KORE LUVS SPRING

25, African , Pansexual

[velvetground-6]

toy flesh [explicit 18+] — [part 2] follow up to part 1 which is linked in my masterlist. this is lots of cute fluff, next part will get down to more filth. there are tons of nasty opportunities

. . .

She also thinks it somehow has to be a one off thing. A pricey, fancy one off toy that fakes a few cumshots after the first time she cleans and rides it, flooding this pool inside of her and all over her bedsheets. But there it goes again, and again, and again.

Topping her third round off by falling backwards near the headboard, new toy gripped tight into her palm while she slides it in and out to still feel full but finally give her hips a break. It was worth every penny, as ridiculous as the amount really was for a hole in the wall sex toy shop. A lot of the others looked sparkly and lengthy and quite pretty, but something about the girth and the hefty weight of the last (or the only?) one in stock on the shelf made her rush to grab it before anyone else could have.

After paying the man at the counter she keeps scoping out her surroundings for any prying eyes as she’s trying to sneak her giant new purchase, stuffing the box into her purse as best she can. It would be dishonest to say she didn’t rush to rip it out of the plastic, feel out the raw feel of the skin, the veins, the fat. It felt real. Unlike any other rubber playthings she’s bought in the past, this one was almost responsive to her touch somehow. Did it require batteries to act like that? To pulse when it feels her grip, or leak when she teased herself on the tip?

It would jump every time she spat on the head and rubbed the base up and down in a firm grip. Pre cumming right at the tip when she did her favorite forms of foreplay and fooled around with it like she’s playing pretend. It throbbed, it wiggled around, and most of all it fucking came. Like a man.

In warm, sudden bursts, she felt it oozing out while she was just getting started. As heaven sent as it felt in the moment, afterwards it made her furrow her brows and grab the toy again and even look down at her own pussy to ensure she wasn’t feeling things that weren’t really there. But lo and behold, it dripped down her inner thighs, slathering her blanket and oozing right out of the tip of the dildo.

It felt like magic. Like her new rubber cock was attached to a real living person — a needy, sensitive, girthy person hung like a horse that didn’t take a lot of teasing or effort to draw so much arousal out of. But the idea was silly, so much more nonsensical than the fact that it was probably nothing more than just an impressively built and nevertheless expensive toy with some kind of hidden wiring and technology that was capable of pulling off acting like a real living cock. Right?

She doesn’t bother questioning it after five or six rounds in one night over the Saturday of her last jobless weekend before the start of her new position the following Monday. It had done wonders for the stress in her body, the tense and worried state it was nearly permanently in. She’d gotten better at taking it all up to the hilt, stuffing it inside up to her stomach after taking an edible and throwing on whatever TV show could make decent background noise. She grins with her heavy lidded eyes falling closed while another load pumps inside her. The second one of the hour to be exact. That addicting feeling of her toy cock gradually just losing it, losing all control like her pussy did things that triggered this quick, heavy release.

She’ll hang around her home in nothing but her underwear and her robe, eating cookie dough ice cream straight out of the carton, higher than a dopey teenager stuck in her own element. It doesn’t take long for her to take her favorite toy and rut her clit against it until it got warm like some kind of horny genie lamp. And then like clockwork it fills up for her again like it’s getting hard, twitchy, and ready all just for her pleasure. In the very back of her head she thinks this thing is so real it could have the off chance of somehow getting her pregnant since the cum had the consistency and the warmth of a real breathing person.

When Monday inevitably arrives, she gives up making sure every single hair stays in place and just parts it all to one side, buttoning up her favorite coat as armor against the unpredictable weather. As she strolled along the streets to her new work building, petting the dogs passing by on their owners’ leashes and twirling the cord of her headphones, she imagines what kind of office would hire someone like her. Blunt, casual, some neurological differences that make it difficult to focus if the topic didn’t interest her. Virtually no prior experience in the field she’s been hired in. It didn’t feel real getting the call back to learn she’d been selected, but who the hell was she to call them stupid for picking her of all the candidates?

The hustle and bustle was apparent as soon as she entered the building, asking around with wide eyes where her section was, what floor was she supposed to go to. Everyone looked busy but remained patient and kind, directing her to her floor, telling her to find a tall, shaggy haired man by the name of Clark.

It wasn’t hard to seek him out of everybody else, large frame still evident even with his hunched over posture, diligently typing away on his computer. When he looks up she was struck to find that he was almost dangerously beautiful. Handsome, pretty, dorky, everything that had always baited her into making terrible decisions. Just by talking to him she could tell he had anxiety, stiff movements and facial expressions that had her wondering if he was nervous from the pressure of being in charge of a new hire, or if he was more specifically nervous about being around her in particular.

Clark is attentive and sweet, helpful and patient with her learning new things, getting used to the environment and what was to be the new routine. Picking up the mail, distributing the mail, transferring phone calls, helping Lois with office duties and finding supplies with low stock to re-order. Certain areas felt overwhelming but overall the job itself seemed mundane. The only thing sticking out to her was Clark and his antsy eyes and big arms, anxious ticks and shy smiles. How he bent over backwards to help her with just about every question thrown his way or another way, making himself of use to her in any way she may have needed.

On her smoke break she feels the rain start to pour within seconds of going outside, and although she’s walked through rain and shine plenty it was still a bit of a test to see how far Clark would actually go if she’d asked to take her home. And he was so eager, so easy. If she got to know him well enough and if they became comfortable enough, she could give him the nickname of being her own mister Yes Man. Yeah, of course I’ll take care of that for you. Yes, you don’t have to worry about that, I’ve got it. Yup, no worries. Yeah, I’ll get this going for you. He was so full of yes’s she almost wonders what the limit may be.

Throughout the day he reciprocates just about every glance, every minor, innocent brushing of arms and fingers and touches on each other’s shoulders, upper back, arms. He hands her a pen and she grazes his fingers entirely on purpose and doesn’t hide dragging the moment out. The more she does the more flustered he’s become.

When Jimmy meets her and shakes her hand, he pulls her aside to whisper in her ear that Clark is very, very single and she laughs so hard she snorts. And when Clark comes back from his lunch break wearing different trousers than he was before he left, she doesn’t attempt any subtlety at eyeing his new pants up and down and shrugging with a little knowing nod at what might’ve made him have to change. Clark makes up some half baked lie about spilling hot sauce on his other pair, and she nods enough to try convincing him she believes it.

After her training is done and the paperwork is filed and the day is finally, finally over she gets a nod from Clark across the room, tilting his head in the direction of the elevators with briefcase in hand. He nudged his glasses further up his face and sniffled, waving bye to staff and pressing the button to head down, holding the door open with an extended arm.

“Thanks so much again by the way,” she graciously squeezed the thick muscle of his upper arm as the elevator doors close. Clark’s turned bashfully red almost immediately, chin down at the ground pretending to look at his shoes.

“It’s nothing. I really wouldn’t want you um, getting all soaked out in the rain, that wouldn’t be right. I’m glad you felt safe enough to ask me.”

“Of course I did. You’ve been nothing but a big sweetheart. Seriously, if anyone’s intimidated by the height they could have one conversation with you and it’ll change their mind,” she laughs, meeting his wide eyes framed by his thick glasses. The elevators ding to alert they’ve arrived to their destined floor, Clark taking a second too long to process before shoving his arm back out to stop the doors from closing in on them again. His version of a curse word slips under his breath while he nearly drops his briefcase, clearly still tripping and stumbling his way out to the parking garage.

“Well I guess so. I’m not that tall. Maybe a little over average, but— I hope I’m not intimidating. Um, here, let’s go this way,” Clark awkwardly trails off, pointing to his little beat up blue vehicle parked way over in the corner. When he points it out she wonders how he even fits himself in there.

“Uh, usually I prop the drivers seat back for my legs. A little crammed but I’ve had her since I started driving. My Pa gifted me this, and she’s still been up and running good after all these years so I don’t really see a need for finding anything else.”

She nods her head and smiles, impressed. He doesn’t let her hand go even near the handle, ripping it open and holding it while she slides in and sets her bag down on the floor near her feet. “Wow. You know, that shows a ton of loyalty to keep one of these for years like you have. I like that.”

He sheepishly nods his head with curls moving on his forehead before gently closing the door and jogging over to the other side.

She takes in her surroundings, observing the little details. His hanging dog charm around the rearview mirror. Taking in all the neatness, the warm vanilla scented air fresheners. How the seat is propped back as far as it could possibly go to accommodate for his height. She notes how he kept himself a spare pair of glasses in one of the cupholders, another style than the ones he wore to the office. When he turns the car on, music began to boom through the speakers, jolting him with a twitch as he rushed to turn the volume all the way down, laughing through a string of apologies. She only giggles harder, clearly less upset than he was, more amused if anything.

Each mundane little thing about Clark piled more on to this growing irresistible urge to just make the plunge already, to crawl in his lap, to kiss him so hard his glasses get crooked and eventually fall right off his face. It became more tempting with each passing glance from the side, every accidental brush of her thigh with his hand while he shifted gears, a murmured apology with those signature pink cheeks. He always looked so embarrassed, and it somehow always served to really turn her on.

“Uh, so I’ll turn here right?”

“Yeah. Yeah just, just turn then you’ll go straight for a while. I’ll let you know when we’re approaching.”

Clark follows directions, going about five miles below the speed limit as he keeps his eyes on each house passing by, curiously wondering which one could be her home. Was it the well groomed, modern style with a picket fence, or an old school, overgrown lawn with an artsy mailbox?

He slows down more as the end of the street was coming, pulling off to the side as she pointed out her home. Clark forgets to hide how eager he is to scope it out, the little pink painted one story home with healthy plants branching out from their pots on the porch, the lady bug mat, the absence of any cars parked out front. Figures she must only get around anywhere on foot.

Rain still patters on the windshield as his windshield wipers barely keep up in time from the heavy drops, and puddles outside forming in the potholes of the road. Her plants looked to be the only happy ones to have some rain to quench them.

“This is me right here,” she reluctantly says, a sigh leaving her throat while she peers back over to the man in the driver’s seat. “I had fun, says a lot for a first day at a new job. Those are always pretty stressful but you’re such a great teacher that I know I’ll be in good hands,” she says, rubbing the lipgloss leftover on her lips together while eyeing him up and down, back and forth between his pretty face and his robust chest.

“I… I’m not that good, you just made it easy,” he disputes. “You asked all the right questions, you’re smart. I know you’ll get the hang of it real soon—“

“—You know, when I met Jimmy today he told me you were single,” she interjects before her mind could steer her away from the risky decision. “So was he… was he joking or was he—“

Clark groans loud, making a fist and then nearly slamming his forehead into it to hide his face, mortified that Jimmy set him up like this. To have this awkward interaction with his now co-worker.

“Gosh…. of course he did… that’s— no. I’m sorry he was acting inappropriate—“

“No as in you’re not single.”

Clark pulls his head back up, blinks, utterly confused.

“No, no I’m—“

“No as in yes?”

“N-No, no as in he’s right. I… I am, it’s just I didn’t want him disclosing stuff like that that to you, that information. Like as if you’d even care if a co-worker is single or not is ridiculous. If he makes you uncomfortable again I can talk to him, it doesn’t have to be a whole HR thing but if you want it to be I can absolutely help…”

She chews her bottom lip to prevent another shit eating grin from spreading onto her cheeks, placing a deliberate hand back on his upper arm to nab his attention, soothe any of his sudden woes.

“Listen, stop. Listen to me Clark. I was asking to clarify it with you because I was hoping that he was right,” she admits, a soft laugh not far behind the end of her small confession, trailing off with a rub of his shoulder, making him hold his breath and keen from the contact.

“You um. So you aren’t freaked out, you aren’t uncomfortable in any way? I just can’t imagine what it’s like, being a… a woman. A beautiful woman you know, like you, in a new workplace and having men be obnoxious on top of that—“

Clark stutters and takes a breather, shutting his car off and tilting his head up so his neck is exposed, blankly looking up at the ceiling.

“Clark.”

“Yeah?”

He doesn’t look back down or turn his head, Adam’s apple of his throat bobbing as he swallows more nerves down.

“I’m not uncomfortable. Not freaked out. And if you want me to just get my stuff and go, not mention any of this tomorrow, then I could,” she starts. Clark takes a deep breath in like he wants to interrupt, but she holds a finger up and he obeys, shutting his mouth closed. “Or,” she began. “I could kiss you for being so sweet, and we can act normal tomorrow, but you can give me another ride home if you aren’t busy again. And we can see where this goes.”

The drop of his jaw was nearly out of a cartoon, heartbeat throbbing so fast it might as well be audible in the quiet of the small space of his car. He can’t take his eyes off her, blinking ever so slightly when his eyes start to dry up. It looked like he wanted to pinch himself just to make sure everything was real.

“I… I really like the second option more. A lot.” he finally mutters. Licks his lips while staring down at hers like he had countless times today, this time with layers of restraint stripped away.

“I like the second option more too,” she chuckles at his dumbstruck face, soothing a palm over his thigh and rubbing his flexed muscles through his trousers. “I also noticed you changed your pants after lunch.”

Clark swallows while her face comes closer, nearly nose to nose, sharing and exchanging breath.

“Uh, yeah, yeah I….”

“That story about spilling some hot sauce was bullshit, right?”

Clark nods without a second thought, confirming everything she already knew.

“Did you have a little too much fun? Make too much a mess, had to end up changing before you got back to the office?”

“Yeah, yeah I did,” he bows his head down a bit, licking his lips again. Still close enough to smell her perfume, to stare at the glittery shine of her lipgloss, begging to know what it tastes like.

“I thought so.”

Clark doesn’t get another moment to think or conjure up a response before she’s leaning in and he’s dreamily shutting his eyes, humming into her mouth while she tilts her head to the side. Her nails splay out across his neck while he whimpers in her mouth, trying to keep up and savor the exquisite taste of her while he can. With plenty of hesitation trying to hold him back, he goes for it anyway and takes his own palm to the middle of her back, hugging her close to him while they kept making out like it wasn’t any different than coming home after years of being away.

“You’re really pretty, makes it really hard,” he pants. Pulls away but not too far, lips still brushing hers as he speaks.

She laughs right at him, tucking a curl behind his ear and adjusting his glasses so they’re straight again on his face. “Apt word choice there.”

“No! No I mean, that’s not what I meant….”

“As much as embarrassment looks cute on you, you don’t have to be,” she assures with another giddy laugh, kissing his cheek and leaving a subtle glossy mark on the skin. Then aims for each corner of his lips only to be pulled back in by him to get the heated momentum back up and running.

“You’re unbelievable,” he breathes. “I want to just… I wanna keep going forever.”

Shit, is he talking too much too soon?

“I mean you don’t have to, really, you can head home whenever you like… I only meant I like this a lot.”

She doesn’t let his overthinking become worse, just grabbing him by the collar and kissing him again. Adding tongue swirls into the mix.

“You taste like your Spearmint gum,” she observes. “Really nice.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Clark nods, his meek persona still in full swing even after having her tongue in his mouth. “You’d tell me if my breath was bad, right?”

“Of course I would.”

The pair still kept exploring each other’s kissing techniques, her hands stroking his arms and his chest while Clark’s stayed on the middle of her back in easy circles. It could’ve been ten, fifteen, even twenty minutes passing by while the rain hardly lightens up from pouring out from the gray clouds scattered in the sky. Clark offers to walk her up to the door so she could get home safe and dry, and she couldn’t pass up the offer, even if he kept reassuring her he didn’t mean to allude to any funny business. He takes off his own jacket to hover it over her head as they make the short trip, insisting he does it as to not get her hair wet.

“I like your plants, your place is cute. I can pick you up and take you home tomorrow if you’re up for that.”

She grins and gets up on her tippy toes to kiss him once again, an innocent little smooch he graciously accepts and reciprocates.

“And how about the day after that, and then the day after that, and the next week after that…”

Clark laughs at her and puts his jacket he’d been using to shield her from getting doused by the rain, squeezing her hip with another smile and going back in for yet another because it was too good to pass up.

“Absolutely. Rain or shine, I’ve got you.”

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Bright and early. Do you have my number? Wait, hold on,” she unzips her purse and shuffles through it before finding her keys, unlocking the door and barging inside. Clark remains respectfully at the doormat, not willing to push any boundary this early, besides a car makeout here and there. He watches her in blissful astonishment as she scribbles on a piece of paper, folds it up then marches back to put it in his front pocket herself.

“For emergencies. And you know, anything else.”

Anything, she says. Anything else. “Right. Yeah. I’ll text you.”

“Please do. And text me when you’re home safe!”

“I will,” he chuckles, leaning his head back down to steal another goodbye kiss before he walks back to his car with a pep in his step that he hasn’t had in a long, long time.

“Bye!”

She waves from her porch before he chastises her to get back to her house so she doesn’t stay in the rain, but she just sticks her tongue out at him then goes back anyway.

It all felt intoxicating. He wondered if he could even drive in such a distracted, head in the clouds state like this.

His gut fluttered with butterflies and his cheeks hurt from smiling so much, back on autopilot as he starts up the car, blasts the volume back up and turns back to the main road. It felt overwhelmingly unreal that he can still taste her lip gloss and how much it’s rubbed off on him. How he can still feel the ghost of her hands touching and caressing parts of him that haven’t been touched and felt like that. He has stars floating above his head like he’d been knocked the fuck out, unconscious.

Just as he’s venturing back to the street towards his place, his dick starts to feel wet against his left thigh. Still trapped by his boxers and his trousers, that same familiar sensation creeping back up on him before he could press the gas after a red light turns green. He clenches his jaw and tries to stay concentrated with tight hands on the wheel. Gasping when his dick starts tingling as he’s teased and rutted on by that same mysterious force, gliding him in between their lips, teasing their opening with his tip.

Clark barely makes it home and sticks his face in the steering wheel, licking his lips, breathing with his mouth stuck open. He feels when it goes inside, how the thrusts are long and filling and slow at first, excruciatingly wonderful as it’s taking him in down to his balls. Drenching him down with wet arousal on every pull out. His full body shivers again, butts his head against the wheel five times before accidentally bumping the horn.

Mortified with horror, he ducks his head down as much as he could and peaked around to catch only a few witnesses of his neighbors taking out their trash bins out on the curb. He awkwardly waves and subtly grabs onto his bulge through his trousers, dampness seeping through the fabric. With a braced huff, he counts to ten to enjoy the warm embrace before he’s exiting his vehicle, slamming the door and not bothering to fix his floppy hair before snatching his briefcase from the backseat, covering his crotch from the world and jogging to his door, soft rain still falling from above.

When he makes it inside he throws his belongings to the ground, rushes his clothes off akin to how he did on his lunch break earlier. As naked as he was born with those glasses still on, he lies back on the couch and clenches his jaw, absently thrusting up into the unknown heat. Feels the heat react with more tight clenches, taking his breath away. He closes his eyes and hugs a pillow to his abdomen while he pictures his new co-worker on top of him again, bouncing just like this wet heat on top of him right now. Wants her lipgloss to stick to his skin, wants to be engulfed in her hair, her perfume, her smile. Her laugh when she’s making fun of him.

Without any warning but the pit in his stomach squeezing and dropping, he cums like a fountain and it ripples out of him so fast it punches him into a straighter posture, all the sudden sitting up. He sees his own cum lathering his dick and his pubes, and he can distinguish the very moment she’s cumming not long later too.

After Clark lays there and chugs an old but full glass of water lying on his coffee table, he caught up to his breath as he tries to get himself together to draft up a text when he finds the energy to get up and pull that crumbled piece of paper out of his pant pocket.

With multiple tired, anxious tries of attempting to find some neutral ground between sounding caring and interested versus sounding desperate or obsessive, he takes a deep breath and presses send before he could talk his mind out of it.

Hey this is Clark. I made it back home safe awhile ago and forgot to let you know. Just wanna say I had fun and I’ll pick you up around 8:30 if that’s cool. Good night :)

Clark thinks of throwing his phone across the room to ignore the insecurities bubbling out of him. What else should I say. Was what I said too much. Will she even want to kiss me again? She said she’d tell me if my breath tasted bad. What if tomorrow things are different—

A text tone buzzed his couch cushion, phone screen lighting up. Surprised but delighted, he rips it back up off the couch and shoves it in his face to read carefully.

I probably had even more fun than you. Glad you’re home safe and I’ll see you tomorrow :) 8:30 sounds perfect Mr. Yes Man. I’ll be waiting out front for you, get good rest! goodnight!

Gobsmacked, he’s left re-reading the same words over and over and over until his eyes grew heavy and he knew time for bed was gonna have to be a little early tonight. He brushes his teeth, wishing he could keep the remnants of her lips on his mouth but knows he just has to wait until tomorrow for more kisses. With a hiss he scrubs his dick of the sloppy mess left thick and slathered on his entire lower half with a warm washcloth.

While he’s in bed he idly wonders what her nights looked like. If she spends them alone like Clark does. If she was more outgoing than him, had people over, went out more. If her life had more color on the pages than his. Dirtier thoughts naturally start to seep in after that, threatening to really take over the narrative he’s built in his mind. Does she touch herself nearly as much as he does? Can she cum multiple times if she’s coaxed? Does she take more charge or does she want him to take over? Or maybe she wanted both. He could do both.

Endless wonders still can’t help flooding his thoughts, so much so that they infiltrate his dream as he slowly drifts off to sleep. Dreaming of her on top of him, of playing with his tie before yanking on it to pull him around as she pleased. She got down further and nuzzled her cheek against his bulge through his office pants and took him out to lick it down like a lollipop was between his legs, even squeezing on him so good it hurt a little bit.

The dream ended with her on top and riding him, backwards cowgirl style, tight hold of his tie still in her fist. When he’s pulled out of his dream and awoken it’s around two in the morning, and somehow his dick had gotten just as wet and used in the night again, this time while he wasn’t even conscious. Clark thought he’d aged out of having any more dirty, raw, cum-in-his-pants type of wet dreams like these. He guessed that now after the day that he had and the girl that he met that everything was about to turn upside down.

. . .

thank you thank you to everyone who commented and reblogged and liked my first part im so happy you guys are enjoying its so fun reading everyone’s reactions :) i like the alternating POVs too for this between her + him

****(only able to fit 50 tags per post, I’ll make another one linked to this post so I can tag the rest!)

(partial) tag list: @7angel7spit7 @imsonotweird @fuhinn77-blog @sunflowers-and-rainy-days @astraea-and-her-novels @brains-2-beauty @theplaid-wearingmoose @navybluelover @kirbyisking99 @ifyouseethisnoyoudont22 @idontexistrightnow @caffeineaddicty @tinythebunni @contaminatedcupcake @klarkcentral @tragicgirl23 @carlandoxlestappen @thecheeseman27 @darker0moon221b @bad-wolf1991 @just-aliyah @iceyyycapsicle @rrosesandtears *rest of tag list will be in separate post linked to this one cause of the tag limit!

[bbunisre]

DRIVE ME INSANE! — ryomen sukuna

29: WGFT! (2.3K)

"what are you talking about?" you ask him.

"geto."

the one word answer makes you goes back to what geto said earlier. the jealousy, control—wait, you have to hear him out first. it's not fair for you to make a judgement right now.

"i didn't go with him," you explain. "we bumped into each other, kuna. why are you making this a big deal?"

he sighs roughly, "i don't want to see you with him like that again."

you face him, heat flaring in your chest, "he's literally your friend!"

"yeah, looked real comfortable with him. he offer to drive you home too?"

"are you jealous right now?"

it's somewhat reassuring he's jealous. but your mind can't move from what geto says in the store. what if it starts at geto—his friend and moves onto someone like, toge? or, megumi? the irrationality of this is what makes you question it more. it's coming out of nowhere when all you did was go grocery shopping.

"i'm not," he answers.

"mhm," you hum, relaxing back into your seat. "he was sooo nice. warning me about how you get jealous easily and that i should drop you."

maybe you shouldn't have egged him on because he brakes immediately. you grab onto the handle of the car for support as another car honks in the back.

"don't piss me off right now."

"watch how you're driving, bro!" you exclaim, hand over your chest. "nearly got us killed!"

the honking behind you is louder.

you're stopped in the middle of the road.

you take a quick look behind you to see a few cars halted behind sukuna's.

sukuna's eyes are daggers onto yours. that's when you realise how serious this really is.

it doesn't scare you a tiny bit.

"don't act so immature for someone who's not even my boyfriend," you instruct him coldly. "you better fucking drive before i do something crazy."

sukuna blinks at you once, then, drives.

good.

it's quiet for the rest of the drive. as he parks in your apartment complex, the moonlight strikes the car, reducing it to a shadow. no one's walking around, the unreachable ambience of cars fifty feet away.

you're secluded, stuck with him.

"seriously, i don't want to see you with him," he repeats.

"who are you to tell me who i can speak to or not speak to?" you debate. "you jealous over grocery bags? aw, should i ask you to come next time?"

he takes off his seatbelt, facing you, a hand still on the steering wheel, "you think this shit is funny?"

"duh," you respond. "i've never had a man jealous over grocery shopping."

part of you revels in it. this possession, his need for you to be only for him. however, the righteous part of you tells you this isn't right, that this could only be the beginning to other problems.

you have to set it straight now.

"why do you care?" you ask him. "we're not even serious."

"you made me like this," he scowls at you accusingly. "you made me care for you and now you're just gonna suck some other dick."

"am i sucking his dick right now?"

he doesn't answer.

"i'm talking to you," you press, annoyed. "don't sit there like an idiot."

"no," he grunts.

you cross your arms, "then, what the fuck is your problem? if you want me to be yours, do something about it."

he stares at you, a second too long. it's as if he's processing what you just said, mind blank, yet, slightly angry. sukuna's jaw tightens, "stop talking or i'm gonna do something i regret."

"do it."

the first kiss lands on your lips harshly. your body goes numb for a second before you place your hands on his jaw. sukuna reaches down to unbuckle your seatbelt, lips never leaving yours.

it's too fast. too quick. you can't understand what's happening but the need for it powers through everything.

his kisses are strong, passionate, conveying all the pent up frustration in his mind all this time. he licks your bottom lip and you let him in, allowing the overwhelming taste of spearmint hit your tastebuds in a fury.

you can barely breathe, leaning into your seat. it doesn't matter though. this is what you've been waiting for, for so long. you'd let it consume you—the tension, the movement and him holding you like he'd never let you go again.

"is your apartment soundproof?" he asks in between kisses.

the wetness pools between your legs, your thighs squeezing together at just hearing that.

"doesn't matter," you reply with a final kiss.

the two of you head up to your apartment quickly, his fingers looped rimmed around the edge of your waistband. as soon as your apartment door opens, he pushes it shut with you against it, taking hold of your lips once again.

it's like he can't get enough of you.

you moan into his mouth, forgetting what happened before. the heat of the moment turns everything colourful, "sukuna, i want you."

"you have me, baby," he answers lowly, gripping onto your waist tightly. he trails down your neck with wet kisses as your arms wrap around him. you lean your head against the door, closing your eyes.

fuck, this feels so good.

after waiting for so long, it's finally happening. you can't really complain.

you snap out of it for a second, cupping his jaw, "let's go to my room."

you pull him into your bedroom and sit on your bed, using your forearms as support as you lean back. sukuna comes in between your legs, kissing down your neck.

"take off your top," he instructs you.

you do as he says, throwing your top to god knows where. sukuna makes quick work of your bra, undoing it and also throwing it away. his lips catch your shrunken buds as you fall onto your bed. one of his hands slide down to palm in between your legs, causing a breathless moan to leap out of your throat.

"already so wet? i haven't even started."

"mmm," you hum. "you know i've been waiting for so long, kuna..."

"i know, baby," sukuna replies, brushing your hair out of your eyes. "gonna make it worth every minute."

sukuna strips you bare, pushing down on the bed so his face is met with your pussy. it starts with a small lick on your clit before he starts sucking on it. his finger edges your opening, purposely missing it.

you mewl, "don't play arounddd~"

"i want to hear how much you want it," he says.

"so bad, kuna. so fucking bad," you moan back, grabbing the tufts of pink hair in between your legs. "please."

his finger enters slowly, his head up to watch for your reaction. your mouth falls open wide without a sound, the pulse-racing feeling surrounding your body.

"so tight for me," he tells you, almost mockingly as he adds another finger in.

as if that's not enough, he goes back in with his tongue, overlapping your clit.

"yes, just for you," you smile, your head hitting the pillow.

it fills every gap in your mind. one of your hands comes up to your mouth to drown out the moans as the other holds onto his head, which moves against your pussy at the right tempo.

you feel the building climax in your abdomen, ready to burst.

"i'm gonna cum, kuna. fuck!" you yell out.

sukuna pulls out, "can't have that. want you to cum on my dick—"

he takes off his shirt, revealing the tattoos in full. the black details down his abs capture your attention. you reach out, finally able to touch them in person. the hardness of his abs meet with your palm, sending you into a brainfuck you can't handle. that primal instinct in your grows.

"stop looking at me like that."

"like what?" you ask, innocently getting up on your knees.

"you look like your planning something."

"yeah, i am. it's your turn," you say, gesturing to the bed.

sukuna blinks at you and then, sits beside you. you help him take off his pants and boxers, revealing his hardened cock.

"look how hard you are," you mock him, flicking the tip filled with precum.

he furrows his brows, eyes filled with temptation you've never seen before, "you've got to be kidding me right now."

"got hard at how much you wanted me, huh?" you ask, stroking the precum down his shaft. "don't wanna share me with anyone else, do you?"

he doesn't say anything as you crawl in between his legs. his cock is warm to the touch, begging you to put your mouth on it, paint your saliva with it.

"answer me," you order.

"yeah, don't want you with anyone else," he admits. "you're mine."

"yes i am," you say, spitting some saliva onto the tip directly, eyes hooded with lust.

sukuna's breath catches in his throat.

he likes it.

a little too much.

you fill your mouth with him. he gasps slightly. you take him deeper, unhurried. pace starting slow before you find a rhythm, letting the taste of him carry you away. his hand soon finds itself into your hair, gripping onto you as you let the lubricant from the saliva and the salty precum guide you.

his abdomen caves in, shaky breaths leaving him.

you take your mouth of him, watching the way his head has rolled back, "aren't i so good? taking your cock in my mouth?"

"yeah?" he asks, looking back down at you. "you wanna hear it?"

"mhmmmm," you hum, pumping his cock in your hand, mouth moist from former activities.

he twists your hair, pulling your face close up to him, "you're such a good girl, y/n. taking my cock in your mouth like that—"

that does it to you.

"i'm so fucking wet right now, want you inside me," you coo.

"do you?"

you nod coyly, "i want you to fuck me like i'm yours, make me forget everyone else. i'm yours, right?"

"yeah, you are," he smirks at you.

sukuna carries you up from your position, placing you back onto the bed. he kneels between your open legs.

"i don't have a condom," he addresses, perking his head up at you.

"cum on me," you assure him.

sukuna nods. with a sigh, he aligns himself with your opening. he slowly enters you. an audible moan releases from you as he splits you open.

"can you take it, y/n?"

"i can," you answer, throwing your head back. he pushes in a little more, causing you to squeeze around him. "you're so big, kuna."

"i am."

"yeah," you say. he shoves his full length inside you. you feel like you're going to explode, "fuck."

"thinking of only me now, aren't you?" sukuna asks.

"just you, kuna," you nod vigorously.

he strokes in and out of you at a dangerously slow speed, testing the waters, watching your reaction, his eyes never leaving your face.

"don't want to see you with anyone else, you understand?" he continues, rubbing your clit in between his fingers.

your legs wrap around his waist, "no one else. just you. make me yours. please. please, kuna."

"fucking pretty when you beg," he chuckles. he thrusts into you, letting you feel his whole length. you arch your back in response, a wanton mewl escaping your lips at the sensation.

he doesn't stop there. sukuna speeds up, ramming into your hole. you lift yourself up slightly, fingers piercing his shoulder blades. his other arm hooks around you, pulling you close to him. you can't hold your head up. it's too much inside you, immeasurably intense.

"look at me, baby," he says. "i wanna see how i make you feel."

you hold your head up, facing him. it's menacing in its eroticism—the way the moonlight captures his face, illuminating him.

the orgasm builds up in your abdomen as the wordless sounds leave you. he grunts, kissing you again.

you pull out just as your about to climax, "it's too much, kuna. i'm gonna cum!"

"cum on me," he instructs sharply. "let me feel it."

"mhm," you nod, falling back onto your bed. sukuna leans over you, pressing your thigh open with one hand as the other one plays with your clit. his lips suck on your collarbone, so close to you, consuming you.

the explosion hits you. a louder, unguarded noise tears from you as you collapse. sukuna pulls out immediately, stroking his cock to continue the job.

"did so good for me, pretty girl," he praises you. "you're all mine."

you shake your head, getting up, "give it to me."

he tries to argue but you hold onto his cock, stroking it up and down. sukuna lets you take control. you switch up your position and fill your mouth with him once again. this time, faster. he sits back down, letting you do your job. grabbing your hair, guiding you on him until finally, he cums in your mouth.

you pull out, a string of saliva attaching itself from his tip and your lips.

you swallow the salty seed.

then, stick your tongue to show it, "all gone."

he chuckles. he pulls you close to him, embraces him, "you're crazy."

you wrap your arms around his shoulders, "for you."

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

AUTHOR'S NOTE ★ YOOOOO what happened!?!?

SUMMARY ★ he believes you don't matter to him. just one more annoying fangirl. showing up to his races, being obnoxiously chatty and your flirting—god, does it end? sukuna dreads you. however, he starts reciprocating, as a joke, of course! until it doesn't feel like a joke anymore and he wants nothing but you on his side.

PAIRING ★ streetracer!sukuna x fem!reader

CONTENT WARNINGS / GENRES / TAGS ★ smau w/ written chapters, smut, angst, sukuna is a lot older than reader, older brother to choso and yuji, he was in jail for getting caught racing LOL, nsfw/vulgar jokes like allll the time, inumaki talks (UNFORTUNATELY), sukuna playing w her feelings, he is toxic!

FIRST TAGLIST ★ @b4tm4nn @love-d-luxe @in-aa @kurtcobaingirlie @hannahzg8 @goopzzz @therealmikeross @izakyun @jjkslvt @strwbrrysatoru @kmhsjy @honeysilkdawn @moonmintedx @charlisflyingangell @4rm-the-mf-concrete @chiizuyu @colortheoryrocks @chosoissohotugh @getosuguwife @cl3xr @satorugooner @cosmosspace @marija4674 @snowstriper101 @wqsrs @arithemod @yanelis-world @ehcilhc @ilunita13 @b9nii @ilovetoes @mo072806 @vampshxde @deeeeexx @hushkuna @salad85 @dabi-vakarian @marscars237 @ejk31 @lxne-moon @iluvmegumiiiii @emluvsgetou @tsnmmhrz @mxchiii @akiw0 @blu3berryies @whaddupbaby @kagstobioisthelightofmylife @ackermanandsukuna @gothicbeastgirl

[neoplie]

velcro boyfriend denji . . # hear me out (๑>◡<๑)

denji was and has always been a guy who considered personal space to be an optional thing, most specifically yours.

never having had anyone stay, aside from pochita, he grew to cling to the warmth of others. even if it meant sticking to people like the gum under their shoes. and when you came by, he didn’t hesitate on sticking to you too.

whether that’s clinging to your side during missions (much to aki’s dismay), always reaching for your touch, or even insisting on tagging along to you and your friends’ girls day out! just like he is now . .

“but— c’moooon babe! i-i can carry your guy’s bags or something. yknow, make myself useful!” he whines, holding onto your arm as you shuffle your way around the room in search of your things. “you won’t even know I’m there! hell, i’ll even pay for you guys!”

you couldn’t help but stop and silently turn your head to look at him, offering a soft look of confusion. you both stare at each other, blinking before denji starts to speak. “… ok maybe not that but— c’mon!” he pleads, crocodile tears starting to form on the lining of his lashes.

as if some god had heard denji’s tantrum and pleas, you hear the ‘ping!’ from your phone, signaling a new message.

“the dog can come if he stays quiet and lets you finally come down.”

you couldn’t help but let out a small smile, airy laugh beginning to fill the room. you grab your things and make your way to the door, turning to look at denji. “you comin?”

© neoplie || please do not copy or translate without permission !

[r0ttn]

after dark | pervy roommate!choso x f!reader | 1.3k | 18+ mdni

content warnings. dead dove: do not eat, non-con voyeurism, obsessive behavior, choso masturbates next to sleeping r, r uses she/her pronouns, secret photography, choso has a dick piercing, somnophilic fantasies

note: this fic contains dark themes so please check out the cw before reading! art by tokuseku

m.list

you were standing in front of the open fridge in that tiny black pleated skirt—the one that always made choso’s brain short-circuit the second you put it on.

every time you moved, the hem teased higher up your thighs, threatening to reveal the soft underside of your ass. he tried not to look. he really, really did. but when you bent over to grab him another beer, reaching all the way to the bottom shelf, the skirt rode up shamelessly high. the black lace panties underneath were stretched tight across the perfect curve of your ass, the thin fabric practically see-through under the kitchen light. he could see the faint outline of your pussy lips through the delicate material, the way the lace clung to every soft fold.

his heart slammed against his ribs. before his brain could catch up, his thumb was already sliding across the screen of his phone. camera app open. he hated how automatic it had become. how natural it felt now. just one picture, he told himself. just to have for later.

click.

the shutter sound had been off for weeks—ever since that close call that still made his stomach drop whenever he remembered it. the guilt was always there, heavy and sour, but it didn't stop him anymore. it just mixed with the arousal until he couldn’t tell which was making his hands shake.

he kept the phone low, pretending to scroll, cheeks burning as he stared at the new photo. your ass perfectly framed. the black lace stretched obscenely across your pussy. the faintest hint of wetness darkening the fabric right where your slit was.

“got it,” you said casually, straightening up and turning around with the cold miller in your hand. you smiled at him like always — warm, trusting, completely unaware — and handed him the beer.

to you, he was still just cho. your sweet, slightly awkward best friend and roommate. the guy who got flustered when you teased him, who tripped over his own feet and cooked you ramen at 2 a.m. when you were sad. you had no idea how badly he was unraveling. how long he’d been coming apart at the seams for you.

later, after cheap beer and movies, the two of you ended up sprawled across your bed watching halloween. at some point you’d kicked off the skirt and fallen asleep in nothing but his oversized band tee and those same sheer black lace panties. the shirt had bunched up around your waist in your sleep, exposing the smooth curve of your hips and the delicate lace that barely covered your pussy.

choso lay on his back beside you, chest tight, heart pounding so hard he was sure it would wake you. he should have gone back to his own room hours ago. he knew that. but he couldn’t make himself leave.

he turned onto his side, facing you. you were so close. close enough that he could smell your strawberry body wash and the faint scent of your shampoo. his cock was already painfully hard, straining against his sweatpants, leaking steadily into the fabric.

don’t do this, he thought. not here. not with her right there.

but his hand was already moving. he pulled his phone out with trembling fingers, dimming the screen as low as it would go, and opened the new photo from the kitchen. your ass perfectly framed, black lace stretched across your pussy, the faintest hint of wetness darkening the fabric.

“fuck…” he breathed, barely a whisper.

he shoved his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock. it slapped heavily against his stomach, thick and flushed a deep, aching red, the silver barbell piercing at the tip catching the faint glow from the tv. a thick bead of pre-cum had already welled up at the slit and was sliding down the underside of his shaft. he wrapped his fist around the heavy length, feeling the heat of it pulse against his palm, and gave one slow, deliberate stroke from base to tip. the piercing shifted under his fingers, sending a sharp spark of sensation straight up his spine.

it wasn’t enough.

you were right here. warm and soft and wearing his shirt.

he shifted toward you, his face only inches from yours. his hand moved faster now, slick, wet sounds starting to fill the quiet room as more pre-cum coated his shaft and leaked over his knuckles with every stroke. he kept frantically glancing between the dimmed photo on his phone and your real body — the slow, peaceful rise and fall of your chest, the way his tee had ridden up even higher, the black lace edge of your panties just visible where it hugged your pussy.

she’s sleeping so peacefully… what if she wakes up? what if she sees me like this?

the thought made his cock throb violently in his fist, the piercing dragging along his sensitive skin as he squeezed tighter. his breathing grew ragged, hot little puffs brushing across your cheek with every exhale.

he imagined it so clearly it almost felt real. imagined slowly hooking two fingers under the crotch of those sheer black lace panties and dragging the soaked fabric to the side, exposing your pretty pussy to the cool air of the room. he’d press the blunt, pierced head of his cock against your slick folds, rubbing it up and down, letting the metal barbell catch on your clit until you let out a soft, unconscious whimper. then he’d push forward — slow at first — feeling your tight little hole stretch around his thick cock, the piercing dragging along your sensitive walls as he sank deeper and deeper until his hips were flush against your ass.

fuck, baby… you’re so goddamn tight, he thought, fist flying faster over his leaking cock. this pussy was made for me. you were made for me..

he imagined starting to thrust — shallow at first, then deeper, harder, the wet slap of skin on skin barely muffled by the tv. every stroke would push that cold silver piercing against that spot inside you that made you tremble. he’d lean over you, chest pressed to your back, lips brushing your ear while he whispered filthy things you couldn’t hear.

“gonna cum so deep inside you… gonna fill this pussy up until it’s dripping down your thighs. mark you as mine so no one else can ever have you again. you’re mine, baby. you’ve always been mine.”

his strokes turned rougher, almost punishing. his fist flew over his slick cock, thumb occasionally rubbing over the sensitive head and piercing, spreading his arousal everywhere. he was leaking so much now that the obscene wet sounds were louder than the low hum of the tv. his free hand hovered inches above your hip, trembling with the effort it took not to touch you. he wanted to dig his fingers into your soft flesh, yank you back against him, grind his cock against your ass while he jerked himself off. just once. just for a second.

you made a small, sleepy sound and shifted, unconsciously pushing your ass back toward him until the curve of it brushed lightly against the back of his hand.

that tiny, innocent movement shattered him completely.

thick ropes of cum shot hard across his stomach and chest, pulse after pulse. so much that it spilled over his fist, dripped down his balls, and even landed on the sheets. he kept stroking through it, hips stuttering helplessly, biting the inside of his cheek just to stay quiet. wave after wave tore through him, leaving his entire body shaking as he stared at your peaceful face.

even after he finished, he didn’t move. he just lay there panting, cock still twitching in his sticky hand, staring at you like you already belonged to him.

because in his head, you did. you had for a long time now.

and every single night, it was getting harder and harder to remember why he wasn’t supposed to take what he wanted.

[angelofsins]

House husband needs your kiss to function

You've left way too early this morning, leaving your poor husband to wake up on the wrong side of bed. You've left him a quick text that you have an important business meeting to attend about the multi-million skyscraper your company is handling. You also sent a picture that you drank a small carton of milk as breakfast instead of his usual French breakfast he'd usually make you in the morning.

For the rest of the day, his mind was trance. Keep on forgetting to buy this, do that, pick up those. It's a whole mess. He's surprised when he somehow managed to get back home on time to cook your dinner after running around the city like a maniac.

He was looking out in a daze to the beautiful view the city had to offer from the kitchen as he rinses the asparagus when you came back home. 

"Hi, Cho." You surprised him with a hug from behind. "What are you making?"

He snapped out of the cloud. And he immediately got angry despite yearning for this moment in the last ten hours. "Not for you." He grumbled.

You knew this is going to happen. "Come on, don't be like that." You pecked his bicep. "I'm sorry for leaving so early, but you have to understand..."

"No." He turns the faucet off. "You could've woke me up and say goodbye but you didn't. You left me a message like I'm some sort of one-night stand whore." He moved around the kitchen to cut the veggie.

"Are you not?" You joked, trying to lighten the mood. "You did perform like a one-night stand last night...Last quite a long time than I expected. Assume you've been practicing?" You tickle your nails against his forearm.

He snapped around, causing you to jump. "I'm your husband! And I've in fact been practicing so you can...release your stress." His voice dropping lower.

"On you?" You teased. "How have you been practicing? Care to demonstrate?" You cupped his cheek. 

He seeks comfort into your palm as he breaks a part. He nods softly, slowly stepping out of the kitchen to somewhere more...comforting.

"That's my good boy." You trailed behind him as he drops himself off onto the couch. You climbed onto his lap and held his head, bringing y'all's faces closer.

"I missed you..." He pants.

"I know, baby boy." You brushed his dark hair away from his face to kiss him.

Automatically, he moaned into the kiss, his hands seeking to making raw contacts with your skin. Your face, neck, thigh. 

You break the kiss carefully, your guy's saliva still connected. "Be a good boy and show me what you've been practicing in your free time, okay?"

"Yes, mommy." He peels off his sweatpants while maintaining eye contacts. His cock sprang free since he's not wearing any boxers. He never wears any when you're around. What if you want to use him out of nowhere? There's no time to waste.

You hiked up your skirt and pulled your pantie aside. "Are you going to disappoint mommy?" You lowered yourself onto him.

He covered his mouth to mask the dragging moan tearing through his throat. "N-No, mommy..." He clenched his jaw. Fuck. He's already so close. "I'm going to last however long you want." "Yeah...?" You wiggled around him to loosen yourself up. "Yes..." He answered half to the friction half to your question. You began to roll your hips, hitting that spot you loved, not bothering to care if he's having the equal amount of bliss though he probably is. When he threw his head back, gasping for air, you grabbed his chin and forced him to face you. "You're acting like a fucking brat earlier. Do you know that?" His shoulder tensed and his lips quivered. "Y-Yes, mommy." He swallowed. "I-I won't do it again." You slapped him across the face. "There shouldn't be an 'again' in the first place." He gasped loudly. The slap made his hips jerk deeper into you and so close...He just can't finish without... "Kiss..." He slurred over his saliva. "Kiss..." You grinned, rolling your hips more teasingly and slower. "You want a kiss, baby?" You licked the tears falling from his eyes now. He hics. "Can't finish without kisses…” "Say please." "Please..." He begged while actively searching for your lips, whining when you pulled away from him. "Please! Please! Please! Please!" He wiped the flowing tears from his face. He’s just too cute. You clashed your lips against his, tangling y’all’s tongue together. 

The way his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his cock thrusting into you as you milk him dry, is the most cinematic scene in all of Hollywood. 

Author's Note Why is it so hard to find Submissive Choso content?? Why is Choso domming in most fics? We all know he's down bad sub.

[velvetground-6]

toy flesh [explicit 18+] — [part 1] Clark randomly feels someone sitting on his dick even when he’s alone in his room. pretty much. part one for that magic toy prelude in my masterlist

. . .

Clark thinks it has to be a one off thing. Has to be. A wet dream too close to reality that somehow got his dick a little too wet. A hallucination manifested in some relaxing body tremors that felt so good it ultimately had him cumming everywhere in his pants, untouched, with the book he was nose-deep in forgotten while he lied down and stared at the wall in wide eyed, wide-mouthed shock. What just happened? How did that just happen?

He holds out hope that maybe he’ll get to touch himself and get rid of this pent up energy, get it flushed out of his system, not feel the same unexplained touch of someone else’s body—someone else’s flesh directly on top of him. While he goes about his daily routine before work he doesn’t ever stop looking down at his dick like he’s checking in on it. See if it falls off or grows a bigger brain of its own. Pulls his waistband out to take a confused peak while he’s scrubbing his teeth, foam running down the corner of his mouth. Watches his dick swing around and reluctantly roll upward and harden again from the memory even as he’s ironing the fine lines in his button down shirt.

It felt juvenile. It felt ridiculous.

What grown man couldn’t keep it down and stay soft for a dull eight hour work day?

He has to fondle himself to the memory again before he leaves, cum uncontrollably splashing just about everywhere even though he prepares himself with a tissue right at the tip. The shirt he spent nearly fifteen minutes ironing had to get thrown in the wash and replaced with something wrinkly and unkempt, but at least it was free of cum stains.

Clark sighs as the elevator door opens up to his office floor, trudging over to his desk and setting his briefcase down. Skips right over to their break room’s coffee maker to brew up a sugary full cup for the day ahead of him. Jimmy gave him a greeting with a rougher pat on the shoulder, jolting Clark in a reactionary shiver when he thinks back to being touched in bed by no one or something while he was withering all alone in his room.

He pushes his glasses up his scrunched up nose, letting out an almost disgruntled sounding hey.

Jimmy squints at him, noticing the offbeat attitude of his close friend and coworker. “You good, man? Sleep alright last night or did somebody take a hot piss in your Froot Loops?”

“Slept… slept fine, it’s just I’m kinda going through stuff right now. I don’t know.”

Clark swallows and stirs his steaming cup after dropping another sugar cube in. Jimmy pats his shoulder once again, trying to get Clark to meet his eyes with a tilt of his head.

“You know… maybe it’s about time.”

“What?”

“You know, dude, maybe it’s that time. Time for you to get yourself laid. I think it could help flush out some of these nerves in your system. You seem so tense. I know a few girls that would hop on that train, if you know what I mean.”

Clark turns beat red rather quickly, taking a long sip to gather his thoughts and come up with a response.

“Yeah you couldn’t have been any more direct actually. I… listen I understand, but it’s not that. Trust me, I’m getting… more than you think. I guess. Cause something like, something happened last night, I don’t even know how to explain it. And I liked….. it. It’s just really weird so maybe now’s not the time to discuss—“

Jimmy laughs a long, boyish giggle and slaps one of Clark’s broad shoulders, pulling Clark further aside into the corner with a look around for any coworkers meandering.

“Dude, I knew it. You found yourself a lady. You’ve been getting some and you haven’t been telling me. That’s really lame of you man, I thought our friendship had no barriers—“

“I haven’t met a— look, okay, it was weird, and I mean really really weird. I don’t know if you’ll understand it or if it’ll just sound crazy.”

“Whatever crazy thing you’re about to say, I’ve probably done crazier,” Jimmy assures with a knowing nod paired with a grin. “Trust me.”

“Uh, okay….” Clark clears his throat and lowers his voice, leaning down to Jimmy’s ear level. “Have—have you ever like, came untouched before? Felt someone…. down there…. even though no one else was in the room?”

Clark stares at Jimmy now, loosening the tie around his collar like he’s already broke out in another sweat just thinking about it. Wondering if it might happen again. If he has some odd guardian angel that likes to fuck him and look after him all at the same time.

“You mean you finished, no hands, completely dry? You’re living the dream. Should be more grateful. Why do you look so terrified right now.”

Clark closes his eyes and pinches his brows in a long sigh before nodding to Jimmy to follow him to the bathrooms after setting his coffee on his desk. With uneasy paranoia he peers down to check for any feet on the floor in the stalls before he continues.

“I… I don’t think you get it. It felt like someone literally rode me, like, put me inside them and came on my dick and everything. I wasn’t doing anything! Wasn’t even hard before it started happening, I was just reading. I don’t know how else to explain this or make it any clearer to you!”

Jimmy looks astounded after every word, awestruck with an open mouth. Even flashes of envy pass through his eyes while he chuckles and shakes his head. Typical Clark and his way of complicating things. Overthinking what truly sounded like a gift. “Sounds like a you’re being haunted by a friendly ghost that just wants to hop on that thing, dude. So what did it really feel like? And can I get one too?”

Clark closes his eyes and his mind goes back to last night. In the comfort of his soft sheets, legs sprawling out and taking over the entirety of his bed. How right when the plot of his novel started taking off he felt almost a tickle. A wiggle of what felt like a smooth, slithery tongue. It was unrecognizable when it started, like maybe he had an itch down there to scratch, or maybe some blood began randomly flowing down south.

When it became unmistakeable, too soft and wet to deny what was happening to him, he slammed his book shut with the bookmark in place and spread his legs wider, feeling the sweat breaking out. Feels his dick happily jump right into the warm invisible hole teasing his tip. He felt the hole clench down and struggle to take him all, slowly inching up and down like a bunny on top of what it could take. He clenched a fist at his side and held his dick up with a thumb, raising his hips gently into the heavenly heat. How the pace it had going stuttered when he did, probably in shock that he had more of himself to give.

Clark remembers crying with pleasure, pre cum getting drained out of him so effortlessly, so smoothly. Drool picks up on his tongue while he’s nearly going cross eyed, the pussy on top of him bouncing harder, bouncing faster—

“It feels— it feels unbelievable. I mean it was incredible,” Clark answers Jimmy’s question that had awkwardly hung in the air. “Haven’t felt anything like it before. Something might be seriously wrong with me.”

Jimmy raises a brow. “Watching too much porn? Just take a break. Meet a girl.”

Clark’s full body shivers, goosebumps now swarming up his arms and the back of his neck, making all the hairs there start to stand up. He feels an eager hand all the sudden grab onto his bare cock and slick their palm down, cold and wet like the hand had a puddle of lube to gloss him down.

If it hasn’t visibly shown up as a wet spot on his groin through his trousers yet, by the feeling of it it’ll start showing a dark spot soon. If he didn’t take his dick out it would surely start a puddle that would only dry as a fresh stain.

Clark takes a deep, shaky breath, turning over to grab onto the tile of the wall, resting his forehead against it and gripping like he’s engulfed in pain. Like his surroundings started spinning all around him.

“Woah, Clark. Dude. Take it easy. What’s happening?”

Jimmy gets closer to check on his friend but Clark can’t take it, shooing him off with a hurried no, it’s fine—just get out of here. I need a second. thanks!

“You sure you’ll be able to hold up the rest of today? You have enough leave. I’m sure Lois would understand—”

“Just, just…. I need to take a— I’ll take a ten, okay,” he whimpers, clutching onto the humiliating bulge growing so fast he already was showing a hefty print. “Maybe a fifteen. I can’t—I don’t know.” The hand stopped slicking up and down his cock and he feels it tease him by rubbing his length up and down a pearly wet slit, not yet having him enter.

He shoos Jimmy away and hurries to a stall, slamming it shut and locking it with his back to the door while his dick bobs around for more of her attention. Tingles sprout in his belly while his whole body starts to tense.

“Uh, okay,” Jimmy mutters. “Well I’ll leave you to it I guess? Here for you buddy. Don’t piss off your ghost girlfriend. Maybe next time she won’t fuck you as good if you do,” he laughs.

“Shut. The door. And shut. Up!” Clark howls, fumbling with his zipper and rushing to roll some toilet paper up into a ball for his tip when he’s hanging out of his boxers. He distantly hears his friend mumble a jeez, so touchy. sorry and the door creaks open and falls closed. With privacy at last, Clark is able to heave and thrust his hips gently into the beautiful, tight wet heat, little abstract murmurs and whimpers leaving his throat while his dick gets wetter, and wetter, and wetter.

“Don’t—Don’t, don’t want you to stop,” he quietly begs. Veins popping on his temple from all the straining his body is doing. “But I… I have to get back to work.”

Whatever is wrapped around his cock doesn’t pay his words any mind, sinking down all the way to his balls and creaming on his base the more they start their rough bouncing. Like they’re angry, like they’re taking everything out on his cock. Clark wished he knew what he did wrong, or maybe what he did right to deserve this kind of treatment from someone he couldn’t even see.

“I’m not gonna last, I’m not, it feels so good…. feels too good…. I can’t handle this again, not right now,” he breathes. Sees his tip bead more floods of pre cum and slip down the base of his cock, getting his balls messy with slick. The sound is obscene, with every up and down motion everything can be heard. How wet the pussy around him really is. How his cock stuffs it all the way through. If somebody came in right now, they would think he’s having real sex with a real body in this stall right now. When in all honestly, Clark doesn’t know what he’s having.

“Oh my gosh, gosh you’re more wet this time, you’re getting it so wet…. You’re gonna get me in trouble, wait…. please.”

The pussy on top of his dick starts to quiver, tremble and squeeze him down harder than before. Like it’s finally found release after a record of an eight minute round of going nuts on him like he’s nothing but a toy built strictly for their use.

Some cum that isn’t even his starts dribbling down on him, and that’s when the floodgates start to open. Clark can’t hold it anymore, and he doesn’t know how bad it’s gonna be trying to both cover his load and then clean it all up.

He whimpers and squeezes his eyes shut once again, knuckles turning white while he holds on for dear life and busts another long, drawn out nut into whatever this thing is that’s tortured him yet again. He spits out rope after rope of cum in the waiting piece of balled up paper and tries to catch it all there but a few stray drips do manage to burst out too fast for him to act. He sprays a part of the wall and whines a little no, please, please no, you made me cum too hard again, I need to get back to work.

The come down is always humbling. Seeing exactly how foolish he was acting as the sweat under his arms and on his face visibly stains his clothes and his skin. He managed to wipe off his messy cum lines off the wall and stuffs another rolled up ball of toilet paper down his boxers to soak up whatever else is leftover in his pants.

When he feels ready enough he’s still catching his breath and trying to get his blushing face under control as he heads over to the sink to splash some water on his face. Presses on the soap dispenser over and over again until more than a mountain of soap is bubbling in his palm, lathering his sticky, filthy hands.

Clark fights everything inside him to try and act natural when he heads back to his desk. Ruffles his hair more than necessary, tightens his tie, rolls up his sleeves.

The cup of coffee he’d made had lost most of its heat but Clark was so preoccupied in his head he doesn’t notice, still gulping some down and logging back into his computer to answer more messages and emails that were left for him. His eyes zone in on an email he’d been CC’d in from Jimmy and Lois about an upcoming new hire’s start date for their vacant Office Assistant position.

The email read that Clark would be assigned as the one primarily training her since he’d started out in her exact title position a year ago. Clark adds a thumbs up to the email and closes out of it to start on another assignment, thinking in the very back of his head that if his dick can’t control himself while he’s training said new hire next week he’d be blowing his brains out, not out of his cock next time.

Jimmy side eyes him from across the room, mouthing a you good? much to Clark’s bashful shake of his head, assuring him with a roll of his eyes and a tired response of yeah, I’m fine. shut up.

Lois comes out of the blue up behind him and drops a fat stack of paperwork on Clark’s desk with a tight smile.

“New hire coming in next week. You got my email right?”

Clark nods and leans back in his chair, casual as he can muster.

“She’ll have to mostly rely on you for help and onboarding, since me and Jimmy have too much going on. Travel, deadlines, some new leads finally getting back to us for interviews. So you’ll take her under your wing for us, yeah?”

“Of course. It’s not uh, it won’t be a problem,” he answers under his breath, taking another sorry sip of his lukewarm coffee. He hopes the thing in his pants won’t be a problem.

“You sure? Jimmy said you didn’t look well. You can’t call out and leave her all alone here on her first few days, it’s gonna be overwhelming in the start—“

“Jimmy doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’m fine. It’ll get taken care of,” he promised.

“Alright, then don’t get her sick, got it?”

Clark wants to slap Jimmy for even bringing up his frazzled state to anybody in the office, mortified over what had taken place barely ten minutes ago, and how unpredictable his dick was gonna act for a while. Or forever. Who even knows at this point.

“My germs are all mine,” he swears, hands defensively up in the air. “Count on it.”

Lois gives him another one of her hard stares that basically told him she’d make him eat his words if he dared showing up to the office coughing, sneezing, puking. Clark was only worried about leaving his desk for twenty minutes at a time to get his dick rode by the same tempting mystical source he had yet to fully identify, let alone begin to understand.

It never left his brain even while he worked, back of his pen stuck in his mouth to chew on while he wrote up more emails and forwarded ones from their general inbox. Hours had gone by until he had about forty five more minutes left until he could be freed and finally head home, and Clark really thought he was in the clear of having another accident during work hours.

That was up until the fucking tease went at it again. The warm, sopping wet tightness wraps around his tip and slips him in, no mercy given. His dick springs back to life effortlessly, and Clark wants to cry.

He holds his head by covering his face with both hands, scooting his swivel chair forward so his crotch was safely hidden underneath. He drools an ungodly amount at the tip, feeling how eager this round was for her, how quickly she ruts against him and has him crying softly into the sleeve of his shirt.

Clark’s mewling and groaning is muffled into his arm, too helpless to hold in any of his noise when they move in sways up and down, switching off between going deep and going shallow with their pushes. Clark is beat red all over again, giving up after several minutes of unabashed torture and shielding his wet crotch with his briefcase pressed up against him, running off back to the toilets this time to sit down and breathe while undeniably enjoying everything being done to him. Fuck the last thirty minutes of his shift. Fuck the emails and the phone calls and the scans and the letters.

Clark shuts his eyes and actually smiles for a change as he eggs on whatever higher power bouncing on top of him to keep going. Nods his head and can’t help his soft murmurings of please, yeah, yeah keep doing that, you do it so good.

It might be his new imaginary best friend, or it might be his first sign to go to a mental hospital. Whatever it was, since it’s made Clark cum this hard, he guessed it couldn’t have mattered too much if it always made him feel this good.

. . .

The weekend was spent the same way. Getting his dick milked while he lied back and screeched every time she squeezed on him some way, somehow. He doesn’t answer anyone that texts him for plans, doesn’t do the dishes or take care of his laundry like how he’d hoped. No. He whines and stutters and cries, barely able to get in the shower without his dick getting trampled on.

It’s not a long shot to think he could be developing something. A mental illness. A haunted curse that plagues him with orgasms at all times of the night and the day. He’s one more round away from calling somebody to perform an exorcism or splash holy water on him to escape this succubus that had to be laughing in his face at how easy he is to rile up.

When Monday comes around again Clark doesn’t want to take any chances traumatizing the new hire with all the blotches of cum stains littering his pants. With a scoff and a sigh he steps each leg into a second pair of boxers to make slightly more effort into covering up. Even packs a backup pair in case both pairs he’s currently wearing are soiled by the end of the day.

After a hectic first hour of scanning and distributing the stack of morning mail from the bin, he slips a stick of gum on his tongue and gnaws on the flavor with his mouth open when an unfamiliar silhouette teeters closer towards the edge of his desk from the entrance.

Clark doesn’t get to looking up until she’s clearing her throat, playing with a strand of her hair with a smile aimed at the ground.

“Hi, sorry if I’m interrupting your work. I’m actually starting today,” she explains, eyeing him up from head to toe. Clark rips his head up at the voice and clears his throat, sitting up straighter and pulls a polite hand out.

“Oh! Oh, yeah that’s right. You’re our new hire. It’s nice to meet you, I’m Clark.”

She takes his hand with a laugh. Clark wished he understood what was funny. He joins in on it anyway, anxiously chuckling while he doesn’t stop shaking her hand in his. Realizing it had been well over ten seconds of her soft palm held up in his own long, gigantic fingers, he slips his hand off of hers, lingering in the awkward air of the moment.

She nods and scans her gaze around, peaking at the state of Clark’s desk. The endless string of sticky notes, the protein shakes, the tie he’d already taken off his neck. “So am I in the right place, or—“

“Yup. Yeah, yeah you found where you should be. I’ve been tasked to uh, help you fill all this out. After that we can get you started on some basics,” he breathes out, pointing to the stack resting on the side of his desk, sticky note on top with her name on it. Clark finds himself trying a little desperately to keep himself more cool, more composed. She’s the kind of pretty that made him nervous, suddenly aware of his undone appearance, of every awkward move he makes. He stops chewing his gum with as much rigor, clenches his jaw and scratches the back of his neck.

“I started out in the position you’re in, it’s real easy to move up,” he mentions, gathering up the paperwork and attempting to straighten it out before a quarter of the pages fall from his grasp in a pile. Beat red, Clark doesn’t do anything but stare at the ground and sigh before sheepishly joining in on her laughs.

“You’re pretty organized, aren’t you?” she chuckles, bending over to pick up the few documents that landed on the floor. Clark’s jaw even drops when he catches the smallest glimpse of her hot pink colored thong poking up above from her dress pants.

“Yeah. Yeah I really am, you know. Organization is key,” he nods, tight lipped smile still on his face. He takes the pages she hands him over, watching her subtly arch her head to smell something in the air. Fuck. What the fuck? Did he even put on any cologne this morning after draining his dick for the hundredth time?

Before he could shoot himself in the head with more irrational insecurities his mind makes up she soothed his very visible worry with another laugh and a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Is it me? Do I reek like sweat or something—?”

“No, no. You don’t smell bad, you’re fine. I was just trying to figure out if you were chewing Spearmint or not,” she assures. “I like it. Promise. You do not reek of anything,” she snorted through another laugh. Clark beams, looking around everywhere but her face. Afraid his face could give his every fleeting thought away.

Thank god. “Uh, oh yeah. Yeah it’s Spearmint. You want a piece? I have a new pack,” he offers. To his surprise, she snatches up a piece out of his hand hardly before he gets to offer it to her. Blinks dumbly while she opens it up and tears the piece in half, stuffing one in her mouth and giving the other half back to him.

“Uh—“

She smiles at him, chewing the gum out of one side of her cheek. “I have this oral thing. A fixation I guess. Chewing or having something in my mouth really helps me.”

The thing about Clark is, he has manners. Has restraint. Thought he was a good boy that didn’t go on and chase any tail that came into his orbit. Especially not a new pretty co-worker. He doesn’t want to think about putting different parts of himself inside her mouth just to calm her down. Or the color of her thong. Or that wicked smile and addicting perfume to match. Something tries to draw him in closer, reason with his conscience like she’s teasing little signals, it’s not like you’re her boss or anything. if you flirt back no one would know a thing.

Clark stops his zoning out and nods his head to agree. “I get it. Having stuff in my… in my mouth cools me off too. Like—like stress.”

“You shouldn’t worry yourself that much. Seems like you’re wound up pretty tight.”

He feels like there’s this window into his thoughts standing clear as day right above his head, broadcasting every fleeting thought or mood. When he tries to look at her, stare at her back the same way she stares at him, he just wanted to run away before his own dick caught up with him.

Clark scratches his chin and sheepishly nods with his head down, agreeing with a gentle mumble, yeah you know, just normal stuff, kinda on edge. Not like he randomly cums in his pants or anything. He quickly finds a way to change subjects by directing his focus back to the work left in front of them and guides her to sit over at her new desk to fill out some new hire paperwork. She taps him on the shoulder and grins when she says his name to ask him questions. He dutifully answers everything he can, emails some higher ups to get her logins to some of their systems and trains her how they go through their mail and answer consumer’s inquiries over the phone.

She takes just about everything in a stride. Overwhelmed of course by certain things that have nuances and will take more time getting used to. Clark introduces her to more staff, waves to Lois, makes the new hire her own cup of coffee after showing her their break room. Jimmy tries to raise a brow, even wiggles both of them up and down at him from behind her back, but it only makes Clark kick him in the shin and gruffly threaten him under his breath as he’s passing by while she wasn’t looking.

Clark sends her off to her first break, telling her to meet him back at her desk for more training later. Watches absentmindedly as she picks up her purse, snatched up a lighter from one of the pockets and stuck a cigarette behind her ear, waving goodbye and strolling out to the elevator doors. Before the elevator doors close he could see her take the stick from her ear and put it between her lips, probably a habit she’s picked up from that oral thing, Clark figured. He wants to stop himself from picking apart her business but he’s too intrigued to stop, still lost in thought at his desk while he takes a break of his own.

After spitting his piece of gum out he chugs a few thick swigs of his protein shake, spaced out in blank thought. A corner of his mouth smiles when he feels the other half of that stick of gum she’d torn off and given back. His dick twitches but ultimately stayed soft, undetected in his pants. He’d shamefully started wondering how the hell his dick was so well behaved, so normal today of all days. Not that it was a bad thing. He just found it curious. Why was this the first time in days his dick wasn’t getting swallowed, rode, or came on by whatever invisible force that clearly had been having its fun tormenting him? And will it ever come back to fuck him again?

Once Jimmy finds Clark alone at his desk wiping fingerprints off his glasses, he swats his shoulder and bashed one of his knees to his swivel chair, causing him to start spinning.

“What the hey, dude—don’t—“

“This could be your shot. All’s I’m sayin,” he shrugs. Sees Clark stop his chair and shove his friend forward, only enough power to knock him off his feet a little bit. “Hey, hey! That’s all I’m saying, I said!” he laughs and defensively puts both his palms up to shield himself from any more of Clark’s wrath.

“You can’t say that stuff. Don’t. She’s new, okay! And… and she needs my help learning everything around here. She doesn’t need some big oaf getting in her business, abusing power, or being… being weird towards her,” he concludes.

“Hey, opportunities sometimes fall right out of the sky. This one just fell right into your lap. And you’re not a fat oaf dude. Pfft, you actually think being her co-worker is gonna affect anything?”

“Uh, yes it does in fact. It will literally affect everything. You think it’d be appropriate for me to treat her like that?”

Jimmy shrugs again, ruffles Clark’s curls and says he should think about reconsidering some of his rules and start breaking them in order to finally get something he wants.

When she’s back from her break her hair is damp, fresh perfume sprayed on her coat to get rid of some of the stench from her cigarette. She looks refreshed, albeit a little more flustered than she was before she left. Her boots squeak slightly on the floor from stepping out on the wet ground outside. He thinks about complimenting her boots, her coat, her hair, thinks about complimenting her everything. But his words fall short after his voice cracks from the very simple greeting of hey, welcome back.

“Hey, can I ask you for a favor after work? It’s totally fine if you say no or if you can’t. You don’t have to give me any reasons,” she assures.

Already eager to know what she’s going to be asking of him, his ears perk and his posture straightens up as he scoots his chair over to her desk.

“Yeah of course. What’s up?”

“It started raining pretty hard and the forecast says it won’t stop until tomorrow morning. I actually walked here to work, and if it’s not any trouble, would you be able to give me a lift back home?”

Clark swallows an upcoming lump in his throat, feeling his palms start to get clammy. The mere thought of the proximity was enticing. Having her next to him, in his car. Her trust in him helping her with something as intimate as having her get back home safely. He tries to answer casually, like he’s a nonchalant guy — as if the offer wasn’t any big deal, wasn’t making his heart start to beat a little faster.

What comes out though is a horribly rushed, clumsy, stuttered —

“Ohyeahofcourse, you don’t even have to worry about it!”

Jimmy’s teasing still echoes through the hallway of his brain. About opportunities. About how sometimes they seem to fall right out of the sky. How this one has fallen right into his lap.

“Thanks so much Clark, I appreciate it. You’ve been the sweetest guy. I’m really lucky to have you here to teach me everything,” she praised. Turning his cheeks pink in all of two seconds with a flat palm on his broad shoulder, squeezing gently and holding the warmest smile.

“We’re lucky to have you. You’ve been— you’ve been great,” he gulps, trying to bring the focus back to her. “We don’t have too much more to fill out, but um, I don’t wanna overwhelm you with any more new things today. Let’s wrap up this paperwork then we’ll hopefully get you on those phones to practice the last hour.”

“Great! I’m almost finished with those. And for the record I do promise where I live isn’t far, I don’t wanna be too much an inconvenience,” she laughs. Clark shook his head again, ready to protest the very idea that she was asking too much. In truth, she was so stupid pretty that if she asks him to say his ABC’s backwards he’d still give it his best shot. She almost cuts off his attempt to deny it, straightening up some of the last pages left to read over and sign.

“You are not any inconvenience. If you are, then please keep inconveniencing me,” he says, flashing a toothy smile at her. He prays to himself that it comes out right, and to his delight, she grins back, adorable face expressing back to him, well, then don’t mind if I do. “with anything you need, I’ll be here.”

Is he being too much?

“Thanks, Clark. I owe you.”

Oh? What should you owe me?

He shakes off any perverted thoughts and spares a glance at his watch.

“Are you hungry? It could be lunch time. Up to you. We don’t clock in and out, we just have timesheets, so breaks are pretty flexible.”

“Yeah, I could eat.”

Clark’s head screams well there’s a full meal right in front of you.

“Great.”

. . .

He sees her head off to the break room and start chatting with Lois, smiling at her welcoming disposition while she checks in on how her training is going. Clark knows he has the option to stay, to ogle while he ate at his desk, but he feels like he has too much steam to blow off before handling the rest of the day. With a long final exhale, he adjusts his glasses and snatched up his keys to head back home for his lunch hour.

Once he’s back at his apartment he immediately sheds his god awful shoes and his suffocating button down before he’s lying flat on his back in bed, staring up at the wall. Trying to manifest that magical touch and beckon it to come back. Beg for it even. Wonders to himself if there’s some hidden way he hasn’t figured out yet to trigger it, or if it’ll always remain spontaneous.

Clenching his jaw he angrily starts groping his crotch, trying to feel himself out. He opens one eye to peer down at his dick and see if he just thought about it hard enough he’ll bring it back to life, feel that beautiful all consuming weight drip on top of him again.

“C’mon. C’mon, please… You… you’ve fucked me every day and I took it all last night, now I want it, I need it. Right here, please?”

Clark strokes his cock while it sways back and forth against his belly, mind already feeding into an idiotic fantasy of his new hire bending over, showing him her pretty colored thong. Maybe she’d pull her panties up higher so they’re peaking out further above her waistline, or maybe she’d pull them over to the side….

He raises his hips off the bed to thrust into his fist at the thought, pants still strung down barely past his groin. Figures if he shows back up to work the rest of the day in different pants, it’s his business and his business only, and so be it.

“Oh god it was so good last time, wish you could touch me like that again…”

He knows it’s pathetic. Everything he’s doing, everything he’s saying. While he grips the tip and twists particularly tight, he shamefully whimpers out his new hire’s name while his dick starts to drip into pubes. Messy, sticky, but gosh he needed this. Clark deeply misses the warmth on top of him, the hot teasing, the bouncing, and the thrill of not knowing what will happen next—

“Oh my god….”

. . .

posting this cuz I’m so done looking at it already dear jesuslawd. if I should keep going somehow let me know I love coworkerXcoworker getting down and nasty. I like the idea of clark not knowing what’s going on and getting slobbered on by his work crush. fully no clue when/if the next part comes out oh my lawd. thanks soooo so much for all the love on the first little prelude:( im so obsessed with every reblog+comment

tag list: @emmaaagb @herejustforbuckybarnes @asthavraj @bitchy-bi-trash @gothgirlwannabe80 @snore-3 @noirecherie @lovergirl-007s-blog @tumlrwhore @glorydescent @forsakenskulltwist @brattybunnybby @unavurse

(if I missed anyone that wanted to be tagged let me know)

[tentypos]

“BEACHBOY”

a mha college au FEAT. DENKI K.

“and she's on top of me, and it is hot, hot, hot.”

disclaimer; i dont fw mcafferty, at all. but the song is so him.

the fruits of mine and @kamislop ‘s freaksations

mdni. cw: mutual masturbation, they’re practically edating, gooner x gooner, fingering, premature ejaculation, ummm, what else, unprotected sex, does that count as grown folk sex or not, riding for like five minutes, mommy kink (sorry i had to sneak it in there), whiney pathetic denki, so nothing new, bad language, recreational drug use, virgin denki, virgin reader. reader is thick fem coded. this is so meta

wc: 3.9k

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

starting track….

you've never actually met denki kaminari.

which is weird.

because, at this point, he's basically integrated himself into your daily routine.

he's the first person you speak to when you wake up, the last person you message before you go to sleep. the first person you go to text when something happens, small things, big things, bullshit that no one else is going to understand, movie reviews, song recommendations.

you've followed each other for... god, maybe two years now? one of those internet mutual situations. it was either a tiktok comment, or an instagram comment he posted that had you snorting at your screen so hard, you had to follow the guy with the pikachu profile picture, immediately.

always the first person to like your stories, to slide up with stupid reaction gifs, or drooling emojis. and then following it with 5 minute rants about how "this jjk arc is actually about the burden of adolescence", completely serious.

sometimes you’ll post something and before you’ve even locked your phone again—

LMAOOOOO

who pissed you off this time

or

okay but hear me out

followed by the worst take you’ve ever read in your life.

but you reply every time. because his exact ratio of funny to horny is just so perfectly calibrated to your freakquency.

you’ll post a selfie and get:

good lord.

then thirty seconds later:

WAIT WAIT WAIT

i need to rant

and suddenly he’s voice-noting you for four straight minutes about drama inside his friend group.

people you technically know. well. not know know. but know in the way internet mutuals know people. through usernames, blurry instagram stories, occasional re-posts, overheard names.

sero said this, jirou blocked someone, mina got too drunk at a house party, bakugou pushed him down the stairs, again.

and denki relays all of it to you like a disgraced court jester bringing gossip to the queen.

you’ll be brushing your teeth at midnight listening to him say some shit like, “NO because tell me why this grown man started shadowboxing in the function because somebody drank his monster.”

and you’re laughing so hard toothpaste nearly goes down your shirt.

it’s easy with him. so easy. easy to reply, easy to keep talking, easy to accidentally spend three hours discussing whether eren yeager was doomed by narrative structure or just mentally ill.

and then you’ll realise it’s four in the morning and your phone’s on 2%.

and he’s still typing, still there. that little green dot beside his name.

because he's always online. chronically.

you don't think there has been a single moment recorded in history where denki hasn't been within five feet of his phone. he'll snap you back when he's on the toilet, mid shit, phone still clutched in his hands. he'll text when you when he's on the train, replies with typos so bad you can physically hear how fast he was typing. snaps while he's walking home.

so eventually, eventually, obviously, inevitably, the natural progression of things.

he starts sending you voice messages while he's jerking off.

your own personal whimper audio plug.

you can't really remember when that started. actually, no, you can…

he’d just finished the third arc of this anime you recommended and absolutely had to call you at two in the morning to tell you exactly what he thought about it. and you were online anyways, active two minutes ago right there beside your profile picture.

only problem is, someone just happened to be mid goon sesh. vibrator pressed to your clit, toes clenched, sweating under your blankets, thighs drenched in your own slick, room dark except for the glow of your phone screen.

you're still not really sure what possessed you to press accept on his call, and you're even less sure why you continued to pleasure yourself with him rambling down the phone.

maybe it was the confidence that comes with anonymity, the fact that he doesn't know you in real life. maybe it was curiosity. maybe it was the fact he actually listened to you, watched the things you recommended, came back wanting your opinions like they matter, like you matter.

or maybe he's just… easy to listen to? warm, animated, endearing. the soothing tone of his voice, of him snickering at his own jokes.

“…right? like i’m not saying he was justified, but if that happened to me i probably would’ve done worse.... what d’you think?”

“i—” your voice catches, badly. you bite down hard on your lip, trying to stifle your moans, “umm—ngh—sorry, what?”

there’s immediate shuffling on his end.

“oh shit,” denki backtracks quickly. “sorry, were you asleep? fuck, my bad dude, just call me back in the morning—”

"no!" you reply, too fast, too desperate, you fucking— what the fuck is wrong with you, “no... s’fine. just… keep talking.”

there's a beat, a pause, and then, "oh, uhhh, okay...?" he continues on, rambling, but his voice is lower, slower, calmer, like he’s suddenly hyper-aware of every sound coming through the phone.

finally, he throws in the towel, bites the bullet.

“…sorry— you can literally kill me if i’m wrong but… are you—”

he coughs, awkwardly.

“are you touching yourself?”

god.

you really should've lied.

should've hung up the phone, messaged him back in the morning, or something, literally anything else.

but, ohhh, you didn't even care at that point. your orgasm already building hot under your skin and there was something strangely intoxicating about the fact he could tell, that he was even listening close enough to notice.

“yeah,” you breathe out before you can stop yourself. “yeah… i’m playing with myself.”

your voice wrecked in a way denki had never heard before.

he’s quiet now, fuck, fuck, fuck, you blew it.

he’s probably cut the call, gonna tell all his friends what a weirdo you are, maybe post a story-time on his close friends about the pervy girl rubbing herself while on the phone to him.

but… the humiliation of him finding out doesn’t derail you from the path of pleasure you’re already walking down, and although you’d never admit it, it probably makes it hotter. you might as well finish, you can wallow in your self-pity tomorrow.

the vibrations sound louder now that you’re not being a self conscious freak. you’re whimpering softly while the buzzing echoes against the slick running down your thighs, wet and muffled beneath the blankets.

you can hear it.

so can denki.

“is that—” he swallows, and you flinch in surprise at his voice suddenly coming through the receiver again, but you don’t bother slowing down. “is that…is that your pussy? that—that noise?”

what noise, the bzzz-bzzz-squelch-squelch? is he serious, “what else would it be?”

“i don’t— i dunno, it just…” he stumbles over the words. “it just sounds so… so wet.”

“mhmmm,” yeah, yeah it really does sound so wet, doesn’t it.

“does it always get like that?”

“mhmmm.”

a shaky breath crackles through the phone.

and then,

“w-wish i could see.”

what?

what?

oh.

you almost sigh in real time, what did you even have to worry about? did you forget this is denki, denki kaminari, the same freak who once said he would 'fuck your armpit' as a 'joke.'

the thought barely settles before you finally notice another sound leaking through the phone.

rhythmic. wet.

fap-fap-fap.

you still immediately, fingers curling around your little bullet vibe to switch it off. were you seriously so distracted you didn’t notice? didn’t hear this, didn’t hear him?

the wet schilcks of his hand working his cock, "wish i could see—no- wish i c-could-could touch it—nngggh-oh fu-uck—wish i could-hck!- wish i could fuckin’ taste you."

worse than you, oh, he's waaaay worse than you.

“w-wish you were here,” his voice crackles through the receiver alongside another ruined, greedy, sound. “wish you could see how messy i got—”

“denki—”

“fuuuck,” he whines softly. “say my name again, please. please, i’m—”

“denki, you’re so gross.”

“hah— shiiit, yeah,” he sounds obscene, like he can barely get the words out, “that’s the stuff.”

and seriously? already? because you've barely been on the phone for five minutes, there's no way he got this bad, that quickly. but you can’t deny how much it makes your pussy throb.

“yeah i'm gross, but you're worse, you started it.”

and that was the start of it, and i wish i could say it ended there.

but it didn’t.

because even freaks get tired of e-sex at some point.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

it took a while for you guys to get to this point.

months of voice messages and facetimes, of teleparty and shared playlists, of beefing each other in comment sections and thirsting in dms.

and for denki, it all led to this moment.

your bedroom feels too warm.

his trainers are abandoned messily by your door beside your tote bag. one of your hoodies hangs off the back of your desk chair. fairy lights glow dim amber against the walls, mixing with the bluish light of your laptop screensaver bouncing around the dark room.

everything smells faintly like vanilla, fabric softener, and the weed the two of you smoked an hour ago with your bedroom window cracked open.

his hands shake.

so inexperienced and yet, so eager to please, they gently grope every inch of your body.

you never really enjoyed having your chest played with all that much, but there’s something about how denki’s heavy palm massages the underside of your tit, like he’s trying to unlock something, or explore.

and then his thumb brushes over your nipple, a shock to your system, you arch forward into his touch, body moving on auto pilot.

god, he wants to see you do it again.

he's dreamt about this, about this exact moment, for weeks. every stray thought, every dirty dream, you've plagued him.

mmmmm, and your body is so warm, and soft. inviting. his hands grip the flesh of your thighs, the fat bulging around his fingertips, the softness of your skin, right here, right here in front of him, not through a screen or part of a picture.

holy shit.

he really can’t take it.

because he's jerked off to the thought of you for so long, he's milked himself dry to the sound of your voice, he's wrung his cock to your smile, he's edged himself to the idea of what your hair would smell like, what your skin would feel like.

nutted all over his phone screen, humped his hand for hours.

he never thought he would even get the opportunity to meet you in real life, let alone be allowed into your bedroom, let alone have you underneath him, in nothing but panties and a fucking t-shirt.

he's literally trembling, his palms sweating as he grips you again, harder, firmer, like this is a dream, like if he blinks too much he might wake up, and he'll be back in his bed making a mess all over himself, another late-night fantasy while he’s half-delirious and horny, just like usual.

“denki, hey, dude, are you… good?”

but he's not at home, he's not in his bed, this isn't a wet dream, he's not gonna wake up to bakugou breaking his door down and telling him to take out the trash.

he shakes his head with a smile, “yeah, yeah, i'm good— sorry, i'm out of it.”

you’re definitely hiding it better, but you’re equally nervous.

so fucking nervous. you nearly cancelled last night because of how badly your stomach had twisted itself up. was he even gonna like you? would he still think you’re hot, even in real life? you barely slept, up all night thinking about what he was expecting, and whether you would meet those expectations.

if he knew how you were feeling, he probably would’ve slapped you or something. because this is better. this is so much better. so much better than dreaming or imagining, even now, the way you’re smiling up at him, glasses slipping down your nose, pretty eyes focused on him, and what he’s doing, and if he’s feeling okay.

you’re so perfect.

and he has to make you feel good, he needs to.

you spent the last two hours, half watching something on your laptop, and half making out.

and…

that was life changing.

it’s so indescribable, he still feels dizzy from it. how you felt in his lap, the warm heat of your body consuming his very being. the feeling of your tongue down his throat, his hands around your neck, your lips against his, he almost came, just like that, just from a little kissing.

can you really blame him.

it was so good.

but this is about to be better.

it's so easy for you to melt into him. maybe it's the nervous energy radiating off of him that calms your own nerves. you've always been that kind of person, quick to accommodate to other people’s needs, in tune with their feelings.

and denki wears his heart on his sleeve. he's easy to read, an open book. also his face is flushed a beautiful pink, he's panting, breathing heavily into your mouth, pupils blown wide every time you touch him.

so you kiss him again, just to relax him of course, certainly not because you're craving the feeling of him against you, his shirtless torso pressed flush against your chest.

it works though, he defrosts, relaxes, nearly crumples against you, against the soft swell of your chest, his hands snaking down the sides of your body, fingers dipping underneath the fabric and fuck, are you really—“this soft everywhere?”

you hum at his question, then quickly realise he's talking to himself, hypnotised by the feeling of your flesh, he has to be dreaming because there is actually no way you're really, “—so fuckin' soft, oh my god.”

he's still stuck on that? you click your tongue, as much as you would love to explore each other bodies in this PG-13 way, you've soaked yourself through your panties. maybe you're the real pervert, he's having a wonderful time just touching your skin, and all you're thinking about is how badly you want him inside you.

you do it yourself.

slip a hand in the gap between your bodies, your nervous, virgin, freaked out, bodies, and slide your fingers below the hem of your underwear. you barely graze your outer lips before he's snatching your hand, a little too rough, a little too hungry. he loosens his grip almost immediately but holds your gaze, “please, please let me do it, i promise it'll be good,” his thumb strokes nervously against the inside your wrist, “i— i'll be careful, i'll be gentle with you, i swear.”

who are you to say no? how could you, not when his hands slide down your thighs with gentle reverence, not when he clutches the hem of your panties like he's afraid he'll hurt them.

never mind, he can't do it.

he has to close his eyes, he can't look, can't watch the way your pussy juice clings to the fabric. he peeks open an eyelid, then closes it again. his heart is beating so fast he might throw up.

“denki, babe,” babe??? he nearly screeches, his eyes flutter open again, the faint smile that's painted on your face makes him spurt a tad, you really are perfect, “just breathe, okay, it's fine, you're doing great.”

you really have a way with words, because that kicks him into overdrive, he slips the fabric down so it pools around your knees, and, and, and he—

let’s out a strangled whimper when he sees your puffy pussy lips, drenched in your own slick.

“did i—” he swallows, panting, “did i do this t’you?” eyes transfixed on your trembling cunt. he drags a single finger through the mess, through your slick, until the digit is coated. hisses out a curse when he retracts the finger and there’s a string of your arousal that clings to it.

your arousal, your pussy, your fucking pussy, “g-god,” he slurs around the finger, licking up every last drop of you, and then inhaling deeply, the scent of your pussy making his eyes roll back into his head.

how has he come all this way, just to slurp your mess off of his finger and hump your mattress.

he has to pull it together.

but you’re making it so difficult.

“d'you know," a strangled groan cuts him off and he gulps, "d'you know, how often i’ve dreamt about this, it—”

he's using you like a fidget toy, two fingers dragging through your slick, drawing patterns, somewhat, mostly assessing the area. what makes you flinch, what makes you gasp, what makes you grip his shoulders with both your hands and beg him to keep going.

you dig your nails into him, while he traces your pulsing labia, the calluses of his fingertips trailing a path across your pussy, there's no way his cock can go in there, inside you, inside your mushy gummy walls, that are clenching around his fingers, there's no way he can go in there and come out alive. you'll strangle him to death and he'll never want to leave.

"she's so pretty," as he stares, absolutely mesmerised at the wetness coating his palm as his fingers scissor open your pussy. “so, fucking, pretty.”

and you’re really not making it any better for him, your thighs quivering uncontrollably, his hands feel so much better than your own. you let him know, verbally, but also with how your eyes glaze over, how your breathing stutters, how you lift your legs to wrap around him, to keep him there.

the pressure of your thighs pushes him further into your mattress, and there’s a spark of delicious, addicting, friction that catches him. causes him to twitch against you, crash his mouth into yours, sharing each other’s whimpers.

you can’t go on like this, you try to open your mouth, to speak, to tell him to hurry up and stick his fucking dick in you already. but he doesn’t let you, he’s already lost, of course he is.

the weakest, most pathetic humps, his crotch positioned perfectly in between your legs but also resting on the bed below. so when he grinds his hips down there’s a shock that travels up his spine, but your bodies are close enough that he if he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s actually fucking you.

denki’s such an idiot.

your pussy right there, he’s literally cupping your warmth with his palm, fingers prodding against your g-spot, and yet all he can do is imagine, slip off into a daydream where he’s fucking you for real.

and you have a feeling that if you don’t do something to snap him out of it right now, he’d spend the whole night doing just that. pretending to fuck you in his head, while you’re right there, right here, squirming underneath him.

he’s lucky you think he’s cute.

“denki, baby…”

he inhales like he’s just been dunked into a tub of ice water, his eyes snap up from where they’d spiralled over watching his fingers disappear inside you, the creamy slick coating the digits, the heat, the—

“denki?”

“hmm?” god he’s so hot, and still so fucking adorable, he’s pouting like you’ve pulled him away from something important.

“don’t you wanna… put it in?”

put it in? put it in? put what in— oh, oh right. of course, of course he does, but his eyebrows raise like he didn’t realise that was an option.

he fumbles one handed, nearly knocks himself over in his haste to undo his belt, fucking stupid belt, the clasp gets stuck and he, fuck it’s fine, it’s all good, he’s so normal about this.

you motion like you’re about to offer assistance, then his cock springs out, slaps against his stomach and…

oh, oh, the poor thing.

flushed, angry at being ignored, bright pink, and leaking. leaking all over his abs, all over his stomach, the inside of his jeans, the inside of his boxers.

fucking hell.

you nearly start laughing, not mocking, more like, when you’ve been sat at a restaurant for so long, hungry, waiting, for ages, and then they finally bring the food out, and it’s so:

yummy.

that’s it.

you pounce on him like he’s prey, practically manhandle him into laying flat on his back, and clamber over his thighs, your legs bracketing his hips.

and denki moans like a fucking whore.

“oh, holy shit,” his hands twitch like he’s not sure whether he’s allowed to touch you, but he really can’t stop running his mouth like, “you’re gonna—gonna ride me- oh, pleasepleaseplease—”

his voice cracks right down the middle when you finally, finally, sink down.

shit, it is a stretch, despite how long he spent playing with your cunt, but it’s so fucking delicious, mhmmm, you both feel it, the drag of his weeping veiny cock sweeping along the walls of your pussy.

and for the first time all night, he’s quiet.

dead silent.

you think his nose might start bleeding.

his lips, bitten, chapped, parted, rushed puffs of air leaving his body, eyes rolled back into his head, then fluttering, like his soul is being exorcised.

the dam breaks.

“is it— is it supposed to feel like this?” he’s delirious, cloudy eyed and drunk, “holy shi-iiit—can't believe it feels this good.”

he grips your thighs, tight enough to leave bruises, and whimpers when you grind down against him and your tits bounce, right in his fucking face.

“edged myself for th-three days,” he confesses as he drools into your skin, he can't look you in the eye, he presses his mouth against your chest and murmurs, “saved up so much cum for you, all for you.”

“can you feel me, all the way inside.” he presses down on your lower stomach, the pressure makes your toes curl, “c-can’t believe i’m inside you, can’t believe you let me—oh, oh, fuck, wait, don’t—”

don’t what? don’t clench around his cock. don’t clamp down on him with your hot gummy walls. don’t pull him back in when he tries to move. how are you supposed to do that?

“gonna— gonna give you so much cum,” small, sloppy semi-upward thrusts, he can't even move properly, just humping up against you like a dog, “m'gonna make you feel so good, gonna fill you up— m-make you feel so fucking good—”

he's slurring, drunk off your pussy, drunk off you, “i hafta— hafta, m-m-make— good, gonna be good— gonna be a good boy."

suddenly he's spilling into you, ropes and ropes, of milky white nut, flooding your pussy, filling you to the brim.

but he doesn't stop moving.

in fact, you don’t know how he mustered up the strength after that pathetic display, but he flips you over, so you’re underneath him again, hisses when his cock slips out, still so fucking hard, still dribbling, one hand gripping your thigh, the other rubbing circles on your clit.

“i c-can keep going— can't stop, not 'till you cum too, i promise, i p-promise i'll keep going mommy.”

overstimulation tears through him, his nerves are fried, but still he doesn't stop, doesn't slow down, doesn't give himself a minute to catch his breath. just his cock, hammering into you, drilling into your pussy, “keep—ngh-keep going, gotta k-k-keep going…”

you're in for a long night.

… end of playback.

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

@kamislop @dotalicious @lonelyfooryouonly @tsushimimi @tokkushin

this is a mixtape madness fic, drop a request and i’ll get back to you:

[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, breathe 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.

[bbunisre]

DRIVE ME INSANE! — ryomen sukuna

19: SLAP HIM SILLY! (1.5K)

one thing about yuji is that he knows how to throw a good party. when you pull up to the party with your friends, you chirp about how excited you are to finally unravel. the uni semester is over and this is the perfect way to celebrate it.

the front door is wide open, trap music flooding the street. you didn't ask if sukuna was going to be there, but you had a feeling he was. and, after seeing all the customised cars on their lawn, you confirmed it.

despite your rough patch right now, the urge to see him is stronger. and, to be honest, maybe you wore something that accentuate your butt...

but it's not like you were going to talk to him!

he called you a bitch.

that's not something you can forget.

tonight you were going to make him regret it.

upon entering the house, it's filled with strangers, mutuals and other friends you know of. led lights bleed throughout the room, partygoers are dancing and among them is yuji.

"yuji!" nobara calls.

he looks over, eyes sparkling, "i was waiting for you guys! thanks for coming!"

he unhands himself from one of his friends and runs over.

"i'm going to your room," megumi announces bluntly from over your shoulder.

"yeah! i'll come check on you after," yuji agrees.

you could easily see on megumi's face that the party scene is not his. he'd rather be anywhere else right now. but him coming for yuji and choso is sweet.

"i got my switch, megs. wanna play mario kart?" toge asks him.

megumi shrugs, "sure."

those two head upstairs, talking softly amongst all the yelling and music.

"who wants to drink?!" yuji yells.

nobara, panda and you shriek in enthusiasm. yuji takes you three of you to the kitchen where the alcohol is lined up, ready to enamour you. choso is there, holding a glass tray of untouched tiramisu.

he's frowning.

"aw, hey, choso," you say, giving him a side hug.

"hi," he meekly responds.

"did no one try your tiramisu yet?" you ask.

"no. would you guys like some?"

"yeah!" you all scream at him.

he's taken aback at the response but dishes some out for the three of you.

upon the first bite, you knew you were in heaven.

"i needed this," nobara comments.

"i'm gonna fucking wife you up!" you comment, slapping his butt.

choso blushes, "you guys are too nice."

after eating that heaven sent tiramisu and having alcohol in your system, you're tipsy. the five of you are dancing in the crowd, lost in the music. just like that, all your worries disappear into thin air, replaced with hot bodies surrounding you, leaving no space for you to breathe.

you didn't know how much you needed this until it happened.

"bitchhh, i missed you two," a very faded shoko came over, wrapping her arms around you and nobara. she kisses both of you on the head, reeking of weed.

nobara and you laugh at her. however, she doesn't seem super balanced, needing the two of you to stand up.

"are you good?!" you ask her.

"i don't know what i am," she frowns, eyes red.

"oh my god, shoko!" a worried voice calls. "you've done it this time!"

utahime appears throughout the crowd.

"himeee~!" shoko smiles, throwing her arms around utahime. utahime almost falls down from the weight, but nobara and you help her. "hime, i love you so much."

"i love you too, but we need to get you to bed. you've done too much tonight," utahime scolds her.

"don't scold me, honey. i'll be very sad," shoko pouts. "just tell me you love me."

"oh, she's fucking gone," yuji comments, glancing over. "you can bring her to my room. megumi and toge are there too, so she'll be alright."

"okay. do you girls mind giving me a hand?" utahime asks.

nobara and you agree, grabbing whatever is left of shoko and start pulling her out of the crowd of dancers. getting past the couch to the staircase proves to be a difficult task.

even more difficult when your eyes catch a familiar someone sitting lonesome on it.

sukuna's lighting a cigarette.

he looks up at you. the tension is prominent. he leans back and takes a hit of his cigarette, offering no help to the current dilemma.

you can't tell what he's thinking when he looks at you.

is he being condescending? mad? definitely not apologetic. you roll your eyes and pay attention to shoko.

unfortunately she's not having it. throwing a fit at her big age.

luckily, geto comes at the right time. he exchanges words with utahime and carries shoko in one go.

"what an idiot," he sighs, looking down at her.

"hime, are you carrying me?! i didn't know you were so strong!" shoko smiles, caressing geto's cheek and kicking her feet like some teenage girl in love.

"does she like utahime or something?" nobara whispers to you.

"hm, can't tell," you respond.

the two of you laugh. nobara catches sukuna on the couch, "oh, shit."

"i know," you sigh heavily.

"i'm gonna go upstairs with them and get her in bed," utahime tells the two of you. "thank you for your help."

just as she's about to leave, nobara sprints over, "i'll come with you!"

your jaw drops to hell.

you know exactly what she's trying to do...

betrayal.

nevertheless, you turn right on your heels, about to walk off.

"gonna ignore me, miss sweet ass?"

don't retaliate, don't retaliate—

"shut up," you spit back at him, turning around. a look of repulsion plants right on your face.

sukuna grabs onto your wrist, "c'mon, don't be mad at me."

just like that, all the anger hits you.

"let me go. right now."

he drops your hand immediately and relaxes on the couch.

"fine," he shrugs, blowing out a puff of smoke. "we don't have to talk. i was gonna let you hit me."

"what?"

"interested," sukuna notes.

"no, i don't know what you're talking about."

"sit," he instructs you, eyes pointing to the empty spot next to him. "i'll tell you."

you don't know if it's because you're drunk or because you want to hear him out, but you know sober you wouldn't have done it. you take the spot next to him, a prideful grin spreading on his lips.

you don't like it.

he got you exactly where he wants.

"you can hit me for calling you a bitch," he explains. "as hard as you want."

the idea does perk an interest in you. however, you put up a strong front, "does the word 'sorry' not leave your mouth?"

"nope," he replies.

"i want a proper apology," you state.

"take it while the offer is there. i don't let just anyone do that."

"so you're saying i'm not just anyone?" you ask, crossing your arms.

sukuna sighs, "are you gonna hit me or not, bitch—"

you land a tight slap on his cheek. his entire face propels to the left. he tongues his cheek where you hit him and grabs his jaw. sukuna turns back to face you, shocked at your force.

"happy?" he asks through gritted teeth.

"nah, i want an apology," you reply. "you gonna apologise?"

"fuck no."

you slap him again, this time harder.

he scoffs. it was so hard you thought the tattoos on his face was gonna fly off.

"i'm not apologising."

you slap him again, "wrong answer. and, now, i'm gonna walk away because you're full of shit—"

you're so ready to leave the couch but he pulls you down.

"i'm sorry," he finally apologises.

you raise your hand, prepared to land another hit.

"i said sorry!" he exclaims defensively.

"are you fucking serious? what else? that's not how you apologise, bitch," you reply, seething with anger.

"oh, so you can call me a bitch, but i can't? okay," he nods.

you shake your head in annoyance, "can't fucking do this. you're so arrogant."

you're about to leave one more time when he grabs your wrist again, "fine, fine. i'm playin' around. seriously, i'm sorry for calling you a bitch. it's a malicious and degrading term to be calling a woman and i promise it won't happen again. please take my apology, miss sweet ass."

a few beats of silence pass by.

sukuna's eyebrows are drawn in, searching your face for mercy somewhere. you're face is stone, unwavering of any kind of said matter.

hm, he does look terribly sorry.

maybe you'll let it slide this time.

you shake your hand off his. you swing your hand for the last time.

he flinches immediately, preparing to take cover.

you land a soft tap on his face.

"good, you should be scared," you state. "don't let it happen again."

"you're fucking crazy," he mumbles, shaking his head.

"yeah? so are you," you reply.

"nah, not like you."

you sigh, relaxing on the couch, "whatever."

"did that feel good? hitting me?" he asks you.

you nod, "yeah, gonna do it again next time you mess up."

sukuna smiles? he's looking at you with complexity, like he's trying to analyse who the fuck you are.

some guy calls him over from the front door.

"gotta go," he says.

you sigh, "'kay, bye."

"don't drink too much," he warns, shockingly soft.

"mmm, you too."

then, he leaves.

you raise your hand to your face, the sting on it buzzing.

that did feel really good...

later on, panda, who saw the whole thing go down, drags you, yuji and choso upstairs to yuji's room to fill them in on the details.

a faded shoko gives her adlibs in the background, but besides that, you told them everything that happened.

you enjoy the night as it goes, sukuna watching from a distance here and there.

eyes on you.

never leaving you.

with that same analytical look on his face,

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

SUMMARY ★ he believes you don't matter to him. just one more annoying fangirl. showing up to his races, being obnoxiously chatty and your flirting—god, does it end? sukuna dreads you. however, he starts reciprocating, as a joke, of course! until it doesn't feel like a joke anymore and he wants nothing but you on his side.

PAIRING ★ streetracer!sukuna x fem!reader

CONTENT WARNINGS / GENRES / TAGS ★ smau w/ written chapters, smut, angst, sukuna is a lot older than reader, older brother to choso and yuji, he was in jail for getting caught racing LOL, nsfw/vulgar jokes like allll the time, inumaki talks (UNFORTUNATELY), sukuna playing w her feelings, he is toxic!

FIRST TAGLIST ★ @b4tm4nn @love-d-luxe @in-aa @kurtcobaingirlie @hannahzg8 @goopzzz @therealmikeross @izakyun @jjkslvt @strwbrrysatoru @kmhsjy @honeysilkdawn @moonmintedx @charlisflyingangell @4rm-the-mf-concrete @chiizuyu @colortheoryrocks @chosoissohotugh @getosuguwife @cl3xr @satorugooner @cosmosspace @marija4674 @snowstriper101 @wqsrs @arithemod @yanelis-world @ehcilhc @ilunita13 @b9nii @ilovetoes @mo072806 @vampshxde @deeeeexx @hushkuna @salad85 @dabi-vakarian @marscars237 @ejk31 @lxne-moon @iluvmegumiiiii @emluvsgetou @tsnmmhrz @mxchiii @akiw0 @blu3berryies @whaddupbaby @kagstobioisthelightofmylife @ackermanandsukuna @gothicbeastgirl 

[bbunisre]

DRIVE ME INSANE! — ryomen sukuna

17: TAKE IT LIKE A GOOD BOY

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

AUTHOR'S NOTE ★ GUYS I HATE NAOYA AS MUCH AS YOU TRUST THE PLOT PLEASEEE I BEG

SUMMARY ★ he believes you don't matter to him. just one more annoying fangirl. showing up to his races, being obnoxiously chatty and your flirting—god, does it end? sukuna dreads you. however, he starts reciprocating, as a joke, of course! until it doesn't feel like a joke anymore and he wants nothing but you on his side.

PAIRING ★ streetracer!sukuna x fem!reader

CONTENT WARNINGS / GENRES / TAGS ★ smau w/ written chapters, smut, angst, sukuna is a lot older than reader, older brother to choso and yuji, he was in jail for getting caught racing LOL, nsfw/vulgar jokes like allll the time, inumaki talks (UNFORTUNATELY), sukuna playing w her feelings, he is toxic!

FIRST TAGLIST ★ @b4tm4nn @love-d-luxe @in-aa @kurtcobaingirlie @hannahzg8 @goopzzz @therealmikeross @izakyun @jjkslvt @strwbrrysatoru @kmhsjy @honeysilkdawn @moonmintedx @charlisflyingangell @4rm-the-mf-concrete @chiizuyu @colortheoryrocks @chosoissohotugh @getosuguwife @cl3xr @satorugooner @cosmosspace @marija4674 @snowstriper101 @wqsrs @arithemod @yanelis-world @ehcilhc @ilunita13 @b9nii @ilovetoes @mo072806 @vampshxde @deeeeexx @hushkuna @salad85 @dabi-vakarian @marscars237 @ejk31 @lxne-moon @iluvmegumiiiii @emluvsgetou @tsnmmhrz @mxchiii @akiw0 @blu3berryies @whaddupbaby @kagstobioisthelightofmylife @ackermanandsukuna @gothicbeastgirl 

[liahcharms]

a giver of life

Prometheus!Hiromi was condemned for giving humanity a will to live. With his half-naked body chained to a stony wall, he was meant to suffer for eternity. But then, one evening, the Goddess came to him. With the coldest touch, he's ready to suffer another lifetime for.

Requested [thank you!]

Included in Tales, Myths, Romances

pairings: Prometheus!Hiromi x Hecate!Reader

content/warnings: MDNI 18+, fluff fluff, smut, not super mythologically accurate, gentle sex, slow sex, DEEP yearning, Greek Mythology AU, Hiromi is a YEARNER, creampie, oral sex, body worshipping, devotion, millennium of no-touching

W/C: 3.8k

a/n: So this piece of work is not mythologically accurate since Prometheus and Hecate have nothing to do with each other, but I kept their overall histories, character traits and symbolism!

art by Naofaroo on twitter dividers by @saradika-graphics

Prometheus!Hiromi did not wish to wrath the Gods. He only wanted to make the mortals happy, important.

To ignite their minds with a thought. Give humanity something they were never meant to hold – knowledge, defiance, an awareness. He wished to see their bodies formed under his calloused fingers to burn with life and almost godlike hunger.

But the Gods didn't like it. Zeus forbade it. For what was the point of giving humans strength? The curiosity that could lead them to abandon the divinities they cherished so dearly.

As long as humans stayed weak and submissive, the Gods would still be needed.

And fire, the divine power that represented the boundary between immortals and their believers, kept them away from ever challenging the authority of immortals.

But Prometheus!Hiromi couldn't stand it. The bleakness that coiled behind his clay creatures. The will to live, and grow, and swallow, and build. The fire could allow them to develop the civilisations the world has never seen. To use their hands for anything other than merciless killing to survive. It was unfair, heartbreaking, against every moral code the titan has possessed.

But Zeus wanted control and absolute obedience. The foolish humans who only knew how to pray and kill. To cherish their Gods like the mightiest creatures alive, not knowing that their creator wanted to give them much, much more.

To bring the world into their hands and become a teacher.

When Prometheus!Hiromi stole a fire – heavens were in shambles.

He seemed too lawful to betray his sort. Too calm, always complying with authority and regulations that each and every other God broke.

But not him.

Thus, when the fire was stolen and pushed into the hands of humans – Zeus almost ripped him apart.

He couldn't punish mankind, not truly, for they did nothing wrong. None of them was responsible for their foolish creator, whose dreams travelled beyond the secure borders of the Gods' wishes.

Zeus, however, ordered to create Pandora. The first mortal woman, who sent sicknesses and plagues down the mortal world. If humans possessed the life-giving fire, then they also needed to learn a wretched feeling of suffering.

As for Prometheus!Hiromi's punishment, it was particularly cruel – a half-naked body tied to a stake of Mount Caucasus, where an eagle fed upon his ever-regenerating liver. The winds howled mercilessly around the cold stones, carrying the scent of moss, bending under his back, and something far more bitter. A wrath of Zeus who looked down at his bleeding body with a smile, as if amused by how truly lawful the Titan had been.

"Kill mankind, take away the fire," he whispered, looking at Hiromi's stony face. "And I shall lift your punishment."

But Prometheus!Hiromi simply couldn't, as his honour and morality have forbidden him from treating humans as foolish, bleak creatures. He was their father, after all, so what parent wouldn't wish for their children to grow.

Days bled into nights, and nights into something shapeless. Time itself seemed to lose meaning under the glimmer of a thousand stars, with the coldness biting his massive body.

Chains dug into his skin, gnawing deeper each time his arms shifted beneath the iron. There was little to no strength left in it. Blood on his skin dried and returned and dried again, with eagle's feasting always accompanied by Higuruma's tears and prayers.

But he endured – for the suffering was nothing compared to the humanity that was slowly evolving under the power of flame.

And then, on one evening, somewhere in front of him, between the dense trees covering a stony wall he was chained to, a light had appeared.

A gentle glimmer, or rather a faint mist, before dividing into two and then into three separate flames.

Lanterns.

His weak, dark eyes looked at it with fondness, for Zeus had strictly prohibited any sort of flame being gifted to the condemned Titan.

Gentle sound of footsteps followed, and soon, like a dream, a woman pushed through the curling branches. With long, dark robes brushing the earth and veil covering a part of her head.

Hecate.

You, a Goddess of Magic, Night and Moon. Of spectral creatures and necromancy, with one hand holding three little green-flamed lanterns and the other gripping the key.

The mist rose under your feet as you moved towards the Titan slowly. Without a hurry, as neither you nor he – especially he – had any other place to be at.

Something warm glimmered behind your eyes, and Hiromi first mistook it for pity. An uncomfortable feeling he has already become accustomed to, with other Gods and Goddesses sighing deeply whenever an eagle came back again, and the dense forest muffled the Titan's groans.

But no, your gaze carried something else. Something much warmer, as if haunted by a bit of loneliness, you noticed in his sorrowful eyes.

"You should not be here," he whispered, with a voice still carying a certain authority.

After all, for so many decades, he remained a God of Mankind.

The green flame of the lanterns swirlled under the harsh air spreading around his figure.

Your gaze traced the ruin of him without flinching – the torn skin, flesh slowly closing up, the dried blood, the way his body struggled to remain whole against a punishment designed to deny him even that mercy.

"The crossroads are quiet tonight," slipped faintly, before you placed warm flames next to his body. "I thought I'd see what's beyond them."

His straight eyebrows furrowed as he saw your misty figure sit down on plush grass. The glow of lanterns danced upon your cheeks, smooching soft skin with an eerie light.

"Then you've taken the wrong turn, my Goddess," he murmured, as if trying to joke.

But it was a difficult task with his flesh torn open.

"I never take wrong turns. I'm a Goddess of Crossroads, remember?" Your fingers brushed the evening grass, eyes never left his. "I just thought that..."

"Whatever that is, my Goddess, I believe you should go," Hiromi whispered with a pulsing head. Pain spread all over his body, and something in his chest weighted like a stone.

The thought of a woman like you seeing him in such a pathetic state was truly unbearable.

You smiled, with a warmth beaming from your eyes. So kind, he thought, so gentle.

"I just thought maybe you needed a company?"

A foolish thought, truly, but as a Goddess who spent most of her time hidden in the depths of Hades, you knew the wretched feeling of loneliness.

A spectre divinity like you, no one truly noticed. Cold and misty, with black robes always following your looming body and a trace of magic sticking to your fingertips.

Days in the Underworld mixed with nights, for there was no sun, no warmth, and no lifeliness that you always unconsciously leaned towards.

Thus, when the news of the chained God of Forefought and Fire reached your ears, something warm coiling under your shiver-coated skin told you to go.

And see him – the giver of life.

The warmest man Olympus has birthed.

Even in such a state, he still looked like a God. With a massive body hanging off the mountain's wall and droplets of sweat carving trails between his bulging muscles.

He was meant to never feel the fire again, but how could it be if he embodied the flame itself? With warmth bursting from his skin, you wished to touch with your freezing hand.

"My Goddess, I do not need your company. You should leave before Zeus punishes you too." His word contradicted the feeling of loneliness coiling behind his woody eyes.

You smiled softly, covering your head with a misty veil more tightly. "He can't see through my magic. From up there, it seems as if you're talking to yourself," you giggled.

"So I look like a madman?" his voice was warm and lined with an amusement.

Your head tilted, with jolly flames dancing behind your eyes. "Aren't you? In the eyes of Gods, you do look like a madman."

A soft silence stretched between your bodies, and Hiromi's forehead furrowed. You've noticed his bleeding wrists wrapped with iron chains and dried blood marking his back.

"Do you think of me as a madman?" slipped like a whisper, but you caught it quickly enough.

"No, never. I couldn't. I think..." your eyes fell down the grass, feeling the plush strands move between your fingers. "I think what you did was brave. And kind. To let the humans grow and become liberated."

His dark eyes followed your truthful cheeks, and a sorrowful smile curved his lips. "I thought so too. It was my obligation to give those clay creatures a life they deserved. Unfortunately, not everyone could agree."

After that evening, you stayed. And Prometheus!Hiromi learned how to cherish every second spent in your company.

At first, he thought your visit was a one-time thing. Just something to feed the curiosity about a foolish God who decided to stand against Zeus.

But then the next evening came, and you slipped from between the curling branches again.

And again, again, till your misty figure haunted him during the days and coiled senses in the nights, with the same, warm eyes always meeting his.

There were only so many things you could talk about while the moon hung high in the sky. When the first kisses of the rising sun touched the earth, you always bid him a soft farewell and went back down to the underworld.

After a while, with a thin thread slowly binding your lonely hearts, you started to touch each other. Or rather, you touched him, with kind hands cleaning his wounds and snippets of magic helping his body regenerate.

The eagle was eating tearing his skin during the day, and you repaired it every evening. Although he could regenerate, your cold touch on his muscles felt more sacred than any prayer sent his way by the believers.

He cherished every second of your fingers brushing his back and chest and sometimes even the curve of his nose, when the air between you two felt heavier than usual.

Sometimes your hands would trace towards his, brushing the iron shackles hugging his wrists. A though has always coiled in your mind – a treacherous one – of using your magic to free him.

To hide God somewhere in the depths of the Underworld and always keep him for yourself.

But whenever your eyes wrapped around the lock and the key sitting between your breasts vibrated, Higuruma could only bitterly smile.

"Don't do it, my Goddess."

You would look into his eyes – dark, filled with warmth – and lift a hand to caress his cheek. "I could hide you."

His lips would curve softly. In love. "I know, but that wouldn't be proper."

"Your punishment is not proper," would slip in a whisper, for there was a chance that Zeus was watching.

Something in his heart would tug at the sight of your saddened face, and he wished, oh gods he wished so much, to pull you into his arms.

To feel your skin under his fingers, warm up your body, always wrapped tightly in dark robes. He wished to pepper kisses on your sweet cheeks, corners of eyes, and bow of lips.

The impossibility of touching you made him spiral into the maddest corners of his mind.

As after months of you visiting him every day, Prometheus!Hiromi has thought that he could go over this punishment over and over again, if it meant feeling your cold touch on his skin every single night.

Yet he could do nothing but cherish the sweet gloominess of your face haunting his dreams and try to carve the taste of your lips into his mind.

Always so soft, so cold, leaving his feverish body in dire need of more. With your hands curling behind his neck, fingers tugging gently on raven hair and lips caressing his with a long, craving kiss.

When the sun sizzled his bleeding body, and an eagle could be heard over the horizon, Hiromi could think of nothing but your sweet giggle he would soon hear after the dusk.

And that's how you lived for the next thousand years.

You, without knowing the texture of his fingers on your skin.

Him, treasuring the sweet chill of your lips.

A deep affection coiled behind his eyes whenever you caught his gaze. Love worth to be written down in chronicles, but the one no one would ever know of, as you always came to him hidden under the starry nights. With a misty veil concealing your figure, so no God nor mortal could see those little moments of your forbidden love.

For Hiromi was banned from ever touching the flame, and yet, his heart burned fiercely for his dear, spectral Goddess.

And then, one day, a man came.

Tall and divine, with muscles climbing up his back and blond hair catching the sun.

Heracles, his name was, and he killed the eagle that haunted Prometheus!Hiromi with his bare hands. He ripped apart the iron shackles that wrapped God's hands, ending the thousands of years of his suffering within a second.

"I have labours to do, one of them was to release you," he said after Hiromi asked him for a reason. "Don't worry, I'm Zeus's bastard son. He won't do anything."

The Titan looked down on his fingers, wrists, skin marked with calloused bumps and bruises that formed under the weight of shackles.

"Do you have a place to go to?" Heracles asked, and Hiromi nodded.

As now, after a thousand years of yearning, he could finally go home.

☾𖤓 ☾𖤓

"M-My God! Wait a minute–" you gasped, feeling Hiromi's tongue between your folds.

He was so gentle, sweet, sucking on your clit with low whimpers and wrapping your thighs tightly around his head.

When you saw him down here, in Hades, standing right outside your temple – your heart jumped. For a mere second, you thought he had truly died and come down to the Underworld as a lost soul.

But no, he was alive and vivid, with muscular arms wrapped around your thighs and a warm tongue lapping between your creamy folds like a starved beast.

"I can't, my Goddess just let me devour you," he moaned, bumping his curved nose against your clit. "Thousand years, fuck, I couldn't touch you for a thousand years."

That's why, before you could say a word, ask why he's down here, his lips crashed against yours. In a long, yearning kiss, with arms immediately pulling you closer to his burning chest.

It was the first time you've felt him so firmly, with lips and fingers and clothed hardness brushing against your covered skin till sudden warmth hit your cheeks.

Your usually cold body burned, feeling his big hands slipping under your thighs to lift you up. He walked into your temple, with lips not leaving yours even for a second.

"My Goddess, my Goddess," he murmured as if possessed, tasting the sweetness of your moans.

A second later, your back hit something cold and hard.

Your altar.

And that's how you found yourself here – with black robes long gone and thighs wrapped around his head.

Long fingers worked you open, with one more calloused than the other, till three of them spread your tight ring of muscles. Creamy cum dripped down the marble altar, and he quickly licked the surface clean.

"Stop, my God, that's filthy!"

But Hiromi thought that nothing your body made could ever be filthy.

His lips went back to your pussy, sucking gently on the puffy clit. "My Goddess, in thousands of years of my life, I have never tasted anything better."

Your feet curled when his fingers hit the plush spot inside your cunt. Long digits scratched every corner of your warmth, trying to stretch the drenched, clamping muscles.

Oh, he simply couldn't wait to feel you on his cock.

"Do you like it here? Is it good?" he whispered, brushing the spot again.

And again, again, again, till your hips started rolling against his plastered tongue and bumped nose, chasing the pleasure slowly building up in your belly.

He fested on your wet cunt like an animal, slurping, drinking, murmuring sweet little nothings, with cheeks and chin and nose absolutely drenched in your sweetness.

A man possessed, truly.

But how could you blame him if for the past thousand years his fingers burned in need of caressing your skin?

"My G-God, I'm going to–mhm–let me cum on you," slipped like a dream, and he almost came on the spot.

Weary eyes looked up from between your thighs. "You want to cum on my cock, dearest Goddess?" and when you nodded, he groaned. Big palms spread your thighs even wider, glueing them to your chest. "So pretty, beautiful, my sweet Goddess, I'm never leaving your side again."

His fingers burned your skin most deliciously – digging deep into the plush of your thighs, coating it with warm trails. The air in the Underworld was biting cold, but you could feel none of it with him by your side.

His muscular body radiated heat like a sun, and you started to feel rather feverish. Although you weren't quite sure whether it was for his touch or the sight of his massive cock that slapped against your wet pussy.

Heavy and throbbing, with a reddened head already leaking with precum and leaving traces on your lower belly.

He bent down, catching your lips into another kiss, haunted by passion. With tongue licking your lower lip and warm breaths mixing together.

A pitched moan escaped from your tightened throat, feeling the head of his cock catching on your fluttering hole. He swallowed your cry, before silencing next sob with deep kisses. The traces of your juices still coated his lips, and you could taste the sweetness of your cunt.

He was desperate, but you were no better – with hips rolling against his and cunt trying to swallow his cock in. Your walls clamped around his girth, moulding obediently under each popping vein. Sticky cum helped him push deeper, with hips thrusting gently just to feel you thoroughly.

Hiromi didn't wish to miss anything; he wanted to feel it all. Every squeeze of your walls, every cry slipping through your lips, every scratch of your nails on his back, every smooch of his tip to your cervix.

He moved oh so gently, but mean at the same time, with deep thrusts spilling pleasure all over your spine and pushing nasty, slurpy cries from the depths of your lungs.

"My Goddess, fuck, I dreamed about it for so long, too long," he groaned, placing a hand on your cheeks. Big palm caressed you softly, before his thumb pressed your lower lip. "Tell me you love it. Say it feels good. My Goddess, my dearest–ah!"

You nodded, with your mind clouded by pleasure and his girthy cock sliding gently through your cunt. He moved in the most ficious way – always pulling out till nothing but the tip sat warmly inside your hole, before slowly, slowly, thrusting back in and smooching your cervix.

"So good–ahhh–my God p-please faster, please–"

But he only shushed you, before licking sweetly the sweat coiling on your temple. "Let me feel you dearest, j-just let me feel your pretty cunt stretching around me."

His hips met yours with each push, fingers dug deeper into your thighs every time you squeezed around his cock. He was massive, blocking the faint gleam of candles with his back and looming over your trembling figure like a monster. A Titan.

You thought he looked magnificent, but he... oh.

Hiromi thought that he could repeat the last century of suffering if it meant seeing you again like that.

With parted lips and slightly glossy eyes. Hairs sticking to your frowned forehead and cheeks warmed by the fire radiating from his body. Nothing but little lanterns lit the marble walls of your temple, but he saw you more vividly than ever.

One of his hands slipped up to your breasts, pinching the perked nipple with gentleness. Your body jerked, and another sweet moan filled the quiet temple.

"My God–mhm–I'm going to, I'm–ah!" your breath hitched, when you felt his tongue plastered to your nipple.

His thumb slid down, landing right on your pulsing clit and pressing it gently, as if he held the most delicate of flowers.

"Cum for me, my Goddess. Please, let me feel you," he muttered, sending little vibrations through your chest. A string of saliva connected his lips to your breasts, before he moved to the next bud – sucking, licking, kissing it carefully, but nevertheless bringing you the mind–clouding pleasure. "Beautiful, my beautiful Goddess, fuck, I can't believe you're actually here."

Here, wrigling under his body like a sweet nymph and rolling hips against his. His thrusts became faster, a bit more erratic, but still keeping the brutal depth that made your toes curl.

The head of his cock kissed your cervix, and now, with a sweat coiling on his forehead, he became even more maddened. Warm eyes stayed glued to your cheeks, as if trying to remember every moan slipping past your lips and every frown of your brows. His thumb rolled your clit faster, sending little electric bolts through your belly, till the knot you withheld for such a long time started untying.

You both needed just a single, shared look and whispered I love you, before a wave of pleasure washed over your bodies.

You came, with tears dancing in the corners of your eyes and juices bursting all over Hiromi's stomach. With gluey cum sticking to his dark pubes and walls pulsing around his cock, as he burst with a loud groan.

His cock nestled deep inside your pussy, filling it with ropes and ropes of cum, till you felt it moving inside your womb. He pumped you madly, keeping hips close to yours and devouring your fallen lips.

"Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, my Goddess, fuck, I love you so much," he mumbled under his breath, still pinching your sensitive clit. "I'm not leaving you, never again."

You chuckled, tracing with a finger the curve of his nose. "Even if it means living here, in the coldness of Underworld?"

He looked into your eyes – deep, madly in love, with your cold body finally wrapped in his arms and sweet giggle bouncing off the dark walls of your temple.

It was dimmed and biting frost and grey, but the God of Fire did not care. "I shall never see a sun again, if it means staying by your side."

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

Dearest anon, I hope this story lives up to your expectations!

Collection taglist: @silverklaus @cherrys-wrld @buttclencher28 @anothergojostan @sirensdairy @waterisntwetanymoreiam @somekindofcelebrity @prome911 @iridescentshine @venussdovess @classycreationlight @bokenessa @sashabearsstuff @gater-grabber96 @venetiandream @luvducks19 @koreluvsspring @moonlight-inthe-sea @hashahasha @mysicnote @sukunasl-ttywh0re @princesstiti14 @kissthegoatt @chosoismyeverthing @getospuresoul

permanent taglist 1/3: @mariaflor873 @indom-itus @1cckedheart @msheds0519 @man1cslut @naxinomi @getopilleds @shittypunkbarbeque @urgirl-jijiiii @wiishies @d34dg1rl101 @disaster-rose @levisotakugf @animegamerfax @helenfartsglitter @yailuxe @palanggaaa @sapph22 @magicalpeenpoo @nanadexth @chloesfinalproject @oranges334 @iluvgetosuguru1 @satorussolace @lejit @bokenessa @puppyminnnie

[tonycries]

Nothing Is Lost - G.S.

Synopsis. Research on the Herwi clan of Pandora is both sparse and sacred. Current reports claim the existence of an icebound Na’vi residing in the bitter sub-zero mountains of Pandora: snow-white and unforgiving, as elusive as the fleeting snowflakes. Though physical evidence of these people are so far non-existent, and so are the eyewitnesses alive to tell the tale.  As a scientist on Pandora, you have only one goal: to prove the existence of the Herwi clan. As olo’eyktan of the Herwi clan, Gojo Satoru has only one goal: to make you his mate.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!scientist!reader, Na’vi!Gojo, Avatar AU, based on James Cameron’s movies, snow Na’vi, hidden tribes, snowy setting, scientific research, Shoko cameo, plot, culture, Na’vi language (translations at the end), Eywa, YEARNING Gojo, fated mates, size differences (he’s 11 feet), oraI (f + m rec.), standing oraI, pússydrúnk Gojo, fìngering, bíting, spìtting, cervìx kìssin’, trying to fit, he’s BIG big, feraI Gojo, tummy buIges, pressing down on it, MANHANDLlNG, matíng presses, monsterf-ing (Na’vi), rough s, stopping you from running, p sIapping, p talking, dúmbifícation, chokíng, cIit pinching, he’s slightly lNSANE, slight bréeding, mentions of kids, overstím, creampíes, cúmfIation, cúmpIay, bonding, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 15.2k

A/N. This one’s to all the lovely babygirls who’ve been begging for this heheh, I lob you all <33

“Satoru of the snow—once the ice disappears so shall your name.” One amongst the elder members of the Hunt sighs.

Gojo Satoru was a phantom figure before them. He led the way—towering and lithe. Long ivory hair dancing in the flurry. Bioluminescent freckles upon skin such a pale blue that it was practically white. Even amongst the Herwi, Gojo stood out.

Their olo’eyktan. Their leader. 

He cuts a pathway through the wind and snow, carrying the carcasses of several snow beasts that he’d hunted himself. They rested upon his strong shoulders - the group’s largest catch, as always - and Gojo was unyielding to the howl of Pandora’s highest peaks. These mountains were a crown upon the young Na’vi’s head.

The elder clicks his tongue, “Do you not believe it is time for this clan to see our olo’eyktan mated-”

“So let the snow melt.” Had it been anyone but Gojo Satoru, then these words would be lost to the snowstorm. “But I shall forever remain waiting for my mate.”

“But the absence of a tsahìk-”

“Mawey- do slow down.” For not the first time since their trek started, Gojo is turning his head behind him. He might have been a firm leader, but he wasn’t unfair. He watches the Herwi hunters that extend from his feet to far beyond hills of ice and frost - some middle-aged and weathered by the snow already, some fresh-faced and cold with the eagerness to prove themselves. Following them were six-legged canines they called txeylan—powerful hinds pulling sleds piled high with hunt. “The younger ones are having trouble keeping up.”

Gaping, the elder looks between his leader and the younger members near the middle of their group. Flanked by older Na’vi. “But- but olo’eyktan-”

He’s looking up at the irritated sky, “I will see no further talking.”

Though there is an easy smile across his face, the elders know not to cross him. Senior in age—only age. 

They bowed their heads and looked away above all because he is their leader, but below that - deep, deeeeeep below what their prides would allow them to ever admit - because they knew he was stronger. The strongest.

The heir born of a blizzard, Satoru of the snow. 

It was said he opened his eyes during the coldest night of that year. Ice-blue. Bitter blue. Like the pools of crystallized water that the Herwi people would dance their celebrations upon - and that night they held the longest celebrations to date. Arms in arms and singing songs. And giving thanks and giving the young his first taste of snow. 

And though the position of olo’eyktan had an aspect of inheritance to it either way, it was undeniable that the world had just borne their future leader.

He’d grown up taller than other Na’vi his age. Stronger. Stormy flurries wherever he stepped, and a blizzard himself. 

There almost seemed to be a gap between him and everyone else.

Gojo had been sixteen when he was officially granted the mantle of ‘The Strongest’ by the clan. It was only about time, and only because of the elders’ reluctance that it’d taken this long.

And now it was impossible to say whether he was more loved or respected as a leader: the more boisterous of the younger Na’vi certainly loved him, the elders couldn’t stand him, the ones of mating age just couldn’t get enough of him. Though it was all for naught.

In all the twenty-eight years that he’d sifted through these snows - in all the ten years since he’d come of age - Gojo hadn’t so much as looked at another with a degree of infatuation.

Not for a lack of propositions- in fact, if you asked his attendants then they’d tell you that Gojo had a surplus of propositions. At least five Na’vi would stroll up the familiar pathway to his underground hut, calling out sing-song wishes to braid his hair, to walk amongst the ice glaciers together, to mend his fur clothes. 

Hopefuls. 

His attendants were ordered to send them all away with a gift from the olo’eyktan and a firm rejection (though, Gojo finds that that certainly didn’t deter them…)

They just didn’t seem to understand why such a suitable young Na’vi seemed to be waiting…watching…for something even he himself didn’t seem to understand. Always turning his blue eyes to the skies, ever since he was a child, always, always-

Gojo stops in his tracks.

One of his arms raises to halt the procession behind him. 

The Na’vi hunters freeze.

The Na’vi hunters let their tails swish.

The txeylan sniff the air.

Gojo’s long pointed ears twitch in every direction before resting in a single direction up ahead - where the belly of the snow seemed to swell with something. Something that the recent snowstorm had swallowed.

“Olo’eyktan…” One of the younger Herwi behind him whispers. “What is it?”

“Mawey. It might be a dead snow beast.” He hisses, though he knew that wasn’t right. It wasn’t uncommon for even the creatures of these terrains to be bested by nature. But something about the figure in the snow was…different from the hounding things they hunted. Much more delicate, much more scrunched in on itself.

Gojo keeps his hand held high in the air and passes on his hunt to the nearby clansmen. Still holding onto his bow and arrows, he edges closer. “Ì’awn- the clan stays here while I investigate.” Leaving no room for a word edgewise.

The wind whips his long hair and kuru as the Na’vi steps closer. And some maddened part of him almost feels that it was as though Eywa, their goddess, herself was trying to get him to stay away.

But an even madder part of him wanted to get closer—needed to get closer.

He was being drawn in.

Making not even a single noise with his padded feet, he’s crouching down before the unmoving figure and using his long skeletal fingers to wipe away those dredges of snow. 

Away from a face—

He gasps.

The rest of the Herwi startles behind him, “What is it- what is it, olo’eyktan?”

“Is it a snow beast? Must we commence the rituals-”

“Cease! Are those fingers it has-”

“Five?”

But Gojo doesn’t answer their queries, instead he’s silently pressing his ear to the swell of the body’s chest and—ba-dump!

Listening to that faint heartbeat.

He’s not sure how this little human was still alive, and he pulls back to look at them- the first he’s ever seen. Gojo has already heard the whispers from other Na’vi clans, of these aliens named mankind whom had settled upon Pandora a few years ago.

He’s heard about humanity’s wits, their machinery, their greed.

He’s heard of the way they’ve hurt his people.

But he’s never seen one up so…close. Were they all this small? How could something so small be so destructive?

Gojo tilts his head down at you and runs one of his cold indexes down the side of your masked face, did they all look so hurt by the cold? He can’t imagine that it didn’t hurt- after all, the only reason that the Herwi had managed to reside in these mountains for hundreds of years was because of its harsh environment. Not human nor animal nor Na’vi wanted to be here—but Gojo always loved this place, as did his people.

He wondered whether it was such passionate love or hate that drew the little human in his arms to climb such peaks. To come this far. 

He can’t help but lean down and scoop the human up into his arms.

“O-olo’eyktan what is the meaning of this-”

“Fnu- shhhh.” Gojo responds in his native language, “She’s resting.”

The olo’eyktan carries the human all the way back the treacherous path to his clan huts.

And every time he looked down, he could see the way that smaller body fell and rose with each faint breath. He could see the flying of human-made coats that did nothing to fight off the cold of Pandora. He could see the pen and notebook stuffed inside it as if they were the most precious treasure of all.

He can see you.

.

.

.

Day #1 in the Herwi village: 

Woke up in what seems to be the healer’s hut, a wide insulated space that is more or less steeped into the underground with a berth of the entrance AS (above snow). Capped dome on top. Walls are composed of wooden planks on the interior flanked by compact ice from the outside, decorated in the thick furs of what appears to be snow beasts. Long book shelves. Kindling lantern of something bioluminescent and emitting heat. Shockingly warm inside. Vents are present but small to prevent an excess of thin air. Separate storage spaces and areas for examination, implications of advanced surgery and medical procedures taking place far beyond what we humans can understand.

Though Herwi healing techniques seem to be similar to that of other Na’vi clans (particularly the Omaticaya) in terms of relation to Eywa and natural resources, it must be noted that Herwi healing makes prominent use of ice for anti-inflammatory and vessel constricting methods.

Sparse presence of herbs and more emphasis on pressure points (for a copy of the Herwi circulatory system diagram see Page 8…), though the olo’eyktan reassures that there are a multitude of flora endemic to the Pandoran heights. 

The olo’eyktan seems particularly eager to give a tour?

With your eyes blinking open…you think you’ve died and gone onto whatever there was afterwards.

It would’ve been just like you to meet your demise during the pursuit of your research- the higher-ups at your laboratory predicted the same thing. The last thing you remember before blacking out was feeling faint - weeks of hiking up this arduous peak and you’d run out of your provisions a few days ago, surviving on only melted ice to fill your belly. At least, until the sudden threat of a snowslide had resulted in you abandoning your tent and bags behind for escape.

From then on it had only been: you, your pen, your notebook with your research, your translator, and your burning passion to find the Herwi.

It was no surprise that you didn’t last long.

But you suppose you just didn’t expect the ‘afterwards’ to be a blue, blue summer sky. 

Oh—how you missed the cloud-frothed ocean of blue down on Earth. It was never quite the same on Pandora, and you’re just beginning to wonder whether heaven was really home-

“Yawne, txen?”

Before your muddled mind realizes that this really wasn’t your sky after all.

What you were looking up into were the eyes of a Na’vi warrior.

He’s leaning his overlarge body above yours, and you’re pressing yourself flatly against a mattress—one that was made of copious amounts of furs and the softest spun wool to make you feel as though you were floating up on the clouds.

But the farther you’re getting, the more he dwarfs you with his curious peering.

Closer.

And the only thing you can do is look up into his handsome blue face- the lightest of blues you’ve ever seen. 

Now, you have to start this off by saying that every single Na’vi you’ve seen was beautiful—every single one of them. 

But you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone like him before: long white hair, blue eyes almost like a Metkayina, and glowing spots scattered like snowflakes across his cheeks. Heavy eyelids. Taller than your average Omaticaya. Perhaps a bit bulkier, as well.

If you tilted your head just past his looming figure then you could take in the tufted fur clothing he wore, slightly more coverage than of Na’vi from the more tropical areas; with patterns of rosettes peaking out wherever his skin was exposed and dotted like a fainter version of a snow leopard’s. From your own planet.

But you were not on your own planet.

Far from it.

You’re realizing with a jolt that he was one of the Herwi clan-

“Are you…” And though you’d dreamed and wished and hoped for this day for so long—right now you find yourself absolutely speechless. “Are you- fuck.”

To which he only beams- “Nga lu rusey- oh, nga lu rusey.” His pearly white teeth are on full display, one little dimple crinkling at the edge of his smile. He just looks so handsome like this that you almost lose your breath- no. It must be the hypothermia that’s getting to you. It must be. And if you didn’t know any better then you’d have said that he almost sounds utterly relieved—“Oe'm lefpom. Txen? Lu nga txen? Tsal pung?”

“I ah…” Mouth dropping open. Shit—your translator!

Before he can say anything more, you’re digging in your coats- or at least attempting to. It doesn’t take long for you to shuffle behind the thick blankets and realize that you weren’t wearing those humanly thin layers you did when climbing up the mountain. Well-fitted for the Earth’s cold, but not for the harsh ever-winters of Pandora.

Instead you were wearing…a thick woolen coat?

Much too large on you- almost comically so. It had sleeves that reached a few feet past your fingertips, draped down to your toes, and enough space that you could hide at least five of you inside it. 

No translator.

No pen. No notebook-

He sees this smaller figure fluttering about worriedly and tilts his head curiously, “‘Upe lu nga fwew?” Before handing you your notebook and pen from a table behind him.

“Pardon? Ah- thank you so much—!” You beam at him, and he beams back. But looking into his blue eyes once more, you feel a sudden sense of helplessness wash over you. “But I’m sorry, I still can’t understand you.”

At this the Na’vi furrows his pale brows - you’re not quite sure whether he knew what you were saying, but he seemed to have picked up on your emotions. Nudging his large face against yours with a purring sound, “Yawne? Oe'd tìng aynga.”

And a part of you somewhat melts- “I said I really can’t- hahah.” You half-heartedly try to push his incessant face away with a laugh, taking particular delight in noting how happily his tail was swishing. Fluffier with more fur than you’ve observed on other types of Na’vi, also covered in pretty rosettes that swayed to and fro.

It’s right now that you wished you had the patience to stay behind and immerse yourself more in the Na’vi language lessons your laboratory had provided. Most scientists didn’t even go out into the field until they were experts - but you were too antsy, too greedy to know. Something seemed to have called you here whether it cost you your life.

Given you’d picked up on some phrases here and there, but it seems that the Herwi had a different accent from the clips played in those listening tests. Slightly softer, slightly more of a whisper.

Like the breath of winter, his words cooled your mask and heated up something entirely different inside of you. “Oe pey ngim krr.”

Before you know it, the Na’vi clasps both your hands in his—and you’re startled by just how large they are, just how cold. You’re analyzing the way his pale fingers hold your own as if it was all that was tender in the world.

Intertwining.

“Ngim krr.” He looks at you with those azure eyes seriously, opening up the palm of your right hand and touching his to yours. Palm against palm. Breath against breath. “Nìt'iluke.” 

You get the feeling that you were missing something very important- “I’m sorry I really wish…I’m so sorry to ask any more of you- I really am. But have you happened to see my translator anywhere?”

“Tìnga’prrnen?” He cocks his head in confusion, trying to mouth the word.

“Erm- yes?” Hoping that he understood you, “My translator—” You emphasize the syllables- “It’s a little device to understand you-”

You’re gesturing between the two of you- and you swear you see the light blue Na’vi pale. “Tìnga’prrnen? Oe?”

“Yes?” You knew that ‘oe’ referred to oneself.

He balks- maybe you were getting through to him? “Nga new ne kanom oe tìnga’prrnen-”

“Skxawng.”

Before he’s suddenly cut off by a hard smack to the back of his head- and you’re looking up just in time to see another Herwi Na’vi enter the hut. The dimorphism between this particular strand of Na’vi wasn’t anything too prominent, you find - both were tall, both were pale, both had long tails and rosettes scattered across their agile bodies.

The only real difference was that the one at your bedside was more rugged, with even more pure-white beads woven into his hair. Though that you could chalk up to their separate duties within the clan.

She walked inside as though she owned the place, throwing her long loose hair behind her shoulder. She doesn’t even flinch as she shuts the other man up—as she brings out a black earpiece from behind her and hands it to you. “I believe this is yours. It was dropped in the rush outside.”

“O-oh!” You’re surprised to find that it was none other than your translating device. Taking it gratefully, “Thank you so so much.”

“Don’t mention it.” 

At your baffled expression - as far as you knew, the Herwi were the last remaining uncontacted clan of Na’vi, with no knowledge of humankind nor their many languages. “I learned your language from my books-” Gesturing around her - you were right to assume that this was her hut, filled to the brim with ointments and books. Mostly of Na’vi origin, but you could spy a few in English and Japanese. “-sent by friends in the Omaticaya. I find your human stories are…quite amusing.”

“I see.” You breathe.

She gestures at herself, “Ieri Shoko of the heart.” Then at the male Na’vi member, “Gojo Satoru of the snow. I apologize for him, he is our olo’eyktan- also the one that found you.”

“So you’re my saviour.” You’re looking towards him- Gojo once more. He catches your eyes and looks away with a pale blue hue dusting his face. “Irayo nga.” Giving your thanks (one of the few phrases you could speak with complete confidence). 

You’re looking towards him- He shudders, “Oe ke ronsem tsonta lu tìnga’prrnen.”

As soon as he’s saying it, Shoko smacks her hand on her forehead- and you wonder what exactly he means. 

So without further ado, you’re fixing the earpiece onto yourself.

“Idiot.” Shoko’s turning back to Gojo, “You know that’s not what she meant?”

Gojo crosses his arms and huffs- “I’m just saying I wouldn’t mind if it’s for her-”

“Not even Eywa could make that happen.”

“Getting preg-”

“Hello?” Testing—and if the way both Na’vi jerk their heads to you in slight surprise is anything to go by, then you’d say that the translator was working rather well. It was less an earpiece that translated and more a device to target that part of your brain that communicated and understood foreign languages.

Allowing you to both understand and speak in the dialect of the Na’vi - an invention by yours truly, of course. You’d (as close as) perfected it just last year for this expedition. “Can you understand me?”

Gojo stares at you with wide blue eyes.

With his pretty lips parted.

With his tail swishing back and forth.

“I see y-”

“We understand you.” Shoko nudges him roughly in the ribs, “I apologize if we’re a bit startled- it’s the first time we’re seeing a human in person.”

“I could’ve guessed that.” You giggle, flickering your eyes over to the starstrack Na’vi. Though you were equally as such. Somehow you speaking in his language just seemed to make him…“But I want to emphasize that I come in peace- I just want to learn as a scientist, not even my laboratory knows exactly where I am. And I intend to keep it that way.”

Shoko crosses her arms and looks gravely at you, “What do you want?”

“To learn. To research you and your people.” You look between them both, “To confirm the existence of the Herwi clan has been a dream of mine for a long time- not for the papers or the accolades, but because I just wanted to know you.”

“And how can we trust you?” Shoko says, getting nudged by Gojo afterwards.

“I won’t reveal anything you don’t want me to.” Determination dripping in your tone, “Not even if they kill me for it.”

They appraise you, and it’s silent for a beat before Shoko looks at Gojo.

And Gojo nods.

Shoko shoots you a barely-there smile, “Well…human, what do you want to know?”

.

.

.

After you woke up, it was after a long talk and almost three or so hours later that you’d gotten up- Shoko and Gojo had both rushed to your side. Waving them off, you’d attempted to shrug off the coat and hand it back to Gojo - long since realizing that it was his - but he’d almost been offended by the gesture.

Refusing. 

He’d kept a hand behind on the small of your back to steady you with every step climbed towards the entrance. And once you were out- you could practically feel the storm freeze around you.

Colder than cold.

The Herwi looked at you with fear.

They stopped in their tracks and didn’t even look to breathe until Gojo had followed right after. And standing beside him like that, you’d been made too aware of the drastic height difference between you two. The average Na’vi was about nine to ten feet tall, though by the look of it the Herwi of the snow were much larger than their oceanic counterparts—slightly thicker, with limbs that were long and covered in sparse fur to protect them from the cold.

The Herwi average was about ten feet, you’re finding.

Though Gojo stood at a proud eleven feet (11’1 as you come to interrogate out of him more precisely later on) and rested his hand gently upon your shoulder. They had faint scars on them that marked him as a warrior, and you could feel the slight callouses send shivers across your coat-swathed body. His tail curled around your thigh.

You don’t think you even came up to his stomach-

“My people…” He announced in booming Na’vi. “-as some of you may know from the hunt today, we have a guest.”

You shift at the stares.

“More importantly, my guest. And we will make her feel welcome like family.”

“Family?” The whispers came.

“But she is one of the sky people…”

“Part of the family is…but if the olo’eyktan says so…”

“I’ve never seen him so casually touchy with someone before-”

“Shhhhhhh!”

“I understand if you are scared, and to those who wish it- you are free to leave and never interact with her while she is here.” Though none of them do move. Fixated. “But to those who aren’t, I urge you to share the beauty of our culture.”

To which you’d gulped before introducing yourself as you had to Shoko and Gojo.

.

.

.

Day #2 in the Herwi village: 

The governing system of the Herwi is quite reminiscent to that of other clans - made up by a singular olo’eyktan or olo'eykte, accompanied by a tsahìk (though Gojo assures proudly that he is not mated as of writing this), and a council of clan elders that act as an advisory board.

Most decisions are made solely by the wisdom of Gojo himself, though large choices require a vote from the council as well as his people. Such requisites are rare, however, as it seems the olo’eyktan’s impact extends to the non-council people in such a way that they trust him with everything. (For more on the lovely reception and the sheer popularity of Gojo Satoru see Page 11…)

Governing seems to be harmonious if a little quietly tense in regards to certain elders that disagree yet are ultimately obeisant to their olo’eyktan.

This scientist in particular caused a little stir in the Herwi leadership once a research visit was proposed by the olo’eyktan to the rest of the elders. Though initial reactions had been reluctant, after a terse discussion, ultimately six moons had been granted to collect all appropriate research (due to be checked by the elders prior to leaving). No more. No less.

Six moons should be more than enough!

Shoko might have let it slip that it was Gojo who used his privilege as olo’eyktan to convince the council…and he wasn’t too happy that they’d granted you merely six moons (five days if you’re counting the first night there) to stay here. He wanted to gawk at this new human more, you supposed.

But you were so very grateful to each and every one of them either way - even those wizened elders who scowled at you suspiciously wherever you passed. Though even glares seemed sweet when you were living your dream, hm? And it best be believed that you were taking advantage of every single second you had with the clan - every single second.

Because this was exactly what those cigar-smoking higher-ups had laughed at you for. 

They thought you were chasing a myth.

The Herwi people had been so gracious as to offer you an empty hut, despite Gojo’s fervent insisting that you take his and he can simply tough it out in the cold outside-

And the next day you were up early- perhaps a little too early for the olo’eyktan who’d apparently tracked your trail and followed you around for an hour. Before he finally managed to stop you in the middle of your field study - helping out a young Herwi mother take care of her crying toddler, whilst learning about Herwi childcare techniques - and raised his bag full of food.

Breakfast.

You’re smacking your hand against your forehead as you’d completely forgotten - not quite out of the ordinary for when you got too immersed in your work. But it was different when you had someone seeking you out to take care of you…

And so after sharing the abundance of breads and berries and soups (far too much for but the two of you) with the Herwi mother and child, the two of you sit outside her hut and admired the view of the village. The soft half-sun that melted across the capped peaks, a buttery layer of light that was not even half as bright as on Earth.

But somehow gentler.

Gojo’s raising one berry to his lips before- “Ah…” His mouth drops when he takes a glance at you- more accurately, at your masked self. And he’s stopping in his movements, “Excuse me for just a second, beloved.”

“Oh? Of course.”

You watch as he’s standing up and sprinting light-fast towards the edge of a great steaming lake in the horizon. His figure’s crouching down and cupping his hands in the sparkling water, bubbling with fury. Gojo brings it up to his face and whispers a mantra that you couldn’t quite determine. Not from where you were sitting.

Before carefully bringing it right up to you- “Drink, beloved.” 

He gently leans down to let his fingertips meet your mask.

And you’d had no option—you consider it for science, though a part of you knew you didn’t have to linger your lips so much on his cold skin- but you lift your mask up and drink it.

Once the water floods your throat, you knew something was different.

Your lungs quiver.

Once.

Twice.

And you’d found yourself able to breathe—

Breathing on Pandora.

“How did you…” As you gasp, Gojo reaches out and removes the mask off of you completely. He’d let the earpiece stay on, of course, but lightly grazed his cold digits against the shell of your ear and made you shiver. “I don’t even know what to say- thank you. I didn’t even know this was possible—no other Na’vi clan let alone a mere human has discovered a way to let us breathe normally on Pandora.”

“For you. Lake Yapay.” Gojo says, large hand still cupping your face. “It steams great billowing heat in the day, and freezes by night. Here in Herwi, we use its water to expand our lungs during snowstorms.”

And you want to write it down- you know you should, but the pen in your fingers won’t move. Or more accurately, your fingers won’t move.

He continues, “This land is alive and works in mysterious ways. It has worked for you, beloved, as I knew it would.”

“Thank you again, olo’eyktan.”

“Satoru.” He interjects.

“Satoru.”

He smiles as if it meant the world.

And so your feast commences.

“You have to remember to eat.” Gojo says to you as he scoffs down a sweet paste made of ice-blue berries, “How will you brave the winter storms otherwise? Of course, I will protect you—and yet still.”

“Well, I sure hope I survive six more nights for my research then, hm?” You joke.

But you hadn’t expected Gojo’s face to darken, for him to shake his head. “It’s not fair.”

“Pardon?”

“Six more nights…” And you hadn’t exactly expected him to be so…invested in your research - you admit that you would benefit more from a longer period of studying the Herwi, but you were ready to take what was given. He looks down at the glaring snow and whispers—more to himself. “It’s not fair. I will correct it.”

“Correct?”

“Oh?” And you look from him to the village straight ahead, “Well, I’d be happy either way, Satoru.”

Just then that little Na’vi you’d been helping to watch over before comes waddling and giggling out of the hut to hold onto you- and you pick her up readily.

Gojo took one look at the two of you and shivered.

Shivered.

.

.

.

Day #3 in the Herwi village: 

Hunts are an imperative part of the Herwi lifestyle—not only is it how the people are nourished, but it’s a social activity, it’s a coming-of-age activity. 

As aforementioned, hunts are commenced and led by none other than the olo’eyktan. A large group of Herwi warriors shall trek across the icelands in one unit, and it was quite interesting to note that most of the younger hunters are positioned in the middle where they are less likely to get injured during such a trip.

It is in the middle of their hike that Gojo will alert when the group is to split up: Snow beast hunters and snow marine stilts. Divide and conquer seems to be the only strategy that somehow tames such an unforgiving environment, and Herwi marine-hunters seem to be picked from the most patient of warriors. They carve out a hole in the middle of frozen bodies of water (never Lake Yapay, this divine body is never harmed) and each positions themself atop a tall icicle beside it to escape prowling beasts and currents. Crouched and ledged atop one, the sheer core strength and balance is divine once they cast their lines and wait.

On the other side of things, we have the Herwi beast-hunters. Using a large variety of weapons, the most popular is noted to be the bow and arrow - used by the olo’eyktan himself. They stalk in the cold white billows of snow with not even a single shiver, they lay in wait for hours, they tire their prey out.

And nevertheless this scientist found today’s hunt rather interesting…

The third and fourth days had passed by in much the same fashion - except for the slight tweak in your routine that included opening your hut door and finding the olo’eyktan standing there every single morning.

Always with food, always with a smile, always with some interesting niveous flower for you to press into your notebook. Then afterwards the two of you would set out to help you interview the Herwi people of all ages and backgrounds, to take samples, to explore the natural fauna, to even join Gojo on one of his Hunts on the third day. 

They admitted that they didn’t focus on hunting as much as they normally did on that trek, too enamored with this strange little human that had showed up one day and had their olo’eyktan glued to her side.

You interviewed hunters and elders (well, the ones that didn’t ignore you completely or were on the verge of cursing you out until they caught their leader’s eye) until your mouth hurt. And Gojo had taken you into the best spot with natural Pandoran fauna, making you jot down notes until your fingers cramped.

Once the sun was beginning to set and the Na’vi were getting ready to head back to their village for the night, you’re taking the opportunity to interview some of the young hunters. Gojo was off in the distance making up for the slightly lowered hunt by ice-spearing more snow beasts. And you were more than happy not to distract him while he took care of his olo’eyktan duties- after all, the other hunters were nice. Never having seen a human before, they’d been more than happy to answer your questions.

Ribbing each other, guffawing as they answered, placing their hands down on you and ruffling your head from above.

Almost as if you were a plaything- and you admit it was in the name of science, you didn’t mind it too much until a particularly boisterous hunter about Gojo’s age had kept swatting at you no matter how many times you politely moved away. Until he’d caught you on the scruff of your coat and tried to lift you up—

You hear the sound of bones breaking before you realize what it is.

Whipping your head behind you in an instant to see that Gojo was behind the other hunter and pulling his hand hard enough that you hear other Na’vi cry out. 

He lets go of you, of course, and you watch with widened eyes as Gojo then bandages his fellow Na’vi’s arm himself. Though you note that he doesn’t apologize.

Gojo didn’t leave your side for a single second after that.

That night after the dinner by the lake, Gojo walks you to your hut and sleeps outside in the bitter cold- no matter how much you tried to get him to take up the bed inside. He’d insisted.

After mating, he’d said.

You wonder whether your translating device was malfunctioning…

(See Page 26 on Herwi possessiveness…).

.

.

.

Day #4 in the Herwi village: 

Beads.

A well-known part of Na’vi culture, one of the most recognizable, perhaps. The scientific community has written long and extensively on the importance of bead-sharing in the Omaticaya clan, however, this scientist shall be the first to detail the beauty of how this tradition extends to the Herwi clan.

According to the artisans of this village, beads aren’t fashioned through molten stone or seeds or clay—given the availability of such in this environment. Rather, they’re made with snow.

Never-melting snow.

Yes, the design of hona beads from snow is a practice unique to the Herwi clan. Broken off from the hardest icicles growing at a peak of Mt. Hoet said to touch the sky, not only is it a treacherous passage to get to those specialized bits of ice, but the process of making the beads finds itself just as arduous. These icicles are then welded into delicate beads and dipped into the waters of Lake Yapay at night, letting them soak and then carried to freeze at the highest peak once more.

This process is repeated until the beads are as hard as diamonds on Earth- perhaps even harder. Never-melting. Never-breaking. Never-forgetting. Though not too hard so that the Herwi will be unable to carve unique patterns and symbols special to themself. Rinse. Repeat.

Though the clear meaning of such is ambiguous, it is most certainly a way of showing appreciation - as one would have to love someone very much to do this, no?

It was on your fourth day amongst the Herwi clan that Gojo didn’t show up with a beautiful flower or trinket from the terrain- instead, he’s bounding up to you with a string of beads and knotting it against the side of your face.

Pushing it back and taking you in with it.

Without a question.

“Satoru, did you…” You’re holding the line of beads up to the sunlight and watching the little patterns glimmer. They were slightly frosted and flurried like the smallest of snowglobes, “Did you make this for me?” 

And you swear they had the most intricate design of clouds on them, swirling and tumbling.

“Of course.” He smiles proudly. “Us Herwi are taught how to design our very own hona beads ever since we were children, and as Na’vi coming of age we walk up the path to make the first one for ourselves…as adults we make one for our family or…” Mates.

“And this- god, I need to…write about this but I can’t even imagine how long this would’ve taken.” 

“Four days.” Gojo cocks his head and looks down at you- and that brilliantly confident grin of his plasters across his face once more. “For most it takes four years, but for you I did it in four days.”

“Oh, they’re just amazing.” You run a hand down the ice-cold globules, “Thank you, Satoru.”

He holds your hand as he leads you out into the village.

Gojo tells you that night to wear those very beads to the clan dinner - once a week (at the very least) after a particularly successful Hunt, the Herwi people will get together for a massive feast. You’d heard excited whispers about it from the public you surveyed, and it seems that the olo’eyktan had chosen tonight.

Night had begun to fall, and you were dragged playfully by some younger girls straight to the edge of this vast frozen lake. Past snow-capped huts that stuck out of an even more snow-capped ground like eager heads, and ice-jeweled trees and frozen rivers and pathways lit with bioluminescent algae trapped in lanterns of ice.

It was a world in frost.

Where Na’vi had gathered with their families, their friends, their food—all in an array of tables that circled the crystallized body of water like a wedding ring.

Under the snowy night sky they communed. 

“You are wearing my- I mean your hona beads.” Gojo had beamed as he eventually caught up with you and guided you himself. He led you by hand again - even though you weren’t exactly quite sure why…at least it kept you from being toppled over by the other tall Herwi rushing to snag their own seats. “You look beautiful with them, beloved.”

And you weren’t quite sure what to say- though the bubbling pit at your stomach certainly wanted you to tell him something. Instead you divert the topic, “You hunted today as well, yes? Is there anything here that you hunted?”

To which he looks at you with a rather cocky smile, “Beloved, I have hunted more than half of the feast tonight. Trust that you will enjoy it.”

And you might have joked about him being presumptuous- but you really did enjoy the feast.

Under a star-studded sky and glimmering lanterns that twinkled like the freckles upon Gojo’s face, he led you to the very head table that no other Na’vi dared touch. It was rather obvious that this one was meant for the olo’eyktan himself, but what was curious was when your seat had been placed right next to his.

Perks of being a special guest, you suppose?

Shoko was beside you and shot you an amused smile, before preening for another Herwi next to her with a scar that ran across her face and half-braided hair. 

“Utahime.” Gojo had whispers in your ear, “Shoko’s mate.” 

“Ah- I see!” Pen quivering in your hand, you’re jotting down your observations in your notebook under the table. “Perfect. I’m quite curious about the mating rituals of the Herwi, you see. Do you suppose I’d be able to ask them some questions later on in the night?”

“Don’t ask them questions- ask me.” Gojo huffs. Brows furrowing. Lower lip jutting into a pout.

He leans over and wraps his arm around the back of your chair. Squirming, “O-oh…but you’re not mated yet, are you, Satoru?”

“Nope!”

“Right…” But then how could you ask him about mating if he wasn’t—nevermind.

Because just then the group in charge of cooking for the clan had rounded the tables and begun placing their most savored delicacies on top of them. Meats upon vegetables upon berries that you’d seen growing naturally across the mountainside they lived on. It was steaming hot and everything that you could dream of.

Whether you didn’t like meat, whether you didn’t like vegetables- there was always something there for you.

Most of the richest dishes were allocated around the olo’eyktan and your single table, stuffing the surface to the brim until you had to squeeze next to Gojo for space. Of course, he didn’t seem to mind. Perhaps too busy piling his place with the sweetest treacly milks and frozen desserts that he could reach.

After dinner came the dances.

It happened every night after the community dinner when everyone - full and satisfied by then - would start humming and chanting their ancient hymns. Echoing into the sleepy snow and the ever-young night, someone would pull out two snow beast-skin drums by then. Thumping away to the songs of the snow. 

Children ran off and made snow-prints and snow-fights in the mountains of powder. Family members would begin drowsily feeding each other and insisting they eat more. Others traced their own hona beads and promised they’d make ones for the one they love.

More would punch small holes through the frozen lake and bring the water up to their mouths, of which a sudden blow would make the water freeze and scatter out into the air in twinkling snowflakes. Emulating the stars themselves.

Snow-breathers. 

They’d sing, they’d sound, they’d show off and then…the first mated couple would walk onto the middle of the frozen ice.

Then the second.

The third.

The fourth and the fifth and the sixth-

What a way to end the night, love warming the cold air and couples twirling around each other with their tails intertwined. Usually, you’d be content to clap and attempt to sing along—

But then Gojo stands up- and you almost believe he was ready to leave the table altogether…until he’s reaching his hand out to you.

You.

And you look around in slight surprise- almost as if expecting someone to materialize right beside you and take Gojo’s hand instead. But the only thing you’re getting is Shoko’s approving nod from next to you, before she lets herself be dragged by Utahime onto the frozen lake.

And so you’d danced.

Rather an interesting sight considering the height difference, you admit—but it was beautiful. Gojo scoops you up into his arms with one steadied underneath you, the other holds one of your hands in his. 

So much larger. So much more powerful.

And yet so gentle.

He twirls you around to the music and you laugh at the wind stinging your face.

“Satoru, you’re going to drop me—”

“I should rather die than drop you.”

“But- but what of the other Herwi that will be mistaken?” You ask then, already sensing the envious looks that were thrown your way. 

“There goes my dream of being tsahìk, I’m almost sure of it now-”

“But I haven’t been able to try my luck with the olo’eyktan yet-”

“Oh shush, girl! You seriously think any of us had a chance?”

You look into his handsome face, eyes trained on you despite all the whispers and disturbance amongst his people. Only you. “You won’t be able to find a mate this way.”

Something unreadable in his blue eyes, flickering with fire from the tables and something else entirely. “Perhaps I don’t want one.”

“Well that would be entirely your decision.” You place your hands on his broad shoulders, flexing as they move you around with ease. “But it seems in Herwi tradition, the olo’eyktan is wont to take a mate.”

He raises a white brow, “And who should you believe must be my mate then?”

You didn’t quite know how to answer that.

Averting his eyes- and those of the Na’vi staring at you two. “W-well, Herwi has many fine women and men. Reykol is the best singer.”

“I do not want Reykol.”

“Tìtaron is a good hunter.”

He pulls you closer, “Yes, she is a good hunter. But I am better, and I do not care for Tìtaron.” Reaching up one hand to brush away the snowflakes that had begun dusting your face, “I believe I have already been fated to. Even before I was born, I have already chosen.”

You swallow, “Who, Satoru?”

He only smiles.

“Who?”

But he does not answer, you’re twirled around once more and the moonlight catches your dangling beads.

“Is that…”

“Surely our leader isn’t saying what we think he is saying-”

“But look at him, he looks so…happy.”

You turn your head to catch the fact that most of the Herwi were looking at you, whispering behind their hands. In hindsight, you think that perhaps it was not a coincidence that they ogled you - and particularly the hona beads that you’d been gifted. Not a coincidence at all.

You wore his signature because you were his.

And they all knew you were his.

.

.

.

Day #5 in the Herwi village (the last day): 

Leaving tomorrow, a perceptive scientist may notice that there is only one thing missing from this comprehensive research into the Herwi clan.

The source of Eywa.

As a deity to all Na’vi people, her influence seeps into the songs and prayers of even the highest terrains on Pandora. Into the healing. Into the well wishes. Into the belief system of a people so accepting and harmonious that their tree of Eywa does not need to be visibly present for her will to be carried out.

But as for where she resides here…

Your fifth and final day was less research and more saying your goodbyes to all the friends you’d made in the Herwi clan. You’d be leaving first thing tomorrow, before the sun even rose, according to the sternest of the elders. 

Gojo hadn’t met you outside your hut that morning, and you’d idled away the time packing and repacking your bag of samples and books. Thrice, before you started to believe that he might not come after all.

But that was alright, ultimately believing that he’d show up later on in the day, you visited all the healers, the hunters, the dancers, and the chefs. The mother and toddler you’d grown close to on your first day here, and even a stray elder that had sought you out to bow goodbye. 

All the young Na’vi and the old Na’vi.

All the Na’vi that had come to not fear you and the Na’vi that had found you endearing at first sight.

They’d warmed up to you since you first came here. They gave you gifts, each of them, and your heart ached as you thought of leaving. 

Goodbyes were always painful - but perhaps one most of all. Gojo.

He still hadn’t met you by the end of your route, and you’d circled the village about twice by the time you were done. He was nowhere to be seen.

It was almost as if he’d disappeared into thin air.

It was with a heavy pit in your stomach that you started to head back to your hut—your last dinner with the Herwi people would be in a few hours. Afterwards, Gojo had previously arranged for you to be accompanied by some of the clan’s best warriors on your trek down. 

You just thought that’d include him.

Perhaps you could sleep it off until the final dinner- and you were shutting the door just behind you…

Before sounds a hurried, hasty knock—

You open the door to see the olo’eyktan of the Herwi tribe.

Panting. Covered in snow.

“My apologies, I have spent the day clearing the pathway for us.” Gojo huffs out, leaning against your door frame with one hand. The other reaching out to you—“Come with me, beloved?”

.

.

.

The Herwi source of Eywa was inside an ice cave.

One that would get blocked when the goddess herself did not wish to be seen, one that Gojo had torn through layers of packed ice to burrow a pathway for the both of you. He’d carried you all the way to the gaping mouth of blue ice and ghost snow.

Closing in on you like arms of rime beckoning you to the tree of Eywa. The Tree of Winter.

The cold embrace of a mother.

One you were still not quite sure whether you were allowed to see—but Gojo knew he wanted you to see. He saw you. 

At the end of the cave was an ice column about eighty feet tall and naturally formulated to look like the winding branches of a tree. Dripping to the ground in phantom white snow, each one delicate and graduating from white to blue. There almost seemed to be a glowing aura about it.

Clear mirrors making up the tree’s vines. Honed tips of the icicles rising from Pandora and stabbing down towards it. The top of the tree reached where the cave roof was hollow, beaming a circle of light from the skies that donned Eywa in innocent pink.

You gasped at the white snowsprites that bounced off of the tree and onto your two bodies. 

Where Gojo stand with his back straight, his meaty thighs spread—pearly white teeth biting down to stop himself from fucking moaning at the feeling of your mouth sliding up n’ down his hot cock.

While you were standing.

You didn’t even have to get on your knees.

His eleven foot figure loomed above you, one hand on the back of your head and the other pumpin’ his furious erection. Your maw slips down his puckered tip and he shivers- bucking ever-so-slightly and hitting the back of your throat dead-on—

And yet he wasn’t even fully bottomed out.

He wasn’t even fully bottomed out.

The sudden realization makes you claw at the sides of his blue skin with a whine- direct vibrations that make the puckered tip lodged inside your mouth twitch. He’s sploshing out even more syrupy pre like he couldn’t stop it.

He’s not even trying and it’s already so much, cascading like a waterfall down the front of your chin.

“Now- hah, now.” One of Gojo’s prolonged fingertips reaches out to smear away the slippery sheen across your face- at least, that’s what you think he’s doing.

But instead you’re feeling him curve his rude digits between your lips and push those dewy droplets inside. Shovelling his cock just a little bit deeper, “S’not good to waste it, beloved. Open your mouth and take it all like a good girl, yes?”

“Mmmpf-” A damn miracle that you could get out that much sound in the first place. You’re pulling off to answer, and Gojo jerks his hips a lil’ to chase your damp mouth. “You’re saying you want me to take it all—?”

He shivers, leopard-like tail twitching. “Yes.”

And right before your very eyes, you can see his shaft throb even bigger. 

Harder. 

The prettiest bluish-pink on his tip, one with a divot that leaks out a line of precum. You’re following it with your dazed eyes- before the next thing you’re seeing is a close-up of it.

Gojo has his massive hand plastered to the back of your scalp and is pushin’ your head in, digging his dripping wet tip against the back of your throat. With a groan, the Na’vi pins you to him and hammers out a few sloppy thrusts of his cock.

Again and again.

Slurp after slurp—

“Gonna take it all- hah- my entire cock inside that pretty mouth, yes?” He’s cocking his head to the side and asking down at you sweetly. And he might look all in control, but Gojo’s voice fucking breaks at the very end of his sentence. 

Right in synchronization with the way you were draggin’ your sizzling tastebuds down the veiny sides of his erection. Just the cutest tongue that was eagerly lapping up everything he was giving—“Doesn’t matter if you’re a lil’ human, you’re gonna take the leader’s biiiiig cock, aren’t you?”

Removing yourself from his thickened tip with a wet pwah! “Y-you’re really serious about the-”

“Yes.” 

And he’d apologize for cutting you off later- hell, he’d grovel at your feet if he has to. But right now all Gojo can think of doing is holding onto the back of your head and strollin’ his thumb down the column of your throat. The olo’eyktan can feel that fat cylindrical intrusion where his cock was pumping in and out- and he’s sliding his fingertip dooooooown that bulge. “Aren’t you a scientist, beloved?”

“Y-yes?”

“Then aren’t you curious about just how far a human can take Na’vi cock?”

“Well…” You blubber out, “I guess so-”

“Then consider it for your research.” With each syllable he’s cutting your breath off by thudding his cockhead against the roof of your mouth. “Then just fucking- haaaaah—” And you’re finding that the pre Na’vi cock exuded was actually rather sweet- almost like honeydew flooding up your mouth n’ being slid all round by the intrusion of his shaft. “-take it.”

“Mmmpf—ngh.” Tears were streaming down your face by now, wetting your cheeks and making the Na’vi wipe them away with his thumb.

“Don’t cryyyyy—” He’s airily calling out, almost nothing like the level-headed Na’vi you’d met before. “Big girls don’t cry. Don’t worry- m’gonna give you all of my cock, beloved.”

“S-Satoru-”

But each of your broken yowls were being bullied back in with his bludgeoning wet tip, bruisin’ away its splitted end anywhere and everywhere. 

He swabs into the tiniest nooks and crannies inside your mouth with his sheer size, leaving your knees utterly weak where you were still standing. He’s holding your head up to his cock- “C’mon- feel.”

You peer up at him in confusion.

“Feel for your research.” Fluttering his long pale lashes down at you, a sultry smile spreads across his lips. “How many loooong thick inches you’re being given. How many veins are filling ya up. How many times I hit the back of yer throat like this-”

A shuddering slam right where you were most tender. “Please-”

“M’helping you with your- fuck, research.” He chuckles down lecherously, “By shutting that smart human mouth of yours up.”

“Fuck-”

“Feel it- just feel.”

He thrusts so hard that his heavy ballsack smacks! against your chin, “Feel the way that lil’ mouth of yours can barely even take me. Feel how fat my balls are with cum just for you. Count them? Wanna calculate the girth?” Until it was stinging a permanent girth on your skin, rubbed raw with impact. “Feel the way I- ngh, bruuuise your throat n’ those sensual lips until anyone that talks to you knows I’ve been here.”  He’s babbling on stupidly by now, eyes falling more n’ more half-lidded by the minute. He’s holding on tightly to your restless head and shoves- “Feel the way I fuck my mate—”

Gojo trails off as if shocking himself, and you’re snapping your teary eyes up to him with a muffled- “What?”

But you don’t know whether it’s on cue, you don’t know whether it’s the startle of being caught- but Gojo’s slamming his cocktip way past the back of your throat and cumming.

Oozing out hot dollops of cum that take over your pretty mouth.

Shaft throbbing furiously. Balls twitching like no other. He throws his head back and squelches straight down your throat, and you can feel the thickness of it plug up your voicebox.

So sweet.

So much.

And you’re not sure whether it’s a Na’vi thing or it’s a Gojo thing that he’s cumming so much in one go.

Loooooong miry stripes that trickle down the sides of your mouth- he leans down and pushes them back between your lips with one of his thumbs. Ivory sap constantly leaking down onto your tastebuds, he feels the heady slip n’ slide of his cock against those wads of cum. “Fuh-fuck…”

And then he’s not moving, merely clasping the back of your head and bringing you firmly up against his slender pelvis. 

Your nose rubs against the tufts of white on his abs before you realize that he’d just bottomed-out—just once, like he’d promised. 

And it was enough to send you reeling, feeling the pushback of his swabbin’ tip. Pouring out even more heady liquid every time he was draaaaging down your velvety tongue. 

The tip of your tastebuds flicks his sensitive slit just right and you can feel him pulse deep inside. “Feel me in there?” Gojo’s groaning from above. “Feel how much I ache for you. Feel the volume of my cum- are you counting it?”

“I-I—”

But evidently your half-sob wasn’t enough.

And the Na’vi is reaching down and pinching your nostrils together with his free hand. “Ah ah- focus on your research, beloved.”

And you’re struggling uselessly against his mean action, to which Gojo watches with a predatory gaze at the way you huff n’ sputter. And he has the audacity to snicker-

“I really can throw you around like a ragdoll, huh?”

It’s as if the realization had just struck him and he’s shuddering. 

It almost feels like ages before he’s finally pulling away with a loud plop!

An excess of your cum was leaking out of your maw and threatening to drip onto the floor- “Tch, this is a sacred place, my human.” He’s rasping out—swipin’ up the frothed white cum as if he wasn’t absolutely desecrating you. Pushing those clingy wads between your maw.

He then guides his honed tip to glide across your lips, gluing your lips shut with all his seed.

And Gojo can’t help but admire you- peering up at him with his towering height. All covered in his syrupy slick and speechless, unable to talk even if your voicebox had been left intact.

He smiles, tail swishing happily to and fro. “My human.” Gojo leans all the distance down to kiss you upon your sopping wet lips. “My m- pretty human. My pretty human…”

But you don’t have enough sense at the moment to ponder too long on his little slip-up before he’s bending down close with his hoarse mouth against the shell of your ear.

Making you feel so sensitive.

“-did ya get enough research yet?”

And then he’s good on his other promise: throwing you around like a ragdoll.

Before you know it, Gojo’s thundering down onto his knees upon the frozen floor - taking you right along with him. He grabs his fur coat from a little ways away and makes you rest down on top of it. With ease.

Back flat on the coat. Legs spread high in the air.

Twisted around the back of Gojo’s neck and locked in place-

“Satoru-” You look around the Tree of Winter that only seems to glow even brighter, the snowsprites buzzing. “-are you sure we should be doing this h—oh.”

Gojo doesn’t say anything - he doesn’t have to.

He’s merely unhinging his jaw and letting his loooong pinkish tongue drip out. It was glossy with ravenous saliva, thick at the base, and curved at the tip. The end of it dripped tantalizingly with spittle- almost torturously. 

Achingly needy.

There was an almost feline quality to it that made your thighs clench.

“N-nevermind.”

The only thing you’re managing to get out before Gojo had his tongue stuffed against your wet core and swabbin’ away until you saw white—“M-mmmpf.” His mouth was just so large that he could engulf your pussylips with a single bite, honed canines grazing the outer edge of your cunt while he kisses inwards. “My pretty mate- my tasty mate.”

It’s almost as if he was pussydrunk already.

With just a single slurp of his curvaceous tongue glidin’ up and down your slit, Gojo has his blue eyes rolling to the back of his head and his hips bucking. Wildly. “Why didn’t Eywa tell me that you’d taste so good-”

“Oh my—” Your back arches while his thickened fingertips come between your legs to pinch your puckered pussy into his mouth. Pushing you against him even more - greedy. “Shit, it just feels so-”

Smack!

And without a single warning, Gojo has his roverin’ fingertips slamming down on your pussy. Straight on top of your slit where your clit was hidden, it sends shockwaves of both pain and pleasure up your spine.

You’re gasping and staring down at him-

“Now now, no cursing- be good before Eywa, hm?” That damn hypocrite - and you could see it in that sultry smile of it. Gojo was getting off on the way you’d squirm your cunt restlessly against his face, sighing into the way he starts fucking your pussy once more. “Or else m’not gonna eat this pretty pussy of yours out, ya hear?”

You gape, “That’s not fucking fair-”

Smack!

“What was that, beloved?”

“I said—”

Smack!

Smack!

Smack!

Until Gojo’s leaving your pussy raw and needy, and even then he wasn’t done with you- he has the audacity to purse his plump lips and spit. Spit. Letting the sharp strike of saliva make you shiver—

“What was that?” He asks you in such a breathy tone, such a ruined tone. Gojo spoke like if you told him you needed him right now then he would simply shatter. 

And you can only gulp at the state that he was in - you’ve researched Na’vi during times of high pressure, during battles, during their coming-of-age ceremonies. But never had you met one that simply seemed so…feral. “I-I’ll be good, Satoru.”

He smiles like he’s been wanting to hear those exact words for years.

Fingertips jittering with excitement, he then reaches for your intertwined ankles with his tail. 

Locking them in place, Gojo murmurs. “Good…” Before he’s getting ready to dive straight back into your sweetened cunt once more, “Because you better not run-”

And you don’t get to ask just what might constitute you running from his mouth. His tongue.

You don’t get to ask just what it meant when he looked at you with that dark inkling of something carnal, as if he was about to devour you whole.

You don’t get to ask anything, in fact, and whatever questions were already in your throat burst into a zillion pieces at the feeling of him pushing his tongue inside your hole. Properly.

Not lapping away coquettishly on your outer cunt, not slurpin’ up all your treacly juices.

Gojo had his tastebuds stuffed inside your entrance and was draaaaagging them all across every orifice inside of you. Thrusting his entire length in and out at a rapid pace, you could feel the edge of his chin hitting your base with every movement.

Inside and out.

Inside and out.

But the sheer speed of him wasn’t even the bit makin’ you the most dizzy- see Gojo’s Na’vi tongue was something amazing. Something incredible. 

Just so large and lavish that it was stretching your walls out like never before.

“P-please-” You don’t think you’ve ever felt anything like this- the way that Gojo’s textured tongue would mold against your walls, the way he’d pinpoint even the tiniest orifices with his flexible tip, the way he’d expand and contract his tongue purposefully. Until you saw white. Bucking—“Please it just feels so-”

“Where’d ya think you’re going?”

And the slur in his voice makes you pause- “Wh-what…?”

The last thing you’re managing to get out before Gojo tightens the rude grip of his fingertips on your pussylips. And the other one of his hands holds onto your waist to haul you back down onto his mouth- you hadn’t even realized that you’d been edging away in sensitivity. 

“Didn’t I tell you not to run?” Spankin’ those rugged fingertips of his down on your clit once more. You get the feeling that Gojo’s meanly choosing your clit because he knew that’d make you clench ‘round his tongue even more. “Don’t run. Don’t even move.”

“You’re just so fucking- ngh, big and you expect me not to move?” You wail out in indignity.

“Well, who told you to fuck a Na’vi warrior?” He’s countering, those half-lidded eyes of his twinkling with humor. “Better yet- who told you to fuck the olo’eyktan-”

And you suppose you had no explanation for that.

Especially not even Gojo was pumping his thickened tongue into you so fast that any and all explanations in your throat start to dissolve. Instead being replaced by the most pathetic whines and groans as he keeps fucking your pussy greedily.

As though Gojo was a man parched.

Because your wettened pussy was more refreshing to him than the waters of the lake- and if he could, he’d have his head stuffed between your legs every second of the day. Simply slurpin’ up every dewy droplet that escaped out of you, Gojo catches even those tiniest of wads.

Slipping his looooong tongue inside—you’re driven damn near mad once he slithers his length in and grazes your g-spot.

Hips bucking, eyes snapping open. “H-how did you even manage-”

“Ah ah—” His familiar tut, and soon enough you’re glued back down onto his pretty mouth again. Gojo doesn’t even need to try to ease you pliably back onto his face no matter how much you try to run- but oh, it was just so fun to watch your sultry surprise. The way you only got wetter when he manhandled you. “So this is that cute lil’ g-spot human have, hm? I thought it was just something in Shoko’s anatomy textbooks.”

“You- you read her textbooks…” You ask.

“All day and all night.” Gojo replies with a smirk, his ears twitching as he hears the quickening of your heartbeat. “Only Eywa knows how much I’ve touched myself imagining this.”

“Oh—”

It hits you like a flash of lightning- and so do the sudden swipes of Gojo’s tongue reaching your sweetest spots. Thud-thud-thud-thud he’s ricocheting against your bundle of nerves rapidly, making it echo like your own heartbeat in your ears. Thud-thud-thud-thud—

“Shit-” And suddenly you understand- you thought you understood before? But no, now you understand why Gojo had been telling you not to run away initially.

“Don’t run.” He warns.

Because all you’re feeling are the large stripes he’s licking up your slick walls, and the only thing you can think of doing is bucking. Rutting. Reaching for his lips wildly- though your body moves torturously as if you didn’t know whether you wanted more or to run away—“Shit.” 

“Don’t run.”

But how could you not run from it? How could you not even move when Gojo had your body teased n’ toyed with till absolutely no end?

He was hammerin’ his tongue against your g-spot furiously—and you were sure by now that he has the exact pattern of his tastebuds bruised right on that area. Shapin’ your velvety walls to his tongue, Gojo dives in just so animalistically.

And you can’t help but buck. You can’t help but arch your back. You can’t help but reach your hand out and attempt to grab onto something- anything for dear life. 

Again and again. “Shiiiiit is it even allowed to feel this good-”

But the Na’vi leader merely stops your hands with his own, folding them neatly into his hair. Holding onto his clammy scalp- “As Eywa wills it.” He smiles and your cunt’s just so sensitive by this point that you can feel the exact degree of curvature of his grin. “Which reminds me…”

And for your profanity you’re getting three more direct spanks, “Shit-”

One more.

Before you feel him then twist his fingertips on your throbbing clit and pinch- “Ya reeeeally can’t be a good girl f’me, huh?” Gojo asks you with a smile, though there was a hint of something in his voice that reminded you why exactly he was the olo’eyktan of such a large clan. “Look at you—”

“Sh-shit, that feels so-” But he isn’t listening, and you’re fighting the heels of your feet against his broad back. 

“Look at you.” He’s tightening his tail on your ankles and dragging you back down. He’s spitting down through clenched canines, every single word sending sparks up to your hazy brain. Barely even working by this point, surely. “Swearing. Squirming. Moaning like a slut and trying to escape- as your leader, I should punish you, beloved.”

“No more pussy spanking—” You whine, “Just makes me so sensitive…”

“I’m not talking about pussy spanking, beloved.” To emphasize his point he gives just a light tap on your sensitive nub once more.

It leaves you shaking to wonder just what else he has in store for you- though you don’t have to let your mind grapple in the dark for too long. Because in absolutely no time - just a few more vulgar thrusts of his tongue - you’re feeling the sudden plump intrusion of something slender at your hole.

It certainly couldn’t have been his tongue, because you knew what that ridged texture felt like. 

It certainly couldn’t have been Gojo’s cock, because you’d tasted that and you knew he had a much larger circumference. 

So that left only one option—Gojo had your pussylips spread apart and your entrance gulping up every inch of his fingers. They just looked so stark with their blue color disappearin’ into your hole, and Gojo’s increeeeedible length making you feel so full. 

Two of them were all that were shovelled inside- and yet he was already stretching for your very cervix on his first thrust inside. He scours the spongy end of your pussy then slides back out—in and out, in and out, in and out.

Each time his knobbly joints push against your g-spot and left you crying-

“Feel my fingers inside you?” Gojo rasps ruthlessly, his mouth wrapped around your throbbing clit. Groaning at the way you grow even wetter- Na’vi senses were strong, and he could smell the impending orgasm on you. “Feel the way I reach for your- hah, womb all inside? Feel the way I can fuck a baby in you so easily?”

“Yes-” You answer to them all, “Yes yes yes yes—”

And before you can say anything more, his powerful tail hauls you down. Bashin’ in even deeper with his plush fingertips. “Feel the way I’ve found eeeevery cute spot of yours? Feel the way I know your pussy inside and out?”

“Yes- fuck.” And you don’t even care if you’re ‘punished’ any more for breaking Gojo’s stern rules. Gojo himself was slamming his knuckles red and raw against your cunt, fucking his human’s tight pussy. “Fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Feel the way m’making you mine—?”

“Satoru, m’gonna cum-”

“Note it down in your research.”

And then you’re exploding straight into your high - and you know it’s the best you’ve ever had.

Your eyes fall shut and the only thing you’re seeing behind them is pure black with stars of white, pulsing against your bleary vision in time with the furious throbbing at your cunt. Little zaps of pleasure shoot all the way down to the tips of your toes every time he’s moving his maw across your core. Sharp. Sensitive. He’s wedged between your legs and lappin’ up each pulse.

Sluuuuurp—!

Long, aching drags of his tongue. They’re roverin’ over the most sensitive spot of your clit, meanwhile his fingers were glazed in slick n’ fucking you stupid already.

Gojo thrusts you through your high as if he was angry at you. As if he can’t get enough. As if he’s losing his damn mind and you n’ your pussy are the only reasons why-

It takes you only a minute more for your wave of bliss to taper out, fully riding through it. 

And then only another minute more for you go from fucked straight to overstimulated by a few more of his rovering thrusts. He swabs your g-spot once more and you think you’re bawling- “S-Satoru, I’m already done-”

But he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even seem to hear you.

In fact, you couldn’t sworn that he was grabbing onto your right thigh with his free hand and keeping himself plastered even more into your cunt-

“Satoru—!” You’re calling out helplessly, “Satoru, I’m already- ngh, done-”

“Mhmmmm?” Muttering something wet underneath his breath, and you have to strain your ears to actually hear him. Breathy. Panting. “Research- fuck! More…”

“I can’t even- oh.” It was almost dangerous just how potent he was with his mouth and fingers, and before long your thighs were starting to shake with sensitivity. Causing you to grab onto his scalp even tighter and-

“O-oh.”

And accidentally tug on the long braid of white hair thrown over his shoulder—his kuru.

Did that manage to…

Your breath hitches, and you’re reaching out to graze your fingers down his kuru once more-

“Fuh—fuuuuck.” Gojo throws his head back in a voice that almost sounded like a whimper, his slick lips quivering. His skin covering in goosebumps. His erection throbbing from where you could spy him. His entire large body shakes with the zaps of hypersensitivity going down his spine, “D-don’t think you know what you’re getting into, beloved…” His murky breath clouds out in front of him. 

“You sure?” You challenge - what a privilege it was to see him break.

The olo’eyktan grits his teeth—-“I’m warning you…”

But when were you ever one to listen to warnings?

Without thinking much of it, you tighten your hand ‘round his kuru and tug—

And then he’s on you in a split-second.

He’s not even moving- he’s grabbing onto your hips and bodily puuuulling you right back down till your cunt lips kiss his cock. He’s pushing your legs up until your kneecaps hit your tits. He’s hunching his entire body forwards and-

“Sh-shit.” Your eyes widen, “Satoru, did you just-”

“Yes.”

Just you teasing his kuru is enough to make Gojo spuuuurt out in creamy wads of cum once more, coating the outer part of your pussy in a thick layer. It feels hot and wet on top of you, streaming down to drench the coating. Before he’s swervin’ his swollen tip inside and fucking you-

No hesitation. No preparation.

You’re getting what you deserved, and that was to be fucked like an absolute anima by the Na’vi.

“You don’t know what you’ve done.” He’s spitting- straight into your hotly opened mouth. Those sharp canines of Gojo’s nipping at your bottom lip, “You don’t know what you’ve done- you don’t know what you’ve done-”

“Shit, shiiiit—Satoru.” Moaning out his name like a broken record player. He’s bullying out harsh semi-thrusts against your cunt that leave you scrambling for breath- just shovin’ his puckered tip inside, just tasting the inside of your pussy with his cockhead, just trying to fucking fit.

“Sayin’ my name like that and you don’t even fucking—” Before Gojo feels your soppy walls clench tightly ‘round him, and his lips part a little before racing down and spitting on your cunt. “Fucking fit.”

“You say that like it’s so easy-” You sob out. 

He was pistoning his hips into you ferally.

The only thing he was doing was stretchin’ out your cute hole a few times, just so big that you’re being push-push-pushed up the fur coat you were splayed out on-

A hand at your throat.

“Don’t. Fucking. Run.”

And you don’t have the chance to tell him that you weren’t actually running and in fact it was just his roverin’ hips forcing you upwards- but before you could do that, Gojo’s already rendering you speechless with his cock.

He’s grabbing an even tighter restraint of your neck.

He’s manhandling your entire body down like he’s crazed.

He’s juuuuuust barely managing to squeeze in a sultry inch of two of his massive length- the mere sensation of that in itself enough to send your mind bursting into a heap of stars. It was almost numbing on your lower half, to have this much of him fitted inside you.

Stuffed inside you.

Throbbing inside you.

And it seems that the only one more affected by that fact wasn’t you - it was Gojo Satoru himself. Head falling into the crook of your neck. Tail flinching as it now wraps around your right thigh. Mouth parting with an agonized groan.

“F—fuck.” He’s echoing out hollowly into your ear, “Fuck, you’re so fucking…tight.”

Gojo spits out the word as if it was the very reason the olo’eyktan was shattering right about now. And almost on cue, those sopping wet walls of yours clench ‘round his tip and makes the Na’vi yelp—

“Fuck, don’t do that.” He’s shuddering through his sloppy strokes, his split-ended tip filling you up with dewy precum. “Fuck, don’t do that unless you want to be taught what happens when you pull on the kuru of a Herwi like me, little scientist.”

“What happens?” You ask innocently.

“S’why I’m telling you to fucking—oh.”

Just a few more pulsating clenches of your cunt, and Gojo shivers as though he’s being held hostage by your wet walls.

He bears his canines and snarls at you in the way you’d seen Na’vi do when they want to signal, to intimidate, to mate. 

But you stare up at the olo’eyktan of the Herwi clan with determination.

And he’s giving you one final probe-

“I’m going to get you fucking pregnant.”

He breathes out against the shell of your ear, almost like the last whisper of his sanity before Gojo stares into your wide heart-eyes—and he’s reeling his hips back to plunge.

Uncaring how unready your poor entrance was.

Uncaring how your tiny human body shakes underneath his larger one.

His fat cock swipes between your glittery folds and puuuuushes against the instinctual restraint of your hole, all the way until you start to tremble- and he knows he can’t push any more. He knows he can’t break you.

He’s fighting back every sudden primal urge in him that just wants to fuck you all the way inside- and furiously pumps his solid inches back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Keeping a hand always on the top of your stomach for when he’s feeling his hard globular tip push upwards.

Gojo was just so big that he could feel himself sinking in from the outside-

“And that’s not a promise, beloved.” Gojo’s pale brows furrow as his cockhead starts swabbin’ even deeper after each thrust, “That’s not a promise- that’s not even a challenge-”

“Th-then—?” He’s pushing doooown on your overstuffed core and you find it hard to breathe, both pressures from between your legs and from Gojo pushing on your cylindrical tummy bulge was just…

The olo’eyktan grins when he watches his cute lil’ human struggle to take his entire cock, the bluish hue of it spreading apart your thighs. He reels his slender hips back in quite the long drag—before ultimately hammering- “It’s an oath. Before Eywa.”

A divine oath.

Added to the fact that Gojo was slamming his ruddied tip into you with each syllable- and you could never forget about the sheer size difference. The way that it helped him bend over you and fold you in half as though nothing but a lawnchair—your ass was cleanly dangling off the floor with how much Gojo was bending you.

A mating press. The meanest one you’ve ever seen.

You’re hit with the sudden inclination that you weren’t about to walk out of here any time soon.

And Gojo seems to be doing well on that fact- he hadn’t completely bottomed-out yet, but he was still drilling into you with such fervour. Streaking his cum from before across every inch of you, a layer of white that you feel from the inside.

Feverish cocktip swabbin’ all the way at the back of your cervix, full balls smacking your cunt.

Every time he was hurtling his hips forwards, it almost felt as if the ground beneath you was trembling. 

It almost felt as if he was hitting each of your geysering spots without even needing to try. Just so big that the veiny sides of his cock rubbed n’ dubbed up against those orifices unfairly. 

It almost felt as if you were losing it-

“So I think you’ll have a loooot of fuckin’ research, beloved.” Gojo snickers, his tail flicking you playfully. And at this point you’re not even sure what the conversation was about, just knowing that it was the background music to the lecherous thwacking of his hips on yours. 

So hard that you could feel the wads of his high from before glazing your insides. Dripping all the way near the rim of your cunt before being pumped back inside.

He pushes down on top of that bulge once more and watches you whine, “I almost don’t want to, mmm, ask what it’ll be about…”

“Ohhh, y’know—” Gojo trails off airily, something shaky in the back of his tone that sends shivers up your spine. It makes you almost content to know that you’ve gotten him so pussydrunken- but then again you weren’t too far behind. He tilts his head to the side and looks at you through partially closed eyes, smiling. “-human-Na’vi babies.”

And it’s with that that Gojo finally - finally - drills his cock all the way to the hilt.

Bottoming out.

His breath catches at the realization.

Blue eyes widening. Mouth watering.

It feels so different to have your hot innards surrounding him entirely- and fuck, Gojo wasn’t even sure whether a human like you would be able to take all of him. But it seems that you really were made for him, yes? Every curve and edge of you. Every bit of your cunt that he gives an experimental buck into, before pumping inside like a madman-

Pounding you into the smooth ground of the celestial temple.

It feels like you’re being thrust into heaven itself because of the way he was so big, big, big—all the way from the purple-ish tip that was zig-zagging your walls, to the oversized tummy bulge he was fucking into you, to the way he had you folded. Manhandled.

Gojo’s only lasting a few strokes before he’s crushing you to him so hard that it almost hurts- “Right here—right here.” The hand atop your stomach pushes down where his ruby-red tip was kissin’ and kissing at your womb. “You’re gonna have a lot ta research about fucking- ngh, getting bred by the fucking olo’eyktan. A lot to research about carrying my next heir, yeah?”

“Yes…” Arching your back into him.

“And then here—” That very hand now drifts down to the in-betweens of your pussylips and rubs his thumb over your clit. He’s drawing little circles and hearts on top of your sensitive nub that makes you wrack with pleasure, “Yer gonna have to research giving birth to such a biiiig baby, beloved.”

You shiver at the thought, mostly excitement.

And he purrs as he rubs his cheek against the sweaty crown of your head, “But s’okaaaaay- I’ll help you through every step of it, beloved. My mate.” The Na’vi’s staring down at you lovingly, fucking you filthily. “M’gonna breed you all full, okay? You might just have to research more about Na’vi phenotypes- heh.”

You can only nod. “Please…”

And before you can dwell too long on that last particular word—mate—he’s continuing. “And then you don’t have to worry ‘bout a thing- I can take care of eeeeverything. I’ll wash our kid. I’ll dress our kid. I’ll feed our kid. I’ll do everything and anything just please-”

“Y-yes?” Your voice cracks.

And he winks down at you almost mischievously, “Let’s do some research together on when I’ll be able to breed you all full of my cum next, hm?”

And with only a few more vicious thrusts, you’re feeling your second wave of pleasure tonight take over. You knew it’d been bubbling inside your veins for some time now- and right now it almost felt as if that euphoria was overflowing.

Overspilling.

Just like the gushing wads of slick that drivel over the front slit of your cunt and leave you so wet that you feel like a waterpark. Just rhythmic bursts of your high that leave your body loose and limp, shaking a bit every time that Gojo’s cockhead plummets inwards.

Head muddled.

Eyes rolling to the very back of your head.

This might just be the best orgasm of your entire life, and your wave of pleasure is looooong and drawn-out with how many times Gojo thrusts his cock in to fuck you through it. “Shit, Toru—” 

Again and again and again.

Each time hitting the target of your g-spot dead-on and watching as you gush around him even more. 

You were at Gojo’s complete mercy…almost.

Shaking. Your hands find themselves in his hair once more- or more precisely grazing the long length of his kuru. “Satoru.” You’re breathing out as he shivers carnally, “Satoru, I want it- ngh, inside.”

His eyes widen, “Demanding something of the olo’eyktan, are you?”

“Inside, Toru.” Desperate now.

To emphasize, you’re lightly tugging on his kuru and watching as it makes the Na’vi above you shudder. His cock pouring out heaps of precum that only act as a warning for something…more. “F-fuck, better keep this all in until tomorrow-”

At the very least.

You’re honestly not sure if you can keep it all in even now—because then Gojo’s throwing his head back and cumming long and hard. Harder than he ever thinks he has before- his seed dribbles out of him like a gooey waterfall, taking place inside every nook and cranny you have.

Heavy balls clenching almost aggressively as they empty out inside you.

He’s swervin’ each ounce of it inside by dragging his globular tip, that reddened cockhead making you swear you taste Gojo all the way at your throat. 

Flooding.

Your toes curl, it almost feels as though he’s fucking you into a third and fourth high altogether-

“Until tomorrow-” Gojo barks out through his smoky tone, “Until always-” After reaching his high so many times in one night, his sparks of euphoria just rip through him. And you can feel the sheer intensity of it by the way his slippery slick thwacks! against the back of your pussy, hot and heavy. It seems to inflate you from the inside, “Until we have our…fuck.”

And it’s not like Gojo to let up a sentence. Especially one that wavered with emotion.

“Until I have…” He starts again, blue eyes twinkling. “…you.”

Right now he was cupping the side of your face with his left hand- accidentally…or perhaps not…dslodging the translating device from your ear.

And then the Na’vi olo’eyktan leans with his forehead pressing down on top of yours.

Dragging his hand down the side of your head, where his beads for you twinkled in the glow of Eywa’s tree. Breathing out the words—“Oel ngati kameie, muntxa si.”

He looks at you with a slightly sad smile as if he was almost bitterly glad you didn’t understand. Though little did he know…“Oel ngati kameie, Satoru.”

And the look on his face was worth all the time you’d spent poring over Na’vi language books with Shoko these past few days. At least you understood this.

You grin, “I did a bit of research myself.”

He holds you tight, he holds you as if he wanted you two to become one.

More so.

Eventually—after about four or so more rounds, and once you were thoroughly shattered and kept on begging for it, Gojo had swiped his long kuru into his hand and raised it up to you. You yourself didn’t have one, but if there was anything you learned from being with the Herwi people—it’s that love comes in all forms and differences.

You press your lips to his flower-like nerves at the very end of his braid. Immediately, a rush of something between you two and you understand what he meant about being mates.

You feel what Gojo sees.

You feel what Gojo smells.

You feel what Gojo hears.

You feel what Gojo tastes.

You feel what Gojo feels.

You feel complete.

.

.

.

Day #6 in the Herwi village (day after the mating):

The ancient of the Herwi clan were one of the only believers in fated mates, of one who had been destined to walk beside you upon this good planet through Eywa’s will. It was said that life does not flower until one meets one’s fate, not even the skies shall migrate, not even the ice shall melt. 

Two souls bound to meet.

And until then one can only look up, up, up…

This scientist was found in quite the curious position as mate to the olo’eyktan on the morning after.

Re-entering the village, hand-in-hand, it was inevitable that the Herwi people would stare. Not only was it quite past the deadline of six moons given, but each bore resemblance of a mating session that could’ve been spotted a smile away.

Bite marks. Bruises. Slight falter in walking.

Not to mention that it seems word had spread about the…inoccupancy of the Tree of Winter just the night prior. (Additionally for more on Herwi stamina read Page 69…)

Circling back, the stares were rather unabashed. Some gasping. Some ribbing. Some tuts by elders of the clan who then again turned around with a smile.

It was obvious that they had been praying for the olo’eyktan’s happiness for a long, long time.

It must be noted that congratulations were doled out heavily at the communal dinner that night. Food. Dances. Parades.

It must be noted even further that preparations for coronation at the Herwi tsahìk shall be taking place in a week’s time. Who would have thought, a human being a tsahìk? Who would have thought that humans had fated mates as well?

For this scientist’s final note, preparations are already being planned meticulously for the arrival of a new heir to the Gojo name.

And that leaves the scientific community with one last thing, now that fluency in the Na’vi language is on the path to be attained: the glossary.

Tsahìk - Head shaman, high priest, interpreter..

Olo’eyktan - Male clan leader.

Mawey - Calm.

Txeylan - Best friend.

Ì’awn - Stay.

Fnu - Be quiet.

Txen - Awake.

Nga lu rusey- oh, nga lu rusey. - You’re alive- oh, you’re alive.

Oe'm lefpom. Txen? Lu nga txen? Tsal pung? - I’m happy. Awake? You’re awake? Are you injured?

‘Upe lu nga fwew? - What are you looking for?

Yawne? Oe'd tìng aynga. - Beloved? I’d give you anything.

Oe pey ngim krr. - I’ve been waiting a long time.

Tìnga’prrnen - Pregnant.

Tìnga’prrnen? Oe? - Pregnant? Me?

Nga new ne kanom oe tìnga’prrnen. - You want to get me pregnant?

Fì'u - This.

Irayo nga - Thank you.

Oe ke ronsem tsonta lu tìnga’prrnen. - I wouldn’t mind being pregnant.

Lake Yapay - Lake Steam.

Hona beads - Endearing.beads.

Mt. Hoet - Vast.

Kuru - Neural queue.

Oel ngati kameie, muntxa si. - I see you, my mate.

Oel ngati kameie, Satoru. - I see you, Satoru.

A/N. It must be acknowledged that Herwi culture was influenced by some aspects of Inuit culture, as well as some aspects of my own Sinhalese culture! Both such beautiful cultures that I was honored to research more in-depth on. Also this Na'vi vocabulary bank was used, and for longer Na’vi sentences this translator was used and might not be fully accurate ahhh-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[bbunisre]

DRIVE ME INSANE! — ryomen sukuna

SUMMARY ★ he believes you don't matter to him. just one more annoying fangirl. showing up to his races, being obnoxiously chatty and your flirting—god, does it end? sukuna dreads you. however, he starts reciprocating, as a joke, of course! until it doesn't feel like a joke anymore and he wants nothing but you on his side.

PAIRING ★ streetracer!sukuna x fem!reader

CONTENT WARNINGS / GENRES / TAGS ★ smau w/ written chapters, smut, angst, sukuna is a lot older than reader, older brother to choso and yuji, he was in jail for getting caught racing LOL, nsfw/vulgar jokes like allll the time, inumaki talks (UNFORTUNATELY), sukuna playing w her feelings, he is toxic!

NOTE ★ i don't know too much about street racing, so if i make mistakes pls lmk!!

PROFILES: YOU THE BIRTHDAY CAKE | FUTURE COUGARS & MILFS

01: WHAT SHALL I RENDER?

02: LET'S ALL MOAN

03: 15 UNFORTUNATE SIGNS YOUR HUSBAND DOESN'T LOVE YOU ANYMORE

04: START LINE (1.1K)

05: LIKE YOU RUMPELSTILSKIN

06: SEX TAPE

07: NICE ASS (written)

08: GOJO LWK EVIL FOR THIS GUYS ICL

09: ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

10: OPEN THE DOOR, WOMAN

11: POEM (written)

12: SORRY

13: YOUR ASS REAL NICE (written)

more to come!! (est. 32 chapters)

FIRST TAGLIST (CLOSED) @b4tm4nn @love-d-luxe @in-aa @kurtcobaingirlie @hannahzg8 @goopzzz @therealmikeross @izakyun @jjkslvt @strwbrrysatoru @kmhsjy @honeysilkdawn @moonmintedx @charlisflyingangell @4rm-the-mf-concrete @chiizuyu @colortheoryrocks @chosoissohotugh @getosuguwife @cl3xr @satorugooner @cosmosspace @marija4674 @snowstriper101 @wqsrs @arithemod @yanelis-world @ehcilhc @ilunita13 @b9nii @ilovetoes @mo072806 @vampshxde @deeeeexx @hushkuna @salad85 @dabi-vakarian @marscars237 @ejk31 @lxne-moon @iluvmegumiiiii @emluvsgetou @tsnmmhrz @mxchiii @akiw0 @blu3berryies @whaddupbaby @kagstobioisthelightofmylife @ackermanandsukuna @gothicbeastgirl 

AUTHOR'S NOTE ★ this has been sitting in the drafts for too long RELEASE EM!

[tonycries]

KREME!

Synopsis. Cúmming inside? He’ll beg for it.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, cóndom breaks, creampíes, unprotected, PÚSSYDRÚNK MEN, size kínks, full neIson, making it fit, biiig stretches, maIe squírting, cúmplay, HEADLOCKS, making them BEG, manhandIing, dúmbifícation, chokíng, ínappropríate use of jujutsu, first times (Choso, Ino), true form Sukuna, dp, marathons, overstím, slight bréeding, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - The stubborn

Your ruthless hips were riding at a sloppy, sensual tempo enough to make the big, bad Toji Fushiguro squirm. Pap after pap enough to make him claw his calloused fingertips into your waist, enough to make him whine–

“Tch- y-your hips.” Gritting his gleaming white canines in a snarl to unsuccessfully hide the way you’d made him stutter, Toji hiccups with every one of your bounces. “Oh my god, your hips, doll- they make me wanna–” 

He was struggling. Jaw ticking, mossy eyes narrowed. And you can feel his heavy, stirrin’ red tip twitch inside of you once you lean closer to hear his quieting baritone. “…i-inside.”

“Hmmm– what’s that?” You cup your ear teasingly, “Didn’t hear y- oh!” 

And you seriously didn’t think that he wouldn’t bite back, did you? Superhuman reflexes gripping your hips to slam you down once, so hard n’ fast that it makes you keen, groaning only one word—“Inside.”

He wasn’t just begging anymore - he was aching for it.

The meaty mounds of his thighs twitching after every passing second that he wasn’t filling you up, Toji’s chewing down on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from leaking with all those syrupy wads of saliva threatening to depart.

Even more once you’re blinking away the sting of his toned v-line hitting the cheeks of your ass, swervin’ in a wiiiide figure-eight that makes the man below you hiss. “Say ‘please.’”

It’s been like this for far too long now. 

Fuck, Toji knows this what he gets - he knows he shouldn’t have mocked your cute, needy self for always wanting to be filled up with all his thick ounces. And now you were brutally torturing him with your clingy wet pussy until he regretted it. 

“P-please.” It’s wrenched from the very back of his throat, coated with a primal thickness that makes you shudder. In sultry synchronization with the creaking of the bedsprings as he bucks– “Please- I said it- okay? Inside- hafta cum inside- wanna- need to.”

The last few strings of his rationality snaps as long raven lashes glaze over with a thin film of tears, scarred lips wobbling once you’re giving his ravaged shaft a clench. 

He’s so big and achingly stuffed inside of you that you can’t even breathe without feeling the mushy swivels he’s planting all the way in your lungs. You watch his broad pecs simmer with hot, desperate perspiration as he moans. Hazy peripherals half-lidding, “Please let me cum inside you, mama?”

And he’s so sexy like this - shaggy black bangs sticking to his face until he’d almost curtained his greedy gaze, mouth trickling with thin lines of drool, cock ruining you - that you almost give in.

Almost. 

“Well, maybe if you say ‘pretty pl-’”

That’s just when Toji gives in, too.

Snaps. 

And if you thought that his impatient rut earlier was rude, then you weren’t prepared for the way that he’s starting up a pace that fucks you silly.

Plump, puckered lips drooping languidly ajar as he watched his glistening cock pump deeper into your pussy, breath hitching as if he hadn’t even realized he was milking himself on you. Toji gropes a handful of your right asscheek and helps manhandle you up n’ down like a doll. 

Rough. Rugged. 

He’s searching for your sweetest spots so accurately that even the slightest brush of his puffy, wide veins leave you dizzy. Weepy divot striking your g-spot hard–

“Fuck- fuck!” Your mind’s being so muddled after every punctuating thrust that you almost don’t notice the way that Toji’s grouchy, deep tone breaks. Cracks, “Driving me fuckin’ crazy with this pretty pussy- fucking mad.”

You’re whimpering, one of Toji’s meaty forearms coming to slouch himself partially upright on the bed and listen closer to every sticky plap! No longer solely riding him - he was drilling into you like he was addicted. 

Grunting, “Look at you- look at you.”

“Wh-whaaat–?” You sniffle, chin hitting your chest once turn to where he was staaaaring. Dead-on. Where your saturated pussylips were pried apart until you could see every swollen inch he was pushin’ in, the reddened split-end of his crownhead peeking out before each nudge into your favorite spots. 

Rolling his eyes, Toji pitches his voice just a few octaves higher into one that definitively does not sound like you. “‘Wh-wh-what?’ she says.” 

Dark brows furrowing, a thin line of sweat traces down either side of his temples as he surges into you so hard that the skin ‘round his pelvis reddens. Right hand leaving half-moon crescent nail marks on your hips, “Yer a reeeeal mean girl, y’know?” He huffs and puffs, palm pressing at the base of your spine to get you to gyrate your hips. He’s fully taken over now - cocky. “Drooling all over me like that n’ n-not expecting me to make a mess, too.”

Batting your heavy eyelids, it takes you a few seconds to actually rover your fingertips over the gleaming wet glaze that was drivelling all down Toji’s tensed core. 

From the soaked tufts of Stygian black at the base of his cock to the ridges of his abs, your slurping cunt was just spraying out your essence until he was basking in it. 

He watches with a sleazy grin as you’re letting the slicked mess dangle from your digits, sticky. 

“Yeah, look at that- look at you.” Words high-pitched n’ breathy, gone - with every nanosecond he’s sloppily planting three repeated slam-slam-slams on your spongy cervix, Toji’s falling apart. “Looking like th-that n’ teasing me and- and ohhh ya won’t be teasing me anymore when m’filling you up, doll.”

Truly, he was just so big and barreling inside of you that it was dissolving your poor brain cells- and right now you couldn’t even remember the incident that’d led to this in the first place. “F-filling?”

“Tha’s riiiight–” He’s grinning, “Gonna fill you up now- gonna fill up that pretty pussy until y-you won’t even hngh- remember what s’like without me inside. Gonna fuck you so full you won’t even be able to speak- to breathe.”

You’re flinching once the battle-worn index of his right hand scrapes a line straight from the treacly edge of your cunt - up, up, up past your tummy and all the way to your throat. 

“-gonna fill ya up until right here, mama.”

And usually, Toji would never dare cum before he’d made you reach your high at least three times - wouldn’t even mention such a thing. 

Usually. 

But right now it’s so much, too much that he’s throwing his sweaty crown back into the silken pillows and squirting. You’d made Toji Fushiguro squirt - hard n’ rough, quickly filling you up with gooey sploshes of sap that all but fountains out of your puffy pussylips.

He feels like he’s about to pass out, like he can’t do anything but twitch his colliding hips into yours to plug you up to the very brim. Animalistic. Barely even there. 

It’s so hefty and humid past your dripping entrance that you can feel your skin break out in perspiration, unstable voice coming out awed. “Toji- d-did you just-”

“Shut up.”

Fill you up alright - you were so stuffed right now that you barely even register it when he hooks his palm once more to your waist and flips the two of you over.

Dampened bangs of his sticking to your forehead, eyes almost shuttering, the chubby edge of his mushroomy tip pryin’ apart your gluey walls with a resounding squeeeelch once more. 

“Wasteful girl-” One of his free hands skim the pale milky sheen formulated on your inner thighs, leaking. Hypnotized, he thrusts- “Said I wanted to c-cum inside you, not squirt. Buckle up, buttercup.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - “W-will it fit?”

Will it fit. Will it fit-

It’s just about the only thing that your husband can think about right now as he’s dragging his rotund fingertips aaaaall over the soppy slit of your cunt, plugging back the thick droplets of cum that just kept on pouring from between.

But he’d be lying if he said that the notion didn’t make his plump, aching balls twitch—

“Pleeeease, Ken?” You’re jutting your lower lip out cutely into a pout, tugging aside your thoroughly drenched panties further n’ further to let Nanami’s half-opened eyes take it alllll in, in this lecherous full nelson. “Promise I can ngh- take one more.”

“B-but, my love-”

And yet, he can’t stop the way his traitorous hips are creeping back a few inches and ramming straight to his massive hilt. Opening your puffy hole so wide on his sheer circumference that it’s making you all stupidly dizzy.

“Your- your body- I don’t wanna hurt you and–” His long blond lashes sweep the edges of his cheekbones as he blinks blearily down at you, sensitivity making him tear up. “I don’t know if I even can anymore-”

Push after push he’s outlining your mushy walls trying to cream himself on you, wringing himself dry. Trying. Brain sparking as he tries to wrench out a few more ribbony droplets of saccharine sap.

You’re mewling, hips jerking back n’ forth with sensitivity once the cold metal of Nanami’s wristwatch scrapes your outer pussy. Pressing deeply into your heated flesh as he snags a few thick digits ‘round your lacy panties, to tug- “But-” and riiiiip it off before you know it. “-if my pretty wife asks…”

Anything you want is yours - including if you want to be stuffed so full to the brim of your soft, syrupy pussy until you can feel him in your damn lungs. 

And that’s exactly what Nanami’s doing. Twisting the glazed remnants of that flimsy underwear around his right hand, choking your pretty neck with his left hand. He’s mazing his fattened, cherry-colored tip through your walls until he’s splitting you apart. 

So thick that the sheer size of him makes you sob, your legs twitching upwards once he hits the gooey back of your pussy so hard that your mind numbs. “So good- so good I can’t help but keep wanting to hah! fill you up.”

“Oh- oh, just like that–! Want it- ngh- make me your cumdump, Kento.”

“Cumdump- cumdump, huh?” His gravelly tone makes your entrance quiver, gushing walls clenching when he’s surging back to stuff himself inside snugly. Aching for that burning stretch of him, “You like it all inside, darlin’?”

And it’s a rhetorical question - but your sloppy cunt’s squelching out a few answering noises anyway. So fucking wet that even the slighest gyration stirring up your velvety innards slops out a wet puddle.

“O-ohhhh–” He’s groaning, plush lower lip wobbling ever-so-slightly at the sound that sings like music to his ears. “You wanna talk to me baby- s’that it?” 

You’re whimpering, goosebumps skittering all over your skin as Nanami’s strong tannish arms push you around - bending you further, more pliably, practically in half as he’s sprawling your thighs over his meaty ones and streeeetching until he can push his fat, reddened cock even deeper. “Oh- you want me to go ngh- deeper? Anything for you, my love. Anything.”

Unsure whether he’s talking to you or your bulging pussy, he’s clawing one of his hands up to his flared nostrils and sniiiffing your wettened panties. 

Groaning, “Yeah- yeah.” Nodding- the sensible, stoic Nanami Kento was completely and utterly pussydrunk. Hoarse, “Oh, your s-sweet pussy’s just begging for me to cum inside.”

With a particularly rough scratch of his bawling orifice along your cervix, you’re wailing out shrilly, “Want it- p-please, give it t’me.”

You knew how to read him so easily, because all it takes is another saturated clench before Nanami’s finding his head thrown back. Maw hotly ajaw, golden happy trail scratching your back with a shiver. 

“Can I? Can I really?” And there’s something cracked and broken, octaves-higher at the back of his gentle baritone voice. Still in disbelief as he’s plunging his hips into you even sloppier, harder. So, so desperate to make his tenderly overstimulated cock finally cum, “Can’t hah! help it…can’t help it can’t- ngh! Your pussy’s too good s’making an animal outta me.”

“Don’t- miss—ngh!‘ Tearful eyes rolling around in circular patterns like in some cartoon, Nanami has to reach over his left hand until he can tug your chin down to make you watch. Watch the show. 

“Promise not to miss, darlin’.”

Won’t miss - couldn’t miss even if he tried, Nanami was dead set on slapping your bruised g-spot until it makes your vision blotch with white. 

The exact same creamy ivory that forths out of your greedy cunt once he’s finally, finally hitting his lecherous high. Finishing off in such a wet, primal way that coats both your folds with a glossy polish, his ribbons of cum are so scalding hot that your thighs start getting clammy with slick n’ sweat.

Nibbling down on your plush lower lip, “F-feels so good- hck!”

Full enough that your hole’s being pushed widely agape by Nanami’s rummaging cock until his syrupy cum leaks out. He’s planting two firm feet on the mattress to rut and rut and milk himself, sensitive veins rubbin’ up until tears spring to his hooded peripherals. “You like it a-allll inside, huh? Feel me all up in- here.”

The knobbled end of his thumb comes snaking down stealthily, drawing a little cum-covered heart on the slope of your pussy.

It lets out the wettest, most sinful plop! as you watch Nanami suck off the milky excess, groaning. Pushing his nosebridge back into your stringy panties, it’s as if your pheromones were enough to drive him mad all over again. “Wonder if a third one would fit, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - MEAN!

“N-not yet.” You’re piping up smugly for about the nth time tonight, the rounded mounds of your ass pushing back on Geto’s sharp hipbones until he’s gritting his teeth and forcing himself not to cum.

Not to just cream your gummy walls fully in heaping oodles like he oh-so-badly needed to.

The pretty apples of his cheeks blushing raw n’ red at your endless teasing, Geto spanks his slender palm down on your right ass cheek and watches you shiver. Tiny, wracking trembles of yours turning into full-on gasps once you feel the way he only grows harder. Thicker.

“H-heh, y’know I get bigger when you’re mean to me, gorgeous.” He groans in your ear, raspy and ruined once his big, beefy left forearm comes to trap your throat in a fucking headlock. And he wasn’t merciful, either - Geto’s pushin’ his bicep close until you could feel every vein covering him. “You must really like this biiiig fucking cock then, huh?”

Taking you feverishly from behind, he was just so damn big that you’re feeling his pudgy cockhead push into your lungs. 

Dragging a wet line of precum that lets his throbbing shaft slip n’ slide rapidly inside, every plap! of sticky skin-on-skin makes your hazy pupils swirl stupidly in circles inside your eyeballs. Whining, “You’re s-sooo mean, shouldn’t ever let you cum inside, Suguru.”

“I’m mean- I’m mean?” Something scratchy and pitched cracks at the back of his chuckle, gaze dilating wider like he couldn’t even believe what he was hearing. Crazed. “Tellin’ me I-I’m mean when-”

Trailing off, his plush, pink lips pucker up n’ swat your tender slope with a fat wad of saliva. Left hand sneaking slightly past your puffy lips to watch it sliiiide straight down your drooling slit, “-when you’re this fucking wet n’ expecting me not to cum inside?”

You’re so sappily drenched that every harsh rut is making you gush out in all but torrents, a few beads of slick starting to drizzle down your inner thighs. 

But of course, Geto Suguru couldn’t have that. 

And without a second thought, he’s dragging his thick ringed fingers down those translucent gumdrops and slipping them into his mouth. Groaning at the sweetness, “Look h-how much you’re begging- how much you’re- hah! sucking me up.” 

So snug inside your cute pussy that every creeping reel of his hips backwards left you bouncing too- the sight is so cute that Geto can’t help but splash out yet another treacly stream of spittle. 

“O-oh my god, Sugu–!”

“If ya can take that, then you can take this.”

And then he’s just smoochin’ your g-spot softly, once– the last bit of niceness you get before simply bruising the tippy-top of his crowned reddish tip against his favorite target. Geto’s accuracy rate is a deadly 100% and it drives you wild, knees knocking against each other as you clench.

“O-oh.” The mere velvety hug of your tight walls enough to have him leaning his upper-body over - dark monks’ robes still half-on and disheveled - till the tufts of curly black hair atop his hilt scratch your spine sensitively. Breath hitching, voice guttural. “Evil girl. Evil-” Headlock tightening, “-evil. You drive me craaaaazy.”

Practically melting. 

Geto’s skin was scalding hot and glued to your back, sweat-simmered forehead hitting the crook of your neck, a low trail of saliva gushes out of his mouth and hits your shoulder with a splat! splat! splat!

It’s as if he was out of control, the twitching fringes of his digits rover down to your neglected clit and roll his frigid metal rings on top. “Tell me.”

Hiccuping at both the toying on your delicate nub and the way that your heated pants get lodged in your throat, Geto’s sculptured arms manhandle your airway to constrict. You’re whining, “T-tell you what-”

He gifts the slippery hood of your clit with a slight pinch– tone raspy and hot against the shell of your ear. “Tell me what you want, gorgeous.”

Oh, he had you. 

“P-please!” You were done for. And with only a few more vulgar streaks of sloppy precum being poured into your channel, your core aches for more more more. “Want you to cum i-inside, Suguru–”

And you had him just as much. His entire muscular weight sagging on top of yours until your cheek was being firmly pressed into the soft futon, the silken fabrics and ridges of his abs glissading clammily down your arched spine. 

He groans in a hoarse drag, “Thaaaat’s more like it. S’better when you beg, gorgeous. Take it-” Every single syllable being punctuated with a solid battering ram, he was simply milking himself on your sweltering hot pussy. “-take it.”

You’re hitting your wave of bliss so suddenly that you don’t even realize until Geto throws his head back with a drawn-out ‘fuh-fuuuuck!’

Every hit after direct hit sending stars twittering in your bleary vision, the pleasure was just so much that it makes your knees weaken and hit the ground. “Please- please please please–”

The chilling coldness of his tongue piercing glides down your maw just in time with the slurping splash of dewy wet cum streaking your cunt. A thick white syrup that glues your pussylips together and makes such a soiling puddle underneath you two, Geto was cumming harder than he had in his entire life. 

You’re sucking mindlessly on the very tip of his candied tongue, silver studded piercing flashing inside your heated mouth. “Suguru I–” Mewling at the warmth of the sheen dripping from your outer pussy, your sloppy hole is just gushing at this point. “-it feels so good.”

“Shut up.” Geto hisses through thoroughly bitten teeth, the sound of your pretty voice too much now that he’s tumbling straight into his own high. Leaning over, “Shut up shut up- sh-shut- nghhh–” 

And it’s almost as if he’d just remembered his lecherous hold on you, snugly pulling on the headlock until you’re choking cutely on your words. 

He’s pushing you down, down, down and stirring his heavy length, all the way from his sagging hilt to the very plump, plum-colored tip. Digging in deep at the very bottom, “Say anythin’ else in that pretty voice and it’s going to make me want to c-cum again, gorgeous.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Mind-BREAK

And it wasn’t just the slick rubber condom that was tearing at the edges – truthfully, it was Choso’s sanity, too.

Because the very moment you’re batting your prettily lashes up at him, mewling to ‘please please’ keep going- well, the half-curse finds his towering body wracking with the rawest, neediest shivers. Panting. 

Shaking. 

The edges of his pearly whites biting straight down into his bottom lip as his hot, cherry-red tip peeks out of the condom and slips right into your raw cunt. Just bawling in creamy wet droplets of pre, frothing down your quivering pussy. 

“R-raw?” Choso’s trembling out, the cutest husky whine cracking at the end of his deep voice. And he’s gnawing down on the inside of his cheek to stop from whining once you nod. “I can really…raw?”

Snuggling him to your heaving chest with a pull at his sweat-matted locks, “Mhm– please, Cho. No need to be shy, I wan’ it all inside.”

“Wh-when you say ‘all’ inside…”

Oh, fuck. Your sweet boyfriend’s cock is so thick that he’s ravaging you from the inside out, swelling n’ bulging a few more lecherous centimeters wider so that that stupid lil’ rubber is torn clean off of him. You’re throwing your head into your soft pillows once you feel his mazing veins scrape-scrape-scraaaaape along your dewy walls, so laaazily. 

Choso respires a few unsteady inhales as he’s urgently tugging off the shattered remains of the condom, slender soft tips of his digits then moving to give himself a pinch. Rasping, “S’real-” To give your perky clit a pinch. His eyes widen, “S’real s’real- it’s-”

You’re whining, hips bucking restlessly up where he was stuffing your cunt with rapid, ruined half-ruts. Over and over- like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. “O-of course it’s real, baby.”

Like he couldn’t do anything else. 

“No, but- but it’s real-” Choso’s voice breaks as he’s pleading with you, granting your clit one last pinch. “M’going in raw and oh–!” Chestnut lashes flapping helplessly at the slick velvety feeling inside of you, you were hugging his throbbing length so warm, so tightly that he could feel his thighs twitch. “Fuck- I’m gonna fuck you now. Gonna fuck you for real.”

Not even registering that his hips already were pounding into you. He’s slouching over to ram faster, harder. 

“Oh, m’already fucking you…”

The stretch so wide that your knees thrash weakly, “Shit- shit, feels so good, Choso– keep going.”

With a stolen peek at your bulging folds, Choso gingerly wraps his long fingers ‘round either side of your squirming hips to keep on pushing forward; even the slightest recoil making him grunt. More. 

With a particularly harsh ba-dump–! of his slimy, curvaceous tip probin’ into your cervix, he finds his breath hitching. As if he’d just had an epiphany- “Does that ngh- mean I can do that thing called a….” Boring deep into your eyes, his steamily hot shaft releases a gooey line of precum. Jolting with excitement. “-a creampie, baby?”

Oh. 

Oh. 

Now that he’d had one taste, he wanted the entire meal. All three courses that made the man salivate at the mere thought.

Your spit-glittered lips droop into the perfect ‘o’ once the words finally sink in, moaning. “Wh-where do you even find this- out- hck! Cho?”

Now, Choso wasn’t experienced, not even close - but even he could feel the way your soppy pussylips were getting so much damper with arousal. Stamping a glistening kiss on his hilt that he wishes he could tattoo- “Read about it- online- and I–”

He’s breaking off with a fucked-out groan at the beaded droplets of moisture seeping from your entrance, pouring out with a splat! after every punctuating thrust. 

And Choso doesn’t even realize how he’s moving - doesn’t even register the fact that he’s gripping your boneless legs and throwing them on his shoulders until you sob. Heels digging into his flexed deltoids, front meeting his tense abs, pushed into such a filthy mating press.

“-and I think m’gonna fucking die if I don’t fill up this pretty pussy, baby.”

“O-oh, fuck!” You’re shrilling through your clenched teeth every time he’s arching his muscular back to strike your g-spot precisely, filling your nooks and orifices with a clingy second skin of sap. 

Choso fucks you straight through the mattress of your bed like he yearns for you - sloppy, sensual drags of his painfully-hard cock. “You wanna hngh! cum inside?”

“Please- please.” He’s gasping, strawberry divot leaking from the end of his long length with every vulgar stroke. “I want it. Need it- d-don’t know if I’ll be able to last with this cute cunt so raw n’ wet and raw.”

His parched Adam’s apple bobs carnally once you slide your greedy palms all over his luscious pecs, tuggin’ on those rose-pink nipples till he shivers. Down, down, down.

And he’s just too pretty with his eyes glazed-over with tears, gaze fiery through the cracks in his bangs. You just can’t help but waft your hands over each of his eight rippling abs and tease- “Tell me- how badly?”

Cutely pathetic wobbles taking over his rosy lips, “Badly- badly. Please, I’ll beg-” Choso’s beefy arms grip onto your hips stronger until you’re halfway through being lifted clean off the rickety bedsprings. You’ve ruined him- fuck, you’ve ruined him. A primally desperate expression taking over his features, “M’begging, please let me c-cum inside. Promise I’ll make you feel eeeeevery single inch- eeeeevery single- drop.”

Blinking, “Every?” 

“Every.” And Choso’s just about ready to open his dry mouth and plead some more, to fuck the answer out of you. That is- before the hands that’d been tracing his dark happy trail end up slithering downwards, just barely reaching over to caress his rounded pink ballsack. “Ev- oh.”

To make him cum and cum harder than he ever has in his entire life.

When it rains, it pours - and Choso was simply flooding your poor, snug core with messy topping upon topping of white, syrupy seed. So much of it splashing against the circular bruises he’d made at the back of your pussy and rapidly overfilling you from the inside. 

You can feel your warmly fuzzy mind sparking something primal with every spurt stuffed inside of you- and he wasn’t just pushing it inside, he was battering you with it.

Quick, aggressive spanks of his toned v-line into the underside of your thighs. He puffs out in a sweltering cloud of breath, eyeliner smudged through tears. “Fuh-fuck! Fuck fuck fuck- so this is a c-creampie? S’this how m’supposed to hngh- fill your pussy up, baby?” 

Dolloping out a milky wad of cum that’d webbed around his bulky base, he’s coating his thumb in all of those juices and drawin’ a cute heart on top of your clit. Pressing down hard to make you cry out oh-so-prettily–

“Mhmm– you’re pussydrunk, Cho.” You’re managing to giggle out, fingers brushing away a stray strand of brown that’d plastered onto his sweat-glossed forehead. 

Fingers that your boyfriend catches between his honed canines and bites. Hard. 

Left hand angrily fisting the drenched hilt of his cock, palm smearing with a buzzing layer of Blood Manipulation. Of power that forces his weepy tip to pulse and harden– again. Again. “Oh, you’re about to see ‘pussydrunk’, baby.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - The big

“-two—three–hck!” You’re keening at the humidly burning stretch of your arched spine, bleary eyes falling over your shoulder and behind to where you were riding the great King of Curses in reverse. Well, more like splitting your poor pussy open–

Been like this for so, so long - a marathon.  You could already feel the glittery ringlet of cum from rounds prior sinfully tickling your wide entrance, splosh! goes that cute tummy bulge he was fucking into you.

Flapping your tear-stained eyelashes, your voice cracks as you slip yourself down yet another one of his thick, barreling dual inches. So sensitive. “-f-four?”

“Keh- nice try.” Sukuna claws one of his four palms across your hips, using just the tiniest bit of his strength to draaaaag you down his copious, throbbing lengths. So much of him filling you up that it makes your head dizzy, “But no, mama, you’re eight inches in.”

Eight- eight?

Oh, the mere notion is enough for you to weaken your knees and let two of his monstrously massive palms take control.

Giving your right ass cheek a rude spank, “And only…” A third of his big, beefy arms measuring out the remaining girths that were puffy and aching to be stuffed inside of you. “-almost halfway more to go.”

“H-half- oh!”

Before that sentence has even registered in your mind, he’s tapping your trembly thighs open and giving a thorough slam that pries your gluey walls oh-so-apart. All but making you scream–

“Shush now- and let this pretty pussy be the one talking.” Sukuna licks his lips with a thin layer of spittle at the way you’re sucking him up ravenously. Every slap of his probin’ crownhead inside beading a few dewy droplets of precum that pour out with a sluuuurp. “What’s that? What’s that?”

Your moans are halfway through flooding your mouth before you realize that he isn’t even speaking to you. 

No- no, he’s drifting his beady crimson eyes down to coo at your bulging pussylips. Bouncin’ your lecherous hips in swerving motions, he leans in even closer to listen to her. 

“Ohhh, sloppy girl–” Sukuna puffs out through sweltering, stilted breaths. And you’re flinching at the dampened sliiiide of something wet and hot slithering between your swollen folds. Trawling a saturated layer of spittle with his damn cursed mouth, making a mess of the syrupy white seed leaking out. “-you want more, huh? I dunnoooo, better ask the missus.”

More. 

More more more. 

You were so full to your filthy brim that every minute movement made the knotted wads of cum inside of you splash. 

Thighs trembling as you’re riding out a shallow, sensual pace, “M-more? What do you mean- ngh-”

Smack! goes the way that the king plants down yet another hefty slap, all of his fleshy fingertips branding permanently on your heated skin. “You know what I mean, lil’ human.” Sukuna’s so monstrously big that the slightest buck of his muscular thighs makes your driveling cunt sound out a squelch! “She wants ta be stuffed even more. Heh- greedy.”

“W-will it even fit, Kuna–?”

“Awww- see? I tried, girl.” Turning back to your lil’ stuffed pussy, you’re watching from the front as he puckers his lips in faux sympathy. 

So filthy with his rummaging cocks that every hammering thrust makes him slide against the other, the zig-zagging lines of his veins massaging your sweet spots just right. Pullin’ apart your sappy cunt until you were just struggling to keep up the sheer stretch. 

He’s soaking out a bucketload of buttery pre that sparked more of those noises he loved so much. “S’that so? Want me to ask again? Wan’ it haaa– that bad, huh?” Turning back to you, the underside of Sukuna’s cursed tongue flattens to roam over like a tendril, giving your clit a spank. “Begging- s’that what you want? The king to beg?”

And oh. Oh- if any one of his cursed subjects could overhear the king right now then they would have fainted

Jaw dropped, hips faltering, eyelids fluttering to try and dredge up some ounce of your rationality. “B-beg?”

“Mhm—” And, well, part of Sukuna thought it’d be a joke, part of Sukuna was so pussydrunk that he was just babbling. Slithering his sizzling tastebuds all over your sheeny inner-thighs, spearheading you with his bulbous tips until he’s swiping all the way on your cervix. Twice. “C’mon, girl. M’begging- begging here to cum inside, kissin’ your feet and all.”

The mouth slashed across his sculptured front titters, lightly craning over to plant a few smooches all over your ankles. He hums, “See? See? M’begging- c’mon, girl, milk me dry- milk the king dry. Look at how you’ve got me.”

And your hips - oh, your birthing hips are so good that it has his crown scalp overheating, fuzzy every time the globes of your ass jiggle sensually down onto his tattooed hips. 

Hitting, hitting, hitting.

Until your flesh is stinging and raw, heavy spitballs falling out from your mouth - enough to make your words incoherent. “Th-then please.” A hot stream of tears hitting your cheeks, “Please.”

“P-please.”

And that last beg wasn’t one from your parched lips - it was one from his. Ryomen Sukuna unfastening his sharp jaw to let his trembling baritone crack with what sounds like a whimper once you’re hitting your high.

And then he cums.

With both matchingly rock-hard ends of his shafts, the ridges of his tip catch on your softest spot and drench it in silvery bouts of syrupy white seed. Pumping and pumping you full until he can trek a hand up to about halfway down your tummy and pat the lil’ cylindrical outline.

You’re thrashing at the zaps of pleasure that blur your vision, “It’s s-shoooo full–! Hck! It’s so full, Kuna–”

“How cuuuute–.” His whispers make shivers run down your spine, curling a hand ‘round your throat so that he can gnaw his gnarly canines down your throat. 

The split-ended edges of his tongue slip along the slimy ribbons of cum that trickle out of your creamy pussy. Lapping up every inch of you, “She’s happy heh- look at her.” 

Until a carnal scratch along your slippery slit makes your wet pussy squeeeelch, “O-oh, she’s saying–” You’re craning your head to meet Sukuna’s half-lidded, glowing eyes and oh- oh, you were fucked. Because Ryomen Sukuna whimpers, “-she wants more…”

♡ INO TAKUMA - 1st.

“First-” Departs Ino’s gruff whine, panted right into the crook of your neck while he squeezes you to his toned front. “M-my first time- is this really real? Really reeeally real?”

A pretty smile tugs on your spit-slicked lips, enough to make Ino want to cum right then and there. “Of course- why, baby?”

“B-because it doesn’t feel real, pretty.” Comes his sultry, low-toned answer, wrinkling his nose and grunting at the squelching slip n’ slide of your oversaturated folds down his reddened cock. You’re biting down on the plush of your lower lip when his puffy veins scratch your outer pussy sensually. “Can’t believe m’going to- to…”

Ino’s so drunk on your sweet, sweet pussy that he’s already run out of words. 

The tawny strands of his bangs covering his eyes, his heart-shaped pupils are fully starstruck once he pushes the pointed globe of his cockhead into your hole. 

Breath hiccuping. Panting. 

Throat ripping with a cracked whimper as he’s easing in, “Can’t believe that you f-feel so good and-” Dizzy pupil locked on the way he’s pushing your bloated lips so far apart- Ino’s so damn thick that just the simplest few inches is enough to make your knees weak. “-a-and fuuuuck…m’not gonna last.”

Not a few more minutes, not even for a few more breaths. Just one squelching touch and he’s finding himself gone already.

Ino’s further spreading his capped knees on the bed to rut and rut and rut like he’s trying to milk himself stupid. Slicked, glistening stripes of pre dripping down either side of your heated thigh, he’s making such a mess. 

“Aww— you wanna ngh- cum inside, Taku–?” You’re coaxing through his mindless pace, pushing with the left-leaning angle of his fat length like he was addicted.

And he was- oh, he was addicted. So, so addicted that just the mere idea - just hearing those words fall from your puckered lips - was enough for him to want to cum right then and there. 

Gnawing on his plump, cherry-pink bottom lip, “Yes- yes, please.” He’s breathing out, soft panting gasps hitting your face like a scorching breeze. And his fuzzy happy trail is making your clit rub raaaw once he starts glissading even deeper inside. “C-can I cum inside, sweetness?”

“Hmm–” You’re pretending to think whilst he patiently waits, “I dunno—” 

And you watch as he stalls, you watch as he falters. You watch that dopey, ruined smile plastered all over his face sag ever-so-slightly, that strawberry orifice weeping from the end of his cock pulsing angrily in response. That is- until you’re plowing on teasingly, “How badly do you want it, baby?”

Oh, and Ino can only think to go harder- a chance, you’re really giving him a chance. 

Drilling his slick-lustred girth into you faster, rougher- he’s gritting his teeth and pounding all his voluminous, plumpened inches inside like a madman. “Badly- so, so badly–” Words coming out a throaty croon, he’s almost yelping from the back of his throat at the raw sting of slamming flesh.

“Hmm- now where are those manners?”

“P-please. Please, pretty? Please let me ngh! cum inside? I’ll do anything.”

“Anything–?”

“Anything.” Ino nods and nods, tumbling over his unsteady fingers to wrap ‘round your perked, swollen clit like he’d read online. “I’ll do anything.”

And what he said - he meant.

He’s scouring his bloated cockhead till you feel him dig a deep crater into your g-spot, a rounded bruise the exact size of his thick circumference. Ino might be the sweetest, but his jackhammering tempo certainly wasn’t. “Anything- I-I’ll clean up after and take care of you and kiss you to sleep and…”

Mouth flooding with a glinting few droplets of saliva, falling into the perfect oh! once he’s locking his eyes with your syrupy cunt once again. How pretty.

Grinning, “-and marry you.”

And he barely even hears it - that tiny, mewling ‘i-inside!’ that you’re letting off before Ino’s cottony eardrums pop! and he’s suddenly all but bursting inside of you. 

Straight streaks of cum that clog your cunt sweetly from the inside out, you throw your head back at the noisy squeeelch–! that thunders out from between your soppy pussylips. Ino’s ropy liquid showering your hole in white and trickling out in a lil’ puddle. 

“S-so good.” You huff out, thighs sticking to each other with the glue-like texture of his seed. 

He’s finding himself hypnotized by the slicked mess, by how ruined you look. And it’s a sight so heavenly that Ino’s barely out of the woods of his waves of euphoria - hazel eyes teary, thighs still twitching, the mushroomed ridge of his length coating with even more layers of splashing cum as soon as he’s hastily pulling out. 

“S-said I’d do anything, pretty.” He mutters, now positioned near the end of your dampened bed where he’s pushing himself deeply into your puffed-up pussylips. 

One hand bullying your jittery thighs open, the other wrapping around his bulked hilt and seeping reverse cursed energy through his skin.

More, he needed more. And he’s making himself harder—

And Ino always did look so pretty - but right now? With his brown hair unruly, eyes sleepy, delicate mouth glossed in a thick coating of liquid that drips all the way from his upper lip to his chin? You think he’s never looked more beautiful. 

Swollen lips latching ‘round your tender clit, you’re seeing literal stars as he sucks on that ravaged lil’ nub like his favorite gummy candy, licking off that salty ivory topping. “N’ first up was haaaah- cleaning you up.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - The addicted

“Aww, look at you, sweetheart- just look at you.” Gojo’s raw, ruined voicebox huffs out, biting down on his plump lower lip that just won’t stop grinning pussydrunkenly. “You want me to cum inside you soooo bad.”

You’re huffing out between every pointed thrust he’s easing inside you from behind, prying apart your glue-topped pussylips with a squelch. “A-as if, don’t think you’re ngh! off the hook already, Satoru.”

And that really would’ve been more effective if your sloppy cunt wasn’t just slobbering out ropey wads of sap with every passing second. Gojo’s thick, barreling cock so swollen that every brush of his candy-red tip leaves you gasping. 

It almost makes you forget that you were really supposed to give your husband an earful for skiving off of yet another jujutsu meeting. But that was so goddamn hard when he was fucking you like this. 

“But you called me ‘Satoru’—” He’s humming in your ear, words dipping into such a whiny territory. With a stinging spank of his vibrating, cursed energy-capped fingertips on your clit he has you arching into him.

Tilting his head with such a cocky, cocky grin. “See? See–?” Gojo hoists his muscular leg up until the plane of his foot rests upon your head, rudely. “Don’t lie- You want the strongest to cum in you, don’tcha?”

Forced to bite down on the mushy innards of your cheek to keep yourself from fucking screaming - or worse, completely and utterly agreeing with him. Instead, you’re only perking your hips up minutely so that his rummaging pounds can probe an even deeper bruising circle on your cervix. 

Hard. 

Desperate. 

So, of course Gojo Satoru and his blazing Six Eyes will notice. 

Of course, he’ll crack out a low snicker as he abuses that special power to stir his fleshy cockhead around and around, giving your g-spot a good whack. 

“Oh you do—” He’s crooning out from behind you, tone scratchy, octaves higher. And the inkling of something so raw and dark seeped into his tone is enough to make you whimper. “-you do you do you do.”

“Fuh-fuck–!” Thighs clenching as he swats them upright and arches you into some of the most vicious thrusts. Bottomed out, drenched all the way to his bloated hilt, and yet he was still pushing and pushing to fit further inside. 

He needed you - wanted you to be so full of him you couldn’t even think. The tight curvature of his fattened balls kneading into the base of your wet cunt, “Tell me you want it- tell me.”

“N-not until you start attending your meetings- ngh!”

“Ohhh I love a mouthy girl.” He titters, flexible body bending until he’s so sinfully close to your ear. Gojo’s melding you deeper into the mattress with every second, every jackhammer, every squeeze of his foot bullying on top of your head and making all the blood in your body rush up there, dizzyingly. 

With a precisely-planned knock-knock-knock on your soft womb, he’s rutting his toned v-line into you like he was going craaaazy. Plum-shaped crown of his cock squirting out just a warning few ribbons of sappy precum— “But I’d prefer if that mouth was used for haaaa- something else, my girl. How are you gonna have this hngh- biiig fuckin’ cock inside you and not want me to fill ya up, huh?”

Pushed so deeply into the puffy silken cover of your pillows that your next words are incoherent–

“Louder.” Usually-melodic voice now stern, almost feral. His sapphire blue eyes were bolting with flecks of lightning.

Again- and again your words are nothing but blubbers of moans and syrupy saliva that just kept on flooding from your mouth with sheer bliss. Dangling from your lips, “I- ngh- Toru–”

“Louder.”

And then finally - finally - Gojo’s easing the pressure of his foot just enough to make your agape maw lift off the bed with a muggy pwah! Moaning into the steaming hot puddle of drool that you’d collected, “Don’t make me- ngh…s-sex- ban-”

It’s barely audible, barely understandable. 

But to the strongest, it’s as if his entire body is just rattling at the sudden sentence. Jujutsu powers snapping out of control until he suddenly had you laid out on your back against the bedsprings; thighs on his buff shoulders, cock nuzzling your g-spot in split-seconds. 

Teleporting the two of you into a mating press. 

Gojo reels until he’s just bucking savagely into you, cadence feverish - frenzied. Not even fully slamming from the pre-capped fringe of his tip anymore, just half-thrusts that have you wailing shrilly.

“No-” He’s hissing at the clenching feeling of your cozy walls, pressing the curves of his prominent veins just right against your g-spot. He didn’t even need to use Six Eyes anymore, he was mapping out and filling every single nook and cranny of you. “No no no no- no- it was a joke- a joke, see?”

A nervous bout of lilted laughter bursts out in a puff against your face, and glossy strings of drool just spill from his swollen lips. 

Soft, they’re kissing n’ kissing you until you’re dazed. “A j-joke, huh?” 

“Yes- please. Please let me- haaaa- inside.”

And you’re swearing that his harshly pillaging girth pulses even fatter n’ harder after those next words escape your mouth. “I- hck! Fine- inside. Want it mmm– inside, Toru.”

“O-oh.”

And then he’s gasping, he’s shivering.

Sculptured body collapsing into yours until you’re feeling every massaging push of his firm pecs, his washboard abs. Pace so hard that you’re pushed further and further up the headboard with only the recoil of his cock bashing into your sweetest spots. 

But Gojo doesn’t see it that way - Gojo can’t think of anything at all other than the fact that your cute dripping cunt might be running from him and he just can’t have that.

“Come back, sweetheart-” He’s hiccuping, mindlessly activating a few tendrils of cursed energy that keep you in place. “Come back come back come back so that I can- hck! can…”

Gojo doesn’t even have the privilege of finishing his sentence before he’s doing what he’s been yearning to do for so long. 

Pumping your hot pussy full with thick, ropey wads of cum that glue your plush walls together from side to side. And it feels so heavenly to finally reach his finish line inside you, whimpering at the lecherously sticky slosh of drooling sap he’s rummaging with each thrust. 

Pearly whites sinking into his trembling lower lip, “Nghhhh- yeah that’s it, my girl. Look at me fucking you, that’s it- take it all.”

Making such a mess - making you so dumb on his cock. Gojo mutters to himself dazedly over the slurps and moans you’re letting off- thick n’ raspy. He counts down, “Three…two…” Before dragging his energy-coated thumb once over your clit, “-one!”

And it wasn’t just his Six Eyes that told him you were cumming - it was your pretty pussy.

Completely shattered, your pillowy insides are clamping down on him so hard that he’s rutting against it and fighting to plunge his sagging cock deeper into your slippery channel. Head throwing, eyes crashing with tears at the sheer bliss- “Toru- Toru!”

“Yeah- I got you, sweetheart, your Toru’s got you.” Gojo wheezes out, and he doesn’t know what he loves more - you, or you when he’s fucking his fat webs of cum inside you.

Frothing out a creamy white coating from your leaky entrance, so thick that he’s swabbing his thumb down your slit to clear up the mess. Voice shattering with something that sounds like the last remnants of his sanity, “O-one down.” He looks from his proud creampie to your face, gifting you with a big battering ram. Chuckling, “Five more to go.”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - OVERTIME

Higuruma was late. 

He was so, so late for work— but did that really matter when he had you - his gorgeous wife - sprawled all over the living room couch, so pretty and fucked-out while he pounded away into you like a madman for the nth time this morning?

This was heaven.

Well- it would be heaven if he wasn’t so damn late-

“Sugar- angel-” Higuruma’s pants through clenched teeth, seething every time he swivels his aching, red-hot tip into your mushiest crevices. Unable to make himself stop. “-my wife.”

You’re finding your swollen folds fluttering at the gravelly tonality of his voice; your sensible, hard-working husband reduced to this. And the thought is enough to make you smile, “Mhmm– m’here, Hiromi.”

Hell, you n’ that sweet pussy of yours was so addictive that he half-wished you weren’t.

Well, not really- never really. And Higuruma’s loosening his dark tie with a heady tut- “Look at how you’ve r-ruined me.” Almost incredulous, he can’t help but lock his eyes down on the soppy, dampening patch of sap that was starting to formulate on his formal pants.

Disheveled, suit jacket slacking off whilst he slouches his shoulder muscles over and gives your cervix a few more sensual slams. Milking himself. Milking you.

Darkly muttering, “This one’s the last one before I g-go to work. Just a quickie, angel- just a quickie before I oh-” Shit, he can’t even finish that sentence before feeling his tightened balls flinch at your gushing clench.

“You said that hah! last time, too-”

“Well, this time I mean it.” And if you didn’t know any better then you’d be swearing that Higuruma’s pale pink lips were pulling into a pout, dark eyes narrowing down at you. “This time I r-really mean it–” He utters as he’s rovering two roughened palms underneath your thighs to throw them over his shoulders. 

The crowned globe of his curvaceous tip scratching a carnal itch at your cervix as he’s leaning his hips in and bending. Down, down, down until both you and the aged couch are singing with delight, “-I really- really…”

But one look - just one, proper look at you all bent into this mindless mating press, leaking a creamy frosting of cum from between your legs - and Higuruma is done for. 

Larynx ripping with a hoarse groan like he already knew he lost, he’s drawling out. Syllables slurring together as if he was drunk, “Sugar…”

“Yeeess, Hiromi?”

Dazed already. “Have I ever told you how much I ngh- love you?” Higuruma’s sharp nosebridge crinkles at the very top when he snarls. You’re squealing once his thick office button-up starts rubbin’ on your hardened nipples, “How much I love- her.”

And by her, who else could it be?

You’re whimpering, back arching off of the perspiration stain you’d created on the cushion once he’s snaking his left hand to your clit and toying. Rolling over the cold, mean edge of his wedding ring right where you were the most sensitive- Higuruma only watches and watches as that makes you pour out hefty bucketloads of cum.

Bobbing Adam’s apple parched, not only does he gaze - he stares. Hypnotized. “Th-think my wife needs to be ngh- filled up, actually.”

“M-more?” Your voice crackles out, eyes widening at the already-lecherous feeling of him increasing his sloppy strokes until your snug channel feels bloated. Stretching and stretching.

“More.”

A bead of sweat drips from the side of his dark, slicked-back hair and hits your chest with a striking splat! Precisely in unison with when he’s whacking into your g-spot so hard you’re seeing white pop up in your vision. Growling, “M’serious- r-really wanna cum inside.”

And he wasn’t just fucking you mean, he was leaving your clit all bruised n’ extra swollen, too. 

“No- really need to cum inside.” Clearing his throat ever-so-slightly, Higuruma’s dewy raven eyes gaze upon you through his long lashes. So sexy like this that you’re feeling your mouth water with your answer already, “C-can I? Please- please, can I?”

Oh. You just made stern, stoic Higuruma beg. 

And now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop.

Harder and harder. 

Rumbling baritone already fraying at the edges- he’s growing more n’ more feverish with each disturbed dollop of cum that sprayed out of you. “Look at h-her- oh, just look at her.” Blinking his heavy lids furiously to clear out some semblance of his vision, “Fuck the time- fuck work, she’s mine.”

You’re rutting your hips to meet his, a splatter of saliva growing from your mouth due to his sheer dumbifying pace. “Yours- p-please- yours-”

“And I’m yours-” Higuruma gasps- as if anything else would be wrong. Nosing down the line of your throat, your essence was so addictive that he could almost taste it. Faster. Harder. “So how could I n-not cum inside my pretty lil’ wife? And if we get a cute kid nine months later then…”

Milking himself on you, ruining himself. He was already so sensitive that only a few slicked glissades across your cunt make his half-lidded eyes tear up - and fuck- you weren’t any more stable.

“-even better.”

Because the moment those words waft from Higuruma’s plump lips, you’re cumming. Crashing into your high headfirst, you don’t even realize it when those tingly buzzes of pleasure had turned into a pure torrential wave.

Squirting- oh. 

You were really making sure that Higuruma’s office suit was unwearable right now, because those splattering streams of sap paint his formalwear see-through. Raining down, dripping pearly beads of moisture up n’ down every ridge of his abs. 

Flinching, he gifts you with pump after pump that spikes the sensations of your orgasm and makes you arch. So good. “O-oh my god– oh my god, angel.”

Mouthing out through your spittle-glued lips - the only thing that Higuruma can see right about now - ‘cum inside.’

And that’s all it takes- all it takes for your poor husband to lose his damn mind. 

Higuruma feels his throat go raspy with moans upon moans of your name, babbling away. “Th-thank you-” His breath hitches at the thumping impact of every wire of seed trickling down to your cervix, the recoil of each single thwack! of webbed mass splattering in a recoil back to his capped tip. “Thank you thank you- thank you, sugar, for taking it all.”

Your greedy pussy so parched that you were practically slurping it all past your puffy entrance, every. single. drop. 

It’s so filthy - your dribbling cunt is so filthy. 

And Higuruma’s fucking blushing a bright, maidenly pink from the tips of his ears as he runs his left hand over the bubbling sheen of white escaping your quivering hole. Right hand reaching for that hastily-discarded phone of his-

“H-hello?” The partially-steady words startle you only a few sultry seconds later, “Yeah this is Higuruma- I’d like to call off today. My wife is…” And your husband chokes your shocked gasp with a fat thrust of his wettened, vein-decorated cock. Throbbing inside your squelching cunt for more, “-sick.”

A/N. Yesssss making them whiny men we looove-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[riotsgrl]

AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES!

— bakugou, k. & kirishima, e. 

exclusive chapter... BIRTHDAY SPECIAL !

featuring... plotting & scheming… for bakugou's birthday!

★ series summary: your landlord kind of fucked you over, so you end up stuck with two rising pro heroes as your roommates for the rest of the year.

(OR — chronicles of living together!)

content: roommate!au. smau. kiribaku x reader (developing!). fluff, crack. some suggestiveness. college student!reader. UA grad!krbk. warning: bit of a long post! - click keep reading.

note: LOL i got this idea last minute as i was cooking up part five... happy birthday to my baby !!! kisses 4 katsuki ❤️‍🩹

☆ — chapter can be read as a standalone piece !

<- PREV. PART | SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

<- PREV. PART | NEXT PART -> ( soon! )

may blabs: bkg real as shit tho cuz i too am not really a birthday person. but i know he cherishes the things his friends forced him to do !!!

BTW she definitely woke up at 3 am and texted eijirou saying “we should have gotten him weed” (get it… 4/20…. ok)

this is a little chud chapter as my apology for not updating in so long.. oops 😅 part five is coming this friday or weekend tho !!! stay tuned babies ^_^

taglist:   @kirishimaeijiromyman , @drageonix24 , @sloppyjoesandwich , @teeesthings , @cphlo , @blessedblemishes , @batinthebelltower2 , @themultifandomgirl , @strawberryjyam , @c00k13sandcr3am , @dabi-vakarian , @acecardexe , @direimpgrail , @papijean , @anunfortunateoutcome , @d4wnofnight , @lamathelazer , @katsukis-lilbunnywhore , @anabanana-26 , @kalan1z , @katscherry , @its-opossum-sauce , @shittingonyourgrave , @star-3214 , @l3eknow4evrr , @l-nectarine-l , @snore-3 , @mrssuna , @seishoyo , @theetheralone , @drabby-abby @amira-44820 , @extremebookreader , @d34ly , @katzukisss , @smelliottle , @lottiepop07 , @nanakamii , @sourpom3los , @catsooky , @ipukegiltters , @ariiiiee , @brekkielukiel , @kookiieeswirl , @accheolie , @mythicaloutlier , @citrustsuki , @addaberry , @asht0n-fox , @ssun4lifer  𓂃˖ ࣪⊹ if you want to be added, send an ask!

[riotsgrl]

taglist pt. 2 ! 𓂃˖ ࣪⊹

@lavenderloss , @m-meraki-ii , @alateful , @cocoballsblonde , @butlereyepatchbunny , @justheretobinge , @nnxhhz , @abeenaa , @potatofamilyu , @lovelyevange , @strayruway , @xinkybeesx , @rollssas , @inkycapps , @fragolaviolw , @lover-no-lover61 , @dq1215 , @katthekat1234 , @azizxxxah , @its-opposum-sauce , @astralravenix , @whoreforeverythingspice , @hironosushiis , @l4nnisworld , @redgie-69 , @astermwah , @indino-lets-not , @gracklecake , @bunichuu , @heaven-f0rged , @sunnyl1ght , @ivydoesit23 , @koreluvsspring , @erensslut , @junie-5 , @kikismultifics , @1-555-damian , @drowzziw , @pookynknowntranger , @hereforchifuyu , @ilovemyselfhehehehehhe , @aphroditeadores , @vixenvienn , @itzzmj420 , @moond0llie , @lucijeni , @kalihrts , @mxvoid26 , @wwolfsca , @toesucker59 , @vvirginstatue ,@lorreii , @dovesbeauty , @mjustag1rl

[kryptidfiles]

Handle With Care Masterlist

Pairing: David!Clark Kent x Metahuman Female!Reader Summary: You can take on other's injuries and pain. You are the Planet's copy editor, the Justice Gang's medic, and the keeper of Clark Kent's heart (or so you thought). The man you're in love with asks one sacrifice too big. This is the aching journey through trauma, therapy, sacrifice, and choosing yourselves—and each other—on purpose. Tags: ANGST, GUN VIOLENCE, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Jimmy Knows Clark Is Superman, Lois Knows Clark Is Superman, Healing/Regeneration, Body Horror (Injury Transference), Self Harm, Jealousy / Love Triangle (Clark x Lois), Emotional Trauma, Protective!Clark, Jimmy is A Good Friend

NOW: CHAPTER 4B (summary under the cut)

updated 11/27/25

(please comment on any parts, this post, or message me if you'd like to be added to the taglist. comments keep me motivated, thank you so much for reading)

Chapter 1: The Life Line

In a city of heroes, some sacrifices are invisible. You can heal anything—but at a cost no one suspects. When a gala turns deadly, you must decide how far you’ll go to save the people you love, even when it breaks your heart. Clark thought he knew you. He was wrong. You tried again, breath shaking. “Clark. I'm serious. I’ve never healed—like this,” you said, voice thin. “Through the chest. I’d never—this could kill me—” “I don’t care!” he snapped, louder than you’d ever heard him. “Just fix her! Please, please, I can’t— I can’t lose her—"

Chapter 2: Alcestis

Three weeks of silence after the gala, and neither of you have learned how to speak without reopening the wound. Clark loves you—he swears he does—but guilt makes him clumsy, overprotective, unbearably gentle. You love him too, but love doesn’t heal like you do. It bruises. It scars.

Chapter 3: Trouble

Clark loves you. He doesn’t love Lois. Saying it is easy; living it is work. While you keep your distance—copy edits, closed doors, strict boundaries—Clark spirals into the sky. He needs to learn the difference between being good and being forgiven. If there’s a future, it won’t be because you waited. Waiting has terms.

Chapter 4A: Omelas

Clark is trying—therapy, boundaries, small choices that don’t hurt you just to save everyone else. Little by little, you start to let Clark back into your orbit: coffee runs, plant check-ins, quiet talks about what your healing really costs you. A public disaster forces the Justice Gang to demand your powers in front of the city, and Clark, as Superman, has to make an impossible call under live cameras.

Chapter 4B: Omelas

Clark peels off his blood-soaked suit as he listens to the city turn on him. He opens his door to the one person he’s most afraid of losing. A rain-soaked night becomes a string of confessions. Love. Want. Wait. "I'll see you around?" "I'd like that."

Chapter 5 - TBA

[spideyyeet]

FUELED APOLOGY ☾

angry sex w mma toji, minutes before a match

tags — heavy nsfw, locker room sex, slight exhibitionism (they can def hear), angry toji, marked upp, dumbification, spit kink, cum dump, fingering, locker room sex, soft toji, apologetic toji, biting, unprotected,

the silent treatment was probably the single most annoying thing you could possibly do to toji. he’ll take anything else, yelling, screaming, hitting, kicking… just acknowledge him. but when you’re dead silent, blank stare; pretending he doesn’t even exist! now that makes him feel like shit…

he couldn’t even grasp the depths of your anger, until you began giving him the cold shoulder.

“you can’t answer a text anymore?” he’s leaning over the couch, eye bags dark and heavy, considering he stayed up all night waiting for you to come back home.

you don’t even look at him. you’re just taking off your shoes and padding your way to the bedroom. the door slamming shut. even when he slides under the covers, completely exhausted, his fingers grazing your arm filled with goosebumps, you slide further away.

“stop acting like a child—“ he honestly should’ve kept his mouth shut, next thing he knows, you were grabbing a pillow and dragging your feet down to the living room. he groans into the covers.

it didn’t matter that he’d come down after a few minutes. his fingers brushing your cheek before gently scooping you into his arms and carrying back into bed. his lips brushing your cheek in your deep sleep, so he can doze off beside you. finally able to sleep.

yet the morning would come and you’d be gone again, until he’s staying up again, waiting for you.

“seriously?” he immediately follows you into the bedroom as you ignore his greeting. “I fucking get it, now will you talk to me? I know you’re pissed, so just fucking give it to me!” his chest was boiling as he watched you pull off your clothes, stepping into the shower.

he sat quietly on the cold tile floor of the bathroom, resting his head back as he watched you shower through the steamed glass. his mind was shutting down, he didn’t like fighting with you. he knew he had a temper, and he could be stubborn, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t do anything for you!

his eyes fluttered open hearing you step out of the shower. rubbing his eyes, gaze set on your movements, his following the water droplets slide down the small of your back. the pretty way your nipples start to perk from the change in temperature.

you had to swallow your own love in order to walk past the tired man. he’s been overworking himself these past couple of weeks in order to get in shape for this upcoming match. you wanted to do your best to support him.

you hated seeing him so stressed all the time. but when you decided to try and help him when he was out training on the beach with his team, sprinting from one end to the other. you wanted him to know that you were there for him. even though you were busy with your uni classes and stressed from your own shit, you didn’t want toji to think he was alone.

so you brought your work to the beach, as he trained. was it really support when you’re laughing and chatting and letting every guy known to man, hit on you?! the emperor of mma wasn’t insecure. he knew you’d never do anything. yet, it still sent his blood sizzling, upset that you came here, all for you to start talking to these men—

“y/n!” the sudden shout of your name had your ears perking up, eyes shifting to the broad shouldered man, heaving by the ocean. you didn’t hesitate to grab the energy drink, happy that you can finally help as you sprinted to your boyfriend.

“how’s training? i was getting worried since you haven’t taken a break in so long—“

“what’re you doing?” the cut in his sentence had your brows pinching, still waiting for him to take the drink from your hands.

“nothing? was just waiting for yo—“

“nothing?” he repeats, his green eyes were as dark as the night forest.

“um…” you itch your cheek awkwardly. “i think you’re tired, I also brought some protein bars and sandwiches. just eat one—“

“go home,” he takes the drink from your hand. your eyes shift to his.

“I’ll leave in a couple minutes, I’m just—“

“I don’t wanna fucking see you right now. you’re distracting me, and it’s not helping!” he couldn’t make excuses. was it his fault? he was tired, and you were distracting, laughing and chatting away with these strangers—

“i didn’t mean to distract you. I came to—“

“I didn’t ask. so thanks, but you can leave now,” toji turns away from you, handing back the drink. “text me when you get ho—“ he glances over his shoulder to see you already grabbing your things and leaving.

he was praying that he didn’t fuck this up. especially when he didn’t get a text from you, of course he had to spam your phone with messages asking if you got home safely. was it a relief when he came home to see you already asleep?

“y/n?” his voice is low as he kneels beside the bed, palm gently holding your cute face. so soft. your eyes slowly open, brows pinched as you look at him. “why didn’t you text me?”

“didn’t wanna be a distraction,” your words laced with tired sarcasm.

toji drops his head, letting out a sigh. “seriously?”

“seriously, what?” you snap, sitting up on your elbow.

“it’s not a big deal. I was stressed,” toji’s hand drops on the mattress, as he rubs his eye.

“whatever,” you didn’t even want to bother anymore. you turn over, not wanting to talk to him, but the grip on your shoulder told you otherwise.

“you’re not done talking,” he looks at your pinched expression, clearly pissed off. “what do you want me to do? apologize?”

“you’re such a dick sometimes,” you push his hand away from you. “I was trying to support you, and you don’t even care.”

“I do care!” he groans, why is this so difficult for him? “I just don’t need every dude with a fucking dick, hitting on you—“

“do you not trust me?” you’re practically glaring, which toji hates.

“stupid ass question,” he huffs, standing up. “you don’t think I trust you?” he’s pulling off his dirty clothes, tossing them to the side.

“no I don’t think so,” you sit up, face hurting from how long you’ve been frowning.

“then you’re causing problems for no fucking reason!” he slams the bathroom door, causing the entire room to shake.

“dick,” you mutter, biting your cheek as you hug your legs.

the cold shower was honestly what he needed. once the freezing water hit his back, it ultimately cooled his heated mind. what the fuck did he just start?

“sweetheart?” toji dries his face as he steps out the bathroom. immediately noticing the empty bed. “fuck me.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” toji is pressing his face in your neck, big body hugging your small frame as the steam from the shower slowly slips out. you don’t answer, just twisting the knife even deeper. you were angry, still. “are you gonna come tomorrow?”

you squirt some moisturizer on your fingers, before rubbing it on your face. his chin rests on your shoulder as he watches you through the mirror. if only his fans saw how much of a baby he gets when you give him the silent treatment. he could almost cry right now.

“y/n, please,” his arm squeezes your middle tighter, his beefy arms completely latched onto you as you don’t even bother to meet his gaze. “i need you there.” he mutters quietly. he was so tired, so when you ignore him again he decides to pull himself away.

your heart clenched. were you being too mean? you crawl onto the bed after getting dressed, he’s already asleep. his chest rising and falling as he kept his arm outstretched, an unconscious habit once you started dating, the invitation for your body to snuggle into him, always there.

your fingers gently caress his cheek, sitting beside his chest as you watch the deep even breaths. he always looks so peaceful. his body exuded warmth, practically seducing you into his arms. you wondered if he’ll be alright. yes, you were giving him the cold shoulder, but that didn’t mean you didn’t care.

especially with his habit of fucking you. was he going to be alright. it wasn’t impossible for him not to fuck before a match, but if he didn’t, it usually made him more aggressive in the cage. a couple warnings from the referee was not uncommon.

your lips softly pressed against his, eyes closing as you felt his own lips push back. your heart skipped a beat…he always has this effect on you.

his arm snaked around your waist, laying you down as he immediately hugged your middle, letting your inviting arms hug his shoulders as you caressed his hair coaxing him to sleep.

the moment was so intimate. you almost forgot you were still angry with him. however, toji most certainly did not forget. especially as the stadium erupted in cheers and applause as the fans awaited their fighters.

you sat in the front row. of course you came, you knew how much he’s been training. this silent treatment shit was not going to stop you from still supporting him….but….you felt your heart ache for a moment….it still felt like shit. felt like shit when he wouldn’t acknowledge what you do for him—

“y/n,” tojis manager, shiu’s hand suddenly brought you back.

“what—“

“can you come with me?” shiu was already dragging you up, holding your shoulder as he escorted you.

“what’s wrong?”

“he won’t stop asking for you,” shiu was stressed, clearly. it was less than half an hour before the match, what could possible be wrong with toji?

“did something happen??” you’re suddenly panicking, moving quickly down the hallway. what’s wrong? is he injured? does he feel sick?

“I don’t know, he’s not answering anyone,” you’re bursting into the locker room, eyes immediately falling onto the fighter sitting on the bench, hunched over, face in his hands.

“toji?” you’re immediately leaning down, your hands carefully on top of his as you try to speak. “what’s wrong—“

“everyone out,” toji snaps, his team all looking at one another panicked.

“toji we need to get you ready—“

“everyone fucking out or I’m not doing this match!” he shouts, startling you, but you look over at shiu nodding your head. trying to give them some kind of reassurance.

“we’re waiting outside,” shiu rubs his face, as he closes the door behind the last person. your attention now shifting back to your boyfriend.

“is everything oka—“ his lips suddenly crash into you. fingers firmly holding your jaw as his tongue slips into your mouth. you’re completely caught off guard, hands holding his wrists, whining as he pushes you against the lockers, arm wrapping around your waist pressing you firmly into his chest—

“toji!” you gasp, breath heavy as you meet his gaze. “what’s going on—“

“I do need you,” he groans, aggressively shoving his shorts down to allow his very erect cock to spring out, pre cum leaking out of the tip as he kisses your lips. “don’t ignore me again, i fucking hate it!” he bites your bottom lip, causing your voice to crack, whining. “answer me—“

“toji, they’re outside—“ but he’s already pulling your panties off, lifting your skirt as he drags his fingers through your folds.

“I trained this pussy so well,” he groans, kissing your lips. “ya get so wet just from kissin’ me,” he smiles, knees kicking your legs further apart as you whine, trying to hold his shoulders for balance.

“you never apologized,” you turn your cheek away, disconnecting his lips from yours as you try and catch your breath. “I came here to support you, but that doesn’t mean I forgive you,” your jaw clenched, trying to hold your composure, only to yelp as you felt his teeth sink into your neck.

“you’re pissing me off,” his fingers pushed into your pussy, your walls sucking him as you let out a strangled moan, the squelching wasn’t helping you either. “still have something to say?” he snaps, sucking bruises along your neck and shoulder as he pumps his thick fingers in your pussy, proud of himself as he hears the squelching start to trickle down his fingers.

“toji—“ you’re biting your hand, muffling your moans as your face heats up. so embarrassed that this is happening and you couldn’t even push him away.

“did I cover your mouth?” his words echo as he pins your wrist over your head. “you like talking, so lemme hear you.”

“no—ah ah…they’ll hear me—“ your desperately trying to keep some dignity, but it all leaves the moment you feel your body being lifting in the air.

“you’re such a baby,” he laughs, eyes dark and lips curling, because this was not your toji, no. pre-match toji was a whole different person. he could not afford a single warning or a threat of disqualification in this match.

“I’m not, you’re just a dick—“

“what else?” he can’t help the heat rushing south as he hears your fueled words. suddenly pumping blood into his veins, and his dick.

“you’re mean, and you take me for granted. you don’t apologize unless I ignore you—“ toji groans, as he pumps his hefty cock to your words, still able to hold your up, as he aligns his pulsing cock with your dripping wet folds.

“how mad are you baby?” he’s practically panting.

“fuck you,” and that’s all he wants because he’s dropping you down, shoving his entire dick inside until your eyes burst with tears feeling his thick trimmed hair tickling your clit, completely bottoming out.

“fucking took out my eardrums, puppy,” he’s laughing in your face as he pulls his hips back and shoves his cock inside you again. you were completely dazed, that moment he sank his full length deep in your tummy, your brain automatically turned to mush. he usually took his time when it’s the night before a match, but there was no time now. so he couldn’t hold himself back as he let you take it full force.

you were an absolute mess, crying and letting out broken moans as he pumped his hot cock in your tight hole.

“can’t talk anymore? thought you had so much to say, pup?” he’s sucking your lips, smiling at how swollen and used they’ve gotten as he picks up the pace. the lewd echoes bounced off the walls, your body burning from embarrassment, but it didn’t matter—

“to-toji….do ah hahh you….uh uh..need me?” your eyes were filled with tears as you held his hair, fingers rubbing against his scalp, the other digging into his shoulders as you drooled. such a mess in such a small time.

“of course I—ungh do,” his teeth pull at your bottom lip. kissing you over and over as he draws near his climax. your nails can’t help but dig into his shoulders, pulling at the skin as you feel bite at your neck. “you’re my biggest fucking fan, and I’ll always need you,” his jaw is clenching as he feels your pussy spasming around him. “you cummin’ pup?”

“mhm? ahh— mm oji!” he grips your ass, fucking you faster as he feels his balls tighten. you’re drooling into his lips as he opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out, groaning as he feels your spit rub inside his mouth. such a filthy girl. you were creaming so fast, squeezing the hell out of his cock as your eyes grew.

“too much…ahhh—wait!” the lockers were shaking as he drove his cock, balls slapping your wet pussy as your legs shook.

“you’re everything, y/n,” your cheeks flare, you loved when he called you nicknames. but when he moans out your name, you can’t help the butterflies that break out. “I love you, so much,” his head tilts back as he shoves his hips deeper in, releasing warm globs of white cum into your warm pussy.

“don’t….ignore…me,” he sighs, thrusting more as you bite your lip, tears sliding down your cheeks as you feel the last bit of his heavy load finally come out as he pulls out. he still holds you up, pumping his cock to release the excess amount of cum on your nasty pussy.

“goes both ways,” you cup his cheeks, bringing him to your lips, smiling as he caresses your ass, giving it a firm slap.

you stumble on your feet, going over to the sink to rinse yourself down there. grabbing a towel—

“keep it in,” his lips nibble at your neck as he runs a hand down between your legs cupping your pussy. your cheeks sting, feeling his big fingers scoop at his cum and shoving it back in, your hand falling to his thick forearm as he pats your cute tummy with his other hand. “you’re my good luck charm, sweetheart,” he licks the bruise on your neck, dropping to his knees to kiss your pussy.

you almost whine, watching him smile up at you, desperate to hold in your composure, especially when he gives you a wink covering your cute little pussy with your panties, and giving it a cute kiss again.

your face was red as he called the team back in. no one said a word about what they obviously heard, especially with the way they avoided looking at you, specifically since toji was staring daggers at them for even asking you if you needed some water….I mean considering what they heard…

once they finished wrapping his gloves, shiu was escorting you back to your seat—

“y/n,” the soft call, immediately had your head turning. eyes so bright as he smiled…a gentle tug, that had your heart skipping a beat. “I am sorry.”

you can only nod, trying to keep your smile from taking over. “i know,” and so does he. all you wanted to know is that he felt remorseful, something that will acknowledge what he did and that he’ll do better, because that’s all you can ask for.

you definitely were a good luck charm. the moment the bell rang, announcing his win, the audience was going batshit crazy. people screaming, and cheering as flashes from photographers blinded the stadium.

everyone already knew his routine. it was even more gossip and cheers when they noticed the marks on his back—

pushing past the cameras and the annoying speakers, until he was jumping down from the cage and letting you leap into his arms, lips latching onto his as he held you up. the matching bruises was definitely something for twitter to run with.

“you liked it?” he muttered against your lips, only for your ears.

“ya! you always look so cool!” you gush, your cute smile sending his heart swelling, your words always hitting him. “I love seeing you fight! but you can be so mean.”

“how so?” he raises a brow.

“some rounds they can’t even catch a break,” you empathize.

“that’s the point, baby,” his hand unconsciously rubs your back, settling you down as you talk to him. your fingers unconsciously caressing the nape of his neck, careful of his own bruises.

“nuh-uh, the point is to have fun….and win—but like you know what I mean,” you roll your eyes, only to look back at toji hearing him laugh. your own lips curling into a smile.

“I guess so,” he dips his head, lips pressing to your warm cheek. “i just need you here to remind me.”

his arms wrap around you, lips brushing yours. “just stay with me…” his kiss was soft. “I’ll be better…just for you.”

he will. unless he wants to loose you. he can change for a princess.

just smt ab mma toji😫 so toxic but so sweet🥹