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“baby, c’mere” higuruma sighs as he flops back onto the bed, tie already loosened and shirt half-unbuttoned, his sharp eyes heavy with exhaustion from another grueling day in court.
“been thinkin’ about this all damn day. need you to sit on my face right now. just do it for me, yeah?”
you blink, cheeks heating up, but you can’t resist the way he looks at you, the way his big hands already reach for you, pulling you closer.
“romi… you sure? you look so tired—”
“tired of everything but you, baby,” he cuts in, voice low and rough, guiding you up to straddle his chest. “c’mon, don’t hover. sit all the way down. i don’t care if i can’t breathe- sit on it.”
you whimper softly, your heart racing as you shimmy out of your pink laced panties, your pretty folds already slick and aching just from his words.
he groans at the sight, his cock twitching hard in his slacks, and he wastes no time yanking you forward until your dripping cunt hovers right over his mouth.
his big nose brushes your clit first, sending a jolt through you, and then his tongue dives in— wet and hungry.
“oh god— hiromi!” you gasp, thighs trembling as you lower yourself fully, grinding down onto his face like he demanded.
his nose presses firm against your swollen clit, rubbing with every desperate lap of his tongue, while his lips seal around your hole, sucking hungry and deep. it’s like he’s making out with your pussy at this point.
he eats you like a man starved, tongue thrusting inside your fluttering walls, slurping up your creamy mess with obscene, wet smacks that echo in the room.
“fuck, that’s it… ride my face, doll,” he mumbles against your sopping pussy, voice muffled but vibrating right through you, his hands gripping your ass hard to pull you even tighter.
one hand slips down to free his thick cock from his pants, stroking himself roughly— slow at first, then faster, matching the rhythm of your hips as you buck and grind, chasing the building heat.
“mmpph— feels so goood… your tongue— haaah!” you moan, needy and breathless, fingers tangling in his hair as you rock harder, coating his chin and cheeks in your slick.
his nose nudges your clit perfectly, sending sparks up your spine, and he doesn’t let up, tongue fucking you deeper, nose grinding messy circles that make your eyes cross.
higuruma jerks his cock harder, pre cum leaking over his knuckles, groaning into your cunt as your walls clench around his tongue. “so wet for me, baby… taste so fuckin’ good. gonna make you cum all over my face— keep goin’”
you sob out a broken “y-yes...! don’t stop—please!” as your orgasm crashes over you, needy cunt gushing messily onto his tongue, thighs shaking wildly.
he laps it all up, greedy and nasty, his strokes on his cock turning frantic until he spills hot ropes over his fist with a muffled growl against your folds.
but when you try to lift off, legs twitching and quivering, his arms lock around your thighs like iron, pulling you right back down.
“where do you think you’re going, hm?” he murmurs, voice hoarse and rough, licking his lips slow and deliberate. “i’m not done. told you- worst fucking day. be good and sit back down. let me eat this sweet pussy till i forget everything but how you taste.”
Synopsis. Gojo Satoru, the strongest clan leader in all of Japan - and the most dangerous, too. You, rejected by the elders, and totally not his future bride, right? Right?
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, arranged marriage, Satoru is a little (very) INSANE and down bad, the elders are awful, oral (fem receiving), use of “madam”, unprotected, créampie, kníves, overstím, féral Satoru, heinous things, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 4.9k
A/N. I need clan leader Gojo SO bad you guys don’t understand.
They say that the head of the Gojo clan is the one person who could burn down this entire world and get away with it, too.
The youngest of all the clan leaders - and the most infamous - a man who keeps his friends close, and his enemies even closer. Enough so that you’ve heard whispers of his cruelty at every nook and cranny of those stuffy social functions your family has dragged you to. And it was more than enough to paint a picture of such terrifying power.
Of a sharp blade and an even sharper mouth. Of an angelic figure that left no evidence, nor anyone to tell the tale - only the final, hauntingly beautiful image of cloudy white hair, and electric blue eyes.
Eyes that were currently locked with yours, and didn’t seem like they’d stop any time soon. Dangerous. Magnetic. Twinkling with such odd amusement from across the long tatami room.
Gojo Satoru, the head of the Gojo clan - your future husband.
“Tch, the Kamo girl’s family had a much better reputation than this one.”
Ah, right. How could you forget?
You shift awkwardly on the mat, managing to rip your eyes over to the line of elders behind Gojo, whispering just loud enough that you’d hear - and, of course, remember once more that no, the marriage proposal hasn’t been approved just yet.
And considering those disapproving glares you’d been so warmly welcomed with, it seemed that they were well and fully intent on keeping it that way.
“I can assure you,” you fight to keep the polite smile plastered on your face, painful and slowly cracking with each passing second being interrogated. “My family is well-respected in the community.” Eyes snapping over to a silent Gojo, skin burning at his intensity. “Very well respected.”
“Come now. We’re just saying.” Another voice speaks up, strained and tinged with a venomous tone you knew didn’t bode well. “Your lineage isn’t exactly illustrious, is it?”
The emphasis on “illustrious” isn’t lost on you, and it’s so fucking dramatic than you think you could almost laugh. Apparently, a few of the elders think so, too - because they’re positively seething at the sight.
Muttering an icy, “Something funny, dear?”
“Nothing at all.” you bite back any insults, sifting around the contents of your untouched dinner - the last thing on your mind right now when it seemed like you were the main scrutiny tonight. “Absolutely nothing.”
“Such attitude!” That offended croak is met with murmured agreements and nods from the end of the room, “The madam of the Gojo household must be demure- I told the young master we should go with the Kamo girl.”
God, why did you agree to this again? Something about strengthening your family ties? You felt sorry for the poor soul who’d end up marrying Gojo, because no matter how much beauty or power he held, it certainly wouldn’t make up for this.
Scoffing, the words falling from your lips faster than you could register them. “Then why didn’t he?”
And this little question somehow seemed to have struck a nerve - multiple, in fact, as you watch in morbid fascination as the elders visibly bristle.
“B-because-” one sends a hasty glance at their stone-faced clan leader, flushing at his still-unwavering gaze on you. “You- It doesn’t matter. Someone like you isn’t suited to marry-”
“Right, because this clan is that great.”
You freeze. The elders freeze. It seems like everyone in the world freezes except for Gojo - who only raises his brow. Letting your words hang in the air like a foul stench, studying just how awfully you’re digging your grave deeper in this hellish marriage meeting.
Eventually, the elder closest to Gojo’s right mutters a painfully saccharine sweet, “I knew we shouldn’t have let the riff-raff participate.”
And oh it was like a dam burst open.
“-out of the thousands of girls, for someone like master-”
“The scandal, too- imagine letting the Gojo name fall this far-”
“Isn’t worthy. Can’t let the bloodline be carried by some whor-”
You’re on your feet before you realize it. Whirling at the elders head-on, and if looks could kill then all those old fossils would be six feet under and their graves a dance floor for you already.
Fists clenched, you spit, “If he’s so wonderful then you all can marry this oh-so-great bastard yourself-”
Oh. You’ve done it now.
You were fucked. You were so very, very fucked.
You don’t even bother to meet Gojo’s stare, instead wondering whether you’d be able to outrun the strongest clan leader alive. Sure, you could take those old toads but-
“Sit.”
Your heart leaps at the voice, the first time you’re hearing it since entering this room - deep, almost-melodic, and for a second you don’t even recognize who it came from. Not until Gojo’s flashing you a mirthful grin, blue yukata shifting as he moves to sit cross-legged, “Sit.”
Oh, God, you didn’t know of any torture methods one could do while sitting - but you didn’t doubt that Gojo was an expert in all of them.
And as your knees buckle, sinking ever-so-slowly to sit back down on the floor, Gojo tilts his head in confusion. Brows scrunching together as he gestures downwards.
“On your…lap?” You question, as if the answer wasn’t glaringly obvious.
The only response you get is a careless nod, Gojo spreading his knees further as if to prove his point. No care or concern as he plows on, “If you’d like, of course.”
It’s a silent staredown - you, and him - and the elders watching jaw-dropped, of course. None of you have ever known the young master to let anyone get this close - let alone give them a decision on, well, anything.
.
A weighty beat passes. One. Two.
He wins.
And you find yourself walking unsteadily towards Gojo’s imposing figure, all eyes on you as you plop down unceremoniously in his waiting lap. Warm - and it catches you off guard. Gaze flickering over his broad shoulder to look at the aghast faces behind you. Tension crackling in the air as they wonder the same thing as you at this very moment - just what type of torture method is this?
“Interesting…I need this one.” You blink up in confusion, heart racing and oh- shit, when did he get so close? But Gojo’s chest only rumbles with laughter. Circling his long fingers around your waist, pulling you flush against his sculpted chest, “As the new madam of the Gojo household.”
What?
The elders behind let out stifled gasps, as bewildered as you were. And you swear you saw one faint, though, you don’t get to take a close look, because Gojo’s gently grabbing your chin, tilting your head up at his pretty face.
“Wan’ me to kill them?”
“Kill- why?” you sputter - both from his idea and the heat of his proximity.
“Why not?” He looks at you through his long lashes, so deceivingly innocent that it makes your head spin. Tone so light, as if he was talking about something trivial like the weather. “An early wedding gift, maybe?” And he sounded like he was joking - you wished he was joking. But you knew better.
So you swallow thickly, “N-no…thank you.”
At this, Gojo’s eyes twinkle. “Yeah, real interesting.” he coos, voice so uncharacteristically playful. And his lips are so close - too close. Running a thumb along your bottom lip, “Gorgeous, too. Tell me, pretty, what do you think of ruling over this trash?”
And you could feel every eye on you as you mull over the question. Weighty. Scrutinizing - except for Gojo who seemed like he was hanging onto your every word.
Hell, might as well give ‘em a few heart attacks right?
Words that never come - because your body moves before your mind. And you’ve got one hand gripping his expensive Yukata, the other scrambling for his broad shoulders. Softening the blow as you crash your lips onto his.
Soft - it’s the first thing you register. Followed very shortly by the taste of those cheap lollipops from those local convenience stores you loved - strawberry, you think.
But you don’t get to confirm, because the kiss is over as soon as it happens.
Gojo’s pulling away with a strange light in his eyes, lips flushed a pretty pink, yukata dangling off his shoulder already. You have to train your eyes away from the milky skin, and over to the elders. Yeah, one really had fainted - three, now, actually.
And only one of them is brave enough to pipe up a rapid, “You- how dare you dirty-”
Thud!
It all happens so fast you’re not sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. In a split second, there’s a long dagger pulled out from his yukata, embedded deep into the tatami mat - not even an inch away from the elder who’d opened his mouth.
“Out.”
It’s so abrupt that for a second, you think Gojo’s talking to you, voice soft, and so so eerie. It sends shivers down your spine as you raise your eyes to look at his glare at the frozen crowd behind him.
Eyes wide, aura menacing - a grin gracing his features, absolutely nothing like the one he’d sent you - it was something so dangerous and cold. The temperature in the room dropping about ten degrees as he mutters, “I won’t say it twice.”
And immediately, it’s chaos. Each one stumbling over the other to run out the sliding doors first, none of them daring to look you in the eyes now.
“O-of course, master.” the leader, seemingly, chokes out. One foot out the room already, “I’ll um- check that the servants are doing their work-”
“No. You all will stand outside.” Gojo murmurs, not even bothering to look at them. Instead, cupping your face closer towards his, “And close the door.”
That door could not have been shut faster, ringing in the tense silence. And suddenly you’re too-aware of the audience outside. Too-aware of being left alone with…your future husband? And the way he was looking down at you with something so dark in his eyes.
“So…” he runs his nose down your neck, breathing in your scent. “If you don’t want me to kill those bastards…what else must I gift you, my wife?”
“Like what?” You gulp, back arching involuntarily into him.
Gojo laughs at the reaction, teeth ghosting over your racing pulse. “An estate?” Dancing ever-so-slowly, up your jaw, “All the cars you could want?” He blows gently in your ear, chuckling as you yelp in surprise. “Maybe jewelry?” Kissing the tips of your ears, “You’d look gorgeous in blue. And the Zenin clan has the perfect necklaces I can…convince them to send over.” He pulls away, taking you in entirely, “Or maybe-” Lips now ghosting yours. “-something else?”
And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him.
You don’t know who leans in first, just that Gojo’s lips were so sweet on yours. So addictive. Palms cradling your face so softly, while his lips were anything but.
“Open your mouth, pretty.” he pants into your lips. “Kiss your husband properly, now.”
Shit, you barely even realize the way you’re listening to every single word he says. Jaw falling slack to let him lick at the seam of your lips. Such a messy clash of teeth and spit and him - so hot and starved. Like he couldn’t get enough with the way he hastily moves to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw.
“Satoru-” you gasp, and he nips lightly at your bottom lip once you immediately shut yourself up because shit, you’re getting ahead of yourself. Calling the clan leader Gojo by his first name? Hell, you’ll see the gates of heaven before you see an altar.
But Gojo himself seems to think the complete opposite. “Don’t get all shy now.” he pries away the hand covering your mouth. “Call me ‘Toru’.”
You stare at him, wide-eyed, trying to will yourself to say this little nickname.
Too slow, apparently. Because his hands are suddenly everywhere - on your breasts, your hips, giving your ass a slow squeeze. “T-Toru-” you squeal.
Gojo’s mouth drops into a soft oh! Immediately surging forward as if to claim your lips again - stopping mere millimeters from your lips with a pained grunt. Like it killed him to stay away.
“See? Jus’ like that.” he angles your head just right, before spitting, once. Twice. Right into your pretty mouth. “N’ now you’re mine.”
And fuck if Gojo wasn’t going to prove it.
He’s laying you down on the mat, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Mine to wed. Mine to carry my legacy.” Thumb running over your hardened nipples as he urgently unbuckles your bra, throwing it behind god-knows-where. “Mine to-” Biting down, ever-so-lightly on your nipple, “-worship.” Hands dipping lower, and lower - just barely teasing the hem of your drenched panties. “Mine to ruin.”
You don’t know what you’re reeling more from - maybe from those words, which you’re sure he said loud enough for the elders outside to hear.
Maybe from the way he’s sliding a finger underneath your panties, sliding it up and down your puffy folds. Making you arch into him like such a slut as he pools your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips, popping them into his mouth with a low groan.
“Oh. Fuck. Oh, fuck-” Gojo’s eyes roll to the back of his head. Not wasting a second before ripping off your flimsy panties, tucking them away into the waistband of his yukata. “Sweeter than I imagined.”
“S-so filthy-” you mewl, as he spreads your shaky thighs. Lips wobbling pathetically at how he’s admiring your glistening cunt. “Toru, no one’s ever…”
At this, his eyes are back on yours now. Half-lidded, pupil’s blown - and you don’t think you’ve ever even heard of the leader of the Gojo clan being so out of it, let alone see it first-hand. His voice strained as he breathes out a barely audible, “Shit- really? So then…” He’s moving to lick lewd little circles on your inner thigh, “...your husband’s gotta make this memorable, right?”
Gojo doesn’t give the time to even think about answering - he doesn’t trust that he has the fucking sanity to wait that long. Because you’re so pretty splayed out like this for him. Your moans too sweet. Your cunt too tempting. Too his.
So, really, you can’t blame him when he’s plunging nose-deep into your quivering pussy, licking one, long stripe right up your swollen folds. And fuck the cute lil’ whines escaping your lips are so addictive that Gojo just can’t help but do it again. And again. And again and-
“O-oh my god, ngh- feels too good-” you card your fingers through his soft locks - something that would usually result in a lost hand or two. But for you - anything, for you. “More, Toru.”
Shit, if Gojo thought he’d lost his sanity before then he definitely wasn’t ready for this.
“So needy.” he’s chuckling into your glistening folds. One hand throwing your legs over his shoulders, the other thumbing over your needy clit. “So perfect. Can’t believe no one’s ever hah- eaten out this pretty cunt before.”
Immediately, he’s squeezing his hot tongue past your folds. And it’s all you can do to buck your hips up so sluttily when he licks at your sloppy entrance. Your throbbing clit. Anywhere and everywhere Gojo could reach.
“Hngh- yes yes yes, too good.”
“Yeah? Ya like this?” He moves his fingers down from your already-ravaged clit, circling your sopping wet hole. “Ya like making such a mess on m’tongue?”
“W-wha-” The words get caught in your throat as you whirl down at the sight below you - Gojo. Gojo, with strands of white hair sticking to his forehead, eyes so glassy. Gojo, tongue lapping at your sweet juices, looking like he wanted to devour you with his eyes, as much as his mouth.
At your reaction, he grins, furrowing his brow in mock-concern, “What’s wrong, pretty? Can’t talk?” Bullying his long fingers past that first feeble ring of resistance, massaging your plushy walls. “N’ you were so hah- feisty earlier. Thought my new mmpf- wife would be mouthy?”
You give his hair a warning tug, whispering, “Sh-shut up-” But it comes out more breathless than you intended.
Gojo notices, of course he does. Because he’s letting out a whiny, “Sh-shut up.” Wrapping his pretty pink lips around your pulsing clit, “As you wish, madam Gojo.”
You hear a dull thud from outside, but you can’t even think about turning your head to look because Gojo’s drinking you in like a man possessed. Pumping his fingers in and out, expertly hitting that one spot with each and every thrust. Looking nothing like an infamous clan-leader and every bit on cloud nine as he rolls his tongue over your clit. Over and over and-
“P-please ah- oh-” you squirm.
“Move your hips like that. Yeah- jus’ like that, pretty- fuck-” The most powerful man in the country letting himself be angled and pulled as you pleased, grunting each time you drag your pussy all over his mouth. Fingers frenzied on your clit - sloppy. Fast.
But it still wasn’t enough for Gojo - he thinks it’ll probably never be. But that’s fine - the two of you have until the wedding night to perfect it, right?
So he’s looping a big arm around one leg, pulling your snug cunt impossibly closer, reaching over to toy with your pretty clit. And then he’s nose-deep in your sloppy entrance, preparing you for what was to come - fucking you both on his tongue and his fingers.
Jaw grinding deeper, stretching you out, thrusting in and out in and out in and-
“Fuck fuck fuck- Toru m’so…”
“Close?” he slurs into your cunt, grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Fingers just digging into your hips, sure to leave pretty little marks for him to admire later - and to give a message to those old toads outside. “Cum f’me. Shit- cum f’me, pretty.”
Gojo realizes it before you when you’re finally cumming - because your gummy walls are squeezing around him so tight that it’s almost difficult fuck you through your high the way he wants.
You’re shaking. Blood roaring in your ears, vision spotty. Crying out a hoarse, “Fuck fuck fuck- oh my god, Toru-” Barely even realizing the way you’re rocking your hips so hard into his hot mouth.
And Gojo keeps going.
Even when you’re blinking your vision back, big fat tears pricking your eyes at the sheer overstimulation. Even when white-hot electricity sparks behind your eyes each flick of his tongue. Still toying with your poor clit, tonguefucking you so messily.
“Toru, s’too- ngh- much- fuck.” You can barely get the words out, jolting. Wondering how the fuck his mouth wasn’t tired, yet - how his fingers weren’t cramping up, tongue still as greedy as ever. “C-can’t-”
“You can. You will.” he’s murmuring into your cunt. Running his mouth now, like he was drunk off your pussy. Words as fast and ragged as his tongue. “C’mon, faster. Harder. Fuck-” you flinch as he spits out little profanities into your messy cunt. “Fuckin use me. Use me like the good lil’ wife you are.”
“Oh- shit.” you whine. Clawing at the mats, Gojo’s hair, his shoulders - just anything to cope with the sheer stimulation as he made out with your pussy like a mad man. “Wait- cum- m’gonna…”
You’re cumming and cumming all over again. So hard, even as you grind your hips deeper into Gojo’s mouth. Riding out your orgasm on his pretty face, so painfully good.
And only then is he finally pulling away. Absolutely wrecked, eyes miles away already, mouth glistening with your slick. Going all the way down his jawline, and onto the tatami mat in a deafening drip! drip! drip!
“Oh.” he runs his tongue along his wet lips. “Who made you cum like this?”
A smile slowly splits across his face as you manage out a little, “Y-you, Toru…”
“That’s fuckin’ right. Me.” Hypnotized by the heavenly sight of you all fucked-out and twitching with the aftershock. Marveling down at his hand - glossy, and covered with your slick, “N’ m’gonna love you.”
And, well, a good husband always shares, right?
Because Gojo’s shoving his fingers past your kiss-bitten lips, pressing right at the back of your tongue in a way he knew would have your eyes watering, gagging around him so prettily. Eyes widening at the feeling of something so hard and hot between your legs.
“C’mon, lil’ madam. Lick them clean f’me, will you?”
You’re gasping, “Mmpf- Toru-” Eyes flitting between a smug Gojo and the hand currently untying his robe. So teasing with the way he’s giving you just a flash of those boxers before oh-
Shit.
You thought that he’d be big - it was expected, in fact. But this was fucking ridiculous.
All sculpted curves and dips of his body, faint scars painting his milky skin - stories he’d tell you about later, you think. A fucking masterpiece. All the way down, down, down to where his throbbing cock was leaking all over those tufts of white at his toned pelvis.
Rock-hard, and so so angry. Prominent veins running along the side, flushed a shade of pretty pink that glistened with precum in the dim lighting. So intimidatingly long that it already had you worrying for your poor cervix, and thick enough that it had your thighs pressing mindlessly together.
Something that Gojo obviously didn’t appreciate.
“Now now.” he tuts, pulling back his fingers to spread apart your thighs with ease. So far apart that it burned. “I need these legs open, pretty. I like the view, y’see.”
And he made it quite obvious, too. Spreading your swollen folds so shamefully apart with his thumb - wet with your split. All the blood rushing to his cock at the way you flinch in embarrassment, at the feeling of being so used. Cute.
“Shhh, relax.” Gojo hums. Spreading the spit and slick lazily along your cunt with his fat head, purposely letting it smear all over your thighs. “M’gonna make this feel so good for you.”
And let it be known that Gojo Satoru was a merciless man - for everyone.
Except maybe his cute lil’ wife.
Because, yes, he’s suddenly splitting you apart on his massive cock. Yes, he’s holding your poor hips still, head dropping into the crook of your neck as he sinks in inch by fucking inch.
But oh God does he have to hold back from fucking your tight cunt exactly the way he wants. The stretch too sinful, your pussy too heavenly.
Instead he’s kissing away the single tear rolling down your cheek, muttering, “Too big? Aww, f-fuck, pretty. You needa breathe-.” Rich, coming from him considering that Gojo doesn’t know if he was breathing right now. Too caught up in the way he’s rolling your swollen clit between his fingers, gasping into your open mouth, “Trust me. M’gonna make it f-feel hah- good. So fucking good.”
“F-fuck-” Your head is spinning. And you can only give him such delirious little nods as Gojo starts to push in quick, lazy little grinds of his hips just to squeeze inside your gummy walls. Past that first, tight ring of resistance.
“S’too big-” you squeal, nails raking down his back. “A-are you all the way in- yet?”
“Nope.” he’s popping the p, so unfairly smug. “Not even halfway in.” Drinking in all your cute lil’ sobs as he snakes a hand up to draw an invisible line across your stomach. “But you b-better be prepared, wifey. Because this-” Pressing down, hard. “-is where I’ll be.”
You didn’t know who wanted that to become a reality more - Gojo or you.
Especially with the way your tight cunt is sucking him up so good, and shit for all Gojo’s reputation, he feels like he could’ve cum right then and there.
“Shit- so fucking tight. God- you’re gonna make me lose my mind.” words so strained. So dangerous. He kisses down your neck, biting right above your racing pulse. “How do you want it? Like you’re my hah- wife- or my lil’ slut?”
A trick question, you think - as much as you could when you’re this cockdrunk, at least.
Locking eyes down at the way your cunt was bulging so obscenely around his cock, clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in in in- Unstopping. Relentless. Mewling a little, “L-like I’m your…wife.”
“Louder.”
“Like I’m your wife.”
Several things happen at once - that faint muttering suddenly increases tenfold, and maybe if you were in any better state of mind you’d have noticed the few gasps. Gojo, however, does hear.
It only takes an irritated growl and a split-second flash of metal for a second dagger to be struck deep into the thin wooden panel of the door - unfortunately for whoever just so happened to be on the other side.
“That’s right. My wife.” And then he’s bottoming out - heavy balls smacking your ass, leaky tip nudging your poor cervix, letting you mark him up all you want as he rocks his hips faster into yours. “And you- ah- you realize they’re beneath you, right?” he’s stroking where he can feel himself bulging inside you. “That my lil’ wife just has to say the word n’ I’ll ngh- take ‘em all out?”
You can only sob at the pressure, because his words are so soft but he’s fucking you so mean. Sounding like he was losing his sanity with each time your heavenly walls milked him.
“I’ll kill ‘em- kill ‘em all-” he’s gritting out. “Hell, I’ll take down the r-rest of those clans ah- too if it pleases you.” Fingers getting so erratic on your clit, angling his hips just right to try and find-
“Hngh- f-fuck, Toru- there-”
That.
So sloppy with the way he’s alternating between hitting that one spot and just abusing your cervix. Bruising - like he wanted to mark you everywhere n’ show it off, too. Biting down your neck, whispering into the skin, “Anything for you, madam.”
Rocking his hips harder, and he couldn’t give less of a fuck about the lewd little pool of slick and split forming on the mat below. Can’t even think to bring himself to be disgusted.
“Feels good?” he’s drinking in your adorable sobs, “S’what you imagined?”
You’re torn between running away and fucking your hips up so bruisingly into his, hells digging into the mat as you push and pull away. “Yes. Feels- ah- ngh-” And for all your mouthiness earlier, you can’t even form coherent sentences right now - something that makes Gojo balls squeeze so painfully.
Something that has him wrapping his arms around your legging, dragging you like some ragdoll back to him. Rocking his hips so bruisingly deeper and deeper as he babbles.
“Gonna make you c-cum. So hard.” He’s fucking you harder into the mat. Faster. Sloppier. “Gonna ngh- make you my beautiful bride.” Bouncing you on his painfully hard cock like he was claiming you from the inside - to leave marks for everyone in the clan to know. His balls on your ass, your nails down his shoulders, lips on your neck leaving little bites. “Gonna make you mine, pretty. And everyone else s’gonna know.”
And Gojo can tell when you’re close because he’s learned that you have a habit of squeezing him to insanity when you are.
“Close?” At your delirious nod he’s giving you a blinding grin, “How cute. Why don’t you hah- cum f’me like the good lil’ wife you are, hm?”
Cum for him you do - thighs shaking, body jolting. So hard and violent that you’re covering him in all your sweet sweet juices.
And he can only watch - awe-struck - as your pretty pussy squirts all over his angry cock glistening, and just drenched with your slick now. Beads of it getting all over his burning abs, trickling down every dip and curve as he uses your quivering pussy harder and harder-
“God, you’re so good f’me. Look how much you came.” Giving a final, harsh thrust. “So perfect f’me.”
So fucking smug as he finally cums as well. Letting out a low, muffled moan into your neck as he fills your poor pussy with rope after rope of seed, painting your walls such a sinful white. All the way until he was sure you were bloated with his cum, until he could feel it dribbling down the side. Looking down to confirm and- ah, sure enough, it was such a heavenly sight - thick globs drenching your clothes below. Spreading in a pool as his hips push deeper and deeper.
Like it hurt to stop. Like it hurt to even think of tearing his eyes away from you.
But, alas, this old meeting room could only take so much, and Gojo thinks you’ll enjoy his - your - bedroom much better for round two.
Which is how the elders outside found the door kicked open not too long after. Blinking up in shock at the tall figure of the Gojo clan leader at the frame holding you. Tired and limp in a princess carry, all bundled up your yukata and one of his outer robes.
And they can only avert their eyes, faces burning at the hazy expression on your face, hair so unsubtly messy, bare legs twitching ever-so-slightly from where they were just peeking out from where the fabric had bunched up. Sinful. Desecrated. And evidently his.
“Clean that room up.”
Gojo’s stern command snaps them all out of their reverie.
But before they could all run to do so, he’s plowing on, unapologetic and low. “Oh, and bow down-” chuckling lightly as they scramble to their knees before him - and your barely-lucid figure. “-to the new madam of the Gojo household.
some people think writers are so eloquent and good with words, but the reality is that we can sit there with our fingers on the keyboard going, “what’s the word for non-sunlight lighting? Like, fake lighting?” and for ten minutes, all our brain will supply is “unofficial”, and we know that’s not the right word, but it’s the only word we can come up with…until finally it’s like our face got smashed into a brick wall and we remember the word we want is “artificial”.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ cyber ¹ / cy ² ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ i’m twenty four and i love to write silly smutty nonsense that poofs into my lil head! happily married to THE kento nanami!¡
⋆˙⟡ — self ship w/ nanami cyken¡!
⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ — oh plsss plss look here!¡ m.list!
⋆·˚ ༘ * — and here too, thank u! >_< >> rules!
credit to @cafekitsune for every lovely divider or warning banner seen on my page!! ty for sharing ur talent! pls go check their stuff out!
⚠️TW these works may contain ⚠️: mask play, non-con/dubcon, impact play, blood play, knife play, rope work, religious rule breaking, spanking, fingering, sadism, masochism, gags, degradation, choking, blindfolds, wax play, sensory deprivation, exhibitionism, water sports, dumbification, dacryphilia and edging. if you are sensitive to any of these topics, please refrain from reading/interacting with my work.
October 7th- “You got a boyfriend?” feat. Toji Fushiguro as Ghost face.
October 14th - “After Dark” feat. Satoru Gojo as a Vampire.
October 21st- “In the name of God!” feat. Kento Nanami as The Priest.
October 29th- “Who you gonna call?” feat. Choso Kamo as a cursed spirit (basically himself lol)
October 31st- “A deal with the Devil” feat. Ryomen Sukuna as Satan.
please note that most or all of these works will contain one or more kinks that may not be suitable for all readers, so when reading the works, proceed with caution. please also note, all works are meant for a chubby black reader :p
Synopsis: making a deal with devil wasn’t the smartest idea, but it gave you the fame you craved. however, when you break contract before it’s up, you face a fate you’d have never imagined.
cw: : dub con (sorta cnc maybe?), heavy degradation, spanking, fingering, sadism, sukuna is mean :(, slight humiliation, exhibitionism, gags, dacryphilia, trueform!sukuna, reader is a bit dumb, overstimulation, multiple òrgasms.
a/n: not proofread so excuse my mistakes! but HAPPY HALLOWEEENNN BABIES! ^o^ 🎃
you weren’t supposed to be here, that is, in this place to be specific. at least not yet anyways; you were meant to be in the capital of Sweden, preparing to sing your heart out to seventy thousand adoring fans. instead you were in this dark place filled with pools of blood, piles of bones and the smell of death.
you’d broken a clause in your contract, one you didn’t even know was there when you’d signed the papers a few years ago, but of course you didn’t pay attention, of course you didn’t read the fine print, when did you ever read the fine print of anything.
so now you’re padding your feet carefully, nearly dragging them through what seems to be a shallow pool of blood. a path cascaded with bones and skulls on either side, of you.
your face scrunched up in disgust, god the smell here was awful, but the knot of fear lurched in your chest, was far worse.
“come.”
a dark baritone voice echoed off the every corner of the surrounding area. the voice boomed like thunder, but was smooth like teakwood and mahogany.
you swallowed hard, hands clasped together in front of you as the pads of your thumbs roved around each other in circles. your feet just barely picking up pace as you trudged through the bloody pathway.
“hasten your steps, mortal.”
the voice snapped out, voice sharp, low and staccato like. you gasped sharp and afraid as the ground beneath your feet began to rumble. bones falling off the top of their piles, submerging under the dark liquid on the ground.
when you turned to look behind you, a 90-foot wave of cheery red blood was hurling towards you, roaring as it swallowed everything in its way. your mind went blank. your feet carrying you without thought as a blood curdling scream ripped itself up your vocals chords and past your lips.
your heels sloshed and splashed around the bloody pools of the ground as you ran with one thought in mind: ‘survive’. all around you, a sinister laughter rung out from the earlier voice, something wicked and evil that your feeble human mind had yet to comprehend.
“that’s right, pathetic woman, run. come to me.”
the voice all but sneered as your heels clicked and clacked against the bloodied stone pathway,. you ran aimlessly, not knowing where you were running, until the pathway became more stone and bone and less blood.
the closer you came forward, the more your steps slowed, becoming less hurried, more measured, more worried. the the roar of the wave became softer and softer until you stumbled upon nothing but dry bones and the sound had disappeared. the knot of fear planted in center of your chest, had finally started to dissipate.
you passed through a threshold cautiously, the bones knocking together under your feet, the ceiling made from what looked to be a ribcage and then you saw him.
perched atop a giant pile of bones, there he sat in all his evil glory. a gloriously dark throne atop the discarded animal and human parts, all as he smiled mockingly down at you from his seat.
he sat so leisurely, in a pair of baggy cloth pants, his feet barren, but somehow the bottoms clean. no shirt, body littered in black tattoos that resembled stripes and symbols.
he had four hulking arms, on one on them, a mouth littered one of the hands. his shoulders broad and chest wide, and at the base of his stomach, another mouth?
you couldn’t help but stare up at him in terror and awe, both feelings mixing in your gut to form something closely akin to scarousal.
“ah, this one. i remember you.” he hummed, sitting up a bit straighter on his bone filled throne. curling at finger at you, he beckoned silently. the bones underneath him in the pile rattled, shifting together to form stairs to let you travel up to him.
the moment your feet planted just within feet of him, he was up off his throne. on his feet he had to be at least seven feet tall, and that was at the minimum.
he gazed down at you under his nose, his expression blank, his upper arms resting by his side, and his lower arms bent at an angle, his hands on his hips.
“speak.” he said blunt and firm, words crisp and sharp at the edges.
immediately, your heart lurched in your chest, pulse racing under your skin, a thin sheen of sweat across your forehead as you tried to step back to ease yourself.
that irritated him, he rolled his eyes, smacking his lips against his teeth and in seconds you were off the ground, feet dangling in the air. one of his hands from his upper arms held you up in the air, high enough to bring you to eye level with him, his four red eyes set on your two.
“i said speak, filth. lest you lose your tongue and speaking privileges.” he seethed, narrowing his four eyes at you while you struggle uselessly against his grip around your throat.
“i- i- i don’t know why im here! p-please!” you strained out in a high pitched voice, every syllable came out choked and lacking air. that got the corner of his lips to rise, faintly.
he dropped you, your knees hitting the splintered bones in front of him, definitely bruising them in the process. you gasped for air and coughed, holding a hand to your throat as you tried to catch you breath.
“pathetic.” he started with a scoff. “broke a clause in our contract did you? he hummed as he stood over you.
you heaved on the ground before finally catching your breath and tilting your head up to look at him.
“i- i- i don’t know! one minute i was talking to my manager about how i came to be so talented and i- i just-”
“silence!” he barked out, cutting your pathetic rambling short. your lips pressed together immediately in fear, the meekest little sound leaving you just before.
he pinched the bridge of his nose sighing deeply, grumbling something to himself about ‘stupid mortals’ before speaking. “bring me the humans contract, now!” he barked out.
you weren’t sure who he was talking to until you looked around and noticed perched all around the room, different people- or creatures rather. they were horrifying things to look at.
a few seconds later, one of the less monstrous beings, a human looking one with a white both and a white and red haori, appeared by his side, their head bowed as they held out the papers to him.
“the documents you requested, master.” the said quietly. Sukuna took the documents and huffed “good uraume, now go.” he grumbled as he flipped through the pages.
you slowly pushed yourself up to your feet, still a bit dazed from being nearly choked to death. when you looked up he was shoving the papers in your face, grabbing a fistful of your hair tightly and making you read the page.
“you broke this clause.” he growled as he gripped your hair tighter, watching you wince in displeasure.
“Should y/n y/l/n disclose any information of any or one whole part of this contract. It will be ruled as null and void immediately and their end of the deal will be carried out immediately; or any fair punishment will be left up to The King of Hell himself.”
your eyes flitted over the words on the paper and you gulped. damn it, you did do that. you lifted your eyes up to look at him and he held you tightly by your hair raising until your eyes met his again.
“wh-what are you gonna do to me?” you stuttered out, your palms sweaty, hands shaking and every nerve ending in fire with anxiety.
he grinned at that, a deranged, wide tooth grin that showed his canines, or rather his fangs. he leered at you, tilt his head just a bit to right as he chuckled at you.
“mmmm.. i shall not allow this rather.. pleasing body and…. appealing face, go to waste.” he nodded
——
——
you felt so humiliated, your clothes were shredded, your hair bunched up in one of his four hands, your body splayed out, face down, ass up in his lap as he sat in his throne, his court sat all around on their own smaller thrones in their respective areas, watching silently.
“keep counting, filth.” he grunted, landing another loud SMACK! to your left cheek. he
the globes of your ass were stinging, glowing red with his giant handprints, tears rolling down your cheeks as you cried.
“f-fourteen!”
SMACK!
“fift-teen!”
SMACK!
you whined extra loud at the smack, earning a scoff from Sukuna, his eyes rolling before he smirked at the sight of your tears.
“Insolent whore, your tears mean nothing.” he spat out with a little laugh. “Especially since you seem to enjoy this.” he hummed low in his throat.
letting one of his lower hands drag his ring and middle finger through your sopping folds of your cunt, he gathered a thick glob of your slick, watching the warm sticky fluid slide down his fingers in disgust, listening to you whimper at his touch.
“filthy slut, you find arousal in this, do you?” he questioned as he leered at you from above. you shook head what little you could in his grip, stuttering as you spoke. “n-no!”
a lie. a bad one.
he raised a brow at your blatant lie, sneering at you “oh? you don’t? ha-” he tutted, as he brought his fingers back down to slip past your lips, circling your entrance and a free hand smacked your ass.
“count.” he growled and you gasped, clenching around nothing, already getting wetter.
“mnmff! sixt-teen!” you whined.
he kept up with the smacks while you counted, the entire time those two fingers teased your hole, never dipping inside, just keeping you barely stimulated.
by the time he’d reached twenty five smacks, your cunt was bubbling up with arousal, all of it pooling on his fingers and your puffy lips. you eyes were screwed shut, lashes wet from tears and your bottom lip tucked between your teeth.
he pulled his fingers from your needy cunt, a long string of your wetness connecting with the digits as he showed his fingers to the court and everyone looked. he smirked smugly as he brought his fingers to your face for you to look.
“you enjoy this, deprived, ignorant girl.” he nearly hissed before shoving his fingers in your mouth wiping them on your tongue to make you taste yourself, all while watching you gag and choke on the appendages.
your mouth bubbled at the corner with spit as he swirled his digit on your pink muscle before wrenching them out and immediately plunging them into your cunt, making you cry out and grab at his thigh.
“a-ah!”
he seethed and let the hand holding your hair go in favor of snatching both your wrists up and holding them in the air behind your back, holding your upper body up, leaving your chest exposed for everyone to see.
“how dare you touch the king, desperate harlot.” he snarled as he pumped his fingers in n’ out of your poor cunt, ridiculous squelching noises sounding throughout the room as your legs shook.
your breathing was labored, body trembling with every harsh thrust of his thick digits into your greedy hole; your walls fluttering around his fingers.
“ughh, goddd fuck!”
the entire court gasped at that and a smack landed at your right ass cheek with his lower right hand, the smack harder than the previous ones.
“your god, can’t save you from me, weakling.” he all but gritted as he sank his fingers deeper into your pussy, hitting a spot that had your mouth hanging open and eyes rolling back, your first orgasm so easily wrenched out of you like water from a rag.
Sukuna groaned in distaste, at the sound of your pathetic meels of pleasure as your slick coated his fingers in a creamy white while you pulsated around his appendages.
“Disgusting.” he muttered as his last free hand snatched your panties off your ass and shoved them in your mouth to shut you up, anything to ignore the unfortunate throb his cocks were feeling right now.
“there, since you can not seem to cease your incessant noise making.” he grumbled as he stuffed the remaining fabric past your lips.
you barely got a chance to choke on the gag before his fingers were pumping furiously in n’ out of you again, your back arching, hands instinctively trying to wrench free of his hold as he brought you on the horizon of another orgasm so soon.
“oh, finishing again so soon, pet?” he almost giggled at you, something dark and intense underneath his words.
your moans muffled themselves against the fabric of the panties while his fingers stretched your poor pussy out, hitting spots inside of you, that hadn’t even been reached before.
your gut bubbled with scorching heat as you started to tighten around his fingers again, body stiffening thighs shaking as you fell apart around his fingers again, more tears spilling from your eyes as you groaned
“tch- pathetic, we won’t stop until i feel it’s enough” he spat evilly as he fingers picked up pace and harshness.
each orgasm after that was more intense than the last, his fingers never stopped, no matter how many times you came or how much you cried.
by the time he was through with you, you’d stopped making sounds, your body limp and spent in his lap, legs trembling, face soaked in tears, panties in your mouth soaked in slobber and only then, did he finally pull his fingers out, letting himself have a taste of his now pruny fingers.
“mmm..” he hummed in subtle satisfaction.
“it’s settled, you’ll bare my children, and be by my side for life.” he said all but too assuredly. as if it was law, because it was.
you had just barely enough strength to turn your head and open your eyes, but you did, and you looked up at him with wide, teary, pleading eyes, he just laughed at that. the same laugh from earlier when you were running for you life from a giant blood wave.
“what? did you think we were finished, just because you are tired, pet?” he hummed.
“No, i am but merely getting started with you, mother to be.” he said cracking the widest most dear aged smile he could muster.
⚠️TW these works may contain ⚠️: mask play, non-con/dubcon, impact play, blood play, knife play, rope work, religious rule breaking, spanking, fingering, sadism, masochism, gags, degradation, choking, blindfolds, wax play, sensory deprivation, exhibitionism, water sports, dumbification, dacryphilia and edging. if you are sensitive to any of these topics, please refrain from reading/interacting with my work.
October 7th- “You got a boyfriend?” feat. Toji Fushiguro as Ghost face.
October 14th - “After Dark” feat. Satoru Gojo as a Vampire.
October 21st- “In the name of God!” feat. Kento Nanami as The Priest.
October 29th- “Who you gonna call?” feat. Choso Kamo as a cursed spirit (basically himself lol)
October 31st- “A deal with the Devil” feat. Ryomen Sukuna as Satan.
please note that most or all of these works will contain one or more kinks that may not be suitable for all readers, so when reading the works, proceed with caution. please also note, all works are meant for a chubby black reader :p
Synopsis: Exorcising your first special grade curse proved to be far more difficult than you thought.
cw: angst, spirit!choso, reader is kind of a softie, p in v, p slapping, pet names, choso is a YEARNER!
being a sorcerer was just supposed to be a part time job, truly. it was never supposed to be your main source of income. but hey, if gojo was gonna pay you for exorcising spirits, and you needed the money anyways, why not?
it wasn’t that bad of a job, you were pretty skilled with your technique, and your cursed energy was pretty strong. so exorcising minor curses was nothing to you, until today.
gojo had sent you on what he believed was the most dangerous, yet rewarding mission yet. a special grade curse, a humanoid one that was confined to a home on the opposite side of town.
you sighed deeply, standing outside of the house, reading the text with the information on it from gojo, just to make sure you’d gotten the place right.
you’d never exorcised a curse above grade one, but according to the message from the ‘strongest man alive’ “there’s a first time for everything right? haha you got this!” you rolled your eyes, before sending him a quick “whatever, heading in now” message before pocketing your phone.
the house didn’t look remotely old, well the design, yeah, it seemed like it was from the meiji era, which was well over 150 years ago. so how the hell was this place still standing? in pristine condition nonetheless.
you shook your thoughts away and jogged up to the door off the sidewalk, your tried the handle and unsurprisingly, it was open.
“of course it’s open.” you sighed as you stepped in, not bothering to shut the door.
the place was dark, not so dark that you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face but, dark enough. you patted around the wall next to you. searching for a light switch of some sort in the old house.
finding one on the wall, you flipped it, a dim yellow light flickered and flamed to life, just barely igniting the old room, your eyes flicked around the room, noticing the old furniture, tables, chairs.. was the place inhabited?
you furrowed your brows, stepping more to get a better look around, the old floorboards creaking beneath the sight of your sneakers. it definitely looked like someone was living in here, probably just a squatter or a homeless person looking for somewhere to stay for the night. regardless, you had a job to do.
“if there’s anyone in here, you need to leave, immediately.” you called out,nvoice even and firm as you stood there. the weight in your hips shifting from one side to the other as you glanced down a nearby hall, a faint light just barely illuminated a room at the end of it.
this shit was getting to be creepy, even for you. you swallowed a little before slowly stepping down the hall. your fists clenched, ready to swing or unleash your technique at any moment.
“i’m not fuckin’ around!” you called out again, voice nearly cracking as you approached the room. peeking your head into the room, you were met with nothing but a singular candle, in its holder, in the center of the room.
old pictures and scattered papers, littered the floor around the candle and you stepped in just a bit closer to the candle bending down to pick it up and hold it out to see, glancing at the picture, you noticed it was a couple, a young one, but you didn’t pay much attention to details.
but if you would’ve paid just a little more attention, you’d have saw that the woman in the photo, looked exactly like you, every lash, every beauty mark, up to the smile.
you turned on your heels waving the candle around to light your way, hearing faint creaking in the floorboard, grumbling to yourself.
“gojo i swear to god, if this is another stupid fucking prank, i’ll kill your ass!” you nearly yelped out, an unsettling feeling creeping up your spine.
you stepped back out into the hallway, looking to the left down the rest of the dark hallway, nah, you sure as hell weren’t going down there.
you didn’t expect to be met with a gorgeous, six foot tall, brooding, dark haired man standing right in front of you when you turned to your right. you jumped back, nearly dropping the candle as you yelped.
“fuck!”
the man watched you- no analyzed you. his head tilting just slightly to the right as he looked you up and down without a word, his expression was blank and his eyes, dead.
you steadied your legs and exhaled briefly to collect your self before meeting his gaze. “you’re the one squatting here?” you asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.
it was the only logical explanation, he was human, and it would explain the pictures and the candle, along with a furniture. he couldn’t be the special grade you were looking for, he wasn’t hostile in the least.
the man just stared at you, blinking at you absently.
“hello?” you said confused as you waved a hand in front of his face, a brow raised in suspicion.
he caught your wrist and brought your hand close to his face, analyzing it before looking at your face again. your brows furrowed as you watched him intently.
“you look just like her..” he whispered as he studied your hand. you didn’t like that, you didn’t know who the hell he was missing but you were sure it wasn’t you.
“i… i don’t know what your problem is or who you are, but you need to leave this house.” you said suspiciously and at this point quite concerned as you wrenched your wrist free of his hold, truthfully the guy was a little weird.
he watched you move your hand away, the limb falling back to your side. however, his ears perked up at the mention of leaving the house. his expression morphed into one of confusion and disdain.
brows furrowing in something akin to disbelief, he spoke. “leave? why would i want to leave, i live here.” his voice came out in a low and measured baritone.
you scoffed at that, rolling your eyes at his words. no way this guy lived here. this house looked like it was trapped in the 1800s.
“yeah right, listen man, you gotta go, cmon” you chuckled, shaking your head as you tried moving him by grabbing his forearm, except it was like trying to move a building. he was rooted the ground like an immovable object.
shit.
“..i can’t.” he said bluntly, his voice becoming a little rougher as he pulled you back in front of him, nearly causing the candle to topple out of its holder. then he paused a moment before he spoke again, “i’ve tried.” he said as his voice softened just a fraction.
you stared at him, eyes wide. shit. it was clicking now. this was his house? he can’t leave? he was the fucking special grade you needed to exorcise.
you sighed deeply as you stared at him, you almost felt bad, but then you remembered the little report gojo gave you from earlier, the one that read. “spirit is extremely dangerous, has taken the lives of two previous sorcerers who encountered it.”
what were you supposed to do? he needed to go, but when you saw how he was staring at you, almost like he was heartbroken, his dead eyes carrying a sort of sadness in them, that made your chest tighten.
“okay, how about… we sit down and you tell me about yourself and why you can’t leave?” you offered with an awkward smile. “is that okay?”
he nodded as he let go of your arm and exhaled. he began leading you back up the hall until he reached the living room, winding through it he walked you into a kitchen and gestured you to sit at a little table right in the middle of it.
you nodded quietly and took a seat, setting the candle in the middle of the table between you two to light the surrounding room just a bit more.
“so… what’s your name?” you asked, clearing your throat as as your eyes met his. “Choso..” he said firmly. “Choso Kamo.” he finished, voice a little lighter than before.
“it’s very nice to meet you Choso.” you replied, hesitantly offering him a hand to shake. he looked you up and down for a second, debating on whether or not he should shake your hand before ultimately deciding he would.
he reached across and shook your hand, his grip was firm, his skin cool to the touch, a stark contrast from your warm skin, brimming with warm blood underneath it. your eyes met his and when you looked just long enough, he was so.. handsome, so familiar even, it felt almost like you’d known him before.
he let his touch linger just a bit too long before he pulled away and you cleared your throat again, sitting up a bit straighter before your next words came out.
“so.. what’s got you stuck here, huh?” you asked softly, causing his expression to harden into one of anger & pain. his eyes screwed shut tightly, the muscles in his jaw clenching- tightening as his hands balled into fists so tight that his knuckles turned white.
then he stilled, inhaling sharply through his nostrils and exhaling before unclenching his fists, relaxing the muscles in his jaw relax and his eyes flutter open to look at you. it was almost like the mere sight of you soothed whatever gave him that ache in his chest.
“well, the year was 1890…” he started and god if it didn’t take everything to keep your eyes from bulging out of their sockets. this guy had to at least be 160 years old, he was still hot though.
for the next forty five minutes, he recounted to you his life and the story of the day he died in grave detail, so much so that by the end of it, it felt like you’d known him personally in another life.
it was a sunny day, he and his wife got into an argument. she stormed off out of the house, and instead of chasing after her, he stayed and waited, eventually trying to make her dinner that evening as an apology. because he wasn’t the best cook, actually the most terrible, the house caught fire and he burned alive without ever getting to see her again and apologize.
as much as you were listening to his story, you were also analyzing. so that’s how he came to be a cursed spirit, confined to this house by his guilt.
you knew from your years of sorcery, that any spirit with a strong enough will and connection to this side, or where they died, could manifest themselves among other things into this plane of existence; so that explained his physical presence and the house.
“i’m so sorry choso” you said soft and sweet as you placed a hand atop his and squeezed softly, offering him a sweet sympathetic expression while letting your thumb rover over the dents of his knuckles.
god, you were so beautiful to him, the spitting image of her. he offered a faint smile, gently squeezing your hand in reciprocity. “but-” you started as you slid your hand away from his, your smile fading into something a tad more somber, as if you didn’t want to do this.
“i.. i have to exorcise you, choso” you said barely above a whisper, your eyes downcast to the floor. “i’m a sorcerer, that’s what i came here to do”.
“ah…” he started with a deep sigh as his hand withdrew into his lap “i see.” he wanted to be mad, really. he wanted to rage, to destroy the entire house like he always did when sorcerers were sent his way. Choso was a lot of things but he was no fool.
but one look at you, those eyes, the beautiful face he died loving and he could never deny her you. he couldn’t fight you, much less kill you.
“alright.. but first, please grant me one last thing before you kill me.” he asked softly, a little sad smile on his face.
“anything.” you nodded, hands landing flat on the table. “ask away.” your words were sweet and soft, wrapping around his ear drums oh so tenderly while waited for him to ask whatever he wanted of you.
“sex.” he said calm and firm.
at that, your eyes nearly bulged out of your skull, you blinked at him a few times in utter shock. “What!?” you nearly choked out on a yelp.
Choso smiled small, eyes crinkling at the corners at your reaction as he nodded in confirmation. “yes, sex. i figure, if im going out, one last time couldn’t be so bad, could it?” he offered a sheepish, little lopsided grin along with his words.
——
honestly, you can’t remember why you agreed to this but you didn’t really care. because, every time Chosos’ rotund tip pressed a sweet kiss to the hilt of your cervix, you preened just a little more.
you were bent over this old kitchen counter, your pants around your ankles, and his chest flush against your back, his cock so deep you were sure you’d feel it for days after this.
and god, he was borderline pathetic with the way he rutted into you, it was kind of hot. both of his hands on either side of your body against the counter, his hips moving like piston, and the delicious plap plap plap! sound of your ass against his pelvis, coupled with your sweet little mewls, only egged him on.
“god- you’re so- haahhh.. so beautiful.” he breathed out against you back, placing a tender kiss on your shoulder blade while he fucked you deeper into the old wooden furniture piece.
your mouth hung open, short breaths and ragged gasps leaving you in between the little noises you made. you couldn’t even think straight, the drag of his hips, the feeling of every zig zagged vein on his cock against every single orifice in your walls was enough to make you drool.
“ch-choso! oohhhhmm’godddd!” you crooned as you started to tighten around him your nails beginning to dig into the old softened wood of the counter.
choso couldn’t have that, he wouldn’t. before you could finish, he pulled out, leaving you whining at the feel of being empty. before you could further complain, an arm snaked around your waist and turned you around, lifting you atop the counter.
“i need to see your face, wanna see how beautiful you look when you cum one more time” he murmured as he slipped back in, not giving you enough time to even register his statement.
one hand grabbed your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him, while he gave you languid thrusts that had heat bubbling hotter in your lower tummy.
his free hand, met the back of your neck, his grip so tight it was sure to leave bruises. he brought out face to his until your foreheads touched, the two of you so close, you could be considered one.
your eyes met his, lashes fluttering as he fucked you closer and closer to that release your body was craving, and before you could let out a sound, his lips crushed into yours, swallowing every single one of them.
your legs locked around his waist on instinct and his hips picked up pace while he swallowed the taste of your tongue on his. his pace so fast n’ controlled it made the old wooden cabinets above you two clatter together.
old wooden pieces knocking together with every sharp thrust he delivered, each one deeper than the previous. you could feel the heat building up to a climax and broke the kiss to babble what little words you could.
“choso, i’m gonna-”
“i know darling, i know, i’ve got you, i promise.” he grunted low and soothing, before capturing your lips in another searing kiss while he fucked the remaining air and sanity out of you.
your back stiffened, white hot pleasure crawling up your spine all the way to the nape of your neck as you came around him with a muffled cry. legs shaking, head spinning, breath baited.
he groaned into the kiss while you fluttered and pulsated around him, your orgasm enough to pull his right out of him. he broke the kiss as his hips stuttered, spilling into yours with short little whines.
“ah- ah- ah- fuuckk”
his hips came to a still, his sweaty forehead rested against yours as you tow just sat there and caught your breaths.
“you’re still so perfect, just like i remember” he said softly before pulling out, giving you but he enough time to get dressed.
——
the exorcism was quick, choso didn’t fight it, and yet when he was gone, there was a dull ache in your chest as you watched the house around you fade, everything disintegrating into the wind, a signal that he truly was gone.
gathering your things to leave while the little world around you dissipated into nothingness, you saw that same phot from earlier, wisp past you, and you grabbed it just in time.
you settled your eyes on it and your heart nearly stopped when you realized it was choso, and what looked to be… you.
you blinked at it a little bit, tears forming in your eyes as the realization hit you. you were his wife. in a past life, you left him, and he died, waiting for you to come home to him.
you held the picture close to your heart but just like everything else around you, the picture began to fade and then wither away into dust.
you watched the remnants of the photo blow away in the breeze as a fat tear rolled down your cheek. god in the last life you left him, and in this life you killed him.
a/n: sorry this took me so long, i’ve been sick as FAWKKK recently 😞
⚠️TW these works may contain ⚠️: mask play, non-con/dubcon, impact play, blood play, knife play, rope work, religious rule breaking, spanking, fingering, sadism, masochism, gags, degradation, choking, blindfolds, wax play, sensory deprivation, exhibitionism, water sports, dumbification, dacryphilia and edging. if you are sensitive to any of these topics, please refrain from reading/interacting with my work.
October 7th- “You got a boyfriend?” feat. Toji Fushiguro as Ghost face.
October 14th - “After Dark” feat. Satoru Gojo as a Vampire.
October 21st- “In the name of God!” feat. Kento Nanami as The Priest.
October 29th- “Who you gonna call?” feat. Choso Kamo as a cursed spirit (basically himself lol)
October 31st- “A deal with the Devil” feat. Ryomen Sukuna as Satan.
please note that most or all of these works will contain one or more kinks that may not be suitable for all readers, so when reading the works, proceed with caution. please also note, all works are meant for a chubby black reader :p
just thinkin about younger!eren who just doesn’t get the hint that you’re not that into him. he’s a good yarning boy that you use to your advantage. need coffee for you office job? eren’s got it! need groceries delivered to your house? eren immediately does it! need a pretty long curved dick to ride? call eren! “p-please” he whimpered, brown hair messy all over your pillow. his large hands palmed your tits, tears forming at his waterline from how tight you were. rolling your eyes, you hands pressed onto his chest, your ass boncing against him, the claps and your wetness loud.
“fuckkk” eren whined, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, thumbs rubbing over your brown pebble. his cock jerked; pre cum oozing into your tight walls. making you moan cleaning around him. “such a good boy papa” you cooed moving down to kiss his neck. your bounces slowed, your hips rotated pushing him deeper making you both moan together. you rose back up, your hand wrapping around his neck, eyes connecting while you continued to rotate your hips spelling out your name on his cock. your pussy pulsated, a shiver crawling up your spine. you threw your head back letting out a long moan, that eren reward with a slap to your ass. “love you” he whispered still looking up at you. he began to take control, bringing your body to him, your nipples touching along with your foreheads.
eren planted his feet into your bed, spreading your cheeks and fucking up into you hard. “love you” he repeated over and over. his balls slapped against your skin, clit rubbing against pelvis. you breathed together, your ears ringing with his words of “i love you” echoing out in your brain. you squeezed him tight creaming so hard that you lost your breath. your hands gripping the pillow tight a silent scream that left nothing but a aching throat and shaking body. “that’s it-shit” eren muttered, his hips stilling as he let every drop filled you with the intentions of keeping your forever. no matter how much you claimed to hate the younger boy, you would never get rid of him.
Synopsis: living in a religious household isn’t all too bad, until your parents find out about your secret job and send you to see the priest.
cw: dub con, religious rule breaking, gags, dacryphilia, ass slapping, rough s, p in v, slight exhibitionism?, water sports, slight choking?
not proof read!! but enjoy ilyyy!
shame, yeah that's what this entire ordeal made you feel. an overwhelming amount of it. you loved your parents, but sometimes they made things a literal hellscape. for god's sake you were an adult now, even if you were still living at home.
living at home had its perks of course. no paying rent, no bills to worry about while you attended college, free food and home cooked meals. alas, where living at home had its privileges, it had it's downsides.
your parents ironclad faith in the church and their religion, something you never really much agreed with since you were in middle school. attending church on wednesdays, saturdays AND sundays.
it was something you'd now desensitized yourself to, and when you began college, they stopped harping on you as much about attending sermons, with your excuse of having copious amounts of homework, they'd released their grip on you a little.
until they found out about your little habit.
it wasn't that bad, at least to you. but when your parents snooped through your phone without permission and found your streaming account on a camgirl website and through your drawers to find several different types of vibrators, dildos, and other types of toys... lets just say they didn't handle it too well.
but how else were you gonna pay for all of your little hobbies if not by posting videos of you getting fucked silly or fucking yourself silly?
your dad flipped his shit, typical of him, but your mother is what put the final nail int the coffin, she called herself helping you, by sending you to see the only person she thought could cleanse or purify you.
The priest, Father Nanami.
so now you sat in his office, in the south wing of the church. legs crossed and back stiffened with anxiety, your eyes cast away towards a wall.
"There's no need to be ashamed, i'm only here to help." his voice came out smooth and low as he sat opposite you behind his desk, the metal frame of his glasses sitting beautifully on the bridge of his nose.
you shifted in your seat, clearly uncomfortable and nervous about this whole thing, your leg bouncing up and down, nerves on fire as you waited for this hellish one hour session to end.
"this is embarrassing." you muttered as your eyes focused on the painting of a rosary on his wall to the right of you, probably something cheap, bought at a thrift store.
"what exactly are you embarrassed about?" he asked as if he didn't already have the entire story, in detail from your parents. his hands were clasped together as they rested atop his desk, his iced out gaze roving over the features of your face, noting your expression.
you scoffed and rolled your eyes at the question, not bothering to make eye contact with him. "you already know." you grumbled under your breath as your cheeks heated up, shame flooding through you.
"mmm.. i do but, i want you to tell me. admitting is the first step". his voice was even and firm, nothing like yours, shaky, unsure, nervous. it sort of agitated you, how calm and collected he was about all of this.
"it's just- why were they even going through my stuff! i wasn't even-"
"stay on track" his voice cut you off, firm, almost demanding, but calm nonetheless. “tell me what you're embarrassed about."
he leaned forward just a bit in his chair, just barely leaning over his desk, peering at you from under the rims of his glasses. "is it the fact they found out? or is it what they found, that's causing your embarrassment?" he asked.
your eyes finally met his, you chewed on the inside of your cheek before darting them away and back to him. "neither" was all you mumbled before your thumb came up to your mouth for you to chew on your nail.
Nanami's eyebrows shot up at that answer, you felt no embarrassment? so maybe it was guilt you were feeling.
"and do you feel guilty about any of it?"
"yes.."
"which part?"
you screwed your eyes shut in embarrassment before sighing deeply and answering.
"them seeing me".
Nanami raised a brow at the admission. sitting back in his chair and pushing his glasses up his nose just a bit, his eyes trailing up and down your figure briefly before looking away and clearing his throat.
"you feel guilty they saw you that way?"
"no."
"then what is it?"
you chewed on your nail, heart racing in your chest as you opened your eyes and moved your hand away to speak.
"i feel guilty that i don't care they saw me that way."
that made him sit up in his seat, his eyes slightly widening before he schooled them back to their normal size and he cleared his throat.
"you.. don't care?" he questioned skeptically.
"no, i like having sex! i like masturbating, why should i feel shame when they went through my things without permission!"
your blatant admission at what you liked made his throat run dry and his cock twitch in his khaki slacks.
he remembered when his father forced him into this position last year for the same reasons your parents were now making you see him weekly.
and truly, kento never grew from his behaviors, if anything he'd gotten worse, but he'd just gotten better at hiding everything.
if you checked his laptop at home and looked into his search history, you'd have found his account from the same website you used. all his viral cam videos of himself rutting into his pillows and cumming, pumping his cock or fucking some girl silly.
"maybe we can help each other out" the words came tumbling out before could think too much or take them back, disrupting your rambling about your parents invasion of privacy.
"huh?"
"i said maybe we can help each other."
"uhm.. how could you help me by having these stupid meetings with me?"
the slyest smirk spread across Nanami's face as he got up from his seat and rounded the desk till he was in front of you, leaning down till his face was right in front of yours.
"don't fret, i'll show you just how i can help you"
and that’s how you ended up here.
your phone propped up against the nameplate on his desk, set to recording.
your hands bound behind your back with the rosary from around nanamis neck. both your clothes discarded all over the office. one hand fisted in the back of your shirt as he tugged you down on to his cock with almost too much force.
your mouth and cunt were matching with the way they were stuffed. your mouth with your panties and your pussy with his fat cock.
his other hand fisted in your hair to tug your head back as he drug his hips up off the base of his chair behind his desk, head thrown back in complete bliss as you made little muffled noises.
“mmnfhgh!”
his head snapped up at your little muffled noise, grip tightening on your shirt as he pulled you down harsher on his cock, the mushroomy tip kissing your spongy cervix on repeat as tears pooled in the corners of your eyes.
“sshhh, you can take it, gotta keep that pretty mouth filled, don’t want anyone to hear us.” he cooed as he worked his hips upward in time with the way he pulled you down by the back of your shirt.
you squeezed around him, sucking him in deeper as you tried fucking him back, a mix of his cum and yours dripping down and around his shaft, from the multiple times you’d both already came.
he hissed and gave your ass a harsh smack, leaving a handprint.
“greedy lil thing, like having your pussy pounded like this huh?”
“fucking your priest in his office? sinful, but you love this don’t you?”
his taunted you with his words, knowing you couldn’t respond, his thrusts becoming harsher— deeper, as your tears spilled over onto your cheeks.
“mnghhhrff!”
“that’s right, cry for me, cry on my cock” he chuckled dryly as the hand in your hair left and wrapped around your throat. pulling you back so your back met his chest, he licked the tears right off your cheek.
“only gonna make me fuck your harder silly girl, so keep those tears flowing for me”
you were so overstimulated, vision blurred by tears, legs like cooked pasta, brain fogged up, you couldn’t even think straight, all you could do was cum, so you did.
your knees buckled, the tips of them pressed together, your stomach tightened, knotting up as fat tears rolled down your cheeks and your cries were muffled.
you just barely were able to lift yourself off his cock as you squirted all over him. his cock, balls, thighs and lower abdomen.
“MMNNNFFF!”
Nanami watched you with bated breath, eyes dark and low as he watched you make a mess all over him, his chair and his floor.
“oh she’s a crier and a squirter?”
“you’re just wet for me all around huh sweetheart?”
you could hear the smirk in his voice as he pulled you back down onto his cock by the back of your shirt.
if you could’ve screamed you would’ve, your eyes nearly crossed and immediately you clenched around him.
“do that for me two more times and then we’re done for the day.”
⚠️TW these works may contain ⚠️: mask play, non-con/dubcon, impact play, blood play, knife play, rope work, religious rule breaking, spanking, fingering, sadism, masochism, gags, degradation, choking, blindfolds, wax play, sensory deprivation, exhibitionism, water sports, dumbification, dacryphilia and edging. if you are sensitive to any of these topics, please refrain from reading/interacting with my work.
October 7th- “You got a boyfriend?” feat. Toji Fushiguro as Ghost face.
October 14th - “After Dark” feat. Satoru Gojo as a Vampire.
October 21st- “In the name of God!” feat. Kento Nanami as The Priest.
October 28th- “Who you gonna call?” feat. Choso Kamo as a cursed spirit (basically himself lol)
October 31st- “A deal with the Devil” feat. Ryomen Sukuna as Satan.
please note that most or all of these works will contain one or more kinks that may not be suitable for all readers, so when reading the works, proceed with caution. please also note, all works are meant for a chubby black reader :p
Synopsis: living in a religious household isn’t all too bad, until your parents find out about your secret job and send you to see the priest.
cw: dub con, religious rule breaking, gags, dacryphilia, ass slapping, rough s, p in v, slight exhibitionism?, water sports, slight choking?
not proof read!! but enjoy ilyyy!
shame, yeah that's what this entire ordeal made you feel. an overwhelming amount of it. you loved your parents, but sometimes they made things a literal hellscape. for god's sake you were an adult now, even if you were still living at home.
living at home had its perks of course. no paying rent, no bills to worry about while you attended college, free food and home cooked meals. alas, where living at home had its privileges, it had it's downsides.
your parents ironclad faith in the church and their religion, something you never really much agreed with since you were in middle school. attending church on wednesdays, saturdays AND sundays.
it was something you'd now desensitized yourself to, and when you began college, they stopped harping on you as much about attending sermons, with your excuse of having copious amounts of homework, they'd released their grip on you a little.
until they found out about your little habit.
it wasn't that bad, at least to you. but when your parents snooped through your phone without permission and found your streaming account on a camgirl website and through your drawers to find several different types of vibrators, dildos, and other types of toys... lets just say they didn't handle it too well.
but how else were you gonna pay for all of your little hobbies if not by posting videos of you getting fucked silly or fucking yourself silly?
your dad flipped his shit, typical of him, but your mother is what put the final nail int the coffin, she called herself helping you, by sending you to see the only person she thought could cleanse or purify you.
The priest, Father Nanami.
so now you sat in his office, in the south wing of the church. legs crossed and back stiffened with anxiety, your eyes cast away towards a wall.
"There's no need to be ashamed, i'm only here to help." his voice came out smooth and low as he sat opposite you behind his desk, the metal frame of his glasses sitting beautifully on the bridge of his nose.
you shifted in your seat, clearly uncomfortable and nervous about this whole thing, your leg bouncing up and down, nerves on fire as you waited for this hellish one hour session to end.
"this is embarrassing." you muttered as your eyes focused on the painting of a rosary on his wall to the right of you, probably something cheap, bought at a thrift store.
"what exactly are you embarrassed about?" he asked as if he didn't already have the entire story, in detail from your parents. his hands were clasped together as they rested atop his desk, his iced out gaze roving over the features of your face, noting your expression.
you scoffed and rolled your eyes at the question, not bothering to make eye contact with him. "you already know." you grumbled under your breath as your cheeks heated up, shame flooding through you.
"mmm.. i do but, i want you to tell me. admitting is the first step". his voice was even and firm, nothing like yours, shaky, unsure, nervous. it sort of agitated you, how calm and collected he was about all of this.
"it's just- why were they even going through my stuff! i wasn't even-"
"stay on track" his voice cut you off, firm, almost demanding, but calm nonetheless. “tell me what you're embarrassed about."
he leaned forward just a bit in his chair, just barely leaning over his desk, peering at you from under the rims of his glasses. "is it the fact they found out? or is it what they found, that's causing your embarrassment?" he asked.
your eyes finally met his, you chewed on the inside of your cheek before darting them away and back to him. "neither" was all you mumbled before your thumb came up to your mouth for you to chew on your nail.
Nanami's eyebrows shot up at that answer, you felt no embarrassment? so maybe it was guilt you were feeling.
"and do you feel guilty about any of it?"
"yes.."
"which part?"
you screwed your eyes shut in embarrassment before sighing deeply and answering.
"them seeing me".
Nanami raised a brow at the admission. sitting back in his chair and pushing his glasses up his nose just a bit, his eyes trailing up and down your figure briefly before looking away and clearing his throat.
"you feel guilty they saw you that way?"
"no."
"then what is it?"
you chewed on your nail, heart racing in your chest as you opened your eyes and moved your hand away to speak.
"i feel guilty that i don't care they saw me that way."
that made him sit up in his seat, his eyes slightly widening before he schooled them back to their normal size and he cleared his throat.
"you.. don't care?" he questioned skeptically.
"no, i like having sex! i like masturbating, why should i feel shame when they went through my things without permission!"
your blatant admission at what you liked made his throat run dry and his cock twitch in his khaki slacks.
he remembered when his father forced him into this position last year for the same reasons your parents were now making you see him weekly.
and truly, kento never grew from his behaviors, if anything he'd gotten worse, but he'd just gotten better at hiding everything.
if you checked his laptop at home and looked into his search history, you'd have found his account from the same website you used. all his viral cam videos of himself rutting into his pillows and cumming, pumping his cock or fucking some girl silly.
"maybe we can help each other out" the words came tumbling out before could think too much or take them back, disrupting your rambling about your parents invasion of privacy.
"huh?"
"i said maybe we can help each other."
"uhm.. how could you help me by having these stupid meetings with me?"
the slyest smirk spread across Nanami's face as he got up from his seat and rounded the desk till he was in front of you, leaning down till his face was right in front of yours.
"don't fret, i'll show you just how i can help you"
and that’s how you ended up here.
your phone propped up against the nameplate on his desk, set to recording.
your hands bound behind your back with the rosary from around nanamis neck. both your clothes discarded all over the office. one hand fisted in the back of your shirt as he tugged you down on to his cock with almost too much force.
your mouth and cunt were matching with the way they were stuffed. your mouth with your panties and your pussy with his fat cock.
his other hand fisted in your hair to tug your head back as he drug his hips up off the base of his chair behind his desk, head thrown back in complete bliss as you made little muffled noises.
“mmnfhgh!”
his head snapped up at your little muffled noise, grip tightening on your shirt as he pulled you down harsher on his cock, the mushroomy tip kissing your spongy cervix on repeat as tears pooled in the corners of your eyes.
“sshhh, you can take it, gotta keep that pretty mouth filled, don’t want anyone to hear us.” he cooed as he worked his hips upward in time with the way he pulled you down by the back of your shirt.
you squeezed around him, sucking him in deeper as you tried fucking him back, a mix of his cum and yours dripping down and around his shaft, from the multiple times you’d both already came.
he hissed and gave your ass a harsh smack, leaving a handprint.
“greedy lil thing, like having your pussy pounded like this huh?”
“fucking your priest in his office? sinful, but you love this don’t you?”
his taunted you with his words, knowing you couldn’t respond, his thrusts becoming harsher— deeper, as your tears spilled over onto your cheeks.
“mnghhhrff!”
“that’s right, cry for me, cry on my cock” he chuckled dryly as the hand in your hair left and wrapped around your throat. pulling you back so your back met his chest, he licked the tears right off your cheek.
“only gonna make me fuck your harder silly girl, so keep those tears flowing for me”
you were so overstimulated, vision blurred by tears, legs like cooked pasta, brain fogged up, you couldn’t even think straight, all you could do was cum, so you did.
your knees buckled, the tips of them pressed together, your stomach tightened, knotting up as fat tears rolled down your cheeks and your cries were muffled.
you just barely were able to lift yourself off his cock as you squirted all over him. his cock, balls, thighs and lower abdomen.
“MMNNNFFF!”
Nanami watched you with bated breath, eyes dark and low as he watched you make a mess all over him, his chair and his floor.
“oh she’s a crier and a squirter?”
“you’re just wet for me all around huh sweetheart?”
you could hear the smirk in his voice as he pulled you back down onto his cock by the back of your shirt.
if you could’ve screamed you would’ve, your eyes nearly crossed and immediately you clenched around him.
“do that for me two more times and then we’re done for the day.”
summary! choso's always had strong feelings for you, his sweet, impossibly cute roommate. after dropping out of college and introducing you to his band mate suguru, things take a turn for the worst when the man starts to take an interest in you. drummer!choso becomes increasingly more jealous and agitated with each fucked up thing geto puts you through, and he finally snaps. his quiet jealousy turns dark, messy, and impossible to ignore. (jealousy, slight angst, messyyy, toxic relationships (suguru –> reader) comfort, fluff, smut.)
choso hated when geto was over.
“suguru! fuck! it’s too much— i can’t— i can’t!”
“shut up—god—and take it.”
your muffled moans and the creak of the bedposts drifted through the thin plastered wall of choso’s room. the one you’d shared since signing the lease over two years ago, back when you were just strangers hunting for a nice apartment during your freshman year.
back then, things had been simpler.
you'd gotten close to the mysterious boy in only a few weeks. just you and choso, figuring out school and life together, finding comfort in each other’s company.
he had been one of the kindest, coolest people you’d ever met, someone who listened to your fucked-up problems without judgment, who cleaned up after himself, who held you on the couch when winter felt too crisp.
the perfect roommate, in every sense.
“you’d make a good boyfriend, cho,” you’d teased once, stroking his hair lightly.
“hmm, you think so?” he’d grinned, lazy and carefree.
but things were different now.
choso had dropped out to focus on his band, 'exorcize'—gojo on vocals, geto on guitar, toji on bass, and him on drums.
the band had taken off, and after being personally invited to one of their gigs, a small introduction from choso had suguru immediately hooked.
that had been the moment everything shifted.
quiet nights of spectated drum practice while you studied or long meaningful conversations were gone, replaced by surprise visits from geto and sleepless evenings that left choso restless and uneasy.
deep down, in that hazy, stoned part of his mind, he knew he felt something for you. something raw, unacknowledged, and unrelenting.
“god, sugu—i seriously can’t! —oh my god!”
he heard your cries, felt his stomach twist with a mix of disgust, anger, and jealousy. he couldn’t endure another sober second of listening to you plead.
his hand found a pre-rolled blunt in his dresser, lighting it with a red lighter you'd gifted him months ago, the smoke curling around him like a protective shield.
“c’mon, you can do it, just a few more—fuck!—seconds!”
he hated him. but more than that, he hated the way suguru spoke to you.
the subtle degradation, the possessive control masked by perfect composure. choso knew you noticed it too. the way your fingers curled around anything you could grab when suguru got too close, too possessive. the way you'd shy away from him rather than leaning into him lovingly. and yet, you stayed.
it tore something inside choso, some raw, unpolished piece of himself that had never stopped wanting you.
“just a little longer, y/n, fuck—you can do that for me, can’t you?”
he closed his eyes and inhaled, letting the smoke fill his lungs, the only thing that could dull the constant back-and-forth inside his head when it came to you. the only thing that dulled the voice in his head, from when you used to talk to him like he was the only man in the world. his addiction, his only vice.
~
morning
the brunette boy sat slumped on the couch, one leg folded under him, the other stretched across the coffee table. sunlight crept through the blinds, painting uneven lines across his face. his hoodie hung half-off his shoulder, hair tied back loosely, a blunt tucked behind his ear like muscle memory.
he looked fucking wrecked.
you padded out from the hallway, wrapped in a big t-shirt that definitely wasn’t yours. it hung too low on your thighs, smelled faintly like suguru’s cologne, and that made something twist in your stomach when you noticed choso glance at it once, then away with a twitch of his eye.
“good morning, cho” you said, trying to sound casual, cheerful, like nothing weird had happened last night.
he didn’t look at you right away. his thumb was tapping against the armrest, slow and rhythmic. “yo.”
you bit your lip, moving to the kitchen counter. the silence pressed between you like humidity. it felt different now, awkward, thick.
you’d never had awkward silence with him before.
“uh, you sleep okay?” you tried again, voice soft, careful.
he finally turned to look at you. dark circles rimmed his eyes, and his tone came out flat. “where’s geto?”
your stomach dropped. “huh?”
“suguru,” he said again, leaning back into the couch. “where’d he go?”
you blinked, your throat suddenly dry. “oh. um. he—uh—left early, he doesn't really stay the night...he sorta just comes at night whenever he wants and leaves when we're done.”
choso didn’t say anything, just nodded slowly, eyes still half-lidded. but you knew that look—his patience hanging by a thread, the faint twitch of his jaw, that lazy exterior covering something sharper underneath.
“choso,” you said quietly, walking over a bit. “did you… uhm— hear us?”
his eyes flicked up to yours. “mhm.”
the word hit heavier than it should’ve. you looked down at your hands, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “oh my god. i thought you were asleep. i didn’t mean for you to—”
“s’alright,” he said, cutting you off, voice rough. “walls are thin, y’know, i get it.”
you winced. “was it—was it bad?”
he let out a low, humorless chuckle, the memory of his band mates grunts and your pretty gasps still fresh in his mind. “mhm. heard it all.”
you felt heat crawl up your neck, mortified. “shit, choso, i’m so sorry. i really didn’t think—”
“don’t worry 'bout it,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “i’ll just sleep the morning away, got the gig tonight anyway, so it should be fine.”
you hesitated, wanting to say something to make it better, to make him better, but his tone was a closed door.
so you offered the only thing that came to mind. “let me make you breakfast? as an apology?”
he looked up, studying you for a second before nodding. “right... sure.”
you exhaled in quiet relief and turned toward the kitchen, grabbing eggs and bread from the fridge.
you weren’t sure what he liked this early. he usually slept until noon, leaving trails of smoke and half-empty cereal bowls behind, but it felt right to do something. the clinking of pans filled the silence.
behind you, choso leaned his head back on the couch, eyes half open, watching the light catch in your hair as you moved. he wanted to stay annoyed, to keep that boundary up. but the sight of you—bare legs, hair messy, humming softly under your breath while cooking in the kitchen—hit him in that dull, sore spot inside his chest.
“you should come to the gig tonight, if geto didn't already invite ya',” he said suddenly, voice low.
you glanced over your shoulder, surprised. “yeah, you want me to come?”
“i do.” he stretched, reaching for the blunt on the table but not lighting it yet. “you haven’t seen us play in a while.”
you smiled a little, flipping a piece of toast. “yeah, sure. i’ll come.”
he grunted something like approval, pretending not to notice how your eyes softened when you said it, the way your face lit up as you moved your hands.
you’d seen clips online—crowds packed tight in dark venues, neon lights washing over exorcize as they played.
they weren’t just another college band anymore. they were it. the band everyone wanted to fuck, to be, to orbit around.
gojo with his wild white hair and stupidly perfect grin, toji’s quiet menace on bass, suguru’s calm confidence, and choso behind the drums, silent but magnetic, his hair sticking to his face, eyes half-lidded, lost in rhythm.
they all had that look, that raw, sexy allure that made people crave them like meth.
and you’d been there at the start of it. before the crowds, before the smoke machines and the afterparties. when it was just choso, hunched over a kit in the living room, half stoned, tapping out rhythms while you studied on the couch.
the smell of butter and coffee filled the apartment. you plated up the food—scrambled eggs, toast, a few slices of avocado—and brought it over to him.
“here,” you said softly, setting the plate in front of him. “a really shitty peace offering.”
he gave a small smile, lazy but real. “yum.”
you sat down next to him, tucking your legs under you. the couch dipped between you, and the silence that followed wasn’t as sharp this time. he picked at his food for a while, eating slow.
“seriously though, cho,” you said after a minute, eyes on your plate, “i’m really sorry about last night.”
he shrugged, chewing. “told you, s' fine.”
“it’s not fine,” you insisted, voice quiet. “that must’ve been… weird for you. i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
choso let out a low snort, setting his fork down. “y/n. you were horny. you got dicked down. shit happens.”
you froze, staring at him with wide eyes, face flushing deep. “ew,”
he smirked a little, leaning back. “what? just sayin’. it's no big deal.”
“yuck, don't talk to me like i'm one of your little junkie friends!”
“why not? we're not friends now?” he asked, in a tone that was so laid back and careless it made you anger, “what are we then? don’t get all shy now, i'm tryna lighten the shitty mood.”
you swatted his hand away, embarrassed but smiling despite yourself. “stop it, we're just friends... it's just— just shut up.”
“yeah,” he said, a small grin tugging at his mouth. “heard that before.”
you laughed under your breath, shaking your head. for a moment, it felt like old times again.
easy, unspoken comfort settling back between you. but under it all, he felt that same ache still there, low and constant.
the thought of geto touching you, of your voice on the other side of the wall, it looped in his head like a bad song he couldn’t skip.
he finished his plate, leaned back, and closed his eyes.
“thanks for breakfast, it was real good, y/n. you'd make a good housewife y'know,” he said.
“god just shut up,” you said with an all too dramatic eyeroll.
the quiet lingered again, softer this time.
~
the studio reeked of ash and stale beer. gojo was already shirtless, sprawled across the leather couch, strumming suguru’s guitar with no real purpose.
“bro, put that down before you break a string,” suguru said, tone bored but edged.
“relax, i’m blessing it,” gojo said, flashing him a grin.
toji sat off to the side, bass in hand, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off the day. he didn’t say much, but he didn’t need to, his presence was enough to keep the room balanced.
gojo noticed the slight tire in getos purple eyes and decided to pry. “so,” he said, spinning a drumstick between his fingers. “you look fucked, man. late night?”
suguru stretched his arms overhead, dark hair falling into his face. he smirked like he couldn’t help it. “mmm, something like that.”
“oh, come on,” gojo said, grinning. “you can’t just say ‘something like that.’ i need details, you fuck some chick, or?"
toji gave a quiet snort but didn’t look up from his tuning. “you gossip more than a fucking teenager, huh?”
“yeah, keeps me in shape.” gojo’s grin widened. “so? do tell.”
suguru’s smirk deepened, the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “you know, just y/n.”
“shit,” gojo said, sitting forward, elbows on his knees. “again? chosos little roommate? thought she was too sweet for you or whatever shitty excuse you made last time you slept with her and dipped.”
suguru shrugged. “sweet doesn’t mean boring.” he spoke like he was discussing a setlist, casual, detached. “can't stop going over to her place man. she's a great fuck, obedient, y'know? and tight as hell.”
gojo laughed under his breath. “oh yeah? she's sexy, sure, but i didn't know she had all of that going for her. you mind if i..."
“yeah, i do,” suguru said, unbothered. he leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs. “she's only sucking my cock right now and i wanna keep it that way.”
gojo raised both hands in mock surrender. “fair enough. so does she know about all the other pussy you get or?..." he teases.
"no. and she's not gonna. thinks i'm some fucking saint."
the way he said it made the air go strange—like they were both too comfortable talking about someone so badly who wasn’t even there.
toji glanced at them, expression flat.
“so what’s the deal then?” gojo asked, voice dropping just slightly. “you two dating?”
suguru’s tone turned dry. “not exactly. it’s just casual, a bit messy.”
“that mean she thinks you are and you don’t?”
little did the guys know, choso was standing in the hallway outside the studio, leaning against the wall, eyes half-lidded, hoodie drawn over his head. the door was slightly ajar.
at first he just wanted to pass, maybe pop in later when they started playing. but then he heard it—
“she’s a little too attached. wants to talk about everything. i don’t do clingy bitches,” suguru said, voice casual, almost bored.
choso froze.
“it’s fine. she knows what this is, if she gets hurt, that’s not on me.”
choso’s jaw tightened under the hoodie. his hands curled into fists, then unclenched. the smoke haze that usually clouded his head felt sharper now, stinging like cold air.
"does choso care? i mean, he's pretty much always high off his face so i doubt he'd even notice, but still. you can't be quite even if you tried." gojo added.
"nah, choso doesn't give a fuck about anything, i'm sure he doesn't care."
gojo just rolled his eyes and nodded along, clearly geto didn't know shit about his supposed friend.
choso was classical stoned, sure, but he was a deep thinker. although the never really voiced his opinions doesn't mean he doesn't have any. and the assumption that he doesn't care about you, the one girl he can actually feel himself around, feel comfortable with? it's a punch to the gut.
“plus, maybe he’s some sick cuck, maybe i’m doing him a favor fucking y/n loud enough for him to hear,” suguru said next, the words like a punchline to the room.
gojo laughed, oblivious, egging him on. toji’s bass sat idle, a quiet observer.
choso’s stomach twisted, sour and heavy, but his face stayed blank. he’d heard enough. everything he’d felt last night—the jealousy, the heat, the ache—coiled into a tighter knot in his chest.
and yet. he didn’t react. didn’t slam the door open or yell, he was too level headed for that. he just let the words hang there, let the laughter roll over him. the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat became his anchor.
then, like he always did, he slipped into his usual mask. the hoodie covered his eyes, his hands shoved deep into the pocket of his baggy sweatshirt.
he pushed the door open, just enough to enter, and let his presence announce him.
“’bout time,” gojo said, lounging back on the couch, grinning like nothing was off, like he wasn't just talking questionably about him. “thought you were skipping rehearsal.”
“nah,” choso said, voice low, clipped, casual. “traffic was slow.”
suguru glanced up, immediately switching to his usual calm, lazy composure. “afternoon,” he said evenly.
choso gave a small nod, dropped his bag, and moved to the drum kit, adjusting cymbals without looking at anyone else.
but under the surface, the coiled anger, hurt, and frustration hummed. every tap of the drumsticks later would carry some of that weight, silent, restrained, but there.
gojo, pretending to be oblivious, grinned at him. “you good, man? look like you haven’t slept in days.”
“didn’t,” choso said, tone clipped.
gojo whistled, dragging the notion. “what, neighbor’s dog barking again?”
“something like that.” choso gave suguru a quick side glance before settling in further.
suguru’s hand stilled for a second on the fretboard. he didn’t look up, but he could feel choso’s eyes flick toward him.
toji caught the tension first, his gaze shifting between them. “you two done?” he asked dryly. “we practicing or what?”
choso exhaled, sitting down behind the kit. “yeah. let’s get it.”
the first few hits were slow, a warm-up rhythm, but every strike landed with more force than usual. the echo bounced around the room, sharp and deliberate, filling the silence that had started to suffocate the space.
gojo laughed lightly, trying to shake it off. “guess that’s a yes.” he adjusted his mic stand. “alright boys, from the top.”
the noise erupted again, guitar, bass, drums, the controlled chaos of sound. it filled every corner of the studio, pushing back whatever words had hung there before.
suguru played clean, precise, every note in place, but his mind wasn’t entirely in it. he could feel the weight of choso’s rhythm behind him, each beat heavy, almost personal.
choso kept his head down, sticks moving fast, steady. he wasn’t thinking about the music. he was thinking about voices in thin-walled apartments, about laughter that sounded just like this. about how easily people could talk about something that still sat raw in his chest.
gojo sang through the chorus, hair sticking to his forehead, eyes half-closed. toji’s bass lines held everything together. and choso, he hit the drums like he was trying to keep from saying something out loud.
when the song ended, there was a moment of quiet, the kind that comes right after noise when everyone’s heart is still beating too fast.
“tight,” gojo said, wiping sweat off his face. “we’re gonna kill it tonight.”
“yeah,” toji said simply, setting his bass down.
choso nodded once, not looking at anyone.
suguru adjusted his guitar strap, clearing his throat. “we’ll meet back here at eight,” he said, tone easy. “venue’s expecting us by nine.”
choso started packing up his sticks. the others were still talking, voices fading into background noise. he kept his head low, eyes on the drum kit.
“yo, cho,” gojo said suddenly. “you bringing anyone tonight?”
choso hesitated. “y/n said she'd show.”
“ahh, she better,” gojo grinned. “need a familiar face in the crowd.”
suguru’s hand tightened imperceptibly on his strap.
choso zipped his bag and stood. “mhm. see you later.”
no one stopped him. the door shut quietly behind him, the sound echoing longer than it should have.
for a second, the three of them just stood there. gojo hummed, breaking the silence. “yeah, i think he heard you, and he definitely does care.”
suguru didn’t answer. he just stared at the door for a long moment before setting his guitar down, the corner of his mouth twitching like he wanted to say something and thought better of it.
toji rolled his shoulders and muttered, “doesn’t matter now. just shut up and focus on tonight's gig."
~
choso pushes the door to your apartment at around 7.p.m, his skateboard bumping against the wall as he toes his sneakers off. he decided to hit the skate park after the studio, and was just getting back now.
the apartment’s dark. not quiet-dark —off dark. no soft indie playlist humming from your room, no yellow light spilling down the hallway, no half-finished tea on the counter. just the faint hum of the fridge and the lingering scent of your coconut shampoo that always hangs in the air.
he squints toward the living room. nothing.
“yo, y/n?” his voice echoes a little. it sounds lazy, but underneath it’s got that edge, confused, half-worried. “you home, babe?”
nothing.
he pauses, drumming his fingers against his thigh. normally he wouldn’t think much of it, you liked to take long showers, disappear for coffee runs, but the place feels weird tonight. the kind of quiet that sits heavy.
“yo, for real, where the fuck are you?” he calls again, walking toward the kitchen, his hoodie half-zipped, hair still damp from washing it after practice. the smell of weed clings to him, mixed with cigarette smoke and a hint of cologne he must’ve borrowed from gojo.
he flicks on the hallway light, flinches a little at how harsh it is. the walls glow pale and flat. still no answer.
“y/n,” he mutters, a little louder now, “don’t fuckin’ do this horror movie shit.”
he checks the balcony. empty. checks the bathroom, light off, door cracked. nothing. his chest tightens even though he keeps telling himself he doesn’t care, that you’re probably fine, that he’s overreacting like some clingy idiot.
then he hears faint music. a muffled bassline leaking through your bedroom door.
he exhales, tension leaving his shoulders all at once, muttering, “jesus, fuckin’—you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”
he knocks lightly, then pushes the door open without waiting.
and freezes.
you’re standing in front of your mirror, airpods in, the faint shimmer of your lip gloss catching the lamplight. you’re half-dressed, black skirt, sheer tights, tiny top, and your hair sits perfectly like you didn’t even try. your room smells like warmth and perfume and clean skin.
for a second, choso forgets how to breathe.
“shit,” he says under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck.
you pull an airpod out and turn toward him, surprised. “oh my god, you scared me.”
he blinks slowly, eyes dragging up from your legs to your mouth, then back down again. “yeah, uh—my bad. place was dark. thought you got kidnapped or somethin’.”
you laugh softly, shaking your head. “kidnapped? really?”
he shrugs, leaning against the doorframe. “could happen. you never know. world’s fucked.”
you roll your eyes but smile. “well, i’m fine. just getting ready for the gig.”
“yeah, i can see that.” his voice dips lower without meaning to. “you look…” he pauses, tongue running over his teeth, trying to sound casual but it comes out rough. “fuck, you look hot as hell.”
you blink, heat crawling up your neck. “you think so?”
he nods, still rubbing his neck, eyes locked on you. “yeah. like, real talk, y/n, you’re gonna make it hard to focus tonight. literally everyone’s gonna be staring.”
you laugh, a little flustered. “you’re just saying that.”
“nah,” he says, finally walking into your room. “not just sayin’. like—you look fuckin’ insane. good insane.”
you smile, glancing back at your reflection, fixing your earring. “thanks, cho.”
he drops down onto your bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. “you mind if i chill here? watch the whole… transformation process?”
“be my guest,” you say, turning back to your mirror.
he leans back on his hands, watching you move. your drawers open, mascara wand twirling between your fingers, your skirt swishing when you shift. the music in your airpods leaks just enough for him to catch the rhythm.
he tries to stay cool, keeps that lazy look on his face, but his heart’s still pounding from the moment he saw you. his head’s full of too many things, practice, suguru’s voice, your laugh, the sound of his name coming from you.
after a minute, he says, “we gotta leave in, like, an hour. gojo’s picking up suguru and toji, you wanna ride with me or get there yourself?”
you turn around, surprised. “oh, i can come with you?”
“course,” he says, shrugging. “beats paying for parking. you'll be abit early is all.”
you grin. “then yeah, i’ll come with you, doesn't matter to me, cho.”
“aight,” he says, stretching his legs out, smirking just a little. “sweet.”
he’s quiet for a while after that. you keep getting ready, music still faintly playing, the smell of your perfume thick in the air. he fiddles with the ring on his thumb, his mind replaying suguru’s words like static.
she’s a great fuck, obedient and tight as hell.
she thinks i’m some fuckin’ saint.
maybe he’s some sick cuck.
the words crawl under his skin. he can’t stop hearing them, can’t stop imagining the look on your face if you knew.
he shifts, sits up straighter. “hey,” he says suddenly.
you hum in response, focused on your eyeliner.
“can i ask you somethin’?”
“sure.”
“what’s the deal with you and geto?”
you pause mid-stroke. “what do you mean?”
he shrugs like it’s no big deal. “just… what are you two, exactly? like, are you dating or is it just some hookup thing?”
you blink at his reflection in the mirror, half-smiling. “why, you gonna make fun of me again for last night?”
he shakes his head. “nah. i’m serious.”
something about his tone makes you turn fully, leaning against your dresser. “oh. um…” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “i don’t know. i mean, i like him a lot. we hang out, we… yeah. i guess we’re dating? hes never actually said it, but it sure feels like it.”
he stares at you for a long moment, his chest tightening.
“you guess?”
“yeah.” you laugh softly, awkward. “he’s not, like, big on labels, i think. but we spend time together. he’s nice to me. i like being with him.”
choso nods slowly, but his face doesn’t change. “right. 'nice to you.'”
you frown, studying him. “what’s that supposed to mean?”
he looks away, picking at a loose thread on your blanket. “nothin’. just… didn’t figure him for the relationship type.”
“why not?” you ask, voice soft but curious.
he shrugs again, lazy like always, though his voice is heavier now. “he’s just… not the kinda guy who stays still, y’know? always got somethin’ else goin’ on. kinda hard to picture him with one person.”
you tilt your head. “you sound like you know him better than i do.”
“maybe i do,” he mutters.
“then tell me,” you say quietly. “should i be worried?”
his jaw tightens. he doesn’t answer right away. he wants to tell you, wants to let it spill out, the whole disgusting thing he heard at practice, the way suguru laughed about you like you were nothing but a story to pass around. it’s right there, sitting heavy on his tongue.
but when he looks at you, soft eyes, hopeful little smile, the way you look at him like he’s safe, he feels sick.
you’re too good for it. too sweet. too fucking naive to see how much he’s playing you, and he can’t stand the idea of being the one to shatter it.
“cho?” you ask gently.
he blinks. “yeah.”
“what were you gonna say?”
he opens his mouth, ready to just do it—to tell you everything, to ruin whatever fantasy you’ve built around suguru—but then your phone lights up on the dresser.
suguru calling.
you both look at it.
your heart jumps a little, that reflexive smile pulling at your lips. you grab the phone, swiping to answer. “hey.”
choso watches you, expression unreadable. your voice softens instantly, your tone sweet and familiar in a way that makes his stomach twist.
“yeah, i’m just getting ready,” you say, turning slightly away from him. “mhm… yeah, i’ll see you there, choso's driving me.”
his fingers drum against his knee. your voice is quiet now, almost a whisper. he can’t hear the words, only the tone—light, careful, like you’re trying not to say the wrong thing.
you laugh at something he says, that little laugh that used to be his favorite sound in the world.
and something in choso deflates.
he stands slowly, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. your perfume still hangs in the air, heavy and warm.
“hey,” you say, glancing at him mid-call, mouthing, one sec, before turning back.
he nods, grabbing his keys from your desk where he’d dropped them.
you’re still talking, giggling now, saying something about how you’ll be there soon. he heads for the door.
“yeah,” you murmur into the phone. “love you too.”
his steps falter for half a second, then keep going.
the door clicks shut behind him, quiet.
you love him? god, how could he tell you after hearing that...
~
the venue’s already packed when you and choso pull up. neon bleeds across the cracked pavement, the sound of bass leaking through the concrete.
you can feel the pull of the crazy fans even from the street. drunk laughter, the sharp scent of cigarette smoke, someone yelling over someone else.
choso kills the engine and leans back in the driver’s seat for a second, watching people shuffle in through the side door. the light outside hits his face in flashes. pale, pink, blue, he’s fading between moods.
“you ready?” he asks, voice low, lazy, but you can hear something else under it.
“yeah,” you say, adjusting your skirt, checking your lip gloss in the visor mirror.
he glances over, eyes flicking briefly down your legs before turning away again. “lookin’ like that, you’re gonna cause a fuckin’ riot, man.”
you laugh softly. “you said that earlier.”
“yeah, and i meant it both times.”
you shake your head, smilin despite yourself.
inside, it’s chaos. the place smells like sweat and beer, lights flashing in dizzy loops, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder. gojo’s voice echoes somewhere backstage, already hyping people up. you follow choso through the narrow hallway, your hand brushing his arm as someone shoves past. since when was he so muscular?
“sorry,” you say automatically.
he glances back. “nah, you’re good.”
he holds the side door open, letting you through first.
the band’s gear is scattered everywhere. amps, cables, beer cans, half-empty water bottles. suguru’s there, tuning his guitar, cigarette hanging from his mouth.
when he looks up and sees you, his expression softens into that easy smile that always used to make your stomach twist.
“hey, pretty thing,” he says, walking over.
choso looks away, jaw tight.
“hey,” you say quietly, leaning up to kiss him. his hand slips to your waist, the kiss short but a little too public, a little too look-at-me.
“you made it,” he murmurs.
“told you i would.”
behind you, gojo’s laugh cuts through the noise. “yo, choso, you finally dragged n/n outta her cave!”
choso smirks. “yeah, figured she could use a little culture.”
“culture, huh?” gojo grins at you. “hope you’re ready for noise complaints and groupies.”
“i’ll manage,” you say, smiling.
toji doesn’t look up from his bass, just gives a small nod in greeting. the whole room buzzes with the kind of pre-show tension you can feel in your teeth.
everyone’s running on nerves and caffeine and whatever else they’ve put in their systems.
choso tosses his hoodie onto a crate, rolling up his sleeves. he looks good like that—focused, hair half-tied, a strand falling over his cheek. he’s calm but sharp now, a different kind of energy from the stoned version of him you’re used to. the one who drifts through mornings in smoke.
“five minutes,” someone calls out from the stage manager’s booth.
you hover near the wall, watching them all get into place. gojo bounces on his heels, suguru spins his pick between his fingers, toji stays silent. choso’s behind his kit, tapping his sticks against the snare like he’s talking to it.
the crowd roars as the lights dim.
you press closer to the side of the stage, the bass vibrating through your shoes.
gojo’s voice hits the mic, smooth and arrogant. “we’re exorcize. don’t fucking blink.”
the first chord screams through the room, and everything shifts.
the sound is huge. overwhelming. suguru’s guitar cuts clean through the noise, toji’s bass a low pulse under it all, and then choso—he owns the rhythm. every hit lands deep, every movement controlled but raw, like he’s drumming out something that’s been living under his skin for years.
you can’t take your eyes off him.
he’s sweat-slick already, jaw tight, eyes half-lidded. the lights flash white, then red, then blue across his face. every motion is deliberate, steady, like he’s trying to stay anchored in something only he can hear.
and even though the crowd’s losing their minds, it feels like it’s just him and the sound.
you glance at suguru. he looks good too—cool, collected, confident. but next to choso, he feels staged. rehearsed.
your chest tightens. you look back at choso.
there’s something different in the way he plays tonight. sharper. more aggressive. like he’s exorcising something, no pun intended. every strike on the snare is heavier, almost angry. you wonder if it’s just adrenaline or if something happened earlier.
when the first song ends, the crowd screams. gojo throws his head back, grinning, shouting into the mic. “holy shit! you guys showed up tonight!”
choso stays quiet, twirling his sticks, taking a long drink of water. his eyes flick toward the side of the stage, toward you.
you smile.
he doesn’t. just nods once, small, subtle, before looking away. the next song starts before you can think about it too long.
you dance a little, lost in it, letting the music carry you. but somewhere in the back of your head, you can feel his stare again. quick glances between beats, the way his gaze lingers just a second too long before he looks back down.
and for the first time, you realize you’re not sure which one of you it’s harder for.
by the time the set ends, you’re breathless from the noise, your voice hoarse from shouting. the band leaves the stage to cheers, sweat-soaked and buzzing. gojo’s the first to collapse backstage, laughing.
“we killed that shit,” he says, half-yelling.
“yeah, not bad,” toji mutters, towel over his head.
suguru grins, walking straight toward you. “told you we’d put on a good show.”
you nod, heart still racing. “you were amazing.”
he leans in to kiss you again, and you let him, even though your eyes flick over his shoulder for a second—to choso. he’s wiping sweat from his forehead, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the floor.
suguru pulls back, arm still around your waist. “so, you coming to the afterparty?”
you hesitate. “uh, yeah, i think so.”
“good.” he kisses your temple, then turns toward gojo to talk about something.
you stand there for a second, unsure of what to do with your hands. the noise of the room fills the space between you and choso. he finally looks up, trying to push aside the guilt he still felt for not being able to man up and tell you about suguru.
you smile, small and tired. “you were insane up there.”
he laughs, strong yet humorless, the phrase 'love you too' still haunting his every thought. “yeah? thanks.”
“no, really. i couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
his mouth twitches, like he wants to smile but doesn’t trust himself to. “yeah, well… guess i did my job.”
you step closer, voice soft. “you okay?”
he nods, eyes flicking briefly toward suguru, then back at you. “yeah. just… beat.”
you nod too, not sure what else to say. gojo yells something about shots, suguru laughs, and the night keeps moving around you.
but in the middle of all of it, you and choso stand there for a second, caught between the noise and the silence. like the whole night’s holding its breath, waiting to see which one of you breaks first.
~
the afterparty’s at some half-finished warehouse space two blocks from the venue, the kind of place that smells like spilled beer, sweat, and old amps. led lights are strung along exposed pipes, blinking unevenly. someone’s blasting music from a bluetooth speaker that keeps cutting out.
you walk in first, suguru’s hand laced with yours, his thumb tracing idle circles against your skin. you look good under the dim light—like you belong there, like you’re glowing even in the noise and haze.
choso follows behind, slower, his hoodie unzipped and hair sticking slightly to his forehead. he already smells of weed; he’d lit up the second they left the venue.
people yell greetings, offer shots, hugs, congratulations. gojo’s already got his arm around two people he definitely doesn’t know, yelling about how they fucking killed it tonight. toji’s slouched near a speaker, scrolling through his phone like none of this matters.
suguru doesn’t let go of you. not once. he keeps you close, leaning down every so often to murmur something in your ear that makes you laugh. he’s magnetic in these settings. composed, charming, eyes sharp enough to make anyone feel seen.
choso sits on a couch near the edge of the room, elbow draped over the back, watching through half-lidded eyes.
you look happy.
and for a minute, that’s enough.
he takes a drag, holds it, exhales slow. watches the smoke drift toward the ceiling. you’re laughing at something suguru said, your head tipped back, eyes bright.
he can almost convince himself it’s fine.
you’re happy. maybe that’s all that matters.
but he can’t stop remembering the way suguru talked earlier at the studio, voice low, that half-smirk twisting his mouth as he said your name like it was something to toss away. you lean up and kiss suguru’s cheek, whisper something. he nods, still holding your waist.
“gonna go fix my makeup,” you say, smiling. “don’t move.”
he smirks. “not going anywhere, princess.”
you squeeze his hand and disappear down the hallway. choso takes another drag. exhales through his nose, slow. for a few seconds, suguru just stands there. then, like someone flipped a switch, his attention shifts.
choso notices it instantly, the way suguru’s gaze catches on someone across the room. tall girl. dark hair. red lipstick. she’s leaning against the kitchen counter, talking to some guy with a drink in her hand.
choso knows her. everyone does. she used to hang around the studio all the time. suguru’s old fling. the one he’d bragged about, laughed about, talked about like she was a good story, just like you. his shoulders tense.
suguru drifts over. slowly. easy. one hand tucked in his pocket, the other reaching for a drink as he greets her.
she smiles like she’s been waiting.
he says something that makes her laugh, that same half-grin sliding across his face, the same one he used when he looked at you five minutes ago. choso stares at them, heartbeat starting to pick up, jaw tightening around the joint.
he can’t hear what they’re saying, but he doesn’t need to. he can read the body language, the subtle lean-in, the flirtatious tilt of her head, suguru’s slow smile.
the same old act.
he feels something stir in his chest, something dark and heavy. he looks toward the hallway, half expecting you to come back. you don’t.
he looks at suguru again, and his mouth moves before his brain can stop it.
“yo.”
his voice cuts through the music, quiet but sharp.
suguru glances over his shoulder. “hmm?”
choso’s still on the couch, but his tone’s different—lower, edged. “you maybe wanna get your shit in order before she gets back?”
the girl blinks, looks between them, then takes a step back.
suguru raises an eyebrow. “huh?”
choso leans forward, elbows on his knees, smoke curling around his fingers. “you heard me.”
the room feels quieter even though the music’s still playing.
suguru laughs once, soft, incredulous. “you serious right now?”
“deadass.”
he looks away for a second, shakes his head like he’s amused. “you’re high, choso.”
“not that high.” choso stands up, slow and deliberate. “i just don’t like watching you act like a fuckin’ idiot when she’s not even gone five minutes.”
suguru’s jaw tightens, that calm exterior starting to crack just a little. “what’s it to you?”
“what’s it to me?” choso echoes, stepping closer. “she’s my roommate, dumbass. i actually give a shit if she gets hurt.”
“roommate,” suguru repeats, his smirk returning. “that what we’re calling it?”
“yeah,” choso says flatly. “that’s what we’re calling it.”
suguru laughs again, but it’s sharper this time. “come on, man. don’t tell me you’re getting protective. that’s cute.”
choso doesn’t smile. doesn’t blink. “just don’t be the asshole i know you can be, yeah?”
for a second, something flickers behind suguru’s eyes. annoyance, maybe. guilt. or nothing at all. he looks away, taking a sip of his drink. “you don’t know what you think you know, choso.”
“nah,” choso says quietly. “i know exactly what i heard.”
suguru’s gaze snaps back to him. “what?”
“the studio,” choso says, voice steady. “you should watch what you say when you think nobody’s listening to you talk shit.”
suguru freezes, for a long moment, neither of them move.
then suguru laughs again—soft, controlled. “you think you know what that was about.”
“don’t need to think,” choso says. “you said it clear as day.”
“she’s a big girl,” suguru says after a pause, voice low. “she can handle herself.”
choso’s eyes narrow. “you mean she trusts you. that’s not the same thing.” suguru doesn’t respond.
choso takes another step forward, close enough now that the smell of smoke and alcohol mixes between them. “if you don’t give a fuck about her, fine. just don’t stand here pretending you do.”
he steps back, drops the joint into an empty cup, and turns toward the hallway, he almost bumps into you.
you’re back, smiling, oblivious, still glowing from the night. “hey, what’d i miss?”
both men go still.
suguru’s mask snaps back on instantly, smile smooth and easy. “nothing, babe. just talking band shit.” you nod, glancing between them. choso’s eyes are hard to read. too calm, too quiet. you loop your arm through suguru’s. “oh! okay. drinks?”
“yeah,” he says, kissing your temple. “let’s get you one.” he leads you toward the kitchen, the two of you slipping back into the party’s pulse.
choso stays where he is, arms crossed, jaw tight. from across the room, he watches as suguru hands you a drink, laughs at something you say, leans in close like nothing happened.
and for the first time in a long time, choso feels the kind of anger that doesn’t burn out, it just settles. slow, deep, and quiet.
he reaches into his pocket, pulls out his lighter, flicks it once, twice. the flame dances for a second before he shuts it off.
he takes a breath.
then another.
the music swells again, the noise swallowing everything.
and still, all he can hear is suguru’s laugh and the echo of his own restraint cracking, one hairline fracture at a time.
.
a few hours later
choso doesn’t mean to, really.
but the tight, burning knot in his chest, the one suguru’s smirk planted there, the one that grew watching him flirt with that old girl, the one that pulsed every time he saw your smile linger on suguru instead of him. fuck, it’s unbearable.
he’s been quiet, slow, keeping that lazy, half-asleep stoner mask on, puffing on his joint like everything’s fine. but it isn’t. it never has been.
he promised. always promised. no pills, no hardcore shit. just weed. the band worried enough about him already, addiction has always been a shadow he could never quite shake, and they knew if he went deeper, it’d swallow him.
but now, standing in the pulsing warehouse light, the noise vibrating up through his shoes, the alcohol and smoke thick in the air, he’s feeling something foreign. anger. jealousy. raw heat that makes his chest ache and stomach twist.
“yo, kamo,” he hears a guy drop down next to him, some old friend from college, he's leaning in. “nice to see you man. it's been ages."
choso just nods along, letting the guy talk about whatever he thinks is so important, his ears only really peeking up when the guy says, "you look like you need somethin’ a lil stronger.”
choso looks at him, slow. “mm, like what.”
the guy holds out a small baggie. pills, little white caps. “just some party shit. everyone here's doing it."
choso stares. his promise to the band, to you, floats somewhere in the back of his head , only weed, nothing heavier.
you'd all told him how addictive he could get, how dipping his feet into any sort of hardcore drugs wouldn't turn out great for him.
he takes the bag anyway. too pissed if to give a shit about anything other than numbing what he's feeling. "yeah, alright.”
“sweet,” the guy says, handing him a drink to wash it down.
the high hit him slow at first, a gentle fog wrapping itself around his chest, legs, fingers. choso felt the kind of calm that usually made him drift through a morning on the couch, hoodie loose, blunt tucked behind his ear.
but tonight, it was different. it hit like a wave he couldn’t ride without tumbling. and the warehouse, sticky, crowded, glowing in neon and sweat, was the perfect storm for it.
he wandered through the party, each step lazy, like he was moving through molasses, yet every sense screamed sharper than usual. the bassline rattled his chest, people’s voices blurred into a constant hum, the smell of booze, perfume, and sweat mixing into a heady cloud.
he took another long drag from his joint, holding the smoke, letting it curl around him, thinking it might shield him from the gnawing coil in his stomach, but it didn’t. not really.
“hey, choso,” a familiar voice broke through the haze. a fan, a girl maybe nineteen or twenty, pressed forward with wide eyes and a camera phone. “can we… like, take a pic? i love your band, dude, you’re insane on drums..
choso blinked slowly, the effects of the drug tangling with his words. “ahh, yeah… fuckin’ yeah, for sure.” he motioned lazily to the spot, half-smile tugging at his mouth. he let the girl snap a few pictures, asked her dumb little questions, about the band, gigs, where they got the idea for that last song—and he answered, voice drawling and thick, slurring words just slightly.
every few minutes, though, his gaze flicked back to you. and every time, there you were. pressed against suguru, who had that impossible grin plastered on his face, thumb brushing your hip while making conversation with someone else. choso’s stomach twisted. you weren’t tense. you laughed at something suguru said, head tilted back—but his jaw clenched.
and then he noticed it. suguru’s eyes, dark and dirty, sweeping across the room, lingering on every passing girl with a flash of that smug, possessive look. choso felt something sour bloom inside him, anger. jealousy. something he hadn’t felt in a long time, something sharp and alien.
he sucked in a long drag of his joint, letting it burn down slowly, but the warmth didn’t soothe him. the high pressed against the raw edges of his chest, amplifying the foreign heat that bubbled with every glance suguru threw.
the way his lips curved slightly at you, and yet his eyes traveled over the figure of every passer by, made choso’s fingers itch to smash something, anything.
and then it happened. a girl, tall, laughing, hair loose over her shoulders, crossed the warehouse floor, and suguru’s gaze latched onto her, heavier than he had been doing.
just like that, he leaned down slightly to you, whispered something, and before choso could register it, suguru excused himself.
"gonna step out for a bit,” he said smoothly, voice low, eyes catching choso’s once before he disappeared through the side door.
you watched him go, smiling like it was nothing. like you didn’t notice the tension he left behind.
choso’s lips parted slightly, and for the first time tonight, he felt some clarity in the chaos—the haze, the crowd, the thrum of the bass—all of it funneled into one magnetic point: you.
he made his way through the crowd, knees a little wobbly, mind thick and messy with high thoughts, each step pulling him closer to you.
when he reached you, he leaned against the wall beside the couch, blinking slowly, trying to anchor himself despite his brain telling him to just spout nonsense.
“yo,” he said, voice low, a lazy drawl that was already fraying at the edges. “hey… hey you- you look… fuck, you look like— like somethin’ really fuckin’ hot. like, goddamn, don’t even—don’t even talk, just stand there, yeah?”
you looked at him, frowning slightly. his eyes were glassy, unfocused, but they held a sharp, almost wild intensity.
“cho… did you..? what did you take?” you asked carefully, voice low, hands resting lightly on the couch back. “you’re really high right now, aren’t you?”
he blinked slowly, shaking his head, hair falling into his face. “nah… nah, it’s… just… the whole place… it’s like—fuck, it’s like the world’s spinning.”
he ran a hand through his hair, eyes darting to you, then back toward the doorway where suguru had disappeared. “man, I swear, every time I look… he’s lookin’… like—fuck, like he’s owning somethin’ that’s mine. not yours, mine.”
you frowned, stepping closer. “cho… slow down. breathe. you’re not making sense.”
“sense? ha!” he laughed, sharp and hoarse. “fuck sense, you’re… you’re standin’ there, and I’m… I’m—shit, I’m like, all these fuckin’ feelings,” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely at you, voice cracking a little with the intensity.
“cho,” you said softly, moving to grab his arm, trying to steady him. “look at me. what did you take?”
he shook his head violently, sitting down on the edge of the couch, hands tugging at his hoodie strings. “nah… nah, can’t… fuck, can’t tell. you'll be mad at me. but you… you’re like… god, you’re fuckin’ everywhere in my head.”
you bit your lip, exhaling through your nose, letting a faint groan of frustration escape. “hey… listen to me. you’re too high. you’re spiraling. it’s not healthy. come on… we’re going home.”
he blinked up at you, expression softening slightly, but the haze still clouded his gaze. “home?” he muttered, a slow grin tugging at his mouth. “fuck… home. yeah, yeah, you… you’re home.”
you knelt beside him, voice gentle but firm. “yeah. c’mon, we’re leaving, you're fucking soaring.”
he blinked at you, then laughed softly, a little shaky. “you… you’re fuckin’ bossy, y’know that? like… goddamn, bossy as hell… I fuckin' like it. I like it a lot.”
you shook your head, smirking despite yourself. “yeah, well, bossy is gonna save your ass tonight. now get up.” you extended a hand. he took it slowly, fingers brushing yours, gripping tightly for a moment.
as you led him through the crowd, you leaned slightly toward gojo, speaking over your shoulder. “hey, tell geto I’m leaving for the night. also tell him not to come over later.”
gojo’s grin faltered slightly, but he raised a hand in mock salute. “yeah, yeah. whatever.”
you didn’t answer, just kept walking, guiding choso toward the side door. the night air hit him like a splash, sharp and cold, clearing some of the fog from his mind. he shivered, pulling the hoodie tighter around himself, looking at you with wide, almost pleading eyes.
“fuck, it’s… it’s cold out here,” he muttered, voice rough. “but… yeah, fuck… you smell, like… everything good.”
you rolled your eyes, smiling, tugging gently on his arm. “c'mon, get in the car you big baby.”
he followed, shuffling along beside you, shoulders hunched, hands fumbling with the hem of his hoodie. he let you guide him into the passenger seat of his sleek black mercedes, heat and regret and longing pressing together as you let go of his arm.
“yo… you know,” he said suddenly, voice low and rough, “I… I like you. fuckin’… like… goddamn, like really, really… yeah.”
you glanced at him, surprised, hand resting lightly on his arm. “cho… you don't know what you're saying,” you said softly, voice steady. “now let’s just get you home before you do anything stupid.”
he grinned, shaky but wide, and leaned slightly into you as you guided him along the sidewalk. “yeah… yeah, okay… home… yeah… but fuck, I swear… I swear, I’m like… all my feelings… all of ‘em… you’re fuckin’… yeah, you’re it.”
you laughed softly, shaking your head. you were starting to get really anxious. he's ever like this, never so open, never so talkative. “you're high. i don't want to hear any more of this nonsense, okay?”
~
you open the door to your apartment with a slightly more sober choso trailing behind you. normally, it was warm here, soft, your little refuge from the chaos of the outside world. tonight it was cold, unfamiliar, as if every object, the counter, the fridge, the chipped mug in the sink, was holding its breath.
choso was already inside, leaning against the kitchen bench, sleeves rolled up, hair falling into his eyes.
normally, even high, he was lazy, drifting. tonight he was… heavier. darker. like every beat of his pulse carried some of the tension from the warehouse, every breath filled with something raw, sharp, desperate.
“cho?” your voice was soft, tentative, as you stepped closer. the door clicked shut behind you and the sound seemed louder than it should have been. he didn’t answer at first, just watched you, eyes glassy but unblinking, half-shadowed in the dim light.
then he moved. suddenly, decisively. one long step forward, and he was close enough that you felt the heat from him, smelled the faint mix of weed, sweat, and his cologne. before you could react, he caught your wrist and guided you toward the counter, pressing you lightly against it.
“hey,” he murmured, low, rough, voice shaking just slightly. “don’t… don’t move. just… just listen.”
you froze, pulse jumping. normally he was lazy, teasing, stoner-lazy. not like this—not intense, not… commanding in that way that made your lower stomach tighten.
“choso—” you started, but he silenced you with a sharp glance, his eyes flicking up to yours, desperate, pleading.
“i… i’ve been keeping something from you,” he said, voice tight. “something stupid. something i should’ve… fuck, should’ve told you about a long time ago.”
you swallowed, your heart picking up. “hmm?… what is it?”
he exhaled slowly, hands brushing against the edge of the counter near your hips, close but not overbearing, just there enough that you felt trapped in the tension he carried.
“it’s… it’s about… suguru,” he said, jaw tightening. his voice caught in his throat for a second, then he pushed through. “about all the… shit he’s said. about you, y/n.”
your stomach dropped. what the hell was he talking about? he was clearly fucked out of his mind, slurring his words as his jaw twitched. you wanted to put him to sleep, tell him to calm down, but he looked too controlling, like he'd explode if he didn't get this out.
“suguru, he… he talks about you like you’re nothing,” choso continued, hands tightening around the edge of the counter as if he needed the anchor. “like… like he’s the only one with a right to… to even fucking look at you. he… he laughed, y/n. we were at the studio, and... he said—he said such shitty things about you."
your breath caught as he leaned in closer. "l-like what?..."
"shit... he said that he likes you because you’re obedient, you're 'tight as hell', a good fuck, like you’re… like you’re just… I don’t even know, a thing for him to screw. and then—”
he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated, dark eyes flicking to yours. “—then, tonight, while you were in the bathroom, doing your makeup, he went straight to his old fling, the girl he used to bang and brag about, just… just to… to prove something. he looked me dead in the eye. like he was… like he’s proud of it.”
you felt your throat tighten. your hands gripped the counter instinctively. “oh choso... i'm sorry you had to hear all of that… i—”
“no, no,” he cut you off, urgency flashing. “don’t you fucking start apologizing. don’t. you didn’t do anything. it’s all him. it’s… it’s just… i hate him. i fucking hate him, y/n.”
his voice was raw, breaking a little on the last word.
the smoke curling around him made him look sharper somehow, the dim light accentuating the edges of his face, the dark lines under his eyes. you’d never seen him like this. vulnerable, angry, but also… unflinchingly honest.
“choso... he's your band mate, i know what he did to me was shitty, but don't let that ruin your relationship with him... cmon…” your voice was quiet, unsure. you weren’t sure if you were supposed to comfort him or run. your chest hurt at the honesty in his voice.
“no. i don't care, y/n... and that’s not the worst part,” he said, leaning just a little closer, hands still on the counter, gaze locked on yours.
“the worst part is… i can’t—i can’t stop thinking about it. about him touching you, talking about you, laughing at the way he’s—fuck, i don’t even know. it makes me… it makes me feel like i’m losing my mind. like my chest is… i don’t know, ripping in two.”
your lips parted slightly, unsure what to say. his usual lazy, stoner-laden grin was gone. this was… desperate. needy. almost like he couldn’t stand not saying it out loud.
he was slurring his words, looking frantic.
“and i… i want to—” he paused, swallowed, voice rough, low. “i want to tell you… that i’d never… i’d never do that. not to you. not like him. not even close. you… you’re too good, too… i don’t… fuck. you’re not like that. and i… i like you, y/n.”
the words hit harder than you expected. you’d thought he was joking before, rambling high, maybe even teasing. but this… this was different. he was standing close, breathing uneven, heart thudding in his chest, eyes pleading, and you realised, he meant it.
“choso…” you whispered. you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, your chest tight. “you… you mean that?”
“yeah,” he said, a harsh exhale of smoke escaping his lips. “i mean it. i’ve liked you for so long, and i… fuck, i just… kept it buried. kept it lazy, kept it… i don’t know, hidden. i didn’t wanna make it weird, or fuck things up. but tonight… tonight i saw everything. you with him. and i couldn’t hold it anymore.”
he reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. his hand lingered, trembling slightly. “you're... you're really special to me, y’know? not like… possessive or some shit. just… like… i need you. i need you to know i don’t want anyone else doing what he did. talking about you like that. looking at you like that. not ever."
you bit your lip, heart racing, conflicted. the intensity of his confession, the anger at suguru, the neediness, it was… a lot.
you didn’t know how to feel. your body was leaning slightly into him, the pull of him against you magnetic, but your mind was spinning. suguru. choso. confusion and lust and relief all knotted together.
"why are you just telling me this now...?" you ask, shyly as he inches closer, grabbing your jaw and holding it loose.
"because i'm off my fucking face, y/n."
it was sudden, and you even giggled. because he was right. sober choso, stoned choso, he'd never been this open, never this vulnerable.
"... i don't know what to say, this is all so— fuck— it's so sudden. what am i supposed to do about suguru..." you ask, he closes his eyes and responds with his forehead pressed to yours.
"if i had it my way... you'd block his ass, never speak to the mother fucker again, and spend your nights wrapped up in my bed, instead of his. letting me take care of things, keeping you close so you'd know i was yours, asking you out like a proper fucking guy. not using you like some sort of pocket pussy."
that hit. because that's all you'd ever really wanted from someone. companionship, love, the kind of respect you just didn't feel from suguru no matter how many times you'd try make yourself think you did.
he finally let go of your face and stepped back, rubbing his hands down his own thighs like he needed the grounding. “c’mon,” he muttered, voice rough, low. “bed. i… i just wanna… be near you. just… lie down, okay?”
you nodded, still unsure, heart pounding, but the pull was magnetic. his bed was just down the hall, soft, slightly messy, with a blanket he probably hadn’t folded in days.
normally he was too stoner-lazy to care about anything resembling organization, but tonight the bed felt like a sanctuary. he moved ahead of you, swaying a little, still fumbling with his hoodie, and you followed, careful not to trip over the rug in the hallway.
once inside, he lowered himself onto the mattress with a groan that was half frustration, half relief. he patted the space beside him, a small, awkward gesture but charged with meaning. “get in here,” he said, voice soft now, almost pleading. “just… be here. with me.”
you perched at the edge for a moment, looking down at him. he looked vulnerable in the way you hadn’t seen before—high and open, yet completely raw. then, slowly, you slid in beside him.
he shifted slightly, making room, then wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. your head rested lightly against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing, the soft heat of his skin beneath your cheek.
“fuck… you feel good,” he murmured, voice thick and rough. “like… like everything i’ve been waiting for, all at once. i… i don’t want to move,"
you exhaled softly, heart hammering. “i’m here,” you whispered. “i won’t go anywhere.”
he pressed his face into your hair, a quiet groan escaping him, not sexual, not demanding, just… relief. he was holding onto you like no one's business, like proximity to you was the only thing keeping him tethered.
“i… i fucked up tonight,” he said, voice muffled against your hair. “i know… i was all over the place. off my face. but… you gotta know… i meant everything i said. every word. you’re the only one i want to be… like… close to. like this.”
you shifted a little, looking up at him. the sharp, high tension in his face had softened, replaced by a mixture of haze, exhaustion, and longing. “cho… i get it,” you murmured. “you don’t have to explain anymore. just… be here.”
you let yourself sink against him, chest pressed to his, but your mind was a storm. part of you was still sharp, aching with betrayal. the thought of suguru’s words, his casual cruelty, it stung, too fresh to be jumping into anything emotionally taxing as of now.
it left a sour taste, a tight knot in your stomach. you hated that you’d ever tried to make excuses for him, that you’d tried to convince yourself his calm exterior meant anything other than manipulation.
and yet, lying here with choso, pressed close to him, his warmth and his raw honesty wrapping around you, it felt like a shield. the tension, the anger, the hurt—they softened at the edges, dulled by the simple fact that he was here. that he wasn’t pretending. he wasn’t playing games. he didn’t want to own you—he just wanted you near, wanted to take care of you in the quietest, simplest way.
your chest warmed despite the lingering anger, the betrayal still gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. and yet, in this space, tangled together, pressed close in the dim glow of his bedroom, you could let yourself be content. content with the one person who’d always been honest with you, who’d finally shown you exactly how much he cared.
for now, that was all you needed.
~
the weeks had slipped past since you’d messaged geto to fuck off. you hadn’t spoken to him since that curt text, and honestly, it was quieter than you’d expected. no drama, no confrontations, just the dull ache of his absence.
the apartment felt calmer for it, too. you and choso hadn’t talked about that night, about the confession, the intensity, the things he’d admitted, but it hovered in the space between you like a low hum, unspoken but insistent.
and slowly, almost imperceptibly, a rhythm emerged. mornings were quiet, coffee mugs and peeling toast and sleepy smiles. afternoons slipped by on the couch, half-watching a show, half-dozing, your knees brushing against his.
evenings smelled like takeout and weed, music humming in the background as he sprawled lazily on the carpet, drumsticks idly tapping against his legs.
there were moments where it almost tipped, where the electricity between you made your fingers tremble and your stomach twist. a brush of hands in the kitchen, a shared laugh over something dumb on your phone, and for a heartbeat it felt like you could collapse into each other right then and there.
but choso was careful. patient. giving you space to breathe, letting the sting of geto fade, even as his gaze lingered longer than it probably should. he still wanted you close, but he held himself back, letting you set the pace. only on your own terms would he get close, letting you slip into his bed when you got lonely, letting him rub your back when things got stressful. the little things.
the band had its own tension.
practices had become sharper, more pointed, the edges of old frustrations showing. suguru’s sulking was more obvious these days, jaw tight, fingers always on his guitar strings like he was ready to snap at any moment.
he hadn’t forgiven you, or himself, for the way you’d just ended things. toji sighed more than usual, muttering about drama infecting the rhythm of the band.
gojo, predictably, had made it his life’s mission to tease both suguru and choso mercilessly. apparently, choso had spilled every detail from that night to him, and gojo’s sharp, smug grin had never left since.
“yo, cho,” gojo called during a rehearsal break, plopping onto the bass amp with a lazy flop. “have you swooped her up yet? any new updates on your little scheme to make her your play thing?"
choso’s eyes flicked up from the drumkit, one stick lazily twirling in his fingers. “shut the fuck up, gojo. that's not what i'm doing,” he said, voice flat but amused, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
he was back to his usual rhythm now. easy, teasing, present, but the underlying tension in the studio hung there anyway, like the air before a storm.
suguru scowled from the corner, tuning his guitar obsessively. “idiots,” he muttered, voice sharp. “both of you.”
toji snorted. “cho’s chillin’, you're the only one sulkin' man.”
the drums hit again, slow and steady, choso’s stick tapping a rhythm into the carpeted floor.
back at the apartment, it was quieter. the city hummed outside the windows while you and choso settled into something gentle, unspoken, almost tender.
one night, he was sprawled on the couch, hoodie pulled over his head, knees bent, and you were perched at the edge, flipping through a magazine. your hands brushed, his fingers lingered just a little longer than necessary as he gazed into your eyes like a man starved, the pull was undeniable.
“choso… we shouldn't just…ignore it.” you started, heart hammering.
he cut you off with a soft hum, eyes still hidden beneath the hood. “i know. but i’m… i’m trying… letting you breathe. letting you… heal first.”
your chest tightened. “it’s… it’s still weird. still raw. geto… he—”
“fuck geto,” he interrupted softly, voice low but firm. “he’s out. he’s done. i’m… here. for you. not asking for more than you can give.”
and that was enough. the rest of the night passed in quiet, soft laughter over dumb shows, slow music, the faint drumbeat from his sticks echoing against the walls.
no confessions, no admissions, just presence and the weight of his calm, steady warmth.
practices were intense now. the band had a gig coming up, the biggest they’d ever do. every session was longer, every riff tighter, every cymbal crash deliberate.
choso’s drumming drove the rhythm, his usual lazy charisma replaced by a quiet focus, punctuated by moments of laziness where he’d just lean into the kick drum and let the beat flow through him.
and through it all, you were there with choso. kitchen chats between sessions, lounging on the couch while he absentmindedly tapped his sticks on your coffee table, brushing against your knees when you passed by.
the apartment was your sanctuary and your battlefield, tension and warmth coexisting, your bodies close but boundaries carefully observed as you'd talk about everything.
"so, will i see you at the gig?"
"duh. i'll be front row screaming your name."
god, he wishes you would scream his.
~
the venue pulsed with energy. bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, the air thick with sweat, smoke, and anticipation.
you could feel the bass thumping through the soles of your boots before the band even came on. a low chant started somewhere in the crowd—ex-or-cize, ex-or-cize, ex-or-cize—and spread fast, a heartbeat made of strangers.
you were front and center, caught in the current of people, hands gripping the barricade. your chest was tight, a knot of nerves and excitement wound together. this was their biggest gig yet—bigger venue, bigger crowd, the kind of show that could push them up a tier.
the lights went low. a hush fell. and then gojo’s voice hit the mic, clear and cocky, dripping with that smug grin you knew even without seeing it.
“alright, alright, you sexy motherfuckers,” he drawled, drawing out every syllable. “we’re exorcize, and we came to make your night filthy.”
the crowd erupted. lights flashed red, then white, smoke rolling over the stage. suguru stepped up first, guitar slung low, hair slicked back, jaw set tight.
toji followed, head down, fingers flexing around the neck of his bass.
choso came last, sliding onto the stool behind his drumkit, sticks already spinning between his fingers. the moment he sat, everything in the room seemed to lock into rhythm.
you couldn’t take your eyes off him.
the set kicked off hard; gojo’s voice raw and teasing, suguru’s guitar slicing through the noise, toji’s bass thick and grounding. but choso… god, choso was something else entirely.
his body moved with the rhythm like he was the rhythm. sweat already glistened at his temples, hair falling into his eyes as he leaned into each beat. his arms flexed with every strike, the muscles shifting beneath the fabric of his tee, drumsticks flashing in the lights.
it was hypnotic. enticing. you felt it low in your stomach, that steady pulse syncing with his.
geto was there, of course. you’d spotted him near the sound booth, head low, arms crossed, pretending he didn’t care. the sight of him twisted something sharp in you at first, but it faded fast, burned away by the heat rising from the stage.
because when choso hit that first solo, nothing else mattered. not the press of bodies, not the alcohol hiring your tounge, and definitely not suguru geto.
he tilted his head back slightly, lips parted, eyes half-lidded as his hands blurred.
you’d seen him play before, countless times —but this was different. this was him, stripped down, alive. raw talent and rhythm and restraint all breaking loose in front of a crowd that screamed his name.
and you were screaming it too.
every cymbal crash sent a jolt through you. every roll of his shoulders, every flick of his wrist made your breath hitch. your fingers gripped the barricade harder as heat coiled low in your belly. you couldn’t stop watching him. didn’t want to.
gojo grinned into the mic between songs, sweat dripping down his jaw. “give it up for the best damn drummer in tokyo—my guy choso!”
the crowd roared, and you swore you saw choso’s mouth twitch into the faintest, shyest grin. his gaze swept across the crowd for a fleeting second, and when it landed on you, your stomach dropped. he saw you. he felt you.
the rest of the set blurred together, grinding guitars, crashing percussion, gojo’s voice splitting the air like lightning. when they closed out with exile mind, their heaviest song, the crowd went feral.
choso drove the final beat like he was trying to break through the floor, and when the last note hit, he threw his sticks high into the crowd. one disappeared into the sea of hands; the other bounced off the barricade and landed right in front of you.
you picked it up, clutching it tight.
the lights faded. the crowd’s roar slowly dissolved into chatter and laughter, the sound of the night spilling back into the open air. the band vanished backstage, swallowed by cables.
you slipped through the press of bodies, heart still pounding, the drumstick warm in your hand. a couple of drinks from the merch table had loosened your nerves, and you could feel a confident heat rolling low in your belly, pressing against the restraint you’d been holding onto all night.
when you found him outside—behind the venue, near the alley where the smoke from the back door curled upward—he was leaning against the wall, hoodie half-zipped, head tipped back, still catching his breath.
“you were…” your voice caught, breath slightly slurred and warm from the drinks, “holy shit, choso, you were incredible.”
his lips quirked, soft and tired. “yeah?”
“yeah.” you stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face, deliberately letting your hand linger a second longer on his chest. “i couldn’t look away. like… i don’t even have words. you sounded—” you lowered your voice, letting the warmth of the drinks give you boldness, “you sounded so good. so fucking good.”
his gaze flicked to yours, something dark and quiet sparking in it. the pull between you was immediate, electric, and you let your fingers brush his hoodie again, teasing, deliberate.
“you think so?” he asked softly, voice rougher, more ragged than usual.
you nodded, stepping closer until your body nearly pressed against his. “yeah. you made me feel it. every beat.” your lips curved into a half-smile, half-grin, letting the alcohol fuel a boldness you usually didn’t give yourself.
after weeks of pretending like there was nothing going on between you, this was definitely the breaking point.
"i couldn’t stop thinking about you, how i'm so lucky to have such a talented friend.”
he swallowed, shoulders rising, that lazy grin cracking just slightly as he stepped a fraction closer.
for a second, the air felt so thick you could barely breathe.
the back door swung open then, and gojo’s voice cut through the air.
“yo, you two!” he shouted, grinning under the streetlights. “afterparty at mine. everyone’s invited. you better show up, cho—you owe me a joint and a round of beer for that call out, man.”
choso didn’t even glance back. his gaze stayed on you, dark and intense.
you tilted your head, voice soft but teasing, letting the boldness roll over your words. “maybe skip it,” you said, hand still lightly resting against his chest. “the last afterparty didn’t go so well for you, remember?”
his laugh was low, slightly hungry, genuine. “yeah,” he murmured. “fair point.”
“come home,” you said, your body brushing against his side as you spoke, fingers pressing lightly into the fabric of his hoodie. “come home. with me.”
he hesitated a heartbeat, then exhaled, eyes softening, a slow smile tugging at his lips.
“yeah. home sounds really good.”
.
as soon as the door clicked shut, the air between you ignited. his hand found the small of your back before you could even react, pulling you flush against him. your body pressed to his chest, heart hammering, pulse racing, every nerve alight with anticipation.
“fuck,” he breathed, forehead leaning to yours, voice low and rough, vibrating in your chest. “i can't take this anymore. i can't keep ignoring this.”
you swallowed, breath hitching, hands braced against his shoulders. “cho—”
he cut you off with a growl, lips brushing against your jaw as his hands slid down to grip your hips firmly, anchoring you to him. “no. fuck that. i mean it. i… i’ve been holding back everything. every word, every look, every feeling.”
your stomach fluttered, heat pooling between your thighs, and you couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down your spine. he tilted your chin up, eyes dark, heavy with desire and something softer, something raw and unguarded. “i can’t… can’t stand it anymore, y/n. that night, everything i said… everything i’ve wanted… i need you so badly.”
“choso…” your voice was breathless, half warning, half pleading, but your body betrayed you, leaning in closer, the tension unbearable.
he laughed, low, rough, almost a growl. “jesus, look at you. you're so fucking beautiful… i want you all to myself, all of the time. i don't know how i control myself most of the time, y/n.” his hands roamed lower, teasing the curve of your waist, thumbs brushing against the soft line of your hips.
“i need you. i’ve wanted you… every lazy, fucking long day i’ve spent here in your vicinity, it's like i can't breathe properly without you.”
your chest tightened, mind spinning, everything he’d said that night pooling back into focus—his confession, the anger at suguru, the raw truth. you’d thought it was a high, a ramble, but now… seeing him, feeling him, you knew it was real.
“ i—” you started, voice trembling, then cut yourself off as he leaned in, pressing his mouth to yours.
the kiss hit first soft, lips delicately meeting for the first time, then it grew demanding. a low growl vibrating from his chest, hands gripping your hips tighter, rolling you against him like it was the only natural motion in the universe.
you gasped, fingers tangling in the back of his hoodie, pulling him closer, feeling the press of his hardness against you, the undeniable weight of him. your body arched instinctively, pressed to his, heart hammering, chest rising and falling in sync.
“tell me,” he murmured against your lips, voice rough, low. “tell me you want me… all of this… me.”
your eyes fluttered open, heart in your throat, and you met his gaze. you looked him up and down and pulled him in tight, letting your lips do the talking.
"does that answer your question?"
he groaned, a sharp, feral sound that made your stomach clench, and pressed harder, pinning you against the door like it was his god-given right. “good,” he breathed, tilting his head as his lips sought yours again, slower now, tasting, teasing, claiming. “i need to… i need to ask, too.”
“ask?” you whispered, breathless.
he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, hands cupping your face, thumbs brushing along your jaw. “be… mine, y/n. completely. no games, no half-assed shit. i want you. all of you.”
your chest tightened, eyes swimming with heat, desire, and relief. “yes,” you breathed, voice trembling, letting everything spill out.
that was all he needed. his grin cracked wide, teeth grazing your lips, and he dove back into your mouth, hands wandering over every inch he could reach, lips and tongue claiming, teeth grazing just enough to draw gasps from you.
you pressed into him, hands clawing at his back, hips grinding, the friction of his body against yours setting you alight. each kiss was sharper, heavier, demanding, full of need and want and something that had been simmering for years.
he backed you into the hallway, every step making the tension coil tighter, until finally he spun you gently, but with no less force, toward the bedroom. the air was thick, your breaths ragged, hands clutching at each other’s clothing, trying to close the distance you both had held back for too long.
“god, you’re perfect,” he murmured against your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and you shivered violently. “i’ve needed this… wanted you… for so long.”
you couldn’t hold back anymore. “me too, cho. so badly.”
he groaned, a deep, rough sound vibrating through your chest, hands gripping your hips and pulling you closer as you crossed the threshold into the bedroom. the door shut behind you with a definitive click, muffling the city outside, leaving only the sound of your hearts, your breaths, and the magnetic pull between your bodies.
and then… he kissed you again, slow and searing, full of hunger and want and heat, pressing you onto the bed as your legs tangled together, bodies seeking, finding, consuming.
he’s all teeth and tongue, biting, sucking, nipping at your neck, shoulder, jaw, dragging low, urgent groans from deep in his chest that make you ache and melt at the same time.
your nails rake down his back, pulling him closer, and he leans in, grinding, pressing, heat and hunger radiating from him in waves that make your knees weak.
“fuck, choso—” you gasp, but he swats your hands away gently, lips still devouring yours, teeth grazing, tongue probing, tugging, tasting.
every touch, every snap of his hips as he grinds his clothed cock against you, makes your clit pulse with anticipation.
his fingers slip under your shirt, pressing and pinching at your hardened nipples, trailing down your sides slowly, dragging heat across your skin.
your hands clutch at him, tugging his hoodie off of his body, anything to get more of him, more contact, more friction. he responds with a low, guttural growl, teeth sinking into your shoulder, hips snapping hard, testing, teasing, driving you insane with want as he tears off his shirt.
you catch a glimpse of the body you'd see on the daily, a perfect chiseled masterpiece, only this time, it was all yours.
he doesn’t just kiss you, he devours you. hands roaming over your pretty body, he slips your skirt off next, and slides his big, veiny hand down, down, until the thick pads of his fingers tease and prod at your wet bundle of nerves. you hiss in reply.
"fuck! choso— that feels— so good!"
he smirks at your confession and slowly pushes his thick digits inside, scissoring them back and forth, driving you up the wall as you let out pretty, breathless moans.
"ch-choso!"
his mouth drifts lower, teasing the swell of your breasts, biting just enough to make you arch and cry out.
after working you open, he kisses your lips tenderly before pulling down his pants and underwear in one swift motion. his rock hard cock springs free, and, wow. just wow.
"th-that's not gonna fit..."
"we'll make it fit, baby."
and fit it did. he slowly pushed his fat tip past your puffy lips, whispering reassuring praise as you squeezed your eyes shut from the streeeetch.
"aww— you can do it, ma. you're doing so good for me. that's it, just keep breathing baby."
his hips jerked forward, letting the last few inches fully stretch you out, earning a porn star worthy moan rip from your throat.
"holy fuck— holly shit! choso, you're so big!"
he groaned in satisfaction, your cunt swallowing him whole as he slapped his hips back and forth over and over again, cursing and moaning deeply into your ear.
his pace turns brutal, like all of his emotions were being poured into fucking you nice and deep, the way you deserved.
he dips his face down impossibly close to your face to capture your quivering lips in a kiss. he smirks against your skin, letting lewd comments tumble out of his smirking lips.
"you moan so prettily for me baby— shit— nothing— hah— gets me harder than hearing you whine like a slut while i fuck you fast."
you arch, grinding against him without thinking, letting the friction and his raw heat take over, body trembling beneath him. he groans into your neck, claws digging into your thighs, holding you open, guiding, punishing, claiming.
he’s insatiable. every roll of his hips, every snap, every deep press of him against you makes your body combust, trembling, gasping, aching for more. your moans, ragged and loud, fuel him, and he leans in, tongue and teeth and lips all at once, relentless, like he’s trying to imprint himself into your skin.
you can’t think. can’t breathe. can’t do anything but ride the fire, hips rolling into him, chest pressing into his, skin slick and shivering. he drives you higher, deeper, grinding with unrelenting intensity, low growls vibrating through his chest, vibrating through you.
"fuck! baby— gonna cum— gonna fill y' up, shit!"
you locked your legs around his torso as his thrusts become more and more feverish, the sheer pace making your face squeeze tight in ecstasy.
he's breathing heavy, holding your hips against him so hard you're sure his hands will leave bruises, your cunt being relentlessly pounded as he finally lets go.
"fuck— y/n! fuck i love you, i love you so much!"
you gasp at his words and blurt out a response like it was muscle memory, like it was the most perfect irrevocable truth.
"i love you too, choso— hah!—,"
when he finally drives the both of you over the edge, it’s explosive. he pants and collapses immediately, groaning into your chest as he caresses your hair, speaking soft praise into your ear.
"god, that was so good. you did so well f'me... holy shit, y/n. you're so perfect, so good... you took me like a fucking champ."
you were too busy coming down to fully comprehend, but you cradled his head against your chest all the same.
he doesn’t pull away. just holds you, chest pressed to yours, lips brushing your forehead, arms tight around you, skin slick and sticky, breaths mingling, pulse still wild. the tension hasn’t left, it’s just simmering now, a coiled heat between you two that promises this is only the beginning.
you’re still gasping, shivering, trembling in the aftermath, but it’s… thrilling, dark, messy, and perfect. he leans down, brushing his lips over yours once more, teeth grazing, murmuring something low and rough that makes your stomach knot again.
"i love you, y/n. you're mine. i don't fuck and dip, this is a forever thing now, okay? i promise, i'm never letting you get away from me."
the world outside is gone. it’s just the two of you, tangled, fevered, and utterly, terrifyingly alive.
you reply through breathless speech, looking deep into his beautiful, tired eyes.
"i know, cho. and that's all i've ever really needed."
Synopsis: living in a religious household isn’t all too bad, until your parents find out about your secret job and send you to see the priest.
cw: dub con, religious rule breaking, gags, dacryphilia, ass slapping, rough s, p in v, slight exhibitionism?, water sports, slight choking?
not proof read!! but enjoy ilyyy!
shame, yeah that's what this entire ordeal made you feel. an overwhelming amount of it. you loved your parents, but sometimes they made things a literal hellscape. for god's sake you were an adult now, even if you were still living at home.
living at home had its perks of course. no paying rent, no bills to worry about while you attended college, free food and home cooked meals. alas, where living at home had its privileges, it had it's downsides.
your parents ironclad faith in the church and their religion, something you never really much agreed with since you were in middle school. attending church on wednesdays, saturdays AND sundays.
it was something you'd now desensitized yourself to, and when you began college, they stopped harping on you as much about attending sermons, with your excuse of having copious amounts of homework, they'd released their grip on you a little.
until they found out about your little habit.
it wasn't that bad, at least to you. but when your parents snooped through your phone without permission and found your streaming account on a camgirl website and through your drawers to find several different types of vibrators, dildos, and other types of toys... lets just say they didn't handle it too well.
but how else were you gonna pay for all of your little hobbies if not by posting videos of you getting fucked silly or fucking yourself silly?
your dad flipped his shit, typical of him, but your mother is what put the final nail int the coffin, she called herself helping you, by sending you to see the only person she thought could cleanse or purify you.
The priest, Father Nanami.
so now you sat in his office, in the south wing of the church. legs crossed and back stiffened with anxiety, your eyes cast away towards a wall.
"There's no need to be ashamed, i'm only here to help." his voice came out smooth and low as he sat opposite you behind his desk, the metal frame of his glasses sitting beautifully on the bridge of his nose.
you shifted in your seat, clearly uncomfortable and nervous about this whole thing, your leg bouncing up and down, nerves on fire as you waited for this hellish one hour session to end.
"this is embarrassing." you muttered as your eyes focused on the painting of a rosary on his wall to the right of you, probably something cheap, bought at a thrift store.
"what exactly are you embarrassed about?" he asked as if he didn't already have the entire story, in detail from your parents. his hands were clasped together as they rested atop his desk, his iced out gaze roving over the features of your face, noting your expression.
you scoffed and rolled your eyes at the question, not bothering to make eye contact with him. "you already know." you grumbled under your breath as your cheeks heated up, shame flooding through you.
"mmm.. i do but, i want you to tell me. admitting is the first step". his voice was even and firm, nothing like yours, shaky, unsure, nervous. it sort of agitated you, how calm and collected he was about all of this.
"it's just- why were they even going through my stuff! i wasn't even-"
"stay on track" his voice cut you off, firm, almost demanding, but calm nonetheless. “tell me what you're embarrassed about."
he leaned forward just a bit in his chair, just barely leaning over his desk, peering at you from under the rims of his glasses. "is it the fact they found out? or is it what they found, that's causing your embarrassment?" he asked.
your eyes finally met his, you chewed on the inside of your cheek before darting them away and back to him. "neither" was all you mumbled before your thumb came up to your mouth for you to chew on your nail.
Nanami's eyebrows shot up at that answer, you felt no embarrassment? so maybe it was guilt you were feeling.
"and do you feel guilty about any of it?"
"yes.."
"which part?"
you screwed your eyes shut in embarrassment before sighing deeply and answering.
"them seeing me".
Nanami raised a brow at the admission. sitting back in his chair and pushing his glasses up his nose just a bit, his eyes trailing up and down your figure briefly before looking away and clearing his throat.
"you feel guilty they saw you that way?"
"no."
"then what is it?"
you chewed on your nail, heart racing in your chest as you opened your eyes and moved your hand away to speak.
"i feel guilty that i don't care they saw me that way."
that made him sit up in his seat, his eyes slightly widening before he schooled them back to their normal size and he cleared his throat.
"you.. don't care?" he questioned skeptically.
"no, i like having sex! i like masturbating, why should i feel shame when they went through my things without permission!"
your blatant admission at what you liked made his throat run dry and his cock twitch in his khaki slacks.
he remembered when his father forced him into this position last year for the same reasons your parents were now making you see him weekly.
and truly, kento never grew from his behaviors, if anything he'd gotten worse, but he'd just gotten better at hiding everything.
if you checked his laptop at home and looked into his search history, you'd have found his account from the same website you used. all his viral cam videos of himself rutting into his pillows and cumming, pumping his cock or fucking some girl silly.
"maybe we can help each other out" the words came tumbling out before could think too much or take them back, disrupting your rambling about your parents invasion of privacy.
"huh?"
"i said maybe we can help each other."
"uhm.. how could you help me by having these stupid meetings with me?"
the slyest smirk spread across Nanami's face as he got up from his seat and rounded the desk till he was in front of you, leaning down till his face was right in front of yours.
"don't fret, i'll show you just how i can help you"
and that’s how you ended up here.
your phone propped up against the nameplate on his desk, set to recording.
your hands bound behind your back with the rosary from around nanamis neck. both your clothes discarded all over the office. one hand fisted in the back of your shirt as he tugged you down on to his cock with almost too much force.
your mouth and cunt were matching with the way they were stuffed. your mouth with your panties and your pussy with his fat cock.
his other hand fisted in your hair to tug your head back as he drug his hips up off the base of his chair behind his desk, head thrown back in complete bliss as you made little muffled noises.
“mmnfhgh!”
his head snapped up at your little muffled noise, grip tightening on your shirt as he pulled you down harsher on his cock, the mushroomy tip kissing your spongy cervix on repeat as tears pooled in the corners of your eyes.
“sshhh, you can take it, gotta keep that pretty mouth filled, don’t want anyone to hear us.” he cooed as he worked his hips upward in time with the way he pulled you down by the back of your shirt.
you squeezed around him, sucking him in deeper as you tried fucking him back, a mix of his cum and yours dripping down and around his shaft, from the multiple times you’d both already came.
he hissed and gave your ass a harsh smack, leaving a handprint.
“greedy lil thing, like having your pussy pounded like this huh?”
“fucking your priest in his office? sinful, but you love this don’t you?”
his taunted you with his words, knowing you couldn’t respond, his thrusts becoming harsher— deeper, as your tears spilled over onto your cheeks.
“mnghhhrff!”
“that’s right, cry for me, cry on my cock” he chuckled dryly as the hand in your hair left and wrapped around your throat. pulling you back so your back met his chest, he licked the tears right off your cheek.
“only gonna make me fuck your harder silly girl, so keep those tears flowing for me”
you were so overstimulated, vision blurred by tears, legs like cooked pasta, brain fogged up, you couldn’t even think straight, all you could do was cum, so you did.
your knees buckled, the tips of them pressed together, your stomach tightened, knotting up as fat tears rolled down your cheeks and your cries were muffled.
you just barely were able to lift yourself off his cock as you squirted all over him. his cock, balls, thighs and lower abdomen.
“MMNNNFFF!”
Nanami watched you with bated breath, eyes dark and low as he watched you make a mess all over him, his chair and his floor.
“oh she’s a crier and a squirter?”
“you’re just wet for me all around huh sweetheart?”
you could hear the smirk in his voice as he pulled you back down onto his cock by the back of your shirt.
if you could’ve screamed you would’ve, your eyes nearly crossed and immediately you clenched around him.
“do that for me two more times and then we’re done for the day.”
overachiever | gojo + geto x fem reader | school bullies AU
includes: concepts of CNC, f receiving fingering, cunnilingus, ass humping, dacryphilia, neck kissing, no PIV, mean(ish) gojo & geto, threesome (?), munch gojo, submissive reader, & implication of anal
lmk if i missed any ! ♡
everyone depicted in this fanfiction is 18+ | MDNI
being class president comes with responsibilities. one of them being your classmates, specifically suguru & geto. you constantly nag at them to do their work, leave students alone, wear their uniform correctly— everything under the sun. and they've gotten tired of you telling them what to do.
it's almost like they live to annoy you. there's not a single time you can remember a shred of kindness from the pair. and no, suguru saying "nice ass" does not count. but hey, don't forget the times they poured milk in your lunch, or when they "accidentally" threw the volleyball at your face during gym class, which resulted in you having a bloody nose, or of course, when they stuck gum in your textbooks.
the final bell rings sharp through the halls, and one by one, the classroom empties out. you're left alone, packing your neatly stacked notes into your bag, adjusting your blazer like always, because you wouldn't be caught dead in a wrinkled uniform.
you sigh and push your chair in, ready to leave for today. the hallway is quiet when you slide the door open and the sunset is beaming through the window, so much so that you can see the dust particles dancing in the air. you don't even take two steps before a hand catches your wrist and tugs you back inside.
you gasp, flinching as your back hits the wall with a soft thud. your once squinted eyes open to see.. satoru? ugh, god, not this idiot.
"leaving so soon?" his voice is light, teasing, almost. he's got that stupid grin on his face, the one he always wears when he's about to cross a line. his fingers brush your chin, tilting your face up like he’s examining something delicate. his sidekick, geto approaches with him, hands behind his back as he examines you.
great, double trouble. you think.
"can i help you guys?" you softly push gojo's hand away, face painted with confusion. the two grin, closing in on the remaining space there is around you. their height makes it so they tower over you, and it's more than intimidating. "i've been waiting to catch you alone," geto says as he sneaks behind you. tone calm, low, and firm. but his presence is heavier. you feel his hands settle on your hips like they belong there, he leans in, breath grazing your ear. "and luckily for me, you stayed late. all by yourself.. how convenient." he hums.
"w-what is this about..?" you protest, voice shaky as you're attempting to be let out of geto's grasp, but his hold on you is tighter than ever. gojo just laughs. like this situation is just so comical. you look offended, disgusted almost. "..and what the fuck are you doing?" satoru shrugs with that evil smirk again, head tilting as he watches you squirm in geto's hold. “we’re just saying hi, prez. can’t a couple of concerned classmates check in on their favorite overachiever?”
you glare with a huff, still trying to fight suguru's tight hold on you. suddenly, geto’s lips graze the side of your neck. slowly & deliberately, his breath is warm, and his voice comes quieter this time, more intimate. "you don’t have to fight it," he murmurs. "just let go for once, huh?" gojo steps in closer and you feel a lump in your throat. his hand starts brushing along your inner thigh, teasing under the hem of your skirt. fingers moving slow, bright eyes flicking up to meet your nervous gaze, you're subconsciously shaking your head at him, silently begging for him not to do this.
"tell us to stop." gojo says, tone still playful- but there’s something real under it. "go ahead. say the word." he cocks his head like a curious dog.
"s-sto—"
you're cut off by satoro clearing his throat, making it clear that he doesn't care what you want, he simply just wanted you to think you had a choice. you swallow hard after the rejection, your body’s tense, words caught in your throat. this is wrong. you know it is. but the heat curling low in your stomach betrays you. his hand eventually meets your soft, cotton panties. pressing down on your lips, feeling your pussy begin to pool through them. you breathe out, knowing you gave yourself away
"..thought so." he whispers, slipping under the fabric, and pushing the it aside. "she's wet." he looks at geto, the two scoffing. "oh? so much for miss perfect, hm? deep down you're just a needy girl, aren't you?" suguru whispers, sending chills down your spine. his hands now travels under your blazer and into your button up shirt, tugging on your bra as he finds your nipples.
you whine. "no, please don't.." your eyes are glassy, and it's taking a lot not to allow the tears forming in your eyes to dribble down. geto looks at you with a cold stare. he doesn't feel a single ounce of empathy, he just wipes your tears. "you're so cute like this.." he trails on, kissing your neck, continuing to grope your chest while you cry. "so vulnerable, so submissive, so.. compliant." and with that last word, he pinches your nipples, causing you to wince in pain. "ah! stop, stop, stop, it hurts— please!" he twists and pokes, deliberately hurting you.
he grunts behind you. "ughhh, fuck. you keep crying like that, i'm gonna have to keep this pretty body for myself." he pushes his lower reigen against yours, and your hips subtly shift toward his touch. geto feels it as he smiles against your neck, his lips leaving slow, open kisses along your skin as his hands trail up your waist. "you're so much better when you stop pretending." he says quietly, voice almost tender.
your hands grip at the fabric of your blazer, unsure what to hold onto. everything feels like too much.. their warmth, their mouths, gojo’s fingers now teasing your entrance, playing with the slick in between your legs.
you still push away, but it's no use. geto already has a good grip on your upper body, and while has your lower. one hand is exploring your pussy, his other is squeezing your leg, ensuring you stay still. he squeezes so tight that you're almost sure that you'll see the indents of it the next morning.
the eye contact with him is intense, you try again and again not to meet his orbs but it's useless, especially with suguru holding you still. gojo sinks to his knees in front of you with a dramatic sigh, palms sliding up the backs of your thighs as he grins. “been dying to see what the class prez hides under this cute little skirt,” he murmurs, voice and dark with greed. you gasp as he hooked his fingers into your panties, slowly pulling them down, letting them drop to your ankles like a gift unwrapping itself. "wow.." he tsks and smiles, shaking his head with fake disappointment.
"i knew you wanted it, just look at how wet you are." gojo scoffs in disbelief, taking one digit and running it along your lips, catching a line of your slick on his two pointer fingers finger before licking it clean. your hands shoot out to steady yourself on geto, breath shaky, eyes flicking toward the door. "i-i think someone's coming-" you try to come up with any excuse to get this over with. "you guys should stop." you reason.
the two snicker.
"so? they can watch too." suguru moans as he pushes his cock into the nape of your ass. "this ass is just so plump," he raises a hand to smack it, leaving a stinging sensation as you gasp. "made just for me." your body tenses up with the pain. one part of you needs this, but the other needs this to be over. "now listen to me; i'm gonna give you one chance. i'll be nice, and i won't cover this pretty mouth."
nice..? he calls this being nice?
" be good, and don't make me regret this." despite the odds, you feel an weird sense of relief. it's not like he's letting you go, but it's the bare minimum in this situation. your breath hitches. "what do you say?" suguru questions. "t-thank you, geto.. thank you." you gulp
"no fucking manners.." geto's hand spreads your asscheeks with his cock. "has anyone fucked you here before?" he asks, tone serious and sullen. you shake your head no. "use your words, pretty one." he demanded. "mm-mm," you deny. "no.. never have." with that, he pushes his thick member toward your hole, threatening to rip you open.
"mmphhh—!" you squeal, body immediately trying to get away, slapping his arm and screaming while you can. "no, no, no! please, someone he—" before you can finish your plea, his hand is back on your mouth. "shut the fuck up! i thought i told you to be good, didn't i? you fucking bitch. i was being nice to you, but now i really should shove it in your ass, huh?" you frantically shake your head, saying 'no' through his muffled hands.
“relax,” gojo says, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh, trying to calm you down. it's shocking how he of all people, can have a heart in this predicament. “suguru isn't serious, okay?" before you can answer, his mouth is on you. hot, wet, and fucking devastating. gojo's tongue moves slow at first, teasing and tasting. then deeper, more focused and intimate. your hips jerk forward instinctively, head throwing back into the crook of geto's neck, a whine leaving your throat before you can stop it. the pleasure is so overwhelming you forgot what you were even fighting for, your brain is flickering with bliss.
they loves to see you like this. geto he continued rubbing himself against your ass, dick warm and swollen. "my god. i can't believe you were hiding this from us." he groans. "i really can't wait to take this hole next time."
"no..!" you breathe out, your voice embarrassingly loud. but then you're distracted.
"oh, my fucking.. god." you squeal, attention turning to gojo. his fingers are expertly rubbing your clit while his tongue is all the way inside, and you feel everything. he's practically making out with your pussy, kissing and kitten licking all of you. inside and out. you whimper with a hum, legs subconsciously shaking. you don't even notice how loud you've gotten, and it's like music to their ears. you feel geto's lips on your neck form into a smile, pulling you closer to him, one hand rubbing your breast as his other hand's hold on your mouth becomes more firm. "too loud, now."
"..but damn, those cries of yours make me even harder.."
and you feel it— him pressing against your ass. hard, and grinding slowly against it, precum leaking on you. "feel that?" his breath is heavy, dragging his hips up and down on you. "this is what you do to me." satoru's fingers now replace his tounge. curling inside you, right where you need it. that sweet spot has your legs opening wider and wider, small shakes jolting through you. "stay fucking still." gojo growls. "i'm not done with you yet." you shiver under geto’s steady grip, cries muffled by his palm, but he hums softly in approval. "mhmm.." keep crying like that," he groans, lips brushing your ear. "you're just a mess for us, aren't you?"
his body presses fully against yours. no space left between you, no gaps, no nothing. the heat from him grinding against your ass is impossible to ignore, making your breath hitch. then, geto shifts, and you feel the unmistakable hardness of his dick pulsating with momentary twitches. his hips move more now, slow and deliberate at first, then quicker, deeper. a low moan rumbles from his throat, vibrating through you. he's close, and you know it.
you’re in shambles between gojo’s fast fingers and geto’s rough thrusts. your body breaking apart in waves of pleasure, moaning with no control. you feel something building, and you can't believe it. the two men you hate the most are gonna be the ones to make you cum, harder than you've ever made yourself.
"gojo," you breathe in. "geto, you h-have to stop.. please i'm s-so c-lose!" you beg in desperation and their pace slows down for a quick moment, but once they lock eyes with each other and give one affirmative nod, it's back to fast paced torture. your back aches once more against geto as your moans are chopped into whimpers.
"do it, let it go. you know you want to." satoru urges, sucking your clit while feeling the vibrations throughout your body. "mhhm, don't deny what your body wants. don't deny what i want. give it to us." geto moans, and when you finally come undone, it’s with a shudder and a loud cry, your whole body shaking against them. geto’s grip tightens, and with a loud grunt, he cums right after. breath heavy, voice rough. you feel some of it spurt on your ass, and the rest lightly denting your skirt.
after a moment, he pulls back slightly, a teasing grin playing on his lips as he looks at the faint white liquid that is now staining your skirt. "looks like someone left their mark." gojo jokes after seeing geto. suguru wipes your juices off of his lips with his digits, licking them clean afterwards and pulling himself up. geto releases your body, allowing you to lightly collapse on the cold, tiled floor. he zips his fly back up, tucking himself in like nothing ever happened.
the two walk towards the exit, geto slides the door open. he takes one last look at you. you're a mess, still shaken up, twitching, and panting like a dog in heat. suguru breathes in with smirk. "see you tomorrow, prez." he doesn’t look back. he walks off, calm and collected, like he didn’t just ruin you against a classroom wall?
gojo lingers. he steps lightly as he approaches you, and for a second, you think he might say help you up. crack a joke, offer you a towel, anything to soften the blow.
but he just crouches, those blue eyes burning through you. "clean up the mess, yeah?" he nods toward the floor, where yours and geto's cum spilled. with a smirk, he pats your head like you’re some obedient pet. “later, pretty girl.” he stands, walking away. all you can hear is the ringing in your head and the faint click of his shoes before he yells for his friend.
"suguru, wait up!"
a/n : hi , i haven't posted my fics in so long , so i hope you end up enjoying this <3 ive finally felt comfortable branching out when it comes to writing for other fandoms. (don't worry, i still love avatar) but anyways im back & my requests are wide open! thank you for reading.
