𝒷𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶 🪿

Multi-character ❥ Don't be mad at me ✿ ❥ You jealous? ⚳ ❥ Would you let me die? ✿ ❥ You cheated ⚳ ❥ You cheated Pt 2 ❥ That's not my name ✿ ❥ Raincheck? ✿ ❥ Drop 'em out ★ ❥ Reigniting crushes ✿ ❥ They cheat on you ⚳ ❥ You brought home a what? ✿ ❥ Halloween plans ✿ ❥ Warding off unwanted attention ✿ ❥ Oops, wrong person ★ ❥ Missing them ;) ★ ❥ Clingy? ⚳ ❥ Clingy? Pt 2 ❥ Clingy? Pt 3 ❥ Clingy? Pt 4 ❥ Clingy? Pt 5 ❥ Cake? ★ ❥ Please reply ⚳ ❥ You died ⚳ ❥ You're injured ✿ ❥ Birthday girl ⚳ ❥ Birthday girl pt 2 ❥ Birthday girl pt 3 ❥ You're toxic ⚳ ❥ Prom night ✿ ❥ A new friend ⚳ ❥ A new friend pt 2 ❥ A new friend pt 3 ❥ A new friend pt 4 ❥ A new friend pt 5 ❥ A new friend pt 6 ❥ Do you like it? ★ ❥ His number? ✿ ❥ A date with him? ⚳ ❥ A date with her? ⚳ ❥ A date with her? pt 2 ❥ A date with her? pt 3 ❥ I meant hungry ★ ❥ Tell your friends about me ⚳ ❥ Tell your friends about me pt 2 ❥ Tell your friends about me pt 3 ❥ Tell your friends about me pt 4 ❥ What position you got her in? ✿ ❥ Girl BFF...R ⚳ ❥ Girl BFF...R Pt 2 ❥ Girl BFF...R Pt 3 ❥ Girl BFF...R Pt 4 ❥ Flowers for me? ✿ ❥ Break up with your gf ⚳ ❥ Let's just be ⚳ ❥ F.R.I.E.N.D.S ⚳ ❥ Colour me surprised ★ ❥ Pick one ★ ❥ This okay? ★ ❥ Volume up ★ ❥ First impressions ✿ ❥ They're no orpheus ✿ ❥ Respectfully, pass ⚳ ❥ What about that bitch? ⚳ ❥ What about that bitch? Pt 2 ❥ Not again ★ ❥ What about me? ⚳ ❥ What about me? pt 2 ❥ Good thing you're pretty ✿ ❥ Crawling back to you ⚳ ❥ Why didn't you tell me? ⚳ ❥ Read the warnings ★ ❥ Great minds ⚳ ❥ Friendly advice ✿ ❥ She's too good for me ⚳ ❥ Wish you were sober ⚳ ❥ Put that thing away ★ ❥ Talk dirty to me ★ ❥ Cool...anyways ★ ❥ Met a girl crazy for me ✿ ❥ When you're gone ✿ ❥ Don't come over ✿ ❥ I have and what? ★ ❥ Forever hold your peace ⚳ ❥ Olfactory stimulation ✿ ❥ Too far ✿ ❥ Quickshot ★ ❥ Dancing on my own ⚳ ❥ Dancing on my own pt 2 ❥ River flows in you ✿ ❥ It wasn't me ✿ ❥ Am I annoying? ✿ ❥ So embarassing! ✿ ❥ Body, body, body ⚳

Frat boy!Gojo

❥ Asahi super dry: after all this time ★ ✿

Piercer!Geto

❥ BSA Gold Star: mysterious as the dark side of the moon ★ ✿

College student!Sukuna

❥ 00:00am: he's crazy but he's mine ★ ✿

he figured that you need some time alone, which is why he decided to leave you be. he didn’t want to risk losing you by annoying you any further.

satoru scrolls on his phone out of boredom. the light radiating off the screen starts to bother his already sensitive eyes. thus with a sigh, he shuts off the device and puts it down on the coffee table.

it’s suddenly dead silent in the apartment that’s usually filled with your chatter. your boyfriend truly wants nothing more than to cuddle up with you under the covers and fall asleep.

but, you need space. and he isn’t going to disturb your peace.

satoru drapes an arm over his eyes and pulls the thin blanket over his chest. his breaths are steady and his thoughts are surprisingly calm. he nearly drifts off to sleep, but the creaking of a door jolts him right back up.

careful footsteps echo throughout the hallway and stop right at the doorstep of the living room.

satoru moves his arm to the side. his blue eyes land on the figure standing at the doorframe—one which he can recognise everywhere.

it’s you, standing there with your head held low and your fingers curled around the hem of your nightgown. you linger in the same spot for a few seconds without saying a word.

“hey, baby,” satoru breaks the silence. his voice is as soft as it can be, not an ounce of annoyance or frustration heard in it. even if he has all the reasons to be upset.

it all comes back to you; you remember just how childish you had acted earlier. you had lost all rationality, shouted at your boyfriend out of frustration and ran off mid sentence instead of properly addressing the issue at hand.

the way you handled that situation was wrong and immature.

in contrast to your childish behaviour, satoru had stayed calm throughout the entirety of your argument. he hadn’t raised his voice at you nor did he blame you for anything.

you feel bad for acting like a bratty kid who didn’t get her way.

you eventually move towards the couch, still not making eye contact with your boyfriend. he sits up and simply watches you with a raised eyebrow—curious as to what you are about to do.

you know you have to apologise for your behaviour, but what you need first is his comfort. his validation. so, you wordlessly climb onto the couch and under the blanket he’s using.

your arms wrap around your boyfriend’s torso and you hug him tightly, face buried in his shirt to cover your embarrassed and remorseful expression.

satoru’s eyes widen slightly at the sudden show of affection, however he doesn’t complain. he reciprocates the gesture and nuzzles his cheek against the top of your head.

“my little baby,” he coos teasingly, hands rubbing your back in attempt to reassure you that everything is fine, “i’m happy you decided to come back to me—thank you.”

again. that tender tone satoru uses only with and for you.

the guilt from earlier hits you like a truck and your eyes well up with tears before you could stop them.

“sorry,” your voice cracks once you finally muster out an apology. the warmth engulfing your cold body js enough to make you sob in his comforting embrace.

satoru sighs and closes his eyes. he rests his chin on top of your head whilst holding you like his life depends on it.

no words are exchanged between two of you for a good minute. satoru silently encourages you to cry it out, which you do. after calming down, you sniffle and pull your head away from his chest. your eyes are watery and a bit red.

the pad of his thumb sweeps the stray tears away from your cheeks, his touch precise and careful. he smiles softly at the sight of his teary-eyed girlfriend. you’re so adorable and precious to him. even when you look like a mess—a pretty mess.

“i just..” you start off, small hiccups interrupting your sentence, “i wanna apologise for acting so childish. i shouldn’t have said nor did any of those hurtful things. i’m really sorry, ‘toru.”

satoru nods along to your words. he hums in delight and kisses your forehead, his lips lingering there for longer than intended, “don’t worry, baby. i understand. thank you for apologising, though.”

you mutter a small ‘of course’ in-between sniffles. that is all the reassurance you need to hear from your boyfriend. though, you still feel bad and the guilt of your immature actions seems to linger in the back of your mind.

you lay your head back on satoru’s chest and listen to his heartbeat—hoping that the constant sound would drown out any other thoughts. your lover lies on his back and pulls you down on top of him. his hands rub your sides, slender fingers toying with the silky material of your nightgown.

“sorry for being immature sometimes. i’m sure it must be a pain in the ass to deal with,” you mumble with a pout.

satoru grins and shakes his head in response. he loves every side of yours—even your immature one. if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be here right now. he truly loves all of you.

the older man places another soft kiss on top of your head and closes his eyes afterwards, “keheh, i’d be lying if i said that you tryin’ to act all tough earlier wasn’t cute.”

satoru snickers at the memory. he remembers how you pointed that finger of yours in his face and how you tried to subtly stand on the tips of your toes so you could look him in the eyes properly. your attempts at looking intimidating had been quite endearing.

it’s not like he is invalidating your feelings with that comment—he’s genuinely trying to lighten your mood. and it isn’t like it didn’t work.

“whatever,” you huff, playfully swatting his biceps and gaining an over exaggerated ‘ow!’ in response.

you’re glad that things have gone back to normal between you two. if the situation had continued for any longer, you’d have lost your mind.

you also don’t seem to be the only one who is extremely relieved. satoru is also beaming with joy because he gets to hold and talk to you again. that small period of silence between the both of you felt like an eternity to him.

it’s obvious that no matter how many times you have those little arguments, satoru will still love you all the same.

~ TWO MONTHS BEFORE HALLOWEEN.

chris was hyped. it was the first party after summer break and he'd been itching for it for weeks now.

and he was finally here. the whole frat house was packed, music was loud, lights low. his friends kept shoving drinks into his hands, lighting up one joint after another. girls were quick to try and get his attention, being predictably obvious with how bad they wanted him, but he didn't mind at all. it was exactly his type of night.

but eventually the noise got suffocating, and he needed a cigarette, so he slipped out the back door, the cold air hitting him instantly. he lit his cigarette, inhaling deeply and exhaling with that slow burn that made his shoulders drop in peace.

well... peace for about five seconds, because guys beside him were talking loudly.

"...man, i'm tellin' you, she’s insane. like, the hottest girl i've ever seen, but impossible. i swear to god— impossible..."

chris doesn't even look at them at first. he stares at the yard instead, cigarette between his fingers, not even interested enough to listen, but the guy kept going, complaining like a child who couldn’t beat a level in a video game and it was hard not to hear.

"... for real, dude. tried everything. she's stubborn as fuck. just walked past me like i was invisible."

chris huffed a quiet, involuntary laugh when he clocked who is talking. he heard this guy complaining about girls playing 'hard to get' multiple times, but in reality he just can't pull.

the guy's snapped his head toward him. "yo," his eyes narrow. "what's so funny, sturniolo?"

chris stayed leaning against the wall, eyes half lidded, smoke drifting lazily from the corner of his mouth. "you," he said simply.

the guy blinked. "me?"

"yeah," chris took another drag. "you whinin' like a little bitch is exactly why she didn’t look at you. you don’t know how to play it.”

the guy bristled instantly, ego wounded. "yeah? and you do?"

chris shrugged, amused. "usually don’t have trouble."

he scoffed. "alright, then. bet you couldn’t get her either."

chris didn’t even bother straightening from the wall. "m'not makin' any bets with you. just sayin' you approached her wrong."

"easy to run your mouth, man. harder to actually pull somebody like her."

chris rolled his eyes. "m'sure it's not so hard,” he replies, flicking ash off the cigarette.

"try then."

"i don’t need to prove shit t'you."

the guy opened his mouth again and chris braced himself for more whining.

"you're just scared to lose, i get it. 'cos y'know, if you actually made a bet with me, i think things could get interesting really quick. i'm sure you can't pull her, you claim you can, but don't wanna give me proof, which automatically makes you a loser," he rambles. "so either way, you a coward. and i was thinkin' you could finally spill 'bout that girl... what was her name again? nancy?"

chris was fully aware of the gaslighting this guy was just pulling and he was about to tell him this shit won't work, but the moment he hears this name, it's like his brain stops working. his jaw clenches so hard that his teeth start hurting. that name wasn’t spoken in this house. his brothers knew it, friends knew it, everyone who mattered knew not to go there. other people didn't really know about her nor cared enough to find out.

but apparently this idiot wasn’t other people. he was always in someone's business.

chris glares at him. "repeat that."

the guy lifts his hands up in surrender. "relax, man. everybody knows you’ve got some mysterious ex you never talk about. no one knows what happened. so i figured…” he shrugged. “if you lose, you finally spill."

chris snorts, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. "that's cute. y'think i'm gonna play your little game 'cos you heard somethin' that ain't even true?"

the guy raised an eyebrow, too confident for chris's liking. "i already said i get it," he replies. "that you're, y'know... scared to lose. it's fine."

that did it.

the hit to chris' ego was perfectly placed and perfectly timed. chris hated that it was effective.

he straightened finally, blowing smoke through his teeth. his voice came out calm and controlled, but edged. "who?"

the guy looked smug now, turning slightly to point across the yard. chris followed his gesture.

there was a group of girls near the fence, laughing at something one of them said. he couldn’t see them well, it was too far, too many bodies in the way.

"that one,” the guy said. "on the right."

chris squinted, but he couldn’t really make the girl out. just a silhouette.

he still felt nothing, no interest or challenge, just irritation. "i can't see shit," he mutters, looking back at the guy. "what's her name?"

"y/n," the guy replies. "i'm telling you, she's not easy. she's—"

"stubborn,” chris cut him off. "yeah, got that part.”

"hot as fuck though,” he added with a grin. "like, actually unreal. you'll see when you get closer."

chris exhaled the smoke slowly. he didn’t want to participate in this bullshit, but nancy's name sat in the air like a loaded gun. no one was supposed to know it and definitely not say it. his pride twisted hard in his chest, even if his logic was screaming at him to drop it.

he flicked his cigarette away and finally looked the guy dead in the eye. "i don’t lose,” he said simply. then he walked back toward the house.

the guy called after him, already grinning. "so you’re doing it?!"

chris didn’t turn around and didn't answer either, just walked back into the house, letting the party swallow him again. his jaw tightens as he pushes through people, getting to the kitchen and grabbing the first drink he sees. nancy wasn't supposed to be brought up ever again and especially not by someone who didn't know shit.

he downs the drink in one go, taking a beer and going back to the living room, finding nate with a couple of frat boys sitting on the couch. it was a perfect opportunity to find out more, since nate was someone who is friends with everyone or at least knows everyone. he rubs a hand over his jaw, still annoyed that this moron outside tried to dig into his past, but he couldn't back down now. it wasn't even a bet for him really. he was just gonna show that this fuckhead don't know shit about how to talk to women.

"chris!" nate notices him, a red cup in each hand, already buzzed. he shoves one at chris. "you disappeared, bro. where'd you go?"

"smoke,” chris muttered, taking the cup and downing half of it instantly.

"without me? i'd have a smoke too," nate complains, taking a sip of his alcohol.

chris leaned closer, speaking through the music. "anyone new tonight?"

he figured that this girl has to be new, because otherwise he'd already have her or knew about her existence. and he's sure he never heard that name before either.

nate snorted. "bro, half the people here are new."

chris clenches his jaw. "anyone new new? that i haven't talked to before?"

nate shrugged, thinking. "saw some girls from the other school... some new faces, like some chicks came in with riley earlier... i don’t know, man. there's a lot of new people tonight, y'know how it is. first frat party after summer break."

right. so finding out more about this girl won't be easy.

not impossible though.

"yeah," he hums, nodding and finishing his drink, then taking a sip of the beer he had in the other hand.

some other frat boy joined them, throwing an arm around chris's shoulders. "yooo. we playin' beer pong outside. y'all in?"

"not in the mood,” chris muttered.

"then drink,” the guy said, shoving his cup against chris's bottle. "that's the cure. c'mon, man."

chris took another long sip, which didn't fix the annoyance crawling under his skin, but blurred it enough. he scanned the room again, searching without really knowing who he was looking for. he only had a name and a dress color. and how many girls here are wearing a fucking black dress?

yup.

it was stupid. even he knows that.

after a while, he got bored of beer pong or constantly watching bodies move around, trying to find god knows who, so he finds himself going back inside the house, about to head upstairs to get a quieter second to breathe. his mood was sinking into that place where he stopped giving a shit altogether.

which is exactly when a blonde girl approached him, her hand already sliding up his arm. "you," she said, smiling up at him. "i've been looking for you."

he recognizes her. might've had that once or twice before, but she was too boring to keep doing it.

but she was pretty, her hands were already sliding up his shirt, and she was always pushy in the way he liked which is enough for now. "yeah?" he said, cocky smirk finally returning. "you found me."

it doesn't take the two of them to end up in some random bathroom, chris's pants pooled around his ankles, her skirt up her hips as he pounds into her from behind. she was definitely too vocal, not really authentic, just more like trying to please him with it which only annoyed him.

he huffs irritably, his teeth sinking harder into the edge of his shirt and he tries to focus on the way her ass jiggles.

he was so in the moment that he almost missed the door opening. he glances over his shoulder, eyes half lidded, not stopping his movements. "occupied," he mumbles unfazed, having the slightest glance at the girl before the door shuts again and she disappears from his sight.

the fact they got caught spurred him on and he was quick to finish after that, which is why not even five minutes later him and the girl left the bathroom. the girl was all over him, putting his arm over her waist and he smirks, noticing someone waiting outside the bathroom.

oops.

but then he locks eyes with that person.

the girl was standing just a few feet away, arms crossed, leaning against the wall. her face flushed from alcohol and irritation, eyes narrowing at him with a look that made his stomach tighten. he's sure he's never seen her before, because he'd definitely remember a face like that.

god and this body....

"are you disgusting or what?"

he blinks, raising his eyebrows. there was a fire in the girl's eyes, a sharpness in her gaze that immediately set her apart from everyone else in the house, but it was her attitude that made him pause. he expected her to be embarrassed that she walked in on him fucking someone, but no— she looked grossed out. pissed off.

"huh?"

"are you serious?" she asks with disbelief, scoffing. "are you even aware that people might want to use the bathroom? fucking freaks."

he was speechless when she started rambling, calling him a bunch of names. he just stares. she was going off on him, but he couldn’t process a single word. he heard the sound of her voice, but his brain didn’t catch the sentences. he was too focused on how gorgeous she was.

the way her mouth moved when she spat those insults at him. the way her brows pulled together, the way she stood with her chin up, chest rising with each breath, like she was daring him to try and talk back. her dress was rolling up, a silver necklace glistening on her neck...

it hits him fast, this electric spark in his chest, like someone plugged him into a damn generator. the way she was looking at him like he was the filthiest thing she'd ever seen... he literally felt his pants growing tighter again.

oh, what the fuck?

he wasn’t used to being stunned. girls usually got flustered around him, not the other way around. they giggled and blushed, got shy, definitely not shoved a verbal knife in his ribs the first time they met.

but she looked at him like she wanted to set him on fire.

interesting.

"...are you gonna stand there all night or actually apologize for being disgusting?" she snapped as he blinked, getting out of his little trance when the girl beside him shifted, slightly bumping his side with her elbow.

apologize?

the blonde girl spoke, "girl, relax, there's nothing to be sorry about. i'm definitely not, and chris isn't either. we had a fun time—"

she scoffed, cutting her off. "next time maybe don't keep people waiting. get a fucking room." she shot him a look that sent a jolt through him, barely giving him time to react as she pushed past them and slammed the bathroom door in his face with a definitive thud.

who the fuck is this?

~~~

~ TWO DAYS LATER

chris was sprawled across his bed at the frat, shirtless, one arm tucked behind his head, the other lazily scrolling through his phone. he was halfway through a reel of a guy trying to bench press a couch, when a notification popped up at the top of his screen.

one new like from yourusername.

he barely glanced at that and probably would ignore, but the photo someone liked was an old one, he could see.

and that name.... why was that name so similar?

he checked it, brow furrowing just slightly as he taps at the profile of the girl with only two posts. four mutual followers, cute little profile picture that looked suspiciously like someone he recognized. then he checks the recent posts and that's when he sees it's that girl.

a slow grin curled across his lips and he just couldn't believe his luck. his ego practically purred— she liked his photo and found him which meant she had to search for him.

but then he realizes something.

her name was exactly the same as the girl's he was supposed to find.

she's not her, right?

no way. absolutely no way that the girl who almost verbally skinned him alive outside that bathroom, and later that evening still refused to fall for his charm, was the same one he’d been “challenged” to talk to and sleep with.

he stared at the screen, like maybe the letters would rearrange themselves and prove him wrong, but they didn’t. he can't believe he was looking for this girl and she was just right in front of him. it was the same person.

“…fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

suddenly things clicked. that fire in her eyes, that mouth, her stubbornness. the way she didn’t flinch, didn’t care who he was, didn’t even give him a second of attention beyond cursing him out.

impossible, the guy had said. that makes sense now.

a weird mix of irritation and something else crawled up his chest. why the fuck the sharpest, most magnetic girl he’d met in months might actually be the same one at the center of that stupid non bet?

but he wanted her way before this complication dropped into his lap. he wanted her since he saw her, and he knew he'll have her.

so now what?

he groans, his thumbs moving before he can stop it. it wasn't even because of that dare, but he genuinely needed to get her. and that's why he follows her and sends her a message.

by the time friday comes around again, he's all full of himself and confident, knowing that if he sees her here, she's gonna be his for the night.

and he saw her. of course, she showed up looking like a damn snack.

mid conversation, he started to think how he can make her lose the attitude for a moment just enough to make her give in. and that's when her ex appeared, making all of this suddenly easier. "...he cheated on me with her," she says casually, gesturing subtly towards the girl on the guy's side.

chris's eyebrows shot up and he looked at the guy again. he almost laughed. he cheated on her? in what fucking world?

something unpleasant tightened in his chest, irritating as hell because it came out of nowhere. he clenches his jaw before he can stop it. it wasn’t even about her, just the word 'cheated' still makes him feel uneasy, everytime hitting him like someone poked a half healed bruise, even after all those years and him being a completely different person now.

he dragged his eyes back to the girl in front of him, and something clicked, like he suddenly understood a puzzle he didn’t even know he was trying to solve. of course she’s like this.

it wasn’t some dumb hard to get game, she wasn’t playing, this was just what happened when someone got burned so bad they refused to ever be caught off guard again. she was just done letting anyone close enough to hit a weak spot.

he gets it more than anyone else ever could.

doesn't mean he wasn’t still gonna get her, but he suddenly understood why she’d make him work for it. but even if he knew it now, he wasn't gonna miss this opportunity, and that's exactly how she ended up in his bed for the whole night.

finally.

the next day, the frat house was unusually quiet for a saturday afternoon. chris spent the whole day playing fortnite to the point when his stomach started growling. he finally got up, getting downstairs, finding barely anyone there, just some trash on the floor. it was the kind of lazy day that followed a good night. not an emotionally significant night for him, but one he could admit had been… impressive. she'd been impressive. he'd woken up earlier with that faint leftover hum in his body that only really good sex left behind.

he opened the fridge, grabbing leftover chicken and putting a pan on the stove, letting himself slip into the mindless rhythm of cooking which was his unofficial hangover cure.

he'd just tossed the chicken in the pan when he heard footsteps. great, he had company. exactly what he didn’t want right now.

"look who’s alive."

chris didn’t even bother turning around, recognizing the voice instantly. the guy who wouldn’t shut up about the 'impossible girl.' the one chris had zero patience for on a normal day, let alone the day after good fuck and no sleep.

the guy opened the fridge, grabbing a soda while chris kept his eyes on the pan.

"i was lookin' for ya yesterday," he said. "wanted to ask if you already hit that."

chris sprinkled salt into the pan.

"saw you talking to her yesterday, but you disappeared right after," he continues, leaning against the kitchen island and watching chris, waiting for some reaction. "how many times did she tell you no by now?"

chris turned the chicken slowly, staying silent. he didn't owe this guy anything, that whole conversation from almost three weeks ago had been bullshit anyway. chris didn't even agree to anything, just said he doesn't lose unlike this idiot who didn't even know how to talk to girls.

the guy grinned like he won something. "you really didn't fuck her yet, huh? y'know, no need to be embarrassed 'bout it. i told you she's basically untouchable. it's okay to lose sometimes."

chris flipped the chicken again, not responding.

"so since you’ve done absolutely nothing—"

chris closed his eyes briefly, searching for his last sights of patience. "-- you’re kind of running out of time, dude,” the guy went on. “i know it's gonna be humiliating when you'll have to spill about that chick of yours, but i ain't gonna make fun of you, y'know."

chris exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightened at the mention of nancy. "it can't be that bad. what was her name again? natalie? nancy? one thing, man." the guy rambled, clearly not noticing how chris tensed. "did she do something? or maybe you did some shit to her? cheated? look, that shit is nothing, really. girls like to be dramatic, but they just don't understand our nature. i bet she—"

chris moved so fast the guy didn’t see it coming. one second he was leaning against the counter, arms crossed smugly, and the next his back slammed into the wall. chris was gripping the front of his shirt, knuckles white, eyes cold and focused. "try sayin' her name again,” he snapped.

the guy blinked rapidly, face draining of cockiness in seconds. "woah, bro, relax—”

chris pulled him forward another inch, forcing their eyes to meet. "don't talk 'bout shit you don’t know anythin' about,” chris said. “don't talk about her. and don’t fuckin' talk about me.”

the guy swallowed hard.

chris leaned in, voice low. "you think i owe you anything? it's not my fault you're a fuckin' loser that can't pull anyone. i could fuck your mother and you wouldn't have to know."

"hey, man, don't talk about my mom—" the guy tried to push chris back, but his grip only tightened.

"get outta my damn business and stop stickin' your nose into my life. hear me?"

"dude, i just wanted to know if you fucked her, like, we made a bet—"

"you made a bet," chris cuts in. "i didn't. just said you a loser and m'not."

the guy opens his mouth to argue, but chris doesn't let him. "don’t ever bring her up again,” he says, voice sharp enough to slice. "drop it. unless you want everyone to know 'bout what happened at the mcdonalds parking lot last month."

his eyes widened. "how the fuck...— what?!"

"just sayin'," chris lets go off him, patting his shoulder and stepping back. "if i was you, i'd stop runnin' my mouth."

the guy adjusted his shirt and hesitated, clearly wanting to say more, but not sure if he should. "fucked her or not, none of your business. believe whatever the fuck you want, not my problem," chris adds, putting all his energy back into the pan as if the conversation bored him. "now get the fuck out."

the guy clenches his jaw and huffs, but obediently stumbles out of the kitchen without another word. chris exhales slowly and runs a hand through his hair. the irritation simmered still— nancy's name echoing in his head, that old, unwelcome twist in his chest creeping up again.

~~~

~ HALLOWEEN

"what did you just say?"

chris's brain stops for a moment after hearing her mentioning nancy.

"i'm saying that her breaking your heart isn't an excuse to treat people like shit," she blurted out. "'cause i got fucked over more than once and i'd never act like you do. honestly, i wouldn't be surprised if you were the bad guy in that story too and just blamed her."

the bad guy?

"you're pathetic, chris," she adds, trying to move past him, but he doesn't let her. his hand shoots up, grabbing her wrist to stop her. he can feel her going still, her eyes flicking down to where he's holding her, then back up to his face. and he swears for a second she sees straight through the anger into something raw underneath. his jaw tightens.

"say that again," he said through gritted teeth. "i dare you. you don't know shit 'bout her or me. you had no fuckin' right to go diggin' into that."

"let go of me."

"what i did isn't my proudest moment and i can admit that," he continues, voice still low. "wanna call me pathetic? fine. but what does that make you for falling f'me anyway? for letting me do all those stuff to you?"

something in her expression changes.

"i don't even like you," she retorts.

he smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "then you're a fucking liar too."

she scoffs, pulling her arm out of his grip and taking a few steps back. "you claimed not to be a coward, yet you couldn't even tell me what you did."

a coward.

nancy used to call him that when he didn't want to do what she wanted. he hated that term.

"and you're better?" he huffs. "pretendin' to be so uninterested and careless, yet still getting into my business?"

"i never said i'm careless," you reply. "you just wanted me to be 'cos it's more comfortable for you."

he frowns. "what the fuck are you even sayin'? you were the one constantly reminding me it's just sex, probably just to feel better 'bout y'self, and now you're surprised that's actually all it ever was to me?"

"you're missing the point to make yourself look better as always! i know it was just sex, i'm not fucking stupid, i never wanted anything else! but unfortunately i started seeing more in you than whoever you pretend to be. actually thought you're not so bad and you just proved me wrong by being even worse. so congrats," you clapped your hands, backing away. "you did win."

he watches her turning around and walking away, fueled by anger. the same anger that started fueling him.

and riley getting there out of nowhere, sending him a death glare and going after her friend spoke volumes too.

for a second he just stands there, chest rising too fast, like if he moves too quickly something is going to snap for real this time. she doesn’t look back, not even once. and he watches her leaving until she disappears from his sight. that's when suddenly it all gets too loud in his head.

she knows about nancy.

about the one thing he never talks about, never explains, never lets anyone touch. she said it like she understood it, like she pieced it together behind his back, like she went digging into something he buried on purpose.

how does she know? who told her?

and that stupid fucking bet— not even a bet, but it sounds like one, looks like one, and now in her head he’s just another asshole who needed to win something. he realizes he cares what she thinks about him. intentionally or not, she became his daily routine. not in a romantic way, just human.

his stomach twists.

his brain keeps replaying everything she said, every look she gave him, the way her voice shifted when she mentioned nancy, like she wasn’t trying to hurt him, but trying to understand him, and somehow that makes it worse. because if she understands him, then she sees him. and if she sees him, then she sees the part he pretends isn’t there.

he hates that she went behind his back and that she thinks he made her into some kind of trophy.

and he hates that he actually kinda did at the beginning.

anger crawls up his throat again, hot and suffocating, easier to hold onto than whatever that other feeling is trying to break through. because being furious is better than admitting she got under his skin.

so instead of going after her, he turns around and storms back into the house, pushing past drunk people. he doesn’t see costumes, doesn’t hear the music properly, doesn’t care who he bumps into. there’s only one person he wants to find right now. someone has to pay for this.

his eyes scan the living room, finding that idiot standing there near the couch, talking to some girl. chris clenches his jaw and walks over there, shoulders knocking into others. some people curse at him, some already notice what's coming, heads already turning.

the guy notices him too, at first grinning, until he sees the rage written all over chris's face. "yo—" his grin slightly flatters. "what's up, man?"

chris stops right in front of him and without hesitation swings, landing the first punch so hard that the guy's head snapped to the side, his red cup dropped onto the floor.

the guy stumbles back into the table, knocking over drinks, the girl besides him gasps. "what the fuck, dude—?" he shouts, trying to regain his balance, but chris doesn't let him. he's already landing another punch. and another. and another.

he grabs him by the collar and slams him against the wall. "i told you not to talk about her," chris's voice come out rough. "told you not to talk about me."

"dude, what—?"

another punch, blood dripping down the guy's chin, staining his white shirt. chris shoves him back hard and the guy crashes into the edge of the table, collapsing under his weight, glass cracking loudly as he goes down with it. someone yells, music falters. all chris can hear is just his own breathing, pounding in his ears. he's on top of the guy in seconds, fist after fist, not even knowing where he's aiming it anymore. whatever he can reach. his knuckles burn, vision blurs at the edges, but he doesn't stop. the guy tries to swing a few times, but it's pointless.

"holy shit—"

"someone pull him off—"

people are gathering now, forming a loose circle, phones already out, but chris keeps swinging, feeling like if he stops for even a second he might actually feel something worse than this.

"chris!" someone shouts. a hand grabs his shoulder, but he shoves it off violently. someone else is yelling for matt.

then he gets a punch from the side which makes him lose his balance for a moment and stumble sideways, grabbing the wall for support. he looks up.

jake. of course.

jake swings again, hitting chris's jaw. "what the fuck, dude?!"

chris touches his cheek and chuckles, looking at him again. he punches jake back, the whole thing getting chaotic as they slam into the couch just in time when two sets of arms grab him from behind.

"chris!"

"get the fuck off me—"

"that's enough!" matt hooks an arm around chris's chest, dragging him backward.

"let me go, i'm not done—!"

"you are!" matt snaps in his ears.

chris tries to break free, but their grip on him only grow tighter. "go upstairs," nate hisses. "now."

chris spits blood onto the floor, the room spinning slightly as he looks around with a scoff. jake is being held by his friend, three other people are helping the guy getting up which he barely does, swearing under his breath.

"show's over," nate says loudly. "everyone get the fuck out."

chris jerks once more, then shoves himself out of matt's hold. "fuckin' idiots," he mutters, but let matt steer him. nate is right behind.

his bedroom door slums shut so hard that a picture frame rattles off the wall. nate locks the door just in case, giving matt a look while chris paces around the room, one hand in his hair. "what the fuck..." he mutters to himself. "what the fuck?!"

"chris," matt speaks, taking a step forward. "you needa chill. what the hell happened?"

"how does she know?" he looks up, stopping in the middle of the room. "how the fuck does she know about nancy?"

matt's jaw tightens slightly. nate looks at the floor.

"and that fuckin' bet..." chris continues, pacing again. "it wasn't even a bet, fuck—"

"what bet?" matt frowns.

chris stops again. "none. i mean...— jesus, fuck!" he kicks his desk chair. "how the fuck did she find out about nancy?!"

matt and nate exchange looks. nate swallows.

chris notices.

his eyes narrow. "what?"

nate exhales slowly.

"what?" chris asks again, looking between his brother and his bestfriend.

"i was drunk," nate spits out. "i'm sorry, man."

matt closes his eyes briefly.

nate keeps going. "she told me you told her and she asked a little. i was wasted and couldn't quite tell that she's playing me until.... eventually..." he sighs. "i didn't mean to. i'm sorry."

chris blinks, looking at him. his brain couldn't process the last hour. "you told her?"

nate grimaces and nods. "chris, she would've found out anyway," matt says quickly. "what did you expect?"

chris finds himself in front of nate in seconds, his fists clenching. matt moves just as quickly, standing between them and putting his hand on chris's shoulder. "relax," he says.

his gaze moves to matt. "he told her, matt."

"i'm aware," he replies. "but he didn't mean to. and you could've told her if you were already letting her be around."

chris laughs bitterly. "so it's my fault now? the fuck?"

"'m just sayin' that you were hanging out with her a lot. lettin' her meet us, inviting her everywhere. you should've known she'll start askin' at some point."

chris scoffs, "she had no right." he looks back at nate, pointing a finger at him. "you had no right."

nate steps out from behind matt. "i fucked up, bro, i'm sorry. y'know that i'd never do you dirty, i just wasn't thinking clearly and she was so believable... i mean, she was with you all the time, i really thought for a moment that you told her. she already knew a few things."

chris clenches his jaw, but somehow the rage flickers. there's only three people he trusts with his life in this world and one of them is nate. he just knows nate would never do anything like that on purpose.

"you don't talk about that," chris says quietly but firmly.

"i know."

"you don't say her name."

"i know."

chris licks his lips, finally stepping back and grabbing a joint from his desk. "she had no right digging into my life like that," he lights up the joint. "trickin' you into tellin' her. that's fucked up."

"she was trying to understand you," matt says.

"i didn't ask her to."

"no, but you were keepin' her around. and to be around she'd have to understand."

chris takes a hit.

"she said that maybe i was the bad guy in that story too," he exhales. "and that i'm a coward. maybe that's true."

"what did you do to her?" matt asks. "what's this bet about?"

chris sighs, rubbing his temples and sitting down on his bed. "it wasn't exactly a bet. i heard that fuckhead talkin' that she's impossible and he can't pull her, so i said i could, 'cus it's fuckin' true. not my fault he doesn't get bitches. but i had her 'cos i wanted to, not to prove anything."

"still sounds bad though," nate mumbles with a grimace.

chris scoffs, taking another hit. "yeah, no shit, bro."

"see, it's the lack of communication always gettin' you lost, brother," matt says, sitting beside him. "if you've told her about this and if she told you she knows, none of it would've happened."

chris side eyes him. "thanks."

"what you gonna do now?" nate leans against the desk, crossing his arms.

"what?" chris shrugs. "nothing. she can go to hell."

"technically what you've done is worse."

"matt, for my sake, stop talking or leave my room."

"just sayin'," matt raises his hands in surrender.

chris huffs, getting up and finishing the joint. "whatever, i don't give a fuck. i gotta shower," he shakes his hand, grimacing in slight pain.

"i'll get you some ice," matt stands up.

nate chimes in, "and someone's gotta clean up this mess downstairs."

"i'm not a baby, i don't need ice," chris mumbles, walking toward the bathroom.

"of course," matt rolls his eyes. "go get your shit together, tuff guy."

chris flips him off, disappearing inside the bathroom.

matt and nate exchange a look.

"i'll call nick."

~~~

~ PRESENT (your pov)

you don't remember how you got there.

chris's room smells the same, the lights are low, only his desk lamp is on. the sheets are tangled, your fingers intertwined with his as he slowly pounds into you, your moans echoing through the room. he's buried to the hilt, moving like he's scared you'll break. slow, deep thrusts that make your toes curl.

chris looks unreal in the dim light. softer. his lashes casting shadows under his eyes. there's no smirk or sarcasm ready on his tongue. he's looking at you with... affection?

he brushes his thumb along your jaw, down your neck, slow enough that you shiver. his mouth follows the same path, kissing just below your ear, along the curve of your throat. you tilt your head to give him more access without thinking about it.

his name leaves your lips.

your fingers slide into his hair, tugging gently, and he exhales against your skin like you just did something that undid him.

he kisses you deeply, your fingers trail down his back, feeling muscle tense under your touch. you can feel how much he wants you, how much this isn't casual right now.

the room feels warmer than it should.

the air feels heavier.

chris pulls back just enough to look at you, brushing his thumb over your lower lip, the pleasure in your lower belly building.

"why did you do that?" he asks, his voice low, but soft. his eyes were closed.

"did what?"

"why'd you cheat on me?"

you frown. "what?"

"we were so good together," he whispers, his fingers tracing down your chest. "we had so much fun. why'd you go for matt?"

"but i— i didn't— chris, what?"

he opens his eyes. "liar."

suddenly you're standing outside the frat house, jake and some frat boys along with your friends standing a few feet away, laughing and pointing at you.

"he fucked you yet?"

"you're so pathetic," riley says. "you were just a bet!" she chuckles.

"i'd set myself on fire if i was you," nick adds.

you look around, noticing chris walking over, your vision blurred at the edges.

"you don't understand?" he says, looking at you, but his eyes weren't soft anymore. just dark. full of hate. "it's all because of you. if you weren't so damn stupid, this would never happen. why'd you want to understand me so bad?"

you blink, opening and closing your mouth. no words could come out. or even if some did, it seemed like he couldn't hear you anyway.

"don't listen to her."

you turn your head, seeing....

chris?

you look back at the other chris who now looked like a blurry girl. she was tall, her hair was long and black. he was laughing.

"nancy's known for messin' with people," chris says.

he grabs your hand, looking down at you.

"nancy?" you manage to ask.

he nods. "are you still mad at me?"

you blink, confused. "mad? why would i be mad, chris?"

he sighs. "i'm so sorry, y/n."

then he leans in to kiss you.

your eyes snap open.

you sit up so fast the room tilts for a second, air tearing into your lungs like you've been underwater for too long. your heart is racing, pounding against your ribs and for a split second you don't know where you are. it's dark, your room barely lit by the orange glow of the streetlight leaking through the blinds, and everything feels wrong.

"jesus," you mutter, rubbing your temples.

it takes a few seconds for reality to settle in. you exhale shakily and run a hand over your face. it was just a dream. this isn't even new, you've been dreaming about him on and off a lot recently. not always like that, sometimes just small things, like chilling in his room, smoking a joint with him, this kind of stuff. and every time you wake up it's the same irritation and disbelief. it's like your brain was romanticizing this whole thing you had with him and couldn't let go. it was fun, yeah. it made you feel something different than emptiness. and you fear that your mind and body got addicted to this feeling.

you exhale deeply, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and sitting there for a second, staring at the wall. it's been over a month since halloween. no parties, no frat house, no texting late at night, just pretending like he doesn't exist.

silence.

and you like the silence.

what you don't like is that he still pops up in conversations like some cursed word people accidentally summon. especially that you hang out with nick a lot lately, getting along really well. you, him and riley became a little trio, but that meant constantly hearing about him too, because obviously he's a big part of nick's life. you get it, really. you won't cut off nick just because his brother's an idiot.

but every time someone says his name, that same irritated heat thrums under your ribs. you were pissed at him for being exactly the kind of guy you should've known he was. pissed at yourself for that brief, embarrassing moment when you started to understand him, when you thought maybe there was something real under all that ego and deflection.

god, what a joke.

you still can't believe you've let yourself feel even a flicker of sympathy for a man. the audacity of him walking around with that stupid confidence, doing whatever the fuck he wants, hurting people like it's nothing, acting like the world owes him because someone once broke his heart, as if that justifies anything. as if it excuses that stupid, absolutely regrettable night— when you two met for the first time— you wish you could erase from your life entirely. the annoyance you felt was overwhelming you everyday, hating that he used to take up more space in your head than he ever deserved, and that for one split second, you thought you understood him and maybe he isn't like everyone said.

but he is.

he's worse, actually. because he made you think he isn't.

that's why you had to be busy all the time. especially that from what you know, he's doing just great. why wouldn't he? he can find literally anybody to fuck and that's all it ever was. obviously.

you stand up and walk to the bathroom, flicking the light on. the sudden brightness make you squint. you lean both hands on the sink and look at yourself in the mirror. your hair is a mess, eyes still slightly unfocused from sleep. you grimace.

you're not even upset anymore, that phase passed somewhere around week two, when the initial sting wore off and reality settled into something manageable. now, you were just simply mad. so fucking mad for letting a man use you again, just because he felt like it.

you splash some cold water on your face and dries it off slowly, still staring at yourself. "ugh," you groan. "get a grip."

you exhale and walk back to your room, climbing into bed, but not even attempting to sleep again. instead, you unlock your phone and scroll mindlessly, trying to distract yourself, noticing a few notifications from nick and riley.

nick ⭐️: Pls tell me you're coming tmrw

nick ⭐️: Technically today

riley 👅: duh ofc shes coming

riley 👅: shes not gonna bail on us again only bc of ur dumbass brother

you grimace, your stomach tightening slightly at the mention of... him.

nick was planning a small 'party' in his dorm before the christmas break and new years. you keep denying his invitation, knowing that he will be there. and yes, you're sure you perfected the art of ignoring his existence, but since halloween, you've been only hearing about him, not actually seeing him. not even once.

you don't want to see his face or accidentally make eye contact. don't want to test whether the indifference you've built over the last month is as solid as you hope it is.

but you'd love to see everyone before the break.

you're mad that chris literally does not give a fuck while you're trying your best to avoid him.

you type back.

you:: im gonna pass nick fr

your phone started blowing up with their messages immediately.

riley 👅: girl don't even pmo

nick ⭐️: Pleaseeeeeeee he won't bother you I promise

you:: i told yall no more frat parties

nick ⭐️: Yes you did but it's gonna be in my dorm

nick ⭐️: Not at the frat

nick ⭐️: So?

riley 👅: pls i don't wanna be alone there and nick will be busy with noah bruh

nick ⭐️: Can you not

riley 👅: i see right thru u two

riley 👅: they gonna be all over each other and i dont like anyone else

you:: matt?

riley 👅: hes not bad but still a man

you:: i mean u got a point

nick ⭐️: So??? You'll come?

nick ⭐️: At least come help set everything up and then you'll decide if u wanna stay

you:: who'll be there?

nick ⭐️: i forced nate matt and c word to help so us four and you hopefully 💜

nick ⭐️: And then later there's gonna be like ten more ppl

nick ⭐️: Just close friends

you:: riley you're not helping him??

riley 👅: got a nail appointment

nick ⭐️: Yeah shes fake so I need you please

nick ⭐️: Those fuckers are dumbasses and they'll probably annoy me more than help

nick ⭐️: Just come for an hour and then if you decide you can't do this i'll drive you home myself

you:: you can't drive

nick ⭐️: i'll call you an uber i mean

riley 👅: LMAO

you grimace, leaning back against your headboard, staring at the ceiling. this is manageable. you could help nick with hanging some lights, arranging snacks, help him make a cool playlist. your music taste is literally top tier.

it means seeing him though.

but you're aware that at some point you will see him. maybe on the street one day. maybe on the hallway or somewhere at campus. you know that someday you and him will cross paths again, and you may not be ready.

and tomorrow you'd be prepared. you have the whole night and day to prepare yourself. it's better than unexpectedly bumping into him. besides, maybe he won't come if he knows you'll be there. he hates you now, after all.

you:: i'll help u but i probably won't stay

nick ⭐️: I knew i can count on u

nick ⭐️: I got ur back yk that right

nick ⭐️: Be there at 4 we gotta go to the grocery store too

you sigh.

please, the universe don't play games with me tomorrow.

~~~

few hours later, by the time you leave your apartment, you've convinced yourself it’s fine. just helping nick who's been an amazing friend for the past two months.

you decided to get some coffee first, refusing to show up stressed and under caffeinated. you even took a little extra time getting ready, just enough to look put together.

just because.

it's cold enough that your breath fogs in front of you as you walk, hands tucked into your coat pockets, phone buzzing occasionally with messages from riley.

you push open the door to the café, warmth immediately wrapping around you as the smell of espresso and sugar hits you. the place is busy, but not packed. low music is playing, milk steaming behind the counter, people hunched over laptops pretending to study.

you step forward, already pulling your wallet out of your bag, not really looking where you're going. you're fine, definitely not nervous, why would you be anyway? you had time to prepare. you haven't slept at night, just thought of all the possibilities. what will you do when you first see him?

you lowkey wish you could, like, for example, hit his head with a hammer.

but you'll be mature. you'll say hey to everyone and just help with decorating, nothing more. zero stolen glances, nothing.

you feel embarrassing. when was the last time you felt like that? it's humiliating. the thought of him just pisses you off so bad.

you walk straight into something solid, too lost in your thoughts. hard enough that you stumble half a step back. "oh, shit— i'm so sorry—" you start automatically, looking up.

and then you freeze. because it’s him.

chris.

your heart doesn't just drop. it plummets. straight through your ribs, down your stomach.

for a second too small to measure, your entire body forgets how to exist. a whole month without seeing him, hearing him and being near him, and yet the second your eyes land on him, all of your 'i don't care' act collapses.

he's holding two cardboard boxes— donuts, you realize — one tilted slightly from the impact. he steadies them quickly, his reflexes kicking in before anything falls.

he looks exactly the same, but so different at the same time. maybe it's the tension in his shoulders once he sees you? or the way his jaw looked sharper than ever before, especially now when it was tight like he was holding back something.

you were close enough to notice the faint scar near his eyebrow you never noticed before. close enough to smell something clean and familiar on him, or notice that his hair is now longer than it was a month ago.

only his eyes stayed the same.

that perfect blue color you tried so hard not to think about. the color you swore would never had an affect on you.

now they were locked into yours.

your fingers go literally cold, your chest tightens so painfully that it feels numb. you get hit with a wave of annoyance because he shouldn't have this effect on you, shouldn't be able to hollow you out with just one look. he shouldn't look at you like that. like you're a nuisance and seeing you already ruined the rest of his day.

why was he like this? if only he didn't do what he did. you really started seeing him as someone else than this cocky chris who wouldn't leave you alone for weeks at the beginning. it felt like you were mourning someone who technically only existed in your head.

it feels like forever when his expression finally shifts. barely, but you obviously notice, as always. the twitch of his eyebrow, the slight narrowing of his eyes, the spark of irritation growing so fast that it hits you like a slap. it scrapes at your insidies, makes your throat feel too tight, but also makes you want to throw a fucking hammer at him for real this time, because the fucking audacity to look at you like this? like you're the one who should be blamed? what he did was so much worse than you digging into his past out of curiosity. because you wanted to get to know him more. to understand.

and he just did it to boost his own ego.

stupid.

a muscle in his jaw ticks.

there's noise around you, orders being called out, the door opening behind you, someone laughing near the window. it all feels distant, muffled, like it’s happening behind glass.

you step back first, your mouth working before your brain could. “didn't see you,” you say flatly, adjusting your bag strap on your shoulder. just be neutral.

he huffs quietly. "yeah,” he says. “i noticed.”

his voice.

haven't heard it in weeks and it felt like ten years.

your eyes flick briefly to the boxes in his hands. he catches that and glances down, then back at you. "nick made me," he says simply.

of course.

there's a beat of silence that stretches a little too long. you clear your throat and you both decide it's time to move in the same moment, stepping to the right.

you want to jump out of the window.

you step to the left. he does as well.

he inhales deeply, stepping back and aside, letting you walk further in, his eyes locked on the snow behind the windows outside.

your grip tightens on your wallet and you pass by him, hearing the door closing not even two seconds later. you don't even look back. and you hate that your brain is already spiraling.

you felt like you've been in a trance for the next twenty minutes. got your order, paid for it, left and smoked two or three cigarettes outside.

this was fucking ridiculous. this is exactly why you agreed to go and help nick. to see chris when you walk in, not make eye contact or pay too much attention. to have some control over this situation, to be prepared.

and here, you weren't.

just act like nothing happened.

you called nick and riley on your way to nick's dorm, telling them you bumped into him. riley canceled her nails appointment to come and help— and probably support you. once you three met, you all went to the store. you explained what happened on your way there.

"so you're saying that you almost shit your pants," nick states, walking into the store.

"dude, shut up," riley smacks his arm.

you sighed, blinking fast, trying to erase this moment from your brain, but chris's stare was burned into it.

"what?" nick looks at riley, rubbing his arm. "what the fuck you hittin' me for? hit chris. or her for lying to herself and trying to be nonchalant—"

riley smacks his other arm.

"ow—!"

"are you insane?!"

"are you?!"

"guys..." you mutter quietly, rubbing your temples and stopping in the middle of the aisle.

"...fuckin' hitting me like i'm the one who..."

"guys."

"...mentiong his name is crazy when your brother is actually a fucking—"

"guys!"

they both snap their heads toward you, both looking guilty.

"shut the fuck up," you say. "that's enough."

they nodded, riley zipping her mouth with her fingers. but nick couldn't help himself and after a while he spoke again. "i respect your boundaries," he started, walking to gets some snacks first. "but, listen. claiming that you don't care won't help you at all–"

"i don't care," you snapped.

"okay," he hums, skeptical though. "but you liked spending time with him and he enjoyed it too. i know him and i also know how difficult he is, and that what he did was a fucked thing to do, but y'all could talk it out, y'know. stayed as friends."

you and riley both scoffed.

"dude, fuck him," riley says. "what are you even saying? you're taking his side? he was clearly wrong here."

"i'm not tryna explain him," nick emphasized, looking at you and riley. "i swear. i think he's a fuckin' idiot and to think he'd ever do something like this is just..." he sighs, grabbing some chips. "trust me i gave him shit for this. but i'm just sayin'... he liked you as a person, y'know? he said he likes that you don't try to impress him."

"wow, so thoughtful of him," riley scoffs, looking at you. "i regret even telling you to do it for the plot. you can fully blame me, i'm half responsible for this nightmare."

"you're not," you sighed, scratching your head. "i am. i should've never even slept with him in the first place."

"nah, don't regret anything," nick says. "you both had a great time, no? everything happens for a reason."

"the reason is that he's an absolute idiot."

"okay, chris fucked up, but, like, to be fair, you're not innocent either."

you raised your eyebrows. "so it's my fault he made a fucking bet?"

"i didn't say that," nick winced. "of course it's not. i'm just saying that you asked about.... his past behind his back," he mumbles, but you knew damn well he meant nancy. just couldnt say it in front of riley. "then judged him off shit he couldn't control."

"he said that?" you ask, scoffing. "i didn't judge him, i actually fucking understood him and you know why. and that's what i regret 'cos if i kept the mindset of him being an asshole for no reason, it'd be easier."

"look, im just saying that you two fucked up and maybe you'd be better as friends. 'cos clearly you can't stay away from him anyway."

"nick, c'mon," riley looks at him with disbelief.

"what? you see how she freaked out after seeing him...—"

you stopped listening, realizing nick wasn't exactly wrong.

you couldn't get it. this whole time you've been wondering why chris gets under your skin the way he does, why pissing him off was so fun, why the way he'd look at you sometimes made your stomach twist in a way you'd never admit out loud.

but friends? especially after everything?

that wouldn't work, for sure. chris wasn't made for being friends with girls, and you know damn well you two wouldn't be great as friends. you couldn't even look at him yet alone touch him— because god forbid if you accidentally did. your stomach tightens at the thought with something ugly.

you were beating yourself up over the fact that you've let him touch him and use your body however he wanted. maybe you were trying to fill the void inside of you? to feel wanted again? maybe you didn't exactly heal after what jake did to you, and someone like chris wanting you was a good ego boost.

but doesn't that make you similar to him again?

you drop your gaze, lost in your thoughts again for a second too long which nick notices immediately.

"i'd just like us all to get along since we're friends," he explains. "but if you don't feel like it, it's fine. i'll happily keep bullying him for ya."

nick leaves it after that, they switch the topic and continue with the groceries, but his words linger long after the conversation ends. were you ever gonna be free? especially now when you're friends with nick, it's gonna be difficult not to see chris or hear his name. maybe nick was right and you two should be on good terms after all?

you shut down that thought every time your mind goes there, because how would you do it after everything?

the three of you finish the rest of the grocery run after that, moving through the aisles chaotically. nick keeps tossing random things into the cart that definitely weren’t on the list, while you keep trying to remind him that this is supposed to be a small hang out, not a full blown party.

by the time you reach the checkout, the cart is overflowing. bags pile up faster than either of you expected, and when the cashier finishes scanning the last item, all three of you just stare at the mountain of groceries for a second.

“this was a mistake,” nick mutters.

"told ya," riley adds. you start grabbing the bags.

getting everything back to the dorm ends up being more of a mission than either of you planned. it would be actually impossible to do it, so you had to call an uber.

“yeah, no way we’re carrying all of this in one trip,” nick says once y'all get out of the car, pushing the door open with his shoulder.

so it turns into a back and process. first trip, then second.

bags get dropped temporarily in the hallway near the stairwell while you carry the first load upstairs to his dorm. the place is empty, you feel slightly relieved seeing no sight of chris yet.

nick disappears inside with another set of groceries, already talking about where everything should go. riley starts unpacking the bags. “i’ll get the rest,” you tell them, catching your breath.

“you sure?” he asks.

“yeah. it’s just the last ones.”

so you head back down the stairs again, the quiet of the hallway wrapping around you now that most people have left for christmas break already.

you crouch slightly to gather all the bags all at once, hooking as many as you can onto your fingers, hugging some to your chest, so you won’t have to make another trip.

by the time you stand up, you’re carrying way more than you probably should. plastic rustles with every step as you start making your way back upstairs, bags bumping against your legs, your grip already starting to slip, but you're pushing it through.

you kick nick's door open with arms overloaded with grocery bags stacked so high you can barely see over them. "nick!" you yell, walking in, trying to steady all the bags in your hands. "take these from me, it's gonna fall—"

"hey, one second, i'm fighting with these lights! just put everything on my bed."

you rolled your eyes and stepped further, shutting the door with your foot, and that's exactly when the top bag starts slipping.

you feel it tilt, the weight shifting. "fuck, no, no, no...—"

before it can hit the floor, a hand catches it from the side, pressing the bag back into your chest before lifting it away completely, taking half of it from you.

you wanted to hit your head against the wall.

chris isn't looking at you when he takes the rest of the bags and puts them down onto nick's bed, just like he wanted. "move your lazy ass," he mutters to his brother, not even giving you a glance.

his hoodie sleeves are pushed up, his hat glued to his head as always, you also notice a ring on his finger. since when?

fuck.

fuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkk.

"oh, perfect!" nick claps his hands, getting off the chair and plugging the lights in just in time as the door opens again, matt and nate coming in with a few cartoons of pizza.

"... nick, noah is outside—"

"fuck!" nick shouts, sprinting toward the door and pushing between matt and nate, leaving his room in less than five seconds after his crush's name was mentioned.

matt blinks, "of course." he puts the pizza down, giving you a small smile. you also barely saw him these past weeks. nate just nods in your direction. you havent talked since that situation at the beach, and you know you kind of owe him an apalogy for making him spill everything.

once the door slams behind nick, everyone start doing their thing. besides riley, no one else said a word to you. well, matt sometimes said something, but not much, really.

you go through the bags, sorting the food and the snacks while matt moves over to the tangled pile of lights nick abandoned. "what the fuck did he do with this?" he mutters, fighting with a string of led lights wrapped around itself six times.

"nick's gonna kill ya," nate says when chris opens the window, already lighting up a joint.

chris takes a slow drag, blowing the smoke out. "he won't even know," he replies.

matt huffs. "he'll literally walk in and smell it."

"he'll live."

you rolled your eyes, putting the beers on nick's desk, eyes moving literally anywhere other than chris.

you were so mad. why were you even here? he made you look like a fool and now he's just standing here? fuck that.

you bite down on your tongue to say anything rude toward him, knowing it's pointless.

"stop sending invisible daggers in his direction," riley whispers to you.

you side eye her. "i'm good."

she grimaces, but drops it.

"...shit!" you hear nate cursing somewhere on your left just to see him standing on the other side of the room, holding a small white and green plant tied with red ribbon. he's staring up at the ceiling, trying to figure out where to hang it, and it takes you a second to realize he's holding a mistletoe.

you completely forgot that this was nick's idea, because him and noah are supposed to accidentally get under that thing, so they can kiss. what a slick motherfucker.

you need to remember to avoid it.

you throw the bags away, hearing matt scolding chris and saying nick will go nuts if he smells weed in his room, deciding this might be a perfect opportunity to talk to nate. you already made things straight with matt who said none of that is his business and he just wanted to help.

you take a deep breath and approach nate. "lemme help with this," you say, taking the mistletoe from him and turning it between your fingers. he looks up at you, his expression neutral.

good sign?

"good luck 'cus this sucks," he replies easily.

you look around the room, the ceiling definitely out of reach, so you settle for the top of the doorframe leading into the bathroom, stretching slightly to tape it there. it hangs a little crooked, but it does the job, and you step back with a quiet, satisfied nod.

"well," nate stares at that blankly. "i'm just an idiot."

you give him a smile and a shrug.

for a moment there’s just that awkward half second of silence where both of you know exactly what this is about.

you shove your hands into the pockets of your jeans. "so…" you start. "about the beach thing,” you lower your voice slightly. “when you were drunk.”

nate raises his eyebrow. "which drunk moment?” he asks. “there were several.”

you sigh softly. "the one where i basically manipulated you into telling me about nancy.”

nate lets out a quiet breath through his nose, nodding. "ah,” he says. “yeah. that one.”

“yeah,” you mumble.

you glance down at the floor for a second before looking back at him. "that was kinda shitty of me.”

"it was," he hums and studies you for a moment, tilting his head slightly like he’s actually considering it. then he shrugs. "i can kinda understand why you did it though."

you blink. "yeah?"

"mhm," he nods. "you were curious. askin' questions ain't a crime. just maybe do it in a more decent way next time. y'know, without trickin' me."

“right."

"yeah."

"i shouldn't have done that."

"you shouldn't," he agrees. "but chris and i are good, so," he shrugs.

you look at him skeptically. "i don't want any bad blood between us—"

“seriously,” he interrups. “if anything i respect the dedication. you played the long game.”

you huff, shaking your head. "a bad game. i lost."

"you know everything now, so i'd say you kind of won in this case. losing chris is another story."

you press your lips into a tight line.

nate lifts his fist toward you, waiting for a fist bump. "we good," he says.

the tension dissolves a little after you bump his fist.

before you can say anything else, the dorm door swings open again. nick walks in first, cheeks flushed, noah right behind him with a box of soda balanced against his chest.

nick stops in the middle of the room with a grimace, sniffing, before looking toward chris who was laying on his bed, completely relaxed.

"fucker, you know i hate when you smoke in my room," nick says.

"i don't know what you talkin' about."

nick stares at him in disbelief. "it smells like shit in here."

chris glances at him lazily. "'cos you walked in."

nick takes a deep breath. "one of these days i'll kill you."

from across the room matt mutters, "told ya."

chris rolls his eyes, clearly deciding the argument isn’t worth the effort. "dramatic,” he mumbles.

nick glares at him for another second before turning back toward noah. "unbelievable,” he grumbles.

the room slowly shifts back into motion after that. someone puts music on, boxes get opened. you end up sitting cross legged on the floor untangling a mess of another christmas lights with riley, while nick and matt argue about where the plastic tree should go.

“corner,” nick says.

“middle of the room,” matt insists.

“corner,” nick repeats.

you take his side, "corner."

matt rolls his eyes, but eventually gives up.

time starts moving faster after that, another lights go up around the walls, riley insists on taping a paper snowflake directly onto nate’s forehead at one point. nick nearly has a meltdown when matt opens the chips before people even arrive.

somewhere during all of it you forget chris is even in the room. he mostly stays on the opposite side most of the time, leaning against the wall, talking with nate or scrolling on his phone. sometimes helping with something when nick yells at him.

by the time the decorations are finished, the room actually looks really cozy. nick steps back into the middle of the room, hands on his hips as he looks around. "okay,” he says slowly. “not bad.”

riley flops down onto the bed beside you. "we’re amazing,” she says.

nick checks his phone. "people should start showin' up soon.” he walks over to the bed, sitting on the floor right in front of it.

“cool,” you say to them. “that’s my cue to go.”

nick looks up. "what?”

“i told you i wasn’t staying,” you remind him.

“you’ve literally been here for over an hour already.”

"was just helping.”

“this is also helping. you're a great company."

you shake your head, "nah, i'll go."

“come on," riley mutters. "dont leave me here."

“i said i’d help set up,” you say. “i did.”

riley looks between you and the other side of the room. "technically you already spent an entire hour in the same room as chris and nobody died.”

you look at her in disbelief. "you on his side?"

she raises her hands in surrender, "i just don't want you to go and miss a cool evening with your friends, only because of some moron."

nick slowly turns to look at her. "she got a good point,” he says.

you glare at both of them. "wow. thanks.”

"c'mon, we won't see each other until, like, new years."

"guys..."

nick crosses his arms. "stay.”

“no.”

“stay.”

“nick.”

“please?”

you groan. "you’re annoying.”

“whatever will make you stay."

you look between them, already losing the fight.

“…fine,” you sigh finally. “but not for long.”

nick grins immediately. "deal.”

the first people start arriving not even ten minutes later. music gets louder, the room fills slowly with familiar faces from campus.

"you said you didn't invite much people?" riley raises her eyebrows. nick shrugs. soon the small dorm feels twice as crowded as it should.

you end up near the bathroom talking to a couple people from one of your classes. at some point riley drags you into another conversation near the door.

soon the room gets loud enough that conversations start overlapping.

people are squeezed between the bed and the desk, someone sitting on the windowsill, someone else leaning against the doorframe. nick’s tiny dorm was never meant to hold this many bodies at once, but somehow it works.

at some point matt walks over and pours something into your plastic cup without even asking. “vodka,” he says.

you squint into the cup and take a sip, immediately wincing as it burns down your throat. "been a while since i drank that shit," you say, making riley scoff.

"it's time," she bumps her cup against yours and matt's.

matt mutters, "first one’s always the worst.”

“so comforting," you reply sarcastically.

still, you take another sip a moment later. and soon enough you're four drinks in.

you’re halfway through conversation with them when you hear someone mention chris’s name across the room. you don’t mean to look, but you do anyway.

he’s near the window again, leaning back against the wall with nate and a couple guys you vaguely recognize from the frat.

one of them says something and the others laugh. "...i’m telling you, man, that punch came out of nowhere,” one of them says.

another guy pulls out his phone. "and this video looks sick. you were, like, on an autopilot, bro."

you roll your eyes immediately and look away. you know what they're talking about, riley told you about that a few days after it happened. apparently the fight chris got into on halloween turned into a whole story around campus. someone recorded it and posted it, but you've never saw that video. riley even asked if you want to see, but you never did. before you didn't want to see his face, now when you're already in the same room as him, you find yourself lowkey curious.

"riley," you look at your friend. "you still have that video?"

she looks back at you, "which video?"

"the halloween one," you mutter.

"oh," her eyebrows lift a little, curiosity flickering across her face. "yeah, i have it. why?"

you grab her wrist and drag her through the crowded dorm, the music gets muffled the moment the bathroom door shuts behind you. riley leans against the sink, pulling out her phone and scrolling for a few seconds before finding the video.

that was.... intense.

it was shaky, whoever recorded it was clearly standing in the middle of the crowd. chris looked like he was in a trance. you didn't even really felt bad for that guy, because he was just as stupid as chris in your eyes, maybe even a little more of an idiot. you almost smile seeing how jake also gets a punch or two, which was fully deserved. the video ends when matt and nate drag chris out of the room.

"well," you blink. "that was messy."

riley looks at you in disbelief, then snorts.

you look at her. "do you know why he started that fight?"

she shakes her head. "i asked matt and nick, but neither of them told me. nick mentioned that this guy was just gettin' into chris's business too much or somethin'. but this was after your fight, so..."

"nah, it's not because of me," you reply immediately with a scoff. it was probably because that guy asked too much about nancy. "it was just to protect himself and his ego."

"whatever you say," she shrugs.

"he was just probably pissed that i know about this bet and he can't keep playing games with me, that's all. anyway, fuck that. let's go drink."

you both come back to the room, this time nate putting a drink into your hand. you grab a cookie, taking a bite and letting your eyes mindlessly wander, accidentally landing on him.

chris is already looking in your direction and for a second your gazes lock. then both of you look away at the exact same time.

you exhale slowly and turn back toward riley. she’s in the middle of telling matt a story about some guy who tried to flirt with her in the dining hall earlier.

every once in a while you feel that same strange pull in your chest and accidentally glance across the room again. and every time chris is looking toward you at the same fucking time. it's quick, your eyes meet and then you both turn around.

after the fourth time it starts getting under your skin. irritation tightens in your chest so you take another drink. at some point you have to go smoke a cigarette. it's ridiculous and childish, and it's pissing you off. he's pissing you off.

you stay outside long enough that the cigarette burns down to the filter and the cold starts biting through your hoodie. you flick the rest of it away and head back inside, the room less crowded than before. half the people are gone, those who stayed are exactly the amount of people nick originally said would come.

you slip back inside without making a big entrance, grabbing a new drink from the counter, before leaning against the wall near riley.

across the room, nick is pacing back and forth like he’s plotting something. "what's up with him?" you ask after watching him for a second.

riley snorts. "he's panicking.”

“about?”

she nods subtly toward the couch where noah was sitting. it clicks immediately.

"ohhh," you grin slightly. "that mistletoe thing didn't work?"

"nope," riley shakes her head.

nick suddenly claps his hands, "okay, it's gettin' boring. let's play." he points dramatically toward the middle of the room. "we're playing seven minutes in heaven.”

you groan.

"oh, my favorite," nate says with a smirk.

nick is very obviously trying not to look directly at noah while suggesting this. riley leans toward you. "he’s desperate.”

“deadass.”

a bottle gets placed in the middle of the floor, people start moving furniture around, forming a loose circle. you hesitate for a second, then sit down anyway.

across from you, chris is leaning back against the couch, his face unimpressed.

"c'mon, let's make it fun," nate claps his shoulder.

chris grimaces. "i ain't playin' that shit."

nate immediately looks at him. "don’t be a coward.”

chris scoffs. "fuck you, bro.”

“that’s coward talk.”

chris rolls his eyes and eventually sits down on the floor with the rest of you.

nick grins, "perfect! let’s start.”

the first few rounds are mostly chaotic and full of laughing. the bottle lands on matt, then riley, then some random people. unfortunately when nick spins, it doesn't land on noah which clearly disappoints him and he whispers to you that the game is rigged.

after a while, once nate and some girl leave nick's closet, it’s your turn.

“spin,” nick says.

you sigh, reaching forward and flicking the bottle. it spins across the floor once, then twice, eventually slowing down.

this is a joke.

your stomach drops slightly before it even stops, because you already know. the bottle points directly at chris.

the room goes silent for a split second, then someone whistles quietly.

no fucking way.

you stare at the bottle like maybe it’ll magically move if you look at it long enough, but it doesn't. you slowly look up, your gaze finding riley and her wide eyes, then nick who is dramatically covering his mouth. then finally you move your eyes to chris, who's not looking at you at all. he's staring at the bottle, face completely neutral, just observing. you couldn't figure out what he's thinking, but he definitely wasn't pleased with this situation either.

nick clears his throat, scratching his head. "well..." he mutters. "seven minutes. that's the game. try not to kill each other.”

you open your mouth to somehow protest, because there's no way you're going anywhere with chris and you're sure he's gonna argue too.

but no.

he stands up without any comment and walks toward the closet at the end of the room. he steps inside and disappears there, leaving the door open like an invitation.

you feel your friends' eyes on you, heat crawling up your neck. he didn't say a single word and you're about to complain here? it's exactly what he's expecting.

will you let him win again? absolutely not. you won't be worse than him.

you slowly push yourself to your feet, catching riley's gaze. she grimaces, "i'll cover for ya, but maybe don't kill him today?"

you almost snort at that, but you're too nervous to do it anyway, so you just nod and walk over to the closet, every step feeling longer than it should. you stop in front of the open door for half a second, then step inside, pulling it closed behind you. for a moment you can’t see anything, just complete darkness.

the air inside is warmer than the rest of the room, smelling faintly like laundry detergent and whatever air freshener nick keeps in here. you hear chris shift somewhere in front of you and suddenly the room feels very small and quiet.

your eyes slowly start adjusting to the darkness, enough to make out his silhouette standing a few feet away, and it's... awkward. neither of you says anything. he clearly didn't expect you to follow him, but then he also remembers how stubborn you can be. he almost forgot.

after a minute you suddenly become very aware of the fact that the space between you is way too small, and that you can smell him. that stupid familiar scent makes something uncomfortable twist in your chest. you don’t want to be this close to him, so you shift your weight slightly, deciding to move farther back, maybe lean against the wall or the shelf behind you, just to put some distance between you, but he moves at the exact same moment. you step on his foot and collide.

your shoulder bumps hard into his chest and the sudden contact makes you both jerk back immediately. "what the—”

"fuck—"

your voices overlap in the darkness and you hear him exhale sharply like he’s just as annoyed as you are. "watch it,” he mutters.

you scoff instantly. "watch what? i can’t see anything.”

"you're bumpin' into me for the second time today. soon i'ma think you doin' it on purpose."

your eyebrows shoot up as you barely can hold back a laugh. "so your ego is still as high as ever," you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

"you're payin' a lot of attention," he replies sarcastically.

"yeah, 'cos all i want is your attention," you huff.

"clearly," he responds. "you're friends with my brother, no? seems like a desperate move f'me."

you blink, getting offended. "i started talking to nick before all of that, so don't even try, you dickhead."

"yeah, yeah, same old story," he mumbles and definitely rolls his eyes. "i'm the bad one and you're the victim here, yeah. it's definitely not like i ever tried to hide it. you've been knowing i'm a dick, you just decided to ignore it at some point. not my fault."

you could feel the irritation rising in your chest with every word that left his mouth.

"don't even try," you press a finger onto his chest, not missing surprisingly. "don't try to make yourself look like you're the one who should be upset here. poor chris, one girl fucked him up, so now he has the right to be an idiot for the rest of his life," you mock him. "you're a grown ass man now. get over it."

"maybe try to understand," he takes a step forward, swapping your hand away. "you haven't moved on from jake either."

"oh, all i was doing was trying to understand and look where it got me," you huff out a laugh. "the difference between us is that you use nancy as an explanation for your awful actions, while i use my situation as a reminder not to get to jake's level. ever."

"i don't use her for anything," he snaps. "i actually don't talk or think about that bitch. you're the one who went askin' nate behind my back. this cool with ya?"

you clench your jaw. "no, it's not, but what other choice did i fucking have?" you snap back, the air growing heavier. you didn't even realize you're standing chest to chest. "sitting around and wondering why you are the way you are?"

"you could've always stay outta my business," he replies.

"hard to stay out of it, when you were asking me to come over everyday."

"yeah, to fuck you, dumbass. nothing else."

"i don't remember fucking when i was hanging out with you and your friends," you say. "or when we watched netflix while i was on my period. or when you taught me how to roll a joint properly," your voice comes out sharper than before. "you let me into your life and you knew what you're doing. and you chose to keep going."

"i didn't let you—"

"you did, though," you take a step closer. "and you realized it when i met matt and nick for the first time and y'all took me downstairs to sit with everyone. i literally saw it on your face."

clearly, you hit a spot, because he goes silent for just a second, but it's enough for you to know that you're right.

he takes a step closer too, clenching his jaw.

"i don't know why you tryna convince y'self that i ever saw you as anything other than something i can put my dick in, but it's so ridiculous that i literally feel bad for ya."

you scoff, his words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. you wanted to throw up.

"you know what's ridiculous? that even now you think you have any power over me, but you were the one begging for my attention since the beginning. bet or not, it's embarrassing. it was a privilege for you that you ever touched me and you better fucking remember that."

he huffs out a laugh. "that's funny. if i wanted to, i'd have you spreading your legs even two minutes after you walked in on me fucking that chick in the bathroom. i just like myself a little game," he leans in, whispering to your ear, the irritation clear in his tone even if he tries to hide it under a smirk. "at the end of the day, you made it easy."

he leans back after that, but you feel your blood boil.

easy?

your hand moves before your mind can catch up, but he's faster this time, like he knew he crossed a line here again, and expected you to do that. his fingers wrap around your wrist, stopping you just inches away from his face.

"i told you not to do that ever again," he bites out. "wanna hit me?”

you glare into the darkness. "fuck you."

"go ahead," he says, but doesn't let go. "do it again."

"let go off me then."

"aw, but you're so strong, no? you can free y'self. c'mon, tough girl, don't be a coward."

you huff, trying to yank free, but his grip only tightens, enough to keep you right there, way too close, his breath mixing with yours and it only makes everything worse.

"you're fucking disgusting," you shot back.

“yeah?" he scoffs. "and what does that make you, huh?"

you let out a short, humorless laugh, trying to pull away again, but he doesn’t let go, and it just pisses you off more. "at least i don’t pretend to be someone i’m not,” you snap, your free hand coming up to shove at his chest, but it doesn’t do much, he barely moves.

“i don't pretend,” he says, leaning in just a little, like he wants to get under your skin on purpose. “you're a smart girl, you should've known being delusional won't get you anywhere good."

your stomach twists at that, anger flaring so fast it almost makes you dizzy. "fuck you,” you spit, finally managing to twist your wrist just enough to loosen his grip, trying to shove him again, but somehow grabbing the front of his shirt, fists bunching the fabric, pulling him closer without even realizing it.

oh god.

"you miss it?" he asks after a few seconds, tilting his head to the side.

"what?" your voice comes out sharper than you intend, your fingers tightening in his shirt like you need something to hold onto or you might actually lose it.

“this,” he says, barely a breath away now. “touchin' me, i mean. i figured since your nails are literally digging into my skin."

you frown, your chest rising too fast, and you realize that he’s close enough to notice. and that you're in fact having your hand on him, and he's still gripping your wrist.

"no," you scoff, but your voice shakes just the slightest bit as you lie.

of course you missed it. having sex with him was keeping you entertained, it was fun, never predictable and just felt good. maybe that's why you were so mad, 'cause you weren't ready to give up on that so soon. but you had to.

it was this or losing your self respect completely.

“hm," he chuckles, his eyes flickering down to your lips for a split second before snapping back up. “then let go.”

you don’t. and neither does he.

and suddenly it’s too quiet, like all the noise from earlier just dropped out, like it’s just the two of you in this tiny space with too much unfinished shit hanging in the air.

"you're as much of a liar as i am," he mutters, not even meaning to lean in, but he does.

“you’re so fucking—” you start, but the words die somewhere between your chest and your throat, when you realize you're standing too close. speaking made your lips brush against his. how did this happen?

he exhales sharply, like he’s just as aware of it, like it’s hitting him at the same time. "don’t,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t move away either.

you don’t even know what he means. don’t what?

whatever it is, you both ignore it.

your hand tightens in his shirt again at the exact same moment his grip on your wrist loosens, not letting go completely, just enough that it changes into something else, less like stopping you and more like holding you there. then it just… happens.

you both lean in at the same time.

his lips feel exactly how you remember, but neither of you kiss the other one the same way as before. it's messier, full of every ounce of frustration you've both been carrying around for the past month. your fingers clutch tighter at his shirt, his hand sliding to your waist, your back bumping lightly into the wall behind you. for a moment it feels like the entire world shrinks down to this tiny closet and the two of you standing in it. every thought you had five minutes ago disappears completely even though you're still mad at him. furious, actually. but it only seems to make it more intense.

your heart is racing, your lungs burn slightly from the lack of air, but the kiss only deepens, falling into a rhythm that feels dangerously familiar. your mind tries to catch up with what’s happening, tries to remind you that this is a terrible idea, but it's pointless.

his hands slide from your waist to your sides, gripping a little tighter than necessary, and you feel yourself responding without thinking, your fingers tangling into the back of his hair like your body remembers the exact way it used to fit against his. your heart is pounding too fast in your chest, every kiss feeling like a collision, your mouths meeting again and again like neither of you knows how to stop. the worst thing is that your body is reacting. that same old spark shoots through your stomach when he grips your thighs and picks you up, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. you feel heat settling low in your belly when his growing bulge pokes you slightly.

your breathing grows uneven as you tuck harder on his hair, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. his hand starts to move up your thigh, making its way towards the zipper of your jeans. you don't stop him when he unzips it or when his hand slips underneath. you don't even stop him when his fingers find you wet and ready, gathering your slick and slowly pushing inside. your brain wasn't working and you were overwhelmed.

he breaks the kiss just to get some air and letting a small noise fall from your lips before crashing his lips against your again, even angrier than before. you fight with his tongue over dominance, not planning on giving up even when his fingers start pumping in and out of your pussy. another pathetic whine leaves you when his thumb starts rubbing circles over your clit, almost making you lose it for a second, but you're quickly back on track. you shift a little while he works his fingers in you, your stomach twisting sharply.

'i get whatever i want.'

something flickers across your face when those words echo in your head. you don't stop the kiss, but the thought slips in anyway. uninvited and sudden.

'i never lose.'

your fingers tighten in his shirt, your mind starting to catch up with your body in uncomfortable bursts. that bet. the words you heard that night. the way even jake knew about this, it all made you sick. the memories hit like a splash of cold water. the anger and humiliation that followed. the way everything suddenly made sense in the worst way, and now here you are.

what the fuck are you doing?

kissing him like nothing happened? wrapped around him, letting him touch you again, like your pride doesn't exist?

your heart pounds harder and the shift in your energy is unmistakable. your mouth slows slightly against his, the grip on his hair loosens and chris notices it immediately.

where the fuck is your self respect?

your brain is screaming now and suddenly the anger comes rushing back. not just at him, but mostly at yourself. the realization hits you like a punch.

your eyes squeeze shut even though the closet is already dark. your chest rises sharply as you finally pull your mouth away from his, your legs slipping down, your feet hitting the floor again. chris pauses instantly and you push him away, breathing heavily like you've just ran a marathon.

the air between you feels charged as you touch your lips and then scoff, immediately zipping your pants.

"fuck you."

your voice comes out breathless and sharp.

chris blinks, clearly thrown off. "there's no way you gonna blame me for this—"

"stop fucking talking," you throw over your shoulder, already opening the door and stepping out. nick and the rest immediately stop whatever conversation they were having, their eyes landing on you.

you don't look at anyone, don't say a word, just rush toward the door, slamming it behind you.

you wanted to get out as fast as possible.

chris frowns to himself, still standing in the dark. he knows you two shouldn't be doing that, but it's not only his fault.

"what the fuck did you do?" riley asks, standing up when chris steps out of the closet. she's pissed, moving towards him like she's ready to start a fight. nick catches her arm before she can get too close.

"i didn't do shit," chris replies which only spurrs her on.

"just like you didn't do shit before?!" she scoffs. "why did she leave then?!"

"i don't fucking know!" he raises his voice as well.

"that's the problem! you just don't know anything, fucking dumbass...—!"

chris rubs his temples, trying to focus on his own thoughts while riley goes off on him like crazy.

when him and you fought last time, he'd let you walk away, because he wasn't gonna deal with whatever you thought you two were. he was mad that you asked about nancy, but he had a lot of time to realize that what he did was much worse. he doesn't have to be in love with you to know that he owns you an apology. he had some good manners left and he liked you, honestly. and clearly your reaction to what happened in the closet was just a consequence to what he did before.

"....i can't fucking believe it!" riley huffs, shoving nick's hand away. "i'm going to check on her and when we're back, you better be fucking gone, 'cause i swear to god—"

chris grabs her wrist, stopping her from opening the door. "lemme fuckin' handle it," he says.

riley scoffs, pulling her wrist out of his grip. "right," she mumbles. "'cus you clearly know how."

"riley, hey...." nick cuts in.

chris ignores her, leaving the room, his mind already thinking of some places where he could find you. and he has no idea, because he never paid enough attention to know you like that. it was safer for him.

after a few minutes of standing on the parking lot like a goddamn moron, he remembers about the smoking spot behind campus where a lot of people like to sit at— including him.

spot on.

he finds you exactly there, tucked behind the older buildings where the lights barely reach. the snow is settling untouched on the ground and the worn out concrete steps you're sitting on. elbows resting on your knees, hands hanging loosely between them, your breath visible in the cold air. you don’t look up when he approaches, even though you definitely hear him.

"what the fuck?" he asks, standing right in front of you.

"go away, chris," you say, irritated, but clearly giving up. you were so done with the constant feeling of anger. you had been full of rage for the past month and it was exhausting.

he scoffs. "you gonna act like a child or are we gonna talk 'bout this?"

you almost laughed. "now you wanna talk? wow."

he takes a deep breath to calm himself down, knowing that another fight will get you two nowhere. after a second he decides to sit down beside you, leaving just enough space between. snow falls quietly around you, landing in your hair, on your shoulders, melting just as quickly. you stare straight ahead, watching it like it’s the most interesting thing in the world, ignoring his existence completely.

"just to let you know, i didn't mean to be a dick," he blurts out after a moment.

"right," you huff.

"m'serious," he continues, scratching his head. "i know what you think of me, but, like— y'know, you're even kind of cool. can be funny sometimes and your stubborn ass know how to handle my bullshit. you're a good person, i mean."

you raise your eyebrow, but don't say anything.

"don't let it get to your head though, you still suck," he adds sarcastically. "but, yeah, that bet thing wasn't even really a bet, honestly. he said i wouldn't go for you, i said i would, that's it. i still fucked up though and i should've at least told you, i know that."

you let out a bitter chuckle. "no shit. bet or not, it was such a you move that i don't even know why i was even surprised."

"oh, c'mon now," he rolls his eyes. "i don't go around and make bets about every girl."

"should i feel special or what?"

"maybe."

you side eye him.

"y'know, if that's your kind of apology, then drop it and go back inside, 'cos i'm really not in—"

"nah, for real though," he says and grimaces, exhaling sharply and looking away like he needs a second before forcing the words out. apologizing clearly isn’t something that comes easy to him, you can feel it in the way his shoulders tense. “m'sorry,” he says finally, like he hates how it sounds, but knows he owes you that much.

damn.

you finally glance at him, not saying anything, because you clearly didn't expect him to actually say this.

he meets your eyes for a second, then frowns a little, clearly uncomfortable with the silence stretching out. "a'ight," he mutters. "don't make it weird."

"well..." you start slowly. "i'm not gonna thank you, 'cus it's the least you can do. and it doesn't really change anything." you look back at the snow, goosebumps showing on your skin. neither of you had a jacket. "no more texts, hook ups, nothing. i won't be able to look at myself if we don't stop and i already feel stupid enough."

you couldn't even imagine being friends with him. there was too much sexual tension between you two, too much other things you couldn't wrap your head around.

you didn't even care that you were showing him your emotions. telling a man how you feel is like bleeding in front of a shark. you felt week and pathetic, but you had to say it, get your shit together and move on with your life. you were ready to accept that he'll always be somewhere near, but not in your life anymore.

he sighs, knowing it'd happen. as much as he was still annoyed with you, the sex was great and for now he didn't find anyone else who'd satisfy him as much.

"i get it," he replies. "it'll be for the best."

you nod and silence falls between you.

but you feel like you should at least explain yourself a little too.

you glance over at him and back at the sky. "i really wanted to know about nancy.”

he doesn’t even react right away.

“not to use it against you or anything,” you add. “i just really wanted to understand. i'm not even sure what i wanted to understand. maybe i'm just a curious bitch and had to stick my nose into your business, like you said," you shrug. "i don't know."

you almost laugh at how pathetic you sound.

"her name kept being mentioned though and i knew you wouldn’t tell me,” you continue, your fingers curling slightly together. “and that should’ve been enough. like, if you don’t talk about something, then maybe i shouldn’t be digging into it, but i did it anyway and that was shitty."

he exhales through his nose, his jaw tightens slightly.

“i guess now i get why you were so mad about jake,” you add after a moment.

"he had it coming,” he mutters. “you’d have to be brainless to do you like that.” the words come out harsher than intended, but there’s something honest underneath them. "m'not really better, but y'know what i mean."

"yeah," you hum. "i think we both agree that bet thing was way worse than what i did, but still."

he nods. you're actually surprised with his self control in this moment. no excuses or arguing anymore? clearly he had enough of this too.

he lets out a quiet breath, something between a sigh and a scoff, but there’s no bite to it. "but as you said, i’m a dick,” he admits, almost flatly. “so.”

you scoff. "i noticed."

"you ignored it though."

"just for a while."

"but still."

"i know."

he leans back slightly, resting his hands against the step behind him, looking up at the sky for a moment before his gaze drifts back to you.

"nancy's an old story, it doesn't affect me anymore, but i don't like people knowing 'bout her," he mumbles. her name leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. he rarely says it.

you look at him with slight curiosity.

"i was too young f'her anyway. and at this age, seeing a girl you lo— liked..." he corrects himself. "--preferring your brother and then findin' out she's been cheatin' with whoever she could find... that shit's tough, y'know."

you catch his little slip. he loved her and she manipulated him. "i know," you reply. "jake cheating on me fucked me up, but i can't even imagine what i'd do if my younger self had to go through that."

he nods, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. he wasn't gonna say more, clearly, and this time you decided to respect that. maybe one day you two will talk again and he'll tell you the whole story from his perspective.

"that fight was sick, by the way," you blurt out, trying to ease the tension between you two a little.

the corner of his mouth twitches as he glances over at you. "yeah, you watched the video? it was hot, wasn't it?"

"okay, okay," you roll your eyes, chuckling. "calm down."

he still has a small smile on his face as he hands you a cigarette flipped upside down. "c'mon, make a wish," he says.

you raise your eyebrows, but take it, thinking of a wish.

"i crashed him though," he starts bragging. "like, dude had no chance. i got that idiot jake too, ya saw that?"

"chris," you give him a glare.

"a'ight," he mutters, taking the cigarette from you once you make your wish. he lights it up, taking a drag and giving it back to you.

"i might be the bad guy in every other story, but believe me," he says after a moment, less sarcastic now, looking at you. "i wasn't in this one."

your words from the halloween night clearly got stuck in his head.

"i said that out of anger," you mutter, exhaling the smoke.

"m'not tellin' you this to make myself look better, by the way," he adds. "but this is the last time we talkin' so whatever."

the last time we talkin'.

right. and you feel some kind of peace after hearing that. hanging out with him was making your life fun, but also it was making it complicated and it's the last thing you need right now.

he takes the cigarette from you, inhaling deeply.

you look back at the snow. neither of you says anything for the next ten minutes. then you come back to nick's dorm, each going your own way.

this time without stolen glances.

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

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

He stops.

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

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

A frown graces your features. 

“No, I didn’t. C. O. M. P. L. I. M—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone walks past without another look at you.

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

“I’ll wait outside.”

His eye twitches. 

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

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

He groans. “Jesus fucking Christ, woman.” 

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

God, he’s so stubborn. 

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just fun to be in the know.

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

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

No one replies. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sit up, blinking and processing his reply.

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

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

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

.

.

.

“Hi.”

“Fuck off.”

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

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

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

So damn rude.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah.”

He’s still here when you come back. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Remind yourself what?”

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

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

A pat on the head ruffles your hair. 

“Still a no, kid.”

.

.

.

“What if I suck your dick?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nah, you think to yourself. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t wanna.”

“You’re fucking killing me here.”

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

Tutting, he wipes away the wetness from your skin. 

Oh fuck, he really is big. 

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

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

“Quit it,” he commands through gritted teeth. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Both,” he answers. “Both, doll.”

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

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

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

The door opens before he even finishes the word.

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

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

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

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

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

Of course he did.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

A sheet of paper slides across the desk.

“You see this one here—”

From below, you hear Toji pick it up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm.”

“I suspect the workshop helped.”

Toji lets out a quiet huff that might be agreement.

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

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

He grunts, knee crashing up on the wood. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You too, Professor.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck off before I regret it.”

“Lacy thong it is!”

.

.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They bother you or something?”

“No, not at all. I’m just curious.”

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

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

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

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

Another hum. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp. “Fuck, Toji!”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You do. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh. “Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he enters you in one go.

You scream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, he’s dirty.

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

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

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

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

And his lips?

They smack against yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks!” you chirp. 

“God, you’re a pain in the ass.”

.

.

.

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

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

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

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

Oh yes, you did say boyfriend.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You go still, this time for a different reason. 

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

The bastard’s trying to distract you…

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

Do men hold conversation so casually in the toilets?

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

“Don’t mention it, Professor.”

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

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

Your jaw drops. 

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

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

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

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

Your heart? 

Drops to the fucking floor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sneaky piece of shit!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Whore,” he fires back.

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

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

Toji’s scar brushes your forehead with his kiss. 

“That’s the plan.”

——

For months and months prior to that, it'd been the same thing between you and Sato.

“She doesn’t mean anything to me, baby. You know you’re my favorite,” He’d say, cooing you with that manipulatively charming voice of his after you’d asked him about yet another woman he was talking to.

You weren't sure why you kept going back to him. He never told you how he felt about you unless he was inside you—and even then you’re certain those feelings were all sex-based and moderately untrue.

Yet something about him kept drawing you back in.

And if you had to guess what exactly it was...

“Fuuck, y’like that don’t you?” He’d groan, having one big hand clasped around your throat as he plowed you into the mattress. Sato rarely ever took his time during sex, too eager to make sure you cum & keep up his reputation of being a good fuck. “Like the way my cock kisses that sweet spot, huh?”

The rhythmic sound of his pelvis smack smack smacking! against your ass echoes throughout the room at a pitch almost louder than your sapped moans. “Mhmm,” You'd hummed in response, fingernails dug into the bedsheets below.

You couldn't bring yourself to think about all the other women that's been in this same exact position before you when his cock was far too busy gliding in and out of your soaking pussy. The same sheets your fingers are clawing at is also clasped in between your teeth tightly, drool wetting up the fabric pathetically due to how good you felt.

Only to be rudely interrupted by his hand gripping at your neck tighter and then tugging the upper half of your body allll the way up—his chest pressing into your back while his dick massages the gushiest spot inside you. “Don’t do that,” Sato huffs with that shit-eating grin on his face, “Speak up, pretty girl. I couldn't hear you.”

“Uhuhh, yes,” You pant, tongue beginning to dangle out of your mouth all whorishly, “I love it, Sato.”

Cocky like always, he'd let off that amused scoff and then nip at your ear playfully, “Yeahh, I know you do. Jus’ can’t get enough of me.”

Thinking back again, he had the biggest ego you’d ever seen.

Sato was tenderly humping the rest of his thick cock into you while you were nice and close, just to realize after the first few thrusts that you were trying to inch yourself away from him—your moans getting airier by the second.

His smile widened, “Hah, where’re you goin’?” He'd only made you cum three times since the two of you got here. Surely that wasn't enough to have you acting like this already. “Look at you, trying to run from me now," Sato scoffed with faux bitterness.

You barely got a moment to process what he was doing before you choked.

Warm lips pressing against your ear, “C’mon, I jus’ want one more outta’ you,” He purred, his arm slow to wrap around your neck while his bulking muscles pressed into the center of your throat. Whatever oxygen was on its way to your head all but died out as the man put you into a bullying chokehold and then flexed.

Your cunt squeaked juicily around him and his cockhead nudged in deeper because of the hold he had on you, otherwise rendering your body unable to escape.

That was one of many reasons why you always ran back to him. If Sato Gojo didn't know how to do anything else right, he damn sure knew how to fuck.

“Mhmm, that’s it, baby." His voice was huskier against your eardrums now and you felt your body shuddering with a sense of numbness as something slicker oozed around his shaft. "Take that fuckin’ cock—juuust like that.”

His thrust became slower while he held you in place and you'd never felt so full in your life. It wasn't until he suddenly snapped up into you that all air left your lungs and your eyes crossed.

Whatever sound you let out was beyond pathetic and only followed by a desperate, “S’too much,” that he could barely hear.

Rolling his eyes, he repeated the motion a few more times at a steady pace, letting you adjust to being arched and folded up how he wants you. “My dramatic girl, acting like you haven't been taking it just fine," He reminded you.

You almost believed him for a moment there until his free hand came snaking around your torso to press against your lower abdomen—right over the bulge his fat cock had created against your skin—and applying an egregious amount of pressure.

“M’gonna cum, Sato,” You cried out as his fingers slithered down to nudge against your clit. Never a firm rub or anything like that since he felt like his cock alone was enough to work what he wanted out of you.

He’d smile all victoriously and whisper, “That's it? Don't tell me you're still too scared to squirt on me?”

Truth be told, that was the one thing he couldn’t do for some reason.

He never said anything but he thinks maybe you’re just one of those women who need a little more effort put into in order to make you squirt. More effort of which he damn sure doesn’t feel like putting in.

Four orgasms in a row? That’s fine, he can do that no problem. Making you squirt? As badly as he wants to deep down inside, he just can’t.

You ended up leaving a creamy mess around his cock but it's not the spurting stream of wetness he was hoping for. After letting you tremble out of your high, he's slow with the way he unwraps his arms from around you.

You fall forward onto the bed and let out a heavy breath before smiling wearily in relief. No other guy on campus ever managed to make you cum even once so of course you didn't think much of the fact that Sato couldn't make you squirt.

Hell, you were unknowingly on the same page with him—thinking you might've needed extra effort put in for that kinda release. Which was fine, you didn't need that much from him. The fact that he could make you cum back to back was more than enough in your book.

Not his though.

Sato hated it. He hated how he couldn't make you squirt—the fact burned at his ego and wounded his pride greatly. He's made other women do it so he doesn't understand what the problem is. There were some nights where he wondered if maybe he was doing something wrong with you. Or maybe you'd found someone else who could—

He unknowingly scoffs at his thoughts, shuffling out of the bed and swiping up the nearest clean sweats to slip into. Who was he kidding? There isn't one other person on campus you'd go to over him.

And if he couldn't make you squirt, he knows there's no one else that could.

Amid his deep thoughts, you happen to look over and catch the way those white brows of his are neatly knitting together. He didn't even realize how his true feelings on the matter were written all over his face.

Your eyes had ran over him a couple times, pondering on all the scratch marks in various places. Places that your hands haven't touched.

And that's how the routine was with the two of you; high tension all throughout the day, let him fuck you 'til all your senses went numb, and then fade into quietness with little to talk about since Sato doesn't deem it necessary to get close with you in that way.

When you catch the way he's dragging his feet around the room, trying to clean the mess of clothes you two made prior to getting in the bed, your brows lifts with curiosity. Asking gently, "Hey, are you alright?"

Sato hums without turning around to you, running his a hand through his hair as if stressed out. "Yeah, m'fine." He grunts, glancing over at you after and adding a slightly comforting, "Are you?"

You nod in response to him and he stares for a moment longer than necessary, still deep in his thoughts about something he surely wasn't sharing with you anytime soon.

Why would he? You didn’t need to know that he was beating himself up over something so stupid. He’s well aware that he’s the best guy to ever sleep with you so, opening up to you about something so trivial wasn’t in his character.

There’d been jokes and banter between the two of you before—obviously—but it never went any further than that. The moment things threatened to dip into something real, something more tender or honest, Sato would shut it down with quick precision.

Which is exactly why you didn't try pressing for more of this dry conversation. Instead, you silently watched him tug a shirt over his head and then head over to the nightstand for his phone.

He's busy texting someone for a bit before he releases a huff and turns his head to see the way you've been quietly watching him, "Did you want me to run you a bath or—"

"No, no, I told you, I'm fine," You unintentionally cut off.

You weren't sure where the awkwardness had come from but it wasn't completely unwelcome since there was clearly something he wasn't telling you. You saw it in the way he pouted all grumpily just before looking at you.

Whatever was on his mind had to be eating him up on the inside.

Not that the frown pushed you to ask him anything else though. You ended up turning over and rolling off is bed a few minutes later to gather your things and leave, to which he'd peacefully helped you with.

Then Sato escorted you all the way out of his maze-like home and was "kind" enough to give you a kiss on the forehead before sending you off.

Little things like that always caught you off guard. Your heart would do that weird thing in your chest as you wondered if there was a possibility of experiencing more than just hook-ups with the man.

Though, reality is quick to slap you back to your senses when you see him with his arm around some other woman the next day while on your way to class.

You knew better than to get emotionally attached to Sato Gojo. Everyone did.

——

Some days later is when shit decides to hit the fan between you two.

It happens so randomly that you almost feel as though you dreamt the whole thing up. The day starting with him texting you to come over that night and somehow ending with you in thwarted tears.

In all the time you spent with Sato, there'd never been a moment where he was blatantly selfish. Something of which surprised you in the beginning of your relationship since he was known to be a fuckboy.

Yet, ending up in his bedroom for the nth time, as his thumb rubbed at your clit with unsteady, jerky motions, appearing otherwise annoyed about something—Sato had been selfish for the first time with you.

Foreplay was skipped entirely and you should've known something was up from that alone.

The most you got out of him prior to being stripped of your clothing was a messy kiss and a barely audible, "Need somethin' from you, baby," grunted into your mouth.

Then you were being carried all the way up to his bedroom, handled frustratedly down into the mattress, and soon fucked at a rate you weren't used to.

His thrusts were sloppy and needy, voice quiet since he didn't bother talking you through it or saying anything at all, and the only thing with a sense of normalcy to it was the way his thumb nudged over your clit as his cock dove in and out of you.

Midway through, you assumed he just had a bad day or something. Figured he wanted to take some of that stress out on you.

And that wasn't out of the ordinary for him, it's happened more often than not.

But as his thumb drew desperate circles around your twitching bud, Sato's cock twitched and he pulled out the moment you were about to cum. You were too dazed by his abrupt action that you nearly missed the way he stroked himself into finishing on your stomach and then scoffed. Bitterly.

Your eyes were glossed over since the taste of your own orgasm had been right there on the tip of your nerves, stripped away from you faster than you could blink.

Whatever had been bothering him about having sex with you was felt before it was understood.

He was already turning away by the time you pushed yourself to sit up, the sheets gliding down your arms as you watched him with wide, teary eyes. The room felt ten times quieter than it normally did. You saw how he crossed the room as if nothing had happened—as if this was just another unremarkable moment to be shrugged off.

"Sato," You say, his name tripping in your throat on the way out.

Only then did he pause, fingers curled around his drawer handle. Not sparing you a glance back, "What." he breathed out.

It was hardly even a response, more of a wall you'd audibly stumbled into. You'd never heard his voice so dull and flat with you.

Swallowing down whatever confusing emotions were building up in your throat, "Did I, um... did I do something wrong?"

Somehow that gets his attention. He glances back over his shoulder then, expression insipid and eyes casting over you all bored-like. "Don't start that," He said, irritation weaving into his voice, "You're overthinking shit already."

Your mouth opens to say something but it's like you'd been slapped in the face, leading your lips to seal shut for a second. His words were too heavy for you, coming off with weighted dismissiveness.

After a few beats, your words trail out slowly, "Sorry I'm a little confused, Sato. You asked me to come over for that..?"

He exhaled sharply, like the question itself had tired him, "What else do I ever call you over for?"

Something shrewd twisted in your chest, "Certainly not whatever the fuck that was just now."

Sato finally turned more fully and leaned back against his dresser, crossing his arms and letting his eyes meet yours firmly. "You sound upset."

"I feel used," You'd snapped back immediately.

His brow twitched, "'Cause I didn't make you cum?"

Again, the words came off blunt and careless.

Leading you to flinch internally, "I mean—yeah," You said as a humorless breath tiptoed out, "You normally do."

"Well, I didn't feel like it today. M'spent." He scoffed out.

It was almost as if that was supposed to be an explanation for everything.

You stared at him and felt the way your disbelief began to fade into something of anger, "You could've told me that."

"Would that have made you feel any better?" Every response came out of him like he'd rehearsed the entire conversation beforehand.

"We could've done something different," Your hands began to curl into the sheets a little, trying to steady yourself. "I could've-"

"I didn't want anything different." Sato cut off crisply.

You'd never been so utterly confused in your life. Everything was fine before this—for the most part—so what had come over him all of a sudden? Why was he acting like this?

The finality in his statement only made your stomach drop, your head shaking slowly in disbelief, "...So you wanted to use m-"

"No, sweetheart," The pet name sounds empty on his tongue, lacking its usual affection. "I wanted you to see how it feels to get into something thinking things are going to go like they always do, just to feel disappointed by the end."

The next sound that spreads throughout the room is your laughter as it exits you in incredulous fashion, "Sato, what the fuck are you talking about?"

He dragged a hand through the white tuffs of his hair, pacing only once before coming to a stop. "You..." Letting his words trail off, he released a long and stressed-out sigh, "Every woman I've been with has never had the problem you do."

That hits you square in the chest.

Head cocking back as you frown with immediate offense flaring over, "Excuse me? Are you... are you talking about squirting, Sato? You can't be serious."

"I am," He said without hesitation. "If it's just something you can't do, I'd rather you tell me than making me look like an idiot when we fuck."

"What?" Your eyes narrowed as your anger bled into something strictly hurt. "I... I'm sure I can. Maybe we're just doing something wro-"

"We?" Sato cuts you off instantly. Then his tone seemed firmer and you knew he didn't think things through when he said, "No, no, you've got shit backwards here. I can assure you I'm not doing anything wrong, that's all you."

Something inside you finally boiled over.

"All me?" You scoffed, pushing yourself out of the bed. The cold air wrapping itself around you felt like even more of a wake-up call than what he'd just said. "Oh, sorry for not being like all the other twenty girls you sleep with."

Grabbing your clothes with uncoordinated and janky movements after wiping away any lingering trace of what had happened, you subconsciously wished you could've erased the moment entirely from start to finish. Your hands trembled as you got dressed, seemingly more from the heated emotions waving through you than the embarrassment.

Sato stiffened upon hearing your words. For the first time—probably in his life—his confidence had cracked. "Shit—wait," He rushed out, trying to step towards you and stop you from leaving.

It was almost like he himself wasn't aware of how severely fucked up his actions and words were.

His hand reached out for your arm, "I-I didn't mean it like that, c'mon. I just—"

"Save it, asshole." You spat back at him, shoving his hand out the way and storming out his room before giving him a chance to say anything else.

He'd said more than enough to have your vision blurry and heart pounding in your chest as if pained.

The hallway was dim, your footsteps quickened to carry you as far away from him as possible, and your emotions buzzed all too loudly in your ears for you to think straight. You think you hear something clash against the wall back in Sato's room but you ignore it.

You're so wrapped up in your feelings that you're not even paying attention to where you're going. You only made it a few steps down the hall before you collided with something solid.

Someone solid.

Gasping as you stumble back, a pair of hands come up to steady you. "Ah, sorry," a voice hums out to you. The sound is soft as it reverberates throughout the hallway but your chest feels as though it's caving inwards since the guy in front of you sounded exactly like Sato.

There was a pitch of unfamiliarity in it, though. One that made you look up.

For a moment, you thought maybe you'd fallen off the bed earlier and that everything thus far had been some type of hallucination because surely Sato wasn't standing right in front of you right now.

...Except, with glasses? And a dorkier look in his eyes?

With the same snowy white hair, the same perfectly sharp jawline—that's somehow a tad softer—and the same dazzling blue eyes, he stared at you all longingly as if an angel had fallen right into his arms or something. The only difference between him and his brother being the black glasses sitting center on the bridge of his nose.

Despite the hallway's lack of lighting, you swear you see his cheeks flush with red as the moment of exchanged staring passes.

Prior to this, you'd only ever heard rumors of Sato having a twin brother but you never once imagined those would turn out to be true. The man's eyes widen slightly as he really looks at you, confusion flickering across his face whilst he takes in your flushed skin, the way your clothes are hanging off of you as though you'd rushed to put them all, and how your eyes are somberly glossed over.

"I-," You try to blink that wetness out of your gaze and then clear your throat. "Sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going."

"It's fine," He replies as he thoughtlessly continues to hold onto your arms. Then, uncertainly, "You're... Sato's, uh—"

"Sato's what?" You cut off harsher than you meant to.

There was no way he was about to refer to you as that asshole's girlfriend or anything like that, right?

His mouth visibly goes taut, realizing he was about to step into something fragile. Instead of responding, he just stands there awkwardly enough to piss you off even more.

Groaning, you push past him and continue storming down the hall. You didn't have time for whatever that was about to turn into.

Unbeknownst to you, he'd stood there and watched as you walked away—cursing himself out for letting his opportunity to talk to you pass him by like that. He'd known who you were for months prior to this. Out of all the women Sato brought over, you were the only one Toru took a genuine interest in.

It's unfortunate for him that Sato's a stingy asshole who doesn't care to introduce the two of you. Because of that, Toru had to go out of his way just to get glimpses of your personality.

He was always home when Sato brought you over, always in his room that's just one wall over while the two of you fucked—listening and secretly getting off to those gorgeous moans you let off. Toru knew it was perverted of him to do so, but he truly couldn't help himself.

Now here he is with sagging shoulders at the fact that he totally fucked up his first interaction with you.

He heard the whole argument between you and his brother and came out into the hallway hoping to come to your rescue or at least cheer you up, even if only for a second. Yet, all he managed to do was piss you off with his awkwardness and lack of confident social skills.

After a few minutes, Toru straightens up and settles his jaw in a way that says he'd made some type of silent decision. That wasn't going to be the last time he interacted with you—no matter how badly his brother fucked up—he knew you'd be back eventually.

As he turns back to his room, he promises to himself that next time he sees you, he won't hesitate or fumble things with you.

——

A few weeks pass before anything else noteworthy occurs.

In that time, things between you and Sato remain rocky, to say the utmost least. Conversations between the two of you were more careful, apologies came far slower than they should've, and some semblance of trust had been rebuilt in uneven steps.

Sometimes he was sweet and more attentive than he had been before that big argument, kinda like he was afraid it'd happen again. Other times he'd slip up and those old habits would seep through, any excuse he gave you dressed up charmingly enough for you to ultimately end up forgiving him again.

The fact that you both were trying had to be enough to count for something, otherwise the two of you were better off calling it quits months ago.

Somewhere in the middle of that relationship, Toru became familiar to you. You went out of your way to see him whenever you visited the Gojo estate, even if you were only there for Sato.

He was almost always cooped up in his room, drowning himself in his studies—textbooks stacked neatly on his desk, handwritten notes color-coded and meticulously organized.

It wasn't long before you realized he and his brother were complete opposites. Where Sato excelled in partying and socializing, Toru peaked in academics and hobbies that were far more niche.

You remember poking your head into his room one time to say hi and catching him lost in Digimon reruns with strategy guides pulled up on his nearby laptop. He was so engrossed in it that he hadn't even heard you saying something to him.

Situations like that are what got the two of you to be something close to friends.

Though, you still didn't know him any more than you knew Sato. You were still kept at an arm's length from either of their personalities beyond what was noticeable. Sato made sure of that where both he and his twin were concerned.

While he did soften up with you, he still wasn't interested in keeping you that close—not close enough to know him. And he damn sure wouldn't let you go off and try to find that in Toru.

Anytime you and the nerdier Gojo sibling were alone, Sato was intruding minutes later. Always interrupting.

Even when you ran into Toru on campus.

One time when you found him outside the library, standing near a vending machine and ran up to talk to him, Sato seemed to spawn out of thin air with his arm around you is if to silently tell his brother to fuck off.

You weren't sure what had gotten into him as far as that was concerned. He didn't care when you talked to anyone else.

This was but another unfortunate thing for you since you were quite fond of Toru. He remembered little things about you; your major, your favorite cafe, and even your preferred place to sit in lecture halls.

If you asked Sato questions about any of those things, he'd probably shrug and ask you why any of it matters in the first place.

But you bet that dick for brains could tell you which position makes you cum the fastest...

It's regrettably because of that as to why you're currently standing at the large front doors to his home, having rung the bell only a few seconds ago due to an earlier text requesting you come over.

In said text, Sato promised that he only wanted to talk to you and you chose to believe him.

Just for Toru to swing the door open with a surprised look on his face.

"Oh, hey." He began, pushing his glasses further up on his face so that he could get a proper look at you. "If you're looking for Sato, he's not here. I actually think he's been gone for the past three hours or so."

Disappointment settles into you and you roll your eyes, already annoyed. "Of course he has," You sigh.

Toru offers you a half-comforting grin before stepping back a bit and opening the door wider for you, "He'll probably be back soon though, if you wanna come in?"

You debated leaving but the prospect of being able to spend some alone time with Toru is what swayed you into staying.

Which is how you ended up in their living room.

The rest of the house was quieter than Sato ever allowed it to be. There was no music blaring, none of his restless pacing or constant yammering about fuck knows what. The only thing heard was the low hum of the TV ahead of you and Toru.

He'd put on a movie a few minutes ago and although you'd agreed to watch it with him, you kept glancing towards the front door hoping to see Sato walk in any moment now.

It never happens.

Sitting on the opposite ends of the couch, you and Toru are steady to find comfort in one another's presence. You eventually let yourself focus on what he'd put on, snorting whenever he laughed at the unfunniest bits of it and finding yourself mused by the easiness of it all.

You noticed how Toru also tried to sneak his eyes onto you here and there, lacking that smoothness his slightly older brother had and always catching your attention when he did it.

The two of you even shared those warm moments where you'd catch him staring and then whisper, "What, is something on my face?"

To which he'd swallow thickly and shake his head, "No, not at all. Sorry..."

His shyness is probably what drew you in the most about him. You loved how often he avoided eye contact with you, how gentle his voice always came out, and the way he'd begin to adjust himself against the couch due to the smallest of things.

The night was going well enough for you to forget all about—

Your phone rang and Sato's name was lighting up your screen.

At the sight, your shoulders went tense and you were unsure if you should answer it or not. Toru looked over at you but he didn't say anything.

The movie continued to play ahead as you picked up the phone and quietly spoke to Sato, "What?"

Whatever was said to you on the other end made your jaw clench—something of which Toru noted instantly. He didn't mean to be nosy but it was hard not to when minutes passed and you were clearly getting frustrated about your conversation.

"You sound drunk," You're heard muttering, making Toru's ears perk up and then strain to hear more.

Sato is just barely heard grumbling in response, "M'not drunk, baby."

Your shoulders slump, "Did you even mean to text me?"

There's a long pause. Toru tenses up and Sato's heard burping.

"I texted you?" The man on the phone asks, making your entire mood sink. "Hahhh, fuck. I don' remember doing that.. What uh, what'd I say?"

"You said you needed to talk." You reply rigidly.

He nods even though you can't see him, "Ah... I mean, I do need to talk to you but," Pausing to grumble, "Don't see why I didn't jus' call.. Anyway, s-so yesterday I was with this girl 'n she said m'not doin' anything wrong."

His early attempt at trying to convince you he wasn't drunk fell flat in that instant. You stare into space for a moment, "What?"

"Remember how we got into it about your squirting problem?" Sato blurts out in response.

You could feel yourself getting irritated with him all over again. You hated the way he said that like it was truly an issue on your end alone, even though the two of you have talked about it after the argument.

"My squirting problem? You mean the fact that you can't get me there?" You snapped back, matching his energy for just a second and unintentionally gaining the dull attention of his nosy brother.

At this point, you don't think you cared whether or not he overheard.

"No, no, I cannnn..." Sato drags out drunkenly. Then you hear this giggle in the background before he adds, "This girl told me it really is you 'n not me. Because like-"

You hang up the phone before he can continue.

The last thing you wanted to do was entertain whatever the fuck he was about to tell you for any longer than you had to. Your phone falls down into your lap and you feel it buzzing a few seconds later but you only swipe it back up to silence it entirely.

After which, the room falls into a thick quietness that swallows up both you and Toru. Even the movie playing ahead had switched to a soundless scene that only added to the shift in moods.

A few minutes of this stillness pass before you feel the weight on the other side of the couch shifting. Your eyes flick over and you see him readjusting himself in his seat.

You don't question it nor say anything but his sudden movements do manage to pull you out of your funk for a second. Ignoring it, you pick your phone back up to see that Sato had texted you a bunch of gibberish—the only sensible message you can make out being one of him begging you to text or call back.

As soon as you start typing, his twin decides to clear his throat again.

“I mean, it can’t be that hard.” Toru says all timidly, his words catching enough to snag your attention away from your phone.

Your thumb goes idle against the screen and you look up at him to see his cheeks colored over with bright red. He was looking off to his left and you could tell by the rapid rise and fall of his chest that his breathing had gone off-track.

Clearly, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

You chuckle as if intrigued by his words, humming, “Your brother said the same thing."

Toru scoffs and then speaks without thinking again, “He doesn’t care enough.”

Cocking a brow, “Doesn’t care enough to make me squirt?” You ask.

The sound of the man’s breath hitching was clearer than the dense tension between you both. “Obviously not,” Toru continues, lifting two slim fingers up to the center of his glasses to adjust them against his nose. “If he did, he would’ve made sure you… uh, did that.”

Never would you have expected to have this kind of conversation with the same man who can barely look you in the eye. But it was clear something had changed. Even in his body language, you saw how he'd sat up a bit straighter against the couch and let his legs sprawl out wider—almost invitingly so.

He was still avoiding your gaze but the sturdiness in his voice is what intrigued you the most.

“Did what, Toru? Say it,” You pressed, putting your phone down and turning on the couch to face him fully.

You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with the way he gulped thickly. “He would’ve uhm..." Toru pauses to take a deep breath—mentally reminding himself that he swore not to embarrass himself in front of you again—and then clears his throat one more time, "He would've made sure you squirted.”

Too shy to look at you just yet, he misses how the look in your eyes changes entirely. It was like seeing him in a new light.

Not that you hadn't thought about it before. He does look exactly like Sato and there's been a few times where you've wondered what it'd be like to be the cause of his glasses going crooked 'n foggy.

Biting back a smile, “Well, he makes me cum a lot.” You explain to him casually. Certainly Toru wouldn't have started talking to you about this if he didn't at least have some advice for you, “Like, back to back.”

He nods, nimble fingers fidgeting over one another in his lap, “Then, he just doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

You bat your lashes at him all cluelessly, “But—“

“As I said the first time,” Toru looks at you all of a sudden, his eyes mildly terrified behind his frames despite the attempt of confidence spreading over his face. There was a devilishly sexy blend of sureness and hesitancy plastered all over his features, “It can’t be that hard.”

The direct eye contact and few inches of space between where you two were sitting made everything feel hot all of a sudden. Blush melts itself into his skin again and it was clear that this initiated flirting of his was a first time thing.

You knew Toru found you intimidating and that subconsciously accepted fact only made you want to see more. More of your affect on him.

Sliding closer to him on the couch, your voice slyly dips into something more taunting, “You sound like you wanna try.”

Watching the way his jaw flexes, teeth tightly gritted within his mouth, and throat struggling to conceal the high-pitched sound that threatened to jump out of him—your affect on the man was as clear as day.

Somehow, Toru manages to maintain his confident facade, “Would you let me if I did?”

“Do you?” You ask quicker than he expects you to.

His head felt like it was spinning already. Is this what it's like to do drugs? Does his brother get to experience this all the time?

Toru gulps again, “Do I.. what?”

Now he was playing dumb on purpose, as if he wasn't the one who commenced this whole thing with his earlier statement.

Which makes you giggle, “You’re the smartest guy I know, Toru." Your compliment makes his heart skip a few beats. Then your head tilts and your tone softens, "Don’t start acting dumb just to appeal to me.”

He bats those pretty white lashes at you with his eyes all doe-like on you for a moment before he looks down, “I just… I wanted to hear you say it.”

You stand up from the couch all of a sudden and he freezes up. Then you walk over and stand right in between his legs, moving a hand to his chin and forcing his head up. “Do you wanna try making me squirt?”

Toru shakes his head and your brows furrow. His face nuzzles into your hand, forcing it to spread open as his cheek presses into your palm, “It’s not something to be tried, it’s just something I can do for you.” He explains.

Your thumb brushes against his cheek and his glasses slip down his nose a bit. Smiling, “Someone's confident.”

He merely whispers, “‘Can’t be that hard.”

——

Ten minutes later and you're wondering why he wasn't the first Gojo twin you met.

Loong fingers stretching your pussy out crudely, hot tongue attacking your clit like he wanted to lick you into numbness, and eyes still doe-like as they remain glued up on your face—Toru was nothing like his slightly older brother.

No, no, he aimed not only to please but to learn how you like to be pleased.

Whereas Sato would just sleep with you the same way he did with anyone else—beyond confident in his own abilities to bring a woman pleasure—Toru was the kinda man who took his time to work you up specifically.

“Taste s’good,” He praised in a tone deeper than you knew to be capable from him. You were laying across the couch now and he was stuffed neatly in between your legs. Whining, “More,” as he tugged at your thighs, his jaw going slack, and his mouth smearing against your cunt. “Gimme’ more—mmpfh. Please?"

You weren't sure what more he could be referring to when his fingertips were already twirling something sinful against your g-spot. You had a hand buried into his hair, your other behind you as you held onto the couch to steady yourself with the way he feasted on you as if your pussy was the best thing to wet up his tongue.

“Ah, T-Toru, fuck!” You cried out, unconsciously pulling away from him when his fingers focused in deep against that soppy spot—addicted to the way your slick gushed out around his hand and left a sweet mess against the couch.

His fingers leave your insides for only a second and a half before he's shoving them into his mouth to suck the taste off. Toru's eyes rolled back for a moment before he let both of his hands redirect to your inner thighs and then spread you out wider just so nothing was obstructing your view of the way he sloppily kissed your cunt.

Small strings of aroused filth would hang in between his mouth and your puffy pussylips, all of which would get licked off by his eager tongue before he dove back in for more.

Before you'd let him make his way down there, you recall the way he oh-so-awkwardly kissed you. He hardly had a clue what to do with his tongue when it was against yours but now that he was in between your legs, he became an entirely different person.

Suckling the dewy tastes into his mouth and guzzling it down his throat just to let it linger, Toru was nothing short of desperate to make you feel good. So much so that his brain practically turns off as he moves his hands to grip your hips and then lifts the lower half of your body up against his face.

His mouth nuzzled harder against you and you felt the wiggling tip of his tongue slap against your clenching walls. He softly humped the couch as he ate you out, letting the sounds of your moans coax him into giving you everything he could.

Toru only pulled away from your cunt when his glasses fogged up too much for him to see your face. And before you could offer to wipe them off or anything, you met his gaze with the way his head angled for you to do so.

His voice deep and aching, “Sit on my face,” He requested before whining again. “Pleasepleaseplease,” the man panted almost puppy-like and then seared his next words right into your clit with the edge of his tongue, “Need it s’bad.”

You don't think you had it anywhere in you to deny him when he was asking so nicely like that.

But by the time the two of you had flipped over and you were left hovering over his pleasantly flushed face—his shaky hands tight against your hips—you were a little too nervous to sit down.

Toru had caught his breath by now but nothing about his starved appetite had changed. Those previously soft blue eyes of his seemed to pierce straight through you in a way that Sato's sometimes would. You know they're twins and all but fuck, it was nerve-wracking to experience that hungry look from the alleged "shy" twin.

“Ride it," Toru husked out all of a sudden, giving your body the faintest pull.

Your eyes went all wide, “…Your mouth?”

Instead of clarifying things or being patient with you, he snatches your frame down with a strength you didn't know he possessed. Moaning before your core even reaches his lips again, “Want you to feed your pussy to me.”

Then he was practically suctioned to you again, eyes rolling back far enough for the whites to be visible beneath the foggy frames of his glasses.

“Ohfuck,” You cry out, the upper half of your body slumping forward a bit as your thighs squeeze around his head.

You felt the way Toru smiled at the feeling, almost like he was exactly where he'd wanted to be. His tongue skated up into you with a vigor you'd never felt before.

The man ate pussy like he wanted the results of your release plastered all over those pretty glasses of his, leaving him with sogged vision and a numbed tongue. It was yet another thing that made him so much different than his brother because although that man had stamina like no other and knew how to use his cock, he never once ate you out.

Meanwhile Toru couldn’t seem to get enough.

He even left a needy smack to your ass, encouraging you to do as he initially asked of you and ride his face. It wasn’t until his tongue was constantly plunging past your glissading folds that you unconsciously rolled your hips forward and earned a whimper from him in response.

Then the hands on your hips began to tug at you again, not even begging you for more but demanding it now.

You could no longer focus on the way he looked with splashes of your slick spread out on his glasses in nasty droplets since the tip of his nose had bumped up against your clit, and his jaw went slack just to adhere to your drooling nerves.

The sensation made your entire body flinch, but he wouldn’t let you pull up. For the nth time, you were stunned by Toru’s strength.

His tongue was thick and gathering against your pussy, not letting a singular drop of your taste escape his mouth until something light ghosted out of you.

“S-Something feels-, nngh,” Your struggles were just the cutest thing. “Different.” You tried to warn him.

His head tilted slightly and you felt his lips curve against you again as he smiled knowingly. Plucking his mouth away from you for the first time in forever with a wet pop!, Toru let his warm breath pat your quivering hole as he whispered, “It’s supposed to feel different, sweet girl. That’s what happens when you come to the right twin.”

Cocky. You never knew Toru had that in him—must be a trait that runs into family.

Except, it’s not like he was wrong. Once he lathered his tongue back in and sucked on your cunt like it was the only thing keeping him sane, you felt that coiling burn building up inside you. You knew you were gonna squirt despite never experiencing it before.

But it felt like too much, made you feel dirty as you neared that shattering edge. So much so that you tried so hard to snatch yourself away from Toru, whining excessively only for each sound to fall on completely deaf ears.

Your legs had clamped around his head so tight that he was getting lightheaded from his lack of oxygen—not that he cared. He had one singular goal and nothing was gonna stop him from reaching it.

It wasn’t long before it happened as his complimenting moans turned into graveling groans. The sounds vibrated against your pussy and you were tongue-fucked right into something blissful. Bleary white streaks coated your vision and you think you would’ve fallen over if not for the mean grasp he had on you.

Toru had done it, he managed to make you squirt.

By the time your brain feels like it’s functioning enough to hold a conversation, you let your vision come back to you and look down to see his soaked face.

His eyes are dazed whilst they peer up at you, appreciation swirling through his pupils. Those same glasses you’ve managed to squirt over are now crooked and you wonder if that’s from the way you unconsciously started rutting your hips forward just a few minutes ago.

Toru didn’t do anything but pant heavily—his breath stuttering here and there due to how long he went without breathing properly. When he finds the energy to send you another boyish grin, you feel a wave of embarrassment flutter over.

“Shit,” You huff, slowly moving from over his face and then grabbing his glasses.

With his face revealed, you saw how unfairly pretty he was with content written into his skin.

Then he chuckles softly, “You don’t have t’clean those.” Toru tells you, tone mumbled.

You were trying to wipe his glasses off with your shirt but he’d moved his hand to your wrist to stop you.

“I like the mess,” he added.

After which you’re stuck staring at him while he takes the wet glasses out of your hand and puts them back on his face. Surely there’s some hygienic concerns to take into consideration here but he’s not at all worrying about that right now.

Not with the painfully hard cock he’s got twitching in between his legs.

He wasn’t gonna tell you out of fear you’d assume he was some kinda loser (he is) but, not only did he cum half-way through eating you out, he also got hard again when that messy stream came pouring out of you.

Toru’s never made a woman squirt before but he did study enough videos to—clearly—figure out how it’s done. He didn’t think it would work so easily with you since all he had to use was his tongue but considering the way you just-

“Can you do that again?” Your voice hits his ears all of a sudden and his eyes widen.

“W-What?” Toru chokes, “You uh, you want me to make you squirt again?”

You nod and then move to sit back a little, not exactly in his lap but still close enough for your body heat to mingle. Your finger trails down the center of his torso slowly as you speak, “It felt really good. I wanna do it again,” You requested almost innocently. “But, on your cock this time.”

He doesn’t know how he managed not to cum at the sound of that.

Toru knew you were bold, he knew you could be a bit of a ditz at time, but fuck—did you have any idea of the things you were asking for sometimes?

Mustering up that faux confidence from before, he leans up and hums. “Alright, yeah… I can do that.” He thinks. Not that he’ll admit his lack of assuredness to you though. His hands simply move against your body and you hardly realize what’s going on until he’s swooped you up in his arms. “But not here.”

You blink dumbfoundedly, “Why not?”

“I have a better idea.”

——

When he said that, you didn’t think the better idea in question would be having sex in his brother’s room.

You recognized the path there as Toru carried you, felt the familiarity when he laid you down on the bed, and smelled the same scent of Sato lingering around even as Toru tried to distract you with kisses.

It seemed to be surprise after surprise with this man.

“I think after all the times I’ve had to hear the two of you fuck,” Toru’s hands were running down your body—his touch smoother than his brother’s ever were. “It’s only fair that I make you squirt in the same place he never could, right?”

Too many thoughts of sin swirled in your head for you to answer that properly so all you did was nod your head again. Which was yet another thing he found cute.

It’s no wonder Sato kept you to himself all this time.

That realization becomes even clearer by the time Toru’s got his cock freed from his clothing, his pinkish tip dribbling precum down onto your cunt while he gapes at the sight.

With his clothes all gone, you realized that he’d been hiding a ripped body under all those baggy, nerdy-branded tees he wore. His muscles would flex without him even trying and he didn’t even notice how badly you were drooling over him until he stopped looking at your weeping hole and remembered to redirect his gaze up.

Seeing how you’re staring at his abs like you wanted to take a bite out of him, he leaned all the way up and allowed himself to be on full display for you. His cock bobbed with its hardness due to the way you admired him.

He was only reminded again that his brother got this time and time again and was too selfish to share.

What an asshole.

Toru scoffed and let his head cock to the left, peaking down at his length still hanging over your lower abdomen. “Hm,” His hand moved and he began to measure himself in comparison to how deep inside you he’d be within the next few minutes—hand stopping only a few inches short of your belly button. “Does he reach this far?”

You flinched out of your gawking thoughts and moved your attention to where his hand was, gasping at the debauched sight in between your legs.

Truth be told, the fact that they were twins clearly applied to every inch of their bodies. But if you looked hard enough, you could notice that Sato’s is a bit longer while Toru’s has that veining thickness.

To avoid making the man jealous, you shrug and make eye contact with him again, “Put it in and find out.”

Toru laughs dryly and you throb. Something had changed from before. His shyness seemed like it hid itself away considering there was nothing shy about how he wrapped his hand around his cock and then let it slap slap slap! against your swollen folds.

Your body twitched at each slap but what caught his attention most is how your cunt salivated with each one.

“Huh. I think I figured it out,” Toru breathed, his glasses slipping a bit.

Then he guides his dick up to swab around your clit for a couple seconds just to see the way your hips instantly squirm up for more. The smile that drags out across his face is chillingly close to the one Sato wears while he fucks you.

“There it is,” Toru whispers, hauling his cock down and letting his plump tip poke against your hole to feel you clench, and then slide back. “That’s what you like. You like being teased.”

You were so needy that you felt your slick wetly sliding down your skin to pool beneath you, “N-No, I just—“

“Shhh, focus on how this feels, pretty girl.” He instructs. All the shakiness you normally heard in his speech was gone and replaced with something sinfully commanding—yearning only to teach you true pleasure. “See how my cock keeps slipping out? Mmgh,” He repeated his action from before and your hips bucked for more this time, making him huff. “Don’t you want it inside you sooo badly?”

Your hand reached down for him, trying your damndest to angle him into you, “I do. Toru please,” You pleaded delightfully.

His naturally submissive nature leads him to slip an inch in but the dewy warmth of your pussy makes him let out a stuttered gasp. Then he lets his cock slop right out of you with another ringing sound of filth spurring out into the air. His deft cockhead thwacks at your quivering hole again and your eyes roll back.

"Say that again." Toru grunts, slapping your parted folds with his cock again to emphasize his words, "Beg me for it."

Your back arches up off the bed this time and you’ve got the prettiest look of desperation on your face, "Mnh, please?"

Fuck. He was not strong enough to drag this out any longer.

Nor was he reader for how welcoming your cunt is for him. Swallowing him in inch by stretching inch, Toru’s left with a slacked jaw as he finally slides into you. Choking on his own breath, “O-Ohh… Oh fuck.” he pants, “You’re so wet. F-Fuck, were you always this wet? Shit..”

You let off a pleasant string of moans that make his cock twitch wildly inside you before he even makes it halfway in.

Managing a short breath, you smile up at him, “Didn’t know you could curse s’much, Toru.”

He knew right then and there he was fucked.

“G-Gonna cum,” He whimpers as he drops his face down into your neck. The singular utterance of his name is what did it for him.

You thought he was just being dramatic but when you feel velvety ropes of creamy cum flooding into you followed by his throaty grunts against the crook of your neck, you realize he was being everything but.

The man could barely move his hips and all he had to offer you was thick loads in sporadic spurts and whiny groans.

By the time you feel his cum escaping where the two of you are still connected, you’re slow to snort, “…Toru?”

“Shit,” He gasps immediately, “Shitshitshit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to cum,” His head flies up, white hairs sticking to his forehead from sweat and eyes all wide and apologetic on yours, “I just-, you felt so good. I couldn’t-, fuck. I’m—“

“It’s okay,” You giggle, moving your hands to cup his face, “Just keep goin’.”

“But-,” His eyes travel back and forth between your own as he continues to stare. It takes Toru a long moment to realize he’s… still hard.

With a breathless oh tumbling out of his kiss-bitten lips, he rolls his hips forward and pushes his cum deeper into you as a creamy squelch rings out. “O-Ohh, fuck. That sounds s’nasty...” He murmurs, arousal decorating his expression from the sound.

“Mhm,” You whir, tugging him down to kiss you.

If Sato had good stamina then, as twins, Toru should too, right?

A very intimate mess of his hips rocking down into you carries on with your lips sliding over one another. Unlike his older sibling who typically fucked like his every thrust guaranteed pleasure (it did), Toru moved inside you in the same way his mouth moved over yours—awkward but careful.

The streeeetch from his cock definitely made up for his lack of hurried strokes since his steady pace forced you to feel every prodding inch.

He may not have lasted long inside you without cumming but he was able to bring you to an orgasm of your own, whispering things into your mouth about how perfect you were—how his brother never deserved any of this.

It made your heart feel heavy and your cunt sloppily sang around his cock up until the sound of something dropping made you both gasp.

“What the fuck.” Sato’s voice was heard seething, having dropped the bag he had hanging off of his shoulder.

When Toru pulls away from you and glances back, you manage to move your head enough to catch a glimpse of how Sato stuck was staring at the way his twin steadily fucking you to gentle tears.

“S-Sato,” You sputtered out, suddenly feeling Toru’s hand move to press down your lower abdomen—tightening the pressure around his cock and making him feel impossibly bigger inside you. “Ohmygod-,” Both men heard the way you choked, “M’gonna cum.”

Only to be interrupted by Toru scoffing, "Not yet. Someone has to teach this guy how to make you squirt, right?"

“No one has to teach me shit,” Sato argued as he fully entered his bedroom.

What a sight—his own brother fucking his favorite girl. Sato never thought he’d see the day, honestly.

Hell, he didn’t even know what to say. The sight of you two wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Toru had his face so it was like seeing himself fuck you. But, y’know, with glasses…

“Clearly someone does,” Toru’s delayed response came after he’d tugged his cock out of you, watching his cum sap out and soil his brother’s bedsheets. “Especially if I was able to do it.”

Rolling his eyes, “Bullshit.” Sato spat without letting his brother’s words register properly. When they finally do, an appalled expression colors over him, “Wait, what? No way, show me.”

Toru moves a hand to scratch the back of his neck, looking off to the side dorkishly, “Uh, we didn’t record it or anything–”

“No, I mean do it again, four eyes.” His older brother clarifies rudely.

You sit up at that. Glancing back and forth between the two for a moment and then settling your eyes onto Sato, “What?”

“I don’t believe him,” Sato huffs as comes to sit on the edge of his bed. Throwing his eyes onto you, “So, if he really made you squirt then surely he has no issue doing it again.”

You blink. “You want him to do that in front of you?”

“I want to see you squirt, period,” He admits, “I don’t care who gets it outta’ you at this point.”

You and Toru then exchange glances before looking at him.

“Well?” Sato scoffs. “If you’re gonna go out of your way to fuck in my bed, don’t stop now that I’m here. Put on a fuckin’ show for me.”

Ever so demanding he was…

——

Not that you or Toru seemed to care.

The next position you end up in is rather… precarious, to say the least.

You thought you were left stretched before but that feeling was utterly pale in comparison to what you felt now. Toru had you bouncing up and down his heavy cock, letting it talk you through every pummeling thrust by leaving sweltering smooches against the deepest crevices of your cunt.

Your maw was left to dangle open and you looked like a true slut in the eyes of the Gojo twins. As one fucked you beyond dumb, the other was sat in front of you with his hands wrapped around his shaft, his palm running up and down that wildly long cock of his as sticky precum glistened out from his tip.

Drool and spit trickled all down your jaw and fell onto the floor below and you couldn’t move in any way to escape Toru’s desperate thrusts.

The sound of sweaty skin slacking and clashing against one another echoed through Sato’s large bedroom whilst he watched and got off to the sight.

Your arms and legs were locked firmly in Toru’s grip and he was just using your pussy to satisfy that swollen ache he’d been dealing with for fuck knows how long now.

The remnants of his cum sobbed downwards and left a messy ring around his base, the pearly color nearly mocking the white happy trail of hair he had.

"Tighter-, hahh.. squeeze around me tighter, please." Toru muttered into your ear, having found himself pussydrunk and slopped. The walls of your pussy narrowed around him and his hips snapped up a little faster, "Good girl, just like that. F-Fuuck... you're gonna make me c-cum." Toru whimpered.

A singular gasp of, "Inside.” from your horribly sore throat makes both him and his brother groan.

"Again? Shiit," Toru sent a bragging smile ahead before bucking his hips up into you faster as if to prove a point. Still talking into your ear, "Y'want me to breed you in front of Sato? Damn, you're sluttier than I thought you'd be."

You feel his weighty balls pounding up against your skin as his cock bullied in deeper, your pussy stretched into the prettiest shape and molded perfectly around him.

Sato couldn’t take his eyes off the errotic sight and his hand moved faster, his own hips thrusting up as he reminisced on that feeling of positioning into you. The man swears he could feel you wrapped around him just from watching his brother handle you.

It was so different to see things from this perspective but fuck was it sexy. Your tits bounced as Toru dragged you up up upp and then let his hips meet you halfway with a needy thrust as he let your body come back down.

"Mmngh, Toru!" You moaned softly.

To which his teeth nipped at your ear, "It's so cute when you say my name like that," He huffs, "Do you like me that much? Hm? Like the way Toru treats this pussy?"

You weakly moved your head in agreement, tears running down your cheeks, "Uhuhh… f-fuuuck, Toru. M’cummin.”

His movements grew faster then, ruder. The plump crown of his cock mashed into that sweet spot of yours over and over and over as if to make the spot his new home—imprint himself there permanently.

Breathing all heavy against you, “S’okay, let it out, sweetheart. Show him what he should be making you do, yeah?”

Sato cums a split second before it actually happens, based on the fact that it was about to happen. Thank god you were too drunk to see it because he’s watching with teary eyes as you squirt all over Toru—his dick slipping out of you because of it and the mess spraying ahead filthily.

Your pussy quivers from the release and you’re whining all through it, the cooing sound of Toru whispering you through your high prominence in your ear. You could barely think, barely breathe because of the intensity of it all.

When you calm down from it, Toru’s still got you in his arms and all you’re left to focus on is Sato’s pouty face as he continues to stroke himself.

“Well, fuck. Look at you,” He spoke hoarsely the moment he noticed your attention on him, his head resting back against his headboard, “Just a whore for some Gojo cock, huh?”

Your head barely bobs in response—far too dazed to answer that with a properly functioning brain.

Sato’s hand squeezes around his tip and his brows furrow, “Yeahhh? Y’liked watching me jerk off like some pathetic loser while I let my brother fuck you?” He hardly waited for another answer out of you before nodding his chin, “Bet you do. Look at that pussy, so fuckin’ wet from this.”

Toru’s easing you down on the bed in between the both of them, puffing, “Unfair of you to keep her all to yourself, Sato.”

Keeping things simple, “I’m willing to share now.”

…

Things should have ended there. Seriously.

But, allas, the hold these two have over you appeared to be much stronger than you thought.

“Wrap those lips around me, baby.” Sato had requested, watching your shaky limbs move in between his legs.

Toru was somewhere behind you, diving his face back into your cunt to… clean the mess he left in there, apparently.

Out of both of them, Toru was definitely the more perverted one—currently eating his own cum out of your cunt after giving you some bullshit excuse about wanting to keep you clean.

All he wanted was to stick his tongue inside you again. You weren’t that dumb.

While you gathered Sato’s cock into your palm and let your lips press into his tip, he hissed as his face twisted up due to sensitivity. Easing a hand onto your head, “Atta girl. Choke on this dick while he cleans you up. Wanna see every inch down that throat.”

His words never failed to leave your cunt soused, a physical reaction of which met Toru’s compliant tongue.

Sato’s bed was a mess of all sorts of fluids—overly due for a washing after all that had taken place thus far. His cock was somewhere in the back of your throat and he felt your moans tremble against him whenever Toru slurped against you just right.

The three of you were lazy with everything by now and the only thing that made the Gojo siblings perk up was when you ended up gifting Toru’s mouth with another raining mess.

Oh, Sato was in awe at the sight all over again. So much so that it’s what caused his next orgasm. He was so dazed by your squirting that he didn’t even bother to ask you to swallow what he’d just unconsciously thrusted into your throat.

Normally that’s his favorite part; watching or asking you to swallow his seed. Yet, he’d missed all of that because seeing his brother’s face smothered in your wetness left him shocked.

“Ohhh, shit. That was more than the first time.” Toru said as he finally pulled himself from in between your legs.

Sato’s ears twitch and he cocks a brow. Daze broke completely, “First time?” he asked. It was clear he still didn’t believe that his geeky, clumsy, and overall awkward sibling made that happen before he walked in.

Toru looks at his brother, “Yeah… More than the first time she squirted.”

Sato stares. “You… You made her squirt before I got here?” Disbelief was evident in his tone.

He chuckles, “You asked me that like it’s hard or something, of course I did.”

You pull yourself up from Sato’s softening cock just in time and give the two slow blinks while transferring your gaze back and forth. Sleepiness wasn’t slow to overcome you.

Sato met your eyes with his pointed ones and puffed all brat-like, “Soooo… you’re gonna do that for only me next time, right?”

There’s not a singular thought inside your head as you blatantly ignore him. Then, you turn over and plop onto the bed to lay down—back facing the two of them.

“Hello?” Sato taps your shoulder and then jokingly adds a comedic, “Chat, am I muted…?”

Toru snorts with a shake of his head, getting out the bed to start cleaning up the mess you three collectively made within the past few hours.

Then, you’re wondering if the roles had reversed for a second when he grumbles, “Fuckin’ loser…”

perm gojo tags (1/2);

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