call me luna; i'm 19; cabin 10; ravenclaw; ldr enthusiast; i love watching films; curly brown hair and black doe eyes; i probably have a can of coke zero in my hand rn; buy me a kinder bueno and i'll be yours.😼
about my writing: idk what's happening to my asks, i'll try to get them back on. i do nsfw and sfw! i write for dc (mainly dick jay and wally) but if I'm familiar with a character i'll try to do it. english isn't my 1st language so don't be too harsh. i'm new but i'll try to make a masterlist!🖤⭐️
im taking requests!!
current taglist: @lettucel0ver @caterppillar @reveries0fmine @kisses717 @cassbass2000 @sophiethelesbian
Mr. Goodreads and Miss Letterbox || Jason Todd x reader
— Both of you just shared your love for books/films in social media, but your followers saw the potential of an amazing power couple. What happens when you find out about the ship and decides to check Jason's account?
!!: smau + a narrated part. fem!reader. not use of y/n. bookstagramer!Jason x cinephile!reader. Pictures are from Pinterest. enemies to lovers-ish (not really???)
[dc masterlist]
yourusername
liked by 101.344 people
photo dump of the last week of June 🌷
Watched Obsession yesterday. You guys know I don't usually watch horror movies in the cinema, I prefer to watch them at home, safe and cozy, but I've been hearing lot of mixed opinions about this film and I couldn't wait to finally watch it myself. I would rate it with 4 stars because it was really good and extremely disturbing. As always, you guys can find my complete review (with spoilers) in my letterboxd!!
-💋
comments:
user1 Just came from reading your letterboxd review and I agree with everything you said ♥︎ liked by the author
user2 Haven't watched the movie and never will, because I hate this genre, but I loved reading your review ♥︎ liked by the author
user3 If she has a boyfriend, he either has to be another film-obsessed freak or someone who is the total opposite of her, like someone who argues the book a film is based of is way better, even if it isn't
⤷ user4 there's this guy here whose user is @/j.todd who makes content about books and I believe they were made for each other, even if they haven't met yet 🙂↕️
⤷ user5 OMGGG JASON YESS THEY WOULD BE PERFECT TOGETHER
⤷ user6 now this gotta be my new favorite ship
j.todd
Liked by 412.802 people
Normal People by Sally Rooney. 3 stars. I can't deny Sally Rooney is a very talented author, and the start of the book was very powerful and entertaining. However, the ending disappointed me (complete review in my Goodreads). I can't consider Normal People a bad book, it was beautifully written and didn't feel boring, but it's not one of my favorites.
comments:
user1 Normal People is one of my top 3 favorite books but I agree with some of your points in your Goodreads review
user2 ONLY 3 STARS???
user3 love me a man who reads, is he single?
⤷ user4 get in line
⤷ user5 hope he is so he can date my beloved @/yourusername
user6 I'm finishing Normal People, but I kinda agree with you, It's a really good book, but I can't give it more than 4 stars
yourusername
liked by 98.864 people
Can you guys believe I never got to watch Wuthering Heights in theaters when the movie came out? (I still did the trend with the poster and my husband Jacob Elordi). Either way, I watched the movie yesterday night and I have a few comments on it. Over all the movie gets 3 stars and I'm being generous. I haven't read the book but the film was... something else... I have a lot of things to say about this so you guys can go read my review in letterboxd (contains spoiler)
-💋
comments:
user1 I loved the movie wdym 😭😭
user2 kinda weird for you not to watch a movie the second it's out on theaters
⤷ yourusername I know right? but I was very busy when the movie came out, and when I finally got time to go watch it it had already been removed from theaters
user3 Jacob Elordi the man you are
⤷ user4 idk he gives me weird vibes
user5 I love your reviews, they are so complete and so well written ♥︎ liked by the author
user6 nah guys have you seen Jason's post? This can't be coincidence
⤷ user7 this can either be coincidence or they know each other
⤷ user8 maybe they know about the ship and are just messing around with us
user9 you should read the book
⤷ yourusername not my thing lmao
j.todd
liked by 726.997 people
Haven't had much time to read this past weeks, so I figured I could talk about a book I read a while ago, that I really enjoyed, and never posted my review here.
Wuthering Heights gets five stars from me. It's impossible to sum up everything I love about this book in here, so I suggest you all to go and read my review in Goodreads. But it's darkness, and poetic story has made this book one of my ultimate favorites.
P.S: I don't usually mark classics, so I just decided to post some photos I took this month.
comments:
user1 WE GOT JASON'S FACE REVEAL BEFORE GTA VI
user2 blah blah blah proper name place name backstory stuff
user3 que sí quesito que sí
user4 whatever you say handsome
user5 just here to say that @/yourusername just posted her review of the movie
⤷ user6 idc if they know each other or not, they're my parents
⤷ user7 They would be the perfect couple istg
⤷ user8 mr. Goodreads and miss letterbox, straight from a romcom
⤷ user9 they're married in my head
yourusername
liked by 101.344 people
photo dump of this week before I got sick
Rewatched one of my favorite movies because I couldn't get out of bed and I'm so happy I finally get to talk to you guys about it. Dead Poets Society is my favorite movie of all time, hands down, no hesitations. A masterpiece. It's poetic, it's beautiful, it moves you and it's genuinely the only movie that has made me cry. As always you guys have my complete review in my letterboxd (with spoilers, just in case there's people that haven't watched it yet, in that case I'm so sorry).
-💋
comments:
user1 get well soon queen ♥︎ liked by the author
user2 so you got sick, that's why you were so active on social media lately
⤷ yourusername I'm so bored
user3 Dead Poets Society really is THE film
user4 getting sick in July, what's in Gothams air?
⤷ yourusername the real question is: what isn't in Gotham's air?
⤷ user5 WAIT are you from Gotham???
⤷ user6 one step closer to her and Jason meeting each other and falling in love
j.todd
liked by 611.135 people
Found the Dead Poets Society book in my local library and, since I never watched the movie and the book is short, I decided to read it. It gets 3 ½ stars. I found it quite plain and, although I think the story is moving, I'm not sure the book captured the feelings that well. Also, some of the characters were quite questionable. Either way, you guys can find my full review on Goodreads.
P.S: I think I like this photo dump thing, I might keep doing it.
comments:
user1 I think the same as you Jason, now lets kiss
user2 @/yourusername and him using their post's captions like letter, they're made for each other. She sings it with a kiss, and he uses P.S.
yourusername is this the guy chat??
⤷ user3 ariana what r u doing here????
⤷ user4 you really don't know the meaning of being nonchalant, don't you
⤷ user5 so this is the level of boredom you reach when sick
yourusername You should really watch the movie, you would rethink those 3 ½ stars you've just gave to my favorite story of all time
⤷ j.todd I don't think the movie would be much more different from the book, taking into account that the book came out after the film.
yourusername
liked by 99.056 people
Pride and Prejudice. 1 stars. Review in letterboxd.
-💋
comments:
user1 okay she's mad
user2 miss ma'am are you alright?
user3 Jason and her might not be dating after all
⤷ user4 idc this has potential for a enemies to lovers
⤷ user5 I think they should kiss, that would fix everything
user6 idk what happened, but please come back and be normal
j.todd we both know that movie is not 1 star movie
⤷ yourusername have you watched it?
⤷ j.todd no, but I've read the book and I know pride and prejudice is not a 1 star story
⤷ yourusername adaptations aren't always loyal to the original source
⤷ j.todd you really are annoying
⤷ yourusername I suggest you read my review on letterboxd
⤷ j.todd I did and it only says "fuck you Jason"
⤷ yourusername fuck you Jason
⤷ user7 this is like seeing my parents divorcing again
When did you think this was a good idea? Maybe when you saw an opportunity to prove you were right about your favourite movie. That the story changed completely by watching it rather than reading it.
You knew Jason hadn’t liked that one star you had given to Pride and Prejudice. You saw in his goodreads that it was one of his favourite books and decided to watch the movie and give it a low rating just to piss him off. Surprisingly, it worked, because he talked to you after seeing your post.
And now, waiting for him to arrive at your house, you kept checking the time, fixing yourself, walking around—doing anything to calm yourself down—because you had invited a handsome man to your house without thinking it through first.
Of course you had stalked his account. It hadn’t been until recently that he had started posting pictures of himself, at first all of his posts were the cover of the exact book he had read and then photos of some phrases highlighted. The man was truly a romantic. He mostly read romance novels, but his favourites were the classics.
You couldn’t help but wonder if he had checked your account too. You posted photodumps more regularly, your account was almost your online diary, so he knew how you looked.
While you were drowned in your own thoughts, Jason had arrived at your building. It was a funny coincidence that you lived in the building right across from Jason’s, and somehow you hadn’t known about each other’s existence until you decided to appear in his comments section.
Jason swallowed hard before knocking on your door. You opened it, with your hands shaking and your heart pounding aggressively on your chest. Jason was tall—way taller than you had imagined—and he looked like he had come straight out of Fight Club. His leather jacket, a worn black cotton t-shirt, and dark jeans were a very simple outfit—but combined with his piercing greenish-blue eyes, a fading bruise near his right eye, and a white streak on his hair? That man was breathtaking.
From Jason’s point of view you were a sight too. He had seen your posts, he knew how you looked, but in person you had a magnetic energy that no one could ignore. The only reason for him accepting your proposal, of coming to your house to watch a film, was because he found you attractive. He saw the opportunity, took it and he didn’t regret anything.
“Hi,” he said.
His voice woke you up from your trance. You moved to the side, letting him into your apartment.
“I’m Jason, I thought we should introduce each other properly. You have a nice house by the way.” He looked around, scanning your living room and kitchen with detail, like he wanted to find something. “You have a lot of movie posters.”
“Ah! yes. If you ask the correct people that work in the cinema they give one to you for free,” you explained, guiding Jason to your living room.
The movie was already paused on your TV, ready to be watched. Two bowls filled with buttered popcorn sat on the tea table, one for Jason and the other one for you. Once you were settled in the sofa you pressed play.
You couldn’t deny that the first few minutes of the movie were awkward. Jason sat rigid on one end of the couch, looking attentively to the TV, paying attention to everything that happened in the movie. You, on the other hand, kept drifting your gaze from the movie to Jason, to see his reaction, to make sure he liked it.
And when the scene of the party came, you whispered: “Now look at Knox, poor boy, he didn’t do anything wrong.”
Jason looked at you, smirked, and then turned his attention back to the film. “Well yes, but he still kissed her, and she has a boyfriend,” Jason remarked.
“He kissed her on the head,” you defended.
“Still, that’s not cool and she’s unconscious, I would’ve reacted the same way Chet did.”
And that started a friendly discussion between the two of you. You never stopped talking since then, commenting on everything about the movie, Jason criticizing it—just to see your offended expression—and you refuting everything he said, like you were the director herself. And when the movie ended, you kept talking and talking, until it was past midnight and Jason got a message from someone and told you he had to leave.
“It’s not a three star story,” you insisted, walking Jason to the front door of your house.
“Four stars,” he rated. You opened your mouth offended.
“Four and a half,” You suggested.
“I think I’ll have to watch it again to see if you’re right,” he smirked, walking out of your apartment. “Thanks for the date, it was nice.”
“It was not…” But Jason had left before he could hear what you had said.
It might not have been a date, but you had enjoyed Jason’s company, and something inside of you told you that you were going to see each other again, very soon.
six months later
j.todd
liked by yourusername and 457.901 more
Sorry I haven't posted in a while, I've been re-reading Pride and Prejudice with my girlfriend, and she's a slow reader, but it was fun to see her reaction to everything that happens in the book.
You guys already know this is my favorite book and my review has been up on Goodreads for a while, but you guys have my review of the movie in letterboxd, if you would like to read it.
comments:
user1 HES GOT A GIRLFRIEND
user2 I'm the girlfriend guys chill
user3 his girlfriend just won in life
yourusername I'm not a slow reader????? classics are hard ♥︎ liked by the author
⤷ j.todd whatever you say doll
⤷ user4 THEY'RE TOGETHER
⤷ user5 MY PARENTS ARE BACK TOGETHER
⤷ user6 this means they're now officially dating right?
⤷ user7 the ship became reality
⤷ user8 war is over
yourusername
liked by j.todd and 400.874 more
Yes, Pride and Prejudice did not deserve that 1, I'm sorry. My annoying boyfriend insisted on updating my letterbox review and on writing one in Goodreads about the book, so I forced him to download letterboxd, and he has written his very first review there!!
-💋
comments:
user1 the hardlaunch is crazy
user2 they both posted the same quote 😭
user3 they're perfect
user4 which book will be your next review about?
⤷ yourusername none 😊
user5 do we get an invitation to the wedding for introducing you to each other thanks to our ship??
j.todd ❤️
⤷ yourusername don't ❤️ me, you told me you weren't coming with me to the cinema this Friday
⤷ j.todd I promise I'll make it up to you ♥︎ liked by the author
⤷ yourusername good boy
⤷ user6 he's obsessed with her
Sukuna doesn't handle waking up in an empty bed in the middle of the night very well
Blinking awake into the dim blue-gray haze that fills the bedroom, Sukuna’s mind lingers in a heavy, half-dreaming state, and the first thing he notices is the empty stretch of mattress at his side. Fingers drift across the sheets, searching out of habit, only to find nothing but cold where warmth should be.
For a moment, he just lies there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to shake the fog of sleep that refuses to let go. Only when the red glow of the alarm clock finally catches his eye does he move, brow creasing as the numbers come into focus. 4:03.
It’s the weekend. Both of you had gone to bed together hours ago, so there’s absolutely no reason for you to be anywhere else.
Before the thought can even finish forming, his body jolts upright as adrenaline floods his veins, snapping him awake faster than his mind can catch up. The sharp thud of his heart feels almost ridiculous in the silence, but the apartment is so quiet that it only makes every instinct louder.
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he pushes himself up, rakes a hand through his hair, and steps into the hallway, every muscle tense, ears straining for the faintest sound.
Nothing.
Moving down the hallway without hesitation, he checks the bathroom, even though the darkness behind the door already tells him you aren’t there.
The living room is empty, the couch looks exactly the same as earlier that night, with your blanket still tossed carelessly over the armrest where you left it. Maybe you slipped out onto the balcony, but the curtains hang motionless and the glass door is sealed tight. The pressure in his chest ratchets up another notch, and he moves through the flat faster now.
The last remnants of sleep are completely gone when each room confirms the same thing over and over again: you aren’t there. Each feeds the growing, irrational fear that something has happened while he slept, and by the time he reaches the kitchen, his breathing is shallow, his jaw clenches, and his hands ball into tight fists at his sides.
And then he stops.
The kitchen is bathed in dim light, just the gentle glow from the stove clock and a faint spill of streetlight through the window, enough to outline you standing barefoot by the counter. One hand holds a glass of water, the other strokes absently over Mikan’s back as the cat perches on a high chair, leaning into your touch and purring like nothing in the world could ever be wrong.
You look half-asleep yourself, hair a little messy, the hem of his shirt brushing your thighs, eyes soft and unfocused the way they get when you wake just enough to wander to the bathroom before crawling back to bed.
For a long moment, Sukuna stands frozen in the doorway, breath caught somewhere between relief and anger, adrenaline still pulsing through his veins. The sight of you, safe, slams into the fear he’s been carrying, heavy and real as anything.
Your head lifts when you notice him.
“What the hell are you doing?” The words come out sharper than he means, still edged with the panic that hasn’t left his body yet.
Confusion flickers across your face at his tone, and you blink at him, like you’ve only just remembered there’s a world beyond the counter and the purring cat pressed against your palm.
“Drinking water,” you answer quietly, your voice rough with sleep, lifting the glass slightly in explanation, like the answer should be obvious. Then, softer, as the reason for him standing there at four in the morning, staring at you like that, finally clicks, you add, “I didn’t want to wake you.”
Something in his chest finally gives, and the tension snaps all at once. Muttering a curse that barely makes it past his teeth, he walks over and catches your arm before you can get another word out, tugging you into him so abruptly that the water in your glass nearly spills over the rim. Only then does he let out a shaky breath he’s been holding since the moment he woke up.
His voice rumbles low and rough, words muffled by your hair as he pulls you tight against his chest. “You scared the shit outta me.”
His grip tightens for a heartbeat before easing. One hand slides up, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of your neck, while the other stays splayed warm and steady across your lower back. Caught off guard by the sudden intensity, you let your free hand find its way to his side, settling there gently.
“I’m sorry.” It slips out before you can stop it, even though you know you haven’t done anything wrong. Tilting your head back to meet his eyes, you find his stare heavy with something that makes it clear that he doesn’t want you apologizing for this, not ever. Nuzzling your cheek into his chest, you feel the frantic thud of his heartbeat beneath your ear. “I was only gone a minute,” you add softly, a little sheepish.
Sukuna huffs softly, and the short, weary sound carries more relief than frustration, but his arms stay locked around you, unyielding, as if letting go might let the fear slip back in.
“I know,” he mutters eventually, almost to himself, the edge of panic fading away. “I know that.”
For a few seconds, neither of you moves. The kitchen is quiet except for the slow, steady thud of Sukuna’s heartbeat finally calming beneath your cheek, and the impatient purring of Mikan weaving around your ankles, as if he’s been personally wronged by all this drama.
Then, he slips the glass from your hand and sets it on the counter, his other arm settling around your shoulders, steering you gently toward the bedroom, unwilling to let even an inch of distance creep in.
“Come on,” he murmurs, and you don’t argue.
Sleep tugs at you again, heavy and insistent, and as you sink back onto the mattress, your body leans instinctively toward his warmth. Sukuna wraps himself around you, pressing his chest firmly against your back and banding one arm tight across your waist, his hand splayed over your stomach. The other slips beneath your pillow, fingers searching until they find yours and tangle together.
Now that you’re back exactly where you should be, Sukuna lets out a slow, quiet exhale as the last traces of restless adrenaline finally drain from his chest.
Synopsis. Trapped with a too-smug, too-handsome Nightwing by the very same villains you were trying to swindle was not how you planned to spend your night. Luckily for you, Gojo can think of a much better way to pass the time.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! anti-hero!reader, Nightwing! Gojo, BATMAN AU, enemies-to-Iovers, forced proximity, píning, MARATHONS, manhandIing, Gojo goes FÉRAL, overstím, he is BIG, making it fit, cervíx kíssing, tummy buIges, BREÉDING, RIPPING suits, spítting, cúmplay, chokíng, arguing during it, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, matíng presses, making Gojo CRY, oraI (f + m rec.), p talking, breaking furniture, Red Hood! Geto cameo, slight vioIence, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 10.4k
A/N. *evil laughs* I just had to.
“You.”
“You.”
“Enchanté, sweetheart.” And Gojo - oh, it’s so undeniably Gojo Satoru’s sapphire gaze behind that satiny mask - tilts over his tall, bubbling glass of champagne towards you with the cockiest of winks. A wink.
Your teeth set on edge - out of all the pompous, boorish high society balls that he could crash undercover, it just had to be the one that you were planning to heist.
And by the most pompous, boorish hero of all.
If looks could kilI, then you’d be upturning Gojo’s grave to finish him off yourself already.
“Didn’t think you were one for masquerade balls.” He’s leaning in to brush off an invisible piece of lint from your shoulder, words coming out in scorching hot puffs against your ear. Low, hoarse. “Changed much during your lil’ vacation, hm? How is the Gotham State Penitentiary this time of year?”
“Oh, I don’t know. How’s the hottest one of the Bat Family doing?” You’re sniping back, head cocked innocently. Silent for just how long it takes for Gojo’s eyes to widen, breath to hitch- “Y’know…Toji Fushiguro. How’s Batman doing, Nightwing?”
There’s a strangely sharp glint in his stare, and his traitorously handsome jaw clenches through a wild grin.
With a wide sweep of the bustling ballroom, he murmurs over the live orchestra. “You’re gonna give me away~”
“Don’t even have to try.” You’re tilting your head up in defiance when he closes in so many sultry inches, all the way until you could feel the heated press of Gojo’s ticking biceps through his formal suit. Heady masculine cologne invading your senses, “That mask does more than enough damage.”
Honestly, what fool dons a disguise with a mask that looks exactly like his hero one?
Though, you weren’t complaining - if Nightwing accidentally provided the perfect distraction for you to swindle future big-shot congressman and business heir, Naoya Zenin, out of his precious diamonds then so be it.
The fact that Batman’s protégé would be humiliated was only a plus.
Scoffing, “So what you’re saying is you want me out of it? Scandalous, but I don’t fuck before a first date.”
A very, very big plus.
“Never in your wildest dreams, Nightwing.” You’re pettily raising your voice just a pitch to make the sculptured man in front of you squirm, as much as he would never admit it. “S’it that you don’t fuck or you don’t get to? Come here to try out your hand with the wives of the bourgeoisie?”
“I’m here on business, sweetheart. Gotta get to that brat Naoya’s office.” Gojo nods towards a gaggle of ogling older ladies, ever-the-charmer.
It’s enough to make them swoon, and - you hate to admit it - for your heart to stutter just a beat.
Because Gojo Satoru looked good. All powerful, lean muscle that carried him so many numerous inches over six feet. The rich, yolkish lighting makes his dark blue jacket look almost painted to his slender waist, and those meaty, meaty thighs.
Easily the sexiest man in this room full of sordid businessmen and shifty politicians.
If you dared to let your gaze roam, you’re sure they’d stray past his milky collarbones to catch a hint of the even tighter black and blue hero suit he was surely wearing under.
He looked more than good, if you were being honest.
But when has one of Gotham’s most notorious cat burglars ever needed to be honest?
And you’re so caught up in pondering just what the others see in him that it gives you an electric jolt to feel the doughy pads of Gojo’s gloved fingertips brushing down your thigh. Feeling as if he was searing through your saucy, glittering gown.
There’s a tremor of amusement when his sensory tips meet the cold hilt of your famed dagger. Hidden.
Tonality dripping with something sickly sweet that makes your tummy lurch, “And it seems like I’m not the only one, Prowler. The Zenin diamonds?”
“The Zenin drug smuggling ring?”
You both give a curt, almost-missable nod. Your eyes back to analyzing the sprawling celebrations for any sign of the aforementioned Zenin heir himself.
Though, not for long- “Y’know, maybe I should send you back to your lovely penitentiary right now, girl. Already did once.” Whispered right against your sensitive earlobe.
“Darling–” Your plastic smile is almost painful as you feel the interested stares from around the room. You did make quite an eye-catching pair, especially so close. Hand drifting to his beefy, veined forearm and pinching, “-you’re too close~”
“I don’t think I’m close enough.”
Nails clawing down his smooth skin and towards his pale wrist. “Close enough for me to strike a vein without a single person here knowing any better.”
“That’s kinda hot–” Gojo’s lips quirk upwards, sleek brows quirking up to the curtain of his snowy bangs. And you don’t know where to look - down below, where he’s adjusting his pants with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, or up above where his irises follow a triangle between both your eyes n’ your lips, dead-on. “-for a petty thief.”
“You little-”
“Big, actually.” And of course, he has to interrupt with a look on his face that tells you he knew you were fighting to not take a glance downwards and confirm for yourself. “I’m very big.”
“I hear words compensate.” You’re batting your lashes through your own lacy Stygian mask, too close. “And I hear Toji’s bigger.”
“Enough with the-”
“My my, young love sure is fiery!” Saved by a rough, booming voice to your side of the festivities. Though, you’re not sure if it would technically be considered a “save” when you’re finally snapping your head and recognizing the source of those words. “I always do tell Naoya ‘ere that it’s time to settle down. No such luck so far!”
As Naobito Zenin slaps an overly harsh hand down on his son’s crisp, suit-cladden shoulder with a bark of laughter, you mutter. “Can’t imagine why.”
Though, perhaps it was a bit too loud.
Because Naoya’s nostrils flare in a sharp inhale, and you’re hearing Gojo stifle a breathy rumble of laughter from his broad chest- shit, since when were you two even pressed up like this? No wonder it must have looked…romantic to an outsider.
“Naobito Zenin, at your service.”
“Ah, my apologies for being so rude.” You’re pushing away from the hero as if it burned - and by the strange tingling on your skin, maybe it really did. Reaching over to the wizened, leering man for a handshake. “I’m-”
“Mrs. Gojo, of course.” Gojo gets there first. “My wife and I are new to Gotham, you see. We wanted to make connections here in our new home.” A warm hand casually slings over your shoulder, slender digits tight. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
What….the fuck.
And perhaps you should’ve screamed bloody murder - maybe that would make the Zenin’s take pity on you after an encounter with this lecher.
“That’s right.” Perhaps you shouldn’t have leaned in just as you did to his hard front. But if the way that Gojo was momentarily stunned told you anything, it was that you were doing something right. “It’s all been quite a change.”
Naoya’s thin, mahogany brows raise silently - new to the city and already invited to one of the most elite social gatherings of the year? That certainly was intriguing.
“Gojo? Gojo…so familiar…” Naobito muses out loud, and your veins boil with anxiety as his face scrunches. Before he clicks his fingers with flourish, “A-ha–! You wouldn’t have anything to do with the revered Gojo Enterprises now, would you?”
Your faux-husband places a hand over his heart, “Ah, my most beloved little project.”
“President?”
“CEO.”
Calling a multi-billion dollar foreign company a “little project” was generous, you think. But what was even more so was- “Though, it’s nothing in comparison to what I have coming up soon.” Gojo gasps dramatically, “Oh! We probably shouldn’t reveal much, however. Confidential, only friends and family.”
Naobito Zenin was practically frothing from the mouth at this point. And you notice that even Naoya’s suspicious furrow had almost completely disappeared. Almost.
“C-confidential-” The older man squeals, before bumping a fist into Gojo’s puffed-up chest. “Why, we’re friends now, aren’t we? Tell me tell me- just between you and I, how big are we talking?”
“Big.”
“Bigger than Gojo Enterprises? S-surely impossible-”
You cut in, “Bigger. Better, considering the association with the parliament we’ve negotiated this time. Whoops- my apologies, darling, that simply slipped out.”
And through it all, Naoya stays unnervingly quiet - even while his father tries and fails to hide his squawks of delight.
It would’ve almost been comedic if the air wasn’t so cut-throat tense. As if the clinking glasses and chatter of the ball were infinite miles away from your little bubble now.
Past animosity almost evaporated, you’re managing to meet Gojo’s eyes. His cloud-pale eyebrows wiggling with a knowing waver, and you find yourself plastering on an exaggerated look of distress before carrying out the finishing blow.
“Oh, but you know–” Patting the delicious curves of his pecs, “-my husband has been so stressed lately. I’m afraid he’ll overwork himself mad with this new project.”
“Aw, dear…”
“I do wish he’d take on a partner to collaborate and split the innumerable profits with. But, alas, there hasn’t been a company competent or high-profile enough for our taste.”
And by the sharp elbow Naobito digs into Naoya’s ribs, you already know that you’ve won. Well, that the two of you have won.
Reluctantly, almost as if every word made his bones ache, his son purses out a tight. “Well, Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, my father and I certainly hope this isn’t too forward, but we believe that- ah, we might just be exactly what you’re looking for.”
You both adopt a look of faint surprise, “Oh?”
Another nudge, another step forward.
“Apologies for the late introduction, but I’m Naoya Zenin. Future congressman, future CEO of the immensely successful Zenin Corporations” Each syllable practically oozing with icy smugness, “I believe I know what you want, and we are it. Please, allow me to reach out on behalf of our Zenin hospitality and lead the two of you to our private business room; where we can discuss this further…in-depth.”
Somehow, the trail end of his sentence made you shudder.
“Ah, how wonderful!” Gojo’s arm wraps possessively around your waist, “Lead the way, Naoya.”
And if you were lucky to be led straight to the dragon’s lair of treasures, then you were even luckier when one of those said dragons stayed behind.
Indeed, Naobito was held back in conversation with another undoubtedly important parliamentary figure as you and Gojo followed Naoya out of the massive, gilded doors. Silent. Rigid.
“Take him out. Drug-smuggling documents, then diamonds.” Gojo rasps from the corner of his mouth, voice barely audible for you let alone the stiff figure a few steps in front of you. Leading you along windingly decadent corridors and staircases.
You’re shaking your head, eyes following the velvety curtains and gleaming ornaments on display and wondering whether you should increase your scope for this heist even more than just the diamonds. “Diamonds, then whatever. I don’t give a shit what you do.”
“Drug-smuggling documents, then diamonds, then prison for you, girl.” He snarks back, “Unless– you wanna make up for this appalling date by actually going out with-”
“We’re here.”
It seems that the Zenin’s did have quite an affinity for interrupting you two at the most important of times.
And the only thing keeping Gojo from curling his features into a sneer is the sight of those rich, mahogany double doors in front of him. This was it.
The infamous Zenin office room.
With enough secrets to overturn the nation, and– Gojo sneaks a glimpse at the determined set of your gaze - enough diamonds, too.
Naoya’s spindly fingers twist on the burnished golden door handles, letting them creak open just a few inches ajar. Dim lighting floods out through the crack, and you’re seeing the outline of an expensive cross between an office room and a lounge room.
He gestures his hands in a wave inside with an almost-bored sort of drawl, “Guests first, I insist.”
Your fingers itch towards the dagger strapped to your thigh, and Gojo’s stare narrows. Tone steely yet polite, “No no, as the future master of the house-”
“I insist.”
“Alright…” He plants a staggering palm on the small of your back, “Come along then, sweetheart.”
Tentatively stepping onto the luxurious red carpet inside at the same time, you swear from your cunning optics you see Naoya’s lips twitch-
And then it happens.
All in the span of a nanosecond that neither you nor Gojo have the time to react - the floor and the ceiling crack open in an almost metre-wide line dividing you two and the door, a thick wall of metal snapping! shut in place before you can blink, and suddenly– suddenly, you’re trapped.
“Fuck-”
“No!”
“You must excuse me for the rude welcome-” Naoya’s voice drifts over, and you’re noticing that the gleaming wall had a small window pane. Enough for you to see a sliver of crazed, honeypool eyes, “-Prowler and Nightwing.”
He knows.
Of course, he knew. You were here trapped between a thoroughly bolted, heavy-duty panel of metal harder than diamonds. Ones especially made for trained heroes and- well, you.
And one furious bang! of your fist told you that not even your overpowered strength would be able to break through - it barely even rattled the barrier’s bolts that proudly stood circumference of your head. Running the expanse from floor to ceiling, you were backed into a corner.
Looking behind you, you’re met with the rest of the gleaming office; shelves upon shelves of books, a busy desk, cushy loveseats. And no window.
No exit.
He’s spitting, face twisting into heaps of wrinkles as he grins. “My father might be half-blind, but I’m not.” Pointing accusingly, “You almost got me, I admit. But any fool could tell- the tension, the stupid flirting. Who else would it fuckin’ be if not for you two?”
Crossing your arms, you do your best to keep out the tremble in your voice. “Quite frankly, I’m almost insulted.”
“I’m not.”
And you do not glower at Gojo…this time. To firmly disprove Naoya’s point, if anything.
The other man clenches his teeth, throwing his hands. “I don’t care what you feel. This is checkmate, so now you both simply die.”
Running your hands through your cage, you could practically feel the power. The strength. “Well, it seems you’re not just beauty- well, you’re not beauty at all, actually.”
“Don’t forget, he isn’t brains either.” Gojo pipes up, nodding towards you. “I know this daddy’s boy wasn’t the one to make this lair. It reads more like the works of-”
“Shut up shut up shut up-” You and him watch in mild astonishment as your captor drags his fingers through his hay-blond locks and pulls. You swear you could count every red, popped blood vessel in his bulging eyes. “-insufferable fucking- I have you two at my mercy, and when my father hears about this he will be pleased. Very pleased.”
You will yourself not to gulp, “There’s nothing you can do to us.”
“Wait and watch. After all, I am the future head of Zenin Corporations, I’ll kill both of you. It doesn’t matter how.”
Before you can torment him any further, he turns tail and throws a withering glare your way. Hands on the doors, it feels like something leaden is forming in your throat. “Better sit tight until the ball ends and we can have our ah- fun little afterparty.”
.
.
.
“Can’t you stop that infernal noise, girl.”
You’re halting your body mid-punch, a thin line of sweat trickling from your temple. Heaving out, “I don’t see you helping.”
Not even waiting for a response before you’re back to gifting the office wall with a solid CLANG! You’d already attempted the same with the metallic partition, to not even a single crater. And by the unaffected state of the rest of the room, you’re slowly realizing that every one of these four walls might just be made from the same material.
Fuck.
BANG!
“For fucks-”
“What are you doing, then?” You’re whirling around to face a precarious Gojo Satoru, standing on one foot on top of a high bookshelf and murmuring utterly ridiculously to something clutched in his palm. “An interpretive dance routine won’t get us out of here.”
He’s been like this for the entire time - it could’ve been hours, it could’ve been minutes - since you’ve been trapped here. All he’s done was rifle through a few files and snatch a few documents. And…this.
Hell- you didn’t even find your diamonds, yet.
“You think about ‘us’ a lot?”
Rolling your eyes- you can’t even bother with a scowl. Instead, turning back to spend your time planting CRASH! after CRASH! over his protests.
“Keep it down, sweetheart, I can’t-” Punching your way through even harder - making even louder noise, on purpose. “-hear-” Perhaps you could kill him before Naoya even gets here. “-the mic-”
“What?” You’re grunting, ears still ringing from the deafening noise yourself.
And just then you find your brows knitting together because Gojo Satoru looks so…satisfied. It strikes you to your very core. Which was definitely never a good sign.
Jumping down from the bookshelf in one, fluid motion, he shows off a tiny rounded gadget grasped in one hand. “You’ll see.” Gojo purrs at your questioning gaze, winking. “You’ll see very soon. We’ll be fine, promise.”
Yeah, you really didn’t like the sound of that.
But before you can swivel back to your target - you swear you were seeing a crack - Gojo’s tucking away the mysterious object into his jacket pocket and taking it off. Letting the silken fabric hit the floor with a dull schwf! Right along with his tie, his belt-
“Wh-what are you doing?” It comes out more breathless than you’d have liked.
“Changing into my supersuit, that’s what.” He lifts up his mask to roll his eyes, full and well knowing. The pinkish perk of his tongue drags a slow glide of wetness across his lips as he unbuckles his belt - looking you straight in the eyes. “Why? This turn ya on, sweetheart?”
“No.”
Yes.
Fuck, you hated how even despite turning away, you couldn’t help but angle your body just so that you’re ogling Gojo from your peripheries. You hated how every thud of clothes hitting the floor made a fresh new layer of goosebumps bead along your clammy, heated skin.
It was so hot.
“You should do the same– you must be getting warm with all that ruthless, blundering violence.” Comes the sing-song voice from behind you, oh- he was enjoying this. It sent Gojo’s heart racing to watch the way you were all flustered because of his actions. His body.
Scoffing, another punch. “You just want to see skin, lecher.”
“With a body like that- fuck yeah.”
“Save it for the wives of the bourgeoisie.”
“Scared, Prowler?”
Oh, for the love of-
“Not on your life, Nightwing.”
And then you do it.
You make the mistake of giving into your instinctual desire to glare at Gojo Satoru, as if your eyes never wanted to leave him. And then you see it.
All his long, tantalizing muscles and curves - being hugged so tightly in that black and blue suit that you could count every one of his eight washboard abs. Fuck. Gojo’s body seemed to go on for miles, pulling the latex tightly over his rippling flesh.
Right on cure, your eyes trail from the bulging valley of his pecs, to the ridges of his v-line to…you gulp.
You always did think it gave him an unfair advantage - just how sexy he was. It was one of the reasons he managed to distract you enough to lock you up in Gotham State Penitentiary last time, after all.
Tittering, “Take a picture it’ll-”
“Take this fist to your face.”
“Kinky~ it’ll only make me harder, y’know.”
Hard-er.
And all of a sudden it was as if the tension in the room was like molasses, and you were drowning in the saccharine concoction. Nightwing- Gojo really was too cocky for his own good, but what was even worse was he could back it up, too.
Your skin flares up with a burning breeze, and your voice comes out peaky. “Fine.” Through his mask, you swear his eyes widen once your hands fly up to take off your own. And then to the zipper of your gown, “But only because it’s so hot.”
Pulling it down just an inch before-
“Wait…let me?”
Just a flash of that glossy black suit of yours, just a single sneak-peek of it enveloping your skin and he was pressing you to the wall. Ravenous.
You were gorgeous.
Balmy heat of his body making yours sizzle up, all Gojo needs is only one of his massive palms to pin both your wrists wayyy above your head. Meaty thighs massaging up against yours to stop your jostling body.
Lips twitching up into a smirk at the carnal hunger in your eyes, “Let me…help with that, yeah?” His gravelly words resound in your eardrums and make your thighs squeeze. The fat fringes of his digits draw slow lines down the side of your figure, memorizing. “S’a hero’s duty, after all.”
You’re growling, “Do it. Do it if you’re not scar- ah!”
But that’s exactly what Gojo had been waiting for.
Exactly the moment to make your pretty voice break, exactly the moment for him to tuck a finger behind your back and all but rip–! your dress from the back.
“Would ya look at thaaaat-” He’s snickering out in awe as your flimsy gown falls halfway through tatters around you, all along with your dagger. Revealing a snug suit that makes his mouth simply water. All gorgeous lines of your body that he can’t get enough of. “Always fuckin’ hated this suit.”
His sinful pants strike you in gusts when Gojo leans his admiring head down, down, down to push right into the valley between your heaving tits. “Made me s-soooo fucking hard every time I saw ya in it.”
Did you just make Gojo Satoru stutter?
No wait- even better, was that achingly hard outline bumping right between your legs what you thought it was?
He’s rubbing the swollen outline of his mushroom tip at the target of your hot core, drinking in that cutely surprised expression on your face. Something devilish. “Oh~? What’s this? I-if this is what it took to shut that pretty mouth, I’d have done it sooner.”
But what he didn’t account for was the way that you would take the initiative shutting him up.
The way you would breach that almost-non-existent air between you two and crash your lips onto his. In French kiss so filthy that it makes Gojo moan–
“You’re better like this-” You spit between his strawberry pink lips, the taste of his bubblegum sweet taste now your most favorite. Cherry flavored, almost. “-when you shut up.”
In response, he’s nipping on your lower lip and draaaagging. Smirking at the adorable squeal that lets off from your ajar jaw, “Can’t even keep yer h-hands off of me, always knew you found me irresistible.” And Gojo doesn’t even need his other hand to entrap you now, pinning you with his muscled front. A sultry glissade of mere inches up n’ down up n’ down up n’-
You could tell that he was big.
So could that soft palm of yours, sneaking down to cop an agonizing feel of his rotund bulge. Fingers rovering generously along the damp crevice of his slit, “What was that?”
“Found me ir-re-sis-”
Harder.
“Shiiiit.” He hiccups, head swimming. “Suck- suck on my tongue.”
You do. Making Gojo’s eyes glaze over at the twist of your pillowy lips, making him rut-
“Fuckin’ dirty little thing.” The rough texture of his tastebuds swirl across your own, and even through his mask you swear he looked fucked-out already. Taking off his suave gloves, he leaves one spank on your thigh. Two. “Mmm- spread them f’me now.”
You’re snarling, despite the furious throb you feel from your leaking cunt. “Who’d ya think you are to ngh- boss me around?”
“Have it your way then, girl.”
And when he says that shit, he means it.
Before you know it, he’s sitting on the capped curves of his knees with a loud bam! You’re grimacing for but a mere split-second at just how much it must have hurt, before realizing that Gojo doesn’t care.
It’s the last fucking thing on his mind once he’s gliding an open, calloused palm underneath one of your unsteady legs and wrangling it on top of his sculpted shoulders.
You’re latching a hand through his soft, fawny strands with a yelp. “Asshole.”
“Witch.”
“Pussy.”
“Pussy, alriiight—” The borders of his short, manicured nails draw an invisible line down, down, down to coast the puffy fissure of your pussylips. Before pinching and tearing cleanly between the legs of your latex suit. Breathing deeply in- “There she is. Pretty girl…hey there, the name’s Satoru. I’m the stuff of your wettest dreams.”
You can’t even bite out a retort - a plea - before Gojo’s diving nose-deep allll the way into your drooling cunt. Nudging apart your gluey folds with his perky buttoned nose, lengthy tongue slathering your hole with a fat drag-
He’s basically glued. Addicted with only a single taste, and swerving his tongue to scratch up in solid, dizzying circles around and around your soppy entrance.
“Sh-shit-” Your thighs break out in jitters, and he only responds with a firm tug to interlock your craned limb ‘round his neck. Making your spine bend the perfect curvature off of the cool wall, “-more. More.”
SPANK!
The rims of Gojo’s fingers burn into the globes of your ass, and he’s so unrepentant about it. So smug. Making such a spectacular show of letting your globs of slick pour down his tongue.
Kiss-bitten maw hanging wiiidely agape to make you watch the thick rivulets of sap that hit the back of his awaiting throat. He’s dripping wet all the way down to his bobbing Adam’s apple, treacly splotches of juice hitting the floor in puddles.
Gojo gurgles out something feral, still mushing his pert maw to your wet mound so you’re feeling each n’ every vibration.
“Dooooown, kitty.” Another spank, and another steamy snog of his mouth. Though, this time he’s letting his pearly whites catch on your plumpened clit. Dangerously so. “Watch ngh- watch it, I bite.”
With a frustrated tut, you’re pushing his pretty features even deeper into your pussy. Making him pinch your sensitive nub between his teeth even harder. Slobbering a long drag from every inch of his pointed chin, to the very apples of his high cheekbones.
“Maybe m’into that…Satoru.”
“Oh- Oh.” Through the bleary gaps in your eyes, you’re noticing that Gojo was blushing. Bright. Red up to the tips of his ears. Burning skin chafing up into your own, and you’re practically melting at his heat.
That sound was like heaven to him. You were like heaven to him. And Gojo’s dilated irises hold direct eye contact with you once he’s digging his round fingertips roughly onto your asscheeks. Resonating out such saturated squelches after squelches as his tongue laps every nook and cranny. “You’re gonna get it- fuck, you’re gonna get it, sweetheart.”
So many delirious moans rip out of you with every slash of his tongue, perking it in every right sensitive spot of yours - without even trying.
Mewling, “Toru- ngh- Toru.”
“Easy there, easy there.” He giggles out in a wet sputter right into your inner thighs, ragged voice all waterlogged with so many ounces of you and your sweet pussy. In the blink of an eye, you feel like you’re floating - only mere moments later do you realize that it’s because Gojo’s holding you up.
With only one hand.
Relieving you of any thought other than jerking your cunt repeatedly on top of his open mouth in a sultry tempo. Back and forth.
“Have no idea h-how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He spits into your weeping pussy - both literally and figuratively. Free hand darting upwards to push aside the glutinous barrier of your folds and spray it with a thick wad of spittle. Licking over the shiny sheen, “No idea. Always actin’ so ngh- high and mighty. Had to fuck my fist every time I fought ya, had to run off and- shiiiit cum to the thought of you all over my tongue.”
Gojo was babbling, and right now it was as if he started and couldn’t stop.
“Annoying fuckin’ girl.” He’s snarling, every syllable falling out before he can even think. The swollen point his thumb treks past your walls and catches on the fluttering orifice of your hole. “Ya just need to be eaten out reeeeal proper. Lemme show you how it’s done.”
Then you feel like you’re being split-apart, and you knew you were fucked.
Because Gojo’s fingers were both long and girthy.
Such a lethal combination that had you mussing up his silky bangs while you held on for dear life.
His barreling inches crawl right past that first cozy outer ring, showering it with such lustrous layers of pure, slippery need. Pushing and pushing until they’re skirting to thrash right into the bulging area of your g-spot.
And just when he’s pummelling your molten wall with a harsh strike, just when Gojo’s mouth parts at the pure ecstasy of finding it. Of how pretty you looked.
You’re letting your own, too, in a frail whimper. “Th-that all you got, Nightwing?”
“Ohhh, I love a woman that bullies me.”
All that Gojo whispers into your cunt - low, almost reverent - before his touch turns deadly. Cock aching painfully, thighs squeezing together until his pulsing, hot shaft gets squeezed.
You’re faced with the full force of his slick-covered fingers pumping direct hit after hit. Sending white-hot flashes of pressure straight from the stout ends of his fingerpads and right to your brain.
“That all I got? H-heh, that all I got-” He’s echoing your previous words like a mantra. Breaking. Octaves higher as if he was on the verge of laughing. “How fucking cute.”
“C-cute?”
“So fucking cute.”
“I-I’m not- fuck!”
Pinpointing his long index purposefully in a massage right up against your g-spot, like it was a button for him to toy and push.
Gojo’s smile leers ever-wider as he holds it there, listening to the way your moans pitch creakily. “What’s that?” And you’re barely spilling off a few more syllables in response before he angles his wrist deeper to push down even harder. Making your entire body shudder, “What’s that? Yeahh, s’what I thought.”
You were so tight around him that Gojo’s forcing himself to bite his driveling bottom lip to hold back countless embarrassing whimpers. Because you were clinging onto him like gum, tugging his fingers back into your boiling hot depths every time he’s reeling back.
And the problem with Gojo Satoru was that he couldn’t decide.
He wanted you. And he wanted it all.
Couldn’t stop from alternating between scissoring his dexterous fingers into every ridge and crevice of your goopy cunt, and making out with you like he was parched. Lolling his tongue like he was drunk- all over your swooping slit and rubbing in tiny hearts on top of your hooded clit.
“Need you. Need you s-shoooo fuuuckin’ badly.” He couldn’t even speak properly at this point. You’re flinching as a third finger slimily squirms inside your pussy. “Want it all.”
So fucking sloppy in ways you’ve never seem him.
Your dewdrops of slick coat the outside of his mouth and stick in delicate strings, growing thicker and thicker by the minute as he once more strikes your magical spot and makes your toes curl. Gasping, “Yeah- yeah, fuck. Take it, take it ngh- all, Satoru—”
You think you’re gonna snap.
“Upsie daisy.”
Basically being manhandled to lean your entire weight on his shoulders. You don’t think you’re even holding yourself up at all this point. Feeling every flex and ripple of the hero’s deltoids underneath your fleshy mounds.
You’re so loud - and not just from your mouth.
“Hell yeah. Talk t’me.” Juicy sloshes spring onto the edges of Gojo’s mouth after every gyration, practically devouring you. He narrows his lust-murked stare to your glistening hole, giggling - fucking giggling - at how your hips just can’t stay still. “She’s saying…ohhh she’s saying- saying she’s gonna be good f’me.”
You’re blinking down with dazed intrigue, watching with an empty head at the way that his motions only get faster. And faster.
Pupils sprinting allll the way to the back of your heavy lids, “Close. Think- think m’so close, Toru.”
“Ya think?” He muses, drawing a bold stripe up your bruised and battered g-spot. One so hard that it has the corners of your lips flooding with a bubbling torrent of saliva, it has your eyes shuttering- “Oh, girl– I know. You’re cummin’ already, sweetheart.”
Shit- you were? You were.
Head spinning, throat raw.
And you didn’t even realize it with just how fucked-out you were on his long, lecherous tongue. Rendering your head permanently dizzy with those vulgar patterns he was drawing with it, both inside and out.
Your goopy walls tingle with the force of your high, ears popping with the pressure of those startling peaks after peaks. Ones that Gojo drags out gladly.
“Cumming from the hah- the great Gojo Satoru, huh?” He’s groaning, tonality husked with a shiver of something predatory. Unstable. Needy. Smashing away over and over and over on your most tender spots, buzzing. “Cumming all over my mouth. Always was meant for this- meant for me.”
If you thought that the squelches from before were blasphemous, then you surely weren’t ready for the slurps that follow now.
So loud.
Slithering the curling tip of his tongue to slap down on your quivering entrance, he’s pounding your hole dually with a mean mouth and even meaner fingers. Merciless.
You’re cumming and cumming and he’s stringing you along with every explosive ram and suck. Tired fingers pulling out of your hole with a wet plop! and lurching down to squeeze his achingly hard cock. Grinding the fat of his palm over n’ over across his length-
“S-soooo sensitive—” You’re sobbing out, eyes leaking hot tears once the crescendo of your orgasm pulls taut, powerful tingles rushing from where Gojo was latching his neat teeth onto your clit and biting.
And not even wringing your fingers to scratch his scalp, not even draaaagging Gojo by his sweat-matted hair could get him to part.
He wasn’t done yet. No.
His chin hits the very back of your cunt as he targets your pussy with yet another viscous few wads of spittle. Scattering it all over your sloppy hole when he’d drunk up all your sweet sap and there wasn’t enough. “Wanna taste more o-of you. S’fuckin’ sweet, wanna taste more.”
Because to him it would never be enough.
Not even when you’d finally let your toes uncurl, not even when your cracked whimpers were turning hushed. Bated.
Not even when he finally breaks his kiss between your legs with one last looooong slurp. Well, multiple. Gojo simply kept parting and coming back every few seconds with the most vulgar kisses because it hurt him to leave the very same pussy he’s been dreaming of since the day he first met you.
“Fuck. Fuck.” Gojo seethes out through rough pants. The soppy thwack! of wiry ribbons of drool from both sets of lips smacking him in the face. It lacquers all over his prettily flushed face and makes a mess.
Yet, you think he’s never looked prettier.
And the only thing messier was that smile he was giving you - dopey, and crazed. With beads of syrupy slick hanging off of his cerise lips, “You…you got my mask all dirty, sweetheart.”
“Dirty” was an understatement.
Gojo’s black mask was drenched, soaked through until every bit of his milky skin touching it smeared with a shimmery lamination of sap. You’d done such a number on him that when he hooks a thumb underneath, it lets out the most sinful squelch!
“Hear that?” You’re watching, speechless, once he tugs it off haphazardly. Impatiently. Ethereal white locks splaying out and over like a halo, “That’s the sound of ya being eaten out reeeal good n’ proper.”
And when Nightwing takes his mask off, you have to blink.
Because you’d fully and completely thought that Gojo Satoru could never be prettier - but when he was like this? When you could finally see his face fully?
Shit, you’re feeling your heart hammer against your ribs with a painful ba-dump–! just by looking into his summer blue eyes. The cute blush painting his features even more evident, and you’re catching his nose crinkle.
You’re pushing back the stray twines of his bangs sticking onto his prespired forehead. A touch that makes him shiver, a touch that makes his hardened cock twitch in his supersuit. “Never put that on a-again, I swear.”
“Ate that pretty cunt out and you’ve hah- fallen f’me already, hm~?” He’s wriggling his pale brows, and the look in his eyes is so enchanted that it leaves you momentarily speechless.
If you’d fallen for Gojo now, then he had already fallen for you a long, long time ago.
You hand on his hair tightens, searing. Angling his handsomely pussydrunken face until he’s looking up at you, “And who was saying they’ve been hngh- dreaming of eating my ‘pretty cunt’ for ages now?”
“I…”
“Shut up.”
And when you tell him to shut up, he shuts up. For perhaps the first time in the twenty-something years he’s been terrorizing this Earth.
Oh, for just how famed Nightwing was for his reflexes, Gojo barely sees it coming when you’re pushing him onto the muggy floor and collapsing right on down with him. Feverish. Needy.
He was so fucking hard that you swear you could see the zig-zag of his inflated veins through that massive bulge. Through his clothes-
Seriously, you’re ripping through the tough latex-y fabric wrapping around his inner thighs with a smirk. If he got to rip your supersuit then you should only return the favor.
You can’t help yourself, the very tip of your mushy tongue drips with a few pearls of saliva with just how badly you wanted him in your mouth. You’d seen the way that Gojo was huffing and grinding his cock as much as he could when he was filthily making out with your cunt.
Judging by the way he was jolting and moaning at your every touch, you were surprised he didn’t cum just from-
Oh.
He did.
And from the startled look of awe on Gojo’s face, he didn’t realize he had, either.
“Oh?” You’re skimming the fat plane of your thumb over his leaky orifice right in the middle, bawling out thick ropes of creamy white which slipped n’ slid allll down your wrist in generous heaps. “A-and you called me ‘cute’.”
Shit, but you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know where to look.
True to his word, Gojo was big - more than big, actually.
His cock was oh-so-pretty, standing red and proud at something near nine or ten inches. Oodles of buttery seed dripping down the side and ready for you to lick up.
Nestled above breeder balls, he’s lightning bolted with fat, rosé veins you couldn’t wait to feel scratch up your insides. A girthy circumference that made your poor knuckles ache to wrap around, so needy that every throb made your wrist jolt.
So…sexy.
“Satoru…”
And something in your tone of voice seems to jolt Gojo into overdrive.
He’s letting his meaty thighs crack open, displaying you with the attractive ripples of muscle. “C’mon, sweetheart-” A large hand softly cups the back of your unsteady head, “-clean up this- this mess you made.”
If this was any other time, you might’ve snapped back something about it being the mess he made himself. If this was any other time, you might’ve teased him for the teary cracks shattering his words.
But right now, you were striking the bullseye of Gojo’s round, coral pink divot with a hefty dump of saliva. Thumbing it right over his weeping middle and lazing your tongue tenderly all down the grooves of his veins.
You could feel him throb and buck underneath you, so turned on that you could practically taste it.
“Gods. Fuck. Fuck, girl-” He’s spitting out through lowered lashes, watching your tongue flop out to lap ‘round and ‘round his mushroomy tip like your favorite lolly. “-like that. Just like that.”
Gojo tucks a thumb underneath the curve of your chin, prying your maw to fall open just enough so that he can tap-tap-tap his blushing, thick head on your tongue. So that he can spurt out a few more gumdrops of seed and watch them glisten all the way to your throat.
He’s watching you with an open mouth, “Oh yeah. Oh yeah, my girl. Now you’re gonna hah- take all of me, right?”
Your pussy twitches with interest at his words — “my girl.” And the only thing you can think to do is let your digits sift underneath his tender slit, grinning. “Make me.”
It’s all the confirmation that Gojo needs to lurch open your slobbering mouth even further and plunge his veiny cock into you. Hissing at the way your tongue drags underneath his sinking shaft, he burns red to the tips of his ears.
“N-now now, play nice and say ‘ahhh’—” Your mouth was so hot. And it was working so many wonders on his fat cock that it was forcing him to gasp out tiny sobs. “Take me- fucking- fucking take me or god help me-”
He didn’t even know what he was saying.
Never breaking sultry eye contact, Gojo’s swabbing his cum around your plumped lips like a whitish lipstain. Fucking up feverishly, his trickling tip hits the very bottom of your throat and stays there-
“Ya like that?” He’s snarling out, perfect teeth pulled back on full display. You’re moaning into his tufted, snowy-white pubes at the sight of his glinting canines. “‘Course you do, course you do. F-fuck don’t know how many ngh- time I-I’ve imagined this. All because of you, nasty girl-”
Without warning, he’s pinching your nose together and you whine in answer. Crescents of your nails clawing down red, red lines all over his toned abs, “Alright alright- ngh- mostly because of you.”
He lets go, finally. Snickering at the steady tears that fall down your cute face.
Fighting against his flapping lids to watch the way you’re bobbing your head in a primal cadence now. Your nose brushing up against his heated skin every time. A fat few rivers of drool find themselves glazing your lips, your chin, Gojo’s shifting pelvis in a puddle.
He was so hot and weighty inside, and your jaw was starting to ache just from the sheer bulky fatness. Your cunt leaking - bawling - at the way his ballooned-up veins rub against the roof of your mouth up n’ down.
“You and that damn suit n’ those damn eyes a-and that-” He bucks up, up, up, core tensing sexily each time. Smashing the rounded curve of his tight balls against your chin. “-damn mouth. Now mine, all mine oh—”
Your fingers just barely graze over Gojo’s plump sack, making his precious, pinkish skin wrinkle. Making him gasp- “O-oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck-” His head snaps upwards, eyes rolling to the very backs of his head. “-c’mere. C’mere.”
Maybe it’s because of the remaining aftereffects of your mind-shattering orgasm, maybe it’s because you wanted him so bad you couldn’t think; but you’re so pliable in Gojo’s big, strong arms.
He’s bending a few degrees to scoop you up in a mess of boneless limbs, all in one go. Sitting you all pretty and struggling to balance on his slender hips– his v-shape was mouth-watering.
And your thighs fit so perfectly snugly on either side, glissading your pussylips up and down on his cylindrical shaft. You’re riding all along his bumpy veins, head bobbing at every probing spiral that pokes past your folds.
“Fuck me.” Gojo whispers against your throat. Reaching over languidly to rip even more of his supersuit for you, all the way down his inner thighs, his chest, everywhere. For you to ruin. “Fuh-fuck me.”
Whining, “Give it- give it t’me, Toru–”
He blushes.
You didn’t know who was yearning for it more.
Gojo repeatedly spanks your slippery hole with the very rounded crown of his cockhead, sandwiching himself between your bloated lips. And the sight makes him grin, the sight makes him twitch- “Open. Open wiiiide, sweetheart. Tight fuckin’ thing.”
Your knobbly knees ricket as you splay them out shamelessly, “‘Nough teasing. Want it- a-and I want it now.”
Bratty girl.
Though, he always has loved that side of you.
And it’s exactly what makes Gojo depart his hips off of the ground in a sudden rut and fill you up to your brim. Just the plump circle of his tip mazing past your entrance enough to render you stupidly speechless.
You swear you hear him bludgeon just the few inches of his head into your channel with a wet plop! Before your ears ring with something even louder…even wetter.
“Fucking- shit shit shit-” You’re almost letting your mouth sing with a whimper once his gorgeous eyes shutter closed, a cute pout smearing over your face. Gojo’s shifting, he’s restless, he’s planting his feet firmly flat on the floor and bucking wildly. Through clenched teeth, “This is- all- your- fault.”
Suddenly, you’re feeling something warm and thick soaking through your walls. Slathering ribbons of liquid sloshing around your wet inners and mixing with the waves of your aroused slick.
Did he just…? Just from putting it inside?
And, really, you felt so heavenly inside - what was a man to do?
Your gooey walls molding around his length like molten gold, it was driving Gojo crazy until all he could do was wrap his arms around the small of your back as if you were his lifeline. Panting out cloudy breaths against your face, he stares deeply into your eyes and cums-
Your eyes flap open alertly, “T-Toru– did you just-”
“Shut up.” He’s huffing, gnawing on his wobbly lower lip like chewing gum. To shut you up, he’s shoving your face between the plummy cushions of his pecs. Grunting when your tongue comes out to suck his rose pink nipples. “I’m just- I’m- ngh–”
Just fucking his globular wads of seed until you were overspilling, is what. Pumping the bottom of your pussy so full that you’re feeling him smear sticky streaks down your cervix, the gluey-texture making your back arch for more more more-
“Can’t help that this p-pussy is so fuck- filthy.” He’s trawling out syllables from the back of his hoarse throat, a thin line of saliva leaking from one end of that fucked-out grin. Eyeing the plapping of his cum pouring in bucketloads out of you and onto his skin, “That you’re so…”
Can’t help that he’s been dreaming of this since forever.
Gojo didn’t have to say a word, because the massive puddle formulating from between your icing-topped folds was chatty enough. Really chatty, in fact, that the man finds himself nodding away blearily with every shrill squelch! from down below.
Humming, “Mhm— real t-talkative, aren’t you, pretty girl?” His pants puncture with a few breathless titters, watery gaze flickering between your sweaty face and where he was disappearing. Depraved. “Nicer than her, too.”
Lips falling into a partially-offended, partially-delirious oh! your brows furrow, “S-so mean. Don’t make me- ngh- don’t make me g-get off, Satoru.”
“Get off, huuuuh?” He’s drawling, hands pushing you down even further along his blushing red cock. You were so insistent and fiery, it made him so much fucking harder. And it was cute, the way you’re flinching when his tip throbs even fatter. “If you wanna ngh- tap- tap out, jus’ say so, my girl.”
“Never.”
“Never?”
Rolling those beautiful eyes of yours, “You’d tap out first.”
Fuck yeahhhhh, he was shifting his hips just a little to make you feel how much girthier you were making him. The clingy sides of your walls snatching on the way his crownhead pulls taut, stretching your innards to the very max. “No. You.”
He doesn’t know if you even realize just how much more damp you’re getting. A syrupy wet patch already formed and growing on his v-line, dribbling down to his twitchy balls. “Scared, Nightwing?”
“I’m not even trying, sweetheart.”
And with that said, only now do you realize just how true his words are.
Two impressive hands interlace on the crown of your sticky scalp, pushing you- bullying you down like some glorified ragdoll.
Your thighs twitch as if you were unsure whether to clench or spread. You can feel Gojo’s sweltering hot cock squeezing and squeezing his fully proud length inside of you - you didn’t even realize that he hadn’t bottomed out yet because he was simply so big.
But when he did finally fit all the way?
God, it felt like he was drilling his split-ended tip right into your lungs.
“There we go- thereeee we go.” Gojo breathes out thickly, and it felt like something leaden in his tummy was finally unraveling after all this time. Finally stuffed inside your pussy. “Knew you could t-take me- heh. S’biiig, isn’t it?”
Really big.
And every shallow bounce of yours made your pulse burst near your throat, stars sparking behind your burdensome eyelids when he pinpricks tiny speckles of pre on your most favorite spots.
“Yeah yeah- ride me.” He grapples at your scalp and pulls. “Fuckin’ ride me. S’all yours n’ I wanna see you ngh- milk it.”
“Gods- ohhhh gods.” You’re shrilling out in a strained pitch when he jerks upwards and clashes into your g-spot, your nails claw ragged lines on the carpet as if you’d just been thrown to the wolves. Stupid now. Hips jerking away from his tantalizing pace-
“No running.” Gojo spits, pained. One hand curling around your throat and dragging you down to smack the backs of your thighs against his weighty balls, the other cupping your face delicately. His long, textured tongue laps up the salty pearls of your tears with looooud slurps. “Wh-where the ngh- fuck do you think you’re going?”
You didn’t even have an answer because every possible one was being fucked out of you. Brutally.
One sharp jab. Two. Three into your tender alcoves and you feel like collapsing, your front melting into his toned one, drool spilling out in spit-loads.
It’s all you can do to gyrate your waist back and forth in sloppy circles to meet his pace. Looong figure eights that made Gojo’s thighs shudder, and your clit scratch his creamy happy trail. There were so many thorough inches being fed into your cunt, probing deeply. Over and over and over-
And no matter how full you were he’d keep rutting and rutting. Like he couldn’t stop. Rotund head sagging down your cervix to leave streaks of pre and he was still pushing.
Gojo bores up at you with glazed eyes, saliva-glistening lips parted ever-so-slightly while he pounded up into you as if in a daze.
You’re swearing his dilated pupils have formed into hearts- “Mmmm– love you, my girl.” He carries out a tender kiss on your forehead, and a rough squeeze on your throat. Jostling your lolling head back and forth ever-so-slightly, to dab his digits in a seeping puddle of slick and push past your lips. “Love fucking you. Being haaaaa– fucked by you…”
It’s not often that anyone can catch Gojo Satoru off guard.
But you’re not just “anyone.”
With your honed expertise, all it takes is one jackhammered thud! into the back of your pussy - two - before you’re flipping your ravenously glissading bodies over.
“Then f-fuck me properly, Toru.”
Maybe he heard your words through the static-y buzzing in his head, maybe he didn’t. Either way your tone makes something inside him twitch, full-bodied.
And you don’t think Gojo even registers it beyond a stuttered ohhh–! at first, you don’t think he even realizes the way he’s immediately sprawling you out flat on your back and bending you into a rude mating press.
Still not slowing down. Still not faltering.
Ah, you don’t know if you’re a genius or just plain stupid. Because you still manage to yelp, “S’that- s’that it?”
As if on primal instinct, he’s letting out a growl near your mouth. “Hah- haaah– Y’know…I-I’m reeeeal flexible, my girl.” Your calves burn with exertion once he throws them unceremoniously over his shoulders, core tensing in a way you can’t help but ogle. “Real flexible.”
At first you didn’t understand why he was telling you this. At first.
Before Gojo drags his large feet up, up, up until he’s planting them where you can see - sweaty thighs lugging forwards where he’s bending you in half and then some.
It was so cute how pliable you were underneath him, manhandled to every whim and want and need-
This brand-spanking new angle was everything.
Thrashing into your springy cervix - hard. Stretching out deeply-seated sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. It makes you feel so fucking filthy at the sting of his papping balls bruising your ass like never before.
And his tip is so greedy, feeling the swashing splash of his own seed dripping all over your walls and still bursting to erupt with more. He could tell he was close, aligning himself to crash into his favorite target of your g-spot.
“Fuck–” Your mindless legs threaten to close - not that he would ever let them. “So much. Fuck me, p-please.”
“What was that?”
“Please…”
“What was that?”
“Please!”
Gojo’s hunched over, seethingly red in the face. Ivory bangs half-way covering his intensely half-lidded stare, stray spatters of perspiration hit your chest like bullets.
“Gonna ngh- fuck you properly.” He spits, hands ghosting over your tummy - namely that globed bulge he was fucking into you. A mere nudge of it with his thumb leaves Gojo’s breath leaving his lungs in a sizzling woosh! Sculptured chest vibrating, “Gonna breed you properly. Gonna…”
You’re flinching when fingers waft over your nubbed clit, the stark volts of electricity prompting your ass to hit back even rougher against his sharp pelvis.
“Want it, Toru.” Wobbly arms wrapping around his flushed neck to pull him in close. He looks at you lovingly, while he fucks you like he hates you. “W-want you to ngh- breed me.”
And that does it - for the both of you.
Gojo Satoru’s breath hitches with a cry, balls achingly tight. Needy. “Gonna make you m-mine.”
Running headfirst into your highs, it hits you like a tidal wave. You don’t know where you’re seeing white from; the flurries of stars speckling your vision, or from the torrents of cum Gojo pours out past your sloppy entrance.
“Your p-pussy–!” Gojo bursts, drilling into you as if he was crazed. Fat tip swirling around your pretty insides with decorative ribbons of pure white, his cum seeps into you thickly and you swear you can feel him well up the door to your womb. “O-ohhhh your pussy your pussy your- p-pussy, takin’ me so well.”
“Fuck me-” You tug on his pink lips with your teeth and it makes Gojo empty out another few webbed streaks of sap into the bottom of your pussy with a thud! Brows furrowing, “Deeper.” Even though he was so deep you think you might burst. “Harder.” So hard you felt raw. “More.”
You were already overspilling, the throes of your burning hot orgasm just barely letting you register the splat-splat-splat of his cum pumping in n’ out of you.
Two of his slender fingers urgently scoop those few escaping globs back through your pussylips, Gojo’s girth so wide that he doesn’t even have to try to plug you full and tight.
“A-all safe and sound.” He’s patting at the cumflated outline on your tummy, cylindrical and round. Your walls were so plump and tight with him that just the simplest dig had you squealing. “A-all…”
And Gojo looked like he could purr if he could.
All fucked out and satisfied, the pussydrunken grin on his face seemed permanent - and so was that tender glint in his eye. Peeking up at you through long lashes, he leans his head over to listen to your juddering heartbeat, “All mine.”
Your tummy lurches, and you find yourself smiling before you can stop. But it’s not like you wanted to stop.
In fact, you didn’t want to stop at all.
“That last one’s a tie.” Your voice scratches the favorite crevices of Gojo’s brain; so mushy and melted that it takes a long while before his lips drop into an understanding oh! You sweetly peck his lips, “Rematch, Nightwing?”
Fuck.
His poor, overworked cock twitches.
Fuck.
And of course, it was a rematch with the two of you.
Of course, the one rematch turned into two. Into three. Into four. Into- you’d lost count after five, and you were sure right now that you couldn’t even do any maths past that.
After breaking Naoya Zenin’s loveseats, after splitting his desk literally in half. Eventually, you’d either forgotten about the man himself and your fate, or you just didn’t care. You were so fucked dumb that all you can cry is a broken, “Sa-to–ru!”
Because if there was one thing that Batman taught in his rigorous training scheme, it was stamina.
Gojo was taking you from behind right now- well, that was being generous.
He was slumped down over you until his abs were liquefying down your arched spine, head buried deep into the clammy crook of your neck. Swirling his sensitive cock all around your tenderized insides, thighs trembling where he was pinning the both of you down onto the floor. Too sloppy and fucked to even try anywhere else.
“M’here—” Gojo drawls out, heavy tongue stumbling over the sounds. He pats the cute tummy bulge that he’s responsible for first, and then your gushing pussy. Pulling you to him, he really was acrobatic, “M’here. Toru’s h-here, my sweetheart.”
Fuck- those last two words make him jetstream out a sweltering few beads of seed. He couldn’t even cum properly anymore.
Driving into you until every voluminous mass in his body was now packed intensely between your snug walls, he shifts inside of you with a sloooow gyration and feels the knotted mess he’s made.
“My sweetheart–” Gojo’s biceps bulge where he’s shoving your head into the soft carpet, into the pond of saliva that just won’t stop leaking from your parted mouth. His words depart in a cracked plea, “My girl.”
“Y-yours.”
Maybe you’re cumming, maybe you’re not - you don’t even know, at this point.
Half-lucidly aware of the faint tingles shooting up your spine, and making your temples throb. Gojo himself feels out of control, hips reeling back, back, back to slam into your jiggling ass.
He’s pawing himself a rough handful of your fleshy mounds once he throws his head back and lets his aching shaft jolt. Straight from his drenched base, all the way to his overstimulated tip- exhausting out one bead of pre. Two.
Before Gojo cums dry.
“O-oh.” His teeth snag near your pulse, wet splatters of tears soaking your skin. Something animalistic twinging at the back of his cottony mind at the way you literally milked him until he was dry. Despite himself, he laughs. High-pitched. Crazed. “S’a- tie- s’a tie, I went e-easy on you…”
Somehow, you’re managing a grin. “My hero~”
And Gojo was just about to open his mouth - maybe to counter back something nonsensical, maybe to ask for a rematch over n’ over until he passes out.
But what happens instead is that overly familiar metallic gate explodes open.
You have to blink away the clingy fog in your eyes in alarm, and you’re embarrassed to admit that it took longer than you thought. Dammit, he really did win that last round- ah, rematch.
Still stunned, you can barely even dredge up some semblance of dignity as a towering man in a red helmet and skin-tight black suit walks in. Past his sexy biker vest, and those muscles upon chiseled muscles, you think you see- yeah, it really is. A red Batman logo.
Red Hood.
A low snicker sounds from underneath his mask, swiftly being taken off to reveal a man so pretty that you feel your jaw slacken.
He runs a hand through silky, waist-length black hair, amethyst eyes glinting with amusement and something…more as he takes in the sight. Long lashes fluttering, he lets go of a specialized machine gun you assume was used to break down your cage. “Yo, Satoru.”
“Suguru.” Gojo gruffs out in a condensed gasp, though he makes no move to stop. None at all. Still balls-deep, and rubbing his tip down your spongy cervix. “Wh-what- fuuuck, don’t squeeze like that, my girl- took ya so ngh- long?”
Red Hood- Suguru, waves his other hand airily, only then do you see the knife clutched in it. The extremely…bloodied knife. “Ah, y’know~ Had to clean up some messes. Toji wanted revenge on the Zenins, the usual family drama.” Eyes flashing, “He’ll be up once he’s done to ah…join us here.”
Oh god, was the entire Bat Family here? You get the distinct feeling that this was not just “usual family drama.”
But you can’t say a word when the other man bores his piercing gaze onto you next. Tone smooth and syrupy, “So…Prowler, I’m assuming, by the ripped up costume?”
You feel your skin heat. “The one and only.”
“Geto Suguru, gorgeous.” He pulls out a tiny spherical gadget that looked exactly like the one Gojo had been toying with hours- days? ago. “I already know your name, Toji and I heard it over and over. Which, by the way, you should remind that idiot Satoru to turn his microphone off.”
Ah, that explains a lot. And wait- it was on this whole time?
Shit.
While Gojo only huffs out a pant of laughter, planting yet another deep jackhammer into you, you feel the apologies bubble to your lips. That is, until-
“Unless you want someone to feel…” Geto licks his lips slooowly, bangs swooning over his sleazy gaze. You watch with widened eyes as a hand falls to his bulky belt, carnally. “-left out.”
A/N. Mhm what happens when ya let a girl listen to Nightcrawler.
Synopsis. Bréeding kínk? Going feraI? What the hell is that? Maybe your sweet clan leader husband knows the answer…
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Choso, arranged marriage, mentions of heirs, he’s a little ínsane, elders are awful, MARATHONS, he goes FÉRAL, BRÉEDING, creampíes, a lot of cúmplay, semi-public, dóm Choso, oraI (fem rec), cervíx kíssing, making it fit, bulges, cúmflations, matíng presses, dúmbification, overstím, making him CRY, p talking, spítting, HEADLOCKS, slight 5 + 1 things, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 9.3k
A/N. CLAN LEADER CHOSO CLAN LEADER CHOSO
Choso Kamo - firstborn son of the ancient Kamo clan, more of a myth than a man.
Those who attended the sprawling Kamo Estate never dared utter a word about him; and those who didn’t, well, he was all that they could talk about.
He left no evidence, he left no remorse.
Only rumors of a silent, stoic leader who could slaughter four entirely different clans before he let even a singular whisper of it spread amongst the masses. Ones of pretty mahogany eyes, and a silver bow and arrows that hit the target of your very soul - so fluid it was as if he’d forged the weapon with his own blood.
And then there were the other rumors - more gossip than anything, really. Spread throughout every nook and cranny of stuffy social functions about how the deadly Kamo clan leader had another, secretive side. A softer side.
But, of course, rumors were rumors. Choso Kamo was simply an enigma.
And…your new husband.
“Zoning out, hm?” A hot gust of breath sends shivers sprinting down your spine, and in an instant you’re snapping your eyes to latch onto deep, hazel ones. Choso’s. The edge of his plump lips curl slightly upwards, “My apologies, this wedding reception is quite droning, isn’t it?”
Hastily breathing, “N-no! Of course not, I…” You’re wincing when yet another wizened elder saunters up to the raised platform of your table. Probably the hundredth of the night. “-yeah, maybe a bit.”
Choso stifles out a rumbling bout of chuckles as he catches your gaze, so close now that his pearly white teeth almost nick your sensitive earlobe. “Let me take care of this, my wife.”
And when Choso shifts over to nod curtly at your oncoming guest, you couldn’t help but appreciate how beautiful he is. All tall, towering lines of lean muscle, his silken black yukata wafting of heady cologne, and delicate features that made him have almost as many admirers as he did foes.
Or, at least, delicate features that were currently twisted into something hardened. Something exactly like clan leader Kamo of all the stories.
He’s tilting his head up, long lashes narrowed, “Elder Tanaka, a pleasure.”
“No no! The pleasure’s all mine.” The older man slurs drunkenly, and despite the way his words were just dripping with saccharine sweet politeness, years of suffering through these exact interactions had made it easy for you to spot faux niceties. Like right now. “Or should I say- the new madam’s. You must be glad to marry into a clan as esteemed as the Kamo’s.”
The plastic smile that smears all over your face is painful, and you’re biting your tongue before it betrays you. “Yes, of c-”
“My apologies for cutting in, madam.” You’re startling - but you don’t know whether it’s because of the softened fingerpads that intertwine around yours, or the utter fire curdling in Choso’s eyes. “But I must say, I am the lucky one here.”
Oh.
Elder Tanaka is more impressive than you thought - his mask of respect barely even cracks, other than the jerky twitch of one eye. Honestly, you don’t think he’s ever heard Choso speak this much ever before. Quickly gathering his bearings, “Ah- ah, of course, master Kamo! Correct as always!”
Fuck- you can’t hold back the way you roll your eyes, only remembering yourself when Choso’s engulfing hands loosen from your own to give your thigh a warm squeeze.
“You have wedded quite the catch, of course of course.” Your unwelcome company finally, finally looks at you properly. A sneer coating his slow blinking, “I-I simply meant that considering the master’s incredible power, wealth, and options, what she brings to the table-”
“-is herself.” Choso finishes off monotonically. “And that’s all I need.”
Choso’s words were husky, his grip on you tight. And you wonder if he even realized just how hard he was clutching onto your heated skin - mountains of his palm dragging a smooth up n’ down your clothed leg.
You knew he was well-hidden underneath the lacy tablecloth, you knew that not a single elder, family member, or friend bustling about your wedding reception could see that particular touch over the dim yolky lighting.
But something about it just made you feel hot.
It takes you a few fuzzy seconds to realize that Elder Tanaka was still speaking - in fact, he’d even summoned over a few more members of the council to encircle your decadent table. All the more voices speaking at you rather than to you.
“-that’s what I was saying-” You’re catching croaked-out snatches of conversation, warily eyeing the way the men clap each other supportively on their backs.“-it’s about the right time don’t you think?”
Another one nods, “Jin has been waiting for so long, after all-”
“-yes yes, to have an heir-”
Oh.
That’s what had Choso’s high cheekbones currently dusted with a faintly blossoming rose pink. That’s what had his thickened digits dipping past your luxurious evening yukata to rover between your thighs higher, and higher- like he didn’t even realize what he was doing.
Like he was yearning for it.
“The Kamo clan shall have an heir.” You’re interrupting their ramblings, the mere sound of your voice enough to make Choso’s fingertips twitch. Smooth skin prickling with heaps of goosebumps already when you lock eyes right with his. “As soon as my husband is ready, right?”
And Choso Kamo was brought up with the most rigorous of training, raised to never show even the barest flicker of emotion - especially one where he’s caught off guard.
But right now he knows that he looks as stunned as he feels.
Coral pink maw falling into a soft oh! dark whirlpools of his eyes glinting with something so utterly raw. The trembling tips of his fingers lurch up just the barest inch to drag a lazy line down your pussymound.
He’s instantaneously shifting his free hand up in one, fluid motion to cover the feverishly flushed half of his face. Jaw clenching with a sharp click! of his teeth when he swipes the fat pad of his thumb down a fresh bead of your leaking slick, making such a flimsy mess of your drenched panties. Was this all for him?
Because now Choso’s getting…greedy.
And you’re almost letting off a slight whimper when he hastily drags his scouring hand away - that is, before every and any sound dies in your throat once your husband dips his wetted thumb past his lips and sucks.
Subtly.
And his voice cracks oh-so-pathetically, “R-right.”
Eyes staring deeply into yours when he parts his doughy fingertips mere millimeters to lather it with a fat wad of saliva. Your breath hitches in your chest, frantically glancing at the babbling group of men who were, thankfully, way too absorbed in themselves to notice your little…tryst.
And it’s only with all his years as a seasoned fighter that Choso’s nuzzling his soaked digits back between your jittery thighs. In a flash.
Planting exactly three soppy smack! smack! smacks! plapped onto the perfect arch of your drooling pussy. Choso’s raising his neat brows at just how those tremors make you squirm in your seat.
“Ch-Cho—so-” You’re gasping under your breath, hips repeatedly shuffling on your cushiony chair when he licks up repeated, sultry circles- no, wait, hearts along the slippery slit of your covered cunt. Up and down. “Th-they might see…”
“Shhh, don’t want them to hear, baby.” He’s leaning in to pant out a murked cloud against your ear, throat bobbing with a ravenous swallow of saliva as he then probes a few stuffy fingers under your panties. “You seem stressed– Let me take care of it.”
Oh, it was a promise - and the rasping growl that bled into Choso’s tone told you that he was well and fully intent on accomplishing his little task. “Spread those pretty legs now.”
With a steady, muscular calf hooked with your own, he’s cracking your thighs evermore parted. The scorching hot press of his big, beefy forearm over your shoulders making you feel as if you’re on the verge of melting. Practically on his lap now-
“Is everything alright, master–?” You’re hearing from what sounds like somewhere over in the distance, even though you already know that it’s from right in front of you.
“Everything is quite alright.” Choso’s plush pecs vibrate with his rapid answer, and you’re finding yourself leaning your weight onto his. Huffing and puffing near the crook of his neck, “It seems the madam is just feeling a little ah…tired, right now. Continue your talk, elders.”
Tired - you couldn’t feel more riled up if you even tried.
“Ngh- Choso-” You’re sinking your teeth into your wobbly lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. High, carved chair singing off a slight creak! when you’re bucking your hips up to jostle his gluttonous fingers closer to where you wanted him the most. “-need you.”
Well, whatever his wife wanted - you got.
In simple nanoseconds, Choso’s snugly prying away your gauzy lace. Letting the too-thin fabric snap back against your sappy cunt with a teasing little swat!
Before you can blink, he’s gracing your panties with microscopic tears at just how eager he was to give your plump, buttony clit a good, hard push. Cold golden wedding ring perking up against your most tender spots. Flexible wrists bending towards an even vulgarly deep angle to keep you from escaping-
And you think you could scream, you think you could open your mouth to make a scene - before Choso beats you to it. Purring out an oblivious, “Is everything alright, my wife? You seem a little feverish.”
All the while slipping n’ sliding his fingerpads to smear your gluey pussylips open. Mazing down, down, down in a lecherous little pace to plug up your geysering entrance snugly full with two of his fattened digits.
You’re clutching helplessly onto Choso’s thick yukata sleeve when the elders stare over at you curiously, “I-I’m fine, Ch- my husband. Just a few post-wedding jitters.”
“Awww, that’s alright.” He’s cooing from above you, words sugarcoated with such gentleness - but his hands were anything but. “M’here, m’here.” Setting out a vicious, ceaseless pace that has his manly fingers outlining numerous circles round n’ round your tight, flooding entrance. Motioning in slight, sleazy swirls all around your elastic hole just to fit inside properly. “Your dear Choso’s here, y’know? And I’ll take such good care of you.”
“Ah! Of course-” Ring out the replies, evidently your hurried-out shudders were not enough for your guests to lose interest. Or for Choso, either - because he’s just feeding your slobbering orifice with more fat inches upon grinding inches. “-producing an heir is a very integral part of the marriage contract. It’s understandable to be nervous.”
Shivering, “S-sure.”
“Mhm—” Choso’s trawling his pouted mouth down your perspiration-simmered temple, “-a very integral part. But, of course, we’ve got to make sure that my beloved wife is-” Quirking the very edge of his digits to clash right into the target of your g-spot. “-ready, after all.”
The clingy embrace of your warm cunt so cozy that it’s bumping Choso’s metallic ring further and further from his hilled knuckles to dredge out a chilling, languid massage along your channel.
It takes everything in you to manage up a half-heartedly narrowed glare up at your chatting husband, easily conversing his way through every battering ram being placed on your pretty pussy.
He doesn’t make a sign - he doesn’t even make a noise. Nothing except for a sharp, sudden inhale once another innocent peck at your lips makes your filthy hole fountain out a fresh lather of sickly sweet juices.
Dripping all the way down to his wrist with thickly viscous adhesive, he’s making such a fucking mess. And a loud one, too.
Slurp after slurp being wrenched out with every pound of his neatly cut nails patterning out little indents onto your most favorite spots - ones that have your legs shaking underneath the humid table. Choso’s bouncing his knee to drum out a staccato against the floor, just to cover up your cute little melody.
He has you going insane.
You’re pushing apart your legs to dig into either side of your chair with just how desperate you were for him. For more more more.
Bumping your thigh against one of his, and the mere touch is enough to send shockwaves down Choso’s sloped body.
“Trying to tease me, baby?” He’s hovering over you even closer, darting out a hefty thud! of two fingertips- no, three - when did he even bully in another one - onto the goopy roof of your cunt.
“M’not-” You’re biting out, head lolling ever-so-slightly backwards when Choso furrows his brows and pumps out copious thrusts that hit your forbidden g-spot dead on. Engulfed so deeply inside your hot core that the gentle curves of his palm smudge against your clit now. “J-just keep- talking.”
And, truly, it wasn’t just because your company was peering over the two of you expectantly - it was because Choso sounded so very hot.
Vibrato husky with an animalistic sort of need, tremoring ever-so-slightly-
“Agreed, I would like a few sons and daughters.” Choso’s nodding along smoothly, although his full attention is focused on you. His wife. And the way your sweltering hot gummy walls clench around his bludgeoning fingers even tighter at the words. Faster. “Maybe three. Maybe five. Although, it’s up to the madam.”
In the corner of your eye, you’re catching them all staring at you, and you urgently force out a nod.
“C’mon now, answer them using your words like a big girl, why don’t you–?” He’s humming, tilting your burning face up. Faster. So that you can’t hide.
Lilting shrill just as unbalanced as your head was, “Y-yes-”
But of course, that wasn’t enough - that would never be enough. “Louder. They can’t hear you over the music, baby.”
Can’t do anything but claw down drawings of red, red lines all across Choso’s milky arms when he bustles into the targets of your honeyed spots even harder. Unsteady syllables spilling out from your lip before you can even register them, “Yes- yes. As…many as possible.”
“That’s it- good girl.”
Fuck.
And those raked scratches make perfect artwork for him to admire - just as he was admiring you right now.
It was just such a shame that the others here were, too, even if they didn’t know the complete and utter sin happening just underneath the table cloth. Sloppier.
Choso’s kissing his teeth, broad deltoids of his shoulder positioning to hide you away from any sleazy gazes. Because they could be near, but they couldn’t see. You were his.
“Then, it’s settled-” He’s drawling, hooded eyes locked onto you. Memorizing your every minute twitch and reaction when he urges his free hand to hold onto yours on your lap. Or, at least, that’s what it looked like to the outside. In fact, Choso’s snugly prying apart your silken robes to roll over your throbbing clit and pinch. “-we can look forward to an heir, soon. Right, madam?”
And that’s all it takes for you to cum.
Your head tucking into his sculptured shoulder, thighs closing with a dull clap! as your high crashes into you headfirst. You don’t need to mutter a single sentence for Choso to know.
For his eyes to widen just a fraction at the way your treacly slit only got infinitely dewier, rounded gumdrops of your slick sprinkling down in a weepy sheen all over his messy hands. Mouth going parched at the realization that you’re orgasming right here, right now.
“O-oh? Seems my wife agrees.” Choso’s waving those elders away now, not taking his eyes off of you for a single second. It was just too adorable how you were shaking like a leaf at his side, “Well, m’glad. So- so…glad.”
Motioning your hips in such salacious semi-circles to bump up his upright fingers against your every extra sweet orifice.
Your sticky walls were so staggeringly tightly wrapped around him that it’s making his forehead bead with sweat, low puffs of air escaping with every peak he fucks you through. Every peak of white-hot pleasure that he draaags out until your guests are finally - finally - walking back to their own tables.
“Sh-shit-” you’re mewling when Choso barely hesitates - barely even takes a quick sweep around the room to check who might be looking - before parting from your sappy cunt with a resounding squelch!
Immediately popping those viscously-glazed fingerpads into his starved mouth, he’s letting his glassy eyes sprint to the back of his head. Musing out a moan, “Fuck- fuck!”
You can only watch with an awed gape whilst Choso stares right into your heart-shaped pupils as he cleans himself off. One by one. Before trekking his lustrous fingers back over to your cunt, and measuring out a wide few inches - perhaps nine - from the base of your teary entrance up to your tummy.
“Choso…” you’re whispering, hazy eyes blinking up at him as if through molasses. “Wha’s that for?”
And Choso only grins, stray range of knuckles thoroughly bitten underneath his gleaming canines while he measures you up.
As if he was holding back. Keeping himself sane. And the half-lided greed in Choso’s eyes told you that he’d fuck you all proper right here and right now if he could. “N-nothing- just making sure of somethin’, my wife. Making sure that you can take me.”
Oh.
This was far from over. You were fucked.
And you were completely and utterly sure of it even if the topic of an…heir didn’t come up for the next few days after that.
Not that you didn’t think about it, though - it was hard not to, when your fatally notorious husband showed such a tender side of himself with his younger brothers.
With you.
And soon enough even through all the bustling meetings and duties of a madam, you’re still figuring out a way to tell Choso that you really weren’t kidding about what you said during that wedding reception.
Sure, you were drunk on his fingers but - that wasn’t just all, was it?
But you’d sorely underestimated just how busy a clan leader could get. And before you knew it, putting off the conversation for the morning after your wedding night had turned into putting it off for the weekend.
Then putting it off for next week. Two weeks.
All the way until you’re trudging along the winding corridors of the Kamo Estate during the most unholy hours of the night. Grumbling groggily to yourself about how you’d finally told him and it had ended supremely well - in a dream, that is.
Choso had been absent for almost the entire day today, attending an important land negotiation with a far-off clan, according to Jin.
Now, you knew just how powerful your husband was - it was impossible to escape the legends and rumors, in fact - and you trusted him. Still, you couldn’t help but toss and turn the entire night away in your coldly empty bed as you wondered just how safe he would get home.
You’d been to such veiled conferences before, after all.
And it’s simply pure worry that has you dragging yourself out of your king-sized bed to shuffle into the barely-lit kitchen. Stifling half-blindly in the moonlight through cabinets and coolers to find ah! Exactly what you’ve been looking for.
Thank goodness this place was empty right now, you didn’t know if you could handle it if the chef was here to lecture you about balanced diets when you’re bites deep into your sugary, shaved icing.
And it’s exactly with this thought in mind that you hear a loud thud! emanating from the far end of the hallway. Your eyes widen, ears searching for more-
Footsteps.
At this time? Your fingers itch towards the sparkling display of knives tucked in one corner of the granite counter. Ready to aim for that tall approaching shadow, ready to fling just as Choso had taught you when-
“Baby?”
“Oh–” Your breath comes out in a heavy gust of relief, eyes unable to tear away from the shaded outline of your husband, taking up every inch of the doorway. “It’s just you, Cho.”
It was. But there was something about Choso that seemed…different. Off.
But not in a bad way - your eyes rover appreciatively over the tautly flexed muscles of his upper half, peeking out almost-blasphemously where he’d shrugged the upper half of his deep purple yukata off.
Glinting bow and arrow stained with crimson, held in one tightly-gripped hand. Your nose wrinkles at the slight, dangerous scent of something metallic. Something not his.
Yet, you can’t help but ogle the slow path of dewdropped sweat trailing down between the curvaceous bulge of his heaving pecs, bumping up and down over his washboard abs, before disappearing below-
It’s like you’re being bolted with an instant flash of lightning as soon as this happens, snapping your eyes over to find Choso’s weighty ones. And oh- the moment you do it’s like something in him melts.
THUD!
You’re jumping when his weapons hit the floor - uncaring of whether this might alert anyone else in the household, uncaring of anything other than crossing the sizzling distance between the two of you in three urgent strides.
You don’t even have the time to process it before Choso halts right before you and falls to his knees. Dark lashes fluttering up at you, he echoes, “Baby.”
Like a broken little mantra.
“Ch-Choso- baby-” It’s just about the only thing you can manage out through hollowed gasps when he’s immediately digging two hands on either side of your hips to easily and pliably seat you on the icy counter. Just where he wanted. “-what’s gotten into you?”
“Dunno.” He’s garbling out, and you’re letting your boneless legs tumble further and further open to let him bury his face right at his favorite place - into your fluttering cunt. “Was jus’ thinking about you alllll day.”
And you could tell.
Because Choso’s every movement was depraved. Jerky. His sensory fingertips trembling when they card underneath your cottony sleep garments, bringing it up to his canines to rip–!
All with his mouth.
“Fuh-fuck-” You’re squealing at the sudden hit of cold air - followed very closely by a scorching hot breeze overtaking every inch of your cunt when Choso leans in and sniffs. Long, hard. Curdling out a feral keen at the back of his throat, “-that’s so filthy, baby.”
“Nothing’s filthy for me if s’you, madam.” At the glint of something slobbering and sharp, you can tell that he’s grinning. “If s’you or…her.”
He was enamored with your ready core, curving a gentle thumb down the glossy edges to give your driveling hole a good trickle of spittle.
And Choso Kamo knew he had perfect aim - he knew he didn’t have to make a mess.
But oh, he couldn’t keep himself from tilting his head just degrees to the side to let the splatters leave dripping wet splotches down your saturated folds, your inner thighs.
Tongue so long, lolling out drunkenly to smear away that filthy excess. He’s poking heated ounces again and again back into your soppy entrance. You were practically flooding torrents of sweet, sweet juices around him, already making a mess that lacquers his dimpled chin.
You were always so sweet - so good for him. And he can feel his ears pop already with the greedy anticipation of what he was craving to do.
“Think you missed me, too.” He’s snickering, teeth sinking down onto the fleshy nub of your clit. It’s enough to make you want to sob. “Didn’t ya?”
Gyrating your hips in such hypnotizing little swivels off of the smooth counter, you’re feeling his candied breaths hit your gummy walls even deeper. Sloppier. Whimpering out, “Yes- yes. Missed you so badly, Cho–”
“Oh yeah?” He’s tensing up the dexterous edge of his tongue to swipe up unhurried skids of his roughened tastebuds around and around your quivering entrance. In and out. Syrupy slick leaking in heaps right as he does, Choso tilts his head back to let those gooey masses slide down his throat. “Mmm— you’re wetter than usual, baby. How badly do you want the ngh- clan leader on his knees for you, hm?”
It was true - and Choso can feel something coiling and coiling heatedly at the base of his stomach at the idea of giving you perhaps…a kid…or two to make sure you’re not so lonely anymore.
Ah, he was pussydrunk.
“So- too badly.” You don’t think you’d ever be babbling away like this if Choso wasn’t making out with your needy cunt like that.
You’re tangling your fingers hastily into his dark, silken locks - gripping desperately onto his sweat-dampened scalp as you use up all your strength and push. All the way until the very tip of Choso’s button nose was meeting your pulsing clit in a harsh smooch, his chin smacking the teary ends of your cunt.
Words tremoring against the very outer ring of your puffy pussy, silvery strings of saliva n’ sap break off when Choso mutters, “Was talkin’ to her, y’know?”
Fuck.
And you think you would be huffing and puffing about how he was talking with your dousingly wet cunt instead of you.
That is, if you weren’t talking back to him from between your legs.
Because the only thing louder than the slack-jawed ah! ah! ah! leaving your lips with every repeated thrust of Choso’s tongue, was the sound of your soppy squelches. “Ohhh- so that’s how your day was? Tell me more…”
So loud - so embarrassing that you can feel your heart race.
And Choso’s was, too, but for a much more lecherous reason as his tongue clashes even harder to draw out those very same pretty noises from you. He was craning his ears closer - he was addicted.
“Yeah- yeah, tha’s right.” Choso’s groaning, eyes faltering droopily until they were almost shut at the way his husking growls only make you wetter. Well, he could help with that. Hitting your hot core with wad after weighty wad of even more sugary spit. “Thaaaat’s fuckin’ right, missed how mouthy you hah- are. My talkative girl.”
“Cho- ngh!” You’re biting down on your tongue to hold back your words when Choso raises up a hand to leave a solid spank right on your bloated pussymound.
He’s nodding along, head lurching intoxicatedly ever closer and closer. Wiping away a glistening streak of slick painted over his blushing cheeks - his blushing cheeks. “That’s right- would’ve made a- haaaah- a whole lotta b-better points than that stupid council does.”
Before pecking a lingering French kiss on your throbbing clit like a lover would.
And you count one, two, three- partway through four before Choso seems to remember that he’s still in the middle of his conversation with your cute cunt. It’s rude to leave her hanging, he’s pondering.
“Well-” Stringing himself away with such a pained grunt, cerise lower lip plumping out in a pout at the mere thought of being away from you. “-better points than that stupid council d-did. They won’t be making aaaaany comments ‘bout you anymore, madam.”
Your leaden eyelids struggle to flitter open, “Wh-what do you ngh- mean, baby?”
But the only response you get is a quick staccato of swats at your leaky slit, before Choso’s curling in a thick thumb past your watering lips and in to your slicked entrance. Followed by the delicious drag of his lengthy tongue doubly slipping back inside.
Thrust after thrust.
So extensive that he was skimming across all your ridges, mapping out every sweet spot of yours on his mouth. Your adhesive walls were clinging onto him like a vice, sappy mushes making him pry apart your thighs even more through furrowed brows.
“Jus’- just means-” He can’t even bear to speak. To break off from stretching you staggeringly open. Your legs wrap mindlessly around Choso’s ravenous head, “-means I don’t let anyone- hah- say anythin’ about my wife.”
Without a second thought, your eyes find his splayed-out arrows on the floor. The way they were sullied with red…
Oh.
But you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything other than let your head jerk backwards, muffing out slight whimpers when he alternates in such sloppy measures between swirling the fattened expanse of his tongue all over every possible spot of your gummy walls and sucking on your clit like his favorite candy.
“They won’t say- do- anythin’—” In so deep now that all you could make out were numerous wet gurgles. And the pure, unadulterated love in Choso’s tone when he twists his thumb to graze right against your bruised and battered g-spot. Hard. “Not when I love her so much.”
He’s gonna raise your kids to love you just as damn much.
And when you cum, you think you might be sobbing - you’re shaking.
Flurries of stars bursting behind your eyes as you dig your fingers through your husband’s perspired strands. Keening out, “Fuck- m’cumming- m’cumming–”
“I know I know.” He smirks hotly against your puffy pussy lips, so close that you could feel the cratered dimple of his grin. “Yer cute cunt told me, baby– heh- wouldn’t mind being welcomed ah- home by my wife like this every day.”
He lets himself be manhandled, pulled and pushed to your every whim. One of the strongest clan leaders whimpering - whimpering - when you pull just a bit too hard to mash his cushiony mouth in a deeper kiss.
Hot. Sappy.
You’re still shaking with sparking bouts of heat that rush down and up your spine, legs twitching when Choso pulls away with a loudly kissed mwah! Overly exaggerated just to see that shy, fucked-out expression on your face.
He was so unfairly pretty like this - a delicate red blush burning all over his face, eyes half-lidded like he was feverish. A shimmery spray of your juiced slick drips down his chin, his bruised lips, all the way up to his regal cheekbones.
He made a mess. And he was wearing it like a badge of honor.
Rising up, up, up to shutter your ajar jaw and plant a drenching kiss. Choso always left your mind so melty and stupid no matter what he did.
“Do you…do you want some hngh- sh-shaved ice?” You’re babbling with your cottony tongue, unsure of what exactly to say after something as intense as…that.
“Nah-” One kiss. Another Two. Five. “-I jus’ had something a whooole lot sweeter, madam.”
Right now it was so quiet in your kitchen. Just you, Choso, and the gleaming moonlight illuminating his pussydrunken enchantment. Even more so than usual.
You’re glissading your arms around his sweat-matted neck, reeling him in even closer. He smells so good, piney cologne searing your senses even despite that tint of iron. Nervously musing, “Hmmm, wonder if s’always gonna be like hah- this whenever I get…cravings.”
Well- it wasn’t exactly what you wanted to say, but, better than nothing.
“Cravings, huh?” Choso’s eyes twinkle - and you’re not sure if that’s a result of the muted lighting or because of what you just said. Hopefully the latter.
“Well- well just saying I wouldn’t mind if-”
Cutting yourself off, you’re sure it’s the latter when he rests a massive palm, warm against your tummy. Just for a split-second before tucking his big, strong arms underneath your body and propping you in an easy princess carry. “If you have cravings then I’d be the one cooking for ya, my wife. 24/7, at your feet.”
Yeah, you were fucked.
But you never really realized just how much - just how badly - until just a few days later; seated on the polished hardwood floor of the famed Kamo archery dojo.
It was routine for your husband to practice his pinpoint precise shooting, and by now it was your routine to watch him.
How could you not? Because it was such a heavenly sight.
Choso’s pristine, white yukata unravelled at one muscular shoulder; showing off the rippling curves and dips of his sculptured back. Strong. His honed eyes filmed with a focus he only ever gets in bed. Adonis-like biceps bulging in a lecherous little flex when he draws the string back, back, back and lets go-
“YES!” Yuji’s resounding cheer thunders across the vast chamber with way too much volume than a six-year-old should possibly have. “Let’s goooo- big bwother hit the target again.”
A simpering smile stretches across your lips as soon as he turns to you for reassurance, gesturing out a slow nod at the way Choso keeps piercing bullseye after bullseye. “He did, your brother is very talented, Yuji.”
Humming, “When I grow up m’gonna be just like him.”
“Of course.” You’re chuckling at his enthusiasm - the youngest of your husband’s brother’s always did have a special spot in your heart. And you can’t help but wonder when - if - you had an heir with Choso, whether they would be much the same. “You are his brother, after all.”
You’re frantically hovering your hands behind him once he bustles to a haphazard stand. Stumbling only a few times as he races over to the neat line of inventory, “Then- I’ll be just like him now.”
“Be careful!”
Ah, he really was a handful - which meant, you really didn’t expect it to go over perfectly smoothly. You’d known that simply wouldn’t have been possible as soon as you met Itadori Yuji.
Yet, you didn’t expect everything to go so wrong in just a mere matter of seconds.
Before you can even blink, Yuji’d tottered his way over to one particularly large, wooden bow - one used only by Ryomen Sukuna whenever he visited. Puffing out his chest as he reeled out the massively heavy weapon - overly heavy, way too much for even the most determined child-
CRASH!
“Yuji!” You don’t know who yelps louder - you, or Choso. But with your proximity, you’re the one that reaches him first, cradling the sniffling boy in your arms.
You jostle away the weighty bow - honestly, how he even managed to lift this in the first place you have no idea.
“Awww, don’t cry don’t cry–” You’re cooing, distantly registering the worried pants of his older brother skidding to a stop beside you. He always did have him curled around his little finger. Pushing away the pinkish curls from his forehead, “-you’re alright. See? You’re alright.”
“Are you hurt? Are you dizzy? Are you feeling nauseous-”
“Choso.” You warn, catching the way Yuji’s eyes widen in panic.
Taking a few deeply necessary breaths to calm down. “You- don’t do that-” Choso’s hissing, but you could practically feel the worry seeping into his tone. Thumbing slow circles on his aching shoulders, “-ask me for a bow instead.”
You have to bite back a grin - with the watery glaze taking over his eyes, you wondered who was really hurt - Yuji or Choso himself.
“M’sorry big bwother.” Blubbering through big, pearly tears that dry salty streaks down his chubby cheeks. He’s batting those lashes in a way you’re sure gets him out of any sort of trouble. Ever. The full, merciless force of it hits your poor heart as Yuji turns to you. “Sorry, mama.”
Mama.
Mama.
You freeze. Choso freezes.
Hell, even the twittering birds outside freeze mid-song.
It seems like everyone in the entire world freezes except for an oblivious Yuji who only continues inching his tiny hands closer towards that guilty bow. Clearly not having learned his lesson - but you didn’t even register that right now.
You’re staring at Choso, only to find that he’s staring right back. Droopy eyes uncharacteristically wide, blinking rapidly - it didn’t even look like he was breathing right now.
Maw parting and closing stupidly agape, and you’re almost tempted to reach out and check whether he’s doing okay - before he finally finds his voice again. Finally. Husking out a choked-out, “W-well- maybe we should- ah- should-” He’s turning towards his contrastingly okay younger brother, “Yuji?”
“Big bwother!” Comes the, unfortunately, helpless answer.
And something in his beaming expression seems to jolt Choso out of his reverie, something that makes him let out a tight nod. Scooping up the giggling boy over his shoulder, he calls out at you, “Wait here.”
As Choso walks out of the doorway, you could only watch.
Only sit there for what could be four seconds - or maybe even four hundred years - until he’d presumably dropped off Yuji at the safety of Jin. Taking steady, focused strides back to you that thud! thud! thud! right along to the beat of your racing heart.
Choso’s expression is blank - pale as if he’s seen a fucking ghost. And he doesn’t even look at you, can’t even bear to once he walks back to the thickened air of the dojo. Now pointedly alone.
Very, very alone.
Wordlessly, he picks up his famed bow. And you swear that you can see his practiced hands tremble. Something was happening.
It’s like an artwork that you can’t look away from. The fluid motion of aligning a singular arrow to aim for his final, rounded target. Doughy pads of his fingers pinching the string back, back, back until it snaps!
And misses. For the first time in years.
“Fuck.”
You barely have the time to compute - to even suck in a gasp of surprise before your husband comes and crashes into you. It’s as if he was magnetized and couldn’t get away even if he wanted to.
It’s a frenzy of white billowing sleeves and powerful arms, throwing you over Choso’s shoulder in only two seconds flat - much the same way that he’d done with Yuji moments prior.
Except more…urgent.
“Choso- Cho!” You’re squealing, as he lurches into hurried treads away. Legs kicking weakly in the air, only for your stubborn self to be granted with an unapologetic spank! right on the mound of your ass. Your nose crinkles as his long, inky locks tickle your face, “What is-”
“Be quiet.” Choso’s rasping, so small that it could not have been more than a whisper. So close that you’re drinking in heady wafts of his masculine cologne.
Something in his snarling tone makes your stomach tighten. Digits grappling precariously onto the toned curves of his shoulders, your fingertips slide down the sweltering expanse of his exposed skin.
And only too late do you recognize the familiar pathway towards your shared bed chamber- oh.
So that was what it was.
And judging by the dark, primal look swimming in the clan leader’s eyes you could only hope that you made it out alive-
SLAM!
You don’t know what’s forcing you more out of your excited little reverie - the shuddered slam! of your mahogany double doors, so hard that it makes the golden hinges shake, or the way you’re thrown haphazardly on the bed.
Like some glorified toy. One of Choso’s favorites.
You’re throwing your arms over his broad shoulders as you fall, lugging him in even closer with each springy bounce on the bedcoils.
But closer wasn’t close enough for your husband - he’s bullying into every ounce of your personal space, caging you in between two splayed-out palms on either side of your thoroughly spinning head.
“Mama, is it?” Choso starts out. Slow. Thick. Like he was approaching a cornered prey. “Baby, I want…I want it.”
You’re blinking up at him through eager eyes, “Want what, Cho?”
“I want an heir. I want to make you…” He gulps. The circles of his fingertips were so warm on your skin, trailing down lovingly all across your cheek. Your collarbones, your heaving tits - down to where you predictably flinched as he palmed your tummy. “-a pretty momma.”
Fawny strands of chestnut brown curtain his gaze, but you could tell just how serious he was. Just how greedy. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Choso like this in his entire life.
All you can breathe out is a crackling, “Yes.”
You said it. You finally said it after all these weeks.
And it’s the only thing you hear before your yukata is all but torn off of you, Choso doesn’t even realize when he’s doing so. It’s melting away like butter underneath his strength, mere obstacles to where the real prize is - your gorgeous, shivering body.
Pebbles of goosebumps rise onto the surface of your flesh when he throws away those useless pieces of fabrics onto the tatami floor - you can have more newly tailored anyway. Many, many more with just how round and full you’re about to be very soon.
He’d take care of it for you.
“Oh, madam- madam.” He’s spitting into your unfastened mouth, low growls sounding out across each four corners of your room. Held hostage by the arousal in your eyes, he can’t stop staring. “M’gonna ruin you.”
And Choso is feral like never before.
Usually one to take his time during sex, finetuning you into it like a sultry waltz. His favorite hobby was to drive you mindlessly wild before he even thought of stuffing you full. But now…
Still not breaking his dreamy eye contact with you, Choso hooks a rapidfire finger over the cute bow-tied hem of your panties. Slurring down an oozing little snail trail of slick that laminates your jittery thighs with evidence of just how badly you wanted him.
You feel the blistering pant of his mindless oh! fanning your features, leaning backwards with a loosened maw to admire just how glistening you are in this lighting.
How ready.
With a low, fucked-up whimper breaking at the back of his throat, he rubs over the bloated curvature of your needy pussy. Slipping ever-so-slightly at the saturated puddles leaking out, Choso has no hesitation or shame when he tugs his fingerpads into his mouth once.
Twice. Thrice.
Dipping back down for more and more and more-
“Can’t-” He’s guttering out, eyes crinkling and- fuck, were those tears? “I c-”
You reach your hand up to smear away his hot rivulets of salt, and Choso stops his prattling like a broken record forced to a halt. He jolts as if your touch has just sent a zillion shocks of voltage down his spine, all the trekking trailway down to his furious, aching cock.
Unsteady hands flinging apart his snowy robes - barely even bothering to remove them and wrench down his undergarments before you see it. You finally understand why Choso was so…restless.
Because he’s never been harder.
Fuck being furious, his bawling cock was seething. Equally as red as the ripest of strawberries, the split-ended crown of his cockhead was just as plumply swollen. All proud inches nestled underneath his painfully-clenching breeder balls, ballooned and lush. Only the barest of your gaze is enough to make Choso’s lustrous tip twitch, laminating himself with a freshly dripping glaze of translucent pre.
Though, it’s not like you were doing any better.
Your gluey lips pucker and pout up at him once he’s wrangling your legs into a boneless hold. The feeling of his palms underneath your thighs are so soft - even despite his battle-hardened calluses. Worshipping.
But the way he’s resting your legs on his shoulders, and folding you in half like a whining lawnchair is the complete opposite. Mercilessly into a-
“M-mating press-” Choso’s getting out through strangled breaths, as if the sole words had his poor sanity fraying at the edges. “-mating press- a- a-” Something he’s never tried out before. His head dips down, pearls of sweat simmering across his trembly upper lip as soon as your sticky folds leave a wet snog on his fattened mushroomy tip. Topping it with a generous heap of honeyed sap, “Well, hello there, baby. I have you in a mating press n’ m’gonna…gonna…”
He couldn’t even finish his sentence.
Couldn’t even finish his thought before Choso was doing - body moving miles and miles ahead of his stupidly saccharine-sweet mind.
“F-fuuuuck–” You’re letting off the keenest of whines, the edges of your nails leaving neat crescents all over his toned back. It was the perfect little present for the way he had you so split open.
And he was barely even pushing past the tip.
“Oh. Oh.” Choso’s grunts are throaty, as if they weren’t coming from the man himself but somewhere murked and dark inside him. And the same went for his feverish thrusts - tight, rigid little pushes past your slicked-up hole just to fit inside. He’s spitting into your slacked mouth, “C’mon- c’mon c’mon–”
Usually, it takes so long to prepare you to take his nine- no, ten inches. But currently, fast just wasn’t fast enough.
There’s a thundering slam! abovehead - only hours and hours later do you have enough brainpower to realize that it was Choso striking his palm down on the headboard - and it makes your clingy walls grip onto the battering mountain of his dewy head.
Squeezing in a repeatedly adhesive-like tempo, Choso’s nose crinkles at the rubbery resistance of your snug hole. Still molding to the slightest curves and ridges of his drowned slit with every desperate rut-
“Please- take it- fucking take it.” His voice was trembling on the edge of a crack, thickened exactly the way one does when he’s about to cry. “H-how can I fuck! How can I breed ya…if I don’t-”
And you’re swearing you see his ruddied cheeks glisten with a few slipped-off tears - though, that just might be from the way that your own vision mists over when his stray hand plugs up your spilling entrance to pry two thickened, scissoring digits inside and stretch. “Fucking- take that big fuckin’- cock-”
Bullying in a few more long n’ girthy inches- You’re so full that it feels like Choso’s pushing his bloated crownhead against the spongy edges of your lungs.
The bed dips and moans with frequent soft creaks! when he plants his curved knees firmly further apart. Flexibly so. And you’re getting a good, greedy eyeful of his pale, bulky thighs - angling at the perfect bend to snap his slender hips and jackhammer-
“Sh-shit-” Your head sinks into the cushiony pillows underneath you, and it already feels like you’re in heaven. “-don’t- don’t know if it’ll fit, Cho–”
With a bitten lip, Choso rovers down his sturdy hand from the surface of the bedframe to measure out ten solid inches. Bringing it down much the same way he did during your wedding reception, “Y-you can, baby–”
“But-”
“You will.” He’s gasping, gracing you with a soft brush of his curvaceous mushroomed head along one of your utmost favorite hidden sweet spots. It’s enough to make you buck. “Gonna take my cock, n’ you’re gonna haaah- take my seed ‘ntil you’re bloated. So I’ll make it fit- fuck- watch, I’ll make it fit.” Before you know it, that very same hand finds itself crowning your head, threatening to push you down- “C-can you say hngh- ‘biiiig stretch’ f’me?”
You’re hiccuping out, “B-big stretch?”
“Nuh uh-” By the time that Choso shakes his head, you’re being sprinkled with loose flecks of his sweat. He was in so deep now. “Say it with me- b-biiig stretch, baby–”
“B-biiig- stretch!” It takes you everything in your body to hold your own against the vicious pounds being planted and struggled into your goopy depths. Choso was determined. Frenzied.
And god, the way you’re dumbly parroting his words is so hot. He can’t help but dollop out muggy icings of pre that slosh and swab at every nook and cranny inside you.
“Good girl.” Rewarding you with a slow heart being patterned right on the throbbing peak of your clit, the roughened edges of his fingertips rub you just right. Not too hard. Not too soft. Your husband nuzzles his flushed head into the havened crook of your clammy neck, “S-say it again, madam.”
“Biiig-”
Honestly, it’s a wonder you manage to get exactly two syllables out at all. Because soon enough, Choso’s taking your distracted few seconds to lace his fingers onto your scalp push. To bump his hips back until your geysering cunt was struggling around his fat, bulbous tip.
Before stuffing you full all the way in-
“Fuck- no.” Choso’s spitting out venomously against your thrumming pulse, sharp fringes of his teeth digging in animalistically. Bottomed out but still pushing and pushing- Slamming a lazy stripe of luscious precum down your spongy cervix, “No- no no–”
No sooner are you full of all his massive, rummaging length, he’s making you take even more. This time in the form of dribbling, ribbony volumes of cum that leak and leak and won’t stop from his heated divot.
It’s ballooning up your tight channel even more. Swashing around and sticking to your gummy walls like a treacly lacquer. Filling you to your very brim-
“S-so much.” You’re gaping, through tear-strung lashes. The shivering edges of your fingers subconsciously dance downwards to splotch over the puddling globs of seed tricking from either side of your sloppy slit. Squeezing out even more to coat Choso’s bulky base with creamy rings upon rings.
And, usually, your husband might be just a bit embarrassed. Usually, he would have pulled out to make out with your pretty pussy until your scores were more than tied.
But that wasn’t your husband right now.
“Don’t.” Choso clicks his drunkenly heavy tongue, lips pulling back into what almost looks like an oh-so-feral snarl. And you have to admit that it looks so sexy on him. He’s rudely swatting away your curious hand, “Move that fucking hand n’ let me see.”
It takes only a split-second for both your hands to be pinned underneath one of Choso Kamo’s.
“Tha’s not enough to take.”
And only one more split-second for him to flip you over onto your tummy and stuff your head into the cushy pillows.
He’s fucking you like he’s using you. Like he’s pumping his mushy, swollen head to nudge in the weighty heft of his cum deeper and deeper and deeper-
“Y’know I hate hngh- disrespectin’ my wife, baby–” He leans over to sigh against your ear in craving hisses, pinning you with his body. His muscles. You could count each n’ every one of Choso’s bulging abs, glissading damply against your perfectly arched spine. Bubblegum pink nipples pressed roughly into your scorching skin, “Hate it- but…”
You gasp at Choso’s audacity next - at the way it makes you so traitorously soaked when he hikes up one of his feet to rest upon your head.
Gurgling out a stupid. “Ch-Cho–”
But he didn’t seem to hear you - you didn’t know if he was even managing to breathe at this point. Only letting his devious lips twitch up, up, up into such a satisfied grin. “-but ‘ntil I get my hngh- heh…heir, you’re gonna hafta be my cumdump, madam.”
And if the saturated slurps singing out at a near-deafening tone from your dripping pussy said anything - it was that you loved the idea.
Especially when the changed angle makes his scouring cockhead maze between the most treasured spots of your jelly-like walls to strike numerous, merciless hits dead-set on your g-spot.
Ah, there it was, pipes up that small voice in Choso’s overtaken brain. Jostling your hips back onto his with a sudden spank on the target of your drivelling hole, the stinging pressure makes you bump your tenderest spots again and again into his ruthless batters.
It’s bruising - the proud circumference of his plummy cock against your elastic cervix with every recoiling bounce, the rounded patterns of his balls against the hind of your pretty pussy with each thrust.
If you didn’t think you were being fucked stupid before then you were sure now.
Your velveteen pillowcase dampens with the ever-flooding saliva spilling from your mouth every time Choso rears his aching shaft back to plant rapid, precise strikes where you wanted him the most.
Whimpering at how every ramming dab of his split cockhead leaves leakages of pearly white cum all over the bottom of your pussy. That sultry swirl of his dumped heaps inside of you making your head spin just as dizzily.
You almost don’t notice it when Choso’s drifting both hands to skirt over about halfway down your tummy. Feeling for that bloated, cylindrical outline of him vulgarly messing up your insides, “Gonna be e-even fuller here soon, y’know-” He’s giggling - giggling. Erratically letting his hands slide down to your clit to give the peaked ends just a tiny pinch. “-have you all round. Full. Full-”
He can’t say anything else.
He can’t do anything else - other than watch in purely entranced awe when that makes you cum all over his fucking cock.
So big n’ thick that your claggy walls can barely even squeeze around his throbbing shaft. The thought makes you huff as he rams rigorously through your blinding high - teeth grit, your fingers fist at the pillows and make sure you can clench-
When you do- oh, when you manage to cling your gummy cunt onto his girth as if to suck out his fucking soul, it makes Choso cum, too.
Fatigued hips somehow matching his cadence, your knees shiver on top of the softened mattress stuttering through every dousing mass of cum gliding inside your cute cunt. It was so heavy having his massive torrentials inside of you, spraying the door to your womb with a slippery sheen.
It was maddening.
And maybe it’s been hours - maybe it’s been mere minutes. But all you know is that you’re put through rounds and rounds and more rounds. But he’s still not stopping. Still dredging out the tiniest of hollowing grinds.
Until much, much later Choso’s breath hitches in feverish stutters. It was so steamily hot inside you, only getting more humid by the minute as you ride out yet another crashing high.
“G’na milk e-every ngh- drop-” He titters, fleshy edges of his fingers closing in around where your pussylips were the most buxom. The most leaky. “-n’ you’re gonna ngh- keep it. Keep ‘ntil you give me an h-heir. Remember that, baby– keep it.”
You’re fighting against the weight of his muscular leg on top of you. Was he clamming your pussy shut?
“Choso, baby.” Your straining out, throat drier than the Sahara at this point. Even despite how the hypnotized way your husband looks at you makes your tongue lather with watery saliva. “Want- want more.”
You think you might just have broken Choso Kamo.
Might just have made him reach another surprising high all over again with just your simple request. He’s lifting off the powerfully pressurized foot crowned on your head in favor of lurching downwards to grab your tender throat into a headlock.
Manhandling you as he pleased. Lifting you off of the tattered pillow, the completely splintered bed frame now.
Your chin juts over his thick, bulging biceps, fighting for both air and the space-
“More- more, she says-” He’s chuckling out, words cracking a few octaves higher than normal. From the corner of your eye, you sneak glimpses at the way that Choso’s eyes were wide, crazed. Flashing all sorts of feral promises when he plants one, two, three long thuds against your soppy cervix. “Fucking- m-more.”
You’re letting off a tiny whimper - your orgasm nothing but tingles at this point. Yearning for that the piping hot streak of seed flushed into your already-overspilling cunt. Syruping in with the rest of his numerous goopy volumes, it’s thick and needy.
Only one.
“Sh-shit.” He’s wheezing against your ear, free hand flying down to tug at his reddened base for more more more- one’s not enough. Every possibly wiry wisp and speckle that could fill you up. Could give him an heir. “Can’t cum dry- won’t- oh.”
Rutting into you like Choso won’t stop - didn’t know if he even can stop anymore. You flinch at the suddenly hot splatter! of something warm…and wet at your shoulder.
“Cho- oh!” Not only was the clan leader drooling out glossy spatters of saliva, he was crying. Hugging you even closer, you’re showered in neverending streams of overstimulated tears.
And Choso can only babble away, “Hope- hope s’a daughter, madam.”
A/N. AYYY y’all have been wanting more dom Choso saurrrr- Anyways hope you have a lovely week <3
Virgin bkg who’s so painfully stupid but acts so arrogant. And when it’s getting heated and you’re making out and want to see his dick… he gets all shy and embarrassed because he doesn’t know if it looks normal or as good as the other ones you’ve seen. When you ask what’s wrong he tells you it’s curved and you think it’s like BENT then he lets you see and it’s the prettiest most orgasm inducing upward curve you’ve ever seen on a dick.
bakugou katsuki knows why he is a virgin. it’s pretty simple really despite the fact he is surrounded by beautiful women often. socialites, the new buzzing influencers, actors and pro heroes like.
it’s because he’s obsessed with his job. always has been. since he was a child who was dreaming of becoming a hero, to his teenage years fighting wars to now in his twenties, working towards becoming number one.
women and mostly importantly, getting his dick wet, has never been number one on his list of priorities. sure when he’d go to film premiers for that hero franchise he loves, occasionally a gorgeous woman would talk to him.
but the thing about growing up uninterested in sex and the only women around him being his friends that share the same heroic goals… well bakugou has never been very good at flirting. which again, was mostly okay since he would just walk away when a woman was about to talk to him.
until he met you that is. the first woman to make him dream of more, that made him unable to get through a shower without tugging one out to the thought of you. that during patrols, he’d think about texting you. what are you up to? where are you? when the hell can he kiss you next?
anyone is experienced compared to bakugou. he’s kissed a girl once in his third year of ua. he’s made out with two in his early twenties.
but now at twenty six this is first time having a woman in his apartment, on his bed, on his lap. he feels like a rabid animal. unsure where to put his hands with the desperate need to touch everywhere so he leaves them on the globes of your ass, squeezing every few seconds when all the feelings inside of him gets intense.
he knows he’s flushed red. he knows his dick is hard and you can feel it through your leggings. but you’re so perfect, leading the moment, letting him react however the hell he wants.
bakugou releases a loud moan when you stick your tongue down his throat, breasts pressed against his chest like you want to live in his skin. he’s never felt a woman like this before, he feels as if the word virgin is in capital letters printed onto his forehead.
he hasn’t told you directly he is but he thinks you know.
“you’re so… fuck. this is so fucked up,” he breathes into your mouth and your fingers rake up into the hair on his nape.
your grin makes his heart skip a beat, falter slightly and he swears he gets winded.
you’re out of breath, chest heaving and your pussy is a centimetre away from sitting on his cock.
“why’s it fucked up? you okay?” you brush your nose against his softly, smoothing out his eyebrow with your thumb. “you look hot, do you want to take your top off?”
you’re being so sweet to him and he appreciates it, he does. but as soon as he knows what he’s doing he’s gonna treat you right. properly.
for now, he’s just worried he doesn’t have what it takes.
“oh, err, fuck. sorry, yeah i will,” he mumbles to you, yanking off his white tee from the neckline.
bakugou enjoys how your eyes glow, scanning his half naked body like it’s something you can eat. your hands immediately flatten against his chest. down his toned abdomen. up to his fat squishy pectorals. he’s never had someone touch him like this. he couldn’t be harder.
“you don’t have to apologise, you know. this is new for us both.”
“you’re not the fuckin’ virgin here.” he bites, “i’ve never even had a woman in my room.”
he can tell you like that idea. you inch closer to him on his lap, your hands are back on his shoulders. you brush your lips over his.
“i don’t know how. look at you.”
and you’re back to making out with him. slower this time. tasting all the flavour from his tongue.
you softly bite down on his bottom lip and like a ring of the doorbell, bakugou opens up to let you in. it’s wet peck after wet peck, tilting your head to taste more of him. he’s eager, too eager ducking closer to you, as to not waste any time with your lips off his. you can only think that if he kisses with this much passion, you’re dying to know how he’d fuck.
bakugou tightly grips your ass and without meaning to, he shoves you directly onto his cock.
you mewl like a cat, hips grinding down onto him like you can’t help it. “you feel so good, ‘tsuki.”
you feel good because of him. him.
your tongue sneaks into his mouth, twirls and brushes against his. he learns quickly, you’ll give him that. his tongue dances against yours, licking up everything you offer. you feel his body vibrate, his dick twitch. you begin sucking on his tongue and that’s when he releases a harsh grunt. you’re soaked.
“let me see it.” you palm his cock through his shorts, “let me see.”
bakugou opens his eyes, pulls away from your mouth for a moment.
“i… fuck.” he’s back to mumbling. then stupidly, he looks down at the lump in his fabric.
“you… you don’t have to?” you offer, unsure about his wide eyes, “we can keep kissing?”
“it’s just that… it’s just….,” bakugou looks up to the ceiling.
he’d love for you to touch him, do anything to him but nobodies seen his dick before. sure he’s seen some porn videos but he’s never seen a dick like his in them. he’s googled and nothing said there’s anything particularly wrong about his.
but what if you find it weird, what if it puts you off him completely?
“talk to me, baby,” you push, laying a kiss on his jaw. then making a line down his neck. “wanna make you feel good.”
he’d like that.
“listen. seriously.”
you pull off him at that, sitting up on his lap, your hands at his waist. he is stupidly gorgeous. puffy pink lips because of you. his long straight eyelashes. his beautiful cheekbones and that eyebrow slit.
“i’m listening. tell me anything.” you soften your tone, trying to get the horny out your eyes. your tits are basically spilling out your vest top and you don’t miss bakugou’s pupils darting to and from them every few seconds.
“i think…. i…”
you don’t speak.
katsuki takes a deep breath. he almost shouts without meaning to. “nobody has seen my dick before but me. right?”
you nod with a frown, unsure where this is going. “okay. nothing’s wrong with that.”
bakugou winces. he isn’t built for this. he’s always been attractive physically. his body works better than the average. can run at speed, stealthy, built for hero work. his quirk is best of the best and is only getting stronger by the day. but using his body for sex? that’s something he has no clue about.
“it might not be normal lookin’? like it works fine, i’ve never had any problems with it? but it might be odd for you.”
you’re immediately imagining the worst. it’s not small. you felt it a second ago between your legs. heck, you’ve seen it when he walks around in those stupid grey joggers. oddly coloured, oddly shaped? is it too big?
“what’s wrong?” you tilt your head.
his whole face is flushed. a beautiful pink to the apples of his cheeks. you would kiss them if he wasn’t so serious right now.
he closes his eyes, leans his head back on his headboard. his hands stay on your thighs. you tap his chest.
“c’mon tell me.”
he exhales sharply.
“my dick is fuckin’ curved. to the left. i don’t know why.” he blurts, embarrassment written all over him, “it’s always been like that.”
for him to be this stressed about it, it must be abnormal. is it like a hook? you’ve seen one like that on one of those medical reality shows. would it be able to go inside if you? you so badly want him inside of you.
you shrug. you can’t imagine anything about this man being less than perfect. “it can’t be that bad, baby.”
you rub his chest soothingly but his face doesn’t soothe you one bit.
“i’m fuckin’ sorry. i brought you here and we’re goin’ so well and—,”
“let me see. let me see your dick, c’mon,” you smile softly.
you sink your hand to touch his crotch again.
“you sure? i don’t want you to be put off me like i’m a freak—,”
“katsuki. come on.”
it’s in slow motion. your mouth immediately start salivating, his hands grip the elastic waistband of his shorts. he pulls it down in one go with his underwear.
“oh katsuki. baby…. honey.”
this man has nothing to worry about. bakugou katsuki has on him a cock that can rival your favourite dildos. it curves to the left, a smooth pleasing curve that you already know will hit your softest spots. you swallow your spit, your hands inching up his thighs. it’s darker at the base, twitching under your attention with two round balls (one a little larger than the other) at the bottom.
he is hefty. heavy. thick like a tree trunk with veins darting up the sides. you imagine the weight of it in your mouth. the deep pinkish purplish head on your tongue. most of all, you imagine it curved inside, pushing a sweet orgasm out of you.
of course, this big idiot didn’t know what he had on him. part of you wants to lie, never let him know how good he has it so he doesn’t go around sharing his goods. but you need to, it’s written all over your face.
“you must be joking, katsuki,” you hum, delighted. you run your finger down his shaft.
his hips jolt, eyes lazing slightly from your attention. he’s so hard it’s getting painful.
“what? what? spit it out.”
“you need to fuck me. doesn’t have to be now but someday. you have to.” you whine, “you don’t get it at all.”
“what? it’s not a problem? this okay with you?” he stutters, unable to keep a steady head as you sink down the bed to rest your chest on his legs. now you’ve got your face right in front of his dick, as if you’re measuring the curve by degrees.
you want to lick him.
“you’ve got a pornstar dick. a dick they base dildos off,” you breathe. the look in your eye is wild, untamed. “you’d feel amazing. even if you don’t know how to use it. you need let me bounce on it.”
bakugou blinks down at you. he doesn’t quite believe what he’s hearing, fuck, he doesn’t know what to do about you. not one bit did he think you’d even have this reaction.
“w-what… i know how to use my own dick.” is all he can manage but you shake your head.
you flick your eyes up to him, “we’re gonna learn together, okay? can i… can i…” you flatten your tongue against his shaft and give him one lick up.
bakugou’s sure he’s about to come any second now.
“y-yes but be fuckin’ careful. i don’t wanna nut on your face.”
.✦ ݁˖ Is this what I think or is it just me? ⤷ 3 times Megumi Fushiguro made it kinda obvious he likes you (wc 2.2k)
"Oh yea Fushiguro is definitely into you."
Yuji looked over to Nobara for confirmation, to which she nodded without hesitation.
"I don't think so, he's like giving me mixed signals." You thought back to all the times you interacted with Megumi, you were even starting to doubt whether you two were close enough for you to call him that.
"Dude have you not seen how he's always making heart eyes at you? He looks at you like this."
Yuji tried demonstrating by resting his eyes and staring off into the distance but it looked more like he was constipated (Nobaras words not yours.) It took a good five seconds before he finally went back to normal.
(Probably would've went on longer if nobara didn't smack him)
"Hey! What was that for?"
"This is why girls don't like you."
"Are you even popular enough to talk-?"
Now it was your turn to hit them both. "Focus guys, please."
Nobara sighed and turned back to you. She couldn't believe how oblivious you were. "Remember that time we all went to get sushi with Gojo?"
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
After a particularly rough mission, your sensei was kind enough to take the four of you out to get something as a reward. Unfortunately it was pretty late so the only place left was a run down one hidden in the side of an alleyway.
The first sign to get out probably should've been the smell of rust the moment the door opened. But of course Gojo insisted it was okay (it was not).
You ordered a hand roll and sashimi, and Megumi ordered the same. You two shared a look when the food came out, but he reassured that if you took a bite, he would too.
So when the salmon touched your lips, everything was okay-or at least that's what you thought.
The texture was akin to overcooked noodles, way too mushy and exactly how salmon shouldn't taste. Before you knew it, your feet carried you to the bathroom and you were doubling over the toilet in no time.
By the time you got back, everyone was still there except for Megumi, his spot was empty
Apparently he had stepped out when he noticed you were heading towards the bathroom with a hand clamped over your mouth. Minutes later he came back with a bottle of fresh water.
"Drink. I don't trust the water here." He said as he nudged the bottle against your lips.
"Thanks Megu- ah I mean thanks Fushiguro" You lowered your head and took a sip, not noticing the slight tint of red appearing on his face when your fingers brushed.
"Megumi is fine."
You giggled, still ignorant to the stares of your sensei and your two friends, jaws all wide open.
Is Megumi Fushiguro blushing!?
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
"Well that was only one time!" you snapped out of it and turned back to the present. Well at least now you know he's okay with getting called by his first name.
You turned back to your bickering friends, now that you think about it, it didn't make sense how Yuji and Nobara bicker so much, they basically share the same brain cell.
"One time? No way! Remember when that barista tried hitting on you at the coffee shop?" The pink boy's eyebrow raised up in a hint hint wink wink way and then he tried to actually wink. yikes
"Never do that again. But Itadori has a point. That barista was scared so badly I heard he quit like right after," Nobara added
Was Megumi that scary? He never came off as scary to you though.
"Well yea cause he's like obsessed with you."
Shoot did you say that out loud? anyways..
"I thought the barista got fired cause he made all of our drinks wrong."
"Because Fushiguro scared him half to death!!!"
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
It was the hottest day of the year, summer meant your teacher was able to get the students to have less missions so you had some free time. Currently you were standing next to Megumi after Yuji had screamed for you all when he thought his friend got hit on. A bruise was forming from where Megumi had smacked him, ouch!
Nobara and Gojo had walked off somewhere, you were thinking of going with them to cool off in your dorm until Megumi pointed out there was a coffee shop nearby with decent drinks.
It sounded perfect so you texted all of them to meet you both there.
Naturally, being there early meant you went up to order while Megumi secured a table for the five of you. The line wasn't too long so you were able to get to the front quickly.
Your hand reached for your pocket to pay but the cute barista looked up from writing his number on your cup and told you it was on the house.
"Really? Thanks so much!"
"Yea of course! Hey actually do you have a boyfriend? I think you're really pretty and.." his words trailed off when he noticed dark eyes burning holes into his soul.
"Huh? What's wrong?" You turned around but found nothing except Megumi's normal resting face. He was so focused on stopping you from getting hit on that he didn't even notice his two friends and teacher staring from afar.
They had came in and looked for the two of you before Yuji pointed out where you were at the front.
There was a silence between the three until Nobara spoke up.
"So we all saw that?"
"Yeah." "Definitely."
The three turned back to the situation and noticed the barista still smiling nervously while holding your cups. You noticed it was a bit awkward and chuckled nervously.
"Oh hey they're here! Let's go-"
Say less, Megumi thought and dragged you away.
Moments later the same barista came over with all five drinks, when he noticed the same dark pair of eyes glaring at him, there was a visible nervousness on his face as he gulped.
"Here are your d - drinks, enjoy..!"
The moment he turned to walk away, the barista felt his heart drop when Megumi called out to him.
"Hey dude, these drinks are all wrong."
You leaned over Megumi and took a closer look at the drinks that were set down, the tint on Megumi's face didn't go unnoticed by your friends across from you, your teacher was already giggling.
"Yeah he's right, these aren't what we ordered at all."
The barista mumbled a quick apology and sprinted back to the machines behind the counter. You sighed and sat back down in your seat.
"Well that was weird, hey why are you all looking at me like that?"
· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
"Y'know that was kinda hilarious, who knew Megumi could get all flustered like that"
You, Yuji, and Nobara all turned at the new voice joining the conversation. Looks like your sensei Gojo is here, how long has he been standing there?
He took a seat next to Yuji, across from you and Nobara. Seems like he was quite a gossip too, it didn't help when he agreed with your friends that Megumi was definitely down bad for you.
"Once I caught him staring at his phone for 10 minutes after he got a goodnight text with a heart from you."
"Hey I text him that every night!"
"Bingo."
#whatdatmean
At this point you were still in denial, there was no way the guy that's reticent towards others would be doting on you this much.
"Guys Megumi isn't into me, he's just a very good friend, a friend that I see as a friend because he's a close friend of mine and he's just a friend because he's a friend that I really like and-"
oh.
Nobara was smirking at you, "Are you trying to convince us or yourself?
Yuji was about to speak up, but he paused when he noticed a shadowy figure walking past the classroom window. A figure that seems oddly resemblant to his dark haired close friend. The four of you turned towards the window. It wasn't too hard to make out who it was by the spiky hair, for some reason the figure had his collar up.
Now you broke the silence, "Hey when was the last time we saw Megumi with his collar down? Is he not overheating like that?"
Yuji laughed and brushed it off, "He'll be fine, of course you're worried about him."
You felt your face heating up in embarrassment when the others started laughing too, so maybe you did like him. He really was an altruistic person, and a sweetheart especially to you: even if he wasn't great at sharing his feelings.
If only your friends would quit making their points more clear than it already is.
"Hey remember that time he started stuttering at movie night after you started laying on his shoulder?"
Too busy being engrossed in his story telling, Yuji didn't notice the door opening behind and a very irritated fushiguro walking in.
"Hey why'd you guys stop talking-?" SMACK
"Quit talking about me."
Nobara muttered something about stupid boys and going to bed as she walked away. Gojo then suddenly decided annoying Nanami sounded like a great idea and left the room. Yuji said he was heading to shoko because he felt a bump growing where Megumi had smacked him, making it so only the two of you left in the room.
Was this by chance or fate? (Or your friends' evil plan all along? as they snickered outside)
"Did you just get back from a mission? I haven't seen you all day."
Without thinking you had reached out and pulled his collar down, revealing the lower half of his face. He let out a noise of surprise but let it stay down.
Gosh he looked adorable like this.
"Yeah, second grade just outside the city. I picked something up for you too,"
so cute
"That's sweet, walk me back to my dorm Megumi?"
"Oh I- uhm sure"
The walk back was a bit awkward, he was so close next to you he didn't know what to do. His eyes drifted all around the place before finding its spot on your face. It was nice that it was so dark, means it'd be less obvious the fact he was staring.
Though it definitely caught him off guard when he found you already staring at him, lips curled up at corners. He should feel embarrassed, but why did it feel so great when your eyes met out of the blue?
You were feeling happier now, finally listening to the he likes you allegations. You could ask him out right now, it's worth a shot right?
Though you did wanna hear him say the love that he is feeling is true. Maybe you could make plans right now! There's lots of things you could do: go on a picnic, relax at the beach, go out for good quality sushi, there's only so many! And what would your friends say?
"Wow who knew Fushiguro had a heart!!" or "Ugh finally took you too long enough" or-
"We're here."
The sound of Megumi's voice made you jump, you blinked and suddenly the two of you arrived at your dorm, tsk some more time to daydream would've been nice.
"Thanks for walking me back Megumi...wait hey are you free on Tuesday, we could go out? You can pick the place, or I can, whatever you want!"
There was a slight pause until he slowly nodded his head, "Yea...yeah that sounds nice."
"Great! It's a date!"
....
Another awkward silence, geez.
Suddenly Megumi reached in his pocket and pulled out a hair clip-the gift he mentioned earlier. His fingers softly brushed your front pieces to the side as he clipped the little pompompurin onto your hair.
"You look pretty with it."
It took everything inside you not to explode right that instant, if your face wasn't red before it definitely is now. You opened your mouth and thanked him, and just when you thought it couldn't get any better
His finger lifted up and pointed behind you. You turned around expectantly but found nothing, only when you felt a light peck on your cheek did you finally understand.
You giggled, "Megu-" and he was already speed walking down the hall.
"Goodnight Megumi!" you yelled after the faint of his shadow as it disappeared.
You kinda wished you got to kiss him back, but on the bright side your friends were probably right,
Megumi Fushiguro does indeed like you.
Now the only thing left is to do is wonder when he'll officially ask you to be his girlfriend...!
this was so fun to write 🥹🥳 prolly one of my favs out of my pile of drafts !!
𝜗𝜚 You’ve never really questioned where Megumi gets the money for his nice apartment from as a simple veterinary student. Until you’re scrolling through a camboy website late at night and realise- huh, isn’t that your name he’s whimpering under his breath? And, what would he sound like saying it in real life?
content: smut, camboy!Megumi, friends to lovers, closeted perv Megumi, male masturbation (a lot), female masturbation, edging, WHIMPERING, moaning, rambling, gooner!Megs lowk, pillow humping, overstimulation, dirty talk, teasing, humilation (a little), messy makeouts, dry humping, fingers in mouths, nippleplay, NURSING HANDJOBS, multiple orgasms, happy trails, praise, pet names (good boy, baby, etc), missionary, creampies, oral (f receiving), he eats his cum out of you, choking him w your thighs, crying, aftercare, happy endings
wc: 4.5k
a/n: eek! this is my treat to you all for 9k <33 I really cannot thank you all enough <33!!
more like this
Your day so far has been terrible. Worse than terrible, like you burnt down a village in the eleventh century and now you’re being forced to reap the consequences in painful modernity. Firstly, your lecture was so boring you actively fell asleep at your seat and a girl had to nervously poke you awake with a pencil before you tripped over your own feet in a bid to get out as quickly as possible; then, a car drove through a puddle and splashed you with muddy water, and finally your shoes rubbed through your socks and now you have a fresh blister. It's rubbing against the heel of your shoe with every painful step, and you grimace as it stings.
All you want to do is go back to your dorm, slather yourself in bubbly bodywash, moisturise and pass out in your cosy bed. Unfortunately, you’re pre-booked into a movie night with your best friend, but you’re sure he wouldn’t mind if you cancelled, right? Megumi’s always been understanding, after all.
“Hi Megs!” You say into your phone- he picked up on the third ring, how punctual of him- “I’m super sorry about this, but I’ve just had an awful day and I can’t come over. I’m sorry!”
“It’s fine.” He says back, voice crackling over the speaker. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you soon instead, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you smile, “thanks!”
On the other side of campus, Megumi Fushiguro is annoyed. Significantly. Because now you aren’t coming over, how is he supposed to indulge in those little squeaky gasps you let out at a scare and wrap his arms around you when you jump into them?
Not that he’s perverted, or anything, though.
Okay, maybe he is a little perverted, but that’s between him and… well, his tens of thousands of nightly viewers that pay to watch him fist his cock stupid.
Yes, tens of thousands- the view count climbing as he goes stupider and stupider, his eyes twitching closed above the field the camera offers to the strangers watching him get off. Sometimes they send in donations, begging for him to edge himself just a little longer or pinch his nipples. He’s surprised you didn’t think he had a side gig going, considering how many little trinkets and gifts he buys for you.
And he’s worked up enough already over your recent post; god, he tries so so hard not to look because he feels awful, but when he catches a glimpse of your thighs in a bikini on his feed he’s so gone he can’t help but mewl into his palm as the other slicks his cock. This week, you’ve posted a cutely curated set of your recent outings- and Megumi finds himself scrolling through the snaps of stray cats, foamy coffees, and study sessions to a selfie.
In the picture, you’re wearing a cute little tank top- and all Megumi can think about is how soft the sliver of your tits the photo affords him looks; how he wants to stuff his face between them and drool (he’s doing that already, saliva pooling in his mouth) while you pet his hair from above.
And so he finds himself setting up his camera to face the chair he’s slumped on, cock straining and leaking impatiently against his boxers as he wrangles his sweats to the floor; all it takes is a few taps of his keyboard, and he’s live.
His hand palms over the bulge in his underwear, watching the way pre dampens the cotton as the first donations already start flowing in. But he doesn’t care about that, not right now, as he has your post pulled up on his monitor and zoomed in pervertedly to the dip of cleavage in your tank top.
If Megumi was happy to let you stay at your dorm, you’re practically thrilled. Honestly, getting yourself off wasn’t part of your intended plan, but the seam of your underwear caught just right as you slipped into bed and now your fingers are carding messily through your own slick.
Your other hand, the one not circling your clit, is scrolling lazily on your phone through a live camboy website of all things. You can’t even find it within yourself to be ashamed, not when you’re being offered such a glorious array of whining men jerking into their hands.
“Nope,” you breathe, flicking past somebody in too-clear, pristine, professional lighting. “No…” you grimace again, ignoring the advert at the bottom of your screen telling you to ‘meet hot singles now!’
God, is there anything good on here?
Actually, you think surprisedly, landing on a slightly gritty livestream of somebody cracking out breathy moans through the occasional whine, maybe there is. It's like audio porn, but even better, because you know he's actually getting himself off, thick globules of pre snaking over his clenched knuckles while his other hand runs teasingly over his chest and pectorals.
Your index finger presses down onto your clit, applying enough pressure to make your hips lift a little off the bed as your thighs twitch restlessly. “Oh,” you moan to yourself, “mhm-“
On screen, the faceless camboy is repeatedly drawing his hand away from his poor, sensitive tip to watch the way his cock spurts out pre and soaks the messy happy trail crawling across his abs. “Hah, fuck-“ he whimpers, hips fucking into the air, “fuuccckk, feels good, hck-“
Oh, you think hazily, two fingers fucking into yourself, he’s gone totally stupid.
Nice!
He keeps rambling, the microphone picking it up. “Ohhhhmygod,” he slurs, “miss you. You’re so pretty, miss you s’bad…”
You pause, fingers buried knuckle-deep into your own cunt. Hold on- you recognise that voice. It sounds eerily similar. Your brows pinch in concentration as you rake through the people you know; nobody from your lectures, nobody you’ve spoken to in passing, nobody. You’ve been through everybody- well, not everybody.
Megumi.
“Oh my god,” you whisper to yourself, grabbing your phone and sitting upright, “no fucking way.”
The camboy has a catalogue of previous livestreams pinned on his profile, ranging in length from hours-long edging sessions to quick bursts of videos he must’ve spontaneously recorded in a bathroom or another public space that you really shouldn’t be camboying from.
The phone is obviously slung in his hand, his other set of fingers stroking across his abs before pinching the tip of his cock. The noise he lets out hits the microphone sexily, so sexily it makes your thighs snap together.
The first full video you click on is a landscape view. The bedroom is dark and fuzzy, grainy footage showing his whole, naked body (but not his face) as he spreads himself out rather prettily on top of his sheets. The man’s back is arched slightly as he humps into a pillow, his eyes no doubt rolling back in his skull if you go by the noises he’s making.
“Hnngh-“ he whimpers, cock buried within the plush cotton of the pillowcase, “oh fuck, it still smells like y-you-“ he’s rambling, “smells so good, so gooood, fuck, feel so bad-“ your cheeks are hot. That’s definitely Megumi’s bedroom, you’d recognise that neat pile of veterinary textbooks on the shelf anywhere; but, that isn’t his pillow.
It’s yours.
“Can’t help myself, feels too good-“ he pants, mouth muffled against the bed as he desperately grinds his pelvis down. “Wish it was you,” he moans as he cums, hips stuttering against the soft material.
It’s definitely yours, the one you accidentally left at his dorm a few weeks ago after you slept on his couch with freshly-washed hair and the smell of your shampoo seeped into the pillow. “Holy shit.” You mutter to yourself, entranced with the way Megumi’s moaning stupidly about how good it smells on camera to thousands of strangers.
Thousands of horny strangers, as evidenced by the comments.
> Oh my god his whines
> I’m so wet rnnnn ughhghgh
> THE RAMBLING FUCKKKK
You know it’s him, definitely- but you can never have enough proof. At least, that’s the excuse you use to justify why you’re salivating over a lewd video of him wrapping his shaky fingers around his base and tugging. “I wish it was you-“ he breathes, “wish you were here.”
Surely he isn’t talking about you, is he? At least, that’s what you’re trying to tell yourself as you turn up your volume and your brightness simultaneously. “Fuck, you looked so good earlier,” he rambles to himself, occasionally cutting off his own train of thought as his fingers pull harshly. “I wanted you to fuck me so badly it hurt.”
He moans loudly, cracking at the end. “So badly, ngh-“
You’re shocked, honestly, sitting in bed as your best friend whimpers himself to an orgasm. You don’t realise he’s cumming until you hear him whine and his back practically arches away from the chair he’s in, shoving his slick tip towards the camera, and oh, he looks so pretty. His abs get a firm splattering, dripping messily across the sweaty skin, before he shakily drags a hand through the white. Then, the video ends, and you’re left to stunned silence and your own soaked gusset. And, of course, the comments.
> WHOOO is he talking about
> He’s so messy
> nghh his happy trail is sosoooso hot
You can barely face speaking to him the next day, nervously curled up on the opposite side of his couch and anxiously worrying your lip between your teeth. Lest you blurt out something along the lines of “I saw the video of you whimpering and humping my pillow and I had to take a cold shower afterwards”, you take a shaky sip of your water instead.
Now you’re back at Megumi’s place, you’re really registering how much money he must make from camboying. There’s nothing broken, not even little things like the window latches that, at your dorm, have a nasty habit of getting stuck closed in summer. And his clothes are nice too, in a subtle way- casual, but definitely made from a comfy blend of materials that polyester is nowhere near.
Your one saving grace is, dizzingly, that now you know he wants you too- and it’s maybe that (or the lack of sleep) that carries your next words out of your mouth.
“You know you can speak to me about anything, right, Megs?”
“Yeah?” He side eyes you, running a pale hand through his spiky hair. You squint. “Like, anything.”
He nods slowly. “Uh, yeah?”
“Oh, okay,” you say, “so when were you gonna tell me you make your money from being a camboy?”
Megumi freezes. His whole body tenses up on the couch and he looks rather nauseous.
“What?”
You shift into your hands and knees in front of him on the couch, slowly crawling towards his stilled body. “Don’t pretend,” you say, voice dropping into something a little breathy and very evil. Your fingers lightly drift across his thigh, and Megumi jolts. “I saw. That was my pillow, wasn’t it?”
His cheeks go redder than you think you’ve ever seen them- but he’s still silent, processing the fact that you know he fucks his hand every night on camera while whimpering your name. “I’m sorry,” he manages finally, voice thick, “I’m so, so sorry, I just- fuck-“
He dares a glance up, and almost chokes on his own spit. You look sorry for him, a little sad at how panicked he is; your eyes are big and round and, most of all, trusting, and it makes him feel hot. Mortification washes over him when he feels the blood previously flooding his face rush southwards, his sweats filling out the longer you pity him.
Honestly, he thinks he just wants you to take care of him. Maybe that’s why he’s spent so long begging on livestreams, cock buried in your scent or the fingers he wishes were yours.
“Admit it,” you whisper suddenly with a fresh burst of confidence at his blushing, your mouth hovering dangerously close to his. “You like this. Me pitying you.”
Megumi’s breath shudders loudly, his eyes screwed up as he gulps. Say it, Megumi! Something hisses at himself, you know you do. “Yeah. I really do.”
The initial press of your mouth against his is curved upwards as you smile into his tongue. You were expecting him to be just as tentative, but instead Megumi is messy- like he needs you to breathe, gripping you through your clothes with grabby hands.
“Mmpfh!” You squeak against his lips when he nips down- hard- on your bottom lip. He’s breathing heavily now, eyes shut lucidly as he leans into the gentle touch of your palms on his face. The kiss is sloppy; you keep pulling away for air, glossy strings of spit clashing in midair, only for Megumi to gasp and pull your mouth back closer.
It’s not close enough, though.
His hands are fisting in the shirt at your back, clinging to your waist to drag you atop his lap. Megumi doesn’t even realise what he’s done until you gasp, pulling back just long enough to gaze down at his face. All flustered and dazed, lips kiss bitten as he instinctually chases after your lips- how pretty.
You feel bad for the viewers, the ones on his livestreams who don’t get to see the face he makes when he’s all worked up. Your lap is splayed across his bulge, and when your hips lift up to awkwardly wriggle out of your jeans Megumi drops his forehead to your collarbone and whines at the loss.
And it’s that thought about those livestreams that brings your hand down his chest, feeling the fluttering beat of his heart, before playing with his waistband. He physically lurches when your hand, so soft and warm and loving, gently coaxes his cock out.
It slaps obscenely against his stomach, tip a pretty pink and dripping big beads of shining pre. There’s a significant vein striping down the side of the pale skin, curving around the length as it twitches hopelessly in the air under your watchful gaze. Megumi’s fingers are curling into the couch on either side, digging hollow dents into the throw pillows like he isn’t ready to allow himself to touch you.
Your other hand travels up his body towards his face, tilting his chin up towards you so you can take in his blown pupils and the haze already seeping over them like ink. His mouth is clamped shut, lips drawn into a thin line to keep his needy noises locked behind his teeth; so, logically, you have to open him up.
Two of your fingers slide tentatively into the warm, small space of his mouth, and Megumi accepts them like a ship going to the sea, waves battering at his sides. He feels a little like he's drowning inside his own head, being so vulnerable and pathetic under you, but the feeling of your digits gently probing at his tongue keeps him steady.
You’re still across his lap, scooted backwards to allow his cock to rest in the heated space between you as you gently take it in your hand. He moans immediately and his hips buck up. “Sorry.” He apologises thickly around your fingers as you ease them out, warm face dropping against your clothed chest. And yet, his hips don’t stop.
They splatter your hand with pre, almost erratically bucking up into your awaiting fist as you curl it into a tighter hole for him to thrust his length through. You use your other hand to pull at his hair just hard enough for him to turn and look at you, his cheek still pressed up hard against the outline of your tits visible through your shirt. You grin.
“Do you want me to take it off?” Your fingers are already curling into the hem. When you take your hand from his cock to wriggle out of the fabric, Megumi chokes on his own whine and desperately lurches forwards- but while your edging was cruel, the sight of your tits in front of him makes it worth it.
“Wait, slow down-“ You’re only just fumbling with the clasp and giggling when Megumi decides that it’s been long enough and he needs his mouth on you now. He trails sloppy, open-mouthed kisses from your throat to your sternum and soaks the lace of your bra with his spit before you rip the garment away and he connects his lips to your nipple.
At the same time as you gasp softly and arch further into his mouth, your fingers reconnect with his aching cock and resume their prior movements, only this time Megumi’s whimpers are muffled around your chest.
“Never want to think again,” he slurs suddenly against you, glossy spit trickling down the valley between your breasts as he pops back long enough to shove his tongue greedily into your mouth again. “Just… just- fuck, I’m so needy,” he cracks out, your lips parting loudly to welcome his own.
“You are,” you agree, gently bringing his face away from yours so you can look at him. His eyes are heavy and glassy, his mouth hanging open slightly as though their purpose is to await the next lick of your tongue between them. “But that’s okay,” you continue, stroking his head as his mouth attaches itself to your chest again. “You’re allowed to be needy.”
Your hand feels warmer, suddenly, as Megumi cums from your allowance. Maybe he’s been waiting for it, secretly, the permission from you to let go; his release drips hot and sticky across your knuckles, and there’s just so much of it. His cock is still spurting when you push him back against the couch, still messing the sliver of happy trail on his stomach you want to mouth at and ruining his shirt that’s covering the rest of the hair.
He has a forearm thrown across his eyes as his hips continue bucking, little whines and gasps hidden behind the skin. Your fingers trace the hem of his shirt and he shivers. “Off?” You question quietly. When he nods jerkily, you peel it away and oh, it’s even better than the livestream.
You always knew Megumi went to the gym and ate reasonably well, but the refined ridges of his abdomen, splattered with a trail of hair from his navel downwards, makes your mouth salivate. He’s embarrassed by you looking, you can tell, but it really isn’t your fault!
“I see why you have so many viewers now.” You giggle, standing up to unhook your panties and toss them to the side. Megumi watches in nothing less than total awe as your bare body is revealed to him in his living room. It’s an invitation, the way you look at him, he knows that, but he can’t figure out what he wants to do with it.
Bend you over the glass coffee table? He wouldn’t be able to see your tits. Doggy? Same problem as the coffee table, and he doesn't think he could handle seeing your ass move. If you got on top he thinks he’d cum embarrassingly quickly and then pass out, too much for your first time together, really-
He settles on missionary.
Which was probably a gigantic fucking mistake, he thinks as soon as you’re lying beneath him, because his brain immediately blanks when faced with you spread out like this. He’s kneeling in front of you, cock still dripping, but he’s unable to move from shock. “Fuck,” he swallows eventually, shaky hands landing on your soft, bare thighs.
“You’re… so pretty.” Instinctually, you blush; your cheeks are pinker at his sweet little praise than they were when you’d laid back on the carpet, rug cushioning the feeling of your bare spine and sinking comfily into your feet as you drew your knees up. “You too.”
It sort of just slipped out, a casual response to what Megumi said, but it makes him freeze. A slow, slightly malicious smile paints its way across your face as you sit up on your elbows, unintentionally pushing your chest towards him as your legs fall open. “You’re just sooo pretty, Megumi, the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen, it just makes me want to-“
A palm clasps itself over your mouth and you make a muffled, indignant sound of protest. “Stop.” Megumi’s head is hung low as his chest reverberates outwards in his plea, his other hand tightly squeezing his cock; he must be sensitive if this is what a teeny bit of praise does to him, you think, letting your thighs spread further for him to shuffle between.
Your hand reaches up to peel his palm away from your lips. “Megumi,” you whisper, “you can fuck me. You’re allowed to.” His next breath escapes shakily, as his eyes fixate on the way his tip is lined up glimmeringly with the entrance to your pussy.
Somehow, the overwhelming need to bury himself inside you overrides the sense of terror within his bloodstream, and Megumi finds himself slowly pushing himself into you. “Oh,” you moan, hands coming up to splay across his shoulders, “fuck, Megs. That's so good, baby.”
The nickname unlocks something new in him, the feeling of your walls stretching out for him (and only ever him from now on, he decides hazily) while you gasp his name quietly makes his thrusts turn harder, seeking a new level of release he fears- no, knows- he’ll now only be able to reach from this.
The stretch is mean at first, his flushed length scraping past your sweet spots like he’s teasing them for later. Your chest heaves as you breathe through it and let him in, legs wrapping loosely around his lean waist while your hands come up to cup his cheeks and drag him down into another sloppy kiss.
This kiss is messy beyond comparison, spit and teeth and tongue more than lips as the pace of Megumi’s cock thrusting into you picks up. There’s a rushing of blood in your ears when your hand drifts down to rub your clit wonkily, a noise that subsides quick enough and lets you listen to Megumi instead.
And oh, what a thing to listen to!
“Fuck,” he’s moaning, voice cracking on the syllables, “you’re so warm, so tight, wanna- hnngh- stay here forever, god-“
He’s whining and crying, sobbing uncontrollably about how good you feel, how warm and wet you are wrapped tightly around him, and it sends a fresh wave of slick from you that decorates and splashes against his pelvis.
As hard as he tries to hold back and be a goody boy for you, Megumi cums first. The feeling of him spilling into you, thick and wet, makes you gasp brokenly as your nails dig into his shoulders. “Sorry-“ he heaves, pulling out, “I’ll make it up to you-“
He presses himself flat between your thighs, and you’re too dazed and throbbing to do anything but watch the way he’s staring pussydrunkenly at the sight between your legs. It’s almost nasty, just how much is dripping from your cunt down to the floor, in one thick droplet he’s lurching forwards and licking up with his mouth.
“Oh my god-“ you mewl, back arching up as he eats his own cum out of your pussy. Your hands reach down to grip at his spiky hair, more as an anchor than anything else- you don’t need to guide him, he’s good enough, although you don’t think Megumi would pull away if you wanted him to.
He’s completely lost in it, groaning and whining into your pussy with his eyes half-closed while his big hands wrap around your thighs and dig into the flesh until it dimples beneath his touch. You’re whimpering by the time he pushes you into an orgasm, lips suctioned tightly over your sensitive clit, but he doesn’t stop.
“Hah- wanted to do this f’so long,” he’s mumbling against your cunt, shoving his mouth open to lick a flat stripe across the full space you offer him. “So good, so good…”
Your pussy flutters needily around his tongue, his tastebuds coated and lacquered with your slick and his own cum. The concept should be off-putting to him, he knows that, but he can't be ashamed when your hits jerk into his face and he raises his hands to grip onto your plush thighs even more. Megumi barely realises what he's doing before you call him out on it.
"You- you want me to clamp them?" You gasp, watching the way he's smothering himself with your skin. Megumi moans in agreement, in admission. And you oblige.
Your thighs tighten around his head harshly, applying the maximum amount of pressure you can manage; his dark hair gets messed even more, his skull compressed, and yet Megumi thinks this feels like heaven.
Eventually, what little coherence he had left devolves into something close to devotion. He can’t do anything but lie there and gently grind his overstimulated cock into the soft carpet, his mouth smushed against your cunt as he unintentionally drags you into a second orgasm and you sob.
In fact, you’re both sobbing a little. There’s tears brimming in his eyes, saline drops threatening to streak Megumi’s already bright cheeks, while the water collecting at your waterline has already begun slipping down your temples. “S’too much.” You hear yourself slurring. Your voice sounds underwater, like it’s a recording of yourself you’re listening to.
As shaky and weak as you are, your hand manages to fist in Megumi’s hair and pull him back. His long eyelashes flutter a segment open, like he’s checking you’re real and here, before he draws himself up blindly to collapse beside you on the rug as you catch your breath.
A little like a tired puppy, Megumi drops his forehead against your shoulder and buries his face into the damp skin. Your arm curls around his back loosely, heat prickling your skin, and you clear your hoarse throat to speak coherently for the first time since he pushed himself inside you.
“You did really good.” You mumble, eyes closed and head tilted back. “So good.”
If a fresh sheen of tears starts to leak out onto your skin where Megumi is buried, you don’t comment on it. He wouldn’t say it out loud to you, not in a million years, but he feels safe. In an odd way, considering he’s naked and spent next to you in his living room with your taste still coating his tongue.
“Maybe…” you giggle, eyes still lazily shut as your fingers trace shapes across his bare back. “You should livestream it next time.”
He groans and tightens his arms around you. “Absolutely not.”
masterlist
a/n: thank you all so, so, so much again!! + this post was mainly inspired by @lipstainedgemini ‘s lovely posts about camboy megumi! <33
18+. sum 𓏲 you and fratkuna are the kind of couple who break up & make up every other week. but when you swear you’re done with him and go off to date his rival, the new football team captain, can his frat brothers help him get you back ?
‘sabotaging your ex girlfriend’s new relationship to get her back? this can’t be a good idea.’
ΣΧ
“‘high value woman’ but your new man’s a misogynist?!”
ryomen sukuna’s time of irritation is approximately 9:17 PM.
toru gojo’s bedroom floor is velvet carpet with half-empty beer bottles rotting on the rug. his center table is littered with poker cards & sato’s candy wrappers, and geto suguru & sato gojo are avoiding eye contact so they don’t burst out in laughter as sukuna glares daggers at toru’s screen.
toru’s hands shake under sukuna’s glare but he holds the phone steady. the instagram post on screen is a slap to sukuna’s face.
HOT NEW CAMPUS COUPLE : FOOTBALL CAPTAIN NAOYA ZENIN & Y/N L/N !
and the photo is you. swollen lips & pretty gaze & a dress so short it makes sukuna’s jaw ache—but not as much as naoya’s arm around you does. beside you toji’s cousin naoya zenin is there, grin cocky, eyes glinting in the camera light and arm around your waist because his fugly ass doesn’t know you like to be held around the hips instead. sukuna’s jaw ticks.
“i’m gonna get her back.”
sato, suguru and toru all glance towards each other. they know what that voice means. there’s no talking him out of it.
but toru lowers his phone, tries regardless. “are you sure? y/n’s always been strong headed. she might hate you even more if—“
sukuna grabs his crotch aggressively. “keep talking and i’ll jizz on your face.”
toru squeaks. sukuna continues. “i know my own girl. know she’s a fucking brat, doing this shit to get on my nerves,” he growls. “she’s bored. testing me. probably doing this shit to see if i’ll show up at practice ‘n break his jaw for touching her.”
suguru is biting back a grin. “calling her your girl when she broke up with you last week? and the week before that?”
sukuna takes a swig of his beer but his jaw is ticking behind the can. “exactly. she knows where home is.”
sato’s grin is clumsy. “i dunno, man. seems like she’s got a new address,” he elbows suguru’s side. “naoya’s pants, wellesley street east.”
“M-4-Y, 1-H-5,” suguru snickers.
“glad you two have the energy to joke,” sukuna sets down his beer with a thud. “means you’ll have energy to help me out tomorrow night.
tomorrow? tomorrow can only mean one thing.
naoya zenin’s one million snap score party. and also, the party that the college football team throws every year before the start of a new season. the party that sukuna hasn’t been to since he quit the role of captain. the party where sukuna first found you drunk & dizzy in an alley just out back, perfume strong & heels clicky, stumbling into his chest with a clumsy grin & flushed cheeks as he held your hips against him to keep you from falling. you reeked of vodka & you kept slurring his name & ryomen sukuna thought you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
and now his pretty thing is somewhere curled into naoya’s side, and the thought makes sukuna’s throat itch.
suguru cocks his head. “so i’m guessing you have a plan?”
sukuna chugs his beer. “you know the plan.”
they do—they all do. sato is already grinning. suguru is shaking his head. toru is watching the fratboys with worried eyes.
sato, suguru and sukuna’s lips curl.
the plan?
sabotage.
# SHOW TIME !
at naoya zenin’s one million snapscore party, the air is heavy with the smell of drunken bodies / athlete sweat / something alcoholic dripping off a countertop. geto’s piercings glimmer in the evening dim. ryomen sukuna has his jaw tight. and sato gojo is already drunk and somewhere dancing, legworking with ease as rema’s azaman blares through the speakers.
sukuna and suguru are still scanning the scene when naoya saunters up to them.
naoya zenin is badly dyed hair, bright green eyes and a cocky lilt to his shoulders. he’s got the team’s varsity jacket around him—GO PANDAS!—and a grin too cruel to be kind. he raises his hands in faux welcome.
“suguru, sukuna,” naoya smiles. “didn’t think you’d make it.”
sukuna eyes him. “congratulations on your snapscore.”
“and my new position as captain,” naoya bites so hard his teeth show. “how’s retirement treating you, ryomen? enjoying life off the pitch?”
suguru slings an arm around sukuna, quick to come to his defence. “he’s doing great, thank you. how about you, captain? have you found confidence in your buck teeth?”
naoya’s smile dissolves.
“nice engagement bait,” naoya recovers. he’s grinning again but his lips only stretch, teeth hidden. “you always did bite like a bitch, suguru.”
“i try.”
“enjoy the booze,” naoya lets out a jagged breath, turning away. “try not to cry in your cups too much.”
sukuna has his arms crossed over his chest, suguru’s arm still slung around him. but he’s not watching naoya walk away. his eyes have drifted to you.
you across the party and perched on a seat at the bar, a glass of something pink in your hands and a dress so short he can trace the swell of your ass. and you’re laughing—oh god, you’re laughing, tucking hair behind your ear with flushed cheeks and a carefree smile. sukuna’s mouth dries. god, you’re so pretty. you’re always so pretty, and sukuna wants to tell you that; wants to curl up beside you and wipe away the red dribbling down your chin and maybe tug your dress down over your ass. you’d swat at him and tell him he’s ruining your outfit. and then you’d kiss him because you like when he gets territorial anyways.
you laugh again, and ryomen sukuna is already moving.
that is, until naoya curls up behind you.
sukuna stops in his tracks. naoya snakes an arm around your waist from behind—your waist again, not your hips, fucking idiot—and sukuna’s jaw goes slack. he watches naoya press his parched, un-vaselined lips to your shoulder blades, and he doesn’t miss the slight tense of your shoulders before you ease into his chest.
sukuna’s jaw ticks. “suguru.”
“hm?”
“get sato. it’s time.”
suguru grins. “yes, boss.”
suguru disappears into the crowd. sukuna’s eyes shift back to you, back to naoya, back to the way his hands slide up your side and the way he whispers something in your ear. you laugh again and sukuna’s jaw twitches, because the sound itself comes out strained.
you’re uncomfortable. and he’d be a fool to miss it.
suguru reappears with sato in tow.
sato is drunk. swaying. red-bruised lips & booze in his breath. his cheeks are flushed pink & his hair sweat-sticky and he’s slung over suguru’s back like his life depends on it. he nuzzles into suguru’s neck. “mmh—you called?”
sukuna’s eyes are still on you. he nods towards the bar, “you see naoya?”
sato squints. “so ugly,”
“he’s got his hands on my girl.”
sato frowns. “that won’t do.”
“yeah,” sukuna murmurs, lifting a cup of punch off a passing tray. suguru is wiping rum off sato’s lip. sukuna passes the cup to sato. “you remember the plan?”
sato gives a drunken nod. and then he’s off.
the plan is simple: red punch, ugly naoya, combination. sato gojo is supposed to be a ninja, an image of stealth and diligence. instead he’s a wobbly drunken mess, giggling boyishly as he stumbles towards the bar.
he’s so close, sukuna’s eyes narrow. just a few more steps and then naoya will be drenched—
but sato trips. and as he falls, he pulls naoya’s pants down with him.
the situation is a whole mess.
punch everywhere. sticky on naoya’s shocked face, on sato’s fallen figure, on the party’s hardwood floor. and everyone is watching—staring—at naoya zenin covered in punch, pants on the floor. those boxers—is that undertale?
naoya’s face is blood drenched. “you drunken fucking idiot—”
“m’sorry,” sato cries, face down, hands still gripping naoya’s pants. “was tryna—hic—spill the punch, hnghh—suguru—“
“get the fuck off me!” naoya kicks at him, pants rippling around his ankles. someone is pulling out their phone to record. another is already recording. everyone’s laughing, including you, and even ryomen sukuna is struggling to bite back the chuckle on his lips.
naoya scrambles out of the party, shuffling out in his sans undertale boxers with his pants around his feet. suguru has already made his way to sato’s side.
sato’s eyes are teary, and his forehead is bruised red from naoya’s kick. suguru cups his face, brows knit. “hey man. you alright?”
sato groans. “i spilled the punch and the pants.”
“mhm,” geto snorts, smushing sato’s cheeks between his palms. “good job, buddy.”
“i did good?”
“so good,” geto smiles down at him. “come on, up you go.”
suguru helps sato up to his feet. sukuna is already moving.
towards you, you at the bar with your palm over your mouth to muffle your laugh as you watch naoya flee into the night. sukuna steps into your space. your eyes are still on the door before you slowly, slowly, turn your head around to him.
your pupils are blown. cheeks flushed and chest heaving from the alcohol, and your eyes focus for a minute before you grin.
“aww, look,” you beam. “if it isn’t my ex-boyfriend.”
sukuna shouldn’t take advantage.
he knows if you were sober, it’d be a different story. he knows you’d kick and hit at him, maybe snarl about his audacity to show his face around you. but you’re too many drinks too deep and as drunk and dizzy as the day he met you in that alleyway, so instead of kicking at him you lean forward to cup his cheeks.
sukuna tilts his head to kiss your palm. “Hi, baby. you’re drunk.”
“noo,” you slur. “i’m tipsy.”
“mhm,” sukuna grunts, stepping forward to slide his arms around your hips before you can lean off the chair. he tugs your dress down over your ass, then strokes your thigh. “third glass?”
“so close!” you squeeze his neck happily. “i’m on my sixth.”
sukuna hugs you back. but his face is scowling.
naoya zenin—that fucking idiot. sukuna knows your limit is four. he knows that any more than that and you’ll be sick for days, groggy and weak and unable to get out of bed. he squeezes your hips. “s’too much, sweetheart.”
“i know,” you pout into his neck. “i couldn’t resist.”
oh, his poor girl. sukuna kisses your hair. just once—just because he missed the warmth of your skin—but then he does it again and again and you giggle into his chest. fuck. he’s missed the sound bad.
“i’m sorry.”
sukuna’s heart stops. “what?”
“for going past my limit.”
sukuna can feel you pouting in his neck. he sighs, because of course that’s what you meant. not that you were sorry for leaving him or whatever his delusions had him hearing in that moment. after all, he should be the one apologizing anyway. right?
“you’re okay,” he hugs you closer, pressing your head into his chest. god, you’re gonna be so sick tomorrow; and the day after, and the day after. “i’m not mad, pretty. don’t apologize.”
you nod against him. “are you gonna take care of me?”
sukuna wishes drunk you didn’t talk so much.
because it hurts to have to say no, no but i want to, no but i would if i knew you wouldn’t hate me for it when you’re sober, so he doesn’t say it at all. instead he traces circles on your hips. “gimme your phone.”
you rest your chin on his chest and beam up at him drunkenly instead.
sukuna lets out a sigh, shifting just enough to reach for your purse without jerking you off his chest. he slips your phone into his palm and tries for the passcode. it unlocks in one go. the passcode is still his birthday, and sukuna sighs again.
“i’m gonna call shoko,” he murmurs into your ear. “she’ll take care of you, yeah?”
he could take care of you too, you know. if you’d let him. but you wouldn’t, so he bites his lip.
“shoko?” you coo into his neck. “i love shoko.”
“i know,” sukuna squeezes your thigh. “i know you do.”
TORU’S REMARK: I HAVE A BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS…
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #2: GO BIG OR GO HOME !
taught by: geto suguru
“like the great oikawa tooru said, if you’re gonna hit it? hit it until it breaks.”
ΣΧ
ryomen sukuna is itch itch itching.
itching to know if you’re okay. itching to know if shoko—or, ugh, naoya—let you have those crackers you like to help you settle your stomach, kept your room slightly warm, and for christ’s sake, kept you away from the advil. you love to reach for them after a night of drinking. sukuna knows it only makes your headaches worse.
you haven’t posted on instagram in days.
not that he should know since you have him blocked. but luckily your account is public and sato’s allowed him to log in on his fake instagram hair page. SlayedBySato. hit them up on IG.
sukuna is lying on the couch, nose buried in a cushion. he watches your highlights with bleary eyes. in the one he’s viewing, you’re in a tight black dress, red and blue hues lighting up your face. you’re dancing the night away, cheeks flushed, lashes fluttering. his pretty party girl. god.
“look at my girl,” he mumbles into the pillow. “so fucking hot. i’ll slap the shit out of naoya zenin.”
geto laughs. “shouldn’t have let her get away, then.”
on the floor, sato has his head in suguru’s lap, pouting as geto presses an iced cloth to his forehead. he flinches. “sugu, how much longer?”
“shh,” geto hisses, even though the swelling went down ages ago.
sukuna rolls so his body lays upright, setting his phone down on his chest. “it’s not enough.” he glares at the ceiling. “that stunt with his boxers? did nothing but make a bunch of people laugh.”
suguru and sato look at each other. geto’s voice goes low.
“what are you saying?”
“i’m saying he’s a fraud and i want everyone to fucking know it.” sukuna sits up, tossing his phone unto the coffee table. “he’s still captain of the football team. but i have a video that could change that.”
“the season’s first game, naoya’s first official game as captain…” sato thinks. “are you saying you wanna pull something?”
“i’m thinking of playing it in the locker room TV. make the other boys lose respect for him.”
sato and suguru look at each other again.
“boring.” sato says.
“huh?”
“toru has access to the AV booth,” a slow grin curls its way onto suguru’s lips. “would be a fucking shame if he and i were to mess with the feed on game day.”
sato sits up from suguru’s lap. “locker room TV? boring as fuck, man. the sukuna i know? he’d play whatever video he has in front of the whole fucking stadium.”
sukuna looks at his frat brothers. at their wicked grins and stupid pride and willingness to follow him to the ends of the earth. it’s foolish, honestly. going to such lengths to destroy naoya zenin because he dared to look twice at his girl. but he’s a stupid man, and his frat brothers are even stupider, and this is what the sigma-chi brotherhood is really about.
sukuna’s lip twitches. “i fucking love you guys.”
“we know,” suguru says. “and don’t ever say that shit again.”
# GAME DAY !
LET’S GO PANDAS !
the chanting in the stadium sounds more like a roar.
the air is electric—buzzing, vibrating. cheerleaders on the sidelines with cheeks smeared in blue & red paint. there’s the scent of hot dogs & fried food grilling. a crowd in jerseys with flags in their hands. in the kaisen campus stadium, the midsummer air is thick with anticipation. it’s game day.
sukuna sucks the air into his lungs. he hasn’t been to the stadium in a minute.
sato has run off to get some hot dogs. suguru and toru should already be in the AV room. the pitch has no football players but marching band members instead, drums and trombones blaring music across the grass. sukuna should go over to his and sato’s seats. instead he’s on the stairs, staring down at you.
is it fair for you to look this happy with him away from you?
he shakes the thought away. he always wants you to be happy—he thinks. but happiness with naoya? naoya zenin? he’s not quite sure about that. actually, he is. sukuna knows he’s fucking furious. he knows he doesn’t like the fact that you have naoya’s number on your back, or the fact that you’re jumping and cheering his name when the players haven’t even walked out yet. his jaw ticks. something ugly curls in his throat. he swallows it away.
he stares a little longer. watches your skirt swish around your thighs, watches your arms wave in the air, watches your hips sway to the music. you’ve clearly recovered and your dancing is out of tune as always, and sukuna bites back a smile.
he’s still smiling when you look up at him.
his face falls.
your head lifts towards him, and he doesn’t miss the way your body tenses. your arms drop to your sides. your palms curl into fists.
uh oh.
you look away, pausing for a moment. and then you trudge between bodies and make your way over to what sukuna can only assume is the concession stand.
sukuna follows. he doesn’t give himself time to think any better of it.
——
caramel popcorn and half-burnt sugar. the concession stand smells like caramel popcorn and half-burnt sugar.
and vanilla, but not the syrupy sweet kind. it’s the kind that sukuna smells whenever he kisses that spot below your ear, or presses his lips to the dip of your waist. at the concession stand, sukuna stands behind you with his hands in his pockets, pretending he doesn’t see the frown on your face as you stand in line in front of him.
“go away.” you deadpan.
“i’m here to eat.”
“You will choke on your food and die.”
harsh.
sukuna’s used to it though. so when it’s your turn to get a donut, he slips out his wallet and drops some cash before you can even protest. the stand worker takes the excess money with a grin. you turn to sukuna with a frown.
“what are you doing?”
your tone is mean but ryomen sukuna can’t take you seriously. your hair has ribbons tangled throughout it. you look so fucking cute.
he looks you in the eyes. “let me check your temperature. feeling feverish? at all?”
you only eye him in response. “stop caring about me.”
“can’t,” he mutters. “let me check it.”
he pads closer, and you’re still glaring daggers at him, but you don’t bite his palm as it cups your face. he pats the back of his hand against your neck, then your forehead, then your chest—and then his palm’s on your cheek again.
“you had six drinks that night,” he murmurs, thumb stroking your cheek. “was so worried. don’t like when you go over your limit.”
“i’m fine,” your voice is sharp—or trying to be. “don’t touch me.”
he shifts his hand into his pocket. “okay.” he says. “i’m gonna get you back.”
that sets you off. “i’m done with you, asshole!” you stab your finger into his chest. “i’m serious—no more on and off bullshit. i’ve moved on. i’m with naoya, for fuck’s sake. you just can’t accept that cuz of your stupid little ego!”
you’re still stabbing his chest. sukuna only watches you patiently, letting you yell to your heart’s content.
“and i hate you!” you tug his collar just to shove him away again. “i’m moving on. i’m happy now. so don’t try to act like you’re still my boyfriend!”
“sorry,” he trails off. he’s still watching you poke him with half-lidded eyes.
“i like your ribbons,” he murmurs. “you look pretty.”
“ugh!”
you storm off, and sukuna bites his cheek as your ribbons swing behind you. his hand finds the spot where you hit his chest and he sighs.
ryomen sukuna needs to get you back. and the sooner he does? the better.
———-
sato gojo has five bomboclat hotdogs in his lap.
how humongous! and worst of all, he refuses to share them with sukuna, who left his own food at the concession stand while his mind fixated on your face. you looked so pretty yelling at him. fuck. has he gone mad?
he shakes the thought away. he has his phone in his hands, facetime call with suguru on screen. toru gojo is setting up a monitor in the background with shaky hands. suguru has his phone at a poor angle and he’s humming into its mic with glee.
sato hooks his mustard-sticky chin over sukuna’s shoulder. “yo, sugu.” he says to the call.
“yo,”
“i have five hotdogs,” sato says humbly. “i’m saving a quarter for you.”
“love your generosity.”
“thank you, brother.”
sukuna shoves sato’s face away, ignoring the pout on his face as he rubs his still-bruised forehead. “suguru. how’s the prep going?”
“we’re all good here,” suguru says, turning the call camera to face toru and the set-up. “toru, you’re on video. say hi.”
“uh—hi!”
“hey, twin!” sato’s chin is back on sukuna’s shoulder. he frowns. “i didn’t save you any hotdogs.”
“that’s okay,” toru pushes up his glasses. “i don’t like hotdogs much anyways.”
suguru laughs behind the camera. “aww. i’ll get you a hotdog, buddy.”
“guys, focus.” sukuna pinches his nose. “the footage. is it ready?”
“yup,” suguru pops the p. just waiting for your signal.”
down on the pitch, the teams are lively.
the stadium is roaring. confetti everywhere, cheers and screams from fangirls and fanboys alike. the campus team jogs out in high spirits. and naoya zenin is there, golden boy of the season, arms in the air and waving like he’s the best thing since sliced bread. sukuna tries not to roll his eyes.
it’s a new season, and this one begins with a speech.
and who else to deliver it but the new captain, naoya? he has his helmet in his arm, grin wide, eyes gleaming. he stands on the podium with a mic to his mouth, and then he clears his throat.
his voice bellows. “GO PANDAS!”
the crowd roars. “go pandas!” sato cheers along. sukuna smacks his head.
“it is my honor, as the new captain of the football team, to welcome you all to the new season. kaisen university has suffered many losses. but this year, under my lead, i swear to you all—victory!”
the crowd roars again. sato is smart enough to not get caught up in the high spirits this time.
naoya raises a hand to calm the crowd. “but first off, i want to say a thank you to our alumni, sponsors, team—“
suguru turns the phone camera to himself, grinning. “i think this is the time?”
“your thinking is correct.”
“hit it, toru.”
toru fumbles with the control panel. he plugs in a mic, and suguru brings his mouth to the head.
“hey naoya,”
suguru’s voice crackles through the stadium speakers. the crowd stills. the football team on the grass is frozen in confusion.
“the alumni, sponsors, team you’re talking about,” you can hear the smile in suguru’s voice. “is it these ones?”
toru hits a button.
the big screen flickers.
the static shifts to a video. it’s one of those out of focus, wobbly snapchat ones, captioned ‘this guy’ with a bunch of laughing emojis. someone says something in the background. naoya scoffs.
“alumni? sponsors? they’re all a bunch of old has-beens with heart conditions,” he spits. “lousy fuckers with too much money. yet they can’t even buy us a trophy. idiots.”
but the video doesn’t end there. naoya is talking while he changes out of his uniform, focused on the locker in front of him. “and this shitty team,“ he bites. “dumb fuckers who would need help to wipe their asses. can’t follow instructions for shit. i see why sukuna fucking left.”
the video ends. all that’s left is the grey replay button on the screen. suguru shifts back away from the mic, holding his phone to his face. “holy shit,” he says into the facetime call. “we fucking did that.”
“yeah,” sukuna says. “we did.”
but he’s distracted. naoya is arguing with someone on field but sukuna doesn’t care to see what that’s about. instead his eyes are on you down near the pitch, your hands gripping the stands. he can’t tell if you’re confused, distraught, happy, sad. it’s fucking killing him. he needs to see your face.
sato climbs unto his chair. he cups his hands around his mouth. “GET HIM OFF THE FIELD!”
sukuna’s eyes widen in alarm, but others are already joining in. OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD! GET NA-O-YA OFF-THE-FIELD!”
on the pitch, naoya’s face flushes in embarrassment. “you sorry sacks of shit! do you fucking know who i am?!”
they’ll never know, because he never has the chance to tell. security guards are escorting him away before he even knows it.
sukuna’s eyes flit down the bleachers. back down to you. he finds you hopping at your seat, ribbons swishing as you chant along with the crowd.
OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD!
sukuna’s lip twitches. get him off the field.
———
“OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD!”
the chanting of the stadium is still buzzing in sukuna’s ears.
toru gojo left early, body aching with anxiety and in dire need of a nap. sukuna’s decided it’s about time to leave too—college football games aren’t really his thing anymore.
suguru and sato are geeking out over the whole thing behind him as sukuna trudges forward with his hands in his pockets. he’s half-smiling. he still can’t believe the whole scene had you chanting along and hopping eagerly in your seat. so cute. your ribbons were bouncing everywhere. so fucking cute.
“this is all your fault!”
sukuna knows that voice anywhere.
sato and suguru know it too. the smiles quickly leave their faces, brows knitting in alarm. the three quietly speed up towards the corridor, and the scene has sukuna seeing red.
“you dumb fucking whore,” naoya has you cornered against the wall. “all this shit because of you and your crazy, batshit boyfriend. ‘deal’ my fucking asshole. you see how they embarrassed me? because of you?”
sukuna’s already moving. but geto pulls him back. “listen.”
“you can’t pin this on me,” you try to keep your voice steady, but sukuna knows how your voice gets when you’re about to snap. naoya’s face is too close to yours for his liking. “you’re the one who said all that stupid shit. take some fucking responsibility.”
“responsibility?” naoya’s teeth curl. his breath is hot against your lip. “deal my fucking ass. this was your plan all along wasn’t it, stupid bitch? date me and get closer to me so you can sabotage me along with your boyfriend—”
“naoya,” your voice is dangerous. “i’m warning you, get back.”
“or what?” he spits in your face. “you’ll call your big bad boyfriend to save you? run to him like some stupid little whore—?”
you slap naoya silly.
and for a moment, sukuna’s shoulders un-tense. he’s been holding his breath the entire time, fingers curled into the wall, suguru’s hand on his chest stopping him from charging forward. but fuck, he’s proud. that’s his fucking girl. fuck. why’d he have to go and lose you?
but he can’t relax for long.
“you fucking bitch!”
naoya shoves you against the wall and you thud against it. sukuna doesn’t have to pry geto’s hand away—they’re already charging in.
naoya’s eyes widen as soon as he sees the trio. suguru swings. sato punches. but naoya dodges both, shoulder bumping into them as he slips between the two. he should be stopped by sukuna—but sukuna charges straight to your side, tugging you to his chest, breath heaving. naoya zenin escapes.
suguru and sato’s eyes flit towards the exit. their breathing is sharp, ragged. their eyes drift back to you in alarm. fuck. you’re more important.
sukuna hugs you to his chest, tight. his hand presses your head under his chin. he wants to pretend you’re not fucking shaking in his arms, but god you are, god—you are.
“you’re okay, baby,” he lies. your hand is fisting his collar like you want to pull him closer—or maybe push him away. “you’re okay. i’ve got you, you’re okay.”
you squeeze his collar. “ryo,” your voice is small, “don’t go after him.”
“i won’t baby, swear to god i won’t.”
but that’s just another lie. he presses your head further into his chest, palm heavy on your head. and then he mouths to suguru and sato:
GO. FUCKING. KILL HIM.
they don’t need to be told twice.
“ryo,” you whisper in his chest. “where are they going?”
“they’re giving us privacy,” he lies, and you’ll hate him for it tomorrow but he’ll settle for holding you today. he kisses your head. “are you hurt? hit your head? look at me.”
he can feel your lips jut out in his chest. “i’m fine.”
“i told you to look at me.”
you grumble, but oblige regardless. and god, sukuna’s heart aches. you have your chin on his chest, lashes tear rimmed, cheeks flushed and lips jut out in a stubborn pout. your eyes are glistening with wet. sukuna’s jaw aches.
naoya zenin has got to go to hell.
and he’ll send him there personally. he kisses your forehead, “gorgeous.” and then his thumbs wipe your lashes. “i’m gonna check if you’re concussed. do you have a headache?”
“this is so stupid,” you grumble. “i’m not concussed. and you know it.”
sukuna ignores you, cups your face in his palms. “what day of the week is it?”
“monday.” you grumble.
“gonna say some numbers, say them back to me in reverse,” he strokes your cheek. “four-two-four-two-five-six-four.”
you say them back perfectly. sukuna kisses your forehead. “good job baby,” he murmurs. “smart girl. does anything hurt?”
“no.”
“don’t lie to me.”
you rest the side of your face on his chest, pausing for a moment. then you raise a hand to grip his bicep. “my head hurts. just a little.”
“anything else?”
“i was scared,” you mutter, small. “i was so scared, ryo.”
naoya zenin has got to go to hell.
it’s the second time sukuna thinks that, but he shakes the thought away. he squeezes your hips. tilts your chin so you’re looking up at his face. your lashes are wet & your lips are wobbly & ryomen sukuna thinks you are grace.
“shh,” his thumb rubs your bottom lip. “you’re safe. you’re always safe with me.”
“i know,” your voice croaks as you nod.
“fuck, baby,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss your eyelids, nose, cheek, forehead. he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth. and then he finds your lips, tongue licking your mouth before he kisses you deep and slow.
“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs between your lips. “m’gonna kill naoya.”
“noo,” you whine, tugging his collar. “i told you not to do that.”
sukuna kisses his teeth, stepping back so he can hoist you up into his arms. his hands dip beneath your thighs to haul you up, and now you’re peering down at him through those sad, wet lashes. he kisses the pout off your lips. squeezes your thighs with his big hands. opens his mouth to say—
“i knocked that sucker out the park!”
sato and geto saunter back into the corridor, grins wicked, steps light. their knuckles are bloody and their jaws are bruised and their smiles are so bright they’re practically gleaming.
you turn to look at them. sukuna grabs the back of your head and pushes you into his shoulder. you pout into his neck as he keeps his palm heavy on your head.
sato is shadowboxing. “right hook—left hook—“ he punches the air. “clean hit to the jaw. taught the bloody wanker a good fucking lesson.” he fakes a british accent.
suguru nods, hands in his pockets & smile smug. “it was a good punch.”
“right?!”
sukuna’s lip tugs. he clicks his tongue as sato fakes punches at suguru, suguru dodging them with lazy laughter. sukuna clears his throat. sato and suguru perk up.
“take her to the nurse,” his voice is low. “make sure she doesn’t have a concussion.”
suguru steps forward and sukuna gently moves you into his arms. you frown up at suguru. “i’m not concussed.”
geto only chuckles, shifting your thigh over his arm to lift you better. “i don’t think so either. but your boyfriend runs a strict program, doesn’t he?”
“ex-boyfriend,” you bite. “and he’s not stricter than me.”
“never,” suguru smiles. “you’re the strictest.”
sukuna scoffs behind you. sato just says he likes your ribbons.
he watches the boys leave with you. sato bouncing beside geto, you still arguing in suguru’s arms. but then he thinks about naoya. thinks about how he called his girl a whore, how he had the guts to shove you against a wall instead of just taking your slap like a fucking man. his jaw locks.
his feet are already moving. but then he remembers. don’t go after him.
he’s already broken that promise, already sent sato and suguru to beat him bloody. and he trusts his frat brothers, trusts they didn’t go easy on him. but his knuckles ache. he wants to beat naoya down so fucking badly.
but he knows if he sees naoya now, it will only end in death. and sukuna won’t be the one in the deathbed.
sukuna slams his fist into the wall. “fuck!”
SUGURU’S REMARK: CHILLL. WE CONTROLLED THAT
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #3: ON THE OFFENSE !
taught by: toji zenin
‘want your girl back? then get fucking serious. stop playing her damn games and show her who’s the man.’
ΣΧ
“i have to kill naoya zenin.”
on toji zenin’s bedroom floor, ryomen sukuna’s jaw is tight. his hands dig into his thighs and suguru sits beside him with worried eyes. toji zenin is on the edge of his bed, running a brush through a jet black lace front wig. his son, five-and-a-half year old megumi zenin, sits beside him with a beach blond color 613 bone-straight wig on his head.
megumi tugs his father’s sleeve, voice flat.
“daddy, i have a buss down.”
toji doesn’t look up from his mannequin. “looks great, kiddo.”
toji zenin is twenty-four, stubble on his chin and single-ish student dad. single-ish because megumi’s mother left him when he turned twenty-one, but now he’s engaged to a pretty rich lady who sukuna still can’t believe forgave him for his lies. whatever—that’s a story for another day. even though toji’s girl is rich, he still insists on picking up odd jobs here and there to support him and meg rather than relying on her money. he’s currently working as a wig influencer for ISEEHAIR®.
on sukuna’s right, suguru has his hair in twin braids—courtesy of megumi zenin—and the same kind of ribbons you wore on game day—courtesy of SlayedBySato. he pats sukuna’s shoulder. “hey man, it’s okay. she’s okay.”
“you don’t fucking know that,” sukuna spits. “you don’t know it that bastard is still around her. i should’ve fucking killed him. slammed his skull into the wall back in the stadium.”
megumi blinks, gaze flat. he tugs his father’s sleeve. “daddy, is uncle kuna okay?”
“he’s in love,” toji answers, reaching for the hot comb. “makes you stupid.”
megumi nods, blond wisps of hair sticking to his cheek. then he stares at uncle sukuna for a bit longer before sliding his chubby body off the bed. “i’m gonna lay my edges.”
megumi zenin pads away.
suguru smiles after him. but then his smile dissolves, and he shifts his gaze back to sukuna. sukuna’s jaw is still tight, eyes glaring daggers at toji’s bedroom floor, and suguru elbows his side. “relax, man. brooding’s not gonna fix anything.”
“suguru’s right,” toji grumbles. “sato and suguru already beat him down. that didn’t make you feel better, did it?”
sukuna squints.
“you want your girl back? stop playing her damn games,” toji continues. “show her she can’t just keep playing around. you’ve embarrassed naoya, sabotaged him. all you’ve done is play along with her bratty lil’ antics.”
megumi’s voice comes from the other room. “daddy, can you help me lay my edges?”
“in a minute, kid.” toji doesn’t look up from the mannequin. “you want your girl? beat her at her own fucking game.”
sukuna grits his teeth. suguru slings an arm around him, braids swinging. “there’s a party for the football team tonight,” he says. “pretty sure y/n will be there again.”
sukuna swallows. thinks about it. and then the door swings open.
in comes sato gojo with megumi zenin in his arms. the five year old has wig edges laid, hair on fleek, and there is no doubt he’s been SlayedBySato.
sato’s grin is clumsy.
“did someone say party?”
# SHOW TIME !
at the party, the bass is so loud the speakers are moving.
not a lot—just a little—but the sound is so loud that sato is pouting as suguru helps him cover his ears. geto yells at some footballer to turn the music down. it takes them too long to comply.
sukuna is on a couch trying to ignore the babe curling herself into his side.
pamela? no—pairin. hair dyed mauve & flushed pink cheeks & a pretty nice rack—not that sukuna is looking. well he did look, he’s just a man and she’s got some pretty nice tits, but it’s okay. he still thinks yours are perkier.
pairin is trailing a hand up his thigh.
“ryo,” she coos. “it’s been forever. i’ve missed you.”
it has been forever. ryomen sukuna hasn’t slept with pairin, or any other girl for that matter, since he started dating you. yes you’ve broken up and gotten back together a hundred times, and technically when you’re broken up he’s a free man, but sukuna knows if he dared to touch another woman even when you’re not with him he’d never hear the end of it. so he’s always been patient. always waited.
which is why it’s not fucking fair for you to let naoya curl up behind you right now.
his eyes narrow. ryomen sukuna watches as naoya slips behind you at the bar, arm around your waist once again. fucking idiot. sukuna doesn’t even care about his arm on your waist instead of your hips anymore. once he gets his hands on naoya, he won’t even have an arm to begin with.
but sukuna doesn’t understand it.
he knows his girl. he knows you. he knows you bark more than you bite, he knows you’re bratty and stubborn and selfish and petty, and he knows men like naoya zenin are not your fucking type. he knows you would never put up with a man who would even yell at you—he found that out the hard way. so how could you let naoya touch you so casually after he dared to disrespect you?
are you really moving on?
he’s heard about it before. boundaries crumbling when people fall in love. is that what’s happening here? is naoya manipulating you? are you being pressured? can he kill him?
or do you actually—god forbid—like naoya?
sukuna scoffs. fucking hell if you do. he’ll kill naoya so you have no one to love. he’ll be damned if the man who steals your heart after him is one that doesn’t even know how to hold you right. naoya zenin will die today. ryomen sukuna will make sure of it.
“ryo,” pairin coos. when did her tits press against his chest?
she’s shifted so much that she’s practically on top of him, thigh digging into his hip. sukuna kisses his teeth. “don’t fucking call me that.”
pairin pouts, sliding a hand down his chest. “so mean. ever since you started dating that girl, you’ve become so mean to me.”
sukuna hears a laugh. it’s you, laughing at something the bartender says. another poor man who will be joining sukuna’s kill list. or maybe not, since you seem happy. you take a sip of your drink and frown when a drop lands on your chest. so cute.
pairin lifts a hand to shift his jaw back to her face. “you’re smiling.”
“yeah,” his voice is bored. “not at you.”
she frowns. “you used to be fun.”
“i used to be single.”
he still is right now, but not for long. never for long. he watches as you take another cup from the bartender. that’s drink number three. behind you naoya presses his face into your neck, and sukuna watches as you ease into him.
ryomen sukuna is blinded by rage.
he’s not quite thinking when he does it. he’s not quite thinking when he grabs pairin by the back of her neck, shoving her lips onto his. she squeaks, “mmph—!” as sukuna presses his lips against her. she tries to sneak her tongue past his lips. he keeps his mouth shut.
sukuna sees it.
he keeps his eyes open the whole time, and across the bar he watches your face lift. you’re laughing, you always are, but then your gaze drifts across the room to him.
the drink in your hand nearly drops.
you do that little thing where your chest heaves—anxious?—and your fingers curl tight around the cup in your hands. your brows furrow like you’re glaring but your lips are wobbly, oh god, they’re so wobbly—
he pushes pairin off his lap.
but it’s too late. you’re already off your chair, scrambling, and sukuna can’t see that well from this far but he knows your eyes are wet. he saw that tear slip down your cheek. he bolts for the exit but someone pulls him back by the shoulder—
“sukuna?” sato’s brows are knit. “what the fuck? what’s wrong man?”
sukuna’s chest is still heaving. his eyes are still on the door.
ryomen sukuna has lost the girl once again.
TOJI’S REMARK: NOT THAT KIND OF OFFENSE, IDIOT.
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #4: SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE !
taught by: sato gojo
“girls like y/n? they like to keep things difficult. and your prefer it just like that, don’t you?”
ΣΧ
ryomen sukuna hasn’t left his room in days.
two weeks. it’s been two weeks since he kissed another girl and watched you leave with tears in your eyes. and sukuna’s disgusted. stomach against the mattress and head buried in a pillow. you’re pretty when you cry—you’re always pretty—but not so much when he’s the cause of your tears.
SlayedBySato is officially blocked by you on instagram. sato’s tried to come in to cheer sukuna up, but to no avail. sukuna won’t eat anything suguru cooks, or any food at all for that matter. megumi sometimes opens his door and stares at him with bored eyes before leaving. toru comes into his room to sit on the floor and read. he’s always shaky & anxious and glancing up at sukuna every five seconds when he does that, but he still comes in to offer his company anyways.
sukuna’s scrolling through his phone, eyes watching nothing in particular. he gets a notification. probably suguru offering him food. maybe just team snapchat. he ignores it. but then his phone chimes again.
[ mine🫀: OBLIGATIONS.docx ]
sukuna’s brows knit. you have him blocked. that can’t be you.
but he clicks the message anyways. and it is you, and the first thing that greets him is your profile picture. you’re smiling big into the camera, angle low & silly, and somehow you still manage to look bright and beautiful. sukuna swallows. scrolls down to your new messages.
mine🫀: i know what you did at that party was just to get my attention.
mine🫀: since u wanna be pathetic i’ll give you more opportunity to do so
mine🫀: OBLIGATIONS.docx
sukuna clicks the document. there are no greetings, no ‘to whom may be concerned’, no date or titles. just three things.
WRITE ME A LETTER OF APOLOGY. HANDWRITTEN.
CLEAR OUT EVERY ITEM IN MY SHOPPING CART. USERNAME: y/nthebaddest PASSWORD: d1cknballs11037
APOLOGIZE TO ME AND ADMIT TO YOUR PLANS OF SABOTAGE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CAMPUS, JUST LIKE IN YOUR STUNT ON GAME DAY.
his phone chimes again.
mine🫀: you have one week. if you want me back you’ll complete everything on this list. if u dc just ignore it.
mine🫀: bye sukuna.
sukuna stares at the list. studies every word. contemplates each task.
and then he laughs.
yeah. that’s his fucking girlfriend.
# SHOW TIME
sukuna trudges into the frathouse living room with his laptop under his arm. at the center table sato is already there, humming contentedly while playing a game of monopoly by himself. he perks up when he hears the sound of the door.
“well, well,” sato sings. “look who crawled out of my grandfather’s ass.”
“what does that even mean?”
“ignore him,” suguru hums. he steps out from the kitchen with a plate of steaming hot jollof rice in his hands. he scoops some with his spoon, blows on it, and offers a bite to sukuna. “here, try some.”
“mm,” sukuna murmurs, leaning down for a bite. it’s hot, chewy—but then sukuna frowns.
“there’s no maggi in this rice.”
geto’s face falls. “no more food for you.”
whatever. sukuna sits at the center table, setting up his laptop right over sato’s monopoly game. he ignores sato’s protests as he opens up your shopping cart. “she sent me a list.” he announces. “of stuff i have to do if i want her back.”
suguru slides in at the opposite side of the table, brows raised. “show us.”
WRITE ME A LETTER OF APOLOGY. HANDWRITTEN.
CLEAR OUT EVERY ITEM IN MY SHOPPING CART. USERNAME: y/nthebaddest PASSWORD: d1cknballs11037
APOLOGIZE TO ME AND ADMIT TO YOUR PLANS OF SABOTAGE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CAMPUS, JUST LIKE IN YOUR STUNT ON GAME DAY.
sato blinks at the screen. “dick n’ balls,” he smiles wide. “i love your girlfriend.”
“tread lightly.”
suguru squints at the last item. “this is bad. she’s saying she wants you to confess in front of the whole school? like on game day?” his eyes lift to sukuna. “the dean might actually suspend you if we pull something. you know how much trouble i got in when they heard my voice on the speakers?”
“i had to pay him out of trouble,” sato shudders. “and it wasn’t cheap.”
sukuna frowns. if sato’s complaining? it definitely wasn’t cheap.
but sukuna only opens up your cart, taking in the items on screen. he’s not surprised when he scrolls through the items. lingerie from bordelle & agent provocateur, bags from dior and bottega vennetta, shoes, makeup—the high end kind—and then a bunch of sex toys, also unnecessarily overpriced. his lips tug when he notices a pair of lacy black panties. he already knows that’s for him.
or it could be for naoya to fuck you in, so his face falls.
sato slumps against sukuna’s shoulder. “wow. pricey stuff.”
“she likes nice things,” he mutters, double checking the items. he makes sure everything is in CAD and not USD, and then he checks out. nearly $5000 on clothing, accessories, lingerie. CIBC sends him a notification for possible fraud on his card immediately. he clicks no, this was me.
suguru whistles. “well, that’s that.” he leans back on his palms. “on to task number two?”
——
sukuna taps his pencil against the paper in front of him. “how do i spell exquisite.”
“e-s-q, u-z-t,” sato answers proudly. “all you have to do is sound out the vowels. i learned that trick back in freshman year.”
“there are no vowels in what you just spelled.”
suguru drags a palm over his face. he watches as sato strokes his chin, both he and sukuna staring at the half-empty letter with intense focus. he’s not sure whether to start with explaining to sato that this is not the spelling of exquisite, or if he should let sukuna know that ‘e’ and ‘u’ are indeed vowels.
he chooses to do neither. “sukuna, what do you need the word ‘exquisite’ for?”
“i need to tell her her ass is exquisite.”
“in her apology letter?”
“Yes.”
oh, okay. actually no—it’s not okay. suguru pinches his nose. “this is an apology letter. what does her ass have to do with this?!”
“she likes when i say nice things about her body,” sukuna mumbles, low. geto softens. that’s actually sweet.
“i’m gonna tell her i like her nipples.”
suguru snatches the letter from his hands.
he makes the mistake of letting his eyes drop to the poorly written text, and he’s reading it in his head before he can think any better of it: Hello, I am sorry. Your ass is esquizit. Come back to me. Nipples.
“jesus fucking christ,” suguru breathes.
sukuna scowls at him. “you didn’t let me finish the last sentence.”
sato hugs his knees. “i like this letter.”
suguru ignores them. he puts the letter aside, and tears out a new sheet of paper from the notepad on the table. “look, ryomen. i know you’re not good with words. and i know y/n it’s important to you. so we’re gonna help you.”
sato leans back on his palms. “yup, we are.”
“i meant i’m gonna help him,” suguru glares at sato. “tell me what’s on your mind. what you think. what you feel in your chest when you think about her. if she looked you in the eye and told you she was upset about all you’ve done, what would you say to her?”
sukuna scowls at nothing in particular, pondering. “i’d kiss her.”
“that’s what you would do,” suguru wags his pencil. “what would you say?”
sukuna thinks a bit harder. he thinks about how you look when you’re sad, how you don’t laugh, how your bottom lip juts out in that wobbly pout that makes his stomach hurt. he thinks about how you’d cuss at him before the tears fall, and then you’d grip his collar while spitting teary insults, before collapsing in his chest and letting him kiss your cheek till you quiet down. sukuna thinks very hard.
“i’d tell her i’m sorry,” he says. “and that i hate it when she cries.”
suguru nods. “go on,”
“i’d tell her i was scared,” he murmurs. “of her moving on. of her finding someone better.” he breathes. “i don’t want her to be with anyone that’s not me.”
suguru and sato stay silent.
“i don’t even care about naoya,” sukuna’s voice is tired. his palm slides over his face. “i just want her to be with me.”
“aww,” sato coos.
“shut up.”
but sukuna doesn’t shove sato away when he leans over to hug his head. sato pats sukuna’s face into his chest. “suguru,” sukuna mutters. “can you say that i miss her?”
“already did.”
suguru turns the paper around to reveal the words. sukuna squints to make out the words behind the pretty cursive.
dear y/n,
i know i've said sorry a thousand times. i know it doesn't mean much coming from me. but i mean it. i'm sorry for the party. i'm sorry for kissing someone else. i'm sorry for making you cry. i hate it when you cry, hate when i make you sad. i hate it when you look at me like you don't trust me anymore.
i was scared. scared you were moving on. scared you were finding someone better. i was scared i was losing you for good.
i don't care about naoya. i don't care about other women. i don't care about any of it. i just want you.
i want to earn you back. i want to earn your trust. i want to be the person you deserve.
i love you. i've never loved anyone else like you. i don't want to love anyone else. please give me a chance to prove it.
— sukuna
sukuna blinks at the letter. “i sound pathetic.”
“you are pathetic,” suguru sets it down. “for y/n at least.”
he is, isn’t he?
suguru taps his pencil against the table. “so, do you like it? or shall we draft a new one?”
sukuna thinks about it. sato is still patting his head.
“nah,” he says. “it’s perfect.”
SATO’S REMARK: OH WE’RE SO GETTING HER BACK
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #5: HAVE YOU EVER APOLOGIZED WITH YOUR LIFE ON THE LINE ?!
taught by: nanami kento
“this is the stupidest plan i’ve ever heard.”
ΣΧ
the letter is done. the shopping cart is cleared. but the boys of sigma chi can’t rest just yet.
they do so anyway. suguru is sprawled lazily on the couch, legs spread and popcorn bucket in his hands. sato has his cheek on geto’s chest, curled up beside him. and even sukuna is leaning into the warmth, legs crossed on the floor and his head against suguru’s leg. the tv is playing something none of them truly care about.
suguru takes a bite of popcorn, teeth sticky. “how the fuck are we gonna pull off the last task?”
sato tosses a kernel into sukuna’s open mouth. “i have no idea.”
suguru pops another kernel between his lips, and then feeds a bite through sato’s open mouth on his chest. “before we even get to that—i’ve been thinking. what about that deal naoya mentioned? back in the stadium?”
sato and sukuna perk up.
sukuna’s jaw ticks again. he’s tried not to think about it. tried not to think about how naoya dared to raise his voice at you, how he dared to shove you back in his anger. he licks his canines. his chest is hot.
“i’ve been thinking about it too,” sato says. “ i have a theory.”
“uh oh.”
“don’t be mean,” sato pouts, and suguru pulls his cheek lovingly. he leans off suguru’s chest, palms still on his shoulders for balance. “my theory? y/n wants to make sukuna jealous. naoya wants him jealous too. boom. they work together and date.”
suguru nods. “but now, naoya thinks y/n is dating him so she and sukuna can work together to trash his reputation,” he muses. “and so he’s treating her badly.”
sukuna’s nails dig into his palms.
he knew you wanted him jealous—that’s obvious. but the thought of his stupid antics putting you in danger? with naoya? fuck. you’re a sharp girl. but you’re all bark and no bite. what the fuck is he supposed to do if naoya even thinks of disrespecting you again?
he speaks up. “back at the party. the one we went to after the game,” he bites his cheek. “i saw her with him again. that’s why i got mad. kissed that pamela bitch.”
“pairin.”
“i don’t give a fuck.” sukuna grumbles. “but that’s not what tripped me up. she was with naoya again—even after how he treated her.” his fingers dig into the couch. “she drags me by the ear when i raise my voice just slightly. why would she stay by naoya after all that? just to make me jealous?”
geto thinks out loud. “what if he has something on her?”
the boys go quiet.
for you to stay with someone like naoya, genuine or not? sukuna knows it must be something serious. he leans off the couch, turns to his boys.
“we need to start planning that final task.”
# SHOW TIME !
“kenny,” suguru begs. “please. we need your help.”
nanami pushes up his glasses. “immediately no.”
the theatre hall is humongous.
thousands of students fitted into velvet seats. there’s some ceremony today—what it’s about, sukuna doesn’t know—but he knows it’s the only opportunity he has to fulfill your last task. the next gameday is a week away, past the one week timeframe you specified.
sukuna also knows you’re in the crowd. he’d seen you sitting close to the front. right next to naoya.
god, you looked gorgeous. low cut top that exposes your plush breasts because you have no sense of time and place. skirt short as always, bunched up around your thighs, and lashes fluttering. bored. you looked hopelessly bored and beautiful next to naoya, and it wasn’t till shoko slipped into the seat beside you that your glossy lips smiled again. fuck. sukuna hopes he’ll get to speak to you soon.
but right now, he and the boys are trying to convince nanami to let him show up on stage in place of presenting his speech.
they’re all backstage. sigma chi treasurer nanami kento is sat at a makeshift desk, tie pin straight, expression flat as usual. “i will not allow you to take over my speech in the name of love and sacrifice. this is the stupidest plan i’ve ever heard.”
“nanaken, you’re not listening,” sato shakes his shoulders. “this is a matter of life and death—our last chance to help sukuna get his girl back.” sato pleads. “if we don’t succeed, he’ll be depressed!”
“i won’t be depressed.”
“he’ll be depressed!”
nanami only pinches his nose.
“look,” suguru starts, leaning over the table with his palms. “let’s make a deal. you let us crash your speech? sato buys you all the BL manhwa you want.”
nanami perks up. “BL?”
sato frowns. “sato?”
“exactly,” suguru says. “i know you’re tired of reading semantic error on a screen. we’ll get you all the physical copies—and whatever other BL you have on your reading list. all you have to do is let us crash your set.”
nanami thinks about it. thinks about how nice it’d be to see jang jaeyoung on a page, how he’d be able to have the story right there between his fingertips. he thinks about it. ponders hard.
and then he nods. “you’ve got yourselves a deal.”
——
each speech passes by way too fast.
well honestly, not fast enough. the audience is snoozing. they forget to clap after some speeches, and in the crowd sukuna can see you watching, bored. you have your head against shoko’s shoulder, phone in your hands. a man in a suit walks up to the stage to remind the audience of ‘etiquette’ and ‘keeping their phones away’. you roll your eyes and take a selfie with shoko, lips puckered out.
god, he misses you.
he closes the backstage curtains. suguru is waving his speech around. “you’re up next, man. you ready?”
sukuna swallows. why the fuck does he feel anxious? sukuna doesn’t do anxious. angry? horny? yes. but anxious?
he swipes the speech from suguru’s hands. “yeah. m’ready.”
———
sukuna is not ready.
but he’s not anxious either, so that’s a win. his body’s vibrating with something he can’t quite name. the audience is clapping away as the current presenter leaves.
suguru claps his back. “go.”
and go he does. he rips the velvet curtains apart and trudges his way to the podium. his hands are in his pockets and his gaze is bored and through the corner of his eyes all he can see is you you you.
you, with your brows furrowed and lips in a pout he wants to kiss off. you stare after him with big eyes, before your eyes go even bigger. he watches you facepalm.
that shouldn’t make him laugh. he sets his speech on the podium.
in the audience, shoko is nudging your shoulder. “girl. isn’t that your man?”
naoya turns to frown at her. “excuse me?”
you and shoko ignore him. “i have no idea what he’s up to.” you lie.
on the podium sukuna clears his throat. the TVs overhead are zoomed in on his face. his hair is golden-red under the lights, and sweat glistens on his skin, and sukuna takes in a deep breath.
“my name is ryomen sukuna, and i’m the previous captain of the pandas football team.”
some people whistle and cheer. others watch in silent confusion. naoya is gritting his teeth beside you and shoko is squeezing your thigh.
“i’m here to make a confession in light of recent events within our campus community,” sukuna murmurs into the mic. god, fuck geto suguru and his pretty cursive. sukuna can’t read shit.
“at the first game of the season,” sukuna clears his throat. “there was a video broadcast that interrupted the flow of the ceremony. i profusely apologize for that,” he says. “i was the one responsible.”
gasps fill the arena.
“it’s unsportsmanlike, i know.” he adjusts the mic. “whether the contents of the video are honest or not, to broadcast them during the ceremony was uncalled for and inappropriate. i had no good or honest intentions behind it.” he grits his teeth, eyes leaving the script.
“i wanted to embarrass naoya.”
the crowd is silent, and sukuna finds your eyes.
you’re looking right at him with an expresssion he can’t make out. beside you naoya is there, arm around your seat, and anger seeps into his chest. naoya has a black eye—he’ll have to thank suguru and sato for that. he’ll also have to give him a matching one on his left eye.
he continues his speech.
“naoya zenin, captain of the pandas, stole my girlfriend.” he spits into the mic. “so i chose to embarrass him publicly. that’s it. that’s my reason.”
the audience is muttering, talking amongst themselves. some people have their phone’s up, recording. some are enraged. some girls are swooning.
“y/n l/n—fuck,” he spits into the mic, gaze bleary. he’s gripping the podium with both arms now, head down and away from the cameras. “evil fucking girl,” he murmurs.
“you don’t want him, baby,” he breathes against the mic.
“come back to me.”
the theatre is silent.
and then it roars
single ladies. girlfriends. boyfriends. members of the football team who miss life under sukuna’s reign. they’re all cheering for him, loud and unrestrained. clapping as sukuna grips the podium with his eyes on the hardwood. the headlights flash on his face and he squints to look past them, eyes lifting towards the audience.
you’re not at your seat.
why?
did you miss the end of the speech? sukuna blames himself. he didn’t even have the guts to look up at you as he breathed out the last line, and now he’ll never know if you heard the very words he’s been wanting to say. sukuna almost laughs. his eyes are hot but he almost laughs.
the audience is still roaring. sukuna rips his speech off the podium and walks off the stage.
NANAMI’S REMARK: SO ALL THAT FOR WHAT?
BOYFRIEND TACTICS #1: NEVER LOSE ME.
taught by: y/n l/n
“never had a bitch like me in your life”
❤︎
when sukuna trudges through the curtains, sato and suguru are already there.
faces flushed, chests heaving. “holy fucking shit—“ suguru pulls sukuna’s head into his arms. “you fucking did that.”
he did. so why does he feel so damn empty?
sato is practically bouncing, worming his way into the hug. “you did that!” he cheers. “did you see y/n’s face? was she cheering too—?”
“she left.”
sato and suguru freeze.
suguru pulls away first. sukuna’s face is dull, downcast—and his eyes are dark and soulless. “oh no—” suguru mutters. he holds sukuna’s face. “did you see when she left?”
“no,” he murmurs. no, he didn’t.
“fuck,” sato curses. “fucking hell, man—isn’t this low? even for her?”
suguru pulls sukuna’s head back under his chin. sukuna doesn’t resist or protest. just stares at the wood floor with empty eyes. but then a voice calls his name.
“ryomen sukuna. are you brooding?”
if god liked him, it would’ve been you. standing there in your short skirt and skimpy top and a teasing smile on your lips. mocking his misery. grinning up at him.
but instead it’s shoko ieri, brown hair under a bucket hat.
under normal circumstances, he’d be happy to see her. sukuna likes most of your friends. they’re all pretty party girls like you, a bunch of twenty-something year olds who think life is about bourbon glasses and friday mornings passed out in the backseat of someone’s car. they’re wild but they’re all nice girls, and they’re good to you so that’s fucking that.
but he doesn’t want to see your friends. sukuna wants to see you.
suguru brushes sukuna’s hair back. “shoko. to what do we owe the pleasure?”
“relax, geto. i’m not here to cause trouble,” she hums, leaning against a beam. “just here to pass across a message.”
she muses. “backstage dressing room. one-hundred two, not hundred and one,” shoko recites. “i have to leave now, but don’t be late. and sukuna,” she pauses to look at him. “no backup. just you.”
she turns away with a lilt in her steps, and the boys of sigma chi are left staring at each other in confusion. the message is clear though, and sukuna wipes his face.
room 102. got it.
# SHOW TIME !
ryomen sukuna comes in alone.
the door to room 102 pushes open with a creaak. the dressing room is racks and racks of clothing, some on the floor, some strewn across tables, and mirrors upon mirrors. the vanities still have their lights glowing orange. the room smells like rust and girl.
sukuna finds you in front of a mirror.
you’re checking yourself out, neon pink feather boa around your shoulders. on your head is a comically large sun hat, and there’s a bright green belt flung around your waist. you don’t look up when he walks in. just shift your hips in the mirror, skirt swishing around your thighs.
“you like my outfit?” you hum, still facing the mirror.
you look silly. if he was in a better mood, he’d probably smile. but instead he trudges forward and leans back against the table behind you. “yeah. looks cute.”
“hmm,” you fit your hands over your hips. “i still feel like it’s missing something.”
sukuna stays quiet.
you walk over to a bunch of boxes, pulling out all sorts of costume pieces. your tone is sing-song. “i heard your little speech.”
sukuna plays with the bracelet on his wrist. it’s not a bracelet. it’s one of your bra straps, actually, and he’d forgotten he put it on before the speech. it’s suddenly itchy against his wrist. “you liked it?”
“i thought it was cute,” you hum, inspecting a tie. you walk over to him, and sukuna spreads his legs a bit so you can slip between his thighs. you hold the tie up to him. “can you help me?”
he takes the tie from your hands. fits it over your neck quietly. he’s folding the ribbon around your neck, pretending he can’t feel your breath on his lips.
he murmurs, “i don’t understand what you’re doing, baby.”
his palm leaves your tie to cup your cheek. your gloss smudges against his palm. “what do you mean? i’m getting dressed up.”
his thumb strokes your cheek. “please don’t play dumb.”
you snuggle into his palm, humming contentedly. sukuna’s thumb still strokes your cheek. his other hand has come up squeeze your hip, then snake around it, then pull you closer into him.
“i’m sorry,” he breathes against your lips.
“for what?”
“for kissing another girl,” he murmurs. “for even looking at her. for being difficult. always giving you a reason to turn around and leave, then begging you to come back.” he cups your face.
“i love you. i’ve never loved any girl the way i love you.”
you trail a palm down his chest. “come back to me,” you repeat his speech.
“come back,” he murmurs, hands sliding up your spine. “come back to me, baby.”
you giggle as he leans closer to steal your lips. ryomen sukuna tastes like strawberry and spearmint.
Y/N’S REMARK: GUESS WHO’S BACK <3
COUPLE TACTICS #1 : DICKMEDOWN—WHO SAID THAT?!
taught by: ryomen sukuna’s cock
“there is no quote. i am a cock.”
❤︎
in ryomen sukuna’s bedroom, he has his back against the headboard and his girlfriend in his lap.
you’re half naked. clad in nothing but a lacy bra and matching black panties, giggling as you pose into his macbook camera. you lift another bra up to check it against your chest. ryomen sukuna squeezes your thigh.
“you like this one?” he murmurs behind you, reaching his hand up to grope your breast. “wasn’t in the cart. added it myself.”
“it’s so pretty,” you coo, lashes fluttering. “thank you, ryo.”
“you’re welcome, princess.”
it’s just two days after the whole speech at the theatre. ryomen sukuna watches you with bleary eyes. he leans back against the headboard, watching as you shrug off your bra to try another one he bought. he reaches up to graze his thumb over your pebbled nipple and you giggle, before sliding backwards to lean back against his chest. he squeezes your tits in his palms before kissing your cheek.
“love this set,” he murmurs against your ear. he’s twisting your nipple in one hand & the other is already sliding down over your belly, down to your lacy black panties. “so pretty on you.”
“mmh,” your thighs squeeze as his hand slips below the fabric, finding your wet, aching clit. he rubs the pad of his thumb over it in circles. kisses your cheek again when you whine.
“missed you,” he murmurs. “so bad, pretty.”
“mhm,” you breathe. you want to bite back with something sassy but ryomen sukuna is kneading your breast while his thumb fingers your clit. he slips in another finger and rolls the bud between them. your thighs squeeze around him.
“ryo,” you purr. “you’re gonna get them dirty.”
“i know,” he shushes you. “just wanna feel you.”
and feel you he does. he pushes your body up on his chest and latches his hot mouth around your nipple. “mmh—,” he groans, tongue swirling around the pebbled peak. “fuck, missed this.”
his fingers rub harder against your clit. faster, faster, until your hips arch of the bed and your thighs shake around him. he can already see slick coating your inner thighs, and your moans in his ear only make him rub harder. “fuck,” he curses. fuck fuck fuck.
your lashes go sticky with tears. your clit is wet and throbbing around his fingers. your thighs shake as you reach your high, and sukuna has to shove his lips to yours to quiet your moans. he licks his tongue into your mouth, hot and wet and sloppy, palm settling to gently rub your clit through your high.
you gasp, pulling away. your lashes are sticky & your cheeks flushed hot. “i missed you.”
he kisses you again, soft. “missed you too.”
he slips your panties off your thighs, holding your naked body against him. “missed this pussy too,” he rasps. “gonna stuff you till you’re cumming on my cock.”
you squirm against him, swatting his chest as he unzips his trousers. “but i just came!”
“you’ll come again, pretty.”
he fumbles with the zipper, slipping out his heavy, hard cock. his cockhead is throbbing and sticky with precum, and he shifts you forward so your back is against his chest.
“go slow,” you whimper, already nervous.
he kisses your shoulder. “you don’t want that.”
and you don’t. you arch into him as he slips his cock into your puffy, slick-coated folds from behind. he smears precum and slick over them with his cockhead, kissing your shoulder as you shiver against him. “relax, you’re okay. you still on the pill, baby?”
you nod shyly. he kisses your neck.
sukuna’s cock is thick. heavy and swollen and pulsing between your slobbering foods. he pushes his hips into you, letting your pussy squelch around him, and his arm fits under your body so he can grope your perky breasts. he tugs on a nipple before rolling it between his fingers. fuck.
you whimper as his cock stretches you out, sliding deeper and deeper into your folds. “fuck,” he breathes against your ear. “you’re so fucking hot. so tight. so wet.”
you whimper as his fingers find your clit again. he circles it hard, hips bucking to push his cock deeper into you before sliding back out, palms still fondling your breasts. it’s too much, it’s too fucking much, and he can hardly blame you for whining against him. “ryo—”
“shh—you’re good, you’re doing so good,” he rasps as you clench around his cock. “so fucking good. you know how good you feel around my cock, baby? m’so fucking lucky—.”
he’s shushing you but his hips only buck faster and faster. your eyes squeeze shut as he breathes. “fuck, gonna cum—“
your walls quiver around him as you come together, white hot cum stuffed between your folds. you groan, ragged, as sukuna pants into your neck. he kisses your shoulder before resting his head against your neck.
“i love you,” he rasps.
“i love you too.”
you stay like that for a moment, holding each other before he kisses your shoulder. “let’s get you cleaned up.”
——
“you have a lot of explaining to do.”
sukuna comes back with new shorts hanging low on his v-line. he has a warm cloth in his hands, and he climbs over your sore body. even now you’re still smiling up at him, lashes fluttering, cheeks flushed. “whatever do you mean?”
“don’t play dumb,” he kisses your cheek before gently nudging your thighs open. he slides the cloth down your inner thigh, ignoring the way you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair. “you have to explain. why you went to naoya.”
“but what if i don’t want to?”
“you will,” he says. he slides your panties up your thighs, pressing a kiss to your clit before slipping them all the way up.
but then he changes his mind. slips your panties down again.
“ryomen.” you’re already sitting up.
“relax,” he mutters against your puffy cunt. “lean back for me.”
you sigh, doing as he says. he licks a stripe up your glistening folds. he can taste himself on your stuffed cunt but his tongue keeps moving regardless. he pulls back, lips glistening with slick.
“you’re gonna tell me exactly what your fucking plan was,” he sucks on your bud, letting go with a pop. “why i saw you again with naoya after he dared to fucking talk to you like that.”
“so strict,” you whimper, cheeks puffed as your hips arch into him. “i can date anyone i want.”
“no,” sukuna hisses. “you can only date me.”
“mmh—” you moan as his tongue slobbers over your glossy folds. you run your fingers through his hair as your pussy drools onto his tongue. “mmh—wanted to make you mad,”
“you did good,” he sticks a finger into your cunt and you gasp, loud. he’s knuckles deep now, pumping his finger in and out of you. “hah—wanted you jealous,” you moan. “we were gonna get revenge.”
his fingers curl so hard you cry his name.
you whimper and he ignores it. “was already jealous. why’d you go back to him after he touched you?”
he curls his fingers again. “ah—! sorry, i’m sorry,” you cry, lashes wet. feels so good. “we weren’t dating for real. just showed up in public together. he said we couldn’t stop, said if we did that meant you won,” you whimper. “he apologized, let me punch him. i gave him a—hnngh—black eye.”
ah. so the black eye naoya had wasn’t from sato and suguru.
sukuna swirls his tongue over your clit, lapping and sucking as he pumps another finger into your drooling pussy. he curls them until he’s pressing into that spongy part that makes you sob, and he sucks gingerly as your pussy sputters and spits slick into his mouth. “ryo—m’gonna cum—”
your thighs shake, walls clenching. sukuna pumps his fingers in faster, letting your thighs squeeze his neck. you cum over his mouth, right around his fingers, and sukuna kisses your puffy, still-sensitive clit.
when he looks up at you, you’re glaring. eyes glistening wet, cheeks flushed. pretty.
“what?” he says.
“you’re so mean,” you frown. “you see why i break up with you?”
sukuna huffs, climbing over your figure. when he’s right above you, you tug his neck down.
“i love you,” you mumble.
he kisses your lips. “i love you too.”
COCK’S REMARK : *HARDENS*
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #6: BREAK THE CYCLE !
taught by: ryomen sukuna
“loving you is a loop.”
ΣΧ
in toru gojo’s room of his apartment, the boys of sigma chi are all there. oh—and you too, of course.
sato is fast asleep on his twin’s bed, laid down & drooling on suguru’s shoulder beside him. suguru is tapping at his nintendo switch with furious speed. toru is cooking up something in the kitchen. and on his PC, you and sukuna are there, suguru’s sims 4 game loaded up on screen.
you’re on sukuna’s lap, his arm looped around your hips as you rant about the many tribulations you had to endure while ‘dating’ naoya. you’re customizing sukuna’s sim for your save file, and said man is doing nothing but rubbing your thighs and pressing lazy kisses to your skin.
“—and he leaves his boxers everywhere!” you exclaim, scrolling through geto’s CC folder. “i had to come over after he had practice once and they were everywhere. it’s that bad!”
“mhm,” sukuna kisses your neck, love drunk & bleary-eyed. “so bad, baby.”
“he’s so unhygienic,” you shift in sukuna’s lap, and he squeezes your hips to keep you steady. “i told him to at least clean up if he knows i’m coming over. he said no!”
sukuna nuzzles your ear, squeezes your thigh. “mm. m’gonna kill him.”
“no you will not! stop threatening murder!”
sukuna looks up. you’ve turned your head over your shoulder to glare at him, and he looks up at you through bleary eyes. your cheeks are warm. lashes fluttering. you’re the prettiest headache he’s ever had.
he kisses your jaw. “missed fighting with your pretty face,” he murmurs. “gimme a kiss, baby.”
you soften, and he leans up to kiss you deep.
“woah—” suguru throws a pillow at you both. sukuna swats it away from you without pulling back from your lips. he squeezes your waist and geto frowns. “even if sato’s asleep, i’m still fucking here!”
sukuna ignores him, his hand crawling up to grope your tits. suguru scowls, turns over to face sato’s sleeping figure. he should’ve known protesting was futile. sukuna’s always been an exhibitionist, but you’d think his therapy sessions would’ve taught him better by now.
sukuna pulls back, your gloss smeared over his lip & chin. you giggle at the sight, “hi.”
“mmh,” he nuzzles your neck.
the door swings open, snapping you and sukuna out of your daze. in comes toru gojo with a plate of lazy cake, glasses slipping down his nose. he blushes when he sees you and sukuna pressed close together. “hi. i made snacks.”
“oh, toru!” you purr. “you’re my favorite, have i told you that?”
toru sets down the plate on the desk in front of you. as he leans down you press a kiss to his cheek, and he blushes so hard his face turns beet red. he looks up, surprised, and you’re beaming at him. behind you, sukuna is scowling.
toru drops the plate and runs away.
you turn back to glare at sukuna. “you scared him.”
“no one’s allowed to kiss you.”
“i kissed him!”
sukuna ignores your protests, trying to cup your jaw so he can get a kiss of his own. you shove his face back, and he scowls.
“go apologize to toru,” you frown at him. “now.”
sukuna wants to protest. wants to say he’s comfortable right here with your thighs over his lap and your lipgloss on his chin. but he knows if he fights back he’ll be left with nothing but a sore earlobe & an angry girlfriend. he grumbles as you slide off him.
sukuna trudges to the kitchen, says his apologies. toru accepts them in a heartbeat.
when he comes back to the room, you’re gone.
“where is she?” his heart drops. “suguru—where is she?”
“chill,” suguru mumbles, eyes never leaving his switch. “she left you a letter. check on the desk.”
and next to toru’s plate of dessert, a letter is indeed there. he picks it up, thumb running over the paper. you’ve left a glossy kiss mark at the end.
‘dear sukuna,’ it reads.
‘i’m breaking up with you.’
sukuna’s blood runs cold.
‘i know we just got back together a week ago. but i thought about it! thought about how i’m becoming a better woman, growing in my spiritual journey. do i really want a jealous man who scares away my friends by my side??
so i decided: let’s break up. for real this time. it’s not you, it’s me. maybe if we’re truly meant to be, the stars will align and our paths will cross yet again. but for now? i have to choose me and my growth. so i’m leaving. for good.
i still love you though!! you’ll always be my lover <3 i love you soso much baby boy. i don’t even want to do this. but i know i have to make the right choice for both of us.
sorry to walk away like this. and don’t forget, you are not allowed to date any other woman!!! i am the only woman for you!! always and forever!! no dating, sex, kissing, touching, NOTHING. if i find out you even LOOK at another woman i’ll hate you forever!!!!!!!!!!!!
okay, that’s all. goodbye forever. i’ll always love you ryo <333333 i’m sorry it had to end this way.’
sukuna stares at the letter. he reads it once. twice. then once more.
and then he laughs.
because this is his girlfriend, bratty and high-maintenance and demanding and all. because you say goodbye forever, but he knows he’ll see you next week. he knows tonight you’ll call and say you miss his voice and afterwards you’ll send him a text saying you’re still not getting back with him and will be blocking him as a final goodbye. he knows you’ll unblock him on a random wednesday and won’t text, and he’ll just have to keep sending messages till they don’t turn green and he can ask you to come back to him.
and you’ll say yes. you always do. and if there’s anything or anyone who stops you from saying yes, he’ll crush them.
he rubs his thumb over the bottom of the letter. your glossy kiss mark is there.
and right beside it?
XO, YOUR EX HO 💋
SUKUNA’S REMARK: SEE U NEXT WEEK.
#SIGMA-CHI STORIES !
XO, EX HOE end.
XO HEARTKAJI. do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload.
You accidentally knock on your brother Toji's neighbor's door instead of his. Unfortunately for you, his neighbor happens to be Sukuna.
Warm autumn air drifts lazily across the cracked parking lot, pushing brittle leaves over the worn asphalt. The car finally slows to a stop, the engine cutting off in front of the old red-brick fraternity house.
You climb out, the crisp fall air brushing pleasantly against your skin. Out of habit, you adjust the leather strap of your bag on your shoulder, but it does nothing to ease the tension sitting in your chest.
You won't even be starting college until next year.
The trunk slams open behind you with a dull thud.
Your dad, grumbling under his breath like always, starts unloading boxes while your mom immediately begins counting the endless bags of homemade food they brought for Toji. Of course they couldn't show up empty-handed. Your brother's always had a ridiculous appetite after spending hours at the gym.
"Go get your brother," your mom says without even looking up. "Tell him to help your father."
"Mhm..."
Your answer comes out quiet, almost absentminded. You give a lazy nod before heading toward the fraternity house.
You think Toji's room is on the second floor...
Or was it the first?
The last time you were here, you'd been too caught up in your own thoughts to pay attention to where you were going. By the time you reach the porch, you realize you've completely forgotten the layout.
Thankfully, the heavy oak front door is closed.
You reach out and press the old brass doorbell.
Nothing.
For what feels like forever.
Nearly a full minute passes before slow, dragging footsteps finally echo from somewhere inside.
A heavy lock clicks.
The door swings open.
A guy stands in front of you.
He's ridiculously tall.
Maybe even taller than Toji.
Messy snow-white hair sticks out in every direction like he'd just rolled out of bed. He lets out a huge yawn, lazily rubbing the back of his neck before squinting against the bright afternoon sun.
Only then does he finally look at you.
His eyes—an impossibly vivid shade of blue—study you with open curiosity.
For a few seconds, he just... stares.
Then the corners of his lips curl into an easy, welcoming smile.
"Well, hey there."
His voice catches you off guard.
Deep.
Smooth.
Relaxed in a way that sounds almost effortlessly confident.
You suddenly forget how to speak under that unwavering gaze.
"Uh... hi."
Your voice wavers.
"I'm... Toji's little sister."
You clear your throat.
"My parents are here. I just came to grab him so he can help unload everything."
The blond lifts an eyebrow.
Something playful flickers in those bright blue eyes.
"Sister?"
His tone makes it sound less like a question and more like he's trying to figure out whether you're messing with him.
"Yeah."
He watches you for another second before his smile widens, faint dimples appearing in his cheeks.
Just like that, every trace of sleepiness disappears from his face.
"Satoru."
He gives you a small, polite nod.
"Nice to meet you."
"You too."
Satoru steps aside in one smooth motion, letting you into the cool, dim entrance hall.
"Second floor. End of the hallway, then take a right."
"Thanks."
You nod quickly before hurrying past him, trying very hard not to hold your breath—or look around too much.
You're already halfway up the old wooden staircase when a quiet chuckle reaches your ears from behind.
Heat immediately creeps up your neck.
The hallway upstairs is silent.
You walk all the way to the end where it splits in two.
Two doors.
Facing each other.
You quickly replay Satoru's directions in your head.
Right.
So...
This one.
You knock on the painted wood.
Nothing.
You wait, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.
A cold knot of anxiety slowly spreads through your chest.
You knock again.
Harder.
Still nothing.
Frowning now—and already annoyed at your brother, who's probably dead asleep—you raise your fist one more time.
This time, much louder.
The door suddenly flies open.
Your fist jerks forward into empty air.
You flinch so hard your heart nearly jumps into your throat.
Instead of a face...
You find yourself staring directly at a broad, bare chest.
It isn't Toji.
The man standing in front of you is built just as solidly—broad shoulders, thick frame, the kind of body that clearly belongs to someone used to hard training. His chest and stomach are completely bare, muscles shifting beneath his skin with even the smallest movement.
But that's not what steals your attention.
It's the tattoos.
Black markings wrap tightly around his forearms before climbing over his shoulders, stretching across the sides of his ribs and branching down his abdomen in thin, jagged lines. You even catch a few smaller markings circling his biceps.
Then your eyes drift to his face.
The same black lines run beneath his eyes and across his cheekbones, making his already sharp features look even harsher.
His hair is an unusual shade of soft peach, still slightly damp like he'd just gotten out of the shower. One loose strand hangs over his forehead, almost covering his right eye.
A desk lamp glows somewhere behind him, spilling warm amber light over one side of his body while the other remains swallowed by shadow.
He's frowning.
You can practically feel his gaze travel slowly over you, sizing you up without a hint of shame.
Slowly, he tilts his head.
There's something animalistic about the movement.
Predatory.
"A...?"
The confused sound slips out before you can stop it.
He doesn't answer right away.
His brows knit together slightly, and his expression shifts into something openly skeptical—bordering on amused.
Then he grimaces, as if the sound of your voice alone is enough to irritate him.
"...Who are you?"
You open your mouth.
Nothing comes out.
Heat rushes into your face, down your neck, even across your chest until your skin prickles with embarrassment.
"I... I'm sorry..."
Your words stumble over each other.
"I was looking for Toji."
Your voice comes out painfully small.
Silence.
His expression only grows flatter.
Bored.
His face practically says, Here we go again.
Apparently, girls using that excuse isn't exactly new to him.
You rush to explain before he can misunderstand any further.
"I'm his sister."
A faint smirk finally appears.
It never reaches his eyes.
He straightens up before casually leaning one shoulder against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest. The movement pulls at the tattoos stretched over his muscles.
Without saying a word, he lifts one hand and points behind you.
"Toji's room is the one across the hall."
He gives a lazy nod toward the door behind your back.
Even as you turn away, the weight of his attention doesn't leave you.
He doesn't look away for even a second.
You glance over your shoulder—
—and only now notice the faded nameplate hanging on the opposite door.
Oh.
You really did get the rooms mixed up.
"Oh my God..."
You squeeze your eyes shut for a second, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow you whole.
"Thank you."
You practically flee to the correct door, putting as much distance between yourself and him as possible before knocking several times in quick succession.
Even then...
You know he hasn't moved.
His gaze still burns between your shoulder blades, making goosebumps rise across your skin.
A few seconds later, the door opens.
Toji stands there, squinting through sleep-heavy eyes as he rubs at them with one hand.
Then he recognizes you.
"Shorty?"
"Toji!"
The second you hear his voice, all the tension leaves your body.
You throw yourself into his arms, burying your face against his chest.
Still half-asleep, he pats your back automatically.
"Mom and Dad are here."
Your words tumble out in one breath.
"Dad needs help unloading everything. They brought, like... a ridiculous amount of stuff."
"They're already here?"
He drags a hand down his face, trying to wake himself up.
"It's barely fucking nine in the morning..."
You shrug.
Only after he speaks does Toji notice where your uneasy gaze is fixed.
Behind you, still leaning lazily against his own doorway, stands his neighbor.
Toji's expression changes instantly.
Every trace of sleep disappears, replaced by quiet irritation.
His whole body tenses.
"Sukuna."
His voice turns sharp.
"The fuck are you staring at?"
The stranger lets out a low chuckle.
His voice is deep, rough around the edges, but just as rich as Satoru's had been downstairs—
—but unlike Satoru's, there's something dangerous beneath it.
Something aggressive.
Sukuna.
You quietly memorize the name.
"Your kid sister decided she'd stop by my room first."
Toji shoots you a questioning look.
You shrink a little, still hiding against his shoulder.
"I... mixed up the doors..."
Your voice is barely above a whisper.
Toji clicks his tongue in annoyance, his jaw tightening.
He steps out into the hallway, stuffing his hands into his sweatpants pockets before gently nudging you forward.
"You guys heading back tonight?" he asks, never taking his eyes off Sukuna.
"Yeah."
You nod.
"We're leaving later."
"Shame."
That lazy, velvety voice comes from behind you, sending your pulse climbing all over again.
You glance back.
Sukuna hasn't moved.
His arms are still crossed over his chest, every inch of those black tattoos on display.
That crooked smirk is still playing on his lips.
"Aren't you staying for the party tonight?"
Toji rolls his eyes so hard you can almost hear it.
His jaw flexes.
"Shut up," he throws over his shoulder.
"She's not going."
"Why not?"
Sukuna sounds almost amused.
"'Cause she's still too young."
The words sting far more than his attempt to protect you.
"Excuse me? I'm not! I'm already—"
You take a step forward, ready to argue—
—but Toji doesn't even acknowledge your protest.
Instead, he reaches over and plants a heavy hand on top of your head, giving it a firm squeeze.
"And don't even think about checking out my friends."
His tone is serious.
Almost warning you.
"I wasn't going to!"
You grumble, brushing your hair back into place after he ruffles it.
You're about to argue some more.
But your eyes meet Sukuna's.
He's still standing in his doorway.
Still looking at you.
Not Toji.
Not the hallway.
Not anything else.
Just...
You.
The smirk on his lips slowly spreads into something far more self-satisfied.
You don't know how long the moment lasts.
Long enough to make your pulse forget how to behave.
Maybe forever.
Then—
Thwack.
Toji smacks the back of your head.
You let out a tiny yelp, immediately dropping your gaze to the toes of your sneakers, pretending they're suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world while trying desperately to calm the frantic pounding of your heart.
Do not repost, copy, plagiarize, translate, or feed my work into AI in any form!)
Thanks for reading! ♡ Just a little drabble. I'm still a bit unsure about this one, but I hope some of you enjoyed it anyway.
Jason Todd has been through so much in life. He has been poisoned, shot, stabbed, mugged, punched, kicked, literally been dead and resurrected.
And he had never once complained about it. He went out each night, fighting criminals to keep the city safe and he did it all without batting an eye.
However, having to face Roy in the living room had him taking deep breaths.
He was standing outside the bedroom in the hallway, counting his breaths while his girlfriend was in the bedroom, waiting for him to talk to her brother –his best friend.
Jason had a feeling that talking to him wasn’t on Roy’s radar for tonight. Unless it involved his fist and Jason’s face.
He took one last breath and made his way to the living room where Roy was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, looking like he was going to murder Jason the second he came in his line of sight.
“Hey,” Jason began, stopping before Roy but keeping appropriate distance between them in case he had to dodge a blow.
“Where’s my sister,” Roy asked in an urgent tone.
“She’s inside but just talk to me first okay?” He breathed out. “First of all, it’s not her fault. She tried to stay away but it was me, I sought her out over and over alright? So just don’t say anything to her.”
“So you forced her–?”
“Jesus no! She wants to be with me, voluntarily. The only reason she didn’t wanna go out with me was you,” Jason explained.
“I know this isn’t what you wanted and I know you want to protect her but you know me Roy. You know I’d rather die than let anything happen to her. I wasn’t fucking around when I said I love her. I do, I really really love her. I know you said you don’t care about that but she’s quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I know that I’m fucked in the head I know that. I just…” he trailed off, flexing his hands as he looked down at the hardwood floor.
“I’m happy when I’m with her and I understand I don’t deserve that but I’m selfish enough to take it anyway. And for some god forsaken reason she actually likes being around me. I don't want to take that for granted either.” Jason finished rambling, closing his eyes for a beat before he let them land on Roy who was now silent and staring at Jason without blinking.
“Say something,” Jason urged.
“She’s my only family,” Roy murmured.
“I know.”
“I don’t trust anyone but me to keep her safe. To keep her out of this,” Roy said.
“I–” Jason began but quickly shut his mouth when Roy glared at him.
“Let me finish,” Roy added. “I do know you and if there was anyone else I’d trust with her it would be you.”
Jason’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline at Roy’s response because he had half a more speech prepared and then some. He furrowed his brows in confusion but quickly brushed it off as he tried not to let a smile break out on his face.
“Just don’t make me regret it.” Roy muttered, making his way towards the freezer to pull out an ice pack but failed to find it.
Jason didn’t even have frozen peas or ice that Roy could wrap in a towel. All he had was a baby blue ice roller.
“I won’t, I promise,” Jason finally let himself smile and plopped down on the couch.
Roy picked it up and raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously?”
“It’s your sister’s,” Jason flushed, taking the roller from his hands before pressing it to his cheekbone.
“How long?” Roy pressed, sitting down on the couch.
“Today is our one month anniversary,” Jason murmured, a faint blush creeping on his face.
“Jason Todd celebrating a one month anniversary,” Roy huffed out a laugh. “Who would have thought.”
“She can be really persuasive,” Jason shrugged.
“Boy you have no idea,” Roy let out a laugh before he straightened up completely and looked at Jason with alert eyes. “Wait why the hell were you naked when I came in?”
“I’m not sure you’d like the answer,” Jason chuckled nervously.
“Dude,” Roy cringed. “Have you two…?”
“So,” Jason began and got up from the couch. “You really don’t wanna know,” he added, bolting towards his bedroom as Roy chased after him.
“That's my sister you asshole!” Roy yelled, running after Jason who opened the bedroom door and climbed on the bed behind you.
“Your sister is my girlfriend,” Jason goaded, leaning down to reach your sitting form to press a kiss to your head.
“What is happening…?” You asked in confusion, looking between Jason who was standing on the bed and Roy who was in the doorway.
“You’ve had sex with him?” Roy asked in an exasperated tone as he eyed you with a fiery gaze.
“Noooooo,” you replied, standing up on the bed as well to hide behind Jason. “I’m a virgin.”
“Even you don’t believe that,” Jason chuckled, pressing you closer into his back with a hand on your waist.
“Oh my god!” Roy exclaimed suddenly. “Was that you? In his bedroom when Dick and I were on that mission? You gave him hickeys?” He cringed, voice going up a few octaves while his face turned a little green with nausea.
“Stop asking questions you don’t want the answers to,” you quipped, hiding your face in Jason’s bicep.
“You know what?” Roy began, sitting down on Jason’s desk chair. “It’s our anniversary now. I’m not leaving. Let’s have dinner then we will all have a sleepover, I’ll sleep in between you two okay?”
“Yeah, you’re leaving,” you declared, throwing a pillow at your brother.
“No I’m not,” Roy retorted.
“You already ruined one of my surprises, you will NOT ruin another!” You snapped, getting off the bed with a pillow in your hand as you lunged towards Roy.
You began hitting his head with the pillow, making him let out little yelps as he held your wrists but you kicked his shin, making the both of you tumble down on the floor. Your hands reached his face, pressing down on the side of his jaw as Jason stared at the both of you sparring on the floor in disbelief.
“Leave!” You exclaimed, twisting his wrist.
“Stop fucking my best friend,” Roy yelled back, twisting your ankle.
You let out a small scream, pinching the sides of his waist. Roy yelped in response and managed to wiggle out of your grip, leaving you panting on the floor as he dusted his clothes and ran to the doorway.
“Good luck,” he said to Jason before making his way towards the living room to leave.
“Yeah,” Jason muttered under his breath and got off the bed, coming to stand in front of you.
“I don’t know if I’m scared or turned on right now,” he admitted, hands coming to rest on your waist.
“Good,” you panted. “You should always be a little scared of me.”
“Yes ma’am,” he smirked, pressing his lips against your jaw. “Told you he’d come around.”
“What did you say to him?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his neck as he trailed kisses down your throat.
“Don’t worry about it,” he breathed out, finally kissing your lips.
You hummed against his mouth, letting him walk you two backwards until you fell on the bed with Jason on top of you.
“I love you,” he murmured against your lips.
You giggled and raked your hand through his hair which was still a bit damp from your interrupted bath.
He pressed hot kisses along the side of your throat, tugging down the sleeve of his t-shirt you were wearing to expose your collarbones where he kept giving you open mouthed kisses, occasionally biting and nipping.
“Jason,” you mumbled in an attempt to get him off you.
“Hm?” He hummed, lips still pressed to your throat.
“Jasonnn,” you whined and put your hands on his shoulders to push him back. “Come on! I made dinner, it'll go cold!”
“In a minute,” he murmured, pushing your shirt up so he could plant kisses on your stomach.
“Jay!” You huffed out a giggle which finally made him come up to face you again.
“You called me Jay,” he grinned.
“I’m sorry, do you not like it?”
“I love it,” he murmured. “I love you,” he said again, giving you a peck on the nose.
“I love you too,” you smiled, kissing him on the chin. “Now let’s go!” You clapped your hands together and practically dragged Jason outside with a grip on his wrist.
While you served the dinner, Jason went to the bathroom to take care of your unfinished bath as he blew out the candles and drained the water. You pulled out mismatched dishes from the cabinet, serving the pasta on them before setting them on the dining table next to the flowers Jason got you.
You rummaged through the cabinets again, looking for two wine glasses to pour wine into them but of course Jason Todd didn’t own wine glasses.
You sighed and poured the wine in two coffee mugs, putting them on the sides of your plates. As you lit the candles and dimmed the lights, Jason finally strolled into the kitchen with a lazy smile on his face as he sat down on one of the chairs, waiting for you.
You took a seat next to him with a smile on your face that you somehow just couldn’t get rid of but one look at Jason told you he was in the same position as his dimples stayed prominent on his cheeks.
Neither of you said anything as you ate. The low hum of the music playing in background was the only sound filling the small space.
Jason like the complete lovesick fool he was held up his own fork to your mouth, feeding you the pasta. He complimented you throughout the whole dinner, saying how it was the best meal he’s had in a long while.
By the time the third compliment hit, you rolled your eyes at him. It was a simple recipe in your opinion, even his little brothers could make that. But on the other hand, Jason ate instant ramen most days so a warm home cooked meal was probably his idea of heaven.
You were now in the kitchen after finishing dinner to clean up and load the dishwasher when Jason finally spoke up.
“Hey, what was the other surprise you were talking about?” He asked, leaning down to put another plate in the dishwasher.
You bit the corner of your lips and handed him the wine mug before wiping your hands on a paper towel.
“What?” Jason asked, eyeing you suspiciously as he closed the dishwasher and set the timer.
You suppressed a giggle before shrugging down the sleeve of the shirt you were wearing and pulled on the red lacy strap of the lingerie you had on underneath making Jason sputter out a cough.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he said before he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.
“Jay!” You giggled, clutching tightly at his torso.
“Enough distractions! You’re all mine now,” he declared and threw you on the bed before flopping down on top of you.
It was safe to say that it was going to be a very long night.
Summary: Jason’s on a sex ban— or quite literally, a complete touch ban!
warnings: whiny, pathetic Jason.
Jason Todd was an absolute idiot, there was no denying that. But he was a very desperate idiot. And he was willing to do anything if it meant you’d touch him again. You see, you’d put him on a complete sex/touch ban for three entire weeks, and well? Jason was not taking it well.
By day twelve of the three-week sentence, the fearsome Red Hood had effectively ceased to exist. In his place was a six-foot-two, two-hundred-and-fifteen-pound disaster who was entirely losing his grip on reality.
Jason didn’t do things by halves. When he was a crime lord, he took over the East End. When he was an Outlaw, he traveled through space and time. And when he was put on a strict ban by the only person who held his entire heart in her hands, he turned into this absolute menace of compliance.
The apartment had never been cleaner. It was, quite frankly, terrifying.
When you walked through the front door after an exhausting shift, you didn't just smell the familiar scent of Gotham rain and Jason’s expensive cologne. You smelled lemon verbena. You smelled freshly bleached tile
You stepped into the kitchen and paused. The countertops were sparkling so intensely they practically caught the light. Every single dish was not only washed, dried, and put away, but the spice rack had been meticulously alphabetized. Even the labels on the canned goods were facing perfectly forward.
And there, standing by the stove, was Jason.
He was wearing a pair of dark sweatpants that hung low on his hips and a tight, sleeveless black compression shirt that showed off every single rigid muscle, and scar, across his broad back. And the sight normally should’ve been enough for you to jump onto him, He was currently plate-stacking three different Tupperware containers of custom-marinated chicken breasts, a batch of freshly roasted vegetables, and a pot of handmade gnocchi.
The moment the lock clicked, Jason didn’t just look up. His entire body snapped to attention. His dark eyes locked onto yours with this frantic, high-alert energy that reminded you of a stray puppy.
He didn't break the rules. His large, heavily calloused hands clamped firmly onto the edge of the kitchen island to physically anchor himself in place, but his broad shoulders slouched instantly into a pathetic, pleading posture.
"Hey," he said. His voice was incredibly rough, a deep, gravelly rumble that sounded completely worn out, like he hadn't slept in a week— which he hasn’t. How could he without your hugs and kisses?. "I made dinner. I made the gnocchi from scratch. The way your grandma does it, with the potato-to-flour ratio you like. And I prepped your lunches for the next four days."
You set your bag down, looking at the sheer volume of food, then at the pristine kitchen. "Jason... did you scrub the baseboards?"
"Yes," he blurted out, shifting his weight from one heavy foot to the other, his eyes tracking your every movement with an agonizing level of pining. "And I ran the vacuum over the carpet three times to get the lines perfectly straight. And I picked up Lily’s toys and sanitized every single block with baby-safe wipes so she doesn't ingest any rogue bacteria. I did it all."
"Wow," you murmured, leaning against the counter. "You've been busy."
"I'm losing my mind," Jason confessed, his voice dropping into a soft, intensely whiny pitch that would have shocked anyone who had ever seen him pull a trigger. He let go of the counter, taking one agonizingly slow step toward you, but stopping exactly two feet away to respect the boundary. He looked down at you from under his dark lashes, his jaw tight, his white streak of hair falling messily across his forehead. "Babe. Sweetheart. Light of my life. Look at me. I am literally vibrating. I haven't slept in forty-eight hours because every time I close my eyes, I just think about how I'm not allowed to hold you."
"It's only been twelve days, Jay," you teased, crossing your arms and fighting the massive smirk tugging at your lips.
"Twelve days is two hundred and eighty-eight hours!" Jason groaned, a loud, muffled sound of pure misery escaping his throat as he dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Do you know what I did last night? On patrol? I didn't even break any noses. A guy tried to mug a tourist in an alley, and instead of hurting him I settled on throwing him into a dumpster. I'm broken. You've broken the Red Hood."
He dropped his gaze back to you, his chest rising and falling in a heavy, desperate exhale. He slowly sunk downward, dropping his massive, muscular frame right onto his knees on your kitchen tile. He looked up at you from the floor, his hands resting on his own thighs, completely and utterly humbled.
"Please," Jason pleaded, his gravelly voice cracking slightly as he looked up at you with wide, desperate eyes. "Look at me. I'm on my knees. I'm saying the words. I'll be a good boy, sweetheart. I swear to God, I'll be the best boy you’ve ever had. I’ll never let Roy inside a three-block radius of this building again. I’ll make him sign a legal waiver. I’ll personally rewrite Lily’s vocabulary list. I will literally do anything.”
You looked down at him, your heart melting just a little bit at the sheer, unadulterated absurdity of Gotham’s most dangerous vigilante begging for his life on your kitchen floor.
"Are you begging, Jason Todd?" you murmured, stepping half an inch closer.
"Yes! Yes, I am absolutely begging, I have zero shame left," he whispered frantically, his dark eyes instantly tracking your movement, glowing with a sudden, fierce spark of hope. He leaned forward slightly, though he kept his hands firmly on his knees. "I don't even need the whole thing. Just a deal. Let me negotiate. A partial payout. Five minutes of cuddles on the couch. You don't even have to move. I will just lie there like a giant, silent weighted blanket. I won't use my hands. I'll tuck them under my chest. Just let me smell your hair, babe. Please."
"Just cuddles?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.
"A kiss," he corrected instantly, his voice taking on a thick, desperate edge as he looked at your lips. "One kiss. Short. Sweet. Clean. Well, maybe not entirely clean, but just *something*. My lips are falling off, sweetheart. They’re dying. I'm a dying man."
You let out a soft laugh, finally breaking your resolve. The sight of him on his knees, completely devoted, utterly whiny, and entirely yours was too much to resist. You reached out, your fingers gently sliding into the soft hairs at the nape of his neck.
Jason practically shuddered at the touch, a low, ragged sigh breaking from his chest as he immediately leaned his face into your palm, his eyes closing in pure, unadulterated relief.
"Alright," you whispered, running your thumb over his sharp jawline. "The ban is suspended. Just for tonight."
Jason didn't even wait for you to finish the sentence. He surged up from the floor, his large, powerful arms instantly wrapping around your waist and lifting you completely off your feet. He pulled you flush against his broad chest, burying his face into the crook of your neck with a deep, shaky inhale.
"Oh, thank God," he mumbled against your skin
He didn't waste a second moving you to the living room, collapsing onto the couch and pulling you down on top of him. He was a man possessed by pure, desperate compliance, his massive frame sinking deep into the cushions until he was completely flat on his back, using his own chest as a platform for you.
"Rules," he breathed out, his voice a rough, scraped-raw whisper against your hair. He immediately tucked both of his massive, scarred hands flat underneath his own chest, pinning them between his body and the sofa cushions. He looked up at you from the pillows, his jaw open slightly, his eyes wide and completely glazed over with absolute devotion. "Look. Hands are away. I’m not moving 'em. See? Good boy."
You couldn't help the soft laugh that bubbled out of you, leaning your weight fully against his chest. Even stripped of his weapons and armor, Jason was a solid wall of muscle, but right now, he felt completely pliable beneath you, his entire body relaxing into a soft, heavy puddle the second your warmth pressed into him.
"Very good boy, Jay," you murmured, tracing a slow line down his cheekbone.
Jason practically whimpered at the touch, his eyes fluttering shut as he tilted his face aggressively into your palm, chasing the friction of your skin like a man dying of thirst. "More," he pleaded, his voice cracking, entirely unbothered by how pathetic he sounded. "Babe, please. Just keep doing that. Left side of my jaw. Right there. Oh, God."
You smiled, leaning down slowly until your lips were just a fraction of an inch away from his. You could feel the frantic, heavy thump of his heart hammering against your ribs, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. The fearsome Red Hood was completely paralyzed under your gaze, his chest rising and falling beneath you as he waited for permission.
"Can I?" he whispered, his dark eyes snapping open, staring at your mouth with a hunger that was almost frightening, yet he didn't move a single muscle to take it. "Please, sweetheart. Just a little bit. I’ve been so good for you."
"Go ahead, Jay."
The second the words left your mouth, Jason didn't lunge—he just reached up with his face, his lips meeting yours with a soft, trembling reverence that completely dismantled the tough-guy persona. It was a deep, heavy, agonizingly slow kiss, full of the built-up tension of the last twelve days. He drank you in like oxygen, a low, needy vibration rumbling deep in his chest as his lips parted against yours, begging for more without his hands ever leaving their pinned position beneath him.
Hunhbknhjnkk oh my goodness this man he’s so fine wtf
jason todd x reader fluff, jason’s a loverboy through and through, suggestive and yeah might be straight ass tho but here it is
Jason Todd was contemplating his life choices.
He was sitting in the middle of his living room on a kitchen chair with a towel wrapped around his shoulders to catch the water droplets falling from his dripping wet hair and he was contemplating his life choices.
Would he have chosen not to have met you? No, never any doubt about that. He can barely breathe without you.
But in this moment he was questioning exactly how much he loved you.
Or rather vice versa since you were the one holding a pair of scissors to his face.
“Jay I’m telling you, I watched a video online I know how to do it!” You said again, voice bordering on whiny because of how long you’ve been trying to convince him.
He had been complaining about his hair getting longer for weeks now. Weeks.
He kept pulling off going to the barber for some reason, everything always came up. So like the loving girlfriend you were, you told him you’d trim his hair.
How hard could it be?
There were only two things in life Jason would openly admit that he loved; you and his hair.
You finally somewhat convinced him with promises of cuddles and sex and who was he if not a man? Because he (reluctantly) agreed.
And now his grumbling began again.
“Darling, sweetheart, angel I’ve watched you walk into the counter multiple times. I love you but you are a little… clumsy…”
“Clumsy!” You exclaimed in mock shock. “You weren’t saying that when I was doing body shots off you.”
“That’s different. I had to stay still for that. You princess, are anything but still.”
“Take that back,” you threatened.
“How about we go out instead?” Jason offered and pulled you onto his lap.
“Jason you’ve been complaining for weeks,” you sighed and craned your head back to look at him.
“But I thought you liked my hair like this,” he murmured and rested his chin on your shoulder.
“I do but I also like when my boyfriend is inside of me and isn’t getting distracted by his hair falling over his eyes.”
“That was one time,” he huffed and let you go.
“I’ll just do like half an inch okay?” You tried again.
Jason in response gave you a defeated nod.
You beamed and leaned down to press a kiss to his lips before standing your full height which wasn’t a lot even when Jason was sitting down.
“Okay,” you took a deep breath and leaned down to part his hair from the middle like you had seen in the video.
You tried several positions first. Even walked backwards to do the back first but nothing seemed perfect enough so you came back to the front again.
Jason groaned impatiently and you finally stepped in between his thighs. You pulled a tuft of his hair in between two fingers to straighten it up for you to see exactly how much you were cutting.
“I’m doing it,” you murmured more to yourself than to Jason.
You took a long deep breath and cut the ends of his white streak. Just an inch.
And Jason flinched.
“What!” You stepped back and looked at him.
“Nothing.”
“I could have hurt you,” you huffed and leaned down again to do the other half of his white streak.
“I can see your tits when you bend down like this,” Jason chuckled like he was a teenage boy seeing breasts for the first time ever.
“You have literally seen me fully naked,” you scoffed lightly and pulled his hair between your fingers again.
“I love them,” he said next and put his hand over your ass.
“Jay if something goes wrong it’s your fault,” you warned before snipping his hair off.
You stepped away from him and turned his face sideways to see if it was cut equal.
“That looks fine actually,” you said, surprised at your own handiwork and went back to stand in between his legs.
Jason seemed more relaxed now too. You could tell by his large warm hands wandering your body. He put his arm around your thigh and slowly snaked it up to your hips.
“Jason!” You warned again before trimming the sides.
“What?” He smiled and put both his arms around your waist. “Is loving your girlfriend a crime? Because if so then I’m a criminal.”
“You’re a criminal either way Red Hood.”
“Low,” he grumbled. “You’re not wearing a bra.”
“Glad you noticed,” you mindlessly replied and untangled yourself from his embrace before walking behind the chair.
You gently pushed his head down and began snipping again, careful not to cut too much or else he’d throw a fit.
After you were done with the back, you went to the other side and his hands began wandering again. He trailed his hand up the side of your leg again until he reached your hip. He began squeezing lightly, much like he did when he was getting you ready for him.
It didn’t distract you as much as it did before because now you got the hang of it. Still, you didn’t pay any attention to him as you kept checking if his hair was equal on all sides or not.
When you finally stepped in front of him to make the cuts look a bit natural like it had shown in the video, he grabbed your waist and pulled you down again until you were straddling his thighs.
“Hi,” he grinned and pecked your lips. “Talk to me.”
“You attention whore,” you clicked your tongue but kissed him back.
“It’s been an hour babe, I was promised cuddles and sex,” he pouted.
“Need I remind you that you were the one who was whining and being skeptical about this? I just don’t want to fuck up your hair.”
“So you only love me for my hair,” he narrowed his eyes.
“Duh,” you replied quickly and tried to get off his lap but he just tightened his grip.
“This hurts my heart.”
“You’ll live,” you smiled and decided to just cut his hair in this position.
Jason quickly closed his eyes when you brought the scissors up to his forehead and let you give him a few finishing touches. His hands remained wrapped around your waist, a lovesick smile stayed prominent on his lips while you gave his hair the feathery texture you had seen in the video –at least tried to.
“Okay I think we’re done,” you murmured, raising yourself to look. “I think I did a pretty good job.”
“Let me see,” Jason said and finally let you go before making his way towards the bathroom.
You trailed behind him with your expectations skyrocketing mixed with a little worry.
He stood in front of the mirror and ran a hand through his hair like he usually did, trying to get that messy look that always managed to get you wet with just one glance.
“Not bad,” he mused, still turning and looking in the mirror from all the angles. “You actually did great babe.”
“I’ve cut my own bangs I picked up a few things along the way,” you dramatically said causing Jason to snicker.
“And then you cried yourself to sleep and wouldn’t let me look at you.”
“Pfft!” You scoffed. “That’s how you learn from your mistakes.”
“Right,” Jason smirked and snaked his hands around your waist again. “Thank you angel.”
“You’re welcome,” you smiled and kissed his cheek when he leaned down to nuzzle his head in your neck.
“This is gonna save us a lot of money.”
“It was a one time thing,” you replied.
“We’ll see about that,” Jason breathed out and straightened up. “Now you promised me something,” he leaned down and picked you up.
“Jason!” You protested. “You’re covered in hair don’t even think about taking me to bed.”
“I was actually thinking about taking a shower,” he replied with a knowing expression on his face and sat you down on the counter –hands immediately going to the hem of your sleep shirt.
“I need to thank you properly,” he said in a husky voice and planted his lips to your neck, kissing and nipping until he finally managed to get your shirt off.
You giggled in response to his fluttering kisses on your neck. Right over the sensitive area just below your ear. His lips curved up into a smirk against your neck, causing you to push him off you.
He immediately planted his lips to yours instead, “What?” He chuckled against your lips between kisses.
“Jason,” you managed to let out and fisted his shirt. “Come on let’s go shower.”
“Okay,” he dramatically sighed and took off his own shirt before leading you to the shower.
ok super rushed sorry if its ass i was watching friends and got this idea🤓
likes comments and reblogs are appreciated, hope you enjoy <3
Synopsis. 8010—DOKI-DOKI-GF: Are you a complete n’ utter nerd that just can’t seem to find a girlfriend? Have you lied to your family and told them that you’re seeing someone (when you really aren’t)? Do you need to save face at the next family dinner before your uncle makes fun of you until the end of time? Well, call our hotline NOW to access Tokyo’s #1 rent-a-girlfriend service!
Choso Kamo, unfortunately, is all of the above.
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!rentaI girIfriend!reader, nerd!Choso Itadori family shenanigans, meeting the family, fake dating, UncIe Kuna is MEAN, they’re onto you…, getting kicked out of restaurants, Iove hotels, vírgin!Choso, first times (his), PÚSSYDRÚNK CHOSO, making him crawI, oraI (f + m), fíngering, spítting, bíting, p taIking, scientific taIk HAHA, commands (from you), créaming his pants, making him cúm earIy, multiple o’s (him), MAJOR overstím, pánty-sníffing, ríding, making him whímper, making him cry, somewhat gágging (him), teaching him, creampíes, sIight cùmfIation, implied marathon, getting together, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 12.0k
A/N. HEHEHEH-
“—I’m so happy you’ve found your person, Cho…” Itadori Jin coos- tearing up.
“P-papa, people are staring.” Choso huffs, spooning the syrupy-sweet cherries on his sundae over to Yuji’s.
“I know, I know.” Jin bats a hand, not-so-discreetly dabbing underneath his eyes using his sweater. “It’s just- your uncle and I were getting so worried, y’know?” He gestures at his younger twin brother next to him—looking comically buff in that pretty pink ice cream parlor seat. Jin had chosen this place. “And although we didn’t lose hope-”
“Who’s we?” Sukuna snorts.
“I uh…well.” Jin adjusts his glasses and looks over at Itadori Wasuke - currently scooping out his own cherries to flick into the neighboring table’s cups when they weren’t looking. “Father and I didn’t lose-”
“I did.” Wasuke looks squarely at his oldest grandson, “No offense, kid- but I bet ¥400 that you’d die alone.”
Sukuna nods seriously, “I bet ¥20,000.”
To which you’re finally…reaching over to intertwine your fingers with Choso’s.
…Choso drops his cherries.
And you’re letting out such a sweet, sweet giggle - even sweeter than the linger of cherries on his tongue - before you duck underneath the table to help him pick them up.
Choso was already on his knees crawling after those damn cherries- and all it takes is a single glance at your face oh-so-close to his, in such short proximity, for him to jolt—and bang his head against the underside of the table. So hard that the glasses clink against one another, and Wasuke groans as he misses in his valiant cherry canons.
So loud that half the parlor stares at your little table.
“Oh no.” You’re reaching out in concern as Choso rubs his achin’ head. “Honey, are you-”
“I-I’m fine—!” Choso turns his face away - and the only things you could make out were the frames of his chunky glasses…and the burning red on the tips of his ears. Blushing. Though you’re not convinced, and once you get a little closer- he’s waving you off more fervently than ever. “I promise, I promise! I can handle it…babe.”
You quirk a brow - “If you say so, sugarplum.”
He almost jolts once more- too much…?
However, before you’re thrusting yourself once more into the stratosphere of emotional fathers (at least, one of them) and glowering uncles, you inch yourself closer to the nerve-wracked man - as quick as a flash. And then you’re pressing your lips to his right cheek—just a graze, just a peck.
But it’s enough for Choso to yelp-
And bang his head against the table once again.
“Easy there, tiger.” You’re giggling at him, “I need you in one piece.”
“N-need me…” Choso whispers to himself- perhaps thinking that you won’t hear.
And it’s a small mercy that you’re handing to him - pretending that you didn’t hear that. Instead, you’re throwing yourself back into your seat, and presenting your most-practiced smile at Choso’s eavesdropping family members.
In little-to-no time, Choso’s popping back up and plopping all those floor cherries into Sukuna’s black coffee. The older man swears.
Jin covers the seven-year-old Yuji’s ears.
And then your boyfriend’s excusing himself hastily to the bathroom. Leaving you alone with them.
Unsure how to proceed, there’s a few minutes of silence before you’re speaking first. “Quite the lovely place, isn’t it?”
“Yes- yes.” Jin snaps out of his little reverie—he’d been watching over your interaction with such unabashed pride. Such loving nosiness. Out of all the fathers of clients that you’d happened to meet, you think he might just be your favorite…He beams. “I’m so glad you like it, dear. I mean- the first girl that Cho’s introducing us to-”
“The only one.” Sukuna coughs.
“-I just knew I had to impress. I picked this one specifically because it advertised itself as a place that’s both family-friendly and open to coup-”
“So you met the wimp…how again?” Sukuna interrupts. And he ignores the look that Jin throws at him.
“Six months ago at university.” Choso’s finally finished up at the bathroom, within earshot of the table. He takes his seat right next to you.
“I hope you washed your hands.” You whisper to him.
“Of course, I did.”
The two of you had already repeated this tried and true story at the very start of your introductions. And it was clear that Sukuna was fishing for something…more.
You make a show of reaching for Choso’s hand on top of the table—intertwining your fingers with his. They were fingers much longer and thicker than yours- that you might not have expected. The most sensual calluses from what you assume to be turning pages of books. The softest touch nevertheless.
You squeeze his hand and shoot him a simpering smile.
Itadori Jin just about faints.
Sukuna scoffs at his overdramatic older brother, “S’that so…?” He then crosses his tattooed arms, “You don’t seem like the type to like ah- biology and hemorrhages.”
“It’s biology and hematology, uncle Ryo.” Choso answers crossly, “And no- we met in the campus library.”
Then you’re the one to pipe up. “Cho here- oh, sorry, Choso-”
“Call him whatever you like—!” Jin cries.
As his brother attempts to wrangle him back into his seat, you smile appreciatively and continue. “Cho here was the one that helped me find a textbook I’d been searching for for weeks.” Just to add a little flare to it, you’re squeezing his hand once more and staring deeply into his big, beautiful brown eyes when you speak. “He knew even better than the librarian! And he was just so nervous- stuttering and- and did I tell you that he almost tripped over himself handing me that book?”
Jin, so very interested in your story, shakes his head aggressively.
Meanwhile Sukuna merely rolls his eyes- though you note that he and Wasuke don’t interrupt you for a second.
“Yeah…that was when I knew.” You conclude. Patting lovingly at his arm, “And of course, it did take a few weeks of being friends for Cho here to finally build up the courage. But he did manage to ask me out in the end—”
Sukuna raises one mean, coral-pink brow.
And you’re elbowing your boyfriend.
“-didn’t you, honey?”
It was rather difficult to convince your boyfriend’s family of the story of you two meeting- especially when your boyfriend himself looked as though this was his first time hearing it…Choso kept an expression of sweet euphoria—something soft. Like he was watching a romantic movie play out.
One that was starring in- and you needed him to say something…
“Huh? Yes?” Choso blinks- sense coming back to him. “O-oh, yes.”
And then he straightens up.
Possessively placing his hand on top of yours, “I saw her and I just…knew she had to be mine-”
“See now, that where yer lying.” Sukuna leans over the table with a devilish smile- pointedly ignoring his brother’s swatting. “There’s no world in which Kamo Ultimate Loser Choso—had his first kiss with a biology textbook, asked out the high school lab skeleton before any real person - would be the one asking you out.”
You’re stiffening as he points at you.
“Are you just someone he’s paying to lie? Because whatever he’s paying, it surely can’t be enough-”
You’re plastering on your smile, “If by ‘pay’ you mean love and cherish me then-”
“Then I know my nephew would no sooner woo a damn lab rat than a real person.” Sukuna scoffs, crossing his arms and falling back into his seat. “Especially one so pretty.”
Jin looked tense- and he’d forgone swatting at Sukuna underneath the table to now openly pinching his bicep. Still, the pain seems to do nothing to bate his suspicion.
“More sundaes, everyone? More sundaes?” Jin asks in a strangely high tone.
The only ones unaffected at the table was Yuji currently plucking at his sundae cherries, and Wasuke who stared at them with the internal debate as to whether or not he should fling those at the neighboring table, too. You almost wanted him to—anything to distract from the terseness that had suddenly taken over.
And to your surprise - it’s Choso who’s the first one to speak. “Why, uncle Ryo…” Those doe-like eyes of his narrow into an expression you’ve never seen made by the sweet, sweet boy thus far. “-jealous?”
Sukuna startles- “The hell did you s-”
“Dagnabbit I almost had it this time-” Wasuke gives up on considering and swipes one of Yuji’s overabundance of cherries to throw into their neighboring tables glass. It’s a hole in one.
“Grandma, do that again—!” Yuji squeals and claps his hands.
“Huh, where? I’m grandpa-”
“Everybody silence!” Jin’s voice raises above than the rest - and into every corner of the ice cream parlor. Echoing. He hadn’t realized it in the heat of the moment, but he found himself standing as he stopped the chaos—and rushed to sit down after some apologetic bows at the wider population being subjected to the catastrophe that was…their family.
And his next apology is directed at you. “My dear, I cannot tell you how sorry I am-” Now instead of pinching Sukuna, he outright gives the man a brotherly smack upside the head. Unafraid of doing so; Jin makes it hard enough that even Ryomen Sukuna winces. Now you understand how he kept his title shining as older brother…“-that I am related to a bunch of buffoons, and Yuji.”
“Yuji has been quite the distinguished gentleman.” You’re nodding at Yuji and his ice-cream-covered grin. “But it’s alright, Mr. Itadori. Honestly- promise I wasn’t offended by anything said.”
Your hands have seemed to find a permanent home in Choso’s - at least for the time being - and you squeeze his.
“I understand that you’re just ah- cautious as the first girl to meet you like this but…I get it. Really.” Jin’s expression just seems to melt as you keep speaking. “Cho really is someone special to me. And I want to protect him, too.”
Next to you, you hear Choso suck in a shaky breath.
“Really? And you truly promise that it hasn’t been too much?” He probes with shining eyes. “Ryo here can get a little too mouthy-”
“Hey!” Sukuna starts—then immediately winces as Jin’s fingers twitch towards him again.
“Please do forgive him- it’s in his nature.”
“Absolutely promise. And I don’t hold anything against Mr. Sukuna, either.” You knew to hit juuuust where it mattered - and referring to Sukuna using such a title made the man straighten in his chair a little. “Choso did warn me that his family might be a little…excited. But to be honest with you, I always have had a soft spot for big, loud families.”
“Well…” Jin blushes happily, before reaching across the table and shaking your hand. “You may call me Jin, if you’d like. And I’d like to welcome you into our big, loud family.”
“I’m so honored- thank you.”
“The honor is all ours.”
“Oh no, it’s ours.”
Sukuna glances at Choso and scoffs. Underneath his breath, “That’s as long as that wimp has paid for-”
The table rattles as Jin kicks him underneath it. “The honor is all ours. Isn’t it…younger brother?”
“Ye-yes—” Sukuna wheezes. His large hand comes slamming down- merely something to hold onto his dear life for. “Welcome to the family, girl.”
You beam like it’s the happiest day of your life.
Head rested on Choso’s shoulder, and your head nodding at the flow of conversation. “This is cooler than the Turritopsis dohrnii.” He breathes.
Save for the brief hiccup earlier- you’d consider your first meeting with Choso’s family to have gone swimmingly. And sure, perhaps Sukuna held the faintest inkling of suspicion that what the two of you had was a ruse—but he’d been shot down almost immediately by Jin.
And thank goodness for that.
“Let’s celebrate by getting the double double heart-shaped cones- oh, I wonder how they get them into that shape?” Jin hums. “And then I want chocolate chips, dipped in the bubblegum drizzle and- oh, hello.”
He beams as their server nears the table.
“I would like-”
“Sir, we’ve been getting complaints of cherries being flung into people’s glasses and we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Oh.”
Because of course…Ryomen Sukuna had been completely correct.
As the group gets up to leave - perhaps to another diner downtown or so - you’re refusing to let Jin apologize. And you’re still holding onto Choso as though he was the dreamiest boyfriend in the whole wide world, and you were the luckiest girlfriend—as dreamy as he may be…you weren’t the girlfriend he’d been dating for the past five months.
In fact, you weren’t his girlfriend at all.
In fact, you’d only met two hours prior.
You were #1 Rental Girlfriend in all of Tokyo. And this time, you’d been hired to save face at a family get-together.
Of course, it wasn’t the first time that you’ve had to pretend your way through such a predicament - more people than one would think had less and less time for love. Especially not in this day and age. Especially not when work and responsibilities latched onto you like a starving tick, and though its blood supply might be modest at first, it only grows hungrier and hungrier—greedier, until you’re bone-dry. Bone-dry. Bone-dry. And it still feeds- what’s next? The bones and all?
And society still looks at you with the same standards—yes, the parasite’s gotten bigger, but why are you so frail?
And before you know it, you’re hiring a rental girlfriend to prove to your parents that yes- you can still be a functional and well-balanced adult still!
This was exactly why you continued being a rental girlfriend.
It’d started out as a side-job during your first year of university—your friends were all getting partners or throwing themselves into their studies. And you needed something fulfilling to pass the time.
Then, your best friend suggested getting a part-time job.
You’re sure she didn’t mean as a rental girlfriend.
But you couldn’t help it - it’d been the first advertisement for Hiring that’d popped up once you’d searched online!
And it was meant to be for a few weeks initially- really, you hadn’t planned on continuing this career for so long. Let alone making it a sort of career.
That morning, you’d opened up your approved application for Doki-Doki-Girlfriend and determinedly made your way to the interview section - promising yourself that you’d run at the first sign of anything off. The interview was being held at the Doki-Doki headquarters: this pretty pink-colored building in downtown Akihabara that had formerly been a host club. It’d been dimly-lit and draped in old perfume and even older sex.
Though you’d been nervous the first time you entered, you’d been quickly taken by the Doki-Doki owner—Tsukumo Yuki.
The first thing she asked you was what your type in men was.
And when you’d answered - through your shock - that it was the shy, stuttering type- she laughed that that was about 95% of their clientele. So you’d be lucky, perhaps.
Yuki, as she insisted you call her, explained to you the ins and outs of being a rental girlfriend. To smile. To simper. To be sweet but not overly so.
To never let them pressure you into anything. They weren’t the type of rental business that offered other sorts of services.
What people were searching for above all was a connection- for at least this brief moment in time. And the both of you would understand this transaction: it was the fantasy of a human bond that you were selling, and they were buying. It was your time. It was your emotional investment.
But later…you would come to genuinely connect with most of those you worked with.
After that interview—which you passed with flying colors, you spoke with some of the other girls working there and decided to continue with the job opportunity. Much to Yuki’s delight, who’d taken a liking to you almost immediately. After that was the training period - during which you accompanied some of the other rental girlfriends on their dates.
You were introduced to some as their friend—and as many guys as expected were actually flattered to be seen with two ‘girlfriends’ in public.
You took notes on conversation topics. You watched their behaviours.
You understood how they’d change their approaches according to the needs of their clients, and you absorbed it all.
After a few weeks of observation, you were finally added to the roster of rental girlfriends to go on your own dates.
You just didn’t expect to shoot to the top of the ranks.
#1 in Tokyo.
Perhaps one of the Top 5 in the entire country—only three years after starting, in your fourth year of university.
The clients adored you.
They draped you in gifts. They went on repeat dates - spending extra just for a minute of your time, though you often refused the additional amounts. Of course, there would be no funny business (and this was something you made quite clear within the first few minutes of meeting a new client). And excluding one or two unsavory clients that were quickly blacklisted from Doki Doki, you’d grown rather fond of your regulars.
There was the older woman who’d practice speaking to women through you- for when she planned on getting her first girlfriend. There was the excitable college student who tested out date spots with you. There was the pensioner who wished to take a monthly stroll through the park, simply talking about their day.
It was the feeling of belonging amongst strangers. Connecting with people you never could have imagined finding common ground with before.
And you believe, through this line of work, you began to understand humans better.
Humans were all just…really, really lonely.
Choso had been the same when he came to you.
It had been a working day like any other - you’d been called to the front desk of Doki Doki in order to be given a briefing of your next date. It was all standard processes, really.
Name: Kamo Choso
Age: 23
Occupation: Student
Prior appointments: None.
Prior love life: None.
Purpose: Client seeks a rental girlfriend to sit through a family dinner with his family, pretending to be his girlfriend. Prior backstory required to be able to maintain the conversation and create the illusion of a loving relationship (5 months). Flirting and mild physical affection.
Extra notes: Client says to please be wary of his extra ‘rowdy’ family.
And so, you’d accepted.
You met up with the aforementioned Choso—and found yourself a little taken aback at just how…cute he was.
Nerdy. Nervous.
Pushing his glasses up as he frantically introduced himself - that, too, messing his name up a few times before actually telling you.
Exactly your type. Yuki had been right.
He was your age, and went to - it turns out - the same university as you. Though the two of you hadn’t seen each other before, Choso confessed that that might be because he was cooped up in the library most of the time.
He bowed at least a dozen times through apologies for the trouble- even though you assured him that meeting a family wasn’t anything out of your way. And then he insisted on paying extra, on coming up with a code should you want to leave, on—you shook your head and grabbed his hand. “So, how did we meet, boyfriend?”
You always did enjoy the ones where big families were involved - sure, they might be more awkward in the long run…but those types of dates always did manage to make you feel so warm inside. Big families. Big emotions.
And the biggest, perhaps, of all had been meeting the Itadori family.
They’d been unlike any other family you’ve ever met.
And that was saying a lot.
Thus, you’re letting out a prolonged sigh the moment you’re stepping outside—it was some downtown diner that the six of you had ended up at after your less-than-ceremonious exit at the ice cream parlor. Sukuna had been craving something hearty after living through that introduction on just sweets and coffee - and Jin had suggested one of their favorite ramen places.
It was only after you’d sat down with them at one of the booths - the one they called their ‘usual’ - that Jin had revealed that when they referred to it as ‘their’ ramen place—they really meant the their.
In everything but ownership.
This was the first restaurant they’d gone to celebrate Choso’s first birthday, this was the first restaurant they’d gone to after Jin’s mother had passed, this was the first restaurant they’d gone to after Yuji was born and Jin was granted full custody.
And you couldn’t help but feel a strange sinking feeling at the pit of your stomach. What was that you said about family-oriented dates being the most awkward in the long term?
At least the ramen had been the best you’d ever tasted- and the conversation flowed freely. Even Sukuna seemed to forgo his initial suspicion to make some conversation with you on Akihabara’s best spots.
And in the end, you were walking out of that ramen restaurant with a full stomach and an even more full heart.
Waving to the retreating backs of Jin, Sukuna, Wasuke, and a sleeping Yuji—you’re turning to Choso once they were completely out of sight. “Your family is…”
“Abhorrent?” He pushes his glasses up with a crooked smile. Choso had eased up around you significantly compared to your initial meeting outside the Doki Doki building, stammering through an adequate backstory for your faux-relationship, though he still seemed to be the nerve-wracked type.
“No…” You pretend to think.
“Overbearing?”
“No.”
“Savages?”
“Certainly not.”
“The servers at that ice cream parlor would disagree.” Choso mutters, “How about aneurysm-causing?”
“No.” You’re shaking your head once again, before turning to him with a smile. “They’re loving.”
Choso says nothing, but the tips of his ears burn.
“They care about you a lot- even your uncle was making sure I wasn’t some stranger just taking your money.” Well…
The long-haired man pushes his glasses up with a sputter of confirmation- or at least something that sounds like it. “I-I suppose ah- in their own…ways they’re rather…” Choso swallows a few times, and you’re watching his face as he does so—the Sun was dipping past the horizon now, and cracking its golden yolk over the grooves of his worried face. Handsome. Choso Kamo was just so handsome.
With his lashes dark and draping over his cheekbones. With his lips pouty and bitten whenever he was thinking deeply about something. With his stature so tantalizingly tall—though he didn’t even seem to be aware of it, as he navigated the world like a newly-birthed fawn.
He was the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen - glasses and all.
“—caring.” Choso finally finishes his sentence.
You’re letting a smile stretch across your lips- and before you can think twice, you’re clasping Choso’s hand once more. You’d been doing it so often over the course of the date that it almost feels- natural now.
“You know…you paid for five hours of my time, Choso. Do you know how much more time we have left?”
“Two hours, fourteen minutes and—” He grows ever-redder as he stares down at you. Were you…leaning in? Pressing yourself against him? Fuck. “-f-fifteen seconds.”
“Mmmm, I do love a smart boy.” Beginning to tug him in another direction from the path to the Doki Doki building - though you leave enough leeway that he can stop should he want to. Choso follows you like a dog on a leash. “I don’t usually do this, but if you want to spend the rest of your time with me then…I know this ah- other place we can go to?”
“Like you want me to c-call my family back for another family dinner?” Choso asks, eyes bulging.
“Oh no, no.” You laugh. “This place isn’t family friendly at all.”
.
.
.
“A-a love hotel-”
“One room, please. Standard.” Interrupting Choso, you smile at the receptionist.
“Will that be for an allocated time or overnight?”
“Hmm…” You glance sidelong at the gawking Choso next to you- looking around the hotel lobby as though it was some sort of attraction. “Overnight, please.”
As the woman behind the desk continued tap-tap-tapping away at her keyboard, you take a moment to look at Choso - now adjusting his glasses to make sure that he was seeing right. That really was a bowl of condoms sitting on the front desk. As the heat rushes up the back of his neck, you’re wrapping your arms around one of his own—and pressing your body against his. “Everything alright, Cho?”
He’d been like this ever since you started heading him in the direction of the glitzy love establishment. Pink walls. Fluorescent lights. He’d agreed to going…elsewhere to continue your date- but he’d expected your apartment or something! Choso had been stunned but allowed you to lead him in front of the love hotel, and once outside you turned towards him once more. It was the first time you yourself was doing this with who was supposed to be a client. “And you’re really su-”
“Yes.”
And that was that.
The lobby was quiet…too quiet. In a way that made your spine tingle with anticipation.
“That’s a…a real bowl of condoms.” He exclaims- earning a look from the receptionist.
“That is. Is this your way of saying that we don’t need any?” You joke…mostly. Then the key gets slid over to you - Room 143 - and you’re nodding at the receptionist. “Thank you.”
The two of you make your way down the lust-pink corridor and take the elevator up to your room - jamming in the key to open up a space that looked as if a honeymoon threw up all over it. Rose petals on the floor. Faux candles flickerin’ on the beside cabinet. Rows upon rows of even more condoms lined on the middle of the queen-sized bed.
If you looked at it from the right angle, it formed a few hearts.
“I didn’t mean we shouldn’t use them…” Choso’s the first one to speak- and he visibly gulps as you close the door behind you two. “It’s just…I-I’ve never done this before.”
Your eyes widen—you’d been suspecting this ever since you entered. But to have it actually confirmed…“No fooling around before finals or anything? Nothing to de-stress?”
He shakes his head n’ bites his lower lip. “Nothing. I haven’t even had my first kiss, to be honest…” Choso looks up at you with those nervous eyes. “Is that okay?”
“Okay?” You smile. Walking over to twist your hands into his lapels- and tug him to you. “It’s perfect. And since you’ve shared a secret with me, I’m gonna share one with you, okay?”
He nods.
And so you’re leaning in so that your lips are grazing - just grazing - his pretty, blushing ears. “It turned me on more than it should’ve, seeing you on your knees in that parlor.”
Choso gasps-
And then your lips are on his.
Then you’re tucking his cute, shivering bottom lip into your mouth—and sucking softly. Choso lets out the most guttural groan at the act- and his hands tremble in mid-air not knowing what to do.
“Don’t be shy.” You’re cooing at him - reaching up and guiding one of his hands to be on the back of your neck—the other one on your ass. You lean into his surprisingly firm chest, “Although…I find it really cute when you’re shy.”
His involuntary whimper gets swallowed up by your own lips.
You’re the one that’s guiding him through the sensual motions of your mouth. Kissing and kissing him till he’s senseless.
Till those thick glasses of him have been knocked ever-so-slightly askew.
Till you’ve left him weak in the knees - literally.
Choso Kamo is melting into you—he’s letting his hands grasp your body as though a forgetting man holding onto his last memory, a drowning sailor holding onto a lifeboat. It doesn’t even feel real to him. And he can’t stop himself as his hands, his body, his knees buckle n’ he’s sliding doooooown the expanse of your body- lips breaking contact with yours with a pained grunt.
Before he knows it, his knees are hitting the floor.
And he’s peering up at you with a desperate expression; brows pinched, mouth kiss-bitten and trembling. Expression something of dazed awe. It makes your pussy clench at just how utterly pathetic he looks. “Everything alright, baby?”
“Ngh- yes.” You watch as one of his hands automatically shoots to cover his crotch - he was rock-fucking-hard already.
“You suuuuure?” Teasing. There’s a devilish twinkle in your eyes that’s reflected through his as utter indigence.
And without saying anything more, you step backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. Bouncing a few times. You’re sitting yourself down on the plush bedsprings, crossing your legs- and watching him through half-lidded eyes. Not a single word comes out of you.
But it doesn’t take a single word for Choso to realize what you wanted with a jolt—
He crawls to you.
He crawls to you.
Choso’s letting his features twist into something akin to embarrassment - with the tips of his ears so red that they were practically radiating heat - as he edges closer. As he shifts on his knees. As he crawls just as he had been doing in the ice cream parlor—except this time, the only cherry he was searching for was that cute lil’ wet spot between your legs.
Your dress was short and already hiked up to reveal those pale pink panties.
Was that a little bow on top?
Though it seems like an age before he’s finally able to reach close enough to affirm that- yes, that was a little bow on top. Choso finally manages to without combusting, and looks up at you with wide, pleading eyes.
“Please…” He begs.
You’re softly caressing his cheek- almost lovingly. And Choso’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into the touch in an almost feline manner.
Moving to his jawline. Moving to the back of his sweaty scalp.
And then you’re shoving his pretty face between your legs—and Choso’s letting himself gladly be shoved. Manhandled. His chin sticks against the foamy mess of your panties, so wet with all your leaking juices. His nose digs between the plushest parts of your swollen pussylips. And Choso lets out a hallowed breath as he gapes his mouth ever-so-slightly wider-
“Awww, why so shy, baby?” You’re cooing down at him.
With your hand clasped onto the back of his head- you’re guiding Choso’s mouth to better plaster against your pussy. For him to find his balance.
“S-s’like a second kiss.” Choso sputters out. And you’re grinning.
“Naughty, are we?” You had a feeling that this was going to be a loooooot of fun…
Choso’s mouth was parted. And his lips were rubbin’ incessantly up and down the outline of your cunt—up and down, up and down.
That flimsy fabric of your panties was just glued to your sopping wet pussy, and he’s able to slot his lips over your folds perfectly. Managing to string down a line of hot wet kisses where you needed him the most- “Mmmm…” You’re arching your back with a deep groan as his nose fits between your pussylips—the pointed tip pressing on your clit. “Just like that, Cho. You can go deeper if you like, y’know that?”
“H-how, baby?” He rasps. Those pleading eyes of his were just so cute- and Choso can’t last too long speaking without pressing a few more open-mouthed kisses on your cunt.
“You want me to teach you?” You’re asking him, to which he nods. “Mmm, well open your mouth a little wider- just a little wider-”
And he does- his cute canines snaggin’ against the top of your pussylips.
“You can just start off by kissing lightly, baby. Remember how we did all that kissing earlier?” Nodding once more. “Yeah- just try to replicate that.”
“M’gonna do my best, baby…” He’s starting off soft at first- slow. Almost timid in his movements as he properly slots his mouth over your pussy - over your panties - and kisses n’ sucks lightly.
“Fuck- you study biology, so you know where the good spots are, hm?”
“The glans clitoris a-and the…” Kitten kisses. “-the labia minora contain an immense number of nerve endings.” Chaste pecks—but every single droplet of your pussy’s juices splashed onto his tongue seems to leave Choso Kamo reeling.
Eyes drawing to the back of his head. Ragged pants emanating from the back of his throat.
And he’s pushing himself deeper, deeper, deeper - making out with your pussy so desperately, depravedly that his glasses were crushing against your pelvis—“Easy there, baby. Easy.” The only way to even get him to take a breath is to tug him back using his hair. “We have more than ‘nough time, okay?”
“Mhmmmm…” He nods through a pout- lips sucking off the juices seeped into your panties. “All night.”
“Eager boy. Next, I want you to use your tongue, okay?” His expression turns into something startled. “What? Not scared are you, Cho?”
Choso shakes his head furiously—as though he couldn’t stand the mere thought of it. “N-no.” He hisses, hot breath gluing to your leaking core - the way he was just so…greedy to lavish your pussy left you even wetter. And he was gladly allowing the excess residue to land all over his face and end up sliding off, “No no no- not at all. This pretty labia- Mmmpf—”
Whatever else was on the tip of his tongue gets muffled-
For then Choso’s flattening his tastebuds on top of your pussy. Those swollen pussylips. Movin’ his muscle siiiiiiide to the siiiiiide and then up and down the line of your slit.
You whine, “Oh- just fuck me with it.” Tugging on his locks, “Fuck me with your tongue- ngh, the way I know you’ve been wantin’ to since we met. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you were looking at me…”
“I was…” He pleads. He prays between your legs. Zig-zagging his tongue wildly.
And then after he’s sucked off your panties all clean - Choso reaches one of his hands upwards to try and take off those useless undergarments-
But you’re faster than him.
And you’re stopping him with a searing pull at his scalp. The nerdy man lets out a sudden yelp and looks at you with the prettiest doe-eyes. “Ah ah—” It almost ached your heart to act so mean to him, not giving him exactly what he wanted. But more than your heart- it was your pussy that was throbbing. “Now who said you’ve earned the right to take them off, hm?”
“B-but…” Choso’s peripherals widen - they were glazed-over with lust. “How can I reach the tunica mucosa if I don’t take off—”
“You don’t have to take it off, right?” You hum. “Eat me out through my panties-”
Just the mere sound of that sentence makes Choso moan.
“-and…” And you’re cocking your head to get a better look at where his hips were starting to rut. Against the rickety frame of the love hotel’s bed, he was grindin’ and crushing what seemed to be an aching erection. “-don’t touch yourself, either.”
Choso’s free hand immediately halts in its tracks.
He’s shooting you a pained look- but more than that, it was flooded with pure, unabashed need.
Something dark. Something primal.
Choso’s tipping his head back and letting you plough your pussy against his mouth- in rough, rapid grinds. You don’t wait a single moment for him to catch his breath—and that seems far from his main priority in the first place. He’s merely flopping his lengthy tongue out - so pinkish n’ pretty - and slithering it past your panties.
Riiiiiight underneath, after a few tries he manages to ease it past the rim of your puckered entrance.
You’re letting out a semi-shocked gasp once you feel your convulsing walls streeeeetching at the girth of him. He was thicker than you’d expected- with the ridges of his tastebuds melding to your inner channel. And without any experience, Choso doesn’t know how to ease into it - which works just as well for you as he’s expanding his thick tongue inside of you. And then thrashing n’ thrashing away. “Sh-shit, keep going, Cho.”
“What- hck! what do I have to do?” He manages to somehow ask between heavy gulps. And even that amount of time spent parted with your pussy means that he’s letting out loooong, luxurious licks inside your velvety walls to make up for it.
“H-huh?” You blink down at him through your bleary eyes. “Keep going, ngh- faster, baby.”
“No, I just meant…” Choso blinks those big, beautiful peripherals at you. He kept both hands on your thighs to press himself ever-deeper—he couldn’t get enough. “-what do I have to do t-to take off your panties? I wish to see all of you…that pretty vulva like a flower, the- ngh, prepuce…”
The mere thought has him ruttin’ away against the bed once more.
“How about you make me- haaaah, cum, baby? Hm?” You smile down at the desperate man, “And you have to do it before cumming yourself, m’kay?”
He can’t remove your panties.
He can’t touch himself.
He can’t cum before stuffin’ his face between your legs and making you cum first—
Choso was in heaven.
Even through the obscurement of his now-fogged glasses, Choso’s features twist into something primal- and he lets out a looooow whine before drag-drag-dragging his tongue into your clingy walls again. Thrusting in and out at a frenzied pace—the nerd was eating you out like a man starved.
Almost wolfish.
Choso was suckin’ and biting and snarling deep into your cunt. His glasses stick against your clit, and every single time he was forced to part with your pussy in order to breathe felt like fucking torture to him. “The clitoral nerve network consists of about 8000 to- ngh, over 10000 nerve endings-” Before you know it, he’s spitting. Letting it smear down your panties. Then dragging one of his calloused thumbs down that buttony nub. “-and baby, I need you to feel every single one.”
“Ohhhhh, fuck.” Your back arches deeper into him. Hands planting against the mattress in order to steady yourself, “A man that knows anatomy is dangerous.”
“And then the tunica mucosa…those spots there are also-” Such a priggish smile spreads across Choso’s mouth - one that you’re feeling on your cunt - as he swabs his tongue inside and stimulates some of those sweet nerve endings he was talking about. The hooked end of his muscle pushes apart your clingy walls, and somehow manages to find those sensitive areas so easily- “-effective…”
“Shut up and eat me out.” Pushing him deeper between your legs.
“A-and that’s not to mention—” But of course, you should’ve known that it isn’t easy to shut a STEM major up when it comes to their subject of interest. Choso most of all. And that nerdy man is babbling away whilst he’s slipping his tongue in and out, in and out, of you at a furious pace- until it was nothing but a pinkish blur squeezing away between your pussylips. “-the Gräfenberg spot-”
“You mean the g-spot?!” You’re wailing out.
“My favorite.” Choso nods, with your clit sucked into his mouth. Holding your panties to the side. He now alternates between rolling his tongue over your sensitive nub, and pushing it deep into your hole—stretchin’ you out juuuuust enough for his fingers to slip n’ squelch their way inside.
You’re letting out the shrillest keen as two of his fingers scissor apart your cunt’s walls, pushing up into their spongy surroundings to mold his sheer size into you. He’s softer on the tips of his digits, and rougher against the sides - “Easy there. Fuck, easy…” Choso’s sucking in a harrowed breath.
“I should be the one saying that to you.” You huff. Because Choso wasn’t dry-humping the foot of the bed whilst eating you out anymore - he was way past that.
Now solely keeping himself pushed- wedged in one place because just a little more friction and he’s bound to be cumming. “I-I’m alright, baby.” He tells you, “The Gräfenberg spot is located on the anterior wall, so right…up…”
Just a single press up into the roof of your cunt makes you buck - not having pressed on your sweetest spot just yet but-
“And then about two- three inches deeeeeep—” The loudest, sloppiest squelch! echoes across all four corners of the love hotel room as he eases inside. Roverin’ about inside your tight, wet channel for a few strokes before an explosion of pleasure runs right through you. “-right- there-”
“Fuuuuuuuck, oh.” You simper out. “There- right there- ngh.”
And then he’s thump-thumping his perfect fingers inside your cunt- accurately pinpointing that one spot inside you with his digits like a searchlight. Again and again. And don’t think that his mouth wasn’t working overtime—Choso kept his maw permanently gaped on top of your clit and had his lips hollowed with a constant suctioning motion.
Letting out broken moans off into your cunt all the while-
Choso manages to slip in a third finger- though those damn panties kept getting in the way. “Baby…” There’s a rasping, almost guttural tone to his words that you don’t recognize at first- you’re even raising onto your elbows to make sure that this was the same Choso Kamo.
But it sure was.
Glasses pressed up against your cunt—getting wetter by the second. “Baby, you’re experiencing vaginal contractions and tremors. Your pulse is faster. Your transudate is leaking even more- you’re getting wetter. And your clitoris is growing even, mmm-” He savors the feeling of your nub being pulled n’ dragged into his mouth. “-more swollen.”
“A-and that means…?” Though you already have an inkling of it.
“You’re going to orgasm, baby.” He never sounded more confident than when he was speaking science between your pussylips. “And I need you to cum aaaaaall over my mouth, okay?”
“Was planning to.” You whisper-
And it’s with a few more strokes, with a few more gashes of your pussy against his face, that the pressure that’d been building in your pelvic region finally explodes.
It thrums through your body faster than you can announce it—making every single vein, artery, and axiom within you vibrate until they’re sizzling at the sheer pressure. It felt as though your body was on fire. And the hottest it could get was at your sopping core- shoved against Choso’s pretty plush mouth and getting draaaagged through the violent peaks of your high.
The best you’ve ever had.
Choso manages to locate your g-spot right when the pleasure was hitting you the most - and you’re getting the faint suspicion that he was counting your throb-throb-throbs until he’d timed it just right. “One…two…”
Thrashing his fingers deepest.
Damn-near tearing your panties.
Shoving his erection against the bed.
And his tongue would move over your clit in an almost soothing motion- “Your vasocongestion m-means you’re sucking me up even- ngh, more. Fucking tight.” He spits. “Myotonia and contractions. Your orgasm’s strong, baby.”
“Didn’t need science to tell me that.” You comment.
Thrown through your orgasm.
It’s a crescendo then a plateau, and then when you’re finally done - Choso keeps jabbing his greedy fingers into you just for a few seconds longer. Fucking you through it. Fucking you past it.
You’re so sensitive by this point that you’re sobbing- pushing on his sweaty forehead. “Baby—oh, baby I’m done.”
“Done…?” He rasps. Eyes bleary as he raises them up, seeing you on your elbows. “Oh.”
“And you did as I wanted.” It takes much more effort than you expected to detach him from your quivering pussy - still a little sensitive from your previous orgasm. It was incredible. A part of you almost couldn’t believe that it’d been poor, inexperienced Choso Kamo that pulled that out of you.
He’s setting your cunt free with a whimper n’ a loooooud slurp!
Watching slack-jawed as you peel off your soaked-through panties and throw it right at him- it makes you gasp when Choso catches it with one hand…
Then brings that flimsy fabric riiiiight up to his face to sniff, to suck off the remnants of your syrupy sap. Not a speck of regret.
“Filthy.” You leer.
And then you’re tightening your hold on him—merely than sound was enough to wrench out a yearning croon from him. Preventing Choso from chasing after your cunt once more, “Now now…you don’t want to continue losing that virginity of yours, baby?”
“I-I do.” He eagerly nods.
“Good. Then get on the bed f’me.” You’re patting at the space beside you.
Soon enough, your positions are somewhat flipped - Choso finds himself lumbering onto the bed. Back against the mattress. Skin searing at the heat that your body had left behind.
He lies where you did- and you’re making quick work of discarding his graphic t-shirt (proudly claiming ‘I found this humerus’ next to a picture of a bone) and his trousers. The tent in his boxers was jaw-dropping—Choso stood proudly erect, thick and looking heavy between his legs, his bulbous tip kept trickling out more n’ more precum the longer you stared.
And had he just…
Taking off his boxers to make sure—you’re revealing his cock. Long and rock-hard.
It slaps against his soft core, and leaves a heart-shaped mark of sap. Just about seven or so inches in length- though the longer your gaze lingers on him…the longer he seems to look. Shit, was he about nine inches, maybe? And he wasn’t too thick - just flared enough at the tip that he’s sure to make your walls feel it.
But Choso had an abundance of pretty, long veins decorating down the shaft—underneath the tip, creating patterns down to his base. One which had a few sparse tufts of curly brown - almost black - hair.
Yet what you’re interested in the most was how Choso was so damn hard that his blushin’ red tip looked just about ready to fall off—
“I c-couldn’t help myself, baby.” Choso admits shyly. His hands reach downwards to try and cover his mess- but you’re waving him off. “Having you cum aaaaall over my mouth made me- ngh, want to cum as well.”
“I can see that.” You smirk.
“I didn’t mean to.” He insists, voice growing urgent as the silence stretches - fearing that you’d perhaps refuse to continue as he somewhat broke his promise. “P-promise, I didn’t mean to! It’s just that your tunica mucosa was squeezing me so tight- and your vaginal lubrication just tasted so sweet-”
“Choso?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Shush.”
“I- oh.”
Because, initially, you’d planned on riding the man senseless. But now you were leering yourself closer—almost sake-like in motion.
Staring deep into Choso’s widening eyes once you’re hovering yourself over his shivering legs. His long abdomen. And pressing a cute peck right on the top of his frothing tip—the splashes of his precum were syrupy-sweet. And they were combining with Choso’s cum from earlier to add a salty tint-
“So messy.” You’re whispering as you run your tongue ‘round and ‘round the top of his shaft. Cleaning him off until he was shining. “Are you gonna make a mess like this inside me too, hm?”
“D-don’t say something like that…s’gonna make me cum again.” Choso pleads.
And he really was serious - his words were on the verge of shattering.
You’re letting out a giggle- right into his aching hot cock. The vibrations sprint through his body and make him buck up into you—body before his mind, he doesn’t even realize until he’s doing so with a startled yelp. “My apologies-”
“Mmm, keep going. Get some practice in before the real deal.” You hum once more.
Choso seems as though he’s about to sob - this was too good for him - as he fucks his cock into your mouth a few more times. You relax your throat to take down most of him, and the parts that you can’t get milked with one hand.
Once. Twice. Thrice and quadruple before his flared tip starts twitchin’ wildly—draaaaagging up the soft insides of your throat, he leaves a salty aftertaste behind that makes you realize…
You’re pulling off of his cock with an emanating pop! “But you’ve got to save that up for inside, got it?”
He’s nodding so hard you idly wonder whether he might get whiplash. “Yes, baby. Anything for you, baby.”
“Mmm…” Climbing up the expanse of his body, you’re kissing Choso squarely with the same lips. “Just how I like it.”
And then your knees straddle Choso’s slender hips, your thighs press against his sweltering skin - you reach behind you to grab ahold of his cock’s base—and the sudden squeeze is enough to make him jolt. Bodily. He’s letting out a visceral shiver, “B-baby…”
You guide his ruddied tip to you—and just the barest, briefest smooch of your sweet pussy makes him jolt. Just feelin’ his hardness press up against your softness.
It makes him drive his hips off the mattress suddenly.
“Ah ah-” You warn. “Take it easy, baby. We have all night, don’t we?”
“But…” Choso’s eyes flicker between your face n’ where the two of you were about to connect. Something in him seems to almost break. So close. So close- “That’s so unfair. Your pussy feels like this and you’re expecting me to take it easy?”
A hand claws down your arched spine.
“Not even the textbooks could replicate how good it feels- m’not even inside you yet and I feel like I’m going insane.”
You swipe a thumb down his throbbing tip—catching a bead of white that was threatening to pour out. “I told you. As long as you keep it inside, Cho.”
And then you’re letting your hips lower - aiming to seat yourself down on that toned pelvis of his. “Ohhhh, fuck.” Your back bends, your head tips backwards as you’re taking in the inches of him. It’s a slow process - given that Choso was much larger than average - and you’re wrenching out primal moans as his thick length invades your core. A sweet prodding vein down the side of him was already massaging your insides—“You’re so big, baby. It’s always the quiet ones, huh?”
If he heard you, then he doesn’t make a show of it.
Choso’s handsome features scrunch up into something of pure ecstasy as he dives his cock deeper into you. Hands flying to your waist. Bottom lip stuck between his teeth. “Inside-” He whispers.
“Hmmm?”
“Inside- inside.” Choso gets out through heated pants. His mouth was moving a mile a minute- fuck, even his mind was. But he couldn’t possibly juggle any single coherent thought when his cock was sucked between your soft, soft pussylips and getting practically drained already. “A-am I really going inside? Or is this just a dream, baby?”
Without waiting around for an answer- he’s pinching his arm.
It leaves an angry red mark that proves to him that no…life really was this sweet.
“I am?” As though still in disbelief.
As though this in and of itself would be enough to make him cum and- oh, shit.
He really was cumming.
It seems to take the both of you by surprise, and Choso’s lunging his hips completely off the mattress - slamming his cockhead into the springy back of your cunt.
Bouncin’ off at the sheer force for a few seconds- it isn’t long before he’s then scouring deep into your walls and letting his bawling divot run free. Cumming in less than a single stroke inside you. “Oh- oh, shit.” Choso’s mouth waters, a single line of spittle running from the corner of his lips. “I’m sorry I…”
But he doesn’t have an answer.
He really, truly doesn’t.
“Pussy got your tongue?” You giggle.
This was his first time - and your pussy just felt that good all wrapped ‘round him and keeping him hostage.
His cum’s flooding you with a warmth, spreadin’ from the in-betweens of your legs and then right upwards. The satiny tresses of it rush uuuuup your walls n’ then right back down—those goopy layers then getting fucked back in by his desperate semi-thrusts.
Squelch after squelch as he accumulates the cum like frosting on top of his swirling tip. Shoving.
Choso scrunches his eyes shut and tears start to well up behind- now he was crying, too? Crying just by putting it in?! Buried like this, he feels like he’d do anything for you right now. He feels like he could lay his life on the line for you right now. He feels like—like—he could really truly ask you to become his real girlfriend now…
“Baby, I think I love you.” Choso blubbers up. “Do you want to marry me?”
“Let’s get dinner first.” You giggle, lovingly patting his cheek.
“Oh…”
If you could feel the way his ruddied tip twitches inside you (and you could) then you’re not teasing him for it…much. Simply a smirk before you’re veering your hips down until he’s bottomed-out.
Clit massaging against the scruff of his happy trail. Pussylips struggling to squeeze around his sheer size. “Fuck.” You’re groaning, starting up a lecherous pace that keeps Choso’s toes curled - his head thrown back into the pillows, his skin blushing. He was flustered.
But more than that- he wanted more.
And sending a silent word of gratitude to the chance of the universe and science itself, Choso slithers that same right hand of his between your sultry legs. Sheened with slick.
You were making such a mess fucking him whilst you’re still keeping his cum inside you—he scrapes his calloused thumb up, up, uuuup the few inches of his cock still left to fit inside. Collecting the slimy layers of slick up until the folds of your pussy. Reaching it up to his mouth-
“Now, now.” You tut. “Are we just going to waste that, hm?”
“Oh…you’re right.” With a quiver of his lips, he then plunges it back inside. Then repeats the motion again and again until you’re feeling stuffed to the brim—with both his cock n’ his sappy fluid. Like you said before, it all deserved to stay inside.
And you better keep it.
The rickety bedsprings creeeeeeak—! as he meets your pace.
Choso continues, “Not just cum.” His curvaceous thumb swipes your inner folds again, “But that bulbourethral fluid deserves to stay inside, too. How else m’I gonna fill you up, baby?”
“Oh, of course.” You coo, something sensual. “But don’t think that that’s going to be your last time cumming tonight, Cho.”
His eyes damn-near bulge out of their skull. “E-excuse me?”
“It’s not even your last time cumming in this hour.” Oblivious - or so you pretend to be - to his growing concern n’ his gaping mouth. You’re bowing your body into his—manoeuvring your hips in somewhat of a circular motion, the slightest figure-eights and curves, that drag his tunneling cock juuuuuust right against every nook and cranny of your walls. Every hidden spot. “You’re gonna cum for me at least twice more, right?”
“I-I—I don’t know if that’s even possible!” Choso sputters, pushing his glasses up with his free hand- it was glossy with the excess of your slick from earlier.
And without warning, you’re leaning down to lightly lick off a bit of that glittering sheen.
Choso moans n’ feels his overly-stimulated length jolting away inside of you. “Baby, just consider the refractory period. Has it even been a few minutes since I last…?”
“Just about.” You’re smile. “Should be enough, no?”
“Though it varies based on age and health- when I can cum next depends on the blood redistribution, and how long prolactin and serotonin lasts in the body.” Choso admits then, albeit a bit sheepishly. “And I’m still fuh-feeling so goooood, baby- fuck I can’t—”
“But my smart boy’s gonna find a way, right?” Even if he couldn’t cum again, however - it was just too cute to watch Choso squirm like this. “When I said I wanted it inside, I wanted it stuffed inside, Cho.”
“S-stuffed…” He breathes - almost hypnotized by your pussy.
You’re grinding and swervin’ and clenching around his vein-loaded length in ways he could’ve only ever dreamed about before…“Mhm. Need it pouring out of me.” You beg, putting your best pleading expression on. “Need it up until…”
Hands scouring up his front to press down on your stomach- almost up to your chest.
“-here.”
You pout.
“If m’not bloated with your cum, Cho, is there even a point?”
“No there isn’t.” Choso’s jaw drops—as though the epiphany had just dropped on him. And no sooner are the words leaving his worry-bitten lips, he finds himself pumping wispy ropes of cum deep past your entrance.
He doesn’t even know how he did it.
His body just seems to listen to you more than himself - and Choso jerks his pelvis up in synchronization with the faintish strings of cum that escape him. Thoroughly into your cunt. Thoroughly coating it on top of your womb.
You’re shivering as you feel the thin excess thwack! against your deepest innards. Such a lecherous feeling that cannot be replicated.
Every time he strikes your spongy cervix, Choso lets out a sudden whimper. He sobs. He groooans. He’s fighting to clamor onto your body in any possible way that he could - your waist, your legs, your tits. It doesn’t matter where, Choso just needed to grab ahold of you and perhaps try to get you to fucking slow down—
“Please.” Every single letter in that word is botched with a cry, “P-please. Baby, keep riding me like this and you’re going to make me cum again-”
“Isn’t that the point? Third time’s the charm?” You ask.
“Oh…” It’s then that he remembers that you’d said twice more- he has to cum twice more. Hiccuping, “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Cocking your head with a smile, “And would you like to stop?”
“Not at all.”
Then you’re planting one hand in the middle of his defined chest for balance. Throwing your head back and ridin’ him silly.
Choso cries beneath you. Choso babbles. Torn between the pleasure of having those sweet, sopping lips wrapped ‘round him- and the insanity of his orgasm just barely bating before you’re attempting to hurtle him into another one. This was almost too much for his just recently-lost virginity, but Choso begs for more, more, more. “Please- please- that anterior wall of yours is so clo-”
With your other set of fingers then shoved into Choso’s pretty mouth- spit splashes from the sides of his lips. But he’s taking you so happily—“No no, keep going.” You tell him once his brows raise in surprise, “I just wanna watch my poor boyfriend struggle just a bit.”
“Mmmmpf- soooo good.” He lets out an agonized moan, muffled through the intrusion of your digits. You’re swirling them ‘round his mouth and watching him lightly choke on them. “I need to c-cum just once more, huh?”
Choso’s tears were enough to wash off the fog from his glasses lens.
And he blinks those teary eyes up at you - a few times before one of his hands slithers between your legs. Almost difficult, considering how the space between your two sweaty, crashing bodies was practically non-existant—but his long fingers find a way to thumb apart your puffy pussylips. Nearly swollen shut.
He runs the doughy tips of his digits across your clit, “Around it…just light kisses.” Choso murmurs to himself. “Juuust a little- ngh.”
A single squeeze of your fluttering walls leaves him reeling.
“And then the good spots-” Peering down at your glossy cunt through his glasses, his half-lidded eyes. “The primary erogenous zones are the clitoris and introitus. Then the periurethral surrounding the urethra is also…oh…” Alternating between bashin’ his swollen cocktip against your g-spot, and thoroughly massaging every good spot he’d memorized.
“Shit…” You suddenly clench around him. “Keep going.”
He was seeing stars at the mere action. “And then the- hngh, even the perineum…” Fingers dipping just a liiiittle downwards to roll over that spot. He was unabashed - not in the state to be as he usually would. “And then fucking- at least as much as I can…here…” Slack-jawed, gaze unfocused. “My favorite is the clitoris.” The nerd presses the crescent pad of his thumb down on that knob.
Your hips are stutterin’ at the sheer amount of pleasure overwhelming you. Choso has taken up stimulating your clit in constant circular motions now. “I th-thought you said your favorite was the g-spot?”
“Both.”
As if on cue, he’s banging his thick tip against that ooooone spot.
Choso was stimulating you almost too well. Leaving you the one speechless as he drills his hips into you at a relentless pace—almost painfully desperate.
“Good boy.” You whisper.
“Just need to make you- mmm, cum soon.” He states. “Because if you cum…then I’m sure to cum, too.”
Shoving a third finger in his mouth, he moans as he sucks. You hum, “And you’re sure you’re a virgin?”
“S’just everything you t-taught me.” He insists, mouth full yet listening to every word you said - if you expected an answer, then he was giving you an answer. “And sometimes…I’d search up…things online…”
“Online? Poor, innocent Choso Kamo watches porn?”
“Not that, I get too shy.” Choso responds. He blushes all the way down to the roots of his hair, “But using my textbooks, I’d- hah, read through them…study them…look at all the diagrams…”
You smirk. “Ever jerked off to a textbook, Choso?”
His jaw drops. “No…” Although you remain rather suspicious of the ever-deepening blush that seems to invade his cheeks—all the way down to his collarbones. “But I did jerk off just today.”
“Today?” One of your brows raise, “Don’t tell me this was- hah, before we met or…?”
He shakes his head. “After. After.” Big, bulbous tears make their way down his cheeks - and Choso tastes the salt on them as they splosh across his lips. You do too, as you kiss him. “S-snuck right into the bathroom at that ice cream parlor and- oh—”
“And what for? Saw a pretty someone at the neighboring table?”
Shaking his head even harder- “It was…you.”
“Me?”
“You said that thing- fuck, you said you needed me.” Choso’s dark chocolate-brown eyes glaze over as if he’s reminiscing the very moment. Living in it. “Under that table. And I couldn’t run to the bathroom faster to r-relieve myself.” Ah, this was that time then…
Your faux-boyfriend’s brows are then knitting.
His cock tunnels into you at an even more accelerated pace - one that leaves your head dizzy. Flinching at every run of his thumb down your pulsing clit.
Choso finishes, “But I only lasted two pumps- the thought of you, ngh—” Thrusting in so deep that it felt as though, if he could go past your gooey cervix, then he long since would have. Choso thumps against the back of your cervix and remains there, “-wrapped around my cock and usin’ me to make your anterior- pussy feel pleasure was just too good of a fantasy for me.”
It’s a lewd admission.
It’s almost startling to hear this from Choso above all.
And it’s exactly what’s making you cum—just in time that he is. Your orgasm is prolonged and has been building up ever since he tickled your g-spot for the first time- “C-cumming—!” Belatedly, the announcement leaves your lips.
But Choso already knows.
He can already feel the rhythmic clenches of your sopping wet walls - the soft thing he’s ever felt. They’re tightening around him and tuggin’ on his pistoning cock like you didn’t fucking want him to leave.
Toes curling. Back arching.
The bang after bang after bang right on that target of your g-spot meant that your orgasm was being intensified. Every peak left your thighs clenching around his waist, and you bounce your hips up n’ down furiously. Up n’ down. Up n’ down. “Yes- yes, yes, yes—and you’re c-cumming too, Cho.”
“I am?” Choso blinks his teary eyes down at your lower halves. The smacking of skin-against-skin was deafening, and Choso’s pelvis was rawly red due to the sheer friction.
But more than that…he was feeling his even redder tip twitch a few times. Once. Twice. Thrice- before the warmth of bliss takes over his body. It’s a wave of euphoria even stronger than the last few, and it makes the nerdy boy flinch his hips up into yours- agonizingly good. He was hammering into you so animalistically- jabbing short, sloppy semi-thrusts. “I am.” Choso gasps out. “I’m cumming-”
He’d predicted as much earlier, but it actually worked?!
“M’filling you up, aren’t I?” Choso blabbers, a crazed smile on his face. “This virgin…I was able to stuff this pussy full.”
Lovingly patting your cunt.
“So much so that- hah, look she’s even struggling to- ngh, take me. That cervix uteri is all flooded, huh? All drenched in me?” Through the waves of your high, you’re feeling your orgasm fizzle and pop as he rolls his thumb doooown your clit a few more times. “And these pretty labia of yours are all swollen- bloated with my cum, hm?”
“Mhm…” Before you blink a few times. “Oh- this one was shorter than the last though, wasn’t it? Maybe we need to go again- heh.”
“S’it already done? I…but I’m still…” Choso jabs out numerous more thrusts before he’s pulling out.
And whilst you’re interested in the squelch! and the feeling of hot, wet cum splashin’ out of you and onto his toned hips—Choso himself is more interested in the way his cock twitched n’ feels like he’s cumming…but nothing is actually coming out.
“Orgasmic anejaculation?” He states in shock. “Baby, you’ve made me cum dry—”
“Oh.” Lips parting, you look down to watch as his pretty reddened tip jolts about irritatedly as though he was in the throes of his orgasm - and he was. It’s just that nothing was coming out.
“I-it’s likely that this is due to the lack of semen replenishment. Thus, if there’s none left to-”
“So fourth time’s the charm, right?” You cock your head down at him with a smile.
Another time?!
His half-hard length twitches in interest.
“You really are going to be the death of me.”
Choso really, really needed to ask you out after this.
.
.
.
Ryomen Sukuna knew that the two of you weren’t dating.
He knew it.
He just had no way to prove it.
That is…until one day, just a week after that initial introduction to you, Jin had bothered Sukuna into visiting his nephew. He’d made some cookies—some of your favorites that you’d briefly mentioned at the ramen place, and Jin had immediately gotten to work scouring through his recipes. Flipping through some of grandma’s old cookbooks - he really did get his love for cooking and baking from her.
And then trialing batch after batch of cookies in order to make the perfect one.
And Sukuna hadn’t minded, of course - no one in the house had. They each got to scarf down the ones that Jin deemed as ‘failed’ and they turned out as great as ever. Sukuna honestly didn’t know what more perfection Jin was searching for—especially not for someone he knew Choso was surely paying you in some manner…
There was no conceivable world in which his nephew - as much as Sukuna respected him, for the sole reason that he was related to him (and anyone in some proximity to the great Ryomen Sukuna can’t be all that bad…) - would ever have enough courage to ask a real person out. Let alone someone as electric as you?
Let alone have you say yes?!
Something was up. And Sukuna was on the case.
At least after he finishes this mountain of cookies…
Either way, it took an entire week for Jin to perfect his cookies. And once completed, he’d thumped Sukuna over the head with a couch cushion and told him to go deliver them to Choso.
Unfortunately they hadn’t managed to catch your address or anything of the sort - and there was no telling when Choso would have enough time between his studies and library-haunting to visit. Thus, it’d be easier to just have Sukuna (who was far too busy doing a whole load of nothing) drop the cookies off at Choso’s apartment and let him give it to you.
Jin could trust Choso with handing them to you safe n’ sound.
He couldn’t trust Sukuna not to swallow them whole on the way, however…
So it was with a tonne of brotherly intimidation and threatening brandishes of that cushion that Jin waved Sukuna off—‘you better not eat those cookies, Ryo.’
But Sukuna promised. He promised.
He had other, more important, things on his mind - like cornering Choso into admitting that the two of you actually weren’t dating. Maybe if he didn’t relent so easily, he’d even look around the apartment to check for signs of you or anything you’d left behind—after five months of dating, surely, there’d be some evidence, wouldn’t there?
And then maybe he’d eat the cookies- hah!
The perfect plan.
Ryomen Sukuna what a genius you were, what a mastermind—who said that Jin was the smarter brother?! It was Sukuna that liked literature and poetry (wait, was nerdiness genetic?) No one should underestimate the sheer underappreciated brilliance of a prodigy like-
“Choso’s uncle?” He gapes as you answer the door- and you’re just as beautiful as he remembered you. And oh, alright—Sukuna admits you’re beautiful. Gorgeous, actually.
Which is also why he found it hard to believe that Choso could ever manage to bag you- sure, he wasn’t bad looking…but that’s only because Choso was related to him.
Then again, he wasn’t any Ryomen Sukuna.
A Ryomen Sukuna that was feeling rather…a lot…small as he looks at you.
Your eyes widen as you recognize who your visitor was, though your smile never falters.
“Oh, Cho should be right out. Please come in, have you eaten breakfast yet? You should join us!”
Opening the door even wider, though he stands as still as a statue.
“Is…everything alright.”
No movement once more. No answer, either.
“Ummm, maybe it’s more comfortable there then?” You’re awkwardly smiling at his lack of a response - this certainly wasn’t the Ryomen Sukuna that you’d met at the family dinner…And perhaps at the same time, you’re realizing why.
Because you weren’t just answering Choso’s apartment door—you were doing so in nothing but sleep shorts and a humerus-related t-shirt that was most definitely not yours. And above the hem of that ratty t-shirt were a series of bite marks, nail marks down your neck…such an obscene display that makes you immediately yelp and tug your neckline upwards.
Though Sukuna remains gawking. “I uh…”
“I am so sorry.” You’re blubbering away, and when your neckline fails to cover you adequately without showing off the similar marks on your midriff- you’re reaching your hands up instead. “We’d just been making breakfast, and I’d completely forgot-”
“No, that’s fine uh…” Goodness, when has the rough n’ tough Sukuna ever floundered like this? “It’s my fault for coming unannounced um…”
“What’s this?” Another voice sounds from inside the apartment.
Soon enough, Choso’s joining the two of you at the door—he’s in JBA sweatpants and pulling on a t-shirt as he walks. With whatever mercy that the universe had granted Sukuna, Choso sneaks up behind you, so he doesn’t see whatever similar markings might have been left on him as Choso finally wears his t-shirt properly.
There’s amusement in Choso’s tone as he adjusts his glasses and speaks, “I never thought I’d see the day that you apologize to anyone, uncle Ryo.”
Choso throws an arm over your shoulder - the intimacy was palpable. Something far more different than at the ice cream parlor, and yet…Sukuna should’ve recognized the same admiring glint in Choso’s eyes back then, too.
The apartment behind was messy in that domestic way. There were eggs frying on the stove.
“Sh-shut it.” Sukuna spits. “This is all your…girlfriend’s fault.”
Ah, you really were his girlfriend. The great Ryomen Sukuna has been wrong. How could this be? How could he fathom such a thing?
Warning: no mentions of readers gender, batman slander? somewhat suggestive, everyone is of age.
You unknowingly praise their second identity in front of them.
Dick G.
You were sitting on your phone with your best friend, chatting about the latest catastrophes in Gotham when she brought up Nightwing.
"Oh girl, did you hear about the spotting of Nightwing last night? He was helping Batman and, oh my God, he looked sooo good," she giggled.
"Oh my—no I didn't. Send it to me, like, NOW."
You might have a slight crush on Nightwing from the one night he saved you from a drugged-up burglar. He carried your work bags and walked you home. Ever since then, you've fallen for him.
A smile took over your face as your phone dinged back to back with blurry pictures of Nightwing.
"OH MY GOSH! He looks so good, especially the last one. Very cinematic." You chuckled, referring to the photo of him standing on the ledge of a building, slightly looking back as the city lights illuminated his silhouette. He could star in a movie.
"God, I wish he'd come to Gotham all the time!"
"Whatcha lookin' at?" You jumped at the sound of your boyfriend's voice.
"Oh—uh, nothing. Just looking at some photos." You felt bad for lying.
"Hm. What photos?" He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms, causing his shirt to rise and show off his V-line.
You swallowed thickly, eyeing him up and down. He was wearing gray sweats that hung too low and a black muscle tank he had cropped himself. Talk about an '80s heartthrob.
"It's just photos my friend sent." You could hear her giggling through the phone, saying something along the lines of, "You're in trouble."
"Shut up, I'll call you later." You quickly pressed the red button and locked your phone.
Dick approached the bed, plopping down beside you and resting on his forearm.
"Come on, show me… or you're gonna make me think you're doing something naaaughty." He sang the last word, tilting his head as he looked at you with those big doe eyes you adored so much.
You felt horrible finding another man attractive when you had such a caring, loving boyfriend right here. You pouted, looking down at your phone and then back at him. With a sigh, you turned your phone back on and showed him.
"We were talking about Nightwing and how… cute he is."
Dick examined the picture for a second before smirking. "Can't blame you. Dude's got killer quads."
Your eyes widened for a second. "Wait… you're not upset?" You eyed him suspiciously.
He scoffed out a laugh. "No. Why would I be? He's nice-looking. Plus, I got something he doesn't."
You furrowed your eyebrows. "What?"
"You." He swiftly sat up, yanking your thighs toward him and wrapping your legs around his torso. He leaned down, trapping you beneath him as he placed a hand beside your head. Your stomach immediately erupted with butterflies.
"No matter how many superheroes you have a crush on, I'll always have your heart."
He smiled, holding your chin in between his thumb and index finger.
"And you're just okay with this?"
He shrugged. "What can I do? You have eyes. Plus, I know you're loyal. It's like you liking one of those anime guys—it's just never going to happen."
You gasped, lightly hitting his chest. “Rude!”
He laughed, but something in his eyes told you he was holding back. You didn't know what it was, but you weren't going to worry about it.
Jason T.
You were watching the late-night news when a story about Red Hood popped up. He had saved the mayor from an assassination attempt. The news reporter stood outside the building where the crime had taken place, explaining how it all went down.
A moment later, they showed shaky phone footage of him carrying the mayor over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes while shooting at what you assumed were the bad guys.
You bit your bottom lip, holding back a smile.
“Mmm, what a man,” you whispered to yourself.
“What was that?”Your boyfriend peeked up from his book.
“Oh, uh… nothing. Just watching the news.” You cleared your throat and pointed to the TV.
“Hm.”
You avoided his gaze and continued watching.
“You… don’t like him, do you?” he asked, marking his page before closing the book. Heat rose up your neck and spread across your cheeks.
“No… maybe?” You winced, not wanting to look at him. “Okaaay! I do. He’s hot, and strong, and he’s for the people!”
Jason scoffed.
“I mean, this guy is like a tank.” He can take a hit and keep moving. I once saw a video of him take out ten drug dealers at once and just walk it off.”
Jason shook his head in disapproval.
“He’s a murderer. Trust me, there’s nothing to admire about him.”His body became tense, almost as if the more he thought about Red Hood, the angrier he got.
A deep silence fell over the room for a few seconds. You slouched into yourself with a frown.
“I-I wouldn’t say that, Jason…”
You continued, “Red Hood is a lifesaver. He fights for the little guys who can’t protect themselves. He might take lives, but what would you rather have—an innocent person dead or a psychotic human trafficker running around the streets?”
“And dare I say…” You covered your face with both hands like you’d just confessed to a crime. “…he’s better than Batman.”
Complete shock took over his face watching you hide behind your hands. Jason’s cheeks turned a dusty rose color.
“Wh-what?! You think Red Hood’s better than Batman?”
“Well, yes. He gets rid of the bad guys. Batman just puts them in jail—or barely that—and then they break out and repeat the cycle. Now, in no way, shape, or form am I saying murder is right. Absolutely not. BUT if it’s between a mom and her kids or a killer clown… kill the clown.”
Jason was stunned. He’d never heard you speak about a topic this adamantly before—not unless it was about one of those romance books you read or the political state of the world. But never about vigilantes or what people like to call anti-hero’s.
Honestly, he was kind of proud.
“I… for the first time in years, I’m speechless.” He admitted.
You shrugged and switched the TV over to Netflix.
“Well, that’s just my take on it. Don’t get too mad over it. I just prefer Red Hood over Batman.”
While you flipped through the menu looking for a movie, Jason hid a proud smile behind his hand. You had unknowingly made him fall for you even harder.
Tim D.
You and your boyfriend Tim were having your monthly shopping trip. He held your hand while carrying your bag in his other hand, while simultaneously being on his phone. You weren’t upset because you knew he was taking care of business.
You smiled happily swinging his hand back and forth looking into the shops as you passed by. One shop in particular caught your attention. You let out a gasp, dragging him behind you.
“Look Tim! It’s Red Robin plushies, oh my goodness.” You smiled gushing over the plushies on display in the window.
“Come, I want one!” You dragged your boyfriend into the shop. You were in awe they had all the justice league in plushie form, including Nightwing, Red Robin and Robin. Of course your favorite was Red Robin.
“Uh babe?”
“Hmm?” You asked looking at the wall of trinkets.
You browsed through the stickers, keychains, bracelets— they had so much stuff. You could spend a fortune in here.
“Just out of curiosity when did you start liking Red Robin?” He asked watching you be so giddy over the overpriced items.
“What do you mean silly I’ve always liked him— I oooh this one would go so well in my car! Imma hang it from the mirror.” You smile waving a tiny Red Robin symbol in his face.
“What do you mean, what do I mean? You’ve never mentioned this guy.”
You frowned. You looked up at nothing trying to remember if you mentioned him or not. You shrug, maybe you didn’t…oops.
“I swear i did, if I didn’t yes I like Red Robin. He’s such the hot nerdy type…kinda like you!”You smirked teasing him. Tim’s face grew a bright red.
“You think I’m hot? Wait— nerdy?!”
You shrugged, “well yes, you’re incredibly smart, very handsome, an extremely hard worker, you manage to remember things I’ve said only once…which is a bit scary but I kinda like it.”
“All the qualities I love in a guy, plus you have a killer physique. Definitely a sleeper build.” You smirked pecking his lips. He stood there stunned, like the first time you ever kissed him.
“Sleeper build?” He repeated your words as if it was a foreign language. If he wasn’t blushing he was blushing now.
You spent the last ten minutes collecting figurines, plushies and stickers of Red Robin and Tim happily paid for it all. The most eager he’s ever been to spend money.
“You actually like Red Robin? Not many people remember he’s even a Robin…” he trialed off with a long look in his eye.
“Of course I do, he’s very brave and smart. People pay more attention to Nightwing but I think he’s just as cool.”
Tim fell silent watching the road as he drove. It wasn’t an awkward silence just a comfortable one almost like he was thinking.
“You said I…had a killer physique?” He glanced at you then back at the road.
You kind of cringed at the word choice hearing it from him.
“maybe, why bring it up now?” You gave him a teasing look.
“Nothing…just wanna show you what it can do. If you allow me” he glanced over to you with a mischievous glint in his eye. You felt the car pick up speed, you let out a flustered giggle.
“You’re a mess Tim.”
Damian W.
You were lying on your boyfriend’s bed while he was immersed in his sketchbook. You were scrolling through Twitter when you pass a tweet posted by Gotham’s_Gossip, it was about Robin.
Robin saves civilians from The Riddler only for said civilians to still feel unsafe. A trash title paired with a blurry picture of Robin swinging from rooftops.
Out of curiosity you clicked the post to read to comments and to your surprise they were really mean.
‘Not surprised he’s rude.’
‘Believable. He saved me from a thief than told me I’m an idiot for being out late’
‘Boooo. Never liked him anyways. That can’t be the same robin batman had before, he was such a joy’
‘Lol why is this kinda funny’
You frowned scrolling further down and they all were hate comments.
“What incompetent people, they wouldn’t know a good hero if they smacked them in the face.” you mumbled spam reporting the post.
“What’s the matter?” Damians smooth voice drifted through the room.
You shut your phone off smacking it on the bed, “nothing its just…Gotham is so hard on Robin. He’s doing his best, all heroes don’t have to be all smiles and rainbows. The guy saved your life and you’re complaining? If I were him I’d let them get roughed up a bit before helping.”
Amused Damian’s lips held a slight smile.
“Beloved, why are you so adamant about defending Robin?”
You shrugged sitting up “I dunno, I always liked him I guess.” You whispered the last part hoping Damian didn’t hear but of course he heard.
Now intrigued he closed his sketchbook and sat up from his desk.
“You…like Robin?” He asked voice full of skepticism.
You contemplated on answering that question. Damian has always had a jealousy streak no matter how many times he denied it, you could always tell.
“Well yes” you answered carefully. “He’s very calculated, strong and incredibly smart when it comes to taking down bad guys bigger than him.”
Damians cocked an eyebrow.
“He doesn’t have to be like Superman. Smiling and taking photos, he’s already putting his life on the line to save the city the least they can do is say thank you geez. You don’t see Mary Sue going out at night with her child’s baseball bat beating up criminals do you?”
For some odd reason that got a small chuckle out of Damian. Maybe the thought of a middle aged mom with a bat sitting on rooftops waiting for criminals amused him.
You chuckled too imagining it.
“It is nothing to worry about, my heart. I’m sure those comments do not bother him. He seems very disciplined and couldn’t care less about what those people think.”
You snorted. “Well they should appreciate him more.”
Damian’s expression softened ever so slightly, “You speak as though you know him personally.”
“I don’t.” You quickly defended. “I just think people are unfair. Everyone praises Batman, but Robin is out there doing the same thing. He’s younger too. That has to be difficult, especially juggling his personal life along with being a vigilante.”
For a moment Damian simply stared at you. Difficult? Most people assumed Robin enjoyed the danger, the violence, the endless patrols. Very few stopped to consider the weight that came with the mantle.
“You think highly of him.”
You nodded “Someone has to, plus I think he’s kinda cute ” The answer came so quickly Damian almost choked on air.
You frowned looking at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re trying not to laugh ” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“I am just merely surprised that is all.” Damian leaned back against his chair. “Tell me. What else do you admire about this Robin?”
You groaned immediately. “See? This is why I didn’t want to answer.”
“Answer.” He pressed.
“You’re being weird about it.” You picked up a pillow throwing it at him, but he caught it effortlessly.
“And you are avoiding the question.” You narrowed your eyes before finally relenting.
“Fine. I think he’s brave.” Damian’s teasing expression faltered. “Brave?”
“Yeah. People hate him, criminals want him dead, reporters make fun of him, and he still goes out every night. I’d quit I don’t have time for all of that.”
A strange warmth settled in Damian’s chest. “You would quit?”
“Oh absolutely. Gotham would be on its own, good luck with fighting off alien and psychotic clowns.” That earned a genuine laugh from him.
You blinked shocked, Damian isn’t the type of person who laughs a lot. Especially not at your corny jokes “Wow. You’re really enjoying this conversation huh?”
He shrugged not hiding it, “Perhaps.”
You narrowed your eyes at him suspicious as to why this conversation amused him so much. “Should I be concerned?”
“No.” He simply answered but the smile never left his face.
You pointed accusingly at him. “You know, for someone who claims not to care about Robin, you’re awfully invested in hearing me compliment him.”
Damian nearly gave himself away. “Perhaps I simply have excellent taste in conversation.” With that he turned around opening his sketchbook once again.
You shrugged him off laying back down busying yourself on your phone.
