いってらっしゃい

death 注記 𑣲 " curse me a little "

[itterassh4i]

ITTERASSHAI, EREN . . .

anime nerd ⊹ ࣪ ˖ mdni ⊹ ࣪ ˖ call me GIA <3 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ taurus sun ⊹ ࣪ ˖ #SATOSUGU & #EREMIKA ⊹ ࣪ ˖ i love kaneki ⊹ ࣪ ˖ "there's no curse more twisted than love /// The least you could do is hit me with some curses" currently re-reading releasing 10 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ megan skiendiel variant.

(in an hiatus)

ᢉ𐭩 masterlist. ᢉ𐭩 rules. ᢉ𐭩

other social — ᢉ𐭩 pin::deerlyoung ᢉ𐭩 x:: an9els

[bambiwhxre]

“Bedazzled girl” part 2. simon riley x bimbo reader tw: gross ("slightly" pedo simon), weird flirting, age gap, bimbo reader is sassy. simon just wants pussy

summary: you met him on a gas station, and suddenly your juicy couture skirt was not the only juicy thing you had.

Simon knew a few things well: good cigarettes, cars, anything military related, and sex. Despite his age, he knew exactly how things worked and what needed to be done - he knew how to handle women. Unlike most men, he knew precisely where the pearl was inside the shell. After countless unserious hookups he thought he had seen it all. However, with you it was completely different, he could tell.

You were a candy, figuratively speaking. A silly, sugary girl who couldn't even fill up a car on her own. And yet, there was something about you that kept drawing Simon in. That's why his gaze kept finding your body as you rode in the car toward the nearest motel.

"You're not worried I might have some kind of venereal disease?" he asked, glancing briefly at you. Your puzzled look made him smirk, but it wasn't until he decided to clarify that he really started laughing. "You know—an STD."

"Well, I never promised you to fuck," you said. That made him pause. And she was right - there had been no promise of sex, just a promise to show him her pussy. That was the deal. Clever girl, after all.

"Fair enough." he shrugged, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He could hardly wait till you got to the motel.

“Got a condom?” you asked twirling a strand of your hair around your slender finger. Your raised eyebrow elicited another chuckle from him, what an audacious, absolutely shameless girl. He started liking you even more. Despite that, he shook his head. Condoms were forbidden in his moral code.

“Nah. Hate ‘em.” he brushed begrudgingly, biting on the toothpick between his teeth. It was evident that you weren’t impressed by the way you rolled your eyes and huffed. Seems like that wee little cunt of yours wanted his friend in her after all, what a pity.

“Pathetic.” you mumbled, turning your head to stare at the window.

The women at the reception looked almost bewildered and calm at the same time when she saw the two of you standing in front of her. After all, you have all kinds of guests in your practice.

The room looked quite nice despite it not being a five-star hotel. After all, Simon was not short on money and still wanted some comfort. Good, you thought.

You threw your juicy bag on the chair, plopping down on the edge of the bed, legs crossed. As you leaned back on your hands, your leg swayed slightly, gaze studying him again.

“No condom, no entrance for your friend, backdoor included.” your voice was confident, like you’ve done that more times that he could imagine. However, you were no ordinary whore, he could tell. Just having some fun, like him.

“So only fingers and mouth.” you added, darting your tongue to graze over your glossed lips. Fair enough, he could work with that. He nodded once and stepped forward.

“That’ll do.” he replied pointing to his belt “get to work then, sugar.”

You managed to unbuckle his belt with ease, not wasting any more time. When your hands swiftly pulled his jeans and boxers down, he saw you licking your lips like you were about to eat a lollipop. Well, you could call it that. Your manicured hand looked absolutely gorgeous wrapped around his cock. He could barely suppress a delighted moan once you began moving your hand, it was too slow for him.

“Fast and deep, love.” he said stepping closer again, putting his palm on the back of his neck. He was worried you’d ditch the idea of a good bj but to his delight your lips were on him next second. This time he let himself be vocal.

Your throat was warm and stretched out just perfectly for him to fit. Your head bobbed up and down as you took more and more each time. You didn’t have a gag reflex and your eagerness made Simon think for a second that this definitely wasn’t your first time sucking a dick. Good for him.

He pushed you deeper, moving his hand to your head, to keep you there. You hummed around him, sending vibrations down, and more pleasure for Simon. His hips moved forward a few times as he looked down at you. He never promised to go easy on you, did he? He pushed your head back, pulling you away with a loud pop. What a pretty sight, all drool and gloss.

“That’s good, got a good mouth on you, sugar.” he said pushing your head back down. He hissed, feeling your hands on his testicles, what a wonderful, considerate girl. “Perfect, darlin’.”

You looked up at him, makeup ruined and mouth covered in drool. It looked like you were doing your best for him. You definitely deserved a gift for your hard work. A few of your erotic sounds left you as you moved faster. Once again his heavy, warm hands kept you down for a few moments before pulling you back by your hair. His touch wasn’t painful or rough at all, but definitely dominating.

“Just a bit more.” he said almost cooing. Then, your mouth was around him once again. However, this time, he kept you in place and moved his hips himself. Under the strong waves of pleasure, he didn’t care about being gentle anymore, pounding in your mouth sloppily. His head fell back, fingers tightening their grip in your hair.

“Yeah…” he whispered, hissing again. It was long before he pulled out, angling himself at your face. His thick cum drizzled all over your face, falling into your mouth as well as you kept it opened. Eager, greedy.

“T’was good.” he said nodding approvingly “Gonna let me feast now?”

You were waiting for that moment not wanting to feel the needy pulsating in your cunt anymore. It was impossible to take.

Your back hit the mattress as you plopped down, You didn’t have to do much, only bend your legs and spread them, the short skirt doing a perfect job and disappearing up to your waist. He rubbed his hands together as one would do before a good feast.

Simon crouched at the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands up and down at your inner thighs. There was a lot to feast on, he could tell. Earlier as well.

“That’s a pretty thin’ y’ve got there.” his voice was low as he practically inspected you. You didn’t feel uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze, you were perfectly shaven, smelling nice and natural, since you cared a lot about your hygiene and inner beauty.

“Gonna stare at me or maybe do something?” you said with a tired-horny sigh. You couldn’t wait any longer. Your eagerness and impatience made him chuckle. His fingers moved to your panties. He wasn’t surprised to see a pair of pretty, leopard vs’. That’s what you were after all, a bombshell of the day. Week, month, even.

He carefully pushed those aside, huffing at the grand reveal. Yes, very much puffy. Puffy and impatiently sticky.

“Well, well. You kept your promise, darlin’. What a wee little thing.” he said grazing his fingers over your slit.

What a lucky day.

— a. n. here’s part 2, y’all! kind of went wild with that one, enjoy! gonna edit the font later, i’m too lazy yet lmao.

[illness-deactivated20180325]

sorry i’m depressing, it’s the depression

[madamechrissy]

love it when you hate me

You run into your mom's ex right before your older sister's wedding, the golden child of the family. You never could stand him when he was around the brief few years he dated her, and nothing's changed now. The fact is you never fit into your mom's bougie, country club life, you're a hot mess and the black sheep of the family, so.... what better way to solidify that position than to get shitfaced drunk and let her ex fuck you in a bar bathroom? There won't be any problems from that when you all head to that wedding... right?

pairings- mom's ex-boyfriend! sukuna x fem! reader

warnings - MDNI - Kuna is 35, reader is 25, messy dynamics, not stepcest but they joke about it, drinking, degradation, sadistic Sukuna, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving) creampie, finger sucking, they hate e/o, reader has SO MANY mommy issues, she's a hot mess and needs therapy tbh but dick works for now - Sukuna enjoys reader's damage </3

this is fully finished, I'm sharing here weekly (six parts) Every Monday night. be warned this is freaky lmao

art in the divider is by my sweet, talented mootie @winterrbluess so go follow her rn!

chap one

Your older sister was getting married, your mom’s pride and joy – fuck, everyone in your family saw her as that. A lawyer, successful, kind, fuck she does charity in her free time. Everyone who meets her absolutely loves her, and how can you blame them when you love her just as much? Even if you resent being the clear ‘least favorite’ from your mom, you can’t ever blame her.

You however?

A hot mess to put it nicely – you have two degrees which is pretty cool but you aren’t using either, instead trying to make a career out of your music which is basically a fucking pipe dream. ‘All that wasted potential!’ your family says constantly, at any get together you have, for the fact you chose to live alone and drop out of college to pursue your dreams.

You get it, you’re broke and struggling in a family of rich people, ones who have country club memberships and never worried for a fucking thing. You’re not up to their standard, throwing back a tequila shot the night before your sister’s rehearsal dinner. Fuck you’ve barely had the money to stay in one of their dumb suites they reserved for everyone, so this shot thankfully was on the house.

You smile and thank the man next to you, who asks you to throw in on a game of pool. Forever ‘single’ that’s another reason for the family to worry, you’re twenty four now, shouldn’t you be at least engaged? Your sister is only one year older and getting married this weekend, already four years into a relationship.

Problem is, you don’t really like people, and you sure the fuck don’t like many men.

You fuck, you’re not without your needs or anything, you have a couple friends that take care of you, and you return that. But it’s casual, it’s easy. There’s not a connection with either of them and no feelings, you get dick and you sort of just move on from it with a friendly hug goodbye, moving on to whatever city you’re performing in that week.

You’ve made a little bit of a name for yourself, you even have a following, but shit like that wouldn’t make ‘mommy dearest’ proud, and you’re not sure you really care if you do or not. You never fit in growing up as it was, the outlier, the outsider really, never even getting along with her string of ‘step dads’ or whatever you’d call the men she brought around - except one, of course.

Her last one was the worst.

Sukuna.

Just the thoughts of that arrogant man make your blood pressure rise, remembering just how much you hated him when you’d had to stay at your mom’s for a few months. Arrogant, cocky and overall so rude, you weren’t sure how she even got with him with his gruff nature aside from that man’s body.

Swimming in the same pool at eighteen near him had been absolutely brutal to your psyche at the time, no one needed that many slutty tattoos all over their fucking body, surely! You sigh now, thinking of that while some man walks up near you, and a familiar scent hits your nostrils.

Musky, heady, something you can’t quite place, a rolex glinting off a tattooed hand, business jacket adorning some man’s body. It takes you a moment to register it, dumb from his cologne, whatever it was fucked up your senses, the poor guy who bought you the drink is babbling on while your cunt is dripping from a scent.

The fuck sort of pheremones are in this shit!?

You clear your throat, he’s too close to you, this tall man, with tattoos that you just can’t rip your eyes away from, adorning huge hands with raised blue and purple veins underneath taut skin. The music and lights of the bar all fade, like some dumb movie you’d watch, your thighs pressing together, trying to rip your gaze from him and focus.

“I’ll have a whiskey on the rocks,” you hear it then, there’s no mistaking that voice, the one that used to make you so fucking angry, the man who’d had your mother dumb in love. You glare up then, for him to look down at you, taking his glass and smirking, ruby eyes lidded as he studies you. “Ah, it’s the brat.”

“The brat? Excuse me?” You roll your eyes at him, while Sukuna studies just how fucking sexy you look right now.

You’re a little older now, you lost some of that baby face, becoming even more pretty, a sharper jut to your chin, narrowed eyes with your lips all glossy and pursed together in irritation. Your hair falls against bare shoulders, you’ve got a different style than you did then to it, silky against your bare skin in that slutty little excuse for an outfit you’re wearing.

He drifts his gaze down to breasts begging for his hands, nipples pressing against pathetic fucking material, some velvet and lace bodice that should be in a bedroom only. He resists the urge to throw his coat over you, before eyeing the boy behind you trying to make conversation.

He gives him such a look that the boy literally fucking runs away, much to Sukuna’s amusement, smirking when you look over your shoulder. “Huh, looks like he got annoyed by you finally.”

“You’re still such a dick, nothing’s changed, huh?” You scoff, rolling your eyes then, he sits down casually, eyeing your empty glass.

“Want a drink?” You pause then, his thigh is brushing against yours, he’s close - too close again. “You’re old enough now, yeah?”

“Twenty-five. And you? Fifty yet?”

“You’re still bitchy as ever,” he rolls his eyes at you, leaning back on the seat a bit, sipping his glass, you watch his adam’s apple bob, the dark lights glinting off his frosty pink locks. “Thirty five.”

“I forgot mom was a cougar,” he chuckles a bit, the sound throaty and doing too much. “You still talk to her?”

“Yeah, I do. She invited me to your sister’s wedding. Me and her were pretty cool with each other – you were the little brat.”

“Yeah well sorry I didn’t want you trying to tell me what to do,” he leans forward, a fist under his chin, elbow on the bar.

“Your mom still a bitch to you?”

You pause, blinking a bit. “She’s always disappointed, if that’s what you mean, she’ll always be her favorite.”

Sukuna pauses a bit, the reason he and your mother didn’t work out had a lot to do with how stuck up and pretentious she was, of course she was beautiful and fun for the time, but she also just didn’t give a fuck. Especially about you from what he can briefly remember sticking around when you were eighteen and trying to figure out college.

“You got invited, huh?” He blinks a bit, the past slipping some. “Mom want some dick again?”

He laughs then, a husky, throaty laugh, running a hand through his hair. “If she does, I sure won’t be giving it to her.”

“What are you dating? My condolences to her.” His eyes narrow at your mean little smile.

“Nope,” he taps your glass again. “Do you want a drink or not?”

“I dunno, former step-dad.”

He scowls now, you’re giggling until he leans far too close, lips a breath away from yours. “Never was your fucking ‘step dad’. Unless,” his fingers drift across your cheek now. “You wanted me to be, ya got that many mommy issues?”

“You fucking wish,” you slap his hand, scowling up at him, meeting his energy in that moment. “Get me one then.”

“What little bitch drink are you having?”

“Dirty shirley.”

He laughs at you again, you shove his big ass, feeling those biceps under your hand. “The bitchiest of drinks.”

“Oh fuck you,” he chuckles and orders you one anyway, judgy as fuck when the bartender pops in a pretty cherry. “Thanks I guess.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you brush your hair back off your shoulders, exposing far too much of your pretty shoulders, lips wrapping around the straw. “Drinking your sorrows?”

“What do you care?”

“We’re both here, might as well catch up with my former almost step daughter.” You shove at his big body, he snorts in laughter, irritating you to no end. “Thought this was your kink.”

“Psh, you’re so annoying I swear. I’m doing music and busy being the family disappointment.” You raise your glass in a toast, he can’t stop the grin on his face.

“Could disappoint them more.”

“You think so?” He leans back, putting the crystal glass back up to his lips.

“Of course you can. You could become a stripper, they'd love that.”

“Shit, I could, maybe dance at the bachelor party?”

“There you go, that’d really get ‘em going,” you laugh then, the sound too pleasing to his ears. “You’re failing at being the disappointment.”

“I am, truly,” something feels almost comfortable about Sukuna in that moment, you try to ignore how sexy he looks when he loosens his black tie, swallowing more of your pink drink down. “I never liked you.”

“I know,” the lights flit a bit, casting shadows on a face that looks a little too fucking good to your buzzed senses. “I didn’t like you much, just a little brat. You still are it seems.”

“You’re still a dick it seems,” Sukuna just winks at you. “And pretentious.”

“Any other words?”

“Obnoxius, rude, annoying-”

“Just say you wanna fuck me already,” you shove at him again. “You ready for the wedding then? Gonna be in some ugly bridesmaid dress?”

“Of course I will be, it’s the ugliest thing I’ve seen too.” You pick up your phone, showing him a picture of you in it.

“Disgusting.”

“I know!”

“You’ll look like a fucking yellow bird in that thing.”

“It’s so ugly, I have to wear it to the rehearsal dinner too. Are you going to that?” 

“I am, I’m not looking forward to seeing your mom again.”

“Aw,” you trail your fingers up his chest teasingly, a pout on your face. “Poor Sukuna, did she break your wittle heart?”

“You’re such a little brat,” he snatches your wrist then, big fingers entrapping it, leaning close to you. “You know your mom.”

“Not quite like you.”

“We’ve both been inside her tech– shit come back!?” You’re already hopping your drunk ass off the seat.

“I’ll deal with you tomorrow,” you mumble, so done with him then, yet he’s following you. “Are you bored?”

“Are you mad?” You scowl at him now, standing towards the entrance, your jacket slung over your arm. “Upset it isn’t you?”

“You’re trying to piss me off, doesn’t make any sense either, I won’t get you hooked back up with mommy.”

“You keep bringing her up,” he leans low, brushing your hair back, you tremble just a bit at the proximity. “You look good as fuck, y’know that?”

“Oh shut up,” you shove at him again. “What, do I look like mom?”

“Much hotter,” you scoff then, but the words have their fucked effect, his big hand on your waist with his lips against your ear when you phone rings. He pulls back and you take a step away, outside catching your breath. The fucker follows you out, lighting up a cigarette casually.

“Yeah, what’s up mom?” You ask, eyes flitting over to Sukuna’s form, leaning against the brick wall.

“What are you doing, I need you to help with plans! This is your sister’s wedding, you know!” Your jaw sets, hands clutching the phone tightly.

“Mom I’ve helped a ton, I just really needed a break.”

“And where are you – let me guess, drinking?”

“And?”

Her sigh of disappointment is louder than anything. “Get yourself together, your sister at your age was already engaged! She was in charity events and-”

“Yeah, I’m aware she’s perfect,” your voice is quiet, but Sukuna hears it, taking a drag on his cigarette, poking around on his own phone. “You don’t have to constantly remind me.”

“Maybe it will be motivational,” you almost laugh at her then. “Fine just don’t show up hungover to this rehearsal, the entire family will be there.”

“And they’ll all be drinking anyway, but sure I will be bright eyed and bushy tailed.”

“I’ll see you then.” She hangs up, you look up at the night sky for a moment, seeing the soft twinkling of the stars, before looking back.

“You smoke now?”

“Bad habit I picked up,” he murmurs, lips wrapping around it to take another drag, puff of smoke rising into the air, he flicks it quickly, hands back in his pockets. “Does mommy want you to leave?”

You laugh a bit without humor then, eyeing the time. “It is eleven, but I have my own suite, she just wants to have plenty of control.”

“Ya gonna give it to her?” You walk over then, shaking your head and brushing past him to the door.

“Wanna play darts?”

He grins, and soon the two of you are going head to head, and fuck Sukuna is competitive at it. They fly with expert precision, zooming past and landing bulls eyes over and over, your own join and meet his, red and black darts scattered all across the board. He’s got you another drink, you’re throwing back a shot with him and laughing, it’s far, far too easy to be around him.

Something you really never expected was that, Sukuna being easy to be around, he was intelligent and sarcastic as can be, but ultimately just fun. You’re laughing so much you almost forget the shitty mindset you were in before, a little too close to him when it’s your turn, soon people are watching you two, seeing the insane back to back competition.

“Hah, I owned your ass!” You flip him off as you pull back your last dart on the board, a big grin on your face that Sukuna finds far too attractive, it’s entirely impossible to register you as the same girl who used to piss him off all the time.

When he dated your mom you hated him, but you also seemed to not be able to stand your own mother. At first it seemed you were just a little brat or something, but he realized that there was clearly more to it in time. You never failed to stick your tongue out at him or 

“I guess you did win,” Sukuna leans too close, chest right against your face as he pulls out your winning dart, you inhale that cologne, tummy tightening with his every movement. “What do you want for winning?”

“I get something, huh?” He nods, his hand slipping across your bare shoulder, leaving goosebumps in its trail.

“What would you want me to do, huh brat?”

“You’re at my mercy?” You raise a brow, body thrumming with a heady mix of desire and how fucked up this would be, to do what you’re thinking of with him.

“Never mind, you look scary as fuck, whatever you’re thinking,” he goes to pull away when you tug at his tie, pulling him down to you. “What is it?”

“Make me cum.”

Sukuna doesn’t spend another minute before he’s kissing you right there, lips mean and messy, hands slipping up your hips to tug you against him, leaning you against the wall with his hard body pressed against you. You gasp out, letting his tongue slip in, the faint taste of cigarettes and whiskey lingering on his lips. Sukuna moans and his hands grip your ass right there.

“Not here, are you insane?” You pull back and see his grin plastered on his face now.

“Make you cum, been a while?” He cups your face in a way that’s anything but delicate or sweet.

“Maybe,” you admit, his thigh pressing against your heat, pressing up so that you’re right against him.

“Fingers or mouth?” You blink in surprise then, flushing and looking down, Sukuna chuckles. “Cock? All three?”

“You’re slutty.”

“You’re slutty,” you kiss him again, the alcohol making your head swirl, any decisions being made in your brain shoved away for just how wet you are. “Slutty and soaking wet.”

“Shh,” you grab his wrist, navigating your way through the sea of bodies until you’re both stumbling into a bathroom, he tugs down your top, moaning.

“Filled out-”

“I will hit you,” he snorts and picks you up like you’re fucking nothing, dragging you over to the counter and spreading your thighs. “Mnh!”

“Shh, keep it shut,” he murmurs, your hands grip on his pink locks when he shoves up your dress, slipping your panties aside and groaning out. “Fuck…”

You arch your hips for him, when he laps up juices that have already spilled down your inner thigh, they’re trembling on either side of his head, cunt already pulsing from his breaths. Some odd, fucked up part of you wonders if your mom had him like this, and you try to feel some guilt, but the moment he parts your folds and flicks his tongue up your slit, the thoughts vanish.

“Oh fuck!” He chuckles and covers your mouth, hovering over you, looking down at you fucked out eyes.

“Keep it down, brat, ya that pathetic? Gonna cum from a lick?” You’re just desperately whining against his palm, when he’s back down there, tongue flicking mean while your head presses against the mirror.

“Sukuna…” You’re gushing down his mouth, ecstasy shooting straight through everywhere his tongue dives and slips, fucking you with it then. Your walls grip his wet muscle, the man you couldn’t stand who was with the woman you can’t stand, worshipping you right in the club bathroom. “Ah!”

“Mmm,” he’s slurping up all of your juices then, gummy walls gripping his tongue so tightly he can’t stand it. You’re so sweet then, for the mean little brat you usually are, all pliant and needy. He can’t help but look up at your already fucked out face and grin against you. “Prettier than moms.”

“You’re so fucked up,” you’re wetter though, he notices when his fingers slip up inside your hole, curling up and down, stretching you so much. “Tighter?”

“You’re the fucked up one,” he flicks his tongue on your clit. “Mommy issues out the ass.”

“Shh, get back down,” you shove his face back against you, and he’s so hard it hurts, throbbing and leaking pre, dying to be back inside you. “Mnh! There, there…”

He pulls back right before you’re about to cum, earning your soft whine, he keeps his two fingers pumping up and down, gripping your hair and pulling you to him. “Open, brat.”

You don’t know why, but you easily obey his command, doing just that and opening for his spit, mixed with your flavor, you swallow it down and get even wetter, so wet his fingers slip out, earning your frustrated whine. “Lemme cum, please.”

“You will,” he yanks them out again, shoving them in your mouth so deep you almost choke, sucking yourself off them desperately. “Good little whore.”

“Fuck you,” he just chuckles, pulling you down, you hear the unzipping of his slacks as he turns you to face the mirror then. “Watch your face while I make you cum, huh?”

You would say something smart, but you’re aching, soft moans escaping your throat – nodding quickly as he slips his spit soaked fingers down and into your snug little hole again. He moans against your ear, your taste soaking his mouth now, stroking his cock with his other hand, dying to slip it inside you, but also noticing your face is just too pretty.

He’d thought so years ago, you first met him the summer before college, in some tiny little outfit that had him feeling fucked up, but he promised then he’d avoid that. Yet he couldn’t help himself, finding you on instagram later, jerking it to your pictures long after he split up from your mom, and your body was better than he could imagine, he almost whispers it to you.

No way he gets that vulnerable though, you clearly want to cum and have some serious issues with your mother, and he’s glad to enable if it means he can fuck your pretty cunt at least once. You’re gasping out the quicker they go, teeth clenched together with the stretch, trying desperately not to make much noise though your cunt is loud enough with every movement.

Your hazy mind wonders just how you got here then - With Ryomen Sukuna’s fingers scissoring in and out of your slick cunt - the man who dated your mom for years, the one you can’t fucking stand, arrogant smirk devious as he moves them up and down. The pressure is too much, your head falls back, for his tattooed hand to grab a tit and squish.

“Ah!” You can’t stop that noise from escaping, before biting your lip, trying to hold back the noise.

“Such a little slut, already squirting down my fingers,” you looked in the mirror, Sukuna’s thick digits coated in your slick slipping into your mouth again, while his cock started rubbing up and down your slit. “Hah - fuckin look at you, ya want this inside you brat? Should beg for it.”

You shook your head, even as you arch your ass out for his cock, letting his tip glide between your folds, making lewd and wet noises that echo in the club’s bathroom, teeth nipping his fingers. “No, sure won’t – can’t stand you.”

“Ah, really? Why ya so soaked then, huh?” he’s grinning with a sharp flash of white teeth, lifting your thigh up so a knee was on the counter, pressing in then, hearing your gasp. “Fuck, feel her gripping me. You really hate your mom this much?”

“Just fuck me and shut up already - ah!” Sukuna needs no further urging, his cock is stretching you out so much you can’t take it, screaming out and earning a hand clamped around your mouth.

“So tight, loosen the fuck up,” he grumbles, you scowl even as your hole is quivering, gushing liquid all down his shaft, his fingers sink into your thighs, shoving his cock in so deep you can’t take it. “Feel her grippin’ me, tryna make me bust quick?”

“No, want you to make me cum first,” you take his hand off your face as you speak, slipping it down to touch your clit, he groans, fucking you harder, your hand guiding his to get that perfect angle, your legs are shaking, your vision blurring.

"Feel better than her too," you're desperately crying out at that, clamping down on his thick, veiny cock. "That get you closer? Fucked up little girl, aren't you?"

"Fuck you," you are but right now you just want every thought fucked out of your head, and Sukuna’s cock is so big it’s hard to get irritated with his snarky grin in that reflection. He pulls his finger off and you gasp. “Put it back!”

“Not till I say so,” he smacks your clit hard instead, lifting you when your knees buckle like it’s nothing. “Think you tell me what to do?”

“Lost darts, such a l-loser -hah!” He scowls and fucks you harder, which was exactly your goal, pretty grin on your face that makes him pulse inside you - tightest little grip he’s ever felt.

“Crazy little brat,” he huffs, but he’s lost in you, in not just how good you feel on his cock, his tip slamming that cervix, but your little sounds, your movements, your eyes rolling back in your skull. Sukuna loves to fuck, but he’s never felt whatever psycho witch magic you’re putting on him, burying his face for a moment. “Feel s’perfect.”

“Huh? Ah!” You think you hear something, but Sukuna just bites the fuck out of your neck instead, your head falls to the side, crying out to let him finally toy with your needy, twitchy clit. “Please, there, there.”

“Needy whore,” he is spitting the meanest words but all it does is make you closer, tummy clenching with hot need, his cock ruining you for anyone – even if you’d never fucking say it. “Need it?”

“Yes, f-fuck just, keep going,” your voice is a hoarse little whisper, one of his hands is toying with a nipple, the other working your clit while his cock drags on your spot, blinding you. “Oh god…”

“That’s it, cum on your stepdad’s cock,” you glare at him, even as he chuckles against your skin, ruby eyes lit up in the mirror. “Cunt is pulsing, you love that nasty shit, admit it.”

“You’re n-nasty, shut the fuck up and – oh my god,” you’re shattering with one more thrust and roll of his rough fingers, desperately whining out while he keeps pumping. Sukuna is holding you there in that sweet spot, making you shake and quiver while your orgasm shuts off your damn brain. “Ngh!”

“Look at that, the stepdad got you squirting,” you would glare if you weren’t trembling, he’s thickening inside you, slowing his movements, letting you ride it out on his slick cock. “Damaged fucking brat, feel this good?”

“It’s the m-mental issues,” he grins and you weakly laugh, for a moment you don’t know why you hated him so much, but only a moment. "Fuck me harder."

God Sukuna thinks he’s in love right now.

“Freaky slut, just wanna get used?”

You nod, he grabs your throat and chokes you, slamming into you like he owns you, like you're just a toy for his pleasure. He's relentless, his cock hitting you in all the right places, making you feel so full, his filthy strokes so loud they’re echoing.

"F-fuck... you're gonna make me cum," he grunts, his grip on your hips tightening. "You want it?"

"Y-yes," you pant, throat constricted, your eyes wide with lust. You want to feel him fill you up, to know that you've made him lose control just like he's made you.

“Can you take it all?”

“Shut up and cum, stepdad,” you tease, but he moans then, kissing your lips all sloppy, saliva dripping with the drool that’s pooled down the side of your lips, his hot cum flooding your pussy. 

For a moment, you're lost in the haze of pleasure, the world outside the bathroom forgotten completely, so warm and dripping him already. But reality quickly crashes back in after he pumps a few more times, murmuring your name, pastel locks damp and sticking to his brow. You start to come to a bit, even drunk, and you realize what you've done. What you're still doing.

Maybe you feel just a little bad that his cum is starting to drip from your hole, but only the tiniest bit. He pulls out with a wet, suctioned pop and leaves you so empty you have to bite back the whine. You struggle to get your breath, shaking your head to clear your mind and grabbing at napkins, he smacks them out of the way, smirking and turning you to face him.

“Lemme clean up, weirdo,” he chuckles, slipping his two fingers down to where his milky seed is dripping, swirling around it until he shoves it back inside you. You gasp, head falling back, lashes fluttering shut and the soreness you already have, he just presses that cum right back in. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t waste it, you won it you know,” he pumps it up again, curling his fingers so that you almost cum again, pushing it even deeper, before pulling them out with a filthy wet squelch, sucking his own white ropes and you arousal off his fingers. He moans then, pink lashes fluttering shut, cheeks hollowing.

You stare, mouth open, waiting for red eyes to focus on you. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Tasting us,” he tilts your chin up and kisses your lips, mixing both of your flavors on your tongue in the sluttiest fucking action. “Mnh…”

You both pull apart quickly when someone opens the bathroom, Sukuna has your tits put up but they’re stumbling drunk and giggling, staring at their phone. Your reality does start to hit, cursing yourself and rushing out then, adjusting your dress that he had up your thighs.

Fuck that felt too good.

Your sister calls you now, you answer as Sukuna unhurriedly steps out of the ladies room. “Yeah sis?”

“Oh my god, did you hear Sukuna is coming? Ah I loved him! I wish mom had stayed with him, you know?”

You frown, eyeing Sukuna and his shit eating grin. “Um… yeah I guess he was okay.”

“Mom still has the hots for him, wouldn’t it be romantic if she got back with him?” You almost laugh out loud at the absurdity of it, the smallest guilt seeping in more and more, but you throw back another shot, drinking it down. “Also if you got with someone finally!”

“Yeah, I dunno about mom or me, but I’m glad for you sis,” she sighs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yes, love you!”

“Love you too,” you hang up the phone, Sukuna leans over the bar then, handing the bartender his card.

“Pay for hers too,” you raise a glass to him, his lips twitch up at the corners. “You got a ride back?”

“I’ll get an uber.”

“It’s nothing to -”

“There, got one,” you smile at him and wave the screen. “But thank you for offering.”

“Yeah,” he wants more of you, that could not be enough. He won’t say that shit out loud though. “See you at the..." he smirks now. "Rehearsal.”

“Yeah, um…” you awkwardly stand there, looking down as he looks too intently at you. “Night.”

You rush off without another word, inhaling the night air and wondering just how bad you fucked it all up.

hehe the full version is on Patreon but I am converting this story to here - so l will have these every week <3 (I am thinking of an epilogue too!) tags open <3

[madamechrissy]

@brattoru @plaguecxlt @chewiebee @makeaflowerbloom @gojocrackwhore @satoruscumbucket @sukunasmissingfinger @satorusoul @dazed-lavender @yeonayearns @r3alityxo @batcatgal @wackyquacky @bbglmfao @akutagawacallmediablo @blitziwitch @inzanekillian @momoxmimixmomox @sayakosama @stars0flov3r @mortalaxd @orangepeelsinmysock @100520s @starkissedsiren @themidnightmilker @sweetsourgone @thelostkira @littlemisssatorugirl @miinseeook @amesenseii @descargueestoporgojosatoru @quietworld7 @iridescentshine @green-orange-bloom @soupydumplings @sucheons @kohanic3 @luumistar @freyaaaah @aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa444 @rarepandalily @chiyokoemilia @yxo7 @blcknebula @gonegh0stwriter

[arminslutss]

Cuddles and massages with Choso after a long day at work

Stumbling into your bedroom with a yawn, your eyes landed on Choso, who was lying in your shared bed on his phone, lazily enjoying his day off. He immediately looked up when you entered, a glimpse of concern on his face.

“What’s wrong?” He asked immediately, noticing you looked more tired than usual.

“Work.” You muttered, taking off your blouse and dress pants, tossing them towards the hamper but missing horribly.

“You really need to get a different job,” Choso replied, coming up and hugging you from behind. “You’ve been so stressed lately.”

He was right—your work management had changed, and now you were starting earlier, leaving later, and being forced to put up with incompetent colleagues day in and day out. “Stressed” wasn’t a big enough word to describe how you’d been feeling lately.

“Let me relieve some of your tension.” Choso grabbed your hand, bringing you over to sit on the edge of your bed.

You watched as he reached into the nightstand drawer, grabbing the container of lavender balm that always put you right to sleep. He got back onto the bed, sitting behind you and lathering his hands.

“Could you take that off?” Choso requested, and you assumed he was talking about your bra, not wanting to dirty the straps with oil. You reached behind you without a word, unclasping it and letting it fall to the ground.

Choso’s steady hands got to work, primarily focusing on your shoulders, occasionally trailing to your upper back. His fingers dug deep into your skin, palming every point of tension.

The calming scent of lavender had you ready to drift off right there, even though you were sitting up. Your eyes fell shut, mind starting to go blank while Choso worked hard to get rid of your stress for the evening.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Choso murmured, giving you a small kiss on the top of your head. “You’ll slouch.”

Straightening your back, you reluctantly kept yourself from falling asleep right there.

Choso found every knot in your back, stopping every once in a while to cover his hands in more of the lavender balm.

After ten or so minutes, Choso’s hands came to a permanent stop, the closing of the ointment jar the only thing to be heard. Opening your eyes, you were met with the setting sun coming in through the half-closed blinds, making you squint.

“Come rest.” Choso tapped your arm, getting himself settled under the covers, arms open wide for you.

Crawling under the blankets, you snuggled into Choso’s chest, inhaling his natural scent mixed with the faint scent of laundry detergent clinging to his shirt.

His strong arms wrapped around your body, holding you close while he peppered kisses along the top of your head once more.

“Thank you, ‘Cho.” You mumbled, eyes closing once again.

“Don’t mention it, baby. Anything for you.”

He truly meant what he said. Content and stress-free, you drifted off to sleep in his arms, wondering how you got so lucky to have a man like Choso.

A/N: I love writing cute little blurbs like this omg 😩 definitely my favorite piece of fluff I’ve written

Fanart by torucider on tiktok

[chuuren]

what are you willing to do? - C.K. ✩ˎˊ˗

SYNOPSIS — Helping the quiet TA, who shrinks himself down to avoid taking too much space, come out of his shell.  You’re slowly understanding why he thrives in an environment where he’s told what to do — and he shows you why he’s hesitant to be in charge.

TAGS — MDNI (18 + only)  nsfw. work contains explicit sexual themes and content. piv. Gentle Giant!Choso, Dork!choso, overly freaked out!reader. Nerd!choso, SIZE KINK, sub to top(M), Switchy. rough. making out. couch sex. lifting. mutual masturbation. Changing positions. Missiònary. excessive use of sexual innuendos, dacryphilla, inconsistent writing (?). Choso will do anything you ask. PWP. Teasing, Degradation (both). pet names. crack.fluff. reader is nice to him obv. but freaked out.

WC: 14k — art by k4eny on twt

a/n: Hello blog, IM VERY HAPPY W THIS ONE and i promise to not leave u high and dry! this is highly inspired by an augustinthewinter audio (im a #freak) — Also what if I release my drabbles HEH

75%

The score read on your last mock test for your Historiography class. Your worst subject for the semester by far. Next week was going to be your midterm. Now, since your professor, Mr. Gojo, knows his students a little too well, he facilitated a surprise mock text to see how much you all understood the lessons. 

A chorus of curses and groans start filling up the classroom with each student receiving their results as they’re handed out. 

“…Now I can assure you, if you guys are worried about scoring higher than each other, it won’t matter because theoretically almost all of you failed.” 

Another set of groans and a little bit of laughter comes from the class. You’re back to looking down on your paper, flipping through the pages to check every question and each correction out of habit, noting down what you have to improve on. Then you stumble upon the last page with the words;

 Feel free to ask for help :)  You smile, knowing exactly who wrote this without them being in the room. You look up to double check and you’re right, it was just your prof still going on about Khaldun or something — you tune him out to make way for the giddy feeling rushing through your stomach.

Usually you’d hate for people to offer help when you’re forced to do something you were unprepared for, taking the sentiment as a passive aggressive version of getting called incompetent but this time, you ponder while rereading the sweet little note in green ink— of course he used green ink to avoid students from being discouraged — and it's one of those times your stupidity has done you some good.

It’s an hour and a half later when class ends, people filing up to leave the doors of the lecture hall when a voice calls out to you. 

You smile at your professor, a little strained, but it’s okay, you tell yourself, you expected it. You walk up to him, bag on your shoulder, unzipped because you rushed down. You’re still smiling when you’re there, already preparing for what he has to say. 

The smile falls and you sigh, “I know that look.”

He’s standing with his arms crossed, dark shades balanced on his straight nose, looking down at you with nothing short of paternal disappointment. “Yes, and you shouldn’t be too familiar with it either. Seventy-five? really? I thought we were talking recommendation letters last week, turns out you’re barely passing my class?”

You swallow back, not really knowing what to do so you kinda just stand there awkwardly, waiting for him to air out his worries. “I know it's like, a little weird to put this much pressure on you but c’mon kid, you’re looking at being the next assistant after Choso to help your resumé right?” 

You nod, still not saying anything, but you can’t deny how you perk up when you heard his name. 

Your professor pauses briefly mid rant after spotting how you only met his eyes when he mentioned his current TA’s name, a light bulb flickers on in his head. 

He squints, “You’ve been familiar with each other, correct?”

“Yes, sir.” You’re quick to reply, stopping yourself from physically gulping out of nervousness. 

“He been showing you the ropes bit by bit?” he mutters, uncrossing his arms and leaning over the desk. 

“Bit by bit, yes.” You echo, unable to reply without being scared of saying the wrong thing to tick him off.

“And…” He feigned thinking about it, fidgeting with he pen in his hand and tapping the butt end of it on a thick stack of paper. “…He’s also helping with lessons to keep your grades up?” 

You say nothing, keeping your mouth flat and shut. You peer up at him, and shake your head slowly, “No sir.”

He tsks, standing up to his full height. “It’s not necessary but  you’re aware there’s an average for you to keep up just to become a TA right? We wouldn’t want students biting off more than they could chew.”

You nod once more, though this time, a lot more fervently. “I—yes, sorry. I’ll-“

“Get to it, yeah.” He finished for you, tucking his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He waits for you to move, watching how you’re still standing there and waiting for him to also tell you to move. You’re so alike, he thinks. 

He nods upwards, dismissing you. You thank him while you’re already turned your back, eagerly making your way to your next mission.

Gojo watches the door swing inwards from the impact of your departure, a smile in his tone when he mutters to no one, “That’ll give her some motivation.”

You’re rushing to your next class now, given the fifteen minute grace period you were granted had now been shaved down to ten, no thanks to your professor, forcing you to take two steps at a time when making your way to the other side of the building. 

You’re looking down at your phone, deleting and retyping a message in your instagram dms. It’s when you pass the stairway that an unexpected force uncontrollably comes on to you. You thud against it, breath caught, hand tightly clutching at your phone. You stumble on your steps, holding onto the closest thing you feel for. You don’t fall, you don’t even come close to the ground, but your knees certainly felt like they couldn’t carry you.

Because here you stood against a very worried, very tightly holding you, Choso Kamo. Your mind blanks, your class just a few doors away, forgotten. Unintentionally, a small smile spreads on your face. 

“Hey, I was—“ He laughs nervously, “I was looking for you.” His hands wrap around your nearly limp arms, almost covering the expanse of it, yet held at a respectable position.

“You okay?” He tilts his head down to meet your eyes, a look of concern etching back on his terribly handsome face, he swallows thickly and you watch his adam’s apple bob decorating his thick neck.

 He takes a second to peer back at the stairs, then back to you before he realizes how his grip still clutched on you. “I’m sorry.” He pulls his hands down at his sides, unsure of what to do with them. “I was about to-“

“-Me too actually.” Cutting him off, you couldn’t help but smile even wider, uncaring if you looked too excited. You raised your phone, “Was about to send a dm but I got class in like,” You flip the screen to face you, “two minutes.” A pinch of apprehension makes its way to you but you push it back. 

His eyes widen behind his rectangular frames, lenses making them appear bigger than they actually are.  

“Really? Shit, “ He cursed, regretful,  “I don’t have class anymore so I could just wait out—”

“Sit in with me?” It comes out of you before you could stop it. “—or not.” You quickly add, retreating. “I could just go and email you.”

“No—I mean, Of course. Yes. Me, I’ll go.” He smiled with a toothy grin, ignoring how you said email instead of your socials in hopes you won’t bring up how he stuttered over his words.  You’re caught off guard and before you know it, he’s already making his way to the door without even being sure which class it was. 

He’s reaching for the handle when you stop him, “Oh, next door, please.” He nods bashfully, adjusting the strap of his comically small backpack on himself and apologizes under his breath. He follows you inside, you push, prying the door open. His palm flat against the wood, effortlessly holding it for you both. 

Luckily your professor hadn’t been in class yet, so you  weren’t spotted as the only late comer (technically no, with company, you weren’t.) The class was sparsely filled as it was only part of your minor and this schedule wasn’t as popular, so you could basically sit anywhere. You scan over the room, and you spot some seats at the very front. You’re about to take a step forward when you realize you’re being a little rude. 

“Where d’ya wanna sit?” You ask, head tilted up with a smile. You try to ignore the gleefulness that comes with the idea you’re gonna be seated next to him. Again, you push this feeling down, knowing it’s completely unprofessional and straight up childish. Though conversely, what you feel for him is not in the slightest, childish. 

“Back, definitely.” He answers a little too fast, blinking to check with you. “If you want.” He adds. 

He’s so polite, you could just die. 

You find comfortable seating by the right side of the class, second to last row and close to the back per request. This classroom was a little smaller, so distance from the whiteboard wasn’t really an issue.

You’re listening to your elderly professor repeat instructions about a future assignment and knowing he’s just going to be posting the guidelines, you just tune him out again, distracted. You have to learn to stop doing that.

But you’re shamelessly peeking at the side, Choso’s writing something down, you watch his face as he continues without a care in the world, back hunched down to get closer to the papers maybe, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in focus. You look down at what he’s writing when he flips the sheet over, the sound of the paper is quiet amongst the loud hum of the air conditioner.

 He’s checking something, a test again? You wonder if yours is there. Something catches your eye, he’s even writing down notes in the side for each correction. Maybe he’s also writing notes of encouragement for others. You don’t wanna wanna act all sensitive but something in your chest dampens. A lick of disappointment knowing you weren’t just given a little extra effort.

You shift in your seat, suddenly aware that you completely distracted yourself again and let your overactive imagination take over. You bite your cheek, brushing off the disappointment and sit properly on your seat. It moves the entire table though, you moved a little too roughly. Choso backs up in his chair, the commotion throwing off your professor in his fruitless discussion.

You gasp before immediately turning to check on your hard of hearing professor. He mumbles some incoherent complaint but you don’t wait to think and just apologize, “Sorry,” and it’s hopefully enough to divert the attention from you both. 

Choso grunts, “No—sorry, my chair was too loud.” He pulls the long, shared desk back with one pull of his hand, before hunching to go back to work. There’s already a furrow in your brows at the apology, and you’re staring at the side of his face, his hand behind his full, overgrown hair, expression mirroring your own except towards his papers. 

You adjust back, only this time you’re a bit farther, scared he’ll probably sense you’re being a little invasive. So you keep your eyes up at the projected screen and let the silence pass, the light sound of the ballpoint scratching paper on the smooth surface of the table and your teacher murmuring mix behind the stupid thoughts interfering and prodding at your composure. 

You made this unnecessarily awkward, eyes looking back down on the paper without trying. You’re still kinda curious what he’s writing down. He’s writing down notes to the side, red pen and all— red pen and all?

You do a double take, your uncontrollable, imposing, borderline deluded thoughts returning back to their place in your hopeless brain. Did he use a red pen for everyone or green? He used green earlier, definitely. What the hell? Why does it matter?

“Can I help you?” The inner monologue in your head ceases at the question. You glance up at him, a crooked smile on his face, dimple gracing his features. He waits for you to say something, you process how it's a little close to a tease. You’re unable to say something and end up nodding.

He smiles, achingly sweet and sincere, still waiting for a response. You blank out, unable to think of a proper fake answer in time. 

A last flick of your gaze at the paper outs your thoughts, he looks down at them. “If you’re looking for any of your own, this isn’t your section’s.” He assures, trying to fill in the silence you were so talented in bringing out in your conversations. 

You giggle out of pure giddiness, unable to hold it in as you act like a school girl and not a college student. It’s probably so strange to him that you’re acting this way  — internally reprimanding yourself is your only avenue for self control at these moments. You hope he doesn’t think the same way. “No um, you’re so focused on writing nice notes for everyone and marking every point.“

He smiles wider, eyes turning into pretty crescents. He shakes his head once, sitting back on his chair, and finally not slouching. Your stomach flips noting how he occupies more than half the seat. He scratches his neck, eyes flicking back at the papers for a moment before meeting yours, then averting again. 

“I don’t think…” He leaned over to read the name on the paper, “…Inumaki, T. thinks my detailed corrections, or rather critiques are very nice, nor the rest of section Z26.” he mumbled the last part, adjusting the collar of his pull over.

“critiques?” You inquire, unconsciously leaning to his side of the desk, closer so you could read them too. Choso hopes you can’t feel the warmth on his cheeks radiating right now. 

He nods his head a little too quickly, despite not being able to see him from where you were. He’s dizzy with the scent of your floral shampoo under his nose, heady and pulling. “Yes, just to help with,” he falters again, your bare arm brushing against his own, clothed one when you point at a certain part of the paper while reading, knees hitting under the table when you’re closely looking down on the sheet. “With the, the uh, future tests yeah-”

Choso watches your lips move but he doesn’t hear what comes out. Right now, he’s pushing away such un-utterable, uncalled for thoughts when his view is your head over what would be is his lap, only being separated by this rickety table. It only gets worse when you shift your eyes at him, wide and up at his tired onyx ones, only now his are a little wider too, something past friendly reflecting in your before averting back down the white sheet.

You’re still reading the paper, taking in the info for each question. “Oh,”

He snaps out of his daze, immediately taking notice of your blank tone. “What’s wrong?” 

You’re processing the words on the essay type test he’s checking and you realize you’ve never seen this kind of test before. “Y’know, now that I’m reading this, I don’t think  we’ve answered this activity yet.” A beat, and Choso flips the paper down.

“Right, that’s probably not good,“ He places a spread out hand over the papers, sheets mix on top of each other, disheveled and disorganized, one nearly falling off the narrow table.

You’re already laughing, “You’re so clumsy,” your hand stopping one of them from flying out of place. 

“No, you probably shouldn’t look at that too-“

“Relax, I don’t have the photographic memory to copy each answer. As much as I wish I did.” You mumble the last part, tucking the papers into an organized pile, facing outwards. “See? No cheating for me.” 

Choso fights the smirk that inches his way under the skin of his cheeks, nodding to you. “I appreciate your integrity.” You return the look on his face except with the stack in your grasp right now, it reflects its white canvas like a soft light on your skin, a sweet warmth overcomes him. “I never told you why I was looking for you.” 

You place the sheets separate from his pile of unfinished work. Pursing your lips, you make a noise of acknowledgment. “Oh, I was thinking the same thing. I didn’t know how to approach you ‘cause it was kinda embarrassing.” 

“Embarrassing how?”

For a while, you contemplate how to make yourself sound less pathetic, trying to amp up how to sound flirtier without breaching whatever boundary of the title you held to him. You wanted to play safe, for now.

“Like to ask for help, I bet it's as funny as someone asking a stupid question since you probably didn’t have to do any of that when you were in my year.” You don’t have to confirm with him whether or not it’s true, Choso’s going straight to a master’s after graduating this year. You’ve been hyping yourself up to ask him out for a while, knowing that he’ll most likely drift from you as a friend with the work that comes with finishing one. 

You truly weren’t looking for any kind of college relationship or even a fling, knowing such places bring unnatural levels of attraction to people who lack self identity, and if you’re being honest, college made you question that part of yourself when you first began.

 Ergo, you focused on yourself for your first year to second. Now, you’re in your third year’s second semester and people are thinking about their thesis and fellowships.  And here you were only starting to make career moves for your future in your third year. 

But you digress, circling back to how all that led you to meet Choso. Someone you’ve made acquaintances with last year during an exhibit at the school’s anthropology museum. Yes, you had an anthropology museum — Jjk technical college was not cheap.

His hair was a tad shorter back then, guiding a bunch of first years through the new exhibit, excitedly discussing some bones and energy. The glint in his eyes was bright and he was wholly unfiltered, charmingly gauche. You had tried to pose a question at the time, wanting to entertain him out of definitely just pure curiosity for Bioarcheology, but second guessed yourself and never approached him again. 

Until, it was that same year you found out he had been the TA for the professor you were aiming for next year (as a second year college student), and you found out he was resigning as the teacher’s assistant from a friend of a friend, and how Gojo had been already looking for a new one early on because Choso was that competent.

You want to say that maybe you joined just because professor Gojo was someone you highly look up to in the field of history research and will grant you a killer recommendation for a future career — which you know he will— there’s an underlying feeling where you also can’t deny that the idea of how it brings you closer to Choso made the position all the more appealing. 

So this year, when Gojo read your CV and decided to accept you out of the many (3 applicants, one was an irregular student, the other a nepo baby), and encouraged Choso to start training you by now, it was like fate realigned itself to bring you closer to him.

Sort of.

Now he was in front of you- beside you, and casually replying with, “ I don’t mind spending my free time with you—tutoring and stuff.” He offers, completely unaware how he gets your stomachs in knots and your heart feels like it's trying to rip out of your ribcage. 

“Really?” You ask too eagerly, he nods for extra reassurance. “It’s just, Historiography just isn’t something I’m good at but I’m also I find it interesting but it’s also really hard but— I also want this.” You size him up,  towards his side of the table. “Y’know, this.” 

He‘s about to point at himself, before looking at the papers and something clicks in place. “Checking papers on top of your thesis, dropping them off at Gojo’s office at 8 am, and getting death stares when I come across his students?”

You nod, almost even more eager, “Absolutely.”

“You’re perfect then.” He says, no hesitation whatsoever. You were eating it up and he was completely unaware. You giggle, heat rushing to your face.

You almost forgot how talking came easy with Choso. It was refreshing to meet someone you could hold a conversation with without feeling like you had to perform all the time, or wonder what to amp up or tone down. He had his intimidating moments at first, like being overqualified for a TA and the unmistakable height, or when you’re overthinking how to impress him and you don’t truly act yourself —  but those impressions crumble effortlessly when you recognize him for his sincerity and obsession with the academe. 

Choso can’t help but let a chuckle bubble in his throat, smooth and rich like a creamy cup of strong coffee. He’s analyzing your face, the apples of your cheeks are out with how wide you smile, he made you smile like that. The fact sits comfortably in his chest. He’s staring at your lips, maybe he can get away with it as him just looking down to your height, the few times he feels his own acted as an advantage for him. 

“…any reason you use green?… Choso?” He blinks, and he’s back in the classroom and you’re now holding your own head with your palm, waiting for him to answer. 

The back of his neck is hot with the thought you could probably notice him zoning out. “I like,” he searches your eyes, hesitating, and then, “I like green, so.” He nods, trying to rationalize his plain answer to himself. 

You’re squinting, “Cool,” nothing behind your tone, just the air that still manages to sit awkwardly between you two, suddenly the old scribbles in the storage part of the desk was so interesting—

“And it's good for not like…” He swallows back his nerves, heart pounding in his ears. “I didn’t wanna discourage students.” 

The admittance runs like oil down your back and you feel like you’ve hit him dead center in what you wanted to hear. “Right,” You look around, a false pretense of thinking in your expression, “So… why the red?” You ask curiously, pen in your hand scratching off the old paint under the desk in anticipation.

He paused like a deer caught in headlights, licking the dryness of his lips. Staring down the sheet of paper, yes it’s red indeed, he thinks. His lips part, you watch the smooth, glossy sheen of it move against the light. “I guess I have a favorite class.” He coughs, feigning the ease he was currently lacking with each word he carefully chose to speak.

Despite the urge to egg him on, you leave it at that, your bravery for the day already expended. You know if you continued you might say something a little irrational, and you’re also afraid to jump his bones too quickly. Though you’re pretty sure he could still hold you up if you tried.

Class ends anti-climactically, your professor waving your class off with a less than interested parting. You’re out of the classroom, Choso following behind when, “So, when do you wanna start? I’m free after class tomorrow and it’s the weekend. I don’t mind staying longer.”

You’re following his pace as you walk through the hallways of your building, aiming for the exit but you’re thinking about what happens after. You’re not fully sure where you’ll end up once you part. Do you just go? He stayed with you the entire boring class, (obviously the only reason why you want to stay longer and none other in particular) surely there must be something you have to do in return.

You’re nearing the exit and you can’t help but feel like you’re letting something slip if you go past the doors without making your thoughts known, “I have this thing with my best friend tomorrow, this is not a very good look for me— I promised I’d do this qualitative interview and—“

He’s quick to reply, “Oh yeah, I totally understand—“

Shit, okay you were not seizing the moment correctly. “You should come with me.” You turn over to him, unable to stop yourself.

Choso all but freezes, “What?”

Okay, no going back now, smacking your lips together before going for the kill. “—With me. Yeah, we could hang out and,” Could you still back out? No. 

“Just, maybe study after? like we could study like… for the,” So much for not wanting to jump his bones, “…whole night.” You can’t look at him any longer, eyes scanning back the outside that now surrounds you. The noises of campus and the lamp posts are bright, projecting a warm white over you. But all this is not enough to comfort you from the trepidation finally shaking your brain.

You watch as Choso’s pale cheeks start to tinge into a flushy pink, eyebrows raising behind his glasses.

 “Oh, okay, yes. Okay!” He nods taughtly, though willing.

You pause, “Okay?” trying to check if he’s serious.

“Sure.” You’re both standing opposite his body, shocked with what you’re hearing from the other as much as you were shocked from the words leaving yourselves. 

A beat passes, leaves rustle, and amidst that you’re silently hoping it won't matter how you didn’t think this through fully. “Five o’clock sound good?”

***

It was a steady, calm-ish afternoon, your best friend Miwa was sat in front of you, laptops laid out on the table. She’s writing down notes and closing up her recording software and you’ve been fixing up your hair, clothes, and picking lint off it. You find a loose thread on your shirt when, “Hey,” You look up, alert. Miwa’s squinting at you, blue hair cast in a warm yellow from the mid-afternoon sun. “You good?”

You’re finger quits picking at yourself, “What? Yeah,” eyes flitting back to the pesky string sticking out of the hem of your top. 

There’s a hum coming from in front of you, “You sure? You’ve been so fidgety this entire time.”

“I am not fidgety.” You say, fidgeting. A sigh comes out of you, and you lean back on your chair, hands coming on top of the arm rests. “You really okay with me bringing Choso?”

At this, Miwa’s lips curl into a smirk. “I knew it.”

Your eyes flick over to the side in thought, then back at her sly expression. “What do you know?”

She’s sitting up from her hunched posture over her laptop, and drinking from her cup of her almost lukewarm coffee, shrugging with her eyes still locked on yours.

Your thumbs come up from the arm rests, “What is it?”

She clears her throat, placing the mug on a coaster. She looks back up, a smirk still planted on her face. “Just that I didn’t know that he was your crush,” she expects you to reply, but you’re still waiting for her to elaborate. “Y’know, Choso.”

“I don’t have a crush on him!”

She squints, “Okay so we’re lying today.”

“It’s merely admiration— and some attraction at most.”

“That’s literally what a crush is based on.”

You’re blinking at her, feeling caught. You bite your tongue, knowing that your best friend out of anyone should be able to catch you in a lie. Or even a truth you lie to yourself about. You speak up, “Well?”

“Y’know I love you.” She starts.

“Oh no.” Dread seeps into your stomach, and you know if she starts somewhere along the lines of sugar coating, the following was about to be some bland truth coated around maybe an even bitter core inside.

“I like Choso! He’s been your friend for a while and I’ve never talked to him but he sounds really devoted to his work, maybe goodlooking, he’s smart, and he’s nice—“

“What would Muta think…?”

She chuckles, softening at the thought of her own boyfriend. “No, I just wanted to keep an eye out for you too when I say this.” She pauses, trying to find a way to word this as pleasantly as possible. “Cause you know how girls talk…”

You latch onto that last part, stomach churning in suspense. “Not really, I don’t.”

She stops herself from cackling at your nervous expression, “I just heard he’s always…nice.” 

“What’s wrong with that?” 

“Like too nice? I guess…it’s really hard to explain babe,“ She cuts herself off, sensing your growing apprehension. She observed how your hands are rubbing on the expanse of your cup, and bringing it to your lips to avoid saying something. She quiets down her tone, now kinda shy about mentioning it. She leans a bit towards you, “Like… in bed, y’know?” 

You sputter in your mug, feeling unwelcome liquid scratch your throat. Miwa’s eyes widen when she watches you cough, eyes turning watery. “Ooh gag reflex, that’s not coming in handy.“

“Fucking shut up-“ You’re coughing still and she’s laughing uncontrollably now. “—I did not expect that.”

She’s wiping the corner of her corneas with a finger, “I—I’m sorry I just had to bring it up.”

You’re more composed now, eyes looking up at the clock, it’s ten minutes to five, and you’re trying to relax. 

You don’t exchange looks with Miwa until a short moment passes for you to think. 

“So have you thought about what it would be like?” You’re back to meeting her eyes, a silent exchange between you both. Miwa smiles at you, lowering her voice and putting a finger up to her ear like an agent, “Then I’m glad to relay information.” She’s giggling when you throw a tissue at her.

You’re already standing out of your seat and making your way to sit beside her. She motions her hand for you to come nearer, both turning your heads when the door chime rings and someone enters, calming down when it’s just some delivery person. You relax, side eyeing her. 

Miwa inches closer, “Okay so I’m friends with this senior from my org and she had a friend who was seeing Choso, sort of? Anyways I mentioned once that you were replacing him and that you’re a little into him, sorry.” You’re beckoning her to continue, not caring much for the last part and nodding along. 

“Anyways, it was like a one night stand thing and — don’t get me wrong I’m not trying to spread rumors or judge,” Another pause, and you’re already on the edge of your seat. 

“Well? Go on,” You pull her in, arms tangled and clutching her, knee jittering. 

“I heard he was kinda scared in bed? Like maybe he has a phobia or something.” Your knee stops, and you’re now confused, “It’s just kinda odd ‘cause the guys like a unit, right?” a crease forms between your brows. “Maybe he’s like… a power bottom?” she whispered, tone serious.

You’re nodding, taking in the information with actual consideration. “Possibly,” You’re fully facing her now, “Y’know…he is a TA.” 

It’s Miwa’s turn to be confused, struggling to find the correlation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You fight the expression trying to pull on your lips, you nibble on the skin then let go, “I’d say he’s good at being told what to do.”

Miwa’s eyes widened, before adding, “Tell me when you find out.” A second where you’re both quiet and then you’re being shook by the shoulders, both of you squealing and chortling in your corner. It would be no surprise if you’ve caught the attention of other customers with your commotion. 

She quits with the shaking, now smoothing over the fabric over your shoulders for messing up your top. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

You can’t help but entertain your imagination, “I mean I think I’m too conscious to be playing around too much.” Your friend nods along, supportive. Past these exciting thoughts, it was all a front for the feelings you struggled to word out, “I really like him, Miwa.”

She parts her lips but as if on cue, another chime from the door rings once more. He stood by the entrance for a brief moment, barely scanning the vicinity when he locked eyes on you, a cheeky grin lighting up his face. 

***

“—I think they never made any real contact.”

“No, that’s definitely up for debate.”

Miwa watches your back and forth, pen in hand. Choso decided to be part of her research sample as well, given that he’s already here, he should make use of his time. And he didn’t mind, he liked helping out. 

If only he could actually speak and answer the questions without you guys debating every time one of you made an opinion on something vaguely related to Miwa’s research topic.  At first it was good, your opinions can be added too but now she’s running out of space in her storage with how long this unintentional joint interview was going.

“Okay guys, the interview questions are about historical revisionism. While I do see the correlation, how did we end up in Egypt and…?”

“Ancient Mesopotamia.” Both of you say,  completing her sentence. 

“I can elaborate.” Choso suggests, clearly unable to read between the lines of Miwa’s inquiry.

She stretches in her seat, her legs feeling cramped up with the lack of movement all this time. “Y’know what, I’ll hold you two to that. But first, let’s take a break!” It’s not even a minute until she’s out of both your and Choso’s sights, on the way to the restroom, pen and recorder left on the table. 

“Y’know, I don’t think she likes me that much. I also think she’s too nice to tell me that.” You’re in the middle of cracking your neck until you’re moving your attention to him.

“Don’t worry too much about it, I think she just isn’t up for hearing any more strong opinions on exported textiles.”

“That’s if they were truly exported—“ You shove his arm, and he’s laughing at your face, not even moved from the push. He’s pretending to rubbing his bicep in feigned hurt, lifting his arm in the process, almost flexing. You try to ignore how they felt so hard under your fingertips. You check him out unintentionally, taking notice of how the hem of his layered shirt hangs enough to show the lower part of his stomach. Out of respect, you look the other way.

You swallow thickly, ears hot. “I think I’ll get another snack. Want anything to eat?” You’re already standing up and off the chair, limbs wobbly from the long period of time you spent sitting on the deep arm chair.

There’s a sudden burst of noise coming from the entrance of the café, very loud and boisterous. You can’t help but let your jittery self get distracted, there stood an entire group of men, looking like they just got off practice. You’re wondering why one of them looks vaguely familiar, but there’s a body blocking your view out of nowhere with what you realize is Choso’s chest. 

There’s an odd, slightly frantic look in his eyes you haven’t seen on someone as easygoing as him. “Um, how about I go with you?” 

You’re looking up at him, a little skeptical on why the sudden change of tone, but agree anyways. 

You’re in the short line along the display and point out pastries that you could try when a voice calls out to the person beside you. “Cho!”

It’s easier for you to check where it’s coming from as Choso was in front of said voice. You recognize the pink hair from the group coming in earlier. He’s about 2 inches away from being as tall as Choso, hair damp like he just came from a shower, and a sports bag was strapped across him. 

A pat on his shoulder signals your dark haired companion to turn, seeing a sight he’d been trying to avoid earlier. Of course he had to be the one ordering for his group. 

“Hey man,” Choso greets, strained, a guard visibly coming up around him. 

“What’s up, you don’t say hi to family anymore?” The sentiment, although on paper sounded sweet, in reality was like a taunt. Something you don’t wanna dissect to avoid reading into it too much. “Who’s this?”

You peer over at both of them, their attention now on you. Still unable to read the room, you focus on Choso to see how he wants this to play out. He steps in for you, “You know her, I mentioned the TA thing like a while back. She’s a friend, though she is replacing me.”

 He gestures to the pinkette’s side, introducing him. 

“My brother by the way. Same year though.” 

Sukuna nods at that and smiles, canines showing. He reaches out with his hand, and you meet it halfway. “Ryomen Sukuna.” Huh, he’s not a Kamo.

“Pleasure,” You’re squinting your eyes, there’s something a little unsettling about him that you can’t place, but you’re not trying to jump into that. 

 “I didn’t know Choso had any siblings — ones on campus, no less.”

You let go of his large, callous hands, moving an inch closer to the cashier when the customer before you has their turn to order. “Have 2 terms to catch up with and I don’t really see this one around either ‘cause I did training camp in Barcelona last semester.”

You nod in acknowledgement. Silently, you’re comparing them, unknowingly looking back and forth between him and Choso a little too obviously. 

“We don’t look related do we?”

 Before you could defend yourself, a dry chuckle beats you to it. “We get that a lot.” He squeezed where his hand was planted on Choso, who visibly tenses. “Different mom, same dad. He doesn’t take after him though, if you’re worried—“

“Alright, I don’t think she wants to know about that.”

“Speak for yourself,” You laugh nervously, trying to ease the tension you could feel multiplying tenfold. He pats Choso’s shoulder before bringing his hand down to the side, not before looking at the side of his brother's face as he semi-whispered, “At least one of you doesn't have their panties in a twist.”

“I would if I were wearing mine.” A very long, awkward silence overcomes all three of you. That is until a nearly genuine smile breaks out of Sukuna’s angular features. 

“Ha, what the fuck,” He mutters in amusement, “You’re both weird, that’s cute.” A dry chuckle eases the anxiousness you were struggling to place the source of. Though at the cost of your own dignity.

The line to the cashier moves, it’s yours and Choso’s turn now. He’s first to leave his brother’s side, not even bidding him a glance as he moves past you. “Nice meeting you,” you voice out, still on edge, Sukuna just nods in acknowledgement. 

***

It’s around 6:40pm  when Choso walks you to your apartment outside of campus. There’s a slight tension in the air that you’re struggling to bring up, it’s been there for the remainder of your meet up, not having said a word since you’ve left the café. You’ve been trying to make a move and talk to him but he’s had his eyes on the ground this entire time, rarely up, and definitely never on you. 

He was about to walk in the pedestrian lane when you tug on his backpack. He’s caught in the pull, looking up to the red walking signal reflecting on the road. He walks back to stand next to you, still not saying a word. “What’re you thinking so hard on?”

For a moment he turned his head to you, a little too quick to not look like he wasn’t anticipating you to bring it up yourself. He looks ahead once more when you’re walking now. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

You start to feel a little guilty for not clarifying sooner, wondering if this entire time he thought he should’ve apologized for something he couldn’t control.

“It’s alright, it wasn’t unpleasant for me.”

He almost laughs at that, “Right, and I was jumping for joy.”

The air shifts, it’s not so tense anymore, just between that and uncertainty directed at something else entirely. “I felt really dumb earlier.” He adds, looking back down on the pavement. “I couldn’t say anything to make him leave us alone.”

You’re a few blocks nearby to your place, walking a little ahead of him so he could follow you now. 

“Again, it wasn’t that bad. You don’t have to apologize.” Once more, silence fills the space between you both and it feels like you’re unable to remove this weight you feel affecting your interaction.

Now you’re both looking at your feet as you wait for cars to pass the street you’re crossing and for the timer to finally get to zero. Your foot is stepping over a dry leaf to fill in the lack of communication, the sound crunching in the quiet in a loud, distant manner.

“I just kinda get made fun of for acting like this—weak.” You crane your neck up to meet his eyes, and you’re right to think he’s still looking down. “It’s just annoying how even until now it’s expected of me to bite back on others ‘cause I look like I should.” 

There’s a furrow in his brows, and he’s tightly clutching on the strap of his bag. “Like I’ve accepted that, sort of.  I’m already conscious of it— but maybe people like to pick on me when it's obvious I’m not gonna do anything.” 

You’re making another turn together, he’s leading with the path he’s familiar with and you follow, his words don’t falter. “Maybe ‘cause it makes them feel less small or some shit — I don’t know.”

After processing the words that left him, it brought you back to your conversation with Miwa. How you laughed about his past history with women and how you basically gossiped about his insecurities. Guilt swirls in your stomach, realizing this might just be a little worse than you treated it to be. You keep quiet, deep in your own thoughts, letting him say what he needs to.

“And of course my own brother is like that too.” He rants, tracing back to the behavior he displayed earlier. “He’s my brother and I love him, yes. But frat guys could be such dicks, y’know? I was like his first practice hazing dummy lite…in a way.”

You nod, acknowledging him. “Right, right.” You’re turning to the street ahead of yours, just about a block away now.

“It’s hard to not let those insecurities take over.” He groans, “I spent so much of my life trying to make my best first impressions, and I feel like it backfires on me with the wrong people—I hate that.” He’s scratching the back of his head. “Sometimes I just wish I looked normal. That way I wouldn’t literally feel like the elephant in the room.”

At that, you turn almost as if you’d heard the worst take in your life, brows scrunching. “Normal?”

He shakes his head, “Yes, normal. Like I can wear normal shoes and sit on couches normally.”

“I like that you’re not.” You say, insensitively. “I mean you’re not not normal. But I like…it.” You slow down, trying to backtrack on what you just let slip. 

He’s blinking down on you, a look of surprise etched on his slowly flushing face. “…Why?” 

Your breath is caught in your throat, not knowing how else to explain it.  No going back. Remember? 

 “I feel safe, even if you don’t…bite back. And on top of that you’re kind. I think that matters a lot.” 

Choso stares at you like you just grew a tree on your head, but in truth, he’s just trying to tone down his elation. “Really?” He asks dumbly, already cursing himself in his head for looking like he wants to hear you call him that again. Safe.

You dip your head, agreeing once more. “I’m a girl so I may be a little biased but if I were also a little taller, I wouldn’t have to deal with some idiot guys trying something on me, and I could also defend myself easier.” 

“Oh yeah—Yes, that's totally different from my problems.” He clarified, trying to catch himself from sounding ungrateful. You watch the way his expressions shifts from blank to stressed and bite back a smile. “There’s obviously people with worse problems than being bigger than a doorway.” He’s looking down and pushing his glasses up, almost ashamed. 

You turn to the road leading up to your street, your apartment just at the end of it. “Is that like 6’3 or…”

“Huh?” He meets your inquisitive eyes, “Uh, just a little more.” He replied, shying away from your stare. You’re thinking about all the objects that could possibly match up to Choso’s figure. 

“Those chillers they got in 7’11?”

“Hm, nope. Like 2 inches more, maybe.”

Your stomach does a flip you had to ignore, “You’re lying. Six foot six?”

“Without shoes, yes.” He nodded, met with you side-eyeing him. “Well you’re free to go with me to my annual checkups and see.” He defends, a smile finally appearing on his face at your skepticism.

You squint, stopping yourself from looking too excited with the many, unbecoming thoughts storming your brain. “I’ll hold onto that.” 

Shortly after, you find yourself standing in front of the building to your apartment. “I’m sorry about dumping all that on you, It was a lot.” He looks around before letting out a barely there sigh, “I’ll get going now—“

“Are you forgetting?” You look back and Choso’s standing stiffly, feet planted on the ground. “We’re…studying, remember?”

Choso’s throat bobs at your sly tone, convincing himself there is nothing behind it.  “You did a lot today I just thought we were tired—“

“We don’t have to study then.” You’re looking around and thinking to yourself before landing back on his face, “I mean you came all the way here, you could come up and have some tea?”

The notion has his chest puffing out to regulate the way his heart started beating like its pounding from behind his sternum. He doesn’t say anything, his eyebrows raise behind his glasses, his usually sleepy eyes now wide. He nodded and let out a strained, “Okay.”

***

The door to your apartment swings open with a loud creak. The lights switch on, a warm white cascades from the ceilings. 

Your keys make a clinking noise against the ceramic jewelry tray you leave on the dresser by the entrance. The door is wide open, you feel Choso trailing behind a couple steps away. 

He’s standing kinda stiffly, “Do I take my shoes off or—“

You’re shaking your head, stepping aside to let him in. “My neighbors are kinda sticklers for people who leave their shoes outside in the halls.” He walks past the doorway, head craned down. It’s supposed to look like he was trying to avoid getting hit by the frame of it, though he’s only finding a way to hide his face naturally.

He picked his head up when he heard clanking from the kitchen which meant that you were inside. “I hope you’re not allergic to pollen? I like to put honey in mine.” You ask, your voice still clear as the space isn’t big at all, but in his head it’s distant. He’s trying to calm himself down, taking in your apartment. 

It’s small, kitchen tight and you’ve no space for a table. You use the counter as one, your bed, desk, and sofa all in the same space. However, the lack of furniture made it wide, the “living room” taking the least space with just a little coffee table and the tv on the floor as the only decor. 

“You didn’t say anything so I didn’t add any honey.” He finds himself turning on his feet when he’s met by your figure, coming from the kitchen with two— red and yellow —mugs. You hand him the yellow one, he  takes it with a ‘thanks’. You make a move to sit on the couch, trying to get cozy. Choso’s still standing, sipping on his cup awkwardly.

“You can sit if you want.” Choso’s eyes flick over to you. You realize he had shed his bag on the entrance, still it looks like something is weighing on him.

“I’m okay, I might launch you out of it—“

“Sit with me.” You pat the spot beside you on the couch, your fawn-like eyes up at him. 

It turns his legs into jelly. Thoroughly convinced, he sits beside you, trying to be as careful as he can so the side of the couch doesn’t sink to his weight too much.

He winced at the audible sound of the springs under the cushions, “Sorry.” 

Quietly, you assess him. How stiffly he sat, how much of the seat he took up despite keeping himself at the edge of it. If he sat back, would his knee brush against yours? Though you feel a little bad for taking advantage of his reactiveness towards you. However, something deep inside you is undeniably excited with the thought. 

On the other hand, Choso feels like he’s watching himself act in third person, deliberating what part of his body he should move next to not look too obnoxious or stiff. He doesn’t know if he should just let the silence pass till he runs out of tea, or maybe till it turns lukewarm. You shift in your seat, he feels your gaze heavy on him. You don’t say anything, you just stare at the side of his face. His throat bobs.

He looks over to you for a split second and meets your eyes, you raise your brows at him, a smirk growing on your sweet face. 

An anxious laugh bubbles from his throat, the tips of his ears tinging red. “I think you’re aware of how you’re making me nervous.” 

You couldn’t stop the way the smirk spreads into a wide smile. “I was thinking of how to get you to talk, is all.” You tilt your head to the side, checking out how the light from your room lamp makes his jaw seem sharper. His hair nearly fell on his shoulders, built and perched with his elbows on his knees, posture a little hunched, but he still sat taller than you. Nothing short of tempting in your eyes.

He follows your gaze, “What?”

“You’re also thinking of something.”

His brows pinch, he hates how good you are at prodding at him when he clearly doesn’t know what to say. “I’m always thinking.”

You nod, “And still, you haven’t said anything since we went up.”

Choso pauses his already stiff self. You place your mug down, crossing your legs on the couch. He brings his attention back to you but you’re already intently looking at him. He flinches back.

Sighing, “What do you think I’m thinking about?” You purse your lips, shrugging at his question. He shakes his head, a smile fighting its way on his face.

 “Then I’m happy you only brought me here to drink some tea.” A roll of his eyes comes out of sarcasm, reaching for his own mug on the table, stretching his arm out. 

He’s about to pull his hand back when your smaller one lands on top of his. The contact would have made him drop the glass into little pieces if it weren’t for the coffee table underneath. He lets down the cup, missing the coaster you laid out. 

“That’s my mug….” You point at the red cup in his grasp, yours. You let the words linger like the pads of your fingers on the back of his hand, “Hm, you’re really warm.”

He blinks, unable to ground himself back to reality because maybe, maybe you’re trying to make a move on him. He’s unable to look into your eyes, 

“Uh,” He falters, the warmth on his cheeks multiply and spread out when you inch closer, the warmth of your own body makes him feel like he’s overheating. 

“How else could I get you to go up with me?” You say, goading another reaction out of him. 

“I-I mean you could just ask and…I wouldn’t say no,“  You’re closer to his face now—too close. But you’re still not looking at eye level — not close enough. 

“I think I’ve done a lot just to be around you, Cho.” He almost melts at how the stupid nickname his brother calls him sounded so good coming from your honeyed lips. Choso gulps, audible and embarrassing in the silence of your apartment. 

He started off this conversation on the edge of the couch, somehow it feels like you’ve backed him into it.

“Y’know, the TA stuff, asking to study—do we look like we’re studying now?” Your arm skates over his hand, up his arm, the touch leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You watch how his jaw all but clenches at the feeling, a newfound confidence makes you unbelievably giddy, driving you to push more. “But what I wanna know is,”

He feels like he’s running out of breath before he could utter a word when your palm lands up on his hard chest, feeling for the erratic thumping of his heartbeat underneath the fabric of his shirt.

Your head is craned up, lashes bat at him, “What are you willing to do…?”

He’s looking deeply into your eyes, searching for the answer to your question, not realizing how his neck is craning down at your height in return. Several beats pass — he feels a tug on his shirt and then he’s closing the distance between your lips. 

He whines on the soft, wet skin, sucking gently, eyes falling shut. His hand finds your cheek, the other reaching for your side when you tangle your arms around his neck. The pace is hungry yet fervent, tugging and melting against the other. You pull away slowly, lips parting from each other wetly. You’re smacking your own lips before smiling up at Choso, giggling. 

His eyes are hazy, glasses crooked out of place. His hands are covering your back and smoothing over your clothes, “I can do anything— whatever you want.” 

If you weren’t already grinning wide enough, now you’re fully Cheshire-like. Pushing yourself closer towards him, “Anything?” He nods eagerly, you’re pulling him in, hungry. 

His hand is on the back of your neck now, holding. There’s something about his touch that feels like it’s keeping you together without feeling too possessive. Caring with a dash of hesitance. One you’re looking to break through tonight.

Your lips travel down his neck, leaving hot, lingering kisses along his throat. “Oh, mmh-“  He bites his lip immediately after nearly letting out the low noise from chest, eyes shutting when you find the particularly sensitive spot on his neck. You feel his fingers dig rougher on your hips, you’re on your knees now, determined to cover every inch of him in your touch. Your weight falls on him when he tugs you, the hands planted on his shoulders squeeze out of instinct.

“You good? I-I didn’t mean to, ah—“ He tried to move his head away from your persistent lips, but a shiver that runs through him stops his actions. You’re sucking on his skin, humming proudly, undettered from your little slip. His hands brush down your sides, they plant themselves lower on your waist.

You plant kisses all the way back to his chin then meet his lips again. You’re eye level, a sinister glint in your eyes. You stick your tongue out, half lidded gaze and staring right at him — brushing the wet, pink muscle along Choso’s bottom lip, teasing. Heat rushes on his face, blood rushes on his crotch. You’re killing him.

You suck on the pink flesh, tugging then letting go, he’s pulling you in closer by the back of your neck. He wants you on him,  mind unable to decide how — just everywhere is fine. You drop your palm down between your bodies and on the garter of Choso’s sweats, feeling for the hardness underneath.

He hissed as your fingers brushed what would be his shaft, “Um, sorry, can we make out a little I think…” He holds your head closer to his face, breaths mingling as you catch them. “I’ll get less hard— nervous, I think. Sorry,” You hummed in agreement before landing back on the flushed skin of his mouth, quieting him down with your lips.

You giggle against him, chasing as he squirms, palms settling on his shoulders. You pull off him with a peck, feet planting back on the carpeted floors.  Choso now sat far into the couch, slacked with legs spread. His mouth parts as you start undressing, stripping off into your underwear. 

He sizes you up and down, taking in your soft, bare skin, your strapless bra and cotton panties under the warm lights of your apartment. It elicits a heavy throb under his pants. Choso’s breathing feels uneven and the air grows thinner when you settle back on the couch, only now between his spread out legs.

 You’re steadying yourself, his hands find a place on your warm, now bare skin. You smooth over the wide expanse of his chest, then land on his neck, even warmer than you. “This okay?” You ask, to which he only replies with a nod. 

You’re about to lean into him when he reaches for his glasses, but you stop him before he tries to pry the piece of metal off. “They stay on.”

His breath catches in his throat, stomach dipping. A part of him he’s not quite sure whether he wanted to acknowledge, liked when you tell him what to do.

 He lets his hand fall, you adjust the rims on the bridge of his nose. “You’re so pretty.” You’re holding his face with both hands, tilting it upwards to you. A lopsided grin appears on his face at the comment, eyes shying away and down from your face and to the body on him.  

“Thanks- Thank you,” He replied poorly. His palm skated from your waist and to your back, laying above the clip of your bra. His lips are caught between his teeth as he takes in the feel of your skin against him, he looks up. “You’re awfully pretty as well.”

He was never good at expressing himself,only with what he was sure of. But this was new, you pushing, him taking, it was all new. But he meant every word he said to you. He leaned in to catch your lips against his. Fuck, if only you could tell how much he meant it.

He’s slotting his tongue in between your parted mouth, leaning further in and you’re falling back, but he’s catching you — keeping you to him. You work together smoothly, as smooth as silks rubbing against each other. You clutch on to him tightly as if he’ll slip if you don’t. You taste like jasmine tea and he’s wondering if the sweet taste is from the honey or just you. He’s holding you by the neck and pushing your back into him. 

You finally move to settle on his lap, the kiss unwavering so you’re first to pull away, “Choso—“ He catches the sound of his name in your mouth, chasing, taking, and taking. There isn’t any place on your body that isn’t covered by him, your arms, your back, your legs in between his that caged you. You moan at the thought against his greedy tongue,  entirely consumed. But you’re impatient and already wet, the fabric of your panties has been riding up for the last 10 minutes. So you squeeze his arms weakly, but it’s enough for him to let air flow between you.

“Shit, Sorry—” He’s frantic and searching your eyes, but he’s met with your hazed out ones and your swollen, drooly lips. He wiped the corner of it, chest heaving. “I need to— you’re driving me insane,” He chuckles, deep and uncertain with how true the fact felt. He’s brushing your hair back gently, “I’m sorry,” he lets go of you as you’re pulling away.

You’re upright now, letting your feet back down. You’re bending over to his lap, palms resting on his spread out limbs, “You need to make it up to me,” You’re once again reaching for his sweats, the imprint of his shaft taking form at the side. He gently lays his hand on your wrist.

 “Are you sure?” His eyes are wide, pupils dilated, the frames of his glasses are now on the tip of his nose bridge. But there’s a wave of genuine uncertainty blanketing his expression.

You’re blinking up at him, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

It’s a tangled knot in his chest, one bundled in embarrassing moments and unsuccessful hook-ups. He stuttered over his words,

“Just that before I’ve-“ he pondered if he should risk you laughing at him, but you’re expectantly looking into his eyes, and your hands are already on his lap, a little more and you’d be right where he’s aching for you. “I’m scared of making it…unpleasant?” 

His hand rubs up and down your arms, you’re tuning him out and thinking of how you should go about sitting on him. He continued to ramble on, “Um, like I’ve been told it was…“

“Too big?” You ask, attention now on him. Externally you’re collected, stating it like a remark. But internally you know it’s a fact. You feel a little bad thinking about it but now you’re piecing together your earlier conversation on what Miwa’s friend’s friend might’ve been complaining about. 

Choso all but nods, eyes scanning your room as if that would keep yours away from him. “I could just help you, y’know. We don’t have to—“

You’re turning over and maneuvering his hand out of his lap, sitting on his thigh. For a moment, you’re a little hesitant, hovering. “I mean I’d like it if we did, but I’m also…” His words trail off, holding your hip and securing you on his lap, unbothered as your weight settles on one thigh. He clears his throat, “I’m okay with, um,  anything.”

You’re leaning into him, on your side, hand trailing underneath the hem of his shirt, grazing his clenched abdomen. He jolts, causing you to jump in your seat. Your eyes widen for a moment before relaxing, hand skating lower under the garter of his sweats with a simpering grin on your face. You’re kissing his cheek, gentle and slow as your hand palms over his hard, covered cock.

He’s watching your move under the fabric of his gray sweats, feeling your smaller fingers squeezing and rubbing the base of it. It hurts, he thinks. In a way that something stings and feels good at the same time. You’re squeezing at his tip when he throws his head back on the couch, groaning loudly. You take the opportunity to mouth on his neck again. 

“Can you please— Can I please take it off?” He asks politely, but the grip on your hip feels anything but. You hum, still licking at the expanse of his neck. 

You’re pulling his pants down with his help—mostly him just taking it off himself, desperate and aching. He’s bare from the waist down now when you settle back on his thigh, sweats and boxers discarded on the floor. 

You’re now shamelessly gawking at his erection bouncing against stomach, slapping against it. The warmth of your hand catches him off guard, finally making contact skin to skin. You tug on the shaft, immediately taking notice of how your fingers struggle to close around it and were squeezing on accident.

“F—oh, god. ” He rests his head on your shoulder, sweat building on his forehead. You start moving your hand up and down, already slippery from how he’d been oozing in his boxers the entire time. He’s quiet behind you, save for the heavy breathing on your skin. You go faster. “Your hand’s so tight,” it comes out in a whimper. A wet, mouthing sensation can be felt on your shoulder, he’s biting your skin to muffle himself. But It doesn’t work, his throat lets loose with each reaction.

 His eyes roll up from your shoulder when he feels you lean forwards and away from his chest, cock twitching when a wet glob of spit drips on him from your tongue.

You’re both watching your hand work up and down, bringing both onto the shaft, he’s cursing as you go faster. 

You’re throwing your other leg over his thigh, straddling him in reverse, before resting back on him. Choso's hands come up to hold you under your knees, keeping your legs apart. He watched as the movement stretched the fabric, pussy still clad in underwear, drenched and barely covering it. But he can’t help but peek lower, your hands exclusively paying attention to his erection. 

You joke, “It’s like I'm jerking myself off.”

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest, the vibrations thrum against your back and you turn them into moans as you suddenly go faster. “Sucks though, I can’t feel it.” 

You’re unable to see his expression behind you, but you can hear how his moans are muffled between his teeth, “You’re s-so eager.”

You reveled at how shaky he’d sounded. “One of us has to be.”

And then a strange noise akin to the tearing of fibers can be heard from below. You gasp as it happens in front of you, hands slowing its ministrations. You realize you’re watching him rip your underwear, exposing your wet, shiny pussy. “Hey—“

 He’s adjusting himself from under you, bringing his other hand under your thigh, your legs tugged higher as he starts rubbing right on your clit. 

He’s rough and accurate on where he wants to touch you, deliberate in his movements.  He’s quick but he isn’t rushing either, his only motive was to get you to falter in his stead as you were doing just the same.

Your voice shrinks into breathy pants, the slick sound from your poor clit syncing in with each, “Ah, ah, Cho—“

“You’re making me so, so hard, baby—” You’re both an obscene sight to behold, playing with each other, spread out, grunting or whimpering. Both sloppily still trying to let your lips tangle with each other despite the inconvenient position. Both a mess, your tits spilling out of your bra, and his glasses all fogged up. 

You grind into him, “Feels so good,” rubbing your juices on the cock you’re jerking with now one hand, coating his chubby length. Your body felt like it was on overdrive, moving your hips up and down as you clenched on nothing, gushing freely. 

You’re biting your lip as your hips grow erratic, brows pinching and your abdomen clenches on itself. “I-I’m close.”

Choso lets a groan escape,“Fuck, really?” realizing he’s making you come first. It’s a miracle he’s held off this long, he wonders if he’ll hold up if you let him inside. The thought makes him move your hips on his cock, assisting you as you use him to get yourself off. 

He doesn’t know if he’s breathing so hard because he’s getting tired or because he knows getting your clit rubbed nudges you a little closer to the edge when you start to get louder. He breathes against your ear, “Come on me, please.” He’s mumbling now, less at you and more to himself.  “I wanna see you cum on me, please, please—”

Your legs begin to shake in his hold, fighting to shut close but the grip under your knees forces you to come with your legs spread wide, pussy making a show of spasming against Choso’s cock, voice breaking as you whimper. “That’s it baby, that’s it,” 

Choso is completely enamored, the sounds of your high pitched whines in the air was like music to him, the way you writhe against his body was this entrapping dance. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

He notes how you were still in your bra, he whispers something about it, but you’re just nodding your head with your eyes shut, riding it out. Then he’s unclipping the strap with one hand, the fabric falling off and releasing your perfect tits.

You then relax your back to him, twitching still. But then he’s thrusting his erect cock up between your folds, the stimulation starting to make you wetter again, your breath can only catch up so fast.  You’re attempting to lift your hips with a squirm.”Gi-give me a sec—”

Choso quickly lets your legs fall to the side and pauses, sitting up and moving your head to face him. “Shit- we can stop here,” he assured, breathy and worried. “I didn’t mean to, I was just looking at you. You looked-” So fucked out, “I’m sorry.“

“Sh-shut up,” You look away and Choso stiffens under you. Was he too rough? Before he could even utter another apology, you spoke, “I’m fine, I just need to— breathe.“ 

He watches you quiet down from underneath you, he’s rubbing your thighs comfortingly. “I am sorry,” The silence lingers, only getting tenser with each beat that passes.

And then you start chuckling — at nothing in particular. Your breathing slows down, and you look back to check on him. He looked so worried, brows pinched and his lip jutted out. A lazy smile breaks into your features, leaning down to catch him in a chaste kiss so he wouldn't see the expression on your face. “I liked it, okay?”

His breath hitched in his throat when you spoke against his lips, “Yeah?” 

You’re nodding, smile now exposed. You kiss him again, powerless against his sweet lips. He relaxes, hand coming up to the back of your head. “I wanna-“ A kiss, “Fuck you now,” A slower kiss, “Please.”

He’s backing up to read your face, reassessing. Within the silence, something passes between you two. Amidst the air that smells of sex and vaguely of tea, there’s this mix of warmth and uncertainty—and whether or not to dive in it — that lingers in between. 

He’s nervous under your gaze, once again, looking for a way out of your eyes that traps him so effectively like no other. He’s looking down at his still, very much, erect self. “I don’t have a condom.”

You’re thinking to yourself before you reach for the side table of your couch, scrambling for a box you kept there in case.

Choso’s scrambling to rip the plastic off before fishing for one packet. “I’m not really sure if it would fit so, maybe just try it,” You remark as you’re being maneuvered out of his lap and on the side of the couch. He fumbled with the rubber a couple times, pulling it down before it snapped a little too tightly on his girth. He tugs it down on him until a tear starts spreading on the side of the translucent material. 

“I’m sor—“ He hissed as it snapped against his skin, “See I can’t even fucking…I don’t think this is quite right—” He’s cursing to himself, obviously a little sexually frustrated. For someone his size he still managed to look somewhat like a defeated puppy. 

You’re tugging the broken thing off, relief blooming in his chest but it’s short lived as he’s reminded of how he might not even have sex with you anymore. “But no, we really don’t have to.”  He says, discouraged. 

“You can fuck me raw, I’m on the pill.” He internally groaned, pulled back out of his head. You just had a way with your words. 

He does a complete 180, eyes widening, shifting from beaten to optimistic. He reminds himself to curb his excitement though, slowing down. “You can be on top—set the pace?” You’re already moving to sit on his lap.

He’s nodding his head at you, and finally rips his shirt off himself, now completely naked. You’re staring down at him, licking your lips at the sight of his milky skin and toned chest. He pulls you out of your thoughts, voice small and distant. 

“I’ll pull out, yeah?” He’s swallowed back thickly, more of reminding himself to do that. “Just be slow okay? I didn’t prepare you that wel—um,"

His voice trails off when you’re already lining yourself up with his reddened tip. “A little at a time—Oh,” You’re already sinking down, unrepressed. 

The stretch is long and constant, to the point it feels like you’re rethinking how fast you jumped on this, except you remember you’re already lowering yourself very carefully. 

Your jaw hangs open in a silent scream when you get past the head, sinking lower, your walls throb against his member. You’re bracing yourself with a palm, Choso’s chest is covered in sweat and heaving. “You’re so—‘s really tight, oh fuck you’re so warm,” He whined out, unable to complete a sentence.

He’s leaving a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses on your neck and then back on your lips to keep your mewls at bay. You’re kissing back, he’s only half way in when you start moving. Choso’s breaths turn ragged against yours, pulling you closer to him. You catch your breath, “It’s stretching me out so much, Choo-” You whine, slowly rolling your hips.

He’s squeezing your waist before trailing his hands down your ass, “You’re doing good, you’re doing really good.”

He’s looking down at your progress, struggling to tell where you ended and he begun, now nearer to the base of his cock. He throbs inside you. “Fuck, a-are you okay?” He’s looking back up at your face, taking in your lips, bitten and swollen under your teeth. 

He lets out a shaky whimper, “You’re taking so much.” His eyes finding their way back to your hole swallowing him. “So good, baby.”

You tuck your feet over his thighs for leverage, pulling off his cock slowly then sinking back down, and back up. You repeat the motions, torturously slow, your slick creating this lewd noise from each rock of your hips as you go deeper. Choso’s hands are on your thighs, weighing you down but he’s really holding back from actively pushing — still you’re sinking, taking more. 

You start to bounce, struggling to hold yourself up with your palm on his chest, the slight sting of the stretch dulling out to a deep pressure. It’s a lot easier now, you go even faster with the help of your growing arousal slicking up his cock. Every touch you leave on each other now feels highly sensitive, your tits pressed against Choso’s hard chest, his hands squeezing on your ass for dear life. You’re left unable to keep up conversations or teases to each other now, heads completely in a different space. You're left babbling incoherencies as your tingling nerves derail your focus, the only thing clear was to go after what felt good. 

But you falter, your knees slowing as they start to ache but you push yourself further, desperate, taking even more of Choso’s length. You find yourself losing balance and lean over, panting. You lift your hips, then let your ass fall back into his lap, a strained mewl leaving your throat, “I-I need help. I need you, Cho—need you t’a fuck my pussy,” 

He groans out at how high your voice got, fresh from its suppressed whines. “Okay I’ll help,” He’s quick with his hands, holding you by the globes of your ass, and pulls you up. He bites back a noise, hearing and feeling your tight pussy gush and clamp on him as he lifts until it’s just the tip. “s’ okay if I thrust a little?” He whispers against your ear, growing desperate as his cock pulses in anticipation. You nod fervently in his neck, arms circled around him. “Okay baby, I’m gonna. I’m gonna help this pussy- fuckkk” 

It’s noisier now, from your skin, sticky and slapping against each other, to your gasps turning into moans against each other’s open mouths. Choso’s now taking all the work, lifting your ass and bringing it down to meet his aching cock even faster than you could have. He starts meeting your pussy half way, thrusting up wards and it knocks the wind out of you.

Moans spill out of you with each thrust up, breaking and then bursting out of you. You’re clinging to him, bodies impossibly close, skin rubbed up against skin. “You’re so fucking loud, honey—do you like it?” His groans turn into grunts with how he’s physically exerting his body, on a mission to see you break apart on top of him.

You reply with a noise of acknowledgment, barely audible amongst the slapping and heavy breathing. You’re body feels hot all over, from inside and out. He’s deep enough inside you in places you didn’t even know was possible to go that far in, and the best worst part is you haven’t even reached the base of him yet. A new objective makes itself known in the part of your brain that still functioned, a dimly flickering idea. 

“Ch-choso can you, ngh—“ You’re bringing your face out of his neck to face him, but he’s still busying himself with his thrusts, “I want you deeper, c-could you do that f’me?”

He’s letting out a high pitched whine he when lets you down, about to throw his head back when you catch his lips in yours, tugging on his hair and pulling roughly.  “You’re stronger than me Cho, c’mon. Make me cum on your big cock—“

He groans, planting his feet on the ground, before you know it you’re up in the air, now standing. You cut yourself off with a moan, both of you do —sighing out when he lifts your ass up before dropping you on his painfully hard cock. “You’re so filthy when you talk, y’know that?”

It feels like he's all the way to your lungs when he finally bottoms out in you, which would make sense since it feels like you aren’t breathing anymore. You cry out once more, wiling your eyes and muffling the noises in his neck, biting down. “Are you crying?” He asks, concern prodding between his excitement, but the thought manages to make it’s way to his cock, fucking you on him rhytmically slow and deep. You let out a choked sob, “Fuck you’re crying—not even going that fast.”

“Then g-go faster,” You managed to voice out between moans, your hips wiggling in his grasp. He groans in response, kneading your ass to stop you from getting ahead of him.

“You tell me if it’s too much- just, you have to tell me a-alright?” You’re clenching on him, still trying to bounce. “Shit, Okay.” 

The slower sounds of your skin slapping each other turn into rapid, sharp sounds. Choso grunting from each thrust, now fully unrepressed. In seconds, the image you’ve crafted of him as this shy, hesitant boy, crumbles. You’re fully moaning out now, his cock nudging deeper and repeatedly in that spot that triggers your insides. “I’m so full, fuck-“

He’s hiccuping his moans out, turning into whimpers as he pumps you up and down even faster, his nails digging into the meat of your ass. “You’re taking me so good baby,” He’s thrusting up when he lets you fall on his cock midway, his muscles forgetting to strain. “Fuck, take it, take it—“ 

He dives in against your lips, tongue invading your whimpering mouth. You try your best to kiss back, eyes nearly closing while he’s drowning you in him. You’re clenching on his cock a lot tighter now, his balls drenched in your arousal, slapping against your other hole from the impact of his motions.

“I think I—I’m gonna cum-“ You pull away from Choso who lets out a breathy moan, licking your lips to chase yours. You’re falling limp against him, hips rendered useless when he’s already fucking you on a pace outside of your own stamina. 

Your insides are pulsing around his member, your moans growing even louder. Choso’s deep enough into you when he feels his cock twitch, “I need to pull out—“ You’re immediately protesting, letting out noises of disapproval. “No, no baby I’m gonna cum if you—“

“I don’t care.“ Fuck. Choso holds himself back, his pre-cum oozing out makes your sopping hole even more slippery at the thought of filling you up to the brim.  He’s thinking of ways to keep himself from cumming right this very second when you’re already so fucked out and desperate, high up in your own head.

His dick twitches again and he’s biting his lip, slowing his carry on your body til you’re stopping altogether. Before you could say anything else, he’s pulling out and placing you on the couch, lying down. You’re complaining, spreading your legs as much as the cushions on your side could let you. 

Choso’s holding his cock, squeezing at the base to calm himself down but he opens his eyes to your gaping, hungry hole, presented to him like an offer, “C-cum inside me, Cho,”

His resolve breaks within a blink of an eye, already laying above you and wrapping your legs around his waist. You feel like crying out of joy when he finally makes his way inside, thrusting slowly and hissing from how tight you still are. “I need to be on top of you, I need to—“ He mumbled, eyes already hazed out and clambering for satiation.

He topples over you as he finds his balance, now setting a newer pace from earlier, caging you with his body while his thrusts grow even faster.

The sensation is much more different now, a stretch added with the forces of his thrusts now fully landing on you.

He’s watching every twist of your face and moan spill out. Scanning your body downwards while he lays a palm on your lower abdomen, “If I cum inside you’re gonna bulge right h-here, d’ ya want that?”

You’re squealing against him when he presses down, his cock nudging where he’s digging his fingers from the outside. Your walls flutter against his member, sucking him in and pulsing wetly. Choso’s grunting against you, hips growing faster as he watches your eyes get even more hazy and your face twisted.

Your eyes are rolling back when he starts rubbing on your clit, already impatient with wanting to feel your pussy tighten impossibly around him.

He’s whispering incoherencies to you, face on your neck when he pulls back his hips and pushes back in deeply as he continues rubbing you. 

You cry out, shuddering against Choso as the coil in you snaps, holding onto his wrist as your legs secured against his ribs.

He lets out a shaky moan, pumping faster when he chases his orgasm while you ride yours out on him, bodies grinding up against each other intimately. 

A curse lets you know that he’s finally reached his climax, thrusts growing slow and deep while pumping you full of his sticky cum.  Your eyes are glossed over, your throat sore from your own voice when he’s riding out his high, panting and leaving kisses all over your face. 

Your chests are pumping against each other,  both catching your breaths. Your hand finds its way to his face, turning it so he could look back at you. His cheeks are red and his glasses were no longer on him, probably losing them from how much you’d been switching positions. 

You’re brushing his hair from his face, tucking a long strand onto his ear. Your body still feels like it’s on fire but it doesn’t compare to how even after all that, his stare on you still makes your heart skip a beat. You let out a breath, gathering yourself.

 “What do you think?” His eyes scans over your face, “Better than coming up to study?”

Choso shifts on his elbows as he’s laying on top of you.“Yeah that was…” He takes a moment to think of a better way to describe it, a smile spreading on his face. “Really good.” He settles with honesty instead.

He’s thumbing over your shoulder, a hundred thoughts trying to materialize themselves in his still mushed up brain. “I’ve never done it like that, before I mean.“ 

He’s looking up to meet your eyes, and you’ve got a glow emitting from you, drawing him in. He hesitates for a moment but then, “And you? How’d you feel?”

You huff out a soft chuckle, realizing how ironic this all was. How you’ve still managed to not destroy the awkwardness that came with affections even when you’ve skipped over to, well sex. Choso waits for your answer, something swirls tight in his chest, uneasy but still patient. 

You’re brushing back the hair on his scalp, taking in how much less guarded he looks without glasses. “Yeah, I feel…safe.”

He smiles, that knot in his chest untangling. To no surprise, he finds the thread it’s bundled from may be connected to you. “Yeah?”

You nod, smiling, “Yeah.”

©chuuren all rights reserved. do not copy, plagiarize, translate , or modify any of my works. i only post and interact on tumblr and ao3. do not put this in ai.

[stardustsatoru]

.ೃ࿔*:･ Finding out just how friendly your cute new neighbor Choso really is! | obsessve/yandere content + a lil smut/suggestive content 18+ mdni! This is a continuation of this post .ೃ࿔*:･

Your neighbor Choso, who comes to your place once a week for dinner. Ever since you first invited him over, it's become sort of an unspoken weekly routine.

Your neighbor Choso, who asks questions about your life as though he hasn't already memorized every detail of your past, from trivial things like your ex's names all the way down to your blood type. He nods along convincingly, reacting to every dteail you reveal as though it's new information.

Your neighbor Choso, who at some point in the evening, while you're playing the part of the perfect host, has made a habit of sneaking off into your room to take a souvenir of sorts.

It's been a week since your last dinner, which means he'll be over at your place tonight; sitting across from you at your dining room table and imagining a life where he doesn't have to go home after, because he's already there.

Your neighbor Choso, who sits on his bed with his dark hair resting against the headboard, hips rutting urgently against his "souvenir"—a pair of pink panties he plucked from your laundry basket during his last visit.

Much like your dinners, this has become a ritual for Choso, desperate to minimize the ever-present tent in his pants before showing up at your door.

Your neighbor Choso, whose large hands move to steadily stroke his hard-on, the lewd sounds of his spit-slick hand stroking up and down combining with his needy moans and curses, echoing through his bedroom.

He pictures your hips swaying as you lead him to your room, eyes silently pleading him to stay the night. His mind even conjures an image of you bent over your vanity, stuffed full of his throbbing cock. He can all but feel you clench around him, tightening his grip instinctively and fucking his fist with more fervor.

Your neighbor Choso's blissful vision is interrupted by a knock at his front door. He ignores it at first, clearly in the middle of something, until the chime of his doorbell rings through the apartment.

He rises to his feet begrudgingly, fumbling your slick panties in his hands and pulling up his joggers while making his way to the front door. The sight on the other side of his peephole leaves his jaw hanging open.

It's you, in all of your ethereal beauty, a bottle of wine in hand and that smile that drives him mad gracing your face.

Your neighbor Choso would usually be happy—ecstatic to see you, but you showing up here when he's like this?

His brain short circuits as he pulls his pants up the rest of the way and tosses your panties somewhere—he doesn't care where, as long as he's not caught red handed when the door swings open to reveal your pretty face. He's still half hard, and he silently pleads that you won't notice.

Your neighbor Choso, who nearly forgets how to speak when you come prancing into his apartment. Your scent hits his senses—intoxicatingly sweet with an edge, just like you—and his knees buckle. Naturally, all of the blood goes rushing back to the hard-on he's trying so desperately to conceal.

Your a/c's out, you said, so you asked to do dinner at his place instead. How could he ever say no to you? There's just one small problem...

Your neighbor Choso searches frantically for the highly incriminating panties he'd chucked god knows where. You're in the kitchen uncorking the wine, seemingly oblivious to the absolute turmoil Choso's facing in the living room.

Your neighbor Choso, who checks under the couch, behind the tv, even looks behind the curtains. But he can't seem to find that pretty pink scrap of fabric anywhere. His inner panic muffles the soft sound of your approaching footsteps, and he's hectically searching the pillows and cushions of his couch when your voice startles from behind him.

"Looking for something, Cho?" you ask innocently, voice thick with concern.

"Yeah," Choso responds absentmindedly, barely registering the fact that you're in the room, let alone the nickname that never fails to unravel him. "Yeah, just–"

Your neighbor Choso falls silent when his eyes meet yours. Shock steals his words as he lifts his head to see you; standing behind his couch with a now-open bottle of wine in one hand and those pink lacy panties in the other.

His face is a furnace, red and hot, and his heart hammers so hard behind his chiseled chest he's sure you can hear it.

Your neighbor Choso fumbles his words, and you let him, a devious little smirk growing wider the more he stutters and trips over his own tongue. He finally manages words: "Fuck, you weren't supposed to... fuck I can explain. I'm sorry—"

"Don't be," you interrupt, stepping closer to your naughty neighbor until your face is a breath away from his. You take his trembling hand in yours and return the found fabric, watching the way the bright pink contrasts against his pale skin.

"You can keep them..." you say softly, looking into Choso's wide eyes. "The pair I'm wearing right now is much cuter anyway. Wanna see?"

[sugurusbeloved]

❤︎﹕giving head to nerdjo ⸝⸝

nerdjo’s glasses slip down his nose as he stares at you between his knees, mouth already running even while you’re bobbing on his cock.

“fuckkk, that’s so good—shit, wait, did you know that like… most guys only last like five minutes with head? which is, y’know, kind of embarrassing considering the male refractory period—”

his words stutter when you swallow around his sensitive tip, spit dripping down your chin. “ohhh god, okay, yeah, that’s—fuck—that’s definitely less than five minutes for me.”

your tongue presses under his tip and he whines, still running his mouth.

“ahhh—shit, baby, did you also know semen actually has, like, fructose in it? it’s literally nature’s energy drink—ohhh fuck, your tongue—wait, wait, don’t stop—” his whimpers comes out shaky, hand twitching like he wants to push your head down but can’t decide if it’s rude.

you take him deeper, throat tightening, and he slaps a shaky hand over his mouth, eyes rolling back behind his lenses. he tries to muffle a moan but it comes out anyway, high and desperate.

“o-okay, okay, uh—s-science says sucking dick releases oxytocin—hahh, f-fuck—bonding hormone, y’know? so technically, we’re like… getting closer right now.”

you hum around him in agreement and he gasps, words spilling faster. “shitshitshit, baby, you’re—fuck, your throat’s so warm, you’re making me cum—ahhh, oh god, wait, I’m serious, I’m—”

he breaks off with a choked moan, cock twitching as he shoots thick cum across your tongue, still babbling about “increased intimacy” while you swallow every drop.

[polkafae-deactivated20260528]

◌ you’re fucked silly with satoru’s “lollipop” ╱ 18+

𓏵 cw. food play oral bondage mock sympathy tummy bulge dacryphilia cowgirl .ᐟ Ი𐑼

𝓎ou didn’t think much of it. him and his vampiric, milk white canines teething at the spit-glossed, candied-dense globe of a cherry blow pop— like a puppy to a bone— dyed tongue suckling the chemically saccharine, viscous syrup which dribbled out onto his pink lips.

of course, not like it should’ve mattered even if you had thought about it; you knew satoru enjoyed a little facile sweet treat, something rotten and purely sucrose— likely cavity-inducing— which he’ll frivolously re-word as “brain-stimulating” since it sounds fancy. less juvenile.

but, sometimes, there’s a silly ulterior motive. because candy alone can’t always satiate a sweet tooth.

“don’t you hate that kind?” you tut, facetiously coy.

brows furrowing cutely quizzical at the immature boy gnawing tenaciously to reach the blow pop’s enshrouded bubblegum, like he didn’t prefer dum-dums, and as if there wasn’t a pooling, sore ache in your own tummy from gawking at his pretty mouth— crude, sticky slick dampening the scant gusset of your cotton panties.

he smiles. fangs too cheshire and kittenishly bonny for a boy who’s killed. “yeah- but i’ll manage.”

and, of course, he does. that is, if “managing” meant impromptu, or languidly pumping your tight, little pussy with the lolli’s bulbous head, marbled raspberry-mauve sphere ignominiously squeezing in-n’-out your velvet hole— gummy walls sensitive and bruising being rubbed flush against the calloused crystalline sugarcoating.

it’s nauseatingly tawdry. but repulsively erotic in a way where your spine is soon arched like a needy, jumpy cat— skimpy pleated uniform miniskirt bunched up, wrinkled, at the plush of your waist— lace-frilled cotton panties peeled halfheartedly aside. knees near either clavicle with tender knuckles quivering against the back of either leg. acrylics drawing mean crescents in the flesh.

“sooo skittish, baby,” he purrs, puerile. sardonic. nibbling and puppy-licking at your puffy, tender clit— doe baby blues engrossed by your greedy, drooling cunt slobbering up the rotund candy to its plastic stick. “would’ya- hah-scamper away if it’s just the tip?”

gagged by his eye veil, your soft mewls of retort are pacified into adorable, mousy huffs, which he faux-croons at, pouty, before slipping the sleek-wet blow pop back into his maw— sugary, artificial flavor now amalgamated with your pungent, honeyed essence— an easily favorite, cloying tang of his. salaciously numbing. addicting.

better than any sugar rush.

“aww. oops.” candy lolled wantonly in his mouth, he guides your shuddering hips— dripping, winking hole beautifully exhibited— to tease feathery-light kisses right upon his cock’s mushroomy, prodding tip, your drowsy gaze unfocused and mollified. “forgot you can’t talk.”

“‘toruu- mph!” delicate, shaky hands feebly anchoring on his sinewy, porcelain abs, you’re bullied, or impaled, upon his blushed girth, shimmying to ease the burning stretch as salty, lemony waterworks soil your lower lash line.

“you crying, bunny?” you’re flustered. vision whitening at its sheer, dizzying, kaleidoscope edges. saliva caked lewdly against his obsidian cloth’s knotted fabric. “m’sorry—”

“sh-hut up,” you quietly mumble, muffled. vexed.

it’s almost comically sordid— being so stuffed full there’s a salient, probing bulge in your lower abdomen— spongy, wet walls fluttering around such size; yet, you still sink to straddle him wholly, bouncing up-n’-down virtuosically.

“oh, fuck, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so good. . .”

you watch, gaze dazed and eyelids droopy, as his pupils seemingly morph into feverish hearts— and his blown bubblegum, nearly translucent due to its volume, bursts as he cums hard— tacky, gluey residue staining his taut jaw and bobbing adam’s apple like smeared lipstick.

“can we pretty please do sweetart ropes next .ᐣ”

[jiyuspassion]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ vampire!choso hasn't eaten in days...

and you just so happen to be on your period. ཐི ྐ❤︎ ཋྀ

⚠︎. tw. blood, period sex, oral (f! rec), soft dom!choso, he whimpers, p w/o plot

jiyu's letter ᝰ.ᐟ hello my butterflies! sooo i was planning on making a 400 special, but... i was busy with uni and now im recovering from knee surgery 💔. can we call this the tumblr curse lol. anyway, consider this a big BIG thanks for 500 followers. it's truly crazy how fast this blog has grown. thank you guys so much <3. also trying out a new layout do we like sí o no

the bloodlust of a vampire was as insatiable as their immortal lives, desperate and lecherous. in the olden days, vampires were able to feast whenever they wished, or simply hunted just for their sick pleasures.

now, however? many had to make do with animal blood, stealing from blood banks, or a close call just to get fresh, alive blood.

choso was lucky enough to find you. a generous girl with an even kinder heart. you were like the sun he was never able to set foot in, body warm and lively, heart pumping blood with vitality.

he would never use you for your blood. god, no. your skin was too beautiful to scar with his thick and vile fangs, and you were far too lovely to use in any other way than to love.

but, unfortunately for him, his days of fasting had eventually aligned with the day your cycle began...

your smell had filled his nostrils ever since he stepped into your apartment. his brain had fogged long before from hunger, but now? he was pale, clammy, hands imperceptibly shaky. he hid beneath the covers, claiming that he was coming down with a fever. but sweet, unfortunately perceptive you, discerned that something more was amiss.

"cho', something's wrong with you. tell me," you urged. you cuddle closer to him, embracing his coolness contrasting the heat of your skin.

choso recoils instinctually, covering his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. your smell was strong, far too tempting. he shook his head, refusing to answer.

your concern only grew stronger, however. the sweet girlfriend you were. always prioritizing your boyfriend's comfort over your own. even if your cramps were threatening to eat you from the inside out.

"choso," you said sternly, giving him a demanding look.

"b— babe i'm fine. you're just... really close— uh, enough worrying about me. i'm here for you, aren't i?" he deflected, his gaze moving past you, to think of anything else but the metallic smell welding with your perfume. he stands up from the couch, looking back at you nervously. his lips are raw and chapped from biting them so much, and he seems far more sweatier than just a few minutes ago.

"what do you want? food? water? your heat pad?" your heart almost melts with his careful questioning. it would have been cuter if he was telling the truth. but you had a feeling you knew what was going on.

"cuddle me." your arms opened. his eyes widened.

"anything else?" choso swallows thickly, stiff as a board.

you smile sweetly, knowing you have him right where you want him. "yeah. you haven't eaten in a while, have you?"

he goes deathly silent. a fang pokes out tantalizingly as he draws his lip into his teeth, basically digging holes into his bottom lip with how hard he was biting down.

he looks down, a brief flicker of his doe brown eyes. a moment of weakness.

you quirk your brow. and ever so slowly, teasingly spread your legs. the smell almost has choso drooling.

"you know, cho', i heard orgasms help with period cramps," you murmur suggestively, wiggling your hips.

oh god.

you were truly trying to kill him.

"hnghh, ahh— choso! yes, baby, right there!" your soft gasps fill the living room, stuffy and hot as your skin burns with flush. choso eats you out as if you were his last meal, ravenous whimpers and grunts leaving his plush lips. your legs shake involuntarily as he licks up your slit, lapping at your clit like a starved kitten.

every press on your bundle of nerves felt heightened, more sensitive. and your vampire boyfriend was sure to not let a drop fall from your precious pussy.

his hand dips beneath the small of your back, pressing insistently to make you arch your pelvis right into his face. his tongue dips into your hole, eyes rolling back as the coppery taste fills his tongue.

he comes up for air briefly, just to murmur, "you taste amazing," before diving right back in to lap up your metallic ambrosia. the color was slowly but surely returning to his pallor, making him look less undead and more so ghostly.

you grasp at the couch beneath your supple body, moans hiccuped, near silenced at the vigorous ministrations that choso's tongue enacted.

"oh—! fuck, cho'! feels so good," you whine. your clit bumps against his nose as you greedily roll your hips, searching for stimulation.

devious slurps fill the air as choso drinks you up, his nails digging into the plush of your thighs as he throws your legs over his shoulders. he's not quiet about how hungry he is, either. his grunts eventually turn to whiny, pitiful whimpers, desperate to please you and satisfy his sick bloodlust. he moves to kiss your inner thighs, licking up the traces of blood he leaves with each kiss.

you pull at his dark brown hair impatiently, mewling softly. "cho', stop teasing..."

he groans, shivering at the painful pleasure of your nails digging into his scalp. "sorry, baby. let me make you feel good, okay?" slow licks send chills up your spine, each flick of his tongue holding every intention to drag out your rapture.

"mmhmm... fuck, you taste so good. thank you, thank you, thank you, i don't know what i would do without you," choso all but purrs into your cunt, sucking your clit into his lips while his hands roam over your body, slipping beneath your sweater to massage your tender breasts.

a wanton moan rips from your throat, your legs trembling atop his shoulders. everything feels so much more sensitive because of your cycle, so much more fulfilling. your thighs clench around his head, to which he groans in response. to die of suffocation between your heavenly thighs would be choso's greatest achievement. although, he'd never admit that out loud.

his tongue circles around your folds voraciously, mixing his saliva with your sweet iron, drawing you closer to a mind-breaking climax. his calloused hands tease your breasts, thumbs rubbing over your perky nipples.

"ahn— ngh, cho! 'm gonna cum," you cry, endorphins rushing through your veins. you squirm in his grasp, grip tightening in his hair.

his hands roam from beneath your shirt to hold your thighs down, pressing his mouth as close as he could to your pussy.

"cum for me. cum for me, please," choso begs, voice muffled by your perfect cunt. he doubles down on his efforts, sucking, licking, teasing you until white-hot pleasure runs down your nerves.

"ah, ah—! choso!" your arousal floods your boyfriend's mouth with the coppery taste of your blood, a dangerously addicting combination. he whines at the flavor, nails digging into the fat of your thighs.

"mmm, so good..." choso lets you ride out your high, feverish in his ministrations. he was completely lost in your iron tang, the taste far better than animal blood... or any blood he'd ever drank for that matter.

he doesn't stop yet. he couldn't get enough. the way your legs quiver weakly, the endless supper you blessed him with just at the apex of your thighs. and it didn't have to hurt you. if anything, you were crying from how good it felt, without the goring of his fangs to invade your divine skin.

you were babbling, whimpering incoherent things as your body was wracked with bliss. choso finally relieved you from his drinking, licking a long stripe up your pussy before kissing your sensitive clit.

god, he was the luckiest vampire alive.

⌯⌲ not proofread. like my work? consider leaving a reblog and/or a comment ;) don't be shy

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @suganoms @lilithkleia @cursedkisss @yoonsucks @chloeee20

art creds: @Tulinxwr

divider creds: @anitalenia @lariesographic

© all rights @jiyuspassion 2026. do not copy, translate, repost, or feed to ai.

[seishmi-deactivated20260602]

perverted nerdjo satoru jerks off to you through the hidden camera. 18+

gojo satoru, hair white as snow covering dry land, eyes the shade of soft teal that contained specks of innocence hidden behind the glasses of his thin frame.

gojo satoru, the known nerd, who always pushed the bridge of his eye glasses whenever it slipped down. gojo satoru, the quiet one who bestowed his voice when necessary. gojo satoru, the campus’ ‘virgin’ (apparently) only because he avoided girls like they were infected by the plague. that’s how people knew satoru gojo as.

but there was also something they didn’t know. when the sun had decided to paint the skies in orange, when the knob on his door didn’t need any twisting because everyone fell asleep, when papers were scattered on the table, he had his cock within his fist. his moans were constricted because of his other hand covering his sinful mouth, his eyes rolling back from lustrous thoughts.

about you. the campus’ sweetheart. the one whose smiles brightened up his rough days, the one who shared her juice boxes with him, the one who had been defending him ever since junior high school.

fuck, he truly adored you. loved you. and yet, you never knew because he was a coward.

there were days in a row where he would have his laptop screen on and instead of actually focusing on informational videos found on youtube, he had different websites open. porn infested his computer after evenings and midnights. he would browse through ’em, had paid memberships— just to enjoy girls that looked even somewhat similar to you.

he was such a pathetic loser for this. he knew. and he promised himself he would stop it, if, you would say yes to him one day when he asks ‘the question’. but right now, this was all he could do. and right now, it was evening. he was feverish in his seat, his pale cheeks stained cherry red because of the view on his screen. his pupils dilated— there you were.

you had placed his given teddy bear on your bathroom vanity. yes, the teddy bear, which was the vessel through which satoru could now see you far more than usual. it was a plush toy, a soft brown similar to the shade of the first coffee you had shared with him. you had promptly favored it as soon as he handed you the ‘gift’ with a sheepish smile and a rub on his nape.

and now, it was in your house. it’s eyes focusing. on you. camera lenses for irises. you had just gotten in the shower, nothing covering you, of course not.

and shit, blood immediately rushed in to his deplorable lovesick brain. fuck, fuck and fuck. he internally damned himself for this breach of privacy but his hands were already moving against his morality.

he palmed himself. he saw it. not too distinct but enough to harden his length beneath his boxers. water droplets slid down your body— down your breasts, kissing your areoles and finding it’s path to your hole.

he had imagined that pretty pussy so many times— your worn out thighs spread apart with his slender fingers, your puffed folds spread out for him with slobbering wetness as he would slide his big cock in and out of there with a deliberate slowness to make you beg for more.

with each lewd thoughts, he increased the pace of his hand. his cock was out, hard and aching. his gaze did not falter. the sight of you so naked and bare, caressing your body, unaware of his eyes.

his tip was pulsating a flushed pink, embellished with pre-cum. sticky white cream scattering further down his pulsating base with the help of his filthy hand. “mhm shit, you are so fuckin’ pretty baby”.

a guttural moan left out his chest. what would you do if you knew? would you slap him hard, eyes red with disgust? or would you let him get on his knees, tongue having a taste of your sweetness?

what if you found out about his actions? about him placing this hidden camera inside the teddy bear. about him sneaking in to the dorms of boys who had confessed to you and suffocating them with pillows in their sleep. about him writing in his notebooks on meticulous ways in which he would have you— get you married to him and fully stuffed with his load that you wouldn’t be able to do anything other than breed his children.

his strokes were faster and faster, his glasses fogged up from the heat of the moment as it slid down the slope of his nose, his teeth clenching on to his lustrous bottom lip.

soon enough, he spurted thick loads of his pasty cream all over himself. his firm thighs, the messy desk and some landed on to the screen. he was huffing, puffing with his forearm over his eyes.

he peeked at the screen, still exhausted and ashamed, your shower had stopped. you wrapped a soft towel around yourself— taking slow wet steps. the view becoming clearer, the lenses were able to focus on you more. his breath hitched, shit, you were so pretty. shit, you were too up close. you looked directly in to the teddy bear’s eyes. frankly. too intensely. with a smile, you left it there and turned off the bathroom lights. gone.

shit, did you know?

hesitancy latched on to himself, eyes flickering as a nauseating feeling conquered his heart. then, his luminous cerulean eyes fixated on to that one thing. a pen. a black and gold pen. given by you. wait. but it’s clip was odd today.

a sudden red flicker.

[satoskii]

gym rat!toji only thrusts ur weight!!

toji came through the door, taking his gym shoes off immediately. you were on the couch, blanket pulled to your chin. as you heard his heavy footsteps, you looked over the arm of the couch, meeting his own dark, mischief filled eyes. “no.” you said, beginning to sit up. “no, toji. get back.” you smiled, putting a hand out to distance him. “you didn’t miss me?” he said, a sleazy smile on his face. he stalked closer to you, looking through his eyelashes at your form. “don’t run from it, baby. come feel on me.”

before you could protest, he braced both of his hands beside your head, and laid his body weight on you. you smiled, trying to push him away, but ultimately failing. “toji, you smell.” you said, pressing your hands against his chest. “oh, i missed you baby. mm.. couldn’t stop thinking of you.” he murmured against your neck. “i was doing hip thrusts today. i thrusted how much you weigh.” he said, rubbing himself against you, almost like a dog trying to put its scent on something. “that’s when i thought of you.”

you felt something poking your inner thigh, and you scoffed. “you’re nasty.” you said. “i want you.” he mumbled, sitting up between your thighs. he took your hand, and guided it to his heavy bulge. “i trained. just for you.” he said, his voice in a mockingly pleading tone. he moaned as your hand kneaded his bulge, and he looked down at it, watching as you did so. he looked back down at you, biting his lip. “aren’t you proud of me? trained hard as shit so you don’t have to do any work when we’re fucking.” he said, pushing his damp hair off of his forehead.

he grabbed your hips, pulling them closer, so your covered crotch was flush against his bulge. he gave one slow thrust, and smiled. “i know you feel that.” he said, looking down as he began to slowly grind against you. “you don’t have to do anything, yknow. i can do all the work. like i usually do.” he teased, putting wet kisses all over the side of your neck. he grabbed your waist, and effortlessly maneuvered you, so you were straddling him. “it’s okay, baby. you can act like you don’t want it, but i know you do.” he cooed, running his hand down your stomach. he smirked, biting his lip as he noticed you trying to be subtle, as you “adjusted” your position on him.

“see? that’s my girl, always wanting this dick. it’s okay, baby. you don’t have to hide it.”

© satoskii 2026 ─────────

a/n : short n sweet before i get back on track yay ;)

[bunnieeteeth]

im at badminton rn but i need to read this later RARARRAR

[rivypetals]

melting into the kiss trend with bf!kuna 𑣲

“fuck is this about?” he asked as his gaze stayed on the screen, the camera already recording. you giggled, a sound he’d once admitted was his favorite with all its sweetness, and he sighed deeply, already accepting defeat. because who the hell did he think he was, before his sweet girl he’d certainly burn the whole world for?

“you’ll see.” you mumbled, a playful grin stretching across your face. the camera angle was already perfect, catching both his figure and every grumpy expression, but you kept checking it just to be sure.

you had stumbled across the trend while scrolling, knowing your boyfriend probably hadn’t since he avoided social media like the plague, claiming that place was full of dimwits. from the moment you’ve seen the trend, you’ve always wanted to try it. and now, quite late to the trend, he stood there with his hands shoved into his pockets, an amused look resting on his features, about to partake in a trend he wasn’t even aware of.

after checking the camera one more time, you made your way over, still giggling with a disturbingly joyous tone.

“you sound fucking evil.” he groaned at the sight of your grin since he was already familiar with the scene, aware that you were planning something.

you stopped in front of him, your eyes were sparkling with joy and you were barely containing your laughter. he, visibly defeated, also smiled warmly, a sweet gesture he only ever showed to you. the stretch on his lips could’ve looked unfamiliar to anyone else, but to you it was known and comforting. a gesture so unlike him yet so much of him. so much of a part of him only you knew.

you gently took his arms, lifting them above his head. “the hell?” he asked, but you simply shrugged, making sure he keeps them there. for a moment, you also enjoyed the vision, his tight tee clinging onto his huge biceps and stretching the poor fabric.

then you tangled your fingers into his short, pinkish hair, and rose onto your tiptoes to meet his lips. the moment your lips caught his, he let out a low groan, straight from his chest.

his hands dropped almost instantly. they smoothly found your hips, pulling you against him, his warmth seeping through his hands to your body.

you’d guessed he would probably lower his arms as he openly disliked listening to others, but then again he had built an habit of obeying you over the years you were together —and still, even if he did lower them, you hadn’t expected it to be this quick.

“kuna you are so weak-“ you barely breathed the words with a pleased laugh out before he cut you off, crashing his lips onto yours again with aggressive yet careful moves.

“babe, let me breathe— okay the trend’s over-“ you tried to speak, laughing against his moist lips, as his hands wandered all over your body.

“trend?” he muttered, merely pulling back as his lips still hovered over yours, his brows furrowing, and you laughed.

“mhmm, to see if you’d melt into the kiss. you are sooo weak baby.” he glanced at the camera, and rolled his eyes as he finally understood the situation. even so he kept his hands on yours again hips, his grip tightening just slightly.

“yeah,” he said, a wicked grin tugging at his lips, “so fucking weak.” he said, before leaning in to kiss you again, muffling your laughter with a warm look in his eyes, and an amused glint beneath his gaze.

[satomiu]

⎯⎯ A QUICK FIX  ❤︎ ׅ ۫ ۫helping uni best-friend satoru destress after accidentally finding his hentai collection . . . ୨୧  ៸៸  ݁⠀⊹ ׅ ۫ 𝒻 reader dry humping handjob subby toru sexual frustration dacryphilia cümshot cuteiful ending ⎯⎯  𓊆ྀི ❤︎ ⊹ word count 3.3k  𓊇ྀི ࣪ ˖  

“satoruuu!” you purred, looking for any signs of life in his dorm. but you were only met with silence, his aura—more miserable than usual—radiating from within.

it was exam season, which meant satoru had likely entered one of his infamous overstudy spirals. the kind where he traded sleep for caffeine & liquid sugar... unfortunately for you, your best friend could be insanely stubborn when he wanted to.

“satoru?” you tried again, softer this time.

a faint clattering came from his bedroom. when you walked in you found him slumped at his desk. his head was down, but one arm remained suspended that you assume was holding the pen that had rolled to your feet. frozen in place like his body hadn’t gotten the memo that he’d probably already passed out a few hours ago..

books and papers were everywhere. empty plastic cups littered the desk, his glasses pushed up and forgotten on top of his head.

you rolled your eyes before letting out a soft chuckle, gently lowering his arm back onto the desk.

“satoru..”

nothing.

you leaned down nibbling on the shell of his ear before purring.

“satoruuu~~”

a groan.

“welcome back to the land of the living, this a new study method??” you teased, resting your hand on his shoulder, warmth seeping through his worn out clothes.

“shut up…” he mumbled into the textbook. “fivemoreminutes.”

you let out a soft laugh, more out of pity than anything. “no can do. you’ve been saying that since yesterday.”

his hand absentmindedly clutched the hardcover of his 9-pound textbook on particle physics, his body tensing slightly as he squished his cheek against the wood pulp pages.

satoru turned slightly so that he could catch a glimpse of you through his peripheral, putting on his best puppy doll face for you. the same one he knew you could never resist.

“…ten? pleaseee??”

you rolled your eyes before removing your hand from his shoulder and snapping on a dim lamp & heading off to open his windows - a cool breeze entering the deepest depths of his room making him hiss, as if he were some 19th century vampire.

“seriously…?” , he muttered, stirring awake rubbing his tired eyes.

“yes, very serious. this stuff is not good for you,” you chided, small frown on your face. as much as you loved him, the man did not know how to prioritize his well being. and as much as it frustrated you.. you could never resist the urge to take care of him when he really needed it. after all, that's what best friends are for.. 

you moved around the room, tidying up after him, muttering under your breath as you nudged stray papers and empty mugs into neat stacks, threatening to spill over in your arms.

“honestly, satoru. how do you even live like this?” you huffed, lightly slapping the back of nape as you walked past him to dump all the bygone papers into the trash. he let out a small pout, fingers threading through his white hair as he leaned back against his roller chair.

he huffed, “gimme a break already.. m’just stressed. you know i'm hygienic..” spinning around in the chair at his desk, eyes lazily following your movements whilst pouting. as if that was going to stop the earful you were about to give him.

“yeah well… good thing you’ve got me.” you mumbled, soft voice barely audible before your eyes caught a haphazard pile of books and open pages near the edge of his bed.

kneeling down, you gathered them into your arms.

“god toru, physics physics physics. and what normal person needs this many—”

oh.

your face screwed up in surprise, jaw going slack and words dying in your throat. tucked among the piles of textbooks was a stack of colorful hentai magazines that were quite frankly, impossible to ignore.

the one on top being a girl’s literal pussy on full display, her folds swollen and puffy. pink laced panties utterly soaked and hanging 'round her ankle, slick dripping down her thighs. another one with popping pinks and yellows all around, tits oiled up and nippled perked out with such a sinful expression. worst of all they were clearly just read: some left open and unfinished.

“uh toru.. is this fucking porn??”

unfortunately for you, you were better than no man. you felt yourself clench around nothing at the sight of something so crude. i mean... you weren't a saint persay... one time satoru accidentally found your twitter favorites—choking, biting, orgasm denial, the list goes on—and to this day didn't let you live it down.

“no it's my shoujo collection.” he countered. but.. it wasn't like his normal snappiness, you could tell he was embarrassed and overly exasperated..

and then, something clicked.

from behind you satoru’s eyes sharpened, pupils dilating slightly, and the soft, just woken haze vanished in an instant.

you barely had time to process the warmth crawling up your neck before he was suddenly right there crouched next to you by his bedside.

large hands wrapped around your wrists, firm. but not enough to hurt you, just enough to make you drop the lewd comics you didn’t even realize you were oogling at, dropping them with a small thud as they fell on their spine.

the silence between you was thick, almost suffocating. his head was bent, hand still gripping your wrists, holding you in place without a word.

you couldn’t see his eyes, his fluffy white hair fell forward, masking his face. his stupidly thick frames dancing on the tip of his nose, teasing your vision just enough to make your heat spread in your tummy.

every second stretched, your heart picking up pace, which he could presumably feel at your pulse point as he continued to hold you. the weight of his presence pressed close, sharp and undeniable, and yet he didn’t speak. didn’t move — just held you there.

“don't act like you haven't seen that shit before, it's just...nothing’s helping.” he muttered, voice tight with frustration. you’ve never seen him so upset before, you almost felt bad.

you felt heat creep across your cheeks, your brows knitting as your voice fell quiet. “soo... you go ahead and whip out your entire collection of porn? have you ever heard of twitter?” you chided, not even trying to fight his grip on your wrist.

“shut up already.” he frowned, narrowing his eyes at you. which would have been more intimidating if, and only if, his cock wasn't straining against his sweats and if his glasses were on right rather than crooked . . . “and besides.. you know i like physical media better.”

of course.

“uh huh..” you muttered absentmindedly, your gaze drifting back to the stack of stem books mixed in with his adult comics, a familiar flutter returning to your tummy whenever you and him found yourselves like this — too close. too intimate for people were “just friends”.

he let out a small, almost desperate whine, tugging your wrists to get your focus back on him.

“please…”

you simply blinked at him.

“eh?”

“don’t care which… either help me out or forget about it.” he practically grumbled, voice a touch rougher than usual.

he met your eyes at last, full of frustration and need. you could tell he was trying to be serious, but the fact he looked so cute when he got whiney wasn't helping his case in the slightest.

he swallowed, cheeks pink, fingers flexing around yours. “j-just… touch me. please.” you couldn't help but notice the way his cock twitched against his sweatpants, a small wet patch forming in the center.

was he seriously that turned on from you just finding his porn stash??

satoru eased back against the bed, slouching lazily. before you could react, he tugged you onto his lap. your stomach pooled with warmth as he held you close, hands resting lightly on your hips, every breath and shiver radiating tension between you.

“...please..?”

you knew satoru was the type to take whatever he wanted. but this was a new form of desperation all on its own. to be so stressed you can't even cum on your own? you'd rather die. so, without a second thought your lips pressed against his own. attempting to steady yourself by gripping onto his shoulders as you wobbled in his lap.

satoru wasted not a single second before delving his tongue into the wet cave of your mouth. the taste of overly sweetened coffee dancing between your tongues as you straddled him.

as you moaned into his mouth, the vibrations sent a tingle down his spine, dragging you along his boner, soft moans escaping his lips as his hips rolled up in a desperate manner — the outline of his tip brushing against your clit through your thin bottoms, making you squirm against him.

his hands were large and heavy, kneading the flesh of your hip as he rocked you back and forth along his clothed cock, his head tossed back in pure ecstasy.

your jaw went slack as he angled himself upwards, brushing further along your folds. slow and calculated as sat up to buried his face in the crook of your neck, making your hands fly to the fabric of his hoodie. your small whimpers escaping you and going straight to his dick.

“toru… seriously, what’s your deal?”, you stuttered, as if you werent playing along.

you ground your hips down on him, rocking back and forth, earning more gasps from him.

“ngh—h-hold on..” he stilled your movements on his lap, lifting you up slightly relieving the pressure on his cock. “don't wanna cum like this..

“need you to touch me.. please..”

well..

sure you and him had made out before, but that was purely for "practice". and best friends help each other… right? i mean he’d do the same for you, if you asked nicely enough of course. so really. there should be nothing wrong with helping your beloved best friend get an orgasm stress relief while he was buried in exam prep.

after all, it was the right thing to do . . .

before you knew it you were besides him on the floor, knees folded underneath your weight, one hand pumping at his veiny cock, your other arm wrapped around his body pressing him flush against you.

“fuhh—fuck,” satoru whimpered, his hips rolling up to meet the base of you hand as you languidly stroked his angry cock. his precum dripping all over his shaft and trailing down your knuckles, pumping slowly; letting him savor every moment. more for him than you really.

the way he writhed as you pressed open mouth kisses against his nape, coming off with a small pop before nibbling at his lobe.. whining oh so pathetically everytime you whispered sweet nothings into his ear “y'so good for me ... you worked so hard toru.”

and quite frankly.. satoru gojo was a mess.

“this good enough toru?”

“y-yes! nghh— s'perfect, fuck–” he hiccuped, his eyes glued to his cock, noting how good it looked as he thrusting himself in an’ out between your closed fist. his abdomen clenched and unclenched with every thrust, practically drooling over the fact you couldn’t even fully wrap your hand around his veiny girth.

you were certain he wasn’t even aware of how loud he was being; his pathetic moans bouncing off the walls of his room, the way he kept writhing against you, cock angrily twitching in your palm. it was all too fucking good.

his hoodie had rolled up as he slumped down further to the floor, using your tits as a pillow as he lazily jerked up into your hand, chasing further friction, his toned abdomen and perky nipples on full display.

your arm hand wrapped around his waist as he leaned into you, trailing up his torso pinching and rolling the pink bud in between your fingers, making him cry out in pleasure, involuntary rolling his hips into your palm.

"p-please, s'too much—", it was all so overwhelming, the way your thumb rolled over the slit of his tip, blushing the prettiest shade of crimson and leaking every time you praised him. the lewd squelch every time you reached the base of his cock, the way your body pressed against his, your sweet smell assaulting his senses. it was all too much.

all satoru wanted was to be perfect for you, to get a taste of that small, sweet satisfaction that would come with his long awaited release.

he couldn’t think of anything else. all he could think of was how your pussy would feel around his cock instead. how your juices would drip down his shaft and all the way to his sack once he got to return the favor. the imagery itself was enough to make him cum right there.

“…wanna see you, n'taste you,” he pleaded. “please??”

and how could you say no? he was just so fucking sweet.

you let out a small huff of laughter, “sure you can..”

without hesitation, he lifted up your top, revealing your plush tits in a whim. his favorite cushions.

he laughed.

“no bra? that’s how you came to see me? so naughty..” he hummed, his normal cockiness returning for just a second, barely masking the heat in his cheeks.

“well! you weren't wearing any boxers..” you sputtered. he leaned in, the soft glide of his tongue over your nipple making you gasp before enveloping them completely in the warmth of his mouth. his other hand reaching up to massage the other, rolling your cute little bud between his slender fingers, all while squeezing the flesh of your tit.

whatever traces of cockiness he had left fully evaporated as your free hand brushed past his hardened nipple while your other hand picked up your strokes. his thick cock pulsing, his body further melting into you with each thwack: his groans getting louder and needier as his hips rolled up, like an animal in heat, desperate for release.

satoru swiped tongue his all around once more, his cute eyelids fluttering shut as he turned slightly on his hip to burry his face between your tits. a sorry attempt to escape the overwhelming pleasure.

...

“satoru? are you crying?”

you felt wetness dance along your cleavage, right where he had his pretty face nuzzled between your tits. you paused your strokes, about to remove your hand, afraid you may have done something wrong. but he immediately shot up, squeezing your hand around his thick cock.

“no! d-don’t stop, m’just close s’all…”

he looked up at you teary eyed, his large hand covered yours and his thick cock completely. warm and firm, pressing you gently but insistently.

so he cries when he cums. noted.

you felt yourself clench around nothing, warmth pooling low in your stomach, a dizzying heat that left your pussy throbbing. saliva gathered at the corners of your mouth, your breath catching in shallow distracted gasps.

he looked so pretty like this. lips swollen from how kept biting down on them, tears dancing along his waterline, his white lashes fluttering up at you.

it was so fucking pathetic.

with a shallow whine, he began to stroke his dick with your hand like a fleshlight, his hand filling the area of his cock that you couldn’t reach.

“i… m’gonna cum,” he admitted, voice small and shaky, face burning, unable to stop himself. “pleaseplease—hah—.”

"m’gonna make you feel so good. y'can take it right, toru?" you whispered against his neck making him whine shamelessly as he followed your rhythm as you jerked him off, his large thumb rubbing sloppy little circles over his slit.

you picked up the pace of your strokes, whatever fluids that leaked out of his blushing tip when you first started, now dripping down tenfold. his own knuckles were covered in his own fluids, leaking down to his sack and onto the carpet. thick thighs splayed out, muscles contracting as he panted. he continued to writhe against you, your free hand pinning down his hips, or trying to.. his bright baby blues eyes squeezing shut.

“shit shit shit—”, with a few final pumps his body went taut, hips snapping up involuntarily, thick cock pulsing between your hand and his. how romantic.

a concerning—albeit sexy—amount of thick white rivulets spurting from his over sensitive tip, trailing down your knuckles and occasionally splattering against his clenched abdomen.

satoru panted softly, face flushed, lips parted as he tried to steady his breathing. damp strands of white hair clung to his forehead, his composure slipping in a way that felt almost unreal. his chest rose and fell unevenly, eyes glassy yet focused—trying to pull himself back together, but couldn’t quite manage it.

“so.. my hand or yours?” you chime, as if your hand still wasn’t wrapped around his cock, lazily stroking him, easing out his orgasm.

he let out a low him before scratching his head, as if he was actually thinking about it. but the two of you knew the real answer. he’d take any part of you over him anyday.

“my own. your strokes are too weak–”

with a roll of your eyes, you tightened your grip around his pulsing dick, swiping your thumb over his sensitive slit. “ungrateful.”

“haah— hah! alright, alright!” he whined, tugging your hand off before turning over, shielding his dick from you, still coming down from the high of his first orgasm in weeks.

“um, satoru? you do know your ass is out right.”

...

he snatched his pants back up above his waist with a huff, wincing as the fabric brushed against his blushing tip in the process.

he let out a breathy laugh, throwing his arm lazily over his face, “fuck you’re annoying…” though he didn’t mean it by any means..

୨୧  ៸៸  ݁⠀⊹

once he came down from his high, he helped clean up your hand. but he couldn’t help noticing the way you kept avoiding his gaze, your face still warm even as you continued to banter with him.

he huffed, pausing as he pressed the warm cloth against your skin. “i’m sorry…”

you blinked at him, then let out a small giggle. “for what, toru…? i was only helping—”

“nono.” he cut you off firmly, turning off the running water in the sink. a heavy silence lingering between the two of you as his eyes bored into yours.

“i…” he started, only for the words to catch in his throat. “fuck…” he rolled his eyes, then looked straight at you, this time with intent. “would’ve been nice to help you out, even a little.”

translation: satoru didn’t feel good about you walking away orgasm-free.

which was on par for someone with his reputation.

you felt the heat crawl back into your face as you realized what he was saying, hoping it didn’t show in your stare or the way your fingers trembled against his was faint trickles of warm water spilled over your hand as he pressed the wash cloth further into your skin without much thought.

“just let me know when you want me to return the favor. okay?”

you finally pressed your lips together, not even realizing they’d been parted the whole time. “o-okay toru.” internally facepalming at how quickly all your bravado seemed to disappear.

he let out a huff of breath he hadn’t meant to hold in. “good...” he yanked you closer by your hand, a small frown tugging at his mouth as a faint pout settled in, a poor attempt to come across as serious. “i mean it.”

you only nodded as he wiped your hand dry before wringing out the washcloth and hanging it over the sink.

his eyes lit up as he saw your confirmation, crinkling shut while his dimpled poked through. “now. shoo shoo. i have to finish studying.”

what a dick.

and yet your chest still felt a too heavy... the idea of “returning the favor” left lingering in your head.

definitely closer than you’d like.

#⠀REPOST   w a few ( many ) edits   ׅ ۫    ୨꣒   pt 2 pt 2 pt 2 👀 

[rivypetals]

daydreams of you — ryomen sukuna and his first ever crush!

‘even you could fall in love’, was what his friends have told him before. a sentence he merely laughed off with a grunt. he didn’t do love, love was never to be his thing. and truly, despite what they’ve said, even his friends didn’t believe a guy like him, with a cold heart like that, could ever became such a softie to fall in love.

and now he was definitely living through his karma.

it was meant to be a normal year in university, with him and his grumpy self. until he saw you. a cutie, with pretty outfits and lovely nails and a soft, warm smile.

a smile so sweet that it could even crawl its way into his heart.

and it did.

he merely observed at first, thinking it was expected to be interested in a pretty girl, nothing out of ordinary, truly. just a realization about his caffeine intake and how he needed to stop drinking any energy drinks considering his pulse rate. definitely from caffeine, of course. what else would it be?

every morning, at the cafe in campus, his gaze never left you. your favorite order was already memorized by him. he could guess your favorite color so easily. his eager eyes traced your figure to drink in any information he could snatch at, your schedule, your favorite purse, the deserts you liked, the way you did your eyeliner. any piece of you, he yearned and sought for. he thought it was interest. a desire. anything but affection.

but then, your first interaction with him came into picture. your hair brushed into his chest, you murmured a shy ‘sorry’ upon bumping into him. he tried to scoff, as he always did. but your sweet perfume clouded his mind, your voice ringed in his ears and everything around him thickened with something he couldn’t name, something bewitching. so, instead of his classical grumpy words, he presented you a silent ‘it’s okay.’ so bland yet so gentle, that you had to blink up to him out of surprise. the summer breeze brushed a shiny strand from your hair, and his hands twitched to stop himself from touching it.

everything started to go downhill after that exact moment.

your lovely smile was etched upon his memories, and he played it every night. he could still smell you, the sweet tone in your perfume and how your voice echoed against his chest, your shy sorry with your cute face. how your skirt twirled when you walked softly, while he still stood dumb behind you.

he was doomed.

he tried to direct his confusion towards everyone around him as usual. it seemed to be working at the very beginning, until he saw you again. the same captivating smile. the same lovely outfits. and hell, he was back at square one. instantly.

and of course, as every asshole would, he confused it with physical attraction. entertained many ideas. he was caught up in a dumb idea, and he genuinely thought the weird things he’d been feeling lately would go away if his interactions with you grew. while he was just a fool in love.

so he tried talking to you. casual and nonchalant and secure. the familiar smirk splayed out across his dumb face, with pink ears and a reddish blush upon his cheeks. he came up to you, with a awfully awkward walk, and said “hey.”

“i’m sukaro ryamun.” fucking dumbass. he wanted to destroy his whole existence and just disappear.

the angel you are, you just giggled upon his stupid words, thinking he was simply joking. you thought he was cute and funny. and, for the fist time in his life, he was thrilled with the title.

he began to accept the defeat. he was weak to you and your cute face. he was a defeated man. destroyed, even.

when you first gifted him with a sweet and shy “good morning.” he thought he was about to crumble and bawl his eyes out. he stuttered something, almost sounding like a pained gorilla, and when you left with the same angelic giggle, he just crouched down with a loud ‘fuck’. took his head between his palms, and stared at the ground as if it’d offended him personally. he, truly, was looking rather pathetic with his huge body fallen apart like that.

his friends started to notice the changes he went through as well. first, they caught up on the way his eyes sought you at every chance. but, well, it was normal. you were a cute girl and it was quite normal that you got his attention on you.

but then the small talks came in the picture. where he stuttered like an idiot, where he acted as if he was love struck— which he was. where he lowered his strong voice down so you wouldn’t be intimidated by him. he lessened his overwhelming existence so it wouldn’t bore you. they thought he was corrupted by something evil. though he was the same old sukuna to them, grand and huge and grumpy and intense.

hell, even he couldn’t comprehend what was happening to him.

you started to talk to him more, sometimes talking about weather, sometimes classes and everything casual but warm. he briefly entertained your wishes. every content you seemed to be interested in was pursued by him eagerly. he nodded and grunted silently but listened to your words as if they were something sacred.

his gaze traced your dewy lips, the way your gloss sat on the soft skin. after you told him about some series you were interested in lately, he finished the entire series in just three days so that he could talk to you more. not that he could ever start a conversation with you, but you were such a blessing made solely for him that you always kept the talk going somehow. and he stood there, towering you with his giant figure with the faint blush glinting on his face, listening to you religiously.

you didn’t realize the reason he always ran into you at the campus cafe, every morning. you simply assumed his classes started at the same time as yours, while he was skipping all of them just to meet you for only fifteen minutes. he was merely a man in love, he loved the way morning sun reflected on your pretty eyes, especially when those eyes he loved so much stared at him with a huge, shimmering smile. it stirred something in him every time you looked up into his eyes, brushing your shy nature aside to meet his gaze.

he didn’t take you for a stupid because you were cute and feminine. he knew how smart you were, and he also adored that. like he adored everything you had within your existence. he, for the first time in his whole life, learnt how to respect someone while loving them so endearingly.

yes, he also came to accept that he respected you. which, was a huge step for an asshole like him who usually didn’t respect anyone but his ‘glorious’ self.

one morning, his huge hands clumsily untangled the strands of your hair when your lovely hairpin got stuck. he couldn’t sleep for days with his mind dwelling on the moment. the way your body was so close to his inflamed something in him.

you thought he was a friend. he thought you were the best thing to ever happen to him.

and when he saw you with a random boy from your class, clearly interested in you, his mind started ringing the alarms. his hands twitched and he felt as if he could vomit at any moment. his mind was heavily occupied with many violent thoughts about him, a boy he didn’t even know.

that night, he cursed himself and picked up his phone to text the group chat, giving them something to talk about for years. the official start of grumpy sukuna’s first ever crush.

“who the hell was that asshole?”

| part two |

[beardedmrbean]

[theman]

I GOT A FUCKING RAISE THE POTATO WORKED WTF

[tattooedzombigirl]

This potato works. Every. Fucking. Time.

[secondlina]

Reblogging because it’s a damn potato and I want to encourage people to assume potatoes are magical.

[plagued-roses]

MAGIC POTATO GO!🥔

[thaumbody]

here we go again

reblogging the golden potato

hoping it will work

that my life will get a perk

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Always reblog the potato.

[scary-noodlesblog]

Please potato

[jadyn2303]

look i have a dentist appointment tomorrow and currently i’m depressed can we please like be good luck for me potato.

[veilist]

nsfw content mutual!satoru gojo who sends you a molded, replica dildo of his dick.

needless to say, you and satoru have been mutuals on the nsfw side of twitter for a while now. the two of you practically started your accounts around the same time — just two young amateurs trying to make it big.

and eventually it happened. you were able to build a fanbase, though your subscribers were hyper-obsessed with the relationship between you and satoru. the two of you are always flirting back and forth on the for you page, even going as far to comment under each other’s videos for shits and giggles.

‘big dick is back in town.’ satoru would title above the video of him sitting in front of his camera, slouched in the gaming chair with his thighs splayed out exposing his beautifully sculpted dick pressed against his abs. he’s just gotten back from his hiatus as the post skyrockets in views from his rightful return.

you’re lying in bed, finger pads tapping away on your phone as you comment under his video. ‘you mean my town, right?’ you send, and within seconds satoru’s replying to your comment.

@theblueeyedgoat: yeah, but also another town if you know what i mean … @freakenuinelyy/n: ??? what other town if not mine @theblueeyedgoat: POUNDTOWNN 😼😼💪🏻

such a joke that could only be achieved by gojo satoru himself, but little did he know that people would begin to ship him with you. resulting in his fans migrating to your page to raid your comments with, ‘collab’, ‘are you and goat dating?’, ‘is there a joint account?’, and millions more. you could honestly say that his audience was yours, and your audience was his.

you’d be lying if you said that you’ve never thought of satoru in such an inappropriate manner, to be honest who wouldn’t? he’s got the ideal body you’ve daydreamed about, the charismatic personality and a gorgeous fucking face to match it. it’s almost annoying really.

but what’s really annoying is the fact that he lives overseas in japan — meaning that if you two ever did want to collaborate you’d be traveling miles away from home just to have sex.

“i could always fly out to you.” satoru suggests over face-time, his camera constantly moving because he can’t stand still as he walks around with his phone. “i mean, logically yeah but it’s not that deep.” you respond with your eyes fixated on the screen before satoru’s rapidly pulling his phone towards his face. “what do you mean it’s not that deep?!” he softly pouts, as if this situation was something serious.

you let out an unbelievable laugh. “i’m saying that it’s not worth you flying over here just for sex.” you specify as his pout deepens even more. “i don’t have to travel there just for sex, what if i just wanted to hang out with you.” he says, blue eyes peering at you through the screen.

there’s a brief pause as you think on it. “then yeah, i guess that’s fine as long as you bring me a souvenir since i’ve never been to japan.” you raise up a hand, holding your pointer finger up with a bright smile.

“a souvenir you say?” satoru repeats slowly, as his childish pout disappears once he hears the words he wants to hear. “a souvenir from japan??!” he grins mischievously, as he watches you nod. “i’ve got a perfect souvenir for you!”

little did you know that two weeks from now you’d be getting a package with a japanese address on it, and there’s only one person it could be sent from — gojo satoru. you open the box carefully, pulling the folds apart before seeing another box, though much smaller with a letter on top of it.

“message me when you’ve received it. it’s a souvenir homemade authentically from japan — love toru ( ^ω^ ).”

you’re reaching for the smaller box, tearing it apart as styrofoam wraps around the edges. you’re pulling the safety cover off to be met with a translucent, pink siliconed dildo. roughly thick in girth, there’s a prominent vein running down the bottom of the shaft and a gorgeous mushroom-shaped tip which looks awfully similar to his.

there’s absolutely no way satoru sent you a replicated mold of his dick. you’re speed-dialing his phone as you hold the shape of his dick in your hand as he answers the phone almost instantly.

“moshi moshiiii.” you could hear his stupid grin through the phone. “satoru what kinda souvenir is this?” you ask stunned and in disbelief as he cracks a laugh. “it’s the souvenir you ask for— personally made by yours truly.” he replies proud of himself.

you’re truly at a loss for words. “i don’t know what possessed you to send this, but you should’ve saved your money.” you said, fully taking in the size of the dildo.

“no, it’s for you.” he replies, “to y’know, prepare yourself for whenever we hang out and… do it.” his voice quiets towards the end of his sentence. “plus! i wanna see you use it, if you don’t mind.” he says softly, hoping that you’d say yes, before he’s frowning at your answer.

“absolutely not.” you reply blatantly.