gojoflirts

[gojoflirts]

hi guys im procrastinating and bored and mid way done with my portfolio drop some jjk fics …

[gojoflirts]

MARK YOUR TERRITORY

Toji never liked sharing. Bets? Greedy. Food? Snatched. Money? As much as he could swallow. But you? You should be beyond anyone’s reach. So when a new intern from your job finds an interest in you, Toji goes to lengths you would’ve never imagined this greedy bastard could do.

→ toji fushiguro x fem! reader

WORD COUNT | 12.5K

WARNING(S) | smut content—minors dni! pwp, toxic depictions of a relationship, slight angst, very jealous and possessive toji, dirty talk, choking, dumbification, rough and angry sex, spanking, degradation, unprotected sex (wrap the willy), dry humping, cum swallowing, deepthroating, manhandling, uses of slut and whore, oral (m. receiving), cockwarming, creampie, toji records a sex tape, petnames, toji is just a menace who is down BAD, absolute filth, mentions of geto (our dear intern)

A/N | lowk got carried away w the warnings anyways! comments and reblogs are much appreciated hehe

Toji Fushiguro never liked sharing. Not a single damn thing. Not the remote. Not the last bite of takeout. Not even the stupid scratch-off lottery tickets he’d hoard in his jacket pocket like they were gold. If there was something to be claimed, Toji wanted it all—every inch, every drop, every glance. He didn’t believe in “halves.” He believed in mine.

At first, it was almost funny. The way he’d throw an arm around you when someone looked a little too long. The way he’d bet with his chums from gambling dens over the smallest things—a game score, a coin flip, spontaneous ‘whoever does this and that’s’—and act like he’d been robbed if he lost. Frugal, yes. But charmingly so, in his own rough, unapologetic way. It was Toji. Always a little too much.

But with you? He was different. His greed sharpened into something raw and possessive—something feral under the surface. He didn't just want you around. He needed you close. Within reach. Under watch.

Although you digress, he wasn’t a person exactly labeled greedy. He was just a man whose motivations were more intricate and nuanced than just a desire for wealth. 

At home, he kept a hand on you absentmindedly, like he was anchoring you to his side—thigh to thigh on the couch, palm resting against your lower back in the kitchen, fingers loosely hooked in the waistband of your pants as you brushed your teeth. His touches weren’t always gentle reminders, but they weren’t coarse either. They were claiming. Constant reminders that you were his and his alone.

He wasn’t inquisitive about the fairytale sort of love. The chaste devotion that gets you queasy in your stomach from how oddly everything went together like sugar and just everything nice. His embrace was always hungry for more. That kind of love that sank its teeth in and refused to let go. His calloused hands always finding their way to slither themselves onto your skin and carve his touch.

Life with Toji had its warmth. He took care of you in ways that made your frame poised. Fixed the things you didn’t even ask him to. Remembered what you liked and what you didn’t. Made sure you were never shivering cold at night. But even in those saturated tender moments, there was always this heavy pull behind it. Tension. A brooding, constant acuity that, if someone so much as looked at you the wrong way, Toji would probably blow their brains out— to his dismay, you made sure that would never happen. Although Toji was Toji, and Mr. Fushiguro couldn’t care less if he needed to get involved illegally.

And then came work. Your one slice of independence. Your own world where Toji couldn’t reach in and rearrange the pieces. Where you could breathe without him in the room.

The door clicks shut behind you with a soft thud, and your shoulders droop the second you stride inside. The air smells faintly of food—probably something Toji ordered in but never bothered to plate properly. Your bag hits the floor, your shoes get kicked halfway under the console table, and you barely manage to sigh before his voice greets you from the living room.

“’Bout time,” Toji calls, legs thumping like an impatient father. “You look tired, doll.”

He’s sprawled on the couch, one arm draped over the back, remote resting on his thigh, television flickering low in the background. His eyes are on you now though, not the screen, and despite the usual teasing tone, there’s something else in the way he observes you. His gaze drags slow and deliberate.

You shuffle over, collapsing beside him with a groan. His arm glides easily around your shoulders, dragging you into his side of the couch. You can feel the ardency of his touch immediately; it was a grounding kind of warmth.

“Rough day?” He mutters, his voice tumbling from a baritone to his usual raspy and gruff tone.

“The worst,” You say, burying your face against his chest. “People don’t know how to send a fucking email properly. I swear if I have to clean up one more mess that isn’t mine—”

“Kill ‘em,” Toji suggests flatly. 

You snort into the crook of his necklace. “Tempting,” You pause. “But I’m not like you.” He hums at your retort, thumb stroking the top of your arm, gradually to distract you. Your shoulders start to unwind.

“Anything interesting happen?” 

“Oh, actually yeah,” You softly murmur, lifting your head as you try to recollect today’s incidents at work that would appear even negligibly interesting to Toji. “New intern started today.” His thumb pauses for half a second. Something that goes unnoticed.

“He’s kinda funny,” you go on. “Real talkative though. Kept asking questions about everything—like where the break room is, and what the coffee situation for the bosses are like. At one point he told me I felt special because he was acting like a lost cause and that he was so glad I was patient with him.” You chuckle softly. 

Toji doesn’t laugh. You don’t notice that either.

You keep talking, letting the words dribble out in that mundane way people do when they’re not sure if they’re venting or just trying to fill the silence.  “Honestly, he kinda reminds me of one of your gambling friends. Y��know the old dude who flirts with the cocktail waitresses?”

He finally utters a word, tone as arid as concrete. “So you’re saying he’s into you?”

You wave a hand, brushing it off. “No, I simply think he’s just dickriding. New male interns love to do that.”

“Hm.”

That’s all he says. Hm. But his fingers are still resting on your arm, and you feel them draw just a little—barely noticeable. He leans his head back against the couch, and lets you go on talking until your voice trails off, heavier and slower with the lack of sleep.

A few minutes later consisted of your head tilting from being drowsy, and words trailing off into soft, broken murmurs. You didn’t even realize when your sentences stopped making sense — only that your body had instinctively curled into him. Whatever energy you had left, work had drained it from you completely. Despite that, you had a twinge of having something to preoccupy you from a life that once bore nothing. 

He wafts your hair away from your face and pulls you in his embrace to put you to bed. It’s nearly 1:00 AM. The room is feeble with light, the television long since turned off. And Toji’s still wide awake, maybe his eyes are half-lidded, but his mind is tattered with constant noise. Not white noise, nor brown noise bullshit. It was like there was a random being screaming in his head that he so badly wanted out.

You’re tucked against him, soft and warm, the way you always are when respite takes over. Your hand rests just above his stomach, fingers barely grazing him, even in unconsciousness, you’re reaching out — tethering him. It’s a quiet habit of yours, one he’s come to expect, one he secretly waits for.

And for someone like him, all edge and bark, the kind of man people instinctively avoid — your presence is disarming. He doesn’t just like that about you. He needs it—you. Quiet. Soft. His.

But something gnaws inside his heart.

That kid. Toji stares at the ceiling. Once reminded why he’s even awake when he should be knocked out on the comfortable sheets, his eyes now feel like they’re open too wide, like they don’t know how to shut. He doesn’t even feel angry. Not fear, either. He’s not the kind of man who doubts himself like that.

It’s something else. Something more subdued. Something harder to pin down.

What else did he say? What else happened today that you didn’t mention? You talk a lot—but not about everything. And you were tired. Distracted. Laughing a little too much when you told that story.

Toji breathes through his nose, his tall, sleek frame taut. What’s gotten into him?

No. No, he’s not worried. You’re not that easily swayed, but still. He’s seen guys like that. The effortless charm. The jokes. The coffee breaks that’ll frequent before he even knows it. The way they chip away at closeness—harmless at first. Always harmless.

Until suddenly you’re leaning a little closer. Smiling longer.

And you didn’t even notice. Toji swerves in bed, restless. His hand fiddles toward you, then pulls back. Then reaches again. It's almost like he’s wavering on every move. Your cheek is warm against his arm, your breathing even. He watches you an instant longer, then speaks, faint enough not to jolt you awake. 

“Love.” You stir faintly, a little confused noise in your throat. “Wake up.”

You blink, dazed. “Toji? W-what time is it?”

“Don’t worry about it,” He voices softly, grazing strands away from your face. You frown, still groggy. “You okay?”

He doesn’t respond right away. Just murmurs leaving his licked lips. “Couldn’t sleep. Wanna hear your voice.”

You know exactly when Toji’s needy, though you were a little too tired to do any extra movements. You typed your life away at a computer, technically every day. Your fingers could use some rest. He acknowledges it too, but he lifts your chin up. “You look like you could use some relief.” A smirk wovens his scarred lips, and you let out a prolonged hum.

-

The sunlight plods through half-closed blinds, daubing long lines across the sheets and across Toji’s bare back as he pivots under the weight of a hazy morning. He lets out a gravel-edged exhale, one arm stretching across the bed instinctively—to find only a mess of tangled sheets and your scent left behind.

Disoriented, he blinks slowly, eyes still half-shut. The world feels stagnant, like he's swimming in the hangover of a bad dream—or maybe just a bad night of too much thought. His body’s still grave with sleep, but when his hand lands on cold fabric instead of you, he frowns and opens both eyes fully. 

“…Right,” He murmurs to himself, rubbing a palm down his face. “Work.”

His voice is husky from sleep and disuse. He drags himself out of bed slowly, with the current caliber of someone who’d rather stay wrapped in the warmth you left behind. His hand absently reaches for the spot you usually occupy, fingers splaying over your pillow for a beat too long before he pulls away. He’s also still blue-balled from last night, but he shrugs it off.

The coffee’s bitter this morning. He downs it without sugar, as if punishing his own mood. The stillness in the apartment feels louder than usual, blaring louder than he likes.

On the other hand, you arrived at the office with your mood slightly sweetened from your boyfriend's work of honor the night before. The break room smells faintly of roasted coffee beans and someone’s lunch leftovers, and your brain’s already halfway into autopilot by the time you settle into your seat at your desk. You’re reviewing your inbox when you hear that familiar voice behind you—lazy, smooth, like it’s been talking to people all day and hasn’t gotten the remotest chance of running out of charm yet.

“Got somethin’ for you.”

You glance over your shoulder to see the new intern, Suguru, standing there, hands gorged in his pockets, expression unreadable but always a little too relaxed to be innocent. His hair was bedecked in that lazy man bun, as always.

He holds out a small box swathed in gold foil. Not fancy, but just enough to make you pause and question it.

“What for exactly..?” You ask.

“For being nice to me,” He answers quite justly. “I know I ask too many questions. You haven’t thrown anything at me yet, sooo..” You figured, gifting something for your supposedly kind senior who— in all honesty, is just doing their job. Cliche move, what a rank-up at standard ass-kissing.

You finally bear the box, flipping it over to read the label. “Chocolates?” He gives a little shrug. “Yeah, figured it’s a safe choice. Everyone likes chocolate, right?”

“Actually, I don’t.” You leave a brief chuckle. If he wanted it easy, he would do wonders around the widowed higher-ups. You laugh to yourself almost.

“Seriously?” His brows lift. “Guess I’m off my game.” You set the chocolates down on your desk, amused at his persistence. “It’s fine. Thanks anyway.”

But Geto just grins, undeterred. He leans a little on the divider between desks, the same way he always does—like gravity just affects him differently. “Okay, then tell me what you do like,” he says, tone leisurely flowing over shallow water. “I’ll get it right next time.”

That statement alone catches you off guard for a second or two. It makes you blink robotically, question marks popping up in your head like speech bubbles. You try to laugh it off. “I’m good, really. You don’t need to get me anything.”

He raises both hands in faux surrender. “Hey, no pressure. Just thought I’d give myself a second shot.” He leaves you with an unsolicited wink and a lazy wave, and you roll your eyes before turning back to your screen. Whatever that was. Long hours of gaping at the screen tense your back, you couldn't care less about an intern who you objectively think that his primary motive— is to dickride seniors to get on their good side. Possibly get a promotion months earlier than other interns. You digress that it happens more than often.

You unlock the apartment door with an unhurried exhale, toeing off your heels as the familiar fervency of home greets you. The lights are on, dim, and the television is off. That’s the first sign something’s off—your boyfriend always has some noise going, even if he’s not watching. Something about him barring out the stupid noise in his head, so he says.

He’s in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, arms folded over his chest. Black shirt clinging to his abs, forearms tense. His eyes lift the moment he hears you come in— smile immediately faltering as his gaze is already latched onto the box sitting on your hands.

“What’s that?” He asks before you even get past the entryway.

You flutter. “What?”

“The box, in your hands.”

You shake it, stifled thuds casting from the tempered chocolates that hit the hardcovers. “Oh, just some chocolates. The new intern gave them to me.”

Toji’s jaw ticks once. “What for?” You simply shrug, setting the box on the counter without a second thought. “I don’t know. Said thanks for helping him out. I told him I didn’t even like chocolate.” His regard sharpens. He propels off the counter slowly, steps closing in like he’s not even aware of how much space he’s taking up.

“You don’t,” He mutters. “So why keep it?”

“I was gonna give them to you,” You reply plainly, meeting his stare. “You like chocolate.”

His jaw softens just a little at that. His eyes fall to the box, then back to you. “What’s his name?” He asks, voice hushed—rugged like gravel, but it had a quiet lilt to it. You hesitate, just for a second. “Suguru, Suguru Geto.”

Toji lets the name settle in his mouth like it tastes bitter. “Huh.” He doesn’t raise his voice, just looks away for a second, runs his tongue over his teeth, and huffs out a laugh that doesn't sound amused.

“That kid,” He curses, mostly to himself. “He really thinks he’s got the room to try shit like that?” His words start to redirect to a much more stern tack, leaning in anger as if you were Suguru.

“Toji—” You adhere that he seems upset, trying to calm him down to no avail— there’s a heaviness in the way he moves, the quiet tension in his stare. You try to ease him, speak softly, and touch his arm. But he doesn’t budge. 

“He doesn’t know who you go home to, does he?”

He’s not clamoring with his remarks but with the lingering heat in his voice, the leverage behind his words—it strikes you badly. You move past him with a shake of your head.

“It’s done. I told him I don’t like chocolates. End of story.”

Toji watches you, lips pressed into a thin, scrawled line. Then, slowly, he moves to the box and picks it up, eyeing the neat ribbon like it personally insulted him. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to toss one piece in his mouth before setting it down again. Then looks over his shoulder at you. “That better be the fuckin’ end of it.”

-

You hadn’t even taken your first sip of coffee when your entire morning rewrote itself. Barely making it ten feet past the front desk before a quiet nudge from the receptionist had you turning your head—and there he was.

Toji Fushiguro in all his glory.

Slanting back on the plush guest lounge couch as if he belonged there. Sprawled out like vice wrapped in his usual attire on a guest lounge couch meant for polite clients, not men with shoulders like his and a burning gaze driven by nothing but ill intent. His arms hung along the backrest, long legs parted, one boot planted lazily on the ground, the other ankle resting on his knee. He wasn’t fidgeting. Wasn’t strolling. Wasn’t pretending to be busy.

He was just… watching.

His stare didn’t skim the room, nor did it flick to the receptionist when she tried to greet him, or the curious interns who slowed down to steal glances at the man who looked more like a mafia problem than a corporate guest. His eyes weren’t on anyone else. Not the interns scrambling through the hallway. Not the receptionist glancing at him from behind her monitor. Not the confused coworker who whispered, “Hey… isn’t that your boyfriend?”

No. Toji’s eyes were on you.

He didn’t wave. No smirk. Just gaped—eyes tugging over you in that manner that made you feel like the only person in the entire building. Like he was cataloging every movement, every breath, every second you weren’t beside him. You tried not to show your surprise.

You’re stocked still for half a heartbeat, lips parting slightly. His eyes dawdled over you—daggering, like he was checking for bruises no one could see. When his sight reached your face, there was the faintest curve of his mouth—still no smile. Something lower possibly.

You approached him slowly, stowing your voice down to a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

His tongue rolled across the inside of his cheek before he tilted his head, answering without moving a muscle.

“Thought I’d see where you vanish to every morning.”

A smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth, but there was no sign of warmth in it. “I’m at work, babe,” You utter a nervous chuckle, trying to suppress the strange shiver tugging at your spine, eyes darting away as heat rushes up your neck. He hummed. “I can see that.”

He didn’t care. Just leaned back, that loose, spread-out posture so knowingly confident it dared anyone to question why he was there. His eyes snapped lazily toward the glass panels that faced your desk—close enough to see, close enough to watch, and he stayed there. All morning.

Just tending your cubicle sat directly across from the glass lounge wall, so every time you looked up, his gaze was waiting for you. Unmoving. As if guarding something.

As if daring someone to approach.

And Geto—he noticed. The poor intern tried to act normal, but his stance was noticeably stiff when he walked past Toji on the way to the break room, his shoulders locked up like he felt the heat of something predatory behind him. You couldn’t blame him.

Toji didn’t even look at him. Wouldn’t spare him the luxury of eye contact. He would’ve rather hit an innocent civilian than waste a single wink of his peripheral vision on someone pathetic like that stupid intern.

But it didn’t end that day.

It was just the start of everything.

Toji Fushiguro, who found texting a nuisance, now spammed your phone like a teenager who’s been ghosted after five days of flirting. Where you used to get at least five messages a day, you now get in an hour. Calls are recurring too—at first, it was in the evenings. Then it was during lunch. Then, much abruptly, your morning team meetings.

You reflect on the first time it buzzed during a conference call—you ignored it. Two minutes later, it vibrated in your associate’s face. Then again. Five times before the meeting ended, all from Toji.

You only stare at his messages, at edge.

He’d never been like this before. Never needy. Never overbearing. He used to be the sort of guy to just casually text, “Still alive. You want ramen for dinner?” Hardly reminded you of his existence until you stood at home. But now?

You couldn’t even walk anywhere within two minutes without finding a missed call.

It progressively got gaudier in the most subtle way. The unnecessarily sumptuous gifts. A luxury bag you once pointed at in a store window, now sitting on your chair. A bouquet of roses you briefly mentioned smelled nice? Delivered in bulk. And a bracelet, no price tag– just a matte black velvet box placed on your desk one morning, inside it a delicate piece of silver with a single note that read “For Mrs. Fushiguro.”

You didn’t even know how he got your office address. As much as you revel in his gifts and sudden need to show the world you belonged to him, it caught you a little off guard. Money he would blow off from gambling, now expended on you.

You’d known Toji long enough to understand what this was. That was the moment you sensed it—not just the difference, but the heft of it all. The intensity. The pressure building just right under the surface. He wasn’t the ilk to beg for time or reassurance. He wasn’t the type to chase. Didn’t pace when you were distant. He was the type to walk away, let the door swing behind him, and never look back. He was the type to just claim what he knew was for him.

So the fact that he was now hovering this close to something as insignificant to him as your work life, orbiting it like something ready to collide—meant one thing. For him to be texting. Calling. Tracking your work schedule. Leaving costly gifts at your desk like portents in wrapping paper—He wanted to clad around your life so tightly that no one could slip between the cracks. No stupid interns. No chance. No air.

And the riskiest part? That you liked it. You enjoyed the peril he’d leave and how much he’s keen to leave his hands bloody, much to your dismay. Toji’s affection didn’t blossom in temperate words or lazy kisses. It twisted in the grip of his hands, the hunger in his eyes, the way he touched you like you were made of glass but looked at you like he’d destroy anyone who dared breathe your name wrong.

You wondered, maybe—just maybe—he was going through something. Maybe he was going to propose? Maybe he’s just had a change of heart and wants to shower you with more love? Although he’s already provided you more than enough from his company alone.

Or maybe not. You knew Toji well. You knew the disparity between love and territory. And Toji didn’t mark things with labels. He marked them with his presence. With his silence, with the creeping wraith of his stare as it followed you everywhere you went. And somewhere, deep down, you felt it: This wasn’t a change of affection.

It was more so, a warning. The way his eyes pursued you was like a tight promise, your phone buzzing meant someone cared too much, gifts that didn’t declare “I love you” but “You’re mine”.

Still… the pressure was there. Growing, closer and closer like a man-made bomb. Toji wasn’t just orbiting anymore. He was descending.

And when a man like him descends, you don’t get fireworks or buds.

You get a hand around your waist, a whisper at your throat, and the threat of roughness tucked somewhere just behind his kiss.

-

You click away on your keyboard, once lustrously lit halls that were roved with beaming employees, are now cold and dim, just the remote noise of the ventilation and a few employees saying their goodbyes to each other.

It’s overtime and you’re still clung to your cubicle, groaning at the lack of rest your eyes and body have been getting.

“You didn’t tell me you were staying late,” A voice cuts through your thoughts, your eyes inching to Toji, who surprisingly still waited within the office grounds.

“Didn’t know until last minute. You could’ve just texted,”

“I called.” His voice felt insipid. “You didn’t answer.”

“I was busy, you know that.”

“I get that,” He retorts. “Which is why I wanna know your schedule. From now on. Meetings, lunch breaks, everything.” You spun around slowly. “Why?”

He looked you in the eye, inclining forward just slightly. “So I know when to worry, and when not to.” You rasp at his sudden need to be interested in your work life, when you couldn't care less about your own. “What for, Toji?” Rubbing the temples of your forehead, his eyebrows furrow in defense. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that that I don’t like it—“

“Then stop asking questions you know the answer to.”

You soughed, hand waving to gesture to him to quiet down. After all, the two of you were still in public with few employees maybe present. “Not while I’m at work.” You grunt, standing up from your seat as both your hands softly slam the surface of your disorganized desk. “And I could use some rest.” 

Toji’s scarred lips twist into a measly shit-eating grin, treading behind your figure as his massive arms softly engulf your waist.  “Toji.. There’s cameras around here.” You stammer, wincing under your unsteady breaths.

He shushes you, and you can feel his thick bulge behind your tight pencil skirt. “I know.” His voice is light, quietly dragging you along across the cubicle from yours— a place that the cameras had no exact view of from any angle.

You nervously glance at Toji. It’s during moments like these that you notice how much he genuinely towers over you. Size and intimidation wise. He brings a finger to his lips, a signal for you to keep quiet.

“Bend over.”

You look away, cheeks flushing from his words and how broadly your body aches to just obey him. You pause in your tracks and slant your body against the edge of the table without any second thought– just how Toji liked it.

The moment your figure curved, his hips press gradually behind your ass. A slow, long push that highlights his bulge; inwardly brushing against your cunt.

Toji’s body leans on top of yours, and you can hear the whiff of his voice prompt a whisper. “You notice whose table this is, sweetheart?”

Your eyes trail up to see indications that the desk you were currently getting bent over at belonged to Suguru. It makes your lips tug and your legs tremble and he notices the look on your face, hands swiftly pulling up the hem of your skirt. “Feels fuckin’ dirty, doesn’t it?” His voice completed with a lower hum, you can hear him lick his lips at the presence of your red lace.

“Red huh? Showing your filthy panties off to that pathetic brat?” His voice gets gruff, grinding his clothed cock against your pussy. The friction makes your body jerk from pleasure, both your privates merely having a barrier through the fabric. Your panties were of soft, thin material— and you could feel and remind yourself of the cock you bounce on every day.

Faint moans and Toji’s name stutter out of your mouth, but he doesn’t allow any sort of racket to leave. He covers your mouth with his hands, leaving you to only listen to his profane whispers as his hands stroke your hips. Cock grinding against you dry.

“Look at you. Wouldn’t Suguru like it that you’re dripping wet on his table?” He snarls like a tight snap, hands nabbing tight on your ass. “M’gonna fuck you up, doll.” A kiss he leaves on the shell of your ear before he lifts the rim of your lace to get a view of your wet cunt. White sodden liquid juicing your clit, Toji’s breath hitches at the sight. 

You wriggled under his constraint, muffling against his palms that made sure you didn’t articulate a single word. “I said be quiet, brat.” He reiterates, making you roll your eyes at his demand. You wanted him to be more wary, knowing he can be the most absurd when necessary. If you get caught, your job isn’t even on the line, it’s dead over.

And when you come to that realization, you wriggle even more.

Toji sighs, unleashing his clasp on your mouth. “How are you so sure we’re not gonna get caught?” You click your tongue.

“You really think I’m gonna fuck you on his table?” His eyebrows crease in complete amusement, leaving you to oppugn his intentions. Was that not what he was going to do?..

“Oh wow, what a naughty girl.” He lets out a sluggish chuckle, unzipping his pants to stretch out his hard cock. His tongue poking the insides of his mouth, the head of his leaking cock kissing the gape of your clit. “I’m simply teasing you. I can’t just let you get what ya please.” He grunts, controlling his own desires as you shake at the touch of his tip fondling your folds gently.

 “F-fuck..- mmf! Toji..” You falter, realizing how embarrassing it was to assume so. You’d hate to admit it, but a dirty little speculation wouldn’t hurt anybody. Maybe you did want him to fuck you rough on top of the new intern’s table. Put you in your place.

 “That’s no fun either... I’d rather him watch me fuck you to ruins.” His laugh grumbles in his throat and it echoes through your ears.

He’s mouthing these words while his cock continuously coquets your opening, your hands were rolled into fists trying to contain and withstand the pleasure and the need for his dick to be buried deep in you. Your abdomen curls and your legs are starting to wobble, you can feel your pussy start to sodden up.

“What a shame, staining this lace. My second favorite pair.” He notices the wet patches that darkened your panties before he even got the chance to pull his cock out. It riled him up, knowing his existence got you on your knees without even trying.

It’s nothing short of astonishing, an inflow of dopamine surging through his body—his cock. He loved watching you quake under even barely a touch. Pulling away to sink himself on Geto’s chair, his dick is so hard it could almost fall off. 

His head hangs back, seeing you drip in your seeping wetness. You look back, crouching under the plateau– somewhat flustered. Your legs kneel beneath his figure, looking up as you flutter your eyelashes.

His chuckle was short, fingers slowly carding through your hair before he pulled it forward. You lament at his sudden yank, trying your absolute hardest to just not jump on his cock and call it a day. “Why can’t you just ahh.. fuck off and go home?”

That riposte makes his brows lift, his clasp that held your hair becoming tighter the more you speak utter drivel to his face. “You’ve got such a pretty mouth, why don’t you use it for something better than running it all day?” He moves your head to his cock that hung off the middle of his sweats, his length lightly slapping your face. 

You interject with a grunt, your pretty hands sliding up his dick that was pulsating with precum. “So annoying. You’re lucky we’re not at home.” You quarrel back, mouth immediately engulfing his entire length to give him a piece of your mind. The hasty downing makes Toji jolt his hips from the mere satisfaction. You’re entertained by his resolve to fight back against his moans. 

Tongue swirling against his veins, leaving dripping lines that doused his cock with your saliva. You went at it, deepthroating his monster length that stuffed your gullet, head bouncing while your eyes darted at his. Two could play at this game.

Meanwhile, Toji was resisting his whims; in means that he wishes to just fuck you on the spot. He found it hot, seeing you fight fire with fire, knowing you never back down without a fight— but there’s always an end to it, because Mr.  Fushiguro knows he’s in control.

When you’re down to the base of his cock, attempting to show not even the slightest struggle— he pushes your head down, making you muffle your sharp whimpers as his cock loads your throat. He emits a flustered chuckle, “Cat got your tongue, doll?”

Yet his voice was shaky, taking in the tight passage of your windpipe clutching him in every corner. You don’t even deny that his cock’s always got you under some spell. 

“Gonna fuck your throat so hard.” He huffs, bobbing your head down with his hands. “So fuckin’ hard that you can’t talk to other men no more.” Your words slurred, inaudible and drooling as you suck his cock like his personal champ, his prized possession. You’ve gone down enough on him to adhere to his massive size; you deviate. Thick, sloppy slurping emanates from your lips, spittle threading your chin.

“Fuck, I’m -ahh.. gonna cum.” His own brain sounds like it's going through hurdles, the pleasure swelling throughout his entire body as he’s quite literally about to split. “Swallow. Or else, Suguru’s gonna have to clean up this mess.” He’s still got the nerve to say absurd things while getting the soul sucked out of him, moving your head slowly one last time before he jerks his hips forward to release and liberate himself.

You feel your mouth loaded with his semen, lips parting open as white slobber drools from the upper roof of your mouth. Sticky, hot, and white. Filling your mouth, you take a second or two to drink it all, snuffing helplessly after. It was that clinging saltiness with that numbing aftertaste. 

His cock twitches as he groans, intrigued enough that you relinquished but stepped on him when you had the chance. He quickly pulls his pants up, caressing your chin before wiping off any excess of his sap leaking down your swollen lips. “Such a good girl. I’ll make you feel like royalty tonight.” He smiles, as if havent abused your throat seconds before. You nod eagerly, ready to pack up your things, cum twice as hard on Toji Fushiguro’s cock, and doze like a tot– a good start to the end of the weekday.

-

It was dead quiet in the break room, just the whirr of the processing vending machine and the faded click of your spoon tapping against the lid of your unopened yogurt. You were mid-scroll on your phone, half-reading an email you didn’t want to deal with yet, eyes suddenly shifting when you feel someone step into your periphery.

“Funny seeing you here,” a voice said, light and somewhat teasing. You didn’t need to look to know it was Suguru. Stance still, you turned your head, arching a brow. “We work on the same floor.”

He grinned, in his usual blur of smooth and unbothered. He leaned against the coffee counter, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cup of tea. “Yeah, but you usually disappear around this time. Had to catch you before you disappeared again.”

You tilted your head. “Didn’t know you cared about where I disappeared to or not.”

He snickered, then took a gulp of his coffee before lowering it. “Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a real cup of coffee sometime. Somewhere that doesn’t smell like melted plastic.”

There it was—clean, assured, delivered with just enough appeal that it might’ve worked on someone else. You gave a quiet laugh under your breath and placed your spoon down. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Maybe.” He smiled again, edges curving a little slower this time. “But I promise I’m better company outside this hellscape.” You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at him—his easy attitude, the way his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, exposing the line of veins on his biceps. He was attractive, sure, and his allure shot through the roof.

But it didn’t matter. You picked up your yogurt again. “That’s adorable,” you pause, making a firm enough reply to an oblivious Geto. “But I’m gonna pass.” Geto’s brows extended. He didn’t look disappointed—just a little surprised. “Really?” He enunciated, somewhat appearing more intrigued.

“Really.” You decline him for what seems to be the fourth time. 

“Alright.” He drones as he raises his cup in a little toast. “One of these days, you’ll say yes.”

You didn’t respond. Just tossed your empty yogurt cup into the bin and walked out without looking back—his hooded eyes following you the entire way. To you, this man just really wanted a promotion.

You’d just stepped through the front door, bag dangling against your leg, brain still buzzing from another brutal day—emails, deadlines, half-baked solutions you'd patched together with exhaustion. You were halfway to the bedroom when your phone vibrated, but you shoved it into your pocket, thinking: not now.

The scent of stale cologne hit you first. You paused.

Then you saw him.

Sitting at the edge of the bed. Still. Mummed, as you walked in, making your presence known. Head tilted just slightly, forearms resting on his thighs, fingers interlaced and flexing like he was trying to stop himself from cracking his knuckles. His jaw was locked tight until you could see bone, muscles ticking in a slow, agitated cadence, and he didn’t spare a glance when you entered.

You unfurled your mouth to speak—to say hi, to say I’m home, maybe to mention the weird moment at work earlier, Suguru’s half-sincere invitation to grab a coffee sometime. You had meant to laugh it off, you had meant to tell Toji about it before it turned into anything complicated.

But you didn’t get the chance. He exhaled sharply through his nose, and said—

“I heard that brat asked you out.” Your stomach sank.

“Toji—” He turned his head then, just slightly. Enough for you to see the faint gleam in his eyes, the kind of look that wasn’t raised, wasn’t loud—but spoke of true intimidation. That tranquil, cold vehemence that always preceded something far more dangerous.

“He’s got the guts, huh?” The same reaction as the last night when you both fought. Almost enlivened, but not quite.

You stared at him, but you were solely just tired and nonplussed. “It wasn’t like that. He asked, and I said no. That’s all.” Toji stood, not fast—but there was a kind of force in the way he rose, like gravity bent with him. He took a single step forward, and his shoulders squared, gaze narrowing as it fixed on you like a laser.

“That all?” He said, softly now. “He just asked?”

You sighed, dropping your bag beside the dresser with a heavy thud. “Yes. I turned him down. It wasn’t a big deal.” But you could see it in his face—the unobtrusive curl at the corner of his mouth, the astute inhale through his nose, the restless flex of his hand at his side. He wasn’t hearing the words. He was hearing someone else got the idea he could slobber themselves all over his girl.

“Shiu informed me,” He muttered, eyes plodding over your face like he was measuring how much you were hiding. “Said he watched him walk right up to you. Said you didn’t exactly push him away.” Your shoulders stiffened. “Are you having me followed now?”

He said nothing.

You scoffed, voice climbing. “Jesus, Toji.” He reached up, eyes drilling a scalding dent through yours. “I don’t like him,” He sternly said, throat tightening. “I don’t want him near you.”

“I should’ve known the second that kid started hanging around your desk,” His voice is guttural, desperate. “He’s got the fuckin’ nerve.” You gazed up at him, calefaction flushed under layers of your skin. Not from shame, but just unwavering fatigue from spending your time away at work. You deal with hasty, mean clients on a daily— you hated coming home to a tensed boyfriend, who gave off the exact energy from the sorts of people you despised at work.

“It was one question over coffee. I said no. Do you want me to start shoving people now just to prove I don’t like them?” His jaw worked. You could see him biting back a harsher response. You stepped back before he could say anything worse—before you could. “God, I’m not doing this tonight.” You inhale, a frigid feeling rushing through your mouth. You turned away, moving to the sink to fill a glass of water, the silence behind you tightening like a noose. The sound of running water felt too loud, like it reverberated against everything that hadn’t been said.

When you turned again, he was still standing there. His body language seemed apprehensive, but his eyes no longer watched yours. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m just really tired,” You huff. “I need to sleep.” He lifted his head slowly and frowns, lips parted in a look that held vigor. Toji stared at you for a long second, then he bobbed his head. “Fine.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and crossed the hallway, disappearing into the living room. You sank to the side of the bed, heart hammering in your stomach then the front door clicks, hearing soft slide of leather soles against hardwood. You waited.

Minutes later, the apartment grew heavy with nothing but the air of unspoken words, punctuated only by the distant bar noise from the block below. You couldn’t sleep, but you didn’t want to move a single inch. Your phone buzzed in your hand— expecting it to be Toji, but it was work. You threw it across the room.

You didn’t watch him walk out, but you heard the door open. Then close, hard enough to rattle the frame. Not a slam but close enough, a reminder to indicate that he was angry.

Somewhere in the city, Toji lit a cigarette. He didn’t smoke, and he never did— said it fucked up his stamina, said it made his fingers itch. But tonight, he didn’t want the burn in his lungs—he wanted something to ground him, to stop the fire in his chest from turning into something stupid.

He leaned on the hood of Shiu’s car, arms crossed, head gauche. The latter was beside him, relaxed as always, dark blazer flaring around him like he resided in a noir film. He took a long drag of his cigar, then tilted his head. “You guys fought?” Shiu asked, almost like it was conversational.

Fushiguro didn’t answer. The no response made Shiu huff, passing the cigar to him without waiting for permission. “Thought so.”

Toji takes the rapidly burning cigar, eyes locked on the streetlight ahead—watching nothing, saying nothing. Shiu blew a stream of smoke toward the sky, lips twitching into a dry smirk. “I got something to help you out.”

The sentence alone finally makes Toji’s eyes move, indefinite words provoking a tell-me stare. 

“You want the intern gone, right?”

Toji didn’t respond, nor did he take a gust; he just kept on flicking the Zippo lighter.

-

The office felt unlike that morning. It wasn’t the weather—though the sky was dull and gray, stout with the threat of rain. It wasn’t the usual coffee, either—though it was colder, and you were sure someone had changed the creamer stock.

No, it was definitely the atmosphere. Awfully reserved and stiff. Like a room where someone had just been yelled at, and the sound still clung to the office walls.

And then rumor has it from your colleague beside your desk, that the new intern, Suguru Geto, has been transferred to the Service Department.

Your brows knit together in confusion, but you said nothing. Didn’t bother to ask questions, you just walked to your cubicle and goggled at his empty one across yours, the single unclaimed pen still sitting on the desk like it hadn’t gotten the memo. His mug was gone. His jacket too. 

Transferred, huh? Maybe he messed with the wrong senior. There’s no doubt that transferring to service is like a formal invitation to human perdition.

Your skin prickled. It weirded you out, sure. People got moved around all the time in corporate. Maybe some higher-up found out. Maybe it was nothing. Although it didn’t matter, it had been so long since an intern had been demoted to a low-rate department.

By the time you got home, you had almost forgotten the suspense that tarried from the night before. Almost. You wanted things to feel normal again. You wanted Toji to be alright again.

He was on the couch when you walked in—shirt loose around his shoulders, remote in hand, eyes on the television like nothing in the world could bother him. His legs were spread wide, one arm thrown along the back of the couch. Casual, like he always has been. His everyday posture, everyday routine.

It almost irritated you how calm he looked.

You dropped your bag near the door and slid off your shoes. “So…” You started, voice colloquial, brushing hair from your face, “That intern? Geto? He got transferred to another department. Like, just today. No warning.”

Toji didn’t look away from the screen. “Oh,” he said, tone dead flat. “Okay.”

You blinked. “…Okay?”

“Yeah.”

A pause. You stared at him. “You don’t think that’s kind of weird?” Toji shrugged lazily. “Guess someone wanted him out. Not my problem.” He didn’t even fidget. Not a smirk, not a twitch. His voice was tepid, like he was talking about the climate. 

It’s not the fact that you were adamant on why he didn’t care about Suguru leaving, you knew he couldn’t care less. You know Toji well enough that you deduced he’d be jumping around because the brat’s gotten transferred.

He’s awfully robotic, too subdued. You stepped closer.

“Toji.”

“Mm?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you have anything to do with it?” That was when he looked at you. Sluggish, inert, and controlled. His eyes locked on yours, indistinct. “With what?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

A flash of dead silence. It was solemn. The air screamed tacit. He let out a quiet breath through his nose and leaned back even more as if you were boring him. “That’s crazy.” His expression looked unamused, and his tone was a snarky read.

“Toji.” You regurgitate again, the words that were evoked from your throat become wooden, and his name was uttered, sternly.

He raised his brows. “Why the fuck would you care about some intern?” And there it was. The confirmation—not in his words, but in his tone. In that smug, slippery dodge. That slight indifference you can easily catch, something only you can discern.

“You had him removed?” You wondered if it had gotten out of hand. “You went behind my back and had someone transferred simply because he asked me out?”

Toji finally turned off the television. “That’s a reach,” he muttered.

“You’re unbelievable,” Your words snap like an already breaking twig. “He hasn’t done anything beyond the line, and I’ve rejected him multiple times. There’s no need to jeopardize someone’s job over something you can easily talk to me about, Toji.” He stood slowly. No rush, but the tote on his shoulders veered. “You don’t get it,” he said, voice wilting somberly. “That was a man thinking he could touch what’s mine.”

You stepped back. “I’m not property, Toji.”

He laughed under his breath. The kind of laugh that held no sort of humor. It was a dry chuckle, something his gruff voice accentuated. “Don’t act like you didn’t know. Don’t act like you didn’t feel what he was doing.”

You shook your head, heart pummeling now. “That’s not your decision to make—what I feel, what I don’t. You crossed a line. That man didn’t put his hands on me and I couldn’t give two fucks about his presence.” He ambled closer. You didn’t move.

“But you can’t just keep tabs on me and have me tailed,” you hissed.

His hand shot forward, but it wasn't harsh—not enough to hurt—but it was quick. He clutched your wrist to pull you forward to face his eyes, not tight, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks. His chest grew and fell with tension, his mandible set hard. His peer smoldered. 

“I’ll destroy anyone who tries to take you away from me.”

The silence after that was deafening; the room felt like it was breathing, and somewhere, deep in the expanse between fear and desire, your breath caught in your throat.

-

You woke up feeling like your chest was bound in hot iron.

Sleep hadn’t come easily—not with last night sitting at the back of your head like smoke. You had turned away from him in bed, the weight of his hold on your wrist still ghosting your skin. His voice resounded in your mind louder than anything else.

“I’ll destroy anyone who tries to take you away from me.”

It made your pit churn.

You believed him; he was capable of anything.

You stared at the ceiling for a prolonged amount of time before carrying yourself out of bed. You didn’t touch him. You didn’t speak or remind him of your existence. You didn’t even look back when you closed the door behind you. The vestige of him slowly fading on your skin.

Every step felt too loud. The elevator ride down was too quiet. You didn’t want to go straight to work with the huge hindrance sitting rotund on your shoulders.

Your body was stiff, your mind fogged with strain, and nerves frayed tight like candy livewires about to snap. You needed caffeine, at least three shots. Space to just breathe. Something bitter to dull the taste of last night’s fire.

So you ducked into the corner shop near the station, small and unassuming, the kind of place you barely noticed unless you were desperate for a drink or two. You placed your order—espresso on the rocks, something simple. The barista smiled and slid the drink toward you. You took your first sip and exhaled, shoulders unwinding ever so slightly as you leaned against the counter near the pickup window.

That’s when you felt it—a tap on your shoulder. You hoped it wouldn’t be who you thought it was.

Hair loose today, tied low. Shirt open at the collar, messenger bag slung over one arm. It was your everyday Suguru. Like nothing had happened.

“Hey,” He said, smiling, voice cordial like he meant no harm. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Your heart romped once—not out of excitement, but pure, cold apprehension. You hadn’t seen him since he vanished from the floor. Since his desk went empty.

“Oh,” Your breath hitches, stunned at the sight of the man who you think would have to enjoy his last days by tomorrow latest. “Hey. I—uh… heard you got transferred.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Yeah, kind of a surprise to me too. The boss pulled me aside and said something about restructuring. Figured I’d done something wrong.”

Your eyes flickered, then you forced a small laugh. “Corporate’s in a mess. I guess.”

“Guess so.” He grinned, not bitter—just courteous and leisurely on the eyes. He was still charming in that I’m-not-trying-too-hard way. You glanced down at your drink, swirling it around as the ice rumbles. You felt awkward; you knew you needed to leave. Part of you feels like you’re being watched, like you made a big mistake choosing to come in here and get yourself a cup of coffee in the first place.

“I didn’t get to say thanks,” He added. “For being cool with me, I mean. You’re a good senior.” You contrive to give a half-earnest smile, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, no problem.”

And that was it. No threads of flirting and abiding tension, but it didn’t matter.

Turns out you weren’t the only one being watched.

Toji Fushiguro, standing paranoid and territorial, hadn’t just had you monitored after that night. He’d sent someone to follow Geto. To track him. To make sure he didn’t circle back. You didn’t know that someone had snapped a photo of you standing in that shop, talking to the intern you were supposed to have ‘left behind’.

And when you got home, everything felt dreadful the moment you stepped foot.

Toji’s shoes were normally by the door. His jacket was tossed carelessly over the couch. You called his name softly, but there was no reply. You rounded the corner—

And there he was, leaning against the hallway wall. His hands in his pockets. Hair slightly mussed. His dress shirt half-unbuttoned, exposing the broad cut of his chest and the slope of muscle down his collarbone. He looked pissed.

You freeze in your movement.

Then he moved, fast.

Your back hit the wall before you could even breathe. His arm braced beside your head, and the other gripped your hip, tight. His eyes scorched into yours, hooded and illegible. 

“You saw him?” You opened your mouth, but you were unable to fight back against the man who was obviously much larger than you in comparison. “Toji, w-wait—” He leaned in closer, so much so that his nose brushed yours. “You think I wouldn’t find out?”

“It was a coincidence,” You groaned. “I didn’t plan it. I was just getting coffee.”

His grip tightened.

“I told you what I’d do,” He whispered, voice raw and complete with grim. “He wasn’t trying—”

“I don’t give a fuck what he was doing,” It was as if a fuse in him snapped. “He was standing in front of you. Talking to you. Looking at you like he still had a chance.”

Your lungs stuttered, breath snagging in your throat.

“Toji, please—”

He pinned you tighter, his body pressing into yours, heat bleeding into your epidermis, the air between you pulled taut like a thread about to disintegrate. His breath was hot against your lips, teeth grazing the edge of your cheek as he hissed—

“You’re mine. Do you understand me?”

You didn’t answer.

So he made you.

His lips crashed into yours with brute force. His hand cupped your lower jaw, fingers sliding into your hair, tilting your face up like he was trying to stamp ownership into every inch of you. His other hand slipped lower, docking you to him, dragging you up against the wall as if being close still wasn’t close enough. It wasn’t gentle.

It was him owning his possession. A collision of everything he hadn’t said, everything you’d pushed back on, all tangled in teeth and breath and heat.

You gasped against his mouth. He didn’t stop, making sure you hadn’t gotten the chance to even respire against his lips. His voice broke against your skin between kisses—low, guttural.

“I’ll show him who you fuckin’ belong to, doll.”

His grip against you was rough and restrictive, feeling him upon you, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. The searing press of his body seeping through the thin fabric of your clothes. You could feel every inch of him, from the broad expanse of his chest to the firm muscles of his thighs, kneading your abdomen.

"Toji, please," You whimpered, your breath coming in transient gasps. 

His voice was velvet-wrapped gravel, heat burgeoned from it in a sedate crawl.

His fixed look dragged down your face, across your parted lips, and lower. Like he was reading every skipped breath, every flicker of guilt — or thrill — that passed through you. You swallowed. Hard. But the flutter in your stomach betrayed your attempt at calm.

“Is he coming back because he’s a stubborn piece of shit,” He hisses, tongue clicking against his teeth. “Or are you just too nice to tell him no?”

“Listen—” You tried to communicate, to reason, but it came out breathless, your words dusting against the tension between you like a match struck too close to an already blazing flame.

He leaned in, mouth grazing your jaw, inhaling like your skin was a secret he was about to uncover. “Nah, don’t backpedal now, ma. You’re the one who wanted to play games.” His hands tightened just enough to make your pulse stutter. “So let’s play.”

Then he kissed you again— no hesitation, no teasing warmth. Just longing passion fueled by jealousy, teeth brushing your bottom lip, tongue licking into your mouth like he had to taste everything. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask for permission. The kind that made your knees buckle.

You whimpered into it, wrists still trapped above you, hips jerking instinctively forward. He growled low in his throat, pulling away just enough to breathe against your lips.

In one fluid move, his hands dropped, grabbing your waist and throwing you over his shoulder before you could recover. You squealed—a helpless, flustered sound muffled by the shock of gravity tilting beneath you.

“T-Toji, put me down! I’ll kill you–”

“You sure about that?” He laughed, palm skimming up your thigh before giving it a sharp slap that parroted louder than your whines. “You say that now, but I know that cute little sound you make when I bury you deep in my cock.”

The hallway obfuscates as he carries you with effortless strength, one hand hooked around your ass, the other holding you steady. You wriggled and kicked playfully, fists beating weakly against his back.

“What is up with you?!”

He didn’t answer. Toji's rough hands snatch your thighs, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he throws you onto the bed like a ragdoll. You let out a surprised yelp as he just tossed you onto the bed like you weighed nada, your body bouncing lightly across the mattress. Before you could scramble upright, he was over you — a looming shadow, all muscle and bite, eyes glinting with something dangerous. Toji flashes you a vicious smirk, watching you squirm beneath him, your heart throbbing with a blend of fear and excitement. That wasn’t the only thing constantly throbbing either.

His hands roam your curves possessively, every trail left by his touch, electrifying. He rips your panties off with a swift tug, the flimsy fabric tearing easily under his strength. Before you can protest, he stuffs the ruined garment into your mouth, effectively gagging you. 

His chuckle sounded dark, head leaning down as his fingers straddled your waist. With a wicked grin, he starts to unbutton your blouse slowly, exposing more and more of your skin. "I miss my babies," He purrs, pulling the fabric aside to expose your lacy bra.

His hands reach behind you to unclasp it, freeing your breasts. He takes a moment to admire them, reaching out to squeeze and fondle the soft mounds. "Your tits fuckin’ perk up when I greet ‘em. Crazy, huh?" He mutters, pinching your nipples between his fingers.

Subsequently, he slides his hands down your stomach to the hem of your skirt. He yanks them with a flick of his fingers and drags them down your legs as he leaves you fully naked beneath him. "Look at you, all spread out for me," 

Tipping down, he peppers kisses along your jaw and down your neck, his tongue snaking out to taste your rinds. He makes his way lower. Toji takes his time probing every inch of you, his greedy hands roaming over your curves as his mouth continues its work. He licks along your collarbone, down your sternum, circling your navel before dipping his tongue inside briefly. Finally, he settles between your legs, pushing your other lips apart to expose your ready hole. 

With a brisk move, he flips you over at ease as he disrobes off his own clothes, unveiling his extremely toned build. His hard cock slapping his abdomen as he slowly pulled down his sweatpants for your own dirty entertainment, watching your arch intently.

Without any further preamble, Toji rams his hard cock into your leaking cunt, filling you completely in one brutal thrust. “Mmf.. Toshii..” Your moans are muffled by the makeshift gag, feeling your eyes roll to the back of your brain from the sheer length of his dick. Despite the lack of preparation, you're already soaking wet from his earlier advances, your body aching for his touch.

But he doesn't move a bust. He holds himself still inside you, his thick shaft stretching you loose. You try to wiggle your hips, desperate for some friction, but he holds you down with an iron grip, preventing you from moving.

"You want me to move?" Toji taunts, his hot breath ghosting over your ear. "You want me to fuck this tight cunt ‘till you fuckin’ scream?” Scream, without the first alphabet would do wonders as well.

His words are harsh, but his tone is laced with readiness to make you regret that you even spoke a single word to any other man. He's enjoying this, enjoying the power he has over you. And as much as you hate to admit it, so are you. He reaches a hand to take your panties that stuffed your mouth, a gasp exasperated from your lips.

He's cockwarming you, keeping you filled and desperate, and there's nothing you can do about it. You're completely at his mercy, and the thought sends throbs and tugs down your spine all the way to your pussy that was yelling his name, yelling under his length clutching against your hot, seeping walls.

“You gonna keep runnin’ your mouth?” He held your body down, preventing you from the friction you so craved. He was adhering you to his cock that welcomed itself with your built-up lube, a gleam in his eyes as he watched you shook your head to his question. But god, the feeling just courses through your fucking bones, you couldn’t help but move.

"Be a good brat, don’t fuckin’ move." Toji scolds, swatting your ass hard. "Didn't I tell you to stay still?" He lands another harsh smack on your other cheek, making you yelp. "Looks like ya need a reminder of who's in charge here." His palm connects with your ass again, the sharp sting making you gasp.

"Count them out," Toji orders, raining down a flurry of blows on your vulnerable flesh. "Let me hear how sorry you are for being such a fuckin’ brat."

"One—“ You cry out, biting your lip to hold back a sob. "T-Two..aahh.." The spanking continues, each smack sending jolts of pain and warranted pleasure through you. By the time he reaches five, the chubs of your ass pricks from his tight slaps and your pussy is dripping spittles of fluid that start to thread down your legs.

"Now apologize like you mean it," Toji pants, delivering one final, brutal slap. "Tell me how sorry you are for even looking at that pathetic excuse for a man."

"I-I'm sorry.." Your laments get louder, tears shrouding the glass of your eyes. "I'll be good, aahh... I promise, p-please—”

Toji smiles, hands fondling your stinging cheeks. "Such a fuckin’ slut underneath my touch, aren’t you?" He purrs. "I think you deserve a reward for taking your lesson so well."

He looks at your head throwing back, staring him down with beady eyes as you eagerly nod for your reward. His cock nudges at your entrance, "M’gonna need you to beg for it, doll.”  His throat hurls demands, rubbing the head of his dick up and down your slit. 

"P-please..put it in, Toji..” You mewl like a flustered lamb about to get mauled by dogs, arching your hips. "Please, please.. I-I can’t take it anymore, put it— in!"

Toji grips your hips firmly, holding you in place as he starts to thrust into you before you finished your last words, his thick cock racking your fleshy walls. You can't help but cry out at the sudden rock of his hips, your cunt clenching tightly around him. "Since you asked so -ahh.. nicely," He grunts into his sentence midway, slamming into you harder with every flash your ass is in contact with his hips. "Gonna ruin this pretty pussy."

He charges a grueling pace, pounding into you with reckless abandon. The bed creaks beneath you with the force of his thrusts, the headboard slamming against the wall. You can feel every ridge and vein of his cock dragging against your sensitive mounds, driving you insane.

"Take it like a fucking slut," He snarls, one hand tangling in your hair and yanking your head back. "You -nghh.. feel that? Your pussy’s desperate for m-my fuckin’ cock." He punctuates his words with particularly deep jabs into your cunt, making you whimper yes, yes, yes.

His other hand wraps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you feel muzzy. You can barely catch your breath as he chokes you, fucking you like he was rutting from behind. Tears stream down your face from the severe pleasure-pain that induced your insides, body jerking with each push his cock buries deep. “T-Toji, please–!”

"Look at you all bent over for me. Begging to be used like the desperate whore you are." He leans over you, biting at your shoulder as he drives into you, his pace pivoting, frantic now. "Gonna fill this pussy up," He bellows in your ear. 

You're mindless with pleasure, every coherent thought fleeing as Toji fucks you senseless. Your moans are high and desperate, completely fucked out and drunk on his cock. Your eyes roll back in your head as he pummels into you, every sever of your body trembling as it screams for more, for him to completely rearrange your insides.

Toji accidentally pulls out from the sheer pace he rammed into your gaping clit, leaving you empty and aching. Before you can even whimper in protest, he abruptly positions it in. "M’gonna record this and show you much of a slut you are.

The head catches on your slick folds with every beat he pulls in, out, in, out. You do as you're told, desperate to feel his length penetrate your ready hole that consumed every seam. He’s recording a video, capturing your debauched state. “Aahhh, y-your cock feels so-nghh fucking good–!” Being on tape toils him up much better; he’s purposely going faster, deeper to bulge your g-spot as his head peppers kisses to your cervix.

"Fuuuckk.. look at you taking it deep, ma." He pants, angling the phone to get a better shot. "Look how much ya.. –mmh.. love getting used by me." Every thud, every finger he presses on either the bones of your throat or the pit of your abdomen, it’s making you scream. "Bet you'll never forget this, will you? Getting split open on my cock while Suguru’s gonna watch this wishing it were him."

Your hands scrabble at the sheets as he continues to rut into you mercilessly. You're so close to the edge, teetering on a knife's point of overwhelming ecstasy. "P-please, please.. –aahhh.. Give me m-more.." You babble, too fucked out to form actual words.

Toji chuckles. "Begging for more? Fucking insatiable." He pulls out to flip you on your back missionary-style, every sensation sudden and brisk. He got a better view of you this way, seeing his bulge peek through your stomach as he grinds deeper and deeper. 

He pounces into you hard, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your back arching off the bed. "Desperate as if you haven’t been getting it everyday, huh?”

He’s making himself angrier at his own words. “Maybe your pussy’s getting rammed by some other fucking cock, hmm?” Your hands leaves red scratches at his toned back, nails digging into his skin as he drives into you relentlessly. The metal of the bed creaks and shakes with the force of his movements, the wooden  headboard sending thuds against the wall. Your neighbours definitely hate you.

"What a fuckin’ whore, my cock not good enough f’ya?" He’s riling himself at that point, with his own remark. 

Your moans and cries are echoing off the walls as he ravages your swollen pussy. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass as you pull him deeper. "You’re all I need, Toji—” You mumble incoherently, lost in the mind-numbing gratification of being so thoroughly used. The phone’s long gone, thrown on the other side of the mattress.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck— I’m so fucking close—” You titter a hard moan, feeling your insides release as your own liniment starts to soak his dick, doubling the lustre of every thrust.

Toji leans down to capture your mouth in his usual brutal kiss, swallowing your whines. His tongue plunders your mouth, fucking you just as savagely as his thick cock is. You can taste yourself on him, musky and addictive. 

"I'm gonna fill this cunt up," He pants against your lips, his speed growing more erratic. "Pump you -mmhh.. full of my cum until it's dripping out of you." He squeezes your throat harder. "Pl-please, please..cum in me." You whimper, too far gone to even care— maybe uncovering new responsibilities wouldn’t be that bad if it meant that this was going to fulfill your hole every night. "Fill me up, I need it so bad. Want to feel you coming inside me." Your voice is so frail from him pressing your vocal cords, walls clenched around him, greedy for his seed.

Toji lets out a guttural groan, his hips stuttering as he buries himself deep one final time. You feel him swell inside you, his cock throbbing as he paints your insides with thick ropes of cum. "Fucking take it," he snarls, grinding against your cervix as he empties himself into you. "Milk my cock real good, baby."

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, white-hot ecstasy tearing through your body. You convulse beneath him, pussy clamping down rhythmically as you milk every last drop from his pulsing shaft. Toji groans at the sensation, hips twitching as he pumps you full of his essence.

Even as he softens inside you, Toji continues to move, grinding his pelvis against yours. His cum sloshes around in your abused hole, some of it leaking out to trickle down your crack. The obscene wet sounds of fucking fill the room, joining your gasps and whimpers.

"Such a pretty pussy," Toji purrs, reaching down to spread your swollen folds apart. "Even better when my load’s leaking out of ya."

Toji continues to grind against you, his softening cock still buried inside your used hole. His semen swashes around with each movement, some of it dribbling out to pool on the bed beneath you. The sound of your wet flesh slapping together fills the room, obscene and vulgar. Toji’s worn out and fucking trembling, and you were damn near passing out.

You whimper at the overstimulating touch, your body hypersensitive after the intense penetration. He’s fidgeting heavily himself, continuing to tease your sensitive flesh as he lazily rocks into you. "I-I can’t.. aagh.. you feel too fucking good.”

"Y-yes..." You manage to gasp out, too fucked out to form proper sentences. Your eyes flutter closed as you let the feeling of being so thoroughly claimed wash over you. Toji's words and touch lull you into a blissful, hazy state of contentment.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Toji pulls out of you with a satisfied grunt. His cum immediately starts to trickle out of your stretched hole, dripping down onto the bedspread. 

He rolls off you, his body coming to rest beside yours on the bed. You can feel his cum leaking out of you, cooling against your overheated skin. The room smelled of sex and sweat, and the air was heavy and humid.

Toji reaches for you then, pulling your limp, sated body into his arms. He presses a surprisingly tender kiss to your forehead before settling back against the pillows. You nuzzle into his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat placating you further.

Your body had long since gone pliant beneath the sheets — sore in the right ways, skin humming, lips swollen from kisses that never quite seemed to end. The room was still thick with heat and the lingering scent of him, but his touch had turned feather-light.

Toji sat beside you on the edge of the bed, damp cloth in hand, gently trailing it down your shoulder, over your stomach, and across the curve of your hip to get rid of reservoirs of sweat and leftover wakes of cum. He didn’t rush, didn’t speak — just focused on you with that rare, quiet reverence that only appeared in these slivers of aftermath.

He tucked stray hair behind your ear, eyes drinking you in like he hadn’t just had all of you minutes ago. You could barely keep yours open, the weight of exhaustion settling heavily in your limbs, but you still leaned into his palm when he cradled your cheek.

“S’too much,” You mumbled, voice drowsy, slurred with sleep. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to,” He interrupted, voice gruff but tender. He kissed your forehead like it was instinct. “Let me.”

After a warm, guided shower where Toji washed each and every part of your crevice gently, he got you dressed — one of his shirts, of course, oversized and soft — then pulled you into his chest beneath the sheets, the heavy weight of his arm anchoring you in place. You didn’t fight it. You never could when he was like this. Warm. Solid. Protective in a way only you got to see. Within minutes, you were out cold— mouth parted slightly, breath even, cheek pressed against his collarbone.

He didn’t move for a long time. Just watched you sleep, tracing your spine with slow, idle fingers. Every so often, his eyes would narrow, jaw flexing faintly as if the peace he held in his hands was still something he didn’t fully believe he deserved. Eventually, Toji reached across the nightstand, picked up his phone, and dialed without taking his eyes off you.

The line clicked.

“Shiu,” He said, voice barely above a whisper.

 “You got that brat’s number? I have a surprise for him.”

disclaimer, i don’t proofread most of my works! all rights reserved © gojoflirts.

[gojoflirts]

guys do we want a happy ending or a bad ending for this nerdjo fic

[gojoflirts]

OMG NERD!GOJO 🥹 I’m so excited to see how u portray him your writing is immensely good

whhwhahanhaha THANK YOU ANON im blushing …. hopefully its less longer than my toji fic no fingers crossed ! i yap too much but i js love adding plot…

[gojoflirts]

nerdjo fic coming up real soon hehehehehehe

[gojoflirts]

Your writing is just sooooooo 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

ANON i love u thank u. im honored u like my writing :,))) hehehe

[gojoflirts]

guys I genuinely have so many wips with good summaries that im dying to write but im so busy with classes UGHHHHHH

[gojoflirts]

MARK YOUR TERRITORY

Toji never liked sharing. Bets? Greedy. Food? Snatched. Money? As much as he could swallow. But you? You should be beyond anyone’s reach. So when a new intern from your job finds an interest in you, Toji goes to lengths you would’ve never imagined this greedy bastard could do.

→ toji fushiguro x fem! reader

WORD COUNT | 12.5K

WARNING(S) | smut content—minors dni! pwp, toxic depictions of a relationship, slight angst, very jealous and possessive toji, dirty talk, choking, dumbification, rough and angry sex, spanking, degradation, unprotected sex (wrap the willy), dry humping, cum swallowing, deepthroating, manhandling, uses of slut and whore, oral (m. receiving), cockwarming, creampie, toji records a sex tape, petnames, toji is just a menace who is down BAD, absolute filth, mentions of geto (our dear intern)

A/N | lowk got carried away w the warnings anyways! comments and reblogs are much appreciated hehe

Toji Fushiguro never liked sharing. Not a single damn thing. Not the remote. Not the last bite of takeout. Not even the stupid scratch-off lottery tickets he’d hoard in his jacket pocket like they were gold. If there was something to be claimed, Toji wanted it all—every inch, every drop, every glance. He didn’t believe in “halves.” He believed in mine.

At first, it was almost funny. The way he’d throw an arm around you when someone looked a little too long. The way he’d bet with his chums from gambling dens over the smallest things—a game score, a coin flip, spontaneous ‘whoever does this and that’s’—and act like he’d been robbed if he lost. Frugal, yes. But charmingly so, in his own rough, unapologetic way. It was Toji. Always a little too much.

But with you? He was different. His greed sharpened into something raw and possessive—something feral under the surface. He didn't just want you around. He needed you close. Within reach. Under watch.

Although you digress, he wasn’t a person exactly labeled greedy. He was just a man whose motivations were more intricate and nuanced than just a desire for wealth. 

At home, he kept a hand on you absentmindedly, like he was anchoring you to his side—thigh to thigh on the couch, palm resting against your lower back in the kitchen, fingers loosely hooked in the waistband of your pants as you brushed your teeth. His touches weren’t always gentle reminders, but they weren’t coarse either. They were claiming. Constant reminders that you were his and his alone.

He wasn’t inquisitive about the fairytale sort of love. The chaste devotion that gets you queasy in your stomach from how oddly everything went together like sugar and just everything nice. His embrace was always hungry for more. That kind of love that sank its teeth in and refused to let go. His calloused hands always finding their way to slither themselves onto your skin and carve his touch.

Life with Toji had its warmth. He took care of you in ways that made your frame poised. Fixed the things you didn’t even ask him to. Remembered what you liked and what you didn’t. Made sure you were never shivering cold at night. But even in those saturated tender moments, there was always this heavy pull behind it. Tension. A brooding, constant acuity that, if someone so much as looked at you the wrong way, Toji would probably blow their brains out— to his dismay, you made sure that would never happen. Although Toji was Toji, and Mr. Fushiguro couldn’t care less if he needed to get involved illegally.

And then came work. Your one slice of independence. Your own world where Toji couldn’t reach in and rearrange the pieces. Where you could breathe without him in the room.

The door clicks shut behind you with a soft thud, and your shoulders droop the second you stride inside. The air smells faintly of food—probably something Toji ordered in but never bothered to plate properly. Your bag hits the floor, your shoes get kicked halfway under the console table, and you barely manage to sigh before his voice greets you from the living room.

“’Bout time,” Toji calls, legs thumping like an impatient father. “You look tired, doll.”

He’s sprawled on the couch, one arm draped over the back, remote resting on his thigh, television flickering low in the background. His eyes are on you now though, not the screen, and despite the usual teasing tone, there’s something else in the way he observes you. His gaze drags slow and deliberate.

You shuffle over, collapsing beside him with a groan. His arm glides easily around your shoulders, dragging you into his side of the couch. You can feel the ardency of his touch immediately; it was a grounding kind of warmth.

“Rough day?” He mutters, his voice tumbling from a baritone to his usual raspy and gruff tone.

“The worst,” You say, burying your face against his chest. “People don’t know how to send a fucking email properly. I swear if I have to clean up one more mess that isn’t mine—”

“Kill ‘em,” Toji suggests flatly. 

You snort into the crook of his necklace. “Tempting,” You pause. “But I’m not like you.” He hums at your retort, thumb stroking the top of your arm, gradually to distract you. Your shoulders start to unwind.

“Anything interesting happen?” 

“Oh, actually yeah,” You softly murmur, lifting your head as you try to recollect today’s incidents at work that would appear even negligibly interesting to Toji. “New intern started today.” His thumb pauses for half a second. Something that goes unnoticed.

“He’s kinda funny,” you go on. “Real talkative though. Kept asking questions about everything—like where the break room is, and what the coffee situation for the bosses are like. At one point he told me I felt special because he was acting like a lost cause and that he was so glad I was patient with him.” You chuckle softly. 

Toji doesn’t laugh. You don’t notice that either.

You keep talking, letting the words dribble out in that mundane way people do when they’re not sure if they’re venting or just trying to fill the silence.  “Honestly, he kinda reminds me of one of your gambling friends. Y’know the old dude who flirts with the cocktail waitresses?”

He finally utters a word, tone as arid as concrete. “So you’re saying he’s into you?”

You wave a hand, brushing it off. “No, I simply think he’s just dickriding. New male interns love to do that.”

“Hm.”

That’s all he says. Hm. But his fingers are still resting on your arm, and you feel them draw just a little—barely noticeable. He leans his head back against the couch, and lets you go on talking until your voice trails off, heavier and slower with the lack of sleep.

A few minutes later consisted of your head tilting from being drowsy, and words trailing off into soft, broken murmurs. You didn’t even realize when your sentences stopped making sense — only that your body had instinctively curled into him. Whatever energy you had left, work had drained it from you completely. Despite that, you had a twinge of having something to preoccupy you from a life that once bore nothing. 

He wafts your hair away from your face and pulls you in his embrace to put you to bed. It’s nearly 1:00 AM. The room is feeble with light, the television long since turned off. And Toji’s still wide awake, maybe his eyes are half-lidded, but his mind is tattered with constant noise. Not white noise, nor brown noise bullshit. It was like there was a random being screaming in his head that he so badly wanted out.

You’re tucked against him, soft and warm, the way you always are when respite takes over. Your hand rests just above his stomach, fingers barely grazing him, even in unconsciousness, you’re reaching out — tethering him. It’s a quiet habit of yours, one he’s come to expect, one he secretly waits for.

And for someone like him, all edge and bark, the kind of man people instinctively avoid — your presence is disarming. He doesn’t just like that about you. He needs it—you. Quiet. Soft. His.

But something gnaws inside his heart.

That kid. Toji stares at the ceiling. Once reminded why he’s even awake when he should be knocked out on the comfortable sheets, his eyes now feel like they’re open too wide, like they don’t know how to shut. He doesn’t even feel angry. Not fear, either. He’s not the kind of man who doubts himself like that.

It’s something else. Something more subdued. Something harder to pin down.

What else did he say? What else happened today that you didn’t mention? You talk a lot—but not about everything. And you were tired. Distracted. Laughing a little too much when you told that story.

Toji breathes through his nose, his tall, sleek frame taut. What’s gotten into him?

No. No, he’s not worried. You’re not that easily swayed, but still. He’s seen guys like that. The effortless charm. The jokes. The coffee breaks that’ll frequent before he even knows it. The way they chip away at closeness—harmless at first. Always harmless.

Until suddenly you’re leaning a little closer. Smiling longer.

And you didn’t even notice. Toji swerves in bed, restless. His hand fiddles toward you, then pulls back. Then reaches again. It's almost like he’s wavering on every move. Your cheek is warm against his arm, your breathing even. He watches you an instant longer, then speaks, faint enough not to jolt you awake. 

“Love.” You stir faintly, a little confused noise in your throat. “Wake up.”

You blink, dazed. “Toji? W-what time is it?”

“Don’t worry about it,” He voices softly, grazing strands away from your face. You frown, still groggy. “You okay?”

He doesn’t respond right away. Just murmurs leaving his licked lips. “Couldn’t sleep. Wanna hear your voice.”

You know exactly when Toji’s needy, though you were a little too tired to do any extra movements. You typed your life away at a computer, technically every day. Your fingers could use some rest. He acknowledges it too, but he lifts your chin up. “You look like you could use some relief.” A smirk wovens his scarred lips, and you let out a prolonged hum.

-

The sunlight plods through half-closed blinds, daubing long lines across the sheets and across Toji’s bare back as he pivots under the weight of a hazy morning. He lets out a gravel-edged exhale, one arm stretching across the bed instinctively—to find only a mess of tangled sheets and your scent left behind.

Disoriented, he blinks slowly, eyes still half-shut. The world feels stagnant, like he's swimming in the hangover of a bad dream—or maybe just a bad night of too much thought. His body’s still grave with sleep, but when his hand lands on cold fabric instead of you, he frowns and opens both eyes fully. 

“…Right,” He murmurs to himself, rubbing a palm down his face. “Work.”

His voice is husky from sleep and disuse. He drags himself out of bed slowly, with the current caliber of someone who’d rather stay wrapped in the warmth you left behind. His hand absently reaches for the spot you usually occupy, fingers splaying over your pillow for a beat too long before he pulls away. He’s also still blue-balled from last night, but he shrugs it off.

The coffee’s bitter this morning. He downs it without sugar, as if punishing his own mood. The stillness in the apartment feels louder than usual, blaring louder than he likes.

On the other hand, you arrived at the office with your mood slightly sweetened from your boyfriend's work of honor the night before. The break room smells faintly of roasted coffee beans and someone’s lunch leftovers, and your brain’s already halfway into autopilot by the time you settle into your seat at your desk. You’re reviewing your inbox when you hear that familiar voice behind you—lazy, smooth, like it’s been talking to people all day and hasn’t gotten the remotest chance of running out of charm yet.

“Got somethin’ for you.”

You glance over your shoulder to see the new intern, Suguru, standing there, hands gorged in his pockets, expression unreadable but always a little too relaxed to be innocent. His hair was bedecked in that lazy man bun, as always.

He holds out a small box swathed in gold foil. Not fancy, but just enough to make you pause and question it.

“What for exactly..?” You ask.

“For being nice to me,” He answers quite justly. “I know I ask too many questions. You haven’t thrown anything at me yet, sooo..” You figured, gifting something for your supposedly kind senior who— in all honesty, is just doing their job. Cliche move, what a rank-up at standard ass-kissing.

You finally bear the box, flipping it over to read the label. “Chocolates?” He gives a little shrug. “Yeah, figured it’s a safe choice. Everyone likes chocolate, right?”

“Actually, I don’t.” You leave a brief chuckle. If he wanted it easy, he would do wonders around the widowed higher-ups. You laugh to yourself almost.

“Seriously?” His brows lift. “Guess I’m off my game.” You set the chocolates down on your desk, amused at his persistence. “It’s fine. Thanks anyway.”

But Geto just grins, undeterred. He leans a little on the divider between desks, the same way he always does—like gravity just affects him differently. “Okay, then tell me what you do like,” he says, tone leisurely flowing over shallow water. “I’ll get it right next time.”

That statement alone catches you off guard for a second or two. It makes you blink robotically, question marks popping up in your head like speech bubbles. You try to laugh it off. “I’m good, really. You don’t need to get me anything.”

He raises both hands in faux surrender. “Hey, no pressure. Just thought I’d give myself a second shot.” He leaves you with an unsolicited wink and a lazy wave, and you roll your eyes before turning back to your screen. Whatever that was. Long hours of gaping at the screen tense your back, you couldn't care less about an intern who you objectively think that his primary motive— is to dickride seniors to get on their good side. Possibly get a promotion months earlier than other interns. You digress that it happens more than often.

You unlock the apartment door with an unhurried exhale, toeing off your heels as the familiar fervency of home greets you. The lights are on, dim, and the television is off. That’s the first sign something’s off—your boyfriend always has some noise going, even if he’s not watching. Something about him barring out the stupid noise in his head, so he says.

He’s in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, arms folded over his chest. Black shirt clinging to his abs, forearms tense. His eyes lift the moment he hears you come in— smile immediately faltering as his gaze is already latched onto the box sitting on your hands.

“What’s that?” He asks before you even get past the entryway.

You flutter. “What?”

“The box, in your hands.”

You shake it, stifled thuds casting from the tempered chocolates that hit the hardcovers. “Oh, just some chocolates. The new intern gave them to me.”

Toji’s jaw ticks once. “What for?” You simply shrug, setting the box on the counter without a second thought. “I don’t know. Said thanks for helping him out. I told him I didn’t even like chocolate.” His regard sharpens. He propels off the counter slowly, steps closing in like he’s not even aware of how much space he’s taking up.

“You don’t,” He mutters. “So why keep it?”

“I was gonna give them to you,” You reply plainly, meeting his stare. “You like chocolate.”

His jaw softens just a little at that. His eyes fall to the box, then back to you. “What’s his name?” He asks, voice hushed—rugged like gravel, but it had a quiet lilt to it. You hesitate, just for a second. “Suguru, Suguru Geto.”

Toji lets the name settle in his mouth like it tastes bitter. “Huh.” He doesn’t raise his voice, just looks away for a second, runs his tongue over his teeth, and huffs out a laugh that doesn't sound amused.

“That kid,” He curses, mostly to himself. “He really thinks he’s got the room to try shit like that?” His words start to redirect to a much more stern tack, leaning in anger as if you were Suguru.

“Toji—” You adhere that he seems upset, trying to calm him down to no avail— there’s a heaviness in the way he moves, the quiet tension in his stare. You try to ease him, speak softly, and touch his arm. But he doesn’t budge. 

“He doesn’t know who you go home to, does he?”

He’s not clamoring with his remarks but with the lingering heat in his voice, the leverage behind his words—it strikes you badly. You move past him with a shake of your head.

“It’s done. I told him I don’t like chocolates. End of story.”

Toji watches you, lips pressed into a thin, scrawled line. Then, slowly, he moves to the box and picks it up, eyeing the neat ribbon like it personally insulted him. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to toss one piece in his mouth before setting it down again. Then looks over his shoulder at you. “That better be the fuckin’ end of it.”

-

You hadn’t even taken your first sip of coffee when your entire morning rewrote itself. Barely making it ten feet past the front desk before a quiet nudge from the receptionist had you turning your head—and there he was.

Toji Fushiguro in all his glory.

Slanting back on the plush guest lounge couch as if he belonged there. Sprawled out like vice wrapped in his usual attire on a guest lounge couch meant for polite clients, not men with shoulders like his and a burning gaze driven by nothing but ill intent. His arms hung along the backrest, long legs parted, one boot planted lazily on the ground, the other ankle resting on his knee. He wasn’t fidgeting. Wasn’t strolling. Wasn’t pretending to be busy.

He was just… watching.

His stare didn’t skim the room, nor did it flick to the receptionist when she tried to greet him, or the curious interns who slowed down to steal glances at the man who looked more like a mafia problem than a corporate guest. His eyes weren’t on anyone else. Not the interns scrambling through the hallway. Not the receptionist glancing at him from behind her monitor. Not the confused coworker who whispered, “Hey… isn’t that your boyfriend?”

No. Toji’s eyes were on you.

He didn’t wave. No smirk. Just gaped—eyes tugging over you in that manner that made you feel like the only person in the entire building. Like he was cataloging every movement, every breath, every second you weren’t beside him. You tried not to show your surprise.

You’re stocked still for half a heartbeat, lips parting slightly. His eyes dawdled over you—daggering, like he was checking for bruises no one could see. When his sight reached your face, there was the faintest curve of his mouth—still no smile. Something lower possibly.

You approached him slowly, stowing your voice down to a whisper. “What are you doing here?”

His tongue rolled across the inside of his cheek before he tilted his head, answering without moving a muscle.

“Thought I’d see where you vanish to every morning.”

A smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth, but there was no sign of warmth in it. “I’m at work, babe,” You utter a nervous chuckle, trying to suppress the strange shiver tugging at your spine, eyes darting away as heat rushes up your neck. He hummed. “I can see that.”

He didn’t care. Just leaned back, that loose, spread-out posture so knowingly confident it dared anyone to question why he was there. His eyes snapped lazily toward the glass panels that faced your desk—close enough to see, close enough to watch, and he stayed there. All morning.

Just tending your cubicle sat directly across from the glass lounge wall, so every time you looked up, his gaze was waiting for you. Unmoving. As if guarding something.

As if daring someone to approach.

And Geto—he noticed. The poor intern tried to act normal, but his stance was noticeably stiff when he walked past Toji on the way to the break room, his shoulders locked up like he felt the heat of something predatory behind him. You couldn’t blame him.

Toji didn’t even look at him. Wouldn’t spare him the luxury of eye contact. He would’ve rather hit an innocent civilian than waste a single wink of his peripheral vision on someone pathetic like that stupid intern.

But it didn’t end that day.

It was just the start of everything.

Toji Fushiguro, who found texting a nuisance, now spammed your phone like a teenager who’s been ghosted after five days of flirting. Where you used to get at least five messages a day, you now get in an hour. Calls are recurring too—at first, it was in the evenings. Then it was during lunch. Then, much abruptly, your morning team meetings.

You reflect on the first time it buzzed during a conference call—you ignored it. Two minutes later, it vibrated in your associate’s face. Then again. Five times before the meeting ended, all from Toji.

You only stare at his messages, at edge.

He’d never been like this before. Never needy. Never overbearing. He used to be the sort of guy to just casually text, “Still alive. You want ramen for dinner?” Hardly reminded you of his existence until you stood at home. But now?

You couldn’t even walk anywhere within two minutes without finding a missed call.

It progressively got gaudier in the most subtle way. The unnecessarily sumptuous gifts. A luxury bag you once pointed at in a store window, now sitting on your chair. A bouquet of roses you briefly mentioned smelled nice? Delivered in bulk. And a bracelet, no price tag– just a matte black velvet box placed on your desk one morning, inside it a delicate piece of silver with a single note that read “For Mrs. Fushiguro.”

You didn’t even know how he got your office address. As much as you revel in his gifts and sudden need to show the world you belonged to him, it caught you a little off guard. Money he would blow off from gambling, now expended on you.

You’d known Toji long enough to understand what this was. That was the moment you sensed it—not just the difference, but the heft of it all. The intensity. The pressure building just right under the surface. He wasn’t the ilk to beg for time or reassurance. He wasn’t the type to chase. Didn’t pace when you were distant. He was the type to walk away, let the door swing behind him, and never look back. He was the type to just claim what he knew was for him.

So the fact that he was now hovering this close to something as insignificant to him as your work life, orbiting it like something ready to collide—meant one thing. For him to be texting. Calling. Tracking your work schedule. Leaving costly gifts at your desk like portents in wrapping paper—He wanted to clad around your life so tightly that no one could slip between the cracks. No stupid interns. No chance. No air.

And the riskiest part? That you liked it. You enjoyed the peril he’d leave and how much he’s keen to leave his hands bloody, much to your dismay. Toji’s affection didn’t blossom in temperate words or lazy kisses. It twisted in the grip of his hands, the hunger in his eyes, the way he touched you like you were made of glass but looked at you like he’d destroy anyone who dared breathe your name wrong.

You wondered, maybe—just maybe—he was going through something. Maybe he was going to propose? Maybe he’s just had a change of heart and wants to shower you with more love? Although he’s already provided you more than enough from his company alone.

Or maybe not. You knew Toji well. You knew the disparity between love and territory. And Toji didn’t mark things with labels. He marked them with his presence. With his silence, with the creeping wraith of his stare as it followed you everywhere you went. And somewhere, deep down, you felt it: This wasn’t a change of affection.

It was more so, a warning. The way his eyes pursued you was like a tight promise, your phone buzzing meant someone cared too much, gifts that didn’t declare “I love you” but “You’re mine”.

Still… the pressure was there. Growing, closer and closer like a man-made bomb. Toji wasn’t just orbiting anymore. He was descending.

And when a man like him descends, you don’t get fireworks or buds.

You get a hand around your waist, a whisper at your throat, and the threat of roughness tucked somewhere just behind his kiss.

-

You click away on your keyboard, once lustrously lit halls that were roved with beaming employees, are now cold and dim, just the remote noise of the ventilation and a few employees saying their goodbyes to each other.

It’s overtime and you’re still clung to your cubicle, groaning at the lack of rest your eyes and body have been getting.

“You didn’t tell me you were staying late,” A voice cuts through your thoughts, your eyes inching to Toji, who surprisingly still waited within the office grounds.

“Didn’t know until last minute. You could’ve just texted,”

“I called.” His voice felt insipid. “You didn’t answer.”

“I was busy, you know that.”

“I get that,” He retorts. “Which is why I wanna know your schedule. From now on. Meetings, lunch breaks, everything.” You spun around slowly. “Why?”

He looked you in the eye, inclining forward just slightly. “So I know when to worry, and when not to.” You rasp at his sudden need to be interested in your work life, when you couldn't care less about your own. “What for, Toji?” Rubbing the temples of your forehead, his eyebrows furrow in defense. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that that I don’t like it—“

“Then stop asking questions you know the answer to.”

You soughed, hand waving to gesture to him to quiet down. After all, the two of you were still in public with few employees maybe present. “Not while I’m at work.” You grunt, standing up from your seat as both your hands softly slam the surface of your disorganized desk. “And I could use some rest.” 

Toji’s scarred lips twist into a measly shit-eating grin, treading behind your figure as his massive arms softly engulf your waist.  “Toji.. There’s cameras around here.” You stammer, wincing under your unsteady breaths.

He shushes you, and you can feel his thick bulge behind your tight pencil skirt. “I know.” His voice is light, quietly dragging you along across the cubicle from yours— a place that the cameras had no exact view of from any angle.

You nervously glance at Toji. It’s during moments like these that you notice how much he genuinely towers over you. Size and intimidation wise. He brings a finger to his lips, a signal for you to keep quiet.

“Bend over.”

You look away, cheeks flushing from his words and how broadly your body aches to just obey him. You pause in your tracks and slant your body against the edge of the table without any second thought– just how Toji liked it.

The moment your figure curved, his hips press gradually behind your ass. A slow, long push that highlights his bulge; inwardly brushing against your cunt.

Toji’s body leans on top of yours, and you can hear the whiff of his voice prompt a whisper. “You notice whose table this is, sweetheart?”

Your eyes trail up to see indications that the desk you were currently getting bent over at belonged to Suguru. It makes your lips tug and your legs tremble and he notices the look on your face, hands swiftly pulling up the hem of your skirt. “Feels fuckin’ dirty, doesn’t it?” His voice completed with a lower hum, you can hear him lick his lips at the presence of your red lace.

“Red huh? Showing your filthy panties off to that pathetic brat?” His voice gets gruff, grinding his clothed cock against your pussy. The friction makes your body jerk from pleasure, both your privates merely having a barrier through the fabric. Your panties were of soft, thin material— and you could feel and remind yourself of the cock you bounce on every day.

Faint moans and Toji’s name stutter out of your mouth, but he doesn’t allow any sort of racket to leave. He covers your mouth with his hands, leaving you to only listen to his profane whispers as his hands stroke your hips. Cock grinding against you dry.

“Look at you. Wouldn’t Suguru like it that you’re dripping wet on his table?” He snarls like a tight snap, hands nabbing tight on your ass. “M’gonna fuck you up, doll.” A kiss he leaves on the shell of your ear before he lifts the rim of your lace to get a view of your wet cunt. White sodden liquid juicing your clit, Toji’s breath hitches at the sight. 

You wriggled under his constraint, muffling against his palms that made sure you didn’t articulate a single word. “I said be quiet, brat.” He reiterates, making you roll your eyes at his demand. You wanted him to be more wary, knowing he can be the most absurd when necessary. If you get caught, your job isn’t even on the line, it’s dead over.

And when you come to that realization, you wriggle even more.

Toji sighs, unleashing his clasp on your mouth. “How are you so sure we’re not gonna get caught?” You click your tongue.

“You really think I’m gonna fuck you on his table?” His eyebrows crease in complete amusement, leaving you to oppugn his intentions. Was that not what he was going to do?..

“Oh wow, what a naughty girl.” He lets out a sluggish chuckle, unzipping his pants to stretch out his hard cock. His tongue poking the insides of his mouth, the head of his leaking cock kissing the gape of your clit. “I’m simply teasing you. I can’t just let you get what ya please.” He grunts, controlling his own desires as you shake at the touch of his tip fondling your folds gently.

 “F-fuck..- mmf! Toji..” You falter, realizing how embarrassing it was to assume so. You’d hate to admit it, but a dirty little speculation wouldn’t hurt anybody. Maybe you did want him to fuck you rough on top of the new intern’s table. Put you in your place.

 “That’s no fun either... I’d rather him watch me fuck you to ruins.” His laugh grumbles in his throat and it echoes through your ears.

He’s mouthing these words while his cock continuously coquets your opening, your hands were rolled into fists trying to contain and withstand the pleasure and the need for his dick to be buried deep in you. Your abdomen curls and your legs are starting to wobble, you can feel your pussy start to sodden up.

“What a shame, staining this lace. My second favorite pair.” He notices the wet patches that darkened your panties before he even got the chance to pull his cock out. It riled him up, knowing his existence got you on your knees without even trying.

It’s nothing short of astonishing, an inflow of dopamine surging through his body—his cock. He loved watching you quake under even barely a touch. Pulling away to sink himself on Geto’s chair, his dick is so hard it could almost fall off. 

His head hangs back, seeing you drip in your seeping wetness. You look back, crouching under the plateau– somewhat flustered. Your legs kneel beneath his figure, looking up as you flutter your eyelashes.

His chuckle was short, fingers slowly carding through your hair before he pulled it forward. You lament at his sudden yank, trying your absolute hardest to just not jump on his cock and call it a day. “Why can’t you just ahh.. fuck off and go home?”

That riposte makes his brows lift, his clasp that held your hair becoming tighter the more you speak utter drivel to his face. “You’ve got such a pretty mouth, why don’t you use it for something better than running it all day?” He moves your head to his cock that hung off the middle of his sweats, his length lightly slapping your face. 

You interject with a grunt, your pretty hands sliding up his dick that was pulsating with precum. “So annoying. You’re lucky we’re not at home.” You quarrel back, mouth immediately engulfing his entire length to give him a piece of your mind. The hasty downing makes Toji jolt his hips from the mere satisfaction. You’re entertained by his resolve to fight back against his moans. 

Tongue swirling against his veins, leaving dripping lines that doused his cock with your saliva. You went at it, deepthroating his monster length that stuffed your gullet, head bouncing while your eyes darted at his. Two could play at this game.

Meanwhile, Toji was resisting his whims; in means that he wishes to just fuck you on the spot. He found it hot, seeing you fight fire with fire, knowing you never back down without a fight— but there’s always an end to it, because Mr.  Fushiguro knows he’s in control.

When you’re down to the base of his cock, attempting to show not even the slightest struggle— he pushes your head down, making you muffle your sharp whimpers as his cock loads your throat. He emits a flustered chuckle, “Cat got your tongue, doll?”

Yet his voice was shaky, taking in the tight passage of your windpipe clutching him in every corner. You don’t even deny that his cock’s always got you under some spell. 

“Gonna fuck your throat so hard.” He huffs, bobbing your head down with his hands. “So fuckin’ hard that you can’t talk to other men no more.” Your words slurred, inaudible and drooling as you suck his cock like his personal champ, his prized possession. You’ve gone down enough on him to adhere to his massive size; you deviate. Thick, sloppy slurping emanates from your lips, spittle threading your chin.

“Fuck, I’m -ahh.. gonna cum.” His own brain sounds like it's going through hurdles, the pleasure swelling throughout his entire body as he’s quite literally about to split. “Swallow. Or else, Suguru’s gonna have to clean up this mess.” He’s still got the nerve to say absurd things while getting the soul sucked out of him, moving your head slowly one last time before he jerks his hips forward to release and liberate himself.

You feel your mouth loaded with his semen, lips parting open as white slobber drools from the upper roof of your mouth. Sticky, hot, and white. Filling your mouth, you take a second or two to drink it all, snuffing helplessly after. It was that clinging saltiness with that numbing aftertaste. 

His cock twitches as he groans, intrigued enough that you relinquished but stepped on him when you had the chance. He quickly pulls his pants up, caressing your chin before wiping off any excess of his sap leaking down your swollen lips. “Such a good girl. I’ll make you feel like royalty tonight.” He smiles, as if havent abused your throat seconds before. You nod eagerly, ready to pack up your things, cum twice as hard on Toji Fushiguro’s cock, and doze like a tot– a good start to the end of the weekday.

-

It was dead quiet in the break room, just the whirr of the processing vending machine and the faded click of your spoon tapping against the lid of your unopened yogurt. You were mid-scroll on your phone, half-reading an email you didn’t want to deal with yet, eyes suddenly shifting when you feel someone step into your periphery.

“Funny seeing you here,” a voice said, light and somewhat teasing. You didn’t need to look to know it was Suguru. Stance still, you turned your head, arching a brow. “We work on the same floor.”

He grinned, in his usual blur of smooth and unbothered. He leaned against the coffee counter, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a cup of tea. “Yeah, but you usually disappear around this time. Had to catch you before you disappeared again.”

You tilted your head. “Didn’t know you cared about where I disappeared to or not.”

He snickered, then took a gulp of his coffee before lowering it. “Actually, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a real cup of coffee sometime. Somewhere that doesn’t smell like melted plastic.”

There it was—clean, assured, delivered with just enough appeal that it might’ve worked on someone else. You gave a quiet laugh under your breath and placed your spoon down. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Maybe.” He smiled again, edges curving a little slower this time. “But I promise I’m better company outside this hellscape.” You didn’t answer right away. You just looked at him—his easy attitude, the way his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, exposing the line of veins on his biceps. He was attractive, sure, and his allure shot through the roof.

But it didn’t matter. You picked up your yogurt again. “That’s adorable,” you pause, making a firm enough reply to an oblivious Geto. “But I’m gonna pass.” Geto’s brows extended. He didn’t look disappointed—just a little surprised. “Really?” He enunciated, somewhat appearing more intrigued.

“Really.” You decline him for what seems to be the fourth time. 

“Alright.” He drones as he raises his cup in a little toast. “One of these days, you’ll say yes.”

You didn’t respond. Just tossed your empty yogurt cup into the bin and walked out without looking back—his hooded eyes following you the entire way. To you, this man just really wanted a promotion.

You’d just stepped through the front door, bag dangling against your leg, brain still buzzing from another brutal day—emails, deadlines, half-baked solutions you'd patched together with exhaustion. You were halfway to the bedroom when your phone vibrated, but you shoved it into your pocket, thinking: not now.

The scent of stale cologne hit you first. You paused.

Then you saw him.

Sitting at the edge of the bed. Still. Mummed, as you walked in, making your presence known. Head tilted just slightly, forearms resting on his thighs, fingers interlaced and flexing like he was trying to stop himself from cracking his knuckles. His jaw was locked tight until you could see bone, muscles ticking in a slow, agitated cadence, and he didn’t spare a glance when you entered.

You unfurled your mouth to speak—to say hi, to say I’m home, maybe to mention the weird moment at work earlier, Suguru’s half-sincere invitation to grab a coffee sometime. You had meant to laugh it off, you had meant to tell Toji about it before it turned into anything complicated.

But you didn’t get the chance. He exhaled sharply through his nose, and said—

“I heard that brat asked you out.” Your stomach sank.

“Toji—” He turned his head then, just slightly. Enough for you to see the faint gleam in his eyes, the kind of look that wasn’t raised, wasn’t loud—but spoke of true intimidation. That tranquil, cold vehemence that always preceded something far more dangerous.

“He’s got the guts, huh?” The same reaction as the last night when you both fought. Almost enlivened, but not quite.

You stared at him, but you were solely just tired and nonplussed. “It wasn’t like that. He asked, and I said no. That’s all.” Toji stood, not fast—but there was a kind of force in the way he rose, like gravity bent with him. He took a single step forward, and his shoulders squared, gaze narrowing as it fixed on you like a laser.

“That all?” He said, softly now. “He just asked?”

You sighed, dropping your bag beside the dresser with a heavy thud. “Yes. I turned him down. It wasn’t a big deal.” But you could see it in his face—the unobtrusive curl at the corner of his mouth, the astute inhale through his nose, the restless flex of his hand at his side. He wasn’t hearing the words. He was hearing someone else got the idea he could slobber themselves all over his girl.

“Shiu informed me,” He muttered, eyes plodding over your face like he was measuring how much you were hiding. “Said he watched him walk right up to you. Said you didn’t exactly push him away.” Your shoulders stiffened. “Are you having me followed now?”

He said nothing.

You scoffed, voice climbing. “Jesus, Toji.” He reached up, eyes drilling a scalding dent through yours. “I don’t like him,” He sternly said, throat tightening. “I don’t want him near you.”

“I should’ve known the second that kid started hanging around your desk,” His voice is guttural, desperate. “He’s got the fuckin’ nerve.” You gazed up at him, calefaction flushed under layers of your skin. Not from shame, but just unwavering fatigue from spending your time away at work. You deal with hasty, mean clients on a daily— you hated coming home to a tensed boyfriend, who gave off the exact energy from the sorts of people you despised at work.

“It was one question over coffee. I said no. Do you want me to start shoving people now just to prove I don’t like them?” His jaw worked. You could see him biting back a harsher response. You stepped back before he could say anything worse—before you could. “God, I’m not doing this tonight.” You inhale, a frigid feeling rushing through your mouth. You turned away, moving to the sink to fill a glass of water, the silence behind you tightening like a noose. The sound of running water felt too loud, like it reverberated against everything that hadn’t been said.

When you turned again, he was still standing there. His body language seemed apprehensive, but his eyes no longer watched yours. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m just really tired,” You huff. “I need to sleep.” He lifted his head slowly and frowns, lips parted in a look that held vigor. Toji stared at you for a long second, then he bobbed his head. “Fine.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and crossed the hallway, disappearing into the living room. You sank to the side of the bed, heart hammering in your stomach then the front door clicks, hearing soft slide of leather soles against hardwood. You waited.

Minutes later, the apartment grew heavy with nothing but the air of unspoken words, punctuated only by the distant bar noise from the block below. You couldn’t sleep, but you didn’t want to move a single inch. Your phone buzzed in your hand— expecting it to be Toji, but it was work. You threw it across the room.

You didn’t watch him walk out, but you heard the door open. Then close, hard enough to rattle the frame. Not a slam but close enough, a reminder to indicate that he was angry.

Somewhere in the city, Toji lit a cigarette. He didn’t smoke, and he never did— said it fucked up his stamina, said it made his fingers itch. But tonight, he didn’t want the burn in his lungs—he wanted something to ground him, to stop the fire in his chest from turning into something stupid.

He leaned on the hood of Shiu’s car, arms crossed, head gauche. The latter was beside him, relaxed as always, dark blazer flaring around him like he resided in a noir film. He took a long drag of his cigar, then tilted his head. “You guys fought?” Shiu asked, almost like it was conversational.

Fushiguro didn’t answer. The no response made Shiu huff, passing the cigar to him without waiting for permission. “Thought so.”

Toji takes the rapidly burning cigar, eyes locked on the streetlight ahead—watching nothing, saying nothing. Shiu blew a stream of smoke toward the sky, lips twitching into a dry smirk. “I got something to help you out.”

The sentence alone finally makes Toji’s eyes move, indefinite words provoking a tell-me stare. 

“You want the intern gone, right?”

Toji didn’t respond, nor did he take a gust; he just kept on flicking the Zippo lighter.

-

The office felt unlike that morning. It wasn’t the weather—though the sky was dull and gray, stout with the threat of rain. It wasn’t the usual coffee, either—though it was colder, and you were sure someone had changed the creamer stock.

No, it was definitely the atmosphere. Awfully reserved and stiff. Like a room where someone had just been yelled at, and the sound still clung to the office walls.

And then rumor has it from your colleague beside your desk, that the new intern, Suguru Geto, has been transferred to the Service Department.

Your brows knit together in confusion, but you said nothing. Didn’t bother to ask questions, you just walked to your cubicle and goggled at his empty one across yours, the single unclaimed pen still sitting on the desk like it hadn’t gotten the memo. His mug was gone. His jacket too. 

Transferred, huh? Maybe he messed with the wrong senior. There’s no doubt that transferring to service is like a formal invitation to human perdition.

Your skin prickled. It weirded you out, sure. People got moved around all the time in corporate. Maybe some higher-up found out. Maybe it was nothing. Although it didn’t matter, it had been so long since an intern had been demoted to a low-rate department.

By the time you got home, you had almost forgotten the suspense that tarried from the night before. Almost. You wanted things to feel normal again. You wanted Toji to be alright again.

He was on the couch when you walked in—shirt loose around his shoulders, remote in hand, eyes on the television like nothing in the world could bother him. His legs were spread wide, one arm thrown along the back of the couch. Casual, like he always has been. His everyday posture, everyday routine.

It almost irritated you how calm he looked.

You dropped your bag near the door and slid off your shoes. “So…” You started, voice colloquial, brushing hair from your face, “That intern? Geto? He got transferred to another department. Like, just today. No warning.”

Toji didn’t look away from the screen. “Oh,” he said, tone dead flat. “Okay.”

You blinked. “…Okay?”

“Yeah.”

A pause. You stared at him. “You don’t think that’s kind of weird?” Toji shrugged lazily. “Guess someone wanted him out. Not my problem.” He didn’t even fidget. Not a smirk, not a twitch. His voice was tepid, like he was talking about the climate. 

It’s not the fact that you were adamant on why he didn’t care about Suguru leaving, you knew he couldn’t care less. You know Toji well enough that you deduced he’d be jumping around because the brat’s gotten transferred.

He’s awfully robotic, too subdued. You stepped closer.

“Toji.”

“Mm?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you have anything to do with it?” That was when he looked at you. Sluggish, inert, and controlled. His eyes locked on yours, indistinct. “With what?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

A flash of dead silence. It was solemn. The air screamed tacit. He let out a quiet breath through his nose and leaned back even more as if you were boring him. “That’s crazy.” His expression looked unamused, and his tone was a snarky read.

“Toji.” You regurgitate again, the words that were evoked from your throat become wooden, and his name was uttered, sternly.

He raised his brows. “Why the fuck would you care about some intern?” And there it was. The confirmation—not in his words, but in his tone. In that smug, slippery dodge. That slight indifference you can easily catch, something only you can discern.

“You had him removed?” You wondered if it had gotten out of hand. “You went behind my back and had someone transferred simply because he asked me out?”

Toji finally turned off the television. “That’s a reach,” he muttered.

“You’re unbelievable,” Your words snap like an already breaking twig. “He hasn’t done anything beyond the line, and I’ve rejected him multiple times. There’s no need to jeopardize someone’s job over something you can easily talk to me about, Toji.” He stood slowly. No rush, but the tote on his shoulders veered. “You don’t get it,” he said, voice wilting somberly. “That was a man thinking he could touch what’s mine.”

You stepped back. “I’m not property, Toji.”

He laughed under his breath. The kind of laugh that held no sort of humor. It was a dry chuckle, something his gruff voice accentuated. “Don’t act like you didn’t know. Don’t act like you didn’t feel what he was doing.”

You shook your head, heart pummeling now. “That’s not your decision to make—what I feel, what I don’t. You crossed a line. That man didn’t put his hands on me and I couldn’t give two fucks about his presence.” He ambled closer. You didn’t move.

“But you can’t just keep tabs on me and have me tailed,” you hissed.

His hand shot forward, but it wasn't harsh—not enough to hurt—but it was quick. He clutched your wrist to pull you forward to face his eyes, not tight, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks. His chest grew and fell with tension, his mandible set hard. His peer smoldered. 

“I’ll destroy anyone who tries to take you away from me.”

The silence after that was deafening; the room felt like it was breathing, and somewhere, deep in the expanse between fear and desire, your breath caught in your throat.

-

You woke up feeling like your chest was bound in hot iron.

Sleep hadn’t come easily—not with last night sitting at the back of your head like smoke. You had turned away from him in bed, the weight of his hold on your wrist still ghosting your skin. His voice resounded in your mind louder than anything else.

“I’ll destroy anyone who tries to take you away from me.”

It made your pit churn.

You believed him; he was capable of anything.

You stared at the ceiling for a prolonged amount of time before carrying yourself out of bed. You didn’t touch him. You didn’t speak or remind him of your existence. You didn’t even look back when you closed the door behind you. The vestige of him slowly fading on your skin.

Every step felt too loud. The elevator ride down was too quiet. You didn’t want to go straight to work with the huge hindrance sitting rotund on your shoulders.

Your body was stiff, your mind fogged with strain, and nerves frayed tight like candy livewires about to snap. You needed caffeine, at least three shots. Space to just breathe. Something bitter to dull the taste of last night’s fire.

So you ducked into the corner shop near the station, small and unassuming, the kind of place you barely noticed unless you were desperate for a drink or two. You placed your order—espresso on the rocks, something simple. The barista smiled and slid the drink toward you. You took your first sip and exhaled, shoulders unwinding ever so slightly as you leaned against the counter near the pickup window.

That’s when you felt it—a tap on your shoulder. You hoped it wouldn’t be who you thought it was.

Hair loose today, tied low. Shirt open at the collar, messenger bag slung over one arm. It was your everyday Suguru. Like nothing had happened.

“Hey,” He said, smiling, voice cordial like he meant no harm. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Your heart romped once—not out of excitement, but pure, cold apprehension. You hadn’t seen him since he vanished from the floor. Since his desk went empty.

“Oh,” Your breath hitches, stunned at the sight of the man who you think would have to enjoy his last days by tomorrow latest. “Hey. I—uh… heard you got transferred.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Yeah, kind of a surprise to me too. The boss pulled me aside and said something about restructuring. Figured I’d done something wrong.”

Your eyes flickered, then you forced a small laugh. “Corporate’s in a mess. I guess.”

“Guess so.” He grinned, not bitter—just courteous and leisurely on the eyes. He was still charming in that I’m-not-trying-too-hard way. You glanced down at your drink, swirling it around as the ice rumbles. You felt awkward; you knew you needed to leave. Part of you feels like you’re being watched, like you made a big mistake choosing to come in here and get yourself a cup of coffee in the first place.

“I didn’t get to say thanks,” He added. “For being cool with me, I mean. You’re a good senior.” You contrive to give a half-earnest smile, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, no problem.”

And that was it. No threads of flirting and abiding tension, but it didn’t matter.

Turns out you weren’t the only one being watched.

Toji Fushiguro, standing paranoid and territorial, hadn’t just had you monitored after that night. He’d sent someone to follow Geto. To track him. To make sure he didn’t circle back. You didn’t know that someone had snapped a photo of you standing in that shop, talking to the intern you were supposed to have ‘left behind’.

And when you got home, everything felt dreadful the moment you stepped foot.

Toji’s shoes were normally by the door. His jacket was tossed carelessly over the couch. You called his name softly, but there was no reply. You rounded the corner—

And there he was, leaning against the hallway wall. His hands in his pockets. Hair slightly mussed. His dress shirt half-unbuttoned, exposing the broad cut of his chest and the slope of muscle down his collarbone. He looked pissed.

You freeze in your movement.

Then he moved, fast.

Your back hit the wall before you could even breathe. His arm braced beside your head, and the other gripped your hip, tight. His eyes scorched into yours, hooded and illegible. 

“You saw him?” You opened your mouth, but you were unable to fight back against the man who was obviously much larger than you in comparison. “Toji, w-wait—” He leaned in closer, so much so that his nose brushed yours. “You think I wouldn’t find out?”

“It was a coincidence,” You groaned. “I didn’t plan it. I was just getting coffee.”

His grip tightened.

“I told you what I’d do,” He whispered, voice raw and complete with grim. “He wasn’t trying—”

“I don’t give a fuck what he was doing,” It was as if a fuse in him snapped. “He was standing in front of you. Talking to you. Looking at you like he still had a chance.”

Your lungs stuttered, breath snagging in your throat.

“Toji, please—”

He pinned you tighter, his body pressing into yours, heat bleeding into your epidermis, the air between you pulled taut like a thread about to disintegrate. His breath was hot against your lips, teeth grazing the edge of your cheek as he hissed—

“You’re mine. Do you understand me?”

You didn’t answer.

So he made you.

His lips crashed into yours with brute force. His hand cupped your lower jaw, fingers sliding into your hair, tilting your face up like he was trying to stamp ownership into every inch of you. His other hand slipped lower, docking you to him, dragging you up against the wall as if being close still wasn’t close enough. It wasn’t gentle.

It was him owning his possession. A collision of everything he hadn’t said, everything you’d pushed back on, all tangled in teeth and breath and heat.

You gasped against his mouth. He didn’t stop, making sure you hadn’t gotten the chance to even respire against his lips. His voice broke against your skin between kisses—low, guttural.

“I’ll show him who you fuckin’ belong to, doll.”

His grip against you was rough and restrictive, feeling him upon you, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. The searing press of his body seeping through the thin fabric of your clothes. You could feel every inch of him, from the broad expanse of his chest to the firm muscles of his thighs, kneading your abdomen.

"Toji, please," You whimpered, your breath coming in transient gasps. 

His voice was velvet-wrapped gravel, heat burgeoned from it in a sedate crawl.

His fixed look dragged down your face, across your parted lips, and lower. Like he was reading every skipped breath, every flicker of guilt — or thrill — that passed through you. You swallowed. Hard. But the flutter in your stomach betrayed your attempt at calm.

“Is he coming back because he’s a stubborn piece of shit,” He hisses, tongue clicking against his teeth. “Or are you just too nice to tell him no?”

“Listen—” You tried to communicate, to reason, but it came out breathless, your words dusting against the tension between you like a match struck too close to an already blazing flame.

He leaned in, mouth grazing your jaw, inhaling like your skin was a secret he was about to uncover. “Nah, don’t backpedal now, ma. You’re the one who wanted to play games.” His hands tightened just enough to make your pulse stutter. “So let’s play.”

Then he kissed you again— no hesitation, no teasing warmth. Just longing passion fueled by jealousy, teeth brushing your bottom lip, tongue licking into your mouth like he had to taste everything. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask for permission. The kind that made your knees buckle.

You whimpered into it, wrists still trapped above you, hips jerking instinctively forward. He growled low in his throat, pulling away just enough to breathe against your lips.

In one fluid move, his hands dropped, grabbing your waist and throwing you over his shoulder before you could recover. You squealed—a helpless, flustered sound muffled by the shock of gravity tilting beneath you.

“T-Toji, put me down! I’ll kill you–”

“You sure about that?” He laughed, palm skimming up your thigh before giving it a sharp slap that parroted louder than your whines. “You say that now, but I know that cute little sound you make when I bury you deep in my cock.”

The hallway obfuscates as he carries you with effortless strength, one hand hooked around your ass, the other holding you steady. You wriggled and kicked playfully, fists beating weakly against his back.

“What is up with you?!”

He didn’t answer. Toji's rough hands snatch your thighs, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he throws you onto the bed like a ragdoll. You let out a surprised yelp as he just tossed you onto the bed like you weighed nada, your body bouncing lightly across the mattress. Before you could scramble upright, he was over you — a looming shadow, all muscle and bite, eyes glinting with something dangerous. Toji flashes you a vicious smirk, watching you squirm beneath him, your heart throbbing with a blend of fear and excitement. That wasn’t the only thing constantly throbbing either.

His hands roam your curves possessively, every trail left by his touch, electrifying. He rips your panties off with a swift tug, the flimsy fabric tearing easily under his strength. Before you can protest, he stuffs the ruined garment into your mouth, effectively gagging you. 

His chuckle sounded dark, head leaning down as his fingers straddled your waist. With a wicked grin, he starts to unbutton your blouse slowly, exposing more and more of your skin. "I miss my babies," He purrs, pulling the fabric aside to expose your lacy bra.

His hands reach behind you to unclasp it, freeing your breasts. He takes a moment to admire them, reaching out to squeeze and fondle the soft mounds. "Your tits fuckin’ perk up when I greet ‘em. Crazy, huh?" He mutters, pinching your nipples between his fingers.

Subsequently, he slides his hands down your stomach to the hem of your skirt. He yanks them with a flick of his fingers and drags them down your legs as he leaves you fully naked beneath him. "Look at you, all spread out for me," 

Tipping down, he peppers kisses along your jaw and down your neck, his tongue snaking out to taste your rinds. He makes his way lower. Toji takes his time probing every inch of you, his greedy hands roaming over your curves as his mouth continues its work. He licks along your collarbone, down your sternum, circling your navel before dipping his tongue inside briefly. Finally, he settles between your legs, pushing your other lips apart to expose your ready hole. 

With a brisk move, he flips you over at ease as he disrobes off his own clothes, unveiling his extremely toned build. His hard cock slapping his abdomen as he slowly pulled down his sweatpants for your own dirty entertainment, watching your arch intently.

Without any further preamble, Toji rams his hard cock into your leaking cunt, filling you completely in one brutal thrust. “Mmf.. Toshii..” Your moans are muffled by the makeshift gag, feeling your eyes roll to the back of your brain from the sheer length of his dick. Despite the lack of preparation, you're already soaking wet from his earlier advances, your body aching for his touch.

But he doesn't move a bust. He holds himself still inside you, his thick shaft stretching you loose. You try to wiggle your hips, desperate for some friction, but he holds you down with an iron grip, preventing you from moving.

"You want me to move?" Toji taunts, his hot breath ghosting over your ear. "You want me to fuck this tight cunt ‘till you fuckin’ scream?” Scream, without the first alphabet would do wonders as well.

His words are harsh, but his tone is laced with readiness to make you regret that you even spoke a single word to any other man. He's enjoying this, enjoying the power he has over you. And as much as you hate to admit it, so are you. He reaches a hand to take your panties that stuffed your mouth, a gasp exasperated from your lips.

He's cockwarming you, keeping you filled and desperate, and there's nothing you can do about it. You're completely at his mercy, and the thought sends throbs and tugs down your spine all the way to your pussy that was yelling his name, yelling under his length clutching against your hot, seeping walls.

“You gonna keep runnin’ your mouth?” He held your body down, preventing you from the friction you so craved. He was adhering you to his cock that welcomed itself with your built-up lube, a gleam in his eyes as he watched you shook your head to his question. But god, the feeling just courses through your fucking bones, you couldn’t help but move.

"Be a good brat, don’t fuckin’ move." Toji scolds, swatting your ass hard. "Didn't I tell you to stay still?" He lands another harsh smack on your other cheek, making you yelp. "Looks like ya need a reminder of who's in charge here." His palm connects with your ass again, the sharp sting making you gasp.

"Count them out," Toji orders, raining down a flurry of blows on your vulnerable flesh. "Let me hear how sorry you are for being such a fuckin’ brat."

"One—“ You cry out, biting your lip to hold back a sob. "T-Two..aahh.." The spanking continues, each smack sending jolts of pain and warranted pleasure through you. By the time he reaches five, the chubs of your ass pricks from his tight slaps and your pussy is dripping spittles of fluid that start to thread down your legs.

"Now apologize like you mean it," Toji pants, delivering one final, brutal slap. "Tell me how sorry you are for even looking at that pathetic excuse for a man."

"I-I'm sorry.." Your laments get louder, tears shrouding the glass of your eyes. "I'll be good, aahh... I promise, p-please—”

Toji smiles, hands fondling your stinging cheeks. "Such a fuckin’ slut underneath my touch, aren’t you?" He purrs. "I think you deserve a reward for taking your lesson so well."

He looks at your head throwing back, staring him down with beady eyes as you eagerly nod for your reward. His cock nudges at your entrance, "M’gonna need you to beg for it, doll.”  His throat hurls demands, rubbing the head of his dick up and down your slit. 

"P-please..put it in, Toji..” You mewl like a flustered lamb about to get mauled by dogs, arching your hips. "Please, please.. I-I can’t take it anymore, put it— in!"

Toji grips your hips firmly, holding you in place as he starts to thrust into you before you finished your last words, his thick cock racking your fleshy walls. You can't help but cry out at the sudden rock of his hips, your cunt clenching tightly around him. "Since you asked so -ahh.. nicely," He grunts into his sentence midway, slamming into you harder with every flash your ass is in contact with his hips. "Gonna ruin this pretty pussy."

He charges a grueling pace, pounding into you with reckless abandon. The bed creaks beneath you with the force of his thrusts, the headboard slamming against the wall. You can feel every ridge and vein of his cock dragging against your sensitive mounds, driving you insane.

"Take it like a fucking slut," He snarls, one hand tangling in your hair and yanking your head back. "You -nghh.. feel that? Your pussy’s desperate for m-my fuckin’ cock." He punctuates his words with particularly deep jabs into your cunt, making you whimper yes, yes, yes.

His other hand wraps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you feel muzzy. You can barely catch your breath as he chokes you, fucking you like he was rutting from behind. Tears stream down your face from the severe pleasure-pain that induced your insides, body jerking with each push his cock buries deep. “T-Toji, please–!”

"Look at you all bent over for me. Begging to be used like the desperate whore you are." He leans over you, biting at your shoulder as he drives into you, his pace pivoting, frantic now. "Gonna fill this pussy up," He bellows in your ear. 

You're mindless with pleasure, every coherent thought fleeing as Toji fucks you senseless. Your moans are high and desperate, completely fucked out and drunk on his cock. Your eyes roll back in your head as he pummels into you, every sever of your body trembling as it screams for more, for him to completely rearrange your insides.

Toji accidentally pulls out from the sheer pace he rammed into your gaping clit, leaving you empty and aching. Before you can even whimper in protest, he abruptly positions it in. "M’gonna record this and show you much of a slut you are.

The head catches on your slick folds with every beat he pulls in, out, in, out. You do as you're told, desperate to feel his length penetrate your ready hole that consumed every seam. He’s recording a video, capturing your debauched state. “Aahhh, y-your cock feels so-nghh fucking good–!” Being on tape toils him up much better; he’s purposely going faster, deeper to bulge your g-spot as his head peppers kisses to your cervix.

"Fuuuckk.. look at you taking it deep, ma." He pants, angling the phone to get a better shot. "Look how much ya.. –mmh.. love getting used by me." Every thud, every finger he presses on either the bones of your throat or the pit of your abdomen, it’s making you scream. "Bet you'll never forget this, will you? Getting split open on my cock while Suguru’s gonna watch this wishing it were him."

Your hands scrabble at the sheets as he continues to rut into you mercilessly. You're so close to the edge, teetering on a knife's point of overwhelming ecstasy. "P-please, please.. –aahhh.. Give me m-more.." You babble, too fucked out to form actual words.

Toji chuckles. "Begging for more? Fucking insatiable." He pulls out to flip you on your back missionary-style, every sensation sudden and brisk. He got a better view of you this way, seeing his bulge peek through your stomach as he grinds deeper and deeper. 

He pounces into you hard, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your back arching off the bed. "Desperate as if you haven’t been getting it everyday, huh?”

He’s making himself angrier at his own words. “Maybe your pussy’s getting rammed by some other fucking cock, hmm?” Your hands leaves red scratches at his toned back, nails digging into his skin as he drives into you relentlessly. The metal of the bed creaks and shakes with the force of his movements, the wooden  headboard sending thuds against the wall. Your neighbours definitely hate you.

"What a fuckin’ whore, my cock not good enough f’ya?" He’s riling himself at that point, with his own remark. 

Your moans and cries are echoing off the walls as he ravages your swollen pussy. Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his ass as you pull him deeper. "You’re all I need, Toji—” You mumble incoherently, lost in the mind-numbing gratification of being so thoroughly used. The phone’s long gone, thrown on the other side of the mattress.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck— I’m so fucking close—” You titter a hard moan, feeling your insides release as your own liniment starts to soak his dick, doubling the lustre of every thrust.

Toji leans down to capture your mouth in his usual brutal kiss, swallowing your whines. His tongue plunders your mouth, fucking you just as savagely as his thick cock is. You can taste yourself on him, musky and addictive. 

"I'm gonna fill this cunt up," He pants against your lips, his speed growing more erratic. "Pump you -mmhh.. full of my cum until it's dripping out of you." He squeezes your throat harder. "Pl-please, please..cum in me." You whimper, too far gone to even care— maybe uncovering new responsibilities wouldn’t be that bad if it meant that this was going to fulfill your hole every night. "Fill me up, I need it so bad. Want to feel you coming inside me." Your voice is so frail from him pressing your vocal cords, walls clenched around him, greedy for his seed.

Toji lets out a guttural groan, his hips stuttering as he buries himself deep one final time. You feel him swell inside you, his cock throbbing as he paints your insides with thick ropes of cum. "Fucking take it," he snarls, grinding against your cervix as he empties himself into you. "Milk my cock real good, baby."

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, white-hot ecstasy tearing through your body. You convulse beneath him, pussy clamping down rhythmically as you milk every last drop from his pulsing shaft. Toji groans at the sensation, hips twitching as he pumps you full of his essence.

Even as he softens inside you, Toji continues to move, grinding his pelvis against yours. His cum sloshes around in your abused hole, some of it leaking out to trickle down your crack. The obscene wet sounds of fucking fill the room, joining your gasps and whimpers.

"Such a pretty pussy," Toji purrs, reaching down to spread your swollen folds apart. "Even better when my load’s leaking out of ya."

Toji continues to grind against you, his softening cock still buried inside your used hole. His semen swashes around with each movement, some of it dribbling out to pool on the bed beneath you. The sound of your wet flesh slapping together fills the room, obscene and vulgar. Toji’s worn out and fucking trembling, and you were damn near passing out.

You whimper at the overstimulating touch, your body hypersensitive after the intense penetration. He’s fidgeting heavily himself, continuing to tease your sensitive flesh as he lazily rocks into you. "I-I can’t.. aagh.. you feel too fucking good.”

"Y-yes..." You manage to gasp out, too fucked out to form proper sentences. Your eyes flutter closed as you let the feeling of being so thoroughly claimed wash over you. Toji's words and touch lull you into a blissful, hazy state of contentment.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Toji pulls out of you with a satisfied grunt. His cum immediately starts to trickle out of your stretched hole, dripping down onto the bedspread. 

He rolls off you, his body coming to rest beside yours on the bed. You can feel his cum leaking out of you, cooling against your overheated skin. The room smelled of sex and sweat, and the air was heavy and humid.

Toji reaches for you then, pulling your limp, sated body into his arms. He presses a surprisingly tender kiss to your forehead before settling back against the pillows. You nuzzle into his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat placating you further.

Your body had long since gone pliant beneath the sheets — sore in the right ways, skin humming, lips swollen from kisses that never quite seemed to end. The room was still thick with heat and the lingering scent of him, but his touch had turned feather-light.

Toji sat beside you on the edge of the bed, damp cloth in hand, gently trailing it down your shoulder, over your stomach, and across the curve of your hip to get rid of reservoirs of sweat and leftover wakes of cum. He didn’t rush, didn’t speak — just focused on you with that rare, quiet reverence that only appeared in these slivers of aftermath.

He tucked stray hair behind your ear, eyes drinking you in like he hadn’t just had all of you minutes ago. You could barely keep yours open, the weight of exhaustion settling heavily in your limbs, but you still leaned into his palm when he cradled your cheek.

“S’too much,” You mumbled, voice drowsy, slurred with sleep. “You don’t have to…”

“I want to,” He interrupted, voice gruff but tender. He kissed your forehead like it was instinct. “Let me.”

After a warm, guided shower where Toji washed each and every part of your crevice gently, he got you dressed — one of his shirts, of course, oversized and soft — then pulled you into his chest beneath the sheets, the heavy weight of his arm anchoring you in place. You didn’t fight it. You never could when he was like this. Warm. Solid. Protective in a way only you got to see. Within minutes, you were out cold— mouth parted slightly, breath even, cheek pressed against his collarbone.

He didn’t move for a long time. Just watched you sleep, tracing your spine with slow, idle fingers. Every so often, his eyes would narrow, jaw flexing faintly as if the peace he held in his hands was still something he didn’t fully believe he deserved. Eventually, Toji reached across the nightstand, picked up his phone, and dialed without taking his eyes off you.

The line clicked.

“Shiu,” He said, voice barely above a whisper.

 “You got that brat’s number? I have a surprise for him.”

disclaimer, i don’t proofread most of my works! all rights reserved © gojoflirts.

[gojoflirts]

err jealous toji fic is getting longer than i expected to write 😫😫😫 i js love plotting

[gojoflirts]

FRIENDS FOR FIRSTS.

Practicing kissing with your best friend doesn’t seem so bad. Although you digress, unbuckling his belt does not meet a best friend's terms and conditions.

→ best friend!choso kamo x fem!reader 

WORD COUNT | 7K

WARNING(S) | smut content—minors dni! fluff, mutual pining and frustrating sexual tension, choso is a desperate loser, profanity, jokes ab choso’s dick, choso teaches reader how to kiss from shitty first time experience, praising, unprotected sex (wrap ur willy), body worship, breast play, riding, overstimulation, shower sex for a second round, choso monster cock, first times, and no readers hymen does not bleed, mentions of yuji at the end! (he is not involved btw..)

A/N | first fic releaseeee! a lil straight smut debut before i release the word vomit fics that are pwp and 15k+ so enjoy this little nut i squeezed right out of my brain hehe i love choso so bad :cry: i tried to implement how a first time would usually go so i digress there are some crack ass perspectives to break away the awkwardness and i also tried to mix in a lil romantic aspect bcs ik choso is a hopeless romantic and i will die on that hill!

PLAYLIST | is there someone else - the weeknd, not around - nova, all mine - brent faiyaz, haunted - beyonce, sex money feelings die - lykke li, hotel - montell fish

It felt like forever since Choso last sat on the sagging mattress of your bed, which was seemingly four brooding years ago.

He’s slumping his body at the comfort of your pillow, mouth puckered and body language totally on the brink of greening out. Nothing beats the awkward silence; it had been forever since it was this solemn between the two of you, which was when you both first met. Four. years. ago.

“So..why are we doing this again?” Right, your head tumbles at Choso’s question. “I don’t know, I’m just sort of curious.”

Curious about what seems to sound like the strangest idea to just about anybody with the right headspace, that is.

“Yeah, sure. Curious about… wanting to make out with me.” He chuckles, and you feel it rumble through his chest due to your proximity, or lack thereof. You move your hand to scratch your nape, putting on a clueless act which wasn’t working to your apparent demise. “Shut up, you’re making me sound like a pervert.”

He lets out a sheer giggle, palming the bottom half of his face as his nose rests on the rim of your pillow. “Come on Choso, have you not thought about what it’s like to kiss? I can’t stay a kissing virgin forever, like, honestly... I can’t bear seeing couples eat each other’s faces out every day. It’s sickening.”

“And you want that?” He nudges a brow.

You shyly look down, hands fidgeting on your thighs. “I might as well try kissing the person I'm closest to, so if I’m ever classified bad or whatever, we can guide each other until we’re satisfied.” 

Choso is almost impressed at your pointers on trying to make this whole idea work. He tries to remember the first time he ever laid his lips on a girl, which was the very middle year of high school. “If it helps, I’m not a so-called kissing virgin anymore. I can’t guarantee you I’m an expert at it, though.” 

“As I said, we’ll guide each other until satisfied,” Repeated with much clear intent, you immediately shoot a dirty look at your best friend. “Also, what the hell? How’d you lose your first kiss before me?”

“I don’t even know if I’d count it! It was like a soft peck or two, for a stupid dare, mind you. Not even enjoyable, she reeked.” He sneered, the corner of his lips tugging upwards at the thought of the strong, distinct, and acrid smell of hers that lingered. Choso would like to note that she was awfully bad at it.

“So, how exactly are we going to do this?” 

“You wanna find out?”

Choso props himself in front of you, chuckling at the sight of your knees being so formally situated, and.. how perfect your face looks. God, he defies the right headspace– he wished about doing this just as much as you did. Bringing up the idea felt like being coupled with a revelation.

“Anything you feel uncomfortable with?” 

“No, just.. go with the flow. You’d have to be physical to get in the moment, right?” 

He nods, gesturing for you to come closer to his face. You seem compromised enough to understand his signals, crawling closer. 

The intervals between you and Choso seemed foreign yet comforting, it was almost every day that the two of you were always physically close-knit, but not in a way where that would confuse the both of you sexually and romantically. Not a state where Choso tends to your glistening eyes that were beading with interest, how your hair perfectly wafted away from your face, and your lips so full it honestly makes him lose his mind a little more.

You could bet just the same. You figured that befriending the most handsome guy you’ve ever met in your entire life wouldn’t have its precautions, but you’re just about miles, fuck it, centimeters away from his lips.

Kissing your best friend is an anomaly, but the two of you beg to differ right now that you’d give up anything to kiss each other on the lips with this coercing haze of noticing the intricate features of both your faces.

You had always remembered the comments made by your peers. ‘Both you and Choso look so unbelievably good together, such a shame that you two just ended up as good friends.’ Such a shame. It’s an over-repeated sentence, but you wouldn’t think anything of it.

After all, the two of you really were good friends, the best of friends. Even when you’re about to get your first kiss stolen by said best friend who everyone adores you to be with.

But again, you guys are just friends. 

Good friends. Best friends. 

Choso could sense you were going through some sort of brain fog, puzzled face and all, with an almost tense demeanor. Knowing you well, for years, he’d come just as close to comprehending your entire body language and how you reacted to certain things. As if the two of you have always corresponded with each other's actions.

And so, he finally plants his lips on yours to divert your attention.

The first peck lingered; the shock of having your lips touch his almost gives an unearthly sensation. Choso licks his lips, slowly leaning in to properly give you a passionate kiss. For somebody with an uncalled-for first experience, he’s a good kisser. Not unbelievably, but to yearn for? Absolutely.

The way his lips softly mingle with yours in this temperate motion, not haste, and just the means of savoring the taste. You sort of catch on to his pace, understanding that for a kiss to be pleasant, it needs to be done gradually. Gradually, in a way that makes you need more, crave for it until you go insane. Until then, you’ll be allowed to get ‘sloppy’ or ‘filthy’ all you want, needy in the way I digress.

His hand cups the side of your cheek, the warm temperature of his fingers engulfing your face as the spaces between the two of you get more restricted by the minute.

Choso scooping your waist to allow you to sit on his lap goes unnoticed, totally complacent, as if being hypnotized by the kiss almost. 

There’s no doubt that it’s getting heated. At this point, your bodies are pressed against each other, and Mr. Kamo is holding himself back from touching you anywhere else but your face. He slowly shifts to support his back on the headboard of his best friend’s bed, the room filled with just soft moans and slight sounds of smooching.

The kiss is slightly losing its first form of being gentle, veering to a more passionate and desperate intent, where both of you are hungrily exploring every crevice of each other's bodies.

The two of you pulled away just about immediately to catch your breaths, a string of saliva threading from Choso’s wet lips. “Holy shit.” He huffs, licking his lips as his chest exhales. 

You stayed silent, almost, slightly wiping the excess off your lips.

Choso covers his mouth in awe, exasperated but slow gasps leaving his mouth that just seems to whisper your name louder and louder. 

Nothing beats silence; the air was thick with unspoken words.

Nothing beats the way Choso was looking at you. His gaze bores through your eyes, searching, yearning. You feel your composure yielding, and for a second, your breath gets caught in your throat. “W-was that good enough?” You ask, batting your eyelashes.

“Not sure, I’m gonna need more to know if it is.” His jaw tightens, and his hands snake their way to the back of your neck.

“Show me how good you are.” 

Choso could assert that you wanted more, on a blind note; that you desperately needed him. The bed is vast, but it felt as if the two of you were lying in a preserve that extended throughout, like a land full of nothing but a void enveloped in an ivory white. 

In simpler terms, that was how kissing Choso felt. Everything around you was capacious, but the mere vicinity between you and him was enough to almost suffocate you. Enough to pull you into a pit of brainfuck that makes you think of Choso and only Choso. 

The two of you only continued making out, his hands were more weary of where to hold and where not to, attempting to resist the urge to make your body only remember his touch. The pace slows down to regain composure between you two, soft pecks in between breaks of hasty breaths.

Slithering his fingers under your shirt, he pauses his movement as if emitting a non-verbal question.

You nod. “Please, touch me.”

A nervous gulp shoves whatever lump was inside his throat. The manner of your tone drove him insane, like a kill switch in his soul broke. Like giving enough force to break the scale on a high striker. Choso was beyond saving.

Trailing his fingerprints on your body, his head leans to give little marks on your neck. Soft red marks that ingrained your skin, marks that screamed Choso’s name.

At this point, it didn’t feel like teaching a best friend how to kiss; it felt like a scheme for him to mark his territory.

You always knew Choso was acclaimed as both possessive and protective, even with his blood brothers and his undying wish to serve and protect his family. One thing you knew for certain, is that Choso knew damn well he wanted you all to himself.

He knows all of your weaknesses. To his advantage, he’s known you for so long that it’s almost as if he’s lived in your body. He can pick up each and every one of your behaviours, like he’s got receptors built in specifically for you and your mannerisms and everything else. It was always either information from your mouth or sheer observation from being by your side almost every day.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He exhales, pecking hickeys as his calloused hands reach to fondle your breasts. Choso can feel your breath hitch at the sensation, watching your nipples perk from his touch alone. 

You could almost die from sensory overload. His mouth grazes your skin as he leaves it to commute a tender, dark purple, tongue streaming wet, sodden lines across your bruised neck. It left his hands to caress your breasts, and the other slightly pressing against your waist. 

He leaves your nape to tend to your exposed chest, tongue licking your aroused bust as his fingers continue to touch up the other. Pulling, twiddling, and flicking it to make sure you could feel each tug– both from his tongue and his fingers. 

Your audible moans were loud enough to inform him he was doing a good enough job at making you cock drunk. “You smell so fucking good,” He chuckles, allowing his tongue to play around with your areolas, making you jerk. Your spine tenses up at the feeling, and you don’t know how he’s so good for someone who you presumed had only kissed a girl out of spite for a dare.

“C-Choso…”

He enjoyed seeing your face being so derived from pleasure. Seeing you whimper and helplessly attempt to find a gasp, he was so oblivious of himself, merely getting hard at your voice just uttering his name while your face begged for him more.

He moves his finger down your sternum, making your body twitch at every sensation he flits through your body. “You don’t know how much I need you..” He huffs, admitting that during the period of him pleasuring you, he was on the verge of making himself break. Seeing you in this delicate and vulnerable state, Choso wishes he could just ruin you. Although he wasn’t a man full of resistance— inside, his soul was whimpering for you. He can try to take control but fuck, he couldn’t watch you so impuissant under his touch. You drive him insane too.

Your body reacts to his statement, seeing his eyes blanketed with an intense need, reveling in the sweet state that was in front of him. He’s got you under some spell.

“I need you.” 

It was raw how there were no pet names of the sort, just you and Choso basically yearning for each other in all its bare glory despite the best friend barrier.

“D-do you want to..” You shyly look away, initiating the all-time question usually assholes say at the end of the first date.

Except obviously, your intentions were much different; both you and Choso have gone out on a limb for each other. Memory lane would extend more than a hundred football fields could ever. Choso’s eyes twinkle, “I do,” He chuckles at the thought of the both of you taking each other’s firsts, it sends him small tingles. 

You move yourself away from his lap, clearing your throat as his hands cup his mouth— trying to cover his face that flushed deep red, hair tumbling over his other shoulder. 

It was quiet again.

“I have no condoms..” He mumbles. 

“I can take it raw.” 

Choso’s eyes widened at your response. “S-Since.. when did you learn how to say that?!” His breath hitches, and he’s back to being the timid boy you’ve always known. His eyes look away from your figure, biting his lips as his eyes slightly narrow. You let out a small giggle at the sight of him being embarrassed that his innocent best friend bared dirty words in her throat.

“Okay then..” He leans but appears a little restless, proffering you the signal to unbuckle his belt for him. Never in the four years that you were attached to Choso’s hip would you be pulling down his pants to his knees. So much for being best friends, am I right?

You acquit something you’ve seen online before, pulling strands of your hair behind the shell of your ear– the metal clinking as you loosen his belt, pulling it away as it no longer wovens his waist like a hug. Then there you go, leaning in to tug his zipper with your teeth as your eyes doe up to look directly at him.

What an ultimate move, Choso could feel his dignity stripped away from his body.

You slowly pull down the hem of his pants and boxers to reveal his cock. Something you’d only hear in fiction, it’s swaying from slapping his abdomen. You would have never thought about the dick size of your best friend, and now it’s dangling straight up in front of your face, funny enough. 

He seems sheepish, cheeks still embellished pink. His hands gripping his pants as his huge cock is damp in pre-cum from previously. God, it's so big, it’s almost useless to penetrate a woman. Your mouth could not fit his entire girth and length. You almost wonder how the fuck Noritoshi Kamo birthed this monster.

You sit yourself on his lap again, his hands guiding the flounce of your shirt to take it off. You can sense Choso’s eyes heave an encompassing gaze on your body.

Something about him is that when it comes to being intimate, he swears to feel you like a well-crafted jewel– lifted with care as if you were a rare feather. “You never fucking leave my mind,’ He almost confesses, one hand sweeping down to trace the winding curves of your body. “I’m thinking about you all the time.”

His voice rumbles deeper than rocks thud on the ground, and his words have a more heartwarming lilt to them. 

Your eyes widened.

Your legs tightly wrap around his waist as you lean in to embrace him. It was prolonged, bodies pressed against each other. To Choso, you had started to smell like everything he’s come to associate with safety and home, and hugs he used to be wary of– he let linger a little longer.

“You’re such an idiot,” Your cheeks start to grow warm, face planted perfectly on the crook of his neck. A light chuckle fills the room, watching you pull away to feel his palm on your face. The meld between the warmth of his body and the heat rising to your face felt balmy, at the same time pleasant.

He gingerly caresses your skin, “You don’t know how long I’ve felt this way,’ He mutters, leaning lips that tenderly interlaced with yours. 

You felt your mouth turn cold from inhaling before he leaned in, hands gripping his broad, sharp shoulders as his arms continued to hold your hips to prep yourself onto him better. “Funnily enough, I’ve always felt the same too.” Your eyes crinkled at the edges, and the corners of your lips turned upwards. It never took long for your face to beam when Choso was around. It was evident enough when someone as indifferent as you- whose eyes were so full of void, would laugh every time Choso’s presence graced.

Vice versa. Choso found himself opening up to someone other than family, and you were just about the most important person in his life.

The feeling of familiarity and solace. Both you and Choso confided in each other like no other, and that was what mattered for the two of you.

Which is why you even came to him in the first place, knowing that you would be safe in his arms. As congenial as his presence is, you wouldn’t have felt any mite of regret if it were with him. You digressed. Choso felt the very same way.

“I really need you.” Choso heaves a breath that craves your touch. “Are you ready?..” He huffs.

“A-as ready as you are.”

Choso is a little nervous, given it was the first time for the both of you, and the last thing he would ever want to do is hurt you in any way. His teeth slowly gnaws down on his lips, eyes intensely observing as you try to position his cock into your hole. “Take it slowly, baby. Go at your own comfortable pace.” Choso exhales at a soft tone, attempting to guide you.

The sudden pet name puts your mind in a trance, feeling yourself getting wetter the whinier his voice seems to get. 

You slowly push down on his length, his tip engulfing your tight opening as it slightly stretches you enough to make you jerk. The sheer girth of his cock makes your body slightly tremble, words unable to leave your mouth as short moans come in seconds from trying to adjust yourself to his size.

The more you push yourself down, the more Choso twitches. “Fuck, fuck.. -ah..” He slightly pants, the claws from his fingernails obscurely digging into your waist. The insert had almost no friction; you surmise the build-up (more so, foreplay) had gotten the both of you frisked up to some degree, maybe the highest degree possible. After all, both of you are, or were, two virgins that were concurrently pining for each other– now seeing and embracing each other in such a vulnerable and a disposition that’s in the buff.

Sliding down on Choso’s cock felt impossible almost, you deduced it was because one, he was extremely huge, and two; he was about as hard as a rock himself.

You can feel the web of your hymen with Choso’s cock not even halfway into your hole. “You feel so -mmh.. fucking good…” his moans were in coeval with yours, like mentioned before, since the two of you are extremely correspondent with each other’s actions, Choso could feel the validity from the solicit moans exiting your lips every time you even slightly try to push him deeper into your sodden walls.

“So warm..” He seemed like he was losing his head, discerning as if he was slipped in reverie from the tightness of your pussy enfolding his length. I beg to differ, you weren’t even halfway down- let alone his entire cock? Both of you would sanctify your souls to leave your bodies.

You let your body take control to adhere to the immense pressure his cock rubbed into your walls, feeling your hymen slowly caving in– Choso could feel it well too, especially the warmth of your clit. God, you were so tight, and so, so warm. “Do you feel it, baby? Do you - mmpf.. f-feel my cock in you?” He gasps breathlessly, hips trying to contain themselves from gaining a mind of their own to just thrust deeper until his leaking tip bruises your cervix. So deep you can’t even feel anything but his cock.

You nod, jaw slightly ajar the more you split your pussy apart to his full length. Choso watches as your body shakes merely at his cock, a sinful drawl leaving his lips. He had always learnt that being humble was a great virtue, but growing an ego from seeing you rumble from his massive cock doesn’t sound so bad. 

“You got it baby.. -mmh.. looking so pretty..” You could feel your hymen break its core, losing your virginity minutes after Choso - who lost his the moment he even put his dick in you. You couldn’t tell the difference, but oh, the walls between your ready hole could feel every inch of Choso Kamo.

“Oh f-fuck -ah!” You cover your lips to muffle a scream. Your best friend’s cock is balls deep in you, a thought that would have never crossed your brain until this second. 

In ruly first-time fashion, it was an amalgam of pain and absolute heaven. Choso slightly pushes his hips forward to make sure he’s all the way in, and when he is- his eyes roll back until he could catch a glimpse of heaven.

“Holy f-fuck! - nghh.. your pretty pussy is so ahh.. s-so fucking tight..”  His fingers grip the silk sheets, every confine sticking to the gaps of his hands to avoid piercing your skin with his nails. After all, the amount of pleasure sinking into the surge of his veins was uncontrollable - Choso could feel you, every inch of his soul - and his dick.

You were shuddering, rattled moans and haggled breaths unable to contain themselves to stay put in your throat. Choso watches you unfold beneath him, what a lewd scene, he thought. “Do you feel it?”

“Mmm..” You nod, slowly rolling your hips to quench his cock against your inner walls. It was almost too much, your brain could only focus on feeling him deeper and deeper.  “Ah shit.. keep doing that..” His tone reeked of desperation; he wanted all of you, he needed you. Seeing you ruined, naked and dripping on his cock kept riling him up– although he couldn’t contain himself much either. 

Your flesh mixed with his. He could break at any moment. 

Each squelch produced from the sound of your hips bouncing on his dick, integrated with your juices dripping down your cunt– the surfaces of your skins slapping intimately. Lewd, lewd, it was all so unimaginably lewd. 

The impure rapture of two virgins experiencing rampant endorphins, it’s even better to note that the two of you are simply best friends; the more you’ve suppressed the emotions, the larger they just tend to burst. 

“You look so pretty all fucked up on top my cock..” He lets out a long-winded groan as you repeatedly move up and down, making him twitch with every movement. 

He sort of loses control, hips bucking forward to thrust into you deeper, and his hands roam their way to dig themselves into your skin. “Wanna.. feel you -mmh! d-deeper please…” You squirm, steady moans fleeing your lips with each thrust. 

“Doesn’t it feel so good, baby? ahh.. Fucking yourself on my cock like the pretty girl you are..”  His sentences are cut off by his moans, unable to withstand the feeling of himself buried in you. “Do you wanna change positions?” You abruptly say, stopping in your stirs as your lower abdomen merely trembles at his cock staying still in you. He was so massive, he didn’t need extra work to pierce your spot harder. He looks completely fucked out, “Doggy?” It almost sounded like a plea from Choso, leaving you to nod while you chuckle.

A wet plop belches as you take yourself off Choso’s dick, leaving you to gasp at the feeling. It felt almost empty, you wouldn’t expect that the lack of his cock inside you would drive you crazier for more. 

Choso gets up from his position, seeing you get on all fours. He could dwell on the fact that this position was almost like a drug for most men. Although, he’s damn well near his climax— he tests the waters.

Seeing your ass up all ready for him, he could push you deeper into ecstasy if he promised. “So pretty, so fucking beautiful oh fuck—” his voice strained as he started thrusting into you, slowly and sloppily, as best as he could acclimatise with the newfound experience — just as you were doing. Choso couldn’t believe it, the internet was fucking right. This shit was pure heaven.

Your walls clenched into him so much tighter, seeing your body jerk proved to him just as much. You could finally feel all of his length, the curve of it, and the tip touching your walls as it drags deeper into your cervix. You let out quite a succinct moan, indicating the sharpness and the sudden pressure in your vagina.

“I’ll fuck you like you belong to me.” He was muttering as he adjusted to the further feeling of your insides; he absolutely fucking loved that he could feel you. His hands placed on your hips made it easier to control your body.

“Y-yes!”  You whined out once he pressed deeper, plops becoming louder as he thrusts into you faster than the pace you set for yourself when you first rode him,  “I-I want -mmh!.. only you..” 

He’d thought about you like this more times than he’d ever admit, always feeling guilty every time you’d smile in his direction or peer up at him in question, and his mind would immediately go to the image of you underneath him and panting for air like you were now.

You were driving him crazy with the sounds you were making and the way you were clenching around him, having half the mind to reach his hands down and press down onto your stomach just so he could feel himself inside of you.

The push of his fingers wasn’t making it any easier for you to handle, the familiar tight coil building in your stomach as he continued to fuck into you rough. 

“Please, please.. H-haaa.. faster..” You were begging, your mouth was just moving on instinct, so he didn’t stop under any circumstances.

“I know, baby, I know.” His voice was more gentle than it had been before, but still just as tight and overwhelmed, definitely reaching the end rapidly himself like you were, and trying his hardest to prolong it, considering how good you felt, almost as if your souls were interconnecting. “Squeezing my cock so good, you’re so perfect for me.” He hums, fingers threading to pull your hair. His hips had grown a mind of their own, rocking them into you. 

He was so sure you liked your hair being tugged, seeing your head drop back to meet his eyes.

“F-for you, just for you ahh..” You were quickly responding to the casual possessiveness he had showed and this seemed to affect him more than anything, his hips faltering for a second in their movement before he was fucking into you even harder than you thought was possible. He clearly liked hearing you claim yourself as his own, and you felt overwhelmingly dizzy at the realization.

It was a complete blur now as he thrusts into you, coming undone faster than you ever had before and blacking out for a few seconds from the pleasure of him doing the same inside of you, bending you over, all dirty, just for him.

You can feel his breath behind your ears, “I’m so fucking close..” He huffs, and you cry out a moan. “M-me too, Choso..”

“Say that again.. please.” He whimpers, feeling himself nearing at the way you uttered his name. “C-choso..” You say once more, feeling your hole filling up with your own juices. It ridiculously felt like the after-relief of peeing after holding it in for so long. Feeling the release, you beg with Choso’s name for one more time before he pulls out to cum on your back.

“Haaa…” He breathes heavily, dick twitching at every pearly bead dropping out the tip. “Oh my fucking god..” Weary breaths leave his quivering mouth every time his chest rises, and your back has pools of his semen. “Oh shit, that’s a lot. I’ll grab the towel.” 

You catch a breath yourself, feeling yourself ultimately drop on the bed from sheer exhaustion. Choso is quick with it, taking a nearby towel to wipe away his cum. “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart.” He chuckles apologetically, picking up your knees to pull you up bridal style– comprehending you were exhausted to get up, legs probably fucked, and shaking like you had the tremors or something. 

You feel your lips bend into a small smile, head gently leaning on Choso’s warm chest. He admires the sight of you cuddling up to him like he were a being that protected you. “You’re just as beautiful like this.” He mutters to himself, softly smiling. 

“Thank you.” You whisper, appreciating him for making love to you. These words are always used in everyday conversations, but hearing them from you felt like a small droplet distinctly falling into water. It was such a gentle feeling. “Thank you.” He enunciates, turning on the heater as rushes of water leave the nozzle of the showerhead. The warm feeling hits your skin as he slowly puts you down. 

Choso cards his fingers through his now wet hair, hands slowly snaking around your waist as he softly peppers kisses on your head. 

Both of you melt into this moment. The invigorating warmth of the water gave ardor, the sounds of minuscule droplets splashing onto the bathroom floor, and his embrace reduced the tension in your muscles. It was soothing.

“Let me take care of you.” He hums, pressing soap into both his hands, rubbing them together to create foam bubbles. He lathers the product onto your body, every texture of his fingers, ensuring your body felt the sensation. This was a rather different feeling from just now. It was so much more intimate, and it makes you shy under your exterior. You were helplessly moaning his name just minutes ago, and now you’re caving at this romantic feeling. 

It was sensual yet so relaxing. Feeling him explore your body just to make sure every part of your body is clean and covered with soap. His hands move from your waist, to your ass, down to your legs, all the way up to your neck– shifting to massage your boobs playfully. 

The feeling slowly riles you up from the feeling, making you turn around to fervently kiss him. Choso is surprised but immediately presses into your lips, hands supporting the back of your head as your hair fills the gap of his fingers. It turns more eager, and he slowly pushes you against the wall. 

The steam shrouds the shower doors that were once as transparent– now hinged opaque.

Your mewls don't get muffled by the sounds of the water, but rather they echo louder. Choso’s hand was stamped to the side of the shower doors that were blanketed with moisture, now a clear imprint of his hands visible from the sheer impact. 

His other unoccupied hand chooses to grab onto your thigh, lifting it as if wanting to carry you into his arms. “Second round?” He pulls away to ask, words slightly quelled by the streams of water. You eagerly nod at his words, surprised he even regained his energy so quickly. “Please.” You plead, smashing your lips into his again. 

Choso digresses that his sex drive is somewhat unusual. Being born differently has its perks, he guessed. With his blood manipulation, he could heal open wounds quicker than sorcerers with similar abilities. He wouldn’t have known it would work in other places as well, healing anywhere else that wasn’t shrouded in blood or flesh. Maybe it was his body; he didn’t know. 

But you were here to help him figure that out.

With his unorthodox strength, he picks you up and makes sure your back is against the wall. Lips still intact, he’s strong enough to carry your thighs with his arms alone— feeling no sign of exhaustion, even after fucking the shit out of you. It’s as if his body went through hours of respite in minutes, and he’s feeling fresh as new again.

Although that’d be a good thing. Every round would feel like the first, every single time.

He positions himself, this time your clit is familiar with the head of his tip, the mere strain of him inserting himself into you. He’s much gentler this time, heading your waist’s to bounce on his cock. He gasps at the feeling once again, feeling his jaw widen at the proximity of his cock flushing against your walls once more. 

His forehead meets yours, slithering droplets running down your bodies. It felt filthier, although it was a supposedly sanitary environment. Maybe it was the wetness of your skin; every touch felt slippery. Looking at your body glisten in crystal drops of water, and this time, he got a better view.

He watches your figure bob against him, breasts bouncing with every thrust and your mouth moaning with every movement being pitted against your dripping cunt. 

Not to mention, your beautiful face.

Even if his body convalesces faster, his drive does go down by the minute. “I-I don’t think I can hold in for long..” He whimpers, his rough exterior also ravaged. He honestly feels like he can’t hold it in further when he sees you fall underneath his embrace. 

The second time goes by more quickly than expected,  a few thrusts and whines, with Choso putting his all into thrusting and ruining your insides for a double. You fret not, enjoying every moment he roughly buries his cock deep in you.

“I’m coming.. I-I can’t..” He huffs, but his hips move quicker than his words, making sure he feels every inch of you before reaching his climax. You could only cry out at his pace. Mentioning again that he’s extremely huge. Even after getting stretched out once, you don’t think you can ever adhere to his monster length. He’s nearly rearranging your guts, and the pit of your stomach feels itself getting full again.

He quickly pulls out once more, testing his game. Panting as he lets his juices flood your body again, but it quickly washes away from the continuous streams of water.

Although after that, the two of you properly wash up this time. Thawing in the intimacy, with soap bubbles and hot steam.

You get out of the shower first, wrapping a towel around your body as you stretch your arms from the cushy shower, and Choso comes out after you, looking hellishly handsome with wet hair slicked back, strands of his long hair clinging to his neck. With the towel dangerously hanging low on his waist? You thought to yourself, if you weren’t so tired from getting your back blown out, another round or two would suffice. Oh, well.

The reflection echoes both you and Choso, how he looks at you so lovingly, even if you weren’t facing him. This face was what you saw all the time, but the more you realized, he always stole glances in this endearing sort of way. He puts his arms around your neck, the crook of his nose resting on your collarbones as he smells your scent. “Awh man, you smell clean now. I loved your natural smell.” He grins playfully, making you jerk a hand to smack his head. “Stop being a weirdo.” Rolling your eyes, you relish the fact that you were still acting like best friends.

That he didn’t care and wasn’t awkward about the fact that you took each other’s first times. 

That was what scared you. Usually, best friends don’t end up being best friends after this. Strangers or less, even. The ‘what are we?’ phase of confusion that usually imbues in the latter, or maybe both. 

You would beg to differ, though. You had no questions or doubts, maybe you were a little afraid, but thanks to Choso, he reassured you well enough; that he’s always felt the same way. The endearing stares, the genuine moments you shared, every laugh, every time he swore to be by your side. It had never been one-sided.

He made sure to make it clear.

“Let’s rest. I’ll take you out on a nice date tomorrow.” He gently emits, planting a soft kiss on your cheek. You felt your inner soul yell in pure bliss; you never once negated Choso.

He grabs your wrist to pull you out of the bathroom, and the night is complete with shared kisses, a late-ordered pizza, warm cuddles, and cold blankets. 

It’s safe to say that you would have never imagined this happening, although part of you wished for it, prayed almost. The latter desired just the same.

This pining could have ended in many different ways, the sole longing of this void that needed to be filled by you, and you only. 

Choso’s eyes are still open, reminiscing about everything. Your delicate snores soothe his ears, any sound you made was his favorite melody, and he would do anything to just make you feel secure around his presence. His eyes rest upon your figure one last time before he closes them to rest himself.

It was a long three hours full of just, everything that amounted to years of being best friends.

Choso even joked to you that he’s finally moved up the chain after being stuck at second rank for so long. You laugh, “What a fucking dumbass.”

“You love me, though.”

“Oh, shut up.”

—

Yuji groans groggily, turning on the lights of the living room as he rubs his swollen eyes that have just awoke. He sees your handbag still sitting atop the kitchen counter, wondering to himself, ‘She’s still here? Huh.’

Shrugging his shoulders, a yawn leaves his mouth as he slouches to the laundry room to find his towel. 

Although he couldn’t find it, at all.

“Did I put it in Choso’s room?” He blinks, question marks visibly popping out of his head like a speech bubble. 

Before he walks out, his eyes sharply peek at the light pink color of his towel.

In the dirty basket.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, picking it out with two of his fingers. It’s sticking oddly to each other, and it’s got a smell to it. 

“Oh hellllll no.”

disclaimer, i don’t proofread most of my works! all rights reserved © gojoflirts.

[gojoflirts]

just tryna see smth… do we want jealous!toji or playboy!gojo memehhehejeheh

[gojoflirts]

I find ur blog so STUNNING omfg.

STOPP thank you so muchjkslak 😞😞 i love ur works.

[gojoflirts]

just started the apothecary diaries and jinshi reminds me sm of geto (a geto who acts somewhat like gojo) LIKEEEE.. eunuch!geto…..somebody

[gojoflirts]

OOOOOO your blog is SOOOo pretty <3

HELLOOO oh my gosh thank you queen this means the world hehe

[gojoflirts]

FRIENDS FOR FIRSTS.

Practicing kissing with your best friend doesn’t seem so bad. Although you digress, unbuckling his belt does not meet a best friend's terms and conditions.

→ best friend!choso kamo x fem!reader 

WORD COUNT | 7K

WARNING(S) | smut content—minors dni! fluff, mutual pining and frustrating sexual tension, choso is a desperate loser, profanity, jokes ab choso’s dick, choso teaches reader how to kiss from shitty first time experience, praising, unprotected sex (wrap ur willy), body worship, breast play, riding, overstimulation, shower sex for a second round, choso monster cock, first times, and no readers hymen does not bleed, mentions of yuji at the end! (he is not involved btw..)

A/N | first fic releaseeee! a lil straight smut debut before i release the word vomit fics that are pwp and 15k+ so enjoy this little nut i squeezed right out of my brain hehe i love choso so bad :cry: i tried to implement how a first time would usually go so i digress there are some crack ass perspectives to break away the awkwardness and i also tried to mix in a lil romantic aspect bcs ik choso is a hopeless romantic and i will die on that hill!

PLAYLIST | is there someone else - the weeknd, not around - nova, all mine - brent faiyaz, haunted - beyonce, sex money feelings die - lykke li, hotel - montell fish

It felt like forever since Choso last sat on the sagging mattress of your bed, which was seemingly four brooding years ago.

He’s slumping his body at the comfort of your pillow, mouth puckered and body language totally on the brink of greening out. Nothing beats the awkward silence; it had been forever since it was this solemn between the two of you, which was when you both first met. Four. years. ago.

“So..why are we doing this again?” Right, your head tumbles at Choso’s question. “I don’t know, I’m just sort of curious.”

Curious about what seems to sound like the strangest idea to just about anybody with the right headspace, that is.

“Yeah, sure. Curious about… wanting to make out with me.” He chuckles, and you feel it rumble through his chest due to your proximity, or lack thereof. You move your hand to scratch your nape, putting on a clueless act which wasn’t working to your apparent demise. “Shut up, you’re making me sound like a pervert.”

He lets out a sheer giggle, palming the bottom half of his face as his nose rests on the rim of your pillow. “Come on Choso, have you not thought about what it’s like to kiss? I can’t stay a kissing virgin forever, like, honestly... I can’t bear seeing couples eat each other’s faces out every day. It’s sickening.”

“And you want that?” He nudges a brow.

You shyly look down, hands fidgeting on your thighs. “I might as well try kissing the person I'm closest to, so if I’m ever classified bad or whatever, we can guide each other until we’re satisfied.” 

Choso is almost impressed at your pointers on trying to make this whole idea work. He tries to remember the first time he ever laid his lips on a girl, which was the very middle year of high school. “If it helps, I’m not a so-called kissing virgin anymore. I can’t guarantee you I’m an expert at it, though.” 

“As I said, we’ll guide each other until satisfied,” Repeated with much clear intent, you immediately shoot a dirty look at your best friend. “Also, what the hell? How’d you lose your first kiss before me?”

“I don’t even know if I’d count it! It was like a soft peck or two, for a stupid dare, mind you. Not even enjoyable, she reeked.” He sneered, the corner of his lips tugging upwards at the thought of the strong, distinct, and acrid smell of hers that lingered. Choso would like to note that she was awfully bad at it.

“So, how exactly are we going to do this?” 

“You wanna find out?”

Choso props himself in front of you, chuckling at the sight of your knees being so formally situated, and.. how perfect your face looks. God, he defies the right headspace– he wished about doing this just as much as you did. Bringing up the idea felt like being coupled with a revelation.

“Anything you feel uncomfortable with?” 

“No, just.. go with the flow. You’d have to be physical to get in the moment, right?” 

He nods, gesturing for you to come closer to his face. You seem compromised enough to understand his signals, crawling closer. 

The intervals between you and Choso seemed foreign yet comforting, it was almost every day that the two of you were always physically close-knit, but not in a way where that would confuse the both of you sexually and romantically. Not a state where Choso tends to your glistening eyes that were beading with interest, how your hair perfectly wafted away from your face, and your lips so full it honestly makes him lose his mind a little more.

You could bet just the same. You figured that befriending the most handsome guy you’ve ever met in your entire life wouldn’t have its precautions, but you’re just about miles, fuck it, centimeters away from his lips.

Kissing your best friend is an anomaly, but the two of you beg to differ right now that you’d give up anything to kiss each other on the lips with this coercing haze of noticing the intricate features of both your faces.

You had always remembered the comments made by your peers. ‘Both you and Choso look so unbelievably good together, such a shame that you two just ended up as good friends.’ Such a shame. It’s an over-repeated sentence, but you wouldn’t think anything of it.

After all, the two of you really were good friends, the best of friends. Even when you’re about to get your first kiss stolen by said best friend who everyone adores you to be with.

But again, you guys are just friends. 

Good friends. Best friends. 

Choso could sense you were going through some sort of brain fog, puzzled face and all, with an almost tense demeanor. Knowing you well, for years, he’d come just as close to comprehending your entire body language and how you reacted to certain things. As if the two of you have always corresponded with each other's actions.

And so, he finally plants his lips on yours to divert your attention.

The first peck lingered; the shock of having your lips touch his almost gives an unearthly sensation. Choso licks his lips, slowly leaning in to properly give you a passionate kiss. For somebody with an uncalled-for first experience, he’s a good kisser. Not unbelievably, but to yearn for? Absolutely.

The way his lips softly mingle with yours in this temperate motion, not haste, and just the means of savoring the taste. You sort of catch on to his pace, understanding that for a kiss to be pleasant, it needs to be done gradually. Gradually, in a way that makes you need more, crave for it until you go insane. Until then, you’ll be allowed to get ‘sloppy’ or ‘filthy’ all you want, needy in the way I digress.

His hand cups the side of your cheek, the warm temperature of his fingers engulfing your face as the spaces between the two of you get more restricted by the minute.

Choso scooping your waist to allow you to sit on his lap goes unnoticed, totally complacent, as if being hypnotized by the kiss almost. 

There’s no doubt that it’s getting heated. At this point, your bodies are pressed against each other, and Mr. Kamo is holding himself back from touching you anywhere else but your face. He slowly shifts to support his back on the headboard of his best friend’s bed, the room filled with just soft moans and slight sounds of smooching.

The kiss is slightly losing its first form of being gentle, veering to a more passionate and desperate intent, where both of you are hungrily exploring every crevice of each other's bodies.

The two of you pulled away just about immediately to catch your breaths, a string of saliva threading from Choso’s wet lips. “Holy shit.” He huffs, licking his lips as his chest exhales. 

You stayed silent, almost, slightly wiping the excess off your lips.

Choso covers his mouth in awe, exasperated but slow gasps leaving his mouth that just seems to whisper your name louder and louder. 

Nothing beats silence; the air was thick with unspoken words.

Nothing beats the way Choso was looking at you. His gaze bores through your eyes, searching, yearning. You feel your composure yielding, and for a second, your breath gets caught in your throat. “W-was that good enough?” You ask, batting your eyelashes.

“Not sure, I’m gonna need more to know if it is.” His jaw tightens, and his hands snake their way to the back of your neck.

“Show me how good you are.” 

Choso could assert that you wanted more, on a blind note; that you desperately needed him. The bed is vast, but it felt as if the two of you were lying in a preserve that extended throughout, like a land full of nothing but a void enveloped in an ivory white. 

In simpler terms, that was how kissing Choso felt. Everything around you was capacious, but the mere vicinity between you and him was enough to almost suffocate you. Enough to pull you into a pit of brainfuck that makes you think of Choso and only Choso. 

The two of you only continued making out, his hands were more weary of where to hold and where not to, attempting to resist the urge to make your body only remember his touch. The pace slows down to regain composure between you two, soft pecks in between breaks of hasty breaths.

Slithering his fingers under your shirt, he pauses his movement as if emitting a non-verbal question.

You nod. “Please, touch me.”

A nervous gulp shoves whatever lump was inside his throat. The manner of your tone drove him insane, like a kill switch in his soul broke. Like giving enough force to break the scale on a high striker. Choso was beyond saving.

Trailing his fingerprints on your body, his head leans to give little marks on your neck. Soft red marks that ingrained your skin, marks that screamed Choso’s name.

At this point, it didn’t feel like teaching a best friend how to kiss; it felt like a scheme for him to mark his territory.

You always knew Choso was acclaimed as both possessive and protective, even with his blood brothers and his undying wish to serve and protect his family. One thing you knew for certain, is that Choso knew damn well he wanted you all to himself.

He knows all of your weaknesses. To his advantage, he’s known you for so long that it’s almost as if he’s lived in your body. He can pick up each and every one of your behaviours, like he’s got receptors built in specifically for you and your mannerisms and everything else. It was always either information from your mouth or sheer observation from being by your side almost every day.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He exhales, pecking hickeys as his calloused hands reach to fondle your breasts. Choso can feel your breath hitch at the sensation, watching your nipples perk from his touch alone. 

You could almost die from sensory overload. His mouth grazes your skin as he leaves it to commute a tender, dark purple, tongue streaming wet, sodden lines across your bruised neck. It left his hands to caress your breasts, and the other slightly pressing against your waist. 

He leaves your nape to tend to your exposed chest, tongue licking your aroused bust as his fingers continue to touch up the other. Pulling, twiddling, and flicking it to make sure you could feel each tug– both from his tongue and his fingers. 

Your audible moans were loud enough to inform him he was doing a good enough job at making you cock drunk. “You smell so fucking good,” He chuckles, allowing his tongue to play around with your areolas, making you jerk. Your spine tenses up at the feeling, and you don’t know how he’s so good for someone who you presumed had only kissed a girl out of spite for a dare.

“C-Choso…”

He enjoyed seeing your face being so derived from pleasure. Seeing you whimper and helplessly attempt to find a gasp, he was so oblivious of himself, merely getting hard at your voice just uttering his name while your face begged for him more.

He moves his finger down your sternum, making your body twitch at every sensation he flits through your body. “You don’t know how much I need you..” He huffs, admitting that during the period of him pleasuring you, he was on the verge of making himself break. Seeing you in this delicate and vulnerable state, Choso wishes he could just ruin you. Although he wasn’t a man full of resistance— inside, his soul was whimpering for you. He can try to take control but fuck, he couldn’t watch you so impuissant under his touch. You drive him insane too.

Your body reacts to his statement, seeing his eyes blanketed with an intense need, reveling in the sweet state that was in front of him. He’s got you under some spell.

“I need you.” 

It was raw how there were no pet names of the sort, just you and Choso basically yearning for each other in all its bare glory despite the best friend barrier.

“D-do you want to..” You shyly look away, initiating the all-time question usually assholes say at the end of the first date.

Except obviously, your intentions were much different; both you and Choso have gone out on a limb for each other. Memory lane would extend more than a hundred football fields could ever. Choso’s eyes twinkle, “I do,” He chuckles at the thought of the both of you taking each other’s firsts, it sends him small tingles. 

You move yourself away from his lap, clearing your throat as his hands cup his mouth— trying to cover his face that flushed deep red, hair tumbling over his other shoulder. 

It was quiet again.

“I have no condoms..” He mumbles. 

“I can take it raw.” 

Choso’s eyes widened at your response. “S-Since.. when did you learn how to say that?!” His breath hitches, and he’s back to being the timid boy you’ve always known. His eyes look away from your figure, biting his lips as his eyes slightly narrow. You let out a small giggle at the sight of him being embarrassed that his innocent best friend bared dirty words in her throat.

“Okay then..” He leans but appears a little restless, proffering you the signal to unbuckle his belt for him. Never in the four years that you were attached to Choso’s hip would you be pulling down his pants to his knees. So much for being best friends, am I right?

You acquit something you’ve seen online before, pulling strands of your hair behind the shell of your ear– the metal clinking as you loosen his belt, pulling it away as it no longer wovens his waist like a hug. Then there you go, leaning in to tug his zipper with your teeth as your eyes doe up to look directly at him.

What an ultimate move, Choso could feel his dignity stripped away from his body.

You slowly pull down the hem of his pants and boxers to reveal his cock. Something you’d only hear in fiction, it’s swaying from slapping his abdomen. You would have never thought about the dick size of your best friend, and now it’s dangling straight up in front of your face, funny enough. 

He seems sheepish, cheeks still embellished pink. His hands gripping his pants as his huge cock is damp in pre-cum from previously. God, it's so big, it’s almost useless to penetrate a woman. Your mouth could not fit his entire girth and length. You almost wonder how the fuck Noritoshi Kamo birthed this monster.

You sit yourself on his lap again, his hands guiding the flounce of your shirt to take it off. You can sense Choso’s eyes heave an encompassing gaze on your body.

Something about him is that when it comes to being intimate, he swears to feel you like a well-crafted jewel– lifted with care as if you were a rare feather. “You never fucking leave my mind,’ He almost confesses, one hand sweeping down to trace the winding curves of your body. “I’m thinking about you all the time.”

His voice rumbles deeper than rocks thud on the ground, and his words have a more heartwarming lilt to them. 

Your eyes widened.

Your legs tightly wrap around his waist as you lean in to embrace him. It was prolonged, bodies pressed against each other. To Choso, you had started to smell like everything he’s come to associate with safety and home, and hugs he used to be wary of– he let linger a little longer.

“You’re such an idiot,” Your cheeks start to grow warm, face planted perfectly on the crook of his neck. A light chuckle fills the room, watching you pull away to feel his palm on your face. The meld between the warmth of his body and the heat rising to your face felt balmy, at the same time pleasant.

He gingerly caresses your skin, “You don’t know how long I’ve felt this way,’ He mutters, leaning lips that tenderly interlaced with yours. 

You felt your mouth turn cold from inhaling before he leaned in, hands gripping his broad, sharp shoulders as his arms continued to hold your hips to prep yourself onto him better. “Funnily enough, I’ve always felt the same too.” Your eyes crinkled at the edges, and the corners of your lips turned upwards. It never took long for your face to beam when Choso was around. It was evident enough when someone as indifferent as you- whose eyes were so full of void, would laugh every time Choso’s presence graced.

Vice versa. Choso found himself opening up to someone other than family, and you were just about the most important person in his life.

The feeling of familiarity and solace. Both you and Choso confided in each other like no other, and that was what mattered for the two of you.

Which is why you even came to him in the first place, knowing that you would be safe in his arms. As congenial as his presence is, you wouldn’t have felt any mite of regret if it were with him. You digressed. Choso felt the very same way.

“I really need you.” Choso heaves a breath that craves your touch. “Are you ready?..” He huffs.

“A-as ready as you are.”

Choso is a little nervous, given it was the first time for the both of you, and the last thing he would ever want to do is hurt you in any way. His teeth slowly gnaws down on his lips, eyes intensely observing as you try to position his cock into your hole. “Take it slowly, baby. Go at your own comfortable pace.” Choso exhales at a soft tone, attempting to guide you.

The sudden pet name puts your mind in a trance, feeling yourself getting wetter the whinier his voice seems to get. 

You slowly push down on his length, his tip engulfing your tight opening as it slightly stretches you enough to make you jerk. The sheer girth of his cock makes your body slightly tremble, words unable to leave your mouth as short moans come in seconds from trying to adjust yourself to his size.

The more you push yourself down, the more Choso twitches. “Fuck, fuck.. -ah..” He slightly pants, the claws from his fingernails obscurely digging into your waist. The insert had almost no friction; you surmise the build-up (more so, foreplay) had gotten the both of you frisked up to some degree, maybe the highest degree possible. After all, both of you are, or were, two virgins that were concurrently pining for each other– now seeing and embracing each other in such a vulnerable and a disposition that’s in the buff.

Sliding down on Choso’s cock felt impossible almost, you deduced it was because one, he was extremely huge, and two; he was about as hard as a rock himself.

You can feel the web of your hymen with Choso’s cock not even halfway into your hole. “You feel so -mmh.. fucking good…” his moans were in coeval with yours, like mentioned before, since the two of you are extremely correspondent with each other’s actions, Choso could feel the validity from the solicit moans exiting your lips every time you even slightly try to push him deeper into your sodden walls.

“So warm..” He seemed like he was losing his head, discerning as if he was slipped in reverie from the tightness of your pussy enfolding his length. I beg to differ, you weren’t even halfway down- let alone his entire cock? Both of you would sanctify your souls to leave your bodies.

You let your body take control to adhere to the immense pressure his cock rubbed into your walls, feeling your hymen slowly caving in– Choso could feel it well too, especially the warmth of your clit. God, you were so tight, and so, so warm. “Do you feel it, baby? Do you - mmpf.. f-feel my cock in you?” He gasps breathlessly, hips trying to contain themselves from gaining a mind of their own to just thrust deeper until his leaking tip bruises your cervix. So deep you can’t even feel anything but his cock.

You nod, jaw slightly ajar the more you split your pussy apart to his full length. Choso watches as your body shakes merely at his cock, a sinful drawl leaving his lips. He had always learnt that being humble was a great virtue, but growing an ego from seeing you rumble from his massive cock doesn’t sound so bad. 

“You got it baby.. -mmh.. looking so pretty..” You could feel your hymen break its core, losing your virginity minutes after Choso - who lost his the moment he even put his dick in you. You couldn’t tell the difference, but oh, the walls between your ready hole could feel every inch of Choso Kamo.

“Oh f-fuck -ah!” You cover your lips to muffle a scream. Your best friend’s cock is balls deep in you, a thought that would have never crossed your brain until this second. 

In ruly first-time fashion, it was an amalgam of pain and absolute heaven. Choso slightly pushes his hips forward to make sure he’s all the way in, and when he is- his eyes roll back until he could catch a glimpse of heaven.

“Holy f-fuck! - nghh.. your pretty pussy is so ahh.. s-so fucking tight..”  His fingers grip the silk sheets, every confine sticking to the gaps of his hands to avoid piercing your skin with his nails. After all, the amount of pleasure sinking into the surge of his veins was uncontrollable - Choso could feel you, every inch of his soul - and his dick.

You were shuddering, rattled moans and haggled breaths unable to contain themselves to stay put in your throat. Choso watches you unfold beneath him, what a lewd scene, he thought. “Do you feel it?”

“Mmm..” You nod, slowly rolling your hips to quench his cock against your inner walls. It was almost too much, your brain could only focus on feeling him deeper and deeper.  “Ah shit.. keep doing that..” His tone reeked of desperation; he wanted all of you, he needed you. Seeing you ruined, naked and dripping on his cock kept riling him up– although he couldn’t contain himself much either. 

Your flesh mixed with his. He could break at any moment. 

Each squelch produced from the sound of your hips bouncing on his dick, integrated with your juices dripping down your cunt– the surfaces of your skins slapping intimately. Lewd, lewd, it was all so unimaginably lewd. 

The impure rapture of two virgins experiencing rampant endorphins, it’s even better to note that the two of you are simply best friends; the more you’ve suppressed the emotions, the larger they just tend to burst. 

“You look so pretty all fucked up on top my cock..” He lets out a long-winded groan as you repeatedly move up and down, making him twitch with every movement. 

He sort of loses control, hips bucking forward to thrust into you deeper, and his hands roam their way to dig themselves into your skin. “Wanna.. feel you -mmh! d-deeper please…” You squirm, steady moans fleeing your lips with each thrust. 

“Doesn’t it feel so good, baby? ahh.. Fucking yourself on my cock like the pretty girl you are..”  His sentences are cut off by his moans, unable to withstand the feeling of himself buried in you. “Do you wanna change positions?” You abruptly say, stopping in your stirs as your lower abdomen merely trembles at his cock staying still in you. He was so massive, he didn’t need extra work to pierce your spot harder. He looks completely fucked out, “Doggy?” It almost sounded like a plea from Choso, leaving you to nod while you chuckle.

A wet plop belches as you take yourself off Choso’s dick, leaving you to gasp at the feeling. It felt almost empty, you wouldn’t expect that the lack of his cock inside you would drive you crazier for more. 

Choso gets up from his position, seeing you get on all fours. He could dwell on the fact that this position was almost like a drug for most men. Although, he’s damn well near his climax— he tests the waters.

Seeing your ass up all ready for him, he could push you deeper into ecstasy if he promised. “So pretty, so fucking beautiful oh fuck—” his voice strained as he started thrusting into you, slowly and sloppily, as best as he could acclimatise with the newfound experience — just as you were doing. Choso couldn’t believe it, the internet was fucking right. This shit was pure heaven.

Your walls clenched into him so much tighter, seeing your body jerk proved to him just as much. You could finally feel all of his length, the curve of it, and the tip touching your walls as it drags deeper into your cervix. You let out quite a succinct moan, indicating the sharpness and the sudden pressure in your vagina.

“I’ll fuck you like you belong to me.” He was muttering as he adjusted to the further feeling of your insides; he absolutely fucking loved that he could feel you. His hands placed on your hips made it easier to control your body.

“Y-yes!”  You whined out once he pressed deeper, plops becoming louder as he thrusts into you faster than the pace you set for yourself when you first rode him,  “I-I want -mmh!.. only you..” 

He’d thought about you like this more times than he’d ever admit, always feeling guilty every time you’d smile in his direction or peer up at him in question, and his mind would immediately go to the image of you underneath him and panting for air like you were now.

You were driving him crazy with the sounds you were making and the way you were clenching around him, having half the mind to reach his hands down and press down onto your stomach just so he could feel himself inside of you.

The push of his fingers wasn’t making it any easier for you to handle, the familiar tight coil building in your stomach as he continued to fuck into you rough. 

“Please, please.. H-haaa.. faster..” You were begging, your mouth was just moving on instinct, so he didn’t stop under any circumstances.

“I know, baby, I know.” His voice was more gentle than it had been before, but still just as tight and overwhelmed, definitely reaching the end rapidly himself like you were, and trying his hardest to prolong it, considering how good you felt, almost as if your souls were interconnecting. “Squeezing my cock so good, you’re so perfect for me.” He hums, fingers threading to pull your hair. His hips had grown a mind of their own, rocking them into you. 

He was so sure you liked your hair being tugged, seeing your head drop back to meet his eyes.

“F-for you, just for you ahh..” You were quickly responding to the casual possessiveness he had showed and this seemed to affect him more than anything, his hips faltering for a second in their movement before he was fucking into you even harder than you thought was possible. He clearly liked hearing you claim yourself as his own, and you felt overwhelmingly dizzy at the realization.

It was a complete blur now as he thrusts into you, coming undone faster than you ever had before and blacking out for a few seconds from the pleasure of him doing the same inside of you, bending you over, all dirty, just for him.

You can feel his breath behind your ears, “I’m so fucking close..” He huffs, and you cry out a moan. “M-me too, Choso..”

“Say that again.. please.” He whimpers, feeling himself nearing at the way you uttered his name. “C-choso..” You say once more, feeling your hole filling up with your own juices. It ridiculously felt like the after-relief of peeing after holding it in for so long. Feeling the release, you beg with Choso’s name for one more time before he pulls out to cum on your back.

“Haaa…” He breathes heavily, dick twitching at every pearly bead dropping out the tip. “Oh my fucking god..” Weary breaths leave his quivering mouth every time his chest rises, and your back has pools of his semen. “Oh shit, that’s a lot. I’ll grab the towel.” 

You catch a breath yourself, feeling yourself ultimately drop on the bed from sheer exhaustion. Choso is quick with it, taking a nearby towel to wipe away his cum. “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart.” He chuckles apologetically, picking up your knees to pull you up bridal style– comprehending you were exhausted to get up, legs probably fucked, and shaking like you had the tremors or something. 

You feel your lips bend into a small smile, head gently leaning on Choso’s warm chest. He admires the sight of you cuddling up to him like he were a being that protected you. “You’re just as beautiful like this.” He mutters to himself, softly smiling. 

“Thank you.” You whisper, appreciating him for making love to you. These words are always used in everyday conversations, but hearing them from you felt like a small droplet distinctly falling into water. It was such a gentle feeling. “Thank you.” He enunciates, turning on the heater as rushes of water leave the nozzle of the showerhead. The warm feeling hits your skin as he slowly puts you down. 

Choso cards his fingers through his now wet hair, hands slowly snaking around your waist as he softly peppers kisses on your head. 

Both of you melt into this moment. The invigorating warmth of the water gave ardor, the sounds of minuscule droplets splashing onto the bathroom floor, and his embrace reduced the tension in your muscles. It was soothing.

“Let me take care of you.” He hums, pressing soap into both his hands, rubbing them together to create foam bubbles. He lathers the product onto your body, every texture of his fingers, ensuring your body felt the sensation. This was a rather different feeling from just now. It was so much more intimate, and it makes you shy under your exterior. You were helplessly moaning his name just minutes ago, and now you’re caving at this romantic feeling. 

It was sensual yet so relaxing. Feeling him explore your body just to make sure every part of your body is clean and covered with soap. His hands move from your waist, to your ass, down to your legs, all the way up to your neck– shifting to massage your boobs playfully. 

The feeling slowly riles you up from the feeling, making you turn around to fervently kiss him. Choso is surprised but immediately presses into your lips, hands supporting the back of your head as your hair fills the gap of his fingers. It turns more eager, and he slowly pushes you against the wall. 

The steam shrouds the shower doors that were once as transparent– now hinged opaque.

Your mewls don't get muffled by the sounds of the water, but rather they echo louder. Choso’s hand was stamped to the side of the shower doors that were blanketed with moisture, now a clear imprint of his hands visible from the sheer impact. 

His other unoccupied hand chooses to grab onto your thigh, lifting it as if wanting to carry you into his arms. “Second round?” He pulls away to ask, words slightly quelled by the streams of water. You eagerly nod at his words, surprised he even regained his energy so quickly. “Please.” You plead, smashing your lips into his again. 

Choso digresses that his sex drive is somewhat unusual. Being born differently has its perks, he guessed. With his blood manipulation, he could heal open wounds quicker than sorcerers with similar abilities. He wouldn’t have known it would work in other places as well, healing anywhere else that wasn’t shrouded in blood or flesh. Maybe it was his body; he didn’t know. 

But you were here to help him figure that out.

With his unorthodox strength, he picks you up and makes sure your back is against the wall. Lips still intact, he’s strong enough to carry your thighs with his arms alone— feeling no sign of exhaustion, even after fucking the shit out of you. It’s as if his body went through hours of respite in minutes, and he’s feeling fresh as new again.

Although that’d be a good thing. Every round would feel like the first, every single time.

He positions himself, this time your clit is familiar with the head of his tip, the mere strain of him inserting himself into you. He’s much gentler this time, heading your waist’s to bounce on his cock. He gasps at the feeling once again, feeling his jaw widen at the proximity of his cock flushing against your walls once more. 

His forehead meets yours, slithering droplets running down your bodies. It felt filthier, although it was a supposedly sanitary environment. Maybe it was the wetness of your skin; every touch felt slippery. Looking at your body glisten in crystal drops of water, and this time, he got a better view.

He watches your figure bob against him, breasts bouncing with every thrust and your mouth moaning with every movement being pitted against your dripping cunt. 

Not to mention, your beautiful face.

Even if his body convalesces faster, his drive does go down by the minute. “I-I don’t think I can hold in for long..” He whimpers, his rough exterior also ravaged. He honestly feels like he can’t hold it in further when he sees you fall underneath his embrace. 

The second time goes by more quickly than expected,  a few thrusts and whines, with Choso putting his all into thrusting and ruining your insides for a double. You fret not, enjoying every moment he roughly buries his cock deep in you.

“I’m coming.. I-I can’t..” He huffs, but his hips move quicker than his words, making sure he feels every inch of you before reaching his climax. You could only cry out at his pace. Mentioning again that he’s extremely huge. Even after getting stretched out once, you don’t think you can ever adhere to his monster length. He’s nearly rearranging your guts, and the pit of your stomach feels itself getting full again.

He quickly pulls out once more, testing his game. Panting as he lets his juices flood your body again, but it quickly washes away from the continuous streams of water.

Although after that, the two of you properly wash up this time. Thawing in the intimacy, with soap bubbles and hot steam.

You get out of the shower first, wrapping a towel around your body as you stretch your arms from the cushy shower, and Choso comes out after you, looking hellishly handsome with wet hair slicked back, strands of his long hair clinging to his neck. With the towel dangerously hanging low on his waist? You thought to yourself, if you weren’t so tired from getting your back blown out, another round or two would suffice. Oh, well.

The reflection echoes both you and Choso, how he looks at you so lovingly, even if you weren’t facing him. This face was what you saw all the time, but the more you realized, he always stole glances in this endearing sort of way. He puts his arms around your neck, the crook of his nose resting on your collarbones as he smells your scent. “Awh man, you smell clean now. I loved your natural smell.” He grins playfully, making you jerk a hand to smack his head. “Stop being a weirdo.” Rolling your eyes, you relish the fact that you were still acting like best friends.

That he didn’t care and wasn’t awkward about the fact that you took each other’s first times. 

That was what scared you. Usually, best friends don’t end up being best friends after this. Strangers or less, even. The ‘what are we?’ phase of confusion that usually imbues in the latter, or maybe both. 

You would beg to differ, though. You had no questions or doubts, maybe you were a little afraid, but thanks to Choso, he reassured you well enough; that he’s always felt the same way. The endearing stares, the genuine moments you shared, every laugh, every time he swore to be by your side. It had never been one-sided.

He made sure to make it clear.

“Let’s rest. I’ll take you out on a nice date tomorrow.” He gently emits, planting a soft kiss on your cheek. You felt your inner soul yell in pure bliss; you never once negated Choso.

He grabs your wrist to pull you out of the bathroom, and the night is complete with shared kisses, a late-ordered pizza, warm cuddles, and cold blankets. 

It’s safe to say that you would have never imagined this happening, although part of you wished for it, prayed almost. The latter desired just the same.

This pining could have ended in many different ways, the sole longing of this void that needed to be filled by you, and you only. 

Choso’s eyes are still open, reminiscing about everything. Your delicate snores soothe his ears, any sound you made was his favorite melody, and he would do anything to just make you feel secure around his presence. His eyes rest upon your figure one last time before he closes them to rest himself.

It was a long three hours full of just, everything that amounted to years of being best friends.

Choso even joked to you that he’s finally moved up the chain after being stuck at second rank for so long. You laugh, “What a fucking dumbass.”

“You love me, though.”

“Oh, shut up.”

—

Yuji groans groggily, turning on the lights of the living room as he rubs his swollen eyes that have just awoke. He sees your handbag still sitting atop the kitchen counter, wondering to himself, ‘She’s still here? Huh.’

Shrugging his shoulders, a yawn leaves his mouth as he slouches to the laundry room to find his towel. 

Although he couldn’t find it, at all.

“Did I put it in Choso’s room?” He blinks, question marks visibly popping out of his head like a speech bubble. 

Before he walks out, his eyes sharply peek at the light pink color of his towel.

In the dirty basket.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, picking it out with two of his fingers. It’s sticking oddly to each other, and it’s got a smell to it. 

“Oh hellllll no.”

disclaimer, i don’t proofread most of my works! all rights reserved © gojoflirts.

[gojoflirts]

hello loves! i'm yuko ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ she/her. 19. certified gojo superfan. absolute fucking loser.

welcome to my hellblog! navigate here: i. ♡⠀꒱ rules & restricts ii. ♡⠀꒱ masterlist

tags — #yukoprofyapper ₎₎ rambles #yukomoots ₎₎ moots #yukosayshi ₎₎ anons

disclaimer, i don’t proofread most of my works! all rights reserved © gojoflirts.

[gojoflirts]

⋆ please do not plagiarize my works, if you take inspiration; give credit where it's due!

⋆ i only write for jujutsu kaisen (but im open to fun discourse about other animes)

⋆ do be aware i'm a slow writer so requests will take some time (sorry luvs im a professional procrastinator)

⋆ no nsfw/porn links in my asks, if you have a request (dms!)

⋆ no hateful words or controversial opinions in my asks, please have morals unless you have some sort of problem w me

⋆ very unlikely to write smaus sorry

⋆ if you are a minor, please dni or if you are uncomfortable with the contents in my blog!

⋆ since all of my works are smut, i will not accept or write anything that are huge age gaps/ageplay, cnc, a/b/o, bodily fluid kinks, any nasty ass fetishes, incest, abuse or non-con. no timeskips. (requesting any of these are hbs)

⋆ and no, i do not write for mahito

⋆ i only write for the canon adults in the series, strictly no timeskips for the underaged characters because canonically they are still minors.

⋆ i concurrently use the character’s last names! (gojo for satoru, geto and nanami….)

⋆ can currently request: headcanons

disclaimer, i don’t proofread most of my works! all rights reserved © gojoflirts.