#kusakabe

His voice perhaps. That … ‘I don’t care but secretly do’ voice. Or the fact that the laughable miserable teacher who constantly complains and is perpetually annoyed is actually the strongest grade one sorcerer in disguise. And his knowledge. Never have you thought knowledge can be sexy. But he makes it so.

You smile, ever so tiny, just as he turns around making you turn even quicker. Unannounced to you, he watches on just a bit longer.

~

Later on at the miserable party, it doesn’t take long for all the teachers and assistant managers to be blitzed out drunk.

Nanami is the last to arrive, “hey Nanami!” He looks over and sees Gojo waving, and with a powerful glare that penetrates his sunglasses, Kento promptly leaves nodding his head to you on the way out.

“What the hell?” Gojo chases after him but stops by you.

“Going to watch the kids?” He smiles happy to know that you knew as well. “Need help?”

“Nah I’ll be fine. I’m the strongest after-all.” His smile wide and proud. It’s contagious as you sport your own. Speaking of the strongest … You eyes gloss over the room clearly looking for someone. Gojo head hangs low. “Captain Miserable is over there.”

“Oh …” Your eyes land on Kusakabe sitting alone on the side. Gojo leaves without saying anymore leaving you be. “Be safe!” You add while not even looking back, just watching on as Kusakabe sits with a cup of beer awkwardly looking into it. Shoko leaning on the wall near to him.

~

“Aw it’s so sweet. Just like high school.”

“Huh?” Kusakabe looks back up.

Shoko giggles as you turn your head, “she was looking at you.” His eyes fixate on you briefly before chugging back the plastic cup. He stands pulling off his trench coat to get more, waving her off.

“You know you love it.”

~

Even later into the evening, everyone is either on the floor or laying down on the tables. Shoko walks around casually as Utahime is in a drunken haze screaming for Gojo to get more beer—even though he left a couple of hours ago.

You watch on as Shoko lifts the fallen assistant managers on their sides. With furrowed brows she turns to you, “where’s Kusakabe?”

“I,” you look around, “don’t know …”

“Well I’ll handle it from here, go find him.”

“Right.” She watches as you hurry off with a mischievous smirk.

~

You find Kusakabe sitting on a bench illuminated under a single light-post. His jacket and tie long gone, his button down shirt pulled up to his elbows. And he just stares at the ground, the lollipop clicking away at his teeth. “Kusakabe?” He turns slowly at you.

“What?”

“I was just wondering if you’re okay or need a cab, or something?” He waves ‘no’. And you’re about to leave but decide to turn back, “are you alright?”

“Yeah …” He rips out the stem leaving the sweet cherry candy taking out his frustration on the bite of the sugary treat.

He’s lying. “What’s wrong?” He shakes his head, now tapping away at his leg with the stem like a drummer.

Just as you are indeed finally about to leave: “No-one respects me,” he shrugs, still tapping the stem of his lollipop. “And you know what?” Looking directly at you, “I don’t caaaare.”

“Really, cause Gojo told me that—”

Shaking his head side to side with greeted teeth. “Gojo this—” You hide back a smirk as he sounds like a whiny teenage girl. “Gojo that.” He now turns to you, eyes bloodshot yet serious, “is that your type? Tall goofy guys that’s good at …” He gulps, “… everything.”

Still combating that smirk, you hesitate to answer. And he has had enough of waiting, waving you off, turning his back to you. “No he’s not.” His face not viewable from this angle, but you know he’s mocking you—not that you mind.

“Hmp!” he grunts like a spoiled child. But his face soon softens, knowing that you’re still there, not giving up. His leg starts to shake up and down repeatedly, restlessly. Burying his head in his hand, his rough fingers tangled in his hair, “you don’t … hate me … do you?”

“Not at all.” No hesitation, at all. And Kusakabe knows this, repeating your words to himself, finally sliding his fingers through his hair. “Hey, do you want some water or coffee?”

“You know what I want?” He stands up straight, sighing heavily to the sky.

“What’s that?”

He walks, with purpose and speed, back to you, motioning for you to come closer when you take a step back.

With one fluid motion, he grabs your wrist tugging you closer, his other hand finding the back of your head, his lips crashing into yours. The kiss is hard and passionate, yet gentle and almost vulnerable. When he pulls away, both of you take a deep breath, chests heaving up and down. You especially trying to comprehend what has just occurred.

He looks down on you, lips hovering over your own. “You want this?” He says in such a tone—a question, or a beg, perhaps both.

Your eyes big, dilated even, “oh yeah.” Almost like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Little minx you.

“Great,” his smile sloppy, goofy even, as he pulls you through the dark night dodging the drunken staff entering the taxis or being carried off to infirmary to sleep it off. “Light weights.” He pulls you through the halls and to what would be his classroom—but the door is locked.

“Son of a—” he looks around and pulls you into a janitor room, closing the door behind him. “Is this okay—” His words slurred (possibly not from the drinking)—the room is small and tight, with wooded shelves lining the sides the closet. But instead of answering him you grab his face, pulling him in for another kiss.

His lips are soft yet strong, but his tongue … All those times watching him toss around a lollipop in his mouth so effortlessly, now, you’re the lollipop. Pulling back, but leaving a little, little, nibble on his lower lip, your hands travels down his broad shoulders and land on his buttons.

He chases after your lips, every which way as you unbutton his shirt. His hands gripping your hips closer to him, the moment you feel his hardened self, a little moan escapes from mouth, stopping your hands in their tracks.

For a moment, you two stand there in silence, surely the calm before the storm as you sneak a peak at his chest—no rock hard abs nor toned muscle but there is muscle. The hard working kind, the kind where you can’t get in the gym but rather from labor and hard work.

He breaks the silence with a sweet, sweet kiss. Kusakabe continues the kiss, all the while bending down to his knees. His mouth and lips are intoxicating, coaxing you to follow as low as your back can take you whilst still standing. With a deep hot breath, pulls up your skirt, smirking like a drunken goof.

Pulling aside your underwear, he starts with light kisses on your thighs, all with eyes glued on his destination he pulls your left leg over his shoulder, his other—keeping you steady should you fall. But this Kusakabe—you are safe.

It starts with a little kiss and then he delves his tongue into your pussy already wet and willing. Your breath hitches, forcing you to grip the shelves behind you as his tongue delves into you.

You thought his kisses were intoxicating? Nothing compared what his mouth can do to your pussy. The tongue is indeed the strongest muscle in his body. Already so stimulated, that you jolt up at the simple flick of his tongue.

He sucks on your clit making you throw your head back. Your fingers continue to grip the wooden shelf behind you. Nails carving crescent moon shapes into the cheap wood. Your mouth gapes open and brows furrow. Your mind races, what is today’s date, what is your name—none of that you know nor you care about—hell for a moment you forgot how to even breath.

A hand finds his hair and you pull him closer to you, hearing a, “oh God”, reverberate from your thigh. He continues the onslaught of licking, sucking, and just plain old toying with you, stoking that ever growing fire in your lower tummy. All accumulating as your eyes squint close shut, leaning forward, face heated red hot until you finally burst out a series of loud moans and you cum.

He feels your walls clench around his tongue and he just pushes his face in more, so he reach deeper in.

When you finally lean back, that one leg resting on his shoulder trembling ever so slightly, he lowers said shoulder and gently pulls the leg down, keeping his hand in place at the back of it to help steady you.

Much like his body, his hands are large, and callused from hard work. He looks up at you with his lips parted slightly in a dumbfounded expression. Eyes tracing down from head to your legs. With his thumbs curled up on your hips, he loops them around your panties and tugs them off. Lazily tossing them behind.

Standing, you watch with a heaving chest as he unbuckles his belt, letting his pants and his boxers fall to the ground.

He grabs the back of your legs and lifts up, holding you in place as a small part of your bottom sits on a heavy shelf. Kusakabe grip the boards on the wall making sure that won’t fall, then he lines up his cock, swollen and viably pulsing with anticipation.

Your eyes, already half lidded, you grab it, ready to guide it. The moment you do, his Adam’s apple bobs slightly and you can feel the muscles in his arms tighten hard. Your soft touch already sending him.

Looking directly into his doe brown eyes, you inch forward just a tad bit, the other hand grabbing his shoulder for stability.

He pushes in allowing you to release his cock. The intrusion making your lip twitch. You were prepared for the stretch—but never this satisfying. He pulls out slightly only to push in deeper. Each time, deeper, and deeper, until the final push in, where the insides of your thighs feel his pelvis.

You moan from the intensity, gripping his lower head, fingers interwoven through his hair—it’s so soft … Your lips find his, sucking at it as he sets a steady pace. Pulling back just enough to breath a little, but still close enough to feel his hot breath.

By now, you grip each shoulder, fingers tugging on the shirt as he pushes into you, absolutely burying himself into. Each thrust more pleasurable than the last.

Hips smacking into your pussy, his groans vibrating from his throat, concentrating the entire time—or at least trying to. He was indeed drunk but quickly sobering up and instead becoming drunk on you. Your smell, your touch, your lusty moans.

You try to concentrate but it becomes difficult. Every thrust with intent, perfectly hitting that sweet spot within you. You walls have created a mind of their own as when every-time his cock enters, they gleefully embrace it. And when he retracts it, they make an impossible chase contracting onto nothingness save for the tip which thankfully is always there and enough to—

It hits you, your body starts to mindlessly jerk into him (as best as you can) trying desperately to match him. But in vain. Words fall out of your mouth but they are unintelligible. Your whole pussy pulsing from him, for him.

He thrusts harder and faster, once again stoking the fire in your lower abdomen. It grows hotter and hotter, raging as your grip his hair in a desperate plea for release. Your mouth slides open once again—but this time you can’t even moan. Just able to stare at him dumbly until the fire explodes.

Like a flash-bomb, everything is white and there’s white noise, as he grabs a fist full of your hair (so, so gently though) and he rides out your orgasm, watching the entire time each and every millimeter of your face.

She’s so beautiful …

Not realizing he said that out loud, he stops himself and turns his gaze down pulling out his swollen cock slightly to gaze upon the moisture you just left on him.

You’re still calming down as your fingers trace the seams of his shirt and slowly, the world comes spinning back around.

Kusakabe looks back at you tenderly with slightly glazed eyes, still a bit drunk perhaps (among other things … ) but almost sober. He leans in for a kiss. Just a peck, then his lips travel towards the left sideof your face, peppering kisses along the way as he pushes back into his rightful place that is your pussy.

A soft kiss here and a softer one yet there, until he leans his face onto your left shoulder facing you as he continues his rhythm from before. The only difference, his breath is now heavy and growing more erratic. His eyes close softly savoring this moment. Feeling the pull and tug of your walls and hearing the small room echoing with the seductive little whimpers and moans that emulate from your mouth sends him into a pleasure filled stupor.

Nuzzling his face into your hairline—just behind your ear and on your neck—kissing it leaving little marks and bites that you’ll never see. But making sure that you do feel his wet kisses.

With his head still buried into your shoulder, you can see just enough in your peripheral vision so that your eyes follow the beads of sweat as they trace down his sideburns. His hot breath heating your neck and his low groans sending butterflies up and down your spine.

All this as his uneasy pace continues. His thrusts becoming unsteady, sloppy. But in no way less pleasurable. You push back on the shelf a bit and wrap your legs around him just as your fingernails trail down his white cotton button down shirt. Allowing his arms to rest a bit. “Atsuya?”

“Huh!?” He wasn’t expecting you to say his name—especially not as sweetly.

“It feels sooo good ...” Praising him in such a breathy seductive tone that he almost drops you.

But with reflexes like his—it’s almost impossible. He barely lets you drop a centimeter. “Sorry … I’m so—”

“It’s okay,” you kiss his cheek stifling your own giggle. “It’s okay—”

His lips hovers your own, still thrusting himself into you. Repeatedly hitting that spot that comes do easy for him. His eyes glues to your own. Your breath hitches and he immediately wraps his mouth around you own, swallowing said hitch for himself.

Atsuya pulls his head back, staring up at the ceiling—he doesn’t want this to end. In no way he can look at you. But you—knowing what’s coming—grab onto his face with both hands pulling him down, your sinfully seductive gaze making him buckle.

You know what you’re doing.

His rhythm is quickening. Your breathy moans, your touch, your clenching walls. Your legs wrapped around his ever continuing bucking hips in an attempt to pull him closer. With a slight shake of his head and a powerful thrust, he bucks into you, cumming. Pushing your whole body into the wooden shelf, whilst also pulling you away. Protecting you.

Another strong push making his muscle tense under your legs. And another, pushing deep, deep within. His eyes heavy, blinking slowly, his body dizzy and unable to keep steady. He looks at you, looking for any sign—did you like it or—but the smile—the wicked little smile on your face says it all.

He pulls out of you with a mean groan. Your walls clamoring shut around nothingness—desperately not wanting him to leave and missing him already. Lowering you down slowly and gently. The moment your wobbly feet hit the ground, he grabs your wrist to help steady yourself. “You alright?” Pulling up his boxers and then zipping up his pants.

“Yeah …” nodding your head.

The air is thick and heavy between you two. He leans forward—breath shaky, still catching up—his hand wrapping around the back of your head, your hair draped between his fingers as he kisses you yet again. Only now is he tired, and groggy but in no way less passionate or without feeling. Letting do to only linger on your sweet lips—to him, they’re sweeter than any lollipop.

Atsuya let’s out a deep sigh before looking around. When he bends down to grab your panties, he almost topples over but you grab him steady taking it from him.

His shirt buttoned back up, he opens the door ajar slightly knowing the coast is clear. “Where are you staying tonight?”

“You know I stay at the dorms right?”

“D-dorms!?” She couldn’t say that before!? Yes he said that out loud as well, glaring at the janitor’s closet. Surely it would have been a more appropriate place …

You play with a button on his shirt, you didn’t mind at all, “want to come?”

He shifts in his stance, back to the old Kusakabe, the annoyed face, the miserable aura—yet his eyes betray him. For when he looks at you, they soften immediately. “… Sure.”

~

You wake the next morning, the sun shining through the window highlighting Atsuya splayed out on your bed. In your silk robe and a mug of coffee, you watch with curled lips, remembering fondly the night before.

After you arrived at the dorm, he immediately collapsed on the bed and fell into this very position. Your smile turns around—is he alive?­ Studying his body, you breathe a sigh of relief that his back is moving up and down peacefully.

Perhaps he sensed you, causing himself to stir. His eyes still heavy with the night’s slumber, he lifts his head, blinking at the sight of you. “Morning.” Your voice low and careful, knowing that he will have a hangover, “I made you coffee.”

“Yeah … Thanks.” He groans from bodily aches (mostly his arms).

“I’m going to put it here,” placing it gently on the end table. But just as you’re about to leave him, he grabs onto your robe, tugging you to him. He cups your face, his lips envelopes your own in a long, lazy, yet tender kiss.

At his fishing spot, he seats himself in his little chair, looking over at the side, he watches a man—his face tired and drained. Behind him—his wife, girlfriend, whatever, a loud mouth who won’t stop talking. She’s scarring away the fishes. Just as Kusakabe’s face turns sour, the man looks at him and walks the other way. A silent conversation of fisherman comradeship. Kusakabe knows that look—she invited herself. He huffs. Something he doesn’t have to worry about it anymore … Then again, something he never had to worry about.

A memory flashes before him:

“Am I too loud?” You sit next to him on the short dock, whispering ever so lightly.

“Nah you’re fine.” He looks at your rod.

“If I am, just tell me.”

“Mh-hm.” He tugs the line just a hair and you two sit there in silence. A comfortable silence. The view for you is beautiful—but his even more so. The way the light breeze blows you hair, how the sparkle of the lake from this angle perfectly frames your face.

The memory quickly flashes away as his hand jerks on the rod, ruining any chance of any fish coming to him. “Damn it …”

He’s reminded how he brought you a couple of times … and how you never made him feel guilty and even pushed him to have some alone there again without yourself. Making sure, he had food and drinks—and lollipops … Your rod still in the back of his trunk.

Yeah, that’s right … she was supposed to be here …

Just then, another fisherman—a regular—approaches him and asks about the ‘pretty lady’ that was sometimes there with him. But Kusakabe just shakes his head, “shes not coming here anymore.”

The man frowns, “oh …” a shame, but as he walks away, “idiot”. Knowing that it was him.

His eyes trace the man walking away, glaring the entire time.

~

Even the students start to notice a change—normally he was quick to yell or groan at them. But he was often lost in thought before doing so. Even during his lectures, he would fumble words, sigh and have to take a break. Normally, once he started on his lectures—it was like a boulder rolling down hill—there was no stopping him.

One day sitting on the bleachers, observing the students sparring with each other, his thoughts become scrambled. The ghost of you sitting next to him—even if you never set foot on Jujutsu High. Your image, a beautiful reminder of who and what he lost. Reminding him, or your smell, your touch. He looks down at his hand, remembering how you would always hold it. Your soft pampered skin rubbing against his large callused hand. You never shy-ed away from him. Kusakabe’s hand alternating opening and closing—almost imagining your own hand within it.

“Hi sensei,” His little daydream interrupted by Yuta, the original trouble child—now Kusakabe’s trouble child, walks up to him with a smile.

“What do you want?” Crossing each arm.

“I well … We’re all a little worried about you.”

“…”

“You’ve been off, lately.” Arms folded, Atsuya just sits and watches him. He’s been caught. “Is it about a woman?”

He nearly spits out the stem of his lollipop. “Why the hell are you always asking people about that!?”

The boy just shrugs, with a little smile. He knows though, Panda over heard the rumor and relayed it to other second grade students.

“Sensei, I had someone tell me that love is the greatest curse of them all. But sometimes, it’s the greatest gift. A curse can bring two people together becoming a gift.” He looks over at Maki, training in the distance. “Sometimes we have no choice on whether it’s a gift or curse—but when we do, we gotta accept that privilege and choose the gift. Not everyone is so lucky.” But Kusakabe just stares blankly at him, the stem of the lollipop hanging lazily from his lips.

The boy’s blank dark stare couple with his hopeful smile adding annoyance to the already aggravated second year teacher.

“Get outta here! Get! Go do something … gloomy or somethin’ whatever you do.” But Yuta just laughs and bows used to his teacher’s no nonsense.

“Have a good day Sensei. Stay safe!”

He groans, but lifts a hand, a mild wave to the boy.

His index and thumb fingers pinch and pull at his chin—deep in thought. His mind tracing the moment he saw you, the moment he first asked you out—to your first kiss, to the first time—he coughs, awkwardly shifting in his seat, face turning red from some not so safe for work memories.

He continues to reminisces about your angry face, how you stood there scolding him. You so little to him, but yet so powerful. The way your brows furrowed, the fast way your hands moved. Your voice growing louder and louder. Kusakabe’s lip turn up into a smile. You’re his gift.

He pulls out his phone, fingers find your number (there’s only about four numbers in his phone). But He kept yours—perhaps he knew deep inside that whatever you two had, was not over after all. A sigh escapes his mouth as he listens to the call. Your voice echos through the speaker.

~

You sit across from him—and he’s sweating HARD. The lollipop in his mouth twirling circles and dancing. He waits for the waiter to leave you both alone.

Atsuya sighs, rubbing the back of his neck plucking the lolly out and wrapping it in tissue paper, “listen. I’m sorry that I was a jerk.” His eyes travel to the table, searching for the right words. “It made me feel like shit when you would do all these things for me and I barely—did anything.”

His eyes turn back to you, sincerely, “I don’t know … what I did to deserve you or even get you to look at me but—all I know is that I love ya and—I just—please give me another chance. I won’t take you for granted anymore. I swear.”

Taken back by his sudden tenderness and sincerity, he continues, “I miss your snacks, I miss your hands, I just miss everything about you … Please,” his voice already shaky voice cracks, “I just want you back.”

He looks up at you, brown eyes so serious, scarred even. The tips of his fingers grip the table, his nails at times grinding into it, anticipating your next words.

“Please just …” Hesitating, you can’t find the words, “if you need me to pull back or if I smother you—”

“No!” He interrupts loudly, “no, don’t stop all the things you do … please.” Now his hands are on the table, fingers rubbing each other. His gaze right on them. “What part of ‘I miss everything about you’ did you not understand.”

He can feel his hear beating faster and faster. Eve more so when you pretty little hands come into view cupping each of his. His breathe hitches. “Were you ever really miserable with me?”

“No—I’m just used to being grumpy.”

You start to rub his knuckles, worn, rough knuckles, “my grumpy man.” You smile up at him.

“My beautiful woman …” With smiling eyes, you look down at those naturally hard working callused thumbs rubbing that are between your thumb and index fingers. How you missed them so.

~

Months later. Everything is going well. He is still his begrudgingly self, but now it’s always added with a kiss or a hug or an arm around you. That added touch and affection has made all the difference. You’re laughing more, smiling more, even him.

Trips to the fishing are once again continued. You go every so often, always smiling at that nice old fisherman who always there, then his head jolts to your boyfriend with scolding eyes. Atsuya just lazily waves him off.

Then, one day soon, you’re in for a treat. Watching him, bend on one knee pretending to be in lower back pain. Hiding a giggle and the ever rising heat of giddiness as he asks “marry me’. You say yes, of course, grabbing his face whilst still on one knee, into a soft meaningful kiss. Just when you pull back, he chases for more, reaching for the back of your head.

At your wedding, he dances with you like the princes and princesses one of those animated movies. You finally meet his students at that school he teaches. One is even dressed as a Panda to which Atsuya said he’s just a weird student whose obsessed with them. But you care not, he’s SO soft and so darn cuddly.

Later that very day, you walk up to Atsuya, just as he pushes an awkward—yet extremely nice and polite boy with a strong aura to some scary girl. Whilst watching on as they have their awkward first dance, Atsuya wraps an arm around your shoulder, kissing your temple. “Thank you.” He speaks softly near your ear, where only you can hear.

“For what?”