One-shot Collection

by bluukive

Summary:

A compilation of all my jjk pieces that aren't part of any series :3

Chapter 1

Hi hi <3 This is where any jjk oneshots that aren't part of any series will be posted. I only write for Nananmi, Geto, Gojo, Toji, and Sukuna ^^

All work will be marked appropriately for nsfw and sfw

Chapter 2: Home is Where the Heart is - Gojo Fluff

Summary:

What's more endearing than your affectionate husband? Your drunk, affectionate husband.

It’s been exactly 23 minutes since your bumbling oaf of a husband came back home from a night out. After all, even the strongest needed some time to unwind. 

The front door slammed shut and a loud crash followed. It was most likely his gangling body colliding with the coat rack. Again. 

A groan. “W-who put thaaaat there?” he whined, long legs dragging all the way up the stairs. Too many of them, Satoru thought. He should probably hollow purple them all later. But only later, because right now? His lower lip was wobbling and there was a dull pain in his arm from crashing into the bedroom door. It swung open once he had a good grip on the handle, and alas, the tears started to fall. 

Satoru trudged over to the king-sized bed, not bothering to kick his shoes off. 

“I miss my b-bitchass wife,” Satoru sniffled, drunken words muffled by the increasingly sodden pillow that he had buried his face into. His heart ached terribly. How did anyone expect him to live without the love of his life beside him?

Satoru honestly thought he’d die without hearing your voice, so he fumbled about for his phone in one of the pockets of his tweed jacket once he was able to prop himself up on an elbow (trust your boyfriend to make the most questionable fashion choices). The intoxicated look in his eyes and the rosy cheeks would have been adorable if not for the fact that his nose was running from all of the dramatics, but Satoru couldn’t bring himself to care. With a quick wipe of his sleeve, his long, sluggish fingers went to work. 

Ring. Ring.

“Heeeeey gorgeous-”

“This isn’t your wife, Satoru. Wrong number.”

Click. 

Somewhere in the city, a tired sorcerer was exhaling out of his nose and clenching his jaw. How awkward.

Again, Satoru scrolled through his contact list with bleary eyes. Fuck, where were you?

Suguru? Not it. 

Shoko? Nah.

Mei Mei? Fuck no. He’d rather deepthroat a cactus than be associated with her, as he so loved to remind you frequently. 

But finally! ‘Wifey’, the contact name read. Satoru sniffed and tried pulling himself together before pressing ‘ring’, a giddy look in his twinkling blue eyes. The eager pants that left his lungs fell in sync with the rapid thuds of his heart.

Oh, he got to hear his beloved again! Joy to the world!

And what was even better was the fact that you answered on the first ring. “Yoohoo? What is my awfully drunk husband doing calling me at this hour?” you tittered, eyes crinkling further shut the wider your smile grew. 

Satoru swooned. God, what a dreamboat you were. His eyes fluttered shut as he rolled over onto his back, lower lip caught between his teeth. “Hmm? ‘M all fiiiiine and sober, I promise! I just m-miss you, that’s all…”

“No more lying, Mr. Cottonmouth. You are sooo drunk.”

A sniffle left Satoru. Your playful demeanour was getting to him good and proper. How did he get so blessed with a wife like you?

“...Toru? Don’t cry on me now, baby. Talk to me,” your voice called out, softening once the first telltale sign of your husband’s vulnerability came out. But whilst you were growing tender with Satoru, that same smile was still on your lips. 

“Well-” he tried to say, but his voice cracked. Satoru cleared his throat and began speaking once more. “I love you so goddamn much.”

And honestly, it warmed your heart to hear how he didn’t stammer through his declaration of adoration for you, even if no other words came as naturally to him.

“L-like, I think I’d die without you.” One pause.

“I just wanna crawl under your skin ‘n live there.” Another pause and a slight shudder.

“I want you to hold my heart in your hand ‘n feel it b-beat for you,” Satoru croaked out, shoving his face into his pillow once more. He felt so miserable that you weren’t there with him. 

But you should have been. You should have been laying there, head on his chest and one leg thrown over his hip as you both dreamt of each other. The fact that you weren’t doing that made Satoru’s heart clench so painfully.

And then he began wailing. Long, dramatic wails accompanied by hiccuping sobs that had you pulling away your phone from your ear with a wince. On and on the sobs went, and a deadpan expression slowly began appearing on your face. The game had gone on for long enough, and you missed your husband snoring like a baby beside you.

“Satoru. I’m quite literally beside you.”

Yes. Your husband, in his drunken haze, hadn’t noticed you in your shared bed. You were sitting up against the headboard, staring down at your pitifully hammered spouse. 

Click!

You both hung up your phones in silence, your shoulders bobbing as you concealed a fit of laughter. Satoru sat up slowly, clearly not amused.

His face was flushed nicely now, and not just because of the alcohol. His eyes remained blurry and unfocused, but indeed! You were sitting there with the biggest grin on your stupidly gorgeous face. 

“So y-you were just watchin’ me whilst I was pouring my heart out like a widow?”

You shrugged, shuffling over with a hand reaching out to tug your sulking husband closer. “It was cute. I like this side of you. Minus the wailing.”

“T-traitor. You’re such a traitor,” he groaned, the prank you had pulled sobering him up slightly. The embarrassment coursed through him as he lay down next to you, glassy eyes burning a hole through the ceiling. But hey! At least you were with him, right?

“...I feel stupid. Can you kiss me?”

“Wipe your nose first, you man-child,” your nose scrunched as you tossed a wad of tissues his way. 

In record time, Satoru had scrubbed his entire face dry and raw, then flopped onto you. He didn’t care that your fists were thumping at his chest. He didn’t care that he was slobbering all over your face and pecking you like an eager puppy. What mattered now was the fact that he was finally where his heart was.

With you.

Chapter 3: Touch Starved - Gojo Fluff

You’re not sure when the fixation began. All you knew was that it was slowly beginning to manifest as a growing itch, eventually gnawing at your mind with an unbearable intensity. Unfortunately for you, you were reserved by nature. Affection didn’t come to you naturally— in both giving and receiving. You’d shy away from your boyfriend, freezing at the briefest bit of contact.  

Sometimes, all you could do was ask the question— why was Satoru even with you in the first place?

Your boyfriend was always loud with his affection, dramatic proclamations of love spilling from his lips every day whilst remaining conscious of your boundaries. Satoru made sure to look you in the eye before initiating anything, the deep blue twinkling regardless of whether you rejected his advances or not. He gave you time. He gave you space.

But now you don't want either. 

“Doin’ okay, sweetcheeks?” Satoru’s voice brought you out of your thoughts as you watched him cook breakfast. Your head rested in your hand, legs swinging from where you sat on the countertop. He was facing you now, sunlight dancing over his fair lashes. Your boyfriend was simply stunning. 

Your throat dried up— as it usually did when you felt vulnerable. You nodded, but the lie felt wrong. You shrugged, then shook your head with a sigh. 

Satoru doesn’t push you to elaborate. He merely watched with those glinting eyes, sizzling pan set down onto the stove. The lopsided grin he usually gave you melted into one that was much softer. He didn’t want to scare his pretty girl off.

His lack of response prompted you, urged you to fill the silence. 

“I kinda… want a kiss,” you begin, clammy fingers twisting into your hoodie,”but I don’t know how to tell you that.”

“You just did, my pretty,” Satoru coos out softly, trying not to let the glee on his face show.  His closed-off girlfriend wanted some loving, and he was more than happy to provide. He leans in closer— not enough to touch you, but enough so that the warmth of his body could soothe your frazzled nerves. 

Oh, he could have just jumped in delight when he felt your warm fingers circle around his wrist. One tug of his arm turns into two, until he’s snuggled up between your parted legs. 

The kiss didn’t come right away. A tender palm rubbed at your knee, massaging the bare skin in slow circles. 

For once, you didn’t flinch. Yes, the touch is foreign. Your heart lurched in your chest and your skin prickled with an uncomfortable heat. But you looked at Satoru, eyes boring into his as you silently pleaded for more. The taller man could sense the uncertainty, the way you questioned whether you were deserving of his touch. He saw it all. 

Your insecurity was uncalled for in his eyes. Satoru swore he’d never seen a being so divine before, and he was the lucky recipient of your love— regardless of whether or not you were able to reciprocate. If anything, he was the one that felt unworthy of even an ounce of your attention. 

Satoru wanted to use his words, but he felt as if they weren’t adequate enough to convey his undying devotion to you. Instead, his safe palms slid up your arms, gently coaxing the sleeves from out of your clenched hands. To be seen is to be loved, and your boyfriend saw the way you held all your tension in your body. He saw the way your shoulders remained stiff, the tight chest… He wanted to alleviate that, so he proceeded to cup each side of your face before leaning in for a lingering peck. 

Not on your lips, though. 

One soft kiss to your cheek.

Another one landed on your furrowed brow, easing the stress you held there.

Your two eyelids.

The tip of your nose. 

Finally, the corner of your lips. 

...

You’ve never felt lighter. 

Your boyfriend could tell you didn’t want to push for a proper kiss, but he was fine with that. Perfectly fine. He would happily wait until you wanted all of him, even if it took another day, another year, or perhaps— an entire infinity.

Chapter 4: T.H.I.N.K - Gojo Horror

Summary:

My own spin to the Mandela catalog series, proceed with caution

“This is a message for the citizens of Mandela County.”

Gojo was sprawled on the floor, and you were behind him on the couch with both legs dangling off of his broad shoulders. A hand curled into his white locks in an attempt to soothe—- you, him…both of you? You didn’t know, and it didn’t work. 

“If you see a person with biologically impossible characteristics, run away and hide.”

“Y’ever realise how weird it’s gotten? In this county, I mean. It’s too quiet,” Gojo murmurs, face impassive and illuminated by the static of the TV before you both.

“If you see another person that looks identical to you, run away and hide.”

Gojo’s voice was casual, as if he was trying to make light of the current situation. "Everyone’s acting weird, going missing… I don’t know. I don’t like it.”

“Refrain from any kind of communication—”

A sigh left the taller man's lips. Neither of you were listening to the broadcast, too busy reminiscing of the lost days where you could trust your own minds. 

“DO NOT REVEAL YOUR FEARS. They CAN and WILL be used against you.”

“I just miss the old times. I’m scared of being replaced,” his voice drops lower as he leans his head back into your hands. You couldn’t blame him, but silence met his ears. What could you even say to him? You decided to leave him where he was and go to bed.

“Know your place in reality.”

The TV flickered once, twice, before its light fizzled out into darkness. Gojo stood by the TV for the remainder of the night.

“Kill yourself. There’s not enough room for the two of us.” 

--· --- -··     ·· ···     -· --- -     ···· · ·-· ·

The house you shared with Gojo was cold. That was what woke you up the next morning. It was the kind of cold that crawled under your skin and welded your joints together with a painful stiffness.

It was also quiet. Too quiet—unusual, considering that by now, Gojo would’ve been hollering from the kitchen for you to wake up and hand-feed him pancakes. But he wasn’t.

You rubbed your bleary eyes, wincing at the way your muscles screamed in protest at the slightest movement. But closing your eyes again felt wrong. The creeping sensation that the space around you was both occupied and observed made you shudder—like your body hadn’t caught up with the fact that your presence had already been overwritten. You shrugged off the feeling—maybe to your own detriment, and made your way out of the bedroom with the distinct awareness of eyes lingering on you every step of the way.

Gojo’s room was empty when you passed by. Strange, but maybe he’d felt the cold too. When you peered into the kitchen, he was already sitting there. Two bowls of cereal rested on the dining table. Untouched. No spoons.

He was too still for your liking. You weren’t even sure if he was breathing.

With a hesitant tap to his shoulder, you whispered his name.

Gojo didn’t react at first—his body tense, shoulders squared. There was no obvious hostility radiating off of him, but everything about him felt… off.

Then—

“Oh, hi. Didn’t see you there,” he said in a voice that wasn’t quite right. It sounded like someone playing a recording, his mouth just a fraction of a second out of sync.

And that fraction didn’t escape you.

“Why are you just sitting here, you weirdo?” you asked with a weak smile, nudging his shoulder lightly. Gojo craned his neck up to look at you. A smile formed on his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. His neck moved too far. It stretched unnaturally.

It took everything in you not to react.

“Sleep well?” he asked, beginning to eat his cereal with a spoon that—hadn’t been there before. Gojo raised his arm, dragging the utensil to his mouth like it weighed a hundred pounds.

Another smile. One with too many teeth.

You lied as you sat across from him, palms clammy, gaze fixed firmly on anything but him. “I slept fine, I guess. You?”

“I don’t sleep. Not when you’re gone,” Gojo said. His hands paused mid-air before lowering slowly, unnaturally. Like marionette strings loosening.

“The fuck do you mean by that?” you huffed, squinting your eyes and trying not to betray your increasing dread. He sounded like Gojo—he even acted like Gojo, spouting some bizarre statement like always. But your eyes weren’t lying to you.

“Oh, you know. You close your eyes, and you’re just… gone. I don’t like it when you do that.”

…

“Yeaaah, you’re definitely weird today, haha.” A nervous laugh bubbled up in your throat, blood rushing to your head far too quickly. “Just gonna… excuse myself.”

You couldn’t bear to be in the same room as that.

With a faux grin stretched across your face, you got up and headed back to your room—your last safe place.

--· --- -··     ·· ···     -· --- -     ···· · ·-· ·

The T.H.I.N.K principle. That was all you could think as the days went by. Praying didn’t work. After all, how could you seek solace from a God who had been replaced one of them? 

T - Tell an authority figure about your encounter H - Hinder the alternate's movement I - Identify the class type N - Neutralize the alternate (If safe to do so) K - Know your place in reality

The cold remained in your house, a place that no longer felt like home. It didn’t leave, and neither did ‘Gojo’. His laughter still bounced around the building. He would hum songs, ones that didn’t exist. He’d freeze in place, head bent at an unnatural angle as the memories of what once was began to fade away.

You weren’t blind. It was all an act meant to charm, meant to persuade you that, yes, everything was okay. Nothing had changed, and Gojo was still the man you came to love all those years ago. 

Except he wasn’t.

The last week was draining as you carried out a covert observation, all whilst mourning the loss of the original Gojo. It was agonising— quiet, choked sobs filling the increasingly hostile atmosphere of your bedroom when the sun had set. You had to accept it. He was gone, replaced. All by a type 1 doppelgänger— an exact replica of him consisting of the slightest of flaws that gives his cursed nature away. 

You sat there on your bed, door locked firmly shut as you thought back to the change in behaviours. The breakdown was rapid— seemingly harmless behaviours increasing in sheer absurdity to the point where your own safety was compromised. Gojo’s fingers twitched more frequently at first. His pupils stopped responding to light. Within days, Gojo stopped blinking all together, eyes refusing to dry out.  

That… thing, was wearing his skin. And he was staring at you from outside of his body. 

A heavy weight sat beside you, the metal cold as it served as a silent reminder of what you must do in the worst case (and rapidly approaching) scenario. Neutralise the alternate. 

But a cooing voice brought you out of your thoughts. You sat up straight, eyes flitting to your bedroom door. It sat slightly ajar, the hallway outside pitch-black.

Didn’t you lock it? 

It was as if all oxygen had been choked out of your body. You swallowed, heart seeming to thump steadily in your throat. 

“Open the do-door! I h-haa-have a sur-surprise for y-ou-you!”

A singular eye between the crack of the door came into view.

Then two

Three.

Four.

Five. 

Six blue eyes. 

Six blue eyes that were fixated solely on you. You shrieked, hands fumbling for the gun. Hold it like he taught you to. 

“Ge— get away from me, what are you?!” 

Tears dripped freely from your eyes, blurring your view as you held out the gun in front of you. Both arms shook violently, skewing your aim before you slumped against the bed in defeat. Had you been praying to the one you sought an escape from unknowingly?

“I ha-have a pres-pre-present for yo-you!”

No one was coming to help.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there on the bed, knees tucked to your chest and fingers wrapped around the cool steel. But you were definitely sitting there long enough for those tears to disappear the longer its voice called out of you. The only thing you felt now was acceptance. 

No one was coming to help. 

“I’m ending things on my terms, you bastard,” you hissed, picking up the gun once more. 

BANG!

…

Uh-oh! Bad decision, y/n!

Chapter 5: From the Back - Gojo Smut

Gojo, who eats ass like it's his job. It doesn’t matter what position you’re in— he’ll make it work. After all, he's Gojo.

Duh.

If you're bent over, he’s spreading your cheeks with one hand and jerking off with the other. On your back? He’s folding you in half, strong hands pinning your thighs to your chest as he pushes his face right in, head shaking from side to side, and tongue dragging in slow and deliberate movements over your puckered hole until you’re squealing beneath him.

Oh, and he’s sooo obscene with it.

Gojo's humming against your rim like a fucking menace, lips sealed tight around it just to vibrate you from the inside out. He knows what he’s doing. When you clench, he giggles. Gojo doesn’t even pause, just pulls back with that cheeky grin and a breathless, “Yeaaah, yeah. I know it feels good, sweetcheeks." No pun intended.

A wet hole is a happy hole, according to him. And Gojo makes sure you’re dripping. He spits without warning— wet and obscenely loud, the slick noise echoing in your ears—then rubs it in with the pad of his thick thumb. Gojo watches it glisten. He watches it drip down, only to lean in and catch it on his tongue, slurping like the depraved freak he was. He'd pull back after practically french-kissing your hole, tongue running over his lower lip with a fucked out expression in his eyes.

As for the aftermath? You're shaking, and Gojo is breathless, panting like he's just ran a marathon. His lower face is soaked, glistening with a mixture of his spit and your slick fluids (of course he had to lick filthy stripes up 'n down from your ass to your front). Despite the utterly debauched state of himself, Gojo's proud of himself for reducing you to such a pathetic state. You could be bordering on the line between conscious and unconsciousness, and he'd still be up in your face, bragging over the fact that yes, he told you he'd make it talk.

Chapter 6: The Little Prince - Gojo Angst

Summary:

My own spin on The Little Prince

You were not always kind to him. This was your first and last confession.

Satoru Gojo was the epitome of perfection. He was as radiant as the sun itself, blue eyes holding the entire weight of the universe within them. Satoru was careless, he was bright— his energy capable of burning everyone down in his path.

To that, you grew thorns. You were stubborn. You had a sharp tongue. This all served to remind Satoru that you were impossible to hold. You weren't a fragile little thing. You were fully capable of handling whatever chaos he had to throw at you.

But at the end of the day, it was all just a lie. You were fragile. You were very much capable of getting hurt, despite the protective measures you took to keep everyone away.

But still, nothing hurt you more than when Satoru decided to leave you.

He was restless, he said. Satoru wanted to travel, to explore the cosmos beyond Asteroid B-612. His voice was wistful, eyes glittering with stars as he yearned to be free. Satoru would tell you of his dreams with hands reaching out, caressing and getting pricked by the thorns that resembled your lies.

Satoru grew tired of your teasing, lying, and incessant demands. Despite all this, he loved you, but only wished that you could give it back to him. Day by day, his urge to explore grew stronger.

So one morning, he turned to you and said, “I’ll be back soon.” And you, the ever-so-foolish rose pretended not to care once more.

Satoru left. Where your story ended, his had just began.

 

═══════

The first planet Satoru visited was a small one, ruled by an arrogant king. He sported four red eyes that blinked down lazily. Double the usual number of arms, too. The king sat upon a throne made from a mountain of skulls, blood staining his very path. With a wave of his hand and a scowl gracing his lips, he spoke in a tone that made Satoru's eyes widen. Bloodthirsty.

"Ah, a mortal. How cute."

Satoru tilted his head, confusion bubbling up in his voice. His white hair fell into his eyes, to which he brushed away with a slender finger. “Mortal, hm? I'm probably older than the stars themselves."

“Irrelevant, fool. You must obey me,” the four-eyed king insisted with a sneer.

Satoru only laughed at the king's words, hands idle by his side. “Obey you? Why would I ever do that?"

The arrogant king frowned. “Because I am all-knowing. I know what is best for my subjects. I command only what is right. If I say, ‘breathe,’ you breathe. If I say, ‘eat,’ you may .”

A scoff left Satoru, a king in his own right.

"Is there really a point of being a 'king' if you give out orders people would just do anyway?"

For the first time in his cursed existence, the king faltered. His throne seemed too small all of a sudden, meaningless.

Satoru turned around on his heel, a self-satisfied look on his glowing face. With one last look behind his shoulder, he spoke to the king.

“Your life seems rather drab, shallow without love,” Satoru said loud enough for him to hear. “I know of a singular rose who cut me down with her thorns sharper than any demands you may have for me. And yet, I couldn’t stop loving her."

Satoru left the king behind, his heart hammering and leaving behind an imprint on the tyrant.

 

═══════

The next planet was truly a spectacle, a marvel on its own. It glittered with mirrors, reflections at every turn Satoru took. In each and every one, a woman posed like a peacock ready for mating season. She spun in elegant circles, preening and basking in the attention. Her blonde hair spun with her, glossy and evidently well cared for.

“Admire me! Shower me in your praises,” cried the vain woman. “Can you see how utterly enchanting I look?”

Satoru leaned his arm against one shining mirror. “I mean, you're easy on the eyes for sure. But you're rather . . . soulless, no?"

The vain woman bristled, face falling momentarily before she continued her facade. “Clap, I say! Clap for me!”

Satoru gave the woman a singular, clearly sarcastic clap. “There. Is that enough attention for you?”

She ignored him.

Satoru turned to leave once more, but his movements faltered. He thought of you — especially the way you used to dismiss his self-boasting tendencies, the way you ignored the fact that he was the so-called strongest. How you'd mock his arrogance, the intensity of his gaze, his love for you. Despite this, deep inside? You absolutely adored him— so passionately that even your degradation spurred on his devotion for you.

Without looking back, Satoru left that planet.

 

═══════

On the third planet, Satoru found a drunkard bordering on the line of unconsciousness. He was slumped on the floor, lips slick with alcohol.

“Are you okay?” Satoru asked curiously, nudging the man with the toe of his boots. He noted that the lip of the drunkard was scarred.

“Yes. Drinking,” the man slurred, hand twitching beside him.

“. . .Why?”

“Forget. Let me forget."

“Hm? Forget what, exactly?”

“How ashamed I am.”

Satoru decided to crouch down, a frown marring his face. “And what is it that you are ashamed of?”

“Drinking.”

Satoru simply stared at him, torn between laughing at the irony or staying silent. He chose the latter. It didn't escape him how the circle of misery was cruelly perfect, inescapable. Satoru's mind then turned to his situation with you— how you had developed thorns in an attempt to keep him away. Yet . . . he still kept coming back. Again and again, his finger was pricked by your aloofness.

Until it was time for his departure from you, of course.

Satoru gently pried the bottle out of the drunkard's hand, setting it beside him as he drifted off into unconsciousness at long last.

"I know what that’s like," Satoru murmured, words falling upon deaf ears.

With shoulders heavy, Satoru resumed his travels across the cosmos.

 

═══════

This next planet was incredibly boring. It was stacked to the brim with mountains of paperwork scribbled with ink over them. In the center was a lone man with blonde hair and prominent cheekbones. He looked incredibly exhausted.

“I am making a tally of the stars in the sky above,” the businessman said curtly, not lifting his eyes from the typewriter before him. “They belong to me."

Satoru let out an incredulous scoff, coming around to peer over the business man's shoulder. “You? You can't own the stars. How do you do that?"

“By counting them,” the man replied, voice strained. He was growing incredibly frustrated.

Satoru thought to himself, the silence much welcome for the business man. Until he started talking again, that is. “I could tell you the number of times my rose had rolled her eyes at me. Does that mean I own her?”

The business man sighed, looking up for the first time during their brief encounter.

Satoru continued speaking. “You can't lay claim to something so . . . free. It'll only ever continue to elude your grasp, no matter how greedy you are."

The businessman grunted, ignoring Satoru's words. And so he left.

 

═══════

This next planet cheered Satoru up. Momentarily, at least. It was small, illuminated by a single source despite the fact that it was daytime.

“Good evening, stranger,” said the lamplighter. She was a young woman, eyes drooping with dark circles underneath.

“It's morning, is it not?” said Satoru, letting out a breathless chuckle.

“That is irrelevant. The orders say that I am to light the lamp at night and then extinguish it when the sun rises. Unfortunately for me, this planet spins so quickly that I am unable to get even a wink of sleep.

Satoru watched as the sleepy woman repeatedly lit and extinguished the light. His own chest felt hollow for a second. Such devotion, the lamplighter showed.

“I should have stayed with my rose,” Gojo muttered in a sullen manner. “I would have withstood a thousand more pricks of her thorns. I would have let her drive me insane if it'd mean that she'd be by my side."

The lamplighter did not hear him. She was too absorbed in her task.

 

═══════

Satoru arrived at the sixth planet. He came across a geographer sat at his wooden desk. His own eyes were alight, passionately writing away about distant planets he'll never see in his lifetime. He looked incredibly optimistic, his face stitched and blueish-grey hair spilling down his back

“Tell me about your planet," he borderline demanded, beaming up at Satoru.

Satoru could do nothing but shrug, blue eyes cast to the ground. “There's nothing much there at all. Only her."

“Who's 'her'?”

“My rose. She’s a stubborn one. Incredibly sarcastic, yet . . . so fragile.” Satoru's voice fell into a whisper. He couldn't trust himself to speak aloud in case his voice broke. “I needed her. I think she needed me. I don't know."

The geographer blinked, shaking his head with a sigh. “I can't write about temporary things. Roses wither, you know."

Satoru's face visibly dropped. A large palm slammed against the table, startling the adventurous geographer. “She’s not temporary to me."

But the geographer only resumed writing with a shrug, tongue peeking out from between his lips. "No permanent features. Interesting."

Satoru was shaken to the core. With that, he left for his final destination.

 

═══════

Satoru landed on earth, and it was there he had met a black fox.

"Come on, play with me for a while," Satoru practically demanded, trudging around after the creature.

“Unfortunately, I will have to decline," the fox replied, cautiously sitting down once he deemed that Satoru wasn't a serious threat. "I am not tamed."

“Tamed?”

“There is no bond between us,” the fox explained. “You will forever be a stranger to me, and I, you. But if you ever choose to tame me, then you are responsible until we are nothing more than just dust and rock”

Satoru's heart gave another painful tug as he thought back to his rose. He responded bitterly. “Then, that means that I had already been tamed by her."

The fox looked on curiously. “Did you manage to tame her."

He swallowed the painful lump in his throat. “I don’t know. I don't think I'll ever truly know, but I've left her all alone back home."

A singular paw rested on Satoru's boot. “Then perhaps it is time for you to return, stranger. It is clear you spent much time devoting yourself to her, so why waste it?"

Satoru thought deeply for the first time in many, many moons. He thought back to the thorns, the way his fingers bled as he caressed you, but what stood out more importantly was the love you saved solely for him.

And finally, the tears spilled freely. “Yes. I want to go home,” he whispered.

 

═══════

Satoru never came back to you. Some of those who knew him simply say he vanished into the vastness of space. Others claim to have seen him sink away into sand and let the ground consume him for a final time. He was tired, after all.

But you miss him terribly so. You were withering without his care.

Sometimes, though, you hear his laughter when the winds blow in your direction. Tilting your head up at the sly above, you swear Satoru was looking back.

You were a rose, priding yourself in being stubborn and aloof. You told yourself, swore that you didn't need Satoru. But just in case, you waited. Every single night, you waited.

If you ever see a man with a radiant smile and a crop of white hair, please tell the rose. For that will be her beloved, returning back to him.

Chapter 7: Mind Reader - Gojo Smut

You had long ago come to terms with the fact that your housemate Satoru was simply . . . odd. It had been a while since you gave up trying to hide all of your thoughts around the taller man, not matter how mundane or intimate they were.

The day Satoru admitted that he could read minds lingered close to the forefront of your subconscious. You hated it at first, feeling as though you had lost any sense of privacy. You also hated that your emotions weren’t your own anymore— you had to share them with him.

But as always, Satoru insisted that he wouldn't make it obvious that he was intruding into your mind. That much. He tried making light of the situation, validating you in your times of need— albeit somewhat teasingly. And at long last, you had gotten used to his little quirk, even finding it useful at times.

But that didn’t mean you necessarily enjoyed the fact that he had this godforsaken ability.

Most days, Satoru was, you know . . . okaaay, you supposed. He was convenient when he wanted to be, fetching you snacks when you felt the cravings creeping up on you. On other days, your housemate would flash you a grin and wiggle his eyebrows when your brain betrayed memories of your most vulnerable moments. To that, you'd simply tell him to fuck off after launching the nearest object in your vicinity at his face.

Unfortunately for you, however, there were days where your body was susceptible to running rampant with unholy thoughts— especially during your ovulation period. It was as if your mind refused to go in any direction apart from getting completely and utterly filled. The thoughts were unbearable at this point.

Even more so since Satoru could hear each and every depraved thought that circled around in your head.

It was only a matter of time before the phrase 'just friends' became meaningless. On that one fateful day, Satoru had been doing what he usually did. He'd lounge around on the couch, stretched his freakishly long arms in the air high enough for his shirt to ride high. You watched— no, blatantly ogled at the expanse of pale skin peaking out at you, teasing you. A patch of white hair led down from his stomach, under the waistband of his sweats, leading to what you craved the most.

Ugh, fuck. I can see it, and he's not even hard. Just pin me down already and—

Wait.

Satoru was staring right at you, lips parted in mild surprise, until a laugh ripped straight out of his chest. It made your stomach twist almost violently, and Satoru could hear your thoughts beginning to spiral out of panic.

Smug as ever, Satoru shuffled from his end of the couch to yours, his voice taking a sing-song lilt to it.

"Wooooow. If you wanted my cock that much, you could have told me, you know, instead of letting me believe that you were pissy over me stealing your snacks."

"Fuck off," you scoffed, legs crossing in a poor attempt to alleviate that increasing throb in your cunt. "I am mad at you for that, actually."

"Ah, ah ah. Don't try changing the topic on me now, sweetheart," cooed Satoru, flashing you a wolfish grin, "not when I can hear about how badly you need filling up."

You crossed your arms over your chest, the action not going unnoticed by Satoru. But the fight in your body was barely there, contradicting the shadow glare you shot his way. Deep down, you knew he was right. Of course, he was— your body ached almost painfully, your panties rendered sheer and drenched whenever you caught sight of his long fingers or his crotch.

Satoru knew the effect he had on you.

He knew of the raunchy fantasies you had, the ones involving his mouth on your body, his fingers stretching you open— even if you swore that they were all involuntary. When you finally dragged your eyes away from the sight of Satoru's sweats sitting low on his hips, you were met with the sight of a knowing smirk.

═══════

Satoru didn't mind waiting. He could feel the strain on your mind as you tried your damned hardest to keep your thoughts under control. By the time it was evening? You were trying your hardest not to fuck your hips down into the mattress, into your pillow, your fingers. Anything to help quench the undeniable arousal that clouded any sort of rationality you had left.

And when he finally cornered you, pinned you down onto your twisted sheets, the lewd images flashing in both of your minds only made him shut his eyes tight— the urge to grind the weight of his bulge against you impossible to ignore.

"Hear me out for a sec,” Satoru exhaled, grabby hands and whitened knuckles grazing the hem of your shirt. “I’ll give you everything, everything you’ve been dreaming about up here,” two long fingers tapped at your temple, “but you gotta say it all out. Can you do that f'me?"

Your lips tightened in a thin line as you debated to yourself, eyes shifting uneasil to the side. Good sex and potentially ruin a friendship, or reject his advances and continue living in shame at the fact that he could still read your mind?

"Ruin our friendship. I know you want to."

"Could you not interrupt my internal monologue? Please?" You practically hissed out, wiggling about some more under the taller man, because hello— you were still pinned under him?

A tut left Satoru's lips close to your ear as he had lowered his head, slotted a knee against your short-clad cunt. The heat radiating between made him dizzy, spurring him on further to get you to just confess already.

"I'm only helping you out, pretty girl. I know what you want, what you need. You just have to say it out loud. That's all."

Your mind was in a frenzy, and Satoru could hear it all. His chest tightened, breathing speeding up so that he was lightly panting. Dragging his hand up your thigh, his fingers tapped against the waistband of your shorts. The harsh sound of you sucking in a breath reached his ears. He chuckled, evidently amused.

"Is this where you want me? Right here?"

Oh, how condescendingly this asshole spoke to you. Satoru refused to give you wanted, not just yet. Manicured nails scratched gently at your hipbone, making you buck up into him. Laying a hand flat on you, Satoru halted your moments. "None of that. You know what you need to do if you want my fingers in your cunt."

“Satoru—” you mewled, arching up into his touch. He ground his knee further into you, dampening your underwear.

“God, I can feel you,” he murmured, pressing harder against the wet patch. “Pussy's louder than that pretty mouth of yours. Go on, baby. Say it."

Whilst the humiliation burned hot in your chest, you couldn't stop your thoughts from tumbling out of your mouth. You should have been ashamed of the whiny tone of your voice, but you couldn't bring yourself to do so.

"FuckmeFuckmeFuckme—"

"Atta girl. Was that so hard?"

Mild frustration bubbled up in your gut, but before you could fire back a scolding retort, Satoru was kissing you earnestly. You'd be lying if you said you hated it, or that it didn't feel right. In fact, you've never been so sure of somthing in your life— that his lips belonged on yours.

You felt his fingers finally hook into your shorts, tugging them down with your underwear. Satoru sucked in a harsh breath of air through is teeth, pupils blown wide as he caught sight of your pussy below.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, thumbs spreading you apart. “Knew you’d be so messy for me.”

Slick fingers glided over your clit, leaving you keening breathlessly. He occasionally dipped lower but never gave you what you wanted. Of course, he teased you, letting his digits circle your clit lazily as you begged for more.

"Please, just put them in . . ."

"Oh? Someone's remembered her manners." You felt him prod at your hole, your hips chasing the slight movement. "Beg. Beg for your Toru to make you feel good."

“I-inside, please, I need them. I need you."

Satoru tipped his head back, cursing like your words alone could make him cum in his sweats. “That’s my girl.”

Two thick fingers pushed in without warning. Satoru curled his knuckles until he could feel you clenching down desperately. An obscene squelch filled the room, setting your face alight as he set a lagnuid rhythm. In and out, in and out he pumped, a thumb stroking your clit affectionately. Breathy mewls turned into pitched cries, your fingers digging into the mattress below.

“So fuckin' loud,” he murmured against your throat, sinking his fingers deeper before withdrawing. "If you're clenching like this around my fingers, what will my cock do to you. Hmm?"

The thought had your pussy spasming, your breath hitching in your chest. Satoru felt it all.

“I can hear it, y'know. You're thinking about my cock filling you up. Stretching you reaaal wide until you're fucked dumb.” He pressed his palm down onto your clit and dug in, grinding against it whilst scissoring his fingers. The orgasm washed over you all of a sudden, floods of heat rendering your body limp as your pussy spluttered out around him.

“Sweetest fuckin' thing I've ever tasted." You could barely crack open your bleary eyes, but once you did, you saw Satoru pulling his fingers out— only to shove the soaked digits into his mouth and suck them clean with his eyes rolling back in ecstacy.

Satoru didn't let you catch your breath. The voice in your mind screamed at him to continue, anyway. Who was he to deny your demands? In record time, he was shoving his sweats down his legs, tossing them to the side as he freed his cock.

It was thick. It was long. His tip was already flushed, dripping translucent liquid down the prominent, angry veins. Satoru stroked himself once. Twice. And then he lined his cock up against your hole.

“Do I even need to ask if you're ready for me?" He gritted out, pushing in with a grunt. Of course, he didn't have to ask— your mind was already begging him to breed you already.

You gasped, fingers reaching out to clutch his bicep desperately. “Please, Toru. Need— hah, need this so bad."

A low noise left the man, ragged and wrecked, before he pulled back. Satoru knew exactly how you liked it. He knew it before you did. The stretch burned, but the relief that followed made up for it. You could feel the thich inches pushing in, bit by bit, until he bottomed out. God, you swore you could feel his dewy tip kiss deep inside you.

“Tight." The singular word came out choked as Satoru's forehead dropped down to press against yours. "Gonna have to do this— fuck, a hell of a lot more if we want to loosen you up."

"Toru . . ."

The single word came out from you terribly hoarse and broken, spurring Satoru on to start moving. Long, purposeful thrusts rammed into you, making you claw down the broad expanse of his back. With every wet slap of his hips against yours, your cries grew louder. So did his own.

“Take it. Fuck- fucking take it,” he rasped out, hips snapping roughly against your ass. “What's on your mind, huh? Fuck, say it. I can hear it all anyway."

“D-don’t stop . . . ngh, feels sooo good—” you finally sobbed, the tears that had gathered at your lashes finally spilling whilst you locked your legs around his waist.

“Thaaat’s fucking right." Satoru had hiked your legs up onto his shoulders, sweat beginning to drip down his temple as he folded you in half. “Slutty pussy was made for me."

You nodded frantically, chest heaving from overexertion when he suddenly reached between you with deft fingers.

"Cumming—"

Spasm after tense spasm, your body sparked with the shocks of your second orgasm, all whilst Satoru rubbed your clit in rough circles, still fucking you like he had always dreamed of doing.

The second orgasm was more tense than the first, and Satoru could feel it all. He could hear your mind blank out— or at least feel the webs of unconsciousness beginning to take hold of you. Your own release set Satoru off, causing him to curse and bury himself for a final time right up to the hilt. His cum spilled hot, painting your insides white as he made sure that you could feel each and every pulse.

“Yesyesyes,” drawing out your name with a moan. “Take it, baby. Looking s-so good stuffed w'me."

His chest heaved in time with yours, a set of lips brushing your forehead as he brushed away the strands of hair there. He pressed soft kisses against your damp skin, grin having returned, utterly satisfied.

“Told you, didn't I?" he murmured, propping himself up on his elbows whilst remaining buried inside you. "All you had to do was ask."

Chapter 8: Coworkers - Gojo Smut

Summary:

Poor Nanami

Without a shadow of a doubt, trying to hook up with your coworker in a cramped supply closet was the stupidest thing you've ever agreed to doing.

The closet was definitely not built for two adults, let alone him, Satoru Gojo, who seemed to be made of just pure limb. All six-foot-three of him was hunched against a file cabinet stuffed to the brim with A4 paper, his pointy elbow dangerously close to toppling over a box full of biro pens. He had you pressed up against the door, blue eyes appearing to shine behind his glasses, through onto you.

“Well, hey there, gorgeous. Feelin' cosy in here?” he wiggled his eyebrows, voice dripping with innuendo.

“Cosy? Cosy?” You hiss under your breath, jabbing an elbow into the taller mans chest. “I can’t even blink without seeing your stupid face all up in mine."

“Stupid? ” he retorts, raising a perfect brow. Satoru leaned far too close for comfort, lips ghosting over your ear. A rush of heat hit you at the proximity, knees threatening to buckle. "Let's be serious. You don't really think that."

“You are insufferable."

"You love it."

But before you could fire back another retort, his mouth melded against yours. He was hungry. It was messy. It was the sort of kiss that was too scandalous for office hours.

You were dizzy, having to reach up with your hand to tug on his tie in an attempt to steady yourself. Satoru's mouth had slanted over yours shamelessly, pink lips plush and glossy. He nipped at your bottom lip, then deliberately dragged his tongue to apologetically soothe the slight sting.

You could taste spearmint invading your tastebuds. It was sharp, contrasting with the slick was his tongue rolled with your lips going numb. Through it all, Satoru stole your breath right out of your willing lungs.

With a ragged gasp, you pulled away momentarily. Strands of saliva connected you both, breaking when Satoru teasingly swiped his tongue over his lips. Your palms clutched at his chest. “Toru, this is—”

“Sooo undeniably scandalous?” he interrupts in a cheeky manner, already dragging a plethora of kisses down the soft curve of your jaw.

“We're going to get caught, idiot,” you whisper-yelled, despite the exposing shudder that wracked your body.

“That just makes it all the more exciting," your coworker drawled, lips tenderly kissing the soft skin of your throat. Large hands pawed at your waist, dragging down so that his thumbs could press against your clothed hips.

It was all so clumsy in the cramped heat of the supply closet. As you both shifted around, the bulk of his shoulder collided into a nearby shelf. A black stapler tumbles onto the ground with a loud clack!

You both froze.

But when there was no indication of you both getting caught, Satoru flashed you a cat-like grin.

"If we get fired, I am so hunting you down," you whispered harshly against his ear, the threat doing nothing but arousing Satoru further.

“Let's do it, baby. I like the chase,” he muttured, growing more handsy by the minute. He fondled your chest. He kneaded at your thigh. He tugged at your pencil skirt. It was all met by a swat of your hand.

"Cmon. Stop pretending you hate this."

riiiipppp!

Satoru had slid both hands onto your inner thighs, dug his nails deep, and tore your tights open, right in the centre.

“Satoru!” You gasped, tugging his head up by his hair. The sting was delicious, making him purr against you. “What the fuck are you doing?"

“Oops, my bad,” he shrugged, hitching your skirt above your hips. That asshole wasn't sorry at all.

His eyes were honed in onto the way your thighs pudged out of the hole, fingers now stroking at the crotch of your cotton panties. “Quit your whining. I'll just buy you a new pair. Sheer ones? Fishnets? Just say the word."

“You’re so . . . so— hah.”

The pitched insult never made its way out of your lips, dying on your tongue the second his warm palms slid underneath the shredded fabric. Your back hit the closet door once more with a more audible thud. It was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“Say it, baby,” Satoru skimmed his nails, dragged them under each side of the front of your underwear. He pulled on them, letting them snap back against you over and over.

“Excuse me?” You managed to say, fighting that innate urge within you to simply melt, to grind against his hand.

“That you want this. You want me."

“Hah— keep dreaming."

"Brat.” Your coworker tutted, bracing one hand above your head whilst the other pushed your panties to the side. Your voice faded away into a whimper. As much as Satoru wanted to drag those pretty noises from your lips, he had to keep you quiet.

More insistent this time, Satoru slotted his mouth onto yours. Kiss upon kiss, you panted into his mouth with desperation. Hands grabbed at him, twisting his shirt between your fingers so that you could ground yourself. The kiss turns frantic, teeth knocking against each other with his glasses smudging against your face.

“Toru,” you stammered between each lovingly drawn-out kiss, “stop being so loud, otherwise—”

“Otherwise what?” Satoru sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. Once, twice, releasing it with a filthy pop each time.

“We'll get caught."

He only lets out wicked huff of laughter in response. To that, he thinks, fuck it.

Satoru only pressed you harder into the door, the muscles under his shirt moulding against your body— like you were made for him. The cramped space did nothing but made every bit of contact between you both that much more heightened. He groaned, feeling the way you arched into him so pliantly.

You couldn't think straight. Neither could he. But if you both did not stop yourselves, you'd get caught.

Almost as if the universe was listening to you, you heard a click.

The door swung open, letting in floods of light into the cramped supply closet.

With a muffled shriek, you almost toppled back into him but caught yourself on the doorframe. Satoru slipped after you, catching you with a hand around your waist. With the shameless grin, Satoru looked up to see who had the (mis)fortune of catching you both in on the act.

Nanami Kento.

Of course.

With brown eyes flicking over the scene, Nanami threw you both a grave, deadpan expression. You were visibly flushed, having your skirt rumpled over your hips that exposed the ragged nature of your tights. Satoru's glasses were crooked, lips red and almost bruised.

Why him, Nanami thought whilst pinching the bridge of his nose. Hadn't he suffered enough already?

“. . . It's not even noon,” Nanami muttered, his voice completely devoid of any emotion aside from exhaustion.

Satoru only yawned in response, the two of you standing side by side as if you hadn't just been caught feeling each other up.

“What can I say? The missus here really knows how to get my gears turning early in the morning."

You wanted to be anywhere but there.

Nanami's jaw visibly clenches, voice straining impossibly. “I suggest you both fix yourselves. Now. If I ever catch you both doing this again, I'm filing a complaint to HR."

Then he turned on his heels and walked away down the hall, muttering about how he didn't get paid enough for this.

Satoru waited until he could no longer see Nanami, turning to face you with an infuriatingly smug look on his face.

"Same time next week?"

. . .

“You. Are. So. dead,” you smacked at his chest, face burning at how mortified you had become at getting caught. “What did I say about being quiet?!"

“Who cares?" Satoru cupped your face, forcing your lips into a pout that he pecked cheekily. You shoved him away, scowling under pink cheeks.

"That was so worth it."

Chapter 9: The Moon Above - Geto Horror

Summary:

Both you and Suguru promised each other not to look outside. But something changed his mind. Should you listen to him?

It felt different tonight. The city was collectively in hiding, eyes and ears glued to the radio, TV, phones— whatever device was available. The streets were silent, and all curtains were drawn tightly shut as the sound of the Emergency Alert System blared loud and disrupted the silence.

"THIS IS A PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENT FROM YOUR LOCAL BROADCASTING STATION.

DO NOT TURN OFF YOUR DEVICE

DO NOT LOOK OUTSIDE. 

ALL WINDOWS AND CURTAINS MUST REMAIN CLOSED. IF YOU ARE FOUND TO HAVE OPEN YOUR WINDOWS, YOU WILL BE ELIMINATED.

DO NOT ATTEMPT TO GO OUTSIDE. INDIVIDUALS ATTEMPTING TO ENGAGE WITH ANY EXTRATERRESTRIAL PHENOMENA WILL BE ELIMINATED.

IF YOU THINK YOU HAVE BEEN AFFECTED: ISOLATE IMMEDIATELY."

You sat there, bloodshot eyes straining as you took in the message before you. The only thing illuminating your pitch-black room was the TV, and your body was rigid as you held your breath. Tentatively, as if skies above would hear you, you exhaled and let the tightness leave your muscles. 

It’s been pure hell for the last few months. Socialisation and communication was at an all time low. Paranoia had struck the nation when outbreaks of psychosis had spread like wildfire. Reports of ritualistic behaviours, mass suicide and missing individuals was growing increasingly common. And there was no one to blame but yourselves. 

It was hostile. Everyone knew that. But people were so easily swayed by the illusion of salvation it seemed to give. It appeared to whisper and shone bright in the ever-lasting night sky. Bow to me, the voices said. Give in to your saviour. 

But there were no voices. The human mind was terribly weak, making up things that weren’t actually there. Theories began to emerge, causing waves of misinformation to reach even the most isolated corners of the world. No-one knew what was going on— not even the most experienced psychologist or astrophysicist. All everyone knew was that it couldn’t be trusted. People swore that it’d appear to breathe and pulse, but madness would soon follow those who dared to look up. 

Whether it was a vessel to harbour some sort of hostile entity, or whether it was the entity itself, no-one had a clue. All you knew was if you kept the curtains shut, you’d be fine. Mostly. 

A faint buzz brought you out of your thoughts. Cellular devices weren’t prohibited, per se. But you were rather cautious about using one. 

Blinking back the wave of exhaustion, you picked up your phone and saw that it was no other than Suguru, one of the very few you could rely on for support. He was a grounding force in your life, keeping you sane and served as a reminder that no matter how tempting it was outside, it wasn’t worth it. 

“Hello? Sugu?” You whispered, longing to hear the voice of your best friend. Your one and only, you’d often kid. You couldn’t hear anything from the other end of the phone except for some light breathing. With your brows knitted in confusion, you called out to him again.

“Ah, yes. Sorry, y/n. Did you see the recent alert?” Suguru sounded breathless. That was the first thing you noted. As if he’d gone for a run. But not in these conditions, right? 

You shook your head stupidly, as if he could see you. “Yes, we can’t open our curtains. Nothing new. Why?” 

The small huff of laughter you were so used to met your ears. It made you feel good for once, in a time where nothing felt right. But what your dear friend said next had your breath catching.

“My TV was telling me something different. Didn’t you see it? It’s safe again.”

Silence.

That wasn’t right. There had been no other EAS. You sat up straighter on the floor, mouth feeling dry. “No, actually. There haven't been any other messages. I would have texted you if there was,” you responded, forcing your voice to stay casual. But you were far from calm. Your mouth felt as if someone had stuffed cotton into it, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get a good breath of air into your lungs. 

“...it’s beautiful tonight, y’know?” Suguru murmurs so softly. You falter, feeling as if you were underwater. His words came out muffled as all the blood in your body rushed to your head. You should have hung up on him.

Save yourself. 

But like a fool, your trembling hands kept your phone by your ear. “S-suguru? Did you look…outside?”

Another chuckle, and you felt your heart rate picked up drastically. Surely, he didn’t?

“You sound scared,” he teased, eyes focused on one thing only from his own apartment not too far away from yours. His bedroom felt uncomfortably hostile and cramped. What other choice did he have but to open his curtain? “There’s no need to be scared, Not when it’s so peaceful.”

Your hand was shaking almost violently now, the combination of fatigue and tears prickling at your eyes making it unbearably warm in your room. “Don’t look at it, Suguru. Please don’t look at it.”

A soft exhale. Like he’s getting frustrated at you. But you need to remind yourself that this isn’t the Suguru you grew up with. It can’t be. Not anymore. 

He speaks again, but there’s a slight edge to the silk of his voice. “Don’t you trust me, y/n? Don’t you want to see the God hanging down from the sky? It calls to us all.”

Suguru sounds breathless now, as if he’s locked in reverent worship. You’re frozen now, refusing to listen to whatever was at the other end of the phone.

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Look out of the window, y/n. Can’t you see me burning under it?” The crackling of the phone grows louder, yet his voice comes through audibly. You swore you could hear your own voice echoing back at you the more you spoke. 

Nothing felt real. Your head was swimming. 

“Don’t call me by my name. Who are you, and what have you done to Suguru?”

“I crawled into his skin. Now, I burn,” a brief pause, the voice growing more distorted by the second. “But I have an eternity to get to know his flesh, and his body will learn to accept me eventually. Look outside.” 

You were so conflicted. Usually, you were so insistent on following the orders of the EAS. But underneath all of the distortion, Suguru sounded so at peace. Didn’t you deserve that too? 

“Y/n. Just one look,” he said. It sounded like him again. Not the other Suguru that made the whispers in your room grow more prominent. 

Would looking make you stop feeling like you were being watched from the inside of your skull? Would it end the constant urge to look into the mirror to check if the eyes of your reflection were still shut when you looked at it? 

And so the last of your resolve cracked after weighing out the pros and cons. Suguru would be proud, right? You finally listened to him for once. You winced as your knees cracked after hours of inactivity. The roar of white noise was dimming the closer you came to the curtain. The whispers seemed to pause. That was the last push you needed. It felt good to be so close to salvation. 

You cast your eyes back, glancing at the TV. If you hadn’t blinked, you would have seen the way your reflection was slower than you. One deep breath. 

Swoosh. 

You blinked hard once the curtain was drawn to the side, shielding your eyes with a pale arm and grimacing at the sensation of light. Suguru was silent now, the phone long forgotten in his hand. You didn’t even notice, not until you gathered your bearings and finally dragged your eyes to the window. 

Your stomach lurched.

“I-I don’t like this. Please stop moving like that.”

But you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Your entire face glowed from the light outside and your feet were planted firmly on the scratchy carpet beneath you. You should turn back now, before you’re caught by the authorities—

“You’ve already looked.”

Chapter 10: Self Pleasure - Geto Smut

He’s sprawled out on his futon like a fallen deity, long black hair splayed out around his head like a corrupted halo. Suguru’s torso was bare, robes having slipped off of his broad shoulders and pooled around his restless hips. The half-knotted silk of the belt lay useless, clinging onto his waist like an afterthought. The ridges of each perfectly sculpted muscle were illuminated, painted by the misty beams of moonlight cracking in through the window. He turned into marble, into the epitome of sin all at once.

One tense hand clenched the sheets below, and the other remained wrapped around his cock— stroking in slow, languid motions. Suguru’s chest rose with measured breaths, but his hand was anything but steady.

With knuckles white and precum smeared all the way down his length in messy ropes, he squeezed the base of his cock— desperate to delay his oncoming orgasm. A pathetic, broken groan left the man. He’s been at it for way too long.

Suguru eyes the weeping head of his cock, flushed an angry shade of red. It twitched helplessly in his wet grip as he twisted his wrist. He knows how to make it hurt in a way that’ll make him feel so, so good.

It’s filthy, explicit words spilling from his lips like a prayer. A sticky mixture of precum and spit coated his aching length. He’s jerking out every drop of need, every ounce of frustration that he’s built up over the course of the past hour. The inside of his thighs are slick too, hulking muscles spasming whenever he fucked up into his tightening fist. Silk black hair was plastered to his pubic bone, a glossy sheen coating them in sweat and arousal.

Wet, sloppy noises echoed throughout the bedroom as he lay there, the rhythmic squelches loud and obscene compared to the surrounding silence around him. It reaches his ears, causing them to burn with an embarrassment he couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed of. Instead, Suguru doubled his efforts and planted his feet firmly into the futon.

A certain individual comes into his mind— you, the muse of his fantasies.

His hips rolled up repeatedly, weak legs spreading wide as his jaw clenched tight. The makeshift hole formed by his fists is nothing compared to his fantasies of you. Suguru’s face scrunched up, his breathing coming out harsh through his teeth as he ran his palm over his soaked tip. Strands of hair framed his angular face, nails almost clawing through the sheets in a poor attempt to ground himself.

There’s a certain haunted look to Suguru when he tips his head back and bares his throat, desperately wishing that you were the one wrapping your hand around his cock. You’d do it better— he knows you would. He could see it now. You’d whisper the filthiest phrases in his ear, chest pressed up against his arm with one leg thrown over him. Or maybe you’d sink to your knees and press a soft smooch to his tip, lapping up the mess he’d make. You’d hold him so gently— not at all in the punishing manner he inflicted upon himself.

Alas, you were not there, and Suguru was unable to mimic you. He was too rough with himself, too familiar. Still, he continues to chase the much-awaited orgasm with you on his defiled mind. With more fervour, his hips continue to thrust wetly as his head lolled to the side. The precum oozes out, dripping down the side of his aching hand whilst his heavy set of balls ached with the weight of his release.

With a hoarse whimper— a result of chanting your name incessantly like it were a blasphemous prayer, Suguru came.

He choked on a grunt, your name leaving his lips in a soft whisper, as if it hurt for him to say. Everything stilled around Suguru, but him.

His back arched off the futon, muscles seizing under the watchful eye of the moon above. Spurt after spurt, the translucent wads of potent cum decorated his twitching abs. It hits the underside of his chin, it drips down his tensed chest, and the moan Suguru lets out is raw— like he had just survived an encounter with you rather than envisioning it in his lust-filled mind.

The mess cools on his flushed skin, mixing with the perspiration that had built up over the night. Suguru doesn't open his eyes, instead breathing in a ragged manner.

He doesn't want to open his eyes. Suguru doesn't think he could handle the sight of you not being there with him.

Instead, a final whisper of your name leaves his lips in one last attempt at a prayer. One that he was unsure would ever be answered.

Chapter 11: One Track Mind - Nanami Smut

Summary:

Taking a bath with your husband hardly ever goes well

“And it’d be perfect if I had a cat,” you mumble, fingers splashing against the water around you. “Because I wouldn’t be lonely when you’re away doing your stupid paperwork.”

It has been a good half an hour of you rambling away in your husband's lap, bare back to his broad chest as the steam emitting from the hot water sloshing around you curled up into the air. You felt woozy from the heat, but you couldn’t complain. You felt safe with Nanami’s chest rising and falling deeply against you as you went on and on about the little calico cat that often approached you for food. She was a cute little thing, often roaming about the streets with no collar around her neck. 

“I mean, there’s only so much silence I can handle, Ken!”

A low, non-committal grunt leaves him as he slides his hands up and down your plush thighs beneath the water as you spoke. His touch is aimless, as if he’s doing it unconsciously. Nanami should have been listening. He usually does so in a manner so devoted and receptive. 

But not tonight. 

Tonight, his mind is somewhere else. You don’t even realise your husband’s hands have slid onto the crease of your hips, padded thumbs sweeping over the soft pudge of flesh his lips were so familiar with. Nanami grips you, giving your body a squeeze before pulling your lower half back until he could feel the swell of your ass around his hardened cock. A soft groan leaves his lips as he hunches over you and presses a greedy flurry of kisses to the curve of your shoulder, almost like a silent apology for not giving you all of his attention.

“...you’re not even listening to me,” you realise, a small sigh leaving your kiss-bitten lips— a small gift from earlier after Nanami had come home from work,

“I’m listening,” your husband replied curtly, voice husky and thick. Despite his words, you could tell Nanami was distracted. It’s like he’s more focused on the way your wet body fits against his.

But then he speaks again before you can reply. Nanami wasn’t listening whatsoever.

“May I touch you some more? Please?”

Nanami’s voice falters at his plea and your head turns back. Your movements are encouraged by a large hand cupping your jaw, angling your mouth towards his. The incessant yet welcome throb of his length between your rear was more prominent the longer your husband soaked in that increasingly playful look in your eye. You rolled your hips back, all coy when Nanami twitched almost violently. 

“You may.” And that was all the encouragement he needed. His next movements crossed the blurred line between worshipping and starved.

You look gorgeous, he wanted to say, but the overwhelming need to show you instead took over. With one hand cupping your pussy, Nanami slots his lips over yours. It’s wetter than usual, drops of moisture clinging to you both. 

There’s no room for words as he holds your jaw in place, the full veins on his hands fattening as he tightens his grip. It was an attempt to anchor himself onto you, his lifeline, whilst relearning every inch of your mouth. There was no rush at all, only the gentle sound of his lips dragging against yours in a loving smooch. His tongue unravels you, draws out an earnest gasp from your throat as it lazily strokes against your own. It’s slick and loud, and it takes all of your effort not to move your head away in embarrassment. 

“Ah, Ken…” you began. Your lidded eyes watched the way he chased that string of saliva connecting you both. Nanami’s tongue darted out, swiping over his lower lip as he took a much needed breath. But with you, he didn’t want to breathe. Your own hands were firmly planted on his bulky thighs, nails almost raking against the muscular flesh.

“You talk so much,” he mutters, warm breath hitting your mouth as he gives your pussy another reassuring squeeze, like he owned it. You mewled in response, legs positively unable to stay closed. They fell open, and a soft coo of approval left Nanami’s lips.

“God, I love it. I love you.” And he meant it.

He looks ruined, wet hair plastered to his forehead and cheeks flushed with arousal as he skims his fingers over your aching clit. Poor Ken, you thought. Work must have been incredibly rough.

Either that or he felt bad about leaving you alone at home for so long without his love. 

His words and touch had you fighting between the urge to laugh or moan, and you were slowly slumping against him further into the cooling water of the tub. Your husband paused his movements reluctantly, deciding that he had taken away your ability to talk for long enough.

“Haahh, you’re not even letting me speak.”

“Alright, alright. I swear I’m listening now,” he coaxes you to continue talking, though he badly wanted to do anything but speak. 

You only spoke after a brief beat of silence, debating whether to inform him of your request. But Nanami knew what you were going to say, and so a wry grin formed on his lips.

Your head turned back to face the tile wall before you, one hand tracing the grooves of muscle of the arm that was currently back around your waist. “Can we get a cat?”

“...you truly have a one-track mind, my love.”

Despite his teasing words, Nanami fully intended on making up for being a workaholic, whether that be buying you a cat, or satiating your baby fever later that night.

Chapter 12: Bulge - Explicit Nanami

The lighting is dim, and Nanami pulls off his tie with deft fingers on camera. The unfamiliar backdrop of a hotel lingers around him, reminding you of the distance between you both.

"I’m only here until Tuesday," he murmurs. His voice is low and calm as always, a gentle reassurance over the phone. "I’ll be back before you know it."

You groan dramatically on your end of the phone, burying your face into the pillow that smells just like him. “That's ageees away. I've already forgotten what your real face looks like.”

Nanami arches a perfect brow, watching you in quiet amusement. “We're on FaceTime.”

"So? I swear I can count the number of pixels on the screen."

He sighs, tired eyes crinkling ever so slightly with a hint of laughter. “I assure you I’m made up of more than a few pixels. You're the one who's glitching on me."

“That just means your phone is worse than mine," you try arguing back, eyes rolling hard enough for the man to see.

A fond chuckle rumbles through the speaker. “If you insist, dear."

There’s a beat of silence, one that is comfortable to you both. Nanami watches as you lay on your stomach, your legs swinging gently. You both study each other for a minute, a wave of affection hitting you both.

Then you open your mouth.

"Sooo, like... would you slap your tip against the camera—"

He doesn’t even blink. “No.”

“But it'd be cool if—"

“No.”

“Cmon, for me?"

“I am not entertaining this behaviour."

“You're so far away from me, Ken! I'm trying to feel close to you."

“You’re going to take a screenshot."

You don't deny these accusations, instead cackling into your pillow as Nanami rubs his forehead.

“I worry about you, you know?” he mutters, a deadpan expression on his face. “It hasn't even been a day since I've left, and this is the state you’re in.”

“Okay, clearly you don't love me."

"You're putting words in my mouth—"

"When it should be your fat cock in mine instead."

Nanami freezes, a long exhale leaving his mouth slowly. A familiar tint of pink reached his ears. “I’m ending the call, goodnight."

“Just one lil slap, please?" You sat up and pleaded, head bowed and hands clutching each other whilst you fought back the cheesiest grin.

Click.

The screen goes black.

You blink, staring at your phone. The audacity!

But then, an image comes in. The phone is angled up, highlighting the obvious bulge forming in Nanami's slacks. You can see the lower half of his face. You can see the way his lips are parted in an almost embarrassed grimace, yet he's enjoying this.

A single text followed.

Minx.

Chapter 13: Anaesthesia - Nanami Fluff

The front door was unlocked with one of Nanami's safe, large hands. The other carefully supported your visibly woozy frame as you put your entire body weight on him. The anaesthesia hadn’t quite worn off yet. You’ve been alternating between yelling at your husband to stop touching you or that you were hungry.

He sighed gently, ever so patient as he closed the door behind you both. "Cooperate with me, love. Let’s get you to bed.”

You stopped dead in your tracks once his hand met your lower back. You blinked at him. Really blinked. Nanami's was visibly taken aback, brows furrowed when you suddenly gasped and scrambled backwards, almost colliding with the wall due to the jellied nature of your limbs.

“Wait,” you whisper, voice ragged. “Who are you?”

Nanami moved away and set your bag down by the staircase, already mentally trying to prepare himself for your shenanigans. “We went over this in the car, dear—”

“I have a husband,” you hissed in a slurred manner, pointing a trembling finger at his chest. “Don’t touch me."

With a sigh, Nanami stepped back, both hands in the air in an act of surrender. "Describe your husband for me?"

"B-blonde. Freakishly tall. Really hates sugar in his cof- coffee."

Nanami exhaled slowly, arching a brow.

“…So, me.”

“No, not you” you grimaced, sounding slightly distressed. “How'd you get into my house?"

“I know where the spare keys are,” he replied curtly, lowering his hands and unbuttoning his sleeves to roll them up. “I'm the one who put them there."

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “You know my Kenny?"

Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please just get on the couch. You need rest."

You squinted suspiciously, walking backwards into the living room.

“Are you trying to seduce me? I told you that I'm a married woman. I belong to Nanami, and he snores a little, but I really love him."

“That’s me,” he said again, clearly suffering (and rather offended that you pointed out his snoring).

But you’re already shuffling away with squinted eyes. “Don’t come near me. My husband will beat you up. He can bench press a table. He drinks black coffee. He has a really s-solid six-pack, which kinda hurts when I try to punch it. Do you want to die?"

“My love—”

“Mister."

Nanami watched you from where he stood in the living room. You had skirted back into the kitchen, hiding behind the dining table and wiggling a spatula around rather haphazardly.

“I'll make you soup."

Your suspicious gaze faltered, pupils dilating. “Soup…?”

“With the garlic bread you enjoy."

You peeked out further, your stomach audibly rumbling. "Crunchy?”

He nods. “Crunchy.”

“…Oh,” you said quietly, standing up with bleary eyes.

He stepped closer. Then you crashed into him.

“You are my husband, oh my god."

Nanami just stood there, a small smile gracing his lips. But then you gripped his left hand and held it up to your face. Your eyesight was blurry, but you could see the glinting wedding ring on his finger.

You stared up at him. Eyes wide. Lips parted.

“…It’s you,” you gasped, like you had been hit with a million realisations at once.

A deadpan expression graces your husbands face, hand still in yours and squeezing reassuringly, “Finally.”

You hugged Nanami again, pressing him against the counter with a delighted squeal.

“Oh, you’re home! God, I missed you so bad, Ken! Some random guy has been flirting with me all day. Can you believe it?"

Nanami grunted as you landed on him, a hand resting on top of your head. “That was me.”

A scoff left you. “Ridiculous. Don't do that again,” you chastised, burying your face into his safe chest.

“Yes, boss.”

You buried your face deeper into him, the anaesthesia ebbing away bit by bit.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I'll scream in your ear."

He closed his eyes.

“There is no difference in personality whether you are on anaesthesia or not."

"Naturally."

Chapter 14: Fingers - Toji Smut

Summary:

uh-oh! Your fiendish boyfriend caught you staring at his fingers again. Luckily for you, he knows what you want.

Toji doesn’t know where he got the ring that he’s spinning idly between his fingers. It’s a cheap thing, and he’s got no clue why he's kept it around. Regardless, Toji keeps twirling the ring around, thick fingers dipping in and out of it periodically as he lays on one end of the couch. 

It kills you. You’ve never wanted to swap places with a piece of jewellery so desperately in your life before. One of your knees bounced almost anxiously as you watched him from the other end of the couch, eyes trained on his fingers. As for getting wet, you were beyond that point. You’ve been aching for him ever since you first saw him removing the ring off his finger.

His fingers were thick and tanned, joints prominent from years of doing damage. There were rough scars everywhere, the careless sort you loved to pepper kisses all over when you held his hand in yours. You’ve felt those hands pry your thighs apart so that he could get a taste of what lay in between. You’ve seen those same hands bruised and battered, fingers twitching and flexing after a rough night out. 

But right now? They were relaxed. The ring was nestled between two of your boyfriend's fingers before he tossed it and caught it in his weighty palm. You weren’t even ashamed at how blatantly you were ogling at the veins that rose from below his skin. 

Toji doesn’t notice it straight away, the heated, yearning glances coming from you. He just hums low, almost like he’s thinking about something. A thick thumb rubs over the edge of his ring with a precision that’s languid, whilst his other hand rests on his thigh. He rubs at the bulky limb, fingers splayed out, and you flinch. 

Without warning, Toji’s eyes meet yours. They’re lazy but incredibly knowing. He knows what you want, but he wants to hear it from your own mouth first.

“Gonna keep eye-fuckin’ my hand? You’ve been quiet for a good while now,” he says casually, as if he hasn’t got the sleaziest smirk appearing on his scarred lip. You know damn well he’s pretending to have known you were staring at him the entire time, but you couldn’t focus on that. You can’t. 

Toji’s fingers are flexing again, all for show. The ring clinks against his prominent knuckles as his voice drops low. You watch as he slouches in his seat, thighs fallen open a little wider. It’s clearly an invitation for you to come closer.

So you do. 

۫ ꣑ৎ

You don’t even know how you got here. One second you were sassing back, getting all defensive as he called you out on your perverted behaviour. The next moment, you had both of his heavy thighs over yours, pulling them apart and locking them in place. It’s comical to Toji how you flinch at the sound of his voice so close to your ear, scar rubbing against the tender flesh of your lobe.

One nip, then another. His tongue flicks out as you shudder, ass nudging up against his crotch as you remain at your boyfriend's mercy. “You like my hands that much, hm? Shoulda said somethin”, he murmured, hot breath fanning against your temple. “You could have had them on your cunt much sooner than this if you spoke up.”

“And have you call me easy? No thanks,” a scoff leaves your lips as you writhe in Toji’s lap, but his legs have you immobilised. An awkward yelp escapes you when the man begins to massage at your inner thighs, the pudgy skin barely covered by your shorts. His thumb pinched and rolled the skin around before sliding beneath the fabric of what you were wearing. 

Toji clicks his tongue. “Nah, believe me. I’m flattered, doll. Gets me all hot and bothered when you’re whorin’ over me like this,” he murmurs as his hands feel up the warmth at the crease of your thighs. 

“Language-”

“Who gives a fuck about language when I’ve got your cunt in the palm of my hands. Literally,” Toji scoffs, one of his hands sliding out from under your shorts and cupping your pussy and giving it a confident squeeze. The warmth seeps into his skin and he groans appreciatively. His actions are met with a wanton little mewl, your body slouching against his.

“None of that. You wanted this, remember?” Toji lifts you up so that your back properly meets his strong front, his lips mouthing at the side of your neck eagerly. This action was met by a hitch in your breath as his middle and ring finger dragged up and down the seam of your shorts in a painfully teasing manner. Your hips buck upwards, chasing more of his touch, but his free hands lays flat against your pelvis and pushes you back down. 

The pressure you felt down below alternated, ranging from intense nudges with his knuckles, to the light scratches of his nails against the print of your pussy. “You’re squirming. Where's all that sass gone, huh? ‘S it all gone now that my hands are right where you want ‘em?”

Toji’s words are punctuated by another slow drag of his fingers, this time right past the leg opening of your shorts and between your folds. Your clit is prominent and pulsing, met with stroke after stroke with the increasingly soaked digits of your smug boyfriend. You’re twitching, fighting between closing your legs or keeping them spread real nice and wide. 

“F-fuck, Toji…!” You whine, face scrunching up as Toji’s fingers capture your clit between the joints of fingers. He tugs, and the sensation is borderline uncomfortable. You can’t bring yourself to tell him to stop being mean, too focused on the sparks of pleasure that have your hole clenching around nothing. It’s pathetic. 

“F-fuck, Toji!” he mocks, a cruel huff of laughter rumbling in his chest. You can feel his front almost vibrate behind you, but the erection prodding up against the curve of your ass is even more of a distraction. “No whining, brat. You’re getting what I give you when I think you deserve it.” 

The thick fingers leave you, making you choke on a breath out of sheer disappointment. “No, cmon. Toji, that’s not fair,” you practically hissed, a hand flying out to grab his arm. You tug and tug, just enough to have his knuckles grazing your inner thigh. You can feel the man you’re sitting on exhale gruffly, and the atmosphere shifts from one that’s less playful to one that’s more…charged. You didn’t dare look back at your lover, knowing you’ve put him in a mood. 

To put it bluntly, Toji’s had enough. 

“Oh, you’re so fuckin’ mouthy,” Toji tuts in mock disapproval, making quick work of moving his legs momentarily so that he could shuck your panties and shorts off. Without missing a beat, his thighs are over yours, cool air hitting the slickness between your legs. You were mortified.

“Hey now…”

Slap. 

“Hm? What was that?” 

Another wet slap. 

His entire palm rubs against your stinging mound as your lips fall open, breath hitching in your throat as you screw your eyes shut. This wasn’t the first time Toji had caught you off guard, but you loved it. He knew you loved it too, with the way your entire pussy seemed to throb even harder on his hand. 

“Oooh, you liked that,” he grins, attempting to soothe the sting by dipping his fingertips into your hole. Barely. He pulls back out, cock oozing precum when you shake your head side to side. “Awh, don’t be like that. Just sit there all nice ‘n pretty whilst I play with this nasty pussy.”

“No, you’re n-not even playing with me properly…,” you complain, and Toji doesn’t know how you have the nerve to. You should be grateful he even decided to entertain your little hand fetish in the first place. A faux sigh of impatience leaves him, and dread builds up in your gut. 

What if he leaves me here, you thought, all alone and needy with no fingers in your pussy. How would you cum then? 

But no. Toji decides to be merciful, which was a rare occurrence. 

“Alright, alright. Fine, I’ll play with you. But don’t start cryin’ later,” was all he said before easing his fingers into your pussy. There were two long fingers at first, delivering agonisingly slow strokes inside your cunt. He curls them once they’re buried to the knuckle, a lewd squelch emitting from you. It’s a noise that has your ears reddening in embarrassment, but he continues. 

“A-ahh, just like that…,” you manage to stammer out, until the pad of his thumb joins in. He massages your clit, cooing at how you melted against him as your shoulders hunched in on themselves. Toji’s free hand groped at one of your tits through your t-shirt. Well, his t-shirt. One that was bunched up around your waist. Both of you were too distracted to take it off. 

“Atta girl. Taking these fingers like a champ,” he grunts, the speed of his fingers increasing inside of you. Despite the fact that your body was held back by the asshole behind you, you rolled your hips as best as you could so that you could fuck yourself on his digits. Each grind had your ass milking his cock through his sweats, the front dark from beads of precum soaking the soft material. Whilst the friction was beyond delicious, Toji didn’t falter. Not for a second. 

“Heh, look at you,” condescending words met with a harsh thrust of his fingers. “You start feeling good and forget who’s really in charge around here.”

The warning goes over your head, and your eyes widen when you can feel his free arm hook itself snugly around your throat. Toji fully intends to keep you in place with this headlock. 

“You wanna hump me like some bitch? Now do it,” he drawled lowly, slowly hunching over your back as his mouth drags over your jaw. Two fingers turn into three, relentless as they fucked the arousal out of you. “Slutty pussy droolin’ all over my lap.”

You’re gasping and moaning, all whilst being unable to move. The arm around your throat isn’t too tight, but he periodically flexes it just to remind you of your place. “Gonna cum, think I’m g-gonna cum, oh-”

“Nah, don’t think so,” and so he withdraws his fingers. He does so without warning. A full body shudder leaves you, frustration and the urge to cum becoming overwhelming. “Fuck, you feel that? Pussy didn’t want me to let go,” Toji muses out loud, the sounds of licking coming from behind you when he rolls his tongue around his wet digits. As filthy as ever. 

You want to berate him, tell him off for being disgusting. But his nose buries itself at the crook of your neck before gives your clit a little tug. 

“Toji, please!”

And who was he to deny you when you begged so sweetly?

First, he spread your lips open with his fingers in a scissor-like motion. Then, you felt your boyfriend stuffing you full once more, causing a mini-sob to leave your lips in sweet relief. He moaned deeply at the heat that enveloped his fingers again, curling his fingers in a hooked manner. 

“S-so close, I swear,” you were letting the tears flow freely now, breathing coming out unevenly as Toji took in your words with a feral sort of glee. At the prospect of your approaching orgasm, Toji doubled his efforts. In and out his fingers plunged, speeding up and slowing down at a pace he deemed fit for your pleasure. 

“Make a mess on me, doll. Know you can do it,” he urged feverishly, sounding as desperate as you felt. Drops of sweat beaded on his temple, drenching the neckline of his own compression shirt. The headlock Toji had you in tightened just a fraction as his palm wetly smacked against your pubic bone repeatedly, causing the dewy splatters of your orgasm to leave you at long last. Your stomach tensed, ache in your pussy growing unbearable until that coil snapped and you came with an embarrassingly loud squeal. Toji hushed you, fingers slipping out and focusing on prolonging your orgasm by massaging your clit once more. 

“Thaaaat’s it,” your boyfriend grinned wolfishly as you spasmed against him. But that wasn’t enough. Not for him. You hadn’t squirted yet, and he was dead set on testing your velocity. You shouldn’t have been surprised when Toji’s fingers began its filthy rhythm once more, all whilst his lips pecked at your temple. 

“You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

Chapter 15: Bump! - Toji Smut

You didn't think your afternoon with Toji would end up like... this. All wound up on your stupidly smug boyfriends lap.

"Hey- now. Cmon, this isn't funny!"

But Toji thinks it's funny. He thinks it's hilarious the way you're trying to act unbothered. As if your pussy wasn't betraying you at that moment, clenching around nothing and pulsing softly against his thigh. The thick muscle tenses underneath you, making your breath hitch. Toji could feel it all.

Toji wraps a bulky arm around your waist lazily as you sit on his lap, pulling you closer as the taut muscle flexes against you. He murmurs in your reddening ear, his voice low and mockingly gentle. "You always act so innocent, like you've never even thought about... you know..."

"No. I don't know," you retort whilst trying to stay casual about the whole ordeal.

"You're fidgeting, sweetheart - twitching every time I move. And your breathing? It changed the moment you sat down."

Toji's lips brush against your ear, maddeningly slow. His stupidly attractive scar rubbed against the tender skin, sending waves of heat directly to your lower region. That's why you grip onto his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself, cursing at how observant your boyfriend was.

But it doesn't work. You're shaking like a damn leaf and shifting in a poor attempt to get comfortable.

Toji adjusts his posture, spreading his legs wider as he lounges against the couch, one arm draped lazily across the back.

"Well, aren't you comfortable?" He practically purrs in a casual tone that's at odds with the way his thumb is currently tracing circles on your hip.

You can feel the thick digit dig in slightly. There's a subtle tensing in his jaw as his lidded eyes briefly flicker over your trembling body.

Isn't Toji just cruel to take his sweet time, knowing your hips are just aching to stutter in their place over his leg? His thumb gently pulls your bottom lip down as he leans in, pressing a feather-light kiss to the corner of your mouth first, then trailing along the soft curve of your jawline.

And then his lips are on yours. Finally.

The sensation of Toji capturing your bottom lip between his has you short-circuiting. The gentle sucking sounds as he pulls at your lip, punctuated by soft, contented hums from him. Your own ragged breathing and quiet gasps fill the silence between kisses. The occasional wet, smacking sound when he releases your lip only to recapture it.

"Mm-"

His hand slides into your hair, tangling there as he holds you just where he wants you. You're subtly leaning in, chasing his lips when he pulls back slightly, your breath catching in your throat. Your fingers have found their way to his chest, unconsciously gripping his shirt. And so your hips begin to shift. You're unaware of your humping, barely conscious of the small tingles of pleasure shooting up to your short-clad pussy.

He smirks slightly, loosening his grip just enough to allow a tiny shift of your ass.

"Seems like someone's getting restless." His tone remains casually amused, even as he subtly adjusts you on his lap for better alignment.

"Can't help yourself, can you?"

He maintains that blasé expression, but his eyes betray a flicker of intense heat as he takes in the sight of you, flushed and breathless.

Your cheeks flame an even deeper red, a mix of embarrassment and arousal. "Shut up," you stammer, trying to sound defiant but failing as your voice wavers.

"Got it baaad for me, don't ya? Pathetic." His hand slides down to your ass, squeezing teasingly through the damp shorts. You let out a string of incoherently breathy groans, the sounds doing nothing to soften your boyfriend's aching cock.

Toji thinks for a second, wanting you to chase your orgasm on your own. His eyes are visibly glazed over behind all that teasing.

"Hmph. You wanna act like a desperate little thing, don't ya? Go on then, show me how bad you want it."

He watches with a mix of amusement and arousal as you clumsily try to hump his thigh, his expression softening slightly despite himself. He can feel the heat radiating from your core, the dampness seeping through your panties and onto his leg.

Toji's cock stirs noticeably in his sweatpants, tenting them slightly as he watches you hump his thigh. He reaches down to adjust himself casually, a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Your eyes widen slightly as you notice him adjusting himself, a fierce flush spreading across your cheeks. You pause in your humping, looking up at him with wide eyes before quickly looking away, your face burning with embarrassment. Toji was quite literally your boyfriend. He didn't care whether you saw him adjust himself or not.

He glances down at you, taking in your pause with a bemused smirk. "Taking a break already? You've got enugh stamina to keep going, doll. Don't be lazy." His voice is playful teasing, his free hand gently ruffling your hair in a supportive yet slightly condescending manner.

There's a brief pause between you both, tension thick in the air. Toji decides to take matters into his own hands, literally. He gently grabs your arm, pulling you closer to him if that is even possible.

"You want help?" He asks gruffly, his eyes locked onto yours, waiting for a response or any sign that you actually want guidance. "Say it. Repeat after me. 'Please, Toji. I can't do it by myself.'"

"Fuck. That's - that's embarrassing," you're choking out. You were testing the waters in this new relationship, unsure as to how far you could actually let the lust cloud over your frazzled mind. It seemed as if you could go pretty far, though.

Eventually, you gave in, the wet, sloppy ache between your legs too prominent to ignore. Not to mention the click of the tongue you heard emitting from your partners mouth, subtle, and disapproving. "Please, Toji. Help me get off. I - I can't do it by myself."

He smirks, caving in after seeing the subtle way your glossy lower lip juts out. Finally, Toji's burly hands settle on your hips, already setting a slow and lewd rhythm that makes you tense up and fall onto his chest with a shiver.

It's nothing like you've ever felt before. Toji's hands tighten on your hips as he guides you over his thick, muscular thigh, the limb clenching to provide additional stimulation. He can feel the heat of your pussy pressing against him, the wetness seeping through his pants.

"That's it, just like that. Atta girl," He murmurs, his voice deep and soothing as he watches your lower half gyrate so well under his guidance. A small smirk plays on his lips as he sees how lost you are in the sensation. His hands stay on your hips, giving you the occasional squeeze or nudge to keep you moving just the way he likes.

"Fuck. Huhh...," You're panting, body hunched over as you chase your orgasm. To Toji's disapproval, though. He tuts at you, stopping your hips completely and making a frustrated grunt leave your throat.

"Mmm, not quite. Arch that back like you mean it." His commanding tone mixes with a teasing lilt as he gives your hip a playful smack. You winced, immediately pressing your clothed tits to his, back curving into a delicious arch. Toji made a mental note to free those later.

Heh, just how he likes.

Toji notices the more needy difference in your demeanour, how you seem to naturally seek his approval. He likes it. He likes how you look, arching your back for him. He gives your hip another light smack.

"Better. Muuuuch better. Knew ya had it in ya."

A subtle thwack is delivered to your ass, making you hide your face into the crook of his neck. Toji lets out a low, satisfied sigh as he watches you move. His breath hitches slightly when you buck your hips particularly hard, the sound coming out as a deep.

"Mmm." He murmurs praise under his breath, "So greedy for it."

He tightens his grip on your ass, using it to direct your movements as he lifts you slightly, then presses you down hard onto his thigh.

"Like this, just like this, sweetheart. Fuck yourself on my thigh..." His voice has a commanding undertone, yet remains intimate and teasing. You could hear the deep baritone of his voice rumble all the way to your pussy as you writhed and grinded against him.

"K-kiss me. Please," you mumbled almost drunkenly. Toji obliged and could feel the inexperience reflected in the eager but clumsy movement of your lips against his own. Your tongue darts out, lacking a rhythm, trying earnestly to mimic what you've seen in movies. It's adorably awkward and rather endearing.

Toji chuckles softly against your lips, finding the clumsy kiss rather charming. He gently parts his lips, allowing you to stumble inside. He doesn't deepen the kiss. Instead, he lets you set the pace, occasionally murmuring against your mouth.

"Slooower, baby..."

He's grabbing your ass completely now, noticing the signs of your oncoming orgasm. His hips are flushed against yours, and oh, the friction is delicious. Lewd, sloppy noises emit from your wet cunt as you bumped against his ridiculously prominent erection.

"Like - like that. Just like that... oh, I feel -" the babbles increased in pitch as you both groaned and grinded in tandem against each other. Your breath puffs against Toji's lips, the tip of your nose nudging against his own as he begins to grind upwards into you. You were glad for the fabric covering you both. Otherwise, he'd be balls deep within you. It's a tempting idea, but neither of you were thinking straight, if at all.

You could feel his clothed cock slamming against your short-clad pussy with a lewd squelching sound.

"Fuuuuck yeah. Hump back on my cock. Use me. Get yourself off on me."

Toji's words just kept tumbling from his lips feverishly. There wasn't a single coherent thought going through his brain when he eyed your hips increasing its sluggishly desperate tempo.

"Feels....sooo good, hah.." You're shaking your head, tummy caving in as your orgasm nears. The dull thudding in your pussy grows until your body floods with an intense heat that has your mind blanking.

He's pushing away his orgasm as best as he can, wanting to see you come undone first. And you do just that, body twitching as your toes curl uncontrollably. Toji watches, mesmerized, as your face contorts in ecstasy, your eyes rolling back, and your mouth falling open in a silent shudder.

He hears your high-pitched whimper, followed by a breathless, trembling "Oh, fuuuck," that's drawn out seconds into the orgasm.

Agonisingly quick and without any proper rhythm, Toji's hissing out soft curses. His muffled groans rumble through his chest as he grips your hips tighter, grinding you down onto his twitching erection. Panting heavily, he focuses all his remaining energy on bucking upwards, desperate to overstimulate your clit through layers of fabric.

"S-so much..." You're groaning against the strong muscle of your boyfriends neck that's coated in a light sheen of sweat. Toji feels your nose dig into the skin, rubbing affectionately as the hot, creamy wads of his release soil his sweats.

It takes a few minutes for both of you to regain any sort of sense, the air hot and heavy between you. A thick finger runs lightly up your inner thigh, Toji's eyes watching as you flinch and twitch at the gentle touch.

He chuckles softly, "You're still shivering..." He brings his fingers closer to your most sensitive area, hovering just above without touching.

You're gently pushing his hand away as the afterschocks of your collective orgasm die down, to which he chuckles and kisses your temple.

"...did you cum in your sweats?"

He kisses your temple again, a mix of amusement and satisfaction in his voice. "Mmm...? Yes, I did." His hand trails down your side lovingly.

"Feel how wet it is..." Toji murmurs in a sultry manner. The slut guides your hand to press against the soaked fabric at his crotch. With a catty grin, he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear.

"Just imagine how much better it would be with nothing between us next time."

Chapter 16: Rise and Shine - Toji Smut

Poke.

Poke.

POKE. 

“Y’know, it’s so rude to ignore your wife like that,” you murmur sweetly, one gentle finger tracing the softening contours of your aging husband’s cheek. All four of your limbs are sprawled out as you lay on top of Toji, the blanket around you both creating an intimate, warm pocket of air which you didn’t want to leave. 

Toji’s broad chest rose and fell underneath you, and you could feel the steady thump of his heart beneath your palm. One of his arms is draped over the small of your back, the other behind his head as he keeps his eyes firmly shut. Toji isn’t sleeping, but he isn’t exactly willing to entertain his increasingly playful wife.

You poked his cheek once more.

No reaction.  

“Give me a smile, you grump.” A huff left you, lower lip jutted out as you cupped Toji’s face. Again, not a single movement. You’d think he was dead if not for the fact that you could see his eyebrows twitching in mild agitation. 

You squeezed his cheeks once, twice, before dragging the corner of his lips upwards into a makeshift smile. A mischievous glint appeared in your eyes as you rhythmically extended and squished his lips into a pout. If you squinted, there were slight indents where your fingers were pinching and pressing hard into the skin. 

Finally, Toji exhaled through his nose. “Woman.”

Your face lit up at the strained, exasperated word. “Man,” you mimicked, going back to pinching his cheeks. 

“Did you know that you pout in your sleep?  It’s a ‘lil scary,” you mocked your husband, sticking your lower lip out as far as you could when he decided to crack open a lazy green eye. Your actions warrant very little response and a deadpan look on Toji’s face, but the arm around your back tightens ever so slightly. 

An excited gasp leaves you when your husband decides to entertain you. “Progress is progress. You looked at me!”

“Don’t make me toss you onto the floor.”

“You’d never. You love me far too much to do that.”

You were met with silence at that statement. Toji wasn’t one to outwardly express his love, so you kind of expected him to grow quiet at your words. What you didn’t expect was the beginnings of a smile forming on his scarred lip as he let his eyes shut once more. It was a fond smile, one that was so incredibly soft and reserved only for you. You perked up, sitting up slightly to take in the sight.

“Oh? You finally smiled at me.” Toji let out a little grunt when you flopped back down onto his chest, your nose digging into the crook of his neck. 

“Keep quiet.”

“You don’t really want me to keep quiet, do you?” Your husband looks at you when you say that, taking in with restrained satisfaction how your body jolts at the sensation of his hands sliding up your nightshirt. 

“Never,” he muttered, voice low and scratchy. You simply look back at Toji, a finger reaching back up to poke at him again. 

“Fine by me.”

An audible swallow left your husband as he dug his fingers and kneaded at your love handles. It’s been years since you both tied the knot, but Toji was still able to catch you off-guard after all this time. Instinctively, your legs tightened around the sides of his waist. 

“Wanna poke me again?” He hums questioningly, the noise rumbling deep in his chest beneath you. But you can’t respond. Not when the two of you are shifting against each other. The friction between both of your hips is maddening, the air around you growing more heated. You shift again, lips parting as your shorts ruffle up against his boxers. 

Your husband watches it all with a keen eye, from the way your brows furrow to the sight of you gnawing at your lip. You could feel the outline of him fattening up beneath you, prodding at your clothed pussy. Toji knew what you wanted.

The rough, thick fingers on your waist begin guiding your movements in time with his. The slow roll of Toji’s hips have your head falling down, forehead pressed flush against his shoulder as soft pants begin spilling from your lips. 

“Grind on it. Get yourself off on me, sweetheart.”

You’d be a fool not to take him up on that. It’s so slow, so lazy and warm between you. A part of you wants to rush this foreplay into sex, where Toji folds you in half and nestles his cock deep into your cunt. But it was a quiet morning, and you were both sleepy. The sun was barely up, only the slightest hints of its rays peeking through the gaps of your curtain.

You were tired, but not just from the need to close your eyes. You were tired of pretending you didn’t want more. This time, you rock your hips against Toji’s with a purpose. His burly arms tighten around you, head tipping back when his clothed cock pressed right between your pussy through your shorts. 

“C-can we skip the teasing? Please, Toji?”

He merely tips his head back down, a cocky grin taunting you. “No, I don’t think we will. Keep grindin’ like the good, little wife you are.”

“That's not fair,” you hissed out, firmly planting your palms onto his chest. When you looked down, you could see it glistening with a light sheen of sweat.

Toji shrugs in response, giving your ass a condescending pat. “Who started this again?”

Chapter 17: Anatomy Study - Explicit Toji

Summary:

will your boyfriend sit still for you whilst you draw?

“You good down there?”

“Mhm.”

Toji cracked open one lazy eye, watching as you thumbed through a small, worn-out sketchbook. He took in the sight of you lying on your stomach on the couch, brows furrowed and pink tongue peeking out from between those plush lips he loved to claim with his own. The pages brushed against one of Toji’s thighs as you looked for a spare page— the task almost impossible due to the crammed, incomplete doodles marking every bit of paper you could see. 

“Aha.” You visibly brightened up after finding a big enough spot to draw in, pencil ready in hand as the view of your boyfriend’s crotch became the primary focus. 

Just a bit of research, you told yourself. 

Toji felt you balance your sketchbook on one of his thick knees for a moment, a hand of yours reaching out to lift the waistband of his loose grey sweatpants. Your other hand tugged out his hefty cock and let it plop back onto his thigh with a dull familiar noise. You even manage to free his heavyset pair of balls, much to Toji’s confusion. 

The soft scratching noises of pencil meeting paper quickly became the only noise you could hear once you snatched your book back off of his knee, drowning out the older man’s half-assed grumblings. 

A line here, some cross-hatching there. You were so focused until a thick set of fingers yanked your head up by your hair. 

“You can’t be serious.”

You simply grinned in response, ignoring the slight sting you felt on your scalp as you momentarily met Toji’s eyes. “I’m veeery serious.”

The mumbled words were followed by another flurry of scribbles once he let go, a smug look in your eye the longer you drew this supposed masterpiece. 

“Your cock looks sad when it’s soft, y’know. But I needed a reference, and I’d rather not look at another man's flaccid penis,” you explained, tapping the pencil gently against your cheek in a brief moment of thought.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Toji huffed, trying to ignore the way his cock twitched to the side. There was nothing really to be aroused over, really. You've poked at his dick plenty of times in a non-sexual context, insisting that it looked funny when it looked like a limp sausage. But your boyfriend had no clue why this time was any different.

An unamused noise left you as you glared up through your brows and firmly shifted his cock back into its original position.

“I swear to God, you better not move again. The angle and lighting is perfect right now.”

“You think I can control my dick when you’re lookin’ at it like that?”

Toji’s words were met with a tut from you. All he could do whilst you drew was stay still, not exactly wanting to hear you whine about how the obtuse angle of his tip was on the wrong side, or some bullshit like that. 

Your boyfriend was often subject to these intense sessions of being your muse for up to hours at a time, but never like this. You’ve never so boldly pulled his cock out so that you could study each fattened vein, the saturated head that darkened when he was aroused, the way it throbbed and stood at attention when the blood rushed south, like now—

Wait. 

“Toji, you ass,” you scolded, sitting up on your knees once you were certain you couldn’t continue on with your drawing. Ruined. He ruined it.

Your boyfriend looked (mostly) unfazed, one arm splayed around the back of the couch as he took in the sight of his erect cock.

“Whoops,” your boyfriend shrugs. “My bad, I guess.”

Chapter 18: The Other Woman - Toji Angst

It was one of those quiet evenings you loved so dearly. The rain beat down gently against the windows, the TV created a low hum in the background, and your older boyfriend was on the couch. A cold can of beer you had so kindly fetched him lay crumpled on the ground, the remainder of its contents dripping onto your newly-purchased rug. 

There was no indication that he saw. Or maybe he did. Maybe he just didn't care. 

But it was okay, right? He’s your boyfriend. Sure, he was a little grimy. He didn’t have a stable job, nor did he provide you with emotional safety and security— something a man of his age should have been able to give. You also argued often, frustrated with the way he never answered your calls. Nor did he ever communicate properly, causing bouts of insecurity and self-doubt to bubble up deep within you until you cried. Only then would Toji attempt to soothe your emotions with half-hearted apologies. 

The sex was good, at least. That’s probably why you stayed. Toji knew how to touch you right, not at all like those useless scrubs you used to hang out with. The ones he saved you from, in his words. Under his hulking body, you could forget about all of those empty nights in your bed, the constant missed calls, and especially the way he never truly looked at you. Not unless he wanted to empty a load inside of you. 

But back to the present.

You sat quietly beside him— as if you were his shadow, waiting to be spoken to and never speaking first. His legs were spread wide whereas yours were tucked neatly underneath you. 

Perhaps… you should break the silence tonight. See where it led you. 

“Do you believe in soulmates, ‘ji?” You murmured in a manner far too sweet than what your boyfriend deserved. He didn’t even look your way when you spoke, merely grunting lowly in response. 

A shrug. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he muttered after a brief beat of silence. “Think I already met mine."

You blinked, a warm feeling beginning to form deep within you. Oh, how your heart soared. You beamed at him, leaning forward until your hand brushed against a bulky knee. He scratched at his softening stomach dismissively. 

He thought of you as his soulmate? 

You were about to respond— lips already parting, heart fluttering, until Toji interrupted in that careless voice of his. 

“She died, though.”

And your smile disappeared, before it could fully bloom like the flowers resting on his dear wife's grave. 

“Oh. Right,” you murmured, daring to let out a strained laugh. “Sorry.”

You should have known better. 

Toji chuckled, like he didn’t take you seriously. That’s when a rushed mumble of ‘I love you’ spilled from your lips, thinking that it’d fix things. What else could you do? 

He patted your knee, as if you were some sort of mutt bringing him back a stick after a round of fetch. There was no reassurance in his touch, no comfort. It felt cold.

“Don’t worry your pretty ‘lil head about it,” was all he said before getting up and heading off to grab himself another beer. 

Your face burned terribly, body prickling with embarrassment. The can on the floor caught your attention once more, your eyes fixed on the way it still soaked the rug below. Your breathing was shallow as you listened to his heavy footsteps walk further away from you.

Too far.

Chapter 19: Gone Wrong - Toji Smut/Crack

The repetitive slap of Toji’s hips slamming into yours filled the humid bedroom, his heavy body caging you beneath him all desperate and gasping. The mattress heaved under the combined weight, creaking in protest.

Missionary wasn’t even on the agenda tonight. You had batted your lashes like a tease and pawed at your boyfriend. Now here you were, knees folded up to your chest in a mating press whilst your boyfriend thrust his cock into your again, again, and again.

You moaned shamelessly, fingers clawing down his back as he fucked into you. It's slick. It's hot, desperate, and filthy. He leaned in closer, eyes boring into yours with breath hot on your lips. “Whose pussy is this, hmm?”

And then you froze, face visibly contorting to one of mild confusion. With lips parted, eyes darting to the side, your brain short-circuited. Shit.

You winced, voice coming out with a pitched, timid lilt. Toji watched with ragged breaths as you screwed your eyes shut, awaiting your answer.

“Mine...?”

A heavy pause.

...

And then Toji stopped moving altogether.

His cock was halfway inside of you, a hot weight throbbing in response to each clench of your welcoming cunt. Toji simply stared down, a bewildered look on his usually stoic face.

You've managed to break that façade with just one unsure word.

"Was that not the right answer?"

“No."

You grimaced, cursing at yourself silently. “Well— well, It’s just that... technically, it is my pussy...”

“Technically,” he repeated lowly through a scoff, leaning down again until your nose meets his. “Say it again?"

“I panicked!” You blurted out, scrambling to quickly grab at his retreating hands. "It’s yours, I swear—!”

He simply grunted in response. Low and offended. “Naaah, don't take it back. S’not mine anymore, hmm?"

Toji withdrew his hips, pulling out until it was only his flushed, dewy tip you were clenching around.

"Your pussy," he seemed to sneer in a hushed tone before pulling out completely with a wet pop! Never did you think that you'd be debating over custody rights over your OWN anatomy. You sat there, pussy clenching around nothing as the bulky man practically sulked with his broad back turned to you.

"... if I say that it's yours, will you fuck me?"

...

"Maybe. Give me copyright claims, too, or something whilst you're at it."

Chapter 20: Failed Degradation - Toji Smut/Crack

The pillow beneath your cheek was already damp with drool, sweat, and whatever other fluids had accumulated over the past half hour. Your arms were limp beside you, each angled thrust only serving to shove you forward against the sheets.

The bedsprings heaved and groaned under the combined weight of both you and your boyfriend. Again and again, the headboard slammed against the walls. The neighbours, you had cried out, worrying about the complaints. As always, Toji had brushed you off and muttered about how he'd deal with it tomorrow.

Liar.

Tonight, Toji’s grip on your hips was more firm than usual, calloused palms broad as he dragged you back onto the throbbing girth of his cock like a fucktoy.

“Reaaal fuckin’ tight today, huh?” he muttered, voice low as his jaded eyes honed in on the way your pussy stretched around him. Toji pulled out all the way until you were clenching around the flushed head of his cock. With one swift thrust, he bottomed out, hips slamming against the soft curve of your rear.

"Shit—"

With eyes fluttering, you gasped sharply. Blunt, painted nails dug into the sheets as you skidded forward on your chest, the sheets twisting into an unintelligible mess beneath you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin was sharp. Unrelenting. Deliberate.

But then, Toji started talking. It was as if his mouth was running on autopilot, spewing out filth so that he could satiate a more primal part of himself.

"You like that? Being bred like a good whore?"

"Droolin' like a fucking mutt."

“Could bet a dumb slut like you loooves it when I use you like this."

. . .

You didn’t answer.

You couldn’t anyway, not when each heavy drive of his hips stolen the breath right from your lungs. But for once, it wasn’t just the way Toji was moulding your cunt to the shape of his cock. No, something in your mind refused to shift into place.

Your brows knitted in the centre, drool-soaked lips parting like you want to respond to his degrading words . . . but nothing came out. You inhaled, chest inflating before a noise akin to a scoff left you.

You looked back without thinking, really. It was only a sidelong glance over your shoulder, some baby hairs plastered to your temple sticking to your temple. Toji watched as your eyes flickered with something. Not arousal, not annoyance, even.

The look you gave him wasn’t one of someone who had been rendered cockdrunk. No, not at all.

You were confused.

Unfortunately for you, Toji caught it.

Bred? Toji had a condom on. Slut? Wasn't his body count higher than yours? Mutt? Last time you checked, Toji was the one wearing a leash last time.

A displeased tut left the older man as he saw the geats in your head turning, his hips stilling momentarily. Toji faltered for only a split second, but you felt it. You felt him hunching over you, sweaty torso dripping onto your back as he crowded your smaller frame. One large hand slid from hips to your stomach, patting it for your attention. The other hand balled into a fist next to your head as he caged you in.

Toji lowered himself until his scarred lip brushed against the soft shell of your ear. But then he shuffled even more forward, trying to catch your eye. Hot breaths hit against your face as Toji nipped at your jaw to get your attention.

“The fuck was that look for?” he grunted, the two of you having shifted into prone bone without you realising it.

You didn't answer, unspoken words heavy between you both. How were you supposed to explain to your boyfriend that you happened to just . . . mentally check out for a second when he degraded you? It's not exactly your fault you took them literally.

"Dunno. You just sounded weird for a sec," you mumbled.

“Hmph. Thought you liked it when I talked dirty," Toji chuckled roughly. He was fully aware of your tendency to take his words seriously, that quirks appearing at the most inconvenient of times. It's not like he minded, though. No, it was only something he'd come to enjoy.

But anyway, he decided to pull out, cock stiff in his hand as he rubbed the head against the drenched area between your legs. Your body twitched, giving away your evident arousal.

"Seems like the brat only wants my cock now, not my mouth,” Toji hummed, voice dropping impossibly as he feigned offence. "Dontcha think that's rude?"

Bunching the crinkled sheets between your fingers, you turned your head to look at him. A huff left you, as if to say no, I don't like it when you degrade me.

Toji got the hint loud and clear.

“I get it,” grabbing a fistful of your hair, Toji tugged your head far back enough to be able to see your face clearly. Flushed cheeks, dewy eyes, but a petulant expression overshadowing it all. You couldn't keep your eyes on Toji, unable to verbalise how you truly felt. But he understood. He always did, even if he didn't at first.

The sound of his tongue clicking against his teeth met your ears. Toji slid back into your warmth shortly, hips drawing back and plunging back into you— hard enough for you to make those pretty noises for him again.

"I guess you're serious about it, huh. No more callin' you a slut?"

The question was more rhetorical than anything else. He knew what the answer was when your lips pressed together in a firm tight line, only separating to let out some of those sweet noises he'd been dying to hear all evening.

His chuckle was barely audible, but it was more gentle than before. Less offended. "Hah— alright, alright. No more name callin'. But that won't stop me from folding your body in half."

"As if I wanted you to stop—"

Thrust.

Toji had set a new rhythm, slower, deeper. When your throat refused to make a noise, your cunt did plenty in time with his own grunts. He stayed bent over you, tugging on your ear as he indulged in the chorus of pitched mewls spilling from your lips.

Finally.

Chapter 21: Sukuna Body Pillow - Nerd!Reader Smut

Your bedroom was far too small for the amount of clutter you kept hoarded inside it. Piles of worn-out textbooks, stacks of journal articles, and a messy array of stationary took up most of the space on your wooden desk. Post-it notes were plastered all over your faded walls, stained with ink and unintelligible binary codes. The numbers were written in a pretty half-assed way, messy lines marring the thin paper where your concentration had lapsed briefly during lectures. To an outsider, the room appeared to belong to a dedicated major, passionate about putting together digits to make computer software.

But right in the center of the bed laid your dirty little secret, betraying the perverted side of you you kept hidden away from your peers.

A six-foot-something body pillow, tailored to the exact measurements of the subject of your desires, was splayed long across your creaking mattress. Printed on it was a poor quality image of Ryomen Sukuna, your classmate. His lips were curled up in an infuriatingly smug grin. His hair was styled up to show off the flash of silver piercing through the tender flesh of his ear, and black ink swirled over the tanned skin where his t-shirt had ridden up.

This picture was your most prized possession. You had taken it yourself, actually, in a fit of passion. Sukuna had been standing there with his buddies, laughing about something in the middle of campus with a cigarette hanging between his lips. He had stretched, the sharp contour of his v-line making an appearance. You’d hidden behind a tree, camera in hand as you snapped a photo, uploaded it once you dashed home, and placed an order for a custom-made body pillow.

Now you were fucking yourself on it.

The pillow was well . . . used. It became an almost daily occurrence for you to hump it then wash it day after day. It was a tedious process, but you were too far gone to actually care about the water bills. The only issue was the fading, defiled image of Sukuna and the way it always seemed to smell of your cunt no matter how many times you rinsed out your release, but you could worry about that later.

With both thighs hugging either side of the pillow like it was made of actual muscle, you rolled your hips desperately, chasing a much needed orgasm. A creamy ring of translucent slick had gathered around the base of the pink silicone toy you had buckled around the 'crotch' of the pillow. It pressed into your walls, molding them to its shape as you trembled above. With each lift of your hips, your hands dug into the pillow right where Sukuna's chest was. You'd drop down and let out a wanton cry, pussy soaking the fabric below. Again, and again, you continued this sloppy rhythm.

“S-sukuna . . . hahhh—” You chanted, voice hushed like you were reciting a prayer.

Your glasses were slipping halfway down your nose, fogging up with moisture with each ragged pant leaving your bitten lips. Your hair laid askew, damp against your sweaty temples. The heat radiating off of your body was unbearable, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. The repetitive bounce, the sound of skin meeting skin as your breasts clapped down onto your torso only made you feel hotter. Pawing at your tits through your tank top, you then slipped your fingers underneath until you could feel your stiff nipples between your fingers. Oh, how you wished it was Sukuna playing with you instead. You whimpered at the thought, kneading your chest with warm palms.

“F-fuck—” your voice cracked, melting into a whimper as your back arched wildly. You leaned flat onto the pillow, clutching onto it like you were holding him. You were fully aware of how pathetic this all was— how pathetic you were, just some software engineering major who spent far too much time bouncing on a fake cock attached to a blurry photo you had taken in secret of Sukuna.

But you couldn't bring yourself to stop.

Each and every mannerism of the taller man was burned into your memory. You had memorised the way he'd lazily sprawl out his legs during lecture and nod his head along with the music blasting in his ears. You knew of his tendency to party, to hookup with whoever he had his sights on whilst you stayed in your dorm room, desperately wishing it was you he was fucking into the mattress. You had even taken note of the odd habit he had of casually calling you four-eyes when he needed something from you. To that, you could feel your cunt clench, as if it were calling out to him.

"H-hah, what do they know? Choose me— fuuuck, use me. They don't l-love you like I do," you murmured to yourself, eyes half-crazed as you tightened your fists into the pillow.

With your mind in a haze from the reverent memories of your classmate, you continued fucking yourself. Each and every thrust of your hips made you spasm around your thick toy, your pussy so utterly wet that it squelched over and over, creating a warm puddle of your previous releases over the image of Sukuna's clothed groin. Burying your face into the cotton, you breathed in wildly. The faint smell of synthetic materials filled your nose, but how you wished it was his sweat instead. You bit down into the pillow, positively soaking it with your drool.

“Fu-fuuuck me, please,” you mewled, the garbled plea spilling from your lips, muffled and not very shamed. Your glasses had fallen off at this point, the lens smeared with your tears. “Please, please, please, I-I'd do anything— oh, fuck,” You blabbered through a strangled moan, greedy cunt clenching and pulsing around the drenched silicone of your toy as you rode the pillow.

Each roll of your hips made your hard nipples rub against the thin cotton of your tank top, dragging deliciously each time you let your tits press against against the pillow’s chest. Your thighs burned, your lower half shifting so that you could situate the toy deeper into your stretched out pussy.

And so your fantasies started spiraling out of control. Sukuna barging in, even if he had no reason to. Sukuna finding out about your nasty little habit. Sukuna towering over your body as he made you fuck yourself on the body pillow, taunting, laughing at how you couldn't even get a real cock. And then maybe he'd even fuck you after, using your cunt so that he could empty out his balls into you with a beefy arm locked around your throat.

"Pathetic," you croaked out, echoing the words you could just hear Sukuna purring in your mind. Even if it was all just some depraved fantasy of yours. Your own words made you gush, shame igniting underneath your flushed skin.

The pace your hips had built up finally broke down into frantic jerks, hips fucking down into the pillow with your clit rubbing against him so deliciously. Your chest heaved, breath beginning to stutter at the sound of your wet pussy gripping onto the strap in an obscenely loud manner. Clumsy hands fumbled around, clutching at the printed image of Sukuna's chest whilst tears started to cling onto your eyelashes from sheer overstimulation.

"Ryo—"

Your orgasm finally hit. It was bordering on the point of being violent—your cunt tightening hard around the toy as you squirted out your release. The pillow below greedily soaked it up whilst your thighs tightened around it, tensing and trembling uncontrollably. A helpless, fucked out cry left you as your face melted into one of absolute bliss. You bit down, huffing into his face whilst grinding through your orgasm.

"ThankyouThankyouThankyou," you released the pillow from between your lips and pushed your lips into it, pussy milked the strap like it was his cock. Eventually, your spent body slumped against the ruined pillow with your lips close to Sukuna's printed one.

Shame eventually hit you, but you pushed that away as you took in the picture of Sukuna staring up into you, like he knew what you were doing behind closed doors.

And so your hips twitched once more, eager for another round.

Chapter 22: Sukuna Smut pt 2

Sukuna had many obligations.

First, there was rugby practice. Or maybe he should’ve been in the gym, working on his legs. He should’ve been doing anything, actually. Anything other than this.

Instead, Sukuna had his phone in hand, legs spread out obscenely wide as he slouched against the headboard of his bed. A large hand was wrapped around his cock, the glow of his screen illuminating his face in the midst of the darkness of his bedroom. Sukuna wasn't watching porn, he wasn't getting himself off to fake moans or over-exaggerated eye rolls.

He was getting himself off to you.

More specifically, Sukuna was scrolling through your Instagram profile, thumb careful not to accidentally like any of your pictures. A couple of photos had caught his eye, the sort that flew under the radar and was only really hearted by your close mutuals. One particularly image had him completely captivated— a selfie of you sitting at your overly cluttered desk, textbooks and color-coded notes scattered about. A laptop wobbled on your bare thigh, a hoodie far too big for you clothing your body. Your lips were the main attraction, barely parted and quirked up in a slight grimace at having to assignments. Sukuna's eyes briefly skimmed over the caption: "looking like another all-nighter T_T"

How mundane.

Yet Sukuna had saved the photo immediately.

He kept scrolling, thumb flicking through your account like it was his own personal wank bank. There were selfies of you on outings, at the beach, sneakily taking pictures of your friends in lectures. In each and every one of them, Sukuna could only focus on your face.

Shit. He was leaking, his damp thumb smearing precum across his tip. His arousal had streaked across his knuckles as he pumped himself with sharp, deliberate strokes. “Fucking loser . . .” he rasped, voice rough underneath his breath as his hips tilted up to meet his fist.

Another photo of yours caught his eye. Sukuna paused, eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of you in a tight white t-shirt. If he squinted, he could see the imprint of your bra underneath your clothing. The mirror-selfie wasn't meant to be anything serious in the first place, but all Sukuna saw was how tight your t-shirt was— a stark difference to the baggy hoodies you usually wore to lectures.

Sukuna's breath audibly hitched in the sanctuary of his bedroom, his teeth digging into his lower lip.

“Bet you're a fuckin' slut in hiding . . .”

The man muttered to himself, speeding up the pace of his hand. Precum sputtered out of his cock, even dripping down onto his cracked phone screen. His abs tensed repeatedly, in time with the twitching of his heavyset thighs as he scrolled with one hand.

Every so often, Sukuna would zoom in on your face. He'd take in with affection the sight of your glossy lips, the way your brows furrowed in the middle, how you often had a faraway look in your eyes. He then found an old photo of you in the university library. It was clear that a friend had taken the photo for you— the comments filled with an individual screaming at you for the lack of credits. You had a bored look on your face, your head having been propped on your palm.

“God, ain't you fucking cute . . . ” He murmured through gritted teeth, the admission stifled like it was something he should have been ashamed to say. Sukuna paused his jerking to slide his hand down so that he could gently squeeze his balls, a guttural grunt of your name leaving his lips. Had anyone asked what he thought of you, he'd insistently deny the knowledge of your existence, claiming to use you for work. But a large part of Sukuna loved this dirty little secret of his, that he'd scroll through your photos before bed and fuck himself to the sight of your pretty face.

Sukuna's chest heaved, the veins in his forearm filling up as he let his own imagination grow wild. You'd look cute, he thought, on your knees with your mouth stuffed full of his cock. There was a little voice, a nagging in his brain that you were doing the exact same thing that he did every night. Hell, there was no way you weren't— not when you were so eager to go out of your way to help him with anything he needed.

It didn't take long for Sukuna's orgasm to wash over his entire body, pulses of heat traveling from his groin to his head. Cum oozed from his tip, coating his stomach and even his phone screen, right where your face was smiling back at him. How funny, Sukuna thought. A twisted little cum tribute for you, and you didn't even know about it.

Too much time had passed whilst Sukuna was recovering from his orgasm, causing his phone screen to dim. Your photo was still coated in his cum, until Sukuna dragged his thumb across it. With a curse, Sukuna reached over to his bedside table and grabbed a wad of tissues, cleaning his phone up with a pant.

Sukuna knew he should have turned off his phone and showered instead of letting the pools of cum cool on his quivering stomach. But instead, Sukuna's crimson eyes caught the blue button that seemed to stand out more than any of your selfies did.

Follow.

He didn't know whether it was a good idea or not to follow you, some random chick from his class who spent too much time with her nose in a book. But the thought of you lighting up at the notification made Sukuna's cock twitch almost violently. Would you wait a day to check your notifications, or would you be as pathetic as he thought you'd be and follow back immediately, even though it was well into the night.

Sukuna's answer was answered soon enough, though, when his inbox was suddenly flooded with likes from you. Truly pathetic, but he couldn't help but feel flattered. And somewhere not too far away in your own room, your thighs tightened around an oversized pillow once more.

Chapter 23: Older!Nanami - Suggestive

Summary:

older!Nanami questions his morals on a night out

Nanami's favourite pastime had to be indulging in a cold drink after work. He wasn't as young as he used to be, and so the quiet atmosphere of this bar suited him perfectly.

He had initially chosen this bar because it was somewhere tucked away like his own personal secret. You didn't get the chaotic chatter of delinquents downing shots or couples hooking up in the corner. So Nanami had made it quick work of choosing a seat and making it his regular, sitting alone until he had drank enough to forget about the dull pain at the base of his spine.

Nanami looked like the sort to frequent this establishment— the sleeves of his perfectly ironed shirt rolled up, dotted tie loose around his neck, and a sleepy look in his eyes as he nursed a half-drank glass of whiskey in his hand. The slight wrinkles at the corner of his eye deepened for a moment as he sat there, lost in thought.

It was all fine for a while until you slipped onto the empty stool beside him. You had done so a little too eagerly for Nanami's liking, like you already had set your sights on him the moment he had stepped into the establishment.

“Good evening, mister," you purred, resting the pointed toe of your red heels against the footrail of Nanami's stool. Your voice was like honey, and you were batting your lashes at the older man like it was your first time on a night out. "Any recommendations on what to order? That whiskey you're holding looks reaaal nice."

The look Nanami gave you from the corner of his eye was a reluctant one, unamused— but that didn't faze you. “It's adequate."

A soft bubble of laughter left you as you rested an elbow on the bars countertop, body turned his way. Nanami knew what you were doing, especially when you leaned forward to not-so-subtly flash the ample curve of your cleavage at him. The neckline of your backless top was low, and he couldn't help but let his hazel eyes flit down to where your legs crossed, skirt riding dangerously high. Notice me, your body seemed to scream at him.

"Doesn't look like it's doing much for you."

He ignored your remark, choosing to sip slowly on his beverage— until you purposefully brushed a painted nail against his bare wrist, that is. Just grabbing a napkin, you murmured delicately, and Nanami didn't buy the excuse. Not even for a second.

Finally, Nanami set his glass down with a clink and looked at you dead in the eye. A sick sort of thrill ran through your body, manifesting as a curl of delicious heat deep in your cunt.

“Drop the act,” he responded in a voice so flat that you'd think he wasn't interested, like he was already sick of your presence. But underneath it all, you could hear the telltale strain of the older man questioning his morals. “Whatever you’re doing, you're not fooling anyone."

Liar.

And drop the act you did. Instead of being met with a rebuttal, an offended retort at being accused of such a thing, Nanami took in the sight of a pearly grin. It was cheap. It was sleazy, and Nanami should have known better than to stay. But he didn't.

You leaned closer again, drumming your nails against the countertop now. Uncrossing your legs, a private little whisper left your lips, one just for the two of you.

“Are you open-minded, sir?”

Nanami had fucked up royally by giving you the time of day. His jaw tightened, the lines of his cheekbones deepening as his pulse thrummed hard against the collar of his shirt.

“I mean,” you continued slowly, shamelessly dragging your eyes down the length of Nanami's body, "you look like you could teach me a thing or to. Boys my age, just don't cut it for me."

Nanami stayed silent. To that, you kept speaking with a voice dripping with utter sin. You pulled the man in like a siren, tone full of nothing short than unrestrained sex.

"You look you could use a warm body for the night, sir. Relieve some of that tension. I could take it, y'know. I could take your cock and drain you real nice and dry."

. . .

"I could be so good for you."

Had Nanami squeezed that glass hard enough, it would have shattered in his hand and decorated you both in crimson. Instead, he exhaled slow, a vein in his forehead pulsing angrily. “That's enough of that." Yet his voice held no conviction. He was wavering.

The floral scent of your perfume only grew sharper in the air as you tilted your head, gently prodding the muscle of Nanami's calf. You were pleasantly surprised to find some firmness there, much like his arm. And oh, how thrilling it was to think about letting this older man have his way with you, to toss you around with nothing but experience and desperation under his belt.

"But you look so pent up. I mean, look at you, sir. I bet you could come untouched if I tried hard enough—"

"I'm leaving for the night." Nanami interrupted you with a tone so clipped and straight to the point. But you weren't stupid— you could see the faint blush on his pale ears, giving his arousal away. You watched with your glossy lower lip jutter out as he pushed off of his stool, leaving away half a glass of whiskey in the process.

A pang of disappointment hit you when he indeed shuffled on his blazer, looking down at you for a moment before speaking. “You shouldn't be looking for trouble like this." Nanami slid some money onto the counter. "Fool around with someone your own age."

And then he left. Just like that, with his stiff, broad back turned yoir way. Not once did your eyes leave him, letting you catch a glimpse of the way Nanami adjusted himself in his pants. The movement was quick and frustrated, like he was ashamed of his body reacting this way.

How bothersome, you thought, leaning back against the counter with a self-satisfied smirk. Your fingers wrapped around the glass he left behind, a large part of you wishing it was his cock instead. But that'd had to be for another night. For now, you ran a pink tongue over the rim of the glass where Nanami had his lips on mere moments ago.

There wasn't a single part of you that doubted that you'd see Nanami again, cock between his legs as his curiosity got the better of him. Men like him always came back whenever you cracked at their seemingly distinguished surface.

Chapter 24: ForgottenGod!Sukuna - Smut

☾ ForgottenGod!Sukuna, whose temple lay wasted deep within the dark forest outside of your village. It was covered in blankets of dust and moss, stray ropes of ivy hanging from the crumbling pillars. His name had been erased from the various tablets scattering the desecrated shrine, any depiction of him rendered unintelligible. The altar had been blackened, withering away and forgotten under years of rainfall— until you had stumbled across it one night.

☾ ForgottenGod!Sukuna, who had cracked open four crimson eyes the moment you had sank to your knees. You shouldn’t have clasped your hands, whispering your little plea into the silence. You had asked— no, begged for strength and good health, for someone, anyone, to hear you. And the moment the words left your parted lips, the temple around you shifted. You could feel the air around you grow heavier, choking you to the point your vision blurred. At long last, something hostile, something ancient opened its eyes for the first time in a millennia.

☾ ForgottenGod!Sukuna, who clawed his way out of worn-out stone, He was anything but human, especially with the glint of fang peeking at you. The figure before you slowly stands at full height, bearing four hulking arms, four eyes, and the stench of incense that had burned away long ago into ash. A true manifestation of death itself. But he was only a shadow, something that was just out of your reach, brushing over your conscious.

☾ ForgottenGod!Sukuna, who can hear the way your mortal heart pounds in your throat, calling him closer. You're rooted to the spot, waiting for the moment this grotesque divinity strikes you down. But he doesn't. No, he crouches instead, black claws curling under your chin.

“For the first time in centuries,” the stench of chaos was hot against your lips as he hissed, “someone dared to pray to me.” Sukuna didn't see you as a worshiper at that moment. To him, you were a salvation incarnate.

☾ ForgottenGod!Sukuna, who is a demanding being. He tests your devotion to him after the first night, demanding more from you each time you sneak out of your village to meet him. The offerings start off tame, clumsy. Trembling hands laid flowers across his altar, only to be crushed in a second by an unimpressed fist. You tried bringing food, a wide array of different sorts of meat and scavenged berries that you hoped would sustain your God. And so he'd eat them from the palm of your hand, tongue grazing the inside of your delicate wrist.

☾ ForgottenGod!Sukuna, who asked for blood one night. He had offered you a stone, promising deceivingly that he only wanted a drop— right from the center of your palm. Your hesitation made his eyes narrow, but you found it in you to offer yourself to him. A tattooed tongue flicked over your palm as you held it out for him, and so he grinned. Bloodthirsty eyes rolled shut as he savored the taste of an innocent lamb who had wandered into his domain. At that moment, you had a realisation— his sustenance didn't come from meaningless offerings of fruit and flowers. He wanted you, your body, and your undying devotion.

☾ ForgottenGod!Sukuna, who finally manifests in his true form one night. The shadows peeled back, revealing a hulking body and scarred skin, one that you could finally feel. But you didn't, not just yet. Instead, you stayed at your dutiful place on your knees, head bowed low. It was only then that your God cupped your face with two of his four massive hands. A clawed thumb pressed at your quivering lips.

“My dear bride” he uttered through a snarl, his voice reverberating through your very bones. “You sustain me. You give me life.” You don't recall ever agreeing to marry this deity, but he didn't have to ask. Nay, never. Sukuna simply had to declare what he wished, and what he wished for became his.

☾ ForgottenGod!Sukuna, who intruded in on your mind whenever he found it suitable to do so. Before you could even register it happening, he'd call you his wife, his bride. You'd sleep at his altar, black claws grazing the crown of your head as he corrupted your mind with promises of ownership. He could feel you telling yourself that this was a nought but a dream, some sick fantasy where you finally belonged to someone. But when you'd stumble away during the day, the longing tore at your very soul, making you return to your God. And when you do, he'd simply grin.

"I knew you would come back to your rightful place at my side, my dear bride."

☾ ForgottenGod!Sukuna, makes worship utterly filthy. He makes it blasphemous. Your thighs are spread over his bare ones, body limp as a torrent of sinful pleasure washes over your body. You shouldn't be doing this, you want to protest— but the only thing that could fill the silence of the forest are your reverent mewls as he worships you with his mouth. His teeth nip at your throat. His palms suck and drool at your aching breasts. Your nipples harden, fighting against the warm heat of his tongues and the cold air around you both. Nothing about this was holy, yet when he demanded that you cry for him, let him hear you pray, you let the tears fall and gasp his name out in utter devotion.

☾ ForgottenGod!Sukuna, who fucks your mouth every evening without fail, your hands clasped in front of you as if you were locked in prayer. The act is nothing short of ritualistic. Thick fingers tangle in your hair, dragging your mouth further down on his cock until he could feel your throat constricting tightly around him. When you gag, he only praises you sadistically. A faithful little harlot, he coos, painting your face in white and smearing over your face. He makes you swallow whatever landed in your mouth, gripping your jaw to see how thorough you are with your care. Shame bubbles deep in your gut, but the feeling of being utterly defiled is easily overpowered by the heat washing over you. He knew you wanted more.

☾ ForgottenGod!Sukuna, who claims you on top of his jagged alter. He was all consuming, taking over each of your five senses. His weight crushed over your back as you bent over and muttered words of pure commitment to your God. You could taste the remnants of his seed thick against your tongue, settling deep in your stomach as he fucked into you over and over. Louder, he demands. The forest may have been abandoned, but he'd be damned if the trees didn't bow over with you to his presence that night. The stone scraped against you, but your attention to the pain was diverted once he speared his cocks back into you, creating an impossible bulge in your stomach. He had claimed you from the inside out as you sobbed for him, hips rutting further against you.

"Beg for your God."

"Louder, dear bride. Let the moon above hear your worship."

☾ ForgottenGod!Sukuna, who leaves kiss after kiss at your temple after he had his fill. You were thoroughly marked, bruised, and stuffed to the brim with his release. A large part of you expected mockery, to be discarded to the side once you were properly bred. But instead, a promise met your ears, binding you together with a vow that felt more real than any human marriage ever could. It's haunting, knowing that you should run far away from the forest, from him. But you bowed your head, feeling holy for the first time in your short existence.

"You may run, little bride, but you will return to me, for your soul is bound to mine in this life and the next."

Chapter 25: PervyNeighbour!Sukuna - Smut

Having Sukuna as a neighbour was definitely . . . interesting.

He was the sort of neighbour that made you second-guess any of your fashion choices whenever you stepped out of your house, because you knew that anything short of a full outfit would be on the receiving end of Sukuna's relentless stare— and they would not let go. You swore you've never seen him wear anything more than a pair of tight-fitting shorts that did nothing to hide whatever he was packing underneath. Your neighbour would flaunt his broad, sun-kissed body, always in the corner of your peripheral vision whenever he spent a tedious number of hours underneath the summer sun.

You weren't stupid. You could see the way he'd swipe his sponge deliberately slow across his car, making sure you got a nice eyeful of the way the water and soap rolled down his pecs instead of his vehicle. You could see the moisture soak under the waistband of his shorts, which sat obscenely low on his hips. There wasn't an ounce of doubt in you— you were certain that was intentional, and the bastard knew it too. Sukuna took full advantage of the fact that you were watching through your curtains like a voyeur. So he'd run his tongue along his pointed teeth, flexing his arms like he was in one of those car wash adverts— just to rile you up a tad more.

It was even worse that you had a boyfriend. Sukuna knew you had a boyfriend, but that didn’t stop him. If anything, it only spurred him on. On the days your scumbag of a boyfriend would visit, Sukuna would be lounging on his porch in a tank top, absentmindedly dragging a hand across his abs. Or maybe he'd be half-sprawled over the hood of his car, eyes honed in on you as if he was waiting, daring you to look his way.

Another issue you had were your panties— or the lack of them, you should say. The temperature outside was perfect enough for you to hang up your underwear, but sometimes they'd simply . . . disappear. You'd go outside to fetch your dry clothes, only to be met by the sight of empty spaces on the washing line. Did you accidentally misplace them? Had the wind blown your favourite lace pair away, doomed to be found in someone else's back garden?

Deep down, though, you knew where they were. One windy day, you had seen your underwear actually blow into Sukuna's yard when he was tending to the grass. Shamelessly, he had bent over and picked them up, crimson gaze meeting yours as he pocketed them without hesitation. Did you say anything about it? Did you confront him?

No. You didn't.

But after that singular incident, you were more aware of Sukuna's presence in your life. He was always watching you, listening in on when your boyfriend would get himself off in you. Not once did he hear your moans, just half-assed words of encouragement so you could get it all over and done with. Pathetic. Sukuna was certain he could do a better job once he had the opportunity to do so.

═══════

Your breakup was inevitable. All that your ex brought to the relationship was fake orgasms and constant arguments about the pettiest issues. But that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

That fateful night, you stumbled home with your heels dangling from trembling hands. Your feet were bare, pattering against the gravel leading up to your house, and Sukuna was nothing short of amused. Poor you, he thought, nursing a cold bottle of beer in his hand as he sat back on his porch. Your mascara had stained your cheeks dark, lipstick smeared across your lips. The heartbreak was written all over you.

"Rough night, huh?" Sukuna drawled from where he was sitting. "Where's that little boyfriend of yours?"

You stopped at your front doors, sullenly clutching your heels to your chest. “What's it to you?"

Sukuna leaned forward with interest, raising a slit brow. The porch light above only highlighted each jagged angle of his face, giving him a rather foreboding aura. “Heard the yelling, sweetheart. The walls aren't exactly thin. I'm surprised the dick lasted this long with you."

Shit, were you both that obvious?

“I don’t need your side comments, Ryomen."

He rebutted quick, not missing his chance to play the role as your saviour. “I don't believe that for a second. What you need is a real man, not some prick who doesn't know he's got it good when it's right in front of him. You know where you can get a man like that?” Sukuna scoffed, standing up to his full height. “Take a look at what's right in front of you."

You knew you should have passed on his blatant offer. It would have been relatively simple to just unlock your door and head inside. But you didn't. Instead, your bare feet carried you to Sukuna.

═══════

Sukuna wasn't a man of many words, so there wasn't a single part of you that expected any sort of comfort from him. Instead, he sat too close to you on the couch as you sniffled into a tissue and wiped your face. The man dug at you, letting his knee bump into yours with nothing but heat radiating off of his larger body. A heavy palm kneaded at your bare thigh, clearly an act to feign sympathy.

“Can bet my savings that scrub didn't know how to please a pretty girl like you,” Sukuna practically purred against your ear, thumbing at your knee tenderly. “Bet he had no fuckin’ clue what to do whilst you just lay there. Dry."

Your silence spoke volumes. Instead of shooting back a retort and accuse him of being a filthy, no-good pervert, your breathing only shallowed as arousal pooled low in your gut.

“Thought so.”

And that was all he had to say before slotting his lips onto yours the way you both had been dreaming of.

═══════

Sukuna didn't bother taking his time— not when he had been craving the sight of you under him for months now. His hand cushioned your fall as your back hit the couch, chest against chest whilst his hands found the target. Sukuna didn't do gentle. Clothes were thrown onto the floor. You exchanged heated kisses. He shoved your thighs apart and hiked up your mini dress you had seen your ex in, hooking his deft fingers into your underwear and ripping the fabric with a sharp noise that made you gasp.

"H-hey, those were expensive . . ."

“Don’t need 'em,” he muttered, tossing the ruined red lace aside haphazardly. “Not with me.”

You hadn't even realised that Sukuna had freed his cock, only jolting back to reality once he spread your pussy apart with two thumbs and slotted himself in between. A nasty squelch left where you both met

You barely had a second to breathe before his cock was pressed against your folds, thick and heavy, mixing precum against your slick. He leaned down, both crimson eyes locking on yours, and his grin split wider.

“Bet that sorry ex of yours wasn't as big as this.” He rubbed himself along your slit, deliberately missing your entrance with his weeping head back and forth until you were dripping. “Fuckin’ embarrassing.”

You exhaled breathily, clutching at his shoulders with needy eyes, but Sukuna wasn't having any of it. He held you in your place, hovering above with two fingers sinking into your drenched cunt.

“Open."

The order came quick from his chest, sharp and determined. Without thinking and driven on by sheer arousal, you parted your mouth. He spat, hitting the bullseye and sneering when you whimpered aloud. Swallowing eagerly, your eyes met his.

“Atta girl,” Sukuna huffed, replacing his fingers with his cock. Your body arched violently into his own, the stretch wider than anything your ex could ever give you. “Fuuuck, you're real tight in here. Didn't your ex ever get this deep?"

You could only reply brokenly, heaving gasps leaving you. To that, Sukuna simply chuckled.

“Take that as a no. Of course it is. He wouldn't know what good pussy was if it was right in front of him.” Each word was punctuated by a nasty thrust, only driving his words home. “But you know me? Yeah, I can treat a girl reaal good. Been watchin' you flaunt that ass in that skimpy thing you call shorts. Now look at you, hah, soaking my dick nicely."

Your nails dug into his back, making him hiss as you scraped down in response to each of his punishing thrusts. Not once did Sukuna let his eyes stray away from the sight of you twitching below him, getting used to his obscene girth.

“He never fucked you right, huh? Say it," he hissed, stilling his cock after pressing his hips flush against your ass, "now, sweetheart. Tell me that he never made you feel this good."

“Fuck, h-he—” Your shuddered, voice cracking. “He never— oh, shit— never fucked me as good as you do!”

“Theeere we go, that's my girl." Sukuna's hand came up to tap your cheek condescendingly. He knew he could count on you to go the extra mile. “No point in wasting your tears over a limp-dick loser like him, right?"

Sukuna cocked his head, hand dropping to your throat so that he could squeeze lightly. He held you there, thrusting into you shallowly whilst keeping your eyes on his.

“All you needed was this dick, didn't you? I'll make you feel better."

At the feeling of his tongue slithering over your cheek, you felt your orgasm rip through you suddenly. It was too much along, especially when Sukuna was fucking you relentlessly trying to chase his own release with a groan.

“Yeah, milk my cock. Juuust like that, sweetheart."

He fucked into you again with a hiss, stopping the frantic rhythm of his hips once he felt the cum spurt out of his dewy tip. The heat within you intensified as he pressed his hips firmly against yours, making sure you took every last drop of his release into your welcoming cunt.

Sweat dripped down his chest, coating him with a sheen that you just wanted to lick off. But instead of regaining your wits, Sukuna dragged two long fingers over your cunt and gathered the creamy mess that had accumulated there.

“Be a darlin' and suck for me. Show me that prick isn't on your mind anymore."

You happily obliged, eyes lidded as you sucked around his digits.

“Good girl.” His lips found your forehead, deceivingly sweet as ever despite the fact that you were sucking a filthy mixture of your cum off of his fingers. “Heh, don't worry about the panties. Got plenty more in my drawer."

. . .

"Wanna take this to the bedroom?"