Why Am I Suddenly So Into Hockey

I have been noticing that Bakugou seems to mellow out a bit when being fed! And like to maintain the kind of musculature he's got, he's gonna be hungry CONSTANTLY. I feel like if you just handed him a plate of food mid yell, he'd just immediately stop shouting and start eating. MAYBE grumbling about the same thing, but either way, the food sort of pacifies him.

The more often you do this, the more he starts to feel positively about you too. Like he just starts to associate your presence with the contentment of having a nice little snack.

(High key, I think Todoroki figures this out, and at some point when he says they're friends and Bakugou doesn't object, it's because Shoto has been handing him protein bars mid-sentence for weeks.)

In my art school au kirishima works with metal and you’ve never met him before but one day denki asks you to go by his studio for him to give him back his notes and when u do kiri is huge and tall with bulging muscles and big hands and he’s got a welding helmet on that makes him look sort of scary but when he takes it off and gives you that boyish grin you feel suddenly weak in the knees

Me: honestly tho I think I’m over my Deku phase

Deku:

baby steps, inosuke

Birds of Prey

WARNINGS: yandere, nsfw, noncon, abuse, blood, possessiveness, implied kidnapping, implied imprisonment

A/N: the fic i wanted to post is taking too long, so pls enjoy a not very short, not very sweet, slightly unhinged hawks drabble

read at your own discretion.

yandere ! HAWKS X READER

“You’re mine, you know?”

“You’re insufferable, you know?” 

A laugh, deep and raspy, filled the space between them as his head fell back in surprise. Though, the fingers digging like claws into the skin of her waist betrayed his irritation.

He brought his face to her own, smile turning razor sharp; that ever present glint in his eyes, while entertained, sparked with a dare she was too stubborn to ignore, no matter the ensuing consequences.

“Pretty pretty Bird,” His tongue poked out from his canines, swiping up to lick the tip of her nose, “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

Rather than recoil in disgust, she leaned closer, fingers threading in his golden locks, “Selfish, mindless, animal,” Each word enunciated with a sharp tug, “Ruin all you like,” Her lips brushed against his ear, and she was met with a pleasured groan, “I’ll ruin you right back.”

“Fuck,” His hips bucked upwards, his clothed hardness grinding against her in a failed attempt to soothe the growing ache, “You promise?”

It was her turn to laugh; it was sharp and spiteful, and she leaned back on his lap to meet his eyes, hands falling to his face to trace the sharp curve of his jaw in resigned admiration, “What makes you think you’ll like it?”

His own hands trailed from her waist to squeeze at the fat of her thighs, fingers sinking like talons as they spread her further, pulling her into him.

“Oh, my pretty Bird,” A hand moved to brush under her shirt, ghosting against the skin, and bringing goosebumps to the surface, “If it’s you,” Dextrous, devious fingers worked their way underneath her bra, “I’ll love it.” 

Despite her resolve, a whimper escaped her lips, and the predator under her pounced, shoving her back onto the mattress below them.

Blood red wings spread behind him, and eyes glowing with the celebration of premature victory, he looked like some harbinger of death, beautiful in all his glory, but come to rip her to shreds, and feast on her insides with that golden smile.

She wasn’t far off, she realized bitterly. Though, her chance at revenge came sooner than anticipated when he dove forward, shoving his tongue past her parted lips, licking the taste of her mouth from inside while he tore at her clothes.

And, steeling her nerves, she bit down, teeth tearing into the intruder, replacing the taste of spit with syrupy copper. Her reward came in the form of a strangled groan as he ripped himself from her.

“Fuck—!” A curse, low and raspy with the interruption of dribbling blood.

The sight before her was enough to send her heart leaping to her throat, embers of satisfaction dying as quickly as they lit. If he had looked like a harbinger of death before, now, with the back of his hand swiping crimson to smear across his cheek, feathers puffed and poised to attack, and hair falling to shadow his eyes, the man above her was a type of demon king she tried to force herself not to regret awakening.

He spat to the side, blood dripping from his lips, and turned back to her with a smile more sinister and sharp than she thought him capable of showing. Slowly, he pulled at his own shirt to reveal a body too sculpted and too pretty to belong to him.

“Caged Bird has teeth, does she?” He breathed, “It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, baby.”

“The only game I’m interested in,” She growled, “Is one where you lose.”

She had already scanned the room when she’d woken up dizzy and groggy and surrounded by a space all too familiar but not her own. He hadn’t even bothered with chains. Cocky bastard. There was no place to go where he couldn’t follow, but she’d be damned if she just laid there and took it.

She held her breath, and the pause between them was interrupted by a low, building chuckle that raised in volume and pitch until he fell forward in a fit of giggles underlaid with a twisted and angry amusement.

Lifting his gaze to hers, she found his eyes burning through her with the giddy anticipation of a hawk playing with its food. The condescension was enough to stroke her own need to fight, and she forced a sardonic smile despite her growing unease.

“What? Too much?” Swollen lips pulling into a sneer, “I thought you said you’d love it if I ruined you.”

He snorted, eyes moving to sweep across her body: fabric hanging in threads from her skin, lacey undergarments serving as her only decoration, traces of his blood smearing her lips, and tears that pooled at the corners of her eyes. Too stubborn to give him the satisfaction of falling. God, did he love this woman.

“Between the two of us, little Bird,” He leaned forward, taking her jaw in a bruising grip, and forced her gaze to his own, “I’d say you’re plenty ruined yourself.”

There was a twitch in her brow that sated his ego, and he pushed forward to give her a peck, retreating with the quickness of a man who had learned his lesson. For now, he reminded himself.

“Though,” Still, he couldn’t help but push, “Not nearly ruined enough.”

And he surged forward, taking her throat in one hand, and forced her backwards into the pillow; her legs flailed while her hands shot up to claw at his own. It was time to give her a little lesson of his own.

He settled himself between her thighs, ripping the last of her coverings to leave her bare and thrashing. Her heels kicked at his back, lips parting in short, sharp gasps.

“Fuck–fucking–” A strangled whine, “Bast–bastard–”

“Come on now, Birdie,” He leaned forward, fingers flexing, “If you don’t have anything nice to say,” Nose to nose, his canines gleaming, “You don’t say anything at all.”

With the twitch of her jaw, she pursed her lips, refusing to consider the consequences, and sent a glob of spit flying right at his face, watching with glee as it splattered under his eye. 

He jerked back in surprise, releasing her neck to swipe at the offended cheek. Through a fit of raspy coughs, her chest sparked with a sort of vindicated satisfaction.

Her victory was short lived, however, and a burning smack echoed in the empty space, whipping her face sideways, a ringing in her ears growing to match her blurring vision. The strength of a hero, she thought sarcastically.

It was her turn to spit out blood, before her eyes rolled back to him, angry, but cautious. His fingers worked at his belt buckle, and he shirked off his pants in her momentary incapacitation, entirely unbothered by his own sudden show of violence. 

She did her best to avoid looking at the monster between his legs, and, like any sign of weakness, he seized the opportunity to mock her.

“Fight all you like, pretty Bird,” A hand was back on her throat, tight, but not squeezing, “But you and I both know this only ends one way.”

She knew she was only delaying the inevitable, but the ache of bruised pride burning in her chest insisted on hurting him back. Hurting him more than he would ever hurt her. Because he would hurt her.

Her hands moved back to his chest, pushing as he wrenched her thighs apart, “Fucking villain,” She’d lost her appetite for this game of theirs, opting instead to let her acidic resentment pour outwards, “Get off.” After all, words were her only true defense.

In a flash his free hand took hold of one frantic wrist, “Villain? I can be a villain,” His face twitched in irritation, and her bones screamed under the force of his fingers, “Keep pushing, and I’ll break it.” 

The sudden flip had her hands falling limp, retreating in shock once he released her wrist, and balling into fists beside her head. And as fast as it came, the darkness left him, only that treacherous smugness remaining.

She cursed herself for her fear, put off by the unpredictability of his own emotional landmines. But still, she squared her face back to a disdained neutral, unwilling to show more weakness than he’d already sniffed out.

He pumped at his length, positioning it at her entrance. She was damp, but not nearly prepared enough for the size of him, and he hummed, fingers dipping down to toy at her clit, sending her hips jolting upwards in regretful anticipation.

“Say something nice, baby,” He breathed lazily, “Say something nice, and I’ll make you feel good, too.”

There was a beat as they stared at each other, “I…” She whispered, a growing conflict in her eyes. He leaned down, lips brushing against her own.

“Yeah?” His hot breath spread across her cheeks, “C’mon Birdie, I wanna hear something pretty come from that filthy mouth of yours.”

They were nose to nose, golden eyes piercing into her own, each pair glowing with emotions too loud to speak, “I,” Breathy and wanton, “Would,”

“Yeah? You’d what?”

“Rather fucking die.”

For the hundredth time that night he was taken aback, incredulous laughter his only response as he pulled away from her, eyes snapping back to her own with a promise he’d been eager to fulfill.

“Suit yourself,” And he shoved inside.

A yelp, surprised and pained, “Fuck–!”

He was only halfway in, and rather than let her adjust, he sunk his nails into her thighs as leverage, and forced himself further. She whined in pain, a coat of crimson serving as response around his pulsing length, and he moved to trap her hands in his own, fingers intertwined.

“Tight like a virgin, huh, little Bird?” Once fully sheathed, he set a brutal pace, the head of his cock bruising her cervix with each greedy thrust. His face dipped down to lick a stripe up her stomach, trailing marks up her chest and throat with gnashing tongue and teeth.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” She bit out, trying and failing to pull her hands from his crushing grip, “Wouldn’t know wet pussy if it—mmgh!—if it smacked you in the face.”

He huffed another laugh, “Don’t tempt me, baby,” His hands released her own to dig into the fat of her ass as he pulled her hips upwards and into his own with a renewed violence, grunting as her knees dug spitefully into his sides. 

Her newly free fingers clawed at his back, and despite his earlier threat, he seemed to revel in the streaks of red she tore in the skin between his wings, responding in kind with a hiss of masochistic pleasure.

“Not my fault the only way to get your dick wet,” A sharp, pained gasp, “Is to make a girl bleed.”

There was a glint in his eye that brought back her unease, and one of his sinful hands flew to the space where they met, finger pressing with irritating accuracy into her bundle of nerves. His other readjusted to push one leg to her chest, pausing his movement.

“Pain not a good enough lesson for you?” A too bright smile, “Fine with me,” That gleam in his eye sparkled with a sadistic satisfaction, “How ‘bout we see how many times I can make you cum ‘til you pass out.”

And the thrusts returned, chasing his own pleasure while the hand at her clit swirled in circles and stars, faster and faster until a whine more pleasured than pained escaped her lips.

“Like you–fuck–” She groaned as his fingers sped their motions, cock rocking into her with a deliciously savage rhythm she dared not acknowledge, “Like you fucking could–” A moan, full and long, drowned out her words, and her nails dug crescents into his shoulders.

He only hummed in response, her clit twitching under his thumb, “What’s that, Birdie?” A pulsing ache formed in her gut, “Words, baby, use your words,” Her pussy squeezed against his member in a way that had him groaning.

“Fuck you.”

“With pleasure, little Bird.”

He drew his hips back, pulling out of her dripping entrance to tease the hole with his tip, before diving back inside with unfairly gratifying precision against that spongy, tingling spot inside of her. Faster and faster, her bundle of nerves pulsed greedily under his fingers, and her teeth tore into her lip, trying to will the pleasure away, or, more shamefully, will it to peak.

Suddenly, and without warning, there was a blooming inside her that had her eyes rolling backwards, open mouthed moans raising in volume in an attempt to settle the warm buzzing between her thighs.

Though, she couldn’t find it within herself to care about the knowing smirk that pulled at his lips, too focused on his continued thrusts, and the quick rebuild of overwhelming pleasure.

“What are you–Stop!” A groan as he released her clit in favor of throwing both of her legs over his shoulders, and pressed against her chest, fucking into her at an angle that had her seeing stars, “What are you doing?!”

“If I’m correct, baby Bird,” He smiled, turning to press a quick kiss to her thigh, “You’re still conscious,” She growled as he nipped at the skin, but a particularly harsh push inside her cut the murderous thoughts short, “Which means we’ve still got a ways to go.”

His words were smug, but the growing sloppiness of his movements betrayed his own pleasure. Her eyes widened in realization, and her fingers leapt to pull and push at his back, tearing at what feathers she could reach in an attempt to get him off of her. Get him out of her.

“Not inside,” She rasped, “Don’t do it inside–”

“Hmm?” A mocking tilt of his head, “No? You don’t want me to fill you up?” One hand shifted to deliver a harsh slap to her ass, “Breed you like a needy little bitch?”

“Fucking—get off—get off!” She shrieked, beating at his shoulders, “Fucking psycho!”

“Well, that’s not very nice, now is it?” His hips were stuttering, and before she could stop herself, the words shot out through her lips.

“Please,” A couple stray, humiliated tears as she whimpered his name, “Please, not inside. Please, don’t cum inside!”

“Oh, so you do know how to talk pretty,” He breathed, fingers massaging at her abused flesh, “I was beginning to worry.”

“Please,” She swallowed her spit and her pride, “Please–”

“That’s right,” He was panting now, lips meeting her neck, teeth sinking in to add to the ring of bruises, “Beg me some more.”

Throwing her dignity out the window, she obliged, pleas working in tandem with the savage strokes of his cock, trying and failing to ignore her own mounting pleasure until finally he stilled, pouring deep inside her with a raspy groan, and sending her once again over that dreaded and savored edge.

“What’d I tell you, Birdie?” He ignored the defeated, broken whines that left her while they both returned to reality, “You’re mine.”

As his eyes trailed down the collage of her forming bruises, he was sure he bore his own battle scars, heart strangely skipping at the thought. She was his, but he had long belonged to her. A fact he’d hoard to himself as long as he could.

He caught his breath, readjusting to brush sweaty strands of hair from her forehead to behind her ear, pressing a reverent kiss to her temple before pulling away. It was a gesture entirely too soft, and she could have forgotten it was the monster above her had it not been for his next words.

“Oh don’t cry, my broken little Bird,” That vicious golden grin was back, “I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

Looking down at the ruined little thing shaking underneath him, he felt a type of satisfaction one only gets from dethroning a queen, fight fucked out of her. Not for good, he reminded himself gleefully. His pretty Bird was too stubborn for that. His softening cock twitched to life at the thought.

The flare of her nostrils sent lightning in his veins as she growled, “I’ll ruin you,” The words were venomous, humor sucked out in favor of acidic hatred, but his chest only vibrated with a sadistic urge to play, “I’ll fucking ruin you.”

“Ruin all you like, baby,” Breath wet and hot, shaking with anticipation, “I’ll ruin you right back.”

“it’s so unrealistic when x readers say-” i’m not reading x readers for realism. i’m reading them because i want to fuck a fictional character.

ACCIDENTALLY ON PURPOSE┊despite what’s written on the bathroom stalls, twenty-three year old gojo satoru, is a virgin. this was a well kept secret until he made a drunken social media post spilling his dirty laundry. worried about his standing in the university hierarchy — satoru turns to you, his oldest friend, to save his social life. how? by taking his virginity, of course.

content: a college au, angst if you squint, smut and fluff. gojo being an oblivious dork, afab!reader x gojo satoru, piv sex, f*ngering (reader receiving), c*nnilingus, a brief conversation regarding consent, no power dynamics, reader is called (hot, baby, sweatheart, is shorter than gojo.) all lowercase. word count: 10k

satoru guesses it is nearly five in the morning when his phone chimes three times in quick succession. he immediately regrets choosing a quacking duck as his notification tone, waking with a start and banging the top of his head against his coffee table.

the vibrations occur no more than a few seconds apart, the screen lighting up each time and nearly blinding him from its place on the floor; propped against one of the legs of the violent table. his body is awkwardly contorted, head turned in its direction.

satoru lifts up his head to glance at it — squinting in pain as he tries to focus on the kanji. It darkens before he can see who woke him and he turns up his nose in annoyance when he notices the cracked upper corner of his very expensive cell phone. he runs the heel of his hand roughly against his eyes, wiping the crusted edges in an attempt to clear his blurry vision.

despite not being fully coherent, satoru can tell that he’s hungover. his memory is hazy at best but some of it comes back in short flashes; being at the bar with nanami, drunken coin fumbling to buy another round of shots, someone tossing him on his living room floor and ruining his favorite shirt.

his white leather ottoman is bowing in the middle, obviously broken. the minibar is ransacked and the floor is covered with remnants of the night before: empty beer cans, a plate of chicken bones, a cowboy hat, half-eaten skinless mangos, his favorite jacket, a plastic battle ax, etc.

snoring on the couch and wearing only jeans and one sock, the words MUNCH written in sharpie across his forehead, is geto suguru. a cat that satoru assumes is his now, struts across the top of the couch until it reaches a plastic cup blocking its path.

recognizing the obstruction, the feline slaps it off the side and the cup hits suguru in the face. hard. stale saké splashes all over him and he jerks awake before falling directly onto the pile of beer cans on the floor. the black sharpie starts to drip down his forehead in jagged lines that look almost like stitches.

“oh shit,” he groans, strands of black hair falling out of his top knot and into his eyes. “what the hell happened last night?”

satoru goes to shake his head, but the heaviness of it makes him nauseous. he glances over at his friend and then down at himself. “pajama party?” he lays in the same position he originally slept in and the same white button up he remembers wearing (albeit with a few buttons missing).

the two men groan in unison, satoru lifting himself up and using his now broken leather furniture for leverage. vertigo hits him hard and black dots are on the edge of his vision, but he’s able to stumble his way into his kitchen while keeping hold of the contents of his stomach. on his marble countertop are painkillers, candies that he’s sure are from his pantry, and a note. it reads: try not to black out again. you almost killed me for attempting to put you in bed.

satoru raises a brow, recognizing his friend’s font-like handwriting well. how sweet of nanami to look out for them in this way! he makes a mental note to tease him about it later.

satoru pops a candy in his mouth, the hard sugary treat clacking against his teeth. he scrolls down on a search engine for hangover remedies and just as he learns that sugar is apparently not what he should be having (oops?) a new notification appears, grouping with the three from earlier:

INU_NOT_YASHA liked your post.

the notification itself wouldn’t be so strange if it weren’t inumaki that liked his post. he rarely ever saw the underclassman on the app (and if he did it was watching slime making videos.) satoru can hear the rustling of beer cans as suguru must be removing himself from the floor now, too. another notification comes up and then another:

JLAWFAN39 liked your post

JLAWFAN39 commented on your post: woah gojo-senpai you’re way braver than me. why were your nipples out btw? ://

satoru raises an eyebrow. he hadn’t posted a shirtless picture in… like three days. (a new record) he goes to respond to the comment and defend his honor, but the next one makes him pause.

NANAMI.KENTOBOX commented on your post: he insisted that they needed to “air out.”

nanami often preached about how much he hated social media, how the instagram account he had was purely for convenience. what would have caused him to comment on one of satoru’s posts? he never had before.

satoru taps on the notification then, wanting to know what the fuss was all about, especially since he was the topic of conversation. what he finds makes him almost drop his phone in the sink.

for starters, he had posted six images at once (which did not fit the minimalist aesthetic he’d curated over the past two years.) one photo is of him, suguru, and nanami in the bar. the more stoic man is begrudgingly standing with his arms crossed. from there, each picture gets progressively more raunchy. until the very last one, a recorded video, starts to play.

it’s definitely him, pulling at his own button up in an attempt to flash the camera. nanami is heard sighing in the background and geto is making weird mouth sounds at what satoru assumes is the mystery cat. “could you at least give me a warning before you strip?” the blonde man chastises. satoru can hear the sound of him rummaging through his kitchen cabinets.

video satoru lets out a laugh, throwing himself back on the living room floor with the phone raised over him. there’s a thick thud where his head connects to the ground, one that makes both suguru and nanami wince. “ouch!” he whines, pouting at the camera and using his free hand to rub the sore spot on his head. his cheeks are red and his eyes are almost closed, obviously intoxicated.

“i’m soooo lonely, guys. who wants to come keep me company?” satoru instantly cringes at himself. this was definitely embarrassing (and explained the 200 followers he’d dropped in the span of only a few hours) but not enough for him to be concerned, right?

video satoru gets a faraway look in his eyes, the kind that says he’s about to either burst into song or is very deep in his feelings. “don’t any of you get jealous, okay? i’m just kidding! i wouldn't please you, anyway. i don’t have the experience.” satoru sees his past self start to tear up and suddenly, he remembers the feeling of laying on his expensive rug and feeling the cool air riddle his chest with goosebumps. he also remembers what he says next for all 4,000 3800 of his followers to see:

“being a virgin fucking blows.”

and there it is on the internet forever. his biggest secret. something that only one other person knew about until now,  broadcasted on his most used social media platform. shit. shit! 

suguru has managed to lift himself off the floor somehow, making his way over to the kitchen while holding the street cat in both hands. his sock is practically hanging off his foot now, the black ink on his forehead streaky as if someone ferociously tried wiping it off. “don’t look so distraught, satoru. just make another post saying you were drunk.”

satoru gives this some thought but one look at his dms and he knows he won’t be able to salvage this social nose dive. people were blowing him up asking if the post had any truth to it, if he needed a warm body to fill his bed at night. it was all too much, panic starting to set in.

noticing his friend’s genuine distress, suguru raises a brow. slowly, a smirk starts to appear on his face. “wait… is it actually tru-”

“of course not!” satoru interjects, shutting off his phone and flippantly waving a hand in his friend’s direction. he flinches at the volume. “i lost my virginity years ago, you know that. besides,” he grabs the street cat from suguru’s hands and lifts it so that their cheeks are pressed together. “who needs sex when you have this adorable little thing?” the adorable thing in question immediately tries to squirm out of his grasp.

the smirk doesn’t leave suguru’s face and in response he shrugs his shoulders. “alright then, who popped your cherry? you never told me that many details. is it someone we know?”

satoru feels his face redden. “uh, well-”

this is where things get complicated. if he made up a name then suguru would surely grill him on every detail of the encounter, finding holes in his lie. he had to think of someone and fast.

“well?” the dark-haired man presses, lips still curled in amusement.

in satoru’s defense, he was cornered! he couldn’t possibly tell him the truth now, could he? it is a split second decision (the only response he could conjure up) when satoru opens his mouth to say the first name that comes to mind. it is only by pure necessity and recency bias, that it is yours.

judging by the angle of the sunlight filtering in through your cheap blinds, soft yellow that just barely comes over the horizon, it was most definitely too early for you to be awake. you glance over at your alarm clock, the green letters showing that it was without a doubt, too damn early. whoever was pounding at your front door must have wanted a death sentence.

at first, you decide to let their knocking be until they give up, assuming no one was home. one quick glance at the opposite side of your dorm and you see that nobara is nowhere to be found – already up and at her morning class. unfortunately for you, this person was persistent and what was once a pounding of a fist turns into a song of some sort… as if they were entertaining themselves until you decided to stop ignoring them.

you consider your options – one of them being whether or not prison is as horrible as they say – and another debating the logistics of jumping out of a third story window and landing directly on concrete. you roll both options back and forth in your head like a mental tug of war – but right as you are about to decide – the knocking stops.

a sigh escapes you as you roll over onto your side, back facing the window behind you. your eyes close and you nuzzle deeper into the warmth that is your bed. before you can appreciate the sudden silence, the shrill jingle of your cell phone blares to life on your bedside table.

“are you-” you slam your hand down on the device and drag it by its tied charms to your side. you don’t look at the caller id before you swipe to answer and lift the screen to your ear. “fucking kidding me?!”

“i most certainly am not! good morning to you, too by the wa-”

you immediately hang up at the sound of his voice, letting your phone fall onto the ground. you were not letting that string bean ruin your slumber again. the last time you answered this early, he’d been drunk off his ass slurring about something you don’t even remember. not this time! you close your eyes again but the same agitating, grating voice comes out behind a muffled door. it calls out your name in a sing-songy tune, followed by knocks that hit the same melody. “open up,” he sings, “i know you’re in there~!”

you groan loudly into your pillow.

you’ve known gojo satoru long enough to deduce two things about him – he was definitely persistent, and annoyingly patient when he wanted to be. no amount of potential embarrassment could sway him. if you didn’t answer now, he’d knock until your neighbors called the police and you’d have to deal with their nagging for weeks; especially from the two sophomores in 1B, they fucking hated you.

you begrudgingly lift yourself up out of your warm bed and trudge to the door. as soon as you open it a flash of what can only be described as a tall shadow moves past your vision so quickly that you almost get whiplash. “thank god,” a voice you recognize chirps, “it took me forever to even get you to wake up.”

you shut your door and turn around to see none other than gojo satoru, your best friend, dressed in his campus hoodie. the same design of hoodie that you had slept in the night before. he’s as handsome as ever, stark white hair and bright blue eyes covered with thin shades. he smiles at you and you return a frown. it’s only then that you notice the plastic bag in his left hand and the familiar brown label on the bottle that pokes through.

“before you kick my ass, just hear me out. yeah?” he rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie and you try to not let your gaze linger on his forearms. “have a seat. i’m gonna set the table.”

satoru places the bag on the table in question (which is just a desk next to your bed) and grabs you by your shoulders to guide you to sit down in your chair. you comply, your half-asleep state focusing only on the sweet cheese danish he places in front of you along with your favorite bottled coffee drink. he pulls out his own goodies and you raise a brow at the very modest bottle of water.

you see, satoru had a vice. one you had known well after your many years of friendship. every morning, without fail – he’d drink the most sugar-induced, whipped cream, caramel drizzled frappuccino known to man. you’d always tease him and ask how satoru still had all of his teeth and he’d just lick the caramel that dripped on his fingertips and give you an annoyingly handsome smile. for him to drink anything without artificial sugar was concerning, to say the least. he sits on the opposite side of you on your bed and starts to tap his fingertips on the desk. he seemed almost…nervous? you open your coffee, the plastic top cracking under your hand.

“so,” you lift the bottle to your lips, “was starbucks closed or something–?”

“i want you to take my virginity.”

you choke on your coffee mid-sip, sputtering as you try to repress a coughing fit. it takes you a moment for you to catch your bearings, grabbing a packed napkin from the bag and pressing it against your now stained hoodie. “shit–! ‘toru, what?”

satoru lays down with his legs spread out in front of him and his elbows keeping him up; the sheets moving beneath him. you can tell by the gleam in his eyes that he’s dead serious. frighteningly so. “i want you to take my virginity! pop my cherry. steal my virtue–“

“stop!” you interrupt him, hand lifting up in front of you as the other places a now soiled napkin on the table. “please, don’t elaborate, satoru.” you press two fingers on the bridge of your nose and take a moment to collect yourself.

“what do you mean you want me to take your virginity?”

he rolls his eyes at this, sitting up so that one arm supports him. his hand reaches out to grab your discarded stack of napkins, playing with the ends of the paper. “you told me once that people should share their first time with someone they care about, that they trust.” he shrugs his shoulders. “i trust you more than anyone.”

you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “there’s more to it than that, toru.” how could he be so calm about this? “you have to actually love the person to some degree–!”

“who says i don’t love you?”

that makes you pause, lifting your head to make eye contact with the man in front of you. he said it in a way that suggests that it was ridiculous for you to believe otherwise.

exasperated, you sigh through your nose. “satoru, you know what i mean. it’s a different kind of love. you need someone who wants to… i don’t know! build a life with you or something.”

he laughs at this. “right because when you lost your virginity to maki, it was because you were madly in love?”

“that’s not the point.” he raises a white eyebrow.

in a way he’s not entirely wrong, you and maki were dating at the time but you never saw a future with her. when you broke up it was amicable, two people realizing that they just weren’t all that compatible. still, your point stands. you didn’t regret the way you lost your virginity or who you’d lost it to but would the same be said for gojo? could your friendship survive that?

as if sensing that you were thinking entirely too much, a long pale finger flicks your forehead.

“ow!” you instinctively look over at the other side of the room — turning away once you remember that nobara is still out for the day. you can practically feel her eyes burning the side of your head because of the noise.

“pay attention! i’m practically giving you my body on a silver platter and you aren’t even giving me the time of day?” he suddenly hops (or more accurately steps with his long ass legs) to your side of the table and plants himself on nobara’s bed next to you, moving your feet to relax on his lap. “i’m not asking you to give me the most mind blowing experience of my life just… i want to get it over with.”

(somewhere, nobara feels a shiver run down her spine. a great disturbance only caused by gojo satoru.)

you give him the look he hates, the one that says he’s not getting what he wants. “what if this ruins our relationship? i-i have an idea! what if you ask suguru to take your virginity?”

if looks could kill you’d be six feet under. “and get throttled with his bare hands for even asking? besides he’s ugly,” his nose scrunches up in disgust, “you’re hot and like, soft. you exfoliate.”

“gojo satoru–“

“i also might have told him that you took it already.”

that makes you pause. of course he told the second most popular man on campus. “you did fucking what?”

“don’t worry about it! i doubt he believed me!” you give the same look from before. “okay, admittedly i could have framed this conversation better–“

“you think?”

“but… if i were to be with anyone, why wouldn’t it be you?”

you consider this for a moment, covering your face in your hands. maybe if things were simpler, if the two of you were just acquaintances, it would be easier to agree to. but how are you expected to sleep with someone who you’ve known since you were freshmen in high school? you’d helped his mom cook dinner, talked to his dad about the family business even when you had no interest. they were like a second family to you. 

you feel a hand grab your wrist and you look up to see the face of a man you know better than anyone, who you would hate to lose. “don’t look so freaked out! i’m not going to force you or anything so... just think about it?”

you sigh but nod your head, ignoring the pounding of your heart. “alright… yeah. i’ll think about it.” 

you did not think about it. in fact, you did everything in your power to not think about it. that meant burying yourself in your studies and avoiding gojo satoru at all costs, giving the excuse of being busy every time he tried to meet up.

by the time the two of you left your dorm that day, you’d not only found out why exactly he was in a rush to lose his v-card but that the school was now divided on the legitimacy of gojo’s virginity claims. especially since you were allegedly the one to have taken it. geto suguru made quick work of spreading that fact to anyone who would listen.

on one hand, you were happy that satoru had some of the heat off him but that meant that you were getting dms from people you’d never even spoken to before, asking for you to confirm it. eventually you just went private but that made the rumors spread even more. were you two together? friends with benefits? was it just a one night stand?

after a week of this – you started practically barricading yourself in your dorm room, avoiding not only gojo but anyone else that was trying to get the latest news on your relationship. of course, you could only keep this up for so long, message after message hitting your phone. once from itadori on how to use a rice cooker but mostly from satoru asking if he’d made you uncomfortable or crossed a line.

you would say no, that you just needed to focus on your classes, but he didn’t take that answer — posting sad bart simpson edits on his instagram story to further prove his point. you hated making him feel this way (even if he was being overly dramatic) but you weren’t someone that liked being in the spotlight. satoru had always been popular, adored. you tended to just fade into the background and you liked it that way.

when you try to lift your head, you realize that your face is pressed into the crook of your arm. there’s a blanket draped over you that you don’t recognize and it slips off your shoulders when you start to move from your uncomfortable position at your desk. the blinds of your dorm are open wide enough for pale blue light to peer through them and it blinds you momentarily as your vision clears. the light reflects off of something black and metallic on your right hand, pen stains from last night. gross.

you groan and place your face back into the cocoon your arms have created. you have a class fairly early today but by the color of the sky through your window, that time hasn't come yet. maybe you could get just a few more hours in…

“rise and grind, sleepyhead!" your roommate says way too loudly for the early morning. normally you had no issue getting up, but the cram session from the night before presents itself with the pounding headache you have and the taste of a fruity energy drink on your tongue.

“nobara… as much as i appreciate the positivity,” your words are muffled in your arm, “i’m not exactly in the mood for it today.” you let out a sigh, feeling unreasonably hot all of a sudden. “this week–“

“i know exactly what happened this week. i think the entire campus knows at this point! i mean, jesus, all you've done is sleep.” you and nobara weren’t friends exactly, a frenemies type of relationship if you will, but you could see the obvious concern on her normally stern features, brows furrowed and lips pouty.

she was attractive in an… aggressive way. a cute bobbed haircut and a bright, full laugh so contagious you couldn’t help but smile when you heard it. she was the type of girl to have both men and women alike on their knees. 

when you first met nobara she was too focused on flirting with a classmate of yours, and not focused on where she was going. to make a long story short, you both got into an intense screaming match. all of this in the middle of the courtyard, while standing over the box of personal items that you had been carrying to your dorm. it didn’t exactly make things easier for the two of you when you found out that you would spend the entire semester together. satoru had to practically hold you both back so you wouldn’t start throwing blows. she saw you as a clumsy, irritable nuisance and you saw her as an annoying flirt with too much time on her hands.

somehow over the course of time you two had come to a mutual level of understanding and the hostility slowly dissipated from your living space. now, months later, she was one of the few people on campus that you felt comfortable venting to.

you stretch your arms over your head, ignoring the way her eyes peered down at you in what you perceived as pity. “yeah well the entire campus doesn’t know the whole story, do they?” you say with a hint of exasperation in your voice.

she grins. “no, i suppose they don’t.” nobara pulls over her own desk chair as you spin yours around to face her. you tuck your knees up to your chest and she gets comfortable across from you. “tell me everything.”

you proceed to explain the events of the week in vivid detail, making sure to emphasize how mortifying it all truly was. she wasn’t there, so you had to paint a vivid picture. the determined look he had given you, the early morning bed hair he still had. nobara’s nose curls at the sound of satoru’s name and she almost has a heart attack when she realizes he sat on her bed. when you explain exactly what satoru had asked from you, she crosses her arms against her chest and her lips curl up on one side. your voice is soft and your cheeks feel warm. even if your face were stoic as ever right now, your anxious hands were a dead give away to how flustered you were.

“he wants you to take his virginity.” this is a statement, not a question. you nod. “and not only did he lie and tell geto that you already had” you nod again, slower this time. “but you’re considering actually taking up the offer.”

“well – yeah. pretty much.”

nobara shrugs. “honestly, i didn’t think you had it in you but a dirty mind can come from even the most innocent–“

“who says i’m actually going to sleep with him?” you interrupt.

she raises a brow. “you’re not?”

“no! i-i don’t know! maybe?”

nobara’s signature smirk is back and she’s leaning in closer to you, knees knocking against the edge of your chair. “are you positive?” your friend reaches behind you and grabs one of the sticky notes off your desk. in barely legible writing it reads your first name and then the last, replaced with gojo instead of your own. shit.

it was a joke the two of you made after a long night of studying. nobara had made a comment about how you had a crush on your longtime friend and you didn’t exactly deny it. “gojo isn’t that bad of a family name. if gojo ever gives you the opportunity, fuck him. hell, you can even marry him if you’re feeling bold! do that thing that americans do where you take his last name.”

you had laughed it off, even though at the time you had been completely committed to maki. it was supposed to be a joke, a little thing between the two of you. now, many months later, it’s obvious you weren’t the only one who remembered that conversation.

“i knew you had some type of feelings for him!” she whisper-yells, “is that why you’re so scared to go through with it?”

you can’t help the way your lips twitch downwards, breaking your stoic appearance. nobara knew you better than you thought. it was equally flattering and annoying. “fine,” you huff, “you got me. is this the part where you tell me that i’m gonna get my heart broken? that i should have told him how i felt months ago?”

nobara shakes her head. “obviously not. this is the part where i say that as your friend, i want what’s best for you.” she leans in impossibly close now, her hands resting against the arms of your chair. you stare into her eyes and the glossy brown color stares right back at you.

“maybe the only way you’ll get over this little crush is by testing out the merchandise or maybe he just feels the same way!” she pauses and you see her dark eyes narrow with mischief. “besides, you’re practically attached at the hip anyway. he’s come to check on you ten times in the last four days.”

you think of the days this week that you’ve hidden behind the door as nobara rattled off an excuse for you, saying that you’d gone to the library or to visit a professor. the times you’d seen him in a hall and took a detour around campus just to avoid awkward conversation. if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t being entirely fair to him.

“yeah, yeah i get it. i’ll talk to him.” you lift your hands in defeat, ignoring the way she practically shakes from excitement.

“thank god! do me a favor ‘n fuck him dumb so that he forgets how to speak, yeah?”

you only shove her away, her laugh filling the room as you turn around to grab your cell phone from your night stand. you turn it on and see a slew of messages:

[12:00 am] toru: u know things are bad when im up this late

[12:30 am] toru: i know ur awake :((

[12:57 am] toru: or maybe you arent? ur dorm light was on earlier

[1:25 am] toru: that sounds so creepy i was just walking by :((( 🙏🏻!!

[1:30 am] toru: i miss you

you let out a chuckle but it comes out more sad than you mean for it to. you missed your friend just as much as he seems to have missed you.

[7:45 am] you: meet me at our place after class?

you don’t expect a response to come so quickly, the vibration going off before you can even fully place your phone back on the table.

[7:46 am] toru: i’ll be there.

the sharp crunch of torn flesh clear in your ears, the salty juices coating your lips and tingling from spicy red pepper flakes. your plate of chicken is practically empty and you sigh in content as you place down your final bone and wipe your mouth. satoru is sat beside you and for the first time since this whole fiasco you actually see a hint of a smile on his face, watching you enjoy your meal with his own plate nearly empty.

you’re currently sat next to each other in the busy restaurant. everyone who had gotten off of school or work stopped by on their commute home and now it’s so packed that the two of you have no choice but to share a small booth area in the corner. to anyone looking on, you seemed like a normal couple sharing a meal after a long day. it was nice, comforting even, to imagine.

you’re staring down at your plate still, contemplating whether or not you want to order another round. your fingers tap on the table, the surface dented slightly from drunken toasts and sticky with cheap cleaning solution.

you feel a wave of air in front of your face and satoru is looking at you with the same sly grin. he looks so natural like this, warmth radiating from the hand he raised in front of you to get your attention.

“are you sure you don’t want to eat the bones, too? maybe suck on the marrow?”

you take a sip of your drink and roll your eyes at him. “laugh all you want but i’m trying to compensate for a week of surviving off of granola bars and gatorade.”

at the sound of your eating habits, he frowns and you wonder if making that comment was a mistake.

“and why would you do that?”

you shrug a little and play with the bracelet on your wrist, one he gave you only a few birthdays ago. “i wasn’t exactly worried about my eating habits. this semester has been draining me so i’ve been preoccupied and everyone is up my ass about you, if you’ve forgotten.”

“oh, i haven’t forgotten. i guess i just… started drowning it out? maybe we should just try not to care what other people think about our relationship. it’s just college – none of this will even matter in a few years!”

you raise a brow at him.

“that’s rich coming from you,” you say, leaning in closer to the man next to you, “all you’ve cared about for the past few years is how everyone else perceives you! who cares if you’re a virgin? are you supposed to be some type of playboy because you’re pretty?”

he smiles at you and you immediately regret your choice of words. “you think i’m pretty?”

“objectively,“ you interject, “you are objectively pretty.”

“but i’m still pretty–“

“can you be serious for once in your life?”

“not a chance!”

you lean back so that your head is against the booth. “you’re stalling.”

“and you’re letting me.”

you close your eyes (hoping that if you couldn’t see him he’d just disappear) and get even more comfortable in the booth. you two were fairly far away from the rest of the afternoon crowd, the sound of moving plates and chatter filling your mind. you feel at peace sitting in the muffled silence, even though you know that satoru is watching you expectantly. you set up the meeting after all and he’d already said his piece.

you open your eyes and look into satoru’s very blue ones. they’re mesmerizing, a bit frightening if you didn’t know the person behind them.

“so…why’d you ask me? to… take it, i mean. was i just the easiest option?”

for the first time in the years you have known satoru, he looks genuinely taken aback. maybe because you sprung this all on him suddenly. your mood had been a little sour ever since you guys originally met up so this should have been expected.

he opens his mouth to speak but closes it again and you see his internal battle right in front of your eyes.  “you aren’t the easiest option at all.” he murmurs, voice so low you almost missed it.

“what?”

“i didn’t ask you to fuck me because i thought you were easy. i guess i just wanted you.” you can practically see his jaw struggle to move, as if getting the words out were painful. for a man that was usually so confident to feel any type of timidity…

now it’s your turn to be confused. “satoru, what the hell are you talking about?“

“just please, listen. can you do that for me?”

you nod, trying your best to follow directions and let him speak.

with a deep sigh, satoru looks more tired than he did earlier. you miss that warmth already. “i’m not exactly the best when it comes to not fucking up my relationships with people,” he thinks this part over a bit more, “hell if i know what a real relationship is even supposed to be like. what i do know is that it isn’t whatever i’d find with someone else so… i wanted to try it with you. maybe i saw this as an opportunity to eventually get there? i promise i never meant for any of this to happen, but i panicked. then you started avoiding me and i felt awful. i thought that i ruined everything.”

out of all the things he could have said, you weren’t prepared for this.

“i guess i never expected you to not be around. we’re almost always together! and yes, i was being childish and maybe even a little selfish but… i really didn’t mean to hurt you. you have to know that.” he pouts a little as he says this and you try to ignore how soft his lips look.

“are you mad at me?” you ask.

his expression turns sour, eyes dramatically wide. “no! i’m mad at myself. i shouldn’t have put you in this situation. it’s not your responsibility to make me feel better about something i caused. that would be gaslighting… is that the word for it?”

you stifle a laugh but nod. “yeah, that’s the word, toru.”

“look,” he starts, “i’m tired of pretending we’re strangers and walking around campus like a lost puppy. think of this as a sorry and a thank you for dealing with all my bullshit for the past few years.”

you know he’s serious. can see it in the way he looks at you and the way his eyes shimmer with a certain fire. you’re so used to seeing satoru as this goofy man who you managed to tolerate for the sake of your friendship. someone that you occasionally thought of on nights when you were particularly lonely. now all you see is just how appealing he looks with his pouty pink lips and pretty hair tickling his forehead. you wanted to run your hands through it and—

“—pull my head out of my ass or he would.”

you blink. “what?”

“you are really distracted today. when i talked to nanami about everything he said i had to pull my head out of my ass or he would.”

this was not the time for you to be drooling over him, not with so many people around.

satoru places a hand on the bare skin of your arm, squeezing the flesh gently before rubbing his thumb over it in small circles. “anyway, i know that it’s a lot to process at once but i’m really just offering here. do you… want to try being with me?”

you stare at him for a while but realize the heat of his hand is distracting you. your own hand reaches up to move his off of your arm, but he catches it and places it against his cheek firmly. satoru leans into your touch and hesitantly turns his head to kiss the palm of your hand. he doesn’t miss the way your pulse quickens when he starts to kiss down your wrist.

“you make a good offer, but i think there’s something i want to add.” you lean in to him to feel his warmth again, so close now that your lips graze his other cheek. you hear his breath quicken but he recovers with a small laugh.

“really now?” you can hear the smile in his voice, softer now.

you hum in response, your hand drifting down from his cheek to his chin, shifting a blue gaze to yours. “do you wanna get out of here, toru?”

and it's here in this tiny booth, fingertips pressed against his smooth skin, that you decide to take the leap.

because if gojo satoru wanted his first time to be special — to be with you of all people — then fuck, it was going to be.

satoru is panicking. you can see it in the way that he fidgets with the contents of the bag, reading the labels carefully to make sure he grabbed the right items. you’re sat on his bed, criss-crossed in front of him and everything he’d dumped on the duvet. condoms, lube, water bottles, a bag of candy. everything you’d need for what was to happen next. 

he’d already spent fifteen minutes on the phone with you at the store asking what kind of condoms you preferred and if a certain lube was better than the other. the attentive, albeit sometimes annoying personality you’d become accustomed to.

you try to ignore the tremble in his hand and the hard swallow he does before he speaks. “so, uhm. i didn’t get water based like you said but i have it in my bathroom if you change your mind.”

you smile at him. “toru, this is fine. perfect actually.”

“are you sure? i don’t want to hurt you–“

“you won’t. i’m not the virgin here, you are.”

“still–“

“satoru.” you places your hands on his, rubbing soothing circles on his skin. “please, i need you to relax. i’ll tell you if something feels wrong, don’t stress yourself out.”

he nods before letting out a small laugh at himself. “i don’t know why i’m so nervous.”

you place the items back in the bag, leaving the condoms and lube on the bedside table. “let’s try and loosen you up then, yeah?”

you tug on his hand so that he moves forward. satoru follows you as you guide him to rest against the headboard and you sit patiently between his thighs. “okay, so we should… express some boundaries before we start, yeah?”

satoru nods and tilts his head a little to the side, you can’t help but be reminded of the cat you just met that’s currently resting in the living room. apparently, he named her candy bag. he has no idea where she came from.

“first, i want you to know that we can stop whenever you want–“

“trust me i’m not–“ he interjects.

“if you do, though. we’ll use the stoplight system. red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for keep going. understood?”

gojo nods, not realizing that he’s gripping the sheets with his hands. “yeah, i got it. could you... not call me like daddy or anything like that? at least not yet. i’d like it more if you called me nice things or my name.”

“bold of you to assume it’ll be that good.”

“i’m aiming to please.”

“i’m sure you are. but, nice things?” you tease with a small smirk, “like what?”

he shifts under you and you see a rising blush against his cheeks. “you know, like baby or that name you call me– ‘toru. something like that.”

you nod. “alright, i can do that. for me, uh, don’t push my head down at any point. okay? it sort of freaks me out.”

he gives you a shocked look and you realize that the implication of what you said just hit him. “what?” you awkwardly scratch the back of your neck, “i’m going to at least try to make you feel good.”

satoru smiles at you and his grip on the sheets loosens. “i’m not complaining, just surprised. i guess.”

you roll your eyes. “just…” you pause. for a moment, you are lost in his long white lashes and the soft arch of his brow. he is so beautiful. you wish you could hate him for it. “…lean back, idiot.”

you move to straddle satoru’s hips. there’s a warmth where he automatically rests his hands on you, fitting against your hips perfectly. they still shake, ever so slightly. “that feels nice,” you murmur. he fails to hide the way he preens underneath you. you take a mental note of it for the future.

you lean in close, your breaths mingling and chests almost touching. satoru lets out a shaky breath and you gently cup his cheeks. “can i kiss you, ‘toru?” he gives you the smallest of smiles but nods, still a little tense.

first you press a kiss to his blushed cheek and then to the corner of his mouth. “relax, sweetheart… touch me.” and he does, his hands gently trailing up your spine and down to the dip of your back. you kiss him then, soft pecks that soon turn deeper as you lips mold together.

he’s a good kisser, almost too good with the way you forget what you’re both doing. his tongue is warm and experienced, curling against your own. your mind shifts to parties when you were younger but you shove the image down as his teeth nibble at your bottom lip, sucking the flesh into his mouth with a groan. without even realizing it, you’ve started to move against his slowly growing bulge, gasping as you feel a familiar throbbing, aching arousal between your thighs.

his tongue licks your lower lip when you pull away, watching as satoru’s breath begins to hitch, his chest jumping.

he moves his hands lower to cup your ass, hovering before he gets to the swell of it. “go ahead,” you say, “i–i want you to touch me.”

never mind the time spent discussing this, anticipating it. your face still feels unbearably hot. your gaze lowers to his mouth, unable to meet the raw, open desire in satoru’s expression. you’re still not quite used to seeing him this way; your best and longest friend.

with a firm squeeze of his hands, satoru presses you closer and grinds your front against his own. it’s in this moment that you hear him moan for the first time. it’s a low and breathy sound. now you want to pull every noise from him. you want to hear the deep ones from his chest that you would fantasize about on nights when you were alone – fucking yourself on the toy you kept under your bed. you pull away from him and satoru looks dazed.

“i wanna put my mouth on you,” you pant, “can i?”

it takes him a moment to realize what you’re asking and then he’s nodding; looking down at the bulge of his pants. his eyes are hooded as you lift yourself up from his legs and grip onto his sweatpants. “just so you know,” he starts as you tug his pants down, “i’m actually pretty big, so just be careful to not hurt yourself–“ he gasps at the feeling of you palming him over his boxers. a shudder moving down his spine when you start to fondle his balls.

“f–fuck okay that for sure feels different when someone else is doing it.” you can’t help but laugh and he rolls his eyes at you. “stop making fun of me, i’m in a very vulnerable state right now!”

“yeah, i’m sure you are.”

your fingertips graze his waistband and start to pull. even though he has already consented, you glance up at him anyway for approval. when he slowly nods, you finally pull his cock free from its place under his boxers and hold it in your grasp.

you would not give him the satisfaction… but, fuck was he pretty. he wasn’t very thick but he was long. soft pale skin until it reached the thick blushed tip. he had a bit of a curve and twitched every time the cold air drafted into your space.

satoru watches as you take him in and feels something stir in his chest. he liked the way you gawked at him, your mouth hovering just barely an inch away and teasingly puffing warm breaths against his already sensitive length.

you examine him more, wanting to see him squirm for a little while longer. and when you finally lean in, it’s to press your tongue to the underside of his clock and drag it up until you reach the leaking tip. satoru let’s out a strangled gasp, trying his hardest not to buck his hips into you. you take him in your mouth and use a hand to hold his hip, immediately dropping yourself lower until he hits the back of your throat and his trimmed pubic hair tickles your nose. “f–fuck!” he moans, a hand gripping your shoulder. “baby, shit– slow down or i’m gonna cum before we’ve even started.”

you slowly pull yourself up, tongue smoothing around his tip as he lets out another pretty sound. you decide then that you want to hear it again and reach out a hand to grip his base. his grip on your shoulder tightens as you move faster, bobbing your head around him as saliva collects in your mouth. “you can take it,” you say with a mouth full of him, pulling yourself up briefly to speak. “just enjoy it, satoru.”

and enjoy it he does, releasing his grip on you so that he can caress your soft hair. he makes sure not to pull or tangle his fingers in it for fear of hurting you, just gently feeling your pretty strands against his palm. 

“fuck, you’re perfect.” he praises, “i knew you’d be perfect.” when you start to rub your thighs together against the bed, it’s hard for him not to notice.

“i’m a fast learner, you know. y–you can teach me what to do. how to— oh shit —make you feel good. do you want that?”

you respond by squeezing him and satoru jumps, his cock hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. he puts his hand on the nape of your neck and rubs the skin as a way of apology. you lift your head and smile at him.

“you taste good,” you murmur, your lips slick with saliva and precum. satoru thinks he might pass away from the sight. you tug on his shirt, and satoru quickly yanks it off with one arm to toss on the floor.

he’s always been thin but it’s only now that you see his toned muscle, the hard contours of his stomach and chest.

following his lead, you reach to tug off your clothes but satoru places his hands over yours. “wait,” he moves them away and grips the hem of your favorite sweatshirt, “i’ve always wanted to take this off you. can i?”

you smile and tilt your head a bit. “always, huh?”

he playfully shoves your shoulder. “shut the hell up. lay back.”

you follow directions, back firmly against the large bed as he pulls your sweatshirt from your head. you aren’t wearing anything underneath and he stares at your breasts in what could only be described as awe. you lift your arms to cover yourself, but satoru is faster. his hands move yours to your sides and he situates himself between your legs. “stay still.” he demands, and you do as you’re told.

he’s deliberate in the way he removes the rest of your clothes, making sure to rub his hands together first so that they don’t feel icy against your skin, pressing kisses against your thighs as he situates himself between your legs. you have half a mind to clamp them shut as he gets unbearably close to where you want him most. “so wet,” he murmurs, glancing up at you in surprise. “i didn’t even touch you.”

you feel heat rising up your neck and face, hoping the darkness concealed the embarrassment on your face. “didn’t have to.”

trying his best (and failing) to hide how pleased he was in himself, satoru reaches over to the bedside table and squirts some of lube on his fingers. he looks up at you for guidance.

“rub them together, warm it up a little,” he nods and you see the slickness seeping in between his long (and recently clipped) fingers.

you show him with your own how to touch you. “use your pointer finger first and then slowly ease into me, okay? take your time but don’t be afraid to tell me if you’re lost.”

satoru’s listens intently, for once not joking as his pointer finger enters your already slick hole with ease. you make sure to relax further and nod as he starts to gently thrust it into you. “good job, baby, you’re doing so well.”

his fingers are so long that you start to feel a bit of sweat on your brow, you want him to touch the most sensitive part of you, to have you shaking and crying on his cock, but you knew that this wasn’t the time yet. patience was key.

he makes sure to ask you if you’re okay as he adds more fingers, your gentle encouragement turning into pleas. when he leans in to gently stimulate your clit with his tongue, you let out a whimper. “am i doing a good job?” he asks, words muffled as his mouth suckles and licks at your sensitive clit.

you whine, the pace of his fingers quickening after what feels like hours of him easing you open. “fuck, you’re doing so good. keep going, ‘toru.”

the inclusion of his mouth on you is almost overwhelming. you’re surprised that he was doing so well considering that he only had porn for reference. you know he’s just being thorough but it’s hard to keep yourself from pushing him down and taking what you want.

satoru can feel you tighten around him. your moans causing his cock to twitch against the sheets. he needs you, craves you. “baby,” he leans up so that you are face to face, “i want to be inside you now. is that okay?”

you nod your head so quickly he laughs at you. “someone’s eager.”

“shut up and just do it already.” you pout, but he kisses it off your face. partially because he wants to taste you again, and also to distract you from the feeling of his fingers pulling out of you.

“can i ask you for something?” he murmurs, gently biting on your bottom lip and pulling it into his mouth.

“hm?” you murmur against his mouth, “what is it?”

“i want you to ride me,” he says, kissing down to the spot where your shoulder and neck meet. his kisses become rougher, for sure leaving marks on your skin. “i wanna watch you bouncing on top of me, wanna see you make a mess while i’m buried inside you. you can say no but i think i’ve touched myself to the thought too many times to not ask.”

you feel your heart jump to your stomach. “you… thought about me?”

“i still think about you. i know you think about me, too.”

you decide to not engage, ignoring the sudden desire to confess something to him. “get on your back then.” you say, pushing into his ribs so that he’d roll over to the side. he looks so pretty like this, lips all red and puffy. you position yourself over him and satoru runs his palms up your stomach.

“hold me for a sec,” you instruct, grabbing the box of condoms once he has a steady hold on you. you tear open the packaging and ease it on his extremely hard length. he winces as your hand grips him as it goes down but once it seems to be properly secured, you grab some more lube and squeeze it onto him.

you position yourself on top and line him up against you. for a moment, anxiety flickers in his eyes, but it quickly turns into determination. “what’s your color, ‘toru?” you ask, your hand moving to brush some of the wild hair from his face.

“green. definitely fucking green.”

you feel the grip on your hips as you ease yourself down on his length. he tenses up once he feels the first squeeze of you around him and as you slowly sink down, his grip on you tightens before he forgets how to breathe. “h–holy shit why are you so tight?”

you let your hands rest on his chest as you catch your breath, you realize how thankful you are for the prep from before when you shiver at the feeling of him twitching inside you. “c–can i move?” you whimper, feeling his grip release just a bit.

satoru nods his head and you feel him squeezing the fat of your waist to lift you up and then back down again, sucking him in from the tip and back down to the base. he lets out a guttural moan that you feel shudder in his chest. he looks up at you with an expression you’ve never seen before. 

“faster,” he breathes out, “fuck me faster.”

“s-satoru!” you gasp, placing your forehead against his as you lean down. your eyes close and your breath shakes, the air heavy with the air of lust that clings to you both now.

“wrap your arms around me. i want to try something.” your arms loop around his neck and he plants his feet into the mattress, the surface topping ever so slightly.

before you can process the change, satoru begins the process of taking your breath away and filling each thought with him. he thrusts inside of you at a deep, slow pace. each thrust feels like a competition, every moan you give a reward. it isn’t perfect and it takes a moment for him to get a solid rhythm, but once he does you feel yourself relinquish control.

your mouth falls open as you pant into his mouth — a thin layer of sweat sticking your bodies together. you feel a familiar pressure between your legs and try your best to warn him. “satoru i–“ you catch a glimpse of his eyes and can’t help but to bury your face into his shoulder.

“you’re squeezing me so tight. are you gonna, oh fuck–!” you can’t stop yourself from cumming against him, your release pouring out of you and dripping down on his cock as he continues to fuck your tight hole. the mixture of cum and lube is sticky and matting the hair at his finely trimmed base. satoru’s thrusts get sloppy and hurried, his grip on you keeping you from moving away. but you have no intention of running from him.

“t–too t–tight. gonna cum–!”

satoru releases into the condom, his hips jolting with each thick spurt. his pace slows as you whine and whimper against his chest. your fucked out body barely registering the hot, sticky mess between you two. “sorry, i …think i might have scratched you,” you whisper, finger grazing over a red line in his shoulder.

“it’s alright. lay here with me for a sec.” you nod your head weakly, pressing your face into his neck. you decide to talk about things in the morning but that doesn’t stop him using a warm rag to clean you off and giving you one of his shirts to sleep in.

he also forces you to drink a few gulps of water. some of it spills out the sides of your mouth and he makes you laugh when he sticks out his tongue to lick it up. he then makes sure that you take care of your hair before you fall asleep, keeping it protected under a silk bonnet that he somehow managed to pick up at the store, as well. he’s attentive and gentle and so far beyond what you imagined he’d ever be towards you with his usually goofy personality.

that is until you wake up the next morning and see a few messages light up on your phone.

[8:00 am] toru: ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ヽ(°□° )ノ me drowning in your pussy last night lol

[8:10 am] toru: jk plz come help with breakfast i burned the pancakes.

let’s just say that you appreciate the attempt.

over the next few days, you talk a bit more about the state of your relationship. if you wanted to be open about it online or if you wanted to let things fizzle out on their own. eventually, after setting more than a few ground rules, you both agree to be discrete. you'd let everyone else figure it out in their own time.

this doesn't halt satoru's social media presence, though, as the man regularly posts a photo of the new feline addition to his family. he easily gains back his two hundred followers thanks to ‘exploiting his new child’ as you so eloquently put it.

the future looked promising, but there were still things you both had to navigate to make your relationship work. it was going to be hard moving through life as lovers instead of friends but if anyone were to ask you — it was well worth the effort.

note: so if this looks familiar, it is! this is a repost. this is one of my favorite fics i've written so i'm reposting it here on my new blog since my last one was marked as explicit. ty for reading and give me a follow if you want to see more.

also ty to @saintshigaraki for originally inspiring this story.

TODOROSIE. all original work. do not plagiarize, translate, or repost. this includes feeding my work to ai apps and sites.

Train Ride Home

bully! bakugo x classmate! fem! reader x bully! kirishima

author’s note: i’m so sorry to you non-nsfw accounts in advance, just keep scrolling! i was screaming while writing this?? something’s wrong with me but i been knew that. @pervysenpaix you are the one to blame for this one, take responsibility for making me feel inspired! 😡

content warnings: bullying (obviously), a little violence, she/her pronouns, pet names, delusional bullies, someone gets spit on and its not who you think it is, stalking, slutshaming, the reader fights back and they have to put her back in her place, public sex, degradation, noncon, dubcon, nonconsensual videotaping + photography, kiri and bakugo are mean as usual, bakugo’s a little more transparent with his insults while kiri gives comments that take time to fully process, no prep, super graphic, overstimulation, thigh fucking, unprotected sex, misuse of quirks, turn taking, amongst other things that I’m sure have a name but I have no idea what they’re referred to as! grossness below the cut. ive always wanted to get stuffed on a train

Everywhere you went, you avoided the blonde and redhead duo like the plague, dodging them every chance you get so that you don’t have to deal with their shit. You’d hoped they wouldn’t notice but its so obvious that they have considering how whenever you locked eyes with them they’d begin to approach but you always made a quick escape.

It was really pissing them off. What are you thinking avoiding them like this? Did you wish for hell on earth to open and swallow you whole? They were more than happy to let you have a taste of what you seemed to be craving.

No one else sees anything wrong with your relationship with them. They always think its just them being their usual selves around you, some even believed that they had an adorable little crush on you.

They missed the way the duo would purposely make you trip over one of their shoes, watching in delight as one got a flash of your panties. And then you’d get “miraculously” saved, captured in the arms of your other assailant who held you close to their body, fondling your ass with faux worry or an irritated expression paired with an insult.

They missed the way the two of them would follow you after school and loudly degrade and objectify you all the way to your home from behind while following at a safe distance away. You still never understood why they did this, they would keep their distance up until you reached your house and then disappear without another word. Little did you know, they had their own sick ways of “protecting” you, and stalking happened to be their way of doing so.

You could only hope that today they would get bored with you due to the lack of interaction and would let you make your way home by yourself.

And as you pretty much expected, your hopes were never answered and mercy was never an option.

One can only expect the subway to be stuffed to the brim with people, like a school of fish packed away into a tiny can but you couldn’t have asked for a more any less-than-desired scenario than this.

Here you were, pressed against one of the doors with your bullies pressed up against you, caging you in with no escape.

“Missed us, pretty girl? You’ve been avoidin’ us all day. S’whats the matter? You can tell us,” Kirishima tenderly whispers to you, his eyes scanning over your face as one of his hands pressed up against the window behind you, blocking you in further.

“We’re listening. Spill it before I make you,” his angry, blonde counterpart adds, taking the opportunity to mirror the other man’s actions to your opposite side.

You feel your body sinking into itself, trying to push yourself even further away from the two of them but that was impossible since you had already been shoved into an inescapable corner. You couldn’t even lift your leg to attempt to kick one of them in the dick because of how close you were to them.

Biting back the urge to whimper you spoke before thinking, “I’ve been avoiding you two assholes for a reason. Why can’t you just take a hint and fuck off already? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

The words leave you before you can stop them and you find yourself being stared down by none other than Bakugo while Kirishima attempts to shush and console him with a nervous smile.

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to like that, you little bitch? Have you lost your damn mind? Cause I’ll be more than happy to help you find it.”

“Bro, just take a breath. She obviously wanted our attention which is why she’s acting like this, it all makes sense now. Dont’cha think? What other reason could she have to openly avoid us like that when she knows better. You’re our smart little girl, aren’t cha, Y/N? Just say you’re sorry and we’ll give you all the attention you want,” the redhead offered, offering you a friendly smile that usually made your heart flutter but right now you were feeling a little frightened.

Maybe you should say you’re sorry and say whatever else they wanted to hear and receive a lesser punishment but you were feeling especially bold today, tired of being pushed around by them.

“No! Fuck you,” you replied before doing something even more daring. You spat right into Kirishima’s pretty face.

Panda bears are cute to look at and there are so many adorable videos of them falling over or being manhandled by their human caretakers. But remember… *they’re still bears.*

One minute you’re smiling at yourself for sticking up to them, and another minute you can barely fathom the speed in which Kirishima moves, shooting a hand forward to grab your face with his hand, squeezing your cheeks so harshly that your lips pucker and your jaw goes slack.

His usual smile has dropped and he’s staring at you, his usually sparkly scarlet eyes were now dulled over and looked much, much darker.

“Oh damn, never seem him this mad before. Guess you really fucked up, huh, Y/N?” Bakugo asked, eyeing Kirishima who simply stared at you in silence. You knew it was serious when Bakugo had suddenly referred to you by your first name instead of his usual “pet names.” Even more so solidifying the obvious power imbalance between you and them.

“Aren’t you bold?” Kirishima calmly asks, squeezing your face which earns a whimper from you as you reach up to grab at his wrists, tears beginning to prick at the edge of your eyes as the pressure on your face was starting to become unbearable.

Your spit had landed on his cheek and some of it dribbled onto his unifirm but the shiny remnants remained on his cheek, he had yet to wipe it.

“Pleesh,” you begged, knees nearly buckling as you tried to squirm out of his grip, words slurred by his grip on your jaw, “M’shorry. Won’t d-do it again!”

Squinting, a sinister smile creeps up onto his face and he agrees, “Damn right you won’t. I gave you a chance and this is the thanks I get?” He then sighed, almost like he was about to do something he was going to regret but you knew better.

Suddenly, he’s released your jaw, which you’re thankful for, but you get the wind knocked out of your body when he’s suddenly flipped you over and smashes your face against the cold glass. It is a little bit of relief on your bruised cheeks but you feel especially nervous in this position, you begin to shudder violently when your skirt is suddenly flipped up and you hear the sound of unzipping.

You push back against Kirishima, which only edges him on further as he swoops an arm around you and hardens his pointer finger, cutting right through the fabric of your shirt and bra without so much as a second thought, a few buttons popping off into varying directions. You gasp and protest at his actions, to no avail, shivering when your bare chest is pressed into the glass, flashing the city as the train moves along. How long was this fucking subway ride????

Given no time to think about the usual time it takes for you to get from point A to B, your thoughts are interrupted by the feeling of your panties being shoved aside, a fleshy object being pushed between your thighs.

You react immediately and close them around the foreign object despite your better judgement and nearly scream when you hear Kirishima groan from behind you.

It appears that you had squeezed your thighs right around his cock.

“Be a good girl and don’t make a noise. How embarrassin’ it would be if other people saw you like this? So indecent and bare,” he whispered, rutting his hips ever so slowly that no one outside of you three could tell what was going on, “You could go to prison for public indecency. That wouldn’t look so good on your record, now would it, pretty girl?”

He reaches around and grabs one of your tits, starting to roll your nipple around in his fingers while slowly fucking your thighs, occasionally speeding up. His movements went unnoticed thanks to the train that constantly moved on its own. And his big, brute of a body blocked you from anyone else’s vision so it didn’t matter anyways. All he needed to do was unzip his pants and slide right between your legs. No one expected a thing.

“You recordin’ this, Kat?” Kirishima asked, still focusing on his movements as he continues to toy with your body like his own personal toy, in which the blonde grunts in response.

You turn your head to try and get a look at the other, wanting to know if he really was recording and you squeaked when you realized he told no fib when you locked eyes with him.

Naturally, he took it the wrong way.

“Oi, shitty hair. Think she likes it. She just turned to look at the camera. What a fuckin’ whore,” he chuckled, zooming in on your face before you quickly looked away from him and his devious smile.

“Does she now?“ He cooed into your ear, thrusting just a little bit faster as his shaft rubbed against your clit in a disgustingly delicious way. Why did it have to feel so fucking good? Not to mention the way he was squeezing your tit and pinching your nipple like he was trying to get milk out of you. What was wrong with these lunatics and why were you letting them have their way with you?

You bit down on your lip to keep the noises to a minimum, hoping to keep the other patrons out of your business as this continued.

Minutes of this went on unchecked until you felt yourself becoming increasingly closer to your release, the same for the male that was shamelessly fucking your thighs.

“Gonna cum for me, princess?” He whispered when he felt the way your lower lips had fluttered over his shaft that was pressed flush against you, making him move even faster now as he got near his own end, “Do it. If you’re good, Kat might go easy on you when it’s his turn.”

Somewhere in your little orgasm-driven mind you thought it was a good idea to listen and quickly nodded your head, unconsciously pushing back against him as you let your release take over, your pretty folds drooling over his cock and even some on the dirty train floor.

The shattering orgasm nearly ripped you in half but nothing could have prepared you for when Kirishima suddenly moved back and shoved the tip of his cock into you, groaning into your ear as ropes of his cum shot up into your weeping cunny.

“W-wait! Not there!” You called out in a low tone, wiggling around on his cock, causing him to push even further into you as he filled you with his seed. “Ugh, stop moving,” he growled, putting one hand on your hip to steady you, “Just take it. I told you to be a good girl, guess you get what’s gonna come to you next.”

After he’s filled your worthless cunt with his cum he pulls out, his cock bobbing up and down as he comes down his from release, your mingled nectars dripping down your inner thighs.

“Your turn,” Kirishima commented and you felt shuffling around behind you along with the sound of unzipping and zipping.

“Don’t need your fuckin’ permission, just hold the camera already. Took you fuckin’ long enough, dumbass. ‘s almost time for us to get off this stupid thing” Bakugo cursed his best friend out, moving to press himself against your back. You felt it again. The fleshy hardness of cock that pressed right up against you poor cunt.

Unlike Kirishima who had only fucked your thighs and slipped into you at the very end, Bakugo wasted no time in burying himself inside of you even if your walls took a little time to adjust to his size. He groaned in pleasure, filling your ears with the sinful sound as he felt you swallow him whole with little to no resistance.

“Fuck, always knew you’d feel good but not this damn good,” he hissed, not bothering to waste anymore time as he started to fuck into you like he was in heat, his hand moving to push onto the lower part of your stomach, his middle finger pushing down onto your clit as you felt the cold metal of the multiple rings that decorated his fingers on your heated skin. You were starting to feel like a furnace.

The speed he’s moving is unbelievable and bold, considering you were still in a public space but it seemed he couldn’t care less. All he was interested in was getting a hit of your glorious pussy, it was a punishment worth giving.

At some points, he makes it his mission to bully himself into your twitching walls and kiss your cervix with the tip of his dick, relishing in the feeling of your stomach pushing up against his hand, and at other points he makes sure to thunder himself right into your g-spot, pushing Kirishima’s cum up further into you.

You don’t remember when you started crying but you couldn’t ignore the feeling of hot tears that spilled from your eyes as he moved without remorse, and could not deny the overwhelming pleasure that left you limp and tired against the glass.

You don’t remember spreading your legs for him and bending over just a little bit more to give him more access, forcing him against your spot. All you know is that it left you yearning and reeling forward, the sweet harmonies of pleasure hitting you intensely in continuous motions.

In such a short time you’ve gotten used to being so full that you whine when he finally pulls out after dumping his load into you like the cum bucket slut you are. You don’t even know how you manage to keep standing after being used like that, cum dribbling down your legs, skirt pushed up and displaying your ass, with just a glimpse of your swollen pussy that’s painted white, along with your insides.

You can’t protest when Bakugo starts to fix himself back up to look presentable while Kirishima takes a close-up picture of your glistening cunt, grinning when he flicks your flagged clit that sends you jolting awake from your fucked-out state.

“You did good today, princess. Sorry for ruining your shirt, Kat can buy you a new one,” the redhead sweetly says before he takes it upon himself to push your panties back into place and pulled your skirt back down over your ass, “Guess we better get you home, huh?”

You can’t even say a thing when Kirishima turns you around and buttons up your uniform jacket, effectively covering your exposed front and tucking away the shreds of your shirt that spilled from the bottom.

Wow, how thoughtful.

𝗡𝗢 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗗 *+:｡.｡

summary. “I’ve known Geto since we were kids, and trust me when I say that he’ll fuck you and forget about it.” | wc. 3.5k+

cw/ tw. fem!reader, college au, fratboy!geto, slightly dark content, obsessive behavior, smoking (not by the reader), frat parties, dubcon, cherrypicking, degradation, jealousy, slightly yandere, deception, pet names (ex. pretty girl, baby), intended for 18+ readers

an. I haven't posted in what? two weeks?? maybe three? and I'm surprised people are still following me after how dry it's been on here...heh (thank you if you stuck around while I was away). enjoy a repost, comments and reblogs are appreciated ༉‧₊˚.

You met Geto at a frat party Shoko dragged you to after listening to you complain (for the third time that week) about classes and a paper due next month—and you couldn’t say that you were too upset about it now that you were standing beside him. 

He was twice your size. Easily a head taller than you, which had your stomach twisting into neat little knots.

Geto was the type you’d usually avoid and admire from afar. Because rich, popular guys like him didn’t have time for unspecial girls like you. But he too easily derailed that thought without doing more than flashing you a smile.

It should be disconcerting how openly you were staring, not even trying to hide how your eyes traveled from the perfect bun atop his head to his broad, slightly tanned chest. His open, silky, short-sleeve button-up revealed a necklace dangling low around his neck and a glimpse of a tattoo that started at his ribs and trailed down beyond his shirt.

You almost felt a little underdressed, standing beside him in just a cropped sweater and tennis skirt.

“Hey, I’m Geto,” he said. 

His voice was nice. Low and sweet. Sly, in that way most guys like him tend to embrace after years of getting what they want.

Then you realized he had been talking to you, the corners of his mouth curling as he stared at you expectantly.

Embarrassment swam through your veins as you shyly gave him your name before shifting behind Shoko until the heat in your face melted away. Geto's lips twitched, bringing his cup to his mouth with a hand covered in rings—you wanted to disappear into the floor.

It wasn’t until after he plied you with a few fruity drinks, your head a little fuzzy and less anxious, that you relaxed around him, swaying on your feet towards him instead of away. The slight buzz had words easily falling off your tongue, and you were surprised to find that he listened instead of going glassy-eyed the longer you went on about classes and your work study.

Your fourth cup in, you followed him into the corner of the living room on a lumpy old couch where Geto sat with you in his lap—you weren’t even sure what you were talking about anymore—while he took long drags from a blunt you let him roll up on your thigh.

He offered you a hit, which you politely declined, and he pulled you along with him when he leaned back further into the couch, his voice close humming along your eardrums and his lips softly brushing against your ear.

Geto turned his head to blow out another hazy cloud of smoke before leaning in to ask if he could taste your drink.

“S-sure,” you breathed shakily, about to give him your cup, only to freeze when he kissed you instead.

He chuckled when you released a startled squeak against his mouth—the faint smell of weed on his breath fanning across your face and making you slightly light-headed. Then his tongue sought out yours, and the taste of mint and cheap vodka graced your tastebuds. 

You sighed, subtly rubbing your thighs together, and before you could even return the kiss, he’d pulled away with a wry smile.

“Tastes good,” he hummed, a warm hand gently running along your thigh. Your tongue ran over your bottom lip, and you watched his gaze track the movement. “Can I have another?” 

You were already leaning in before he could finish asking.

He texted you while you were hunched over a petri dish in the lab on Tuesday. 

Then, while you were studying in the library a week later—another victim to you venting about your paper, though it felt like he made an effort to understand—after a long shift and bus ride home, followed by a steady succession of texts for several days straight. 

You thought he was sweet, in his own way—little things that made your heart flutter like butterfly wings and stomach bubble with anxiety because this was bound to crash and burn. But one crooked smile, and you suddenly forgot why guys like him were off-limits.

Sometimes, he’d bring you coffee after long nights of studying, and it made you sway on your feet whenever he’d tuck hair behind your ear after it fell out of place.

You’d find yourself pressed against your soft bed whenever Shoko wasn't around while Geto licked away the little whimpers dripping from your lips. Some days it went further than that, where the messy grinding and needy kisses weren’t enough, and his hand would tease up your skirt to smooth over your drippy-wet cunt through damp underwear. 

However, it didn’t go beyond dry-humping and heavy petting because—

“I’ve never done this before,” you admitted softly, staring up at your speckled ceiling. Too afraid to see the look on his face until the hand still delicately wrapped around your throat suddenly forced your gaze back on him.

It was as if something about him almost shifted, dangerous, eyes as dark as pitch in the soft light of your bedroom lamp. But it dissolved with a syrupy smile as he squeezed your hips. “We’ll take it slow, okay?”

The amount of trust you had for him after only a couple of weeks should be alarming—

You grin at him instead of thinking about it too much. A dumb and foolish part of you held onto the fact that he promised.

And you believed him.

Or wanted to. 

“Slow,” you agreed, kissing the edge of his mouth.

A month goes by, and you could only keep the secret from Shoko for so long before she finally caught you smiling like a love-sick idiot over a text Geto sent one day. She wasn’t as upset as you’d expected; she almost seemed disappointed.

And that was somehow worse.

She warned you not to take anything seriously that came out of Geto’s mouth because he had a habit of running the same script on every girl he met.

“I’ve known him since we were kids, and trust me when I say that he’ll fuck you and forget about it,” she told you, pointing her coffee spoon in your direction.

“Oh.”

Shoko reached over and patted your shoulder at the look of dejection on your face. "I just don’t want to see you get hurt, alright?”

You turned over Shoko’s words in your head because you knew this.

Part of you knew all of this. And yet…

And yet, Geto made it easy to forget.

He texted you that night, inviting you to a party his frat house was throwing.

Are you coming? 

You told him you needed to study for a test coming up. Shoko insisted you go to it anyway.

At the party, you scanned the crowd for a familiar head of dark hair until you got dizzy from turning your head so much. And just when you were about to give up and leave instead, you spotted him from where you stood in the archway to the kitchen, and what you saw had your heart sinking bitterly into your stomach.

It shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise after what Shoko warned you of—how you already knew that he had an assortment of red flags dangling around his head like thick drapes since the moment you met him.

But you hoped that maybe…well.

You watched Geto share a blunt with the girl in his lap, that familiar crooked smile curling his mouth as cherry-red lips wrapped around the end.

Some of you wondered if someone else had looked at you with the same amount of pity when they witnessed you falling so easily for Geto’s soft-spoken words and recycled pick-up lines—the sweet, shy girl who didn’t know any better ensnared in a neatly woven trap.

He caught your wide-eyed gaze from across the crowd with his bloodshot one, though you didn’t stick around long enough to see what he did after that because you were already walking back home.

You were a bit heartbroken, or that was what you called it, for the first few days—ignoring the texts he’d send late at night and leaving for class earlier than usual to avoid bumping into him.

Avoiding him was more difficult than you thought since his friends ran in the same circles as your roommate. And lately, he seemed more interested in movie nights, or somehow, he always needed to borrow notes from Shoko for a class.

Those days, you sat next to Gojo when there was nowhere else to sit in your cramped living room—none the wiser about the fact that Geto had a strained relationship with your new couch mate.

At parties, you no longer paid attention to where he was in the room, choosing to hover by Shoko and her girlfriend the entire time. It was only during a moment of misplaced curiosity that you finally looked over, already finding Geto’s darkened gaze on you, sneering as you talked and laughed with other guys.

Decent guys.

This game of cat and mouse went on for two more months: Geto trying to get you to notice him, and you acting utterly oblivious.

Because it was easier this way, and eventually, this will all get brushed over and become nothing more than a minor slip in your decision-making.

It bothered him for reasons he couldn’t put into words. He could have a different girl warming his bed almost every weekend, and before he met you, he never batted an eye when they stopped talking to him once they found out that he wasn’t interested in anything other than sex.

Yet, here you were, taking over his every thought like a fucking disease.

He saw you walking around campus with guys that were nothing like him—guys that probably didn’t get high five days out of the week, that willingly took you out on proper dates, that bought you flowers and walked you to your door—then he’d creep onto your Instagram and get annoyed by the new number of male friends liking and commenting on how pretty you were.

He shouldn’t care. He didn’t. Really.

But he did.

Geto wondered if you held out for them as you were so hellbent on doing with him or if one of them managed to taint the innocence you wrapped yourself with before he could.

That put a sour taste in his mouth, one he couldn’t wash away with shots of cheap vodka. And after he watched you leave the party with a guy who looked like he didn’t know what to do after getting your underwear around your ankles, Geto decided he needed to find out.

That was one of the worst dates of your life, by far, since the guy didn't even show up. All night, you earned pathetic looks from the restaurant staff while you sat at your table set for two.

What an asshole.

He would get an earful whenever you saw him in your Psych class on Monday. You’d make sure of it.

You washed off your makeup and sticky hairspray, hoping a warm shower would help brighten your sulky mood.

Your soft, fluffy towel was at least a small comfort as you stepped out of your steamy bathroom to get a change of clothes. Only, you stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of Geto lounging on your bed in a black hoodie and grey sweats—his long legs hanging off the edge so he could spread his knees, accentuating the very obvious bulge between his thighs.

He gave you a wry smirk when he caught you staring. 

"Should learn to lock your doors, sweetheart. Never know what kind of creep might sneak in."

Finding him sitting on your bed, uninvited, should terrify you more than it did, and all the alarm bells going off in your head clearly indicate that you should tell him to leave instead of standing there clutching your towel to your chest.

"What are you doing here, Geto?" you asked quietly.

He blatantly ignored your roused suspicion, unable to stop himself from thinking about how cute you looked, skin soft and dewy from the shower you just took, a scowl painted on your features. 

Fuck. He wanted to ruin you, to see how flustered you could get, no matter how many cheap praises he whispered into your ear.

Although tonight, he was set on seeing what you hid behind a thin layer of fabric, finally having what he’d been craving for months. You just needed a little encouragement, that’s all.

Because he was tired of waiting.

Geto sat up, then, now so close that he could reach his hand out and grab your towel. And he did, tugging you closer and watching in amusement as you stumbled between his spread knees on coltish legs.

Finally, he met your gaze: "Isn't it obvious why I’m here?"

You swallowed. "Geto, I—"

He watched your confidence crumble a little when his hands snaked up your thighs under your towel, up, up, up until you were shivering underneath his fingers. 

"I-I made it clear that I didn't want to talk to you anymore."

His brow arched. "Yeah? You don't want to talk to me?” He swiped a thumb through your folds, and you gasped in shock, trembling. “Then why are you so wet?”

Geto could tell that you wanted to deny it, even as he pulled his hand out from under your towel to show off your shiny arousal clinging to his thumb, the pink string lights hanging around your room making it more glaringly obvious.

“I-I’m not—”

“I-I’m not,” he mocked meanly. 

His eyes swam with the same flicker of intensity he showed you that day you told him you were a virgin. Although this time, it swallowed his gaze entirely—the soft brown of his irises washed away by something that had your body betraying you with another rush of slickness between your thighs.

“Get on the bed, pretty girl. Leave the towel on the floor,” he said under his breath, patronizing. “And don’t make me say it again.”

Your back was in an uncomfortable arch as Geto curled over you from behind, large hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise.

“What do they have that I don’t, hm?” 

You ignored how your stomach plunged at the mere fact that he might’ve been jealous, that perhaps he cared just a little.

“Bet you were whoring yourself out for them, huh?” He sneered, grasping your hair and tugging so you were looking up at him upside down. The odd angle had you wincing in discomfort, and he laughed humorlessly. “You know what I think? I think that you’re secretly a little slut.”

“N-not a, ah, not a slut.”

He slapped a hand down against your ass just to hear the sharp cry he knew you couldn’t hold in, enjoying the pretty picture of tears prickling the corners of your eyes. “Liar.”

“M’ not,” you pleaded as the impact of the next blow against your tender flesh had you gasping for air, your empty cunt clenching almost painfully.

Geto smoothed his hand over the curve of your ass, smiling when you flinched. You looked so fucking wrecked, and he hadn’t even done anything yet. “Prove it then,” he said. “Prove that you’re only a fucktoy for my cock.”

You wracked your brain, head too dizzy with how fast this was happening to think properly—

“K-kiss me first,” you babbled.

"How about you beg me first," he threw the word back in your face. 

You didn't answer—everything you wanted to say was choking up in your chest. The smile Geto gave you was uncharacteristically sweet, yet it didn't meet his eyes, and he laughed. “Or are you too dumb to think already?”

“Please, kiss me,” you sniffled, lips wobbling. The sight made Geto’s cock twitch.

So fucking pretty, he thought.

You knew he would at least give you this when his eyes slightly softened.

Then his mouth was on yours. Heavy and unforgiving, teeth clacking and nipping at your lips. The familiarity of his lips soothed the overwhelming feeling in your chest and made you feel like you were touching the ground again. 

He always made your brain scramble whenever he kissed you, turning thoughts into air. And you didn’t even realize that he was lining himself up with your entrance. 

His cock heavily slid against your slit once, twice. Up and down, and back up again. You whimpered when he nudged your clit, parting you open slowly. It nearly gave you whiplash with how gentle he was being compared to how he treated you moments before.

"Open up for me, baby."

It was embarrassing when you parted your knees, showing him a part of your body that nobody else had seen before—

"Ah!" you squealed when he unexpectedly pushed in to the hilt, your walls straining to accommodate the new feeling of fullness and trying to push him out. You cried and squirmed in his hold—the stretch too much as you took big gulps of air to make room where there wasn't.

"Huh, looks like you still had a cute little virgin cunt after all," he grunted, jerking deeper inside.

Geto didn't even give you a moment to adjust to his length before he was roughly pounding into you, his balls slapping against the sore flesh of your ass. And all you could do was lay there and take it.

He loved this part, feeling a virgin pussy stretch around him for the first time. It made his stomach twist and his head fuzzy—he swore it was better than getting high.

Suddenly, he shoved you into the mattress, his hands pressing against your shoulder blades to prevent you from moving. The new angle had his cock going deeper, pushing against a soft spot deep inside you that felt nearly devastating when his tip hit it again and again.

Your thighs were shaking, no longer able to control the lewd noises leaking from your lips. The tight coil in your abdomen had you twitching, only coiling tighter as Geto continuously abused that sensitive spot in your cunt. It was so overwhelming and intense that you nearly burst when Geto reached between your legs to play with your sticky-hot clit.

It twitched violently against the rough pads of his fingers. "'m gonna—"

"Shut up," he sneered, his voice dangerously low before shoving your face further into the mattress with a hand at the back of your neck. "Shut up and cum."

No sounds left your mouth, your body seemingly obeying his command. Your thighs clenched, trying to close, but his broad body prevented you from pushing him away. And then—

“Fuck —look at that,” he groaned as you felt a gush of liquid spray between your legs, splashing his thighs and getting the blankets under you sopping wet. All you could do was sob, overwhelmed by how fast he made you cum.

He gave you a rough thrust, a long whine slipping out of your throat. “Gonna fill this pussy nice and full. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

With your face pressed into your comforter, it prevented you from shaking your head no; the only sound coming out through the mouthful of cotton is an mmph, nearly choking on your own drool.

“I’m ‘gonna make sure everyone knows you’re mine—shit, keep squeezing me.” He released a feral moan. "Just like that! Good girl."

Geto held you still, his mouth attaching to your shoulder to muffle the loud groan rumbling in his chest as his balls twitched and drew up almost painfully. His hips pressed flush against yours to cum as deep as your cunt would allow, trying to make it stick.

"Fuck," he panted.

Afterward, he tangled you up in his arms, his soft cock still nestled in your snug, tacky-wet walls. Cuddling was the last thing you expected, but you decided not to bring it up lest he got upset.

Nor did you say anything when you noticed the small bloodstain on his grey sweats after getting dressed and his slightly bruised knuckles pulling the cotton up over his hips. You never brought it up, not even as your date from Saturday showed up to class with a suspicious swollen lip and a black eye.

And you didn't ask if Geto wanted to hang out after class. It had just been sex—a one-time thing.

He'd already gotten what he wanted and left. That was always how this would play out: no extra dates or late-night texts. Guys like Geto didn’t do str—et cetera.

You knew this. 

You knew.

However, the dark look he shot Gojo when he pulled you into his lap for movie night could make you believe otherwise, that maybe it was more than sex—

—it was probably best just to keep your mouth shut.

A few weeks later, Geto muffled low groans into his shirt caught between his teeth as he fisted his cock to a picture of you—because you were avoiding him again. 

But that was okay, silly, that you ever thought you could. He already had it planned out how he’d have you again, and just the thought of feeling your tight cunt wrapped around him had Geto painting his stomach white.

Thinking about virgin!inosuke that doesn’t understand his feelings towards you and is kind of shy about it at first almost afraid of messing up and hurting you but when you finally reassure him his instincts kick in and he goes feral….just a thought