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gorejo · 5 months

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▸ manager in public, creampies in private - gojo satoru (hockey player/fwb!)

synopsis: His jinx — fucking the manager behind his coach’s back before every game — has become a rather risky ritual that he’s secretly developed over the years. With you, a regular pattern of his life, Satoru proposes a deal before his final game — the last time he’ll confess, “you wanna fuck me or do wanna date me?”

contents: wc: 15.2k(i am so sorry y'all.... i have no words for this), unedited. fem/afab!reader, she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as "girlfriend," pet names: baby, pretty, (there are so many), satoru calls himself daddy as a joke, locker room sex, fwb!, explicit language, p -> v penetration, creampies, lots of fucking. suguru moved to another uni. cunnilingus, squirting, fingering, teasing, mating press, doggy, gojo can carry the reader because he’s strong like that. little bit of Satoru’s pov..

The stadium is cold the moment you walk in. It’s enough to make your cheeks mildly sting and send shivers down your back, leaving the tip of your nose to feel frozen. From the crisp smell of the rink that’s been brushed out just moments prior, to the vibrant conversations of adults and the cheers from children anticipating the next game, everything tugged for your attention.

At the apex of winter sports, today will mark the champions for the national collegiate tournament for Division I Hockey.

For the normal attendee or avid fan of the sport, being there should be exciting.

But it couldn’t be far more inapplicable for you. A nervous pit coiled inside your gut — a dichotomous force of friction that made your heart thump in anticipation, but your stomach churn in anxiety.

Your mind felt like a fuzz. Guess, it didn't help that your ears also felt plugged, with every sound muffling inside that annoyingly distorted your rational thought — or whatever was left of it.

Stumbling onto the bleachers with your cheeks feeling hot despite the chill that surpassed your skin, your legs felt wobbly while walking over to your designated seat as the beloved team manager; like a broken record, your mind replayed a moment you had not less than an hour prior.

“Control him from doing anything irrational off the courts. That’s your only job today.” the head coach warned before making his way out of the locker room, his thick calloused hand placed on your shoulder, his firm grip a forewarning to not disappoint him.

“Whatever he chooses to do on it, he can go crazy all he wants as long as he brings home the trophy. I don’t care,” Yaga Sensei muttered, lowly chuckling as he hitched up his glasses, “you’re good at your job, make the last one count,” he firmly stated before closing the door behind you.

Of course, that was your job and in no way were you going to fuck things up. Every game was the same: regulate your star player, do damage control for his unhinged actions, and babysit him – the prodigy for the University of Tokyo, from doing anything negative that the press could get their hands on.

Or in simpler terms: control your fuck buddy and do whatever it takes for him to not be so unfiltered — keyword: whatever.

You recalled the week prior, cringing at the aftermath of his actions, with you sowing the repercussions of damaging your almost perfect reputable reputation — a total disaster of an interview, the distress to your migraines you had every game day thereafter from both him and Yaga-sensei.

Granted, conducting an interview post-game wasn’t fun for anyone especially when it was painfully knowing that the reporters were only interested in trying to leach out any information to make a viral post of the handsome center.

His articles sold, and any gossip obtained was always a hit.

His last article went viral — a hot topic of gossip in all outlets of social media, trending not only in Japan but in other countries as the hot man that kicked a reporter, Gojo Satoru, University of Tokyo’s center, and the most infamous, Gojo’s girlfriend. It was of a photo of Satoru midshot, kicking a reporter with his long legs easily reaching to their face with a cheeky smile while his hands were haughtily in his pants with a blurred figure hiding behind his back, nimble fingers grabbing hold of Satoru’s clothes.

Surely, pretty privilege very much exists when more than half of the comments of netizens were:

omg look at his legs! He’s so pretty! That reporter deserved it.

damn, wish I looked that good kicking someone.

He makes me question my sexuality. What a beautiful man.

Definition of looks like a cinnamon roll, but would kill you.

Don’t worry y’all! That’s me behind him! I’m the girlfriend 😘

SATORU HAS A GIRLFRIEND? I’M SICKKKKKKK

Is it weird to find this hot? I don't condone violence but if it’s Satoru…

“So Gojo-san, what do you foresee as your next plan to defeat your rival player next week? Can we expect some friendly competition?” The reporter asked, intently waiting to type up any information Satoru had to give.

Sludging over the microphone, his voice vacant of any enthusiasm, but instead endowed in annoyance, “If he can keep up, then yea. It’s been over a year since we’ve been on the same court, I don’t keep up with his updates but I’m sure he’s been training on his own. He’s good at what he does.” Satoru tiredly sighed, brushing his bangs over his forehead, while lightly clutching onto the mic stand with his other hand, “Next question.”

And of course, the rather infamous question he gets asked every interview.

“Are you currently dating anyone? I’m sure you have loads of people wanting to date you.” Upon hearing the rather obnoxious giggle of the reporter, Satoru’s jaws clenched with irritation. “Any special plans for the New Year with a certain special someone, specifically maybe the one you were pictured with?”

Getting questions about his private life wasn’t out of the norm and was a regular occurrence. Usually, he’ll flirt with the idea and throw a little bait to the reporters, but particularly on this day, it rubbed Satoru the wrong way.

“What a stupid question, don’t you get tired of asking who I’m fucking?” Satoru numbly responded with life drained from his eyes despite the rather harsh clench of his jaws, “Well, if you’re so dying to know, I’m currently getting rejected on the daily by a rather oblivious person.”

“Any hints as to who —”

“Why?" he scoffed with a brow raised, unfazed, "so you can go harass her for information? Next question.”

“Hello, Gojo-San could you explain about the rumors that are going around about your fallout with Kyoto’s new center?” Another reporter quickly rode off the previous questions.

“What rumors?” Satoru furrowed his brows, clicking his tongue against his teeth, briefly glancing at you off to the side. A fair warning that he was getting uncomfortable.

Talking about his ex-best friend was still a sore spot for Satoru, a breakup without proper closure.

It happened without a notice, a fallout that occurred in the middle of the season during Satoru’s sophomore year, and for a year he’s been silent until he’s made his return with the rival school.

Closing his eyes to calm himself down, fisting his hand as he clenched his teeth, Satoru annoyingly answered back, “We just aren’t on the same team anymore, nothing crazy about that. It’s normal in sports.”

“Well, people are wondering if it’s true that he betrayed you to give the game plays away to his current team.” The man responded, his ignorance seemed bliss, but the malice undertone with the slight tilt of his upper lip told otherwise.

“Betrayed?” Satoru scoffed, the air in the conference room immediately felt cold, irked from the reporter’s nonchalance in picking at his ego, “the only thing getting betrayed is you when your wife sucks my co —”

On instinct, you rushed over to cover his mouth — fucking idiot — and quickly stated through the mic with a routined rueful expression you’ve made one too many times — on behalf of this dumbass.

“I’m sorry, but we’ll conclude this interview from here on! I thank you all for coming.”

While leaving, you quickly glanced at Yaga-sensei’s disappointed expression, his jaws clenched as he watched you both hurriedly make your way to the locker room with Satoru trailing behind with your grip over his wrist.

You were one hundred percent going to get an earful from Sensei.

Gojo dumb fucking Satoru always making your life a complete hell; you were determined to chew his ear off.

“Just wait till we get into the lockers, Satoru” you stated through gritted teeth, your grip on his wrists getting firmer with each step.

“Yea? Ooo I like it when you’re rough with me,” he grinned, the utter audacity of him to take you as a joke, “what are you gonna do to me in the locker rooms?” he gasped, his voice innocent — it’s laughable, really — despite his breath close to your ears with his firm chest right behind you, taunting you to continue with your harmless threats.

It’s cute and makes his cock twitch and quickly pool with blood whenever you’re being dominant — at least when you try to.

Opening the door, you snapped at him while taking a step in, “You’re fucking annoying —”

But things always seemed to take a turn to his advantage — always.

The milliseconds leading to the locker rooms were silent — silence breaking the moment you stepped foot into it with Satoru’s lips rammed to yours, his hands hungry for greater access to your body.

You’re completely caught off guard when his lips come crashing onto yours. The slight grunt of his voice mixed with a hint of a whine when he pushed you against the lockers, your hands naturally landing on his firm chest, easily melting into his grip — a sinful vice he’d been swaying over your head like a pendulum for the past years every time you both snuck around to fuck.

“I fucking tried,” he groaned into the kiss while he rapidly unclothed you. The annoyance that he’d felt a couple of minutes prior all dissipated out and funneled to you. It was apparent in the sheer urgency of his hands ripping off your clothes that his patience was running thin.

“Ngh, S-Satoru!” your chest felt heavy, your mind feeling fuzzy when you met his carnal gaze, “we need to talk —” you’re cut short when his lips latch onto your neck, his hot breath lacing up your skin as he pulled your arms upward and caged your wrists with one hand, while the other traveled down your stomach, straight to your heated core.

“Talk about what? How we fuck?” he moaned at the pleasurable feeling of your pussy being wrapped with his favorite cotton panties — the one he jokingly gifted for being his fuck buddy for a year — where soon he’ll be able to play with your cum coated folds while he fucked you against the mirror walls.

“Oh god,” you huffed in the split moment he pulled away to catch his breath when his fingers started stroking up and down your folds, the tips of his middle and ring finger playing with your tight entrance, “Toru, w-we gotta talk, Yaga-sensei —”

Scoffing out a chuckle, he let go of your lips, his teeth pulling against your lower flesh with his voice deep. He peered down at you with his orbs strictly dilated and dark, “Aren’t you cheeky? Trying to get Sensei involved.” His thumb brushed against your lower lip, the throbbing pain of your skin feeling sensitive when his calloused finger presses against it, “but you need me to explain to him how we always fuck behind his back?”

His hand traveled down your throat, his long fingers organically wrapping around your neck, a pleasing accessory around your neck, “I’d like that, too, it’s thrilling isn't it?” he taunted, his breath brushing against your heated cheeks, “but I don't think Sensei will particularly like what I say.”

“Y-your teammates ahh! —” You barely could let out a whine when his lips came crashing again, gasping when you felt the suffocated tension of your bra unclasping, exposing your breasts to the damp, cold air, the buttons of your shirt falling to the floor, “t-they’ll hear!” you tried whispering.

“They aren’t coming,” He growled, “ I locked the door,” his tantalizing voice contrasted with the sharp pain of his teeth biting into your shoulder, a dainty string of spit hung from his lips as he continued to paint your skin with his marks, felt all together euphoric.

“But they're more than welcome to listen, we'll give them the hottest free porn.”

You can feel his hardened bulge being pressed against your hips, it was torturous to not cup your hands over his hefty cock. And he knew. He could sense it, feel in the way you pulled back into the kiss, the wanton sounds of your needy breaths pleasantly luring him to want more of you.

“I need you,” he groaned while releasing your wrists and leading them to his member, having your hands hold his throbbing flesh, now painfully pooled with blood, while he aggressively shoved down his athletic shorts, freeing his very erect cock to spring out.

It was a sight to see — his cock freely nodding with pre cum leaking out of the slit, his head flaring a bright red while his veins bulged down his length. You can feel your mouth salivating at the sight of tasting his pebbled release sitting so prettily on his head.

It’s embarrassing how you were so weak to his touch, how desperately you wanted a taste of his release, to ultimately end up being completely stuffed with both his cock and his cum filling you up to the brim that it just had to leak out of your tight hole.

And it doesn’t help how your mind becomes a blank slate the moment his fingers stroke perfect circles around your hardened clit, the sounds of his reciprocated desires to devour you echoed so licentiously through your ears.

And accustomed to, your insides perfectly carved with the shape of his length, your inner walls throbbed, clenched the moment his fingers — one, two, three — slowly stretched out your needy pussy.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” his voice was teasing with a hint of impatience, “good girl," he praised when he feels you innately opening up for him. "show me how much you can suck me in, I wanna feel every inch of you,” Satoru coaxed, “trained this pussy so well, yea?”

Obediently nodding, your arms immediately latch around his neck, pulling him closer to your heated body. And with that, something short circuits in his brain the moment he sees you vulnerably so ready for him.

“You’re so fucking cute,” Satoru purred, the playful glint of his tone was the opposite of the sheer force he had when he quickly propped up your legs under his arms, pushing you further into the locker room as he rammed his cock inside you, your back arching at the sudden penetration — a dichotomy of pleasure and pain as three fingers surely cannot suffice and prepare you for the length and girth of his cock no matter how many times he’s fucked you.

“Hold tight,” he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips traveling down to your ears, tauntingly whispering, “I gotta swoon over my manager with a good fuck.”

Aggressively thrusting upward as the tip of his head searched for your sweet spot, your body folded from his strength. It doesn't take him long to find it — gummy and deep — especially when you're trembling and writhing in his grip. "because she just loves my cock, doesn't she?"

“T—toru,” you moaned out, the sweet mating call of his name ringing pleasurable to his ears.

“Who’s my good girl?” cooing as he placed a kiss on your nose, gently smiling despite his cock bullying past your wet, puffy folds, the sharp slapping of his skin meeting your thighs harshly echoing in the empty locker room.

And he swears he saw stars when he hears you.

— “Me.”

Currently shaking off the memory you had a week prior, you had one job: stop that from happening.

Well, that being another disastrous interview session — sex just so happens to come with it… always.

It’s not like you didn’t enjoy his company. It was rather quite the opposite — you craved his touch and longingly wanted to be by his side despite your words stating otherwise.

In short, you’ve been in denial. A secret you’ve upheld since the realization that he’s crept into your heart and took much more space in it than you would like to admit.

Falling in love with the university’s hot shot wasn’t something you’ve planned to do within your academic agenda. Being prompt with your studies, attending clubs, and enjoying time with friends while studying, with the occasional partying, maybe getting a boyfriend here and there, while accruing a job and work experience was part of the plan.

Not, him.

More specifically, loving Gojo Satoru, the bane of your existence, the pretty boy with an even devilishly handsome cock, that’s won your heart despite being your fuck buddy, was not part of the plan.

It should be a universal law: to never fall in love with your friend with benefit. And if there was a fine for being defiant of such a law, you would be the one prosecuted and trialed for such a wicked crime.

And to no surprise, even today, you were no saint.

Moments before —

“You know?” panting with his arms wrapped around your waists, thrusting upwards while he met your pace as you bounced on his cock.

With sweat dripping down his temple, he sucked onto your perked nipples, groaning when he feels you further tightening around his length — which was already snugly wrapped around him, “we should seriously date,” he frankly stated.

“Shut up,” you groaned, combing through his hair, adjusting your position to move your hips in rhythmic waves, the fire of your thighs making it difficult to withstand this position.

“Why not?” he groaned while pulling you down, cradling the back of your head with one hand while the other motioned your continual movements, his firm touch gratifying and making you feel safe despite the vulnerability of fucking in a public space.

“I—I don’t ahh ‘Toru that’s too deep! —” moaning from the hitch of his hips, forcing himself to go even deeper, the tip of his cock teasingly poking at your sweet spot as his girth stretched you out — each motion helping him to bottom out.

Your eyes are brimmed with tears as you hold his hair, pulling against his strands while the other digs into his shoulders, marking up his body — it was so easy for him to make a mess of you in such a short time, and he loved it; absolutely craved for it.

“You let guys that aren’t your boyfriend,” chuckling while he pushed your body down, feeling your juices run down his inner thighs, satisfied at how nicely his cock was soaking in your soft walls, “fuck” thrust “you” thrust “like” thrust “this?”

Despite the rather light tone of his voice, jealousy raged inside him. Because there should be no other answer than —

“No — “ your grasping at his back, using any part of his body to find leverage to mitigate the fullness you were feeling inside your tummy — the red scratches of his back and shoulders remnants of your relationship with him.

“Good,” he praised, gripping your ass with a sly smile teased at the corner of his lips, eventually blossoming into a brazen grin when he intentionally stopped his thrusts just to hear you whine out for him again, “and it should stay that way,” he confidently professed.

Dating Gojo Satoru. That would be nice.

Commitment issues? Sure, guess you can say you had that.

Insecurities? Most definitely so when your so-called partner was The Gojo Satoru — the university's hottest athlete currently in the process of being scouted to play in the professional league.

It felt all too surreal, everything inside of you was filled with him — literally and figuratively. From the way his lightly trimmed, now wet with your cum, hair tickled your clit to the way his cock filled every inch of you in one second only to be languid — slow and easy — pulled out and the next, rammed into you like a pistol releasing its bullet.

He usually took his time before games to fuck you, to enjoy and absorb your godly pussy power — he liked to always add while balls deep inside you with your thighs plastered to your chest, his weight pushing against your body, with the silliest smile despite the rather not so silly act he was doing with you.

A jinx, he liked to argue. A just happened chance of a one-night stand, now leading to years of fucking multiple times a week, under his solid impression that without you, there was no success.

Win after fucking. And a loss without it.

What can you say? Dick was good, but being in his arms felt even better.

It’s a sin. But at this point, did you have any leisure to contemplate if that’s even an option for you to not partake in anymore?

For someone that sleeps with drool coming out of his mouth, to the obnoxious thirst pics he would send only to you with an even more atrocious emoji ‘😜’ with a little ‘heh’ at the end, he sure gave you butterflies in your stomach; his mere presence made you feel good.

Crying and fervently pleading, with broken moans while every crevice of his cock continually carved your insides with his template, “Right there! — fuck ‘Toru, I—Imma cum please!” and he’ll reply with the most greedy moan as he pumped his seeds into your tight hole.

Satoru liked taking his time, but he also lavished under the thrill of a quick fuck. Desperately clinging onto each other, fucked into an absolute mess while he quickly rearranged your guts — that was his favorite.

“Can’t talk anymore?” he smiles. At the same time, he painfully fucks you at a slow pace, “Thought you were going to put me in my place?” cock twitching inside you when he notices how swollen your lips have become and the little squirm you release when you feel him growing within you, “it’s a shame, I like it when you curse at me,” he chuckles.

“Shut up,” you tiredly croaked, “you talk too much.”

“Tired?” he breathed out, looking up with his lips slightly bruised from the feverish kiss you had with him just moments before he chose to open his mouth — the type with tongue with spit drooling down the sides, unafraid to use to teeth to bite and tug.

“Mhm,” you quietly nodded, pulling yourself closer to his body.

“Thought you’d get used to me by now,” he peppered your shoulders with gentle kisses, “you know? by how much I’ve fucked you,” his touch now soft — almost fragile in the way he held you.

“You wanna try getting impaled by this,” clenching on his shaft for emphasis while you relished in his comfort, “and then tell me if you can get used to it too?”

“Relax,” he coached, chuckling as the padding of his fingers gently massaged your hips and eased out at your muscles, “I hear ya, just lean on me a bit.”

The warmth of his skin felt nice. The touch of his hand pressing against your body felt like electricity pulsing through your body while the circuits of your neurons flashingly fired to cause the heat of your core to spark in flames when he pressed tender kisses against your shoulders — one too gentle and comforting for a fuck buddy to be doing.

“You know,” he hummed, “dating me won’t be all too bad.”

“Sure,” you thoughtlessly answered back, snuggling your face into the crook of his neck, taking a whiff of his natural scent.

“You like me,” he placed a kiss on your temple, “and I think we’re pretty compatible,” he continued to kiss areas of your face, spending time to adorn every inch, “Sex is good, and I’m hot, so I don’t see why you won’t date me?”

“Who said I liked you?” your useless pride spoke before you registered his confession.

“Rude, who’s the one that won’t let me go in the mornings?” scowling as he lightly flicked your head. “and you mumble when you sleep, you know?” he smirked, the tilt of his lips teasing, his crystal blue eyes half hidden from his lids as he briefly looked down at your swollen lips, “it’s cute, but I would rather have you confess to me when you’re not half asleep.”

“You freak,” pouting as you tried hiding your face, embarrassed that you unknowingly outed yourself yet still chose to proudly reject his confessions.

“How about this,” looking up with eyes sparkling with anticipation, “if I make the last point, then you go on one date with me.”

“Is there an option to decline?”

“No,” offended you would say such words, you could practically see every aspect of his demeanor — hair, face, eyes — all simultaneous sulk in unison.

“Then what if you don’t make the last shot?”

“You won’t need to worry about that,” he cheekily smiled, cupping your face to place a soft kiss on your nose before reaching your lips. You can feel his cock starting to harden and twitch, evident from the small hitches of his hips to burrow himself slowly into you.

Leading you into a kiss, pushing you upward to give a little space for him to squeeze his cock inside you, the patience within him to wait for you to slowly sink onto his length again dissipates the moment he hears you tease.

With your mouth gaping open, and eyes tightly shut while your nails dug into his chest, barely managing to garner the strength to go for another round, you always talked so big. “You’re prideful to think one date can win me over.”

“I mean I already have,” shrugging as he leaned back on his elbows, scanning down to see where you’re both connected. it's arousing when he sees your pubic bone perfectly nestled on top of his, “You’re the one that’s sitting on my cock, no?”

“your mouth is the problem, Satoru,” rolling your eyes while you pushed him away, the heat of your cheeks burning up just as the core of your stomach flared up and coiled inside you.

Pulling you back, tilting your chin to meet his wanting eyes, “Hey hey, look at me,” he softly breathed, “I’ll be good to you,” he whispers, “I don’t go fucking around other girls, it’s just been you. I promise.”

“ ‘Toru —” you feel him slightly adjust his hips and in tandem, his cock moves deeper inside.

“Shh… just trust me,” shoving the rest of his shaft fully inside you, clenching his jaws and immediately wrapping his toned arms around your waist. From the sudden suffocating tightness surrounding his size combined with the pleasurable sensation of you writhing in his arms, he knew today was going to be a good game — his career best, at the least.

"I'll prove it to you. I'll win."

"what if —"

And through gritted teeth, while he steadies himself inside you, with each breath he emphasized, the gushing of your wet pussy coating his cock, and the desperate whimpers of your moans sounding so organic and delicate in his ears as he prepared you for another climax,

“Shh... you should know that best, princess. I always finish the job.”

—

Squirming in your seat, heart racing as you watched Satoru belatedly enter the rink, shaking out his white hair before putting on his helmet — droplets of sweat peeking through from his prior rendezvous, the slight bliss on his cheeks blooming with the puff of smoke huffed from his mouth.

Swiftly skating to his teammates to start on warmups, donning a blue and white jersey with white lettering with the number 6, there was a divide of a deep chant of his name coupled with the shrieking enthusiasm of his fangirls whenever he effortlessly made a practice shot. Whenever he slightly even glanced over to the audience, there was a roar of adoration.

“Keep it all in for me, yea?” the source of your migraine chuckled as he held your trembling body. His hands naturally moved to lightly massage your sore hips, the huffs of his solid chest inviting you to breathe and wind down.

In response you reached up to pinch his nipples, groaning from exhaustion, "pervert..."

“it’s my last game, so be nice to me.”

Fucking you till the last minute he could spare, Satoru decided to be cheeky and shoot his cum so deeply inside you. Huffing curses close to your ears as his arms pulled you further down on his cock, nearly piercing you with his length, his member pulsing with every splurt of his seeds pushed into you.

In conclusion, you’re now sitting in your seat, not daring to move for fear that it will spill. He was usually good at cleaning you up, taking his sweet time to kiss your cheeks and brush his bruised lips against your skin as he steadied his breath. But maybe it was from the nervous thrill he had of meeting his once friend, or the pent-up frustration of this past season that’s gotten to him, but one thing for sure was that Satoru came a lot — your wet panties currently pooled and soaked in his cum being proof of it.

“What took you so long, was looking all over for you?” Someone chirped behind you.

Flustered from hearing his voice, you quickly turned around, flinching when you felt a lump of fluid squeeze out of your pussy.

Cheekily smiling as he pulled up his skates while apologetically smiling, “I need my strings fixed… wondering if you had any extra?”

“Haibara-chan…” you forced out a chuckle, trying to shake away the sudden surprise, lightly shaking your head while you took his skates, “I’m starting to wonder…” slowly untying his laces, the cold stadium making it a bit difficult for your fingers to grasp onto the material, “if you’re doing something fishy with these?”

“... That's Gojo-san,” Haibara mumbled under his breath, sitting down on the bench, the clothes of his uniform oddly too big for his growing physique, “It just somehow ends up getting worn out all the time,” the younger man sulked, “I blame Yaga-Sensei for running us so hard during practice.”

“Mhm,” you hummed while searching through the team bag to find a new pair of white laces, “I’m teasing, Haibara-chan,” opening up the fresh pack to string his skates, “just promise me, you won’t be like him.”

“Him?” Haibara curiously asked, cocking his head to the side, his blunt bangs moving with the angle of his head.

Yes, Him — the one who’s currently in a headlock from Yaga-Sensei for completely blowing off the pre-game interviews.

“Ah, guess you’re referring to Gojo-san,” Haibara looked into the field, and took a glance at you, “but you like him, no?”

“Huh?” you felt a sudden pang in your stomach when hearing those words.

“Sorry! I meant like friends!” He raised his hands to rectify the tension from your question, cheeks blushing in embarrassment. “You’re close to him, right? We've noticed you both spend a lot of time together,” he hummed.

“Ah, yeah… I guess,” you softly answered, barely audible.

“He’s handsome and friendly, awfully a good athlete, and is smart too?” Haibara was practically bouncing on his seat while bragging about his beloved senpai, “There’s practically nothing the man can’t do!”

“Sure… but he’s the most insufferable human I’ve ever met in my life,” you grumbled, slouching in your seat to hide your face from possibly showing any emotion while talking about him.

“Really? Wow, I’m jealous,” he whispered, yet his voice chirped in adoration, “maybe he just really likes you, you know… like how close friends do that to each other! ”

Close friends.

Guess the dynamic of the relationship was of close friends but… not with a good conscience — close friends with benefits.

Despite the nature of your relationship with him, he wasn’t what you imagined. Indeed, you both didn’t start with the most cordial dynamic. You hated him and despised his guts when he “accidentally” stepped on your white shoes while he rushed out of the lockers.

Normally you wouldn’t mind. Accidents happen and you weren’t particularly fussy about those things to care. But when the contender that stepped on your shoes had size twelve feet, a literal giant compared to yours, of course, you’ll get livid — especially when the dirt of his soles made your shoe look gray from one step alone; furthermore, when he didn’t dare to say a simple sorry.

You recall grunting, mumbling curses at the stupidly tall asshole, with an even stupid smirk on his face while cleaning your shoes with a toothbrush during the middle of the night. You slept with the intent to kill him the next morning and make his life a living hell when you’re introduced as the team’s manager.

But guess what, Satoru would always have the upper hand. Before you can even introduce yourself, he’s stiffly walking towards you with a hand awkwardly scratching the back of his head while pushing something in your direction.

“Here,” he stares off to the side as he hands you a shopping bag, “I wasn’t sure what size you wore if it doesn’t fit, you can exchange it.”

“What?” you eyed him, unsure why he was acting so weird.

“Sorry, we got off on the wrong foot,” Satoru lamely threw out a pun, hoping the tension would ease out with a small laugh, instead he was met with your unfazed expression.

“tough crowd,” he softly murmured, sighing before leaving the room, “well, the receipt's in the bag if you don’t like it.”

Suspiciously eyeing the bag, you took out the box and opened it. Inside was a pair of shoes that were similar to the ones you wore yesterday before he ruined them, with a little note inside and a rather cute drawing of himself.

‘Hope we can get along. Welcome to the team.’

You felt acid slowly creep its way up your throat, gurgling in your stomach, making it painfully difficult to succumb anymore to this conversation. A stamp of reality that Gojo Satoru may possibly, after this game, become nothing more than a fever dream.

It’s silly, really. And it was even more ridiculous how you pulsed in your seat, longingly wanting that he would win — not for his own success, but for yours.

“Sometimes I wish he would be —”

“Yu and Kento, get your asses over!” Despite being from across the rink, Yaga-sensei’s voice boomed as if he was right next to you, breathing down your ear.

“I think Sensei is calling for you guys,” you interjected, kindly smiling with your eyes as you passed on his skates.

“Oh shit!” His eyes rounded, face paling and body antsy in his seat, “Ahh thank you for stringing these for me.” Bowing multiple times in gratitude as he reached over his skates, “Nanami! We gotta go!”

“Tell Sensei I’m not here.” You could hear his faint voice coming from the corner, his thick jacket covering his whole body with only his laced skates peeping from the bottom.

“I’ll give you five seconds, ” Yaga-Sensei threatened, “or you’re both running laps around the field till you drop tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir!” Haibara immediately stood up, quickly dragging his fellow blonded friend along with him — for someone less enthusiastic about his games and practices, Nanami was always fully dressed for the game.

“Ahh Gojo-san! Look this way!”

“GAHHH! Gojo-senpai is coming here! My phone! I need a picture!”

The shriek of his fans' screams painfully rang in your ears.

The chant of his name gets louder, the shrill becoming overbearing when you notice him skating towards your side of the stadium.

“Don’t you dare come here,” you mouthed, your eyes shooting daggers at the smirk on his face.

You could tell — no, you could feel every inch of your body being observed by the audience, daggers being sent in your direction.

Did he just fucking wink at me?

It was infuriating just how normal he was on the court while you writhed in your seat, having a mental shock whenever you felt a hot gush of viscous fluid drip onto your panties.

Satoru makes a crisp stop in front of you, taking off his helmet and shaking his hair. It was comical the way his fans fell to their knees, girls practically foaming at the mouth and guys mentally noting how to up their rizz game like the athlete.

Opening up the side door, he leans against the railing with his elbows resting on the surface, “you good?” he arrogantly asked. Though his words sounded caring, the slight mischievous twinkle in his eyes told otherwise.

“What do you think, Satoru?” You hissed through your teeth despite the friendly smile you gave him.

“Good girl,” he whispered out, just enough for you to hear, “ wouldn’t want you to waste any of it.”

“Gojo Satoru, I swear —”

The stereo briefly shrieks before announcing, “Ladies and Gentleman! Here come the visitors onto the rink! Give them your loudest cheers!”

Immediately you can see his jaw clenching, and the once vibrant color of his cerulean eyes becoming a shade darker as he turned around to face the opposing team. his gaze specifically lands on the team captain — Geto Suguru, Kyoto Spartan’s center.

“Are you going to be okay?” softly placing your hand on his forearm, worried he wouldn’t be able to control himself and act on his emotions.

“Yea,” he turned around half-heartedly chuckling as he looked down at your hand comforting him, only to look up with a smug look on his face, “you worried about your soon-to-be boyfriend?”

“I’m being serious, Satoru,” you lightly gripped his arm, the look of your eyes solidified his one of many reasons why he fell for you in the first place.

You were kind. well, kind enough to accept all his bullshit.

“I know, and I am, too.” He calmly reassured with his gloved hand placed over yours, “It’s gonna be a good game, and I gonna make you my girlfriend, so don't fall too hard, okay?” Satoru playfully winked, briefly squeezing your hand before leaving you to join his team, “I’ll be fine, worry about me after the game because I’m going to need it.”

Today would mark the champions for the Mens Division I finals: the Tokyo Trailblazers vs. the Kyoto Spartans.

The final terminus of once childhood best friends, Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, now stood on opposite sides to be the final victor. Star players of both universities who played together till two years ago now stand as rivals at the collegiate championships.

“Eyes on the puck at all times,” Yaga-Sensei forewarned, “You’ve practiced with Suguru, and knowing his playstyle should be second nature, by now.” taking a glance at Satoru in his zone, eyes fiercely determined yet his composure was calm, “he’s not in our team, so play aggressive. Don’t ever fall behind Satoru, keep up at his pace and pass when you see the moment.”

“Yes sir,” the team harmoniously responded.

“Yu and Kento, remember to be careful, be vigilant and sharp, especially you, Nanami…” Yaga-Sensei cautioned, the lines of his furrowed brows behind his sunglasses deeply cut into his forehead, “No one else knows your position better than Suguru.”

Sophomore year, summer —

Jinx. noun. An evil spell; a person or thing supposed to bring bad luck.

It all started during your second year of university.

Just like how everything just happens, so does your relationship with Gojo Satoru. It started naturally — or you would like to convince yourself.

You were the team’s manager by title, and Satoru’s freelancing PR manager in private.

“Why the fuck do you always have to make my life miserable!” You hissed at Satoru uncaringly stuffing his clothes from his locker into his bag, “Sensei’s gonna kill me tomorrow,” you groaned, leaning against the lockers and sliding down to the cement floor.

“I think that’s a you problem,” he hummed, taking a glance down at you before he continued to pack his bags, “I told you, I wasn’t going to do that interview, especially after that shitty game.”

“You're doing this on purpose huh?” you numbly asked, the throbbing pain of your head making you feel dizzy, “you’re just a prick that can’t accept a loss.”

“Not exactly,” he nonchalantly responded while closing his locker, clicking his tongue in annoyance, “I just didn’t want to answer the same damn questions I get all the time, that’s all,” he stroked his hair back to expose his forehead before crouching down, leaning on his elbows, manspreading to your level while sitting on the bench, “it’s nothing personal, princess,” he winked.

His face was dangerously close to yours, almost as if he was taunting for something more than just a petty banter — especially in the way he titled his face, making it so easy to just —

“I wanna strangle you sometimes, you know?” you huffed out, glaring at him gloating down at you with the most irritating grin to exist.

Maybe it was the anger that blinded your senses but strangely he looked so fucking handsome, especially in his gray sweats that — you scanned him from top to bottom, and you can almost see the definition of his crotch through the lining. he was big.

You can almost bet the pink of his lips was so soft to touch, and plush to suck — what the fuck were you thinking.

Smirking when he caught your gaze on his lips for a second too long, he drew even closer. reaching down to grab your wrists to grip around the collar of his shirt, licking his lips while he challenged, “It’s your lucky day, Princess. Try me.”

Starting is always the hardest, the rest is easy.

you wanted to kiss him, badly. clenching onto his shirt with a million thoughts spiraling through your head, mentally cursing him with every possible word you knew. Everything soon became quiet the second your eyes zoomed in on him licking his lips — it was absolutely perfect — glossy with a perfect shade of pink that seduced you into agony.

So without thinking, your lips go crashing onto his. The harsh breathing through your nose sounds impatient and gruff. Kissing him, with teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance, Satoru immediately reciprocated by pulling you up to his firm lap.

“You wanna fuck me so bad, don’t you,” he panted in between kisses while his hand sneakingly ventured under your clothes to unclasp your bra and while the other pushed its way into your pants, harshly groping onto your soft ass.

Despite the tease in his voice, the quick speed of his hands curiously touching every inch of your body, groping and clawing, showed otherwise but leisure.

“you started it,” groaning as you threw your head back, allowing his lips to peck kisses on your skin and for his tongue to trace up to your chin.

“You’re so honest when you’re needy,” he chuckles, “practically fucking me with your eyes.” Satoru always had a way with his words. He always irritatingly managed to get under your skin, as if he had an encyclopedia written on how to annoy you, he was practically an expert at it by now.

Normally you would scoff at his ego, and throw in curses just for some flavor. But you fell silent, pussy suddenly clenching on the air when you took a peek at Satoru, easily pulling off his shirt with one hand. His warm body was draped in a perfect muscle tone while he molded your breasts to his palm, his mouth sucking on your nipple, tongue tenderly swirling around your areola.

“ngh shut up!” you rasped, “you’re so full of yourself.”

“Hmm,” he sounded pretty humming in response. Using his lips as a decoy to distract where his fingers were trekking towards, he pulled your panties off to the side to slip his slender fingers to touch your pussy — throbbing, warm, and laughably wet.

“let’s see,” groaning when he feels the warmth of your core, and your viscous juice coat his fingers. He swears that’s enough for him to cum in his pants but with all the willpower he had, he didn't — he couldn't until he's at least fucked you a couple rounds and has gotten a taste of your pussy — he lowly chuckled, “where you’re weak, princess.”

you gasped out a quiet, “fuck mhm, right there ‘Toru — j-just like that — please,” while tugging onto his hair, the hiss through his teeth sounding so melodic to your ears.

With your fingers harshly entangled in his hair, you tried to register how this all happened. Your clothes were one by one thrown onto the cold floor, with Satoru now shirtless as he littered your bosom with tender kisses, holding you behind your curved waist while you pressed your chest further into his mouth, to feel the gratification of his warm tongue sucking on your nipple.

As his fingers stroked up and down your folds, the lewd noises of your erection squelched loudly while his mildly calloused fingers rendered pleasurable friction to your clit — a new, profound sensation you’ve never felt before, especially not with your fingers or even your most reliable toys.

And it felt good — so fucking good.

“you’re so soft,” he pulled out a groan deep in his throat, “hold onto me,” he ordered, his tongue trailing up your chest while he switched positions to have you lie on the bench.

Quickly pulling out his hand from touching your cunt, to strip you from your pants and throw them off to the side, he smirks when he hears a subtle whine subconsciously release.

“No — ’Toru please —”

That's all he needs to hear. Satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs and meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he can see it through your damp panties. He almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. call you out on your ego, but the ache that shoots down to his cock, painfully throbbing in his briefs, banging to be freed, reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself — probably worse and much more needy, desperately wanting, than you can imagine.

“I got you,” he huffed, pressing a tender kiss on your knees before spreading out your legs to settle in between them, his eyes soaking up every inch of your pussy to have it practically memorized, “I just wanna see you a bit.”

Pulling up your panties and seeing your puffy folds perfectly enveloping the fabric made his cock twitch, forcing his hips to push his hardened bulge against your needy core while a tantalizing, static pulse ripped through his body.

The thick padding of his finger pushes against your flesh. And if there was a pageant for the prettiest cunt, Satoru was goddamn sure you would win. especially with how your pussy softly recoiled every time he poked your wet flesh, simultaneously eliciting an even prettier, desperate moan.

“god you’re fucking wet,” Satoru purred as he played with just how thick your juices strung onto his fingers, “prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he delightfully praised under a solemn breath.

“Satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most.

So what better way is there than to play his own game — to tease and have him be the one yearning, begging at his feet.

“Yea?” gaining a bit of your conscience to lean your weight on your elbows, instead of needly lying on the bench, expecting Satoru to do something — anything, fast, “you’ve seen other pussies? Thought you were a virgin,” you teased while looking down at Satoru, pushing his bangs away from his eyes — his white hair a mess, cheeks heated and eyes dark and dilated.

but, it’s his game. no one knows the rules better than he does.

So instead of your expected reaction, Satoru chuckles, and takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, blowing air while he watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing. your hole pulsates in desire as arousal drips and leaves you into a burning mess.

It’s perfect—you’re perfect, everything about you is what he’s dreamed of — no, it’s better, far better than what he's fucked his fist to all this time.

“Cute, you think so highly of me,” he snorted, unfazed by your mockery, eyes still focused on your pussy, “but you can see for yourself —” Satoru fastly pulled you down, causing you to yelp in shock at how strong he was. his face was now dangerously close to your leaking core, fingers delicately spreading out your folds, to uncurtain your pulsing hole and clit, contently smiling in adoration.

“—if I’m a virgin or not.”

“do you even know where the cli— oh my god,” you sobbed, the heaves of your chest becoming greater the moment you feel Satoru suck on your hardened bud, the plush of your thighs pushing against his head, curving your back as you pulled onto his hair, breathless from how he, too, was desperately eating you out.

it’s jaw dropping hot when his veins bulge and Adam’s apple bob while he gulps down thick saliva mixed with your sweet cum down his dry throat, his palm presses down your stomach to keep you pinned from squirming away.

he hears you and feels that you want him to. so he works, he works till his forearms burn and his biceps beautifully flex every time he fucks his finger into you, completely stretching you out, expertly adding more of his fingers to see your tight rim around his fingers clench in needy desire.

It doesn’t take him long to make you cum. Perfectly in tandem with the pressure of his mouth sucking your clit, to the rhythm of his finger inching deep within to find your sweet spots, guess, it’s not a surprise it takes him less than two minutes to locate it and another minute for you to be gushing. Quivering in his reign, the pleasure overwhelming as you came in his mouth— it’s almost painful how euphoric it felt.

Sucking and lapping every last bit of you while steadily pulsing his fingers in and out as you slowly came down from your climax, it wouldn’t be Gojo Satoru if he didn’t get the last word.

Letting go of your abused pussy with a soft kiss to your clit, his lips down to his chin were drenched, glistening, and dripping with your cum.

“You were saying?” he grinned.

Two hours thereafter, that day, Gojo Satoru performed a career-high of scoring seven goals.

Day of finals, thirty seconds till the game starts —

“Nanami,” throwing his arm around his Kohai, "I always knew you would be most fitting for this position,” a gentle voice welcomed himself.

“Geto-san,” Nanami's voice was emotionless, “you’re more than welcome to come and take it back,” the junior sarcastically jibed.

“Me? Don’t know if Satoru —”

“Get away from him, Suguru,” Tokyo’s team captain cut the rival off, “the game’s about to start, Nanami.”

Suguru shrugs while Nanami swiftly strides to his position as right-wing, carefully watching the scene behind Gojo’s back.

“Satoru!” The raven-haired now standing in front of Tokyo’s center amicably called out, eyes forming a crescent behind the thick black and white helmet, “long time no see.”

Satoru was straight to the point, desperate, “why’d you leave…?”

“No hello? My… Satoru,” the other chuckled while he comfortably situated his stick, next to the puck while both teams waited for the starting bell to ring, “where have your manners gone.”

“are those rumors true?” Satoru asked while lowering his stance, preparing himself to get the first puck to start the game.

“The rumors?” Suguru questioned, a slight twitch of his lips giving away his faux innocence, “Oh —” scoffing while reciprocating Satoru’s actions, “Ahh, the one about me being a traitor?”

“Suguru, I know you. Tell me the tru —”

A loud buzz echoes in the stadium, Satoru’s words falling blank under the blaring cheers of the fans.

“Taking the lead —” the announcer reported live through the blaring amplifier.

“Guess, we’ll both have to see how much you know me, Satoru,” Suguru swiftly stated in the milliseconds of passing Satoru, speedily making his way for the opponent’s goal.

“— ladies and gentleman, has the Tokyo Trailblazers finally found their match? The Kyoto Spartans will take the lead with player Geto Suguru setting the pace!”

The second period, five minutes till the buzzer for intermission —

Tokyo (3): Kyoto (3)

Grunting as he pushed his way through the defense, despite the chaos of the stadium, he could hear the familiar crisp sound of skates closely behind him, “I heard you’re finally sleeping with her,” Suguru smirked, now skating parallel to Satoru.

“Shut the fuck up,” Satoru grunted, making every effort to keep pushing for the offense, expertly navigating through the rink while juggling the puck past the opposing team, quickly passing the biscuit to Nanami, “it’s none of your damn business,” Satoru hissed out.

“You're scared that she might not like you? ” Suguru breathed behind his ear, “when that’s all you’ve been painfully doing till now?”

Wrong, Suguru couldn’t be more far from it.

Because since the beginning, for him, noncontingent of your response to him, it’s always been you.

And outside being the gifted athlete who’s endowed with greatness, with you, Satoru had two personas.

the one that desperately fucked you.

Crashing into the lockers, the impact of your back being further pushed onto the cold medal sent shivers down your body with every desperate thrust of his cock into you. It was awfully dangerous to moan out of his name, let alone to even breathe when his teammates were just outside the door.

“Shh, be a good girl,” he grunts while slowly fucking his cock out of you, only to ram it back in with even greater force, while his hand simultaneously covers your mouth, “don’t want people to hear you getting fucked, do we?”

Muffling your moans with his palm, his cock relentlessly pistols in without any leisure to be accommodating to your aching core. His breathing becomes more hitched as his thrusts become more languid to press deeper — his length reaching as far in as it can go — it would be an understatement if you weren’t scared that he could practically rip you in half in this position.

You grab him. and your nails dig deeply into his back, marking his skin with angry scratches of crimson red. maybe he was a masochist, but the pain of your nails coloring his back was nothing compared to the pleasurable satisfaction he got when your gummy walls suffocated his cock.

Kicking out his teammates, only to fuck behind their backs as they cluelessly started on their warmups before a game was routine.

He’s memorized every inch of your body, studied where it makes you writhe, tremble, and immediately latch onto him for your dear life while he helps you reach your high.

And right now, he knew. He can feel it in the way you’re clenching down on him that you were close. Not that he had any idle leisure of his own, but just enough to pump his cock feverishly into you, bullying past your abused hole as he lavished in the melodic symphony of his balls slapping against your cunt.

He has you folded against the wall, his arms holding you up and hitched under your thighs while he mercilessly fucked you. The burning in his muscles and the strain he felt in his body was nothing comparable to the heaven he was experiencing with your powerless stance under him while his hips snapped forward, his cock dominating your insides with his hand covered in your drool.

“—Toru please” you tried yelling, only for your voice to fall faint each time he rutted inside you, his cock completely disappearing in your body only to magically reappear to stretch you out again and burrow its length deeply within.

“angel,” he taunted, his breath fanning against your heated face, causing your eyes to swell up in tears when your eyes linked with his, briefly opening up his hand to allow you to breathe, “you gonna be quiet?”

You softly nodded, your insides clenching to stop the weird pressure that was building up inside, “it feels weird here, Toru — ahh it’s too much!” you whimpered, touching your tummy while your body ricocheted from his force.

“Yea? Then cum for me princess, I know you’re close,” he growls into your ear, his hot breath making it even more difficult to breathe, “you’re such a good girl taking my cock so well,” he praised, groaning when he immediately felt you throbbing around him in response.

The moment you see stars and your mind fall blank is when thick ropes of cum shoot inside you. you can almost feel the individual splurge of his hot seeds coating your walls, with every desperate thrust he made to completely milk out his cock, his tip throbbing while he grunted with pleasure.

“I fucking love —” he rasped out, face nuzzled into the cave of your neck. it was difficult to mesh out his last word from his harsh panting to catch his breath as he felt the lumps of his cum squeeze past his member, still inside you, splattering onto the floor with a warm trail of liquid gushing down his thighs.

“good luck today,” you whispered.

Luck? he didn't need.

But you? he absolutely, detrimentally did.

Or, the latter.

The one that, still, fucked you — because he loved you, like a lover.

With the days that surpassed as being his friend — with benefit — the more he’s taken a place in your life. It started with freely coming over after practice — fucking, despite not having a game the day after. Your bathrooms would naturally have another towel hung, and an extra toothbrush would stand next to each other.

Groceries were always Satoru’s duty, while you stocked up on the self-care necessities. Satoru particularly loved getting a facial with you with all the high-end masks and oils, cuddling under the blanket while you both watched cringy romcoms.

But it was undeniably his personal favorite when he could give you a facial with his cum splattered onto your face — it’s beautiful seeing you covered with his seeds. Or when his face is drenched in your sweet juice, despite his lungs desperate for air he immediately pushes you further down to sit on his face when he catches you trying to move away.

It’s become a ritual. you've become his religion.

He comes at exactly 8:47 P.M. And you wait for him.

The key to your door opens at the exact time.

He grins when you walk up to greet him.

“Waited for me?” he softly cooed, placing his index finger under your chin, his lips onto yours while sucking gently before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting you both, but quickly snapping when he brushes his thumb across your cheeks.

If the universe orbited around you, he was your centripetal force.

“So pretty,” he praised while looking into your eyes, breathless as if he could be absorbed into it.

“I have food —”

"Later,” he abruptly cuts you off, pulling you close to his body, ”but, I think —” humming with his lips barely brushing against your cheeks, his hand squishing them together as he confesses.

“— I'm gonna fuck you so hard,” his voice was unusually sweet for saying something so crude, “that you won't even be able to see out of those pretty little things."

You softly gasped, flustered and unsure of how to respond to such a comment. Instead, you roll your eyes as your hands find the back of his head to pull him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core.

His hands roam around your body, particularly groping your ass before his fingers tug at the waistband of your shorts — his favorite ones that always managed to get him bricked up.

"No panties, huh?" He states with amusement, "Aren’t you a bad kitty acting all coy,” he chuckles.

"Shut up," you retort, your cheeks feeling hot under the pressure.

“You don’t want it?” he rebuttals, taking a step back as if there was even a choice.

It’s infuriating how much power he had over you, enticing you in his grip as you mindlessly frolicked in his palm. And it doesn’t help that he looks… well… he looks gorgeous, dangerously handsome — especially with his hair mildly wet, and his warm body fragrant with cologne and body wash.

“I said,” wrapping your arms around him, further pulling him by the neck — so close that you can feel the tent that’s bulging under his sweats and the desperation that overflows in his visage while he angles his lips to perfectly match yours, “fuck me.”

“That’s more like it,” he murmurs before kissing you — it’s feverish and wanton, the type that makes you weak in your knees and your core to burn up in flames.

His steps immediately guide you to your bedroom, groaning and grunting while clothes are being stripped off one by one, leaving a trail of evidence with no intent of stopping the kiss.

Your feet knock against the foot of the bed, his signal to push you onto the mattress, abruptly ending the kiss as he looks down at your flustered expression with a smirk on his lips.

Relishing in your gaze, Satoru strips in front of you. Pulling his shirt over his shoulders with one hand, he flexes his stomach and takes his time to get naked.

He knows you'll look — you always do. Outside of being an athlete, what was the purpose of hitting the gym? To catch you lusting after him. He can practically see your mind racing with thoughts, and he couldn't wait to show that he's better than what your silly, pretty, little brain could ever imagine him doing to you.

Examining him from top to bottom, propped up on your elbows, you absorbed the sight of his smooth, toned chest as he stripped, the dentures of his muscles beautifully sculpted down from his chest to the crisp lining of hip dents that led to his crotch.

Leaning over, his body caging you with his toned arms, he gently places a kiss on your forehead, “like what you see?” he chuckles, “I’m pretty sexy, right?”.

"what the fuck?" you suddenly gasped.

“what?!” he whines — you can see his hair practically deflate.

Brushing your fingers over his chest, running your hand down to his abs, it’s smooth and toned. “thought your nipples would be pink,” you snorted, pinching his nipples.

He flinches at the pain, "it’s a brownish pink, for your information," He states, pouting, “and you’ve only noticed it now after how many times you’ve seen me naked?”

"I’m joking, stupid," You laughed, the melodic tune of your joy ringing in his ears like a constant melody.

“but I’m pretty right?” he pouts, biting your shoulders and softly kissing his denture marks.

“Yea sure whatever,” you breathe out, throwing your head back as he now kisses up your neck, your heart just about to burst out of your chest.

"Let's get this off, hm?" Satoru kindly asks while tugging on the bra strap.

Obediently nodding, you raise your arms like a kid, and he pulls it off over your head. And unlike the trail of clothes you’ve both left behind, he manages your garment with care — especially after the last one he “accidentally” ripped.

His hands rest on your stomach, fingers stroking every curve before he brings them up to cup your boobs, pushing up your breast to squish it softly.

“Feel good?” he asks, watching your expression slowly unfold in bliss.

And before you know it, he's dragged his hands down to your thigh, his fingertips softly grazing slowly to your panties, getting dangerously close to womanhood.

"Tell me how much you want me to touch you," He whispers, and in response you shove your fingers into his hair, gripping tightly.

The light callous of his fingertips trail over your clothed clit, gently stroking the base with his fingers, feeling your panties slowly becoming more damp with each touch.

Further opening up your legs, allowing him full access, he immediately takes the offer and ventures further along. situating himself in between your thighs to pull your panties off, kissing your hardened bud while peering up to see you touching your breasts, it’s a sweet sight to see for Satoru — breathless — while you longingly waited for him to just hurry the fuck up.

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “That’s fuckin’ cute.”

"Right there-" you whisper, and he nods, dragging his fingers along, slowly moving them around to stimulate you as he sucked on your clit, taking his time to prep you

“You still didn’t —” The vibration of his voice further stimulates your needy pussy, gasping as you curve your back, desperately reaching for more of his perfect stimuli, “answer my question,” he states.

"Don't piss me off," you groan, pushing his face back into its rightful place.

"Goddamn," He mutters, the grip of his hand on your thighs becoming harsher, and the stuck of his mouth further fueled fire to your core.

"I don't know how much longer I can wait when you treat me like that," he grunts while standing up again, simultaneously pushing down his pants and briefs, wasting no time as he wiggles out of his sweats.

You can see his dick is hard, twitching as it greets you.

He exhales heavily, stroking his length as he situates his head to brush over your pussy. He’s seen it countless times, but will never get enough of measuring just how far he can settle inside you. The sweet plush of your tummy offers more cushion and excitement as he watches you hitch up your hips, impatiently waiting for him.

"aren't you excited?" Gojo says with a grin, using his thumb to rub circles around your clit, guiding himself past your folds, purposefully missing your entrance to coat himself with your natural lubricant.

He doesn’t even wait for your answer, and wastes no time pushing himself in, pulling out a whimpered groan, allowing your walls to open up and welcome his entrance.

He picks up his pace, rhythmic and balanced while sliding his hands under your hips to lift you up slightly to make sure his entire length can fit inside.

"You're so tight.” Satoru grunts with a furrow in his brows as he dug his nails into your ass. hissing through his teeth while he continued to fuck through your tight hole, “You don't make this easy for me, do you?" He mocks, his grip tightening on your hips as he pulls you forward, your naked breasts bouncing with every impact.

You close your eyes, feeling every inch of his cock inside you. The slight tickle of his trimmed pubic hair brush against your clit as he slowly starts to roll his hips.

"You're so —" You whined, concentrating on keeping your sanity every time his tip painfully brushed back your sweet spot, "ngh — lazy!"

"Lazy, huh?" he scoffed, licking his lips like a predator locked in on his prey.

“ahh!” you yelped. within seconds you immediately find yourself on your stomach with Satoru’s weight crushing you from above. flipping you over without notice, wrapping a hand under your jaw as he turned your face towards him to deeply kiss, his feet harshly spreading and locking your thighs apart while his cock rammed into you, his balls splattering your wetness with each thrust.

"Maybe I won’t be so lazy if you become my girlfriend,” He states with a smirk, “just give in angel, you like my cock.”

“fuck — ‘Toru! slow d-down” you managed to cry out his name, his cock mercilessly thrusting into you, “you have n-no,” by now you were a babbling mess at how good he was fucking you, drooling with your lungs burning inside your ribs, “game tomorrow.”

“boo you’re boring,” He provokes, pushing his hand under your stomach to pull you on all fours, “never answering my questions.“

It doesn't take long for Gojo to adjust himself behind you. especially since your dripping cunt made it so for him to slide through every time. but it takes moments for you to readjust to him — every new position meant greater access for his cock to rearrange your insides.

“but this pussy will always be my good luck charm.”

It's almost as if you can feel his smirk as he grabs your hips, and begins to roughly pound into you in doggy.

"Look who’s lazy, c'mon, keep hips up, angel," He effortlessly teases, spanking your ass and firmly gripping onto the pulsing flesh.

"S-shut up, asshole,” you hissed, putting your head down on your arms for more leverage — it’s shocking how you’re not flying onto your headboard from the force of him thrusting into you.

"That's rich considering your asshole is right in front of me.” he chuckles, spreading open your cheeks to see your other hole pulsing on top of the one he was currently fucking, the rim barely withholding his girth, “ wanna try anal? it’s pretty, by the way."

"D-do you ever shut up?" You complain, reaching over to grab your pillow to muffle your moans. but in that split second, Satoru catches your wrists and pulls you backward, your back heavily arching and breasts rapidly bouncing in all directions, mimicking the robust thrusts of his cock pistoling into you.

“how can I, when you look so pretty,” his thrusts become more aggressive, “getting” thrust, he watches you crumble, face contorting in pleasure, he can tell you’re close, “fucked? thrust “by” he quickly catches your hand trying to reach down to stimulate your clit, “my” deeply pushing in, further splitting you open in half, the tip of his member knocking against womb, “cock.”

“too much…ahhh—wait! ‘Toru!” The bed violently shook as he drove his cock, balls slapping your wet pussy as your legs trembled with warm liquid dripping down from your thighs, slowly pooling onto the sheets.

“just say it, princess, you love me,” he growls, thrusting more as he nibbles on your lobes, pleasurable tears sliding down your cheeks as you instead gasp out his name.

“at least your pussy is honest.”

---

“I’m not here to talk, Suguru, get the fuck out of my way,” Satoru growled while pushing the other off.

“Don’t tell me, you still got no pussy to ask her out, Satoru,” the raven hair taunted.

“Nanami!” Satoru called out noticing his wing’s position wide open to shoot for a goal. It was apparent in the way Satoru briefly lost his balance, his composure starting to chip away from the strain of his muscles that he was getting exhausted — a feat Satoru would normally never struggle with until the last couple minutes of the game.

But speedily passing by and braking with thick shaving of ice spraying from the sudden stop, intercepting the puck when Nanami passes — a gameplay Suguru’s practiced countless times with Satoru — the Kyoto’s center was now in possession of the puck, taking no moment to rest before charging the opposite direction.

In those split seconds, Suguru jeered, “wasn't this our favorite play?”

“Fuck!” Satoru muttered under his breath, quickly changing momentum to skate the opposite way.

And just before the buzzer goes off, Suguru easily angles his stick to chip the puck, the force of the impact causing the biscuit to shoot straight into the net.

Satoru huffs just meters away, dumbfounded at how much Suguru’s improved and curated his craft. A force he once relied upon and leaned on, trained tooth and nail while shedding blood, sweat, and tears together since fourteen now has become a thorn to his side that contrived to bring him down, Suguru bypasses his once best friend, standing in shock.

“are you still in denial, or have I answered your question about who’s the traitor, Satoru?”

Tokyo (4): Kyoto (5)

Intermission before the third, final period —

A tie (6:6)

It was the longest eighteen minutes of your life. no one dared to even speak. Through the chatter and vibrancy of the stadium, only the heavy huffs and gulping of electrolytes of the players were heard. Even Yaga-Sensei just sat there, brows furrowed with his thick arms crossed over his chest.

And Satoru, too, silently sat on the bench, leaning on his elbows parched to his thighs, manspreading with a towel thrown over his head. The heat of his body contrasted with the gelid stadium had faint white smoke radiating from his expended body.

“Satoru,” you gently called out while handing out a fresh towel for him to use, “you’re going to catch a cold.”

“Don’t need it,” he dully murmured without taking a second to raise his head to acknowledge you.

“I —,” Yaga Sensei grasped hold of your shoulder to stop you from saying anything regretful that would further disturb him. Biting your tongue, you sighed, “Sure.”

The cold response of someone who literally just rearranged your guts so wantonly before the game, sharing an intimacy with him throughout the years that bloomed into something more than what you’d like to acknowledge than simply being a friend with benefit caused both frustration and helplessness to boil within you for not being unable to help him.

Not like he needed your help, nor did he ever ask. But from time to time, you wished he would let down his burdens with you, and allow you to carry his weight for a while.

Only once has he ever shown you his emotional side. The infamous night when Satoru received the news of Suguru’s departure, you found him drunk in front of your apartment waiting for god knows how long.

all you could remember was that the night was awfully cold for someone to have a broken heart.

That night, despite no words being said, the comfort of your arms and the warmth of your skin helped him to sleep despite the storm that raged in his mind.

It was understandable his mood. Normally he wouldn’t be so emotionally invested in a game, even if he had lost. During intermissions, he would either be chatting up a storm, blowing your ear off about all the plays he’s made and if you’ve finally fallen in love with him. Or, two, he’ll be listening to you nagging at him to not go throwing his opponents against the wall while wrestling for the puck.

Hockey was aggressive, but it was also an athlete’s duty to learn how to play smart and do their best to abstain from injuries that could potentially harm their career — especially, if the athlete in question is one preparing for his national debut to representing Japan in the Winter Olympics the following year.

Awkwardly, eyeing your expression, Haibara laughed while scratching the back of his head, cheerfully asking, “I would like a new one, mine’s a little damp.”

“Me too,” his blonded friend chimed in, his voice not as enthusiastic as Haibara’s.

Smiling in appreciation, you lent them a towel and extended the care to the other players as well.

“Why’d you give him the steal?” Sensei bluntly asked, looking at the rink while sternly watching Suguru make his way onto the field. His ex-disciple gave his old coach his respects with a little bow when he caught his gaze.

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?” Satoru numbly stated, the clenching of his fists reflecting his true emotions.

“You know what to do,” Yaga-Sensei firmly stated, pushing his sunglasses up his thick nose, wasting no time before the buzzer rang again to redirect his player, “you know him better than anyone else, trust your instincts.”

Twelve minutes till game —

The crowd roars. Currently in the last period, with a couple more minutes on the clock to crown the final winner, both teams ferociously fought to control the game.

The pluck clicks with each hit against the blade. Speedily sliding against the ice it was almost difficult to see it on the field.

Currently, in possession, Nanami pushed forward, putting pressure on Kyoto’s defense as Haibara simultaneously rushed to the other side, leaving Satoru wide open for a pass. Nanami prepares to hit a pass over to his captain, hitching the puck in the air for a quicker velocity towards Satoru, who’s ready to receive —

The glass walls tremble on impact. Flinching at the loud noise, your eyes widen when you see it unfold in slow motion. Both bodies harshly collided against the wall with Satoru getting sandwiched between two forces. expelling out a groan as he slid down the wall, with puffs of white smoke spewing from his lips with each harsh huff of his chest.

“Seems like a brawl has occurred between the two captains!”

“And from the looks of it, Gojo Satoru is struggling to get back on his feet!”

“No,” you muttered under your breath, face paling and body going cold despite the adrenaline pumping through your blood, you pushed your way through the audience to get to where he was.

Your mind felt like a minefield. With bombs ticking, threatening to explode with each step you took. Nauseous from the anxiety, it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe as if there was a ball stuck in your throat. And despite the efforts to try and stay calm, it was rather difficult when your thoughts replayed the countless other injuries Satoru sustained during your time as his manager.

“He’s going to have to take at least 8 to 10 weeks off for his fracture to heal.” The emergency physician stated, pointing at the small crack on his right clavicle.

“He probably won’t listen,” Sensei remarked, crossing his arms while letting out a deep sigh, “is there any way he can recover faster?”

“It’s fine guys —” Satoru tried playing it off.

“Shut up,” you and Sensei simultaneously interjected, scolding him to be quiet as if he were a child.

Clearing his throat, “As I was saying, it must’ve been painful for him to have played in this state, I imagine this was an ongoing injury he’s sustained in the past,” the doctor murmured while further analyzing the film.

You immediately shot daggers at him, glaring when the doctor unintentionally outed Satoru’s injury he’s been keeping a secret. Flinching, Satoru slowly sank further into his bed, covering his face with his blanket.

“Though, being diligent with his PT and fully resting his body for at least six weeks will be the fastest route for recovery.”

But, well… it doesn’t take more than five weeks for you to get a text from Suguru.

From: Suguru

Don’t get mad…

To: Suguru

You saying this makes me already mad. What happened?

From: Suguru

Just bring some icepacks and some sweets and head over to Satoru’s place.

To: Suguru

I swear to god if you guys play —

From: Suguru

... it's his fault.

And it doesn’t take you more than thirty minutes to be blowing up his doorbell, knocking on his door at exactly 12:34 A.M. with an ice cooler with icepacks and a bag full of his favorite candy.

Thud!

“Fuck… ow that hurt.” You heard a muffled voice through the door.

“It’s me.” You curtly announced.

Quickly opening the door, his elbow leaning against the door with an insouciant tone to his voice, he cracked a boyish smile, “Ah, isn’t this my favorite person. What brings you here?”

“I told you not to —” Rage bubbled up inside you as you glared at him.

“Okay!” Nervously holding up his hands, doing his best to calm you down, “before you get mad —”

“I’m already mad, Satoru —”

“Okay! Fine! Before you get even madder,” taking the heavy loads off your shoulders, settling them onto the floor, his warm hands cup your face, “it’s really nothing big. Just feels a little strained that’s all,” he tried to reassure when he sees you about to object.

“Really, I’m fine,” his eyes urged you to trust him, “I just… missed being on the rink, that’s all.”

Your eyes soften when you see the little sulk on his lip, and notice how he’s lost a little weight in his cheeks. Quickly letting out a deep sigh through your nose, you mumbled out, “I’ll be the one to decide if you’re fine or not.”

---

“Take your shirt off.” You ordered, firmly holding onto the hem of his white shirt while saddling on his thighs.

“Oh wow.” he placed his hands on his chest, acting innocent from your forwardness.

“Satoru, take your shirt off,” you grumbled, pulling at his shirt and rolling your eyes when it was easily removed, despite him acting naive, again his hands covered his bare chest — just managing to barely cover his sculpted pectorals.

“It’s really nothing,” he blushed, awkwardly looking off to the side with a guilty smile.

“Satoru you just took off your sleeve,” you murmured, placing an ice pack on his collarbone, your voice filled with worry.

“I’m really fine, baby,” he loosened up after seeing the cute pout on your lips, your brows faintly furrowed as your fingers ever so lightly iced his injury.

“I’m not your baby,” you stated with a glare, clearly not impressed with his defiance to go against his doctor’s orders, “I don’t date people that don’t listen to me,” you said without much thought while tending to his bruised clavicle.

“Oh —” his ears perked at hearing your words.

Fuck.

“Wait! What I meant was —”

It was evident that he was trying to contain his smile from the way he bit his lips. “You so wanna date me don’t you?”

---

It’s not a surprise how you ended up in this position.

It started off with a light kiss, lips softly meshing with each other with light teasing of tongue — he swore, it’ll be just one kiss.

Soon enough hands start to idly move on their own accord, groping areas, and massaging places that wouldn’t particularly follow with just one kiss, leaving you both simultaneously panting and yearning for more.

And then you’re grinding on his throbbing cock, spit slightly leaking from the edge of your mouths while tongues feverishly fought for dominance, naked with your pussy pulsing and dripping in need to swaddle and engulf him whole.

Progressing forward, you’re slowly sinking onto his length, bottoming out with your ass seated on his thighs, foreheads linked while you both took a minute to adjust to one another. like an unspoken language, you both solemnly breathed, that even if the world crashed around you both, nothing would matter because the other was there.

He’ll cum.

It’s beautiful how he does it. And in moments like these, you can’t deny that the man who’s chasing after his high under you was the man you loved.

With his mouth gaping open, his white brows furrow as he gasps for air while his large hands grip your bum, spreading out your cheeks for easier access through your hole. He desperately thrusts into you, unrhythmic and hips helpless from the warm seduction your plush walls have over him. His seeds shoot straight to your womb, filling you entirely with pulps of his cum leaking through your cunt. And it takes him a couple seconds to breathe as he rides out his high.

And then you’ll be sandwiched in between the sofa and his heavy body, his cock rummaging inside, amplifying the sound of his member shoved through your dripping cunt. It’s loud and sloppy the way he fucks into you. Wanton and bashful in the way his muscles tighten in tandem with you clenching down when his head hits just the right spot.

Your legs immediately wrap around his hips, securing him down to fuck you in that position. And he doesn’t retaliate from the limited position, instead, he welcomes it. With his face burrowed into the curve of your neck, his palms pushing your thighs to your chest— biting, clawing, scratching, and licking — doing whatever it takes for you to rectify the burning ache in between your thighs, and for him to release his seeds into you again — again, and again, and again.

“—toru! please,” you cried out and in your plea, he answered, “I’m right here,” Satoru groaned, “Keep up with me — fuck, I swear, jus’ a little more.”

Tightly wrapping his arms around you, his face nuzzled closely to your ear. Despite him already being inches deep within you, his every grunt and pant, the desperate moans he releases while he states your name, mixed with delirious curses has you craving for more.

With his mind hypnotized from the pleasure of his cock rummaging your insides, swaddled in care despite his cock bullying past your folds, he becomes possessive and carnal.

“This is mine,” he harshly bites your shoulders, pleased when you yelp while simultaneously tightening your reign on his cock burrowed within your walls, “all mine. You’re fucking mine,” he proclaimed.

“ — ‘Toru please keep going fuck right there!” you sobbed, cheeks stained with euphoric tears.

“Just say you want it,” he growls muffled with his lips smashed with yours, “tell me you want me.”

“yes, I want it. I want it so, so bad — need you so bad ‘Toru!” you mewled, letting out a soft whimper, feeling the vibrations of his grunts, pulses of ecstasy pulsing through your veins and straight to your core as you succumbed all authority and control for him to do whatever he desired.

“Fuck fuck fuckkkkkk.” he curses when he hears your words. Like a broken record, it echoes in his brain, with every release of his cum, his breath hitching and body vibrating as he finally reached his climax.

The voice of you calling out his name so dearly repeats so melodically in his ears.

Soon, the room once filled with the savage slapping of wet skin and immoral use of dirty curses of pleasure while you both partook in unholy matrimony was now filled with a thick smell of post-sex pheromones, coupled with softened breaths and sweet hums of foolish lovers.

“Be careful,” you softly mumbled, under him, while your hands lightly weaved through his damp hair. you placed a soft kiss on his bruised collar, his pale skin accentuated the blue-green tint, making it look far worse than it was.

“aw, you worried for me? I’m so touched,” he faked a sob as he pulled you tighter into his arms, mumbling while he lavished in your warmth.

“I still didn’t forgive you,” you lightly pulled on his hair. his eyes were droopy and his body felt even more heavy over your limp one.

“Yea?” he hummed closer to your lips, gently kissing you while slowly grinding his hips to your wet core, “thought your harder harder ‘Toru harder was you forgiving me,” he lightly chuckled in between kisses.

“You’re the worst,” grumbling as you tightened your arms around his neck, snuggling closer to his warm body.

“Wow, you love me? I’m so touched,” Satoru softly chuckled, gently stroking your heated cheeks as he held you in his arms, he too, soaking in the warmth and feeling the beatings of your heart.

—

Your eyes focused on nothing but him despite the chaos around you — just a couple of steps from touching his slumped body,

A loud buzzer goes off, quieting your thoughts, the loud announcement ringing static in your ears.

“ Sustaining the blow, Gojo Satoru gets back on his feet again! He proves once again on the court he is The Honored One!”

Two minutes till game —

Head throbbing, and every inch of his body burning from the strain, Satoru vigilantly fought for control of the puck. Every second felt like an eternity, and every stride of his skates felt tortuous as if every fiber of his muscle were being torn apart.

Satoru quickly passes to Haibara, and fastidiously receives the puck again when he's open. Faking a move to juke out his opponent, Satoru was getting closer to Kyoto’s goal.

It was evident that fatigue was overwhelming each player on the court. With their voices hoarse, and sweat starting to sting their eyes, while puffs of smoke perspired with each agonizing breath causing their lungs to burn in their chest, no one was willing to back down.

Watching from the side while nervously biting your cheeks, you observed the game as Satoru flew through the rink. From the calmness of his eyes, and confidence in his strides, to the quickness of his feet and the gentle care to his game, things started to make sense.

For the man that obnoxiously barged into your life, ruining your pair of white shoes, to managing a spot in your heart, he sure made you fall — hard.

On one random afternoon while you watched him soundly sleep in your arms, lightly drooling as he mumbled something incoherent about some zunda and cream at Sendai Station — loving him came easily.

Because even if you tried running away, your feet would always end up back to him. And you knew the fire that you'll hold for him was going to burn, but you couldn’t resist the flame that he lit in your heart.

“With seconds to the clock, with Gojo Satoru’s lead, the Trailblazers are fighting desperately to win this game!”

Gojo Satoru — with him, it wasn’t exactly love at first sight, but it was something like that.

“The Spartans are putting up a ferocious fight, Geto Suguru tries to steal the puck but is unsuccessful! Ladies and Gentleman, Gojo Satoru goes for the goal —”

Satoru sped his way across, the white tint of his jersey barely recognizable with his speed. The crowd cheers, sirens blow off to the throne the victors of this year’s champions.

And currently, tears freely flowed down your cheeks. And you let them despite the blur as you rushed onto the rink, the soles of your shoes about to slip on the scratched ice.

Because the saddest word in the world is almost, and he was worth more than being dwindled down to a regretful almost.

And if you had to defy fate, and create your own ending, so be it. You’ll suffer the consequence of meddling with destiny, and amend for your sins, in the future, when you’re dead if that meant there was a guarantee to have him in the present.

Because in the world of almost 8 billion people, somehow your worlds are intertwined.

“Be careful!” He panicked, throwing off his helmet as he rapidly skated over to you, “You’re going to hurt yo—”

Grabbing holding of his jersey, you slammed your lips with his — with thousands in the audience, cameras obnoxiously flashing up the rink in all directions.

You won’t hear the end of it from Yaga-Sensei, he’s certainly, most definitely mad.

Your anonymity is fucked, and now everyone will know you as the ‘girl that kissed Gojo Satoru’ — probably will be trending on all socials for at least a week, and that's being generous.

Maybe you were delusional or so high off adrenaline that you didn’t notice the mayhem surrounding you — especially not Satoru’s shocked expression when you suddenly kissed him.

But your ignorant bliss was soon interrupted when you slightly opened your eyes and were met with a thousand flashing lights that almost blinded your vision.

“— oh my god!” you squealed, immediately embarrassed at what you just did, only for Satoru to quickly hide you in his embrace, your face nuzzled into his chest.

“Looks like I’m not the one that’ll get in trouble by Sensei time,” he teased with his cheek placed on top of your head.

“Get me out of here,” you whined, “I’m so embarrassed…”

“Nah” Satoru cheekily smiled, tightly embracing you, “not until you give me a date.”

“You didn’t make the last shot stupid, Nanami did.”

“False, I assisted,” he stated after briefly calling out for one of his teammates, “If you weren’t so lovestruck by my handsome face, and actually saw my brilliant performance, then you would’ve seen the phenomenal play I had with Nanami.”

“Satoruuuu,” you whined, lightly stomping on your feet, getting increasingly squirmish from all the mess you’ve created.

“Told you,” whispering into your ear, “I’ll always win,” he stated before pushing his helmet over your head, reaching down to hold your hand as he led you out of the rink. The confidence in his walk looked almost arrogant, with you helplessly following, as he made his way to the lockers — a routined celebration after a game now as your boyfriend —

“Because you're my lucky charm, babe.”

author's note: if you made it to the end, thank you. i didn't expect a silly thought to lead to my distress about creating another au for him. But nonetheless, I hope you've all enjoyed ◡̈

#ae.writes #jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #darkmode.

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nellyofthevalley · 6 months

Text

spawn, ch.3

astarion x fem!tav…

rating: explicit content: NON-CON I'M SO FUCKING SERIOUS FOR THIS CHAPTER, tragedy, violence, lots of cazador, dead dove, probably death at some point, i don’t know it’s a lot, fuck or die summary: cazador uses the one thing astarion cares about to exert control over his favorite spawn in the worst ways.

With her, he would have risen from the dirt and lived again. He swore, a few times, that he felt his heart come to life for a brief moment and he remembers every last one. He thought of them often in the kennels on repeat in his mind, reciting a list of reasons why he had to go on.

chapters: ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3

read it on ao3 or below the cut:

A sort of ritualistic gathering developed—every night, Cazador calls Tav, Astarion, and a select few of his spawn to the dining hall, where they sit together at the table as a ‘family’. Most nights, Astarion is left to sit in silence and watch as his master passes Tav from spawn to spawn, to be drank from like a bottle of wine.

Cazador goes so far as to give the spawn praise, tell them what a wonderful reward they’re being given for their behavior, but none are blind to the truth. Cazador never let them drink from thinking creatures before, no matter how well they performed. The favored spawn’s dormitory, sporting a small semblance of privacy, is the sole gift they’ve ever received. The tiefling dinner they’ve all come to indulge in is simply another one of Astarion’s punishments they’re forced to participate in.

The spawn, forbidden from supping of the blood of anything better than bugs and rotten vermin, always bite her wildly and take too much, marring her skin more than Astarion had the night she was taken. Cazador has to compel them to stop, reminding them he still has plans for her and to ‘mind their manners’—though he still allows them to take enough to take enough to render her weak, unable to speak or move at all.

Astarion’s body aches and begs his mind to agree to get up and fight, to break the wooden dining chair and run its leg through his master’s dead heart over and over again; to bathe in his screams, twist the stake and watch his organs curl, and tear his flesh apart until there’s nothing left but viscera.

Most nights, she’d faint before a thrall carries her out to be cared for—this ‘care’ nothing more than an assurance she lives another grueling day of torture. Astarion learned Dalyria had been tasked with seeing to her, and one night in passing, she mentioned that Tav had her own room and hasn’t been by Cazador’s side as he was led to believe. A comfort, albeit small; here, even a short reprieve is a blessing.

Over time, it seemed Cazador had taken a twisted liking to her, directly speaking to her more often and addressing her politely. Empty words when he has his spawn drain her to the edge every evening, but it makes Astarion’s stomach churn.

It's agonizing, being forced to sit at the table in the evenings, so close that he could reach out and touch her—if he were allowed. She looks so empty, so devoid of any emotion, he wishes he could see anything in her. He wishes they had the tadpoles again, threat of ceremorphosis be damned, so they could share in each other’s minds.

The tadpoles were the best thing that ever happened to Astarion, granting him freedom and power, but they were careless. They dragged their feet confronting Cazador and now…

Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. The master wasn’t wrong when he said Astarion didn’t have to be his spawn to be controlled; he proved as much that first night.

Astarion wonders if Cazador’s taught her to be so expressionless, or if the light in her is truly fading. He hates how dependent he’s become, how resolve flits out of his heart as easily as it enters. If her fire’s snuffed out—the last of her hope gone—he fears he won’t be able to hold onto his own anymore.

On the nights Astarion is escorted out first, he almost prefers the ignorance to knowing what happens to her in the dining hall after he’s left.

He thought the dinners were the worst. How wrong he was, he realizes, when Cazador ceases to summon him from the kennels. It is a far bleaker existence in solitude, hungry and oblivious to anything beyond the door.

Thralls no longer come for him. His siblings never come for him. Their friends never come for him.

All he knows is that she must still be alive—Cazador surely would’ve summoned him to watch if he were to kill her. The unknown is terrifying. Many nights, he chooses to live in delusion, repeatedly telling himself she’s okay; shaken, that he couldn’t deny, but not gone.

When Godey comes to discipline him, ‘learning his manners’ is an emphasized lesson, and the skeleton never slips, never says a single word beyond the fucking lesson and his mockeries.

Cazador visited him, too, though the occasions were rare. The master had better things to spend his time on than something as trivial as Astarion’s punishments, even if he is the favorite spawn. Distinct from the favored spawn, the favorite spawn is the most beautiful, most whored, most disdained, and wields the sweetest screams. Many moons ago, before the abduction, he was also the most ill-disciplined. Now, he dutifully plays his part, waiting to see Tav again.

Eventually, these visits also came to an end. Godey no longer prowls and attends to his kennels, an area that has been his, not the master’s, for as long as Astarion can remember. The piece of shit walking bag of bones values his domain, carries a sense of pride and ownership over it; the fact that he no longer makes his rounds is terribly unsettling.

After a few weeks that felt like months of isolation, a mortal servant arrives to deliver a rather lavish, white-and-gold outfit and written orders from Cazador: ‘Dress up. Mind your manners. Wait to be escorted.’ Painfully brief and unenlightening. Not unexpected. The master had never been eloquent in the art of written words.

Astarion, wrought with hunger, fights the urge to drink the servant dry, persevering only due to his conviction to see Tav again. He can’t fuck this up. He can’t agitate Cazador. He wonders if he’ll see her tonight—if Cazador’s planned a ball, a feast, or some other sort of gathering perhaps—and will she be dressed up, too?

Dress up. Mind my manners. Wait for my escort.

Mortals who know Cazador’s true nature come to his gatherings expecting to leave with the gift of eternal life. Few are granted eternal life. It’s never a gift, and no one ever leaves.

If Astarion were blissfully unaware to the party’s farce—only a mask for the true feast to be had by beasts and monsters alike—it might be a refreshing sight, with people dancing, talking, and drinking, filling the ballroom to the brim. He nearly envies them; at least their deaths won’t be prolonged across centuries.

He was given no instruction or tasks beyond putting on a pretty face, and upon arrival looks over the crowd to the front, searching for Tav. She sits in a new chair besides Cazador’s empty one, wearing an elegant, flowing blood-red dress the master must’ve chosen for her. No doubt meant to match with his own aristocratic, gaudy attire; a black, tailored velvet coat with red-and-gold embroidery, silken shirt, slim trousers and shiny leather boots.

An image of royalty to the ignorant—the idiots that ask for the gift of eternity. Vampiric king and queen, presiding over their lands and peasants. Astarion never saw him with a ‘partner’ before, but tonight, Cazador is flaunting her like she’s his. The chairs, the matching attire, the event… events at the palace are rare and always a carefully calculated move. There’s purpose.

They’re feasts, but they’re never just feasts.

Tav looks different up there, dolled up in a gothic look she’d never choose for herself, with her hair in a styled updo and at the master’s side. Almost like she’s been transformed into another person altogether, with a mere few distinguishing features left to recognize her by.

It’s wrong, she’s all wrong; he doesn’t see her amber eyes staring back, and he fucking knows why and refuses to believe. Not until he can see it. Astarion weaves through guests, moving up closer to get a better look at her and he sees something that pesters him so ruthlessly, something that threatens to tear down every drop of willpower and self-discipline he’d managed to gather since their imprisonment.

Fresh puncture wounds on her neck.

Red eyes, and the clear hunger behind them. The very same look he wore when he was turned and when he was denied even rats.

It’s a brutal reminder of what he’s known for a very long time: that their efforts had been in vain, a complete waste of time for a world that wasn’t worth saving; that the Gods of this foul place and every inhabitant deserve to drown along with it.

Before she came along and won him over with her honeyed words, he had it beaten into him over two hundred years that this realm is a horrible, vile place to spend a minute on, nor a single lifetime, and certainly not for eternity.

‘The world can be a wonderful, kind place, Astarion, when you find a home in it,’ she said.

She said a lot of stupid things, and he protested against nearly every single one of them, but she was stubborn. Persistent. She did the impossible and made him believe they would find their home in it and experience this wonderful, kind place. He’d been a thoughtless, love-addled twit that thrived on her energy, eventually coming to crave it.

Astarion didn’t want it and he refused it at every turn. He scoffed at her generosity, doubted her graciousness, and chastised her when she dared to challenge him. He waited on her every word, though never without comment, and in time, he started to welcome the infection of her sweet, kind heart.

In his confinement, after the dinners and the visits stopped, Astarion had dreamt many times of the end. No more pain, no more sorrow, no more torture.

True death is a fantasy within the walls of this palace.

Yet, no matter how many times he fantasizes of obliteration, he’s still all but given up on hope. He hopes she’ll kiss him again, laugh with him, or so much as flash a half-smile his way. He would do anything for it. He would do even more to set her free.

Much as he fought it, she brought an irreplaceable light to the gloom in the soul he thought he’d lost.

When Cazador’s voice rings through the room, it’s as if he’s drifted off and he’s watching something else control his form, an empty husk obeying and moving aside as his master commands. The whole crowd splits, creating space in the center, and only a minute later they’re applauding and awing at what’s on display. Their laughs and claps are utterly revolting, it’s like hearing the master’s taunts on repeat—like every guest is mocking him and berating him, and it echoes through the palace.

Astarion looks through his own eyes again, and he wishes he hadn’t.

In another lifetime, it would be them dancing on the ballroom floor. Astarion, the Ascendant, and his lover, dressed in the same blue-and-gold scheme. He’s always thought blue suits her well, not red, and not moving along with Cazador with his palm on her back and her hand in his, twirling her around like a doll to be shown off. It’s a spectacle, a well-crafted show designed to destroy his most prized spawn.

It’s atrocious enough to push Astarion to vomit, but he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t, he can’t—not with this cold, dead form. He dashes away from the crowd and dry heaves in the corner, over and over until his body can’t handle it anymore and he runs off to the kennels, knowing he’ll regret this later, knowing he has nowhere to go but here.

The place he’d been tortured in for so long, made to scream and cry and beg for mercy, to submit and now it’s all he has to find comfort in. It’s a disgrace. It’s fucking humiliating.

The first time was when he couldn’t live with the guilt anymore and admitted he’d been manipulating her, trying to win her favor all along by charming her and pleasuring her, and that he’d gone and fucked it up—he finally started to understand that he wanted more from her. Astarion wanted something real, and he didn’t know how to ask nor how to do it, and he was so sure she would yell at him anyway for what he’d done, knowing he’d deserve it but fearing it all the same.

She embraced him instead. He recoiled purely by instinct and she didn’t let him go. He buried his face in her hair and closed his eyes and he felt his heart stir.

Then, when she kissed him under the stars at Wyrm’s Crossing. It wasn’t their first or second kiss, he’d lost count by then, but that one was different. That one made his heart flip as they looked beyond the horizon, processing the months of traveling and fighting and how far it had taken them, the city only a few days away.

And again, when they survived the confrontation with the brain. Death was a certainty, and they came out the other side. After that, he felt they could do anything if they did it together. Even the sun that could kill him so easily felt like little more than a petty burn on his skin while he rode the high of it all. She promised to find him a way to live in the sun again after they killed Cazador.

His heart did more than flip or stir that time, it raced.

Later, Godey comes for him in the kennels and drags him to Cazador’s study. A room he’s never entered before, not in two hundred years; none of the spawn or thralls were allowed in his study. It’s a sign. He’s sure it means their numbered days can be counted on one hand.

He’s shoved in the room and kicked to the floor; Godey’s already left by the time Astarion looks back at the door, and then it’s Cazador jerking him by his hair, throwing him back against the ground.

“You thought to disrespect me, at my party, during my dance?”

“Fuck you,” Astarion retorts. He’s being senseless and rash and he knows it, he knows he should be good, but fuck, with Tav made Cazador’s spawn, what does he have left to fight for? To live for? Why shouldn’t he get himself killed by spitting in his master’s face?

“And here I thought you felt something for her. You seemed to cherish her, didn’t you? And now you’ll throw it all away, just so you can have a meager few seconds of fun, making your jabs at me?” Cazador taunts him, kicking him backwards against the cold floor and stepping on him, shifting his weight to his foot and shoving Astarion’s face into the tile. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You were always selfish, unable to hold your endless prattle and boasting. The others have always hated you for it.”

Astarion looks down, as if the fight he had simply evaporated—the master perfected the act of preying on his spawn’s worst traits and insecurities, and he was never immune to it, try as he may.

“Look at me, boy,” Cazador orders, compelling him to watch as he lifts his boot and comes back down on Astarion’s chest with a harsh crack on his ribs. “If it was yours to make, what would you have me choose? Would you prefer I carved the runes into her back, as agonizingly as I did to you, and sacrifice her? Or keep her as my pet forever?”

Gods. He can think of nothing worse than an eternity with Cazador, but the thought of Tav enduring the runes, then slaughtered like cattle… he’d rather stay in Cazador’s service for another thousand years than choose. She has so much life left to live, and it’s already been snuffed out, all because she’d been dumb enough to choose him to love.

“She’s already fucking dead,” he says. “You fucking killed her! You took her body, forced red eyes and eternal hunger onto her. You transformed her into a monster. You stole her from me.”

“Stole her—have I misjudged you? Is she simply property to you? Ha!” Cazador laughs and shakes his head, lifting his foot from Astarion’s chest. “You would’ve been smart to see her that way, spawn, I taught you better than to love. But it makes no difference to me, really; whether she’s your lover or your possession, you belong to me. I own you. She was made mine the very moment you set your eyes on her.”

“Fuck you, fuck you!”

“You are nothing and you have nothing. You went on a short vacation with mortals who’ve since forgotten you, and hand-delivered to me the only one foolish enough to show you kindness.”

The door behind creaks open and another body is pushed through the door, onto their knees beside him. Red dress. Red eyes.

Astarion, too livid to consider if he should, crawls over to her and puts his hands on her, lifting her chin to look at him. Her dark makeup is well-executed, giving her the blush of life, and everything about her appearance screams elegance, class, perfection.

No amount of makeup can cover what he sees when she sets her eyes upward on him: a reflection of himself and what he’s done to her, how he’s condemned her to this.

“My love,” he says, an appeal to her, though he feels guilty for hoping she feels something for him still, sure that he’s unworthy of it.

“Astarion, no.”

It stings worse than any blow or cut he’d been given. It’s been weeks, maybe months since he’s heard her say anything except ‘no’, and even his name is spoken with such bitterness. But her palms raise and latch on to his forearms and her eyes shut, like it’s painful to look at him, and it stokes his little spark of hope.

“Please,” he pleads, but for what, he’s not sure.

It’s but a second before Cazador intervenes, pushing Astarion aside.

“Sit. And watch,” he demands.

Astarion sits up with his back to the wall, staring at them with eyes half-open. His master—their master, now—bends his newest spawn over the desk, lifting her pretty red dress up over her back and pulling her underwear to her knees. Cazador pins her against the tabletop, his cock rigid against her cunt, separated only by the petty fabric of his pants.

“I promised I’d teach you. It’s only a shame that you’ll not have the chance to put my instructions to use,” he says, words directed towards Astarion, but eyes set on Tav and unwilling to spare Astarion even a single glance. A waste of the master’s time, as it often is; as his favorite and most hated spawn, Cazador’s interactions with Astarion are limited to the cruelest encounters, those that wrought enough suffering to satisfy the master for the night.

Tav stares at Astarion, and he hates it. With her face pressed against the surface, expression devoid of emotion, and her hands held behind her back by Cazador—a scene perfectly crafted to ruin him.

See what you’ve done to me?

He hears it in her voice.

“Dry,” Cazador notes. “Fix this.”

Of fucking course she’s dry! What did he expect from her, her admiration and attention? To wet her cunt to her slaver? Astarion can’t fathom how she could even fix it—how could anyone get aroused in this situation?—but something in their master’s tone indicates that this isn’t the first time he’s ordered her to do this.

She follows quickly, she has to. She reaches her hand down under her dress. Astarion can’t see beneath the red fabric and he’s thankful for it. Despite the Gods ignoring his every prayer, he still begs them now to stop this, to remove them from this place, scorch the earth if they must. He’ll serve, he’ll sacrifice, he’ll give anything and everything. He’ll give his body, his soul—all of it.

None listen.

Cazador thrusts into her as ruthlessly and awfully as he administered every other punishment. She gasps and scrunches her face, stuffing her true feelings further and further down, being good, being compliant. She’s behaving and putting on a tough face, but it’s so fucking obvious how disciplined and practiced it is.

Rehearsed and refined, like how Astarion honed his skills in the art of seduction over the centuries. Is this what’s being done to her behind closed doors? When the rabid feasts on her blood stopped and Astarion never saw her, even so much as to deliver a punishment, was Cazador raping her and conditioning her to put on a happy face for it?

It’s sick. It’s disgusting. The sounds of his master fucking his lover reverberate in his ears; the ghoulish slap of skin on skin, the repulsive, throaty groans Cazador makes and the distressed, subdued cries coming from his love’s mouth. The noises alone haunt him, and even if he could look away, the memories of when he was first turned and Cazador had his way with him would simply follow.

Astarion would take her place as many times as he had to, if he could, without a second thought. He’d get on his back, his knees, any fucking way he was told to if it meant sparing her from it. He’d pretend to love it. He’d swallow and moan and take it all with a pretty face.

If it would save her, he would endure.

“Tav,” Cazador starts, about to command her, and it’s the first time Astarion’s heard her name said from his repugnant mouth. “My naïve, harebrained spawn over there won’t stop dreaming of taking you for himself again. Re-educate him on the matter of how you came to be a spawn. My spawn.”

“You led me here,” she chokes out between whimpers. “You killed me, Astarion.”

No, no, Astarion thinks, you don’t believe that… you wouldn’t… would you?

He wants to think that she’s only being compelled, that she’d never fault him for it, even if he blames himself. He can’t let go of believing she still cares for him—it’s all he has left.

“He watches you so faithfully, so childishly enthralled by you. Look at him.” Cazador brushes a piece of her hair back to uncover her face and leans closer to her to speak, turning his gaze towards Astarion. “Pretend it’s him inside you, pleasuring you. Imagine his face, his voice, and show us how beautifully you’d purr for him.”

“No, please,” Astarion begs, knowing he’s powerless, knowing his pleas will only satisfy Cazador more, yet he can’t stop them. “Don’t do this.”

Astarion never had the opportunity to lay with her again after the night in the forest. He wanted to—he wanted to so, so badly; he wanted the opportunity to learn how to truly love someone and show his for her as she deserves, but he wasn’t ready for it no matter how much he wished he was.

Whenever Astarion felt he had nothing left to lose, he was proven wrong, time and time again. Cazador commanded him to force himself on her in the ballroom, and now he’s forced to watch as she imagines him behind her. It’s fucking heinous, it’s tragic, it’s despicable.

He was never compelled in this manner, the master was happy to be patient with Astarion, taking his time enjoying beating and torturing him into submission. He wonders what happens when you’re compelled to imagine another lover. Is it Astarion’s face she’ll see when she turns around? Is it Astarion’s voice she’ll hear when Cazador speaks? Or will she still be keenly aware of the nightmare they’re residing in?

It’s her moans that bring him back to the present. Her lovely voice he dreamt of singing for him many times, and now it sings for a vision of him while he watches.

Cazador lets her hands free and hikes her dress further up, leaving nothing out of sight. Astarion tries to turn away, but his body won’t comply—it can’t. He sees Cazador sliding in and out of her and how he roughly grabs her chin with his slimy hand and turns her face towards him. He sees her, his Tav, looking at their master with her half-closed eyes and parted mouth and it makes him feel ill, thinking of how she sees his face laid over Cazador’s.

“Astarion.” She cries his name with a whimper, almost as if she were calling for him to save her.

“No,” he says quietly, to no one but himself, his voice tired of begging and screaming and and it’s futile, anyway; he’s powerless, nothing but a frail, expendable spawn.

“Astarion, please,” she whines in a sweet way, distinct from how she’d said his name only a second ago, like she’s begging him to fuck her. He’d imagined this many times, fantasized of it—he’d been waiting for it for so long—and hearing it now is a fucking torment, a stain on every fantasy; he’ll never be able to push this foul noise out of his head.

If he lives through this, he’ll remember it for a thousand years, a maddening infestation of the mind. It would seep into every one of their interactions, it would creep back into his head when he tried to bed her. It would follow them to the ends of the universe until they lost their souls.

Cazador shoves two of his fingers into her opened mouth, pressing far back until she’s about to gag from it, and she so enthusiastically licks them and coats them in her saliva, seeing Astarion’s pale face and hand while she does it.

“Look at her. So ready to please,” he says, and he wipes his spit-covered fingers on her cheek like she’s just a rag to wipe his filthy hands with.

Then, he covers her mouth fully with his palm forcefully; her brows furrow, eyes widen like she’s afraid, and her nails scratch hysterically at the wood beneath her. He’s relentless, holding her mouth shut tight and pushing her head to the desk while his motions become faster and stronger, and she looks like she’s in fucking pain.

One tear runs down Astarion’s face. Then another, then more; seemingly endless tears running down his face and dripping down onto his clothes and he does nothing to stop or wipe them away. He’s not even sure he could move right now, his body limp and bereft of any life.

Cazador finishing inside her is a sight and sound he’ll never be able to scrub from the crevices of his brain—a scene that will live in the black when he closes his eyes, inescapable.

“I see why you like her,” he taunts. “She’s obedient, isn’t she? And stupidly infatuated with you. A pity you’re too weak to exploit her.”

He fastens his trousers and straightens out the folds in his clothes; it’s all mechanical, it’s nothing for him but a job to be done, a performance to exert his power.

But Cazador was a pathetic, putrid little spawn once, too. He could be made one again.

He turns and leaves them alone. Together. Astarion’s body and mind are a mess—his face coated with dried, pitiful tears, and he’s lost on what being left behind here, with Tav, means. Does he grant them this visit to tempt Astarion and reprimand him for it later? Or is it as Aurelia had once said, bestowing a small ‘kindness’ for the cruelty of it?

He gives in to the temptation even if it earns him discipline later, desperate for so much as one moment with her, but it’s not temptation at all—he understands when he approaches her.

The sticky white leaking from her cunt and running down her leg, the bruises covering her back to her thighs, the way she lays there lifeless, even when allowed to move and speak; it’s all to prove she’d been broken. A reminder of the master’s ownership over them, what he’d taken from them.

“Tav.”

She doesn’t reply, doesn’t move.

“Please. We may never get to speak again,” Astarion begs, his voice cracking. He wanted to have the strength for them both, but he fucking can’t. “Talk to me.”

She starts to cry, he sees it run down her face and onto the desk. He pulls her dress back over her body and bends forward, laying beside her, looking at her.

Beautiful, as she’s always been. Not a monster as he yelled in anger, not already dead. She’s Tav, his first love; the only love he’ll ever know.

Her cries turn into violent sobs, though still she lays there, motionless. Paralyzed. Astarion gently touches her face with his fingertips, and when she doesn’t fight him on it, he trails down her cheek and wipes her tears away. It’s in vain, the tears flowing ceaselessly, but he can’t stop himself; he can’t think of anything but how desperately he wants to comfort her.

It’s a need worse than the hunger for blood—despite being starved ever since they came here, he forgot about it as soon as he felt her skin on his finger.

“Come on.”

He extends his hand towards her, to help her stand. He waits with it out until finally, she accepts and lifts herself with stiff movements, sore from the bruises. Bruises that weren’t meant for her, but for him to uncover and never forget.

He loathes to think how the dance must’ve felt for her. Awful. Unbearable.

“Tav.”

“Don’t. I’ve nothing left to give,” she says, sure of what he wants to express, and she doesn’t want to hear it.

Astarion could argue with her, he considers it; he could fight her and tell her everything she still has left to offer, everything he wishes they could share in. He learned better than anyone that undeath doesn’t mean you have no life left to live or that it’s not still you inside.

It’s selfish, but he can’t stop wondering if she’s truly given up on him and if she hates him for this. When Cazador ordered her to speak, did she mean what she said? Does she believe he stole her chance at life? She wouldn’t be wrong for it.

It had been his doing every step of the way, really—trying to seduce her, falling for her so carelessly, letting her hug and kiss and adore him and get under his skin, not insisting they kill Cazador the moment they stepped foot in the city. Fuck, he could’ve stopped it all when they met if he’d driven the knife through her throat.

As she walks away, he wonders if he’s ever told her he loves her.

Maybe it would’ve been selfish, anyway. Maybe she wouldn’t want to hear it.

#non con #dead dove fic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #tav x astarion #astarion fic #my fanfic

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rookiespropeller · 1 year

Text

im in one of those phases rn where i profoundly miss ogcp's 2010-2012 era. like, i would've loved for the game to freeze there. keep new stories + new parties going ofc, but in that same style & vibe.

which is kinda what cpl is attempting to do, and i really do love the server, but theres only so much u can achieve w a team of around 10 volunteers (only 2 of them able to work full time, soon only 1) when updates need to be pumped out left n right

i watched an old ogcp video on youtube and saw that the lights at the dance club turned a different color as enough penguins changed to wear the same color. i had genuinely forgotten that was a thing, with how long it's been and how used i am to simply... not have that feature. but ofc the memories came back to me instantly and i longed to go back in time to live it again.

i really miss small details like these. not that many ppl care abt them, but to me it makes the world come a little bit more alive. i'm probably never gonna experience those lights changing by color again & it makes me sad

edit: rambling goes on below the cut bc i wanted my the rest of my thoughts to be on the post itself, not just in the tags

ofc its not just about the lights, but u get what i mean. with a large professional team who gets paid to keep things rolling, has enough employees + ressources to work on multiple things at once... theres a lot more u can do. and unfortunately, no cpps will ever be able to have that

like even going back to comparing w cpl. cpl cant have a weekly updating newspaper, or even any newspaper at all, bc theres not enough ppl to 1) write it 2) create/find fitting artwork to go on the pages 3) code it and put it into the game and 4) repeat all these steps on a regular basis. and the newspaper is only ONE thing among so many

there are lots features that are planned & already announced. they'll all get done eventually, but the thing is that if one feature is being worked on, there's no time to work on anything else. meanwhile, the community is expecting parties & events at the same rate the ogcp team was churning them out (and i don't blame them for it, new content and parties are a big part of what keeps the game active & exciting). problem is, whenever parties need to be worked on, development of new features is halted.

& then of course you can't forget to update the hidden pins, the Penguin Style, the Furniture + Igloo catalogs, the igloo music selection, the stage plays, the ice rink turning into the stadium (and vice versa) along with a new Snow & Sports, the blog posts, the community board, etc. etc. this is just what's coming at the top of my head. most of these are already not updating as often as ogcp updated them, yet are still incredibly difficult to keep up with

& THEN between all of that, there are bugs that need to be patched. but ofc no one wants to work on bugs when they're already completely exhausted from the rest of their workload + they're not getting paid for any of it

after all of this, it's near impossible to squeeze in stuff like garden animations at the mine shack, a working puck/soccer ball at the ice rink/stadium, stage scripts with clickable chat... or even color-changing lights at the dance club.

god this makes me so upset but its literally no ones fault. theres not much anyone can do abt it & it breaks my heart

i miss club penguin.

#gahhh sorry for rambling #i didnt intend on making 75% of this abt cpl but it's what im familiar with so its all i have to contrast with ogcp #max.txt

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aviangrian · 3 months

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ahhh i just wanted to say i love starboy SOOO much!!!! i did not/still dont know anything about f1 but the way you write it is so easy to follow along with and read!!! i love how you write the characters, especially scar/grian/joel/lizzie, you write them so so sooo flawlessly... i love how it seems like were there with scar in the moment of everything going on and how you describe everything from his perspective. i also LOVE how you write scar and grian especially because they both seem just so *real* and *raw* and i usually never see that from fics. the way you write is just so in detail that it really allows the reader to imagine everything thats happening and i LOVEEE that!!! i also love how you write grian and mumbos friendship, like they obviously care about each other so muchhh and i love how the readers able to see that even through scars perspective!!!!! esp the scene after grian fell asleep watching topgun and mumbo helping him lay down into a more comfortable position,,, and how they hugged when grian finally got p1 😭😭❤️ NOT TO MENTION THE LATEST CHAPTERRRR AND SCAR AND GRIANS FIRST KISS????? THAT WHOLE CHAPTER WAS GOLDDDD i loved that chapter so much,,, so much happened between grian and scar???? that scene of them in the club??? scar (and us) finally getting some insight to what happened in grians past from grian himself??? grian being comfortable enough with scar to actually open up to him??? AND THEM CONFESSINGGG??? ☹️☹️☹️❤️❤️❤️ might be my fav chapter if im being honest

i also just wanted to ask a few questions while i was here though;

first, do you have a set upload schedule? or is it like a whenever you have time to work on it thing?

second, do you think youll be posting more content abt this au after starboy is finished? like a grians pov or something? ive become so interested in this au because i can tell so much work has been put into it and id love to see more it!!

lastly, is this going to be an eventual mumscarian fic??? i think its obvious Somethings going on/has happened between grian and mumbo but i just dont know What... like that one scene with them all at the dinner??? or the car scene with grian standing up through the sunroof???

i cant wait to read more chapters!!! but im also scared As Hell because SO much has happened already and its only been 6 chapters. we still have 5 more longgg chapters left and im so scared but also excited for how things are going to go... i hope youre having a good day, i cant wait to see what you have in store for this story!!! 🫶🫶 sawrry that this was a lot of rambling though,,, 😭😭❤️

anon i’m crying?? 😭 thank you so much.

the goal of the fic is real and raw! it’s an unusual setting (maybe not for me considering this is my second racing centric fic) but everything that happens is a product of the environment! the wins from his own team left scar feeling bitter at times, but watching grian win had him so proud he knew he’d get in trouble w his own team if he showed it lol. it’s all about where they are and it makes me sooo happy (like you would not believe) when people who aren’t f1/sports fan still enjoy the fic!

last ch was a lot and contained a lot of really vital stuff that i couldn’t wait to see the reactions of. grian finally opening up is so important to me and scar letting it happen in its own time is a huge part of why grian begins letting him in, which is evidently not something he’s used to at all. mans has been through it in this universe

as for the questions: i don’t have an upload schedule but i try to churn out the chs when i have time. it fits that valentine’s was right before midterms season for me so i got to get something out before i get swamped by all that 🥲 i don’t like to let a full month go by without posting but we’ll see how my semester keeps going lol

and i’ve been thinking of content once i’ve finished starboy. i’ve had ideas of grian’s pov hitting all the major plot points or even a jimmy spin-off one shot but nothing is planned for now. definitely floating around in my mind

mumscarian is not the endgame but the mystery behind grian and mumbo will be revealed! grian is mysterious and mumbo being mumbo goes along w it, but it does come full circle eventually!

i didn’t even realize there’s already only 5 chs left! that’s crazy, considering how much of the story i have left!

thank you again anon, this is all very much appreciated. i love your rambling because it allowed me to ramble too haha

#ask #so sweet i just wanna 🩷🩷🤍🩵💚💖💖#starboy

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holocene-sims · 2 years

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Astronomy asks: how about 5H, 6H, and 7H for Shannon and Colm? 😚

thank you for the ask!! ❤️

i'm in a picture mood today despite all of them coming out not quite as i wanted them to...so have this as a free bonus ✨

5H ⇢ do you have a hobby? which one(s)?

probably surprisingly, shannon is big into video games 🎮 she's also a bit of a musician and singer on the side, just rather shy about it

one of colm's hobbies is not playing sports but watching them. this man has a whole ass twitter account where he rambles exclusively about sports, mostly gaelic football and soccer (okay, football...i'll call it by the word the rest of the world uses) but grant is also slowly turning him into a hockey fan, albeit a very confused one

has he ever gotten into a fight on twitter over sports? yes

another one of colm's hobbies is reading about and debating philosophy, though. go figure. sure, it was his major, but shockingly he is interested in the subject itself and didn't just pick it at random

6H ⇢ do you consider yourself a workaholic?

honestly no (?) for both LOL

shannon kind of is but more so in the way that she enjoys the subject she's an expert in on a personal level, so she doesn't mind churning through a ton of papers or writing one up. but it's not the work she's concerned with, it's the actual content for her personal interests

colm definitely is not. don't get him wrong, he's passionate about his current work with the bar he owns, but he went that direction in life because it feels less like work and more like having fun. the whole, you know, 9-5 bullshit would actually kill this man. he really hates working on other people's time and he'd rather NOT be on the hook for some stupid boss

7H ⇢ what do you consider green flags in a relationship?

they're married, so i'll answer for each of them one of the green flags they saw in each other

for shannon, one of those green flags was willingness to sacrifice to not stand in the way of each other's ambitions.

if you think about it, they have a very unconventional relationship. they were together at the same university, always around each other, for four years in ireland, then he came to live with her in the u.s. they were there maybe a few months before she decided to go back to get her doctorate. he didn't want to go back, especially since he'd already established the bar, and she didn't want to force him to go back either, so they lived separately for six years. they even got married in the middle of that, when she was about a year out from finishing her degree.

but at no point was the distance ever an issue for them because they put in the work so their relationship didn't fall apart. it sucked but he trusted she would come back and she trusted him to wait. he was willing to sacrifice so many opportunities for them to be together. and she knew he was absolutely the one for her when he said he would wait a thousand lifetimes for her if that meant achieving her dreams first.

(he's very proud of her btw)

for colm, one of those green flags was how much she cares about investing in him and his interests. didn't matter if she knew absolutely nothing about his passions, she wanted to hear him talk about them and she remembered everything he said. she'd ask him randomly about those passions, too, like if she saw something online about it or just had a question. plus, she tried her hardest to come up with questions to keep him talking, even if those questions were stupid

that meant a lot to him, especially having grown up in a very chaotic household where he felt like literally no one paid any attention to him and didn't care about him as an individual. he was shocked really that she cared so much but he felt like that said a lot about her. and of course, when it came time to pursuing his passions for a career, she was his biggest supporter and still is. in that six years apart, despite being hours and hours away, she did more for him in keeping the bar alive and running than the people he is in business with 😭

#asks #hlcn: oc info #hlcn: story extras #hlcn: shannon #hlcn: colm #ts4 genetics really made shannon eerily similar in appearance to mom and grandma #literally the wedding pic here makes her look identical to grandma in her wedding pic

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seasideretreat · 10 months

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What is the meaning of life?

It seems we can do many things: we can watch television, take a walk outside, drink coffee or talk to people. We can spend the whole day scrolling on our phone or do a lot of sports and die young. I am listening to a "light academia" playlist on Spotify and it is quite nice. I like this whole academia thing more than I should, the books and the writing; and truly, writing is very fulfilling, but it can be lonely if no one reads it. I prefer to scroll mindlessly on my phone, but my restlessness sets in and then writing is better, because you have to think about what you write and then there is a moment of stasis, when you're just sitting back and thinking; and sometimes, sometimes, you're really philosophizing, even though these kind of thoughts usually go nowhere - so often I just have to let it go.

But writing online is different than writing a book. Writing a book is edifying, mysterious, intensive, romantic. Writing online is comforting, expressive, silent, modest, easy-going, personal. I can't write popular stuff: after all, there's way too much "content" online, everybody is churning out the most magnificent garbage.

I drink coffee every morning and it is extremely good, but I can't help but feel sometimes that something is lacking. They say every dark cloud has a silver lining, but anti-psychotic medication really doesn't have anything going for it, life just becomes dull. Nevertheless, my brain has problems when I don't take it. Problems that it should overcome naturally, perhaps, but the doctors don't care, they just want me to be docile. You know, I started playing some chess recently and I like it very much, but I used to play poker but I don't fully see the point of it right now, I don't know why. Poker is entertaining, I believe, and there is quite a bit of thinking involved in Texas Hold'em, and I believe there's love there, I love it, but it is not gentlemanly, not upscale enough, or something: it is not light academia, or whatever,

And so we come to the inevitable conclusion: is light academia the meaning of life? In an age where the world is falling apart under the strains of industry and economy, it seems idiotic to say that light academia is the meaning of life. We still live for these little things, even though the big things, life itself, are slipping away from us. Soon the world will be unhabitable, there won't be any food, it'll be worse then when there was the Black Death. You know, during COVID everybody said we should live in the moment, but now that the world is collapsing, and that we have to look forward, everybody just says: live it up, don't worry be happy. I want to make people happy, but I don't want to die.

#light academia #meditations #existential crisis

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godfreycarlton30 · 1 year

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5 Best Minecraft Modded Servers to Try In 2022

While vanilla Minecraft servers are a lot of fun Mods can make the experience even more enjoyable. To that end there are numerous multiplayer servers that use mods to improve the game and improve inter-player communication.

When you're looking through the huge collection of Minecraft servers the sheer variety of choices available can be overwhelming. It isn't easy for players to find the best modded server since there are numerous.

Some of the most popular multiplayer games have been modified and therefore it's worth looking them up.

There are just too many servers to list It's worth a look to look at some of the most popular choices that include modded content.

Note: This article is subjective and only reflects the views of the writer

Minescape, Bcraft Naruto and 3 other Minecraft servers that will be using mods effectively in 2022 include

1) Mineplex (Mineplex.com).

Mineplex is among the most popular Minecraft servers in the market. It has been one of the top Bedrock Edition server for many modded game modes. Plus, it also caters to Java Edition players, allowing players to play amusing mods.

There are thousands of players online at any given time and there is no shortage of people who want to be part of the fun of the game.

Mineplex's numerous game modes including Bridges, Cake Wars, and Survival Games will ensure that there is always something to do.

2) Minescape (Minescape.net)

Minecraft already includes a lot of RPG elements however, Minescape enhances the experience of roleplaying by a significant amount.

Minescape blends the world's most beloved sandbox game and the long-running MMORPG Runescape, bringing the best of both games in perfect harmony. Players can develop their skills slowly but steadily, regardless of whether they are focused on crafting, combat, or fishing.

During the peak hours, Minescape offers a considerably different experience for fans of the world's most popular sandbox game as well as old-school MMOs.

3) PixelmonCraft (PixelmonCraft.com)

Pixelmon is a very popular mod in the community that combines the addictive game of Pokemon and survival crafting.

For a better Pixelmon experience, PixelmonCraft is an excellent server to enjoy. Players can explore the server and battle different species of Pokemon while also building and crafting projects of their dreams.

PixelmonCraft is available to Java and Bedrock Edition users thanks to the third-party launcher software. Users don't need Minecraft installed to enjoy a great time with this server.

4) Bcraft Naruto (Planetminecraft.com/server/bloodcraft-naruto-realism/)

For fans of anime, Bcraft Naruto offers an extremely unique experience for those who love Shonen Jump's Naruto franchise.

You can become a ninja one of the hidden villages of the series by choosing one of three routes: Jounin or Anbu Black Ops. or a Medical Specialist. They can complete missions, challenge to rank up and learn new ninja techniques.

This world of Shinobi is as well-constructed as it is addicting. While it may not be appealing to everyone, this server certainly offers a lot and is among the most well-made fan servers out there.

5) Hypixel (Hypixel.net)

Many have long believed it to be the best Minecraft server in the world, Hypixel is heavily modded and offers a massive amount of content in multiple worlds.

The server has been operating for the longest time, which is why it was recently purchased by Riot Games. The developers have continued churning out excellent content updates. Minecraft

There are many great game modes available on Hypixel such as Turbo Kart Racers and Cops and Crims to just some. The server also sports one of the most adored Skyblock game modes ever. You can create for hours your perfect island in the sky.

#Minecraft servers #Minecraft #servers

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dotthings · 2 years

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Pulling a few points out of these media articles about new CW ownership and plans after Nexstar's 3rd quarter earnings report was released. And how that impacts fans and shows they love.

Not much in this one we didn't already know. CW needs to become profitable. CW was never profitable. CW can't continue to be unprofitable and they need to get higher ratings and cut costs. Lots of business and numbers talk, but I'll note the reiteration that this doesn't mean cutting scripted programming.

This one talks a bit more about what kinds of content. Notice first of all, no they aren't planning on dumping all Warner and Paramount programming that's left. But I'm not sure how this bodes for Kung Fu, Walker, and Walker: Independence. Kung Fu is exclusively WB productions, Walker and Windy are exclusively CBS productions. Note that the highest performers in demo (which is the most crucial number for selling ad space, so it's very valuable to a broadcast network), All American, All American: Homecoming, and The Winchesters are WB/CBS labeled.

Not sure why anyone is still trying to spread alarmist, incorrect speculation that they're going to gut the entire scripted programming and make everything super cheap with no more scripted tv series.

Brad Schwartz, the new head of programming, has a background in script tv. He's worked with Tyler Perry, Dan Levy, Martin Gero (who, btw, is a producer for Kung Fu, alongside Greg Berlanti).

Nexstar wants another Schitt's Creek, meaning a critically acclaimed, well-written, relatively cheap to produce, award-winning series. Scripted television.

Sitcoms will likely become a thing at CW and I'll bet you, with PoC leads. This is harkening back to the UPN era that got wiped out when WB and UPN merged and a lot of black-led series went away as a result. Which all has roots in the Altanta tv landscape. I suggest googling the history on Atlanta area tv and its importance. Because it's extremely relevant now. Including Gray tv (a syndicate company, like Nexstar, only they are bigger, and cover the south in areas where Nexstar has gaps) building it's big production Assembly and has leased space to WB, Netflix, NBC, among others already.

No this doesn't mean hourlong dramas are going away or everything will be on the cheap. If you've been following media articles about this topic, you know it's about trimming and shifting costs around. Some things may get more money, some can be made more cheaply.

What CW can't do is keep burning the candle at both ends, spending and spending, while ratings keep sinking and sinking, which is what was going on under the old model.

Oh, also Nexstar is in talks to add some sports to CW's lineup.

Hourlong dramas, sitcoms, news, and sports just like...every other broadcast network out there. And no, I don't see anything to indicate that they are against diversity.

It's just funny sometimes seeing fandom pearl-clutching over CW having to be a functional broadcast network that actually makes a profit instead of churning out all superheroes all the time, having ratings that keep going down and down and down, and having wildly uneven quality of the shows, having PR dumpster fires again and again (and this goes back years, fandom, how did you actually forget the chronic CW based problems and pretend it's been a paradise, where even were you).

So unless you consider Schitt's Creek, and "find me another Schitt's Creek" to be terrible television choices...no. In fact that is genius television choices. If they can find something like Schitt's Creek, sign me up.

#CW Network

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rosa67fenger · 2 years

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Loewe Puzzle

Loewe’s nano Puzzle bag assortment will launch on January 28 worldwide, and will see an unique Dover Street Market launch on the same date. For those that reside in China, Taiwan, Hong Kong and Macao, you'll have the ability to visit a Loewe retailer close to you to preview the silhouette before it officially drops. I like that there’s nonetheless somewhat further space so I can use the bag’s built-in pockets too. Loewe additionally has a barely hotter camel shade that they do in a grained leather with gold hardware (they don’t do the sleek tan with gold hardware, which may be very sad). You can see the warmer grained camel here – should you scroll to the photograph with the handle leather-based, you'll have the ability to see the two colors contrasted. One of the most important variations from the original design, except for the soft leather, is the shoulder strap on this bag that seamlessly provides a large leather-based strap. Since the strap is fairly broad, the bag sits properly in your shoulder with out feeling flimsy or falling off. It’s not long enough to wear crossbody, nevertheless it provides ample space to wear the bag over your shoulder even if you have an outsized coat on. You’ll additionally discover a D-ring to connect customized charms on the exterior of the bag, which permits for further customization if you’d like. Now let’s discuss sizing, how to fold and the way to put on the LOEWE Puzzle with two-time proprietor @karenbritchick. Once a footnote in fashion’s age-old encyclopedia, LOEWE’s worldwide prominence has nicely and really soared this past decade. British designer Jonathan Anderson — finest recognized for the eponymous label JW Anderson — has churned out hit after hit in relation to baggage and equipment. Going to the seventh step of the guide on the means to spot faux Loewe Puzzle baggage, we are going to have a glance at the true vs faux Lowe Puzzle baggage for his or her stitching on the flap. Innovative puzzle shoulder bag in suede with Loewe emblem. The exact cut of this bag offers it volume and intricate folds. The edges are hand painted and the adjustable strap is remov... There are six colorways, from the extra pared-down to the eye-catching, and every sports the embossed Loewe anagram on the top flap. Holding the same charm because the Mini bag, the Small has enough room for an 11” iPad Pro, an iPhone 11 Pro and a notebook, as properly as water bottles, make-up and other accessories. As always, stitching is carelessly accomplished by the replica manufacturing unit because the stitches usually are not as symmetrical and tight as they're supposed to be. loewe hammock bag The material used in the manufacturing of the pretend label has poor quality as its top layer is peeling. The replica factories at all times fail to copy the hardware nicely. Designed by Jonathan Anderson, the puzzle bag has turn out to be an icon at Loewe. With its revolutionary form, exact reduce, and focus on utility, the puzzle bag has become a trend lover's collectible. The bag’s inside is accessed by the top flap, leading to the inside compartment with a calfskin zip pull. You’ll find herringbone cotton canvas lining in addition to an open pocket on the within. The style home relies in Madrid and now owned by the LVMH group – which most likely means you’re going to see a lot more of it in years to come back. If you enjoy our content material, please add us to your adblocker's whitelist. Classic canvas gadgets are reworked with delicate updates. Introduced by the style house’s global ambassador, HyunA. The Dupe Puzzle Loewe Handbag, starting at just $89, is a will need to have this winter and can be utilized all 12 months round for everyday and your calendars best events. Besides, it my be a bit harder to notice, but the pretend Loewe Puzzle bag also has its threads a little bit too small, and the real Loewe bag has its stitches bigger. On the authentic model, the traces between the sections are thick and bold, distinguishing every half. But Loewe It bags—fixtures on the arms of It women and boys the world over—have had much do with LVMH, which acquired Loewe in 1996. Because of this, I don’t assume it’s going to be a “trendy” bag of the moment – right here today and gone next year. Rather it’s made to look casual however stylish on the similar time. Many individuals prefer Black, however style is all about individuality — you'll find Brown, Pink and more choices on these pages. There aren’t many items for men if you’re seeking these accessories, as a lot of the options available are for ladies and unisex. I’ve been thinking about the puzzle for a while but have yet to find the proper colour in my worth vary. I am kicking myself for not being into Loewe once I was last in Spain — and busy pursuing other baggage. All handbags, fantastic jewellery, and sale items are final sale. Engraved details on the pretend anagram are different coloured, super thick however smaller, as they do not occupy the steel sq. totally as it is proven in the left picture. The original handle is wider than the replica, however the steel "ball" is bigger in the proper picture. PAST. LOEWE started as a cooperative of leather artisans within the heart of Madrid in 1846, creating one of many world’s authentic luxury homes. Innovation, modernity and high-level craftsmanship have been hallmarks of the house from its beginnings to this day. What we love most about this dimension is the thicker strap, and the power to put on it over your again. Style with an oversized coat and take your Puzzle piece to Instagram. The Small LOEWE Puzzle bag is Jonathan Anderson’s second smallest design — slightly bigger than the Mini. Guaranteed to fill the gaping ‘everyday bag’-shaped hole in your wardrobe, influencer Karen Blanchard verified that the Small Puzzle Bag is in fact a good investment. This genuine Loewe Puzzle Bag Leather Large showcases a singular pliable design that folds into 5 completely different shapes. Crafted in black leather-based, this versatile bag features rolled to... 100 percent authentic Loewe 'Puzzle Medium' impeccably constructed shoulder bag in lipstick red calfskin. wikipedia handbags The concealed zip closure means the intricate composition of leather panels is left... Just to be additional clear, I received the graceful leather-based tan choice, the one that comes with silver hardware.

#loewe bag #loewe puzzle bag #loewe hammock bag #loewe basket bag #loewe straw bag

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bestiesenpai · 3 years

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Dirty Little Secret - Toji Fushiguro

I love a good meanie :) this was inspired by a thrilling convo i had femme reader lads, everyone 18+ 12.3K words

content warnings are as followed: dubcon, blackmail, age gap, manipulation, noncon somnophilia, pseudo-incest, cheating, infantilization(?), mention of guns, drinking, choking, burning(w/ a cigarette? Idk how to explain), a lot of different pet names lol and Toji calls himself daddy

It all started with the messy, bitter divorce your parents went through, leaving your mother a struggling woman all on her own. You tried to help with bills, tried to tack on a few side gigs here and there and get a couple part time jobs but it just wasn’t enough.

Until she met Toji and all the worries you two had about money just suddenly melted away. He wasn’t outlandishly rich but somehow he made enough money that both you and your mother could quit all the jobs you’d had to take on.

Your mother was ecstatic, positively thrilled about the newfound freedom she has. She’s able to afford luxuries she’d never been able to before and there was no need to worry about pinching pennies and scrounging for every last meal. You could live comfortably, but there was something about Toji that rubbed you the wrong way.

There wasn’t one singular thing that drove you to disliking him, it was all just a culmination of things. His cocky attitude, the way he acted like he owned the whole house the first time he visited, how he seemed to be eyeing you up in a way far less acceptable for a man that was meeting his new step-daughter. As soon as his eyes landed on you, it was like your mother no longer existed.

They got married faster than you could blink, a rushed ceremony done at city hall with a few random witnesses watching her take the surname Fushiguro. Your mother was beyond happy, and while you were happy to see an easy smile on her face again, the knowledge that Toji would be living with you now hung like a dark cloud in the back of your head.

“Careful there doll, wouldn’t want you to break a nail.” Toji teased as he saw you pick up a moving box that was left in the living room. He was moving his and his sons belongings into the house and you’d been tasked with helping.

“Shut up.” Glaring at him, you grabbed the box in a huff and stormed up the stairs, stomping your way into the room that was your step-brothers, Megumis. You’d only met him once at a formal dinner and he seemed nice enough. Far different than his father but strikingly similar in appearance. He was away at university in another city, only visiting every other weekend if he felt like it.

Lingering in the empty room longer than you should, you tried to steer clear of Toji. The physical labour of moving boxes had made him sweaty, a nice sheen building up on his forehead and arms that highlighted the taut muscles underneath the skin and underneath the tight black t-shirt he was always wearing.

“Why don’t you go sit pretty on the couch, hm? A little girl like you shouldn’t be trying to lift such heavy things.” Catching you coming down the stairs, Toji was sporting his usual signature smirk whenever he saw you.

“There’s still a lot of stuff to bring in and I don’t want this to take all day.” Standing at the top of the stairs, you wavered. He wasn’t making any move to get out of your way or to come up the stairs and the two of you were stuck in a staring match.

“But you’re just so delicate, are you sure you can keep up?” Toji finally started moving up the stairs, a large box in his hand that looked to be no trouble for him.

“I’ll be fine!” You snapped at him, backing up and out of the way to let him pass you.

“You sure about that?” Stopping right in front of you, Toji held the box out of the way so he could lean close to your face, almost brushing his hair against your forehead.

“I’m sure!” Face erupting in a hot flush, you scramble away from him and down the stairs. You can hear the dark chuckle leaving his throat and the incident has your hands shaking as you go to the moving van.

Starkly avoiding eye contact with him for the rest of the day, you take the pizza your mother ordered for the family straight to your room and don’t come out for a good while. She knocks on your door not once throughout the night, too busy giggling stupidly in the living room with Toji.

“Good morning baby girl.” Toji croons when he sees you appear in the kitchen in the morning, a hot cup of coffee in his hands as he leans against the kitchen counter. Your ears burn at the nickname, but you ignore him and go straight to the refrigerator.

“Hey!” Shuffling back when he slams the fridge closed in your face, another shout is caught in your throat as he looms over you, large calloused hand keeping the door closed.

“You just gonna be rude and not say good morning to your new daddy?” The smell of coffee and cigarettes hangs on his breath, fanning over your face. He’s cornering you against the refrigerator, using his looming stature to force you against the door entirely.

“Go away.” You whisper, but you want to shout, push him away and stand up for yourself. But something in Toji’s stare and the way he carries himself has you withering.

“I don’t even get a good morning kiss?”

“Huh?” Your eyes go wide when he grabs your jaw, tilting your face up and holding it there so he can lean in and graze his lips against yours. Slapping your hands on his chest, you struggle to keep him at bay.

“Toji, have you seen my car keys?” Your mothers shout from the other room rips away the quiet, tense moment between you two. Toji takes a few smooth steps back, shuffling back into his place against the countertop right as she comes into the room.

“Yeah, right there.” Flicking his chin to the kitchen table, there lies her keys.

“Thanks.” Grabbing them, she takes a glance at you and then a double take, furrowing her brows and pointing vaguely at you. “Sweetie, what’s wrong? Why are you making that face?”

“I-” A tiny flicker of your eyes to Toji has your face burning all over again and any words are lost on you. “I feel a bit sick.” Ducking your head down, you rush out of the kitchen, the passing cry of ‘go lay back down then’ from your mother going ignored as you slam the door to your room and lock it.

Toji leaves sometime after your mother does and for a while you’re home alone. Finally able to eat in peace, there’s a few things you’ve been wanting to do ever since you met Toji, one of them being snooping through his things.

He was secretive with so many things, it was only right that you get a little intel on him. You barely knew what he did for work, the only thing he said he did was ‘freelancing’ and that was it.

Walking through the open bedroom door, you steered clear of the things you knew were your mothers. The old dresser she had and her section of the closet was still exactly the same as before Toji came into her life.

But now there was a new chest of drawers tucked away in the corner of the room, rich dark wood that contrasted with the light color palette of the rest of the room. There was also a safe tucked under the bed and one in the closet as well, you’d seen Toji bring those in himself.

Opening the top drawer, it was no shock to find folded piles of socks and underwear, a few black tank tops. The second had more shirts, the third was the baggy pants Toji mainly lived in and the fourth had more fitted bottoms.

But sticking out from between a few folded pairs of slacks was a thick file folder with your families last name on it. It was in pristine condition and once you opened it, you saw that so were the things inside it.

Detailed records of your bank history, notes that had everything about you on them; your favorite food, color, your typical daily schedule, who you hung out with and all their personal information, the places you frequented and all the jobs you’d held in your life.

“This fucking stalker.” Reading over notes clearly written in Toji’s handwriting, the contents of the folder made your stomach churn. Shoving it back between the pants, you stood up properly and turned to the closet.

The safe in here was buried under a stack of folded clothes waiting to be hung up. Toji’s side of the closet was relatively bare, with the only thing hanging up being the lonely suit he owned that he wore to get married in.

Punching in all the possible number combinations you could think of - all the phone numbers you knew by heart, your home address and every birthday - you came up empty. There was no way to open the safe in the closet, and you had to abandon it.

The safe beneath the bed was heavy, nearly breaking your back as you tried to drag it out into the open. It was a thin black metal box with a long rectangular shape and the same number pad as in the closet. Only this time, when you punched in the last four digits of your phone number, it opened with a click.

What you saw inside wasn’t what you were expecting. Sure, Toji was a mysterious guy with secretive habits and a job you knew nothing about. You had barely information on him, yet you still weren’t prepared to see all the guns he had stored inside the safe.

There were long shotguns, handguns, revolvers and plenty of ammo and holsters. Even with the slight wear and tear on some of the barrels, you could tell Toji took good care of them as nearly all of them were freshly polished.

“Just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Just as you reached out and skimmed a finger across one of the handguns laying innocently in the pile, Toji’s flat monotone voice sounded behind you.

Ripping your hand away, your head whipped over your shoulder to stare at him in terrified shock. He shouldn’t be home, you hadn’t heard him come in or the front door open and close. Frozen on the ground, you struggled to find the air to breathe.

“Such a nosy little thing.” Toji commented, his eyes drifting to the open closet door and the dresser drawer that you’d left ajar. “If you were curious about daddy, you could have just asked.”

“Why do you have these things?” What were you referring to? The guns? Records of your every move, down to how long your phone conversations were late at night?

“They’re for work.” Pushing away from the doorframe, Toji sauntered into the room, dragging his feet lazily.

“But-”

“That’s all you need to know.” He cut you off with a stern look, kicking closed the safe.

“Why...why do you have all those papers about me?” Came your next question. Looking up at Toji, you were suddenly aware of how you were presented to him. Sitting on your knees, hands balled up into fists in your lap, looking up at him with wide scared eyes - and he noticed it too.

“You’re my little girl, why shouldn’t I know everything?” Biting his lip as he looked down at you, Toji had to stop himself from grabbing your hair and shoving your face into his clothed cock. Instead he flexed his fingers, rolled his shoulders and used his foot to push the safe under the bed. Scrambling to your feet, you watched as the safe disappeared.

“What’s in the safe in the closet?” You were standing far too close to Toji for your liking, he was within less than an arm's reach of you and you could smell the dark woody aroma he liked to put on.

“Important shit. ‘Gumi’s birth certificate, passports, the usual.” Shrugging casually, Toji walked over to the dresser and kicked it closed as well. “Got some stuff for your mom and you in there too.”

Letting a lull fall into the conversation, you scurried from the bedroom when Toji went to close the closet door. You could hear him chuckle and mutter something under his breath upon discovering your absence, but he closed the bedroom door shortly after and you could hear him go down the stairs.

Hours later and your mother informed you she wouldn’t be home for dinner. Something about meeting up with friends for an unexpected late night outing and staying out past dark.

Left to your own devices, you tried to avoid being detected by Toji as you milled around in the kitchen and fed yourself.

“Sweetheart, that you?”

Keyword being tried.

Biting back a harsh sigh, you emerged from the relative darkness of the kitchen and into the living room where Toji was lounging on the couch with no shirt on, all his muscles and scars on full display.

“There’s my baby girl.” Toji broke into a smile.

“Yup, I’m here.” Rolling your eyes so you could force yourself to stop ogling his body, you turned halfway back to the kitchen.

“Woah woah come back!”

“What do you want?” Not keeping this sigh at bay, you quirked a brow at him.

“Ya know your mothers not here and I’m getting awfully lonely sitting in this house by myself. Why don’t you sit with me?”

“No thanks.”

“That’s too bad, sweetheart, ‘cause I wasn’t asking.” You can feel his hand wrapping around your upper arm before you even hear him getting up from the couch.

“L-let go!” Thrashing in his hold does no good, you’re thrown onto the couch like a doll in no time and Toji sinks in next to you, spreading his legs wide and throwing an arm over the back of the couch.

“Your mother wants us to spend more time together, get better acquainted and whatnot.” Grabbing the beer he had on the coffee table, Toji drinks until it’s empty and he crushes it in his hand. “And what better time than now?”

Huffing and puffing, you adjust yourself on the couch and try to focus on whatever Toji has playing on the TV screen. It’s some cheesy action movie made way before you were born, and while it makes you groan at the cliche plot points, Toji is having a grand old time.

“You want a beer?” Toji asks, picking up a can and cracking it open.

“No.” Shaking your head, the last thing you’d want is to possibly get drunk and lose your senses around him.

“Oh, oops.” Upon hearing your no, Toji not so subtly tipped the can over and let it fall into your lap, the beer inside spilling out onto your clothes.

“Toji! What the-” Leaping up and tossing the can onto the coffee table, you could feel the cold liquid seep into the fabric of your pants and underwear, even stretching to the back of your pants.

“That’s too bad, my mistake! Better go get changed.” Toji laughed, completely unashamed of what he’d done. Flipping him off, you stormed away. “Put your pajamas on, it’s getting late!”

“Fuck you!” Angrily walking to your room, you ripped off the wet clothes clinging to you. You were tempted to stay in your room the rest of the night, but there was no doubt that Toji would come up and drag you back down to the living room.

“Aw, don’t you look cute.” He teased when you came back down in an oversized shirt and sleeping shorts. He had procured a blanket from behind the couch and it lay on the arm.

“Ugh, it’s still wet.” Even though he’d grabbed a blanket, he hadn’t grabbed a towel to sop up the beer in the couch cushions.

“It’s okay, you can sit right here.” Grabbing your wrist, Toji yanked you onto his lap, wrapping an arm around your waist as you fell into him. Throwing the blanket over you, Toji forced you to lay against his bare chest.

“Let me go sit in the other chair.” There was a perfectly good arm chair a few feet from the couch you could sit on.

“Now how could we bond if you’re so far away?” He chuckled, hiking you back up as you tried to slide off him. Biting your tongue against any further useless arguments, you tried to get comfortable in Tojis lap.

“Be careful now, baby, all that squirming might get me excited.” Toji whispered in your ear, gripping the flesh of your waist tightly underneath his fingers. Chuckling again at how your body went completely stiff, he settled back into the couch and watched the movie.

Begrudgingly focusing on it as well, it was almost inevitable that you relaxed into laying on Toji, the smooth up and down of his chest expanding with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.

“This movie’s stupid.” You grumbled as a commercial hit. Your arms were crossed tightly, having gotten riled up at one particular scene for how predictable it was.

“S’not stupid, it’s a classic.” Toji replied.

“Still stupid.” Shaking your head slightly, you let out a soft yawn.

“Aw, is it getting close to your bedtime?”

“Shut up.” It wasn’t that it was particularly late, but sitting in the low light of the living room, under a cozy blanket with a warm body underneath you holding you tightly, it was more relaxing than you thought. Coupled with the quietness of the TV and the slow even breaths Toji took right by your ear, who wouldn’t get a little sleepy?

“Poor baby’s tired.” You could just feel the mocking pout on Toji’s lips. Shifting his hands and grabbing onto your thigh, he turned you to sit sideways in his lap, legs across him and your head securely tucked under his chin.

“Not tired.” Trying to reason with him was impossible, and you gave up once the movie came back on. With a secure arm wrapped around your back and his other hand resting snugly on your outer thigh, Toji had you right where he wanted you.

“Still awake?” Toji asked ten minutes later and he already knew the answer. Your breathing had gotten quiet and you’d fallen slack in his arms, and when he rubbed your back you let out a soft, sleepy hum and snuggled deeper into him.

Careful not to wake you, Toji dipped his hands to the hem of your shirt and tugged it up so he could get under it. Trailing his calloused fingertips up your back, he felt the bumps and ridges of your spinal cord as he went. Pushing under your arm, he got to where he wanted: the soft flesh of your breast.

Cupping it in his palm, Toji bit his lip to hold back a soft groan. He’d wanted to do this since the day he started dating your mother and learned about you. From the very first picture of you she’d shown him he was hooked and every subsequent move he made after was calculated to get right to this very moment.

A soft uptick in your breathing let him know that you could feel what he was doing, but you did nothing else as he pinched your nipple and rolled it between his fingers.

Pushing you to lay back a little, Toji crept his other hand up your thigh. Your legs were simple dead weight to him and with a few nudges he was able to get his hand down your shorts and cup your sex.

“Be a good girl and get nice and wet.” Mumbling to himself he pushed his middle finger through your folds, coming to your clit and grinning wildly. Rubbing it with practiced precision, Toji kept his ears trained on the sound of your breathing and he was prepared to keep going even if you woke up.

Pressing a few kisses to the top of your head, he cooed at the delicate sigh you let out. You were getting aroused, Tojis finger was starting to get slicked up and glide easier against you.

Pushing his index finger against your clit, he worked you up even further. The movie was forgotten on the television, all of Tojis focus going to you and the way your brows scrunched up at the feeling of someone else’s fingers against your cunt.

You weren’t wet enough for Toji to push a finger inside, but he was fine with waiting for another time. Just playing with your clit and pinching your nipple was enough for him for now.

Pressing his nose against the top of your head, Toji let out a shuddering breath when you came in your sleep. A few desperate whimpers fell from your lips, and your face screwed up a little, your body clenching as pleasure rolled through your sleeping form.

Taking his hand slowly out of your shirt, Toji laid it back on your thigh and tried to collect his own breathing. Getting you to cum in your sleep on his lap had riled him up more than he expected, the thrill of making you come undone without your knowledge going straight to his head.

It wasn’t long after that your mother came home, gasping at the sight of your sleeping body in Toji’s lap and delighted that you were finally getting more comfortable with him. Not wanting to wake you, she snapped a few pictures for posterity and had Toji carry you to your room.

“You want me to what?” Staring at your mother like she’d grown another head, you couldn’t hide the disdain at what she had just proposed of you in the late morning.

“I want you to spend the day with Toji! He’s going into town to do some shopping and I think it’d be a great way for you two to get closer.”

“I don’t want to get closer to him.” The memory of last night made your cheeks burn. You were far more embarrassed about falling asleep in his lap than you’d ever be willing to admit.

“C’mon (Y/N), I saw you two together on the couch last night! It was so cute, I want you to have more moments like that with him.” Your mother gave you a pout, one just begging to humor her request. The desire to say no was right on the tip of your tongue.

“Fine, I’ll go with him.”

“Yay!” Clapping her hands together lightly, your mother turned away and started to gather a few things to start her own day.

“Let’s be quick, okay?” Ten minutes later and you were sitting in the front seat of Toji’s vintage camaro.

“I think we should take it nice and slow today.” Toji replied, firing up the engine and drowning out your thoughts with the loud roar. It was hard to look at him, so you kept your gaze trained to the passing scenery outside.

“Did you sleep well last night, baby?” He asked as the car came to a stop at a light. Toji was staring right at you, a wide smirk on his face. Pressing your lips together, you refused to look back at him. You might have slept well, but waking up with slick coating your inner thighs ruined the entire experience, whether good or bad at all.

“Why do you care?”

“Ha! Why do I care?” His sharp laugh made you jolt, turning to glare at him as the car started moving again. “You must have slept well, you were knocked out on my lap.”

“Won’t happen again.” You grumbled, watching his hand fiddle with the radio and turn it to a random station.

“That’s what you think.” Giving your thigh a quick pat, Toji settled into his seat. Driving to the shopping district he had in mind, as soon as you stepped out of the car Toji was by your side with a hand on your back. “I’ve got some business to take care of first, let’s go.”

“Don’t touch me.” Shoving his hand away, it was right back where it was in seconds. A low wave of annoyance washed over you, but you started walking in the direction Toji was taking you. The annoyed feeling only grew as you passed people by on the street and women openly stared at him, not giving a care in the world about the gold band on his finger or the fact that you were next to him.

And he didn’t seem to care either. You could see the way he would look back at some of the women, sending them easy smiles or holding eye contact longer than normal. Walking into a jewelry shop, you were finally away from their prying eyes, but the hand Toji had on your back only got firmer.

“Want me to buy you a little something?” Toji whispered, leaning close to your ear.

“Like what?” You challenged, looking across the shop floor. There were countless expensive jewels just lying in wait behind thick glass cases.

“Whatever you want, baby girl. Just point and I’ll get it once I’m done.”

“Done with what?” Looking at him incredulously, you saw him nod to someone waiting against a back wall.

“Business.” Patting your back, Toji went to talk to them, slipping into a back room and leaving you alone on the shop floor. Trying not to stand out, you found an open chair and pulled out your phone, already bored.

“Finally.” You said upon seeing Toji appear in front of you after nearly thirty minutes.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I was doing some negotiations.” Inspecting him further, you could see he was breathing a little heavier and there was just the slightest sheen of sweat above his brow.

“What, did you kill someone back there or something?”

“Almost.” He replied with a shrug. You’d meant it as a joke, but with the way Toji wasn’t smiling you couldn’t tell if he did too. Letting his eyes roam over the shop, he flicked his chin out. “Find something you like?”

“No.” Taking a step toward the door, you were tugged back by your sleeve.

“I bet you didn’t even look.” Toji chuckled, dragging you over to a case. “How about a little tennis bracelet, hm? We could add a little charm, how about a T?”

“I don’t want it, I won’t wear it.”

“Ah, sure you will.” Brushing you off, he waved over a sales associate. “Now, tell the nice worker what color you want, gold or silver.”

Walking out of the store with a pretty little bag in hand, you followed Toji to the next few stores he had to go into for ‘business’. Sometimes he was quick and you didn’t have to wait even a few minutes for someone to hand him a thick envelope that he tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket. Others, he’d slip into the backroom and you’d have to awkwardly wait around.

“Are we actually going to do some proper shopping today, or is this it?” You snapped after being dragged around for a good while. You hadn’t even wanted to come, but now you just felt like a kid being dragged around against their will.

“Relax baby, daddy’s done, he’ll pay attention to you now.” Toji teased, pinching your cheek and cooing at you.

“Whatever, lets go.” Swatting him away, you stormed off in a random direction, Toji’s laughter burning in your ears. It was your turn now to drag him from store to store, some you weren’t even interested in. Following you dutifully, Toji bought whatever you wanted regardless of price tag.

“Let’s go in here.” Toji stopped you right in front of a popular lingerie store. There were large adverts in the windows of scantily clad women dripping in lace and frilly garments, and there were a large number of people inside as well.

“You can’t be serious.” You blanched, watching in slight horror as he toed his way over to the front door.

“Cmon baby, you deserve something nice.” He said loud enough to have a few passersby giggle. Seeing your face turn from one of shock to embarrassment, Toji knew he had won. Following him into the store with your head down, you tried not to look at all the bras and panties displayed so prominently.

Taking a seat at one of the chairs near the front of the store, Toji kept his eye on you as you walked around. Seeing your fingers glide across silk and lace, pass mannequins in intricate pieces of lingerie, he couldn’t help but imagine you in some of them. He’d only gotten a taste of what you had to offer last night, and he already hungered for more.

“I think you’d look great in that.” He came up behind you as you looked at a bra and panty set, little red and white love hearts adorning lacy pink.

“Pervert.” Glaring over your shoulder, you tried to conceal that you’d grabbed a pair for yourself. “Go sit back down.”

“I get it, you wanna keep it a secret and surprise me.” Fishing out his wallet, Toji handed you the credit card he’d been using the whole day. “Take your time baby, I’m going to have a smoke.”

Making sure he left the store, you let out a sigh of relief at finally being alone in a place like this. It was bad enough he suggested it, but to have him watch you pick out underwear was downright mortifying.

Grabbing whatever you liked, you walked out with a sizable bag in your hand and a pretty long receipt. Toji was nowhere to be found outside the store, and as you scanned past the people milling about, he wasn’t on the street either.

You had his number, feasibly you could call or text him to find out where he was. But with a limitless credit card in your hand and newfound freedom, that was the last thing on your mind. He would find you eventually, say something snarky and tease you and then you’d be on your way to grab lunch.

“Excuse me, miss!” For a moment, you thought the gentle voice calling out to you as you walked down the street was Toji. But as you turn around and are confronted with a stranger, you’re reminded that Toji would never be so polite.

“Yes?” He was an average looking man, around Toji’s age.

“I couldn’t help but notice you walking around, you look so beautiful.” The man had a hopeful smile on his face, taking in your reaction to the sudden compliment.

“Oh, thank you.” Giving him a once over, you quickly spotted the silver wedding band on his finger.

“What’s your name? I’d love to take you out sometime.” Shuffling a tiny bit closer, the man was already pulling out his phone before he even finished the sentence.

“I’m s-”

“She’s not interested.” A heavy hand landed on your shoulder, yanking you back into a firm chest. There wasn’t a need to look up and see who it was, the distinct cologne wafting into your nose and the rough treatment was enough.

“Huh?” Bunching his brows together, the man looked confused between you and Toji.

“Huh?” Toji mocked, leaning towards him with a raised brow.

“I think she can speak for herself.”

“My baby doesn’t talk to insignificant flies like you.” Staring him down for a moment, Toji got him to turn tail and leave in a huff.

“I could have handled that myself.”

“Yeah, well I handled it better.” Turning you around, Toji smirks down his nose at you for a moment.

“What?” His look is unnerving, it makes your heart flutter a bit and that’s the last feeling you want to have for him.

“I deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

“A reward for what?” Scrunching up your nose, you recoil a little as Toji bends at the waist and presents his cheek to you.

“For coming to the rescue of a damsel in distress.” Tapping his cheek with one finger, he looks at you from the corner of his eye. “Don’t leave your daddy hanging, now.”

Looking him over, you weighed your options. It was only a kiss, an innocent little peck on the cheek. Where was the harm in that?

The harm came when, as you were leaning forward with your lips slightly pursed, Toji turned his head and kissed you square on the lips.

Jerking back in shock, you didn’t get far as Toji grabbed your chin to keep you in place. His lips were rough, dry and cracked and the scar on the edge of his mouth wasn’t helping in that regard.

Brushing his nose against yours, Toji didn’t keep the kiss going for long; even he had boundaries for being in public. Pulling away, he swiped your bottom lip with his thumb, grinning at your flushed face and slightly labored breathing.

“Daddy got you flustered?” He teased, taking the shopping bags out of your hand and holding them himself.

“No.” You reply a few seconds too late, your lip’s in a pout and your voice has a slight whine. Biting his lip, Toji scanned your face.

“God, the things you do to me.” Roughly grabbing your hand, he tugged you along down the street. “Let’s get some lunch, I’m fucking starved.”

“You’re back!” Your mother exclaimed upon your arrival, leaping up from the couch to hug both of you. She quickly hurried out of the way upon seeing all the bags Toji insisted on carrying in by himself, her jaw dropping in shock.

“Don’t gimme that look, babe, you know I had to spoil the little princess.” Toji laughed at her expression, dropping some of the bags into your hands and kissing your mother on the cheek.

“I-I’m just shocked...we never come back with that many bags when we go shopping.” Her voice was quiet as she looked between the two of you.

“You gettin’ jealous on me now?” Toji teased, poking her in the side and making her jump. “I was just following your orders, forming a closer bond with my new step-daughter.” Pointedly shielding the lingerie bag from her view, Toji passed it into your hands. “Maybe she’ll show you some of the outfits she bought, we even picked some out together.”

If by ‘together’ he meant he shoved a slew of tiny skirts and low cut tops into your hands in the dressing room and then bought them when you rejected all of them anyway, then yes, you could say you two picked some out together.

“Uh- yeah mom, I’ll show you some of the stuff later.” You nodded along, eager to escape the situation and hide in your room. Not waiting another moment after the words left your lips, you ran up the stairs and to your room.

Pouring out all the things Toji bought you, you couldn’t say you didn’t enjoy going out shopping with him. There was no limit to what you wanted, anything your eyes touched was yours in an instant.

“Knock knock.” Pushing open your door and swiftly closing it behind him, Toji held up the remaining bags. “You forgot some.”

“Thanks.” Reaching out to grab them, you didn’t get the chance as Toji set them down and stepped around you, grabbing the little bag from the first store you went to. Fishing out the velvet box, Toji opened it and dangled the dainty tennis bracelet from his finger.

“Put this on for me, will you? Wanna make sure it’s a good fit.” Dropping the bracelet into your hands, Toji chuckled when you struggled to get it on. “Need my help?”

“No I’m fine.” You said, pinching the clasp between your fingers desperately.

“Let daddy help you.” Grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer, Toji swatted your fingers away.

“Your fingers are too thick, how’re you ever-”

“Got it.” Releasing the bracelet, Toji watched triumphantly as it hung from your wrist. You barely mumbled a thanks before he was grabbing your wrist again, nearly pulling you chest to chest with him. “Now, what was that about my fingers?”

“N-nothing!” Slapping your free hand on his chest, your face burned terribly and only got worse as he laughed.

“No, no, go ahead and say it. My fingers are too thick, huh?” Grabbing your jaw, Toji slid his index and middle finger across your face until they came to rest on your lips. “Say ‘ah’.” Pressing your lips together firmly, you shook your head as best you could.

But Toji wasn’t one to take no for an answer and shoved past your lips, forcing your mouth open with his other hand and flattening your tongue. Clutching onto his wrist tightly, you looked up at him with watering eyes as his fingers slid too far back and choked you.

Growling at the sight of his fingers stuffed into your mouth, Toji dropped his other hand, grabbing your ass tightly in his hand and rocking your hips against him. Looming over you, Toji ripped his fingers from your mouth and slammed his lips onto you.

The kisses you shared before were nothing compared to this one. With a hand gripping the back of your head, Toji made sure not even a centimeter of space passed between you two. His lips molded to yours perfectly, mouths slotting together as he pushed his tongue in and claimed your mouth for himself.

Drool began to drip down the corners of your lips, sliding down your neck and chest and creating a glossy mess. It was getting harder to breathe the longer you went, your body quickly growing weak from lack of oxygen.

Gasping for air when Toji finally broke the kiss, your mind was spinning, barely able to focus on the fact that you were kissing your mothers husband and certainly not paying attention to the way Toji pushed you back onto your bed, body bouncing roughly on the mattress.

“God, I’ve been waiting for this moment.” Toji says with a sigh, climbing over your body and pressing his lips against the curve of your jaw. His hands pawed at your clothes, bunching up your shirt as he tried to get to your breasts.

“T-toji! Stop!” Letting out a scandalized gasp, your eyes flew to your bedroom door. Surely your mother would hear and come to save you.

“No need to be nervous, baby-” yanking down your bra, Toji palmed your breasts roughly, “daddy’ll make you feel good.” Sitting up just enough to yank your shirt and bra off, Toji held your arms down and stared lovingly at your chest, his cock twitching to life the longer he looked.

An argument had bubbled up from your chest, ready to spew out and knock some sense into Toji, but as he descended onto you, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and rolling it between his teeth, the words died just as quickly as they formed.

What was the use of telling Toji to stop when you knew he wouldn’t? There wasn’t a shred of doubt in your mind that if you yelled at him, told him it was wrong to cheat on your mother and fuck his step-daughter, he wouldn’t laugh straight in your face.

Fire back and ask why you think he cares about that? You’ve already seen the file he has on you and the lack of information he had on your mother. He’d already proven himself to be more than enamored with you and what kind of man would he be if he let something like ‘morality’ get in the way of what he wanted?

Moaning under your breath as Toji kissed and licked your chest, you had an argument with yourself brewing inside your head. You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed the attention he was currently giving you. He was confident in what he was doing, so sure of himself unlike some of the people you’d been with. The knowledge that came with being older was surely showing itself now.

Especially in the way he rolled his hips against yours, getting you to moan out a little louder this time, the sound coming from deep within your chest.

“Sound so pretty, baby.” Toji groaned, peeling himself away from you to shed himself of his clothes and to take the rest of yours with it. Letting out a low whistle at seeing you completely bare in front of him, Toji slapped his hands onto your thighs, peeling your legs apart to stare right at your cunt.

“Don’t look at me like that.” The pure animalistic look in his eyes had you throbbing, both with need and embarrassment. No one had looked at you like that before, unadulterated and hungry. Shyness crept in and you flung your hands down to cover yourself.

“No hiding, little one.” Smacking your hands away, Toji laughed at the pitiful, embarrassed whine you let out. “Aw, is someone getting shy? Can’t handle daddy looking at your messy cunt?”

“S’not messy.” You pouted, but it was true. A steady buildup of slick dripped out of you, coating everything between your legs and even dripping down between your asscheeks.

“You’re my messy little girl, aren’t you?” Ignoring your light protests, Toji laid himself down between your legs, making a show of putting your thighs on his shoulders and squishing his head with them. “I bet you taste as good as you look.”

With one last wink, Toji dove between your thighs, his tongue already out and ready to lap at your folds. The first touch of the tip of his tongue to your clit made you jump, hands flying down to grip his hair as your eyes went wide.

Flicking it a few times, Toji wrapped his lips around the bud, sucking hard as his fingers dug into your thighs firmly. You moaned just as loud as Toji did, the vibrations from his mouth travelling up to the ones leaving your chest.

Toji’s dream of being here with you, having you laid out on your back with his face buried in your cunt, had only gotten stronger as time went by. He nearly lost it in the lingerie store, seeing you walk so innocently around all the thongs and delicate lingerie. He had to leave to smoke a cigarette and cool down or else he would have dragged you into the dressing room in front of everyone.

Lapping at your entrance, Toji shoved his tongue in, his nose bumping your clit as he did. Massaging your walls, he drank in your essence, easily getting drunk off the taste and feeling of your thighs crushing his head. Painstakingly letting go of one of your thighs, he brought his thumb to your clit.

“Toji!” You gasped and your thighs got even tighter around him. Toji could barely breathe let alone think about anything but making you cum on his tongue and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Shoving his fingers between your legs, he slid them down to the hilt and felt your walls clamp down onto both them and his tongue. Your essence was everywhere now and he was sure the scent of your arousal would linger on his skin for days.

Putting his tongue on your clit again, Toji fucked his fingers into you. The obscene wet sound was music to his ears, a song he hoped to play over and over. Your moans had turned into babbles, your fingers carding through his hair as the pleasure washed over you.

“F-fuck-” Barely able to get the word out, you came on Toji’s fingers, whimpering loudly as he sucked your clit harder. You were sure you had crushed him for good now with how hard your thighs tensed up around him, but Toji seemed more than okay when they finally relaxed and fell to the wayside.

“What a good fucking girl.” Toji was breathless and lightheaded himself but he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to tease you, slap your quivering thighs with both hands and drink up your release. Your feeble hands were too weak to push him away, just a slight nudge on his forehead that he easily ignored.

Forcing air into your lungs, you got a moment's reprieve when Toji finally pulled himself away from your cunt. Your arms wound around his broad shoulders, pulling him into a half hug as your legs were hoisted up around his waist.

“You gonna let daddy take what’s his?” Toji whispered in your ear, blindly grabbing his cock and tapping tip against your clit.

“Yes!” You sobbed, nodding your head desperately. Glancing down between your bodies, you could see just how thick Toji’s cock was; his fingers surely did not compare.

Pushing the tip of his cock in, you could immediately feel the difference from his fingers. The stretch that his cock gave was unimaginable and you nearly broke into tears as he bottomed out.

“Hurts- s’too big-” Unwinding one arm, you pushed on Toji’s chest.

“Sshh, sshh, you’re fine.” He cooed, intertwining your fingers and pushing your hand onto the mattress.

“Toji…” Whining under your breath, you blinked away the mist of tears at your lashes and looked at him. “Daddy, please.”

The soft ghost of a smile on Toji’s face fell after hearing you call him daddy. His whole face fell, in fact, eyes going wide and pupils blowing out. The hand that was holding yours tightened, smashing yours into the mattress as his other flew to your thigh.

“Oh, you’ve done it now.” Toji could hardly get the words out before he was pistoning his hips, thrusting his cock into you at an alarming rate. He had intended on taking it a bit slow, savoring the moment more as he finally got to fuck you.

But that plan was gone and in its place was the plan to fuck you into the mattress, turn your brain and body into mush as he made you cum over and over again.

“Daddy! Slow down!” You wailed and in the back of your head you wondered if your mother could hear you, if she was outside the door just waiting to burst in on the two of you.

“Not a fucking chance.” Toji responded, voice muffled against the side of your neck. His tongue lashed out, hot and heavy against your pulse. Leaving bite marks along your skin, Toji growled into you, grinding his hips and getting a shiver down his back.

Already sensitive from your first orgasm, the second one came with no warning. Scratching your nails down Toji’s back, your feet dug into his back as your cunt clamped down on him. Any remaining sense you had, any thoughts about your mother or being caught were gone now, the only thing filling your head now was the drag of Toji’s thick cock against your walls and the way his balls slapped against your ass.

The sound of Toji fucking into you seemed to echo off the walls, mixing with the choked moans you let out and creating music to Toji’s ears. Every drag of his cock along your oversensitive walls, every thrust forward bringing another gush of your sticky release to coat his skin - all of it was heaven for him.

“Honey, have you seen Toji?” Your mother’s sudden call wafted down the hall as she came up the stairs, the familiar thud of her footsteps getting closer.

“Uh-” Your voice caught in your throat, fighting through the jumbled mess that was your mind to come up with a good answer.

“Better say something quick, I didn’t lock the door.” Toji smirked against your skin, forcing his hips to all but stop and grind painfully slowly against you, his skin just lightly catching your clit.

“I-I don’t know where he is.” Your tongue felt like lead, sitting stupidly in your mouth and barely forming the right words.

“Okay…” There was a pause as she trailed off and you could hear her right outside your door, feet shuffling a little as she thought of what to do next.

The sound of her footsteps trailed off and both you and Toji let out a gruff exhale.

“Finally.” He mumbled, pulling his hips back.

“Honey one more question, what do you want for dinner?”

“Pizza!” You screeched right as Toji snapped his hips forward. Burrowing your face into Tojis hair, you tried to stifle the squeals leaving your lips.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do.” Waiting until her footsteps completely rescinded, Toji sat up on his elbow and smirked at you.

“Guess we’re having pizza for dinner.”

“Shut up.” Pushing his face back into your neck you avoided his teasing gaze. Chuckling to himself, Toji nipped at your skin.

“Now, where were we?”

Crawling out your room nearly an hour later with sweat on your brows and unstable legs, you tried to conceal the cum dripping down your inner thighs. Toji refused to let you clean up, sliding a pair of shorts onto your legs and telling you it would be a waste to get rid of the gift he gave you.

Sitting down at the table without him, you were thankful to be the only one there. No one could see the way you were trembling and squirming with every squishy gush of cum that seeped out of you.

“Hi honey.” Joining you a few minutes later, none the wiser to what had happened upstairs, was your mother. Greeting you with a soft smile, she was about to open her mouth to speak again when the front door opened.

“There you are!” She beamed at seeing Toji walk through the front door. Your brow furrowed at seeing him come through the door instead of walking down the stairs. He’d made a comment about climbing out of your window and acting like nothing happened, but you didn’t think he was serious.

“Yeah, went on a walk.” He shrugged, stepping into the house and holding the door open. “And look who I found on the way!” With a fake beaming smile, Toji waved his hand behind him as Megumi walked through the door looking as unimpressed as the day you met him.

“Megumi, you’re home!” Clapping excitedly, your mother shot up from her seat and to him, giving him a quick hug and taking the bag slung over his shoulder.

“Mhmm. Nice to see you again.” Polite as ever, Megumi smiled briefly at your mother.

“Go sit down at the table, we’re just about to have dinner!”

“Okay.” Nodding slowly, Megumi set his eyes on you, raking over your form as he took a seat across from you. The silence between you two was thick and you could tell there was something hanging on the tip of Megumi’s tongue.

“Hi.” You whispered, briefly making eye contact with him before looking at the wood grains on the table.

“Hi.” Sighing out the word, Megumi kept his eyes on your face, observing the way you bit your lip nervously and kept your thighs tightly clenched together. When his eyes dropped down to see the tennis bracelet on your wrist, you thought smoke would pour out of his ears.

“Getting acquainted with your new step sister?” Sauntering into the space, Toji roughly ruffled your hair, laughing at the way you swatted him away before doing the same to Megumi.

“You could say that.” The younger man replied, his eyes slightly narrowed looking between the two of you. Loudly pulling out the chair next to you, Toji sat down and slid his hand onto your thigh under the table.

“Alright, everyone, time to eat!” Ever the hostess, your mother appears without fail with the pizza you’d said you wanted for dinner.

As you ate, you could tell Megumi knew something was up between you and Toji. He always seemed to make eye contact with you whenever Toji’s hand strayed too high up your thigh and his thumb grazed your soaked slit. He was far too keen, sending you questioning looks whenever you would clear your throat to cover up a soft moan.

Left to clear the table with him, you couldn’t make eye contact with Megumi at all. The silence between you two was overbearing, made even more so when you went to the kitchen to wash the dishes.

“So, (Y/N)...my dad is fucking you, isn’t he?” Megumi’s abrupt question made the plate you had in your hands fall back into the sink with a loud clatter.

“W-what?” Staring down at the soapy water covering your hands, you could feel Megumi’s eyes burning a hole into your head.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you two at the table. And I saw him climbing out of your bedroom window.” Taking a clean dish out of your hand, Megumi peers his head into your personal space, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

“And what if he is?” The lump in your throat was bigger than you expected, choking you as you tried to speak. This was it, now that Megumi knew he would tell your mother and life as you knew it would be over for you.

“Don’t cry.” He said softly, wiping off a tear on your cheek you didn’t even know was there. “My dad’s sick, taking advantage of you like this.”

“What?” Hiccuping softly, you rush to wipe the other tears off.

“I knew ever since he started dating your mom that he was into you, I’m sorry I didn’t try and stop him.” Megumi sighed heavily, shaking his head as if to chastise himself. “I’ll have a talk with him and-”

“N-no, don’t.” Sniffling the last of your tears away, you force your voice to be steady. “I can handle it.”

“(Y/N), he’s not a good man, he won’t listen to you if you just tell him to stop.”

“I know, I just-”

“Then let me help you!” Clearly growing agitated, Megumi’s voice rose and his palm slapped against the counter, making you jump. There was silence, then the shuffling of footsteps with Toji appearing in the kitchen entryway with a furrowed brow.

“What’s going on here?” Looking between the two of you, his gaze settled on Megumi. “You, speak.”

“I know what you’re doing.” Megumi glared at him. Refusing to back down, he remained locked in a stare with Toji as the man approached.

“Yeah? And what that might be?” Coming nearly face to face with each other, you noticed how close in height they were to each other, with Toji only a few inches taller.

“You’re taking advantage of (Y/N).”

“Ha, and who said that?” Flicking his eyes to you, Toji chuckled. “Cause I know it wasn’t her.”

“You’re disgusting, you know that? You’re married to her mother for God’s sake!”

“Whoop-de-fucking-doo, you’re so observant.” Spinning his finger in the air, Toji pushed Megumi’s shoulder. “What do you plan on doing about it?” Quirking a brow, Toji didn’t wait even two seconds for a response. “I know you’re just upset I got to her first, kid. Now all you’ve got is your little hand at night.”

“That’s not true!”

“Even if it’s not, keep your fucking hands off what’s mine.” Hooking an arm around your shoulder, Toji pressed a kiss to your temple. “If I catch you so much as jerking it when she’s around, I’m kicking your ass.”

“Fuck you.” Megumi spat, his fists clenched at seeing Toji touch you so casually. It boiled his blood to see his dad treating you like this; there wasn’t a doubt in Megumi’s mind that you weren’t suffering with him around.

“Sorry, not into boys.” Letting you go, Toji slinked away to the fridge and grabbed a can of beer. Leaving without another word, as he turned the corner Megumi slammed his hand down against the counter.

“That fucking bastard.” He snarled, hanging his head low and trying to calm his shaking breath. Slowly releasing the tension in his body, Megumi stood up straight and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry, I need to take a walk.”

“Okay.” You whispered back, probably going unheard as he stormed out the back door. Leaving the rest of the dishes in the sink, you left the room as well, going up to your room and staying there for the rest of the night.

It’s deathly quiet in the house the following day. Any instance where Megumi and Toji are in the same room, the tension rises dramatically. Refusing to even acknowledge the others presence, Toji has already whisked your mother away for an impromptu date night at five pm, promising to stay out late with a biting tone directed at Megumi.

“Finally that dirtbag left.” Huffing as soon as the door is closed, Megumi slumped onto the couch. “I can’t stand him, I don’t get what your mother sees in him.”

“I have no idea.” You mumble, feigning disinterest and scrolling on your phone. In truth, whenever you had a moment alone during the day, Toji had come up to you and touched you, teasing you by cupping your ass or kissing you. All you wanted to do was go upstairs and relieve the burn between your legs, but no good excuse to leave Megumi alone came to mind.

“Some of my uni buddies sent me home with a gift, if you’re interested.”

“What is it?” Sending him a curious look, you watched him hop up from the couch.

“You’ll see.”

The gift in question was an unopened bottle of liquor one step up from the bottom shelf. It didn’t smell good when he opened the bottle and even mixed with some juice from the fridge, the burn as it went down your throat was horrid.

“Are you sure this can be called a gift?” You blanched, face scrunching up tightly in displeasure.

“When you’re on a budget like we are, yeah.”

“I thought Toji sent you money?” Swirling the liquid in your cup, you watched Megumi take a bitter sip.

“Why would I ever use his money?” Sure, Toji made sure Megumi’s bank account never hit below five digits, but that didn’t mean he wanted it or even asked for it. Leaving well enough alone, you turned on a random movie and kept drinking, keeping all mentions of Toji at bay.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to get properly drunk, words slurring together and dumb drunk giggles shared between you. It was easier to get to know Megumi this way, his likes and dislikes and general personality; the harsh scowl on his lips was gone, replaced with a lopsided smile.

“I gotta take a leak.” Stumbling up from the couch, Megumi strolled out of the room, keeping his hand on the wall to steady himself. Flipping through your phone in his absence, a sudden text caught your attention.

(Toji): daddy’s bored baby, send me a little something

(Y/N): like what?

(Toji): I’d love to see you in that new lingerie

Giggling coyly as if he’d spoken the words directly to you, you kept a tight grip on your phone as you made your way to your room. Megumi and the movie on the TV didn’t even cross your mind as you closed your door and went straight to your dresser drawer.

It was a bit of a hassle getting your clothes off and then the new ones on, your vision was swimming and every few seconds you stopped to giggle at yourself and your lack of ability. Bumbling through sliding the lacy panties up your legs, you flopped onto bed and opened the camera.

Emboldened by the alcohol, you took several pictures of yourself for Toji. Nearly all of them were at least slightly blurry, some brazen shots of your cunt through the panties while others were tasteful shots of your breasts.

Sending them off with a few heart emojis and a little ‘sorry, I’m drunk’ tacked on, you clutched your phone to your chest as you waited for his reply.

“(Y/N), you in here?” Megumi threw open your bedroom door with no warning or second thought, his eyes bulging out of his skull seeing you spread out on your bed in lingerie.

“Gumi, get out!” Throwing your hands over your body, you let your phone fall to the floor. Stuck in a drunken stupor, Megumi didn’t leave the room, but he did look down at the text Toji sent you.

“Why is my dad texting you that he’s fucking rock hard?” Curling his lip in disgust as he read the message aloud, he scrolled up to see the previous messages, his mouth falling open at seeing your pictures.

“Megumi!” Snatching your phone angrily from him, you gave him a hard shove. “Leave!”

“(Y/N), don’t let him do this to you!” Megumi barely moved from the push.

“Just leave!”

“No! I won’t let him ruin your life!” Grabbing onto your shoulders, Megumi swayed slightly. “I know it can be exciting to get attention like this but- but don’t do it with him.”

“You don’t know anything.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you refuse to meet Megumi’s eyes. He’s silent for a beat, weighing whatever options are inside his head.

“I do know some things.” Licking his lips nervously, Megumi tilts his head and catches your eye. “I do know anyone is better for you than that nasty fuck. Even I’m better than him.”

“Yeah?” For some reason, you crack a smile for him. There’s something about how adamant Megumi hates his father that makes you laugh a little.

“Let me show you.” His voice drops and Megumi shuffles closer to you, the fabric of his t-shirt grazing your nipples through the thin fabric of the bra. The action, along with the way Megumi looks at you, has the heat between your legs picking up again.

You’re grabbing his collar and kissing him before you can take a full breath in, lips drunkenly smashing against each other as you stumble back onto your bed. Megumi’s hands go up and down your sides, grabbing and squeezing your flesh between his fingers.

Kissing down your neck, Megumi’s hand slides under your panties and he doesn’t speak on the fact you’re already wet enough that he can slide two fingers into your cunt with ease. Even if the fact does catch his mind it’s gone just as quickly as he grinds the heel of his hand on your clit.

Sloppily rutting into your thigh, Megumi lets out a pleased sigh when you tug his sweatpants down and free his cock. Jerking him off as you kiss, he swats your hand away when he finally gets fully situated overtop of you.

“Fuck.” You both groan as he slides in, your panties hooked to the side because both of you were too frantic to properly take them off. Megumi kisses you as he thrusts into you, noses bumping painfully together as you chase your high.

Even with Megumi looking exactly like him, you still find yourself wishing it was Toji above you. They sound nearly identical as well, Megumi’s groans a dead ringer for his fathers. Keeping your eyes squinted, you force the image of Toji to be the one in front of you and combined with Megumi messily rubbing your clit, you’re able to cum with a soft moan the same time as Megumi.

“Shit, I came inside.” When the glow of his orgasm finally subsided, Megumi pulled out of you with a hiss and slid your underwear back into place.

“It’s okay, I’m on the pill.” A decision you were happy about, remembering Toji had cum inside you as well. Sitting with you a few minutes longer, catching his breath and lightly petting your hair, Megumi comes to a slow stand.

“I’m going to take a shower, try to get some sleep.” Pulling your blanket over you, the two of you share a smile before he leaves. Your phone lays forgotten on the floor, all the ensuing text messages from Toji ignored as you fall asleep.

It’s not that he’s upset. No no, Toji could never be upset with you. He was more disappointed than anything. Coming home in the dead of night to an empty bottle of vodka on the floor and his son passed out drunk in his bed, and then coming to your room to see you still in the lingerie you’d sent pictures of with cum that wasn’t his smeared along your panties.

No, Toji wasn’t upset. But the way he ripped the blanket off your body could lead you to think otherwise. Staring at you, passed out and utterly helpless beneath him, the desire to ruin you had him rolling his shoulders. He was getting excited at the prospect of hurting you, teaching you a lesson in not sharing what was his.

Climbing on top of you, Toji spread your legs apart, a sick grin pushing his cheeks up. It wasn’t everyday he got to use his own sons cum as lube, and it surely wouldn’t happen again. But as Toji slid his cock into you and the squelch of it sounded around his cock, he couldn’t help but let out a deep, low laugh.

Lighting a cigarette over you, Toji goes slow in fucking your sleeping body. He doesn’t need to worry about your mother possibly wondering where he was; he had drugged her on the way back home. Megumi wouldn’t wake up even if you screamed, liquor was always a good nightcap for him.

Maybe Toji was a bit upset, because the longer he stared at you, the more irritated he became. He knew he would have to take care of Megumi later, smack the kid around a few times and send him on a train back to university. But with you, your punishment needed to be special.

“Wakey wakey, sweetheart.” He sang to himself, nearly dropping the cigarette dangling between his lips as he shifted forward and wrapped both hands around your neck. Slowly increasing the pressure, Toji’s eyes flew open in delight when you choked and sputtered to life.

“Toji?!” Your voice was practically none existent, there was hardly any air left in your lungs for you to make a sound. Your fingers clawed at Toji, struggling to be let go in your still drunken haze.

“Thought you could go and be a slut, did ya?” Leaning over you, Toji begins to pound into you. Although there’s a slightly softer give because you’re still wet, your cunt still burns painfully from the treatment and Toji refuses to be even the slightest bit gentle.

He lets go of your neck when your hands fall slack, clamping one hand on your waist as the other ashes his cigarette over your stomach, watching as it settles onto your skin.

“Le-let me go.” You force the words out between hard gulps of air.

“Why, so you can fuck my son again?” He cocks his head to the side and takes a long drag, blowing the smoke right in your face.

“How do you-”

“Cameras, baby. I put cameras all over the house and there’s a couple in your room right now.” Toji revels in your surprised expression and even more so in the pained one you give him when he takes another drag and puts the lit cigarette against your skin. You scream exactly how he wanted you to and he does it again and again.

“Toji! Toji stop, please-” You sob, trying to swat away the cigarette butt getting your hands pinned to the mattress instead. Looking down at your thighs, there’s several blooming burns taking shape, marring your skin and leaving bloody welts.

“Only if you stop being a slut.” Finally done with his cigarette, Toji flicks it onto your bed to be dealt with later. Planting both hands by your head, Toji sneers down at you. “Tell me, are you ever going to fuck someone else again?”

“N-no.” Tears cloud your vision and you shakily put your arms around Toji’s shoulders as he fucks you even harder.

“No what?”

“No daddy!” Fully wailing, you bury your face into Toji’s neck when he leans down close enough. “No no no no.” Your quivering little cries are all Toji needs to cum, slamming his hips against yours one last time before stilling completely. He breathes deeply as his seed mixes with Megumi’s, too much for your cunt to handle as it spills out when he pulls out.

“That’s what I thought.” Toji isn’t gentle when he removes himself from you. He’s even less so in removing your lingerie, ripping it to shreds with his bare hands and touting that it was ruined now. He leaves you alone for a few minutes, returning in only his boxers with a new shirt in his hands that he forces onto you.

Sitting at the head of your bed, Toji pulls you into his lap. His shirt does a good job of covering the burn marks littering your upper thighs, something you want to forget about sooner rather than later.

“I’m telling my mom.” The words fall slowly from your mouth, taking all your courage to say. Toji snorts, lighting another cigarette and blowing the smoke into the air.

“Life’ll get a lot worse for you if you become a little tattle-tale.” He says it calmly, meeting your eye when you pull away to look up at him. “Who do you think stopped all those debt collectors? Payed off this shitty house and filled not only your mom's bank account but also your fridge.”

“I-”

“Who’s gonna take care of her if I leave? You two certainly weren’t cutting it without me.” He’s right and you know it. The truth of the matter was that you couldn’t survive without Toji’s money and if your mother left him, the two of you would have an even harder time finding work.

The truth made tears burn your lashes and fall down your cheeks, hiccuping cries left your lips that were only slightly muffled by Toji pulling your head into his chest. Putting out his cigarette, he ran a hand down your back and cooed.

“Oh pretty baby, don’t cry. Daddy won’t do it again, he promises. So long as you promise to keep that little mouth shut and let him do whatever he wants. We got a deal?” Toji half nods your head for you, pressing a big kiss to your forehead.

“Daddy, m’tired.” Sniffling loudly, you force the tears to stop falling, biting your lip to stem the flow.

“Let’s go to sleep then.” Shuffling you under the covers, Toji follows suit. He smells strongly of cigarettes, the scent overtaking you as his head hits your pillow. Pulling you against his body, Toji grips your ass tightly. “Goodnight doll.”

“Goodnight.” Biting back another wave of tears, you push your head into Tojis chest and will yourself to go to sleep.

Being awoken with your step fathers hands around your neck had been scary and was imprinted on your mind for the rest of your life. But waking up in the morning with your legs over his shoulders and his face buried in your cunt was surely a memory that would stick with you as well.

“There she is.” Toji grinned, his chin glistening as he looked up at you. “Took you long enough.” Shoving his tongue deep into you, Toji stifled any opportunity for a response. Your heels dug into his back, hand shooting out to grip his messy bedhead. With how sensitive you were already, he must have been between your legs for a while.

Sucking on your clit, Toji groaned as you gripped his hair painfully hard, your back arching high off the bed as you came. Your body thrashed around, hands trying to pull Toji closer while also pushing him away. Pulling his mouth away, Toji rubbed his fingers against your clit in the absence of his tongue.

“Good morning, princess.” Laughing when you smacked his hands away, Toji sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, making a show of licking off all of your slick that coated his face.

“G-good morning.” Breathless from the ordeal, you dumbly kissed Toji back when he knelt down and captured your lips. You could taste yourself so strongly on his tongue and smell yourself on his skin.

Breaking the kiss, Toji helped you dress for the day. He didn’t make any mention or acknowledge the marks on your legs, only giving them a flitting glance as you pulled on some pants.

Walking down the stairs together, to your horror Megumi was already in the kitchen when you walked in. He glared angrily at Toji, giving the man a wide berth as he moved about the space. Slinking to the farthest wall, he sent you a pitying look and took a sip of the coffee in his mug.

“Good morning!” Your mother announced her presence with a loud yawn, barreling into the kitchen with terrible bedhead and a stumble to her walk.

“Good morning mom.” You couldn’t look her in the eyes, keeping your head bowed as you returned her greeting.

“Morning honey.” Toji smirked, kissing your mother right on the mouth and keeping her there for a few seconds.

“Get a room.” Megumi mumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes at the two.

“Toji, what’s that taste in your mouth?” Smacking her lips together as she pulled away from the kiss, your mother furrowed her brows. “Is that a new gum or something?” Making direct eye contact with you, Toji snorts and pulls her into a hug.

“Yeah, something like that.”

#tw: pseudoincest #tw: cheating #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

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