ureveryday-reader

[ureveryday-reader]

nowhere to run

art in the banner is from @/woshihedawei on x

pairings - Yandere CEO! Sukuna x Assistant F! reader

summary -You can't wait to give your boss your two weeks notice, and he's furious when you do. He's awful to you, mean, cruel and a conceited dick. You jump at the chance to move on, but then your life falls apart. Your car quits working, you lose your chance at the Gojo corp, and your landlord kicks you out! You're left with no choice but to take Sukuna up on his offer to let you stay with him. You soon find out there's more to him - like a psychotic obsession with you.

warnings - Sukuna is a full yandere, dark subject matter, stalking, videoing against consent, sexual tension, mind games, masturbation (m and f), cunnilingus, facefucking, smacking, thigh riding, degradation, obsession, toxic dynamics, Sukuna is psychotic reader is damaged, manipulation, jealousy, choking, creampie, hints of somno, toxic red flag, MEAN ass Sukuna, fucks all your good sense </3

Today is my one year on Tumblr! ahhh I can't believe it's been a year, thanks to all of you who follow me. <3 enjoy the freaky ahh oneshot! WC- 12.5k

Sukuna scoffs as he watches you from his office window, leaning back with his legs spread wide, fingers steepled together, his black nails reflecting the canned lights above. His office is dark despite the floor to ceiling windows, because he enjoys having privacy.

Especially when he's jerking off to you.

You're giggling right in front of a fucking water cooler, he can't make the shit up. His employee, Takuma Ino, is flirting out right with you, and apparently your slutty ass enjoys it. Twirling your hair around your fingers, sipping on that paper cup, his hand brushes against your upper arm.

Sukuna is fucking furious then, no one should get to touch you, your perfect body should be his and only his, how dare anyone think it's acceptable to come near you. You don't even know how he feels, because Ryomen Sukuna is playing a long game.

He wants to make sure you desperately need him, just as he needs you. Jerking his cock every night when he could fuck whoever he wants, watching you in your little apartment on cam knowing you'd be so much happier in his penthouse.

Sukuna knows you'd be so tight, so wet and pretty. He has seen you enough through the fuzzy video cam he has hidden on your dresser to watch you finger yourself. You're always getting frustrated, rushing to get your vibrator, as if you're waiting for his fingers.

The problem is, you hate Sukuna currently, you despise him so much he fears his games were too effective. The way your jaw sets, your eyes narrow when you look at him? It's enough to make anyone cry damn near, but all it does is make it harder under his slacks.

He buzzes you, over and over when you reach your desk, until you scowl at him through his glass window, the blinds filtering light across you while you sit at that desk. Pretty pink dress on you, one he aches to shove up your hips, wrinkle it under his hands and fuck you stupid.

He grins, a sadistic fucking smirk when you come to his office now. “Mr. Sukuna, how can I help you?”

“Hmm, I seem to have…” He shoves off stacks of papers then, raising a slutty eyebrow at you. If you had no self respect, and no boyfriend, maybe you'd fuck your frustrations out on this complete dick of a man. As it stands, he waits for you. “I dropped my folders, bend down and pick them up.”

Your jaw clenches, breath quickening with your anger, you can't wait to see his annoyingly attractive face when you let him know you're quitting. You make so much money, but nothing is worth how this dickhead treats you.

“Pick. Them. Up.” His plump lips curl up. You sink to your knees, clad in black stockings, struggling to hold your composure and not cuss him the fuck out. You gather the papers and he just looks at you, ruby eyes glinting, while he runs a hand through pink locks.

“Mr. Sukuna…” You stand now. Leaning forward you set them on his cherry wood desk, one he dreams of bending you over on. He raises that brow again, infuriating you with his arrogance.

“Hmm. What is it?” Sukuna eyes your red lip stain, imagining smearing it with the pink tip of his cock. Imagining fucking your throat so good you can't fucking talk, maybe then you wouldn't flirt with some boy.

“I'm putting in my two weeks notice.”

Sukuna blinks then, before his dark brows lower, his hands gripping the desk, black painted nails almost scratching it with the force. “The fuck you just say?”

You take a breath, even you get intimidated by the huge ass boss of yours at times. But you hold firm, hands in front of your lap while his gaze burns you. “I quit. I'm giving you two weeks notice as a courtesy.”

“The fuck!?” Sukuna stands now, looking down at you, so tall your head falls back to maintain eye contact. “You're gonna get paid this good and leave!?”

You raise a brow right back at him, crossing your arms now. “Sure am, nothing is worth having to work for you anymore. Even if I love everyone else here.”

“Tch, fucking bet you do love that boy all stupid over you,” you scoff, he steps closer, dress shoes clicking against the hardwood floor, closer and closer until you're backed up against a wall. You can’t breathe when he’s this close, a hand on the side of your head, you glare up at him.

“Ever heard of personal space, you psycho?”

“Personal space, huh. Wonder what your problem is, you let that boy kiss you right in front of the office,” he tilts your chin up, you smack his hands off, chest heaving with how fucking furious you are. “Is it because I don't suck up to you like every little bitch boy here?”

“No, my problem is you're a fucking dick, Mr. Sukuna. Respectfully.” You shove at his chest, he snatches a wrist, huge tattooed hands taking it over, making you tremble at the contact. “I'll be gone by the end of the month, or I can leave sooner.”

“Who the fuck are you working for?” He squeezes your wrist bruising, as mean as he is it surprises you even, and worse is your stupid body's reaction to him.

If you had just a little less self respect you'd give into the insane, dumb fucking desire you have. To kneel and suck him, bulge in his slacks clear that he's huge. You shake that evil thought off, along with the fact that how terrifying he is turns you on, you'll chalk it up to daddy issues and bury that shit deep.

He sure would never get to know you even find him anything but disgusting as a human being. “Let go of me.”

“I asked who you're working for, brat,” he's hovering, too tall, too broad, shadows cast across the office just making that presence more looming. “”What, you're too dumb to answer?”

“Brat!? Stupid - this is why I’m fucking quitting. Why do you even care, when you treat me like shit anyway!?”

“Answer me.”

“The Gojo corporation, ya heard of them?” You shove at him again, the big ass man doesn’t move a fucking inch, mean smile on your face when you watch his crimson eyes narrow.

“Then I’ll pay you more.”

“I’m already taking a pay cut, and it’s well worth it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a bunch of work to do, unlike a certain nepo baby CEO.”

“Nepo baby!? And you’re working for the Gojo corp?”

“He seems sweet,” Sukuna’s teeth grit together, you shove him hard once more and he steps back, allowing you to move past him, only for him to wrap an arm around your hips, tugging you against him. “HR complaint too, Sukuna?”

“Like you don’t enjoy it,” you don’t move for just a minute, you do enjoy being against his body, turning your head to give him daggers from your eyes, he cups your chin, body too hard against you, cologne smelling too good, filling your nostrils, your senses. “You’re really leaving me? What if I double your salary?”

“Nothing is worth one more fucking day of you.” He scoffs and lets you go, his hands clenching into fists when you stand by the door, turning to him. “If you wanna keep a good assistant, maybe don’t treat her like shit. Two weeks.”

You slam his fucking door, it echoes when you stomp out, it’s not too surprising to anyone considering you frequently get furious at him – in fact he loves to make you mad, see your pretty face all flushed, pretty tits in those blouses rising as your breath quickens. However this time, you’re just fucking done with him.

He punches the wall right next to him, the one he just pressed you against, so furious that you think you have any choice, that you can ever be away from him. He can’t lose you before he has you, before you need him and him only. It’s fucking every single thing up. The plaster cracks, cream white left just a bit red from the blood on the backs of his knuckles, and Sukuna sees red.

You’re not fucking going anywhere.

****

“Are you alright, honey?” Ino asks, when he takes you home, your car is stuck at the mechanic for a week. You nod, and he places a hand over your thigh, the other on the wheel. “You’re doing the right thing.”

“Maybe you’ll follow me?” You tease, he smiles shyly, it’s very new, you two have just kissed and had a couple dates, but you love him around, especially with your complete dickhead of a boss in your life.

“I absolutely could follow you over, work would be so boring without you.”

“Takuma… that’s really sweet.” He parks the car, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You hate how horny that psycho, pink haired dick of a man gets you, and you want to wash away every thought of him, toxic ones that you will never even let your brain actually think of. Just stupid fucking flashes of the most toxic hate sex with him, slapping his stupid face then getting railed by him.

Fuck that.

Psycho who calls you stupid!? You’re well past your attraction to toxic ass men with mental issues. Hence, the sweet boy next to you, with soft brown eyes and glossy lips, brushing your hair back.

“You’re tense,” Ino mentions, gently running a hand up your spine. “Need me to rub your back?”

“I’d love that, do you wanna come inside-”

“Yes!? I mean, yes. I mean… continue?” You giggle a bit, he’s pretty adorable really.

“Come on,” it’s getting a little dark already, the sky pinks and purples, when you unlock the door to the home you’re renting. When you shut the door behind you, he does just that, he actually rubs your neck, then lower, lips kissing across your neck. “Mnh…”

“Is this okay?” He asks softly, you nod, eyes shutting at the mix of his hands and his kisses –  leading to the bedroom soon, he’s lifting you up and carrying you inside there, while you giggle – having no clue you’re being watched.

Oh but Sukuna is watching you.

He watches you every night, typically with his cock in his hand – a desperate, pathetic mess you make him, and he fucking hates you for it, for doing it to him. Just for you to be an ungrateful brat and quit, but now you’re inviting someone in your room, when he’s already jerking it to your moans!?

“You little fucking slut,” he scowls when he watches the sight unfold on the little fuzzy camera, the one he’d slipped on your dresser that’s covered in stupid fucking squishmellows. “You better not even get fucked right now.”

Sukuna had set the camera one day when he’d dropped off your check due to a ‘banking error’ as if he hadn’t watched you in front of the window for months before, you love to undress and even dance in front of your curtains. Like a dumb whore just waiting for someone to stalk you, hurt you, Sukuna wants to make sure no one does, no one ever hurts the girl who he’s tragically fucking obsessed with.

The obsession is so intense it physically hurts, since the moment he saw you when you started. You’re too pretty, too perfect, haunting his every thought, ruining him so he can’t even look at another girl. He attempted to at first, just to make you jealous, flirt with a few of the CEOs that would come in for meetings, but you didn’t even look his damn way.

Nothing worked on you, so he diverted to actively pissing you off, wanting to work you up until he drove you crazy, but it was just fucking backfiring. Now, watching this boy kissing down your neck, pressing you against your bed. His nails press into the wood of his desk so much he leaves scratches, almost crushing the wood with his grip, contemplating just showing up honestly.

If he had to watch you get fucked, he’d ruin you when he finally got you, fuck you until you’re a sobbing mess, begging him to stop. But, he wouldn’t no fucking chance would he take it easy – he would never even let you leave his penthouse once he fully lured you in. Escape would not be any sort of option or thought in your pretty head.

His thoughts drive him mad when your moans are so loud he can vividly hear them, he shuts his eyes, picturing it’s for him. But you wouldn’t just moan softly, no Sukuna would have you stuttering, drooling, screaming out. He hates that it still gets him throbbing, hearing you like this, determined then to make sure you wouldn’t even get to leave him.

Sukuna yanks out a letter hand written by you - your resignation letter you smacked on his desk before you left, grinning then, taking out a pen and a blank paper. He damn sure was not letting you work for Gojo, and he was going to make sure you would need him, it was really for your own good.

“Ino,” Sukuna is gonna fucking kill you. “Mnh!”

Is this boy fingering Sukuna’s girl!?

You’re surprised at his skill, while he’s slipping his fingers down your slit, bracing himself on one arm as he does. “Does that feel good?”

You nod quickly, he finds your clit in just a moment, rolling in torturous circles that have you trembling, thighs on either side of him spread. His lips are sweet against yours, just enough pressure, the pressure just enough to send those signals to your brain. You’re not one to exactly fuck around with new boyfriends, but you’re so on edge, and he’s hitting everything you need.

You’re running your hand down, running fingers over his bulge, watching him gasp when you do, his finger slipping in your hole now. “Mnh, there, fuck…”

“Th-there?” He slides it deeper, pressing up, you nod quickly, cunt gushing while Sukuna is ruining your life from the comfort of his office.

“There, ah! More, please.” Ino’s gentle when he slips a second finger inside, tugging on your top and kissing your breast, rutting your hand – and then – Ino comes in his pants. “Oh…”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he rests his head on yours, breathless. “You’re too wet, and too sexy…”

“No, god don’t apologize, it’s quite a compliment.” You smile and brush his hair back, while Sukuna is snorting in laughter.

If you saw him, you’d scowl, smack his arrogant face, he’s slapping his thigh with tears in his eyes – he didn’t even have to interrupt you by triggering your alarm system, that was his plan once he was done with the letter. What luck, he thinks, that fingering you made that poor boy cum, he’s running off to clean up, and you’re sitting there with your thighs spread on that bed.

He wonders how good it is, to have that fucking effect. Wouldn’t happen to him, but it makes him curious, staring at you when you whine out, rubbing your slit for just a moment before tasting yourself. He couldn’t have even pictured it, how sexy and slutty the action is, you sucking your arousal off your pretty little fingers, before pressing your thighs together.

Sukuna’s aching now, settled back down to watch you – you’ve reduced him to this, a pathetic man who just does this rather than fucking anyone, being with anyone. How can he when you exist, fucking his brain up with how pretty you are when you’re mad at him, and now you’re acting like a whore.

And it just makes him eager for the moment he’ll ruin you.

He bets you’ll talk so much shit before your throat is fucked raw, and then you’ll only have a hoarse little whisper left. He smirks as he watches you step out of the room, presumably to walk Ino out, maybe make him feel better. Sukuna is already working on a severance package for him, multitasking truly, because he damn sure couldn’t stay here around Sukuna’s girl.

His, all his.

“Ino, it’s fine, really. I had a lot of fun.” Ino’s brows draw together, slipping his hand across your cheek.

“I didn’t get you off, do you want me to?”

“You’re so sweet, you can next time.” He sighs, still clearly embarrassed with a flush of his cheeks, but you really love his sweetness, especially when you have to deal with Ryomen Sukuna every day. “Promise, we’ll continue this later.”

“All right, good night pretty.” You giggle and give him a kiss, leaning against the door when you shut it, left in the quiet of your home. You walk into your room, busting out the vibrator in the dresser, along with the lubricant, slipping off your shorts and laying back in the bed.

You loved to play with yourself before bed, but especially now, when you could think of anything other than your dickhead, pastel haired boss that you absolutely hate. Shutting your eyes and spreading your legs, bent at the knee, letting the silicon touch your clit, vibrating with the sticky lube, making you whine out.

Now Sukuna can actually stroke himself, you’re all alone, just how he enjoys you, playing with your cunt just for him. He’s leaned back in his chair, the office is entirely silent as he’s the only one here, the quiet times where Sukuna can let his long cock release, slapping his dress shirt with pre. His tip is reddened, leaking the pearly drops he can’t wait to stuff inside your hole.

He’d fill you so good, till you’re pouring him, dripping his milky cum from the soppy little cunt you’re running a pretty red little rose on. He hopes you enjoy it for now, because once you’re his, you’ll never be able to touch yourself again, never play with what is his. He can’t wait till you’re running your cunt on his leg, pathetic and desperate for his touch while he fucks your mouth, the thoughts pushing him over the edge.

He’s murmuring your name, timing his orgasm with yours, grinning psychotically in his dark office, lapping just a bit of his own cum that has spilled onto his fingers,. It drips along the piercing on the underside of his tip, mirroring you. He’s going to have far, far too much fun with you, he muses, he can’t wait to see you crying and begging him to stay.

*****

“What the fuck did you do!?” You’re shouting in his office the next day, he stomps over to where you’re shouting in the open, people are just looking at you two. Though it’s not unheard of for you to lose your shit on Sukuna, he shuts the door quickly, smirking down at you.

“What’s wrong, mad your little fuck toy is out of the office?” You haul back and smack the fuck out of his cheek, leaving your handprint, he glares and presses you against the door, a hand gripping your chin. “Ya really gonna think you can just slap me?”

“Sure the fuck can.” You slap him again, on the other cheek as hard as you can, he grips both wrists and pins them to the wall, chest heaving with his breaths. “Fuck you, Sukuna.”

“You wanna fuck me so bad, don’t you?”

“Hah, you wish I did.”

“Aw, did he not make you cum, little brat?” You gasp now, shoving him off you when he lets go of your wrists.

“You did something to him, psychotic dick. I know you did! He wouldn’t just leave me like that… leave the job like that, just cut off contact, no way.” Sukuna raises one of his slutty pierced eyebrows at you, making you itch to smack that look off again, fingers stinging from the contact.

“I got rid of his position, and gave him a huge severance package and recommendations, I didn’t fucking ask him to leave you,” Sukuna lies right to your face, watching it fall then, you’re blinking back tears he can’t wait to see fall down your cheeks. It’s for your own good, so he can’t feel bad about it. “Why would I?”

You blink rapidly, wracking your brain now, he watches the gears turn with a sick satisfaction. “I don’t… I don’t know…”

“You’re leaving, anyway right? Why do I care if you fucked-”

“I didn’t fuck him, not that it’s any of your business. We just started dating and I…” you trail off again, your lip trembling, Sukuna lets you go then, just standing there, looming over you. “Why’d you let him go suddenly?!”

“I planned it,” he’s watching you start to believe it, barely hiding back his smirk now. “I didn’t tell him to leave you. That’s the dumbest shit I’ve heard, why do I care who you’re with, tch.”

“Mr. Sukuna…” he’d looked terrified when Sukuna called him in, chuckling at the kid when he handed him the check. “What is all this money?”

“It’s a hell of a severance package,” he walks up to him now, smirking and tilting his head. “And I’ll give you double that if you break up with her.”

“You what now?” His eyes narrow at Sukuna for just a moment, even though Sukuna towers over him.

“Stay. Away. From. Her.”

“She hates you, you know that right?” Sukuna just raises a brow, hands in the pockets of his slacks, leaning even lower, watching him swallow nervously.

“If you’d like to keep all your fucking fingers, stick them inside someone else, she’s not available.”

“How the fuck would you-”

“Take the money. And go. Be smart, it’s way more than you make in a year.” He contemplates it for a moment, sighing then.

“I’m not going to break up with her just because you’re letting me go-”

“Yes, you fucking will,” he slams him on the wall, grabbing him by the collar. “If you’d like to keep intact you’ll break up with her right fucking now.”

“You’re fucking insane!” He rushes off, and Sukuna watches with a devious little smirk when he breaks up with you quietly in a corner of the office.

“Oh.” You’re turning away then, taking a shaky breath, Sukuna loves it, loves watching you lose whatever feelings you had for that boy, that doubt fucking setting in is delicious.

Just one step closer to making sure you can’t leave him.

He’s picturing lifting your pencil skirt up, pressing you against that door, it takes everything not to touch you yet, but you’re just not where he needs you. He puts a hand on your shoulder, almost comforting, giving you just enough caring to make you wonder, to make you look back in shock, even as he remembers exactly what happened this morning with that boy.

He can’t bother to feel guilty for lying when it’s all for your own good, really, you’ll be so happy when you’re his. You won’t work, won’t have to even cook, clean, anything, just be pretty and let him keep you to himself. Your eyes are all glossy with that sheen of unshed tears you’re holding onto, your breaths coming in little huffs.

“Do you need the day off?”

“You’ve never asked me that,” you laugh out meanly, his teeth clenching together. “Now that I’m leaving you’re trying to be somewhat kind? Too late for it, I’m still going regardless.”

You stomp out of the office, furious with him, he’s right though – why would Sukuna want to break you up with Ino? It doesn’t make sense, even if he’s a dick boss and can’t stand that you’re leaving him, what’s a boyfriend have to do with it… it’s not as if Sukuna had some weird interest in you.

But it was so sudden.

He’d looked terrified when he ran out of that office, asking you not to call him or message him, that he needed to get a clean start, that there were no hard feelings. After last night when he’d kissed you like that? You feel emotions welling up, a mix of anger, suspicion, and just being fucking sad.

You’re more determined than ever to get a new start with the Gojo corporation, you’d met the CEO himself, and you were so excited, the pay was really good too. Sukuna’s pay was something you would never find again, but nothing in the world was worth the stress of handling him every day. You should still be able to swing keeping your rent up with your house too.

Things will get better.

*****

Things get worse.

It’s like some fucking dark rain cloud is just following you around and storming all over you, all over everything. A steady domino effect happens that week that makes absolutely no sense. One moment, you’re ready to start a better life – or so you think – only for it to be disillusioned.

A receptionist calls and tells you the position is filled at the Gojo corporation, and that somehow something got crossed. A background check didn’t come in, and they apparently couldn’t get ahold of you. It seemed bullshit truly, but who was this random woman to lie about it?

Then, even worse, your landlord who is usually so sweet and kind, comes over and tells you they’re selling the house you rent, and you have to be out in ten fucking days. You were in shock as they came over apologetically, claiming someone offered them way more than it’s worth, and with cash. You don’t blame them, but now you are completely fucked.

Your parents are out of town, but imagine telling them your situation? Jobless soon since you already put in your resignation, and homeless? How can you even face them or live with them after being on your own since you were eighteen? You can’t just move back at twenty four.

You’re a mess when you’re back at the hell you call Sukuna Ryomen’s corporation, you hate it so much, knowing what you’re gonna have to do. Even if you stay with your family when they’re back in town, you have to have some source of income to get a new place, nothing nearby is even available for rent, so how long would it take?

No boyfriend.

No home.

No job.

And your car is still fucked up!?

You’re close to tears that monday, knocking on Sukuna’s door, the man you slapped in the fucking face last friday. Well, well deserved, sure, but what are the chances he’ll keep you? And if he does, will he make everything worse for you than he already did in the past? All you know, is for at least a few months, you’ll basically be at this shithead’s mercy.

“Come in,” he says gruffly behind the door, you take a breath, opening it and stepping in. He barely acknowledges you as he’s typing away on his keyboard, wearing a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose. “What is it?”

“I um… well, I um…” You barely hold it together, he closes the laptop then, frowning over at you.

“You’re never at a loss for words, with that mouth,” you should scowl, but you just wanna fucking cry, you feel it coming, cursing yourself – you can’t, especially in front off him of all people! “Shut the door.”

“Right…” You do just that, closing it with a quiet click and leaning against it, eyes fluttering shut, missing his satisfied smirk just long enough for him to fix it. “Mr. Sukuna, um…”

“Um, um, um. Speak, don’t you know how to?” He’s such an ass, you barely can stand not punching him in his stupid face.

But he pays stupidly well.

“I need to keep my job.” You whisper, he blinks in surprise, standing up.

“Come here.” He says, almost softly, you step up to him, heels clicking on the polished hard wood, taking several breaths, bracing for his mockery, something fucking mean and cruel.

“Go ahead, say it, I’m pathetic for asking.” He frowns now, you’re just a breath away from him, too close for comfort.

“Why do you want to stay, thought you had the nice cushy Gojo job?” He leans his hip on the desk, crossing those big arms, his dress shirt struggling to stretch over all those muscles.

“I um…” You’re trembling in front of him, eyes welling with tears, and you’re so fucking sexy like this.

You need him.

It’s what he always wanted, you needing him.

“Will you just-”

“I lost the job opportunity,” your tears fall, hot and sticky down your cheeks, making him throb in his pants at the sight. They’re glimmering under the can lights in his ceiling, your red lipstick bitten off in places from your nerves. 

You’re perfect like this.

You’re just one step closer to where he needs you to be.

“I also got kicked out of the place I’m r-renting, a-and I really can’t lose this job now. I know I said I’d quit, but fuck just let me stay for a bit. You can throw your papers on the floor, I just need it, okay?” You gasp when he brushes your tears away almost gently, not smirking, not mocking you.

He resists the urge to lap a tear off his thumb, fully hard at the sight of you so small compared to him, trembling and pathetic really.

It’s perfect.

“You can stay,” you gasp, eyes shooting up to his in shock. “What, think I’m that fucking horrible?”

“Yes, yes I absolutely do,” he scoffs, and you curse, shutting your eyes and shaking your head. “Shouldn’t have said that when I’m asking for a favor.”

“I like that you talk shit, it’s why I pay you so much,” your eyes narrow, irritation flitting in between emotions. He sighs, hands on your arms now. “C’mere.”

“What?”

He tugs you against him then, you wonder if on top of losing everything you’ve lost your mind and are having straight up delusions, his big hand brushing up and down your back. You’re against his chest, tears making his button down wet in spots, struggling to catch your breath.

How can you be comforted by this man, in any way!?

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Holding you, shit what does it look like?” You shake your head, but you don’t move. You hate to admit he feels good, he’s so warm he’s hot, that warmth seeping against you, his big, bulging muscles too comfortable. “You can stay with me.”

“I’ve really fucking lost it. What now?” You sniffle, looking up at him then, he brushes a lock of your hair in a move you can only describe as gentle, it doesn’t fit any of him.

“You’re a good assistant, I know I’m kind of a dick.”

“Kind of!? You’re a horrible, completely terrible, mean ass, conceited shit-”

“Fuck off, I’m trying to help!?”

You bite your inner cheek, heart racing now, pounding in your chest. “Letting me keep my job is nice enough, don’t act weird.”

“Weird, tch,” he tugs you closer, letting you cry more, smiling against your hair as you do. Every tear just makes him want you more. “You can stay with me till you get a place, I have a big ass penthouse, not like we’ll see each other much. Plus, isn’t your car in the shop? I can bring you to work.”

“How do you know that?”

“You don’t wanna stay with your parents, do you?” He avoids the question completely.

“Shit, no.” You sigh, pulling back and swiping those tears, realizing it is your best option. “Are you as much of a dick at home as you are at work?”

“Worse.”

“Then-”

“It’s a joke?” You glare, and he chuckles a bit, his eyes bright fucking red, almost scary when they assess you carefully. “I’ve been too harsh on you, huh?”

“Harsh is an understatement, sadistic asshole fits better,” his scowl deepens, grip still firm on your waist even though you’ve backed away. “You really won’t mind me living with you?

“Nah, like I said we won’t even see each other much. I feel a little responsible,” – he literally caused all of it – “I made you wanna leave. So let me at least do something to make it up.”

“Are you in therapy or on meds or some shit? Who are you?”

“You’re such a little fucking brat, ungrateful-”

“Ah, there he is,” you smile, that mean little one even with your tremulous lips, stepping back then. “Well I really have no choice.”

“You’re sounding really thankful.”

“I am, though. I guess I’ll bring some things over tonight if that’s okay?”

“I’ll bring you to your place, we can grab what you need.”

You walk off, then turn around, looking at him and wondering if there’s something more than an arrogant, self entitled dick in there. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, get back to work, you’re slacking.” You roll your eyes as you walk out of his office, and he can’t stop his grin from spreading.

*****

You thought you’d hate living with Sukuna, even if he has a fancy decked out penthouse, with cleaners making sure it was immaculate. You don’t know what you expected, some pretentious bachelor pad with nothing but beer and no food in the fridge? He’s in his mid thirties and since, which raises every red flag along with his horrible personality.

Surely some sugar baby would deal with him or something, he’s that attractive really, some people could probably get past how much of an asshole he was. Yet, he’s alone, you don’t see him talk to any women the first week you’re there at all, and it almost gets comfortable, driving back to his place together, cooking dinner and then bitching about idiots at work.

Fuck it’s almost domestic?

Sukuna is still a dick at work, sure, but he’s eased up a bit, he’s actually said a praise or two which he never has, and at home he’s quite kind, even intelligent. Coming off like a nepo baby airhead, he surprises you more with just how smart he is, when he’s typing away at that computer working some finances, while some science show is on his big ass tv.

Sukuna’s almost a little nerdy, especially with those glasses. He walks around shirtless, that shithead, and that really fucks with you more than you’ll admit. You figured he had a good body judging by how his suits fit, but nothing really prepared you for waking up and seeing him completely bare aside from some boxer briefs that hugged a rather caked out ass.

He was cooking this morning, making what smelled like bacon and eggs, scrambling them around when you wake up, yawning. One week and you haven’t killed each other, in fact as you’re staring at the black tattoos across his back, he turns his head a bit to look back at you.

He’s unfairly attractive, that conceited ass smile plastered on his face when he looks back at you. “Checking my ass out?”

“Hah, not even, I’m just tired and want coffee,” you’re next to him then, arms brushing against each other when he looks down at your body. “Are you staring at my tits?”

“Yes.”

“The fuck,” you shove at him and he chuckles, almost playfully, you can’t stop your nipples from tightening at the gaze, at his laugh. Fuck it’s almost pleasing, making you hate him more. “Pervert.”

“Says you,” he reaches across and turns on the coffee maker for you, it heats up with a whir. “Wanna eat?”

“You’re making me breakfast?” You ask, pulling out a coffee pod, Sukuna barely hides his erection when he fully gets a look of what you’re wearing, some thin little crop top and shorts that barely cover your ass.

You look slutty, tits half out, almost the entirety of those thighs bare, thighs he’d die to have one either side of his face. That makes him angrier, the amount he wants to pleasure you, worship you, and because of your bratty attitude he has to wait. You look like you need his cock inside you.

He wants to give you what you need, it’s torture to jerk it next to you every night, when you’re a room away, but he knows damn well you don’t need him that badly yet. But you’re getting there, he can almost inhale the scent of your arousal, so sweet like the panties he buried his face in last night.

He despises you for reducing him to that, to lapping your sticky arousal from them, and they were coated in your slick. Despite you acting fine, you were clearly wet around him, your nipples poking out of your top and drawing his gaze, his wide grin, you cup them then, gasping.

“Don’t stare dickhead, I’m just cold!”

“Sure you are, they like me, at least.”

“They so do not.” He smirks, and you struggle to focus on anything other than wanting him to throw you on that counter.

Stupid.

It’s stupid.

One week of being a semi decent human being doesn’t eliminate everything he’s put you through. “I’ll eat some.”

“Good girl.”

“Yuck, never mind.”

“Fucking brat,” he scowls, and you can’t stop a little giggle, the first he has ever heard from you, he grips the spatula so hard it bends. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, it does look yummy though.”

“Then sit down, I’ll bring you some.” You both fall into a comfortable silence, eating side by side, he’s peering at his laptop while you’re poking at your phone, knees brushing under his pretty white bar. He leans over and swipes a bit of coffee off the corner of your mouth, and that’s when you pause.

He’s not touched you like that, your couple of interactions were slaps, and then that weird hug he tugged you into. But this week he’s made sure not to, and when he does, you ache, desire ruining your brain chemistry. You stare at him with dilated eyes when he brushes his thumb across your lips, watching the plush of it gently move, knowing what it’s doing to you.

He knows your cunt is pulsing around nothing, knows what his eyes are doing while they look down at you. He knows how to push you over that edge until you beg for him, or so he thinks. You pull back and smack at his hand, he clenches his teeth, about to bend you over and beat your ass black and blue, but he can’t. He has to make you want him, not just need him.

“Weirdo.” You stick your tongue out, he scoffs at you, back to watching the news on his screen, and you run to the bathroom when you’re done.

You can’t help but reach down and find your cunt slick.

Fuck Ryomen Sukuna.

*****

It’s been two weeks now, Sukuna lets you sit on the couch and you two actually watch movies together, you sit out on the balcony with him and drink his ridiculously expensive vintage of wine. It’s peaceful almost, he’s quiet and doesn’t talk too much shit, and you unfortunately find yourself enjoying him, wanting him more and more despite your mind knowing that’s the dumbest idea.

Do you just want to get fucked, are you just horny and he’s hot? But how can you ever want someone who was that awful? It’s almost hard to remember, sitting next to him tonight, eyes getting heavy, you rest your head on his shoulder before you think better of it, feeling him tense.

His hand is on your thigh, you’re shifting your hips, dying for him to just touch you. You see the way he looks at you now that you live with him, you’ve seen the bulge in his boxers in the morning, hear how he catches his breath, notice the dilation of his eyes. You know he wants you, but he makes no move ever, the hand not inching the tiniest bit higher.

You sure the hell would never ask him, it’s dumb to even be open to it, but the more you’re around his psychotic ass, the more your body reacts so stupidly. You can only chalk it up to so many issues and a massive need of therapy, perhaps you’ve just been consuming too much hate sex smut, and it’s altering your brain.

But you want it.

You shift again, closer now, pretending you’re falling asleep, thighs spreading just a bit, some insane part of you wonders if he’d touch you in your sleep. He inches his fingers just a bit higher, you bite back a gasp, keeping your eyes fluttered shut, hearing the quiet click of the remote now as he turns off the show. He brushes back your hair for a moment, rather than what you need.

His fingers inside you.

His mouth on you.

What the actual hell is wrong with your mind you don’t know, inhaling that expensive scent, more and more alluring with every breath you slowly take, feigning sleep while he runs a finger across your jaw line. You bury your face against his neck now, breathing heavier, he pauses, unmoving then, until he shakes you just a bit.

“Gonna drool on me, brat?” You pull off now, scoffing and going to stand with a yawn.

“Sorry for being sleepy, dick.”

“Tch…”

When he grips your wrist with long, thick fingers that you keep wondering about. You wonder if they’d hit your cervix, those black painted nails against your skin, leaving marks. You’re so done with his bullshit, the push and pull, one moment acting kind enough that you wonder if you’re wrong, then the next snapping, being a whole psycho – and the entire time making you throb with need every time he’s close to you.

“Come drool on me then, if you’re gonna be all pouty about it,” he gives you a mean little smile. You tug away, freeing your wrist, seeing marks he leaves from just that touch. You wonder if he’d leave them all over your body. “Going to bed?”

“Sure am.” He chuckles like the asshole he is, you stomp off and sigh, resting your head on the door.

He’s trying to tease you, it’s so obvious to you then, when you hear quiet moans and huffs next to your room. Like he’s wanting you to cave, to desire him, but you sure the hell would never give him that satisfaction. You’re undressing when you see it then, a little small black tube, and then it all starts to hit you.

Is this pervert watching you!?

He knew about Ino, he knows too much.

That should scare you, really, but instead you undress right in front of that camera, ever so slowly, letting your tits bounce. You hear his moans get just a bit louder, hiding your smile when you lay on the bed, holding your phone and texting a guy back who asked you out. You proceed then to touch yourself, moaning loudly the name of the date.

“Oh, Suguru, oh!”

Sukuna pauses, dick in his hand, almost crushing the phone he’s watching you on now, his jaw tensing as you say some other dudes fucking name!? Not even the boy you dated – why is he so desperately in love with such a mean, evil thing really? He should go in there and beat your ass, fuck you so good all you know is him, but it would just fuck everything up.

He flings his phone across the room, all while you’re in the other room getting off to the thought of making this stalker furious.

*****

You certainly can’t stay here much longer with Sukuna.

One, he’s a psycho.

Two, he’s a dick.

Three, you want to fuck him.

All of that together pushes you to start peering at places, there is a brand new condo building that’s just constructed, and it’s in your price range. You submit a pre application, then decide to get ready for your date with a handsome man you’d run into last week. Some sick, dark part of you gets off on the idea a cocky ass man like Sukuna is so obsessed he spies.

You wonder the extent of it, honestly, when you step out into the living room in a slinky little black dress, red lips just a little glossy, pretty earrings dangling with your hair done up. You had done a couple little spins to make sure everything looked good, slipping on a pair of red bottom heels, a splurge you’ve never even worn before. All in all, you know you look good.

When Sukuna’s eyes catch you, for a moment his lips part, his heart hammers at how gorgeous you look, but just as quickly, he realizes it’s not for him, and clenches his jaw, narrowing his eyes now when you step closer. You do a little spin and giggle, making him want to throw your ass down on the mattress in his room, and fuck you into it.

Tear your dress into nothing, so you never wear it again, use that pretty silver necklace to choke you until it snaps in half. He can hardly handle just standing there, his ‘unbothered’ act about to fail with what you’re putting him through. Sukuna has never cared about anyone but you, never felt any of this, and yet here you are about to go out with someone else?

He’s read your signals, but the game he’s playing is apparently too slow for you and how needy your cunt apparently is.

He’s furious.

“How do I look, Sukuna? I think I like this dress on me.” You say with a little quirk of your lips, like you know what you’re doing to him.

His gaze dips to your breasts, cupped tightly in that dress, too low cut, fuck he could almost see your nipples if you bend over. And he’d surely see your ass if you did, the shape of it outlined in the little black thin ass material, a pathetic excuse for clothing he’d never let you out in once you’re his.

“Where ya going dressed like that huh?” You scoff, crossing your arms.

“Excuse me? I think I look hot.”

“You look slutty as fuck.” You scowl at him, he walks closer, until your back is pressed against the counter, heart racing. “Shouldn't let you out like that.”

“Would it kill you to just say I look pretty once?” You blink back frustrated tears, because why the fuck do you care what he thinks!? Why do you want him to!? The toxic pull is worse when you feel his body against yours, feel his heat, wanting it to soak into you, even knowing he’s dangerous and terrible.

Sukuna grips your face too tightly, a thick, muscled thigh slipping between your own, you bite back a gasp of pleasure so hard it makes your lip almost bleed, struggling to focus. “You know you're fucking gorgeous, tch. It doesn't change shit about this slutty ass outfit.”

“Oh fuck you,” you grip his wrists, shoving his hands down, just for him to bar you with his arms, thigh pressing higher, making you almost let out that moan threatening to spill from your throat. Your eyes fly to his, unreadable and dilated to almost pure blackness. “I'm going on a date.”

“A date, huh?” You nod, swallowing nervously now.

How dare you show off all that pretty skin. That pretty body that belongs to him and only him!?

“Look like you’re going to a dick appointment.”

You slap the fuck out of him now, his cheek decorated with your handprint, breaths faster and faster, a mix of anger, hatred and being so turned on you’re about to soak his thigh. He can tell, you swear he feels it already, merely grinning and cupping your face now.

“You love to hit me, huh?”

“You’re an ass who deserves to be hit, so yes. So what if it is a ‘dick appointment’ do you not think I have needs?”

“Needs, hmm?” He presses up again, big hands gripping your hips and tugging you down, you can’t bite that whine back even though you try, you curse internally with his satisfied grin. “What exactly do you need?”

“Need someone who wants to get me off,” you shove at his chest even as you rock your hips, he’s throbbing when he feels it – how hot you are, your needy cunt just pressing on him. “Don’t you date, Sukuna? Haven’t seen a girl here.”

“Do you want to hear another girl screaming while I fuck her in the next room?” He’s leaning against you, all six feet something of him imposing while you’re pressed on his chest, his thigh, cunt pulsing around nothing.

“What would I care?” You whisper, chin tilted up to eye him in the face defiantly even as you soak him, trembling thighs and hands just resting on his chest, gripping his shirt. “What if I fucked someone, would you watch me, Sukuna?”

“Would I what now!?” You smile deviously, yanking him down, until he’s dangerously close to your lips, the scent of your perfume flooding his senses, sweet breath minty and cool against his lips.

“Would you watch me, would you get off to that?”

“You think I’m some sicko, huh,” he’s chuckling and pressing his thigh up again, you’re so close from just that it’s dumb, while he slips up your dress, hands gripping the thin material. “Maybe I just worry about you.”

“Hah, worry for me, hmm? Mnh-” His cheeks are flushed red, you feel it – his thick, heavy cock against your waist now, pressing and insistent despite him trying to compose himself.

“I should take you, your car is still in bad shape,” he whispers, you shake your head. “No, what if some weirdo gets you?”

“I’ll be f-fine, I’ll be in by curfew dad.”

“You’re such an insolent-”

“Brat, yeah you say that. Can you get out of my way? I have a date to go to.” He pulls back, and raises a brow when he looks at his slacks, you peer down in horror, seeing the spot glistening with your slick. “I’ll be g-gone soon, too.”

“Leaving huh? Tsk, you’re messy, aren’t you?” He runs his thumb over it now, coating it in the damp, sticky clear arousal, your thighs tremble when he steps forward, taking your chin with his other hand now. “Ruining my thousand dollar slacks?”

“You put your leg there, weirdo - mmm!” Sukuna runs your own juices across your lips like a gloss, smirking as he does it, slipping his thumb between your lips.

“Should make you clean it off,” he murmurs, tilting his head and looking at you like some predator, when you sink your teeth against the pad of his thumb he doesn’t even flinch. “Make you lick it off, on your knees.”

You pause instead of coming back with something, the thought of him making you do it fucking you up, your tummy clenching when he runs his thumb across it again, lapping it off a finger now. His eyes flutter shut, cheeks hollowing, sipping your slick cunt off them, as you watch, lips parted.

“Have fun on your little date.” Is all he says then, walking off and leaving you clenching nothing, clit twitching with how badly she wants friction. You rush out quickly, leaving Sukuna with your flavor sunk in his tastebuds, peering at his phone after a few minutes, tracking your exact location.

As if he wouldn’t watch you.

He has to make sure you act right, going out like that with your cunt teased too, he sure the fuck wasn’t going to let anyone touch you. 

Sukuna watches you from the car window later, dark and tinted just across from the restaurant, you’re sitting right by the window, giggling with your hand in front of your mouth, some tall dude next to you. He assumes it’s the name you moaned last night, your hand is on his thigh, you’re sitting right against him. Sukuna’s hands grip the steering wheel tightly.

He watches you kiss him, plotting just what he’s gonna do when you walk through that door tonight. How is he supposed to hold back when you’re running around and letting other men touch what belongs to him. He scowls at his phone and texts you out of curiosity, you peer at the phone and don’t respond, instead sipping on your glass of wine and throwing your head back.

You’re absolutely done for.

*****

You had way too much fun tonight, you even had a little make out sesh in the car, he’s handsome and sweet and easy to talk to. Knowing you have to go back to Sukuna should fill you with some sense of dread, he’s a dickhead and at this point lives to edge you, he’s clearly watching you – you don’t know the extent – but that all just makes pissing him off more thrilling.

You slip off your heels at the door, stepping into the quietness of the penthouse, it’s completely dark in there, not a light left on, and not a sound. You didn’t expect Sukuna to be up and running around, but the darkness is a little disconcerting, especially with the dizziness from the wine in your blood stream. You blink a bit, reaching for the light switch, when you hear him.

“You’re back, huh?” He walks to you, your eyes adjust to him in the night, his big frame casting shadows when you hit the lights just barely, enough to be able to see him, before he snatches your wrist.

“Yes, I’m back, did you worry about me, Sukuna?” You murmur, leaning close to him, letting him hold them, letting him press you against that door. “That’s so sweet, you care huh? Why are you waiting for me like some creep, anyway?”

“Hah, a creep,” he slides a hand up, yanking out all the pins that have your hair in that pretty updo. You gasp as they clatter to the floor around you, the pins echoing off the hardwood.

“What are you doing?”

He says nothing, so done with you, so furious, ready to fuck your throat till you can’t talk anymore. “What, mad I had fun, want me miserable? Or are you… jealous, imagine, Ryomen Sukuna jealous.”

You run your hand up his chest, little glint in your eyes while he yanks your hair at the roots, so hard you cry out at it. “Get on your fucking knees, now.”

“Excuse me- ah!” He’s pulling harder, a hand on your shoulder pressing you down, you feel his strength along with your tummy clenching with hot need.

“On. Your. Knees.” He orders again, voice gruff as you kneel for him, you glare but you want this. You want to be on your knees, him yanking your hair just makes you wetter, the pain along with looking up at him like this.

The fuck is wrong with you!?

Sukuna undoes his pants now, your hands go to touch his thighs, earning a sharp smack. “Put 'em behind your back, now.”

You do as he says even with a mad little look on your face, cunt already soaked at the thought of his cock in your mouth, hands behind you, fingers entwined, he chuckles now, brushing your hair back. He uses two fingers to tilt your chin up, before going to his belt buckle, your breaths coming faster and faster.

“So you can listen, then,” he taunts you, you go to stand, just to get shoved back down, exciting you more. “Open that mouth, time I put it to better use than you running it, then you kissing other men.”

“You are jealous,” you whisper, he grabs your hair in a ponytail now, pulling until you’re in tears. 

“Jealous of you being a pretty little whore? Don’t scowl, you asked me to call you pretty, didn’t you?”

“Oh, fuck you, mnh…” He pulls your hair harder, yanking your head so you’re forced to look at him when he lets his cock slide out, heavy and thick, two faint blue veins wrapping all the way to his reddened tip that’s just leaking pre

“I said, open your mouth.” You do as he says, mouth open for him, tongue out and ready. “Look, you can behave, can’t you?”

Sukuna drags his tip against your lips, smirking as he smears your lip gloss, balls filling heavy with how much cum he’s ready to pour inside you. Your red tint makes his tip a pretty shade of ruby, before he presses it further, the weight of it right on the tip of your tongue, the barbell cold against the roof of your mouth. You taste him, salty little drops against your taste buds, a whine snapping his control, his teasing.

He shoves his cock deep in your mouth then, dragging your face so he can fuck it, leaving you choking on him, tears in your eyes when he hits your uvula. “That’s it, aww can you not take it all, ya that fucking pathetic?”

You just get wetter the meaner he gets, it’s making you grind helplessly on the heels of your feet pressed against your cunt, he yanks you up. “Ngh!”

“You don’t get any pleasure yet, not after all the shit you’ve put me through,” Sukuna wraps a hand around your throat now, feeling the bulge move underneath your delicate skin. “Know how long I’ve waited for this? To use you, fuck your mouth like the useless little cocksleeve you are.”

He’s lost in your suction, in how you’re taking him, the moans just vibrating against his cock, he’s sucking in a breath when you suck harder, your cheeks hollowed, letting him drag you by the hair, uncaring. Your throat constricts around his cock so tightly, he can only picture how perfect that cunt will feel.

“You’re so desperate,” he whispers. You're lost in the sensations of being used by him, his leg comes between your thigh now, you're rutting against it, whining with need. He gasps out when you suck hard, swirling your tongue around his tip. “You’ll fuck my leg, like some bitch in heat huh?”

You hate him, you hate the need that’s been building for weeks, hate the desperate way he ruts your mouth, you’re choking and gagging, sucking breaths through your nose. You let him use you for his pleasure, let his hands cup your face on either side, while your slick cunt just drips down his leg, seeping against his pants, cunt dying for any pressure, any friction.

“That's it. Throat is so fucking slutty, she wants me to ruin her. Huh? Aw, can't talk, baby?” He fucks your throat now, cursing softly as he thrusts that cock so deep, piercing dragging the roof of your mouth, the cool barbell shockingly different from his burning hot length. “Can’t run your mouth, can’t kiss some random fucking guy now, can you?”

He pulls back with a ragged breath, yanking you up with a hand on your throat, squeezing tightly, lips just a breath away. He’s fucked your throat and not even kissed you. He squeezes tighter, pressure against either side of your jugular, chuckling deeply now while you whimper.

“Could snap your little neck, y’know that?” He whispers, watching your eyes go glossy and black with need. “And you’d like it, wouldn’t you? Want me to just use every fucking hole you have?”

He kisses you, filthy and messy, more intimate than swallowing him, and that’s when he loses it fully, shoving you against the door, cock coated in your spit and saliva, wrapping it in thin gossamer strings. He tastes himself on you, along with the wine you drank, heady and making him almost bust when he pulls back, turning you.

“Let me suck you off, psycho,” you whisper, he chuckles then, teeth sinking into your neck, painful as he rips your dress off. “You dick that was expensive!?”

“I’ll buy you a new wardrobe, fuck you’re stupid, don’t you know what you do to me?” He whispers, needy and desperate himself, his hand slipping around you cup your bare breasts, leaving you in nothing but panties, the remnants of your little black dress around your ankles.

“I know you watch me,” you whisper, looking back at him then, he falters for just a moment, before smirking. “You want to fuck me, then do it.”

“You’re not in control, brat, shut that pretty mouth before I-”

“Fuck it again, I like it.”

“The fuck…” you’re a menace really. “You’re such a-”

“You gonna fuck me or? Need to go to the room and recor-” He’s shoved you forward now, sinking two fingers deep in your cunt. “Ah!”

“This what you been needing, rutting on my leg, on my thigh, making a whole fucking mess? So pathetic and needy, just to have your hole stuffed?” You gasp out, he’s rocking his fingers deep inside while your face is shoved against the door with one of his hands. “That’s it, lemme feel her, already drooling.”

You’re clenching around him, head pressed with his weight, while he scissors those thick fingers in and out. “M’gonna… f-fuck…”

He yanks them out, shoving them in your mouth, pressing your tongue down and groaning with your teeth bite at them. “Should make you beg for it.”

“I’d never, should make you,” he scoffs, tongue licking up your neck, bending over to press the fat tip of his cock against your quivering hole, his free hand turning your face, hovering so big over you then, shadows cast and covering you in darkness, it’s just him, everywhere.

“Only I will ever fuck you, touch you, kiss you,” he sloppily kisses you then, pressing his tip past that tight ring of muscles, pulling back and feeling you gush down him, moaning. “You’re all fucking mine, my pretty little whore.”

“M’not yours - ngh!” Sukuna shoves his cock half way in, you’re struggling to take it, thighs trembling, cock stretched out, all while he watches you.

“Perfect cunt is f’me, jus’me fuckin say it,” he’s groaning when he begins to move, achingly slow yet rough thrusts, slamming you into the door. One of his hands entwines, tattooed and rough, swallowing yours. “Say it, that you’re just a stupid little slut for me.”

“F-fuck you, Sukuna, not yours,” your cunt is gushing arousal, so much he’s moving easier despite the stretch, he’s all bent as you arch your ass more, whining out at the stretch. “Too much!”

“Hah, too much? Don’t tap out, all that talk, all that play, knowing I could fucking see you,” he slams his cock hard against your cervix, you scream out, hoarsely. “Your throat is so sore, isn’t it?”

“Shut up,” you’re lost in him, in his mean thrusts, in his nasty words, he lifts you then, letting your legs dangle in the fucking air, arms wrapping you. “Psycho, put me down!?”

“You can still talk,” he slams his cock inside your hole, using you now, up and down his cock with your body like you’re nothing. “Dumb fucking toy, aren’t you? Is this what you needed?”

You open your mouth to protest, but he’s railing your cunt with sharp thrusts, making drool spill from your mouth, you’re shaking in his hold, he slams you down hard and you shatter, pulsing around him as you cum so hard you can’t fucking see. You’re blinded, blink back fuzzy stars when he yanks out of you, making you whine out at the emptiness.

He unceremoniously sets you on the ground, you wobble, sadistic fucker eats it all up too. “So fucked out you can’t walk? I just started.”

“Back in.”

“If you say you’re mine,” he’s cupping your face so tightly it hurts, his eyes terrifying, voice just a whisper. “Fucking say you’re mine.”

“No.”

“You little…” He picks you up, you cling to him, letting him carry you to his room, he practically flings you on his bed, pressing you into the mattress and lifting your thighs, eyeing your cunt. “It’s perfect, fuck you.”

“Fuck you! Get back in, mnh.” He’s past chuckling and teasing, he’s lost when he sees your pussy, ready to bury himself inside it. He spreads your thighs, leaning over you and sinking inside now, watching your tummy move with him. “You’re too deep.”

“Your slutty hole can take it,” he slams his cock inside, bottoming out as deep as he can go, pushing your thighs up and making you feel the stretch, rolling his hips and looking down at you. “So tight, f-fuck… all mine, shit…”

Your pretty face, drenched in perspiration, lipstick smeared and half missing, mascara streaks down your cheeks.

“You’re a fucking mess, look at you,” Sukuna fucks you deeper, one hand braced next to you, the other under your chin. “Look, I’m fucking ruining you.”

You barely register, looking down and seeing your tummy move now. “Mnh…”

“Can’t run your stupid mouth huh?” You smack him, he pins your wrist, pulsing inside you now, you’re whimpering, whining, a mess as he lays into you. “Going to fuckin’ ruin you for anyone.”

You shake your head, making him laugh, pressing your thighs up until you’re in a mating press, bending in ways you didn’t think you could, just fucking you harder. The loud sounds of the smacking of his thighs on your ass mix with your cunt squelching, his huffs and moans and your breathy gasps, while his cock does wreck you.

It hurts you, stretches you, the skin around his cock burning from it when he pulls fully out, smacking his heavy cock against your cunt. “Say you’re mine.”

“No, f-fuck!” Sukuna’s putting his weight on your thighs, fucking you bruisingly rough now. He’s not holding back anymore, the bed shaking with every thrust, looking down at you with lidded eyes, all black with a ring of ruby.

“If you wanna cum, you’ll say it,” he pauses his thrusts, you shake your head even when his tip presses your cervix, that ring dragging on your spot. “If you want me to keep fucking you like the slut you are, you will.”

“No.” He yanks out of you again, leaving you empty and twitching, smacking your sore cunt. “Ow!”

“You just don’t listen, you just don’t realize you’re mine, have been mine, only mine.” You blink rapidly, shaking your head. “Wanna cum, don’t you? You’re so needy.”

You nod weakly, he smacks your cunt again with a sharp smack that stings, you’re crying out, tears slipping down your cheeks when he does it again. “Mnh…”

“Cunt is all puffy, all fucked up already, bet it I just…” he runs a thumb over your twitching clit, left untouched until now. Your head falls back at it, while he holds your thighs up, running quicker and quicker. “Bet you squirt all over me, huh?”

You shake your head, he shoves his thick cock back in, he needs you too much to keep holding back, needs to ruin you, fill you, mark you his. Sukuna rubs your clit while his fat cock stuffs your hole over and over, harder and faster, you’re twitching, overstimulated quickly, clit sensitive when he presses harder now. You gasp out, so close, making him halt.

“Make me cum, you stalker,” he smirks, slamming into you again, moving your thighs so that they’re up in the air now.

“You love that I watch you, admit it.”

You shake your head, he smirks and leans over you, thumb paused, just sitting on your little clit as it twitches, cunt spasming around his cock. “No it’s w-weird, creepy…”

“You love that I’m fucking obsessed with you,” you shake your head again, he drags his finger up, showing you his sticky, soaked hand. “Admit it.”

“No – g-god!” Sukuna slams into your cunt again, so hard you can hardly handle it, a writhing mess underneath him.

“I have watched you for months, watched you suck your cum off your fingers,” he runs your juices now against your lips, the pressure builds more and more, your breaths coming out in short pants, your nails digging into the bedsheets. “Watched you with that boy, seen you fucking dancing around your room naked.”

“Creep, ngh!” Your eyes roll back in your skull as he slams again, rolling his hips, letting your thighs grip them, hands brutal against your thighs, leaving bruises.

“You’re wetter, you get off on it, huh? Let’s test it,” he kisses up your neck, your ear, whispering in it now. “I stroked my cock just thinkin’ about your cunt, licked you off your used panties.”

“Oh fuck…” you’re gushing, so close with every filthy image he throws in your head, as he slams his cock, heavy balls making little plap plap plap sounds, his cock throbbing inside. You feel every vein, every ridge of his dick inside you, nails digging into his strong biceps in response.

“Your cunt can’t lie like you do, you like making me desperate, don’t you?” You bite your lip, tears from being edged falling, making him groan when he feels them against his cheek. “Yeah, cry, hah – pathetic dumb baby.”

“Hate you,” you bite his shoulder, but he fucks you harder, losing it, desperate and needy – a whimper in your ear that pushes you over the edge. “Hate you so m-much.”

“Fuck,” he’s kissing you again, hands folding you in half, then gripping your face, sweat dripping on your skin. “You’re never leaving me, I’ll fill you so much, so much cum you’ll drip me at work.”

“Sukuna…”

“Give you so many fucking reasons to stay, fucking keep you to myself,” you’re lost in his insanity, losing all sense of preservation for his thick cock and the way he looks at you. “You’re mine.”

“Fuck it, just… let me cum…” He pauses at that, lips parted. “Please.”

“Begging? Look at you, perfect fucking whore for me only, only want my cum inside you, huh? Fill you till you’re begging me to stop.”

“Shut up and – f-fuck, fu-uckkk,” your orgasm ruins you, you’ve never felt whatever the fuck the psycho is doing, and he just fucks you through it, hands pressing so hard against your head you think you’ll break.

“Can you take it all? Greedy cunt is fuckin’ begging for it, feel her milking me, she knows who she belongs to at least,” you’re getting fucked from one orgasm into another, the room spinning, making you dizzy as he works you over and over. “Fuck you stupid, huh? Stupid little whore.”

“Fuck you, hate you. Dumb fucking… psycho…” You’re getting filled then as he moans while you insult him, while you’re digging your nails so hard he bleeds, kissing you desperately as his cum floods your cunt.

“Feel you, so fucking good, g-god, she’s all mine,” you’re sobbing, shaking underneath him, all just making him want you again. “She is, you are. Not going anywhere.”

“Just once,” you mumble, he chuckles then, yanking out of you, dripping with all the fluids from you two, it’s filthy to see. He grabs a pillow, flipping you onto your stomach and slipping it right under your hips then. “Sukuna, f-fuck are you doing back there?”

“God, look at her, she took me s’fucking good, she took so much,” he is spreading your legs while he watches your cunt pushing out his pearly white cum, spreading your ass wide so he can look. “Arch that ass up for me.”

“Again!? I- S-sukuna ngh,” you feel it then, his tongue lapping from your clit all the way to your little unused hole. “What are you d-doing?”

“Gonna taste us together, god your pussy is so slutty, mnh.” Sukuna laps his long tongue deep in your cunt now, scooping out his own cum, while his hands take over your ass, gripping it and dragging it on his face.

“Are you l-licking… my… your… oh, there, shit there,” you’re arching more now, he dives deeper, cleaning every inch of your cunt with his mouth, tongue flicking deep inside and scooping more that pours. “Cumming!”

He pulls back now, laying prone over you with his long limbs, tattooed hands pressing your lips apart. “Open, taste us.”

You do just that without argument, letting Ryomen Sukuna spit in your mouth, swapping the mix of both of your cum with dripping saliva. “You’re freaky as fuck, S-sukuna.”

“You haven’t seen shit yet, I’m not taking it easy this time,” you go to ask what the fuck he means when he shoves all of the nine inches he can in your cunt, wrapping his fingers around your throat. “Gonna fill you again, and again, and again, till you learn who the fuck you belong to.”

*****

You’re blinking as the sun shines in the big windows of Sukuna’s room, feeling something wet against your tummy. You gasp and lift the sheets, watching as Sukuna’s pink haired head sinks lower. “What’re you doing, you weird fucking freak!?”

“Gonna have you a pathetic mess, hurt your little cunt, bet she’s sore,” he bites your clit now, you jerk, yanking on his hair, shaking when he slides two fingers in, eyeing you with a lazy smirk and bright ruby eyes. “Aw, poor little pussy.”

“I s-said once…”

“I came inside you five times,” he spreads your pussy lips now, moaning. “Still some leaking out of your beat up cunt, too.”

“D-did you record that all? Gonna jerk off to it?” You gasp as he flicks his demon tongue on your sore clit, sinking another finger inside and stretching you out so much you’re jerking back.

“Ah - ah, don’t run, brat. You’re all mine, belong to me,” he flicks his tongue again, after fucking you stupid all night, your brain is still fucked. “You’re never leaving me.”

“Y-yes I will.”

He smiles against your skin, letting you think that for now, before making sure to put more cum inside you, fuck you even dumber, until you don’t even remember what you were saying, what you were thinking. When you’re passing out, he’s still inside you, chuckling at how cute you are, tears drying on your cheeks, your lips swollen, and he knows you’re not going anywhere.

Surprise, she isn't going anywhre :')

Comments/rbs very appreciated if you enjoy!!

Kofi link if you wanna buy me a glass of wine 🍷

[ureveryday-reader]

FEELING FROGGY? LEAP!

───✦ FROG!TOJI X READER

♡ summary: he may not be some prince charming, but toji was determined to show you there are other ways to reach a happy ending.

♡ wc: 7k

♡ content warnings: fem! camgirl! reader, frog! toji, teasing (unintentionally), filming, brief mentions of starving (he is trying to switch back by starving himself), crèàmpies, toy usage, brief mentions of murder, jealousy, manhandling, running from it, choking, toji has a big d, fìngering, rough sex, tummy bulges, r is squeamish, overstim, petnames, praise, unprotected, multiple rounds, possessive elements, reverse cowgirl, backshōts, size difference, spánking, hair pulling, sqúriting, body worship, pwp, p slapping.

♡ a/n: apothecary diaries mention (empire one too lwk)

He was going to kill that bitch who put him in this predicament and then he was going to get you for actually thinking he was a frog and keeping him as your pet.

Unfortunately, Toji was transformed into a frog after fighting a sorcerer with a weird technique. They are no longer with us, but that's besides the point. Although the sorcerer is gone, he is going to kill the person who hired him for not telling him about that “small” technique. However, he will do that after collecting his check.

The biggest issue preventing him from getting his revenge was you, after finding him on your windowsill you collected him as a real frog. Coddling him, giving him food to eat, and making sure he didn't take a foot outside.

Those aren't even bad, if anything he could bask in the attention and free housing but unknowingly you have a terrible habit of teasing him.

He was so particularly frustrated both mentally and sexually.

It's torture, coming in from shopping or whatever you do outside, you undress at the door tossing your clothing into the hamper. Parading around the house in just your panties and bra or if he was lucky you would at least wear a shirt. Although it was a small relief, the shirt was thin as hell and you never wore a bra under so he could still see whatever was “hidden” underneath.

At night however was where his sanity was tested, in your bedroom he could hear the sounds of you streaming. At first, it sounds like those regular ones he saw on social media a few times until they would quickly shift into whatever perverted fantasy you wanted to reenact with your viewers. Even in his new form, his senses weren't dulled. He could hear each thrust, moan, and notification you got. Every few minutes you read one out letting the compliment go to your ego, thanking them, and teasing them on through the screen.

He has never seen you stream, fortunately, Toji doesn't think he would stay sane if he had to sit there and watch you get off. Perverts behind the screen begging to touch you or what they wanted to do to you didn't even compare to what he was thinking. Other than what he would do to the person who hired him, he made a promise to get you back for all the shit you were putting him through. With interest of course.

The issue was, Toji just had to figure out how the hell he was going to get out, or if he could. He tried starving himself to see if dying as a frog would transform him back, however realizing Toji’s suicidal mission you rushed him to the vet for a shot. Now you watched him eat, sitting in front of his terrarium. Occasionally you would eat with him, probably thinking it would make him feel better. In a way it did, he hasn't eaten with another person in years. It was a nice change but it would be infinitely better if he were in his human form.

“Jinshi? I'm home!” you cheered coming through the door with a bag from PetSmart, perhaps it was because he was a frog but the food wasn't half bad. Jinshi wasn't even his name but after seeing him you declared it instantly. He would much prefer to hear you screaming his actual name instead but he can work with this, for now. “I got you some more food, I hate touching it but if it's for you…” You pulled your face away from looking inside the bag.

“I was gone for so long, the cashier and I were talking, honestly kind of cute but I have a feeling he might recognize me.” you rambled, pulling out one of the bags full of bloodworms, with a heavily gloved hand and a big pair of tweezers you plucked a few out and dropped them in his habitat. Swiftly closing the bag tightly and putting the rest up into containers, you screamed loudly when one of them escaped.

“C’mon! Ugh, okay…” You tried hyping yourself up to pick up the worm off the ground. Even at its pace, you were somehow slower than it to capture it. If he were able to, he would've picked it up by now, maybe scare you with it, but still pick it up way faster than the 10 minutes it took you to. “Jinshi! I did it, did you see that?!” You were so happy that you even petted him a little bit from inside the terrarium.

He couldn't wait to get his hands on you. He was tempted to hop out and climb onto your hand knowing you would back out in fear, and finally make his grand escape. However, if he did do that, it wouldn't make his life easier. Then he would have to find somewhere else to live and it's not like he can do anything in the form he has taken now. Settling he gave you a ribbet as a reward for your bravery.

He would have to postpone your introduction to his cursed worm, if you would even see it. You can barely handle the small ones, this was closer to your size, you might pass out on the spot. You haven't gone screaming about ghosts, so he doubts it.

“Aww Jinshi, my sweet baby. I'm so happy I found you,” you said fondly, being extra gentle with his skin, even kissing the outside of the tank. Almost by instinct, he went to kiss it back but he couldn't so he stuck his tongue out and outlined the pink glossy imprint. It was the closest he was going to get to “kissing” you so he was going to take the opportunity.

Based on your insistent squealing, the act seemed to please you. What he didn't expect was tears to start falling from your pretty eyes, they were fat, coming down in laughter as you stretched your arms out to hug the tank.

“What would I do without you, Jinshi?” thoroughly happy you went into your room to begin your nightly escapades. Usually starting setup around sunset and continuing later in the night. He has never seen you go to work or even do something remote so he assumed you made a good amount from streaming.

“Hey guys, did you miss me? I surely missed you!” you greeted saying hello to the early birds. It was usually the same people, after a while he recognised some names but he didn't bother remembering them. “Digimonmaster66, thank you for the 5,000 coins!” Toji didn't know how much that was in real currency but the prick always started with that amount for every stream. Considering how happy you sounded when that notification came through, it had to be a substantial amount.

You usually spent the first 30 minutes or so talking to them about your day, sometimes mentioning that you had a frog. Today however you went into immense detail about Toji or “Jinshi” and how he just made you so happy. “He is so big for a frog-yes, I did name him after that!”

That was news to him, he didn't even know there was someone who inspired his new name. He remembers when you first saw him, completely and utterly terrified but then after a few glances that turned into long stares you opened your window. He only hopped in to see your reaction but instead of the fear he was sort of looking for, your eyes brightened up and closed the window behind him, effectively trapping the frog in your home.

He doesn't know what was going through your mind to keep a frog as a pet when you were scared of everything. Your trust in him was officially set when he ate a spider that found its way into your home, something in his mind was telling him to eat it. So he did not expect it to taste as good as it did. In that moment as he swallowed it you named him on the spot. “Jinshi, you saved me! I thought I would need to call my neighbor again,” you claimed, putting on your keys and coat, and placing him in a wet container, taking him to a pet store to get him things to get started with in his new home.

“Mmh you guys are so smart, just for that I think I'll get you guys a reward.” Your pitch was slower, a little more sexy as you thought of rewards for them. The real one who needed a reward was Toji, who would do you so much better than those twerps jacking off at the sight of your cleavage. They only got to see it when you turned the cameras on but him, but he got to see it every day. Just for him as you sat next to him by the window twirling a bit of your hair.

He has memorized almost every single pair of undergarments you owned, there were probably a few you weren't wearing out in your rotation but got to see them nonetheless.

“I have just the idea, brb.” you giggled, he could hear the rustling of clothing and zippers. By the time you were done, he could hear the vague sound of latex, maybe rubber? Whatever it was, it was squeaky. Hopping onto the bed you turned back on the cameras. “I saw this being requested in my inbox so much that I had to put it on to show you. I wasn't going to stream today but I got too excited.” he wants to see, shouldn't he get a reward too? Toji’s jealousy towards the audience only grew at each sweet moan he wished he could capture with his own lips, gasping as you described wanting to fondle their chests and show them ‘how good they were’ to you.

“Aww CursedCK thank you for the 6,000 coins, you see how happy you're making us.” You moaned, the nasty wet squelching he could only guess was you fingering yourself. The pace was slow, agonizingly slow, Toji would go faster. Piston his fingers so deep inside preparing you for his cock, watching you come undone beneath him. Make you scream louder than anyone else could, show you he is the only one to make you feel that way.

“You see how ready I am for you, I'm aching,” you whined, the bed rocking against the wall for a moment. There was silence for a bit until you let out a loud moan. “Mmhm, I couldn't wait any longer. You deserve it.” you giggled, the notifications went crazy one after another, barely milliseconds apart. That seemed to turn you on even more, whatever you were fucking yourself on was moving at a rapid speed, chasing your orgasm along with your audience.

“Fuck- so good, I'm so close.” Your voice was airy and light almost like you were asking. “Yes, yes! I want you inside, filling me till I can't go on anymore.” With a scream, you came. For most, the stream would end but today you were in a good mood, riding out the rest of your release, he could hear the sound of you pulling out what was inside. Catching your breath you thanked your viewers for helping you.

“40,000 coins, that's a lot. Thank you so much. I think I might cum again if I keep looking at it.” Considering you're the same person who almost cried when you saw Toji climbing the tank to escape, he thinks you just might. When he leaves he will need to look up the conversions, if it's good enough to make you nut then he might need to switch professions.

“Don't worry, I have something else for you.” Shutting off the cameras you walked into the living room, you dragged a large machine into your bedroom struggling just a bit to get off the ground. Muttering that you didn't want to scratch the floors. Toji could have sworn his brain short-circuited a little, you were wearing a leather set, similar to a dominatrix. Long black thigh-high boots and gloves even had the bunny mask sitting on top of your head. When you bent over for the machine he could see the slightest sliver of a jeweled plug in your ass.

Could it really get worse than this? Hearing you get off on a fucking machine, or what he assumes based on the sound and your comments about finally getting fucked from behind after so long. It was insufferable to listen to. Even worse that he couldn't see and everyone else could.

“I-I think we broke a record today, I feel a bit numb.” You were still catching your breath, the comments were getting spammed so those who wanted to get noticed would opt for sending coins instead. “Thank you DigimonMaster66 for being my top gifter today, I can't wait to show you how you've made me.” saying your final goodbyes closing the stream accepting the last few coins.

When you walked out of the room your legs were slick with fluids, Toji wanted to stick his tongue out and clean up the mess you made. If it weren't for this dreaded form.

As always you wore an old shirt with some panties, different from the leather lingerie set. They were still nice, more put on for comfort than to show off. “Jinshi? I thought you were asleep, baby?” Noticing he was still awake you made your way over to a bottle of water and vitamins in your hands. “I'm starting to think you have insomnia…Maybe I should get you checked out again?” Your voice was laced with concern rubbing on the tank like you were caressing his face. He would play nice for now, the veterinarian was a whole new hell unto itself.

“I'm not very tired myself, let's watch a movie, ‘kay.” You smiled plopping down on the couch as you scrolled through some of the movies. You gasped at one of the selections clicking on it immediately, “This used to be my favorite!” hurriedly clicking play the introduction scene started.

Toji didn't watch movies so as the animation played he wasn't familiar. If anything he was more interested in the plot, kissing a frog to break the curse. He didn't even think of that as an option to break out of this body. As ridiculous as it sounded he was tempted to test the theory.

All he needed to do was wait for his plan to be set in motion.

“Look Jinshi, isn't that so romantic? I was Tiana for 3 years straight for Halloween, maybe I can do it again this year. You can be my Naveen!” you giggled watching the marriage scene unfold.

“Ribbet.”

“I can even get you an outfit if they have that for frogs, would you like that?”

“Ribbet.”

“Okay, I'll stop talking.” The excitement was already boiling as you continued to watch the end of the movie, and by the last 10 minutes, you were out like a light. Snoring lightly on the cushions, the television playing similar movies.

The following days went by as usual but instead of streaming every other night like you would before now you were going out. Coming back hungover or not coming back at all. It was a stark difference from how you were previously, it's not like you were neglecting him, his food came on the regular, and his habitat was cleaned routinely. However, he couldn't help but feel like something was going on.

His suspicions were confirmed when you left earlier in the day dressing up all pretty even curling your hair and leaving out. You mentioned something about “this one might work out,” before leaving but he didn't quite know the context. The lock turned, but there wasn't one voice like usual, rather there were two. Yours he recognised but the other was unfamiliar, a man's voice for sure, his face however, was a little, but he couldn't remember where.

“Mmh- at least wait till we get inside,” you laughed, pulling him down to kiss you further. The man gripped you closer, feeling on your ass molding the fat within his fingers. You yelped as he lifted you from the ground, laying your body on the empty dining room table. He was sure to take his shoes off but they were scattered and not neatly put like the rest. How impatient.

As much as he wanted to, he couldn't take his eyes off the sight. It was unbearable but when else would he get to see you like this, it only became too much when you started moaning the other man's name. “Jeremiah,” you whined so sweetly.

No way you fucking a guy named Jeremiah. Was this your type, medium men who can't even hold you up for more than a minute? He couldn't watch this anymore, actually, he never wanted to see it again unless it was him enjoying the way your lips moved to say his name.

“Ribbet!” It was a lot louder than any of the other ones he had ever given you. It grabbed your attention immediately, your head snapping in his direction.

“Jinshi I'm sorry, I'll be quiet, okay?” you smiled, it was a little lopsided but with Toji’s presence now aware by the couple. You led Jeremiah to your bedroom. When he thought it couldn't get any worse, it did. Insanely so. Jeremiah lasted a total of 2 minutes and 2 seconds, before tapping out. No foreplay, rubbed your clit a little bit, before shoving his dick in. When he finally pulled out, he offered to cum on your stomach but you immediately declined.

If your streams were anything to go off of you were loud, you like to talk. But now you were quiet giving him a few noises, adjacent to sighs. It was a sad listen, you seemed so excited to. Toji could do you so much better. Watching the guy leave high and proud irked the fuck out of Toji— he remembered his face just in case he needed to add him to his shit list when he got out. It was the most pathetic fuck he's ever seen (heard).

Once you shut the door behind the guy making sure it was loud enough to send a message you hurried back to your room and gave yourself what you needed. Fucking yourself on a vibrator, it seemed to do the job. Orgasming within a few minutes, not loud but a lot louder than you were with Jeremiah.

Your mood for the morning after was shitty at best. A scowl was left on your face and you had a straight attitude. Feeding him a few bugs not even flinching when one tried to crawl out, even though they knew not to fuck with you right now. “We are never going to that PetSmart again.” Then it clicked, that's where Toji recognised him. The cashier there, his face was so plain no wonder it didn't ring a bell.

It was pitiable watching you mope around the apartment even wearing shorts, they must have really pissed you off. One thing he also noticed is that when you were done feeding him you didn't close the lip all the way leaving a small gap that he could escape out of.

Making your way back into your room playing a show on your surround sounds probably just letting it become background noise he could hear the slightest sound of you snoring. As much as it sucks to make his grand escape while you were grieving your crush, he had things he needed to do. Yours would be temporary, his condition however may become permanent if he doesn't do something about it.

It was easy getting out, his feet and hands easily gripped onto the glass as he climbed out. It felt weird being out of the cage for so long, it was freeing. This would be his first time coming this far into the home, sneaking under the door into your room where you slept. Approaching your body you had drool spilling out in the corner of your mouth, even ditched the shorts. He had to make this quick if it failed then he was fucked.

Landing on your chin, he brought his mouth to your sleeping one, not much he could really expect to touch lips. He stood there for a minute or so, but nothing happened. He didn't feel any different, no magical sparkles transforming him. Nothing.

He fell on your lower face, and he would be stuck like this. It was hopeless, he would need to get used to listening to you talking about getting fucked or getting fucked for the rest of his life. At least it was free, not a dime coming out of his account- his account. He still didn't get paid, that asshat is running amok thinking Toji let him off scotch free with a free hit.

He was so fucked.

He laughed to himself thinking about how he got himself here. At least it felt nice being skin to skin with you finally, he hates being so slimy all the time, now he got some air to dry up. He was just going to lie there until you realised and would take him back to the tank, maybe you would bring him into your room at some point. Until you started groaning, and struggling underneath him.

“Get off, you're heavy,” you grumbled, still half asleep. Toji obeyed, moving over onto the other side, his body weight making the bed bounce a bit on his side. Wait, body weight! Snapping up, Toji looked at his hands, flesh, veins, and actual fingers. It worked! Quickly grabbing clothing from your drawers, everything being way too small but he couldn't walk out bare naked, he would find himself in a different kind of jail. He really didn't feel like dealing with cops right now either.

The moonlight graced his skin in its glow, and he felt renewed. He was a man on a mission, first, he needed to pay a visit to that geezer who hired him in the first place.

___

10 days

Jinshi has been gone for 10 days now. You've tried searching everywhere for him, but nothing. You were heartbroken, you thought you were finally getting somewhere with him. He was hostile the first few weeks but he eventually started letting you touch him. Now he is gone, maybe forever.

You still kept his food, in hopes he would come back eventually but then you hated having to look at it. All it reminded you of was Jinshi. You could only hope he was doing good, finding happiness elsewhere if it wasn't with you. You hadn't streamed since he left, the vibe just wasn't right and to be honest, you were getting quite bored with your current content. Scrolling through your emails you saw brand offers and product testing but a certain email caught your eye. Another creator was offering to partner with you on each other's streams.

You hadn't thought about having someone else on stream with you, perhaps that's what you needed. The streamer wasn't exactly your type, he reminded you of Jeremiah, fucking bitch. Just thinking about him made you mad, he hyped himself up only to do that shit to you. You thought it was cute how he watched your streams, but it became too much when that was all he talked about. Couldn't even fuck you right. A tried and true, two-pump chump.

It had been even quieter without Jinshi, although he was very quiet, his presence filled the empty space of your large penthouse. It got lonely sometimes, with no one else to talk to you decided perhaps it was time to say hello to your awaiting viewers.

Setting up you only wore a simple tank top and some shorts, nothing dressed up. They want you to take it off anyway, not that you were mad. Going naked in your apartment was normal, you only wore a shirt sometimes because you felt bad for Jinshi having to watch you naked. The stream started up, your regulars coming in fast. Streaming fed your ego graciously making you feel less lonely than you were.

“Hey, did you miss me? Oh, thank you DigimonMaster66 for the 5,000 coins." Some comments were asking how you were doing other more graphic things about wanting you to take your clothes off. “You always know how to make my day!” The guy was a whale spending almost 8 thousand dollars per stream and that doesn't even include private tips and chats. The most was 15 thousand and that was a few months ago when you cosplayed as his favorite digimon on stream. He was truly your favorite, others tried topping him but no one could.

“Oh, welcome SSKiller0T, oh…oh my gosh. Thank you!” Your mood was instantly improved when you received the 20,000 coins, someone knows how to enter a stream. Today you didn't plan on doing anything, just talking, viewers who have seen you before understood, others maybe not.

“Actually I am pretty sad. Jinshi, my frog, ran away. I am just so upset. We were doing so well, and even worse this guy I was talking to couldn't satisfy me.” You were leaning way into this bit, being dramatic enough for your viewers to feel bad. If they were still going to jerk off, you might as well give them a voice to do it with. “You ruined me for everyone else, now I can only get off with you.” That rubbed your viewers the right way because the gifts were coming in, even getting a notification that someone brought an item off your wishlist. If you were going to grieve the loss of your pet then at least you could profit off of it, maybe use it to hire a team to find him.

“SSKiller0T, you're really going in it today. Who knows, if you do good I might add you to my sweethearts list." He was constantly donating, making his presence known. Even your top-gifter was noticing and was trying to “up” him in tips. Who were you to stop friendly competition, all it was doing was filling your pockets.

You let them battle it out while you spoke to your other viewers, asking about them and what they would like to see. Knowing it would most likely be the next stream. All of it was clique stuff, they usually said this stuff. “Actually I was thinking of starting an OnlyFans, so then you guys could see me and not miss a stream. I will still stream but it's good for people who are in a different time zone or working hard for me.” It was just a suggestion but the comments seemed to enjoy the idea immensely. Flooding your comments with yeses.

“Okay then sounds like a deal then, I'll let you go now. I have work to do!” Waving goodbye you need the stream quickly. As expected DigimonMaster66 was your top-gifted but only by 1 coin. How petty. However, the newcomer came a close second. They were 10,000 coins away from breaking your 70,000 coin record. Not too shabby for someone who has joined your stream for the first time. Hopefully, he would be back in the next stream.

Getting to work you spent the next few days filming content for your new OnlyFans. Most of it would be uploaded so you wanted at least a week's worth of content for the page. It felt different not filming in front of an audience, hopefully, they would like the change.

____

You really missed Jinshi, out of habit you would let your presence be known when coming home but there was no one else with you anymore. “Jinshi I'm home!” you said in vain. Sometimes you hoped to see him where you found him on your windowsill. Unfortunately for you, there was a weirdo following you outside the shop, you noticed him in the store following you out. You picked up your pace debating calling an Uber but you didn't want this freak following you. Staying in the busier streets hoping that would deter him but he came up to tap your shoulder.

You yelped in fear, your hand instinctively reaching for the pepper spray. “It's you, I knew you looked familiar but it really is you!” The man looked at you with a relieved look on his face as he grabbed you by the shoulders. Pulling the spray out of your bag you had it almost out till a man came up behind him pulling him away from you.

“Watch the fuck out, loser.” The man was much bigger than the guy who approached you. Pushing him out of the way, he looked between you and the staring passersby he ran away in the opposite direction. “You alright?” your mysterious savior asked, bringing his attention to you.

You nodded, thanking him profusely for helping you. Although you planned on peppering the fuck out of the asshole either method worked. At least one saves you a trip to the police station. He was hot, like really hot. Offering to walk you back home you accepted letting the handsome stranger walk with you home.

Other than his pretty face he wasn't a half bad talker either, listening to you rant about anything. It was nice, and reminded you of your sweet Jinshi. The scar on the corner of his lip garnered your attention making you wonder what could have happened. It was a little sexy, made you wonder what it would feel like on your lips.

His presence was comforting and familiar even though you had never met him before. You're sure you would remember him if you'd met before. When he laughed at your jokes your face would heat up, the arm he had on the small of your back didn't help much either.

At your apartment you expected him to leave at the entrance but he followed you upstairs, maybe you should have stopped him but at your door, you shyly kissed him on the corner of his mouth where his scar was at. You didn't want your interaction to end here. Something about him made you want to invite him in, even if he was a stranger you'd never met before.

No risk, no reward, right?

“You're so tight, baby, no one's treating you like you should, are they?” he cooed fingers curled up inside your walls. Leading him into your apartment you expected him to get straight to business for a quick fuck but after spending so much time running his mouth up and down your body he was being patient.

You shook your head, your back arching off of the bed as the pads of his fingers pressed into the g-spot. Once finding it he didn't leave it alone, pistoning his fingers inside of you at a delicious speed. His palm is flat against your clit making you closer and closer. Bringing his mouth to your nipple, twirling his tongue around the bud. “Doing so good, don't cum just yet,” he ordered taking as much of your tit into his mouth. You nodded a little out of it, all you needed was to cum.

Rolling your hips to meet his fingers, he smelled good. If he is this good at fingering you couldn't wait to get him inside of you, put Jeremiah to shame with his sorry ass. Changing your position he brought you to his lap, your body facing the already set up camera. You don't remember leaving it there, hopefully your guest didn't mind.

“Password?”

“What?” You focused your eyes on his hands opening your laptop, opening it right to your streaming page. “How-” you yelped as his fingers hit that sweet spot again. He repeated himself again, sucking hickies on your neck. Naturally, you rocked your ass against his hard cock, the imprint was big. You wanted it inside.

“I thought you missed me? Don't want to show your viewers your sweet frog anymore?” Like ice dumped on your head, you froze up, snapping your head behind you towards him. He had a smug grin on his face, the scar following his lips.

“What a-are you talking about?” trying to form coherent sentences but it just felt so good. He went on to describe things you only told to the frog going into graphic detail about your daily life, how you talked to him, and how terrible your last hookup went. It was ridiculous, the man with his fingers 6 inches deep inside of you was your pet, your frog that ran away. “That makes no sense.”

“Don't worry about it, we have all the time in the world for that baby,” he said, kissing your cheek, like you were under a trance you shakily typed in your password. The page opened to your dashboard. Navigating to set up for streaming, your camera was connected making it easier to click play. “You read my mind, good job.” he rewarded you by letting you ride up that high you were chasing. Walls clutching around his digits as you came.

“Say hi,” still intoxicated from your orgasm you wave lazily to the camera. The comments were flooded especially with the abrupt stream. Spreading his fingers toward the camera gooey clear fluids coating them, he sucked them dry groaning at the taste.

You exceeded his expectations greatly, all the times he imagined what you would taste like didn't compare to this. It was addictive. It was almost worth being stuck as a frog for a month and a half. Almost worth watching sorry losers jerk off to what they wish they could have. He simply wanted to show them what they would never have. You cried when his hand came down to lightly slap your pussy bringing your attention back to him, the gifts were already coming in. The loud chimes are adding to your arousal.

“You see how wet she got, soaking my pants.” There was a large dark spot where your cunt leaked, the comments were crazy asking for a close-up or begging to edge you. “No, no, she needs to be filled up.” He shook his head, lifting your body so that he could take off his sweatpants. Nodding you pressed a finger to your hole a string of clear fluid followed. Holding you up the tip kissed your clit as he rubbed it across. He was soaking his cock with your lips, you whined each time he missed the entrance dragging out each action.

“Fill me up, please.”

“Toji,” he whispered in your ear, the head of his cock slamming into you. You gasped for air holding onto whatever to keep you grounded. It did take long for him to bottom out. His arms were still holding you up, keeping you from getting all of him. Giving just enough time to adjust he lifted you up thrusting back inside. His calloused finger rubbed your clit making the filthy squelching in the room even louder.

It was too much, drool was starting to fall from your mouth. Unable to close your mouth to be quiet, if your neighbors didn't hear you before they were definitely hearing you now. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, each thrust he would go deep till you could see the faint bulge of his cock poking through your stomach.

“You see that, all me right there,” you screamed when his palm pressed down on it as he continued fucking you dumb. Whatever he did to turn back you wished he had done it earlier, all this time with him and you were missing out on dick like this.

Feeling that familiar coil grow in your core, you kissed Toji's chin, which was soft. Hickies started to bloom in the places you sucked at, leaving your own mark on him. Who knows if he runs away again?

Shattering your body leaned forward your toes curling inwards. “S-slow down.” You bit your lip, his pace didn't slow chasing his own orgasm. You tried to push back but his stronghold on you prevented you from doing so.

“Where ya’ want it?” he gripped your thighs, drawing sweet moans from your throat. His voice was low and raspy, pulling you further into him.

“You did say you needed to fill me up,” you tried holding on feeling another orgasm coming on. “Don't go back on your word.” he let out a low grunt one arm taking both of your legs to hold you up. Grabbing you by the cheeks squishing them roughly, forcing you to look into your laptop and the scene.

You almost forgot about your audience, drowning out the notifications too distracted by Toji.

Slamming you down on his cock he moaned loudly into your neck his seed painting your walls white. Twitching you hadn't even realized you came, the sheets below you thoroughly soaked in your release. Even the laptop screen was wet.

Lifting your head up making you look straight into the camera. Seed leaking onto the sheets, and your eyes rolled in the back of your head. “Sorry ass Jeremiah and Digi- whatever the fuck his corny ass name is, wish they had you like this,” he growled stuffing his cock impossibly deeper.

“You do, you do Toji,” you yelped, looking toward the laptop at him, that alone was making him get hard again.

“That's right.” he grinned, biting your neck, there was a red mark, any harder it would've drawn blood. It hurt like a bitch but somehow you didn't mind it. Even after insulting your top gifter, a tip came in from DigimonMaster66. “You don't remember your manners now?”

“Thank you, D-DigimonMaster66!”

“That's my girl, now bend over, gotta make up for all those times you teased me.”

Roughly pushing your head into the mattress with an oof, not one did his cock leave your insides. Sucking him back in each time his hips even threatened to leave you. In your bliss, you didn't hear him say something to you earning a hard slap on the ass.

His hand left a red handprint on your left ass cheek, burning substantially. “You like that?”

Slap!

“Don't just nod, let me hear you.”

“Yes,” you choked out your hands reaching for the edge of the bed for balance. The sheet was starting to come off, not giving you much grip on it. “I love it!”

Rubbing his hand up your spine, feeling each ridge. Toji pulled out, cock wet in your mixed fluids, he rubbed it against your ass smearing the liquids. Your hole clenched around nothing, the loss of his dick making you whine. Arching your back deeper, looking back at him, he was admiring his work. Marveling at your wrecked hole.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer-” pulling you by the hair, so your face was in frame. He was too tall so it only showed his traps and below. Thrusting back into you, not giving you a chance to breathe. His thrusts were hard, the skin to skin echoing throughout the room. The force rocked your body forward.

“Fuckin- attitude.” Letting your hair go you tried pulling back from his hips but he grabbed your neck. Similar to a warning his hand only sat that daring you, ‘run from it and watch what happens.’ Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, it was all so much. You would have never thought Toji would be so rough in bed, maybe it was your punishment for bringing another man over. To be fair you thought he was just a really cute frog, not a really hot guy who happened to be turned into a frog.

“Smart ass mouth of yours, suck.” Opening your mouth wide he stuck two on his fingers in your mouth. Mimicking how you would around his cock you took them as deep as he would allow. He groaned, throwing his head slightly back as you moaned around his digits. “Eyes up, princess.”

Looking back at the camera, you were sure you looked a mess, much different than how you started earlier. Tear-stained cheeks, running mascara, hair messy from his rough handling, and lip-bitten lips. Your audience was loving it though, probably the most wrecked they have ever seen you. “Oh- don't stop, yes there, oh my god.” You cried his fingers releasing from your mouth to let you breathe. His balls slapping at your clit, was the perfect combination to your euphoria.

His grip on your throat tightened, restricting some of your airway, and your eyes were starting to roll back no matter how much you tried to keep your eyes on the camera. It was too good, you felt like you were losing your mind.

Your body jerked instinctively pulling away from cock when you came, it earned you a slap on the ass making you cum even harder. “T-toji, too much,” you begged in choked sobs. Your pussy was becoming numb and the constant stimulation was overwhelming.

“I'm almost there, hold on just a bit longer,” he said sweetly, removing his hand from your throat to your hips. His controlled thrusts turned erratic as he chased his orgasm, you were definitely going to have bruises by the morning but they would be so worth it.

With a loud groan, he came inside you. He stayed inside for a moment before pulling out, cum dripping out of your hole. You shivered at the sensation, your knees were starting to give out so you lay flat on your stomach.

Rubbing on the globes of your ass, you could feel Toji getting hard, again?! What the hell is with his stamina? Still catching your breath you turned over a bit to look at him, ugh he was so sexy.

“Give me a minute,” your refractory period wasn't that long but you still needed a moment to get feeling back in your lower half.

“Take your time, like I said we have all the time in the world.”

♡ gojopied ©2025 do not copy, edit, plagiarize, put into AI, repost, or translate any of my work.

[ureveryday-reader]

reblog if you're corny and insufferable

[ureveryday-reader]

Me searching x reader fics after gaining a new fictional crush after watching a movie/serie

[ureveryday-reader]

made this in protest of censorship

[ureveryday-reader]

fucked up kinks the jjk men are into, 18+

satoru gojo—corruption kink. power imbalance. filming you. > this man wants to ruin you psychologically. he gets off on knowing you were once innocent, once someone ‘good’, until he touched you. he’d whisper, “you were such a sweet girl before me, huh? bet no one ever made you cry from just one finger.” he records everything. not just the sex, but the after. the red-rimmed eyes. the broken moans. you, whispering his name like a prayer. and he watches it back, over and over, while he fists his cock to the memory. he doesn’t even try to hide it. “you look better when you’re mine. bruised up and fucked out. what, you embarrassed now, baby?”

suguru geto—religious kink. mind control. absolute worship. > exorcism sex. call him father geto and mean it. geto would have you kneeling in prayer, hands clasped together as he unzips his pants behind you. his voice low, dangerous. “confess to me, little lamb.” but his darkest desire? to make you addicted to him, like a cult. he wants you brainwashed, whispering his name when you touch yourself, even in your dreams. “no one else can save you. you belong to me now. body, mind, and soul.” he’d chant curses into your skin while fucking you, like a blessing and a curse in one.

toji fushiguro—somnophilia. breath play. predator-prey. > toji is the monster in your bed. he wants you limp, soft, unaware. the idea of you passed out, or too overstimulated to think, makes him feral. sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night, sees your thighs twitching under the covers and just helps himself. “don’t worry, baby. i’ll put you back to sleep after i’m done using you.” he also loves the sound of your breath stuttering when he tightens a hand around your throat. just until you panic a little. just until he sees that sparkle in your teary eyes.

choso kamo—blood kink. knife play. emotional sadism. > choso wants to see you bleed. he’s not just into rough sex, he wants the visuals. the dripping red. the trembling lips. he’ll suck on your cuts. lick your blood off his fingers and moan. he’ll eat your cunt on your period. and if you cry? that’s his trigger. “you’re so pretty when you’re scared. it’s okay. i’ll kiss it better after.” he’ll make you love the pain. he’ll praise you while dragging the edge of a blade over your thigh, saying “good girl, taking it so well for me.”

sukuna—humiliation. overstimulation. body horror. > sukuna doesn’t just want to fuck you, he wants to ruin your identity. multiple hands. multiple mouths. cursed energy that makes every orgasm feel like your brain is short-circuiting. he’ll fuck you until you don’t remember your name. until you’re sobbing, chanting his, not even knowing how many times you’ve come.“you’re not a person anymore. just a hole for me. say thank you.” he makes you beg to be degraded. makes you thank him for wrecking you. and you do, every time.

kento nanami—voice kink. formal degradation. slow, sinister control. > you thought nanami was the safe one. the gentle dom. think again. his kink? making you degrade yourself with perfect diction. he’ll stay clothed while you kneel naked, voice calm and clinical. “repeat what i just said. slower. i want to hear you say you’re nothing but a filthy, needy slut who exists to serve me.” and if you stutter? he starts again. he doesn’t yell. he whispers the filthiest things in a quiet, measured tone. and somehow, that’s so much worse.

[ureveryday-reader]

comic about driving i guess

[ureveryday-reader]

*scrolling tumblr* hmmm. i agree with the sentiment of this post, but the phrasing feels off to me. it doesn’t really have that Reblog factor, you know? *scrolls* oh good, a post that just says “i jerk off till my penis scrweam” . i better reblog this

[ureveryday-reader]

⋆ .  CHOSO SMUT + N$FW AUDIO

ᅠᅠ ⎯⎯ ⠀ minors do not interact!

Overstimulated!Choso whose cock is twitching, brain melting, begging to stop cumming.

“It hurts…” he whimpers, thighs shaking, cock still twitching inside you. “I-I swear I can’t anymore…”

You squeeze around him tighter, seated to the base, a cruel smirk tugging at your lips. “Then why are you still so fucking hard, Choso?”

He moans, high-pitched and wrecked, eyes glossy. “I… I don’t know… ah—! F-fuck…”

You grind slowly, torturously, and feel him spasm again, cumming deep with a full-body shiver.

“That’s it, baby,” you whisper against his ear. “Giving me every last drop, huh?”

Choso sobs, limp and sweaty, but still hard inside you. You clench again. He cries.

“P-please… f-fuck—God... I’m begging you…”

You laugh.

“God’s not here, sweetheart. Just me. And I want more.”

ᅠ ᅠᅠ ᅠᅠ© mahgyu | don't copy or translate.

[ureveryday-reader]

THIS IS EVERYTHING I COULDVE EVER ASKED FOR

[ureveryday-reader]

WEAK HERO BOYS... having to undress for you! to heal them of their wounds! (ahem)

Includes ☆ミ Yeon sieoun, Ahn suho, Oh beomsok, Park humin, Go hyuntak, Seo juntae

Contains : mentions of injuries(bruising/open wound(briefly!!)), a little angsty if you squint real hard, otherwise fluffy and cute!! Somewhat confirmed romantic!feelings/relationship in this!!

a/n: I am #onaroll!!! I'm so inspired and motivated to write bc of this show(^.^)

Yeon sieoun..

would NAWT let you touch him with a ten foot pole,unless you were dating..! And lowkey even then, he'd be super shy. Maybe aloof and unaware from the outside but on the inside he yearns for you like he's dehydrated in the desert and you're the only source of water left.

So when you tell him that the wound, BENEATH, his shirt needs to be taken care of and that he needs to undress or at least lift it up to be inspected by YOU.. he's a little hesitant!

“[Name], it's fine you really–”

“No, it's fine! Don't be shy now, just lift it a teensy bit if you're uncomfortable, kay?”

It takes a bit of coaxing for you to get him to comply. He's replaying his mother's lessons in his head to distract him from the pretty person kneeling before him, taking care of his injuries.

Ahn suho..

would be cheesy the entire time. Flirting and making jokes while he's all busted in the face and the rest of his body.

“You sure this isn't just an excuse to see me all shirtless and whatnot?” To which you respond by pinching his side, where a bruise has already formed. “AHTAHTAHT!!! KAY SORRY–”

Of course he finds it endearing that you care so much that you don't even bother looking at him in that way at such a moment. It's so close, and sweet. He's still making comments on how “cute you look,” or that "you're just as sweet as candy.”

Oh beomsok..

would tell you it's nothing to worry about. That he just had an incident last night and fumbled his way back to his room with the lights out. But with the way he winces every time he leans a certain way or turns the wrong way, you pull him aside to inspect him.

You find bruising all along his hips and stomach. He's ashamed and if you weren't dating, he'd probably push you away and tell you that you're a piece of shit. But he doesn't. Instead, he lets you take care of him. Letting your touch sooth him of his pain and let him quietly appreciate the care and love you have for him.

“Thanks…[name].” “Of course.”

Park humin..

Is absolutely LIVING FOR IT. unless we're talking about union!baku…(maybe another time..)

For now, he's cheesing extra hard. Telling you how good you are to him and how much he loves you so so SO much. Hell, he even took off his shirt without you telling him.(he wanted to flex on you because he's so hot and awesome) (his words)

But underneath all that he really is thankful. Thankful he has such an amazing partner that cares for him. And you know that underneath all the jokes and flirting, he's just a sap that expresses his love by being his goofy ahh loud self.

“You're such an angel [name]!"

“Oh hush.”

“No! Reall–”

“No seriously, you're moving too much, I can't patch you up right.”

Go hyuntak..

would stop right in his tracks if you asked him to strip for you.

“Huh” “i– your wounds?? I need to- you know??” “oh–”

Would be kinda dumbstruck, like wdym?? Haha?? Wdym he's gotta strip in case he was slashed in the chest by a pen by some psycho student and it just so happened to have poison on it or something..??

He's a little shy, but he puts on a tough guy act because he ain't no wuss.

Seo juntae..

IS a wuss.(jk he's not but for the sake of the fic he is) So it's rare he gets injured(BADLY)because he always stays on the sidelines.

“[name]! It's fine, im o–” “LIARLIARPANTSONFIRE!!!”

That shocks him enough for you to lift his shirt up a bit and check for anything too serious. He giggles at your action and submits to you, letting you inspect him. He doesn't mind it all too much, aside from your hands roaming his injuries(body) he's just telling you how silly you can be.

Reblogs/reposts are greatly appreciated!!

[ureveryday-reader]

I can’t fix him but I could fuck him.

[ureveryday-reader]

finding out making up whole detailed scenarios with fictional characters in your head is a “sign of mental illness”

[ureveryday-reader]

stop normalising everything I'm fine being a weird little freak actually

[ureveryday-reader]

TITLE: THE QUIET GIFT

Pairing: Yeon Si-eun x Y/N

Genre: Slow Burn • Romance • Drama • School Life • Hurt/Comfort

In a world full of noise, she never needed words to be heard. Y/N, a quiet, mute girl, admires top student Yeon Si-eun from afar—leaving silent gifts on his desk, hoping he'll one day notice. Cold, calculating, and fiercely independent, Si-eun doesn't care for connections… until something shifts. A quiet bond begins to form between them—born not from words, but from presence, persistence, and unspoken care.

CHAPTER 1, CHAPTER 2, CHAPTER 3, CHAPTER 4, CHAPTER 5, CHAPTER 6, CHAPTER 7, CHAPTER 8, CHAPTER 9, CHAPTER 10 (END)

Chapter 10: The Confession

The first hints of spring were barely beginning to show. A few brave blossoms peeked out from their winter hiding places, and the air was lighter, softer, though still brisk in the mornings. School uniforms were slightly less bundled, and graduation banners fluttered above the school gates. The semester was nearing its end.

Y/N stood at the back of the classroom as students chattered about their plans—college results, gap years, part-time jobs. The hallway buzzed with laughter and possibility.

She stayed silent, sketchpad hugged to her chest like a shield. But inside, something stirred. Something gentle but urgent. Her fingers trembled slightly, not from fear—but from the weight of a choice she had made days ago.

She had written him a letter.

Not a note. Not a doodle. Not a passing gesture tucked in his desk. But a real, honest, vulnerable letter. Her entire heart spilled in ink.

And today, she would leave it for him.

And disappear.

Because if she didn’t, she feared she might not be able to let go.

---

Si-eun arrived just after the bell, as always. His scarf was loosely wrapped, his bag hanging low over one shoulder. He looked around the classroom, sharp eyes scanning out of habit.

No sign of her.

He slid into his seat and paused. Something sat on the corner of his desk.

A white envelope.

Unmarked. No name. No drawings. Just stillness.

He stared at it for a moment.

Then picked it up.

He turned it over, then unfolded it slowly, his heart already beating too fast for his liking.

And he read.

---

Dear Si-eun,

I’ve always been afraid of being too much… or not enough. I don’t speak, but I feel everything. Maybe more than most.

This letter is everything I haven’t had the courage to say to you in person. So I’m writing it down, because you’ve always listened best in silence.

Thank you for letting me stay beside you. For not brushing me off. For letting me offer something without asking for anything in return. For learning the way I speak, without sound.

When I first saw you, I thought you were untouchable—distant. Strong. But not cold. Just… alone.

But then I saw you closer. And I saw someone who still hurt. Someone who didn’t ask to be strong, but carried everything anyway.

And I wanted to stay. Just to be near you. Just to remind you that you weren’t alone.

But maybe it’s selfish of me to have stayed this long.

Maybe I’ve grown too attached to something temporary. Maybe I hoped for something you never intended to give.

So… I think it’s time I stepped away.

I’m not leaving forever. I just need a day. A moment. To breathe.

Please don’t look for me today.

Let this letter be enough.

You mattered to me.

You still do.

And no matter what happens next—you always will.

Love,

Y/N

---

Si-eun’s fingers clenched around the letter. The shift in tone was like a cold wind to the chest.

Not a goodbye. But something too close to it.

His eyes flicked around the room again. Still no sign of her.

He stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly. Several classmates turned. Suho frowned.

“Hyung—what’s wrong?”

“She’s gone,” Si-eun muttered. “She’s really gone.”

Without another word, he stormed out.

---

The art room? Empty.

The library? Quiet, but no sign of her.

The rooftop? Cold and abandoned.

His pulse thundered in his ears. Every place she could’ve gone… she wasn’t there.

Why would she disappear after something so sincere?

He reached the courtyard and turned in slow circles, scanning the students passing by.

He clenched the letter in his pocket.

Please don’t look for me today.

But he couldn’t not look.

He had to find her.

Then he remembered.

---

The old music room.

He sprinted down the back stairwell and pushed the door open without hesitating.

There she was.

Kneeling on the floor by the dusty piano, sketchbook in her lap, pencil trembling in her hand. She didn’t look up right away—too caught in whatever emotion weighed her down.

“I read it,” he said softly.

She froze.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze.

Her eyes were red-rimmed. Her face looked like she’d been holding in tears.

He walked toward her slowly, like she might vanish if he moved too fast.

“You wrote that you didn’t want me to find you,” he said. “But you knew I would.”

Her fingers tightened around the sketchpad.

“You always show up,” he continued. “But this time, I needed to.”

He knelt in front of her and gently took the sketchbook from her hands.

“You stayed even when I didn’t deserve it,” he said. “So let me stay now.”

Her lips parted as if to form a word—but she only nodded, eyes welling again.

He reached for her hand, threading his fingers between hers.

“You talk louder than anyone else ever has,” he murmured. “And I hear you.”

Then, softly, he leaned forward.

Their lips met in a quiet, trembling kiss.

Not rushed. Not hesitant.

But certain.

He kissed her like the answer to a question they’d both been asking for months.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers.

“I’m not good with words,” he whispered, “but if you need someone to stay, I’m here.”

She mouthed back, You already are.

---

Outside, cherry blossoms had started to fall, the breeze dancing through the half-open window.

The world beyond was moving fast. New schools, new people, new challenges.

But here, in the quiet of a forgotten room, something had finally stopped running.

---

Graduation came quickly.

Uniforms were exchanged for caps and gowns. Photos were taken. Teachers gave speeches that blurred into background noise.

Si-eun stood near the gate, scarf tucked neatly around his neck. He looked like he always did—stoic, unreadable.

Until he saw her.

Y/N walked toward him, sketchbook in one hand, the other swinging at her side. Her gown swayed lightly in the breeze. She stopped in front of him, tilting her head.

He stepped forward and placed the scarf around her shoulders.

“You made this,” he said. “Now it’s yours again.”

She touched the fabric, eyes flicking between his and the familiar pattern she had woven months ago.

Then, slowly, he cupped her face.

“We’ll figure out what comes next,” he said. “But let’s not say goodbye.”

She nodded.

And this time, when he leaned in again—

He kissed her like he meant it.

No hesitation. No questions.

Just a quiet promise.

---

Later that night, Y/N returned home and tucked her sketchbook onto her shelf.

But one page stayed open.

The letter.

Not hidden.

But cherished.

Like him.

And all the quiet ways they had learned to love.

NOTE:

Thank you so much for reading until the very end.

This story was built slowly-just like Si-eun and Y/N's bond. From quiet glances to small gifts, from misunderstanding to warmth, I hope their journey touched you in some way.

Y/N may not have spoken a single word, but I wanted to show that sometimes, silence can speak the loudest. And that even someone like Si-eun, guarded and distant, can learn to open his heart.

Thank you for every moment you spent with them.

This might be the end of the main story...

But maybe not the end of everything.

See you in the special chapters. ♡

click here: SPECIAL CHAPTER

[ureveryday-reader]

Extra Credit - Megumi F. (2)

about. you're flunking all your subjects. He’s a virgin. So you strike a deal—he tutors you academically to win a girl he has a crush on, and you tutor him in sex, simple.

parts. chapter 03

pairings. nerd!megumi x popular girl!reader

words. 16.04k (long ahh)

content. virgin!megumi + experienced!reader, Explicit sexual content – dry humping, making out, handjob, semi-public tension, teasing, dirty talk, reader guiding Megumi through his first sexual experience. Power dynamics. Smug, experienced reader. Slight humiliation kink if you squint. Megumi is flushed and wrecked and learning. This is a part of an ongoing tutoring-for-sexual-experience fic. Reader is not kind. She is hot and she knows it. ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP I DON'T WANT NO SMOKE OR SOMEONE BEING A HATER IN MY COMMENTS.

notes. we're heating up yalllll!!! and please give me feedback, i need to know what you think...

The hallway was nearly dead. Final bell rung, students scattered like roaches, and the only sounds left were the squeaks of custodians’ shoes on waxed tile. You checked over your shoulder before stepping around the corner—god forbid anyone saw you doing what you were about to do. Megumi was at his locker. Alone. Perfect. You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, tapping the toe of your heel on the linoleum like it owed you money.

“So what time are we gonna start?” you asked. Megumi barely looked at you, sliding a textbook into the pit of his backpack like he’d been expecting this exact confrontation. “Tomorrow after lunch sounds good,” he muttered, shutting his locker.

You opened your mouth to agree—until he added, “Except Fridays. I’m not free Fridays.”

“Why not?” you asked, tilting your head. That made him stop. His hand tensed a little at the strap of his bag, and his jaw tightened.

“I said I’m not free,” he replied, curt and bitter. No explanation. No eye contact. Like the subject was shut down, dead, buried six feet under.

You blinked. “Okay... geez.”

There was an awkward silence before you straightened up. “Where?” Megumi finally looked at you.

Expression flat. “The library?” he offered—except he didn’t offer so much as mock your own question back at you in that deadpan way that made you want to strangle him.

You rolled your eyes so hard it nearly gave you a concussion. “No. Obviously not. Everyone’s at the library. You think I’m gonna sit there and let people see me get tutored? Fuck no.”

He tilted his head at you, slowly. “You asked me three times to tutor you,” he said, unimpressed, “and now you don’t want to be seen with me?”

You scoffed. “It’s not like that.” Except... it kind of was. You scratched at your nail polish. “I just... don’t want people knowing I need tutoring. That’s all.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie. You just left out the part where the worst thing imaginable would be the entire school finding out that you—the hot, put-together, braincell-deprived queen of hallway dominance—were being saved academically by none other than Megumi Fushiguro. The social suicide would be irreversible.

Megumi studied your face, and for a split second—tiny, barely-there—his expression softened. Then it disappeared. He sighed through his nose. “Your place?”

You nearly gagged. “No way in hell.” He raised a brow. “Then my place.” You hesitated. “...Will anyone be there?”

“My dad’s never home.” A pause, you weighed it, it was private. No foot traffic. No one you’d run into.

Fine.

“Okay. After school.”

“Fine,” he echoed, slinging his bag onto one shoulder.

“DM me the address.”

“DM you?” he asked, like the phrase itself was in a different language.

You blinked. “Yeah. On Instagram?”

“I don’t use Instagram.”

Your jaw dropped. “What the fuck are you made of?”

“I don’t need social media,” he replied, monotone, already turning away.

“Okay what about Snapchat?”

“No.”

“Tiktok?” He blinked at you like you just asked him if he sacrificed animals.

“Twitter?”

“No.”

“BeReal?”

“What even is that?”

You groaned dramatically and yanked a pen and notebook from your bag. “Oh my god, just write it down like we’re in the 1800s.” He took the pen and jotted something quick and sharp. You snatched the paper back and stared.

A home address. Somewhere in a quiet residential stretch near the edge of Tokyo. You didn’t recognize the neighborhood, but it didn’t seem too far. “5PM,” he said as he adjusted his glasses.

You looked up. “Don’t be late,” he added, voice flat. “Or I’m not answering the door.” And before you could reply, Megumi was already walking off, hoodie pulled over his head like he hadn’t just completely dictated your entire life schedule without blinking.

You stood there in the hallway, staring at the little piece of paper in your hand. Megumi Fushiguro’s house.

What the fuck were you getting yourself into?

You hated when the day dragged like this.

That sticky, post-class limbo where everyone slowly trickled toward freedom, chattering, laughing, slamming lockers, making plans. You walked through it all like you were underwater, like every sound passed through cotton. Your heels clicked against the tile, echoing faintly behind you as you made your way toward the parking lot.

Your mind wasn’t quiet. Not even close. No plan. No clarity. No relief.

Just the endless cycle of circling grades, your future slipping out of your manicured hands, and the ghosts of things you didn’t want to admit still mattered. Like him.

Noritoshi fucking Kamo.

You hadn’t seen him in days. Not really. Glances in hallways didn’t count. The silence since the breakup had felt like both punishment and relief. And yet— There he was.

Across the parking lot, heading toward his car. One hand holding his keys, his expression unreadable in that impossibly calm, infuriatingly composed way. The soft amber sun carved highlights in his hair, golden against his blazer, his steps easy. You didn’t know why your feet moved. Didn’t know why your voice rose above the wind.

“Noritoshi!” He stopped. Turned.

You instantly regretted it. And yet… you were already walking toward him. Too fast. Too desperate. He looked surprised at first, taken aback that you—of all people—were approaching him now. But then his expression softened. Slightly. That dangerous softness, the one that had always undone you.

“Can we talk?” you asked, crossing your arms in a pathetic attempt to look casual. You hated how breathless you sounded. A long pause.

He nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”

You stood there, face tilted up to him, the silence stretching like a blade between you. “I know we ended…roughly,” you said. You could still hear the screaming, the slamming door, the way his words punched into your ribs like fists.

Noritoshi didn’t say anything. Just watched. “But I… I miss you.”

The words came too fast. Too raw. You hated how small they made you sound. How you felt like you were trying to hold water in your hands, and it was slipping through every finger. He blinked once. His jaw twitched. “We can’t keep doing this, Y/N.”

Something in your chest cracked. “We’re not doing anything,” you replied quickly. “We’re—we’re just talking.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. Not angry. Not cruel. Just distant. Cautious. “This isn’t just talking and you know it.” You swallowed. “So what, you just pretend I don’t exist now?”

“I’m not pretending.” Your breath hitched. Your voice sharpened.

“No. No, you don’t get to just disappear from my life like I was some… phase. You knew everything about me. Every dark, fucked-up part I hide from everyone else—you knew it. You held it. You used it.” Noritoshi flinched at that, just barely.

“Don't do that,” he said quietly. “Don’t rewrite what we had.”

“I’m not!” you snapped, tears threatening behind your lash extensions. “I’m telling you that you knew me better than anyone ever has and now you’re acting like none of it matters. That I don’t matter.” You were spiraling now, grasping at anything to slow your own descent.

“This is just… this is just another fight, right?” you whispered. “It’s just a thing we’re doing again. We’ll be okay. We always come back. Right?”

“Y/N—” You stepped forward, voice barely stable. “Please, Toshi.”

You hadn’t said his name like that since before the last fight. The worst one. The one that ended it. His expression shattered—just a little. You could see the conflict, the guilt, the damn ache in his eyes. But his feet didn’t move.

“You know I’ll always care about you,” he said, quietly, slowly. “But we weren’t good for each other. Not in the end.”

“That’s bullshit,” you hissed. “You think I didn’t try? You think I didn’t bend until I broke just to keep us okay?”

“I know you did. And I know I didn’t always meet you halfway. But we’re toxic. You know that. You just don’t want to admit it.” You blinked. He wasn’t yelling, He didn’t need to. His voice was calm. Too calm. Final, and that was worse.

Because this time… he meant it. You felt yourself slipping—emotionally, physically, everything unspooling in front of him like you were standing naked and broken in public.

“I can’t do this again,” he said, a little softer now. “I won’t.”

And with that, he turned, opened his car door, and got inside. You stood there. Watching. Heart squeezed. Chest hollow. He drove off. And that was it.

You were still in the parking lot. Wind pushing your skirt. The sun dipping lower behind the trees. And you were just standing there like an idiot. No. Like a girl who loved someone who never really came back the way she needed him to. This time… this time, he really was gone, and for once, you didn’t chase. You just stood there and let yourself feel it.

Every. Last. Second. Of it.

You were five minutes late.

Exactly five.

And yet, despite all that tough talk and his passive-aggressive little warning about “not answering the door,” guess who still opened it?

That’s right. Mr. Rules-And-Rigidity himself.

Megumi Fushiguro stood at the threshold of his surprisingly clean, quiet, borderline nice house like the human equivalent of a sigh. Hoodie on. Glasses still in place. Sweatpants slung low and baggy on his hips—and okay, not to be dramatic or anything, but they definitely had one or two stains that looked like they’d been there since 2017.

Still, you were more concerned with the house. Not that you were gonna say it out loud, but…damn. It was actually kind of big. Not “my dad owns half of Shibuya” big, but “I have a stable home life and a functioning family” kind of big. Neat. Quiet. A little cold maybe, but it didn’t reek of Axe body spray or gamer chair sweat, which was already more than you could say for 90% of the male population.

He stepped aside with a small exhale that absolutely reeked of judgment.

“You’re late.”

You walked in without a word, brushing past him like you owned the place. “Door was still open.”

“So much for empty threats, huh?” you added under your breath.

His living room was muted, borderline minimalist. A coffee table sat in front of a long couch, already stacked with books, folders, and enough academic paperwork to give you a stress migraine just looking at it.

And there he was—Megumi, sitting on the couch like some moody little student council rep, flipping through pages with all the excitement of a dead fish.

“I talked to your teachers,” he said without looking at you. “Asked them what you’re missing. What you don’t turn in. What you fail at.”

You blinked. “Wait—you talked to them?”

He nodded, still focused on the paperwork.

“Like, you… went up to adults voluntarily and asked about me?”

“Yes,” he said, voice clipped, like he regretted it deeply.

You couldn’t help it—you snorted. “Kinda stalker behavior, Gumi.”

“Don’t call me that.”

You dropped your bag to the floor with a thud and finally flopped beside him on the couch, ignoring the fact that you were still in your uniform skirt and he was probably sitting way too close for comfort considering what this whole arrangement actually was.

“So,” you drawled, tugging your socks up lazily. “What’d they say?”

He turned a page. Didn’t even glance your way.

“Not good things. That’s for sure.”

You scoffed. “Wow. You got anyone in your life who actually says nice things about me?”

“Do you?” he deadpanned.

Your mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”

He finally looked at you, eyes narrowed behind those damn glasses.

“You’re not very self-aware, huh?”

“Oh my god,” you snapped. “You’re, like, so annoying. You do realize I could’ve picked anyone else to tutor me, right?”

“But you didn’t,” he said simply, flipping another page. The audacity.

You rolled your eyes, arms crossing dramatically as you shifted to the side of the couch. “This is abuse. Academic abuse. I’m being mentally tormented.”

“Good,” he muttered. “Maybe then you’ll learn something.”

You gave him your best glare. He didn’t flinch. Not even a little.

And then, like he was done indulging your tantrum, he picked up the textbook with a sharp clap and flipped it open like it weighed five tons.

“Today,” he said, “we’re starting with Physics.”

You blinked. “Why the fuck would we do that?”

“Because,” he said calmly, “you’re very, very bad at it.”

You groaned. Audibly. Dramatically. Full-body exorcism style. “Ugh. I already hate this. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. I should’ve just begged the board for extra credit or bribed Gojo or something—”

“Shut up and open your notebook.”

“This is going to be hell, I swear to god.”

Megumi didn’t respond. He just handed you a pencil like he was preparing to babysit a toddler. And you?

You took it—reluctantly, bitterly, and with the elegance of a girl who would rather be literally anywhere else. Because this was the beginning, Of schoolwork. Of tutoring. Of whatever this cursed partnership was becoming.

And for the record? You were already planning your escape, or at least, your next move. Because tutoring was only half the deal. And soon enough? He was gonna learn that the other half had way more interesting lessons.

An hour of mental agony.

An hour of squinting at numbers, scribbling down equations you didn’t understand, and pretending to care about some dude named Newton.

You slammed your pencil down like it had personally offended you and flopped sideways with a dramatic groan.

“I’m done,” you mumbled, shoving the practice sheet toward Megumi like it burned.

He didn’t answer. Just took it, adjusted his glasses, and started reading in dead silence. Pencil in hand. Methodical, boring little ticks as he checked things off—or didn’t.

You watched him while you waited.

He was close. Closer than usual.

His hoodie had slipped slightly, revealing his forearms. You stared at the small flex of muscle when he wrote, the subtle dip of his throat when he swallowed, the way his glasses sat low enough on his nose to give you the perfect view of his lashes.

Had his skin always looked that soft?

His hair was still a mess, sticking up at weird angles from earlier, and yet—you could see it. The potential. If he just let someone style it. If he wore literally anything but hoodie-and-sweats-on-laundry-day.

He had… a face. An actually nice one. And then he turned to you, eyes unreadable, and held the paper out.

A three. A fucking three out of twenty. You grabbed the paper. Stared at it like it personally insulted your bloodline.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I mean, you got three right,” he said calmly.

You looked at him, scandalized. “You’re supposed to be good at this! Why the hell do I suck so bad if you’re my tutor?”

“You weren’t going to magically get it in one hour,” Megumi replied. “And it’s not my fault you didn’t pay attention the past three months.”

“I am paying attention now!”

“Are you?”

“Yes! Kind of! This is supposed to help me.”

“It is helping you. I’m honestly shocked you got any right at all.”

“Oh, haur haur. I’m laughing so hard right now, Gumi.”

He looked at you like you were deranged. You groaned and flopped back again. “I think that’s enough for today.” You stood, stretching, and turned to look down at him. He was still sitting on the couch, arms crossed, textbook on his lap.

He stared up at you, one brow arched. “What are you doing?”

“My part,” you said with a smirk. “It’s my turn… to tutor you.”

“Oh.” A beat. “Right.” You plopped back down on the couch, this time with intention. You turned your full body toward him, crossing one leg over the other as you stared, eyes sharp and studying.

“Okay. Topic of the day: Kissing.” Megumi blinked once.

You didn’t wait. “It’s more important than you think. Seriously, you could look like a goddamn Greek statue, but if you’re a bad kisser? You’re done. Over. Dead in the water.”

“…Okay.”

You continued, all hand gestures and head tilts like you were giving a TED Talk. “It’s about pressure. Pacing. Not too much tongue, not too little. Your lips gotta feel intentional. Like you know what you’re doing, but not like you’re trying too hard. And when you’re kissing someone? Your hands matter.”

Megumi looked… oddly focused. He was listening, genuinely, nodding slowly like he was absorbing everything.

“Girls remember that shit,” you said. “A good kiss stays with you. A bad one? Unforgivable.”

You leaned back slightly, tilting your head. “So. Have you ever kissed a girl before?”

Silence. He didn’t answer right away, then, quietly, “…I mean. When I was eight—”

“That doesn’t count.”

You cut him off with a laugh and a sharp look. “No way. Actual kissing, Gumi. You’re seriously telling me you’ve never kissed anyone?” He looked away, flushed faintly pink at the ears.

You blinked once. No fucking way. That actually explains so much. You smiled to yourself, eyes narrowing. He didn’t even know what was about to hit him.

Megumi blinked, and then—God help you—he started defending himself.

“I mean, it’s not like it’s a big deal,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “It’s not like I’ve never thought about it or anything. It’s just—like—why would I practice kissing? It’s not like you can just study that, and it’s not exactly something you can wing, and it’s not like I ever—”

You rolled your eyes so hard your soul almost left your body. “Jesus Christ.”

And before he could spiral into another long-winded monologue about why he’s never kissed someone, you grabbed his face with both hands—firm, smushed his cheeks between your palms, and pressed a fast, slightly messy peck to his lips.

Megumi froze. Like entire body stiff, full system-shutdown level frozen.

You pulled back casually, dropping your hands with a shrug. “You weren’t gonna shut up, emo boy.”

He stared at you like you’d just committed a federal crime. “What the fuck?”

You smirked. “Oh relax. That was just a preview. Call it a jumpstart.”

“That was my first kiss.”

You blinked. “Wait—that counts?”

He looked at you like you’d stepped on a puppy. “Well,” you said, tilting your head. “You’re lucky it was with me, then.”

Megumi exhaled, sharply. Like he wasn’t sure if he was angry, confused, or about to combust. “And anyway,” you added, already getting comfortable again, “that wasn’t even a kiss-kiss. That was baby shit. If you want to actually learn, you gotta stop being a pussy.”

Megumi scoffed. “I’m not—”

“You are.” You leaned in slightly. “But that’s okay. I’ll fix you.”

He opened his mouth to argue again, but you waved a hand to cut him off. “Don’t make this weird. I’m literally helping you.”

“You kissed me.”

“And you’re welcome.” More silence. More glowering. He looked so serious, it was borderline pathetic.

You exhaled, soft and sure, then rested a hand on his knee. “Okay. Now, for real.” His breath hitched slightly.

“You’re not going to get it on the first try, and that’s fine. Just… relax. Let me lead.” You turned to face him completely. His knee brushed yours. His arms dropped to his sides. He looked nervous. But—intrigued. Definitely intrigued. You leaned in slow, just enough to give him time to process. And when your lips met his this time, it was softer. Slower. You didn’t push, didn’t smother—you let it melt.

Megumi’s lips were surprisingly soft.

A little stiff at first—unsure. But he moved with you. Carefully. Cautiously. And then a little more confidently when your hand slid to his jaw, thumb grazing the edge of his cheekbone, he smelled good—like clean laundry and mint gum. His breath fanned over your skin when you broke for air just slightly, and it was warm, intoxicating.

You kissed him again. Deeper. Pressing in. Tilting your head just enough to change the angle and whisper against his lips, “Good… just like that…”

He swallowed, and moved with you again. No tongue. Not yet.

But his lips stayed on yours, hesitant but obedient. And for someone who hadn’t done this before—he was catching on way too fast. When you finally pulled back, he was dazed. Eyes half-lidded. Lips a little pinker than before.

You smirked. “You’re not completely hopeless.”

“…Thanks?”

“Don’t sound too grateful, Gumi.” He blinked, still processing.

The air between you and Megumi thickens, and you can almost feel the discomfort radiating off him. His body’s so rigid—like he’s trying to hold onto whatever scrap of control he’s got left.

You have no intention of letting him keep it.

You lean in close, just enough to make his breath hitch, just enough to see the way his lips part when you make the slightest move.

“You know,” you start, voice low, a playful lilt hanging off every word, “if you’re gonna impress Miwa, you have to do more than just look cute and smile awkwardly. She wants a guy who knows what he’s doing.”

Megumi's hands twitch at his sides. He doesn't speak. Doesn’t even make eye contact. Too busy pretending his heart isn’t racing. Too busy trying to look composed, but failing miserably.

“Girls like me? We love a guy who knows how to use his mouth,” you continue, grinning as his eyes flicker towards your lips for half a second. “You wanna know how to kiss with tongue, don’t you?”

His throat bobs as he swallows, voice tight when he speaks. “I—I mean, I guess?”

“Oh, you guess?” You chuckle darkly. “Let me be clear: Miwa won’t even look at you if your kissing is weak. You know how to use it, Gumi?”

He bites his lip, and for a second you can’t help but notice how charming that slight vulnerability is. You could tease him for it forever, but instead, you press on.

“No?” You ask with an exaggerated pout. “I guess I’m just gonna have to teach you then, huh?”

You shift closer, your knee brushing his, and his body goes stiff again. But you’re too close now, and there’s no way he can pull back without making things worse.

You catch his eye again. “I’m serious about this. You need to feel it. The tongue is everything.”

Megumi’s breathing hitches, and the tension is suffocating now.

You smirk and slide a hand to his jaw, tilting his face toward you. The soft heat of his skin is so close—so close—that you feel it in your core. Slowly, carefully, you press your lips to his once more, testing. It’s light this time. Just enough to see if he’ll melt under your touch, if he’ll respond to you.

And oh, does he.

His lips part with hesitation, but he follows your lead, moving just enough to match the rhythm. It’s still clumsy, but you feel the difference. The awkwardness isn’t there anymore. There’s something deeper in this kiss.

You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze.

“You’re getting better,” you murmur. “Now, let me show you how to do it right.”

His eyes widen, his breath shaky, but he nods, giving you all the permission you need.

With one smooth motion, you guide his hand to your waist, settling it on your side as you shift even closer, close enough that you can feel the heat of his chest against yours. He’s still unsure, but his hand remains firm on your waist, a silent sign that he’s trying. You guide him to press in a little more, lips brushing against his once again, this time deeper.

You slide your tongue along his lips, just enough to tease him. He hesitates, unsure, but when you kiss him again, you nudge him. He opens up for you—just a little—his tongue brushing lightly against yours.

You groan inwardly. He’s actually not bad. He’s still shy, still holding back, but the potential is there. The way his body moves with yours now—fuck, he’s catching on quicker than you thought.

“Good,” you murmur against his lips, guiding his hand around your waist to pull you in closer. “That’s it, Gumi.”

You move your tongue deeper, sliding it against his with more confidence, the kiss deepening as you coax him to follow. His hands twitch again, unsure, but you guide them, running them up your sides, showing him how to touch, how to pull you closer. The tension crackles between you, and you feel the faintest brush of his body against yours, his muscles tense, then relaxing as you show him exactly how to kiss.

You pull back slightly to catch your breath, your lips still hovering above his. He’s panting lightly now, eyes heavy-lidded and flushed from more than just the kiss. His breath brushes your skin in soft, uneven pants, and you catch the faintest glimpse of how his body reacts to the closeness—how it wants more.

"See?” you whisper, voice dripping with satisfaction. “That’s how it’s done. Not so hard, is it?”

Megumi’s hands are still on you, but now there’s more confidence behind his touch. He’s following your lead—hesitant, yes, but growing.

“You’re… better than I thought,” he admits, his voice low and a little rougher than usual.

You smirk, sliding your hands to his chest. “Keep going, Gumi. You’ve got this.”

His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you even closer, and you let him. You know where this is headed. And with how hot he’s looking right now, there’s no way you’ll stop this kiss from turning into something way more intense.

He leans in again, this time with more urgency, pulling you closer, as his lips crash back to yours. This time, he’s the one that guides you. You can feel it: his confidence is building with each slow, deliberate kiss.

And damn, you're loving every second of it.

The coffee shop was buzzing with its usual mid-afternoon energy, the chatter of students and the smell of burnt espresso filling the air. You sat across from Nobara, stirring your drink absentmindedly, trying to avoid meeting her eyes.

“So,” Nobara started, a smirk tugging at her lips. “How’d it go with Mister ‘I’ll Break Your Heart’?”

You let out a sharp sigh, leaning back in your seat. “I ran into him... in the parking lot.”

Nobara raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. She set her cup down and leaned in. “You ran into him?” she repeated, her tone dry. “I’m guessing it wasn’t just a ‘Hey, good to see you’ kind of thing.”

“No. It wasn’t. I... I don’t even know what I was thinking,” you muttered, shaking your head. “I saw him walking to his car, and before I knew it, I was already calling out to him. It’s like he still... has this effect on me, you know?”

Nobara gave you a deadpan stare. “Are you serious right now?”

“I... I don’t know,” you groaned, rubbing your forehead. “I miss him, Nobara. It’s like... every time I think I’m done, he comes back and I let him in. I let him hurt me again. And I don't know why I keep doing it.”

Nobara’s expression softened slightly. She looked at you like she wanted to say something comforting, but her tough side always came out. "You know you're not the only one who’s had their heart fucked up by someone, right? But damn, girl, you’ve gotta stop playing with fire. That guy—he—isn't good for you."

You stared at the table, biting your lip. “I tried talking to him. I... told him I missed him.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Nobara shot back, her voice sharp. “Why are you chasing him, huh? Why are you begging for someone who doesn’t deserve you? You’re fucking amazing, Y/N. You’re that bitch. You don’t need that shit.”

You blinked, her words hitting you harder than you expected. Nobara’s eyes were fierce, but there was something softer there, something real. She wasn’t just being the usual loud-mouthed, badass Nobara. She was trying to protect you.

“I don’t know,” you muttered again, running your hand through your hair. “It’s like... I can’t stop. I let him back in, and every time, he just pulls away. He says we’re not good for each other, and maybe... maybe he’s right. But I just want him.”

“Fuck that, Y/N,” she said, slamming her hand down on the table, making a few people glance over. “No one—no one—should make you feel like that. You deserve someone who doesn’t make you chase. You deserve someone who actually knows what the fuck they’re doing.”

Her words wrapped around your heart, squeezing it tight. You tried to push back the lump in your throat, but it didn’t work.

“I’m tired of feeling this way,” you whispered. “I just want it to be okay. But... it isn’t, is it? He doesn’t want me anymore. Maybe he never did.”

Nobara gave you a look that was pure fire. “You don’t need him, Y/N. You’re strong, smart, and fucking gorgeous. And if he can’t see that? His loss.”

You chuckled softly, wiping away the tear that had threatened to fall. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

Nobara grinned, a little smugly. “Damn right I do. You don’t need some dumbass to define you. You’re Y/N, the girl who doesn’t need a man to validate her. Fuck that noise. You’re above that.”

You took a deep breath, finally lifting your eyes to meet hers. There was something in her gaze that softened, just a little bit, as if she understood. And for the first time in a while, you felt like maybe you could let go of the past.

“Thanks, Nobara,” you said quietly.

“No problem, babe. Now, let’s go fuck up some more boys with that attitude of yours, huh?”

You both cracked up, the tension in your chest easing as you took another sip of your coffee. Maybe it wasn’t all lost. Maybe, just maybe, you could start to move on. And maybe, just maybe, you were going to listen to the badass bitch sitting across from you who knew what was best for you—even if you didn’t always want to hear it.

You hated history.

No, hate was too soft. You loathed it. You’d rather eat your own acrylics than sit through another second of whatever crusty-ass war Megumi was droning about, but here you were again—on his couch, legs curled under you, pencil chewing at dangerous levels of dramatic frustration.

“Who gives a shit about the Meiji Restoration?” you huffed, throwing your head back like the weight of 1868 was personally trying to kill you.

Megumi didn’t even look up from his book. “People who want to pass.”

You shot him a glare. “You’re so annoying.”

“And you’re the one who asked me to do this. Three times, actually,” he replied flatly, flipping the page. “So I guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Don’t remind me,” you groaned.

He side-eyed you from over his glasses, calm, unreadable. “I wouldn’t have to if you actually read the material.”

“I did read it,” you said, grabbing the worksheet and waving it like a flag. “It’s just boring. Why do I care who opened up Japan’s ports or whatever? I’m not gonna write a love letter to Matthew Perry.”

“That’s not the point,” he said, tone sharper now, still annoyingly calm. “It’s about understanding cause and effect. How one shift in policy opened Japan to Western imperialism—”

You made a gagging noise and flopped back dramatically against the couch cushions. “You are literally sucking the life out of me.”

Megumi snapped the textbook closed with a sigh. “You’re not meeting me halfway. I can’t magically fix your grades if you won’t try.”

You looked at him, all stoic and unbothered and infuriatingly pretty in his usual hoodie and sweats, like he hadn’t just committed academic homicide.

“God, you’re like, so emotionally constipated.”

“I’m teaching you history. Not therapy,” he deadpanned.

You sat up, poking him in the arm with your pencil. “You don’t have to be such a robot about it.”

His gaze dropped to where your pencil touched him, then dragged back up to your eyes. “And you don’t have to act like failing is cute.”

You scoffed. “Rude.”

“Honest,” he corrected.

There was a pause. The kind that simmered just under the surface. You hated how close you were sitting again. Not that you moved. Not that either of you did.

Megumi picked the textbook back up. “We’re doing this again from the top.”

“Nooo,” you groaned, dragging the word like a dying breath.

“Yes. You don’t even know who Saigō Takamori is.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Isn’t that the guy from the Last Samurai?”

“That’s a Hollywood movie. It’s wrong.”

You blinked. “...I liked that movie.”

Megumi stared at you. “Of course you did.”

“Ugh, you’re such a buzzkill.”

“And you’re unbelievably loud for someone who knows nothing about the Tokugawa shogunate.”

You pouted, flopping again onto the cushions. “You're not even trying to make it fun.”

“It’s not supposed to be fun. It’s supposed to be retained,” he replied, firm.

You stared at him. He stared right back.

The silence hung, thick and heavy. Not quite hostile. Not quite… not.

You hated this. Hated that he was kind of right. Hated that you were the one who asked for this. Hated that his hair was a little messy and his voice did that low rumble when he got serious. You hated a lot of things right now.

Mostly history.

But maybe also the way your heart picked up just a little when he leaned forward to open the book again, pages rustling like a challenge.

“Chapter six,” he said. “Pay attention this time.”

You didn’t roll your eyes this time. Not because you were cooperating, but because—goddamn it—you kind of liked arguing with him.

Even if he was a buzzkill.

One hour later, you were emotionally six feet under.

History was officially banned. Cancelled. Abolished by executive decree—your decree. Megumi had made you read aloud, like some Victorian orphan in a Dickens novel, then quizzed you like it was his life's work to make you suffer. Your neck hurt. Your brain hurt. You were one Saigō Takamori fact away from throwing yourself into traffic.

You let your pencil drop to the floor with a heavy clack, followed by the thud of your body as you flopped backwards on the couch, arm thrown dramatically across your face like you were dying in a Shakespeare play.

“I’m literally brain dead,” you groaned.

“No, you’re just dramatic,” Megumi muttered, still flipping through the textbook like some sleep-deprived college TA. “You lasted fifty-six minutes without screaming this time. That’s a new record.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He raised a brow. “Charming.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, groaning louder when you saw he’d moved on to the next chapter. “Are you seriously trying to get to chapter seven?”

“We didn’t even finish six,” he said flatly.

“Well maybe you should try teaching in a bra and thong next time. See if that helps me retain it better.”

He blinked at you over the top of his glasses. “Do you think I’m enjoying this?”

“Obviously. You’re the only weirdo on Earth who gets off on tax reform and isolationist policies.”

“I don’t get off on—what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing a frontal lobotomy couldn’t fix,” you mumbled, still sprawled out like a corpse. “Ugh. I’m so done. I’m drained. I’m dying. Do you want me to actually pass or be found unresponsive with highlighter stains on my corpse?”

“Dramatic and ungrateful,” he sighed.

You sat up slowly, eyes narrowed. “You’re lucky you’re kinda cute or I’d have bailed day one.”

Megumi paused mid-page turn. “Wait. What?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

He adjusted his glasses slightly, then looked at you—less irritated, more… thoughtful.

“I just realized something,” he said slowly.

You stared. “Uh-oh. That’s never good.”

He turned slightly toward you on the couch, one hand resting on the cushion between you. “It’s your part of the tutoring now.”

You blinked again. Brain lagging. “My what?”

“Your half of the deal,” he said, matter-of-fact. “I tutor you. You… do that.”

You stared.

Then sat upright like you’d just been hit with a water balloon of horny confusion. “Wait, that was today?”

He blinked at your sudden jolt of energy. “You literally said it’d be after every session—”

“Oh, shit, I did, didn’t I?”

He blinked again. “Did you forget?”

“No! I just—well—maybe.” You waved a hand. “You can’t expect me to remember anything after being violated by Japanese imperialism facts for an hour.”

Megumi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “So… what exactly are you teaching me today?”

You paused.

Brain stalling.

Because yeah—what was next? You’d kissed him already, well made out with him.

And now he was looking at you like he expected something.

“Uhhh,” you drawled, glancing at his sweatpants.

No, you decided. It was too soon to go down on him. You were hot, not insane. You didn’t suck dick for boys who corrected your historical analysis mid-sentence.

But you could—

You grinned.

“Have you ever heard of dry humping?” you asked sweetly.

Megumi looked like you’d just offered to kill his dog.

“…Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” you said, crossing your legs and leaning toward him like a corrupt school counselor. “It’s basically PG-13 sex with clothes on. Grinding, kissing, moaning—stroke game training, Gumi. Very important.”

He just stared at you, absolutely scandalized.

“I’m not going to—grind—on someone just because—”

You cut him off with a dramatic scoff. “You’re such a buzzkill. I’m trying to help you. This is literally for Miwa’s benefit.”

His nose wrinkled. “How does this even help?”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, listen: girls don’t just get off from dick, okay? It’s all about rhythm. Friction. Hip movement. How you build it. You think she’s gonna get wet if you just lay there like a fucking anime boy cardboard cutout?”

Megumi’s face flushed instantly. “I—I wouldn’t—!”

You smirked. “Exactly. You wouldn’t. Because I’m here teaching you. You’re welcome.”

He opened his mouth to argue, probably to say something logical or stupidly moral like this isn’t necessary or I don’t need to learn this like a test—

So you shut him up the only way you knew how. You swung one leg over and straddled his lap.

Megumi’s whole body locked up. “Wha—wait—”

“Relax.” You tugged at his hoodie strings, voice syrupy and dangerous. “It’s just dry humping, not a blood pact.”

His hands hovered mid-air like he had no idea where to put them. You could feel the panic radiating off of him. And underneath you? You could already feel how hard he was getting.

Oh, he was so fucked.

“You ready, Gumi?” you whispered.

His throat bobbed. “I—I think so.”

You tilted your head, smirking. “You think?”

He looked up at you with wide, hesitant eyes—flushed already, poor thing—and you felt that little rush again, the one that always hit right before you did something reckless.

And fuck.

You hadn’t even moved yet—hadn’t grinded, hadn’t kissed him—and already, you could feel it. The heat. The shape. The size. Your lips parted, just a little. Your body adjusted automatically. And there it was again.

Jesus Christ.

He was hard already. And not just hard—big. Like, shockingly big. Stupidly big. Bigger than you’d expected from the quiet, history-obsessed boy who couldn’t even say the word "porn" without blinking too fast. You kept your expression neutral—barely—but inside?

Oh my fucking God.

You forced yourself to breathe, forced your voice to stay cool. “Okay,” you murmured, fingers curling into the front of his hoodie. “Step one. Kissing. You’re not gonna be hot if you kiss like a sixth grader.”

“I don’t—”

“You talk too much.” You cut him off with your mouth.

Your lips pressed to his, slow and deep. No peck this time. No trial. You kissed him—like he already belonged to you. Your mouth moved with purpose, teasing his, coaxing it open. And when his hands twitched at your sides, you reached down, slid them firmly onto your hips.

You grinded forward. Barely. And Megumi whimpered. The sound punched heat straight between your legs. He kissed back, breath hitching, hands holding on like he didn’t know what else to do. You bit his bottom lip, tugged, then soothed it with your tongue, just to feel him shudder beneath you.

You pulled back, breath brushing his lips. “You’re allowed to use your tongue, you know.”

He blinked at you. “I—really?”

You smirked. “Gumi. That’s the whole point.” This time, he leaned in first. His mouth met yours, warmer now, hungrier. It wasn’t perfect—still a little too careful—but his tongue brushed yours and God he tasted like spearmint gum and nervous energy. You rolled your hips, slow and deliberate, and his hands clenched on your waist, pulling you closer with a quiet desperation he probably didn’t even notice.

You shifted against him again, dragging your heat along the ridge of his cock, and fuck—there it was again.

So big.

You weren’t going to say it. Wouldn’t dare—his ego didn’t need it, and it’d just make things messy. But holy shit, the idea of how clueless he probably was about what he was working with made your head spin.

You pressed your forehead to his, voice low, teasing. “Just like that, Gumi…”

He groaned, pulling your hips down more firmly, grinding up into you once, twice— “Like this?” he asked, voice raw, a little too innocent.

Your breath caught. His cock slid against you again, thick and perfectly placed through the layers, and it made your clit throb.

“F-fuck—yes,” you gasped before you could catch yourself.

He did it again. A little deeper this time. His mouth landed on your neck, clumsy but warm, and your body arched forward into him, chasing the friction. His hips jerked once more. A little stuttered. A little too hard.

Then he froze. Like really froze. “…Megumi?”

You pulled back. He wasn’t breathing. Then— “…Shit,” he whispered, face going red. “Shit. I—I didn’t mean to—”

You blinked. “Wait. Did you—?”

His hands flew off your waist like you were made of lava. “It just—it happened—I didn’t think—I wasn’t going to—”

You stared. Then burst out laughing.

“Oh my God,” you wheezed, clutching your chest. “Did you just cum in your pants?”

He looked like he wanted to evaporate on the spot. “I didn’t—mean to! I’ve never—I didn’t even know that could—”

You were still cackling. “Oh my God, you really did. You just—boom. Pants. Game over.”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Get off me and stop laughing.”

“I can’t! This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I said stop—”

“Wait,” you cut him off, suddenly narrowing your eyes. “Megumi. Have you ever even jerked off?”

He looked personally offended. “I don’t even have time for that!”

You gawked. “You’ve never masturbated?”

“I’m busy!”

“Oh my God. You’ve never even watched porn, have you?” He looked away, face going bright red.

“I—I don’t need that kind of distraction,” he muttered. You stared at him.

Then bit your lip, grinning slow. “Well. That explains so much.”

He scowled. “I don’t see why it matters.”

“Because,” you said, crossing your arms and eyeing him up and down. “You’re packing, Gumi. And you’ve got no idea what to do with it.”

“I am not—” You cut him off again. “Don’t argue with me. You just dry humped me into an accidental orgasm. You need training.” He went silent.

You leaned forward slowly, conspiratorial. “…Nobara has tapes.”

Megumi’s soul visibly left his body. “What?”

You were already reaching for your phone. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you,” you said sweetly. “Homework’s over."

“I’m just saying—it wasn’t that deep.” You said it for the fourth time in ten minutes.

And Nobara? She was giving you that look. That are-you-hearing-yourself-right-now? look, standing across her room in pajama shorts and a crop top, holding a DVD case that literally had the words “Butlers in Heat 3” printed in metallic font.

“Not that deep?” she repeated, lifting a brow. “Babe. You just told me he came in his pants from dry humping.”

You flopped onto her bed like the drama queen you were. “It wasn’t that dramatic. He didn’t like—scream.”

Nobara narrowed her eyes. “Did you scream?”

You hesitated. “…Maybe.”

“Aha!” She spun in triumph. “See?! You’re into him.”

You scowled, chucking a pillow at her. “I am not. Don’t be stupid.”

She caught it with one hand, smirking. “Girl. You straddled his lap. You made out with him. You got off while teaching him how to thrust properly—”

“I was instructing him,” you snapped, sitting upright, scandalized. “That was for educational purposes.”

Nobara gave you the driest look in recorded history. “And his dick had nothing to do with it?” You crossed your arms, refusing to meet her eyes. “Okay. Fine. Maybe he’s a little… y’know.”

Nobara tilted her head. “No. I don’t know. Say it.”

You sighed like you were being waterboarded. “He’s… not small.”

“Not small?”

You grabbed the pillow and screamed into it. “He’s packing, okay?!”

Nobara snorted, cackling as she tossed another smut DVD into the pile on her floor. “Oh my God, I knew it. I knew he was hiding something under those ugly sweatpants.”

You groaned. “Stop. You’re making it worse.”

“What, that you’re lusting over emo boy with a sword complex?” she teased. “Not your fault he’s secretly got a third leg.”

“Nobara.”

She flopped down beside you, dramatically flipping open a dusty book labeled Advanced Body Language for Confident Girls, Vol. 2. It had a lipstick kiss on the cover. You hated that you knew it was hers.

“Okay,” she said, cracking her knuckles. “If he’s never watched porn, never jerked off, and his only sexual contact is you grinding on him like you’re doing CPR with your coochie—then we need to build a curriculum.”

You blinked. “Curriculum?”

“This is a project now.” She pulled out a pink notebook and labeled it Gumi: The Re-Education. “Day one: Visual stimulation. We start with classics. Something soft. Relatable. Build his palate.”

“Palate?”

“His taste, bitch.”

You stared at her. “Are you hearing yourself right now?”

She waved a hand. “Don’t even pretend you’re not gonna go back tomorrow and grind on him again the second he breathes near you.”

You crossed your arms. “I don’t like him like that.”

“Sure.” She gave you a pointed look. “That’s why you came over here panting like a housewife whose pool boy just moaned her name.” You threw a slipper at her. She dodged it effortlessly.

“I’m serious,” you grumbled. “I don’t like him. He’s—he’s still Megumi. You know. Broody. Quiet. Judgy. Probably would call a girl’s outfit ‘impractical’ in the middle of foreplay.”

“Yeah, and now he’s got you on his lap making out like it’s prom night,” she deadpanned. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

You looked away. “It’s just… physical. That’s it.”

“Mhm.”

“I mean, he’s cute, I guess.”

“Mhm.”

“But like—not my type.”

“Oh yeah, your type is clearly ‘emotionally unstable ex who breaks things during fights.’”

“Nobara.”

She cracked open the DVD case and handed it to you. “Here. Show him this first. It’s got a solid plot, decent pacing, and a blowjob scene that changed my life sophomore year.”

You took it reluctantly, eyeing the cover. “This is so weird.”

“No,” she said seriously, “what’s weird is that your nerd boy’s walking around with a baseball bat in his pants and thinks missionary is just a church word.” You covered your face.

She patted your leg. “Don’t worry. We’ll teach him.”

You groaned into your hands. “I cannot believe I’m tutoring him in this while he’s teaching me about feudalism.”

Nobara just grinned. “Bitch,” she said. “That’s balance.”

You didn’t even knock this time.

Just barged into Megumi’s house like you owned it, arms full of very questionable materials: a pink plastic bag stuffed with romance novels, vintage DVDs, and one extremely worn-out copy of “Seducing the Shy Guy: A Visual Guide.”

Megumi looked up from the kitchen counter, a water bottle halfway to his mouth. He blinked. Once. Twice.

“What the hell is all that?”

“Supplementary materials,” you said cheerfully, kicking the door shut with your heel. “For your tutoring.”

He stared as you flopped down on the couch, books spilling out beside you like you were setting up for a smut-themed TED Talk.

“You brought porn to my house,” he said flatly.

“I brought educational erotica,” you corrected, holding up a DVD titled Pleasure Principles II. “It’s basically Sex Ed. But with better lighting and actual orgasms.”

He blinked again. “You’re insane.”

“And you are severely underexposed,” you said, tossing him a glossy book. He caught it with one hand, squinted at the cover, and immediately dropped it like it had burned him.

“That one’s good,” you offered. “Chapter six is about dirty talk. Very hands-on.”

“Why would I want to read about that?”

“Because, Gumi,” you said, as if it were obvious, “you literally didn’t know tongue was allowed until I explained it to you. You need visual aids.”

His jaw twitched.

You grabbed one of the DVDs and held it up. “Go. Take this. Watch it. It’s a softcore intro—great for virgins, emotionally repressed guys, or anyone who thinks socks during sex are normal.”

“I am not watching porn while you sit here on the couch.”

“Then go watch it in your room.”

“I’m not going to excuse myself like I’m committing a crime!”

You blinked at him. “You literally cum in, like, four hip thrusts. This is for your benefit.”

He turned red instantly. “Don’t say it like that!”

“I could’ve said it worse.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose like he was fighting demons. “You are the most aggravating person I’ve ever met.”

“And you’re welcome,” you chirped.

Megumi glared at you for a beat.

Then—completely ignoring your pile of smut—he walked over to the coffee table and dropped a worksheet in front of you.

“Here.”

You squinted. “What’s this?”

“Your actual tutoring.” He pointed to the top. “Physics. You bombed the quiz. You don’t even know what an inclined plane is.”

You recoiled like it was radioactive. “Ugh, you’re so predictable.”

He crossed his arms. “You’re the one who agreed to this.”

You stared at the worksheet. Then at him. Then at the porn DVDs. Then back at him.

“I could be teaching you how to eat a girl out right now,” you muttered.

“And I could be teaching you how to find the coefficient of friction, but here we are,” he deadpanned.

You huffed, grabbing the pencil like it had personally offended you. “This is abuse.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“I’m gonna tell Nobara you’re bullying me.”

“Do it. I’ll show her your failing grade.” You scowled at him. He looked smug. The tension between you simmered like always.

You glanced once more at the DVD sitting beside you, then back down at the worksheet. Sighed like your life was over.

“…What the fuck is a pulley?”

You made it approximately twenty-seven minutes into that physics worksheet before your brain started leaking out of your ears.

Inclined planes. Pulleys. Some dumbass named Newton. Why the fuck did anything need to be this complicated? You didn’t care what angle a box slid down a hill. If a box wanted to fall, it could fall. You hoped it would.

You let your pencil drop onto the coffee table and slumped dramatically against the couch cushions, throwing an arm over your forehead like a dying Victorian widow. Your voice echoed in your head:

“I could be teaching you how to eat a girl out right now.”

You groaned. Loudly.

Silence answered you. Megumi had disappeared upstairs nearly an hour ago after muttering something about “needing to shower” and “getting away from your noise.” He took the DVD, too. Which meant you were stuck here, unsupervised.

Big mistake on his part. Naturally, you got up to snoop.

You weren’t gonna do anything weird. Just—wander. Browse. Maybe see what kind of nerdy little books he hid in his shelf. Possibly dig through his desk drawers if the urge got too strong. But then your attention snagged on something else entirely.

A photo frame.

Sitting on a small table near the wall. Half-tucked between stacks of books, as if he didn’t know what to do with it but couldn’t throw it away.

You stepped closer. It was a candid.

Three people, standing outside in the sun. One of them was Megumi—smaller, probably around twelve, scowling at the camera even back then. Beside him, a man—tall, dark-haired, handsome in a gruff, unshaven way, with a hand on Megumi’s shoulder and a tight, almost strained smile. But it was the girl that made you pause.

She looked older than Megumi. Maybe sixteen. Brown-haired, bright-eyed, laughing like she didn’t have a care in the world. Her arm was around his other shoulder, pulling him close despite his awkward body language.

You didn’t know Megumi had a sister. You blinked at the frame. Tilted your head. It felt… strange. He never talked about his family. Ever. And it wasn’t like you cared—except you kind of did. You were curious. You liked details. Personal things. Even if they weren’t yours.

“Hey.”

You jolted like you got caught stealing.

Megumi was at the foot of the stairs now, hair damp and falling over his forehead, shirt clinging to his chest like it was freshly thrown on. He was in a plain black tee and grey sweats—same as earlier, but somehow... different.

Because this time? You knew what he’d been doing upstairs.

Your gaze flicked over him once—quick, instinctive. His forearms looked leaner. Veins visible. His collarbones peeking where the shirt collar tugged loose. He looked—Flawless.

And of course, you said nothing. You just smiled sweetly, like you weren’t staring at a boy who definitely just jacked off to softcore porn in his room and then took a cold shower to repent.

“Hey,” you said innocently. “You never told me you had a sister.”

His body stilled. You pointed to the photo still in your hand. “She’s cute.” Megumi’s eyes dropped to the frame. For a second, something unreadable crossed his face. Then he came over, slowly, and gently took it from you. Set it back on the shelf.

“She’s not… technically my sister,” he said, voice quieter now.

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. Leaned against the wall like this was a question he’d been avoiding for years. “She’s… Tsumiki. My stepsister. We’re not blood related, but—she raised me, kind of. After everything.”

“Everything?”

“My dad… wasn’t really around. She was older. Always had to pick up the pieces.” You nodded, watching him. He wasn’t looking at you—eyes fixed on the floor, jaw tense.

“Was that him in the photo?” you asked, careful now. “Your dad?”

Megumi nodded once. “Yeah. For, like, ten minutes. He wasn’t exactly the type to stick around.”

You said nothing. Not because you didn’t know what to say—just because you weren’t used to him saying anything. Especially not something this honest. “I didn’t mean to pry,” you said finally.

He glanced at you, and something in his expression softened. “You’d dig through my trash if I left you alone long enough.”

You smiled. “Only the top layer.”

His lips twitched—barely—but it was there.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s away now. Tsumiki. Boarding school. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

You nodded again. Then leaned in slightly. “She looks like she made you smile back then.”

“I didn’t know how to smile back then,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” you said lightly, stepping closer. “And now you just know how to cum in your pants from dry humping.”

He choked. You burst out laughing. “Why—” he looked away, red in the ears, “—why would you bring that up right now?”

“Because I know what you were doing up there,” you sing-songed, flopping back on the couch like a smug little gremlin. “Came back all clean and wet-haired like I wouldn’t notice.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re hot when flustered.” That shut him up. Completely. His ears went scarlet.

You bit your lip, victorious, but said nothing more. Let him marinate. Instead, you grabbed the physics worksheet and sighed like your life was ending. “Fine. I’ll finish this dumb inclined plane problem. But after that, we’re watching that blowjob scene together.”

Megumi blinked. “What?”

You looked up at him. Deadpan. “I'm kidding."

You were halfway through the worksheet—dragging your feet, doodling in the margins, completely miserable—when Megumi sat down beside you on the couch again, freshly showered, hair still damp and curling slightly at the ends. You didn’t look up, but you felt it: his body heat, the shift in the air, the way he was just looking at you.

Too quiet. Too thoughtful. You glanced over.

He wasn’t even pretending to read anymore. Just sitting there, expression unreadable, eyes lingering a little too long on your face like he was turning something over in his head.

“…What?” you asked.

He blinked once. Then said, carefully, “I don’t mean to ask, but—” Danger. “—you and Kamo…” Danger. You froze. Completely still.

The pencil stopped moving. Your jaw tightened. You didn’t turn your head, but your heart did this little involuntary lurch—like someone had just pulled up a trapdoor under you.

“…What about us?”

He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly hesitant. “I just… I don’t know. I didn’t think you two were over.”

You forced your voice out, flat. “We are.” Silence. Not disbelief. But not acceptance either.

“You seem pretty… locked in,” he said, after a beat. “The hallway. The looks. The kisses and stuff.” You didn’t say anything. Just kept staring at the worksheet in front of you like if you focused hard enough, it’d all go away.

“I saw it all the time,” Megumi continued, tone quieter now. “It was… kind of annoying.” Your eyes flicked up. He wasn’t looking at you now. He was looking at the table.

“…Why would it annoy you?” you asked. He didn’t answer right away. And maybe that should’ve been your first clue that this wasn’t just about Noritoshi. Not really.

Eventually, he said, “I guess I just assumed you weren’t the… real love type.” That hit you harder than you expected. Harder than it should’ve.

You blinked. Sat back slowly. Let the weight of that land. Because he was right, that was what people thought about you, wasn’t it?

Hot. Popular. Shallow. Fun. The girl who flirted because she could. Who dated because it was convenient. Who used her mouth for teasing, her body for leverage, and her feelings for nothing.

No one really expected you to fall in love.

Not for real. Not like that. And maybe you’d leaned into that. Maybe it was easier to be the girl who looked good in photos and said the right bitchy thing at the right time. Maybe you let people believe you didn’t care.

Because if you admitted you did? You’d have to admit how bad it had hurt. You swallowed.

“He didn’t love me either,” you said finally, voice low.

Megumi looked at you now. You didn’t flinch away.

“He liked the idea of me,” you continued. “The mouth. The legs. The attitude. The girl on his arm. But not the… actual stuff. Not the parts that cry at night or need too much or don’t let go when they should’ve.”

The silence was thick. And you hated how raw you sounded. How honest.

“I was a fucking mess with him,” you added, a bitter laugh under your breath. “He made me feel like I had to keep being her all the time. The version he liked. And every time I cracked, it was a fight. Or worse—he’d go quiet. Like I was a burden.”

Megumi didn’t say anything. Not at first. Just sat there, watching you unravel in real-time. And then—his voice, soft, like he was stepping on glass: “I never assumed you were a burden.”

You turned your head sharply. He didn’t look away.

“I assumed you were smart,” he said. “Annoying. Loud. Stubborn as hell. But not fake.” Your chest clenched.

“And definitely not someone who deserved to be treated like that.” You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until it left you all at once.

Megumi shifted closer. Only slightly. Like he wasn’t sure if he should. Like he was still trying to figure out where he stood with you in this strange, halfway-there space between academics and… everything else.

“Sorry,” he murmured, voice just above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”

“You didn’t,” you lied.

His eyes flicked down to your hands—clenched in your lap. Tight, trembling.

“I don’t like talking about it,” you admitted. “People make assumptions. They always have.”

Megumi nodded once. “I know the feeling.”

You glanced at him. “Yeah?”

He shrugged. “People think I don’t feel anything. That I’m just this grumpy, emotionally stunted robot with too many books and a stick up my ass.”

You huffed. “Well, to be fair…”

He smirked faintly. And so did you. “…You’re not a robot,” you said. “You’re just emotionally constipated.”

“And you’re not shallow,” he said. “You’re just dramatic.”

You smiled, for real this time. Not because you were trying to impress him. But because for the first time in a while—you actually felt seen.

You didn’t mean to say it.

It just slipped out, low and tired, somewhere in the middle of that heavy, unbearable silence.

“Even then… he’s still the one who knows every part of me.”

Megumi didn’t speak.

And for once, you didn’t fill the silence with a joke. You just sat there, slouched on his couch with your legs curled under you, pencil forgotten, voice quieter than usual.

“He saw everything,” you said slowly. “Not just the pretty shit. He saw me cry. Scream. Shut down. The whole fucking mess. He saw it all.”

Megumi tilted his head, listening. Not interrupting.

“I’d get overwhelmed and just… spiral,” you continued, your voice slipping into something more bitter. “And he’d try to fix it. Bring food, text too much, get mad if I didn’t answer right away—he cared. I know he did.”

You exhaled sharply.

“But people only saw the fighting. The yelling in hallways. Him breaking things. Me walking out. Again. And again. Everyone just thought it was some dramatic high school bullshit. Toxic couple of the week.”

You let your head fall back against the cushion, staring at the ceiling like it might give you the right words.

“But no one saw the good days. No one saw the way he’d carry my bag when I was too tired. Or when he brought me soup when I got sick. Or when I didn’t say a word for a whole weekend and he just… stayed. Quiet. Right next to me. People don’t remember that part.”

You blinked hard, the back of your throat tight.

“I know it was fucked up. I know we were a mess. But sometimes… when someone sees every broken piece of you and still chooses you? Even if it’s ugly, even if it’s wrong… it’s hard to walk away from that.”

Still, Megumi said nothing, but his silence didn’t feel like judgment.

It felt like permission.

You leaned forward, elbows on your knees, voice quieter now. “Letting him go—it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I do. I keep thinking if I loved him, I’d stay. But maybe if I really loved him, I wouldn’t keep letting him hurt me.”

You let the words hang.

And Megumi finally said, very softly, “You don’t seem like the type to give up on people.”

You looked at him.

He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t teasing. He was just watching you, eyes serious, voice steady.

So you asked, carefully, “Why does that surprise you?”

“I guess I thought you didn’t do… real love,” he said, brows knit. “That it was all surface. Flirting. Fun. Games.”

You let out a sharp laugh—quiet and bitter. “God. Everyone thinks that.”

Megumi didn’t argue, and you didn’t blame him.

You leaned back, arms crossed over your chest, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “I can’t count how many people have said that. Or implied it. That I’m just good for a fling, a kiss, a picture on their arm. But love? No. That’s too deep for me. That’s for serious girls. Quiet ones. The ones who don’t have reputations.”

You looked away, eyes on nothing.

“You act like you don’t care for long enough… people start to believe it.” There was a beat of silence.

Then Megumi spoke, quieter than ever. “I know what that’s like.”

You glanced back at him. He wasn’t looking at you now. His hands were clasped between his knees, tense.

“My sister—Tsumiki—she’s sick,” he said. “Not a flu or cold. Not something you can take pills for. It’s… long-term. Terminal.”

Your breath caught.

“She’s in a care facility,” he continued. “Three hours away. I try to go when I can, but it’s… it’s hard. I’ve watched her get worse over time. Her hair’s thinner. Her voice is weak when she even speaks at all. The doctors say it’s just about making her comfortable now.”

You sat up straighter, slowly.

“She was the strong one,” Megumi murmured, almost to himself. “She used to look after me. Cooked for me. Dragged me out of bed when I wouldn’t go to school. She was the one who held everything together. And now…”

He blinked, jaw tightening. “Now I just sit there and watch her fade. And I can’t do anything about it.”

Your chest ached.

“I don’t talk about her,” he said. “Because people always say the same shit. ‘I’m so sorry.’ ‘You’re so strong.’ ‘Let me know if you need anything.’ And they don’t mean it. They don’t want to deal with it. With me. So I stopped trying.”

You didn’t realize you were reaching out until your fingers brushed his hand. Just a touch. Nothing dramatic. Just… there.

“I’m not gonna say I’m sorry,” you said, voice steady. “Because I know it won’t fix anything. But I won’t pretend I don’t give a shit.”

He didn’t pull away. Didn’t say anything either. But his fingers shifted—just slightly. Brushing back.

The moment held. Not confessions. Not resolutions. Just two people sitting in the quiet, cracked open at the edges. And maybe that was enough.

The study session ends with another snide remark about how the Tokugawa period was “such a snooze-fest it probably made people die of boredom before the swords could,” and Megumi’s exasperated sigh practically shakes the room.

But then—he smiles. Barely. Just a twitch at the corner of his lips. Like he hates that you’re funny.

You’re sitting a little too close now, knees brushing his. The banter's softer lately. Less biting. Still sharp, but it feels like fencing now instead of war. Controlled. Predictable. Dangerous only if you let it be.

You stretch your arms overhead like you’re done pretending you care about anything that happened before Instagram, and tilt your head. “Can we go to your room?”

Megumi’s spine straightens like a rod jammed down his back. “Wha—my… my room?”

You blink at him. “Yes, Fushiguro. Your bedroom. The one in your house. That we’re in right now.” You roll your eyes for effect. “Don’t make it weird.”

His ears flush. Not just his cheeks—his ears. You stifle a smirk.

“…Sure.”

His bedroom is smaller than you imagined, but cleaner. Quiet. He follows you in like he’s bracing for an ambush.

You stroll in unbothered, heels clicking softly against the floor as you drag your fingertips over the edges of his desk, his bookshelf. His space feels untouched, like he’s scared to actually live in it. No posters. No photos. No Miwa.

Good.

You stop in the middle of the room and turn. He’s standing stiff near the bed, unsure, blinking at you like you’re some unpredictable lab experiment.

“Sit,” you say, folding your arms.

“Why?”

You give him a look. Just tilt your head slightly—Really?—and say, “Just sit, Gumi.”

And he does. Right at the edge of the mattress, legs spread a little, posture painfully stiff like he’s being prepped for execution.

You step between his knees. Your hand settles on his thigh, and his whole body flinches.

You smile.

“We’ve covered equations,” you say, voice soft and smooth. “Memorized dates. Recited treaties and political reforms and chemical bonds.”

He nods slowly, still frozen.

“So now we’re doing something actually useful.”

His eyes dart to yours. Wide. Confused. Like he knows what you mean, but can’t believe you’re really saying it.

You lean in, resting your weight on your hand against his leg. “Sex isn’t just penetration, Gumi. It’s not ‘stick it in and hope she makes noise.’ You have to know how to touch. How to start.”

Your fingers slide up to the button of his jeans, and you pop it open without breaking eye contact.

He chokes on a breath. “W-wait—what are you—”

“Teaching,” you murmur. “This is what a handjob is for. It’s the easiest thing in the world, but you’d be shocked how many guys fuck it up.”

You tug his zipper down slow. His chest rises, lips parting slightly like he’s already forgetting how to breathe.

“It’s about rhythm. Pressure. Confidence.” You wrap your fingers around the waistband of his boxers and pull everything down in one practiced motion. “And most of all—awareness.”

You free his cock from the confines of his pants, and fuck—yeah. You blink once. He’s thick. Heavy. Hard already. The head flushed, wet at the tip.

Soooo fucking big, your hand wraps around him slowly. He gasps. Actually gasps.

“See?” you whisper, stroking once, fingers tight but not too tight. “You’re not doing anything. But you’re feeling everything.”

His hips twitch. You stroke again, dragging your palm down his length, then curling back up—slow, fluid.

“You can’t skip this part. You skip this, she’s dry and frustrated and faking it before you even get your pants off.”

His mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“Touching is everything,” you continue. “If you don’t know how to use your hands, you don’t deserve to use your dick. Understand?”

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, voice barely there.

You hum approvingly, then circle your thumb over the tip, collecting the precum and slicking it down the shaft as you stroke a little faster.

“Girls want to feel wanted,” you murmur. “Like you need them. This—” you squeeze gently near the base, “—is how you show them that.”

His jaw clenches. His thighs tremble under your grip.

“You have to build it. Make it last. Make it burn. And just when they’re about to lose it—then you go harder. Then you give in.”

His head drops back, eyes fluttering shut.

“Fuck—” he moans. “Shit—”

“You’re close already?” you tease, pumping him faster now. “Tch. You’ve really never had this before?”

“N-never—fuck—”

“God,” you laugh, leaning in. “No wonder you’re always so tense.”

His cock twitches in your fist, leaking down your fingers. You adjust your grip—faster, tighter, more deliberate. Your wrist flicks with every stroke, rhythm perfectly brutal.

“Right under the head,” you say, letting your thumb swirl there again. “That spot? Yeah. Memorize it. That’s where her hands’ll go when she wants to break you.”

“F-fuck—” he gasps. “I—I—shit—”

“Let it go,” you breathe. “Don’t hold it in. I want to see it.”

He groans—loud, breathless. His hand flies up to your wrist, holding you there as his cock jerks violently in your grip. Cum spills over your fist, hot and messy and so much, coating your fingers as his whole body shudders through it. You don’t stop until he’s twitching, gasping, overstimulated and ruined.

Then you finally let go, slick and smug and glowing with satisfaction. You lift your hand like you’re examining it in science class.

“Hands,” you say simply. “Step one.”

He exhales shakily, head falling forward like he just got hit by a truck. You wipe your hand on his shirt without asking.

“Hey—” he protests weakly.

You grin. “You made the mess, baby. Own it.”

Your heart was still doing backflips, your breath still a little uneven—but you cleaned yourself up like nothing happened. Even touched up your gloss in the mirror, finger-combed your hair, tried to get rid of that hazy, cock-drunk look from your face.

It didn’t help. Because you’d just finished pretending you were still a functioning human being when the front gate squealed open.

A car door. Then another. Then keys.

Your spine stiffened like a corpse in rigor mortis. “Megumi.”

He was already zipping up. Calm. Too calm. Voice flat and casual, like you hadn’t just had his dick in your hand. “That’s my dad.”

“Your what—”

“I didn’t know he’d be home. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” you hissed, grabbing your bag and spinning around. “I’m literally full-glam after jacking you off and he’s going to walk in and see me glowing.”

“You wiped it off.”

“That’s not the point! My mascara’s smudged and my knees are weak.”

“Try not to look guilty,” he murmured, slipping on his hoodie like this was just Tuesday.

You glared. “You’re not even panicking.”

“I don’t need to panic.” His voice stayed maddeningly steady. “You’re going to walk down. Smile. Say hi. Leave. Done.”

You were still fuming when he grabbed your wrist, you blinked down at his hand, warm. Big. Callused at the base of his fingers. You felt that same little jolt shoot straight through your chest. Electricity. From your palm to your spine.

He didn’t notice, or if he did, he ignored it completely.

He opened the bedroom door, pulled you along—quiet, calm, dead behind the eyes—and started leading you down the stairs just as the front door creaked open, and then you heard it:

“Yo, Megumi.” his voice was deep. Lazy. Like he didn’t give a fuck about anything.

You glanced up and immediately wished you hadn’t. There, standing in the entryway with keys in one hand and a takeout bag in the other, was Toji Fushiguro. Tall. Broad. Black button-down rolled to the elbows. Scar on his lip. He looked like he bench-pressed people for fun.

He looked at his son. Then at you, then back at Megumi again.

“This the girl you told me about?” he asked, cocking his head just slightly. “The one you’re tutoring?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Megumi, without missing a beat, said, “Yeah.” That was it. No awkwardness. No explanation. Just yeah. Like you weren’t standing there feeling like your soul had just evaporated.

Toji raised a brow. “She’s pretty.”

You almost choked. Megumi didn’t react. Didn’t even blink. Toji stepped inside, placed the bag on the counter, and gave you another once-over. “You always study in that outfit?”

You plastered on a brittle smile. “Only when I want the equations to submit to me.”

Toji let out a quiet laugh. “You got bite. I like that.”

You wanted to disappear into the drywall. “I was just about to leave, actually,” you said quickly. “Didn’t realize Megumi lived with someone—”

“You’re welcome to stay,” Toji interrupted.

You blinked. “I’m fine, really—”

“Sit down,” he said, not looking at you. He was unpacking the food. “We’ve got enough.”

“I really should—" Toji didn’t even lift his head. Just said, too casually:

“Unless you wanna explain to your parents why a grown man saw you sneaking out of my son’s room looking like that.” That shut you up.

Your mouth opened. Then closed. You turned to Megumi. “He’s bluffing, right?”

Megumi just shrugged. “He’s not.”

You turned back to Toji, who was already pulling out plates. Like the whole thing was settled. “You’re staying,” he said. And you did.

You sat. Quietly. On the barstool next to Megumi, who—of course—looked completely unbothered. His hair was still a little messy. His glasses slightly crooked. But otherwise, you’d never know he’d just come in his pants fifteen minutes ago.

“Don’t make it weird,” Megumi murmured under his breath.

“You made it weird,” you hissed back.

Toji plopped a plate in front of you and smirked. “So. How long you been tutoring her?”

Megumi stared ahead. “A few weeks.”

You smiled stiffly. “It’s really productive.”

Toji looked amused as hell. “I bet.”

Megumi sighed. “Dad.”

“What? I didn’t say anything.” You looked at Megumi’s face—red ears, clenched jaw, one long exhale like he was already regretting everything—and had to bite the inside of your cheek not to laugh.

God, you thought. Maybe this was the real lesson. Not the history. Not the chemistry, but this, damage control. Dignity salvage. Post-nut performance.

And Megumi? Megumi was aces at it.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

You sat at the small kitchen table with your legs crossed, trying to appear composed while your brain was still tap-dancing in trauma heels. The table was warm wood, the lights were dim, and the clink of silverware was the only sound for a long, awkward minute.

Megumi passed you a bowl of rice. You blinked at it.

“…Thanks,” you mumbled, still not looking him in the eye.

He spooned more onto his own plate like this was any other night.

Toji dropped into the seat across from you, arms spreading along the chair like he was lounging in a booth and not sitting next to the girl who had just given his son a handjob upstairs.

“You allergic to anything?” he asked casually.

“Nope,” you replied, way too quickly. “No allergies. Totally healthy. Blood pressure’s great. Iron levels are solid.”

Toji blinked once. Then smirked. “You’re nervous.”

You stabbed a piece of chicken. “I’m fine.”

“She’s not,” Megumi muttered beside you.

You kicked his shin under the table. Lightly. He nudged your knee back. Casually. Like he wasn’t trying to make it obvious. You didn’t know what was worse—getting caught, or the fact that Megumi wasn’t even sweating it. He looked so calm. Like he wasn’t fully aware his father was three feet away from the exact place he came in his pants not thirty minutes ago.

“So,” Toji said, gesturing toward you with his chopsticks. “What’s your deal?”

You blinked. “My… deal?”

“Yeah. What do you do when you’re not harassing my son in his own house?” You coughed. Megumi set down his glass with a sigh.

“She’s failing chemistry,” he deadpanned. “And history. And math. And she can’t focus for more than ten minutes at a time.”

“Rude,” you muttered, nudging him harder.

“She’s also loud. Dramatic. Obsessed with her phone. And thinks the Meiji Restoration is a band name.”

You glared at him. “You’re so lucky I like you.”

Toji snorted. “Hah. Like him?” Your jaw snapped shut.

Toji leaned back, clearly enjoying himself. “You know he used to get into fights in middle school?”

You blinked. “Megumi?”

“Yeah,” Toji said, like he was just talking about the weather. “Kid had a temper. Silent rage kind. Didn’t talk much, but if someone messed with his friends or got on his nerves—bam. Straight for the throat.”

Megumi stared at his rice. “We don’t need to talk about that.”

You turned to him, eyebrows high. “You? Fighting people?”

“I had a lot of energy.”

“You had rage issues, apparently.”

“I don’t anymore,” he said calmly.

Toji grinned. “Only because he started channeling it into studying. Got obsessed with winning tests instead of fights.”

You looked at Megumi again, this time a little softer. “You’re such a nerd.”

He nudged your foot again under the table. This time—gentle. You felt your shoulders slowly lower. Just a bit.

Toji turned to you again, chewing thoughtfully. “You two dating?” Megumi stiffened slightly. You choked on your water.

“No,” Megumi said after a beat.

“No,” you echoed, wiping your mouth.

“Shame,” Toji said. “You’ve got decent banter. Would’ve been a power couple.”

You both looked at your plates. It was quiet again. A little too quiet. Then, suddenly, Megumi reached for the last piece of grilled eggplant—and slid it onto your plate.

You looked at it. Then at him.

He didn’t say anything. Just kept eating like it didn’t matter. But it did. Because Megumi noticed you’d been eyeing it earlier. And he gave it to you without saying a word.

Your heart tripped. You swallowed. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Toji saw it. You knew he did. But he just huffed, shook his head like he’d seen this movie before, and went back to eating.

You were one hallway away from freedom.

One hallway.

After forty minutes of Satoru’s so-called lecture—which included three unrelated tangents, a metaphor involving ramen, and him nearly falling off his desk while impersonating a Tokugawa shogun—you’d packed your bag, slipped on your sunglasses, and made a beeline for the exit.

But he was faster.

“Yo, heartbreaker,” Gojo called from behind, voice sing-song and annoying. “Wait up!”

You didn’t. But he still caught up, striding beside you like he wasn’t the bane of your academic existence.

“Was my class too stimulating today?” he teased, hands in his pockets. “You looked real focused. Even took notes.”

You blinked. “Oh. Right. The notes.”

Your spiral-bound notebook held exactly three lines: “i hate this man”, “meiji these nuts”, a dramatic drawing of Megumi’s glasses with hearts around them you’d already scribbled out

“Uh-huh,” Gojo hummed. “So. How’s tutoring going?”

Your spine snapped straight.

He didn’t know. He couldn’t. There’s no way he knew.

“Fine,” you replied, too fast.

He tilted his head. “Just fine?”

You added a smile. Too wide. Too fake. “Amazing, actually. Megumi’s a really patient teacher.”

“Patient,” he repeated. “He yelled at me in middle school for calling the mitochondria ‘the powerhouse of the cell’ too many times.”

You shrugged. “He likes me better.”

Gojo snorted. “Doubtful. But cute try.”

You were already halfway to the stairs when he called after you— “Don’t forget the midterm’s tomorrow”

You stopped. Your heart dropped. “Midterm?”

He grinned. “Yeah. Multiple choice. Bonus essay. Covers the last six weeks of stuff you definitely weren’t paying attention to.”

You turned around slowly. “Since when is that tomorrow?”

“Since always. I announced it three times.”

You squinted. “You also said Napoleon invented Nutella.”

“Which is true,” he said, clearly lying. “Anyway, Megumi’s smart. I’m expecting results, yeah?”

You nodded, stomach curling. “Totally. Results. Coming right up.”

He gave you a wink, then disappeared down the hall, humming like this wasn’t the beginning of your academic funeral. You sighed. Megumi was going to be so smug about this. And worse? You were going to have to actually study. Or… at least pretend to.

You failed.

Twenty-two percent.

One out of twenty-five multiple choice. One barely coherent paragraph on the essay. And a stupid smiley face sticker Gojo slapped on it like it wasn’t the nail in your academic coffin.

It should’ve been funny. Hell, it used to be funny—failing things, fucking off, shrugging through it with a toss of your hair and a flip of your skirt. But now?

Now it just felt pathetic.

Now you were standing in front of Megumi’s house again, glossing your lips in your phone’s camera like everything wasn’t falling apart. Like you weren’t seconds from spiraling. Like your ego wasn’t barely stitched together with fake confidence and denial.

You didn’t knock this time.

Not when your phone was buzzing with Gojo’s “yikes” text. Not when your report card sat crumpled in your bag, screaming 22% at you like it was carved into your skin. You fixed your lip gloss in your reflection—because if you looked okay, maybe it wouldn’t feel so pathetic.

Megumi opened the door five seconds later.

And yeah, you knew.

You knew instantly that he knew.

He didn’t say hi. Didn’t scowl or raise an eyebrow or let out that bratty sigh he always did when he saw you. No, today? Today he looked done. Cold. Like every inch of warmth he’d ever barely shown you had frozen over.

“I brought boba,” you said, stepping in anyway like you weren’t dying inside. “Taro, obviously. You looked like a taro guy.”

Nothing.

You set the cup on the table. His arms were crossed. His hoodie hung off his frame like a threat.

“Gojo told me,” he said flatly.

Your stomach dropped.

You kept your tone light. “Told you what?”

“That you failed.”

You rolled your eyes. “Wow, so he’s doing the morning announcements now—”

“You told me you were studying.” His voice was razor-sharp. “You told me you cared.”

“I do care—”

“Bullshit.” His voice cracked through the room. “You didn’t study. You didn’t even try.”

“I did!”

“No,” he snapped, eyes narrowed. “You flirted. You scrolled Instagram. You half-assed everything I gave you and then lied to my face.”

You scoffed. “Jesus, dramatic much?”

“I wasted my time.”

“You volunteered!”

“You begged me!”

“And you said yes!” you shot back. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy it—finally getting to feel smart and smug and better than me for once.”

His fists clenched. “I’m not better than you.”

“Oh really?” You laughed. Bitter. “Because you act like you are. Like I’m just some dumb bitch who doesn’t deserve to pass.”

“If the shoe fits—”

“You motherfucker—”

“I gave you everything,” Megumi cut you off. “I planned lessons, I asked your teachers, I gave you my notes—hell, I let you in my house!”

“Oh please. You liked it. Having me here. Made you feel special.”

“You used me.” You flinched. He wasn’t wrong. But it still stung.

“Don’t turn this around,” you snapped. “You think I don’t notice how you look at me? Like I’m just some project to fix. You’re just pissed because I didn’t end up being your little success story.”

“You’re pissed because you failed and you didn't even try,” he growled, stepping forward. “and you wonder why gojo or me doesn't kiss you on the forehead and give you a gold star on your homework at the end of the day."

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you,” Megumi shouted. “You want to play victim? Fine. But don’t come crying to me when you keep failing everything you touch.”

You clenched your jaw. “At least I’m not some emotionless virgin nerd who thinks being good at math makes you better than everyone.”

Silence. His mouth parted slightly—just enough for you to see it land.

He looked away. And for a second, you felt bad. But you were angry. And embarrassed. And spiraling.

“You know what?” he said, voice lower now—hurt. Quiet, but dangerous. “I should’ve known. Should’ve listened when everyone said you were just a shallow, spoiled brat with not enough brain cells.”

You froze. That one dug.

“That’s what all of you do, isn’t it?” you whispered, voice trembling. “Assume. Judge. You think I don’t hear what people say behind my back?”

Megumi didn’t respond. “You think I don’t know I’m the joke?”

His throat bobbed.

“I let you in,” you hissed. “I trusted you. I let you see me when I didn’t let anyone see me. And now? You’re just like the rest of them.”

Megumi flinched — but only for a second. Then he barked a humorless laugh. “Oh, fuck off.”

Your jaw dropped. “What?”

“You let me in?” he repeated, eyes wide, voice rising with every word. “You let me in? You show up here with excuses and think that’s vulnerability?”

Your chest twisted. “Don’t twist my words—”

“No,” he cut you off, stepping toward you, furious. “You don’t get to play that card, not after lying to me over and over. You didn’t let me in. You used me. Like everyone else. Like I’m disposable the second you’re bored.”

“That’s not true!”

“Isn’t it?” Megumi shouted. “You didn’t give a shit about learning. You cared about passing long enough to get people off your back. You cared about looking like you were trying. And I was the idiot who actually believed you meant it.”

Your throat burned. “So now I’m a liar? A manipulative bitch?”

He didn’t say anything.

“Say it,” you dared, voice cracking. “Go ahead. Call me a bitch, a slut, say it like everyone else does.”

“You said it first,” Megumi snapped. “Is that what you think of yourself?”

You blinked. That landed too hard.

Megumi ran a hand through his hair, pacing, seething. “I tried so fucking hard, and it still wasn’t enough. Nothing’s enough for you. Not effort, not time, not me.”

“Then why’d you say yes?” you screamed. “Why’d you let me stay? Why the fuck did you let me touch you if you were just gonna throw it in my face the second things got hard?”

For a moment—just a moment—Megumi looked stunned. And then he laughed. Not a funny laugh. A bitter one. Quiet and venomous. “You wanna know why?” he said, stepping forward, every word sharp enough to cut. “Because I was fucking stupid.”

Your stomach dropped. “I was stupid enough to think there was more to you than a pretty face and a loud mouth. Stupid enough to think if I just gave you a chance, if I helped, you’d prove everyone wrong.” His eyes burned into yours. “But they were right. You are exactly who they said you were.”

The words hit you like a slap. You blinked. Once. Twice. Heart in your throat. And then— “You’re a jerk,” you whispered, voice shaking. “You’re a fucking asshole.” He didn’t flinch. “You—” you pushed him hard in the chest, palms slamming against him, “—don’t get to say that to me.” Another shove. “You don’t fucking know me!”

“Don’t I?” he snapped, not backing away. “I know you’d rather look hot than be smart. I know you’d rather lie to everyone than admit when you’re struggling. I know the second things stop going your way, you throw a tantrum.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“You flirt your way out of everything and call it confidence. You coast by on being pretty and mean and then cry victim when someone doesn’t bend to you!” You hit his chest again, harder.

“Fuck you!”

“You said you let me in?” he shouted, grabbing your wrists. “You didn’t let me in. You let me orbit you. You let me touch the surface just enough to feel like I mattered. But I didn’t, did I?”

“Let go of me!”

He did—instantly.

And when he took a step back, his voice came out quieter, but no less cutting.

Megumi’s chest rose and fell, too fast. His fists were trembling at his sides. “I wanted to help you,” he said, softer. “And I thought maybe—fuck, maybe if I did, if I stuck around, you’d actually see that.”

You stared at him. He shook his head. “But all you saw was a hopeless case. A virgin. A joke.”

You swallowed.

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Should’ve known better.”

There was a long pause. Then you laughed. Cold. Bitter. “Poor Megumi. Got feelings. Got rejected. Welcome to the real world.”

His jaw clenched. “Get out.”

“Gladly,” you snapped, turning around.

“Next time,” he called after you, voice shaking with rage, “ask someone else to clean up your mess.”

You spun halfway around, eyes blazing. “Next time, I won’t waste my time on someone who can’t even handle a kiss without falling apart.”

He didn’t reply. Didn’t look at you. Didn’t have to. Because the damage was done.

And when you walked out the door this time—slamming it behind you so hard it rattled the frame—you didn’t look back, but god, you wanted to. You wanted to look back so fucking bad. And that’s how you knew this wasn’t over. Not really. Not even close.

parts, chapter 03

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[ureveryday-reader]

i love fic authors who are gooners with such closely held artistic sensibilities that it nearly eclipses the goon. we shall goon, but first we shall follow 70k minimum of a meticulously-plotted and spectacularly-executed character arc replete with several devastating psychological portraits and some trenchant political commentary on what it means to be a human in this world.