sight.

That old, ugly and familiar tight he hated.

Toji didn’t fear blood.

Toji knew blood. All too well.

Every memory came back in fast, merciless waves. The pain, the blood, the indifference.

Jinichi dragging the knife through his lip as Toji screamed in agonizing pain.

His father’s belt and the resonating sound of slammed doors as he complained about his useless son.

His own mother’s indifference as he cried for help like he wasn’t even worth the breath to tell him to stop wailing.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t poetic.

It was raw and painful. As it often is with the kind of memories that rot behind one’s ribs no matter how much one tries to outrun them.

Nanami’s voice was somewhere distant. “You’re shaking, Toji.”

“M’fine,” he muttered, even though his pulse was a snarl on his throat.

“Toji–”

“Said I’m fine.”

The worst part?

Toji’s memories stopped. Not because he willed them, but because something colder took their place. You.

Not screams.

Not blood.

You.

Not how he let go of your hand like it was weightless, not the hurt in your eyes as you searched for his gaze through the crowd like a lost child.

No, none of that. He could live with that, in the end.

You saw him like that. Blood in his hands, breath uneven, vision red. Losing control like he was nothing but a wild, starved animal when presented with food and not the man you kissed half an hour before.

That shame sat heavier than any memory.

It coiled around his neck, crawled under his skin, refusing to loosen its grip.

Broken things didn’t get loved. They got hidden, handled, avoided. He’d learned that young enough for it to stick.

A week passed after that night.

Toji had ignored every one of your messages like it was second nature, like silence was something he could weaponize without thinking. You didn’t stop trying, though.

Some stubborn part of you kept reaching out, caring.

It shouldn’t have mattered to him, but it did. It got under his skin, dragged sleep out of his reach. He’d lie there in the dark, phone glowing in his hand like a damn accusation, rereading the same messages for the hundredth time.

you: are u ok? how’s ur lip? you: just checkin’ in. don’t really care if u think i’m a pain in the ass. you: toji, im worried. please answer. you: i know ur reading this. i’ma keep askin’.

He wasn’t built for this kind of persistence. The kind that made him feel seen in ways he didn’t earn.

It was the first time Toji seriously considered ending the whole thing. Telling Sukuna he’d won, taking the stupid loss and disappearing from your life before he screwed anything else up.

He didn’t.

He found himself at your door at 9pm on a Sunday.

Toji’s fist hovered over the doorframe, knuckles white, as if pounding the wood would somehow give him courage. He expected anger. Rage. Lectures about ghosting you for a week. Maybe even tears. Something to justify why he’d been gone.

Instead you opened the door with this tiny breath of relief, like you’d been holding it for days.

“You’re okay.” Your voice cracked, just barely.

That stupid warmth hit him square in the ribs. He stood there frozen, feeling the ground shift under his feet like it wanted to swallow him.

He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. He had repeated it all week: bet first, feelings later– preferably never.

But seeing your face, that tiny smile decorating your lips, hearing that relief… his entire body tightened.

Don’t do this.

Stick to the fucking plan.

Walk away before you fuck her up too.

Except he didn’t walk away. He couldn’t.

He kissed you. Hard at first, trying to prove a point– to you, to himself, to whatever up there that decided to put you in his way. Then slower, deeper, memorizing the shape of your lips to torture himself with it later.

Your hands trembled a little when they touched his t-shirt, and that nearly killed him.

He pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against yours. His pulse was violent, trying to escape his body. 

Toji knew exactly what this was. Exactly what he felt. Unfamiliar, sure, but clear nonetheless. He hated it. Hated it more than he had hated anything before.

You’re an idiot, he told himself. Hiding behind a bet like that makes it cleaner. Walk away before she becomes real. As if you weren’t real already.

You looked at him like his existence was enough– like you were glad he was there.

That ruined him more than any violent memory ever did.

He kissed you again, circling your waist with his hands as he walked into your room, closing the door with his feet. He didn’t take it further. Just stood there, savouring every inch of you.

Because Toji could lie to himself all he wanted. He could use the bet as an armor, but the truth burned beneath it:

He wanted you.

You pulled back first, breath still shaky, eyes searching his face like you were trying to figure out how someone like him could vanish for a week and then show up looking wrecked.

“Why did you disappear?” You asked, voice barely a whisper.

He froze. That was the question he didn’t want. The one he couldn’t answer. The kind that pried fingers under the armor he’d spend a lifetime welding onto himself.

The truth gnawed at his throat.

You cared.

It scared the shit out of him.

And the bet was the only thing stopping him from falling face-first into something he didn’t deserve and that probably he wouldn’t survive.

He swallowed.

“Wasn’t sure you’d wanna see me, ma.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, not even close, but it was the furthest he could go without cracking open. For him, that was a confession. A reckless one.

Because how was he supposed to explain it?

That seeing your name light up his screen made his chest twist.

That ignoring you hurt more than answering ever could.

That every message from you felt like a reminder that he shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t want you.

That the bet was supposed to make everything simple, just a game, just a win, just bragging rights and ego.

Except nothing about you stayed simple.

He looked at you, fingers brushing your waist like he wasn’t sure he had the right. His voice dropped, rougher than before. “But I’m here now. If that’s worth anything.”

“It is to me,” you whispered, hands lifting to cradle his face.

He kissed you like he was trying to silence a scream, like he needed something to anchor himself or he’d disappear. You pulled back just enough to breathe, your forehead brushing his. His hands tightened at your waist, afraid you’d disappear on him if he let go.

“Toji,” you whispered. It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a warning. It was permission. Your fingers slid down his jaw, slow, sure, and you leaned in again, lips barely brushing his. “Stay with me.”

He froze like the words had hit a nerve buried too deep. Stay. No one asked him that. No one meant it when they did.

His heartbeat hitched. His breath did too.

“Y’r sure you want it to be me?”

You nodded, then tugged him closer, gentle, certain.

You were choosing him. Not the version he pretended to be. Him.

And that was exactly why he gave in.

Toji lay you down on your bed, slowly and carefully like he had never done before. Your hands helped remove his t-shirt, nails scratching gently at his skin. He shuddered at your touch.

Your top was next, he took his time. His calloused hands roaming every inch of your skin, his eyes taking in the prettiest sight he had ever seen.

When both your clothes were gone and there was nothing but the silence–broken by your breathing and the loudness of his heartbeat, he leaned in to kiss you again. His fingers barely grazing your hardened nipples, making you let out soft whimpers of pleasure that, just like that, became his favourite sound in the world.

Toji kissed your lips, your jaw, your neck. Soft, yearning. And he went down inch by inch, not a centimeter of your body was left unkissed.

It wasn’t until he was resting between your legs that he looked up at you, eyes asking a question he couldn’t bring himself to say out loud.

But you smiled, a delicate hand buried itself in his hair. Not tugging, not desperate. Gentle and reassuring. And for a second he wanted to laugh, because for the first time ever, he was the one that needed reassuring.

And even if he pretended to hate it, the tug on his chest told a different tale.

Toji licked, kissed and sucked. Savouring each second, each sound that escaped your lips. He didn’t eat like a starved animal. He ate like this would be his last meal and he needed to remember the taste.

He loved the taste.

Your orgasm hit like thunder on a summer night. Sharp, brutal. You screamed his name like a holy prayer, back arched as your grip on his hair tightened for the first time.

He almost came from seeing you.

He almost cried from seeing you.

He himself trembled as he positioned himself above your frame– one strong arm rested next to your head to keep himself up. He leaned in to kiss you, groaning at the way you moaned against his lips after tasting yourself.

Toji didn’t know how to be gentle, but he was being gentle for you.

Slow, unsure.

But gentle nonetheless.

He wasn’t thinking about the bed, or the dim light, or the way your breath hitched when he touched you like he was afraid it was just a dream. He was thinking about how his hands had only ever been used for breaking things, and now they were shaking because they didn’t know how to do anything else.

You guided him without even realizing you were guiding him. Every small sound from you hit him harder than any punch he’d ever taken. He moved slowly, too slowly for a man who’d never been careful with anything in his damn life, but he had no map for this. No bravado. No scripts. Just instinct and fear and something that tasted a little too close to hope.

Your fingers curled into his shoulders and he stopped breathing altogether. You whispered his name like it wasn’t a warning, like it wasn’t a curse, and for the first time in years he wanted to earn the way it sounded.

When he finally kissed you again, it wasn’t hunger. It wasn’t victory. It wasn’t the bet. It was a man trying to memorize something he knew he had no right to keep.

The rest happened in a blur he couldn’t name. Soft, clumsy, almost reverent. Nothing like the filth he used to brag about. Nothing like the crap he pretended to be. Just warmth. Just you. Just the awful realization that he’d never touched anything that mattered before tonight.

Toji came with a whisper of your name.

And when he held you after, your head resting on his chest, he didn’t think about winning or losing.

He just thought:

So this is what it feels like to break without bleeding.

please do not repost, translate or claim as your own.

➴ summary: a drunken bet by sukuna left toji chasing the only thing he thought he'd never have: love. but playing with fire tends to mean you'll end up burning.

➴ pairing: frat!toji x fem!reader

➴ warnings: alcohol consumption, drug use, sexual acts, mentions of 'cherry popping', heavy language.

➴ wordcount: 2.1K​

➴ author note: this is the first part of a short series, because i've been obsessed with frat!toji lately. this chapter is rather short and not all the warnings belong to this one!

The house smelt like cheap alcohol and weed, as usual. Bodies moving and pressed together in the living room as the music blasted through the speakers.

Toji leaned against the wall, drink forgotten in his hand. He scanned the crowd with boredom, taking a drag from his joint from time to time, as the girl he had been talking to earlier kissed his neck and rubbed his cock through his sweats with an enthusiasm he couldn’t match.

It was boring. Repeating the same tune over and over again, nothing was a challenge. Half the girls–like the one rubbing herself against him–threw themselves at him, the other didn’t need much more than a lopsided smile and a void compliment.

Of course, he did like to fuck them, watch their faces contort in pleasure, hear the moans leaving their lips as they agreed to whatever the fuck he had proposed.

But that got boring too.

Toji Zenin was a man of challenges, an adrenaline junkie that liked the chase even more than the finish line, and none of them were able to give him that. So he got bored.

Sukuna’s voice sliced through the bass. “You look like someone kicked your dog, man.”

Toji didn’t look up, not right away. He took another slow drag, looked through the crowd once more like the solution to his problems was to magically appear in front of him, exhaled, and finally turned his head to look at his friend.

Sukuna was smirking, a girl under his arm that looked much like the one pressed against Toji.

Speaking of, Toji looked down to see her looking up at him, a drunken smile decorating lips he had no intention to kiss. He just scowled, pushing her a little. “Get lost.”

“What?”

“Get lost.”

The girl frowned, mumbling something about him being an asshole before stumbling back into the crowd. Toji didn’t bother to watch her leave.

“You really know how to keep them, huh?” Sukuna chuckled, shit-eating grin still in place.

Toji shrugged, although a smirk had blossomed on his lips. “Nothing worth keeping.”

“You ever think maybe you ran outta hobbies?”

“You calling me boring?”

“If the shoe fits, Zenin.” Sukuna shrugged, then leaned forward, eyes glinting with mischief as he spoke again. “You just need a new game, man. A challenge. A bet.”

That got Toji’s attention. He did like a good bet. He raised a brow. “Like what?”

“I pick the girl,” Sukuna said, eyes already scanning the room for the unfortunate soul that would become the main attraction to their horrid games, “and if you don’t manage to make her fall in love with you by the end of month, then I win.”

Toji blinked, then barked a short laugh. “Fall for me? The fuck is this, a rom-com?” He shook his head, but when he looked back at his friend, he narrowed his eyes. “You’re serious.”

Sukuna didn’t laugh, just tilted his head and smirked. Because the thing was, Sukuna was serious. Betting on someone for Toji to fuck would be easy and it would guaranteed a lose for Sukuna, but love? That was an entirely different game. “You afraid, Zenin?”

Toji looked at him, eyes bored again. “And if I win? What’s in for me aside from a crying girl blowing up my phone?”

“I’ll go celibate for a month.”

That got Toji grinning. If only to entertain Sukuna and get him off his back, and because the idea of Ryomen Sukuna going celibate for more than a couple hours was amusing, Toji agreed to the bet. He rolled his eyes but still shook on it.

“Fine. But you better pick someone worth the effort.”

Sukuna searched through the crowd again. It was complicated finding someone worth the effort, someone that Toji hadn’t fucked already, or Sukuna, or Satoru, or Choso…

“Hm,” the girl under Sukuna’s arm cleared her throat and caught their attention. “Can I play too? I think I have someone in mind.”

Both men looked at her– Toji with a raised brow, Sukuna with a glint in his eyes that almost made her shiver. They both nodded.

She turned, looking around until her eyes landed on you– you, leaning against the kitchen island with eyes so bored they could rival Toji’s, you, who looked like you’d rather be anywhere else but that shithole of a place. “Her.”

“Her?”

Toji knew you. Well, didn’t know you, but he had seen you around campus and was pretty sure you two had a class together.

Sukuna let out a wolfish whistle, his arm going down to grab the girl’s ass and give it a firm squeeze. It made her squeal. “Good pick, woman.”

Toji didn’t stick around to listen to more of Sukuna’s bullshit.

He pushed himself off the wall, leaving his drink on the first surface he found as he walked towards the kitchen with uninterested eyes and the exciting feeling of having won his bet already.

You were nursing a drink, half-empty and probably warm by that point, eyes drifting lazily over the crowd. You didn’t look nervous or out of place, just unimpressed.

Toji noted it in passing. Not because it interested him, but because it made the game easier. The quiet ones were usually predictable once you knew where to press, and in his experience, they were the nastiest when you did.

He figured if he had to waste a month pretending to care, he might as well make it fun.

Toji leaned against the counter, close enough that you could smell the overpriced cologne and the smoke clinging to his clothes. “Didn’t take you for a wallflower.”

“I’m not.” You didn’t look at him. “Just hate small talk.”

He smirked, grabbing a bottle and unscrewing the cap, taking a sip directly from the bottle. “Same. Hate that shit, ma.”

You almost chuckled at the petname, almost. Instead, you looked at him through your lashes and rolled your eyes. “Then don’t start it.”

“Feisty.”

“You talk to every girl like that?”

He laughed, setting the bottle down and leaning closer. His lips almost graciously touched your ear. “Only if they look like they bite.”

Unimpressed, you hummed, taking a sip of your drink and looking back at the crowd. “You’d be disappointed.”

“Nah,” he grabbed your drink. “Got good instincts.”

You raised a brow, looking at him properly this time and claiming it back with a lazy tug.

Toji pushed himself from the counter, stopping in front of you. He was close enough to touch you if he wanted; close enough that you had to tilt your chin to look at him. “Got a name?”

“Do you?”

He chuckled. “Toji.”

“Figures.”

That made him pause. “Figures?”

“I’ve heard the name around,” you said, tilting your head. “You got a reputation, Zenin.”

“Hope it’s a good one.”

You shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

“I don’t,” you said, turning your head to look towards the crowd. Toji followed your gaze. “I believe what I see.”

Both your eyes landed on the girl that was rubbing him earlier. Toji let out an internal groan, but still his determination didn’t falter.

Toji looked back at you, a cocky grin in place as he tilted his head. “Sounds like you already decided I’m trouble, mama.”

“You sound like you’re proud of it.”

“I am.”

That earnt him the faintest ghost of a smile, one that you hid behind your cup. It was the first crack on your mask, and Toji didn’t miss it.

He never did.

He leaned back, allowing you some room to breathe and a deserved rest to your neck. His hand searched for something in his pocket. A joint. Untouched, perfectly rolled. He lifted it to your eye level. You raised a brow, tilting your head.

Toji chuckled. It was obvious you weren’t going to move on your own accord–not because you didn’t want to, but because this seemed to be a game for you as well.

The thing about Toji, though, is that he always won his games. And maybe it had been that small smile, or the way you looked as bored with life as he did, or the way your eyes caught a glint when you tilted your head to look at him, he wasn’t sure– didn’t care to find out either. He just knew that the night had become exciting the moment he started talking to you.

And that he still had a bet to win.

Toji grabbed your hand, his palm rough and warm against yours, and pulled you through the crowd. Bodies brushed past, bass thudding through your ribs, the air thick with sweat and smoke. No one paid attention as he slipped open the back door, the music fading into a dull pulse when you both stepped into the cool, quiet night.

Although the music from inside still blasted and made the house rumble, out there your voices had no need to rise to speak.

You sat on the steps, Toji sitting down next to you. He took the joint to his lips, lighting it up. He took a long drag, closing his eyes as the smoke filled his lungs and the drugs his brain. The thick smoke exited his body through his mouth and nose.

He wasn’t tense, but after a couple of drags you noticed the way his eyes glinted with something for a second, then went back to the dullness that was persistent in him. You also noticed how they never seem to open completely, remaining eternally half lidded as if nothing was worth looking properly at. His shoulders relaxed as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. You couldn’t help checking him out, his chiseled jaw, the scar on his lip and god those muscles. His bicep was bigger than your head.

A faint blush creeped up your cheeks that you would blame on the cold.

All in all, looking at Toji Zenin was like looking into a sin.

“I thought you invited me out here to share a smoke, not to watch you.”

Toji chuckled, looking at you through those half-lidded eyes. He leaned in, faces inches apart as he blew the smoke on your face. Stupid smirk plastered on his face.

You shoved him–tried to, you couldn’t move him and you both knew it. And laughed. You had to laugh at the absurdity.

What were you doing on the back porch of a frat house having a joint with Toji Zenin?

When you looked at him again, he was looking at you.

Not checking you out.

Not smirking like he knew he’d get you in his bed.

Looking, eyes open, that glint from before decorating them again. And he was smiling.

The moment didn’t last long, and instead he looked forward again and handed you the joint.

You took a long drag, your free hand playing with the hem of your shirt.

“Ya know, expected to come out here and then go up to my room,” Toji said, leaning back until he had to support himself on his elbows.

“I don’t do hookups.”

“Figures.”

You chuckled. “I got a reputation?”

“You have a presence, ma.” Toji sighed, taking the joint from your lips. “So I ain’t gonna ask you to keep my bed warm tonight.”

A heartbeat.

He continued, “But if ya don’t truly believe everything you hear, then maybe we could go on a date tomorrow.”

“And what’s in for me?” You asked.

“Free food,” he answered, chuckling. Then he sat straight, leaning in once more. This time he was so close that you could feel his breathing caress your lips. “Maybe a surprise.”

You could blame it on the alcohol, on the drugs, on the boredom. Or maybe just on the fact that you didn’t believe for a second that he’d go through with it.

You could blame it on many things. You still agreed.

With a small nod and the fleeting touch of your fingers as you once more stole the blunt. Toji just let out his characteristic halfsided smirk, and the night continued.

Until the blunt was a stub, and it was so late you just decided to go home. You gave Toji your number, wished him a goodnight, and for some reason didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on your face for a second too long as he tucked a stray hair behind your ear, nor the warmth of his fingers against your cheek.

You didn’t miss the way he murmured goodnight either.

And you thought about it until sleep was kind enough to finally claim you.

You dreamt of Toji.

And after the music had died down and the drugs had mostly flushed off his system, to his surprise and annoyance– he dreamt of you too.

➴ summary: a drunken bet by sukuna left toji chasing the only thing he thought he'd never have: love. but playing with fire tends to mean you'll end up burning.

➴ pairing: frat!toji x fem!reader

➴ warnings: alcohol consumption, drug use, sexual acts, mentions of 'cherry popping', heavy language, emotional manipulation, men being men then getting their karma.

➴ wordcount: 2.9K​

➴ author note: sorry this took so long, i'm in the process of moving and proof reading consumes my soul.

previous

Morning came with a warmth that was improper for autumn. Light sneaked in through the half-closed blinds, specks of dust dancing slowly in the air.

You stirred awake as the clock ticked 10 am.

It took a second, maybe two, if we wanted to be generous, for the memories of the previous night to crawl back in. Playing behind your eyes like a movie watched one too many times.

Smoke, laughter, the glint in his eyes before the dullness returned.

You told yourself it hadn’t meant anything.

You blinked the memories away, stretching the soreness of your muscles. Your shirt rode up, the morning air grazing your burning skin. The scent of weed and that stupid, overpriced cologne had stuck to your clothes, and now it had also stuck to your sheets.

Your phone buzzed.

unknown number: down for that date, ma?

You blinked once, twice, staring at the screen with a frown. You didn’t expect him to text. Men like Toji Zenin didn’t follow through– they collected moments, not numbers. Especially not from girls that didn’t open their legs for them.

You stared at the message for too long. Then typed back anyway.

you: u remembered? toji zenin: hard to forget a woman like u. 1pm? ill pick u up. you: u don’t even know my dorm. toji zenin: aight, listen… i’ma say something and then we can pretend i dont have a reputation, k? you: u slept with my roommate. toji zenin: 1pm works?

You scoffed, half a laugh, half a groan. You weren’t sure if you were amused or disgusted, or just bored enough that saying yes didn’t sound like the end of the world.

you: sure.

The hours between “sure” and 1pm dragged like a drunkard on the sidewalk. You told yourself you didn’t care, that you had accepted out of boredom and curiosity. Yet, you still took a shower, changed your outfit twice and cursed yourself for doing both.

By the time you heard the knock on your door, your pulse was way too loud in your ears.

Toji stood at the door, eyes half-lidded, grin lazy. Black shirt too small– or maybe his body too much for it. Sleeves rolled to the elbows. No flowers, of course. Just a quick once-over and a nod.

“You ready, ma?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes and stepping past him into the hallway. “It’s midday, don’t you think the whole ‘ma’ thing’s a bit too much?”

Toji chuckled, walking beside you. He shook his head. “Y’r cute when you complain.”

You hated the way your mouth twitched upwards. So you decided to ignore it.

He walked you to his car, old and surprisingly clean. The type of car you’d see in a movie where the main character is someone you shouldn’t trust.

Quite fitting.

The interior smelt of leather and weed, the engine roared like a predator before attacking. You didn’t ask where you were going.  Maybe you didn’t want to know. Maybe you just wanted to see if he’d surprise you.

The ride was quiet except for the faint beat of some old hip-hop track on the radio. You noticed the way Toji tapped his fingers against the wheel, following the beat as if he knew it by heart. His eyes remained eternally bored, his right hand loosely gripping the shift gear.

For a second you understood the women that threw themselves at him. If you had been different, maybe you would’ve been one of them too.

It was hard to ignore and impossible to deny that Toji Zenin was, indeed, hot as fuck.

“Didn’t think you’d follow through, you know.”

He grinned without looking at you. “Didn’t think you’d say yes.”

You laughed.

When Toji parked in front of a hole-in-the-wall ramen place, it was your turn to smirk. “Real classy Zenin. Know how to charm a girl, huh?”

“Good food and few people,” he said with a shrug. “I’m saving the upscale restaurant for the next date, y’know?”

“Next date?”

“Y’know ma, playing hard to get don’t work when you already in my car.”

“Maybe I just wanted the free food.”

“The food, huh?” He leaned in, eyes boring into yours. “Not the surprise?”

You rolled your eyes and got out of the car, not waiting for him to catch up. It was the only way to not reply as snarkily as you could– the only way to hide the blush on your cheeks.

Inside it smelled like broth and smoke. The tables were too close, too small. The lightning was too dim even with the sun shining through the full wall windows. When you sat down across from him, knees brushing under the small table, you caught him watching you– not in that predatory way people warned you about, but like he was still trying to decide what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

The waitress came, you ordered, and for a brief second, neither of you had anything to hide behind.

You toyed with your chopsticks, rolling them between your fingers, eyes fixed on the table instead of him.

When you spoke next, you found your tone to be softer than before. “Come here often?”

“Shouldn’t that be my line, ma?”

You smiled. “Guess I stole it.”

He smiled too, but it was quick and sharp. “Guess you did.”

His tone wasn’t teasing anymore. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward either– it was too steady for that. You could hear the faint clatter of dishes behind the counter, the low hum of some old song from a dusty speaker.

For a man built like trouble, he looked weirdly at ease sitting across from you, one arm draped over the back of his chair, fingers tapping to a rhythm only he seemed to hear.

Your own leg bouncing. He noticed it.

The waitress came back with the food. Steaming bowls were placed in front of you, they smelt like broth and soy. Toji didn’t wait, dug in like it didn’t burn at all– or maybe he didn’t care. He did look like someone used to adversity. You blew gently on yours, sneaking quick glances at him through your eyelashes.

Toji didn’t speak, hardly glanced at you– at least not when you were watching, and the whole ordeal seemed more an obligation than a date. Not that you even wanted it to be a date. But, still, not a single word, not even the mandatory small talk from two people getting to know one another for the first time.

Almost got you second guessing yourself.

“So,” you said after a while, “you’re always this quiet or am I boring?”

Toji laughed. A real, deep laugh that got him leaning back against his chair.

He shook his head, looking at you with a soft gaze improper of him “You ain't boring. I just don't know what to say.”

You chuckled, tilting your head and faking a pout. “Oh? This your first real date?”

“First one with a girl that don't propose to suck me off under the table, yeah.”

Your shocked face was evident, as he laughed again while shaking his head and taking a sip of his soda like it was whiskey.

“Are you serious?” You asked, softly frowning as you watched the way he shrugged after a nod, a rare glint passed through his eyes.

He masked it fast, but you caught the discomfort in his eyes.

You leaned back on your chair. “That's…”

“Nor-”

“Fucked up,” you cut in.

He blinked, caught off guard. For once, the grin didn’t make it to his face. You almost felt bad for saying it, then remembered who you were talking to.

Toji rubbed the back of his neck, then tried to return to his food.

You didn’t let him.

“Is that, like, normal to you?” you asked, tone more curious than judgmental.

He glanced up, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “What’d you mean?”

“Being treated that way.”

He rolled his eyes, a lazy grin back in place– perfected, acted out. “What way, ma?”

You leaned in, elbows on the table. Voice barely a whisper. “Like meat.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, clearly amused. “Ma, let’s change the subject before you remember ‘bout that little reputation thing, huh?”

“So you don’t care ‘cause you treat them the same.”

“Yeah,” he said, casually shrugging like it was no big deal. “That wrong?”

“Yes!”

He tilted his head, grin faltering just a little bit– enough for you to notice. He raised a brow. “You think I’ma waste my time on someone that wants to suck me off on the first date ‘cause they wanna brag about it later?”

You froze, caught off guard. Not at his words, but the tone: sharp, irritated. As if the truth about them made his blood boil but didn’t want to show it.

You looked down at the table, chopsticks drawing circles on your leftover broth. “Guess not.”

Toji swallowed, licking his lips before taking another sip of his drink. He had to remind himself that it wasn’t real. He wasn’t on a date because he wanted to. It was just part of the bet he was so keen to win.

Yet it was supposed to be you cracking, letting him see you behind the mask. And there he was, snapping because you dared to look– dared to see.

He needed to regain control.

You looked up when you felt his hand tucking a stray hair behind your ear. His eyes had that dullness in them, but his grin had turned into an apologetic smile. “M’sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you said softly. “I just don’t get it.”

“Yeah. You don’t look the type to get it.”

You frowned. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He chuckled, letting his hand fall back. “You gonna offer a blowjob?”

“Are you serious?”

“No, I’m not. I know you ain’t gonna, so you wouldn’t get the ones that do.”

He finished his food in silence. When the bill came, he paid in full, tipping without a word. You thanked the staff on your way out– Toji didn't bother.

Silence engulfed the short walk to the car. Toji didn't open the door for you- not that you expected him to. But you did notice how quiet he had become since your exchange. Almost like he was there physically and miles away mentally.

A soft beat played on the radio on low volume, yet it resonated throughout the car.

You stole some glances his way; he still looked bored with life, focused on the road. His left hand gripped the wheel tightly, his right one loosely on the shift gear. You wanted to say something, but every time you opened your mouth to speak no words came out. A part of you felt guilty for judging him without a chance.

You guessed people liked to have fun in college, it just hadn’t been your experience.

You returned your eyes to the window, seeing the orange leaves falling from the trees and dancing through the wind.

Until you felt his hand rest on your thigh. Not close to where it would be inappropriate, still slightly above your knee. You looked at him and he was still looking forward, indifferent to his little stunt.

Anger flared up inside you. Not because of his touch, but because he seemed unbothered by it. And then there was the guilt, the self‑disgust creeping in because you hadn’t pulled away. Part of you hated that you didn’t. That somewhere, deep down, you liked his touch.

You woke up thinking you’d only ever seen him at parties, exchanging nods and moving on with your life– but here you were, blushing at his touch.

You moved your legs closer to the door. “Not a chance, big guy,” you said, trying to shove his hand back. But he didn’t move it. Instead, his fingers interlaced with yours, warm and deliberate. You froze, caught between irritation and a thrill you weren’t supposed to feel.

He took your joined hands and returned them lazily above the shift.

You didn’t know why you didn't take your hand back.

Toji didn’t know why he liked the feeling. A flicker of something–curiosity, irritation, maybe both– crossed his mind, but he shoved it down before it could show. He kept his gaze on the road, hand still loosely holding yours.

By the time he stopped in front of your dorm the radio was silent, your hand hadn’t moved from its place on his, and you had stopped caring about it.

“This was nice,” you said, trying to break the silence.

Toji leaned back against the backrest, turning his head to look at you.

You smiled, a little forced, perhaps, and shifted your hand away from his hold.

He didn’t stop you.

“Y’know,” he said, voice soft and grounding, like he wanted his next words to be a secret, even though it was only the two of you in the car, “you’re different.”

“How?” You raised a hand to continue. “And don’t you fuckin’ dare say it’s because I didn’t blow you.”

He chuckled. “Nah, not that. You notice too much, like you need to understand everything.”

“Is that wrong?”

He shook his head no. “C’mon,” he said, turning off the engine, “I’ll walk ya.”

“No need,” you said.

He paused at the car door, hand on the handle, eyes flicking toward yours. You didn’t flinch.

“You sure?” he asked, voice casual, but there was a faint edge to it.

“Yeah,” you said, shrugging, leaning back slightly. “I can handle a few steps.”

Toji smirked, like he expected a fight and got a shrug instead.

He nodded. “Aight, then.”

You opened your door, walking out and around the car, stopping at his window.

You hesitated for a few beats, then crouched down to look at him. He was looking at you– but you didn’t ignore the fact that he also checked your rack as well. It got you rolling your eyes, but didn’t wipe the teasing smirk off your face.

“I’ll be waiting for that upscale restaurant date, y’know.”

Toji chuckled, nodding. “Can’t wait either.”

A few more beats passed, then you whispered, “Bye, Toji.”

“Bye, ma.”

You were getting used to the annoying nickname.

Toji watched you walk to your dorm, his mind working overtime to drown whatever his heart was saying. He needed to get it together.

At the frat house, Sukuna lounged on the couch like he owned the place, beer in hand, waiting for Toji to walk through the door. The second the door swung open, Toji’s shadow stretched into the room, his familiar smirk curling across his lips.

“How’d it go?” Sukuna asked, voice already brimming with amusement.

“Easy as fuck. Got another date lined up already,” Toji said, his tone flat, but that signature smirk made it clear he thought he’d already won. He dropped his jacket by the door and didn’t even bother kicking off his shoes, grabbing a beer from the fridge like it was part of the routine.

“No fuckin’ way,” Sukuna laughed, head tilted back.

“Hurt?”

“By what?”

“By thinkin’ ‘bout the month of celibacy waiting’ ‘round the corner.”

Sukuna sighed, looking at Toji with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Many things can happen from here ‘til the time’s up, brother.”

Toji shook his head as he joined Sukuna on the couch, legs sprawled. “You’re a sore loser.”

“You haven’t won yet.”

A deep laugh escaped Toji’s lips. He took another long sip of his beer and set it down on the table. With one hand, he pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over the messaging app. He opened the conversation like it was nothing.

toji zenin: hey. i really enjoyed today. wanna do something this week?

He leaned back, sliding the phone across the coffee table so Sukuna could see. Both of them watched as the three dots appeared immediately. Seconds later, your reply blinked on the screen.

you: i had a good time 2. yeah, i’d like that. you: the fair’s in town. how’s that sound?

Sukuna let out a wolfish whistle, throwing his head back, laughing until his lungs gave out.

toji zenin: sounds good. thursday at 6? you: great. see u then:) toji zenin: see u, ma

Toji exhaled, a slow, satisfied sound, and leaned back against the cushions. The smirk never left his face.

“You fucked her good or what?” Sukuna asked, taking a sip of his beer, clearly testing the waters.

“Didn’t touch her– yet,” Toji replied smoothly, ignoring the comment.

His hand tapped lightly on the armrest, casual, relaxed. He had to remind himself to calm down. This was still the game. You were still a bet, he was still himself, and nothing about a cute laugh or a curious glance could change that.

He knew, though, that part of the irritation crawling under his skin came from wanting more, from wanting to push boundaries before the month’s limit. That would have to wait, and Toji wasn’t used to waiting. But, for now, he let it sit, contained under casual cockiness.

The other part of it, though, he chose to ignore.

Sukuna leaned forward, a grin spreading across his face. “Yet?”

“Bitches like her like to play hard to get,” Toji said, shrugging. “But I always get them.”

Sukuna laughed again, almost choking on air. The two of them clinked their beers, settling back into their rhythm. Toji’s smirk didn’t falter, and that dull glint in his eyes flickered– like a man trying too hard to believe his own lie.

It’s the chase, he thought.

He forced himself to believe it.

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➴ summary: a drunken bet by sukuna left toji chasing the only thing he thought he'd never have: love. but playing with fire tends to mean you'll end up burning.

➴ pairing: frat!toji x fem!reader

➴ warnings: alcohol, drugs (weed and some pills), virginity, virginity loss, heavy language, men, sex, nasty positions, men, bet trope.

➴ wordcount: 2.8K​

➴ author note: not all warnings are for this chapter but the overall fic. thanks a lot for all the support!

previous

You met with Toji three more times after that first date.

On Thursday, he picked you up for the fair. You rode everything that spun, dropped, or made your stomach flip, some twice just for the thrill. He teased you for the rest of the night after catching the glint in your eyes at the sight of a giant Leafeon plushie.

You had stopped in front of the stand, mouth wide open that mirrored your eyes.

You heard him chuckle behind you. “Oh, need a plushie to cuddle you to sleep?”

“If you don’t offer, then yes.” You tilted your head and pouted. “Gonna win it for me, Toji?”

He did.

Grinning like a fool as he handed it to you, all smug and proud of himself. You tried not to smile back, failed miserably, and that was the first time you thought maybe the warnings weren’t entirely true. That he wasn’t the type of man they all thought he was.

On Saturday, he knocked on your door at 9 am, still in workout clothes.

“Just finished up at the gym. I was gonna grab breakfast. You wanna come?”

You went. He was more relaxed that morning, more present. He no longer sat in silence, but engaged in conversation. You learned he had an older brother–the one responsible for the scar on his mouth–that he was estranged from his family, and that he was at college on a full ride. Majoring in mathematics, of all things. It took you by surprise.

“That unbelievable?” He asked.

“Just not what I expected,” you said, laughing.

“Lemme guess, some sports shit?”

“Exactly.”

He smiled. You told him about your major, your family, your best friend– the roommate you still hadn’t told about him. He didn’t push that subject. But he listened. He was good at that.

The last time was Tuesday night. You got a text a little before midnight.

toji: be outside in 5. got a surprise for u.

You didn’t even reply. Just slid in your shoes and grabbed your coat.

He took you up a hill where the town’s lights looked small and the stars didn’t. You two lay across the hood of his car, side by side, quiet and covered by a blanket that smelt of him. He held your hand under it and had a soft smile tugging at his lips all night. When you looked at him, you found him looking at you already.

It was the first time he kissed you.

The kiss wasn’t hungry. It wasn’t desperate.

Just a soft press that burned long after he pulled away.

Now it was Saturday again.

The frat was packed with people–high, drunk, both–and the loud music coming from the speakers made the foundation of the house rumble.

You were in the kitchen again, but not alone this time.

Your roommate was talking about a failed date–or rather a failed hookup, taking shot after shot as if the tequila wasn’t burning her throat. You laughed, grabbing one for yourself.

“No, but I’m serious,” she said, “in which universe can a lip be confused with a clitoris?”

“Well, I don’t think he was in this universe. You said he was high out of his mind?”

She nodded. “Still! So disappointing.”

You laughed again, side-hugging her with a fake pout. She rolled her eyes but leaned on you.

You noticed her expression change as she looked past your shoulder.

To be fair, you’d already felt it– that familiar prickle under your skin.

Toji had been watching you since the moment you walked in, teasing eyes following each and every one of your movements. You had ignored him for three basic, simple reasons.

One: You didn’t know what dance the two of you had going on and didn’t want to push it.

Two: You wanted to see if he left with a girl.

Three: You wanted to know how long it’d take him to approach you.

Not long.

“Toji!” Your roommate squealed.

You knew she was drunk, that she didn’t know, but it still stung.

“Hey…” he hesitated, “girl.”

She didn’t seem to notice that he didn’t remember her name at all, instead grabbed you and spun you around so you’d face him. You looked up at him with a tight smile and his eyes softened. “This is…”

“I know who she is,” he cut her off. “Hey ma.”

“Toji.”

“Huh? Do you two know each other?”

“Seen her around,” Toji said casually, eyes never leaving yours. “Small campus, y’know.”

You forced a laugh that sounded all too wrong. “Yeah. Real small.”

Your roommate laughed, oblivious at the exchange, at how he didn’t look at her once. She giggled, leaning a little too close to him. “Want a shot, Toji?”

You tried to ignore the spark of irritation in your chest, and maybe Toji saw it, because his grin shifted– sharper, more amused.

“Sure, pretty girl.”

She giggled again, pouring two shots instead of three. Toji took his and she handed the other one to you, kissing your cheek and winking when he couldn’t see.

You wanted to smack her. You would’ve, if not because she was drunk out of her mind.

You had no time to even bring the rim to your lips, because as soon as she separated from you and faced Toji again, he grabbed your face. Strong fingers squished your cheeks and forced your mouth open.

And then his mouth was on yours.

It was quick and couldn't even be considered a kiss. He just passed the tequila from his mouth to yours, grinning as he pulled back and watched you swallow.

Now you wanted to smack him too.

Your roommate laughed, oblivious, took the cup from your grasp and downed the shot before announcing she needed the bathroom. The second she disappeared into the crowd, the air changed– thicker, quieter, dangerous.

Toji leaned against the counter beside you, close enough that you could feel the heat from his arm. “You mad?” he asked, tone low, teasing.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Toji.”

He let out a short laugh, the sort that didn’t reach his eyes. “Took you long enough to notice.”

You shoved his shoulder. He didn’t move. Instead he leaned in like he owned the space, the room shrinking around you until it was just him and your pulse in your ears. “You think you’re funny?” you snapped.

“I know I am,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, you didn’t seem to mind last time I had my mouth on you.”

Your breath caught. You hated that he noticed. His grin widened, smug bastard. His fingers hooked at your jaw, thumb pressing just under your cheekbone. “It’s fine, ma. I can be your dirty little secret.”

You could smell the alcohol on his breath, the smoke that clung to his t-shirt; you could also feel the steadiness in his hold. Part of you wanted to push him away, part of you wanted to melt into the roughness of his palm. You didn’t move.

You did scoff. “You’re drunk.”

“You ain’t?”

“Not enough to put up with this shit, no.”

Toji’s grip loosened a bit, but he didn’t move his hand. Instead, his thumb drew soft circles on your skin before he sighed and eased closer, wrist warm against the side of your face. “Upstairs?” he asked, not a question.

The kitchen blurred into the kind of noise that used to scare you. Your roommate’s laughter bounced off the far wall. You looked at Toji–at the angle of his jaw, the grin on his mouth–and for a stupid second you thought about every warning you’d been given, at how mad he had made you in just a few minutes. But the look in his eyes stopped you from answering with common sense.

You followed him.

The stairwell smelt like cheap beer and even cheaper weed, some people sat on the steps making out, others passed out. The hallway was empty, most room’s doors closed– yet you could hear the noises coming from inside them.

Toji’s room was at the very end.

Inside it was dark except for the LED lights of his computer, the red made the room small and dangerous. When he closed the door, the music became a muted heartbeat. He leaned against the wood, looking at you through lidded eyes, as if he didn’t know if he wanted to kiss you or fucking ruin you.

Honestly, you were too mad to ask.

He pushed off the door, walking slowly towards you. “M’sorry.”

“You’re not.”

He took another step. His eyes were glassy from the alcohol and something else.

“I am.”

Another.

“Liar.”

He stopped in front of you. You, who looked at him with a frown, arms crossed and lips set in a nasty scowl. You, who looked so pretty when angry and bathed in the red light of the room.

“I don’t wanna be your dirty little secret,” he whispered, and whatever snarky reply you had ready at the tip of your tongue died.

He kissed you then. Hard, desperate, as if making a point. This wasn’t the soft press in the car, or the teasing drink sharing from the kitchen. His mouth was all intent, teeth and tongue and that impatient press that screamed need. Your knees went soft and you let out a moan at the sudden feeling.

When he pulled back long enough to breathe, his forehead rested against yours. “Stop being coy and kiss me back, ma.”

You did.

You kissed him hungry and desperate and afraid, because every part of your brain that wasn’t clouded by alcohol or desire was screaming that you were making a mistake, that you didn’t know him well enough, that he would not want you, that you should not want him. But you did, oh you did.

The way he held you– one hand on the small of your back, the other at the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss– made all your thoughts mute. Your own hands moved to his chest, then made their way up and tangled in his hair. He let out a little moan.

Toji pulled back, laboured breaths made his chest rise and fall hard. He rested his forehead against yours, his hands locking around your waist and he tugged you closer.

You looked up at him, his eyes glossier than before. You could feel the bulge pressing against your stomach. You almost felt bad enough to go on, to let yourself end up in his bed, but ultimately the voices in your mind resonated again and pulled you back from the haze of need you had been thrown into.

Toji leaned in to kiss you again, but you turned face to dodge it. You untangled yourself from his grasp, your arms hugging your own body protectively.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, voice thick with desire.

You hesitated, eyes darting anywhere but his. The floor, his shoulder, the space between you that still felt charged enough to burn. “I’ve never…” you started, then stopped, biting the inside of your cheek. “I mean, I haven’t done this before.”

Toji blinked, taking a step back. Shoulders going rigid. The silence stretched so much that you could hear the bass thudding downstairs, like a heartbeat that wasn’t your own.

“Yeah, I know you don’t do hookups–”

“I’m a virgin,” you cut in. Your words came out quicker than you intended, voice blunt and small at the same time. Still didn't look at him.

Caught off guard, Toji’s breath stopped. You saw him tense, jaw shut tight.

He took another step back, running a hand through his hair. He swallowed the lump in his throat, taking a deep breath–either to calm down or to stop himself. “Shit.” He murmured. It was low, his voice strained.

Your arms fell at your side as you took a deep breath and walked past him towards the door. Your hand found the doorknob, ready to twist it open, when his hand covered yours. Just that– still, heavy, unsure. “Wait.”

You turned, expecting the same smirk, but it wasn’t there. His jaw was tense, eyes flicking between yours like he was searching for the right thing to say and hating himself for not finding it fast enough.

“You pick great times to tell a guy, y’know.” He laughed under his breath, and it wasn’t teasing. It was tired. The kind of laugh that carried too much air and not enough humor.

His hand brushed your jaw, slow, deliberate. “We don’t have to. I’m not– I’m not that much of a dick.”

“I know, it’s just that…” your voice trailed off and you had to avoid his gaze.

He chuckled again, though it sounded more like a forced sigh. “Yeah, I get it. Reputation.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s not that. I just thought, I don’t know, that you’d be mad?”

His frown deepened, the space between his brows creasing. “Mad?”

“Yeah,” you laughed quietly. It sounded fragile. “That I came up here and kissed you just for nothing.”

He stared at you for a beat too long, like he was trying to memorize you. “Wasn’t for nothin’.”

You looked up at him, and he could see the uncertainty in your eyes, the small frown tugging between your brows. Something in his chest tightened, though his touch stayed steady and his eyes glinted with that same hint of amusement–not cruel, never cruel.

Toji kissed you again. Both hands cupped your face like you might break if he pressed too hard. It was slow, deliberate– meant to chase away whatever doubts were still running through that pretty head of yours. No hunger this time, just a need he didn’t want to name.

“C’mon,” he said after breaking the kiss. “Let’s go back downstairs before you make a mistake.”

“A mistake?”

His lips twitched, almost a smirk, almost something else. “Ma, I’m not letting your first time be while I’m drunk and high. Let’s go.”

He held your hand as the two of you walked down the stairs. At the bottom, Sukuna was with a girl, pressing her against the wall as they made out.

He noticed Toji first, then followed his line of sight down to where your hands were interlocked.

Maybe he was too drunk, or maybe he just wanted to make it harder for his friend to win the bet.

Either way, his words were unkind.

“And who’s this? We adding her to the wall?”

You froze, looking between them.

Toji tensed, his mouth twitching into a scowl. The look he gave Sukuna was the kind that made people back off fast.

Sukuna didn’t. He just laughed, patting Toji’s arm.

“Don’t be mad he can’t remember your name,” Sukuna said, grin sharp. “He doesn’t remember any girl’s names.”

“Ryo,” Toji warned, voice low. He looked ready to throw the first punch, but then something in his eyes shifted. He chuckled, tugging you closer instead.

“This is…” Toji gave him your name.

“Pretty name,” Sukuna replied. “So, the wall?”

“She’s a friend, Ryo. Don’t be a dick.”

Something in the air changed. You weren’t sure if it was offense or disbelief, but Sukuna actually blinked and sobered a little.

“M’sorry,” he said, the grin gone. “Sukuna. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” you said quietly, tightening your hold on Toji’s hand. He squeezed back.

You followed Toji deeper into the crowd, still holding his hand. The air was thick with sweat, smoke, and bass that rattled in your ribs. He didn’t look back, but his grip was firm– steady in a way that made you forget, for a minute, where you were.

Then you saw your roommate and his friends across the room. The loud ones. The kind who noticed everything.Toji noticed them too.

His hand loosened. Just slightly at first, like maybe it was an accident. Then he slipped free entirely, pretending to fix his shirt, eyes already focused somewhere that wasn’t you.

You stood there, fingers curling around nothing, the ghost of his touch still burning in your palm.

He didn’t look at you again. Not when one of the guys clapped him on the back. Not when he laughed like nothing had changed.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. That you hadn’t expected anything. That he was drunk, high, and surrounded by people who only knew one version of him.

But the space where his hand had been felt colder than the night air outside.

Someone yelled your name– your roommate. “Come here!”

You did. You walked up to her, she was right next to Suguru, who looked you up and down with a smirk that felt too nasty, too knowing. It made your skin crawl.

The rest of the night was uneventful.

You didn’t look at Toji again.

please do not repost, translate or claim as your own.

i was gonna say 'same' like im not the one writing it omg hahaha.