#JJK AU

[aliasnnmknt]

Lover boy season (pt 1) 💞💞

[v1x3n]

MIMIMIMIMI - BASKETBALL PLAYER!SATORU

꒰ PAIRING : basketball player!satoru gojo x yapit creator!reader. yapit masterlist.

�� SYNOPSIS : chats with one of your best friends, satoru gojo.

꒰ TAGS : satoru flirting shitily.

[kunareads]

how you talk so sweet when you're doing bad things

actor!satoru x popstar!reader

you and satoru fulfill the prophecy (he picks you up, pulls them down, turns you around).

prev / next

series masterlist / full masterlist

wc: 4.7k

satoru "filthy mouth" gojo!!! i had to stop writing this multiple times because of what he does to me. PART 3 VALENTINE'S DAY (comment for taglist)

content: fluff and SMUT! even more tension, you and satoru are once again the subjects of internet speculation, making out, 69, oral (m! and f! receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, pronebone, cowgirl, he's very much in control here

18+ please i block children <3

+++

the internet does what it does best: fill in the blanks.

neither of you say anything. no statements, no denials, no acknowledgments. but speculation spreads like wildfire.

it started small. the blurry afterparty photos, the red carpet chemistry dissection, the think pieces about hollywood's most unexpected flirtation. the usual.

then you post an instagram story.

nothing special. just a close-up of a wine glass, city lights blurred in the background. no context, no caption. but the fans? they think they know.

twitter erupts.

@/satorumess: not to be crazy but i mapped out their locations based on timestamps and—

@/fulltimeshipper: this is worse than when the CIA redacted half that UFO document

@/ynupdates: y/n posting a cryptic story the same night satoru is spotted downtown… oh we are in the trenches forreal

then, satoru likes a tiktok.

a slow-motion edit of you in your red carpet and afterparty looks, set to some dramatic song, captioned this woman is dangerous, your honor.

he doesn't comment, doesn't follow the account. just leaves one single like. and the internet implodes.

@/fandomedits: nah this isn't pr this is a man down BAD

@/popcultupdates: GOJO SATORU LIKING THIRST EDITS IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT WE HAVE LOST HIM COMPLETELY

@/ynstan: this man saw a slo-mo thirst edit and said "yeah let me cosign that"

but it gets worse.

an old clip resurfaces. a red carpet from last year. you and satoru, near each other but never interacting. a moment that meant nothing—until now.

fans slow it down, zoom in, analyze every tiny detail:

satoru steps onto the carpet, and your eyes flick toward him, barely noticeable.

he glances in your direction.

there's a beat where he exhales, seems to collect himself—something no one caught before.

and suddenly, it's evidence.

@/fathergojo: why do their interactions feel like deleted scenes from a romcom

@/yninvestigator: guys. GUYS. what do you MEAN she looked at him FIRST. what do you MEAN HE TOOK A BREATH AND LOOKED AWAY.

@/stanwars: suddenly i believe in fate. suddenly i understand greek tragedies.

apparently, none of this is new.

you and satoru are just catching up.

+++

+++

satoru isn't good at waiting.

patience isn't exactly his strong suit, but when the reward is this good? he doesn't mind.

you walk in like the last week never happened. like the chaos never even registered.

the rooftop lighting catches the silk of your dress, the shine of your jewelry, the sheen of your lips. it makes you look untouchable.

attention follows you effortlessly. heads turn, backs straighten. someone says something, you smile—polite, charming, distant. you're impossible not to watch.

and satoru watches.

he's become acquainted with the effect you have, but it hits harder tonight than it did a week ago.

because now he knows how you taste.

the glass in his hand is cool, condensation falling between his fingers. he takes a sip, tracking you, cataloging details no one else would catch.

the way your shoulders shift, subtle, as you get closer.

the flick of your gaze toward him before you fully reach him.

you stop beside him, close enough for the scent of your perfume to settle between you.

a pause before you meet his eyes.

"so… how's your week been?" you ask, tone light, a smile gracing your features.

satoru exhales a laugh, tipping his glass like a toast. "surprisingly quiet. you?"

as you talk, your fingers trace the rim of your glass. he watches. you let him.

he leans in when he speaks. you don't move away.

he notices the way the waiter lingers, the way you dismiss it with a polite, distant smile.

you notice the way his expression shifts at that, just slightly. neither of you acknowledge it.

"you're kind of a nightmare," you tease.

satoru grins, unbothered. "funny. some people call me a dream."

you laugh and roll your eyes at him. he takes his time with his next sip, letting the tension settle. you're watching him watch you.

it would be easy to let you play this game, to see how long you can act like you're not as impatient as he is. but he leans in, voice quiet, just for you.

"you gonna make me wait?" low, taunting.

you could, but you don't. instead, you lean in too, meeting him halfway. you set your glass down carefully. he mirrors you.

someone—a bartender, another guest—tries to pull you into conversation, but you don't reply.

you lean into him, your voice calm but sure.

"let's go."

+++

streetlights skim over sleek black paint as the car pulls up, satoru swinging the door open. you barely take a step before his hand finds the small of your back, fingers pressing just enough to guide you.

he grins lazily. "last chance."

you roll your eyes as you step in. "so dramatic."

he closes the door after you and circles the car, the driver pulling off.

the backseat feels too small.

you cross your legs. his knee brushes against yours, and he doesn't move away. his hand rests on his thigh, relaxed, too close to yours. deliberate.

you pretend not to notice, but he knows better.

the silence is louder than words. the city blurs past the tinted windows, neon bleeding into the dark. the hum of the engine, the distant murmur of traffic, the faint pulse of something unsaid.

satoru exhales slowly, gliding his tongue over his teeth, thinking. he pushes a button, the partition rising.

you're both quiet, but it's a silent signal: stop pretending.

the second it clicks into place, he moves. or maybe you do. it doesn't matter. he's closer now, facing you, and you're already leaning in.

a beat. a sharp inhale.

his fingers skim your thigh, higher this time.

"i was trying to be good," you say quietly.

his voice drops, tight with restraint, and your breath catches. "don't."

the second the word leaves his lips, you're on him. a hand finds the back of his neck, drawing him in.

the first kiss is slow, but not reluctant. he drags it out because he can. he tilts his head, deepening it. he hums against your lips when you press closer, pleased.

his fingers tease higher. yours twist into his hair, nails scraping just enough to make him sigh into your mouth.

the car rolls to a stop.

neither of you move. not right away.

satoru's grip tightens, like he's considering pulling you onto his lap. like he could keep you here a little longer, let the city blur beyond the tinted glass while he takes his time.

instead, he drags his lips down your jaw, then lower. he breathes you in before murmuring, "upstairs."

+++

the door clicks shut, sealing you in. no music, no distant hum of the city, just quiet, dense and charged.

neither of you break the silence.

satoru steps in first. the air seems to crackle around him here the same way it does everywhere else.

you hold his stare, challenging. he waits.

a test. a game.

then, finally, you reach for him. his grin is lazy, knowing. like he was waiting for you to break first.

this kiss is purposeful. his lips brush yours—once, then again. a silent question, just the slow press of his mouth, the barely-there slide of his hands down your waist.

your fingers slip under his shirt, nails grazing skin, just enough to pull a slow, amused breath from him.

his hands find your hips, insistent, pulling you in until there's no space left. the shift makes you gasp into his mouth, and he drinks it in, looking smug, like he expected it.

like he's been waiting for this all week.

his grip tenses, like he's about to pull you closer—but then he's gone. his heat vanishes, his lips just a ghost of pressure before they disappear completely.

he barely moves when you chase him a bit, just tilts his chin, smiling. like he knew you wouldn't let him go. like he was counting on it.

you inhale, frustration sparking low in your chest, and you move before you think. your hands find his shirt, tugging him back in—but before you can, his fingers close around your wrists, catching you with ease.

his grin is knowing, his grip firm but teasing. he tilts his head, amusement spreading across his face.

"easy, princess," he murmurs, voice low, eyes flicking to your lips. "what's the rush?"

you arch a brow, fingers flexing in his grasp. "you did haul me out of the car."

his grin widens. "not like you put up a fight."

you push.

you press into him, backing him towards the wall. he lets you. lets you kiss him deeper, hands still wrapped around your wrists but relaxing, giving you room to move.

for a second, you think you've won.

then the world tilts and your back meets the wall with a gentle thud, your head tipping back slightly as he crowds you.

he smiles at you, eyes sparkling, enjoying himself too much. his hands settle at your waist, keeping you where he wants you.

you should be annoyed. instead, you match him and smirk right back.

you like the way he handles you.

+++

his touch is maddening.

his fingertips skate over your ribs, your stomach, but never where you need them. it's intentional and exploratory, like he has all the time in the world.

and he does. his apartment is a sanctuary from the mess of the last week. no prying eyes or a disgruntled kento to interrupt here.

you shift, trying to lead him downward, but he only chuckles, barely making a sound.

"you can be patient for me, can't you?" his voice dips lower, "or are you already too far gone?"

he's mocking you, and reflex kicks in—your thighs squeeze together, and you feel the heat creep up your neck when he notices.

his fingers ghost up your inner thighs, teasing warmth into your skin before retreating. every near-touch is calculated, just enough to remind you of how easily he could give you what you want.

he watches as impatience builds in your expression, as your breath stutters when his hands graze your waist again.

your nails press into his shoulders, a silent dare. before he can smirk, before he can gloat, you roll your hips against him, slow, deliberate. the response is immediate.

his breath falters, a groan through gritted teeth. his jaw tightens like he wasn't expecting you to test him. for a split second, he stills entirely.

you smile at him. message received.

"if you wanna ruin me, do it right, satoru." a taunt disguised as a whisper, just enough to chip at his restraint.

his hold turns bruising, like he wants to leave something behind. the teasing tone vanishes, his smirk dissolving into something darker. your breath catches—not in surprise, but excitement as something kindles in your stomach.

because suddenly, it's not a game anymore.

the realization barely registers before he has you pinned, wrists above your head, mouth at your ear.

"hope you know what you're asking for," he murmurs, hips flush against yours. his voice is different now—rough, heat twisting through every syllable. you shudder at the sound, your body responding. he makes good on his words immediately.

his hands find the backs of your thighs—then, suddenly, you're weightless, gasping, clutching at his shoulders. your legs draw around his hips, heat pooling fast.

a startled breath leaves you, but he's already moving, carrying you across the room like you weigh nothing at all.

+++

he drops you onto his bed, grinning at the glare you send him when you bounce.

you don't even get the chance to scold—his hands are already on you, pulling your panties down.

his teeth graze your inner thigh before he bites down, sharp enough to make you whine, hips squirming. he exhales with a smile. "thought so." his tongue follows—slow, indulgent, a promise to ruin you.

you've barely found your breath when he shifts, broad hands pressing into your thighs, spreading you open. his gaze lifts, dark and teasing.

"comfortable?" he asks, lips skimming the inside of your knee.

you roll your eyes, about to retort—but your fingers curl into the sheets instead when his mouth finds your core, hot and devastating.

your hips shift, back arching, and he hums against you, content.

you move the moment he adjusts—quick, decisive, hands pushing into his shoulders. he lets you shift the balance, rolling onto his back, breath catching when he opens his eyes to find you above him.

your fingers work fast, tugging at his belt, yanking it free with a sharp pull. you work on the button, the zipper, pulling the fabric down just enough to free him.

he was so fucking cocky a second ago. now, he's not even breathing right, body taut under your hands. so you stroke once, then twice, then take him into your mouth.

no warning, no reluctance.

his grip tightens on your thigh, breath punching out like you knocked it loose. his head tilts back, jaw tensing, a soft "fuck—just like that, baby" escaping him.

you hum around him, pleased, tongue teasing, and he swears again under his breath. his hands fist into the sheets, trying to ground himself.

but satoru doesn't like being outmatched.

his fingers skate up your thigh, squeezing. and then his mouth is on you, tongue dragging through your folds, slow and deep.

you gasp against him, body tensing, and he grins.

"that's better," he mutters against you, lips brushing sensitive skin before his tongue circles once, twice.

the sound you make is muffled around him, and he groans in response, the vibration rolling through you both.

you try to keep a rhythm, fingers curling at the base as you sink down, but every time his tongue moves just right, every time he sucks at your clit, you falter.

he notices, and he loves it.

his hands tighten on your hips, keeping you still as he buries his face deeper, determined, fucking into you with his tongue, sending you to the edge without mercy.

you try to keep going, try to keep your lips wrapped around him, but every nerve in your body is on fire, pressure winding as you moan around him.

he grins against you. "that's it, princess. lemme hear it."

his fingers dig into your skin, tightening as he licks into you with purpose, drawing desperate sounds from your throat.

it's too much. you pull your mouth off of him, panting, lips slick and hips twitching against his face as the bliss hits all at once, unraveling you from the inside out.

"satoru, fuck," you gasp, the words nearly unintelligible through your moans. you can't do anything but let it consume you, your body seizing before the release finally drives through you.

you gasp, sharp and unsteady, his name tumbling past your lips again, voice cracking into a whine.

satoru doesn't stop until you're shaking, your legs weak, pleasure rolling over you in dizzying, tormenting waves.

only when your thighs twitch, too sensitive, does he finally pull away. his face is wet, and he's breathless. he presses one last kiss to the inside of your thigh before looking up at you, eyes dark and lazy.

"you're fucking perfect," he murmurs, voice hoarse, before flipping you onto your stomach, pressing you into the mattress.

+++

you're still coming down when he lifts your hips, tucking a pillow underneath them.

his breath is warm against your shoulder, steady and grounding. his lips trail down your spine, flirting, savoring the way you squirm. a hand settles on your hip possessively, making sure you don't slip away.

his other hand trails lower, sliding between your legs, fingers pressing in—gradually, unhurried, teasing the mess he left behind.

"fuck, baby—you're dripping for me." his voice is all rough edges and satisfaction, murmured against your ear. you shiver. his fingers slide through your folds, spreading your slick, teasing the spot he knows will make you gasp.

"been thinking about this all week," he mumbles, kissing the curve of your neck. his fingers dip lower, pushing inside, slow and deep. "bet you have, too."

you whimper, and he smirks against your skin.

"should've had you like this that night. should've fucked you right up against that wall."

his fingers move at an unbearable pace, curling, pressing into the spot that makes your knees weak. your hips jerk, but he holds you still.

"needy, huh?" his breath is burning against your ear, teasing, smug. "tell me how bad you want it, baby."

your fingers clutch the sheets, patience fraying. you should fight him— push back, make him work for it—but you're too far gone for games.

"satoru—"

his fingers stall. "mm, not good enough."

"want you," you gasp, growing desperate. "need you inside me."

he groans like you just hit him where it hurts. he pulls his hand away, leaving you empty for barely a second before the thick of him replaces them.

he slips the tip through your folds, slick and teasing, but doesn't push in. "this what you wanted?" he asks, rougher now.

"yes."

"say it again."

your breath stutters, but you give him what he wants. "yes. please," you gasp.

his hands flex against your hips, keeping you still as he pushes forward, stretching you open with an unrelenting drag that knocks the air from your lungs. it's almost too much—almost—but you want all of it. you take all of him.

he moves in slowly, and a shaky gasp escapes as he bottoms out, deep inside you, holding himself there, letting you feel it.

his breath is ragged now, his exhale hot against your skin. "fuck."

his hands slide up your sides, guiding you, holding you where he needs you.

"you feel so fucking good," he breathes, voice dipping into something ruined.

his hips roll, deep and slow, like he wants to feel everything. like he wants to make this last.

you think for a second that you won't survive at this pace.

satoru brings his body lower, pressing his chest flush against your back, all heat and tension, breath ghosting over your shoulder as he sinks in.

his arms slip under yours, palms spreading over your shoulders, drawing you into him. not just pulling you back, but owning the space between you.

hi thrusts are indulgent, stretching, coating himself in you. his breath is uneven, satisfaction humming in your ear.

you push your hips back into him, matching his rhythm.

satoru exhales a sharp breath, fingers digging in. "you trying to make me lose it?"

you don't answer, just push back harder on instinct.

his response is immediate—a sharp, precise thrust that knocks the air from your lungs, ripping a moan from your throat before you can swallow it down.

"thought so," he murmurs, lips grazing your shoulder.

his pace turns deep and steady—controlled, measured. he brings his face close to yours, wanting to watch you react, to feel you tighten around him with every movement.

but you're impatient. you shift, pressing up onto your elbows, angling your hips just enough to take him deeper.

his pace stutters. he swears under his breath, voice raw, and one arm locks around your waist. he holds you in place as he fucks into you now, hard enough to leave you trembling, helpless against the bed.

his name leaves your lips, breathless and desperate.

"fuck—it's so good," he groans, half-choked, messy. his face buries into your neck, hands gripping like he's holding on for dear life. "let me hear you, baby."

you can barely think, barely breathe. his hand slides between your legs, fingers finding that spot, pressing slow, teasing circles.

"satoru—"

he chuckles, low and smug, but there's an edge to it now, a tension in the way his hips stutter, his movements losing their precision.

and then you tighten around him, body seizing, pleasure cresting all at once—

"fuck," he bites out, breathless, grip tightening like he's trying to hold on.

and then—he pulls out.

a sharp inhale, the loss making you gasp, but before you can even form a thought—

he flips you over.

"not done with you yet," he mutters, voice rough, gaze dark as he hovers over you.

+++

and just like that, everything shifts.

his hands find you the second he pulls out—a sharp, dizzying shift as he flips you over, settling beneath you. his hands slide up your ribs, brush over your breasts, then slide back down.

his fingers splay wide on your hips, steadying you, but it's his gaze that pins you in place. "wanna see you like this," he murmurs, voice low, still rough from before.

your lips part, but the way he looks at you makes it hard to tease. instead, your nails drag down his chest, unhurried, feeling his abs tense beneath your touch.

"yeah?" you breathe.

his fingers flex, tightening just slightly. "yeah, baby. show me how bad you want it."

you wrap your fingers around him, stroking once, slow and teasing, just to watch him squirm.

his jaw clenches, but he doesn't push. he lets you take your time, lets you set the pace, struggling to hold back.

you don't make him wait long.

you line him up and sink down, savoring the stretch—the way he exhales, sharp and shaky, fingers digging in.

"fuck," he breathes, watching you, eyes dark, half-lidded, all heat.

one of your hands finds his shoulders, nails scraping lightly as you start to move. the other moves down to where you're connected, feeling just how far he spreads you open.

at first, it's slow—like you're figuring each other out all over again. a careful roll of your hips, tension simmering, teasing at something deeper.

but it doesn't last.

his grip firms, guiding you down, matching your rhythm. he thrusts up to meet you with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs.

"you feel me, princess?" he asks, pulling you down harder, deeper.

you answer him with a desperate little whimper that makes him melt.

both of your movements are messy, desperate—like you both know exactly where this is going and you need to get there.

your fingers tangle in his hair, nails scraping, tugging just slightly, and he hisses, eyes squeezing shut for a second.

his hands slide up your spine, pulling you closer, his forehead pressing to yours, breathing hard.

"you feel so fucking good," he murmurs, almost a whine. "so wet for me, so fucking perfect."

you can't even speak. your thoughts blur, pleasure winding tight, breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

he shifts beneath you, angling deeper, hitting exactly where you need him. the sudden jolt of pleasure makes your whole body tighten, makes you let out a sound you didn't mean to make—

a loud, broken moan, breathy, helpless.

his head snaps up, eyes wild, something cracking behind them—like he just lost his last thread of control.

"oh," his breath shudders, grip tightening. "oh."

and then he's gone.

he snaps his hips into yours, his hands gripping, guiding, setting a pace that's relentless, that has you gasping, nails biting into his shoulders.

your vision goes hazy, body tightening, winding up unbearably fast. you try to tell him you're close, but all that comes out is a shaky, broken "satoru—"

"oh, fuck—there it is," he breathes, voice dropping, eyes dark and triumphant. "knew you'd sound so fucking sweet falling apart for me."

his hand finds your clit, pressing just right—teeth gritting as he holds on, watching you break first.

and you shatter.

it slams into you, sharp and consuming, a shockwave rolling through your body. your breath stutters, a broken gasp stumbling free as you tighten around him, locking him in.

he feels it—the way you pulse around him, the way you tremble, how your moans dissolve into something helpless. it undoes him. his arm slides your waist, his other hand finding the back of your neck, and he pulls you closer like he needs you.

he curses as you tremble against him, holding you close, burying himself deep in you as he falls apart.

your name leaves his lips like a prayer, breathless, reverent. he groans against your skin as he finally spills into you. pleasure crashes through him, and for a moment, all he can do is feel **the heat of you, the way you throb around him, the way your body takes him like you were made for this.

for a second, you both stay still; the only sound between you is the sharp, uneven puff of breath.

your hands shake against his chest. his fingers are still locked around your waist.

he exhales a wrecked laugh, warm and lazy against your temple.

"so fucking worth the wait," he murmurs, voice low, sated. he kisses all over your face, palm smoothing down your spine. "knew you'd be perfect for me."

+++

the morning light spills through the curtains, golden and soft, warming tangled sheets and bare skin. everything is still. quiet, but not empty. satoru is warm against you, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. at some point in the night, your leg found its way between his, one of his arms draped lazily over your waist.

you shift, stretching slightly, and his fingers flex at your hip, like some part of him refuses to let you go.

he murmurs something unintelligible, voice low and drowsy. then, with a slow, easy smile against your skin, "stay."

you huff a quiet laugh. "clingy."

"mmm," he hums, voice is thick with sleep. "you're warm."

he still hasn't opened his eyes. he just shifts a little, nestling deeper into you. his fingers pressing idly into your hip, like he's memorizing the shape of you beneath them.

you stay like that for a while.

you steal a button-up from his closet when you finally get up, slipping it over your shoulders before following him into the bathroom. he doesn't comment, just flicks his gaze over you, lips twitching, before rummaging through a drawer. a moment later, he presses a spare toothbrush into your palm.

"definitely took you for the clingy type."

he grins, stretching lazily against the counter. "not my fault you're so soft."

you brush your teeth side by side, bleary-eyed in the mirror. he stands just a little too close, bumping into your arm like he can't help himself.

and when you head back to bed, he follows, catching your wrist just before you climb in, guiding you back under the covers with ease.

"wait." his lips brush your shoulder. "just stay there."

"i am staying," you point out, amused.

"good," he hums, pressing one last kiss to your head before disappearing into the kitchen.

satoru returns minutes later, two mugs in hand. he sets yours on the nightstand before wordlessly disappearing back to the kitchen.

you wait until you smell breakfast, then you get up and follow the scent out to his kitchen island.

he doesn't ask if you're hungry. he just plates your food and sets it in front of you without a second thought.

you steal sips from his juice between bites, and he lets you, just watching, amused, eyes flicking toward you over the rim of his glass.

soft touches happen naturally, thoughtlessly.

his palm finds the small of your back when he moves past you, warm and steady.

your fingers brush when you both reach for the same thing.

his knuckles graze your thigh when he leans back against the counter.

none of it feels unfamiliar.

you stay longer than you expected to. he doesn't call you out on it.

the goodbye is unserious, drawn out in a way that makes it obvious neither of you is in a rush.

"try not to miss me too much," you tease, pulling on your shoes with a grin.

he smiles, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. "oh, i will."

his tone is playful, but something about the way he says them makes you hesitate, just for a second.

and as you step out, just before it closes behind you, he calls after you.

"i'll be thinking about you, y'know."

tags (ongoing): @moonchhu @httpstoyosi @lavnder311 @harryzcherry @perkypeony @katecupcakekate @hellicify @oh-my-god-donald @jupiterbinnie @i88b0nten @satxoru @chuuminn @moncher-ire @r0ckst4rjk @flwerie @raendarkfaerie @pinksdump @blkmystery @pearlessance

[kamospeach]

told you i like gentle giants so you softened up .ᐟ

plot: ceo!sukuna and the woman he was forced to marry finally learning to get along.

content warning: none at all. it's not 18+ but if i make a fic it will be.

peachy's yap: i wanna make this into a fic but im not 100% sure yet, lmk ! no smut just a small fluff to test out the waters. one last fic coming until i go on a lil break.

this wasn't what you wanted at all. ever since you were a little girl you planned to get married to a caring man. years later give birth to a love child hold he or she in your arms as you and your loving husband smiled at one another.

that dream was gone now and here you were a year after your wedding. terrified to even knock on the door of his study knowing his temper was off the wall at the moment. when you were cooped up in your hobby room you could hear him barking orders. while you sat in silence writing novel after novel he forbade you to publish.

this was your everyday, wake up alone, eat alone, write alone, shower alone, watch movies alone, and even go to sleep alone. he was in his study night and day until his hefty body slipped into your shared bed waking you at 2am. he didn't bother to apologize he just turned away going to sleep himself. and yet you found yourself wanting to be close to sukuna.

you sighed already knowing the conversation you both were bound to have today... just like every month for the last year. you were given to him for your writing and negotiating skills. his father the previous boss offered to pay your father millions to suspend the contract at your job for you to work for them. all for money. you raised your hand knocing on the wretched door.

you and sukuna moved into this house 6 months ago and it felt like you'd been locked away in a tower. although sukuna never listened to your ideas or let you have your way about anything he left the house details to you. he stood back as you worked with the sketchy architect who purposely looked down your blouse (his words).

he let you pick out the number of rooms, and bathrooms. the ceiling height, the shape of the pool, even how many patio chairs you wanted. he let you decorate the house pick the colors, even would let you throw splashes of pink and purple where ever you pleased. but you never did it, you didn't want to do it if not with sukuna.

but to sukuna none of this mattered because his work was more important. in his words he said 'i'll let you deal with less important matters. at least im positive you won't fuck that up.' did that statement hurt? hell yeah but even then you still wanted to be close to him.

"s...sukuna?" you stuttered waiting to hear his gruff voice.

"get in here." he said sternly and you pushed the heavy doors open, struggling at the weight. once you pushed in you stood by the door hands behind your back fingers laced. "sit." he said pointing to the chair in front of his desk and you scurry not wanting to anger him.

"i'm sorry i didn't come sooner i was writing and i had a idea i couldn't lose." you plead his eyes never left yours. he face expression neither annoyed nor pleased.

"why must you continue writing, when you have a duty to fulfill here." he grumbled and you looked down at your thumbs.

"sukuna you wont let me go with you to negotiate that's all m'good for." you say and he scoffs at your excuse.

"you are here to write contracts and negotiate deals you have not done any of that over the last year!" he said his voice raising, by no means were you a push over. scared of this big, brolic, hunk definitely but one thing you'll never be is a punk.

"you have yet to assign me any work. i know what you'll say 'you should come ask me if there's anything to do' but you are my boss. you instruct i follow, i refuse to do anything for you if you can not request it on your own." your reply was calm, you didn't want to anger him further.

"i don't want to overwhelm you," he sighs. his strict facade dropping as he handed you papers and you hum. looking down at the papers it was full of stats and numbers that made your head spin. "this is everyday work for me, i need your help but i must figure it out alone."

"the numbers are a bit crazy but it's not much to find a way to make a deal that'll pretty up the numbers." you tell him and he nods.

"how?" he asked and you looked up at him. this was the first time sukuna had asked for your help. you were shocked that he even let you know that he needed help.

"i mean your the statistics man. once you work out the numbers we can talk negotiating." you tell him with a smile hoping the sly compliment of him being good with numbers didn't slip past him. his red eyes looked up at you through his thick lashes. the corner of his lips tugging upwards as if he wanted to smile and couldn't.

this day was the first day you sat next to sukuna behind his desk. your knees touched and even that amount of contact was enough for you. you helped him clean up his desk and he didn't object he just said 'make sure you put them where i tell you'. and you did picking up the papers on his desk and organizing them for him. placing them in different stacks based off who and what they were from.

little did you know sukuna admired your every move. he watched how you walked around his office complaining about how dull it was. how you curly afro bounced with every step you took. he watched you search up paint colors and decor for his office. not once did this distract him, he either hummed in agreement or disagreement as he worked on the numbers.

even days later the connection between sukuna and you began to grow. he listened to your opinions and even stepped out of his office during the day. he came to your writing room to sit and drink coffee with you at 3am when you felt like you had a good idea. he even showed you the room you called the 'junk room' that was quite literally filled with sukuna's junk. he pulled out an electric guitar bragging about how it was signed by one of the best.

he tells you the name as you face scrunches up in confusion never hearing of this man ever. but even your disinterest in that didn't deter his sheer audacity and gall. he called you a degenerate and said you were a bug under a rock. you replied with 'more like a boulder' as you looked him up and down judgingly.

this comment made sukuna laugh, yes actually laugh. from that day you never held in a joke, letting anything on your mind loose. sometimes sukuna would look at you as if you said the stupidest shit on earth. most times he'd shake his head with an endearing smile but 2 times out of 10 he'd laugh.

day after day the more time you spent with sukuna the more you were pulled out of the depression. you watched movies of families with a smile even thinking about having a child with that demon.

in return sukuna became more comfortable approaching you. initially he was scared to anger you or say something that would hurt your feelings. heading his father's warning 'don't talk to her too much. you know how you are, you'll hurt her feelings.' so he listened avoided starting conversation, leaving the bed before you woke up and coming in after you fell asleep. ate in his office and never ever entered your writing room.

that day you came in and told him he was your boss changed his brain chemistry. his father was wrong, he wouldn't hurt your feelings because you wanted him to act like your boss. you could dish it out and take it. that day was when sukuna thought to himself 'i could really get used to this'.

that's why after a month of the two of finally getting along sukuna instructed you to meet him at the dining table. dining table was a stretch as it only had 2 chairs. as you waited for him assuming it was about work you were shocked for sukuna to slam down your houses floorplan.

"it's about time we made this house into a home don't ya think?" he asked looking at you and you smiled. and the two of you sat there all night you sipping on a shirley temple and he drank whiskey. he promised he'd make you cocktails from now on since you found out he was a bartender for all of 3 months.

you planned and brainstormed until the next morning. you were leaned on the table drool coming out of your mouth. sukuna smiled at how comfortable you had became around him. he lifted you and carried you up the stairs. that was the first day sukuna felt like he was really a husband. that day was when sukuna swore to himself that he would be a husband.

[xiixae]

呪術廻戦 x f!reader . warnings : MDNI 18+ smut . © xiixae

💿 ships / tropes ꒰ separate ꒱ ── ✦

tattooist!gojo , tattooist!geto & tattooist!sukuna x client!reader

ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

a piercing feeling of a needle sent shivers down your spine as you bit your lips closed, you were finally getting a tattoo. it was a small 'made in hell' marking the curve under your tits.

"why don't you relax your shoulders a bit, darling?"

come on. you couldn't display your weak side in front of your crush! you had to buckle up, and you knew it already. but knowing it made it worse to control all the moans you were letting out, trying to hide your pain from him.

minute by minute you felt his hand sweating on your belly, your eyes were half-closed but you could tell he was horny. the bulge underneath his baggy lower was very noticeable and he couldn't even hide it.

"mhm- looks like someone's turned on?"

the tattoo was just half way done when he turned off the electric needle, flipping you over to the other side, earning a gasp from you. he spanked the fat of your ass as he spoke.

"for fuck's sake, stop moaning like a slut you whore, its just a tattoo."

he ran his long fingers on the curves of your body, worshiping every inch of your glassy skin, leaving kisses and marks followed by a sharp grip he had on your neck, choking you a little.

"you're mine now, got it?"

he striped off the thinnest fabric of your shorts along with your panties, bending down while angling your pussy inches from his face.

"ahh.. she seems too needy f'me, doesn't she?"

ɢᴇᴛᴏ ꜱᴜɢᴜʀᴜ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

getting a spider lily tattoo stretching along your back had always been dream for you, but it was now a reality thanks to this hot guy you've been simping on for what felt like forever.

"stay still, will ya?"

you let a small 'hmm' sound as you winked at your bestie (more like a reg client), much to his annoyance getting a 'tsk' in return. for fuck's sake why did you always find his tsking so sexy?

a sudden grab around your waist pulled your body backward, your ass rubbing against what you thought it was. ain't no fucking way this was happening.

"y'know what, idiot? i'm sorry but i ain't getting a better timing f'this."

he fondled your tits, drawing a couple of little circles around your nipples, which were already poking out of the only crop top that covered your boobs from the moment he started working on your tattoo.

turning you around, he noticed a light shade of red raising up your cheeks as he rubbed your throbbing cunt against your wet underwear, and it was the last sign for him to make you his.

"buckle up, it's gonna be a long night."

ꜱᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ ʀʏᴏᴍᴇɴ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

you made sure to wear the shortest skirt and the tightest top you had for this one appointment with the sexiest tattooist of your neighborhood. this was the golden opportunity you've always been waiting for, after all.

"c'mere, have a seat. y'want the ink jus'bove your ass, right?"

you nodded as you passed him a smirk while lifting his chin up to make your eyes meet his as he raised a brow before laying on your stomach for the tattoo process, pulling your skirt down a little before he thought he could get a good view.

what you didn't know was why he didn't have any other customer waiting outside in an endless queue just to catch a glance of him. weird?

"you're not really here just f'the tat, hm?"

you turned around sitting upright with your brows frowning at him in disbelief, only watching his smirk grow wider by the second. how the fuck did he know?

"alright, i'll give ya both if y'want, but only after i get what a want from ya."

he got closer to your face, his lips a few millimeters away from yours, but he whispered something in your ear instead.

"be mine, shit. n' i'm not giving a choice."

[riots-r]

That's My wife too

[tojisprettylittlething]

Chapter Twenty Eight: A Mission Gone Too Far

Pairing: Assassin!Toji Fushiguro x Assassin!Reader

Warnings: violence, blood, gunplay, near-death experience, injury (bullet grazing the head), Toji being pissed, heavy tension, arguments, and power struggles.

Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"Testing, testing—"

The smooth voice rang through the earpiece, crystal clear against the static of the comms. You barely resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

"—If you can hear me, say ‘Gojo is a sexy genius.’"

"Gojo, I swear to God," you muttered, checking the magazine of your gun before slotting it back into place.

"Just say ‘copy,’" Toji’s voice cut in, irritated.

“Copy,” you responded, adjusting your gear.

You could hear Gojo’s smirk over the line. "Buzzkills. Both of you."

You and Toji stood on the rooftop of an old industrial building, eyes scanning the lot below. A shipment was coming in, an underground deal that Gojo had oh-so-graciously assigned you to oversee. A simple recon mission, he’d said. In and out. No unnecessary bloodshed.

Bullshit.

You knew a test when you saw one. You’d been thrown into enough trials-by-fire to recognize when someone wanted to see what you were really made of.

And judging by the way Toji stood beside you, arms crossed, jaw locked—he knew it too.

"Keep your eyes open, lovebirds," Gojo drawled in your ear. "We’ve got movement. Two cars, black SUVs, just pulled up."

You spotted them immediately. Four men stepped out, all dressed in dark suits, their movements crisp, purposeful. Professionals. Armed.

"How much you wanna bet they’ve got more inside?" you murmured.

Toji scoffed. “That’s not even a bet. Of course they do.”

"Then let’s keep this simple. We don’t fire unless we have to."

"Agreed."

You both moved swiftly, descending from the rooftop, taking up positions along the shadows. Watching. Waiting.

Then, right when the deal was about to finalize—

All hell broke loose.

Gunfire erupted, shattering the tense quiet. You didn’t know who shot first, but it didn’t matter—suddenly, the entire place was a war zone.

"Ohhh, now it’s getting interesting," Gojo hummed through the comms.

"Not the time," you snapped, ducking behind a crate as bullets tore through the air.

Toji moved like a damn ghost, cutting through the chaos with brutal efficiency. A blade in one hand, a gun in the other, dropping anyone in his path.

You weren’t far behind, weaving through the mess, gun aimed, shots precise. You weren’t here for an all-out fight, but if someone got in your way? You weren’t hesitating.

At least, not until you saw him.

The sniper.

Perched up high, barely visible through the dim lighting.

And his barrel was aimed directly at Toji.

Your body moved before your brain could catch up.

A sharp bang. The world blurred—pain exploded along the side of your head, a searing, white-hot sting.

The shot missed. Barely.

But you felt it.

A graze, just above your temple, hot blood trickling down the side of your face.

You heard Toji’s voice, sharp, frantic—

“What the fuck?!”

The sniper wasn’t getting a second chance.

You lifted your gun and fired. A single shot, straight to the skull. The body dropped.

The gunfire around you faded into a dull roar, your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

Your vision swayed for a second—

Then Toji was in front of you, grabbing your face, tilting your head to assess the damage. His hands were rough, firm, his jaw clenched so tightly you swore it might snap.

"Are you fucking stupid?"

You blinked, still catching up.

"Toji—"

"You moved in front of a sniper.” His voice was deadly quiet, barely restrained. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

You scowled, slapping his hands away. "I saved your ass."

"You almost got your head fucking blown off."

"But I didn't."

“That’s not the fucking point—”

"Ah, young love," Gojo’s voice interrupted. "So much passion. So much drama. But, uh—maybe wrap up the lovers’ quarrel after you clear the damn warehouse?"

Toji’s glare could’ve burned a hole through the comms.

But you could barely focus on that. The pain in your head was setting in now, throbbing. Your vision was still a little off-kilter, the blood dripping down your face warm and sticky.

You exhaled sharply, shaking off the dizziness. "Let’s just finish this."

Toji muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t argue. He turned on his heel, jaw tight, gun raised.

And despite the anger simmering between you—he still positioned himself in front of you. A shield. Just in case.

Because no matter how pissed he was—no matter how much he wanted to strangle you for what you just pulled—he wasn’t about to let anyone else touch you.

Not now. Not ever.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The last few minutes of the mission were a blur of gunfire, adrenaline, and your throbbing head wound.

Toji was furious, but he didn’t let it slow him down. If anything, he was moving faster—his bullets landing with brutal precision, his blade slicing through flesh like it was nothing. If he was pissed before, he was outright murderous now.

You kept up, but the world swayed every few seconds, the warm trickle of blood trailing down your temple reminding you that you weren’t at your best. Still, you weren’t about to sit this out.

Gojo’s voice rang in your ear, cool and entertained. "Well, that was fun. Seems like you two made quite the impression."

"Shut the fuck up," Toji snapped.

Gojo only laughed. "Relax, lover boy. Mission’s over. You’re clear."

You took a slow breath, surveying the bodies littered around the warehouse. The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder and iron, the tension still clinging to your skin.

Your hand lifted to your temple, fingers coming away slick with blood.

Toji was already stalking toward you, his movements rigid, controlled. The second he reached you, he grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from your wound. His expression was unreadable, but his grip was tight.

“We’re leaving,” he said, voice sharp.

“I’m fine.”

His jaw clenched. "You're bleeding."

"It’s just a graze."

His hand tightened around your wrist. “You think I give a fuck?”

You stared at him, breath still uneven. His eyes were dark, burning, and his grip on you was almost bruising. You could feel the anger radiating off of him, barely contained beneath the surface.

You didn’t say anything else. There was no point.

Without another word, he yanked you toward the exit.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The car ride home was silent.

Tense. Suffocating.

Toji’s grip on the wheel was too tight, his knuckles white. His jaw was still clenched, his whole body wound tight with frustration. You could practically feel the rage rolling off of him in waves.

You sat beside him, arms crossed, eyes trained on the window.

Your head still throbbed. The blood had dried, crusting uncomfortably along your temple.

Finally, you exhaled. "Are you gonna stay mad forever, or—?"

The tires screeched as he slammed on the brakes, jerking the car to a stop on the side of the road.

Your pulse jumped.

Slowly, you turned to him, only to find him already staring at you—his expression dark, livid.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” His voice was low, lethal.

You scowled. “I was thinking about saving your life.”

“I don’t need you to save me.”

Your temper flared. “I made a choice. I took a risk. That’s what we do.”

"Not like that." His voice was sharp, his breathing uneven. "Not when it means almost getting your fucking head blown off."

“Jesus, Toji—”

“You hesitated before. And now you’re fucking reckless?”

Your fingers curled into fists. “I handled it.”

"You almost died." His hands slammed against the steering wheel, frustration spilling over. “And for what? You think I’d be grateful? You think I’d be proud that you nearly got your skull split open?”

You stared at him, chest rising and falling. His voice was raw, his anger barely leashed.

But beneath it—beneath all the frustration, all the sharp edges of his words—you saw it.

The fear.

He had seen you go down. He had seen the blood. And for a split second—he had thought you were dead.

Your lips parted, but no words came out.

Toji exhaled sharply, shaking his head. His hands dragged down his face, his fingers raking through his hair.

Then, softer this time—hoarse, almost—

“Don’t ever do that again.”

Your throat felt tight.

“…Okay.”

Neither of you moved. The car was still. The world outside was quiet.

Then Toji clicked his tongue, shaking his head again. “Fucking stupid.”

You snorted. "You're one to talk."

He huffed, but there was no real bite behind it anymore.

Finally, he shifted the car back into gear, pulling back onto the road. His hand found your thigh, gripping it tightly—possessive, grounding.

You let him.

You stayed silent for the rest of the ride.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

When you got home, Toji barely let you step through the door before he was dragging you to the bathroom.

“Sit,” he ordered, gesturing to the closed toilet lid.

You rolled your eyes, but you obeyed, watching as he rummaged through the cabinet for the first aid kit.

“I told you, it’s just a graze—”

“Shut up.”

You huffed. “Bossy.”

He shot you a look before kneeling in front of you, tilting your chin up to examine the wound. His fingers were rough but careful, his gaze focused.

You sighed, letting him work. His grip was firm as he wiped away the dried blood, cleaning the wound with surprising gentleness.

“…You should’ve let me take the shot,” he muttered after a moment.

You looked down at him, watching the way his brows were furrowed, his lips pressed together.

“But I didn’t.”

Toji’s jaw ticked. His fingers pressed against your chin, his thumb stroking over your jaw absentmindedly.

You swallowed.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment. The air was thick, heavy with everything left unsaid.

Then, finally, he exhaled.

“I fucking hate you,” he muttered.

You smirked. “No, you don’t.”

His eyes flickered up to you. A beat of silence.

Then—softer, quieter—

“No,” he admitted. “I don’t.”

Your chest tightened.

Toji let out a slow breath before standing up, tossing the used alcohol wipe into the trash.

“Come on,” he murmured. “You need sleep.”

You didn’t argue.

Because despite the throbbing in your skull, despite the ache in your body—

For the first time since the mission started, you actually felt safe.

My lil taglist ₍₍ ◝(　ﾟ∀ ﾟ )◟ ⁾⁾ : @t4naiis - @crimsonxm00n -

[bli-o]

au where yuji’s pet cat eats the finger and sukuna returns after thousands of years as a kitty

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

The trend of Nerdjo to Superhero!Gojo has been making me want to write a one shot on this concept soooo bad 😩😩 like Nerdy!Gojo is hot enough but Nerdy!Gojo to cocky secret Superhero!Gojo is about to make me cu—

Spiderman!Gojo. Superman!Gojo. Nightwing!Gojo. Deadpool!Gojo. GIVE EM ALL TO ME. I CAN TAKE ALL OF EM.

[aliasnnmknt]

"Barely dressed, fully stressed" by @killerplink ‼️

"Nanami Kento is your reliable, serious, methodical fiancé. He plans, he prevents, he calculates—nothing ever catches him off guard.

Except, apparently, whatever the hell happened two days ago, because he came home without his pants and has been suspiciously silent about it ever since."

[s4svnn]

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Chapter Thirty Seven

Aylah’s POV:

I stood in front of the full-length mirror in Kayla’s bedroom, my fingers running down the sides of the black bodycon dress I was wearing. The fabric hugged my curves, a little more snug than I was used to, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—just… different. I never really wore dresses like this, especially when I had something to prove, something to run away from, but tonight felt different.

It wasn’t just the clothes; it was the way I was feeling—the thrill of freedom, the distraction of the music, the promise of forgetting everything that had been weighing on me.

The dress was simple but elegant, the black shade making my skin pop and the cut accentuating every inch of my body. I had chosen it because it felt like it would blend in yet make me feel powerful. Tonight, I was trying to channel something I didn’t know I had in me—a version of myself that didn’t care about responsibilities or the tangled mess in my chest.

I adjusted the straps, checking myself from every angle. My hair was loose, falling in soft waves over my shoulders, and I’d kept my makeup fresh, bold but not overdone. The red lipstick felt like a punch of confidence. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was looking for—maybe reassurance that I looked good, or maybe that I could pull off something that made me feel confident for once.

Just as I turned to check the back, the door opened, and Kayla walked in, her heels clicking against the floor with each step. I looked at her in the mirror and immediately noticed we were dressed almost identically, both of us in bodycon dresses that hugged our figures in all the right places.

She paused for a moment, her eyes scanning me up and down, and then a slow grin spread across her face. "Damn, girl," she said, her voice filled with admiration. "Look at you. You’re gonna turn heads tonight."

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, my nerves coming through. "You think so?" I asked, still not quite convinced.

Kayla stepped closer, her eyes never leaving mine as she ran her hands down the side of her own dress. She was wearing a deep emerald green dress, the colour flattering her tan skin and bringing out the brightness of her eyes. She was effortlessly beautiful in a way that made me feel like I still had a lot to figure out about myself.

"You’ve got it, AJ. Trust me," she said, her tone teasing but reassuring at the same time. She grabbed my arm lightly, making me face her. "You’ve always had it in you; it’s just about owning it."

I exhaled, looking at her reflection in the mirror. "I don’t know, Kayla. I just...feel like I’m pretending. Like I’m putting on a mask to forget everything I’ve been thinking about lately."

Kayla tilted her head, her expression softening. "Hey, no one said you have to have it all figured out. Just tonight, forget about the messy stuff. You’re allowed to enjoy yourself. You’re allowed to let go."

I let her words sink in, the idea of being able to breathe for a little while—just for one night—settling into me like a gentle weight. I’d been so caught up in everything lately, especially with how complicated things had been with Adam, how I couldn’t make sense of my feelings. But maybe this was the night to stop thinking. To just be.

I met her eyes in the mirror, and she gave me an encouraging smile, stepping back and spinning in front of me to adjust her own dress. "Plus, you're not the only one who’s been thinking about other things tonight," she teased, her grin widening as she raised an eyebrow. "We’re going to have fun, right?"

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing off me, even if just for a moment. "Yeah, I guess you’re right. Let’s just make it a night to remember... or forget."

Kayla winked at me. "Exactly. And trust me, you’ll forget all about him and all the stupid drama when we’re sipping cocktails at the club."

I glanced at my phone on the bed, the screen lighting up briefly with a text from Adam. I didn’t bother reading it. The last thing I needed was to get lost in the complexities of my emotions tonight. I had enough of that in the past few days.

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my clutch and slipped on my heels, making my way toward the door. Kayla followed suit, the two of us walking side by side, a silent understanding passing between us.

"You ready?" she asked as we walked out of the room and into the hallway.

"Yeah," I said, my voice firmer than I felt. "Let’s do this."

The moment we stepped through the club’s entrance, the noise hit us—blaring music, pounding bass, the heat of a crowd that felt alive, electric. The darkened interior of the club was awash in neon lights, the flickering colours casting sharp, vibrant shadows over the packed dance floor.

Strobes sliced through the dim atmosphere, creating jagged lines of light that danced along the faces of the partygoers. The air was thick with a mix of perfume, cologne, and the distinct scent of alcohol, a cocktail of excitement hanging in the air.

The music was thumping with deep house beats and electric synths, each sending vibrations through my chest, the rhythm pulling at the edges of my body as if coaxing me into the chaos. The floor was a blur of movement, people lost in the music, some dancing, others talking loudly, all illuminated by the vibrant colours that seemed to change with every beat. The atmosphere was wild and uninhibited, the kind of place where people could leave their worries at the door and become someone else for the night.

As Kayla and I walked in, heads turned almost instinctively. The club’s energy shifted slightly, as if everyone was taking note of our presence. I caught glimpses of eyes following us—some curious, some admiring, others appraising us as we made our way through the crowd. The rhythmic pulse of the music seemed to become louder, more pronounced, as I adjusted my posture and tried to exude the confidence Kayla had been encouraging me to embrace.

With each step we took, the crowd parted, like waves pushing us forward, until we reached the bar area, where Cyrus, Leah, and Serena were already waiting. The trio were seated in a corner booth, drinks in hand, all of them laughing, the bright neon light casting a playful glow on their faces.

The moment they spotted us, their expressions lit up. Serena was the first to stand, her eyes widening as she took in our outfits, her lips curling into a grin.

"Look at you, AJ!" Serena exclaimed, her voice carrying above the noise, her gaze scanning me from head to toe. "You look like you just walked off the runway!"

I couldn’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm, feeling the tension I had carried throughout the day begin to melt away. "Thanks, Serena," I replied, adjusting my clutch and giving her a playful wink. "You’re looking gorgeous yourself, as always."

Leah followed suit, her eyes glimmering with approval. "Damn babe, you are on fire tonight," she added, her words teasing but genuine. She turned her gaze to Kayla, her smile widening as she took in her dress. "Kayla, you’re killing it too! That green is everything on you."

Kayla grinned, the compliment clearly lifting her spirits as she spun once in place, letting her emerald dress catch the light. "Thanks, babes," she said, reaching over to give Leah a playful bump. "I might have to steal some of that confidence from you tonight."

Cyrus, leaning back in the booth with his drink, grinned mischievously. His gaze flickered from me to Kayla, then back to me again, a knowing look in his eyes. "Well, damn," he drawled, his voice dripping with a mix of admiration and amusement. "You two have definitely raised the bar for the rest of us tonight. No wonder the whole club’s been staring."

I shot him a playful side-eye, rolling my eyes, though my lips tugged upward in a smile. "Don’t flatter us too much, Cyrus."

We each began to laugh, my anxiety easing almost instantly before Kayla grabbed my hand ushering me to follow her, “Come on. Let’s get on that floor before I start dancing without you,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

I hesitated for only a moment before I moved, the heels clicking sharply against the floor as I followed her lead. The moment I was on my feet, it was like the atmosphere shifted entirely. But now, with the lights casting bright flashes across our faces and the pulsing beats calling us, I felt the heat of the night settle around me like a second skin.

Kayla immediately moved forward, making her way toward the dance floor with an effortless sway in her step. The confidence she exuded was contagious, and I found myself smiling, following her toward the center of the chaos.

The space around us seemed to open up as we moved through the crowd, the sound of the music growing louder, the bass vibrating in my chest. The dance floor was packed, but there was a kind of energy here—an unspoken freedom that came with being surrounded by strangers, all of us lost in the rhythm.

When we finally reached an open space on the floor, Kayla started swaying her hips to the beat, her body moving with fluidity as if she had been waiting for this moment all night. I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the rhythm seep deep into me, then opened them to see her already spinning around, the confidence in her movements undeniable.

I let go of any lingering self-doubt. There was no room for hesitation here, not in this moment. I started moving, too. My body followed the beat, my feet shifting across the floor with growing confidence as the music filled every inch of the room. I felt the heat of the crowd around me, the sweat on my skin, the adrenaline building with every passing second.

The world around me seemed to fade away, and for those moments, it was just the music, the lights, and the energy of everyone dancing together. My friends were with me, but it felt like we were all connected by something bigger, something that didn’t require words or explanations.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed Leah and Serena had joined us, too, already getting into the groove, their movements carefree and natural. The energy was electric, and I couldn’t help but laugh as we all danced together, losing ourselves in the beat. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t thinking about Adam, or my mixed feelings, or any of the complicated mess that had been clouding my mind because of Jungkook. I was here, in the moment, with my friends, letting the music drown out everything else.

As the song shifted to a new track, I found myself feeling lighter, the worries slipping away. My body moved to the rhythm without second-guessing myself, and the freedom was intoxicating. Kayla caught my eye again, giving me an exaggerated wink as she twirled, her body twisting effortlessly to the rhythm. I laughed and twirled along with her, spinning with a sense of abandon I hadn’t felt in a long time.

The flashing lights, the laughter, the music—it was everything I needed, even if only for tonight. A distraction. A release.

I let the moment carry me away.

The music shifted again, this time into a faster beat, and the energy on the dance floor seemed to intensify. The crowd around me surged, and I was lost in the rhythm, my body moving to the pulse of the music with abandon. Kayla was beside me, laughing and twirling, and I felt a sense of freedom I hadn’t allowed myself in a long time. The air felt thick with excitement, the weight of the night lifting with every beat.

Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me—too close, too insistent. A guy had sidled up, his hand brushing against the small of my back as he tried to press his body closer to mine. I froze for a split second, my body tensing at the unwelcome contact.

I knew the signs—knew exactly what he was trying to do, and it was the last thing I wanted right now.

Without missing a beat, I twisted around sharply, stepping back to put some distance between us. My gaze shot up to meet his, irritation flashing in my eyes. "I’m not interested," I said firmly, the words sharp, cutting through the music that was still pounding around us.

The guy, clearly a little taken aback by my response, hesitated for a moment before he gave me a sleazy grin. "Come on, babe," he said, his voice slurring just enough to make me cringe. "You’re too pretty to turn down."

I took another step back, my hand raised as if to ward him off. "I said, not interested, back off before I make you regret it," I spoke, my tone unwavering. I wasn’t about to let some random guy ruin my night. 

The moment I spoke the guy’s smirk faltered, and his eyes flickered with annoyance. But before he could say anything else, I saw a familiar figure approaching from behind—Cyrus, Leah, Kayla, and Serena. They were making their way over, their expressions shifting from casual to serious when they saw the tension in the air.

"Is there a problem?" Cyrus asked, his voice low and commanding, stepping up beside me with Leah and Serena right behind him, all of them looking directly at the guy. Kayla stood beside him, ready for whatever might come next.

The guy looked at Cyrus for a moment, sizing him up, then his lips twisted into a sneer. "Fuck off," he spat, clearly trying to intimidate him.

Leah’s eyes narrowed. "I know you didn’t just tell my best friend to fuck off," she snapped, her tone venomous, and I could see the fire in her eyes. She wasn’t about to let him get away with that.

The guy just smirked, not backing down. "Shut up, bitch," he shot back, his voice laced with anger.

I felt the heat rising in me, but before I could respond Kayla was already stepping forward, her hands clenched into fists. "That’s it," she said, her voice firm. And before anyone could stop her, she lunged at him.

In the blink of an eye, she tackled him to the ground, pinning him with surprising force. "You don’t talk to my friends like that!" she yelled, landing a hit to his shoulder. The others joined in, rushing forward to help hold him down as he struggled beneath them.

I couldn’t believe it. My mind was still reeling from what had just happened, but now, my friends were really going for it. They were hitting him all over, pushing him down further as the guy flailed, shouting curses.

"Guys, stop! We’re going to get kicked out!" I tried to shout, my voice rising above the chaos, but it was hard to get their attention amidst the loud struggle.

Leah grabbed the guy by the collar and pulled him up just enough to lock him in a chokehold, her muscles tense with the effort. "That’s what you get for fucking with us," she spat in his ear, her voice deadly calm despite the intensity of the situation.

Serena, meanwhile, had pulled out her phone and was recording the entire scene, laughing like she was watching a movie. "This is going viral," she said between giggles, holding the camera just above the guy’s flailing head. The whole thing was almost surreal, but it didn’t seem to stop any of them.

Suddenly, the club’s security appeared, two towering figures marching toward the scene, their eyes scanning the chaos before they moved in to break it up. One of the guards reached down, pulling Leah off the guy, while the other held back Kayla, who was still itching to land another hit.

The large, imposing figure of one of the guards grabbed the guy and began dragging him outside, his hand gripping the man by the collar like he was nothing more than a ragdoll. He barely had time to process what was happening before he was roughly escorted away.

Once the guy was out of the way, the other bouncer turned to us, his face still stern but less angry now that the situation had calmed. "What happened here?" he asked, looking at us for an explanation.

I could feel my heart still racing, but I quickly spoke up, trying to keep my voice steady. "He tried to touch me and I rejected him," I said, the words coming out sharper than I expected. "But he wasn’t getting the message and then got aggressive."

The bouncer’s face darkened with anger. "I’m sorry about that," he said quickly. "We’ll make sure this guy is dealt with. He won’t be allowed back here again." He seemed genuinely apologetic, giving us a nod of reassurance.

Leah, always the one to add a bit of flair to everything, laughed, elbowing Cyrus and Kayla as the bouncer turned away to deal with the guy. "We definitely gave him a lesson in respect," she said with a grin.

Kayla joined in, shaking her head. "Badass is an understatement," she said, her voice playful but full of pride. 

Serena, who had been holding her phone the whole time, flashed it at us. "I am definitely posting this," she said, giggling. "What a scene."

"Totally," Kayla added, throwing an arm around Leah's shoulders. "We make one hell of a team."

Cyrus smirked, shaking his head. "Now I don’t know about you guys, but I think it’s time to get drunkkkkk!"

That was all the encouragement we needed to let the night take us wherever it wanted, to throw ourselves headfirst into the chaos without hesitation. The bar gleamed under the neon lights, shots lined up like soldiers waiting to be taken, their amber and jewel-toned hues reflecting the pulsing glow of the club.

Without a second thought, we grabbed them, our hands brushing as we lifted the glasses in an uncoordinated but enthusiastic toast, the crystal-clear clink barely audible over the pounding music. The liquor hit hard, burning its way down our throats, but instead of slowing us down, it only seemed to ignite something reckless in our blood, something untouchable and wild.

The games started innocently enough, a round of Never Have I Ever that quickly unravelled into Truth or Dare, and before long, we weren’t even keeping track of the rules anymore, downing shots for reasons that no longer made sense but felt completely necessary in the moment.

Kayla, her eyes glassy with amusement and mischief, turned to me with a smirk, barely steadying herself as she pointed in my direction. “You,” she declared, pausing for dramatic effect as if she were about to deliver the most important decree of the night, “are getting on that table. Right now.”

There wasn’t a single part of me that wanted to refuse. The second I climbed onto the wobbly wooden surface, the entire room seemed to pulse with me, the bass of the music thrumming through my bones, my heartbeat syncing to the deep, vibrating rhythm as I threw my arms up and let myself move without thought, without hesitation, without care.

The world tilted, but whether it was from the drinks or the sheer euphoria of the moment, I couldn’t tell, nor did I want to. Below me, Cyrus whooped, his drink splashing over his fingers as he lifted it in celebration, while Kayla cackled, phone in hand, capturing every second as she screamed, "ICONIC!" at the top of her lungs.

Time became something fluid, impossible to track, slipping away into a blur of flashing lights, tangled limbs, and breathless, full-bodied laughter that made my ribs ache. We danced until our legs could barely hold us up, drank until the floor beneath us felt more like the deck of a rocking ship than solid ground, and clung to each other as we navigated through the intoxicating, exhilarating chaos of it all.

At some point, walking in a straight line became laughably impossible, but none of us cared, our bodies colliding as we stumbled together toward the exit, barely able to stand yet unwilling to let the night end just yet.

By the time we spilled onto the street, the cool air wrapping around our flushed skin in a welcome contrast to the heat of the club, Kayla and I were holding onto each other for dear life, our laughter bubbling over as if we had discovered some great cosmic joke. And then, without warning, with the kind of certainty that only comes from being perfectly drunk and perfectly happy, we started singing—no, screaming—the words to Judas by Lady Gaga, our voices loud, unfiltered, and completely off-key.

"I'll bring him down, bring him down, down…"

We didn’t care who was watching, didn’t care that the lyrics came out slurred and slightly out of sync, didn’t care that we were stumbling over our own feet as we twirled dramatically beneath the flickering glow of a streetlamp.

"I'm just a Holy Fool, oh, baby, it's so cruel."

Kayla nearly collapsed from laughing, gripping my arm so tightly I almost went down with her, and for a moment, I thought my lungs might give out from how hard I was laughing too. The city stretched out in front of us, glittering with possibility, the night still thick with electricity, and in that perfect, delirious moment, we were invincible, untouchable, weightless, and completely, overwhelmingly alive.

I slurred to Kayla, "Uhhh, we need to go homeeeeeee."

Kayla pouted theatrically, her lower lip jutting out as she clung to my arms like a lifeline, her body swaying slightly with the lingering dizziness of too many drinks. “Nooo, I wanna drink more!” she whined, her words stretching out in a sing-song tone before she suddenly burst into a fit of giggles. Without waiting for my response, she spun on her heel and skipped—literally skipped—back inside, disappearing into the neon-lit chaos of the bar, leaving me outside. The night air was cool against my flushed skin as I stood there, swaying on my heels, laughing softly to myself for no reason at all.

The world tilted slightly, my vision blurring at the edges, but I barely noticed too busy continuing my dramatic off-key rendition of Judas. My limbs felt light, my thoughts even lighter, and for a moment I let my body move with the unsteady rhythm of my own amusement. But when I spun around, a little too fast for my alcohol-clouded coordination, I collided directly into something—no, someone.

A startled yelp escaped me as I stumbled backward, but before I could topple over completely strong hands gripped my arms, steadying me with a firm but careful hold. My head snapped up, my hazy vision adjusting as I blinked rapidly trying to focus on the person in front of me. My brain struggled to piece together features, but nothing was clicking, and instead of making an effort to figure it out I just grinned—big and goofy.

“Sorrrrryyy, mister!” I slurred, the words tumbling out in a bubbly mess accompanied by a breathless giggle.

The person’s hands remained steady on my arms, his grip grounding me just enough to keep me from toppling over completely. “Aylah?” he asked, his voice laced with something suspiciously close to concern. “Shit, are you okay?”

I squinted, tilting my head, my brain working overtime to connect the voice to a face, to a memory, to literally anything, but my alcohol-soaked mind had other plans. My lips parted in an exaggerated gasp of realization and I pointed dramatically at his chest.

“You’re not Aylah. I’m Aylah!” I declared, as if this was the most profound revelation in the world. And then, for absolutely no reason at all, I collapsed into laughter, my entire body shaking as the giggles took over, unstoppable and delirious.

The guy—whoever he was—did not look as entertained as I was. His expression shifted, brows knitting together as his grip on my arms adjusted slightly, as if debating whether or not I was about to completely collapse. “Are you drunk?” he asked, his tone hovering somewhere between amused and genuinely concerned.

I threw my arms out as wide as they would go, nearly losing my balance in the process but catching myself at the last second, wobbling like a cartoon character trying to stay upright. “Noooooooo!” I drawled, the word stretching out dramatically, full of false conviction and pure drunken energy.

His lips pressed into a thin line, and I could practically see the skepticism radiating from him. My grin only widened.

He let out a heavy sigh, the kind that sounded equal parts exhausted and resigned, rubbing a hand over his face before fixing me with a look that made it clear he had already made up his mind. “I need to get you home,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

But, of course, I wasn’t about to let that slide. “Noooo, I wanna drink more!” I whined dramatically, swaying on my feet, my body teetering forward before I caught myself on his arm, giggling as if gravity itself was a joke.

“No, you’re wasted,” he said firmly, his hands gripping my shoulders to steady me.

I opened my mouth to argue, fully prepared to launch into some kind of passionate, slurred defense, but before I could get a single word out, he bent down and, without warning, hoisted me effortlessly over his shoulder.

For a second, my brain short-circuited.

And then—

“WEEEEEEEEEEE!” I squealed, kicking my legs playfully like a child on a carnival ride, my arms flailing dramatically as if I were soaring through the air instead of being kidnapped against my will. “I’m flyingggg!”

“Stop swinging your arms,” he grunted, gripping me tighter to keep me from completely flopping off his back. “You’re going to be sick.”

I gasped, appalled at the mere suggestion that I wasn’t in full control of my body. “Nooooo, I would never!” I protested, but the words came out more like a giggle than an actual defense.

To prove my totally sober and responsible state, I patted his back reassuringly. Well—okay, maybe it was more like a slap. A loud, resounding smack echoed through the night air.

“Wow,” I mused, letting my fingers linger as if I had just made the most ground-breaking discovery of the century. “You have a really nice ass, mister.”

His entire body tensed, and I swore I heard him physically groan in frustration. “Aylah,” he warned, voice strained, “behave.”

But instead of taking him seriously, I just burst into laughter, completely unbothered, resting my chin against his back like a smug little gremlin as he carried me toward his car.

Once we got there, he set me down carefully—probably out of fear that I’d just collapse like a ragdoll—and with practiced efficiency, he guided me into the passenger seat, reaching over to buckle me in like I was an overgrown toddler. I wiggled slightly, making the process as difficult as humanly possible, but he just sighed again, clicking the seatbelt into place before shutting the door with a firm thud.

Through the windshield, I watched as he leaned against the car, exhaling deeply as he pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen before he pressed it to his ear.

“Are your friends still inside?” he asked, glancing at me.

I nodded lazily, my head lolling to the side. “Mmmhmm.”

He clicked his tongue, clearly debating something in his head before grabbing his phone and speaking into it. “I need you to pick up some people up from Club Elysium,”

The person on the other end didn’t even hesitate before responding. “Jesus. What happened?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he could already feel a headache forming. “Aylah’s wasted. And not just ‘needs a glass of water’ wasted—fully gone. She tried to argue with me about her own name, called me ‘mister,’ and then—” He paused, exhaling sharply. “Then she smacked my ass.”

There was silence on the other end before a choked laugh broke through. “She what?”

As he talked, I just sat there, humming to myself, watching him through half-lidded eyes and thinking that, despite everything, he really did have a very nice ass.

After ending the call, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and turned to face me, his expression hovering somewhere between exasperation and reluctant amusement. “Alright,” he said, voice steady but firm. “Do you have your house keys with you?”

I blinked up at him, my alcohol-soaked brain struggling to process the question. My brows furrowed in deep concentration as if the answer was buried somewhere in the depths of my mind, just out of reach. Then, suddenly, a brilliant idea struck me, and I gasped dramatically, throwing my arms out wide.

“I live in the skyyyyyyyy!” I declared, dragging out the word as I tilted my head back to gaze at the night sky above, my body swaying slightly in my seat. The stars looked so pretty. So shiny. Maybe I did live up there. Who was he to say I didn’t?

He let out a long, tired sigh, rubbing a hand down his face, but I caught the way the corner of his mouth twitched, like he was trying to fight back a smile and failing.

“Aylah,” he started, his voice laced with patience he probably didn’t have. “You do not live in the sky.”

I gasped again, clutching my chest in mock offense. “How dare you?” I slurred. “I’ll have you know, the clouds and I are very close. I’m practically their queen.”

His head dipped forward for a second, as if he needed a moment to gather the willpower to deal with me. Then, after a deep breath he straightened, his expression resigned. “Fine,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m taking you to my place.”

I perked up at that, my grin stretching from ear to ear. “Ooooh, didn’t realise you had a crush on me.” I teased, wiggling my eyebrows. 

He groaned, reaching across to buckle me in again when I immediately started wiggling out of my seatbelt. “For the love of God, just sit still.”

I giggled, leaning my head back against the seat. “Your place better have snacks,” I mumbled, already half-asleep.

He sighed again, this time heavier, but as he drove off, I swore I heard him chuckle under his breath.

Jungkook’s POV:

As I drove through the quiet city streets, my gaze flickered to her every so often, a fond smirk tugging at my lips. She was an absolute mess—her makeup slightly smudged, her dress slightly wrinkled, and her hair a tousled halo around her face—but somehow, she still managed to look adorable. Her head kept lolling to the side, her eyelids fluttering as if she was fighting sleep, but the slow, even rhythm of her breathing told me she was already losing the battle.

The soft hum of the engine and the distant glow of streetlights cast a sleepy haze over the car. When I got stuck at a red light, I turned slightly, only to find that she had finally given in, completely knocked out. Her head had slumped forward at an awkward angle, her cheek pressed against her own shoulder, her lips slightly parted.

I exhaled through my nose, shaking my head with amusement before reaching over, careful not to wake her, and gently tilting her head so she rested more comfortably against the door. A quiet sigh escaped her lips, barely more than a breath, and she murmured something incoherent in her sleep, shifting slightly but never fully waking.

Noticing the way her bare legs curled slightly from the cool air, I grabbed my jacket from the backseat and draped it over her lap. She barely stirred, only nestling deeper into the seat, her fingers twitching slightly against the fabric of her dress.

Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into the parking garage of my hotel, the soft beeping of the car shutting off breaking the silence. I glanced over at her again, still completely passed out, her body limp and weightless in sleep. With a quiet sigh, I stepped out, rounding the car to open her door. The moment I unbuckled her seatbelt, she shifted slightly, her brows furrowing for a brief second before relaxing again.

Carefully, I slipped my arms beneath her, lifting her into my chest with ease. She was warm and soft against me, her breath fanning lightly against my collarbone as she instinctively nestled closer, her fingers weakly gripping the fabric of my shirt.

The elevator ride up felt longer than usual, the soft hum of the music filling the quiet space. Every few seconds, she’d mumble something unintelligible, shifting slightly but never waking, completely lost in whatever dream world she had stumbled into.

Finally, I reached my suite, nudging the door open with my foot before stepping inside. The room was dimly lit, the soft golden glow from the bedside lamp casting warm shadows across the space. Carefully, I laid her down on the bed, adjusting her so she wouldn’t wake up sore in the morning. She barely reacted, just curling onto her side with a small sigh.

With a smirk, I crouched down, gently sliding off her heels one by one so she wouldn’t be uncomfortable. Her toes flexed slightly at the sudden freedom, but otherwise, she didn’t stir.

After grabbing a pack of makeup wipes from the bathroom, I returned to the bedside, lowering myself gently onto the mattress beside her. She was still lost in sleep, her features soft, her lips slightly parted as she breathed in slow, even rhythms. The dim lighting of the room cast gentle shadows over her face, highlighting the remnants of the night—smudged eyeliner beneath her lashes, traces of lipstick fading from her lips, a faint flush on her cheeks.

I peeled open a wipe and, with careful hands, began to clean the streaks of mascara and eyeliner clinging to her skin. The cool sensation made her shift slightly, a quiet whimper of protest escaping her lips as she scrunched her nose and turned her face away.

I chuckled under my breath, running a soothing hand through her hair. “Just a little bit more, baby,” I murmured, brushing my thumb over her temple. “Then you can sleep.”

As if my voice alone was enough to ease her, she stilled beneath my touch, her body relaxing, her breathing deepening once again.

I worked quickly, wiping away the last traces of makeup before tossing the used wipes into the bin. Once finished, I pulled the blanket up over her, tucking it snugly around her shoulders to keep her warm. Just in case, I grabbed the small waste bin from the corner of the room and placed it beside the bed, knowing how the aftermath of a night like this could be unforgiving. I also set a bottle of water and some painkillers on the nightstand, within reach for when she woke up.

Satisfied that she was comfortable, I pushed myself up, ready to leave her to rest—

But before I could take a step, her fingers curled weakly around my wrist.

“Don’t leave,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with the soft vulnerability of sleep.

I froze, feeling something tighten in my chest, something warm and unfamiliar.

She was still mostly unconscious, her grip loose and drowsy, but the way she reached for me, the way she clung as if my presence alone made her feel safe, sent a quiet ache through me.

A small smile tugged at my lips.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I assured her gently, brushing a few loose strands of hair from her face. “I’m right here, baby.”

At my words, a faint, contented smile ghosted over her lips, and though her fingers relaxed, she didn’t fully let go.

I stayed for a few moments longer, just watching her, making sure she was truly settled before carefully slipping her arm back under the blanket. She barely stirred, her chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. With a quiet sigh, I stood and made my way to the couch, grabbing a spare blanket from the wardrobe. The plush cushions weren’t nearly as comfortable as the bed, but I didn’t mind.

Lying down, I draped the blanket over myself, folding my arms behind my head as I let my gaze drift back to her sleeping form. My body begged for rest, but still, I stayed awake just in case she stirred. Just in case, in the quiet vulnerability of sleep, she reached for me again—and if she did, I’d be right here.

[kunareads]

get it over with

sukuna x reader

you break down, and he holds you together, no questions asked.

masterlist

wc: 1.6k

love letter to the emotionally stunted girlies <3

content: established relationship (sort of), hurt/comfort, nothing explicit, reader breaking down, he loves you so bad, soft sukuna

+++

i’m wondering why it keeps thundering

it’s late.

sukuna expects to find you in his bed, buried in his clothes, curled up like you always are. his apartment doesn’t feel right when you’re not here—when he doesn’t see the shape of you sprawled across his mattress, dreaming in the space that somehow became yours without either of you saying it out loud.

if you are awake, you’re waiting for him. lights dim, a movie playing, stretched out on the couch like you own the place. you always greet him the same way—some lazy remark about how long he took, how you almost fell asleep waiting, how he should be grateful you stayed.

(he never says it, but he is.)

but the apartment feels wrong tonight, like it’s holding its breath.

he almost trips over your bag, your shoes, abandoned in the entryway. the lights are off, the city casting long shadows through the windows.

he pauses in the doorway, gaze sweeping over the space, something tugging at his chest. at first, he doesn’t see you.

then he finds you. on the living room floor.

small, curled in on yourself, arms around your knees, head bowed low. your jacket is still on, halfway down your shoulders, like you meant to take it off but didn’t get that far.

he watches.

you’re never like this. you hold things together better than anyone he knows. you walk through hell without flinching, without showing anything but that sharp, steady ease you wear like armor. he’s seen you pissed, triumphant, reckless. he’s seen you exhausted, on the edge of something dangerous, close to breaking but never quite there.

but this is different.

he stands there, his arms loose at his sides, breath even. it’s not hesitation, just unfamiliar ground. he doesn’t know what to do with the way your shoulders shake, the way your whole body folds into itself like something’s crushing you from the inside.

(you look like you’re trying to erase yourself. he hates it.)

something heavy settles in his chest. it’s not pity. not discomfort. some other nameless thing.

without a word, he moves. he crosses the space, lowers himself to the ground beside you, and pulls you in. his arms slip around you, steady and certain, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

won’t you just rain, and get it over with?

you don’t move.

your weight against him is hesitant at first, like you’re not sure if this is allowed. like you’re deciding if you can take this from him. he notices it in the way you hover, how your body stays tense, how you brace for something that never comes.

(you’ve never really asked sukuna for anything that matters. would you, if you knew he’d give you whatever you wanted?)

his arms stay firm around you, one hand resting at the back of your head, the other wrapped around your waist. it’s not cautious, not careful, just solid. like this is normal, even though it’s never happened before.

you smell like yourself, but also like the cold. like wind on skin, like you’ve been outside too long and the night air is still clinging to you. he knows you do that sometimes—wear yourself out on purpose, walking for hours, chasing exhaustion, outrunning whatever’s clawing at you.

it didn’t work.

because now you’re shaking, breath coming too fast, whole body trembling against him.

he feels it hit all at once. the sharp, shaky inhale you take before your body caves inward, the sudden weight of you collapsing against his chest, the way your fingers twist into his shirt, searching, clinging. like you don’t even realize you’re doing it.

you’re sobbing. hard.

sukuna doesn’t know if you even realize it. he doesn’t know if you care. you never let yourself break like this, not in front of him, not in front of anyone.

he waits for it to pass. hoping it does.

when you exhale—shaky, uneven, tired—he presses you closer, fingers curling into the fabric of your jacket like you might slip through his grip if he doesn’t.

something in his chest loosens when you don’t pull away.

he exhales too, slow and steady, trying to regulate you, trying to get you to follow. breathe with me. he doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t have to. you always match each other this way.

you do now, too.

without thinking, he nudges his chin against your temple. a small touch. nothing, really.

but you feel it. he knows because you react—just barely, a fraction of a shift, but enough that he notices. enough that it does something to him.

he leans back against the couch, pulling you with him, guiding you down until your weight is fully against him, your head burrowed in his chest, his arms holding you steady, no space left between the two of you.

(anyone else seeing this would think they were hallucinating. you, breaking. sukuna, holding you together. sukuna doesn’t care.)

you need him. he knows, even if you never admit it.

i see you rolling it, let’s get it over with

your breathing slows first.

it’s not steady, not even—just less broken. the sharp, gasping sobs soften, unraveling into something quieter, tired, worn down by their own force. your tears still soak through his shirt, warm and damp, but they come slower now.

your body follows.

slowly, gradually, exhaustion dragging at your limbs, pulling you under like a tide. it’s like your bones have gone heavy, like you fought it as long as you could. you’re sinking further into him without even realizing it.

(you’ve been holding your breath for years. he remembers when you started. he should’ve seen this coming.)

sukuna stays still, patient in a way no one would expect from him. he doesn’t move, doesn’t risk disturbing the way you’ve practically melted into him. just lets you stay, lets you breathe. lets himself hold you like this.

the room is silent except for your breathing, the occasional hiccup from your chest.

your body loses its tension, but his mind won’t stop running. it won’t stop cataloging everything—how small you feel, how he should’ve known, how he should’ve done something before it got this bad.

this is the first time you’ve ever let him see you like this. the first time you’ve let anyone see you like this. he wonders if you’ve ever been like this at all.

eventually, you sag against him fully, exhausted, the last of your resistance slipping away.

sukuna exhales too, low and steady.

something about it feels like a truce.

he doesn’t let you go.

even though your sobs have quieted and your breathing has evened out, even though the room has settled into silence. he keeps his arms around you. not tight, not restraining. just there.

he’s not good at this kind of thing.

he doesn’t know what people are supposed to say in moments like this. doesn’t know how to string together the right words to make any of it better. doesn’t know what you need.

so he leans down, murmuring against your hair, lips brushing your temple.

“’m here.” it’s not meant to comfort you, not exactly. just to ground you. to remind you.

you shift slightly, your face still against his chest, your breath warm through the fabric of his shirt. when you finally move enough for him to see you, your face is flushed, eyes red and swollen, lips parted like you’re still catching your breath. his heart squeezes hard.

(he can see the wheels turning in your head. you’re already trying to stitch yourself back together. he wants to tell you not to bother.)

he doesn’t comment. doesn’t smirk, doesn’t mock. he just looks at you.

for once, he doesn’t have anything to say. for once, you don’t either.

it’s rare, this silence between you. he’s not sure if he likes it.

then, after a long moment, voice quiet—

”you done?”

a beat. room to say no.

it’s alright, we can roll in the clouds

you pull back first.

slowly, carefully, like you’re testing the movement. you sniff, avoiding his gaze, wiping your face with your sleeves.

sukuna lets you go, but not completely. his hands slide down your arms, slow and deliberate, settling at your wrists. his fingers don’t press, don’t hold. they just linger.

you clear your throat, shifting like you’re trying to find a normal that doesn’t exist here. “we can get up now.”

he doesn’t budge.

he just gives you this soft smile, looking way too comfortable, leaning back against the couch, watching you like he has all the time in the world.

“you first.”

silence.

neither of you move. you stare each other down for a moment.

you sigh, rolling your eyes, but you don’t pull away. instead, you settle back into him, easy, instinctive, like it’s nothing.

he feels it—the weight of you against him, the way your body relaxes back into place, the quiet trust in the way you let yourself stay.

it does something to him, the lack of hesitation.

you wouldn’t do this with anyone else. he knows that much.

(you let him hold you like this once. a lifetime ago. laughing against his throat, warm and careless and half-asleep, burrowing into him like it was the most natural thing in the world. he almost forgot what it felt like.)

he tilts his head down, presses a kiss to the top of yours and lingers there, breathing you in. he stays there longer than he means to. when he speaks, his voice is quiet, soft in a way he’d never admit.

“crybaby.”

“asshole.”

but you’re smiling now.

[vikcacao]

Little doodle bc I'm actually not that big of a fan of how I characterized Yuuji in the last chapter (and how it ended lol) I got in the zone and forgot I wanted him to he lowkey depressed lmao

Chapter 4 might feel like a U turn for Yuuji's character, but trust me it's not, I'm just bad at writing

I'm also really stoked about mermaid culture, it's gonna be a pain in the ass for Yuuji it figure it out tho.....

[getosluts]

warnings: breeding k., pet names

husband!nanami kento who stares at you from afar like a stupid teenager with a crush and when you catch him he turns his head foward and focuses on something completely different as if he needed to hide it.

husband!nanami kento who doesn't walk with you without placing his hand somewhere on your body; holding your hand, your waist, placing his arm over your shoulders, locking his arms with yours...it doesn't matter, he needs to hold you somehow.

husband!nanami kento who got a huge baby fever when he saw you patting yuji's head with such a motherly smile and let his imagination run wild about you holding a little girl in your arms with his eyes and your nose.

husband!nanami kento who got touchier after that day, clingier, needier and when you decided to talk to him about it he hits you with a "you'd be such an amazing mother, sweetheart" making your heart flutter.

husband!nanami kento who now had you in missionary bellow him, kisses and marks being left on your neck and collarbones as his cock brushes against your cervix with every deep thrust, his filthy words coming out as pants and groans: "i'm go- ing to fuck a- ngh- baby into you" "goin' to look sooo- fuck- so beautiful carrying my- our baby, right, doll?" "you like that, huh? keeping me so deep, love"

husband!nanami kento who apologises if he was too rough as he massages your tired body in the bathtub, the feeling of his cum still inside you and you tease him, saying that you never thought he was this wild for breeding you, making him turn his head away in faux embarrassement as you chuckle.

[levisjinchuriki]

more to love - toji fushiguro

summary: toji loves a curvy woman and isn’t shy about it

warning: nsfw, curses, praise kink, dom!toji, chubby reader, body worship, afab reader, mention of female anatomy, mention of cunnilingus, backshots, petnames, spanking, booty rubs, fluff, smut, overstimulation

toji has always been a man who knows exactly what he likes, and when it comes to women, curves are at the top of his list. he’s noticed the weight you’ve put on recently and how your clothes hug you more than usual. when you’re near him, the way your curves catch his gaze doesn’t go unnoticed. every time you walk by, he can’t help but let his eyes roam over you, savoring the shape of your body, the way your hips sway and how your curves fit perfectly in the clothes you wear

toji can't help but bring you into his lap when you walk past him in your– now form-fitted– pajama pants. “you’ve been filling out, huh?" he asks as he gropes your thighs. everywhere i look, you’re getting even softer. these pants fit you perfectly now”.

toji's touch becomes more insistent. he’ll slide his hands under your shirt to feel your stomach pudge, loving how soft and squishy it is. “so pretty, mama. can’t get enough of you”

toji isn’t shy about making you aware of his appreciation for the changes in your body. the softness, the fullness—it’s all his to claim. the way toji touches you—unapologetically, with no room for shame— makes you feel so sexy. while you straddle his lap, his touch is possessive as he feels your hips, your stomach and your back rolls. “fucking perfect” he growls as he takes greedy handfuls of your ass

toji likes to absentmindedly rub comforting circles on your butt as you lay with him. you’ll be watching tv, laying on his chest and slowly falling asleep as he softly rubs you there. it's more of a comfort thing for him.

toji likes to take a nap on your stomach since he claims it’s the perfect pillow. he also is a sucker for your thighs and often rests his head against one as he cuddles your leg. when you run your fingers through his hair, he’s done for– falling asleep almost instantly every time

toji in the bedroom is another beast, and there’s no question where his hands will wander. he’ll make sure that ass is front and center, exploring, groping, teasing, and worshipping. toji will pull you into him, sliding his hands over her curves, especially when you’re bent over for him. he likes the control he has when his hands are on your hips, guiding you, making you move to his rhythm. he'll give you a few sharp smacks, especially if you’ve been teasing him with your movements. 

toji’s hands splay over your skin as you arch for him. he moves to caress the curve of your lower back before sliding lower, over the swell of your hips. he leans down, his chest brushing against your back as his lips press a searing kiss to your shoulder. “you feel so fucking good” he moans low and husky. his lips trail down your spine, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the way. his teeth graze your skin, playful and teasing while his hand slides over your stomach to hold you steady. “stay just like that” he commands softly. the way he holds you, the way he presses into you—it’s all-consuming. he knows exactly how to take his time, alternating between rough and tender, making you dizzy.

toji's backshots are mean. the grip on your waist is harsh as he lets out a low groan. his eyes lock on where you two meet and he’s almost hypnotized by the way your skin ripples under his movements. he feels too good that you can’t help but squirm in his grasp. “uh uh, c’mere” he mutters, his hands pressing down on your back to force a deeper arch that has you gasping. “where you goin’, huh?” he asks as he gives you a few spanks. the angle makes you gasp as he hits that perfect spot over and over. you reach back, weakly trying to push against his abs as you cry from pleasure, but it’s no use. “c’mon, baby. lemme have it”.

toji will tease you even more now since there’s more skin to work with. his lips run along your skin, leaving gentle kisses as his thumb brushing over the edge of your waistband. his lips trail higher, leaving warm, lingering kisses, and your breath catches when you feel his teeth graze against the soft flesh of your thigh. it’s not a gentle nip; toji’s bite is firm, enough to leave a mark, but you’re not complaining. he leans in again, his lips now pressing soft, teasing kisses on the bruised area, as if marking his territory. you can’t help but moan softly, your hands threading through his hair, urging him to continue. the way he’s focused on every inch of your skin, makes your pulse race. toji knows exactly how to drive you crazy, how to make you want him more with each deliberate touch.

toji's dream is to be smothered between your thighs as he eats you out. he loves overstimulating you. he does it on purpose so he can feel you squeezing your trembling legs around his head as he works you through your release. he’ll hold your legs open, kneading at the flesh as he pleasures you. and he won’t stop until you tap out

toji whispers “you’re everything i’ve ever wanted” when he's come down from an intense a few rounds. his hands are on you, lips pressed to your skin, and his voice low and filled with raw emotion. his praises make you feel completely cherished. toji isn’t just touching you—he’s worshipping you, wanting you to know just how much he loves every inch of you. and he makes sure to remind you constantly

—

a/n: thank you for reading!! i wrote another version similar to this, but with chubby toji!! you can read it here!

[tojisprettylittlething]

Chapter Twenty Three: Dinner with a Side of Danger

Pairing: Assassin!Toji Fushiguro x Assassin!Reader

Warnings: Explicit content, smut, rough play, public setting, dangerous flirting, blood, violence, Absolute filth. Face sitting, oral (m & f receiving), overstimulation, hair pulling, spit, throat-fucking, slight dumbification, dirty talk, degradation, praise, mild choking-- its sad...

Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It was supposed to be a simple date night. A fancy dinner, some wine, a little bit of fun. But when you and Toji Fushiguro made plans, nothing was ever as simple as it seemed.

You stood in front of the mirror, slipping on your dress. The dark red silk clung to your curves, the slit in the side revealing just enough leg to make your heart race. You looked fucking dangerous. But you weren't done yet.

You heard a soft knock on the door, and before you could even respond, it creaked open.

Toji stood there in his black suit, a dark shirt underneath, his tie half-done, sleeves rolled up just enough to show the muscles of his forearms. He stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto you.

You turned to face him fully, a teasing smile curling your lips. "Like what you see, Mr. Fushiguro?"

He didn’t respond with words. His gaze slowly raked over your body, lingering on your exposed skin. His lips twitched into a small smirk. "Damn right I do, Mrs. Fushiguro."

You chuckled, tossing your hair back over your shoulder as you grabbed your heels. He stepped closer, moving with a casual confidence that made your pulse pick up. "I think I look better than you today," you teased.

Toji’s grin widened, and before you could blink, he had you backed against the wall, one hand on your waist, the other tugging your chin up to his lips. "If you think you look better than me, babe, you’re seriously delusional," he murmured against your mouth, his lips brushing yours in a soft, slow kiss.

You could taste the remnants of his cologne as his tongue slid against yours, deepening the kiss just enough to make you dizzy. Your hands slid down his chest, tugging at his suit jacket, impatient, needy.

A low growl escaped his throat when you cupped his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt.

Without warning, you pulled him closer, grinding your body against his. His eyes darkened, and a devilish smirk crept onto his lips. "Someone's eager," he muttered.

You didn’t answer. Instead, your hands slid lower, reaching for his belt, tugging it free with a sharp motion. You needed him, right there, right now.

But, just as quickly, he stopped you, grabbing your wrists gently but firmly. "Not tonight," he whispered, his voice thick with desire. "We have a dinner to get to. Don’t want to ruin your appetite."

You cursed under your breath, but couldn’t help but laugh. "Fine. But only because you look so damn good."

Toji's grin grew, and for a moment, you both just took each other in. You hadn't even realized how much you needed a moment like this—just the two of you, letting the tension between you simmer without the distractions of work, violence, or the world outside your door.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You stepped into the restaurant, an upscale place in the heart of the city, the kind where everyone knew who you were the second you walked through the door. You didn’t care. Toji didn’t either.

You were seated in a secluded corner, a dimly lit area with a perfect view of the city skyline. The air was filled with the soft clink of silverware, the distant chatter of wealthy diners. But for you and Toji? It was just the two of you, lost in the world of each other.

You flirted like teenagers—teasing him with your words, giving him that sly little smile that made his breath hitch. You couldn't stop touching each other, even if it was just a quick brush of your hand under the table or a subtle graze of his thumb against your wrist.

"You're looking even better than before," Toji murmured, his voice low, just for you. His eyes held a dark amusement, scanning you as though you were his personal piece of art. "Are you trying to tempt me?"

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, "Maybe I am. What's it to you?"

His hand found your thigh under the table, fingers sliding up your dress, just a little higher with every word you spoke.

You let out a soft breath, your eyes flickering with lust as you shifted in your seat, feeling the heat between you both.

But, before things could escalate, a waiter arrived with your drinks. You pulled back, reluctantly, trying to maintain some semblance of decorum. But your eyes never left each other.

He handed you your glass of wine, and you clinked it against his. "To us," you said softly.

Toji nodded, his gaze never faltering as he sipped his drink. "To us."

And just as you thought you could finally breathe easy, something shifted.

A red dot appeared on the center of Toji's forehead.

You froze.

The subtle tremor of the dot—it was unmistakable.

A sniper.

Come the fuck on.

You barely had time to react. Your instincts kicked in before your mind could process. Without thinking, you grabbed Toji’s arm and yanked him under the table, the wine glass toppling over in the process.

"What the fuck—" Toji started, but you cut him off.

"Sniper," you whispered urgently, your fingers tight around his wrist. "We need to move."

He blinked at you, but the seriousness in your voice had him nodding instantly.

You didn’t waste time. The both of you sprang into action, moving fast, ducking under tables, barely dodging a few shots that definitely weren’t meant to miss.

Toji cursed as you grabbed a nearby waiter and shoved him out of the way, using his body as a shield to get to the back door.

Just as you reached it, Toji turned back to make sure no one was left behind. His sharp eyes flickered across the room before locking onto the figure on the far end of the restaurant—just another one of the snipers, barely visible behind a table.

You yanked him toward the door, and the moment you stepped into the alley, you both ran.

But just as quickly, the world you’d known before shattered. The peace of your date night evaporated into adrenaline-fueled panic. Because in this life, there was no room for slow reactions.

Only survival.

By the time you made it to the car, your pulse was racing, the thrill of escape still clinging to you both. The streets outside were dark, deserted—a perfect setting for a fight.

Toji checked his gun, ready for whatever came next. "You good?" he asked, his eyes narrowed, his voice rough from the tension.

You gave him a quick nod. "For now."

But something about tonight—about this life—felt more real than it ever had before. The chaos was never far behind, and the danger would always follow.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

By the time you both got home, you were fucking done.

You yanked off your heels the second you walked through the door, tossing them somewhere into the abyss of your shared home. Your body ached from the tension, your skin hot from the adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

“That was fucking brutal,” you muttered, reaching back to try and unzip your dress.

Toji leaned against the doorframe, watching you struggle with that shit-eating smirk of his. “Need help, sweetheart?”

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. “No, I got it.”

You didn’t got it.

The zipper refused to budge, stuck halfway down your spine. You groaned in frustration, twisting your arms in a way that was probably comical, but you were too fucking irritated to care.

Toji chuckled, his voice low and amused. “C’mere.”

You huffed but stepped closer, letting him turn you around. His fingers brushed against your back as he grabbed the zipper, his movements slow—too slow. The fabric loosened, slipping off your shoulders, and Toji took his time peeling it down, his fingers tracing along your spine, sending shivers down your body.

“That’s better,” he murmured, voice thick with something dangerous.

Your breath hitched. He was too close, his body radiating heat, his cologne still clinging to his skin. His fingers grazed your waist, his thumbs pressing lightly into the dips of your hips.

“Toji…”

“What?” His lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot, teasing.

You turned around, meeting his gaze, only to realize he was looking at you like you were something to devour.

That tension? Yeah, it snapped.

His mouth was on yours before you could process it, hands gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him. The kiss was rough, desperate, hungry. You moaned into his mouth, fingers tangling in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp.

Toji growled, deep in his throat, before lifting you—easily—and carrying you straight to the bedroom.

The dress? Gone.

His clothes? Also gone.

The second your back hit the mattress, he was between your legs, lips trailing down your stomach, hands gripping your thighs.

“Been wanting to take you all night,” he muttered against your skin, his voice dark, teasing.

“Even though we literally almost died,” you said, breathless.

Toji just laughed. “Exactly.”

And then? His mouth was on you.

You gasped, arching off the bed as his tongue worked you open, slow and fucking deliberate. He sucked, licked, devoured—his grip on your thighs tightening every time you tried to squirm away.

“Toji—fuck,” you choked out, fingers twisting in his hair.

He groaned against you, the vibrations sending a sharp wave of pleasure through your body. You could barely breathe, your mind foggy, your thighs trembling.

And just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore—just when you tried to push him away, whimpering from the overstimulation—he grabbed your hips, hard, dragging you back down the bed.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he rasped, his voice dark, possessive.

“I—I can’t,” you panted, trying to crawl away, legs weak.

Toji’s grip tightened. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, flipping you onto your stomach in one smooth motion. “We’re just getting started.”

And yeah—you were fucked.

You had tried to escape.

That was your first mistake.

Toji had you flipped onto your stomach, your cheek pressed into the sheets, your body already trembling from the aftermath of his mouth. But he wasn’t done—not even fucking close.

One of his large hands was splayed on your back, pressing you down while the other hooked under your hips, lifting them just enough for him to position himself right behind you. You barely had a second to catch your breath before—

"Ahh—!"

Toji sank into you in one deep, brutal stroke, stretching you open, the burn sharp and addicting. Your fingers clawed at the sheets, toes curling as a breathless moan tore from your throat.

"Fuck—" His voice was dark, guttural, hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise. "You’re squeezin’ me so tight, baby. That pussy missed me?"

You whimpered, the feeling too much, too raw, too deep. You had already been on edge from the way his mouth ruined you earlier, and now this? Now this?

Toji let out a low chuckle, rolling his hips in a slow, teasing thrust, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. "C’mon, sweetheart, I asked you a question."

Your brain was melting, turned into something stupid and needy as he started thrusting into you in a brutal, unrelenting pace, hips snapping against yours. Every stroke punched a noise out of you—sharp, breathy cries that only made him go harder.

"Yes," you gasped, back arching, body jolting with every movement. "Fuck—yes, I missed it—!"

"That’s my girl," he growled, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking you back, forcing your spine to curve. Your head lolled back onto his shoulder, his lips grazing your jaw, your throat, as his free hand traveled down to grip your neck.

"You always talk so much shit," he muttered, squeezing lightly, just enough to make your breath hitch. "But you break so fuckin’ easy."

You could barely think, could barely breathe, drowning in the heat of his body, in the relentless way he owned you.

And then he moved again—one sharp thrust that sent a white-hot pulse of pleasure ripping through you, making you cry out.

"Right there—?" Toji smirked against your ear. "Yeah? That’s it, huh?"

You were gone—reduced to nothing but moans, gasps, whimpers as he kept hitting that perfect fucking spot over and over again.

"Toji—fuck, fuck, fuck—"

His fingers tightened around your throat, just enough to make your head feel light, your body sinking deeper into the pleasure, into the haze of his touch.

"You close, baby?" he murmured, rolling his hips in a deep, slow grind that made your toes curl.

"Yes—"

"Yeah?" He slammed into you, making you jolt with a sharp cry. "Too fuckin’ bad."

You barely had time to process his words before he pulled out completely, leaving you empty and aching.

"No—!" You whined, trying to push back against him, desperate to feel him again. "Toji, please—"

He laughed, smug and mean, gripping your waist to stop you from grinding back on him. "Look at you. So fuckin’ desperate. Thought you were tough?"

Your face burned, but you didn’t care. You were too far gone, your body trembling, slick dripping down your thighs. "Toji," you whimpered, pushing back against him again.

His hand cracked down on your ass in a sharp slap. "Use your words."

You bit your lip, swallowing your pride. "Please, Toji—please fuck me—"

"That’s more like it."

And then he was on you again, forcing you onto your back before he pinned you down, spreading your thighs wide. He was over you, eyes dark, lips curled in a dangerous smirk as he lined himself up again—

Then he slammed back inside, making you arch off the bed with a strangled scream.

You lost track of everything after that.

Toji fucked you stupid—fast, rough, deep. He had you on your back, then flipped you over, then dragged you to the edge of the bed just so he could pull you back onto him with every thrust. His hand never left your body, gripping your waist, your throat, your jaw—wherever he wanted.

He pressed your knees to your chest, folding you in half as he pounded into you, his lips hot against your ear. "Gonna cum for me, sweetheart? Look at you—so fuckin’ perfect for me."

You nodded, tears pricking the corners of your eyes, your entire body trembling. "I—I can’t—"

"Yes, you can," he growled, slamming into you harder. "Gimme one more, baby."

Your body gave in. You shattered around him with a loud moan, back arching, vision going white as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

Toji groaned, his grip on you tightening as he fucked you through it, letting you ride out every second of your high.

And then—one last deep thrust—his body tensed—

"Fuck—"

You felt him cum deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he spilled into you, his grip tightening, his breath ragged against your skin.

You both stayed like that for a moment—your body twitching, his chest rising and falling, heat pooling between your legs.

Then, with a low chuckle, he finally pulled out, flopping down beside you. You could barely move, your limbs jelly, your skin covered in a thin layer of sweat.

Toji rolled onto his side, dragging a lazy hand over your stomach before smirking at you. "So," he murmured, way too smug, "still mad about dinner?"

You glared at him. "Fuck you."

He laughed, leaning in to press a slow, teasing kiss to your lips. "You just did, sweetheart."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Your body was still trembling, the room thick with sweat and the scent of sex. Your limbs were useless, body heavy with exhaustion, yet somehow, someway, your mouth was still running.

"Wanna go again?"

Toji turned his head to look at you, disbelief flickering in those dark, sharp eyes. His body was still draped in the aftermath of your last round—chest rising and falling, muscles still twitching, damp with sweat.

Then, his lips curled into a smirk.

"You're insane."

You shrugged, already sliding down the sheets, your body moving on instinct. "Maybe."

Before he could say anything else, you were on him—pressing him down onto the mattress, your lips trailing over his chest, down his stomach, dragging your tongue along the dips of his muscles.

"Shit—" Toji sucked in a sharp breath, his cock twitching against his thigh. "You're fuckin’ serious?"

You didn't answer. Instead, you wrapped your fingers around his base, already half-hard despite the way you had wrecked each other just minutes ago.

"Jesus fuckin’—" His head tilted back, jaw clenching, as you dragged your tongue along the length of him, slow, teasing.

He was already throbbing in your grip, already growing harder, thick and heavy on your tongue as you kissed down his shaft, spit trailing from your lips.

"You’re fuckin’ insatiable," he muttered, voice rough, hand already finding your hair, curling his fingers into the strands.

You hummed, looking up at him through your lashes, mouth parting as you dragged your tongue over the tip, tasting him, teasing him, before—

You took him in.

Toji’s groan was filthy, deep and wrecked, his hips twitching up as your mouth stretched around him, swallowing him down inch by inch.

"Fuckin’ hell," he groaned, his fingers tightening, yanking at your hair as you took him deeper, your throat clenching as he hit the back of your mouth.

"Shit—shit," he gritted, his free hand gripping the sheets, his muscles tightening as you sucked him down, lips wrapped tight around his cock. "Fuckin’ look at you."

You let out a soft moan around him, sending vibrations up his length, making his hips jerk.

"Goddamn."

Your fingers dug into his thighs as you bobbed your head, hollowing your cheeks, your tongue tracing the thick vein along the underside of him.

"Takin’ it so fuckin’ well—"

You felt his grip tighten in your hair, felt his abs clench, his breathing turn ragged.

"Fuck—sweetheart."

You barely had time to react before he snapped.

Toji’s grip in your hair tightened, his other hand moving to the back of your head as he thrust up, shoving his cock deep into your throat.

"Mmph—!"

Your eyes rolled back, spit dripping down your chin as he held you there, his cock heavy on your tongue, your throat tight around him.

"Yeah—just like that," he groaned, jaw clenched as he rocked his hips, fucking into your mouth, slow, deep strokes.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, your throat burning, but you took it.

"So fuckin’ good for me," he rasped, voice wrecked, his fingers stroking your cheek, brushing against the wetness there. "Such a good fuckin’ girl."

Your nails dug into his thighs, your body burning, heat pooling between your legs again.

"Shit—‘m close—"

You hummed, sucking harder, your throat tightening as he groaned, his hips stuttering.

"Fuck—fuck—"

And then—

He came.

His body jerked, his grip tightening as he spilled down your throat, thick, hot spurts that you swallowed without hesitation.

"Jesus fuckin’ Christ—"

Toji finally released you, his grip going slack, his chest rising and falling in deep, ragged breaths.

You pulled off him with a soft gasp, wiping the spit from your chin with the back of your hand.

He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. "You’re gonna kill me, sweetheart."

You smirked, crawling up to straddle his waist, pressing a slow, lazy kiss against his lips.

"Then you better not die first."

Toji groaned into your mouth, his hands still gripping your waist, holding you close, his lips still swollen from how desperately he had kissed you.

Then, in that rough, husky voice, he murmured—

"I’m hard again."

Your brow furrowed, lips parting slightly. "You’re kidding."

He just smirked, pressing his hips up against you, and—holy shit—he wasn’t kidding.

"Toji..."

"What?" His tone was lazy, teasing, his lips dragging along the corner of your mouth, down your jaw. "You’re the one who asked if I wanted to go again."

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd—"

He rolled his hips again, the thick, heavy press of him making you gasp, making your thighs twitch around him.

"Didn’t think I’d what, sweetheart?" He murmured against your neck, voice like gravel. "Wanna wreck you all over again?"

Your breath hitched. His fingers tightened their hold on your hips.

"Come on, baby," Toji murmured, voice all silk and sin as he flipped you over in one smooth motion, pinning you beneath him. "You can take it."

Your body was already buzzing, still sensitive from the last round, but—fuck—you wanted it.

You tilted your chin up, staring him down. "Prove it."

Something dark flickered in his gaze.

"Oh, you’re in for it now, sweetheart."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The next thing you knew, your back was against the mattress, your legs thrown over his broad shoulders.

"Toji—!"

"Shh," he hummed, kissing the inside of your thigh. "Be a good girl and keep those pretty legs open for me, yeah?"

Before you could respond, his mouth was on you.

"Oh—fuck—"

You threw your head back, a breathless gasp ripping from your lips as his tongue licked a slow, obscene stripe up your slit.

"Taste so fuckin’ good," Toji murmured against you, voice thick with hunger. "Could eat you all night."

He sucked your clit into his mouth, and you arched, a broken whimper spilling from your lips.

"Toji—fuck—"

"That’s it, baby—grind against my fuckin’ face."

His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you open, keeping you still as he devoured you, his tongue flicking against your clit in quick, sharp motions that had your eyes rolling back.

"Oh—fuck—fuck, Toji—"

Your fingers dug into his hair, tugging hard, but he just groaned, his grip tightening, keeping you right where he wanted you.

"You can take it," he murmured against you, his voice wrecked, lips wet, spit glistening on his chin. "Be a good girl and take it, yeah?"

You shuddered, hips rolling against his mouth, chasing the pleasure he was forcing out of you.

"Shit—shit—Toji—I'm gonna—"

"Go on, baby."

One, two, three flicks of his tongue—

And you broke.

Your thighs shook, your back arching off the bed as your orgasm hit you, your vision going white, your body trembling.

Toji didn’t stop.

"Toji—!"

"Mm-mm." His grip tightened on your hips, holding you down, keeping you in place as he licked you through it, dragging his tongue through your slick folds, relentless. "Not done yet, sweetheart."

You whimpered, legs trembling, your body already overstimulated, but he didn’t care.

"Too much—fuck—shit—"

"Nah," he chuckled against your heat, pressing a kiss to your soaked folds before pulling back, his lips shining with your slick, his eyes dark, hungry. "We’re just getting started."

You barely had time to breathe before he was flipping you over again, pressing you into the mattress, his body covering yours.

His cock pressed against your entrance, thick and hard and aching, and he leaned down, lips brushing against your ear—

"I’m gonna ruin you, sweetheart."

And then—

He slammed into you.

You screamed, your body arching, eyes squeezing shut as he filled you to the hilt in one smooth, punishing thrust.

"Toji—fuck—"

"Yeah, that’s it," he groaned, pulling out only to slam back in, your walls fluttering around him, still soaked from your last orgasm. "Fuckin’ take it."

Your nails clawed at his back, your breath ragged, every nerve in your body on fire.

"Oh—oh fuck—"

"That’s it, baby," Toji grunted, his pace brutal, ruthless, his hands gripping your hips so tight you knew there’d be bruises. "Take it like my good fuckin’ girl."

You moaned, head tilting back, giving him full access to your throat—

And Toji took full advantage.

His hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing just enough to send a fresh wave of heat straight to your core.

"Fuck—love this fuckin’ pussy—"

His lips crushed against yours, teeth dragging against your bottom lip, biting, tasting you, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

"Toji—fuck—gonna—"

"Do it." His grip on your throat tightened slightly, his other hand gripping your waist, forcing you down onto his cock. "Cum on my fuckin’ cock, sweetheart."

One more thrust—one deep, punishing snap of his hips—

And you shattered.

Your body convulsed, your vision turning white as pleasure crashed over you, a sharp, wrecked sob tearing from your throat.

Toji followed right after, his hips snapping once, twice—and then he was spilling into you, groaning your name against your skin, his body trembling from the force of it.

"Jesus fuckin’"

The only sound in the room was your ragged breathing, your body still buzzing, your limbs completely spent.

You felt Toji shift, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close against him.

"You alive, sweetheart?" His voice was rough, lazy, amusement curling at the edges.

"Barely," you muttered, nuzzling into his chest. "Asshole."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. "You love it."

"Hate you."

"Mm-hmm." He kissed the top of your head. "Hate you too."

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