ა ˙˖ in which → you have car sex with your biggest op, satoru gojo
frat!jo 𝓍 fem!reader
Everyone knows you hate fraternities, especially Theta Phi and it's president, Satoru Gojo
It was a given. The sky is blue, grass is green and according to you, fraternities are the root of all evil.
Which is why when you started fucking Gojo, it was under the condition that this was strictly between the two of you and you'd ruin his life if he told anyone about this.. arrangement.
Here's what not even your closest friends know about you: you had a very high libido and none of the men you were interested in had been capable of keeping up. you tried sleeping with athletes but even they didn't have the stamina to go for more than two rounds and while your vibrators always helped you, you had grown sexually frustrated and needed more.
You started snapping over the tiniest things, losing sleep and even daydreaming during lectures about getting fucked.
This.. arrangement started when you had been assigned to work on a project with Gojo, the arrogant white haired manchild you hated since the first day of uni. Now you were stuck with him for two months, working on a project he cared little about since he was too busy trying to charm his way into not just your pants, but your heart.
As if!
"Fuck, just like that, princesss. Come on, I know you can go faster." Gojo chuckles and grabs onto your hips, spreading his legs wider as he starts bouncing you on his cock so hard that the car is rocking back and forth, windows fogging up as he lifts his hips to pound into you.
You should be working on this project that was due in a few weeks, but instead you let Gojo drag you to the backseat of his car with the promise that this would be quick, something to clear your minds so you could focus on your work without any distractions.
Yet here you were four rounds later with cum dripping down your thighs from his previous loads that started to seep from the condom, body shaking as you neared your fourth orgasm.
"Screw you asshole, how about you get on top you lazy bast- oh!" Gojo lifts you off his cock and flips you onto your knees, awkwardly moving within the limited space until he’s behind you and lining his cock up with your entrance.
"You're so fucking mean to me, I love it." Gojo leans over your body to suck on your neck, one hand holding onto your hip while the other grips the back of the seat as he pushes into you.
"You d-deserve it." You push back against him as he pushes forward, meeting him halfway until he's balls deep inside of you, your cunt hungrily squeezing him for more, eyes rolling back when he starts to slowly move his hips.
You hadn't meant for this to go on for as long as it has. You had been frustrated after a shift at work, then you walked in on your roommate getting her back blown out, and when you went to meet Gojo for a quick study session at the library, it was closed and he smirked and told you his place was around the corner.
You reluctantly got into his car, arms folded across your chest as you stared out the window the entire way there, ignoring his flirtatious comments. It had frustrated you to no end, so who could really blame you when you started drooling after he offered to help you with your little issue?
It was supposed to be a one time thing, a quick solution to your "problem" until you could find someone more permanent, someone you didn't despise.
Only Gojo had matched your freak perfectly, going six rounds your first time and only taking a break once. You didn't want it to be him, did everything to convince yourself that he was actually terrible in bed but your vibrators had turned stale after that night, your mind constantly drifting to how hard Gojo made you cum on his dick and on his tongue.
He was just too good.
You arch your back so he can hit deeper, hands tightly gripping the leather head rest to steady yourself, skirt yanked above your waist, bra and shirt long discarded on the car floor.
You cry out when he hits a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars, head spinning from how deep he was fucking you.
Gojo groans and leans forward, grabbing your chin to turn your head toward his, pink lips slamming against yours. The kiss is careless, his tongue fighting yours, you angrily biting his lip because you hate yourself for letting him fuck you when you swore up and down you’d never get involved with a fratboy.
Gojo didn’t care, savoring the taste of his blood mixing with the spit you both traded.
When he pulls away, your brows furrow from the way he's staring at you, white hair falling into his face, lips slightly busted from your bite, a foreign feeling twirling in your belly. This was just sex, you wanted nothing more from him so why was he staring at you like he wanted to tell you something that would ruin your current agreement?
"Look at you.” He whispers too softly. “Letting me fuck you like a slut in my car. Anyone could walk by, you know? See how good I fuck you, how well you take me. You want that?"
When you try to turn your head, he tightens his grip on your jaw and smirks, slamming into you as he thrusts grow sloppy. The sound of your wet pussy squelching filling the car has him dizzy with need.
"You don't have to answer, your moans are telling me enough." He kisses you one more time before letting you go and pulling back.
You don't have a chance to dwell on what he was implying before he was gripping your hips and pounding into you at a pace that had you crying out as the coil in your belly tightens, your puffy walls gripping around Gojo's cock.
"M'gonna cum again!" You whined as his tip hit your cervix perfectly, fat tears escaping your eyes while your mouth dropped open in a silent cry.
You try to fuck him back, really you do but your legs are noodles at this point and the only thing keeping you up was Gojo's steady hands on your hips, euphoria coursing through your body and making your head dizzy with need.
“Come on, princess. Give me another one, yeah? You can do it, such a good girl f’me.”
You hate him so much, hate that he knows exactly what to say to push you over the edge, that he was way too in-tune with your body as if he had been created to please you.
Gojo pulls you up against his chest and you let your head fall on his shoulder. He wraps one arm around your waist and squeezes you flush against him, his other hand moving around your body until he’s rubbing circles on your clit and you’re lazily bucking back against him.
“Feels so good Toru, haah, don’t stop!”
The car reeked of sex, windows blurred from the breathy moans falling from yours and Gojo’s mouths as you both rock into each other. Anyone walking by would know what was happening inside. You thanked god it was late and the parking lot had been empty.
“Really? Thought you hated me, pretty girl. Who knew- fuck, who knew you had such loose morals?” He laughs in your ear, hand pushing on your back to arch it even further while he split you on his cock.
“F-fuck you, oh im close!”
Gojo laughs and places a kiss on the side of your head that lingers longer than it should before pushing you back down to get a better angle and his next slam sends you over the edge, your orgasm tearing through your soul as you squirt all over his seats and cry out his name.
This was better than porn.
Gojo doesn’t laugh this time, doesn’t make any snide comments because he can barely breathe with the way your cunt is pulsing around his cock, your juices dripping down his thighs and he thinks he’s going crazy because he’s never had pussy this good.
The fact that you hated him made this even better for some reason, motivated him to fuck you until you finally admitted that this was more than just casual sex. That he wasn’t delusional in thinking this could be something deeper.
He squeezes your hips tighter, pushing as deep as he can as he pumps his third load into the condom, eyes rolling back and a strangled groan escaping his lips as thick hot cum drips from the latex and into your warm pussy.
Gojo can feel it slipping it off, can feel your heat and gummy walls on his half free cock and it has him feral as he picks up his pace and fucks another load into you, his balls tightening and pulsing because you had never felt this good.
“Shit, princess. You’re so fucking wet, so good, s-so perfect.” He drops against your back, still holding you up as his hips stutter and slow, pushing the last of his orgasm out while you both catch your breath.
He stays there for a moment, his face tucked into the crook of your neck, thumbs rubbing circles on your hips as you both come down from your high. You can feel his cum leaking from you and down your thighs and you hate how it awakens something primal inside of you. And when the thought to push it back in had formed, you blamed it on your disheveled state.
In any other instance you would have pushed him off you already, huffing that it was only sex and would never happen again even though you both knew that was a lie.
Something about Gojo had you coming back for seconds and thirds. Every fuck session was somehow better than the last, making you forget that this was supposed to be a one time thing, something to hold you over until you found a more suitable partner.
Only you were starting to realize Gojo might be the best you ever had. It made you hate him more.
You gasp when he slowly pulls out, pussy overstimulated and swollen from the multiple rounds you went in the span of an hour. Both of you sitting on the cushion, one of your arms draped across the seat, Gojo’s throw over his eyes.
You sneak a look at him, heart thumping at how attractive he looked. His hair was all over the place, cheeks red from exhaustion, and his pants and boxers were still halfway down, cock still free and housing a half on condom. Your skin tingles at the sight of his abdomen and white pubes wet with your release.
He looked as fucked out as you felt.
Not one for awkward silence, you lift your hips to pull your panties back up and your skirt down, stretching your body to reach into the front seat for your shirt, ass in the air and you almost have it, your finger literally grazes the blue fabric before Gojo grabs you and pulls you down.
“Gojo! Oh my god, let go you freak.” You’re fuming, trying your best to wiggle out his grip but he just tightens his arms around your stomach, pulling you against him and lowering his head onto your back, littering it in soft kisses that burn through your skin.
"Go on a date with me. Please?"
This again. You told him multiple times before that this was simply sex, two college students helping each other out and nothing more. No feelings outside of helping the other get off. His stubbornness would only hurt him in the end.
"God no, I don't date frat boys."
"What if I left?"
You freeze against him, a lump forming in your chest. "Aren't you the president? You can't just leave."
What a cruel joke. Not that you wanted him anyways but even if you did, Gojo would never leave his fraternity. Certainly not for you. You two weren’t lovers, weren’t friends and we’re barely acquaintances given the fact that he was your number one op.
You remembered the time in sophomore year when he publicly called you an uptight bitch because you told him his party sucked. You lived different lives, it could never work. He would never change and you would never see him as more than a quick fuck and your unfortunate project buddy that you’d go back to ignoring once this was over.
"I can do whatever I want sweetheart, did you forget my last name?" He lifts his head and kisses your shoulder this time, goosebumps forming on your arms. Of course, he always tried to fix everything with money and status, which is another reason why you hated him.
You sit there quietly, lost in your thoughts.
You couldn’t seriously be with someone like Gojo, right? He was brash, had an ego out of this world and was a bratty nepo baby that flirted with anyone with a hole.
"So?" he asks, hopeful. HIs fingers gently dig into your belly to keep you from moving away, one hand coming up to grip your chin and turn your head back to him.
"So?" You repeat, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you lose yourself in his eyes.
For all of his.. lack of good qualities, he never failed in the facial department. Perhaps that was another reason you disliked him, because no matter how many insults you can throw his way, ugly wasn’t one of them.
Satoru Gojo was sculpted by the Gods themselves, which was unfortunate, because no one with a face like that should have a personality so catastrophically irritating. You can’t help but to let your eyes. traitorous things that they were, linger.
He notices because of course he does, and the smile that spreads across his face lacks any of his usual arrogance and for a second you imagined what life as his girlfriend could be like.
The thought came uninvited, images of him giving you sleepy morning kisses nad taking you on dates vivid enough to make your stomach twist.
Absolutely not.
Satoru Gojo was many things: powerful, insufferable, unbearably handsome, but he was not boyfriend material.
"Will you go on a date with me if I leave the frat?"
"No."
You answer too fast and Gojo is once again left heartbroken as you pull away to finish dressing yourself, refusing to spare him another look. He could understand why you hated him, but if you would just give him a chance to prove he could be different, he knew he wouldn’t disappoint you.
He would just have to keep trying, keep working for your favor because he would make you his if it was the last thing he did. He was competitive to his core and that wouldn’t waver just because he had finally met his match.
On the contrary, it only motivated him more. He saw the way you looked at him, how you were starting to let him touch you longer than you would have when this first started.
He was slowly breaking your walls down and it was only a matter of time before he made you his.
❦ lisa's note: this will be a series! I'll post the masterlist for it soon but lemme know if you wanna be tagged! 😋
Was the very first thing Satoru heard when he opened the door after your sharp knock. His glasses sat crooked on his nose, white hair messy from running his fingers through it all evening. He had expected his girlfriend to maybe, idk give him a hug or kiss after a long day?! but nooooo. You had other plans, clearly.
You pushed your way into his dorm without waiting for an invitation, and Satoru stood there dumbly for a solid three seconds, mouth half opened, before he closed the door behind you with a soft click. Then you grabbed him by the neck of his sweater and yanked hard, tugging him by the collar into his bedroom. His big frame following behind you obediently, his voice coming out in a stuttered mess.
"ba-babe what's w-wrong?"
As you backed his big body into his bed, your pretty manicured fingers hooked into the waistband of his shorts and tugged at it along with his boxers. Your voice rang out again. "You heard me Toru. boxers off." You pulled them down and his thick cock flopped out already twitching with interest. And by the time you settled on top of him, you had one hand on his cock, stroking it impatiently to life and with your other hand, you tugged your panties down. They were already soaked with the sweetness of your cunt. When they were off, you balled them up and shoved them into Toru's mouth, gagging him.
He was already whining, his cock sensitive from your rough handling. Precum slicking your palm as you worked him, then you lifted your hips and began to sink down on his cock, not wasting anytime to tease. The fat pink mushroomy tip of his cock notched at your hole, pushing in as your cunt stretched to take all of his hardened length.
With your lack of patience, you took his cock with little to no struggle, usually there would be a struggle, but you slid down. Sitting on every inch of that thick girth. He mewled weakly at the feeling, the muffled sound vibrating against the cotton in his mouth.
Then came your interrogatory questions.
"Ignored me yesterday? huhh asshole." Your eyes sharp and locking onto his bright blues with anger in them.
His face screwed up, maybe a little annoyed that you called him "asshole". He groaned, shifting on the bed a little, trying to adjust himself more comfortably.
"aah- i didnft, bahbe." Muffled and unclear, his words came out. You didn’t understand what he was trying to say.
You rolled your eyes and pursed your lips into a pout at his feeble attempt at explaining himself. And just grinded down on his cock. "Yeah, you ignored me, Toru." You said again firmly. "Saw my messages and didn't even send a text back."
He looked at you like he was in pain and he tried to talk again, but the panties muffled his voice. You reached two fingers in and tugged them out of his mouth. Finally able to speak properly now, he said "No babe, I didn't! I was studying... for that calc test, remember."
He sounded so pathetic, your pussy squeezing him nicely, around every vein of his trobbing length. You frowned, hands planted firmly on his chest, now.
"Is some test more important than me, your girlfriend?"
Fuck no. He screamed silently in his mind. How could a test ever be more important than his girlfriend's perfect pussy swallowing his cock right now he thought. "Hm toru?" You huffed again, breaking his attention, rocking down on his cock for emphasis.
"Fuck no babe" he blurted out. "Nothing's never more important than you, ever"
That response earned him your fingers digging into his shoulder, you lifted up and then took all of his cock again in one smooth drop. His hands flew to your waist now, he wanted to thrust up into your puffy cunt, drive his cock in deeper. Hoping to fuck into your tight gummy walls.
You saw that pleading look on his face. His eyes glassed over with need, you were still annoyed, so you shoved your panties back into his mouth before he could repeat another desperate, 'sorry'. You were gonna use him good, cause he didn't deserve to speak freely right now.
Your hips rolled slow at first,savouring the way his thickness split you open. Every ridge dragging along your walls and you could feel him throbbing inside you. Hot and heavy. His muffled whines pushing the fabric between his teeth. His fingers dug into your waist, but he didn't dare take control. Not when you had that fire in your eyes.
You leaned forward. bracing your hands on his chest again. your nails scratching lightly over his skin. you started bouncing, proper on him. The wet slap of your bodies filling his dorm room, each drop of your hips, took him to the hilt. Your cunt fluttering around him, squeezing like you wanted to milk him dry.
"You think studying is an excuse, Toru?" You asked between breaths. your voice low and sweet but edged with that annoyance. "I sat there waiting for one little text. And you left me on delivered."
He shook his head fast, Eyes wide and desperate, the panties kept him from forming real words. Only desperate sounds escaped. "mmph-haah-please."
You smiled at that, Mean and pretty. Then, you reached back and grabbed his balls gently. Rolling them in your palm while you kept riding him hard. his thighs trembled under you, cock twitching violently inside your heat. You knew he was close already, always your sensitive, pretty boy.
But you weren't done.
you slowed down again, grinding in circles. Letting his tip kiss that spot deep inside you that made your toes curl. Your own pleasure built slow and hot, moaning softly. Letting him hear how good he felt even when he had been bad.
"My perfect boyfriend can't even spare thirty seconds for me?" You cooed, tugging the panties out once more so you could hear his answer.
"I'm sorry, babe. i swear i didn't mean to," He gasped out immediately, voice wrecked. "Was buried in books and lost track of time. Your messages... fuck i saw them later and felt like shit."
You clicked your tongue, shoved the panties back in. "Too late for sorrys now, Toru."
You rode him faster, chasing your own high. Clit rubbing against his pelvis with every grind, pleasure sparking up your spine. His hands slid up your sides. Thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through your shirt. You let him because it felt good. Because even when you were punishing him, you still craved his touch.
His muffled cries grew louder, hips jerking up to meet you despite trying to stay still. you could feel him swelling inside you. So close, and you clenched around him on purpose, tight and rhythmic.
"You're gonna cum inside me," You told him, voice firm. "And you're gonna thank me for it after."
He nodded frantically, tears of overstimulation gathering at the corners of his eyes. You lifted up almost all the way, then slammed back down. Once. Twice. Three times, then your orgasm crashed over you first, walls pulsing hard around his cock. Soaking him with your release, crying out his name, sharp and sweet.
That pushed him over. He came with a broken whine. Thick ropes of cum flooding your cunt and spilling deep while your body milked every drop. His whole frame shook under you. big hands gripping your waist like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.
You stayed seated on him for a long moment, catching your breath. Feeling the mess between you, his cum leaking out around his cock where you were still joined.
Finally, you pulled the panties from his mouth and tossed them aside. You leaned down and kissed him slow. Tasting the faint trace of yourself on his tongue. He kissed back eagerly, desperate and loving.
"Don't ignore me again Satoru," You whispered against his lips.
"Never again, babe," He promised, voice hoarse, his arms wrapping around you tight. "You're more important than anything. Always."
You smiled soft now. The annoyance melted into warmth and rocked your hips once more, lazily and affectionate. Feeling him twitch inside you even after he had finished.
The night was still young and you had plenty more ways to remind him exactly who always came first in his world.
˖ ࣪૮₍ 𝓟.𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐉𝐎 𓂃 ⭒ is your ex boyfriend who can't stop wanting to fuck you even after you broke his heart.
⤿ ꒰ you left satoru in highschool. but after the glowup, he discovered something: revenge was fucking sweet. and he wants to get back at you for everything you've put him through. show you how much he's changed ꒱
♡ ₊˚‧ cw. college au :: smut :: m.masturbation :: f.oral :: m.oral :: fantasies :: alcohol consumption :: smoking :: shotgunning :: punk culture :: mean!toru :: so much sexual tension ꒱
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ didn't know where it all went wrong. one moment you were his pretty, preppy girlfriend. the girl who all the guys would die for and all the chicks wanted to be— and still, you chose him. some bumbling, stumbling, awkward and anxious nerd. the next? you were bitching at him for the smallest inconvenience. it was something stupid. he doesn't even remember. he thought you were just stressed with finals. thought it would all be better then next day. but then you ignored his texts. blocked his number. dropped his sweaters off to his room. three years of highschool sweethearts— gone.
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ cried like a baby when you left him. glasses fogged and skewed. hands trembling around a bouquet as he stood at your window, hoping you'd let him. all tears and snot and quivering lips as his croaky voice called—
“baby I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't know what I did, please take me back.”
you never did. never gave him the time of day. barely even batted an eye at him when you glanced out your window only to shut the curtains.
he sat on the sidewalk. crumpled bouquet in his hands and glasses shoved in hair rustled from all the gripping. shoulders shaking and sobs hiccupping. the girl of his dreams. his sweet girlfriend. gone. and he doesn't even know what he did wrong.
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ had to talk to someone about it. the rumours were flying all around. gossip and giggles about how the nerd finally screwed up and fumbled the prettiest girl in school. it made the already awful schooling experience worse for satoru. but what really hurt him most of all was when he'd pass you in the hallway while you chatted with your group of friends. you'd lock eyes when your friends nudged you, giggled, but you'd just frown and look away. you never laughed with them. but the silence was like a blunt pencil shoved straight through his heart.
he approached suguru. his best friend who attended another highschool. crying into his arms and shoulders and slobbering up his leather jackets with all the tears. he babbled about how much he missed you. how he didn't know how to fix it.
and that's when suguru gripped his shoulders. told him, “hey man, she's not gonna take you back, y'know that right?”
satoru's throat bobbed. he cracked a sob. “then what the fuck am I gonna do?”
“try something new.”
“huh?”
“try something new. something risqué. shake up your norm a bit so you don't have to think of her.”
he contemplated suguru's words. something new didn't sound too bad. every time he looked at his textbooks he'd think of all the awkward chemistry pick up lines he'd give you. and whenever he wore his hoodies he remembered how much you loved stealing them.
yeah. suguru's right. he needed something completely new. needed to turn his whole life around. but how?
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ got his first piercing. grief did things to him and he was desperate to distract himself. so he definitely jumped the gun a bit but hey— a tongue piercing should distract him enough, right?
he wouldn't admit that it was because this specific piercing was something you and him spoke about. when you were cradled in his arms and talking about the most random of things. he'd told you that suguru had gotten one and joked about getting one himself. he remembered the way you flinched. how you giggled and told him that you couldn't imagine your sweet boy with such a delinquent style.
he thought about your smile when the piercer pushed the needle through his tongue and tears bubbled on the corners of his eyes. when his hands shook and suguru held them tightly from the side.
this pain. it's nothing he's ever experienced. he choked a sob, his face blotched and thick, pretty white lashes damp and fluttering as he tried to hold still— but fuck. if it didn't make the dull ache in his heart better. maybe. . . he could get used to this.
˖ ࣪꒰ NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ let suguru guide him through his journey. it started with the fashion. he barely let the piercing on his tongue heal fully before he jumped for a set of stacked lobes. then a helix once those were healed. he seemed to quite like silver now. silver piercings, chains, rings. they looked good on him.
speaking about what looked good on him— the sweater and cardigans were fine and all, but he's quite liking leather now. the rougher look suits him— that's what suguru said.
within the next year he snatched himself some dimple piercings too. and some snakebites. tried some eyeliner— that brand worked well. it was from a small business. he preferred the messier kind.
the more he hung around suguru the more he realised a few things. realised what a shitshow the world around him was. usually he'd idly listen to suguru's tirades, tell him to be careful when he pushed back against authority. now. . . he was beginning to see things for what they were once his head wasn't nose-deep in a book. shit had to be done and he was already changing so hey, why not?
he started getting more confident. more bold. trying new things out, engaging with this change that had become a lifestyle. hell, a culture. he met new people that really opened his eyes.
nerds, preps, jocks and populars— they were all just the start of a box. a box that you obediently fit into so that the people up top could get you under their boot.
and that's when he got less stiff. started using knowledge more as a weapon rather than validation, rather than it being just something he was good at. he got louder, productive. mister goody-two-shoes had become quite the rulebreaker.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ was more sure of himself. he had fun now. let loose. stopped caring about what other people thought or him. he went to parties at night and protests in the day. loud, proud and honestly? not thinking about you. not much, at least. he had more things to worry about. like keeping his new daith piercing clean and keeping up with his new pins made from bottle caps.
maybe he got a little carried away with the alcohol and smoking when it came down to it. but whatever. no one's perfect, that's the whole point of what he is now.
and maybe at those parties he distracted himself with other girls cause he kept seeing your eyes in his solo cup. maybe a part of him still wasn't over you— no matter how much he loved his new life.
but whatever. other girls kissed him like you did. buried their hands into his hair and tugged on it just like you did. they wrestled his tongue in the way you hadn't— grabbed his waist and buried their nails in the same way you were afraid to.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ kept it a secret, but he held onto your photos for as long as possible. longer than he would have liked to admit. he couldn't help it, okay? you were suddenly off the map and he couldn't find you anywhere. but when suguru caught him scrolling through his secret little folder tucked away in some special place on his phone— he called him out. told him that it was holding him back.
so, satoru finally bit the bullet. selected the folder, pressed delete. and watched all the memories pour down the drain.
he denied the small tremble in his fingers. the ache in his heart. instead he forced himself to scoff: "sayonara, bitch.”
he was starting college in a month. he didn't need this.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ was late for his first day of college classes. couldn't help it. he did a run around the block with suguru putting some posters up. a new stir in the political sphere called for action— and satoru was all about action.
so when he walked into that lecture hall a whole twenty minutes late? with his bag strung over his shoulder and his glasses half-fogged? he didn't care. just stepped up the stairs and found a seat at the back row. one of the only empty seats.
he plopped down, ran his tongue over one of his snakebites out of habit and picked at his peeling black nail polish as he fished out a notebook.
and that's when he saw it. manicured nails. soft hands. his heart stuttered.
no fucking way.
his gaze cut to the side to find a familiar pair staring back. wide. was that shock? or horror?
his blue eyes hardened. oh. fucking. fantastic.
you.
"sweetheart," he hummed before he could stop himself. head crooked to the side as his cold stare raked over you. you hadn't changed much in fashion. your skirts were a bit more modest. hair neater. but you were quiet.
he grinned. eyes cutting back up to you.
and then. he finally let his tongue lash.
“nice to see you again. bit of a complex course for just a pretty face like you though," he glanced at the door label: quantum physics 101. then locked his smug stare back to you.
“wouldn't you say?”
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ went back to his dorm that day and tried to forget about it. that look in your eye. the way you hadn't even spoken to him after his little jab. what, were you still too good for him? couldn't even spare him a greeting?
he brushed it off. told himself it was pointless. he had way too many things to focus on than his ex girlfriend from highschool who broke his weak little heart back then.
he told himself he'd ignore you. but fate had other plans. the next day he was leaned up against one of the walls outside campus. just before class. cigarette between his lips and hands cupping his lighter.
that's when he felt it again. that stare.
he glanced up through his wispy bangs and caught you in the act. gawking at him as you were on your way to class. didn't you know staring was rude? then again, he shouldn't expect anything better from you.
his brows narrowed. teeth bit harder on the cig.
satoru took a deep drag. let the smoke fill his lungs in an attempt to ease the pinch in his gut. then slotted the cigarette between his fingers and drew it back. billowed a string of smoke and called out. crystal clear. rough. as he snatched his phone from his jacket pocket.
“take a fucking picture. it'll last longer.” without even looking up. you didn't deserve his eyes.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ ranted to suguru about you later that day. returning to his old habit of gripping and tugging at his hair out of frustration. fuck, you always brought the worse out of him. out of all the colleges you attended why'd it have to be this one? and why the hell did you keep staring at him like that?
“you know she's probably regretting it, right?” suguru piped up, looking up from his little project.
satoru stopped his pacing. glanced over his shoulder. “regretting it?”
“breaking up with you. I mean look at you now. quite the catch, y'know?”
“so what, she regrets breaking my heart and dragging my name through the mud all through highschool?”
“yup. she probably wants you bad.”
and that's when satoru decided that he had an opportunity here. to get back at you for all the shit you put him through. you were the catalyst of his very change, after all. now the object and accumulation of everything he loathed. so that's when he decided:
if you wanted him so bad now? he was gonna show you just how much he changed.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ started in class. what were you even doing here, in his field anyway? you weren't ever a bright stem light so why start now?
he wasn't kind. he used his intelligence like a weapon now, and unfortunately you were his new target. he'd belittle you whenever he had the chance. throw little comments that no one knew were about you— but you knew. and he adored your falters.
he pointed jabs, brutal truths. it didn't help that you were his seat partner for most of the semester.
you never snapped back anyway. just spared him a silent glance then went back to work. it irked him. you really never shook off that arrogance of yours, did you? whatever. it only made him worse.
“this is a little out of your league, right sweetheart?” he'd muse during a group project. a nickname that used to be so endearing, now just another lash of the whip that was his tongue.
“let the others handle it. you can just sit there and look pretty. maybe use your little highlighters to spiff things up, hmm?”
so what if the people in the group laughed at you? he didn't care. you sure didn't when it was him in your shoes.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ found out that you both signed up for the same organisation. what were you doing in the simple living org? that's not what you were about. you were all bright, and pretty and flashy— you weren't about making something out of nothing. maybe that's why he was even more frustrated when you decided to run for president. no way in hell was he gonna let someone like you be in a leadership for an organisation that held his values. so of course he signed up to run against you. yeah, he was mean. he was being a fucking dick during every meeting. but he didn't care. not when it came to you.
no matter how many times he'd catch your eyes whenever he made a statement. or when you'd huff at him. it just gave him a reason to lick his teeth and bite back.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ was unfortunate enough to end up behind you in the food court line. there you were, probably trying to figure out if you should have two pumps of hazelnut syrup or three. he couldn't help but roll his eyes. what was taking so long? still indecisive as ever.
he called from behind you. ordered for you since you were taking your own sweet time. he remembered your favourite drink. never could quite forget it. you probably didn't see it on the menu. silly girl.
and when you looked back with that same startled expression only to press your glossed lips together? he just huffed.
“still can't figure out what you want?” as he reached around to snatch the served drink and shove it into your hand. hopeless. you were hopeless.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ spotted you one day after class. talking to the professor. he hasn't caught much of the conversation. only that you were discussing something about extra credit.
maybe he jumped the gun a bit. assumed the worst because the image he'd built of you in his head told him that you were low enough to consider something like that. I mean— it made sense with recent events. how a culture change that came with aesthetics and confidence was all he needed to have your stare now when his last year of highschool was spent crying over the disgust in your gaze.
so of course, when people flooded the class and he walked his way up to the fated seat beside you, he shot you a look over his glasses. that same disgust in his eyes and a sneered smile on his pierced lips.
a hand full of rings gripped the back of your chair on the way to his. he muttered just above your ear.
“maybe show a lil more leg next time. sure it'll get people like you places.” as he patted between your shoulders and ignored your flustered surprise.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ noticed that you did that a lot. got flustered at almost every thing he did. whether it was invading your private space, or shooting a heated comment. you looked away. bunched your hands on your skirt and took a breath. he wasn't sure if it amused or frustrated him. seriously? was all it took a little confidence and a few changes for you to finally see him as something more than the awkward little boy who followed you around like a puppy?
whatever. it was fun to play with regardless. you were fun to play with.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ wasn't too impressed when the same professor seemed to enjoy playing with fate. satoru had been assigned to tutor you for the class he still wasn't sure how you got in to. he reluctantly went to your dorm with his textbooks and notes. huffed at your decor and threw a bunch of pointed comments before you both settled down to actually study.
but would you look at that— you couldn't look at him. cute little thing, weren't you?
you couldn't look him in the eye. stammered over your words when he shot you a look over the rim of his glasses and asked you if you understood. and don't think that he missed the way your thighs pressed together under the table when he clicked his tongue and called you silly for a little mishap.
he went to get a glass of water. spoke to you from the kitchen.
“y'know this would go a lot smoother if you could just pay attention.”
he couldn't help but sneak a glance at you. watched as you bristled and tried to distract yourself with highlighting your notes.
he approached as you struggled with an equation. clicked his tongue when you inevitably got the wrong answer.
“sorry, I just. . .”
“just what?”
he felt your shudder against his chest as he flushed against your back. leaning his hand over yours so that his cold rings pressed on your shaky fingers. guiding your hand holding the pen with his far larger one.
“just. . . can't focus when I'm around?” he urged your hand to write. restarting the equation. showing you just how wrong you were.
he felt your breath stuttered. heard how you cleared your throat.
oh, still such a cute thing, weren't you?
he chewed on his grin and leaned in. snakebites brushing on your burning lobe as he whispered. low, dangerous.
“do I make you nervous, sweetheart?”
he told himself to stop. but how could he with the way you shuddered when his free hand dropped and traced up your side. felt your skin beneath the tight, white button ups you always insisted on wearing.
his chuckle rumbled in a low rasp. “looks like someone changed from highschool. where's your flair, sweet thing?”
he nipped on your lobe. grinned wider as you bit back a whimper.
“wanna see how much my tongue's changed too?”
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ didn't go any further with you. no. he wouldn't let you back in so easy. you were gonna have to work for it. he wasn't your sweet boy anymore and you weren't his sweetheart. not really.
didn't mean that he didn't go back to his dorm throbbing in his ripped pants. didn't mean that he wasn't groaning— rough and wrecked as he dropped his pants and fisted his angry, hard cock. jerking his hand all messy as a nasty shlick shlick shlick filled the room. he pictured how your whimpers would compliment it.
he couldn't even get to his bed. he just slumped against the wall with his head tossed back and his white hair tousled. glasses shoved up in it. fucking his hand and imagining your mouth.
oh, he wanted to fuck your mouth. grip your hair and rub his prince albert piercing on your tongue. how would you react to that, huh? would you whine for him? try to hump his boot?
it was embarrassing how hard he came to the thought of it. squirting thick, creamy ropes all over his jacket but still jerking his hand like a madman. eyes rolled back and jaw tight to the thought of you. to how he'd make you hold that little skirt up while you ground your panties on his mouth. were they still pink, he wondered?
fuck. the way you'd moan. how you'd grip his hair with both hands and buck so weakly once you realised how much better he'd gotten with tongue. how would your clit feel under his tongue piercing? would you think that it suited him now?
and there he was. cumming for a second time. violent and messy as he ragged a harsh breath and choked your name back down his throat. eyes fluttering and knees shaky as she squeezed filthily on his tip.
fuck. he was gonna have so much fun with you.
˖ ࣪꒰ PUNK NERDJO ꒱ ˙˖ couldn't shake the image. even as he leaned against the chain linked fence on one of the faculty rooftops. smoking away his third cigarette and thinking about you. he came here to study, and yet there you were. filling up his head as usual.
he didn't expect you to find your way up there too. with a book tucked under your arm and freezing at the stairwell when you saw him.
he spared you a small glance. huffed and looked elsewhere as you came closer.
“don't you have some classes you should be failing?”
silence.
for a second he thought you left. good. he didn't need you becoming a permanent resident in his mind after he'd spent years trying to heartlessly evict you.
until he felt your presence right beside him. your sweet perfume wrapped around him and those doe eyes that made him bite his cigarette just a bit harder.
and then. you decided to make him laugh.
“you shouldn't be smoking on campus.”
quiet. but was that an edge? was that the bitch that he knew— finally dropping the act?
a flicker in his eyes. a stir in his gut. he snapped those cold blues over to you. “oh yeah?”
long fingers gripped your jaw. dragging you forward as he took a long drag. letting the nicotine hit his lungs and he stared the real addiction dead in her eyes. your eyes.
he withdrew the cigarette.
“who's gonna stop me?”
leaned close. too close. squishing your face and yanking you closer. lips ghosting yours. smoke pouring into your mouth as he held you still.
with a dark grin and a darker glare.
“you, sweetheart?”
as he blew the smoke into your smushed lips. hand slipping down to grip your waist with the cigarette resting between his fingers. flicking some of the ash onto your doll pumps.
you didn't push him away. no. you whined. hands clawing on his jacket. so he squeezed your face harder, glared deeper.
and despite everything screaming at him to just drop it—
his lips smashed to yours. teeth and tongue meshing. because in the end? he preferred the nicotine that was your plush mouth.
preferred the little obsession you kick-started in him all over again.
Synopsis. Venom’s had enough of his host’s racing heartbeat and tíghtening pants around you. So he does what any good symbiote would do - help Choso lose his vírginíty, of course!
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, Venom!Choso, best-friends-to-Iovers, PlNING, héats, he has tattoos and piercings, Venom in bold, first times (for Choso), PÚSSYDRÚNK CHOSO, oraI (fem. rec), spítting, ínappropríate use of the symbiote, LONG tongues, ríding, dúmbifícation, making it fit, size kínk, tummy buIges, creampíes, cúmplay, MARATHONS, matíng presses, overstím, squírting, cúmming dry, proposals, biting marks, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 8.5k
A/N. Inspired by this ask and this post by the lovely @/screampied.
“You like her.”
“Shut up.”
“You want to fu-”
“Shut up.”
“Heh- loser.”
And Choso was genuinely contemplating smashing his head against the nearest wall, if only it would yank out that damn parasite- “Oi, I can hear you.” -he had the misfortune of picking up.
Weeks - though, it felt like years - weeks since he’d wandered into his usual hiding spot at the abandoned Lady of Saint’s Church for a moment of peace and quiet; except, he wasn’t alone that day. Too busy poring over yet another sketch of your dazzling smile to notice-
“Your pulse rate spiked- you’re thinking of her, boy. You want her.”
But it’d been weeks since he’d had peace and quiet after this…alien symbiote had forcibly attached itself to his body that day.
And the worst part was that he wasn’t even wrong.
“S-so what?” Choso hisses out. “She deserves better than me anyway.” Wincing at the sheer predatory amusement in Venom’s voice as he purrs—
“I have a plan…”
.
.
.
Your best friend was acting strange.
Given, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for his fawn eyes to linger on you just a little more than what’s considered appropriate for a “friend”, or for him to burn with the prettiest blush whenever you caught him.
But these days it was almost like he was avoiding you on purpose.
Taking the longer routes after lectures, being struck pale as a ghost mid-conversation, always muttering away underneath his breath.
Hell, one day you even had half the mind to jokingly ask him whether he was talking to someone you couldn’t see - to which Choso had sputtered and all but sprinted away from you.
And here he was right now - towering right at your apartment doorway in just a snug undershirt and the sexiest grey sweatpants.
“Ch-Choso?” Your jaw drops slightly at his disheveled, heaving state.
Milky skin simmered with a sheen of sweat that made his dark tank top glue to his broad chest, chestnut strands of his bangs falling out of his bun to hide his eyes from you, almost…feverish.
Frantic gaze bouncing off the beefy arm he’d kept leaned over your doorframe for support, “What happened- are you sick? Are you drunk?” A quick glance at the clock showed that it was well past 12AM, “Are you okay, Cho-”
And then he flinches.
Fuck- he flinches as if the sound of that very nickname falling from your cute lips made his entire body shudder with a thousand bolts of lightning.
Baritone voice hot and murky once he utters, “Baby…”
Oh.
You could feel the goosebumps starting to slither down your spine already, and you tug nervously at the paper-thin pyjama shirt you had on. Too-aware of the fact that it was the only thing you were wearing other than your thin panties- damn.
Noticing the way that every minute movement of yours seemed to make Choso’s pants grow heavier; you dare to take a step closer, and it only makes him grip onto the mahogany doorway until it splinters.
Teeth grit. Nostrils flaring. Barely holding himself together.
Gasping, “Cho?”
“I need you.”
“Wha-” And it’s the last thing escaping your mouth before Choso surges forward like he’s being jerked, movements twitchy - desperate - he falls a few steps forward until he’s in your heated proximity.
Your saccharine scent so sweet that he’d be on his damn knees if you hadn’t clawed a hand on one of his flexing biceps- a gruff whimper departing from Choso’s plush, pink lips. “K-kiss me.”
Oh, fuck.
You watch with a carnal sort of desire at the way that he scorches with a breezing blush all the way from the tips of his ears, down to his collarbones. Fisting your dominant hand in the flimsy cotton of your best friend’s undershirt, just the tiniest, weakest tug makes him gulp.
Now that he started, he couldn’t stop.
“Kiss me- kiss me, p-please.” He’s finally darting his hazy peripheries up from the floor to look at you, you, and only you. Dragging in a deeeep breath of your air, his half-lidded pupils were begging- “Kiss me, baby.”
You’re humming, the curved edges of your fingertips curling ‘round Choso’s nape and pulling him in.
He’s melting.
He’s melting and melting into the kiss - as if he’d been dreaming of this for just as long as you have. Even longer.
Strong, sturdy hands wrapping around your waist to tug you against his hardened front, you gasp at the sweltering hot temperature he was radiating. Already feeling beads of perspiration starting to form across your forehead-
He’s sucking in a sharp breath, “Need to- need to tell you something.”
Words huffin’ out through glides of his berry-pink lips across yours, each one wrenching out like it pained him to part from your candied mouth with each sloppy mwah! Blindly, he slams the door shut with the heeled back of his foot. “There’s- a- a thing-”
You’re grinning once his voice breaks - breaks, as soon as you’re sipping on the cold spherical piercing homed at the edge of his tongue like your favorite gummy candy. “A…thing?”
Through a slightly-cracked eyelid, your gaze sinks down between Choso’s thick, meaty thighs. Instantly feeling a wave of sap flood your mouth at the massive cylindrical bulge that tightened his sweatpants uncomfortably.
He was just too cute.
“A ‘thing’, hm?” You’re breaking off to smirk, twisting a silky lock of his hair around your index in a way that makes the looming man in front of you shiver. Chasing and chasing your lips- he was so weak for you.
Giving in, you’re just about getting ready to kiss your best friend silly once more - but what meets your ravenous mouth isn’t his soft, plump lips anymore.
No, it doesn’t even feel human.
What instead greets you is something frigid and slimy. Something that crushes you to him with a strength tenfold of what Choso had been using - almost animalistic - until you’re lurching back and gaping at the fact that your feet were now dangling almost two whole feet off of the ground.
Snapping your head to his face and-
What…the…f-
“Don’t scream!” In a startling split-second, that black mass of goop masking Choso’s face slithers away in tiny tendrils to reveal, well, Choso.
And honestly, you’re not sure if that wants to make you scream even more or just shuts you up completely. But whilst you ogle whatever it is in front of you, Choso keeps plowing on.
“This- ah, this is what I meant by a…thing.” He’s stammering out nervously, dark brows crinkling with nervousness as he watches on for your reaction. “Basically- a few weeks ago- my body got infected by this alien thing- a ‘symbiote’, it said, and I-”
“Improved.”
You’re feeling that temptation to exhaust your lungs with yells once more as Choso’s swallowed up within that dark matter.
Muscular and big.
Except this time it was formulating a mouth - all wide and decorated in tiny, jagged canines - and slanted white eyes with not a pupil in sight. A dexterous tongue gliiiides down the crevice of its sharp mouth, glittered with strands of slobber. “We are Venom, pretty girl. And you smell…”
Venom’s voice was deep. Coarse. A rumbling bass that made the very bottom of your stomach quiver- you’re distracted only by the growling sniff he lets out. Monstrous ivory eyes locked right between your heated core-
“-delicious.”
Oh…he was reaching well near eight feet and twitching from the inside out once Choso fights to regain control.
“A-as you can see-” Smiling sheepishly down at you - you blink, and your best friend was suddenly back. Eyes hooded, mouth snarling, looking ruined. What the fuck. “-he really seems to like your scent and it’s driving me-”
“Stop talking, boy, and mate the girl.”
“Shut up.”
You blink almost owlishly in disbelief, and in something…else, as you feel your thighs clench together. A slight motion that Venom surely doesn’t miss, if the way that Choso’s lungs heave with more gulps of your sweet, sweet leaking pheromones was anything to go by.
And then, you’re finally piping up– “Let…let me see that tongue of Venom’s again?”
.
.
.
“A-are you sure? W-we’re best friends, and I’ve never…”
You’d be rolling your eyes at the repeated question if it wasn’t for the fact that Choso Kamo just looked so pretty when he was knelt obediently at the very foot of your bed.
A thin sliver of sweat sliding down his temple, breaths coming out in heated gusts, slender hands balling into a fist and shivering once you smear your legs open just a fraction more. Twitching, white-knuckled like he was forcing himself to not just ruin you right then and there.
“Mhm.” You’re nodding, and the very action is enough for him to snap his eyes down where your cotton panties were starting to dampen and swallow. “Please, handsome- don’t be coy.”
It was almost too good to be true.
But, fuck, Choso wasn’t waiting around ‘till he wakes up from this dream.
With so much pent-up eagerness that he felt his lips twist into a sleazy grin- Choso’s crawling himself the few inches it was to stuff himself nose-deep between your pretty legs.
“O-oh.”
First it was the tiniest tug on your restless hips, then it was a sniff- and then it was a bite of his honed, glossy pearly whites over the lacy lil’ bow homed on the hem of your underwear. A throaty groan snarling through his teeth– “Oh, baby…”
That did it-
Quick as a flash, he’s snagging his teeth on the flimsy fabric of your panties and all but tearing it off of you. Rip-rip-ripping to simply push its tatters to the side, Choso doesn’t even fully take it off before he was simply drooooling.
Gulping and gulping the scent of your leaking hole.
“Sweet.” He gasps out, words taking on a dark edge. And you swear the chocolate color of his irises looked as if they were almost glowing, “So sweet.”
“Hurry, the symbiote hungers.”
Sharp jaw ticking as he ignores Venom’s request, the fattened pad of his thumb spanks down on your swollen pussylips and spreads you all wide open. Cock twitching at the deafening wet squelch! that chimes once he gathers copious wads of saliva and spits.
All over your lustrous cunt, slicking out a mess so great that it was already starting to form a puddle underneath your silken sheets.
“And mine.”
“Tch.”
And Choso wasn’t just greedy - he was outright gluttonous.
“You…you taste this sweet, baby?”
“Oh- ohhhh fuck–!” You’re shrilling out a syrupy moan once his chilly tongue piercing flicks at the tippy-top hood of your clit like a lollipop. Taking extra care to press down hard so that it has you thrashing-
“There? S’that good?” He’s roaming his mouth over your puffed-up lips eagerly, yearning. Not knowing what he was doing, just addicted. “You’re so wet, baby- s’this for me- r-really, really f’me?”
He just couldn’t believe it- and the only answer he’s getting is a few soft gasps of oh! and yes! Spit n’ whines overflowing your tongue with every slap of his textured tastebuds. You couldn’t help but nod your head down and admire just how drunken Choso was as he’s suckin’ away on your perky clit.
The hollows of his cheeks sucked-in and flushed red, spit-glossed mouth wrapped snugly ‘round your sensitive nub.
You’re whimpering, head thrown back at the grunts he muffles out between your legs.
“M-more, Cho–” You mewl out in a tone that makes his tensed hips rut forward like an animal, immediately grinding against the firm base of your bedframe. Fuck. Snaking a hand down to intertwine with his mussed-up bangs, and tugging them free of his bun- “Wan’ more.”
“More.”
“Hear that? I wanna taste.”
His tongue’s so thirsty - throat so parched - that it lets out the most sinful sluuuuurp at the very first slobbery drag from the dewy base of your quivering pussy, openin’ up your plump folds so widely agape to lather down on the very top of your clit.
Nodding and nodding and nodding- grinding up to tease the mushy tip of his tongue past your slippery folds just the tiniest bit. “More- please.”
And it’s not like Choso didn’t hear you - fuck, it’s that you’d broken him.
Because it happens in a singular nanosecond, it happens so fast you’re seeing cartoonish stars in your vision when he’s hauling you halfway across the bed like some glorified ragdoll.
Thighs thrown over his shoulder, trembly hands guided through his sweaty scalp, mouth wolfish-
“Keh. No wonder you’re a virgin, boy.”
“Sh-shut up.” He’s answering out loud, sending the most electric buzzes down your spine as he nips on the fleshy slope of your pussylips. His own ears pop! as the pointed curve of his chin hits your treacly cunt with a smack of skin-on-skin, so deep. Nose-deep till those lined tattoos on his face.
Ready to suffocate if he has to.
“Oi- give me a taste, and I’ll give her…more.”
Upper lip glueing to your pussy, Choso’s making you scream every time the sharp ends of his fangs snag on your clit. “Shut up shut up shut up-‘
“Ch-Cho?” Fuck, it takes you every ounce of strength in your body to lift your head up from your creaky bedsprings. Glassily eyeing the way that his grip on your hips turns bruising with semi-circular claw-marks of his, “Everything hah! alright?”
And shit- he breaks off slightly from your dripping wet pussy once- twice. Thrice, each n’ every time letting off a pained grunt that forces him back to stuff himself at his favorite spot between your legs.
He couldn’t even break off to speak. To breathe.
Still murmuring his response at the outer edges of your saturated core, with so many numerous strings of slick dangling from his rovering, swollen lips. Gingerly, “It’s V-Venom, he…wants a taste too.”
“Oh.”
And shit- Choso didn’t need Venom’s superhuman abilities to notice the instant that you’re growing so much wetter. A silky torrent of sap gushing out of you to lacquer your inner thighs like a fountain, already making him lurch- and suck and suck up every pearly droplet.
“I…” You’re starting off, lip chewed underneath your teeth in a way that almost makes him jealous. The memory of his extravagant tongue still fresh in your mind, “-wouldn’t mind.”
“Oh? Well…”
“-about time.”
As Choso lets Venom take over, you can’t help but gasp.
Oh, you were never getting used to this.
He was about two feet taller, hulking, monstrous. And the only thing more lecherous than that toothy grin he wore was his tongue - sliiiiding out all its endless inches and swaying teasingly to n’ fro in midair. Big.
So, so big.
“Eyes…” He’s looming over until scalding hot breath humidifies your features, tonality so gruff that it rumbles your very bones. Oh, he already knows of his effect on you - can flick his tastebuds out and taste it in the saccharine air. “Lungs…pancreas…”
The curly, reddened end of it stingingly slapping down on your thigh, Venom’s tongue is oh-so-long enough that he can lace it all over your shivering leg and wrench them further and further open–
“Pussy.”
And then it feels like you’re being split apart- just a few solid, thorough inches of Venom’s slimy tongue burrowing past your puffy folds, keeping your jolting legs pinned firmly by a few of his Stygian spirals.
One taste. One taste is all it takes.
You’re being rendered utterly stupid by the swashing flicks of his pointed muscle stirrin’ up your insides, wriggling in circular slurps around and around and around your gummy walls. Scarfing you down until his tongue reaches the very gooey bottom of your cunt and kisses your cervix.
So hard that you’re pushed up the mattress and he’s forced to wrap a few tendrils that reel you back down again.
“Heh, finish line.”
“What- oh…oh my god-” Tears drip down in constant rivers from your heavy lids, wailing whimpers breaking off from your larynx at every smack-smack-smack he left on that spongy end. Further pushing aside your panties, retracting aaaaaalll the way back to thruuuust- “Y-your tongue is sooo big.”
“So many snacks. How good.” He’s tittering out with a thundering pant, spiked ends of his canines littering your skin with gnawing bites. “How delicious. How…”
He’s sloshing his tongue almost aggressively inside, whacking your g-spot in-between his barreling journey to fuck you with his tongue just as much as he wanted to with his cock.
Lolling sloppily, thrusting, dragging the ridges of his tastebuds across your g-spot.
And it takes you a few more vulgar strokes, it takes you the sound of that familiarly melodic voice for you to flap your tear-heavy lashes open and finally look once more between your legs. “-mine.”
It’s almost as if both Choso and Venom couldn’t decide on who wanted to make out with your soft, candied pussy more.
Because it was your best friend’s pretty upper half of his face peeking out from between your splattered legs, but Venom’s mouth that was pumpin’ addictively past your rubbery entrance. Over and over.
“N-ngh pleeease!” Comes out your repeated record of whines, every mushy gyration so good that you can’t help but rock into every second of his frenzied cadence. Creeping down one of your hands to smear your pussylips wider with a soppy slurp so that he could go even deeper, “I-it’s so good- don’t stop don’t stop.”
And the look in Choso’s dark eyes is the most raw glint of disbelief that you’ve ever seen.
Unsteady thighs clenching as he hits his v-line against the wooden board of your bed and grinds, unwilling to angrily fist his raging cock the way he ached n’ leaked to, unwilling to take his hands off of you for a mere second.
“N-no no, move that hand, baby. Lemme see her- Please.” You’ve never seen your cute best friend dare to be so rude- urgently swatting away those few fingers of yours to replace with his own knobbly, greedy ones.
Pressin’ on your weeping, swollen clit with the flat end of his digit - you’re coating his chipped black nail polish with so many layers of goopy slick that it trickles down to his wrist.
And oh, you’d almost forgotten just got many frigid metal rings that Choso wore on his hot fingers. Sappily nuzzling the inside of your left thigh the very moment he’s slipping his middle past your widely messy hole and curling–
“How could I? How c-could I stop?” He’s muttering away - octaves higher than you’re used to, hitting and hitting your bruised and battered g-spot at the very same tempo that Venom was, too.
Double whack after whack that made your spine arch curvaceously off of the dampened mattress, icy edges of his rings scraping your walls. Choso just salivates at the heavenly sight of you below him, “How could you even- think- I’m-”
“-addicted.”
And Venom chooses just this precise moment to make your stupidly muddled mind remember his presence until you can’t think at all.
Prolonging his plumply constricted tongue - using his symbiotic powers and extending it even more feet stuffed inside your tightly cozy walls, slashing the very tip to become split-ended.
“Pretty. Pretty pussy.” He’s groaning out carnally, and your throat rips with a scream once he’s starting up a thrusting pace that flicks at your weeping cunt with those two slithering ends of his monstrous tongue. “Don’t know who’s prettier- you or…”
You’re shivering then - shivering at the windy gust of air inhaled once Venom tugs you even closer by his black coils and sniffs. Breath hot, his French kiss on your pussy hotter. “-her.”
“Fuck- fuck, you’re making such a mess, Choso.”
“Mhmmmm—”
Shifting between both his tongue and Venom’s - every transformation had you dizzy. Alternating between Venom’s hard, almost violent thrusts with his split-end tongue to Choso’s sensual tickling of his piercing into your most favorite spots.
Glittery slick and spittle dripping down like a glazing polish, Choso’s swallowing down every sweet gumdrop like he’s a man starved.
Like a damn dog in heat, every pant of the honeyed pheromones between your legs was driving him fucking mad. Making his hips thrust-
“Sh-she’s drooling almost as much as ngh- me, baby.” He’s fighting back that damn parasite for more more more of you- for every squelch! once he’s mazing his second, third lengthy finger inside.
Searching for your g-spot like treasure trove - hitting and hitting, you’re so pretty and gone that Choso’s chuckling. “Ride it.” Pap-pap-pap goes his hits to your delicate, most tender spots, faster. “Ride it- yeah, ride m’f-face like it’s yours, baby- ride it.”
“S-shoooo much–” And you don’t know whether it’s the torrents of slicked saliva falling from your mouth or the sheer overstimulation that has you jumbling up your syllables - but it’s enough to make both Choso and Venom grin. “It’s so ngh- haaaa–”
“She’s close.”
“Fuh-fuck.” He’s spitting into your drooling lips, right above your pulsating nub. Ringed digits so thick that it makes your knees shake and weaken. Sloppy. “Faster. Harder. Use me, baby-”
Again and again and again.
Your brain’s fuzzily stupid by the time you finally recognize that familiar twist at the bottom of your tummy, too. Blubbering out an unsteady, “P-please! M’not gonna- ngh! last, Cho.”
“I know- I know I know I know– make a mess.” He’s spitting out once more, letting a wad of saliva stream straightly down your slit and liiicking it all up before Venom overtakes him to keep on probin’ your entrance fully. Swirling every speckled tastebud until it was like the symbiote was trying to brand you–
And with a gluttonous swipe at the fresh beads of slick homed on top of your nub, Choso wastes no time before pinching your clit-
“Cum. Cum on my tongue, baby. Mine.”
-and making your field of vision simply shatter with tears once you’re crashing into that built-up high.
“Shit- shiiiiit. I-it feels so good, Cho- I’m- nghhh I’m…” It was an orgasm like no other- fuck, any of your toys were paling in comparison to Choso and his…parasite.
Fully himself now, you gawk with your mouth unlatched into a sagging oh! at the primal way that Choso’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs with each eager swallow. Thin lines of sappy slick falling from the pink, puckered corners of his lips and waterfalling all down the side of his damn throat.
“Th-tha’s it-” His sopping wet tongue drags uuuup n’ down your open folds to trawl you through your euphoria, every lolling flick of the curled end jostling against your thoroughly-stuffed folds.
Pumping, pounding your glutinous walls until they’re sticking to his barreling digits like adhesive, the metallic band curving his fingers smooches your g-spot softly. Dimly-lit molten eyes widening at the sheer ribbons of sap you’re letting off with every white-hot bolt of pleasure.
“This- this is all f’me–?” He’s crooning out, dazed. Letting his jaw fall open with every quiver you’re instinctively clenching with your cunt, “All for me- me. More- more, baby.”
“For me, you mean.”
Choso- Venom- Choso just keeps on alternating their slobbering drags of your hips until you’re completely wrung dry. Even the tiniest spank of their rugged tastebuds making you squeal with overstimulation, tears pinpricking behind your eyes.
“Aw, c-c’mon–” Your best friend slurs out in a tingling, pussydrunken tone - so gone that his perspired head falls n’ cuddles your thigh. Begging, “M-more…?”
“But Cho…m’sensitive.”
And he’s perking his head up like the thought didn’t even occur to him - only then do you get a final, filthy look at your best friend after so long.
Grinning, he sucks on each of his polished, soppy fingers. Each and every one - looking right into your dilated pupils, “That was my first time.”
Fuck.
He was pretty.
Granted, you always did know that, but right now - with Choso’s dark strands of hair hooding his half-opened gaze, what little you could see of his eyes gleaming, cheekbones burning scorched red - he was dreamy.
He’s wearing your saccharine wads of slick like a medal of honor.
Thickly coating everywhere from the tattoo on his nose, to the lower half of his face, to bubble all down his jaw. A slippery wire of it spills from the corner of his mouth as it starts moving, an almost airy tone seeping into his voice. “I-I’m never wiping this off- hey!”
Before he knows it, Venom’s tendrils dart out to filthily lick off the remnant excess his host cherished so much.
Grinning, “Delicious.”
Fighting back his damn alien acquaintance, you stifle a giggle as Choso’s rosy lips jut out into a pout. Lifting his knee onto the bed- well, grindin’ it right between your legs so that he’s putting pressure on your throbbing slope.
Fleshy thumb and index squeezing your cheeks together, “Spit in my mouth.”
“Wh-what?”
“Spit-” His sweaty forehead sticks against yours, humid breath clouding up your senses. And you could count every long lash, every smudge of his dark eyeliner. Hiccuping, “-in my mouth.”
And the moment you do- fuck, the moment you’re pursing your spit-glued lips to let out a saccharine web of saliva that slops right down his pinkish tongue with a splat! So loud and filthy and sinful that Choso only as the time to breath out a shallow ‘fuck!’ before he’s cumming.
Burning hot and feverish. Right then and there to create a dripping damp spot in his trousers- “Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit- you’re t-too-”
“Great going, virgin.”
“Shut up-” Choso grits through clenched teeth, desperately trying to heave his breaths back into some semblance of normalcy. Failing, once you immediately reach over and tug his sweatpants down-
He was cumming and cumming so much that you’re met with a white, streaming wet mess that gleams down both of Choso’s meaty thighs. They’re shivering with each ribbony string of seed that oozes down his long limbs, “O-oh, so pretty, Cho.”
“Oho? She’s an interesting one.”
“I-I know…”
And you’re not just talking about his orgasm.
Because when you’d imagined - on those long, lonely nights - that your best friend would be big…you didn’t expect that he’d be big.
Damn near ten- no, maybe even eleven inches of fat, hot girth that swelled his mushroomy tip to be as cutely pink as a strawberry and just as thick.
Your mouth waters as you follow the winding lightning patterns of his puffy veins, oh-so-prominently bloated that you swear you could count every throb-throb-throb.
And what- what was that?
No, you weren’t imagining it. Choso Kamo had a tiny studded Prince Albert’s piercing right near the tip-top of his bulging cockhead. Cold and sparkling underneath the dim bedroom lighting.
Mindlessly, you’re darting over to swipe one of your thumbs across a creamy bead of cum that’d started drenching his dark happy trail.
“O-oh.” Choso grunts at the look on your gorgeous face once he’s letting his chubby balls twitch n’ soak your skin with yet another splurging streak of seed. Again. Just from you touching him. “No one’s ever touched me like this- fuck!”
And you just had to find out whether he tasted as sweet as he looked.
Planting your mouth over his juice-capped head with a wet plop! you hum with utter delight at the caramel salted taste of him. Aching and pulsing underneath his piercing with just the tiniest kitten lick to his leaking orifice.
“Do it, boy.”
“Wh-what?”
“Do it. I’m inside your mind, do it.”
And Choso really wouldn’t have considered being that rude - really.
He really, really wanted to take his time slow n’ sultry with the one person who’s been the girl of his dreams from the moment he met you.
But fuck- Venom was jerking his body so that with the slightest rock, he’s rutting like a fucking animal deep inside the hot cavern of your mouth. Staining a milky white lipgloss around your plumpened lips, pushing his seed inside—
Venom wanted to see you choke.
“M-mmpf—!” And you can’t lie about the way the sheer force and heady musk of Choso’s v-line made your thighs squeeze.
“That’s it- cry. Cry on my cock- atta girl.”
“Fuck! I’m sorry-” He’s panicking from above as your pretty nose detaches from the curly black tuft of hair at his toned pelvis. “I’m sorry I’m sorry, baby. Are you-”
Only…for all his concerned apologies to shrivel up on Choso’s tongue when he catches the way you’re smiling.
Cockdrunk and stinging at the back of your throat with the way that Venom had actually elongated Choso’s already-massive cock just a few more centimeters by accident. Oh, fuck…
The hazed look that’d crept into your eyes as you look up makes the towering man shiver. Striking him to his very cock, “C’mon- fuck me, Cho.”
“C’mon. Don’t wanna disappoint the pretty girl.”
Choso doesn’t even remember getting rid of his undershirt, his sweatpants, everything but his silver rings and necklace - but what he does remember is the way your eyes had widened just the slightest fraction as you took in all of him.
Shit, was he sculpted by the Greek gods or what?
You could count every one of his eight, toned washboard abs - making the broad width of his pecs look so thick. So engulfing as they tense n’ ripple once your best friend slouches sexily on top of you to pull off your cotton t-shirt.
“Oh.” He’s gasping- you’re not wearing a bra. Completely naked underneath him except for the lecherous remnants of your torn panties still hanging on.
Ones that he keeps on - even when you try to shuffle them down with a whine - once he’s flipping the two of you over to let you straddle his slenderly sculptured hips.
“Keh- this position.”
“Shut up and watch.”
Blushing and pretty.
Choso’s teary lashes knock against the apples of his cheeks as he blinks furiously up at you, throat scratchily raw. Gulping more of your scent, “R-ride me, baby.”
“Cho–” You’re sliding the mounds of your ass gingerly against his aching hot length, shudders skittering down your spine at the sheer size of him pressing up into you. “Y-you’re so big, though- don’t know if it’ll fit.”
“I’ll make it fit-”
“A-am I actually that big?” He’s whispering, in awe. Watching with damply bated breath as he’s spanking his cock against your right ass cheek with a wet smack! smack! smack!
Pointing that curved, bulbous tip right between your pussylips and sliiiiiding it up n’ down so that you’re coating him in all your sweet juices, Choso’s guiding his girth until your hole was quivering for something - anything.
Him him him.
Panting at the first squeeze of his reddened, blushing tip- “Oh, you feel like th-this?” His pitched voice wavers almost as much as his heavy eyelids, falling apart with just that first taste of your perfect cunt. “Fuh-fuuuuuck fuck fuck fuck! Baby- you feel like this?”
This was heaven.
And he’s spurting out a few stray wads of cum just from feeling your velvety walls, letting it thwack! against your goopy innards n’ stick to your trembling folds.
“You got it- you got it.” Choso’s voicebox cracks with a lil’ whimper at that snug resistance, “You can take it- you can take it. I’ll make it fit.”
“Oh- oh my god- Choso- Cho–!”
“S’it too biiig for my girl, hmm?” Croaking out in unison with the aged bedcoils of your mattress, each and every time Choso jerks his hips off the bed and pushes. Just to fit in. “Baby-” Choso gasps as you throw your head back with a mewl at the sheer size of him.
His painfully-aching cock was so big that just the stoutest inch being bullied inside was enough to make your vision blotch with white. Rounded circumference stretching n’ stretching your slick-flooded walls stupid- “I’m sorry, baby- sorry s’big. But you’re my girl- my girl can take it- you can…you can take it.”
It’s inch by overlarge inch.
Choso’s scraping his way down your walls so sensually that you could feel your fuzzy brain sparking every time one of his prominent veins was draaaagging a zig-zagging pattern along.
Curled toes twitching with each passing second, “S-s’it almost all the way in, baby–?”
“Mhm—” And you’re just letting out the cutest cry once he finally eases himself all the way in, practically impaling you. Head throwing back, tits bouncing, cunt overspilling.
“Hmmm…maybe this position isn’t so bad.”
Choso didn’t disagree, but it took every single shred of rationality left inside of him to push back Venom’s rasping voice and wrench out a desperate thrust. Allll the way from the globular ends of his ruby-red tip till your sensitive pussy tickled against his soaked-through happy trail.
Tenderly caressing your palm down his hardened front, “I-it’s in–?” Your hitched tone makes his eyes roll back, and yet- and yet, he’s fighting to bring them back down n’ watch your gaped bounces back into his sloppy pace. “It’s in. O-oh my god, c-can feel you all the way in hck! here.”
He’s just so big.
And you’re swearing that Choso only fattens himself even bigger, fatter, wider once you slide your hand about halfway up your tummy. Feeling for that one spot he was bruisin’ right into your spongy cervix.
Biting his lip not to cum again, “Yeah-” You’re jostled ever-so-slightly on top of him as he’s sucking in a deeeep breath, “Yeah yeah yeah- you got it. Y-you better take all of it hngh! Take every. Single. Inch.”
Every vein, every sliding ridge, every throb that was bucked into your readily-awaiting entrance- Choso wasn’t just mazing open your cunt-
He was spearheading you with such thorough thrusts that made your back curve backwards just so.
“Tch- I’d fuck her even better.”
“No you w-wouldn’t.”
Lazily weaving tendrils start tickling your outer pussy, threatening to slip n’ slide their greedy way past your lips. “Is that a challenge? Summon Venom, if you dare.”
“What’s he saying, Cho?” You coo, tear-shimmered lashes blinking adorably down at his internal argument. And as if he could ever say no to you - hell, the response is dripping from his tongue before he even realizes it.
Grouching out, though he couldn’t deny the way his own cock was jolting at the very idea- “H-he wants a try, too…says he’ll be even better.”
A cockdrunk smile plasters itself onto your face- “Prove it.”
And you were right in your prediction - Venom didn’t just make Choso meaner, it made him bigger.
So big, in fact, that the bawling tip gently kissin’ your g-spot was instantaneously skidding past to give your cervix a longer, harsher probe.
So hard that you’re sure there’s now a permanent crater of his exact meaty circumference. And you’re being filled with the distinct feeling that Venom could’ve gone bigger - he just didn’t want to break you…yet.
Draping across his oversized pectorals, you’re nothing against his over eight foot height. “Y-you…”
Those slimy raven molasses covering his half-fucked face once more to form a rude Cheshire-cat smile. “Me.” Planting an Earth-shattering, mind-numbing ram you’re feeling all the way in your lungs, his pulsing length is so widely thick that Venom has to bite down on his lips and manhandle you for his thrusts to move to and fro. “I am inside your pussy, greedy girl. Me.”
Flicking his dexterous shaft to brush your tingling g-spot, he’s using his powers so much that you could almost feel yourself bonding with the symbiote, with Choso.
“I know every inch, nerve, and spot inside of you. I can make you scream-” Coiling mass contracting to barrel your elastic walls even wider, you’re rightfully crying out at the way he molds himself deliciously into your very walls.
“Nghhh- fuck! Fuck, y-you’re in sooo deep-”
Stealing your sweetened scent, making him heated. “Hmmm, kiss me.”
But that didn’t mean that your best friend- your…Choso was going down that easy.
In a few more brushstrokes of his ravaging cock against your softest spot - before you can kiss him - Choso’s blinking back the cobwebs of his symbiote so that his face spies out. Only the lower half of his body - his length - partially-covered–
“Keh- annoying.”
“Should’ve- should’ve done this sooner-” He hisses out through a narrowed pant, flecks of spittle flying angrily across the non-existent space between your two faces. “-done this muuuuch sooner- you h-have no idea.”
“O-oh nghhh fuck fuck fuck–” The backs of your thighs ache after every slamming pap! you’re bouncing back into his swervin’ hips.
Pounding away like he was crazed, every jackhammer only makes Choso grow more feral. Every swab of his prolonged cock inside your silken pussy feral-
His rummaging, fat-tipped shaft was so large that you could feel the way his ridged cockhead scraped your cervix with his studded Prince Albert’s, roaming like a searchlight to spot your most favorite angles.
Eyeliner practically staining down his cheeks now, “Should’ve fuh-fucked you the moment I ngh- met you. Should’ve fucked you r-right there on the lecture table in front of everyone- sh-should’ve—” You’re squealing once his doughy, ringed fingertips dart down to toy with that pretty lil’ clit of yours. “-should’ve let her drive me hck! crazy sooner, baby.”
Oh, he was babbling.
Cooing, you slither one of your hands through the dampened valleys of his dark hair, “Awww– d-drivin’ you crazy, Cho–?”
“Yes.” He’s seething, he’s heaving. Saturated pheromones driving him mad, he can’t help but flop his pierced tongue across your lips and suck. “S-s’not even that damn parasite anymore-”
Pace growing sloppier by the minute, barely even noticing when those same digits coddling your clit had started to twist and turn in shape. Overtaken by Venom and his meeeean tendrils that alternate between dragging on your overstimulated clit and slipping inside…
“Sh-shit– Venom?”
“Sayin’ another man’s name when I-I’m here- ngh–” Choso’s nosebridge crinkles as he teases you, watery honeypool eyes dropping down to where your glossy hole was swallowing him whole.
Mouth falling into an ah! at the way Venom’s wisping vines were still wrapped snugly to smooch your walls wiiiide open. And fuck- fuck, the sight. The sight of you bulging with all of his staggering cock still taking in more, more, more of him.
“I see…” He’s giggling - giggling, glassy eyes boring dead-on up at you through his curtained bangs and oh- they were shaped into hearts. Baritone voice rasping as one of his veins itches your walls, snagging past your underwear. “Greedy girl.”
It’s almost as if you didn’t know whether it was Choso or Venom taking over now, only fucked dumb with every sharp jut. Both his cock- his tentacle-like strands spreading you open, targeting your g-spot over n’ over with his plummy, split-ended tip.
Digging inside, scouring so wetly.
Spread twice as open that the squelch! squelch! squelch! of it resonating each nanosecond was quickly becoming Choso’s favorite song.
You were damn near shattered.
“I-I’m so close-” You’re hiccuping through your salty tears, brows scrunching at the stormy wave of bliss that was surely oncoming. “-f-fuck! Choso m’gonna cum.”
“Fuck- fuck, m’not gonna last either–” His response comes out guttural, and it’s just so sexy the way that he’s forced to gnaw on the strawberry gummy texture of the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from filling you up right then and there.
“Breed her.” Venom’s voice thunders out enough for the both of you to hear, excitement spiking down your spine and straight to where your pussy was drooling. “I know you want to. I know you both want it.”
Shocked, Choso sounds as if he could still barely even believe this was all real. “I-is that true, baby?” Tentatively craning you over to drag his lips softly against yours, “Can I really…inside…my girl?”
“Mhm– please- please, I wan’ it all inside—!”
“G-get ready.”
The plush, cushy tip of his cock outlines a water-logged line straight down your cervix as Choso leans further into the bed. Feet planting down flatly so that he can pressurize his powerful, inhuman hips to thrust-
“She’s about t-to be full- so full.” You can feel such pangs of desire as his teeth pull back into a primal snarl, tear-glinted eyes locked permanently where his red, swollen cock was disappearing between your legs. “So full that you won’t even remember what it ngh- feels like w-without me stuffed inside this cunt.”
Squirming with a yearning for sweet, sweet release once he hovers a fingertip over to about halfway up your tummy and draws an invisible line there.
“H-here.” Deepening it with the pressure of his rude digits, Choso’s right hand still rolls over your clit with a few shapes of hearts. Once. Twice. Thrice. “Get ready here–”
Whining, “I’m- I’m gonna-”
Before Venom’s slimy tendrils pinch it once more and you’re cumming- and so is he.
But Choso doesn’t even realize it - doesn’t even remember to breathe the very moment you’re creaming all down his pummeling cock. Such cute twitches taking over your body as you shut your eyes and riiiide it all out.
Using his sloppily saturated shaft like a dart that was pokin’ the bullseye of your pussy again and again. Every brushing skid straight across slapping your g-spot repeatedly to drag out your high with a squeeeelch.
And Choso’s licking his lips at the glossy lathering that glued to your folds, then - and only then - catching sight of the dollops of creamy white that was frothing out of your glistening entrance.
Thick and hot.
Every splat! of his ribbony sap hits the back of your pussy like heavily condensed cream, swashing inside of you like a sizzling second skin. It feels so filthy to have his mess beading down your walls and forming such a soaking ring ‘round his bulky hilt.
Your meaty folds spread to smear the puddle that was forming up his happy trail, “You- you feel so good inside.”
“O-oh-” Almost thankful as Venom’s dark strands push aside your torn, sullied panties further for his host to take a better look. Blushing all the way to the tattoos across his nosebridge, “A…a creampie.”
He’d cum- he’d really, really cum - inside of you. Pressing down on the prettily jiggling tummy bulge he was fucking into you- and it’s enough to make you scream. “Want more.”
And you’re just tapering off from your own orgasm, eardrums nearly popped yet still managing to register those words. Clenching, “Wh-what? Will it- hngh- even fit, Choso?”
“No- nononono it will- it will.” Urgent, rapidly he’s flipping the two of you immediately over to hover on top of you and rut- like an animal.
You’re gasping once your head plops down on the soft mattress, heels struggling to cling onto Choso’s sweat-laminated hips until he’s trekking his beefy arms underneath and hauling them over his shoulders. Bending, bending, bending into a–
Oh, a mating press.
He had you manhandled like some lawnchair into a mating press. The sloppiest of its kind, he’s using Venom’s tendrils to lock your ankles together in just two blinks of his eye.
“I can make it fit–” Growling through the tiniest gaps of his grit pearly whites, he kisses his forehead to yours and inhales that sweet scent of yours still permeating the heady air. The chilly heard pendant of his necklace hits the front of your chin and makes you keen. Rough, rugged through punctuating rams, “I will- I will I will- it’ll fit- It will.”
Shivering and shuddering.
He struggles to even focus his eyesight on you properly - and Choso’s heated maw droooops at the deafening squelch! your pussy pushes out once he sinks all the way back in.
A thick capping of white syrup rising all the way to the top once his massive girth once more fills out your every nook and cranny. He’s still so ravenous that the sight down there is enough to make his mouth water.
And this position, this angle made Choso’s elongated shaft lean into your g-spot so bruisingly that with only a few more strokes you’re cumming again.
Fleeting, and faster than you both know it.
It’s only once Choso sniffs at the air and grins that he realizes the rapidly pulsing ba-dump–! of your velveteen walls was because you’re bein’ his good girl and cumming once more.
Heavy breeder balls striking the treacly slope of your cunt until they were raw and red - you’re sure that the both of you are bruised everywhere. His thighs on your own, your ass on his pelvis, you can’t even wriggle your ankles free because Venom’s keeping a firm grip on them.
Rendering you at the full mercy of Choso’s thrashes dragging out your high, “P-please- fuck- it just f-feels too good, Cho-!”
“S’good- s’good-” He’s flushing out in something that looks like a mix of relief and need. No sooner milking himself on your tightly clenched pussy until you’re being filled all over again.
This time with white, wispy ropes of seed that ache his sensitive shaft to spray out, still coating your gummy walls with viscid layers upon layers. So much.
“So good f’me- so good. Look how much sh-she’s ngh- suckin’ in, sooooo full and- and warm…” He was practically twitching right now, trembling. “Jus’ look at that greedy girl.”
You couldn’t even be moved without feeling all its wads splosh inside of you.
And he still wanted more.
Yelping, your legs struggle to shut once his sloppy cadence turns even sloppier. Lazier.
“O-one more-” Choso’s puffing out in a clouded pant, “Keep- keep those pretty legs hck! open f’me- I beg. M’begging- take it, baby.”
Vein-covered forearms placing attractively upon either side of your head to lace right on top of your crowned scalp and push- Weaving wines of the symbiote winding down to furiously pump his cock.
To bloat himself up oh-so-thick straight after two whole orgasms, flying up and down up and down up and down to make his cherry-red divot start weeping once more. “One more- one more.”
“Nghh fuck fuck- Choso–!” Your lower lip wobbles cutely at the carnal glissade of his washboard abs down your own front, he was so strong that you could count every flex and ripple. “S-shooo sensitive-” Eyes shuttering tearfully, you can only jerk your hips up weakly. “-so much. Too much.”
“Never too much.”
Venom’s voice speaks up from somewhere, and you’re feeling the snaking, slimy journey of his tendrils twistin’ around your tits to grope. A greedy handful that teases your hardened nipples so–
“Less talking. More fucking.”
“W-woah-” Choso breathes at the sight before him. You were ruined in only ways he’d seen in his wettest dreams - and it’s not like he was doing any better. Because the way your hips were moving…“B-birthing hips- look at h-her take that big fuckin’ cock. So pretty- so pretty so pretty so pretty.”
You’re so overstimulated that even the slightest brush of his lightning bolted veins makes you gasp- tears springing up to your eyes. “F-feels so…oh.” So good, his stamina was maddening.
“Yeah? Yeahhh? S’all for you- only for you-” Purposefully pressing up close so that your poor clit gets rubbed over by that patch of tawny brown at the base of his abs.
And by now, even Choso’s swivellin’ cold piercing was molten hot and drawing wet slides of cum across your walls. Fervently.
He was fucking you like he couldn’t get enough - would never possibly be able to get enough. Every thrust had him pushing you down once more after the papping recoil, gliding your feverishly sweat-slicked bodies against each other because Choso couldn’t bear to part. “Only for you only for you only for you-”
So gone that he almost doesn’t even register Venom’s deep tone muttering in his ear– “Three.”
Every heated bang of his mushroomy tip plummeting to the back of your overspilling cunt was meant to milk himself. Over and over, he’s tempting out just one more orgasm - just one more to fill you up with more cream. “Two.”
And in your rambling stupor, you’re being drilled into the mattress so spellbound that you don’t even notice the way your unfastened mouth nibbles on Choso’s sexy silver necklace.
“One.”
Gnawing on for dear life as you squirt.
“Oh.”
Simply spraying him with a voluminous heap of your sweet, sappy juices - Choso has the mindless audacity to crane his head even further downwards and catch whatever stray remnants hit his awaiting maw.
“F-fuck…” You feel like you’ve just been put through ten thousand wringers and milked dry from your poor, tingling core. Gushing and gushing- it’s almost embarrassing how much you’re leaking around Choso’s meaty base.
Well, embarrassing for everyone but Choso…and Venom.
He was mesmerized - he was hypnotized. A glistening few droplets of pussydrunken drool slipping from the corner of his mouth as he just watched himself get drenched in all your torrential orgasm whilst he emptied out for the third- fourth, fuck he doesn’t even know - inside you.
Raw, and messy - milking himself until he’s hitting a damn dry orgasm.
“O-oh.” Choso doesn’t even know what to fucking say above your cutely trilling mewls, every languid pump of his flinching cock sending massive shockwaves through both of you. He blushes, “Oh.”
“That was fun. Now, make her yours or I will.” Venom grumbles, the symbiote already starting to take over Choso’s body with its blackened mass.
And the man jolts- remembering all at once that this was you you you underneath him. Thumb absent-mindedly reaching down to write his last name over the mess spurted across your tummy.
You, who he’s wanted all his life-
“M-marry me, my girl.”
The smile that breaks across your face is one he’ll remember for eons.
“I love you, too, Cho–” You’re purring, tucking one of the mahogany strands plastered onto his forehead behind his ear.
“I love you.” He’s bursting out at once- rose-pink lips wobbly and wet against your own. He’s kissing you like he needed you to breathe, “I love you- oh, how I love you.”
“Satisfying. But we need more.”
“Dammit.”
And Venom doesn’t care - Venom cackles to himself as he seethes in yet another gust of your honey-dipped scent and pulls out. The sensitivity startling through your body is so shocking that he’s shooting out a dark web that attaches your hips to the bed. Unmoving.
But, of course, he takes his leisurely time to stroll near the edge of your bed. Monstrously hulking over it to sweep apart your bloated pussylips and watch the way Choso’s cum driiiiips out.
Now completely encompassing his body— “A three course meal. Yum.”
He was far from done.
You’re sobbing at the sloooooow draaaag of his glistening, large tastebuds down your weeping hole. Unapologetic and primal. “F-fuck! Your stamina…” It was truly monstrous just how pent-up that he was right now, being pushed off by your new boyfriend- fiancé? for so long now.
Holding you tight with a few tendrils ‘round your waist to keep you from running—
“We’re going to keep this one.” His long, venomous teeth sink into your inner-thigh, not toxic to you. Not at all, but claiming; and the feeling was as good as cumming again. “You’re ours now, pretty girl.”
18+. sum 𓏲 you and fratkuna are the kind of couple who break up & make up every other week. but when you swear you’re done with him and go off to date his rival, the new football team captain, can his frat brothers help him get you back ?
‘sabotaging your ex girlfriend’s new relationship to get her back? this can’t be a good idea.’
ΣΧ
“‘high value woman’ but your new man’s a misogynist?!”
ryomen sukuna’s time of irritation is approximately 9:17 PM.
toru gojo’s bedroom floor is velvet carpet with half-empty beer bottles rotting on the rug. his center table is littered with poker cards & sato’s candy wrappers, and geto suguru & sato gojo are avoiding eye contact so they don’t burst out in laughter as sukuna glares daggers at toru’s screen.
toru’s hands shake under sukuna’s glare but he holds the phone steady. the instagram post on screen is a slap to sukuna’s face.
HOT NEW CAMPUS COUPLE : FOOTBALL CAPTAIN NAOYA ZENIN & Y/N L/N !
and the photo is you. swollen lips & pretty gaze & a dress so short it makes sukuna’s jaw ache—but not as much as naoya’s arm around you does. beside you toji’s cousin naoya zenin is there, grin cocky, eyes glinting in the camera light and arm around your waist because his fugly ass doesn’t know you like to be held around the hips instead. sukuna’s jaw ticks.
“i’m gonna get her back.”
sato, suguru and toru all glance towards each other. they know what that voice means. there’s no talking him out of it.
but toru lowers his phone, tries regardless. “are you sure? y/n’s always been strong headed. she might hate you even more if—“
sukuna grabs his crotch aggressively. “keep talking and i’ll jizz on your face.”
toru squeaks. sukuna continues. “i know my own girl. know she’s a fucking brat, doing this shit to get on my nerves,” he growls. “she’s bored. testing me. probably doing this shit to see if i’ll show up at practice ‘n break his jaw for touching her.”
suguru is biting back a grin. “calling her your girl when she broke up with you last week? and the week before that?”
sukuna takes a swig of his beer but his jaw is ticking behind the can. “exactly. she knows where home is.”
sato’s grin is clumsy. “i dunno, man. seems like she’s got a new address,” he elbows suguru’s side. “naoya’s pants, wellesley street east.”
“M-4-Y, 1-H-5,” suguru snickers.
“glad you two have the energy to joke,” sukuna sets down his beer with a thud. “means you’ll have energy to help me out tomorrow night.
tomorrow? tomorrow can only mean one thing.
naoya zenin’s one million snap score party. and also, the party that the college football team throws every year before the start of a new season. the party that sukuna hasn’t been to since he quit the role of captain. the party where sukuna first found you drunk & dizzy in an alley just out back, perfume strong & heels clicky, stumbling into his chest with a clumsy grin & flushed cheeks as he held your hips against him to keep you from falling. you reeked of vodka & you kept slurring his name & ryomen sukuna thought you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
and now his pretty thing is somewhere curled into naoya’s side, and the thought makes sukuna’s throat itch.
suguru cocks his head. “so i’m guessing you have a plan?”
sukuna chugs his beer. “you know the plan.”
they do—they all do. sato is already grinning. suguru is shaking his head. toru is watching the fratboys with worried eyes.
sato, suguru and sukuna’s lips curl.
the plan?
sabotage.
# SHOW TIME !
at naoya zenin’s one million snapscore party, the air is heavy with the smell of drunken bodies / athlete sweat / something alcoholic dripping off a countertop. geto’s piercings glimmer in the evening dim. ryomen sukuna has his jaw tight. and sato gojo is already drunk and somewhere dancing, legworking with ease as rema’s azaman blares through the speakers.
sukuna and suguru are still scanning the scene when naoya saunters up to them.
naoya zenin is badly dyed hair, bright green eyes and a cocky lilt to his shoulders. he’s got the team’s varsity jacket around him—GO PANDAS!—and a grin too cruel to be kind. he raises his hands in faux welcome.
“suguru, sukuna,” naoya smiles. “didn’t think you’d make it.”
sukuna eyes him. “congratulations on your snapscore.”
“and my new position as captain,” naoya bites so hard his teeth show. “how’s retirement treating you, ryomen? enjoying life off the pitch?”
suguru slings an arm around sukuna, quick to come to his defence. “he’s doing great, thank you. how about you, captain? have you found confidence in your buck teeth?”
naoya’s smile dissolves.
“nice engagement bait,” naoya recovers. he’s grinning again but his lips only stretch, teeth hidden. “you always did bite like a bitch, suguru.”
“i try.”
“enjoy the booze,” naoya lets out a jagged breath, turning away. “try not to cry in your cups too much.”
sukuna has his arms crossed over his chest, suguru’s arm still slung around him. but he’s not watching naoya walk away. his eyes have drifted to you.
you across the party and perched on a seat at the bar, a glass of something pink in your hands and a dress so short he can trace the swell of your ass. and you’re laughing—oh god, you’re laughing, tucking hair behind your ear with flushed cheeks and a carefree smile. sukuna’s mouth dries. god, you’re so pretty. you’re always so pretty, and sukuna wants to tell you that; wants to curl up beside you and wipe away the red dribbling down your chin and maybe tug your dress down over your ass. you’d swat at him and tell him he’s ruining your outfit. and then you’d kiss him because you like when he gets territorial anyways.
you laugh again, and ryomen sukuna is already moving.
that is, until naoya curls up behind you.
sukuna stops in his tracks. naoya snakes an arm around your waist from behind—your waist again, not your hips, fucking idiot—and sukuna’s jaw goes slack. he watches naoya press his parched, un-vaselined lips to your shoulder blades, and he doesn’t miss the slight tense of your shoulders before you ease into his chest.
sukuna’s jaw ticks. “suguru.”
“hm?”
“get sato. it’s time.”
suguru grins. “yes, boss.”
suguru disappears into the crowd. sukuna’s eyes shift back to you, back to naoya, back to the way his hands slide up your side and the way he whispers something in your ear. you laugh again and sukuna’s jaw twitches, because the sound itself comes out strained.
you’re uncomfortable. and he’d be a fool to miss it.
suguru reappears with sato in tow.
sato is drunk. swaying. red-bruised lips & booze in his breath. his cheeks are flushed pink & his hair sweat-sticky and he’s slung over suguru’s back like his life depends on it. he nuzzles into suguru’s neck. “mmh—you called?”
sukuna’s eyes are still on you. he nods towards the bar, “you see naoya?”
sato squints. “so ugly,”
“he’s got his hands on my girl.”
sato frowns. “that won’t do.”
“yeah,” sukuna murmurs, lifting a cup of punch off a passing tray. suguru is wiping rum off sato’s lip. sukuna passes the cup to sato. “you remember the plan?”
sato gives a drunken nod. and then he’s off.
the plan is simple: red punch, ugly naoya, combination. sato gojo is supposed to be a ninja, an image of stealth and diligence. instead he’s a wobbly drunken mess, giggling boyishly as he stumbles towards the bar.
he’s so close, sukuna’s eyes narrow. just a few more steps and then naoya will be drenched—
but sato trips. and as he falls, he pulls naoya’s pants down with him.
the situation is a whole mess.
punch everywhere. sticky on naoya’s shocked face, on sato’s fallen figure, on the party’s hardwood floor. and everyone is watching—staring—at naoya zenin covered in punch, pants on the floor. those boxers—is that undertale?
naoya’s face is blood drenched. “you drunken fucking idiot—”
“m’sorry,” sato cries, face down, hands still gripping naoya’s pants. “was tryna—hic—spill the punch, hnghh—suguru—“
“get the fuck off me!” naoya kicks at him, pants rippling around his ankles. someone is pulling out their phone to record. another is already recording. everyone’s laughing, including you, and even ryomen sukuna is struggling to bite back the chuckle on his lips.
naoya scrambles out of the party, shuffling out in his sans undertale boxers with his pants around his feet. suguru has already made his way to sato’s side.
sato’s eyes are teary, and his forehead is bruised red from naoya’s kick. suguru cups his face, brows knit. “hey man. you alright?”
sato groans. “i spilled the punch and the pants.”
“mhm,” geto snorts, smushing sato’s cheeks between his palms. “good job, buddy.”
“i did good?”
“so good,” geto smiles down at him. “come on, up you go.”
suguru helps sato up to his feet. sukuna is already moving.
towards you, you at the bar with your palm over your mouth to muffle your laugh as you watch naoya flee into the night. sukuna steps into your space. your eyes are still on the door before you slowly, slowly, turn your head around to him.
your pupils are blown. cheeks flushed and chest heaving from the alcohol, and your eyes focus for a minute before you grin.
“aww, look,” you beam. “if it isn’t my ex-boyfriend.”
sukuna shouldn’t take advantage.
he knows if you were sober, it’d be a different story. he knows you’d kick and hit at him, maybe snarl about his audacity to show his face around you. but you’re too many drinks too deep and as drunk and dizzy as the day he met you in that alleyway, so instead of kicking at him you lean forward to cup his cheeks.
sukuna tilts his head to kiss your palm. “Hi, baby. you’re drunk.”
“noo,” you slur. “i’m tipsy.”
“mhm,” sukuna grunts, stepping forward to slide his arms around your hips before you can lean off the chair. he tugs your dress down over your ass, then strokes your thigh. “third glass?”
“so close!” you squeeze his neck happily. “i’m on my sixth.”
sukuna hugs you back. but his face is scowling.
naoya zenin—that fucking idiot. sukuna knows your limit is four. he knows that any more than that and you’ll be sick for days, groggy and weak and unable to get out of bed. he squeezes your hips. “s’too much, sweetheart.”
“i know,” you pout into his neck. “i couldn’t resist.”
oh, his poor girl. sukuna kisses your hair. just once—just because he missed the warmth of your skin—but then he does it again and again and you giggle into his chest. fuck. he’s missed the sound bad.
“i’m sorry.”
sukuna’s heart stops. “what?”
“for going past my limit.”
sukuna can feel you pouting in his neck. he sighs, because of course that’s what you meant. not that you were sorry for leaving him or whatever his delusions had him hearing in that moment. after all, he should be the one apologizing anyway. right?
“you’re okay,” he hugs you closer, pressing your head into his chest. god, you’re gonna be so sick tomorrow; and the day after, and the day after. “i’m not mad, pretty. don’t apologize.”
you nod against him. “are you gonna take care of me?”
sukuna wishes drunk you didn’t talk so much.
because it hurts to have to say no, no but i want to, no but i would if i knew you wouldn’t hate me for it when you’re sober, so he doesn’t say it at all. instead he traces circles on your hips. “gimme your phone.”
you rest your chin on his chest and beam up at him drunkenly instead.
sukuna lets out a sigh, shifting just enough to reach for your purse without jerking you off his chest. he slips your phone into his palm and tries for the passcode. it unlocks in one go. the passcode is still his birthday, and sukuna sighs again.
“i’m gonna call shoko,” he murmurs into your ear. “she’ll take care of you, yeah?”
he could take care of you too, you know. if you’d let him. but you wouldn’t, so he bites his lip.
“shoko?” you coo into his neck. “i love shoko.”
“i know,” sukuna squeezes your thigh. “i know you do.”
TORU’S REMARK: I HAVE A BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS…
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #2: GO BIG OR GO HOME !
taught by: geto suguru
“like the great oikawa tooru said, if you’re gonna hit it? hit it until it breaks.”
ΣΧ
ryomen sukuna is itch itch itching.
itching to know if you’re okay. itching to know if shoko—or, ugh, naoya—let you have those crackers you like to help you settle your stomach, kept your room slightly warm, and for christ’s sake, kept you away from the advil. you love to reach for them after a night of drinking. sukuna knows it only makes your headaches worse.
you haven’t posted on instagram in days.
not that he should know since you have him blocked. but luckily your account is public and sato’s allowed him to log in on his fake instagram hair page. SlayedBySato. hit them up on IG.
sukuna is lying on the couch, nose buried in a cushion. he watches your highlights with bleary eyes. in the one he’s viewing, you’re in a tight black dress, red and blue hues lighting up your face. you’re dancing the night away, cheeks flushed, lashes fluttering. his pretty party girl. god.
“look at my girl,” he mumbles into the pillow. “so fucking hot. i’ll slap the shit out of naoya zenin.”
geto laughs. “shouldn’t have let her get away, then.”
on the floor, sato has his head in suguru’s lap, pouting as geto presses an iced cloth to his forehead. he flinches. “sugu, how much longer?”
“shh,” geto hisses, even though the swelling went down ages ago.
sukuna rolls so his body lays upright, setting his phone down on his chest. “it’s not enough.” he glares at the ceiling. “that stunt with his boxers? did nothing but make a bunch of people laugh.”
suguru and sato look at each other. geto’s voice goes low.
“what are you saying?”
“i’m saying he’s a fraud and i want everyone to fucking know it.” sukuna sits up, tossing his phone unto the coffee table. “he’s still captain of the football team. but i have a video that could change that.”
“the season’s first game, naoya’s first official game as captain…” sato thinks. “are you saying you wanna pull something?”
“i’m thinking of playing it in the locker room TV. make the other boys lose respect for him.”
sato and suguru look at each other again.
“boring.” sato says.
“huh?”
“toru has access to the AV booth,” a slow grin curls its way onto suguru’s lips. “would be a fucking shame if he and i were to mess with the feed on game day.”
sato sits up from suguru’s lap. “locker room TV? boring as fuck, man. the sukuna i know? he’d play whatever video he has in front of the whole fucking stadium.”
sukuna looks at his frat brothers. at their wicked grins and stupid pride and willingness to follow him to the ends of the earth. it’s foolish, honestly. going to such lengths to destroy naoya zenin because he dared to look twice at his girl. but he’s a stupid man, and his frat brothers are even stupider, and this is what the sigma-chi brotherhood is really about.
sukuna’s lip twitches. “i fucking love you guys.”
“we know,” suguru says. “and don’t ever say that shit again.”
# GAME DAY !
LET’S GO PANDAS !
the chanting in the stadium sounds more like a roar.
the air is electric—buzzing, vibrating. cheerleaders on the sidelines with cheeks smeared in blue & red paint. there’s the scent of hot dogs & fried food grilling. a crowd in jerseys with flags in their hands. in the kaisen campus stadium, the midsummer air is thick with anticipation. it’s game day.
sukuna sucks the air into his lungs. he hasn’t been to the stadium in a minute.
sato has run off to get some hot dogs. suguru and toru should already be in the AV room. the pitch has no football players but marching band members instead, drums and trombones blaring music across the grass. sukuna should go over to his and sato’s seats. instead he’s on the stairs, staring down at you.
is it fair for you to look this happy with him away from you?
he shakes the thought away. he always wants you to be happy—he thinks. but happiness with naoya? naoya zenin? he’s not quite sure about that. actually, he is. sukuna knows he’s fucking furious. he knows he doesn’t like the fact that you have naoya’s number on your back, or the fact that you’re jumping and cheering his name when the players haven’t even walked out yet. his jaw ticks. something ugly curls in his throat. he swallows it away.
he stares a little longer. watches your skirt swish around your thighs, watches your arms wave in the air, watches your hips sway to the music. you’ve clearly recovered and your dancing is out of tune as always, and sukuna bites back a smile.
he’s still smiling when you look up at him.
his face falls.
your head lifts towards him, and he doesn’t miss the way your body tenses. your arms drop to your sides. your palms curl into fists.
uh oh.
you look away, pausing for a moment. and then you trudge between bodies and make your way over to what sukuna can only assume is the concession stand.
sukuna follows. he doesn’t give himself time to think any better of it.
——
caramel popcorn and half-burnt sugar. the concession stand smells like caramel popcorn and half-burnt sugar.
and vanilla, but not the syrupy sweet kind. it’s the kind that sukuna smells whenever he kisses that spot below your ear, or presses his lips to the dip of your waist. at the concession stand, sukuna stands behind you with his hands in his pockets, pretending he doesn’t see the frown on your face as you stand in line in front of him.
“go away.” you deadpan.
“i’m here to eat.”
“You will choke on your food and die.”
harsh.
sukuna’s used to it though. so when it’s your turn to get a donut, he slips out his wallet and drops some cash before you can even protest. the stand worker takes the excess money with a grin. you turn to sukuna with a frown.
“what are you doing?”
your tone is mean but ryomen sukuna can’t take you seriously. your hair has ribbons tangled throughout it. you look so fucking cute.
he looks you in the eyes. “let me check your temperature. feeling feverish? at all?”
you only eye him in response. “stop caring about me.”
“can’t,” he mutters. “let me check it.”
he pads closer, and you’re still glaring daggers at him, but you don’t bite his palm as it cups your face. he pats the back of his hand against your neck, then your forehead, then your chest—and then his palm’s on your cheek again.
“you had six drinks that night,” he murmurs, thumb stroking your cheek. “was so worried. don’t like when you go over your limit.”
“i’m fine,” your voice is sharp—or trying to be. “don’t touch me.”
he shifts his hand into his pocket. “okay.” he says. “i’m gonna get you back.”
that sets you off. “i’m done with you, asshole!” you stab your finger into his chest. “i’m serious—no more on and off bullshit. i’ve moved on. i’m with naoya, for fuck’s sake. you just can’t accept that cuz of your stupid little ego!”
you’re still stabbing his chest. sukuna only watches you patiently, letting you yell to your heart’s content.
“and i hate you!” you tug his collar just to shove him away again. “i’m moving on. i’m happy now. so don’t try to act like you’re still my boyfriend!”
“sorry,” he trails off. he’s still watching you poke him with half-lidded eyes.
“i like your ribbons,” he murmurs. “you look pretty.”
“ugh!”
you storm off, and sukuna bites his cheek as your ribbons swing behind you. his hand finds the spot where you hit his chest and he sighs.
ryomen sukuna needs to get you back. and the sooner he does? the better.
———-
sato gojo has five bomboclat hotdogs in his lap.
how humongous! and worst of all, he refuses to share them with sukuna, who left his own food at the concession stand while his mind fixated on your face. you looked so pretty yelling at him. fuck. has he gone mad?
he shakes the thought away. he has his phone in his hands, facetime call with suguru on screen. toru gojo is setting up a monitor in the background with shaky hands. suguru has his phone at a poor angle and he’s humming into its mic with glee.
sato hooks his mustard-sticky chin over sukuna’s shoulder. “yo, sugu.” he says to the call.
“yo,”
“i have five hotdogs,” sato says humbly. “i’m saving a quarter for you.”
“love your generosity.”
“thank you, brother.”
sukuna shoves sato’s face away, ignoring the pout on his face as he rubs his still-bruised forehead. “suguru. how’s the prep going?”
“we’re all good here,” suguru says, turning the call camera to face toru and the set-up. “toru, you’re on video. say hi.”
“uh—hi!”
“hey, twin!” sato’s chin is back on sukuna’s shoulder. he frowns. “i didn’t save you any hotdogs.”
“that’s okay,” toru pushes up his glasses. “i don’t like hotdogs much anyways.”
suguru laughs behind the camera. “aww. i’ll get you a hotdog, buddy.”
“guys, focus.” sukuna pinches his nose. “the footage. is it ready?”
“yup,” suguru pops the p. just waiting for your signal.”
down on the pitch, the teams are lively.
the stadium is roaring. confetti everywhere, cheers and screams from fangirls and fanboys alike. the campus team jogs out in high spirits. and naoya zenin is there, golden boy of the season, arms in the air and waving like he’s the best thing since sliced bread. sukuna tries not to roll his eyes.
it’s a new season, and this one begins with a speech.
and who else to deliver it but the new captain, naoya? he has his helmet in his arm, grin wide, eyes gleaming. he stands on the podium with a mic to his mouth, and then he clears his throat.
his voice bellows. “GO PANDAS!”
the crowd roars. “go pandas!” sato cheers along. sukuna smacks his head.
“it is my honor, as the new captain of the football team, to welcome you all to the new season. kaisen university has suffered many losses. but this year, under my lead, i swear to you all—victory!”
the crowd roars again. sato is smart enough to not get caught up in the high spirits this time.
naoya raises a hand to calm the crowd. “but first off, i want to say a thank you to our alumni, sponsors, team—“
suguru turns the phone camera to himself, grinning. “i think this is the time?”
“your thinking is correct.”
“hit it, toru.”
toru fumbles with the control panel. he plugs in a mic, and suguru brings his mouth to the head.
“hey naoya,”
suguru’s voice crackles through the stadium speakers. the crowd stills. the football team on the grass is frozen in confusion.
“the alumni, sponsors, team you’re talking about,” you can hear the smile in suguru’s voice. “is it these ones?”
toru hits a button.
the big screen flickers.
the static shifts to a video. it’s one of those out of focus, wobbly snapchat ones, captioned ‘this guy’ with a bunch of laughing emojis. someone says something in the background. naoya scoffs.
“alumni? sponsors? they’re all a bunch of old has-beens with heart conditions,” he spits. “lousy fuckers with too much money. yet they can’t even buy us a trophy. idiots.”
but the video doesn’t end there. naoya is talking while he changes out of his uniform, focused on the locker in front of him. “and this shitty team,“ he bites. “dumb fuckers who would need help to wipe their asses. can’t follow instructions for shit. i see why sukuna fucking left.”
the video ends. all that’s left is the grey replay button on the screen. suguru shifts back away from the mic, holding his phone to his face. “holy shit,” he says into the facetime call. “we fucking did that.”
“yeah,” sukuna says. “we did.”
but he’s distracted. naoya is arguing with someone on field but sukuna doesn’t care to see what that’s about. instead his eyes are on you down near the pitch, your hands gripping the stands. he can’t tell if you’re confused, distraught, happy, sad. it’s fucking killing him. he needs to see your face.
sato climbs unto his chair. he cups his hands around his mouth. “GET HIM OFF THE FIELD!”
sukuna’s eyes widen in alarm, but others are already joining in. OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD! GET NA-O-YA OFF-THE-FIELD!”
on the pitch, naoya’s face flushes in embarrassment. “you sorry sacks of shit! do you fucking know who i am?!”
they’ll never know, because he never has the chance to tell. security guards are escorting him away before he even knows it.
sukuna’s eyes flit down the bleachers. back down to you. he finds you hopping at your seat, ribbons swishing as you chant along with the crowd.
OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD!
sukuna’s lip twitches. get him off the field.
———
“OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD!”
the chanting of the stadium is still buzzing in sukuna’s ears.
toru gojo left early, body aching with anxiety and in dire need of a nap. sukuna’s decided it’s about time to leave too—college football games aren’t really his thing anymore.
suguru and sato are geeking out over the whole thing behind him as sukuna trudges forward with his hands in his pockets. he’s half-smiling. he still can’t believe the whole scene had you chanting along and hopping eagerly in your seat. so cute. your ribbons were bouncing everywhere. so fucking cute.
“this is all your fault!”
sukuna knows that voice anywhere.
sato and suguru know it too. the smiles quickly leave their faces, brows knitting in alarm. the three quietly speed up towards the corridor, and the scene has sukuna seeing red.
“you dumb fucking whore,” naoya has you cornered against the wall. “all this shit because of you and your crazy, batshit boyfriend. ‘deal’ my fucking asshole. you see how they embarrassed me? because of you?”
sukuna’s already moving. but geto pulls him back. “listen.”
“you can’t pin this on me,” you try to keep your voice steady, but sukuna knows how your voice gets when you’re about to snap. naoya’s face is too close to yours for his liking. “you’re the one who said all that stupid shit. take some fucking responsibility.”
“responsibility?” naoya’s teeth curl. his breath is hot against your lip. “deal my fucking ass. this was your plan all along wasn’t it, stupid bitch? date me and get closer to me so you can sabotage me along with your boyfriend—”
“naoya,” your voice is dangerous. “i’m warning you, get back.”
“or what?” he spits in your face. “you’ll call your big bad boyfriend to save you? run to him like some stupid little whore—?”
you slap naoya silly.
and for a moment, sukuna’s shoulders un-tense. he’s been holding his breath the entire time, fingers curled into the wall, suguru’s hand on his chest stopping him from charging forward. but fuck, he’s proud. that’s his fucking girl. fuck. why’d he have to go and lose you?
but he can’t relax for long.
“you fucking bitch!”
naoya shoves you against the wall and you thud against it. sukuna doesn’t have to pry geto’s hand away—they’re already charging in.
naoya’s eyes widen as soon as he sees the trio. suguru swings. sato punches. but naoya dodges both, shoulder bumping into them as he slips between the two. he should be stopped by sukuna—but sukuna charges straight to your side, tugging you to his chest, breath heaving. naoya zenin escapes.
suguru and sato’s eyes flit towards the exit. their breathing is sharp, ragged. their eyes drift back to you in alarm. fuck. you’re more important.
sukuna hugs you to his chest, tight. his hand presses your head under his chin. he wants to pretend you’re not fucking shaking in his arms, but god you are, god—you are.
“you’re okay, baby,” he lies. your hand is fisting his collar like you want to pull him closer—or maybe push him away. “you’re okay. i’ve got you, you’re okay.”
you squeeze his collar. “ryo,” your voice is small, “don’t go after him.”
“i won’t baby, swear to god i won’t.”
but that’s just another lie. he presses your head further into his chest, palm heavy on your head. and then he mouths to suguru and sato:
GO. FUCKING. KILL HIM.
they don’t need to be told twice.
“ryo,” you whisper in his chest. “where are they going?”
“they’re giving us privacy,” he lies, and you’ll hate him for it tomorrow but he’ll settle for holding you today. he kisses your head. “are you hurt? hit your head? look at me.”
he can feel your lips jut out in his chest. “i’m fine.”
“i told you to look at me.”
you grumble, but oblige regardless. and god, sukuna’s heart aches. you have your chin on his chest, lashes tear rimmed, cheeks flushed and lips jut out in a stubborn pout. your eyes are glistening with wet. sukuna’s jaw aches.
naoya zenin has got to go to hell.
and he’ll send him there personally. he kisses your forehead, “gorgeous.” and then his thumbs wipe your lashes. “i’m gonna check if you’re concussed. do you have a headache?”
“this is so stupid,” you grumble. “i’m not concussed. and you know it.”
sukuna ignores you, cups your face in his palms. “what day of the week is it?”
“monday.” you grumble.
“gonna say some numbers, say them back to me in reverse,” he strokes your cheek. “four-two-four-two-five-six-four.”
you say them back perfectly. sukuna kisses your forehead. “good job baby,” he murmurs. “smart girl. does anything hurt?”
“no.”
“don’t lie to me.”
you rest the side of your face on his chest, pausing for a moment. then you raise a hand to grip his bicep. “my head hurts. just a little.”
“anything else?”
“i was scared,” you mutter, small. “i was so scared, ryo.”
naoya zenin has got to go to hell.
it’s the second time sukuna thinks that, but he shakes the thought away. he squeezes your hips. tilts your chin so you’re looking up at his face. your lashes are wet & your lips are wobbly & ryomen sukuna thinks you are grace.
“shh,” his thumb rubs your bottom lip. “you’re safe. you’re always safe with me.”
“i know,” your voice croaks as you nod.
“fuck, baby,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss your eyelids, nose, cheek, forehead. he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth. and then he finds your lips, tongue licking your mouth before he kisses you deep and slow.
“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs between your lips. “m’gonna kill naoya.”
“noo,” you whine, tugging his collar. “i told you not to do that.”
sukuna kisses his teeth, stepping back so he can hoist you up into his arms. his hands dip beneath your thighs to haul you up, and now you’re peering down at him through those sad, wet lashes. he kisses the pout off your lips. squeezes your thighs with his big hands. opens his mouth to say—
“i knocked that sucker out the park!”
sato and geto saunter back into the corridor, grins wicked, steps light. their knuckles are bloody and their jaws are bruised and their smiles are so bright they’re practically gleaming.
you turn to look at them. sukuna grabs the back of your head and pushes you into his shoulder. you pout into his neck as he keeps his palm heavy on your head.
sato is shadowboxing. “right hook—left hook—“ he punches the air. “clean hit to the jaw. taught the bloody wanker a good fucking lesson.” he fakes a british accent.
suguru nods, hands in his pockets & smile smug. “it was a good punch.”
“right?!”
sukuna’s lip tugs. he clicks his tongue as sato fakes punches at suguru, suguru dodging them with lazy laughter. sukuna clears his throat. sato and suguru perk up.
“take her to the nurse,” his voice is low. “make sure she doesn’t have a concussion.”
suguru steps forward and sukuna gently moves you into his arms. you frown up at suguru. “i’m not concussed.”
geto only chuckles, shifting your thigh over his arm to lift you better. “i don’t think so either. but your boyfriend runs a strict program, doesn’t he?”
“ex-boyfriend,” you bite. “and he’s not stricter than me.”
“never,” suguru smiles. “you’re the strictest.”
sukuna scoffs behind you. sato just says he likes your ribbons.
he watches the boys leave with you. sato bouncing beside geto, you still arguing in suguru’s arms. but then he thinks about naoya. thinks about how he called his girl a whore, how he had the guts to shove you against a wall instead of just taking your slap like a fucking man. his jaw locks.
his feet are already moving. but then he remembers. don’t go after him.
he’s already broken that promise, already sent sato and suguru to beat him bloody. and he trusts his frat brothers, trusts they didn’t go easy on him. but his knuckles ache. he wants to beat naoya down so fucking badly.
but he knows if he sees naoya now, it will only end in death. and sukuna won’t be the one in the deathbed.
sukuna slams his fist into the wall. “fuck!”
SUGURU’S REMARK: CHILLL. WE CONTROLLED THAT
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #3: ON THE OFFENSE !
taught by: toji zenin
‘want your girl back? then get fucking serious. stop playing her damn games and show her who’s the man.’
ΣΧ
“i have to kill naoya zenin.”
on toji zenin’s bedroom floor, ryomen sukuna’s jaw is tight. his hands dig into his thighs and suguru sits beside him with worried eyes. toji zenin is on the edge of his bed, running a brush through a jet black lace front wig. his son, five-and-a-half year old megumi zenin, sits beside him with a beach blond color 613 bone-straight wig on his head.
megumi tugs his father’s sleeve, voice flat.
“daddy, i have a buss down.”
toji doesn’t look up from his mannequin. “looks great, kiddo.”
toji zenin is twenty-four, stubble on his chin and single-ish student dad. single-ish because megumi’s mother left him when he turned twenty-one, but now he’s engaged to a pretty rich lady who sukuna still can’t believe forgave him for his lies. whatever—that’s a story for another day. even though toji’s girl is rich, he still insists on picking up odd jobs here and there to support him and meg rather than relying on her money. he’s currently working as a wig influencer for ISEEHAIR®.
on sukuna’s right, suguru has his hair in twin braids—courtesy of megumi zenin—and the same kind of ribbons you wore on game day—courtesy of SlayedBySato. he pats sukuna’s shoulder. “hey man, it’s okay. she’s okay.”
“you don’t fucking know that,” sukuna spits. “you don’t know it that bastard is still around her. i should’ve fucking killed him. slammed his skull into the wall back in the stadium.”
megumi blinks, gaze flat. he tugs his father’s sleeve. “daddy, is uncle kuna okay?”
“he’s in love,” toji answers, reaching for the hot comb. “makes you stupid.”
megumi nods, blond wisps of hair sticking to his cheek. then he stares at uncle sukuna for a bit longer before sliding his chubby body off the bed. “i’m gonna lay my edges.”
megumi zenin pads away.
suguru smiles after him. but then his smile dissolves, and he shifts his gaze back to sukuna. sukuna’s jaw is still tight, eyes glaring daggers at toji’s bedroom floor, and suguru elbows his side. “relax, man. brooding’s not gonna fix anything.”
“suguru’s right,” toji grumbles. “sato and suguru already beat him down. that didn’t make you feel better, did it?”
sukuna squints.
“you want your girl back? stop playing her damn games,” toji continues. “show her she can’t just keep playing around. you’ve embarrassed naoya, sabotaged him. all you’ve done is play along with her bratty lil’ antics.”
megumi’s voice comes from the other room. “daddy, can you help me lay my edges?”
“in a minute, kid.” toji doesn’t look up from the mannequin. “you want your girl? beat her at her own fucking game.”
sukuna grits his teeth. suguru slings an arm around him, braids swinging. “there’s a party for the football team tonight,” he says. “pretty sure y/n will be there again.”
sukuna swallows. thinks about it. and then the door swings open.
in comes sato gojo with megumi zenin in his arms. the five year old has wig edges laid, hair on fleek, and there is no doubt he’s been SlayedBySato.
sato’s grin is clumsy.
“did someone say party?”
# SHOW TIME !
at the party, the bass is so loud the speakers are moving.
not a lot—just a little—but the sound is so loud that sato is pouting as suguru helps him cover his ears. geto yells at some footballer to turn the music down. it takes them too long to comply.
sukuna is on a couch trying to ignore the babe curling herself into his side.
pamela? no—pairin. hair dyed mauve & flushed pink cheeks & a pretty nice rack—not that sukuna is looking. well he did look, he’s just a man and she’s got some pretty nice tits, but it’s okay. he still thinks yours are perkier.
pairin is trailing a hand up his thigh.
“ryo,” she coos. “it’s been forever. i’ve missed you.”
it has been forever. ryomen sukuna hasn’t slept with pairin, or any other girl for that matter, since he started dating you. yes you’ve broken up and gotten back together a hundred times, and technically when you’re broken up he’s a free man, but sukuna knows if he dared to touch another woman even when you’re not with him he’d never hear the end of it. so he’s always been patient. always waited.
which is why it’s not fucking fair for you to let naoya curl up behind you right now.
his eyes narrow. ryomen sukuna watches as naoya slips behind you at the bar, arm around your waist once again. fucking idiot. sukuna doesn’t even care about his arm on your waist instead of your hips anymore. once he gets his hands on naoya, he won’t even have an arm to begin with.
but sukuna doesn’t understand it.
he knows his girl. he knows you. he knows you bark more than you bite, he knows you’re bratty and stubborn and selfish and petty, and he knows men like naoya zenin are not your fucking type. he knows you would never put up with a man who would even yell at you—he found that out the hard way. so how could you let naoya touch you so casually after he dared to disrespect you?
are you really moving on?
he’s heard about it before. boundaries crumbling when people fall in love. is that what’s happening here? is naoya manipulating you? are you being pressured? can he kill him?
or do you actually—god forbid—like naoya?
sukuna scoffs. fucking hell if you do. he’ll kill naoya so you have no one to love. he’ll be damned if the man who steals your heart after him is one that doesn’t even know how to hold you right. naoya zenin will die today. ryomen sukuna will make sure of it.
“ryo,” pairin coos. when did her tits press against his chest?
she’s shifted so much that she’s practically on top of him, thigh digging into his hip. sukuna kisses his teeth. “don’t fucking call me that.”
pairin pouts, sliding a hand down his chest. “so mean. ever since you started dating that girl, you’ve become so mean to me.”
sukuna hears a laugh. it’s you, laughing at something the bartender says. another poor man who will be joining sukuna’s kill list. or maybe not, since you seem happy. you take a sip of your drink and frown when a drop lands on your chest. so cute.
pairin lifts a hand to shift his jaw back to her face. “you’re smiling.”
“yeah,” his voice is bored. “not at you.”
she frowns. “you used to be fun.”
“i used to be single.”
he still is right now, but not for long. never for long. he watches as you take another cup from the bartender. that’s drink number three. behind you naoya presses his face into your neck, and sukuna watches as you ease into him.
ryomen sukuna is blinded by rage.
he’s not quite thinking when he does it. he’s not quite thinking when he grabs pairin by the back of her neck, shoving her lips onto his. she squeaks, “mmph—!” as sukuna presses his lips against her. she tries to sneak her tongue past his lips. he keeps his mouth shut.
sukuna sees it.
he keeps his eyes open the whole time, and across the bar he watches your face lift. you’re laughing, you always are, but then your gaze drifts across the room to him.
the drink in your hand nearly drops.
you do that little thing where your chest heaves—anxious?—and your fingers curl tight around the cup in your hands. your brows furrow like you’re glaring but your lips are wobbly, oh god, they’re so wobbly—
he pushes pairin off his lap.
but it’s too late. you’re already off your chair, scrambling, and sukuna can’t see that well from this far but he knows your eyes are wet. he saw that tear slip down your cheek. he bolts for the exit but someone pulls him back by the shoulder—
“sukuna?” sato’s brows are knit. “what the fuck? what’s wrong man?”
sukuna’s chest is still heaving. his eyes are still on the door.
ryomen sukuna has lost the girl once again.
TOJI’S REMARK: NOT THAT KIND OF OFFENSE, IDIOT.
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #4: SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE !
taught by: sato gojo
“girls like y/n? they like to keep things difficult. and your prefer it just like that, don’t you?”
ΣΧ
ryomen sukuna hasn’t left his room in days.
two weeks. it’s been two weeks since he kissed another girl and watched you leave with tears in your eyes. and sukuna’s disgusted. stomach against the mattress and head buried in a pillow. you’re pretty when you cry—you’re always pretty—but not so much when he’s the cause of your tears.
SlayedBySato is officially blocked by you on instagram. sato’s tried to come in to cheer sukuna up, but to no avail. sukuna won’t eat anything suguru cooks, or any food at all for that matter. megumi sometimes opens his door and stares at him with bored eyes before leaving. toru comes into his room to sit on the floor and read. he’s always shaky & anxious and glancing up at sukuna every five seconds when he does that, but he still comes in to offer his company anyways.
sukuna’s scrolling through his phone, eyes watching nothing in particular. he gets a notification. probably suguru offering him food. maybe just team snapchat. he ignores it. but then his phone chimes again.
[ mine🫀: OBLIGATIONS.docx ]
sukuna’s brows knit. you have him blocked. that can’t be you.
but he clicks the message anyways. and it is you, and the first thing that greets him is your profile picture. you’re smiling big into the camera, angle low & silly, and somehow you still manage to look bright and beautiful. sukuna swallows. scrolls down to your new messages.
mine🫀: i know what you did at that party was just to get my attention.
mine🫀: since u wanna be pathetic i’ll give you more opportunity to do so
mine🫀: OBLIGATIONS.docx
sukuna clicks the document. there are no greetings, no ‘to whom may be concerned’, no date or titles. just three things.
WRITE ME A LETTER OF APOLOGY. HANDWRITTEN.
CLEAR OUT EVERY ITEM IN MY SHOPPING CART. USERNAME: y/nthebaddest PASSWORD: d1cknballs11037
APOLOGIZE TO ME AND ADMIT TO YOUR PLANS OF SABOTAGE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CAMPUS, JUST LIKE IN YOUR STUNT ON GAME DAY.
his phone chimes again.
mine🫀: you have one week. if you want me back you’ll complete everything on this list. if u dc just ignore it.
mine🫀: bye sukuna.
sukuna stares at the list. studies every word. contemplates each task.
and then he laughs.
yeah. that’s his fucking girlfriend.
# SHOW TIME
sukuna trudges into the frathouse living room with his laptop under his arm. at the center table sato is already there, humming contentedly while playing a game of monopoly by himself. he perks up when he hears the sound of the door.
“well, well,” sato sings. “look who crawled out of my grandfather’s ass.”
“what does that even mean?”
“ignore him,” suguru hums. he steps out from the kitchen with a plate of steaming hot jollof rice in his hands. he scoops some with his spoon, blows on it, and offers a bite to sukuna. “here, try some.”
“mm,” sukuna murmurs, leaning down for a bite. it’s hot, chewy—but then sukuna frowns.
“there’s no maggi in this rice.”
geto’s face falls. “no more food for you.”
whatever. sukuna sits at the center table, setting up his laptop right over sato’s monopoly game. he ignores sato’s protests as he opens up your shopping cart. “she sent me a list.” he announces. “of stuff i have to do if i want her back.”
suguru slides in at the opposite side of the table, brows raised. “show us.”
WRITE ME A LETTER OF APOLOGY. HANDWRITTEN.
CLEAR OUT EVERY ITEM IN MY SHOPPING CART. USERNAME: y/nthebaddest PASSWORD: d1cknballs11037
APOLOGIZE TO ME AND ADMIT TO YOUR PLANS OF SABOTAGE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CAMPUS, JUST LIKE IN YOUR STUNT ON GAME DAY.
sato blinks at the screen. “dick n’ balls,” he smiles wide. “i love your girlfriend.”
“tread lightly.”
suguru squints at the last item. “this is bad. she’s saying she wants you to confess in front of the whole school? like on game day?” his eyes lift to sukuna. “the dean might actually suspend you if we pull something. you know how much trouble i got in when they heard my voice on the speakers?”
“i had to pay him out of trouble,” sato shudders. “and it wasn’t cheap.”
sukuna frowns. if sato’s complaining? it definitely wasn’t cheap.
but sukuna only opens up your cart, taking in the items on screen. he’s not surprised when he scrolls through the items. lingerie from bordelle & agent provocateur, bags from dior and bottega vennetta, shoes, makeup—the high end kind—and then a bunch of sex toys, also unnecessarily overpriced. his lips tug when he notices a pair of lacy black panties. he already knows that’s for him.
or it could be for naoya to fuck you in, so his face falls.
sato slumps against sukuna’s shoulder. “wow. pricey stuff.”
“she likes nice things,” he mutters, double checking the items. he makes sure everything is in CAD and not USD, and then he checks out. nearly $5000 on clothing, accessories, lingerie. CIBC sends him a notification for possible fraud on his card immediately. he clicks no, this was me.
suguru whistles. “well, that’s that.” he leans back on his palms. “on to task number two?”
——
sukuna taps his pencil against the paper in front of him. “how do i spell exquisite.”
“e-s-q, u-z-t,” sato answers proudly. “all you have to do is sound out the vowels. i learned that trick back in freshman year.”
“there are no vowels in what you just spelled.”
suguru drags a palm over his face. he watches as sato strokes his chin, both he and sukuna staring at the half-empty letter with intense focus. he’s not sure whether to start with explaining to sato that this is not the spelling of exquisite, or if he should let sukuna know that ‘e’ and ‘u’ are indeed vowels.
he chooses to do neither. “sukuna, what do you need the word ‘exquisite’ for?”
“i need to tell her her ass is exquisite.”
“in her apology letter?”
“Yes.”
oh, okay. actually no—it’s not okay. suguru pinches his nose. “this is an apology letter. what does her ass have to do with this?!”
“she likes when i say nice things about her body,” sukuna mumbles, low. geto softens. that’s actually sweet.
“i’m gonna tell her i like her nipples.”
suguru snatches the letter from his hands.
he makes the mistake of letting his eyes drop to the poorly written text, and he’s reading it in his head before he can think any better of it: Hello, I am sorry. Your ass is esquizit. Come back to me. Nipples.
“jesus fucking christ,” suguru breathes.
sukuna scowls at him. “you didn’t let me finish the last sentence.”
sato hugs his knees. “i like this letter.”
suguru ignores them. he puts the letter aside, and tears out a new sheet of paper from the notepad on the table. “look, ryomen. i know you’re not good with words. and i know y/n it’s important to you. so we’re gonna help you.”
sato leans back on his palms. “yup, we are.”
“i meant i’m gonna help him,” suguru glares at sato. “tell me what’s on your mind. what you think. what you feel in your chest when you think about her. if she looked you in the eye and told you she was upset about all you’ve done, what would you say to her?”
sukuna scowls at nothing in particular, pondering. “i’d kiss her.”
“that’s what you would do,” suguru wags his pencil. “what would you say?”
sukuna thinks a bit harder. he thinks about how you look when you’re sad, how you don’t laugh, how your bottom lip juts out in that wobbly pout that makes his stomach hurt. he thinks about how you’d cuss at him before the tears fall, and then you’d grip his collar while spitting teary insults, before collapsing in his chest and letting him kiss your cheek till you quiet down. sukuna thinks very hard.
“i’d tell her i’m sorry,” he says. “and that i hate it when she cries.”
suguru nods. “go on,”
“i’d tell her i was scared,” he murmurs. “of her moving on. of her finding someone better.” he breathes. “i don’t want her to be with anyone that’s not me.”
suguru and sato stay silent.
“i don’t even care about naoya,” sukuna’s voice is tired. his palm slides over his face. “i just want her to be with me.”
“aww,” sato coos.
“shut up.”
but sukuna doesn’t shove sato away when he leans over to hug his head. sato pats sukuna’s face into his chest. “suguru,” sukuna mutters. “can you say that i miss her?”
“already did.”
suguru turns the paper around to reveal the words. sukuna squints to make out the words behind the pretty cursive.
dear y/n,
i know i've said sorry a thousand times. i know it doesn't mean much coming from me. but i mean it. i'm sorry for the party. i'm sorry for kissing someone else. i'm sorry for making you cry. i hate it when you cry, hate when i make you sad. i hate it when you look at me like you don't trust me anymore.
i was scared. scared you were moving on. scared you were finding someone better. i was scared i was losing you for good.
i don't care about naoya. i don't care about other women. i don't care about any of it. i just want you.
i want to earn you back. i want to earn your trust. i want to be the person you deserve.
i love you. i've never loved anyone else like you. i don't want to love anyone else. please give me a chance to prove it.
— sukuna
sukuna blinks at the letter. “i sound pathetic.”
“you are pathetic,” suguru sets it down. “for y/n at least.”
he is, isn’t he?
suguru taps his pencil against the table. “so, do you like it? or shall we draft a new one?”
sukuna thinks about it. sato is still patting his head.
“nah,” he says. “it’s perfect.”
SATO’S REMARK: OH WE’RE SO GETTING HER BACK
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #5: HAVE YOU EVER APOLOGIZED WITH YOUR LIFE ON THE LINE ?!
taught by: nanami kento
“this is the stupidest plan i’ve ever heard.”
ΣΧ
the letter is done. the shopping cart is cleared. but the boys of sigma chi can’t rest just yet.
they do so anyway. suguru is sprawled lazily on the couch, legs spread and popcorn bucket in his hands. sato has his cheek on geto’s chest, curled up beside him. and even sukuna is leaning into the warmth, legs crossed on the floor and his head against suguru’s leg. the tv is playing something none of them truly care about.
suguru takes a bite of popcorn, teeth sticky. “how the fuck are we gonna pull off the last task?”
sato tosses a kernel into sukuna’s open mouth. “i have no idea.”
suguru pops another kernel between his lips, and then feeds a bite through sato’s open mouth on his chest. “before we even get to that—i’ve been thinking. what about that deal naoya mentioned? back in the stadium?”
sato and sukuna perk up.
sukuna’s jaw ticks again. he’s tried not to think about it. tried not to think about how naoya dared to raise his voice at you, how he dared to shove you back in his anger. he licks his canines. his chest is hot.
“i’ve been thinking about it too,” sato says. “ i have a theory.”
“uh oh.”
“don’t be mean,” sato pouts, and suguru pulls his cheek lovingly. he leans off suguru’s chest, palms still on his shoulders for balance. “my theory? y/n wants to make sukuna jealous. naoya wants him jealous too. boom. they work together and date.”
suguru nods. “but now, naoya thinks y/n is dating him so she and sukuna can work together to trash his reputation,” he muses. “and so he’s treating her badly.”
sukuna’s nails dig into his palms.
he knew you wanted him jealous—that’s obvious. but the thought of his stupid antics putting you in danger? with naoya? fuck. you’re a sharp girl. but you’re all bark and no bite. what the fuck is he supposed to do if naoya even thinks of disrespecting you again?
he speaks up. “back at the party. the one we went to after the game,” he bites his cheek. “i saw her with him again. that’s why i got mad. kissed that pamela bitch.”
“pairin.”
“i don’t give a fuck.” sukuna grumbles. “but that’s not what tripped me up. she was with naoya again—even after how he treated her.” his fingers dig into the couch. “she drags me by the ear when i raise my voice just slightly. why would she stay by naoya after all that? just to make me jealous?”
geto thinks out loud. “what if he has something on her?”
the boys go quiet.
for you to stay with someone like naoya, genuine or not? sukuna knows it must be something serious. he leans off the couch, turns to his boys.
“we need to start planning that final task.”
# SHOW TIME !
“kenny,” suguru begs. “please. we need your help.”
nanami pushes up his glasses. “immediately no.”
the theatre hall is humongous.
thousands of students fitted into velvet seats. there’s some ceremony today—what it’s about, sukuna doesn’t know—but he knows it’s the only opportunity he has to fulfill your last task. the next gameday is a week away, past the one week timeframe you specified.
sukuna also knows you’re in the crowd. he’d seen you sitting close to the front. right next to naoya.
god, you looked gorgeous. low cut top that exposes your plush breasts because you have no sense of time and place. skirt short as always, bunched up around your thighs, and lashes fluttering. bored. you looked hopelessly bored and beautiful next to naoya, and it wasn’t till shoko slipped into the seat beside you that your glossy lips smiled again. fuck. sukuna hopes he’ll get to speak to you soon.
but right now, he and the boys are trying to convince nanami to let him show up on stage in place of presenting his speech.
they’re all backstage. sigma chi treasurer nanami kento is sat at a makeshift desk, tie pin straight, expression flat as usual. “i will not allow you to take over my speech in the name of love and sacrifice. this is the stupidest plan i’ve ever heard.”
“nanaken, you’re not listening,” sato shakes his shoulders. “this is a matter of life and death—our last chance to help sukuna get his girl back.” sato pleads. “if we don’t succeed, he’ll be depressed!”
“i won’t be depressed.”
“he’ll be depressed!”
nanami only pinches his nose.
“look,” suguru starts, leaning over the table with his palms. “let’s make a deal. you let us crash your speech? sato buys you all the BL manhwa you want.”
nanami perks up. “BL?”
sato frowns. “sato?”
“exactly,” suguru says. “i know you’re tired of reading semantic error on a screen. we’ll get you all the physical copies—and whatever other BL you have on your reading list. all you have to do is let us crash your set.”
nanami thinks about it. thinks about how nice it’d be to see jang jaeyoung on a page, how he’d be able to have the story right there between his fingertips. he thinks about it. ponders hard.
and then he nods. “you’ve got yourselves a deal.”
——
each speech passes by way too fast.
well honestly, not fast enough. the audience is snoozing. they forget to clap after some speeches, and in the crowd sukuna can see you watching, bored. you have your head against shoko’s shoulder, phone in your hands. a man in a suit walks up to the stage to remind the audience of ‘etiquette’ and ‘keeping their phones away’. you roll your eyes and take a selfie with shoko, lips puckered out.
god, he misses you.
he closes the backstage curtains. suguru is waving his speech around. “you’re up next, man. you ready?”
sukuna swallows. why the fuck does he feel anxious? sukuna doesn’t do anxious. angry? horny? yes. but anxious?
he swipes the speech from suguru’s hands. “yeah. m’ready.”
———
sukuna is not ready.
but he’s not anxious either, so that’s a win. his body’s vibrating with something he can’t quite name. the audience is clapping away as the current presenter leaves.
suguru claps his back. “go.”
and go he does. he rips the velvet curtains apart and trudges his way to the podium. his hands are in his pockets and his gaze is bored and through the corner of his eyes all he can see is you you you.
you, with your brows furrowed and lips in a pout he wants to kiss off. you stare after him with big eyes, before your eyes go even bigger. he watches you facepalm.
that shouldn’t make him laugh. he sets his speech on the podium.
in the audience, shoko is nudging your shoulder. “girl. isn’t that your man?”
naoya turns to frown at her. “excuse me?”
you and shoko ignore him. “i have no idea what he’s up to.” you lie.
on the podium sukuna clears his throat. the TVs overhead are zoomed in on his face. his hair is golden-red under the lights, and sweat glistens on his skin, and sukuna takes in a deep breath.
“my name is ryomen sukuna, and i’m the previous captain of the pandas football team.”
some people whistle and cheer. others watch in silent confusion. naoya is gritting his teeth beside you and shoko is squeezing your thigh.
“i’m here to make a confession in light of recent events within our campus community,” sukuna murmurs into the mic. god, fuck geto suguru and his pretty cursive. sukuna can’t read shit.
“at the first game of the season,” sukuna clears his throat. “there was a video broadcast that interrupted the flow of the ceremony. i profusely apologize for that,” he says. “i was the one responsible.”
gasps fill the arena.
“it’s unsportsmanlike, i know.” he adjusts the mic. “whether the contents of the video are honest or not, to broadcast them during the ceremony was uncalled for and inappropriate. i had no good or honest intentions behind it.” he grits his teeth, eyes leaving the script.
“i wanted to embarrass naoya.”
the crowd is silent, and sukuna finds your eyes.
you’re looking right at him with an expresssion he can’t make out. beside you naoya is there, arm around your seat, and anger seeps into his chest. naoya has a black eye—he’ll have to thank suguru and sato for that. he’ll also have to give him a matching one on his left eye.
he continues his speech.
“naoya zenin, captain of the pandas, stole my girlfriend.” he spits into the mic. “so i chose to embarrass him publicly. that’s it. that’s my reason.”
the audience is muttering, talking amongst themselves. some people have their phone’s up, recording. some are enraged. some girls are swooning.
“y/n l/n—fuck,” he spits into the mic, gaze bleary. he’s gripping the podium with both arms now, head down and away from the cameras. “evil fucking girl,” he murmurs.
“you don’t want him, baby,” he breathes against the mic.
“come back to me.”
the theatre is silent.
and then it roars
single ladies. girlfriends. boyfriends. members of the football team who miss life under sukuna’s reign. they’re all cheering for him, loud and unrestrained. clapping as sukuna grips the podium with his eyes on the hardwood. the headlights flash on his face and he squints to look past them, eyes lifting towards the audience.
you’re not at your seat.
why?
did you miss the end of the speech? sukuna blames himself. he didn’t even have the guts to look up at you as he breathed out the last line, and now he’ll never know if you heard the very words he’s been wanting to say. sukuna almost laughs. his eyes are hot but he almost laughs.
the audience is still roaring. sukuna rips his speech off the podium and walks off the stage.
NANAMI’S REMARK: SO ALL THAT FOR WHAT?
BOYFRIEND TACTICS #1: NEVER LOSE ME.
taught by: y/n l/n
“never had a bitch like me in your life”
❤︎
when sukuna trudges through the curtains, sato and suguru are already there.
faces flushed, chests heaving. “holy fucking shit—“ suguru pulls sukuna’s head into his arms. “you fucking did that.”
he did. so why does he feel so damn empty?
sato is practically bouncing, worming his way into the hug. “you did that!” he cheers. “did you see y/n’s face? was she cheering too—?”
“she left.”
sato and suguru freeze.
suguru pulls away first. sukuna’s face is dull, downcast—and his eyes are dark and soulless. “oh no—” suguru mutters. he holds sukuna’s face. “did you see when she left?”
“no,” he murmurs. no, he didn’t.
“fuck,” sato curses. “fucking hell, man—isn’t this low? even for her?”
suguru pulls sukuna’s head back under his chin. sukuna doesn’t resist or protest. just stares at the wood floor with empty eyes. but then a voice calls his name.
“ryomen sukuna. are you brooding?”
if god liked him, it would’ve been you. standing there in your short skirt and skimpy top and a teasing smile on your lips. mocking his misery. grinning up at him.
but instead it’s shoko ieri, brown hair under a bucket hat.
under normal circumstances, he’d be happy to see her. sukuna likes most of your friends. they’re all pretty party girls like you, a bunch of twenty-something year olds who think life is about bourbon glasses and friday mornings passed out in the backseat of someone’s car. they’re wild but they’re all nice girls, and they’re good to you so that’s fucking that.
but he doesn’t want to see your friends. sukuna wants to see you.
suguru brushes sukuna’s hair back. “shoko. to what do we owe the pleasure?”
“relax, geto. i’m not here to cause trouble,” she hums, leaning against a beam. “just here to pass across a message.”
she muses. “backstage dressing room. one-hundred two, not hundred and one,” shoko recites. “i have to leave now, but don’t be late. and sukuna,” she pauses to look at him. “no backup. just you.”
she turns away with a lilt in her steps, and the boys of sigma chi are left staring at each other in confusion. the message is clear though, and sukuna wipes his face.
room 102. got it.
# SHOW TIME !
ryomen sukuna comes in alone.
the door to room 102 pushes open with a creaak. the dressing room is racks and racks of clothing, some on the floor, some strewn across tables, and mirrors upon mirrors. the vanities still have their lights glowing orange. the room smells like rust and girl.
sukuna finds you in front of a mirror.
you’re checking yourself out, neon pink feather boa around your shoulders. on your head is a comically large sun hat, and there’s a bright green belt flung around your waist. you don’t look up when he walks in. just shift your hips in the mirror, skirt swishing around your thighs.
“you like my outfit?” you hum, still facing the mirror.
you look silly. if he was in a better mood, he’d probably smile. but instead he trudges forward and leans back against the table behind you. “yeah. looks cute.”
“hmm,” you fit your hands over your hips. “i still feel like it’s missing something.”
sukuna stays quiet.
you walk over to a bunch of boxes, pulling out all sorts of costume pieces. your tone is sing-song. “i heard your little speech.”
sukuna plays with the bracelet on his wrist. it’s not a bracelet. it’s one of your bra straps, actually, and he’d forgotten he put it on before the speech. it’s suddenly itchy against his wrist. “you liked it?”
“i thought it was cute,” you hum, inspecting a tie. you walk over to him, and sukuna spreads his legs a bit so you can slip between his thighs. you hold the tie up to him. “can you help me?”
he takes the tie from your hands. fits it over your neck quietly. he’s folding the ribbon around your neck, pretending he can’t feel your breath on his lips.
he murmurs, “i don’t understand what you’re doing, baby.”
his palm leaves your tie to cup your cheek. your gloss smudges against his palm. “what do you mean? i’m getting dressed up.”
his thumb strokes your cheek. “please don’t play dumb.”
you snuggle into his palm, humming contentedly. sukuna’s thumb still strokes your cheek. his other hand has come up squeeze your hip, then snake around it, then pull you closer into him.
“i’m sorry,” he breathes against your lips.
“for what?”
“for kissing another girl,” he murmurs. “for even looking at her. for being difficult. always giving you a reason to turn around and leave, then begging you to come back.” he cups your face.
“i love you. i’ve never loved any girl the way i love you.”
you trail a palm down his chest. “come back to me,” you repeat his speech.
“come back,” he murmurs, hands sliding up your spine. “come back to me, baby.”
you giggle as he leans closer to steal your lips. ryomen sukuna tastes like strawberry and spearmint.
Y/N’S REMARK: GUESS WHO’S BACK <3
COUPLE TACTICS #1 : DICKMEDOWN—WHO SAID THAT?!
taught by: ryomen sukuna’s cock
“there is no quote. i am a cock.”
❤︎
in ryomen sukuna’s bedroom, he has his back against the headboard and his girlfriend in his lap.
you’re half naked. clad in nothing but a lacy bra and matching black panties, giggling as you pose into his macbook camera. you lift another bra up to check it against your chest. ryomen sukuna squeezes your thigh.
“you like this one?” he murmurs behind you, reaching his hand up to grope your breast. “wasn’t in the cart. added it myself.”
“it’s so pretty,” you coo, lashes fluttering. “thank you, ryo.”
“you’re welcome, princess.”
it’s just two days after the whole speech at the theatre. ryomen sukuna watches you with bleary eyes. he leans back against the headboard, watching as you shrug off your bra to try another one he bought. he reaches up to graze his thumb over your pebbled nipple and you giggle, before sliding backwards to lean back against his chest. he squeezes your tits in his palms before kissing your cheek.
“love this set,” he murmurs against your ear. he’s twisting your nipple in one hand & the other is already sliding down over your belly, down to your lacy black panties. “so pretty on you.”
“mmh,” your thighs squeeze as his hand slips below the fabric, finding your wet, aching clit. he rubs the pad of his thumb over it in circles. kisses your cheek again when you whine.
“missed you,” he murmurs. “so bad, pretty.”
“mhm,” you breathe. you want to bite back with something sassy but ryomen sukuna is kneading your breast while his thumb fingers your clit. he slips in another finger and rolls the bud between them. your thighs squeeze around him.
“ryo,” you purr. “you’re gonna get them dirty.”
“i know,” he shushes you. “just wanna feel you.”
and feel you he does. he pushes your body up on his chest and latches his hot mouth around your nipple. “mmh—,” he groans, tongue swirling around the pebbled peak. “fuck, missed this.”
his fingers rub harder against your clit. faster, faster, until your hips arch of the bed and your thighs shake around him. he can already see slick coating your inner thighs, and your moans in his ear only make him rub harder. “fuck,” he curses. fuck fuck fuck.
your lashes go sticky with tears. your clit is wet and throbbing around his fingers. your thighs shake as you reach your high, and sukuna has to shove his lips to yours to quiet your moans. he licks his tongue into your mouth, hot and wet and sloppy, palm settling to gently rub your clit through your high.
you gasp, pulling away. your lashes are sticky & your cheeks flushed hot. “i missed you.”
he kisses you again, soft. “missed you too.”
he slips your panties off your thighs, holding your naked body against him. “missed this pussy too,” he rasps. “gonna stuff you till you’re cumming on my cock.”
you squirm against him, swatting his chest as he unzips his trousers. “but i just came!”
“you’ll come again, pretty.”
he fumbles with the zipper, slipping out his heavy, hard cock. his cockhead is throbbing and sticky with precum, and he shifts you forward so your back is against his chest.
“go slow,” you whimper, already nervous.
he kisses your shoulder. “you don’t want that.”
and you don’t. you arch into him as he slips his cock into your puffy, slick-coated folds from behind. he smears precum and slick over them with his cockhead, kissing your shoulder as you shiver against him. “relax, you’re okay. you still on the pill, baby?”
you nod shyly. he kisses your neck.
sukuna’s cock is thick. heavy and swollen and pulsing between your slobbering foods. he pushes his hips into you, letting your pussy squelch around him, and his arm fits under your body so he can grope your perky breasts. he tugs on a nipple before rolling it between his fingers. fuck.
you whimper as his cock stretches you out, sliding deeper and deeper into your folds. “fuck,” he breathes against your ear. “you’re so fucking hot. so tight. so wet.”
you whimper as his fingers find your clit again. he circles it hard, hips bucking to push his cock deeper into you before sliding back out, palms still fondling your breasts. it’s too much, it’s too fucking much, and he can hardly blame you for whining against him. “ryo—”
“shh—you’re good, you’re doing so good,” he rasps as you clench around his cock. “so fucking good. you know how good you feel around my cock, baby? m’so fucking lucky—.”
he’s shushing you but his hips only buck faster and faster. your eyes squeeze shut as he breathes. “fuck, gonna cum—“
your walls quiver around him as you come together, white hot cum stuffed between your folds. you groan, ragged, as sukuna pants into your neck. he kisses your shoulder before resting his head against your neck.
“i love you,” he rasps.
“i love you too.”
you stay like that for a moment, holding each other before he kisses your shoulder. “let’s get you cleaned up.”
——
“you have a lot of explaining to do.”
sukuna comes back with new shorts hanging low on his v-line. he has a warm cloth in his hands, and he climbs over your sore body. even now you’re still smiling up at him, lashes fluttering, cheeks flushed. “whatever do you mean?”
“don’t play dumb,” he kisses your cheek before gently nudging your thighs open. he slides the cloth down your inner thigh, ignoring the way you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair. “you have to explain. why you went to naoya.”
“but what if i don’t want to?”
“you will,” he says. he slides your panties up your thighs, pressing a kiss to your clit before slipping them all the way up.
but then he changes his mind. slips your panties down again.
“ryomen.” you’re already sitting up.
“relax,” he mutters against your puffy cunt. “lean back for me.”
you sigh, doing as he says. he licks a stripe up your glistening folds. he can taste himself on your stuffed cunt but his tongue keeps moving regardless. he pulls back, lips glistening with slick.
“you’re gonna tell me exactly what your fucking plan was,” he sucks on your bud, letting go with a pop. “why i saw you again with naoya after he dared to fucking talk to you like that.”
“so strict,” you whimper, cheeks puffed as your hips arch into him. “i can date anyone i want.”
“no,” sukuna hisses. “you can only date me.”
“mmh—” you moan as his tongue slobbers over your glossy folds. you run your fingers through his hair as your pussy drools onto his tongue. “mmh—wanted to make you mad,”
“you did good,” he sticks a finger into your cunt and you gasp, loud. he’s knuckles deep now, pumping his finger in and out of you. “hah—wanted you jealous,” you moan. “we were gonna get revenge.”
his fingers curl so hard you cry his name.
you whimper and he ignores it. “was already jealous. why’d you go back to him after he touched you?”
he curls his fingers again. “ah—! sorry, i’m sorry,” you cry, lashes wet. feels so good. “we weren’t dating for real. just showed up in public together. he said we couldn’t stop, said if we did that meant you won,” you whimper. “he apologized, let me punch him. i gave him a—hnngh—black eye.”
ah. so the black eye naoya had wasn’t from sato and suguru.
sukuna swirls his tongue over your clit, lapping and sucking as he pumps another finger into your drooling pussy. he curls them until he’s pressing into that spongy part that makes you sob, and he sucks gingerly as your pussy sputters and spits slick into his mouth. “ryo—m’gonna cum—”
your thighs shake, walls clenching. sukuna pumps his fingers in faster, letting your thighs squeeze his neck. you cum over his mouth, right around his fingers, and sukuna kisses your puffy, still-sensitive clit.
when he looks up at you, you’re glaring. eyes glistening wet, cheeks flushed. pretty.
“what?” he says.
“you’re so mean,” you frown. “you see why i break up with you?”
sukuna huffs, climbing over your figure. when he’s right above you, you tug his neck down.
“i love you,” you mumble.
he kisses your lips. “i love you too.”
COCK’S REMARK : *HARDENS*
EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #6: BREAK THE CYCLE !
taught by: ryomen sukuna
“loving you is a loop.”
ΣΧ
in toru gojo’s room of his apartment, the boys of sigma chi are all there. oh—and you too, of course.
sato is fast asleep on his twin’s bed, laid down & drooling on suguru’s shoulder beside him. suguru is tapping at his nintendo switch with furious speed. toru is cooking up something in the kitchen. and on his PC, you and sukuna are there, suguru’s sims 4 game loaded up on screen.
you’re on sukuna’s lap, his arm looped around your hips as you rant about the many tribulations you had to endure while ‘dating’ naoya. you’re customizing sukuna’s sim for your save file, and said man is doing nothing but rubbing your thighs and pressing lazy kisses to your skin.
“—and he leaves his boxers everywhere!” you exclaim, scrolling through geto’s CC folder. “i had to come over after he had practice once and they were everywhere. it’s that bad!”
“mhm,” sukuna kisses your neck, love drunk & bleary-eyed. “so bad, baby.”
“he’s so unhygienic,” you shift in sukuna’s lap, and he squeezes your hips to keep you steady. “i told him to at least clean up if he knows i’m coming over. he said no!”
sukuna nuzzles your ear, squeezes your thigh. “mm. m’gonna kill him.”
“no you will not! stop threatening murder!”
sukuna looks up. you’ve turned your head over your shoulder to glare at him, and he looks up at you through bleary eyes. your cheeks are warm. lashes fluttering. you’re the prettiest headache he’s ever had.
he kisses your jaw. “missed fighting with your pretty face,” he murmurs. “gimme a kiss, baby.”
you soften, and he leans up to kiss you deep.
“woah—” suguru throws a pillow at you both. sukuna swats it away from you without pulling back from your lips. he squeezes your waist and geto frowns. “even if sato’s asleep, i’m still fucking here!”
sukuna ignores him, his hand crawling up to grope your tits. suguru scowls, turns over to face sato’s sleeping figure. he should’ve known protesting was futile. sukuna’s always been an exhibitionist, but you’d think his therapy sessions would’ve taught him better by now.
sukuna pulls back, your gloss smeared over his lip & chin. you giggle at the sight, “hi.”
“mmh,” he nuzzles your neck.
the door swings open, snapping you and sukuna out of your daze. in comes toru gojo with a plate of lazy cake, glasses slipping down his nose. he blushes when he sees you and sukuna pressed close together. “hi. i made snacks.”
“oh, toru!” you purr. “you’re my favorite, have i told you that?”
toru sets down the plate on the desk in front of you. as he leans down you press a kiss to his cheek, and he blushes so hard his face turns beet red. he looks up, surprised, and you’re beaming at him. behind you, sukuna is scowling.
toru drops the plate and runs away.
you turn back to glare at sukuna. “you scared him.”
“no one’s allowed to kiss you.”
“i kissed him!”
sukuna ignores your protests, trying to cup your jaw so he can get a kiss of his own. you shove his face back, and he scowls.
“go apologize to toru,” you frown at him. “now.”
sukuna wants to protest. wants to say he’s comfortable right here with your thighs over his lap and your lipgloss on his chin. but he knows if he fights back he’ll be left with nothing but a sore earlobe & an angry girlfriend. he grumbles as you slide off him.
sukuna trudges to the kitchen, says his apologies. toru accepts them in a heartbeat.
when he comes back to the room, you’re gone.
“where is she?” his heart drops. “suguru—where is she?”
“chill,” suguru mumbles, eyes never leaving his switch. “she left you a letter. check on the desk.”
and next to toru’s plate of dessert, a letter is indeed there. he picks it up, thumb running over the paper. you’ve left a glossy kiss mark at the end.
‘dear sukuna,’ it reads.
‘i’m breaking up with you.’
sukuna’s blood runs cold.
‘i know we just got back together a week ago. but i thought about it! thought about how i’m becoming a better woman, growing in my spiritual journey. do i really want a jealous man who scares away my friends by my side??
so i decided: let’s break up. for real this time. it’s not you, it’s me. maybe if we’re truly meant to be, the stars will align and our paths will cross yet again. but for now? i have to choose me and my growth. so i’m leaving. for good.
i still love you though!! you’ll always be my lover <3 i love you soso much baby boy. i don’t even want to do this. but i know i have to make the right choice for both of us.
sorry to walk away like this. and don’t forget, you are not allowed to date any other woman!!! i am the only woman for you!! always and forever!! no dating, sex, kissing, touching, NOTHING. if i find out you even LOOK at another woman i’ll hate you forever!!!!!!!!!!!!
okay, that’s all. goodbye forever. i’ll always love you ryo <333333 i’m sorry it had to end this way.’
sukuna stares at the letter. he reads it once. twice. then once more.
and then he laughs.
because this is his girlfriend, bratty and high-maintenance and demanding and all. because you say goodbye forever, but he knows he’ll see you next week. he knows tonight you’ll call and say you miss his voice and afterwards you’ll send him a text saying you’re still not getting back with him and will be blocking him as a final goodbye. he knows you’ll unblock him on a random wednesday and won’t text, and he’ll just have to keep sending messages till they don’t turn green and he can ask you to come back to him.
and you’ll say yes. you always do. and if there’s anything or anyone who stops you from saying yes, he’ll crush them.
he rubs his thumb over the bottom of the letter. your glossy kiss mark is there.
and right beside it?
XO, YOUR EX HO 💋
SUKUNA’S REMARK: SEE U NEXT WEEK.
#SIGMA-CHI STORIES !
XO, EX HOE end.
XO HEARTKAJI. do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload.
traps fairy!reader in a jar... now you're his greatest obsession.
𝓒𝐰. nerdjo · yandere themes · experimentation ( not on reader ) · creepy satoru · oddly fluffy · stockholm syndrome · worship · slight idolisation · satoru's so whipped it's kinda cute
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo loved picking apart magical beings. figuring out how they work. how he could use their supernatural capabilities in alchemy and artifice trades alike. he's got magical body parts stuffed in jars and rowed on his shelves. from unicorn horns to vampire teeth, dragon eyes and goblin hands. but above all, he's been awed by the mythical, elusive fairy. he's got an entire taxidermy wall of butterfly wings in dedication to them.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo has been obsessed with fairies from a young age. from fairytales to frightening fascination, he's now driven himself mad trying to capture one. he'd honed all of his skills, yet still couldn't get his hands on one… until you came along.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo knew that he needed to have you the second he saw you. prancing around the flowers in his garden, pretty and as peaceful as you could be. you even gave him a little smile from your hiding spot. he pretended not to see you, even as his chest fluttered. but in his eyes? you were perfect.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo was surprised that the sweet treat on a mushroom top trick worked.
"well, aren't you the prettiest little thing?" he cooed on that fateful day he trapped your wing under his thumb. while you squirmed in the thick blades of grass.
his sharp grin loomed above you. watching you over the rim of his copper-framed glasses. and within his eyes, you saw something that terrified you.
hearts.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo perfectly prepared your jar. he cushioned the bottom with soil and moss. a slab of bark laid on side, with a network of flourishing, pink mushrooms growing along its length. a polished pebble for you to perch on, right beside the singular, blooming daisy where you could sleep. he wasn't a monster, after all…
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo watched you with fascination as you tapped on the glass helplessly, your wings batting and your tears shimmery. so fairy dust was real.
"please."
your tiny hands smacked into the glass. peering up at the man as he sat at a table and chair. "please, why won't you let me go? I'll do anything."
he had scooped the jar into his hand, levelling you with those terrifying blues. "now, why would I let something so pretty go?" he crooked his head, snowy hair dangling to the side.
"i've waited for you for many years, sweetheart. don't be selfish."
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo would give you everything you ever needed. food wasn't an issue, every day, he fed you something new. a juicy strawberry. honey and puffballs. mango slices. crackers. one time he even tried to hold you in his palm and feed you a small piece of vanilla cake.
you bit him.
he smiled.
"I suppose even pretty things can be feisty." his grip tightened on you, ever so slightly. a thumb brushing over your wings that fluttered erratically.
"let me go! you monster!" you squeaked.
he tutted, stroking his thumb over your back in a tender path. "sshhh, sweet thing. you'll bruise your little lungs…"
he continued the motion until your wreckless squirming melted. your head limped on his knuckle, your limbs still, and your head droopy.
he chuckled, carefully scooping you back into your jar. "thankfully, I've studied your kind extensively. I know you intimately, sweetheart."
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo sometimes lets you out of the jar, but only when you have manners. he doesn't have to worry about you flying away, because he always so meticulously ties your wings with a silk ribbon.
"remain still for me, okay?" he hushed at you, kissing your head as you thrashed and shouted at him.
he even tied it into a pretty bow, before he set you atop one of his books.
"why do you do this?" you huffed, balling your little fists as you helplessly tried to flutter your wings. "how can you be so twisted to keep me here?"
satoru always spoke to you as if you were a flower. even lowering his head to be at eye level with you. lashes fluttering, almost droopy in the presence of your beauty.
"am I so twisted for being in love with you?"
the way your eyes gaped at him made him smile. he brought his pinkie to gently poke at your head. "what? am I?"
"you're insane…" your murmur sounded frightened. fear looked pretty on you, too.
"maybe," his voice lowered to a whisper. "or maybe I'm just very dedicated to my work."
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo made little tools out of silver to help fix your hair. he'd do the usual routine of scooping you out of the jar, tying your wings and sitting you on his palm, before he set to work on carefully helping you.
"I made these for you." he'd say affectionately.
and when you didn't respond, he blew a bit of air onto your wings until you squirmed and giggled.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo makes sure to let you have a little soak in one of his favourite teacups with some warm water. no, he doesn't peep at you. he's not a creep. a pretty little lady like yourself needs her privacy, after all.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo sometimes takes you out to dance you around the windowsill when the moon shines just right. he lets you hold onto his pinkies. twirls and dips you all night long. treating you as delicate as a flower as he watches you with awestruck eyes.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo brings you bundles of flowers to drink nectar from. he'll nudge your chin up so gently with his index nail and feed you himself. makes sure you don't choke.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo wraps you up in his glasses cloth when it gets too cold, or sometimes even scoops you into his pocket where you can nap to the sound of his heartbeat.
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo despite being so gentle, would remind you what kind of man he was. not all of the times he plucked you from the jar were for your benefit.
at times, he'd tie your wings a little tighter. laying you out on a leather-bound notebook and analysing you piece by piece.
"fascinating," he mumbled, prodding at your arm with a flat, wooden stick. applying pressure. testing. "your limbs are stronger than they look. is it your magic, I wonder?"
he spoke about wanting to take you apart. bit by bit, to understand you better. when you gave him a horrified look, he chuckled, cocking his head as he tickled your wings.
"what, sweetheart? wouldn't it be intimate?"
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo wouldn't ever hurt you. he didn't think he had it in him. you were too soft, too elegant, too pretty. it broke his heart whenever he'd see you weeping in your jar.
"don't cry… please don't cry," he'd whisper as he laid his head beside the jar. watching you with sullen blue eyes.
you'd cry for him to let you go, and it ached a deep part of him.
"I can't. I'm sorry, sweet thing." his lips brushed the glass, a sincere apology from a man so sadistic. "I need you." came his shaky breath.
"I need you here. with me. I'm just so lonely. please don't hate me."
𔘓 · yandere researcher!nerdjo saw you staring at the wall of wings while he worked, once. silent and wide eyed.
he sorely misinterpreted you, tilting his head with a crooked smile. "do you like any of them?"
scooping you out of the jar, he cradled you in his palm. "I could make you a dress… would you like that?"
your look of horror bewildered him, and when tears streamed down your face, he rushed to soothe you. brushing away your tears with a petal plucked from a flower on his desk.
when you told him why you wept— because you thought the wings were your fallen brethren, his face twisted. almost disgusted that you could compare your pristine, perfect wings to those baneful butterflies. still, his shoulder shook with a little laugh. he found it morbidly amusing.
"oh, my sweetheart. of course not," he cooed at you. "those are butterflies. you are the only fairy I've had in my grasp."
pale lips brushed your little head, ever delicate. as he whispered. soft, lovingly.
"that's why you're so special to me."
you didn't look too convinced. your small sniffles broke his heart, so he sighed as he gently nudged you over. till you were slumped over his thumb and forefinger.
"sweetheart, please don't insult yourself so," he lightly scolded. "butterfly wings are so brittle. so dull. but yours…"
his other index slowly, tenderly brushed down your spine. tracing your wings in that same gentle, sick fascination he always had.
"yours are pristine. delicate… perfect."
his shaky breath tickled your wings, and they twitched. his throat ran dry. heart hammering a bit faster at this little, intimate moment.
with a gentle squeeze to you, he leaned down. pressing a slow, velvet kiss to your wings. smiling into them as they fluttered and you pitched a whine.
"see?" satoru breathed, lips brushing over their little twitches. his smile was soft, sick.
"these are all mine. my special little sweetheart."
Caleb hasn't seen you in a year - and he's come to the inevitable fact that his feelings for you can never come to anything. He moves on in his own way, as a top fan who becomes very close with a mysterious OF star. You could say Caleb is torn, between his long love for you and the hoplessness of it, and the growing feelings for a girl behind the screen. Yet on a trip back home, you have quite the fucking secret career, and you're even more torn. A crush on Zayne, a secret love for Caleb, and a budding interest in your top fan - Aviator69.
pairings - yandere! Caleb x secret OF star! reader (also a lil zayne x reader!)
warnings- angst, mistaken identity, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, love triangles in a way, camgirl reader, yan Caleb, eventual smut, slow burn, stepcest elements, this chap - masturbation, sexting, sexual tension, emotional hurt, jealousy, and some yummy Dr Zayne, mentions of cum and a hell of a breed kink. WC - 6.2k
credits here and here for the beautiful art!
I'm so nervous and excited to start my second Caleb series! i've been just DYING to write him, so I hope you all will enjoy this one!!! Chap two will be very soon hehe as I'm looking forward to write more of my yearning psycho <3 - tags open.
chap one
Caleb has always loved you – but he's known forever just how off limits you are.
Always in love with your other childhood friend Zayne, yet you both were the childhood best friends who simply can't be more.
He didn't really move on, no, you couldn’t call it that – but he eventually had to take care of himself, had to jerk his cock watching girls who looked like you – taking cock on cam or spreading their pussy wide.
It almost felt like cheating when he jerked it to them – which was laughable, considering you weren’t his, you could never be his. You – happy your senior year of college, and he had already graduated aviation school. A pilot out of town, he never saw you anymore, and your notes, texts, and calls got just a bit shorter.
The last night he hugged you in his arms and kissed your cheek fucking wreck him, but even Caleb needs a little bit to jerk off to, the hopeless situation that would remain that- hopeless.
It's what brought him here, to this pretty girl with this gorgeous body on onlyfans, she's got a mask on her face and a bright pink room, giggly and sweet. She bends over and plays with her cunt with the rose toy he bought her, moaning his name in this way that he could almost imagine was you.
How would you sound if you moaned?
It's been months since he started watching this pretty girl's streams though, and he found himself utterly lost. He felt terrible, wanting her when you exist, but her tits and how she toys with them, her blush that spreads across her chest, her thighs spreading just for him alone?
You could say Caleb becomes obsessed.
"You have to go for two weeks?" –
She asks as he types, her fingers still slick with her cum, the sheer amount she had squirted made him fucking thirsty, imagining lapping those juices off her thighs.
Caleb has kissed girls, he's fingered them and pleased them, he does enjoy another woman’s pleasure but he's just never been able to fully cross that line - even when he’s turning twenty-four next week. But he would – with her – he couldn't help but imagine finally sinking his cock inside that tiny hole, the one that looked so perfect when she spread it wide for his private sessions.
It doesn't make him love you less - it's just he's faced the inevitable fact that there would never be a chance you two were together.
Imagine Josephine if she ever knew Caleb loved you? When she'd damn near raised you two together. No, you weren't actually related, you two didn’t even share the same last name, but the ties ran too deep. You were too comfy with him, laying in his bed as he counted air planes till you drifted off, snuggling on his lap and looking at the stars.
He types now to the OF star he spends most of his limited free time with, after cleaning off his white coated cock with one hand and moaning softly, it’s sensitive as he hasn’t had time to barely do anything with grueling training for a new position.
Aviator69- Yeah, I gotta go for a bit to visit my hometown.
She sighs, leaning forward a bit, her lips smooching the webcam, he can’t help but smile just a bit – something about her fucking gets him. Is it the fact that she reminds him of you? Your build, your height? Is it the fact that she’s not interested in him as a relationship like everyone else?
"I'll miss you, Aviator69."
He snorts at her, it was insane that she didn't know his actual name, but then again - neither did he.
Hopeless obsession, isn't that what Caleb is known for?
It’s nothing like the obsession with his pips – his sweet best friend since childhood who he’d kill for, die for, fuck he’d do anything when it came to you – but it was nice to have her to talk to, even if she’s never heard his voice. She has outright asked to see his body curiously, so he’s shown her his cock, but even that felt so wrong, wasn’t it for you?
But as he scrolls through your IG and sees you at a dinner with none other than Zayne and all your friends, he has to remember that hope is dashed.
You’ve moved on with him only visiting twice a year.
I’ll be around a bit, maybe. – he tips her an insane amount, she’s blushing again across her chest, her collarbones, thanking him all sweetly.
“I’ll be a bit busy too with family, but if I’m on I’ll make sure to send you a message, have fun!”
You too, honey.
Before he hits send he deletes that – it’s what he calls you frequently, along with Pipsqueak or Pips to torture you, instead just sending a little smiley face and closing the laptop. Just a bit of his white cum coats his fingers, he sucks a bit of it off, humming to himself, wishing he could breed you with it instead of the utter waste it was, but that was just that.
A wish, a hopeless one.
Your text hits his phone right after he’s done packing, he can’t stop the dopey grin from hitting his face, no matter how much he enjoys the pretty OF star, he can’t help but love you just as much. Every day he falls deeper, no matter the time away – a million memories flooding his mind at your very existence.
Pips - Caleb! I’m so excited to see you this week, you better bring your trunks because we are so going to the beach!
His lips twitch up a bit at that.
Caleb - Why, Pips, so I can see you dog paddling like a little drowned rat?
Pips - Rude! I’ve become a much better swimmer, thank you!!! I have been getting lessons.
Caleb’s jaw sets, teeth clicking together.
Lessons from fucking who!?
Who got to see his-
What even were you to him? His childhood friend, his ‘step sister’? What right did he have to feel this fucking way about you, even as he tries his best to move on from it, to live his life and let you enjoy yours, the jealousy fucking eats at him. Another man seeing you in your bikini, touching your waist, teaching you to swim when it should be Caleb.
Caleb - I’ll see if you improved, you never took well to my lessons.
Pips - hah! Yes you will.
*****
You start packing your room up for the vacation, heart hammering in your chest just a bit too much – sometimes it’s hard to separate your reality from your online persona. Especially when it came to the mysterious Aviator69 fan – lord knows you’ll always have something for pilots, that love for Caleb hasn’t died off in the years of barely seeing him.
Yet it’s unhealthy, that love for him – the obsessive, jealous way you used to feel when you were younger, seeing girls all over him, seeing the way everyone just loved him. Who blamed anyone? There was everything to love about Caleb – your best friend in the world, the most important person there was.
Yet when you were a teenager, everything shifted, what was once fun or silly became too intimate, and since he was just a few years older, his actions became more and more ‘affectionate and brotherly’. Patting your head like you were some puppy, pulling away from a hug that’s too tight.
It was one of the reasons you decided to start an OF in the first place – you played with your pussy so much thinking of him, you might as well get paid for it.
You made so much at this point you got a brand new car, you helped Josephine – ‘gran’ as you all called her – pay off some of the debt she was in, you played it as if you had a killer internship. No one has questioned you, who would, really? You’re every bit the epitome of a ‘good girl’. Good student, sweet best friend, devoted to each and every person you care about.
There’s just one outlier – an obsession with the one man off limits.
Of all the fucking people to fall for, the boy raised as damn near ‘family’ was unnacceptable, and you’re sure he’s never felt it back. Those brief moments where you could swear there was something, that there was a tension between you both, now as you pack your luggage they just seem like they were all in your head.
‘I’ll miss you so much,’ you’d hugged Caleb tightly the last time he went away, he was training as a pilot outside of the military, something entirely different. You were so proud, but also you knew he’d be by even less frequently.
Some selfish part of you wanted him to stay.
‘I’ll miss you, honey,’ the way he’d said it had melted your precious resolve almost a year ago today, he’d tilted your chin up, pressing a kiss on your brow, cool and dry lips that he never took good enough care of, that he bit to death.
All Caleb ever did was take care of you, of Gran, of all his friends and his colleagues – the question was, who took care of Caleb? Would he ever let you?
‘Will you really miss me?’ He laughed at first – that easygoing one of his that brightened his face, that made him look so boyish.
Why didn’t he smile enough?
‘Why would ya ask that, hmm? Ya messin’ with me?’ he teased you, one of your hands had slid up his chest, brushing the stark white pilot jacket, your tears filling your eyes, making his face soften. ‘Pips, I’ll not be gone forever.’
‘Close enough,’ you trembled when he hugged you tight.
It wasn’t enough.
The hugs weren’t enough, the pecks on your cheek weren’t enough – not when your body wanted, needed and craved more. You leaned up, kissed his cheek, kissed the corner of his mouth. Collar tugged down in your hands to yank him low – tall as he fucking was, bringing him to hunch over so that your lips hovered.
‘What are you…’ he had paused, cupping your face, his breaths mingling with yours together – the sweet scent of apple on his breath – yet he pulled away, kissing the corner of your mouth instead.
You gave up that day.
‘I’ll write to you every day, I promise. I never, ever break them, do I?’
No, Caleb never broke his promises – he never crossed lines he shouldn’t, and you should respect that. No, you do respect that he’s level headed, that he has ultimate control, while you’re a shattered mess, trying to pick up the pieces of the inevitable fact – that it could never be.
You can’t get this mysterious man off your damn mind now, but it almost feels like a bit of a betrayal. Not only do you have this secret life, the feelings for Caleb haven’t died out – and now you’ve been talking to Zayne, he’s almost a doctor and just a few years older than you, in med school. He’s two years older than Caleb, in fact.
Mature, handsome, driven.
Yet he was also sweet, and he wanted to see you – he had known you for years as well, but you were more of a little pest to him than a childhood friend. Now, things were utterly different.
Would the very ‘seemingly’ uptight Zayne ever be okay with your ‘career’ though? The fact that you make more money in one night streaming on OF than you did in two weeks at your part time college job? Would he be okay you had a pretty pink jewel up your damn ass a couple hours ago, or used a pink rose toy for fucking Aviator69?
You feel torn into three pieces – the hopeless love for Caleb, the intrigue for the boy you’ve been typing for months but never really seen or heard, and a childhood crush come to life for Zayne.
Just how was this week going to go?
+++++
Caleb was back home.
This was the home he spent his teenage years in – the main one he knew, despite being about eleven when Josephine took him in, he hadn’t exactly remembered much of his childhood, nor much of his life before you and Gran. He didn’t want to, and neither had you when he’d met you – the day she brought you into his life.
He’ll never forget meeting you, holding your hand and smiling, you were so shy and sweet then, to eventually form into a little brat who punched his shoulders and teased him. Caleb knows it was the comfort of him that helped blossom that in you, so he loved it even more.
The nights he’d spend holding you when you had nightmares, though? Sometimes he wondered just what your life was exactly like before Josephine took you in, but that was something the two of you had never really discussed. You didn’t even have to, it was as if you both just…
Got each other.
The plane ride was a long one, but he was used to it – though he forgot how odd it was to be a passenger rather than a pilot. The air was just a touch thicker and humid, he could practically inhale the hints of salt from the coast, when he’d recently been in the desert. The house looked the same, it’s only been less than a year, but everything was exactly in its place.
When he walks into the door to his teenage bedroom, he can’t help but be hit with a wave of nostalgia.
Nothing had changed – not a single thing aside from Gran had picked it up a bit, and his bed was made, the duvet the same dark blue he'd picked out in high school. The walls were still covered in aviation posters – his favorite, f-16s, a diagram of a fighter jet engine next to that. His model planes decorated the bookshelves, just a bit dusty from time, with pictures of you and him on the top shelf.
You’re so young there, it was your high school graduation, he had just come back from getting grueling military training. He looks so drained, but you looked so bright and beautiful, but then again when the fuck weren’t you?
His fingertips run across the frame, sighing and frowning a bit at the walls just a light shade of orange, as if the room was frozen in time, with the locket you’ve given him sitting on one of the articulated models.
He has a new one from you now, that one broke and faded – he’ll never forget how upset you were, even after he welded it the little red gem popped out.
He’d gotten it replicated exactly, but how could he get rid of the original? So it stayed locked in time. He wraps it around his fist, the silver chain circling his rough knuckles, Caleb presses a little kiss to it, a little ritual he had with the one on his neck recently before he went on any flight.
He peeks out the window when he hears the hum of an expensive SUV, curiously looking out to see you walk out of it alone.
That SUV is not in a college girl’s budget, Caleb had more than enough to buy one for you, but you’d always turned it down. Suddenly curious how the fuck you have a brand new black Escalade, he heads out of the room, you’re already hugging Josephine when he steps into the living room, your eyes catching his over her shoulder.
"Caleb!" you squeal those words excitedly, running out of Josephine’s embrace and launching yourself at him.
He catches you automatically, as if it’s an instinct to do so – it is a fucking instinct – its a torture as his arms wrap around your waist. It was supposed to be familiar, comforting, sweet and nostalgic, right?
Yet it was torture instead.
Your hips are a little wider, your tits just a bit softer somehow against his chest, he hates himself for fucking thinking that. All this time away, of jerking his cock to another girl, of going on dates and kissing women, having them cum on his fingers, it did nothing to stop the sickness he felt near you.
It was everything not to lift you by those hips that would feel so goddamn good in his hands and fuck you right on a wall – but he’s supposed to fucking greet you. He’s supposed to be that supportive best friend, so he hugs you tighter, laughing as if he’s unaffected with the way you press against him, burying his face in your hair, smelling your shampoo.
It was the same as always – this sweet mix of peonies and blossoms that were made to ruin him, with hints of something uniquely you, some pheromone set out to make him ache. He forces himself to relax, to make it normal, his gran is there for godsake and he’s about to fucking sniff you.
"Hah – easy, Pips, you’re crushin’ me."
You pull back a bit, blush dancing on your cheeks. "Sorry, I got so excited! It’s been so long.”
“I’ll make you two some tea,” Josephine says with a smile, heading to the kitchen and leaving the two of you alone by the entry way, he pulls back a bit, taking in your outfit.
It’s slutty.
Your tits are out, your skirt is too fucking short, as if this is not the girl who used to wear sweats everywhere. He supposes he should assume you’d change, why wouldn’t you? Yet the thought of anyone seeing that body makes him furious – a body he’s barely seen with how baggy and slouchy your clothes used to be.
“New style?” He asks softly, you giggle and tug a bit at the top.
“Yeah, I guess I’ve gotten into fashion,” you’ve had to dress a little sexier with OF promotion, but you did find yourself liking it, a pleated skirt and a little crop, jacket slung right over. “Do you like it?”
“Ah… do I like it…” He says nothing, his sunset eyes drifting across your collarbone, bare now, the little locket he’d bought you broke and you have it now attached to a little keychain. Suddenly it feels empty, naked, without it, especially when you see his dogtags clearly on his chest.
Caleb says nothing, just looking into your eyes now, the tension as your hands still sit on his broad shoulders making you tremble.
You’re an OF star now – you play with your pussy for thousands of people, you have your damn tits out and make bank. Why then, does it make you so fucking nervous to have someone this close to you look at you this way?
It also makes you wonder – would Caleb ever be okay with that? Would he beat your ass black and blue and delete that damn page? You cannot see your strict, overprotective best friend accepting it. Of course, you wouldn’t tell him, but it makes you curious.
Did Caleb ever watch OF?
Did he date anyone now?
Has he…
Why are you thinking of that? Why can’t you just enjoy the time you have with him – the limited fucking time?
“You don’t have to answer that,” you say now, suddenly shy – you, shy, it’s laughable. Yet Caleb does that to you – the way he looks at you could fucking ruin you completely.
“It’s just a different look,” he manages, clearing his throat, you notice a few new freckles dusting across the bridge of his nose, now, making you bite down on your lower lip. “You always look pretty. Just different.”
“Well look at you! All grown up and official," you playfully tug at the collar of his pilot's uniform he'd worn home – white and gold, you almost can’t handle just how fucking good he looks in it.
"Well look at you – new ride?"
Your expression falters for just a second, a flicker of something he couldn't read before you plaster on a bright smile. You suck at lying, and at hiding shit from him. "Oh, the SUV? Just a little graduation present to myself. Been saving up for years! I got a really good payment plan.”
You paid for that shit in cash – OF was very kind to you.
He hums a bit at that, he knew what you'd made at your part-time campus job, and there was no fucking way you'd saved up that much, he knows your wages. Caleb knows everywhere you go, too.
He sure the fuck shouldn’t but how can he not want to make sure the most important person in the world to him was safe at all times? That just happened to involve all of that – knowing when to ‘surprise’ send you money, when to randomly call you if you’re somewhere he doesn’t know.
A quick search with his connections are all it takes for him to find out what house you were in and who it belonged to.
You’ve spent entirely too much time with Zayne lately.
Zayne was stupidly wealthy – what if he bought that shit for you?
He immediately shoved the thought away, disgusted with himself for even thinking of them, that you couldn’t do it on your own, that you’d need something like that, he puts it all away and then smiles at you instead, ruffling your hair affectionately. This was you – His Pips.
“I’d have bought you it, you know.”
“You can’t go around buying escalades, Caleb,” you poke at his cheek playfully, he catches your wrist with his long ass fingers, taking you over and making you pause, your heart hammering in your chest.
“I would for you.”
You blush once more, sighing now. "There is this huge bonfire at the cove to start the summer," you say, grabbing your luggage, he takes it from you so quickly you giggle a bit. "Everyone's meeting there in an hour. Are you coming with me?"
"Yeah, of course,” he follows you up the stairs, his gaze lingering on the way your skirt rises up on your thighs, he can fucking see those panties with little apples decorating them.
Were you actively trying to kill him?
He needs to jerk off the moment he is alone, but you’re lingering a bit at the door, smiling up at him in this way that makes him wonder how you’d look on your knees, lashes lowered, hearts in your eyes. Would you suck his cock down like a good girl – would you do it too good, and make him wonder where you learned it?
Fuck.
“I’ll go get ready,” he says, rushing off and making you frown, looking at him a bit before shutting your door, leaning on it and shutting your eyes.
Caleb seemed annoyed, short with you, clipped. Perhaps he had moved on, and perhaps that was the best thing – that you imagined the tension, the embarrassment of trying to kiss him for him to shut it down, that it was all in your head. Zayne texts you, asking if you’re coming, and you focus your energy there, shooting him a quick heart and an enthusiastic yes!
Your phone keeps going off, the OF men miss you of course – you decide you can sneak a quick faceless picture of your tits, hanging up the little pink curtain you always do to hide anything personal. It seems drastic, but you have a lot of friends from your hometown, and you’d die of embarrassment if they ever found out.
You set the camera down on your dresser, leaning forward to get a pretty angle of your tits, and the comments and tips start going insane, you suddenly see a name you thought you wouldn’t though –
Aviator69.
You laugh softly seeing it, tilting your head and laying back in your bed after getting dressed, typing directly to him in messages.
You - I thought you’d be gone.
Aviator69 - yeah well, I had to peek at this notification, see your pretty tits.
Suddenly you heat up – Aviator69 has always been oddly respectful, to a point you wish he wasn’t, and now he finally mentioned something like that? You can’t stop yourself from saying more, your apple covered panties soaked and darkening – damp and sticky with need.
You almost feel guilty enjoying him this much, you aren’t dating Zayne, and Caleb is the most off limits boy there could be, but you still felt jumbled as you were slick. You can’t help but write to him again, though.
You - miss me already? Did you miss seeing my titties?
Avaiator69 - maybe I do. Your nipples look like they need to be sucked on, do they?
You - maybe they do need a mouth on them.
You don’t even know what he looks like but you can’t help but let your mind drift, though when your eyes close – it’s Caleb, his mouth wrapping a nipple, and you know you shouldn’t think of it. You know you have to stop it, stop playing with your cunt thinking of the boy in your next room, the one you’ll never have, the one who probably never thinks of you like this.
Yet your eyes flutter shut, and you’re toying with your breast, thumbing the nipple and gasping out, looking as he types to you.
Aviator69 - they’d look so pretty with cum on them.
Oh fuck.
Was Aviator69 a freak!? He surprises you then, you hear the craziest shit as a cam girl, as an OF star, but nothing has made you actually wet quite like this comment.
You - would you lick it off?
Caleb moans softly, muffled with one of his hands as the other strokes his thick, veiny cock – the head is flushed a mean red and dripping, leaking down to the carpet below. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Caleb’s rough hand makes him merely ache for another – a soft little hand that can’t even wrap his base, watching it and laughing at the size difference.
Wondering if he’d cum all over this OF star’s pretty tits, or yours – god they were just about the same size he thinks, he hardly has seen glimpses of yours aside from when you were in a bikini, and they’ve only gotten prettier in the year he hasn’t seen you. He can’t think of you.
He can’t.
Would he lick it off is a fucking insane question, though, he can’t help but whimper, literally typing with one hand while he should be getting ready.
Aviator69 - I think I’d rather gather it up and push it inside your pretty little pussy.
Your fingers circle your clit faster, damn near slippery as this mysterious fan puts those images in your head, you hardly type with one shaky hand as your thighs clench together.
You - oh? Are your fingers long, aviator?
Aviator69 - bet they’d hit your cervix.
You drop the phone when you cum, when you shatter, pulsing and making a fucking mess, dripping right down your sheets, dizzy with how much he’d had you cumming, tears pricking your eyes you’re so dizzy. Hit your cervix – hit your cervix, he really went and fucking said that? He had to have the most filthy images of long fingers pushing white inside you.
You’re struggling to gather yourself after that, seeing texts from your friends wondering if you’re on the way, realizing you haven’t gotten ready at all – and that Caleb is in that next room. What if he heard you!?
Get it together!
You - I have to go, Aviator.
Aviator69 - did you get to cum?
He’s cocky, it’s surprising, you can’t help but giggle, breathless.
You - maybe I did. Did you?
Caleb’s cock is coated in white cum to the base, his head thrown back against his old headboard, looking up for a moment to see a picture of you in your cute little cheer outfit on his mirror, suddenly torn.
Why does he feel so guilty for a girl who could never be his?
He cleans up, clearing his throat and tipping his favorite star two hundred dollars as her answer. She types him quickly.
You shouldn’t have! It was just… fun for me?
It’s still your time, and your work.
Then don’t be a stranger this vacation.
He cleans up quickly, his head rushing, he’d cum just enough that when he sees you, standing right in your doorway and peeking at you in your room, so fucking pretty – he can almost handle it.
Almost.
You smile at him, in this little sundress, tied up at the neck to reveal the expanse of your back in a haphazard knot, looking at him in the mirror now. “Caleb, can you tie this a little better, my hands can’t reach.”
“Always so spoiled with me, tch,” you giggle when he comes over, undoing the knot. “It’s terrible.”
“I know!” they fall, the little halter straps, you hold onto the top of the dress so it doesn’t fall, smiling nervously at his reflection. “Do you like the dress?”
“You look beautiful,” his voice is too husky then, as he ties the prettiest, perfect bow, swallowing and running the backs of his fingers down between your shoulder blades before he can stop himself, eyes catching your reflection in the mirror. “Don’t you always?”
“You think so, Caleb?” He laughs softly, shaking his head.
What a fucking question.
He supposes he must hide that shit exceptionally well, taking your hair and brushing it back, baring those shoulders he wants to decorate with kisses, with bites, with bruises. You turn and he sees that cleavage, the tits he’d also love to cum right all over, rising and falling with your breaths as he stands too close, your hands sliding up his soft open shirt, the one underneath moulded to his physique.
“You’ve just gotten buffer, you jerk,” you tease, as if you don’t want to feel his weight upon you. “I haven’t worked out much since I quit cheer.”
“Your body is-” He pauses himself then.
He can’t fucking say that.
That he wants to grip your hips and breed you – that he wants to have those tits bouncing in his face, that he’d love to fuck you in your sleep, when you wake up, every fucking moment just bend you over a surface until you’re good and knocked up from him, then you’d have to stay his forever, wouldn’t you?
No amount of jerking it to a pretty girl could fix this sickness in his fucking head, clearly, so instead he stays there, a hand on your waist, the nip of it where it juts in, squeezing so hard over the thin material you gasp. Your eyes lock up to his, your lips parted ever so slightly, those eyes dilated until they’re almost black.
“My body, what?” You ask softly, voice shaking, trying to hold yourself together as he causes you to heat up.
“It’s…” Your phone goes off now, breaking the spell he’d been under, he steps back and eyes you. “Gonna get that?”
“It’s just everyone asking where we are,” you clear your throat now, shoving it all back in. “What were you going to say?”
“It’s… your body is…”
You just look at him.
He’d just told a girl on the internet he pays for that she had pretty tits, that he wanted to push cum inside her, but he can’t tell you what he wants to – no, because it’s too fucking filthy.
“It’s perfect,” he manages, you blush and look down, hugging him around his waist and burying your face against his chest.
“Thank you, Caleb.”
“Mhm, let’s go.”
*****
You let Caleb drive your suv since he hates you driving – you apparently terrify the shit out of him because you don’t know what curbs are. He doesn’t seem to realize that you literally could hit any curb in this giant fucking thing and it’s like nothing now, but you don’t mind being in the passenger seat, giggling as the two of you try to catch up a bit.
Yet the air feels thick with everything unspoken.
You resented him for turning down your kiss and you feel bad that you did, you have to let it go and enjoy the person you love more than anything in the world. You just have to love him the way you should, not in this twisted way you’ve grown to think of him.
When the two of you are at the party, and he’s surrounded by so many damn girls it’s hilarious, he looks at you as if you could help him out, you just laugh a bit, gasping when a cool hand touches the small of your back. You peek back to see Zayne, the soon to be doctor but currently an intern physician, smiling lazily at you.
He looks unfairly gorgeous with the setting sun, casting a million lights of pink and orange against his tanned skin, his soft little laugh when you press a kiss to his cheek. “Doctor Zayne!”
“Already calling me that, hmm?” The bonfire is crackling, making his green eyes glow just a bit with orange flames, his face card is stupidly lethal and makes your heart race just being close.
“You will be soon enough, might as well start,” you lean close now. “Role play a bit, I could be your bratty patient.”
“You’re bold, hmm?” He’s blushing a bit, laughing then, tilting his head a bit. “Why don’t we get a drink?”
“I’d love to,” he heads over to the cooler and grabs you both a drink, opening yours politely, eyes drifting over your dress.
“You look stunning,” he says quietly, you feel the flicker of his gaze dart over your form, taking in his own attire, a dress shirt just a bit unbuttoned, the most casual Zayne really got. “That color is pretty on your skin.”
“Why thank you Doctor Zayne, you look handsome too,” he laughs a bit, sipping his drink, eyeing the swarm of women around Caleb. “Ah, your stepbrother is back home, huh?”
Stepbrother.
It makes you feel so fucking weird to hear him called that – it wasn’t an official term, but you suppose it’s how they perceived you all. It made you feel that much more guilty, for catching Caleb’s eyes across the crowd, across the flames that flick meanly into the sky, the smoke that scatters across, the sun glowing behind him.
Caleb can’t stand to see Zayne’s hand on your waist – right where his had just been, the possessiveness he has no right to feel running through him, until it’s making his stomach sick. He watches from across the bonfire as Zayne leans in close to whisper something in your ear, making you laugh, your head tilting back as if it’s so fucking funny – exposing that delicate neck Caleb wants to mark.
His eyes flicker to his phone, on the off chance that the OF star may be on, texting her for just a moment amidst the girls talking his ear off for the past ten minutes, smiling easily as he tries to focus on anything but rushing right across the goddamn beach and snatching you up.
Hopelessly torn between moving on from the inevitable fact that he’ll never have you, and feeling guilty for wanting to talk to her again.
“Excuse me,” he murmurs to the girl there, smiling brightly. “I need a drink. Want me to grab you one?”
“Yes please!” She’s giggling along with everyone, when Caleb makes a beeline toward you, the closer he gets the angrier, the more he wants to rip Zayne’s goddamn fingers off your waist.
Zayne notices him approaching first, his easy smile clinical, making Caleb want to lose his fuckign shit even more. "Caleb, joining us? Long time no see."
"Just needed another drink," Caleb says smoothly, though his eyes are locked on your face, how your eyes are dilated, glittering in the night. "Are you having fun, pips?”
“I am, are you? You should catch up with Zayne, too,” you say, looking at him now. “Caleb is leaving the military and doing other projects. And Zayne, he’s-”
“I’ll catch you both later,” he smiles and walks by with two drinks, leaving you to look at him curiously, as he dismisses you completely.
Oh.
“He’s as friendly as ever,” Zayne makes you laugh a bit, hand holding out for your own. “Want to dance a bit?”
“You dance?” You ask, tugging him out, each of your bare feet dancing across the warm sand, feeling Caleb’s gaze on you as he spins you around.
“I do.”
Caleb peeks at his phone again.
No answer from her.
And he has to look at his pips in the arm of Zayne.
He’s going to fucking hate this vacation – he may just cut it short.
Caleb hasn't seen you in a year - and he's come to the inevitable fact that his feelings for you can never come to anything. He moves on in his own way, as a top fan who becomes very close with a mysterious OF star. You could say Caleb is torn, between his long love for you and the hoplessness of it, and the growing feelings for a girl behind the screen. Yet on a trip back home, you have quite the fucking secret career, and you're even more torn. A crush on Zayne, a secret love for Caleb, and a budding interest in your top fan - Aviator69.
pairings - yandere! Caleb x secret OF star! reader (also a lil zayne x reader!)
warnings- angst, mistaken identity, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, love triangles in a way, camgirl reader, yan Caleb, eventual smut, slow burn, stepcest elements, this chap - masturbation, sexting, sexual tension, emotional hurt, jealousy, and some yummy Dr Zayne, mentions of cum and a hell of a breed kink. WC - 6.2k
credits here and here for the beautiful art!
I'm so nervous and excited to start my second Caleb series! i've been just DYING to write him, so I hope you all will enjoy this one!!! Chap two will be very soon hehe as I'm looking forward to write more of my yearning psycho <3 - tags open.
chap one
Caleb has always loved you – but he's known forever just how off limits you are.
Always in love with your other childhood friend Zayne, yet you both were the childhood best friends who simply can't be more.
He didn't really move on, no, you couldn’t call it that – but he eventually had to take care of himself, had to jerk his cock watching girls who looked like you – taking cock on cam or spreading their pussy wide.
It almost felt like cheating when he jerked it to them – which was laughable, considering you weren’t his, you could never be his. You – happy your senior year of college, and he had already graduated aviation school. A pilot out of town, he never saw you anymore, and your notes, texts, and calls got just a bit shorter.
The last night he hugged you in his arms and kissed your cheek fucking wreck him, but even Caleb needs a little bit to jerk off to, the hopeless situation that would remain that- hopeless.
It's what brought him here, to this pretty girl with this gorgeous body on onlyfans, she's got a mask on her face and a bright pink room, giggly and sweet. She bends over and plays with her cunt with the rose toy he bought her, moaning his name in this way that he could almost imagine was you.
How would you sound if you moaned?
It's been months since he started watching this pretty girl's streams though, and he found himself utterly lost. He felt terrible, wanting her when you exist, but her tits and how she toys with them, her blush that spreads across her chest, her thighs spreading just for him alone?
You could say Caleb becomes obsessed.
"You have to go for two weeks?" –
She asks as he types, her fingers still slick with her cum, the sheer amount she had squirted made him fucking thirsty, imagining lapping those juices off her thighs.
Caleb has kissed girls, he's fingered them and pleased them, he does enjoy another woman’s pleasure but he's just never been able to fully cross that line - even when he’s turning twenty-four next week. But he would – with her – he couldn't help but imagine finally sinking his cock inside that tiny hole, the one that looked so perfect when she spread it wide for his private sessions.
It doesn't make him love you less - it's just he's faced the inevitable fact that there would never be a chance you two were together.
Imagine Josephine if she ever knew Caleb loved you? When she'd damn near raised you two together. No, you weren't actually related, you two didn’t even share the same last name, but the ties ran too deep. You were too comfy with him, laying in his bed as he counted air planes till you drifted off, snuggling on his lap and looking at the stars.
He types now to the OF star he spends most of his limited free time with, after cleaning off his white coated cock with one hand and moaning softly, it’s sensitive as he hasn’t had time to barely do anything with grueling training for a new position.
Aviator69- Yeah, I gotta go for a bit to visit my hometown.
She sighs, leaning forward a bit, her lips smooching the webcam, he can’t help but smile just a bit – something about her fucking gets him. Is it the fact that she reminds him of you? Your build, your height? Is it the fact that she’s not interested in him as a relationship like everyone else?
"I'll miss you, Aviator69."
He snorts at her, it was insane that she didn't know his actual name, but then again - neither did he.
Hopeless obsession, isn't that what Caleb is known for?
It’s nothing like the obsession with his pips – his sweet best friend since childhood who he’d kill for, die for, fuck he’d do anything when it came to you – but it was nice to have her to talk to, even if she’s never heard his voice. She has outright asked to see his body curiously, so he’s shown her his cock, but even that felt so wrong, wasn’t it for you?
But as he scrolls through your IG and sees you at a dinner with none other than Zayne and all your friends, he has to remember that hope is dashed.
You’ve moved on with him only visiting twice a year.
I’ll be around a bit, maybe. – he tips her an insane amount, she’s blushing again across her chest, her collarbones, thanking him all sweetly.
“I’ll be a bit busy too with family, but if I’m on I’ll make sure to send you a message, have fun!”
You too, honey.
Before he hits send he deletes that – it’s what he calls you frequently, along with Pipsqueak or Pips to torture you, instead just sending a little smiley face and closing the laptop. Just a bit of his white cum coats his fingers, he sucks a bit of it off, humming to himself, wishing he could breed you with it instead of the utter waste it was, but that was just that.
A wish, a hopeless one.
Your text hits his phone right after he’s done packing, he can’t stop the dopey grin from hitting his face, no matter how much he enjoys the pretty OF star, he can’t help but love you just as much. Every day he falls deeper, no matter the time away – a million memories flooding his mind at your very existence.
Pips - Caleb! I’m so excited to see you this week, you better bring your trunks because we are so going to the beach!
His lips twitch up a bit at that.
Caleb - Why, Pips, so I can see you dog paddling like a little drowned rat?
Pips - Rude! I’ve become a much better swimmer, thank you!!! I have been getting lessons.
Caleb’s jaw sets, teeth clicking together.
Lessons from fucking who!?
Who got to see his-
What even were you to him? His childhood friend, his ‘step sister’? What right did he have to feel this fucking way about you, even as he tries his best to move on from it, to live his life and let you enjoy yours, the jealousy fucking eats at him. Another man seeing you in your bikini, touching your waist, teaching you to swim when it should be Caleb.
Caleb - I’ll see if you improved, you never took well to my lessons.
Pips - hah! Yes you will.
*****
You start packing your room up for the vacation, heart hammering in your chest just a bit too much – sometimes it’s hard to separate your reality from your online persona. Especially when it came to the mysterious Aviator69 fan – lord knows you’ll always have something for pilots, that love for Caleb hasn’t died off in the years of barely seeing him.
Yet it’s unhealthy, that love for him – the obsessive, jealous way you used to feel when you were younger, seeing girls all over him, seeing the way everyone just loved him. Who blamed anyone? There was everything to love about Caleb – your best friend in the world, the most important person there was.
Yet when you were a teenager, everything shifted, what was once fun or silly became too intimate, and since he was just a few years older, his actions became more and more ‘affectionate and brotherly’. Patting your head like you were some puppy, pulling away from a hug that’s too tight.
It was one of the reasons you decided to start an OF in the first place – you played with your pussy so much thinking of him, you might as well get paid for it.
You made so much at this point you got a brand new car, you helped Josephine – ‘gran’ as you all called her – pay off some of the debt she was in, you played it as if you had a killer internship. No one has questioned you, who would, really? You’re every bit the epitome of a ‘good girl’. Good student, sweet best friend, devoted to each and every person you care about.
There’s just one outlier – an obsession with the one man off limits.
Of all the fucking people to fall for, the boy raised as damn near ‘family’ was unnacceptable, and you’re sure he’s never felt it back. Those brief moments where you could swear there was something, that there was a tension between you both, now as you pack your luggage they just seem like they were all in your head.
‘I’ll miss you so much,’ you’d hugged Caleb tightly the last time he went away, he was training as a pilot outside of the military, something entirely different. You were so proud, but also you knew he’d be by even less frequently.
Some selfish part of you wanted him to stay.
‘I’ll miss you, honey,’ the way he’d said it had melted your precious resolve almost a year ago today, he’d tilted your chin up, pressing a kiss on your brow, cool and dry lips that he never took good enough care of, that he bit to death.
All Caleb ever did was take care of you, of Gran, of all his friends and his colleagues – the question was, who took care of Caleb? Would he ever let you?
‘Will you really miss me?’ He laughed at first – that easygoing one of his that brightened his face, that made him look so boyish.
Why didn’t he smile enough?
‘Why would ya ask that, hmm? Ya messin’ with me?’ he teased you, one of your hands had slid up his chest, brushing the stark white pilot jacket, your tears filling your eyes, making his face soften. ‘Pips, I’ll not be gone forever.’
‘Close enough,’ you trembled when he hugged you tight.
It wasn’t enough.
The hugs weren’t enough, the pecks on your cheek weren’t enough – not when your body wanted, needed and craved more. You leaned up, kissed his cheek, kissed the corner of his mouth. Collar tugged down in your hands to yank him low – tall as he fucking was, bringing him to hunch over so that your lips hovered.
‘What are you…’ he had paused, cupping your face, his breaths mingling with yours together – the sweet scent of apple on his breath – yet he pulled away, kissing the corner of your mouth instead.
You gave up that day.
‘I’ll write to you every day, I promise. I never, ever break them, do I?’
No, Caleb never broke his promises – he never crossed lines he shouldn’t, and you should respect that. No, you do respect that he’s level headed, that he has ultimate control, while you’re a shattered mess, trying to pick up the pieces of the inevitable fact – that it could never be.
You can’t get this mysterious man off your damn mind now, but it almost feels like a bit of a betrayal. Not only do you have this secret life, the feelings for Caleb haven’t died out – and now you’ve been talking to Zayne, he’s almost a doctor and just a few years older than you, in med school. He’s two years older than Caleb, in fact.
Mature, handsome, driven.
Yet he was also sweet, and he wanted to see you – he had known you for years as well, but you were more of a little pest to him than a childhood friend. Now, things were utterly different.
Would the very ‘seemingly’ uptight Zayne ever be okay with your ‘career’ though? The fact that you make more money in one night streaming on OF than you did in two weeks at your part time college job? Would he be okay you had a pretty pink jewel up your damn ass a couple hours ago, or used a pink rose toy for fucking Aviator69?
You feel torn into three pieces – the hopeless love for Caleb, the intrigue for the boy you’ve been typing for months but never really seen or heard, and a childhood crush come to life for Zayne.
Just how was this week going to go?
+++++
Caleb was back home.
This was the home he spent his teenage years in – the main one he knew, despite being about eleven when Josephine took him in, he hadn’t exactly remembered much of his childhood, nor much of his life before you and Gran. He didn’t want to, and neither had you when he’d met you – the day she brought you into his life.
He’ll never forget meeting you, holding your hand and smiling, you were so shy and sweet then, to eventually form into a little brat who punched his shoulders and teased him. Caleb knows it was the comfort of him that helped blossom that in you, so he loved it even more.
The nights he’d spend holding you when you had nightmares, though? Sometimes he wondered just what your life was exactly like before Josephine took you in, but that was something the two of you had never really discussed. You didn’t even have to, it was as if you both just…
Got each other.
The plane ride was a long one, but he was used to it – though he forgot how odd it was to be a passenger rather than a pilot. The air was just a touch thicker and humid, he could practically inhale the hints of salt from the coast, when he’d recently been in the desert. The house looked the same, it’s only been less than a year, but everything was exactly in its place.
When he walks into the door to his teenage bedroom, he can’t help but be hit with a wave of nostalgia.
Nothing had changed – not a single thing aside from Gran had picked it up a bit, and his bed was made, the duvet the same dark blue he'd picked out in high school. The walls were still covered in aviation posters – his favorite, f-16s, a diagram of a fighter jet engine next to that. His model planes decorated the bookshelves, just a bit dusty from time, with pictures of you and him on the top shelf.
You’re so young there, it was your high school graduation, he had just come back from getting grueling military training. He looks so drained, but you looked so bright and beautiful, but then again when the fuck weren’t you?
His fingertips run across the frame, sighing and frowning a bit at the walls just a light shade of orange, as if the room was frozen in time, with the locket you’ve given him sitting on one of the articulated models.
He has a new one from you now, that one broke and faded – he’ll never forget how upset you were, even after he welded it the little red gem popped out.
He’d gotten it replicated exactly, but how could he get rid of the original? So it stayed locked in time. He wraps it around his fist, the silver chain circling his rough knuckles, Caleb presses a little kiss to it, a little ritual he had with the one on his neck recently before he went on any flight.
He peeks out the window when he hears the hum of an expensive SUV, curiously looking out to see you walk out of it alone.
That SUV is not in a college girl’s budget, Caleb had more than enough to buy one for you, but you’d always turned it down. Suddenly curious how the fuck you have a brand new black Escalade, he heads out of the room, you’re already hugging Josephine when he steps into the living room, your eyes catching his over her shoulder.
"Caleb!" you squeal those words excitedly, running out of Josephine’s embrace and launching yourself at him.
He catches you automatically, as if it’s an instinct to do so – it is a fucking instinct – its a torture as his arms wrap around your waist. It was supposed to be familiar, comforting, sweet and nostalgic, right?
Yet it was torture instead.
Your hips are a little wider, your tits just a bit softer somehow against his chest, he hates himself for fucking thinking that. All this time away, of jerking his cock to another girl, of going on dates and kissing women, having them cum on his fingers, it did nothing to stop the sickness he felt near you.
It was everything not to lift you by those hips that would feel so goddamn good in his hands and fuck you right on a wall – but he’s supposed to fucking greet you. He’s supposed to be that supportive best friend, so he hugs you tighter, laughing as if he’s unaffected with the way you press against him, burying his face in your hair, smelling your shampoo.
It was the same as always – this sweet mix of peonies and blossoms that were made to ruin him, with hints of something uniquely you, some pheromone set out to make him ache. He forces himself to relax, to make it normal, his gran is there for godsake and he’s about to fucking sniff you.
"Hah – easy, Pips, you’re crushin’ me."
You pull back a bit, blush dancing on your cheeks. "Sorry, I got so excited! It’s been so long.”
“I’ll make you two some tea,” Josephine says with a smile, heading to the kitchen and leaving the two of you alone by the entry way, he pulls back a bit, taking in your outfit.
It’s slutty.
Your tits are out, your skirt is too fucking short, as if this is not the girl who used to wear sweats everywhere. He supposes he should assume you’d change, why wouldn’t you? Yet the thought of anyone seeing that body makes him furious – a body he’s barely seen with how baggy and slouchy your clothes used to be.
“New style?” He asks softly, you giggle and tug a bit at the top.
“Yeah, I guess I’ve gotten into fashion,” you’ve had to dress a little sexier with OF promotion, but you did find yourself liking it, a pleated skirt and a little crop, jacket slung right over. “Do you like it?”
“Ah… do I like it…” He says nothing, his sunset eyes drifting across your collarbone, bare now, the little locket he’d bought you broke and you have it now attached to a little keychain. Suddenly it feels empty, naked, without it, especially when you see his dogtags clearly on his chest.
Caleb says nothing, just looking into your eyes now, the tension as your hands still sit on his broad shoulders making you tremble.
You’re an OF star now – you play with your pussy for thousands of people, you have your damn tits out and make bank. Why then, does it make you so fucking nervous to have someone this close to you look at you this way?
It also makes you wonder – would Caleb ever be okay with that? Would he beat your ass black and blue and delete that damn page? You cannot see your strict, overprotective best friend accepting it. Of course, you wouldn’t tell him, but it makes you curious.
Did Caleb ever watch OF?
Did he date anyone now?
Has he…
Why are you thinking of that? Why can’t you just enjoy the time you have with him – the limited fucking time?
“You don’t have to answer that,” you say now, suddenly shy – you, shy, it’s laughable. Yet Caleb does that to you – the way he looks at you could fucking ruin you completely.
“It’s just a different look,” he manages, clearing his throat, you notice a few new freckles dusting across the bridge of his nose, now, making you bite down on your lower lip. “You always look pretty. Just different.”
“Well look at you! All grown up and official," you playfully tug at the collar of his pilot's uniform he'd worn home – white and gold, you almost can’t handle just how fucking good he looks in it.
"Well look at you – new ride?"
Your expression falters for just a second, a flicker of something he couldn't read before you plaster on a bright smile. You suck at lying, and at hiding shit from him. "Oh, the SUV? Just a little graduation present to myself. Been saving up for years! I got a really good payment plan.”
You paid for that shit in cash – OF was very kind to you.
He hums a bit at that, he knew what you'd made at your part-time campus job, and there was no fucking way you'd saved up that much, he knows your wages. Caleb knows everywhere you go, too.
He sure the fuck shouldn’t but how can he not want to make sure the most important person in the world to him was safe at all times? That just happened to involve all of that – knowing when to ‘surprise’ send you money, when to randomly call you if you’re somewhere he doesn’t know.
A quick search with his connections are all it takes for him to find out what house you were in and who it belonged to.
You’ve spent entirely too much time with Zayne lately.
Zayne was stupidly wealthy – what if he bought that shit for you?
He immediately shoved the thought away, disgusted with himself for even thinking of them, that you couldn’t do it on your own, that you’d need something like that, he puts it all away and then smiles at you instead, ruffling your hair affectionately. This was you – His Pips.
“I’d have bought you it, you know.”
“You can’t go around buying escalades, Caleb,” you poke at his cheek playfully, he catches your wrist with his long ass fingers, taking you over and making you pause, your heart hammering in your chest.
“I would for you.”
You blush once more, sighing now. "There is this huge bonfire at the cove to start the summer," you say, grabbing your luggage, he takes it from you so quickly you giggle a bit. "Everyone's meeting there in an hour. Are you coming with me?"
"Yeah, of course,” he follows you up the stairs, his gaze lingering on the way your skirt rises up on your thighs, he can fucking see those panties with little apples decorating them.
Were you actively trying to kill him?
He needs to jerk off the moment he is alone, but you’re lingering a bit at the door, smiling up at him in this way that makes him wonder how you’d look on your knees, lashes lowered, hearts in your eyes. Would you suck his cock down like a good girl – would you do it too good, and make him wonder where you learned it?
Fuck.
“I’ll go get ready,” he says, rushing off and making you frown, looking at him a bit before shutting your door, leaning on it and shutting your eyes.
Caleb seemed annoyed, short with you, clipped. Perhaps he had moved on, and perhaps that was the best thing – that you imagined the tension, the embarrassment of trying to kiss him for him to shut it down, that it was all in your head. Zayne texts you, asking if you’re coming, and you focus your energy there, shooting him a quick heart and an enthusiastic yes!
Your phone keeps going off, the OF men miss you of course – you decide you can sneak a quick faceless picture of your tits, hanging up the little pink curtain you always do to hide anything personal. It seems drastic, but you have a lot of friends from your hometown, and you’d die of embarrassment if they ever found out.
You set the camera down on your dresser, leaning forward to get a pretty angle of your tits, and the comments and tips start going insane, you suddenly see a name you thought you wouldn’t though –
Aviator69.
You laugh softly seeing it, tilting your head and laying back in your bed after getting dressed, typing directly to him in messages.
You - I thought you’d be gone.
Aviator69 - yeah well, I had to peek at this notification, see your pretty tits.
Suddenly you heat up – Aviator69 has always been oddly respectful, to a point you wish he wasn’t, and now he finally mentioned something like that? You can’t stop yourself from saying more, your apple covered panties soaked and darkening – damp and sticky with need.
You almost feel guilty enjoying him this much, you aren’t dating Zayne, and Caleb is the most off limits boy there could be, but you still felt jumbled as you were slick. You can’t help but write to him again, though.
You - miss me already? Did you miss seeing my titties?
Avaiator69 - maybe I do. Your nipples look like they need to be sucked on, do they?
You - maybe they do need a mouth on them.
You don’t even know what he looks like but you can’t help but let your mind drift, though when your eyes close – it’s Caleb, his mouth wrapping a nipple, and you know you shouldn’t think of it. You know you have to stop it, stop playing with your cunt thinking of the boy in your next room, the one you’ll never have, the one who probably never thinks of you like this.
Yet your eyes flutter shut, and you’re toying with your breast, thumbing the nipple and gasping out, looking as he types to you.
Aviator69 - they’d look so pretty with cum on them.
Oh fuck.
Was Aviator69 a freak!? He surprises you then, you hear the craziest shit as a cam girl, as an OF star, but nothing has made you actually wet quite like this comment.
You - would you lick it off?
Caleb moans softly, muffled with one of his hands as the other strokes his thick, veiny cock – the head is flushed a mean red and dripping, leaking down to the carpet below. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Caleb’s rough hand makes him merely ache for another – a soft little hand that can’t even wrap his base, watching it and laughing at the size difference.
Wondering if he’d cum all over this OF star’s pretty tits, or yours – god they were just about the same size he thinks, he hardly has seen glimpses of yours aside from when you were in a bikini, and they’ve only gotten prettier in the year he hasn’t seen you. He can’t think of you.
He can’t.
Would he lick it off is a fucking insane question, though, he can’t help but whimper, literally typing with one hand while he should be getting ready.
Aviator69 - I think I’d rather gather it up and push it inside your pretty little pussy.
Your fingers circle your clit faster, damn near slippery as this mysterious fan puts those images in your head, you hardly type with one shaky hand as your thighs clench together.
You - oh? Are your fingers long, aviator?
Aviator69 - bet they’d hit your cervix.
You drop the phone when you cum, when you shatter, pulsing and making a fucking mess, dripping right down your sheets, dizzy with how much he’d had you cumming, tears pricking your eyes you’re so dizzy. Hit your cervix – hit your cervix, he really went and fucking said that? He had to have the most filthy images of long fingers pushing white inside you.
You’re struggling to gather yourself after that, seeing texts from your friends wondering if you’re on the way, realizing you haven’t gotten ready at all – and that Caleb is in that next room. What if he heard you!?
Get it together!
You - I have to go, Aviator.
Aviator69 - did you get to cum?
He’s cocky, it’s surprising, you can’t help but giggle, breathless.
You - maybe I did. Did you?
Caleb’s cock is coated in white cum to the base, his head thrown back against his old headboard, looking up for a moment to see a picture of you in your cute little cheer outfit on his mirror, suddenly torn.
Why does he feel so guilty for a girl who could never be his?
He cleans up, clearing his throat and tipping his favorite star two hundred dollars as her answer. She types him quickly.
You shouldn’t have! It was just… fun for me?
It’s still your time, and your work.
Then don’t be a stranger this vacation.
He cleans up quickly, his head rushing, he’d cum just enough that when he sees you, standing right in your doorway and peeking at you in your room, so fucking pretty – he can almost handle it.
Almost.
You smile at him, in this little sundress, tied up at the neck to reveal the expanse of your back in a haphazard knot, looking at him in the mirror now. “Caleb, can you tie this a little better, my hands can’t reach.”
“Always so spoiled with me, tch,” you giggle when he comes over, undoing the knot. “It’s terrible.”
“I know!” they fall, the little halter straps, you hold onto the top of the dress so it doesn’t fall, smiling nervously at his reflection. “Do you like the dress?”
“You look beautiful,” his voice is too husky then, as he ties the prettiest, perfect bow, swallowing and running the backs of his fingers down between your shoulder blades before he can stop himself, eyes catching your reflection in the mirror. “Don’t you always?”
“You think so, Caleb?” He laughs softly, shaking his head.
What a fucking question.
He supposes he must hide that shit exceptionally well, taking your hair and brushing it back, baring those shoulders he wants to decorate with kisses, with bites, with bruises. You turn and he sees that cleavage, the tits he’d also love to cum right all over, rising and falling with your breaths as he stands too close, your hands sliding up his soft open shirt, the one underneath moulded to his physique.
“You’ve just gotten buffer, you jerk,” you tease, as if you don’t want to feel his weight upon you. “I haven’t worked out much since I quit cheer.”
“Your body is-” He pauses himself then.
He can’t fucking say that.
That he wants to grip your hips and breed you – that he wants to have those tits bouncing in his face, that he’d love to fuck you in your sleep, when you wake up, every fucking moment just bend you over a surface until you’re good and knocked up from him, then you’d have to stay his forever, wouldn’t you?
No amount of jerking it to a pretty girl could fix this sickness in his fucking head, clearly, so instead he stays there, a hand on your waist, the nip of it where it juts in, squeezing so hard over the thin material you gasp. Your eyes lock up to his, your lips parted ever so slightly, those eyes dilated until they’re almost black.
“My body, what?” You ask softly, voice shaking, trying to hold yourself together as he causes you to heat up.
“It’s…” Your phone goes off now, breaking the spell he’d been under, he steps back and eyes you. “Gonna get that?”
“It’s just everyone asking where we are,” you clear your throat now, shoving it all back in. “What were you going to say?”
“It’s… your body is…”
You just look at him.
He’d just told a girl on the internet he pays for that she had pretty tits, that he wanted to push cum inside her, but he can’t tell you what he wants to – no, because it’s too fucking filthy.
“It’s perfect,” he manages, you blush and look down, hugging him around his waist and burying your face against his chest.
“Thank you, Caleb.”
“Mhm, let’s go.”
*****
You let Caleb drive your suv since he hates you driving – you apparently terrify the shit out of him because you don’t know what curbs are. He doesn’t seem to realize that you literally could hit any curb in this giant fucking thing and it’s like nothing now, but you don’t mind being in the passenger seat, giggling as the two of you try to catch up a bit.
Yet the air feels thick with everything unspoken.
You resented him for turning down your kiss and you feel bad that you did, you have to let it go and enjoy the person you love more than anything in the world. You just have to love him the way you should, not in this twisted way you’ve grown to think of him.
When the two of you are at the party, and he’s surrounded by so many damn girls it’s hilarious, he looks at you as if you could help him out, you just laugh a bit, gasping when a cool hand touches the small of your back. You peek back to see Zayne, the soon to be doctor but currently an intern physician, smiling lazily at you.
He looks unfairly gorgeous with the setting sun, casting a million lights of pink and orange against his tanned skin, his soft little laugh when you press a kiss to his cheek. “Doctor Zayne!”
“Already calling me that, hmm?” The bonfire is crackling, making his green eyes glow just a bit with orange flames, his face card is stupidly lethal and makes your heart race just being close.
“You will be soon enough, might as well start,” you lean close now. “Role play a bit, I could be your bratty patient.”
“You’re bold, hmm?” He’s blushing a bit, laughing then, tilting his head a bit. “Why don’t we get a drink?”
“I’d love to,” he heads over to the cooler and grabs you both a drink, opening yours politely, eyes drifting over your dress.
“You look stunning,” he says quietly, you feel the flicker of his gaze dart over your form, taking in his own attire, a dress shirt just a bit unbuttoned, the most casual Zayne really got. “That color is pretty on your skin.”
“Why thank you Doctor Zayne, you look handsome too,” he laughs a bit, sipping his drink, eyeing the swarm of women around Caleb. “Ah, your stepbrother is back home, huh?”
Stepbrother.
It makes you feel so fucking weird to hear him called that – it wasn’t an official term, but you suppose it’s how they perceived you all. It made you feel that much more guilty, for catching Caleb’s eyes across the crowd, across the flames that flick meanly into the sky, the smoke that scatters across, the sun glowing behind him.
Caleb can’t stand to see Zayne’s hand on your waist – right where his had just been, the possessiveness he has no right to feel running through him, until it’s making his stomach sick. He watches from across the bonfire as Zayne leans in close to whisper something in your ear, making you laugh, your head tilting back as if it’s so fucking funny – exposing that delicate neck Caleb wants to mark.
His eyes flicker to his phone, on the off chance that the OF star may be on, texting her for just a moment amidst the girls talking his ear off for the past ten minutes, smiling easily as he tries to focus on anything but rushing right across the goddamn beach and snatching you up.
Hopelessly torn between moving on from the inevitable fact that he’ll never have you, and feeling guilty for wanting to talk to her again.
“Excuse me,” he murmurs to the girl there, smiling brightly. “I need a drink. Want me to grab you one?”
“Yes please!” She’s giggling along with everyone, when Caleb makes a beeline toward you, the closer he gets the angrier, the more he wants to rip Zayne’s goddamn fingers off your waist.
Zayne notices him approaching first, his easy smile clinical, making Caleb want to lose his fuckign shit even more. "Caleb, joining us? Long time no see."
"Just needed another drink," Caleb says smoothly, though his eyes are locked on your face, how your eyes are dilated, glittering in the night. "Are you having fun, pips?”
“I am, are you? You should catch up with Zayne, too,” you say, looking at him now. “Caleb is leaving the military and doing other projects. And Zayne, he’s-”
“I’ll catch you both later,” he smiles and walks by with two drinks, leaving you to look at him curiously, as he dismisses you completely.
Oh.
“He’s as friendly as ever,” Zayne makes you laugh a bit, hand holding out for your own. “Want to dance a bit?”
“You dance?” You ask, tugging him out, each of your bare feet dancing across the warm sand, feeling Caleb’s gaze on you as he spins you around.
“I do.”
Caleb peeks at his phone again.
No answer from her.
And he has to look at his pips in the arm of Zayne.
He’s going to fucking hate this vacation – he may just cut it short.
︵ ೀ mdni. toji is so old he could be your dad but he just fucks too good
toji’s old enough to be your dad and you both know it.
you see the silver in his stubble when he leans over the console, the way his knuckles are busted and healed a hundred times over. yeah... he’s got this shady job and a driver’s license that expired the year you graduated high school. but whatever.
you still crawl into his lap the second the door slams shut, loving the way the truck groans every time he drives into you hard enough like he’s trying to break it and you at the same time.
boys your age send dick pics and ask if you’re dtf. toji just palms your ass, lifts you onto his cock like you weigh nothing, and sinks you down slow until you’re gasping at how deep he sits. he doesn’t ask if you’re sure. he knows you are.
you picked him on purpose.
he always grumbles about your knees on the leather yet his hands are always already under your skirt, calloused palms spreading your thighs wide while he mutters “fucking brat” against your mouth.
thick arms cage you against the passenger seat while the windows fog up in the empty parking lot. he’s got you folded damn near in half, knees to your chest, cock buried so deep your belly bulges a little every time he bottoms out.
then his phone lights up. he doesn’t stop, reaches over with one hand, thumb swiping answer while the other keeps your hips pinned.
“yeah,” he grunts into the speaker. “target’s still breathing. give me twenty.”
he rolls his hips hard on the last word, his cockhead grinding right where it makes you stupid. you whimper loud enough the guy on the line probably hears. toji’s eyes flick to you. “open,” he mouths, silent.
you do. he slides two thick fingers past your lips, pressing down on your tongue so you can’t make another sound. the guy keeps talking money, timelines, whatever. toji nods along, fucking you deeper, slow drags that have your eyes rolling back.
“mm-hmm,” he hums, curling his fingers in your mouth when you start to drool. “i’ll handle it tonight.”
you come clenching around him, whole body shaking, muffled around his fingers. he grunts once, low, then spills inside you with a lazy thrust, filling you up while still on the call like it’s nothing.
but you’re not done. you lift your hips slow, greedy, and sink back down, dragging his half-hard cock along your soaked walls just to feel the stretch again. you roll your hips in circles, grinding the thick head against that spot inside that makes your breath hitch, thighs trembling from how sensitive you still are.
his fingers slip from your mouth, wet with spit, and land heavy on your waist like he’s gonna stop you. instead his grip tightens. you do it again (lift, drop, grind) and catch the tiniest twitch of his hips up into you, a rough exhale through his nose.
he likes it. likes you using him while he’s still leaking inside you, likes the messy drag of his own cum making it slicker, likes watching you fuck yourself stupid on a cock that’s already hard again, impossibly fast, stretching you open while the guy on the line keeps droning about drop points and payment.
toji mutes the call for half a second, growls “keep fucking yourself on me, doll” against your throat, then unmutes like nothing happened and answers with a bored “uh-huh” while you ride him harder with his cum dripping down your thighs.
A bet is classic. What could be more fun than targeting a sweet girl and making her fall in love with the reputable campus fuckboy? Surely he wouldn’t fall in love with you.
fratboy!gojo x f!reader
notes: I have seen sooooo many ideas and tiktoks about the trope of reader being a bet & it always hurts so good! wanted to try it out and ofc it had to be with fratboy gojo >:)))
warnings: angst obvi hehehe, drinking, cursing, reader is super sweet and a bet obvi, no comfort or happy ending (yet? who knows), mentions of vomiting but doesn’t, mentions of blood, reader is never someone’s first choice:(( ummmm, gojo is an asshole ofc
Credit to @uzmacchiato for the divider!!
Satoru knew he should've said no in the beginning, knew it wasn't worth it just to impress his friends- his stupid frat brothers who never took anything seriously. Never thought about the consequences of their actions.
Buuut the idea of the bet was just too good to turn down.
The effort, the build up, the dedication- it would all come together so perfectly, especially with you as the main star. With you being you, you were doomed from the start before the bet could even fully take shape.
Sweet little you. Shouldn't you have known better?
Going around, shamelessly wearing your heart on your sleeve, always spreading kindness on the darkest of days, looking and talking to people as if they genuinely mattered- and maybe to you, they actually did, even when they couldn't have cared less about returning the favor. Not that you ever expected anything in return.
And most importantly of it all? You were so understanding. Far too understanding for your own good. The debilitating type that had rooted itself early on as some sort of lousy defense mechanism and eventually morphed into something self destructive. Had you subconsciously constructing and molding subpar excuses to justify someone's behavior, especially when it was directed towards you.
Always being an overly empathetic thing, so willing to sacrifice and minimize your own feelings when it came to others, always softening their blow.
Were you desperate or something to get people to stay? So desperate that you had unintentionally turned yourself into a doormat that people could stomp all over?
Anybody could've told you that it was idiotic to try and see everyone at face value, to so naively believe the words people told you. But you could've argued the opposite.
It wasn't naivety. It was you, sweet and trusting you, determined to not let your past heartbreak change the way you viewed others, to not let it bias you, scare you, or haunt you. Despite having been constantly hurt, you refused to allow your past experiences make you question and doubt every. single. new. relationship.
Always trying to see the good in people.
It would have turned out great, perfectly actually. You had played your part with flying colors, just as expected, putting on the most spectacular, albeit unknown, performance. And Satoru? Well.
Things would have turned out great.
If he hadn't started falling in love with you.
But the show must go on.
“H-Hey, Satoru! Wait-wait a sec!” The words spilled from your lips in an unintentional desperate plea, the halls fully swarmed and packed with students squeezing past one another. Dozens of conversations mulled around you, voices mindlessly buzzing and bouncing off the walls as you paced towards the white haired man.
Satoru had been anything but clear as of recently, a new push pull dynamic he’d adopted that had you more confused and thrown off than ever. You thought you were going crazy.
One night he was taking you out, looking at you like you were his dream girl who hung the moon in his sky, and the next he was treating you like some clingy puppy that he had never even asked for in the first place. The hot and coldness of it all had given you whiplash trying to keep up with him.
But of course, of couuurrrse, you believed him when he said it was stress. That finals and exams had him so busy, but of course he liked you! He was just new at this whole communication thing and needed time but please Y/N, I like you so much please im trying.
You believed it all.
After all, why would you not? Especially when Satoru was Satoru and you were you.
Sure, you knew you could be a lot, knew you could have more than afforded to shut up every now and then and not chimed in with your over the top unnecessary eager commentary, but regardless, the point still stood. Satrou Gojo, one of the hottest most pined after frat boys on campus that everyone treated like a myth, like an untouchable legend, talked to you, was nice to you, even took you out and seemed happy to do so.
Maybe for once, the rumors could have been just rumors!
Plus, the last few times you remembered being taken out was high school, and they never showed you much interest past the first date once they learned they couldn't get in your pants. Gojo hadn't even tried!
“Sorry-excuse me,’cuse me, sorr- oops, my bad, imsosorry- Satoru!”
He'd been oddly silent the past few days, completely unresponsive to your texts. But with finals coming up, surely he must've been cramming and just far too busy to respond.
He hadn't sat next to you like usual in lecture, but he showed up late, so maybe he didn't want to bother you?
But he didn't wait for you after either, gone before you could even leave your seat. You couldn't deny how it stung, but always chalked it up to him being too busy or in a rush.
You could visibly see his shoulders tense from behind, the slight tilt of his head as it hung forward in what you could only assume was annoyance, a brief mental preparation to deal with you. A pang bloomed in your chest, unease pulsing through you.
He slowed down just enough for you to catch up, but didn't stop. Slightly out of breath, you fell into step next to him, cheeks flushing and heat creeping up your neck from his clear uneagerness to see or talk to you. You nervously swallowed. He could be intimidating when he wanted to be.
He didn't greet you, didn't look at you, just waited for you to speak.
You awkwardly cleared your throat to speak, a small and meek “hi,” being the only word to squeeze out.
“I’ve got class.” Short, quick, dismissive.
His blunt uninterested response sent doubt pummeling through you, the gifts in your pocket weighing heavier and heavier with the possibility of rejection more realistic than you initially thought.
He would draw you in, perfect words to butter you up and make you feel foolish for ever questioning him, and then he'd get like this. Not mean per se, but just so uninterested in you that you wondered if you had made it all up. You weren't dating (yet? So you were hoping) but he had kissed you on the most recent date. Didn't that mean something?
You'd been so ecstatic afterwards, but with no solid friends on campus, you had no one to tell or squeal to. You carried everything alone, both good and bad. Gojo knew that, the whole frat knew that. It's what made you the perfect choice.
“R-right, yeah! Um- can you stop just for a second- i wanted to-” and he loudly sighed, piercing blue eyes rolling into his head as he stopped to turn to you. He didn't say anything, just stared expectantly at you like you were completely wasting his time. His gaze on you was irritated.
The eye contact had you jittery. Not the usual nerves you'd get when you turned your head just to find him already looking at you, so anxious you’d somehow mess things up with the hottest guy ever, so desperate to be good enough for him. No. It was the on edge, antsy type that had you replaying every dumb thing you've ever said to him, the doubt pooling at the very bottom of your stomach that felt like a heavy black tar. It felt like a test you knew you’d fail when you had studied so hard to do good. You just wanted him to like you the way you liked him, and god, did you fucking like him.
Don't fuck this up, y/n, this is the best thing that has ever happened to you.
Nervously swallowing and cheeks blazing, you gave an uneasy awkward smile before rummaging through your tote bag and pocket, muttering a tiny but sincere “sorry,” when his foot started to impatiently tap against the floor.
A small pit formed in your stomach, feeling slightly mortified and very embarrassed. The feeling was similar to a child showing off their very mediocre work to an overly critical parent.
“Sorry,” you huffed a fake laugh, pulling out the small container from your bag and the keychain from your pocket.
“I-um, I made these for you, since you know, you said you loved cookies, uh on the date, they're um your favorite..” and your words trailed off as you held out the tin, slowly beginning to feel smaller and smaller as he kept his hands by his side, no show of trying to take it from you. A small sticky note on the top read, “Hope you like them! :D <3”
“Oh! A-and, hah, I saw this and, and I thought of you, especially since you said you really, um, really liked that show.” nothing. “J-Just as a um, thank you, for the other night. W-Was a lot, o-of fun.”
You held both hands out, praying he didn't see the slight tremble of your clammy hands holding the items as you stood there feeling like an idiot. The thumping of your heart picked up, eyes looking anywhere but at him, bowing your head just slightly so you wouldn't have to see him look so repulsed by you.
Had you somehow misread everything? Like actually? This entire interaction felt like some humiliation ritual.
“Um, if, if you want, o-of course, no.. no pressure,” You pathetically added, already trying to lessen his blow, already trying to minimize and justify his cold reaction towards you.
He let out a small snicker, hands finally coming up to grab the items from your unsteady hands. You hid the sigh of relief that you wanted to let out, so easy to please and already feeling happy again that he accepted your gifts, as if it was a nuisance for him to do so.
“Wow, thanks. You do too much,” he dully noted, a small closed lip smile gracing his pretty features before he turned on his feet to continue his trek to class.
The comment made you freeze, staring at the spot he stood in, a “thank you?” not even having the chance to leave your tongue. You didn't think he said it with mal intent, but the words ‘too much’ always seemed to find its way back to you.
“Oh wait!” Gojo's voice broke you from your thoughts, and you immediately turned to face him, eyes wide and excited like a dog hearing the word ‘walk.’ Maybe he'd talk to you some more, or want you to walk with him! Or maybe-
“Party this Friday night at the house. You should come by, all my friends will be there.” The words made you deflate. A party… at his frat house… the idea made your stomach twist with nerves. You knew no one, had no friends to go with, and you were absolutely horrified of embarrassing yourself around him- even more- than what you felt like you had already done.
“Oh! Um, haha, I don't think your friends like me- um- very much, haha,” you stated, hand coming up to push your fallen hair behind your ear, a small wince on your face as to not make it a big deal.
His friends, and Gojo at first too, had been relatively mean to you starting off, relentless teasing about your looks, your interests, hobbies, lack of knowledge you had despite trying so hard. You had been so caught off guard when he told you he liked you.
“Psh, they're just playing! See you at 10pm,” he yelled back, already walking away, arm coming up to carelessly wave. You sighed to yourself. You knew you would go. You really wanted to see gojo.
Friday night was a mess. A good mess at first, at least. Cars parked up and down the street, people packed in like sardines in and outside the house, music so loud all the neighboring dorms and frats could hear, and god did it reek like sweat and musk.
The two shots - okay maybe three - you took right before for liquid courage seemed to do the exact opposite as you maneuvered around a couple making out, small “excuse me’s” falling from your lips every second in a measly attempt to find gojo.
The small revealing outfit you had on, at least, seemed to match the vibe, relieved when you saw girls wearing far less. The only con was that your favorite knee high boots would most definitely get stepped on, but at least you were taller now as you searched for the stark white tufts of hair.
The house thrummed from the vibration of the speakers, bass so heavy your teeth rattled. It was dark, the only light illuminating the rooms were colorful shades of blues, purples, reds, and greens shining and flashing everywhere. The party felt like everything you weren't, but for a split second you were almost proud of yourself, going so far out of your comfort zone it felt like you were on a whole other planet. You imagined how fun these parties could be if you had any friends, and before you could let the thought get you down, you let your tipsy self imagine what it would be like to experience these with gojo by your side, excited that you were about to.
Like the rest of the house, the kitchen was packed. Unable to find Gojo had you seeking out another drink and the multitude of bottles of liquor that covered the surfaces were calling your name. You felt confident, wanting another drink to keep your courage and vibes up, grabbing a red solo cup and creating a concoction that would be far too strong, but you were here to let loose right? You were at a party!
Further encouraged and emboldened when a girl passing by stopped to compliment you, you smiled to yourself, feeling the tension roll off your back and a new found self-assurance bloom within you.
Bodies flowed and worked around you, not shoving into you or looking at you like you didn't belong, but moved in rhythm near you, like you had every right to be there and fit just fine. You relaxed into the music, earlier shots of vodka giving you a nice buzz that warmed your skin, made your cheeks tingle, and more importantly a soft happiness that weighed in your chest that comforted you like a safety blanket. Pouring the liquor into the cup with a mixer that admittedly was way too little, you knocked over a different cup, relieved there was barely any liquid that spilled over.
Quietly giggling to yourself, you spun to grab a roll of paper towels, quickly drying up the small mess you made, already sipping on your drink that made you wince in disgust. It was perfect. You hummed along to the music, hips swaying while lights blinded you, walking over to the metal garbage can to toss the wet material. Looking inside, you couldn't help but notice the tupperware that looked exactly like yours.
Furrowing your eyebrows, you leaned in a little closer, tiny fractures cutting into your heart as you realized it was yours, still packed to the brim with your cookies, sticky note still stuck to the top. Next to the cookies, the keychain you had bought him.
You froze, just a moment before scooting back, not wanting to get caught staring into the trashcan as you processed everything. There was a dull ache in your chest, energy immediately depleting and inklings of shame and embarrassment circulating through you. Your mind worked through the different possibilities, seeking out any excuse or reason as to why your items now lay forgotten in the trash.
You felt the build up of tears, blinking them back with a shaky breath as you chugged your mixture that was mainly liquor, a hopeless attempt at suppressing the sadness you felt. You shivered, turning your head to gag at the disgusting taste. Surely all the alcohol would calm your nerves.
Maybe one of the guys had done it? And not Gojo? You were positive this was all some sort of misunderstanding, no way he would just do that right? He told you he liked you- it wouldn't make any sense.
You began your trek around the sea of people, legs a little more unsteady now, eyes slightly glassy, contents of your stomach filled with a majority of alcohol and barely any food from your earlier nerves. All you wanted to do was find him, figure out an explanation that you were positive you'd be more than willing to accept, and spend the rest of the night by his side having a good time. The cookies weren't hard to bake and it's not like the keychain cost that much- it was fine, you were fine.
A little more intense this time, you made your way through the frat house, a sigh of relief when a glimpse of that notorious white fluffy hair came into view, a black backwards baseball cap sitting perfectly on his head. When your eyes finally landed on gojo, albeit still a little wobbly and throat tight, you couldn't help the smile that automatically formed on your face, hoping he'd feel the same. Why wouldn't he? He did invite you after all.
He was surrounded by his friends and then some, everyone dialed in on what he was saying. You anxiously stepped forward, waiting for the right time to get close to him and say hello. You wondered if he'd hug you and say ‘hi baby,’ like he sometimes did. The thought made your heart flutter inside its ribs like a bird in a cage.
Maybe he'd even compliment your outfit, or your hair and makeup. You eagerly bit your lip, too excited to be embarrassed at your spiraling thoughts of being somewhat wanted by him.
“Bro and then she gave me a fuck ass keychain, dude!!” he broke up his commentary with a laugh, a little too forced for it to be genuine, but a laugh nonetheless. “Said it reminded her of me, like, she just can't get any weirder bro. God and don't get me started on the cookies. She said it was her thanks for taking her out, but she doesnt know its all a bet to get into her pants- shes a fucking virgin for sureeee, threw that shit out as soon as i got back,” and he snickered and grinned like he had won the best prize. Like he had formed the best, most elaborate plan and you had played your part perfectly. You really, really had.
His friends, who you recognized as toji and maybe sukuna, chuckled, all chiming in with terms of agreement and encouragement, adding on all sorts of lies and theories about you, like maybe you were secretly a whore putting out, your innocent act a devious little facade. Geto, who had always been kind to you, was there too, perched against the side of a couch, not joining in, but silent and accepting.
You flinched, physically recoiling back when you heard them laugh about how you were too much, too pathetic to see right through anything at all, a fucking stupid girl for thinking someone like you could have a chance at him. Everything you had told yourself, every insecurity that had coursed through you, all confirmed. Others really did view you the way you saw yourself.
“Bro and when I kissed her, swear i almost gagged-”
You drowned his voice out, the music. There was a ringing in your ears that wasn't there before. Frozen in your spot, fingers beginning to shake, throat burning so badly you weren't sure if the alcohol you had downed was about to make a surprise appearance or not.
The bodies around you blurred as the pit in your stomach grew, humiliation washing over you as if you’d just been doused with a bucket full of ice water. You didn't run, couldn't, feet glued to the floor as you were forced to listen to the group of the hottest guys on campus who didn't even know you as a person, didn't take the time to learn you, ridicule you and make fun of you. You guessed it didn't matter, because Gojo had.
Each breath was labored and jagged, chest tightening and skin prickling with such an intense heat that you felt constricted in the already sparse clothes you wore. The way the fabric dug into you, a certain stitch that scratched you, the zipper that rubbed against your skin - it felt like you were suddenly aware of every unpleasant feeling in addition to the shattering of your heart.
You wanted to go home, wanted the floor to swallow you whole- felt so unbelievably silly standing there watching the guy you liked- fuck, the guy you had fallen in love with- paint you out to be some weird nasty creature who was undeserving of his attention. Sure, you had felt that way initially, but he had been so kind to you that you had been so blindsided, unknowingly setting yourself up to fall right back into your constant cycle of heartbreak and misery.
Built up tears finally broke the surface, some beginning to stream down your face and others just dropping from the sheer amount that had welled up. It wasn't until gojo turned his head, eyes landing directly on you and smile completely dropping that your legs became unstuck.
Your breath hitched, crackling sob breaking through as your saliva grew sticky. The extra drinks sure to make you vomit after this. You spun so fast you lost balance for a split second on your heels, immediately righting yourself and pushing through the sweaty bodies blocking you in. You didn't say sorry or excuse me, just pummeled through, desperate to get outside so that maybe you could finally breathe. You felt like a pig in makeup, and the thought made you cry harder. So beyond embarrassed, having dressed up and done your hair and makeup, mortified that everyone else thought you looked just as ugly and silly. You had to get out of here, the air was too thick and stuffy as the walls closed in on you.
Your name fell on deaf ears, sprinting out the front door and down the porch steps, surroundings a blur from not only how fast you were moving, but the alcohol that coursed through you. You knew the gifts were stupid, sure, but everything else? The kiss? He wanted to gag? All the times he called you pretty, beautiful, yes, it was more than plausible that it was a lie, but why did he say it all then? That's right, because you were supposedly just a fucking bet.
Who would willingly want to be with you?
Gojo called your name again, louder. You weren't the only one sick to your stomach. He cursed, heart dropping to his ass as the overwhelming suffocating feeling of guilt bloomed inside of his chest, heart quite literally constricting at how shitty, how fucking disgusting, he felt. It spread throughout him and he would've thought it was dramatic if it didn't feel like he could currently drop to his knees and heave. The entire situation was beyond fucked up, everything a misunderstanding and completely not at the same time.
“Fuck fuck fuck,” he repeated, hoarse and panicked as he immediately trailed after you, abruptly leaving the conversation mid sentence, not caring how he looked when all the guys stared at him in confusion. He lost sight of you for a moment but knew you'd only try to leave, escape the perfect hell he had just created for you.
Why the fuck did he do this? How the fuck was he gonna make this up to you, and why had he let himself get involved in this shitty idea anyway? He knew he should've called it off, he knew he had fallen for you.
Muttering insults as hands came out to grab at him, others trying to talk and some pulling him in for a dance. He didn't look, didn't care who they were, practically throwing and shoving their hands off him with only you in mind. He would explain everything to you, lay himself bare and expose the ugliness and insecurities that festered inside of him.
He had been projecting this entire time, exhausted from maintaining such an ugly facade of the frat fuckboy, desperately trying to fit in with everyone else that he stupidly agreed to the bet just to feel some type of belonging and companionship. All at the expense of you.
He didn't think, that was his issue. So caught up in this fake lifestyle that he knew the act wasn't just pretend anymore, his morals slipping by the day as he settled into this new once foreign character. They were all fucking assholes. All of them.
Fingers tightly clenching your almost dead phone, you bawled, frustration making you grit your teeth in additional annoyance when the sidewalk wouldn't stay straight. Accidentally stepping off the concrete, your heel caught on the edge, sending you falling onto all fours on the pavement, too drunk to care about the pain that shot up your wrists and knees. You let out a guttural infuriated noise, a mix between a squeal and growl, feeling so much more than just pissed and heartbroken. You furiously smashed your palm against the concrete as if it held the blame.
“Fuck, hey, shit, are you okay??”
Gojo's palm rested on your back and in the blink of an eye you stumbled up, whipping around to face him seething and disgusted as tears continued to stream down your cheeks.
“Don't fucking touch me,” you spat backing away from him as if he had physically struck you, and at this point you thought you would’ve almost preferred that over the gut wrenching feeling in your chest. There was a physical pain that tore throughout you, your heart feeling like sharp talons had ripped it out and stomped on it like an attempt at snuffing out a flame.
If you had it in you, you would’ve laughed at his expression, so devastated and hurt and torn as if he wasn't the one who caused all this, as if he wasn't the one who could've prevented everything. He had the audacity to stare at you like he was scared of losing you.
“Please, please y/n, i can explain, I am so sorry, please,” and it was as equally pathetic as it was infuriating. gojo pathetically begged, arms awkwardly reaching towards you as if you were the solution.
You paused, tongue loose and words slurred, staring at him bewildered as you threw your palms up. He wasn't who you thought he was. Or maybe he was exactly who everybody said he was and it was your fault for thinking otherwise.
“I thought you liked digimon??”
He swore, hands coming up to drag down his face. You saw. Saw your cookies and the keychain you bought him in the garbage.
“That wasn't me, I swear, please believe me, I swear- I-I got back from class, one of the guys saw and- and started laughing, they took it from me before I could even say anything. They tossed it, and I swear, please believe me, I was gonna grab it after, I-I love Digimon, I loved your gifts, please.”
He was breathless now, a fruitless panicked attempt at defending himself.
You scoffed. “Sure it wasn't too much?”
Gojo winced, hands curling. “I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it like that-” You cut him off, angrily sniffing and wiping your bloody gravel pricked hands against your black mini skirt. God you felt ridiculous.
“Yeah?? Which fucking part??” Your voice raised an octave, almost yelling but you didn't care as passerbyers turned their heads. You spewed the words, moving forward just to angrily shove at his chest, blood smearing his white shirt. Good, you wanted to stain his shit, wipe your blood all over it.
He took advantage of the proximity, quickly but lightly wrapping his large hands around your wrists to keep you close. You screeched, thrashing in his hold, weakly trying to hit him, shove him, and with his loose grip, he let you, your small fists pounding against his hard chest
“Im sorry, Im sorry, Im so fucking sorry, I like you- I like you so fucking much-”
A broken sob escaped you, a mix between a snarl and cry getting stuck in your throat.
“I didn't mean anything I said in there, I loved kissing you, you’re beautiful - fuck, you’re perfect, you’re so fucking perfect and- and you know me, the real me, I feel like I can be myself with you, please please please, im begging you, let me explain everything- from the start.” He was frantic, words rushing out so fast they blended into one. His eyes were glossy and rimmed red and you knew it wasn’t from whatever drugs he had done.
You stilled your hits, pausing in his hold. Rapid breaths mingling, chests quickly falling and rising, faded background music from the frat echoing into the night.
“Please.”
Gojo spoke it like a prayer, voiced with despair and a frenzied anguish that he knew deep down would do nothing. He would continue to beg, to plead with you, to reason, but deep down, he knew. Your chin dropped to your chest helplessly, a small hiccup squeezing itself out as you tried to catch your breath. Your eyes felt swollen from how much you had cried, but you had plenty left.
You could feel gojo guide your palms to rest against his chest, a new set of bloody hand prints against the stark white, heart thumping like he'd just ran a marathon. You slammed your eyes shut, new sobs threatening to break loose, the feeling of wanting to curl up and die had never been more prominent.
“y/n, I'll do anything, please- please, I don't-” and his voice cracked, fingers tightening around your wrists. “I don't want to lose you- Im so, Im so sorry, baby.”
Your breath hitched, lips curling and fingers twisting into his shirt to bunch the fabric beneath your fingers. The agony and discomfort in your chest was painfully overwhelming, silently wishing you'd wake up from this nightmare, wishing you never heard him, trying to wrap your mind around how and why he would do this to you. You’d never understand, would never gain pleasure from hurting anyone, let alone, him.
“What did I ever do to you?”
The words came out small, so small and fractured and so confused, seeking an explanation or reason that could maybe get the two of you past this- that maybe you must've done something to deserve it and the two of you could come back from this, but you knew it was all for nothing. For no reason at all.
Gojo's eyes flashed with guilt, anger, and shame. He wanted to recoil, wanted to throw his head into his hands and sob, but he didn't want to let you go. He knew it would be the last time. Your gaze didn't meet his.
He swallowed, throat stinging and eyes burning. He regretted everything, internally begging to take it all back like some upper power would hear him and turn back time.
“Nothing, you didn't deserve this- you did- did nothing.” The words caught as his voice wavered and you wondered if he was crying. You refused to look at those eyes. His fucking blue perfect eyes that bore into you like you mattered- it was all lies- he had lied to you for months- almost an entire semester. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip, attempting to stifle the wail you wanted to blubber out. It had been months.
Months of getting to know one another, of a build up, of a hope for something more. The silliest stupidest notion that for once someone found you valuable too and it wasn’t one sided.
A shallow gasp, an unintentional whimper, your shoulders shook as you wept.
“I wish I never met you, g-gojo. I would never-” a cry broke your words, tensing up as you angled your head down to hide your uncontrollable tears. He wanted to correct you and tell you to call him satoru or toru, but he stayed silent, let the sting burn. “Never hurt you like this.”
You shakily exhaled, not paying attention to his mindless small whimpers of “I know, I'm so sorry, I know, please.”
You gripped the fabric tighter, lifting your head to finally meet his eyes, hating how he was crying, how he genuinely looked heartbroken at hurting you, how you hated seeing him like this. His chin wobbled, breath coming out in unsteady pants and for once, he didn't look like the notorious frat boy who could conquer anything. He looked small, like a scared little boy.
Unsteady shaky hands lifted to gently cup your cheeks, gojo preparing himself for you to yank away from his touch like it burned. He sniffled when you didn’t, perfect lips shiny and slightly parted as he fully rested them against your soft skin.
“I never want to see you again.”
His composure shattered, immediately shaking his head murmuring “no’s”, thumbs rubbing back and forth over your skin and under your eyes as he repeated the same words over and over again. You pushed him back roughly with all your drunken force, which wasn't much, but enough to send him stumbling backwards to create distance.
He was alarmed, not at what you had done, but at watching you walk away, brain filling with nothing but no no no no no please, please stay, stay with me stay.
“Y/n, no please, baby, baby, y/n, please hear me out- please-” his voice was shredded, raw from drinking and yelling and begging, but he didn’t care. He’d beg and beg until he had no voice left, and when it was gone, he would find another way.
For a moment, you paused, and he thought that maybe, just maybe you would listen. But when you slowly turned to him, looking so fucking beautiful still as street lamps glistened in the reflection of your eyes, cheeks shiny and tinted pink from the tears that painted your cheeks, it all clicked. It was torturous.
“Fuck y/n, please, I-I love you. I’m so,” he swallowed to ease the scratchiness of his throat. It did nothing. “I’m so in love with you,” and he whispered the words, loud enough so you’d hear, but almost as if they weren’t meant for you, as if he was just talking to himself and unintentionally said the realization aloud.
He watched as a lone tear dropped down your cheek and it was cruel. He was cruel, you were cruel. Standing there so perfect and so beautiful while you broke his heart, and it was all his fault since he had done it first. The silence was thick as the two of you stood feet apart, wordlessly staring at each other, letting his words hang in the air. You opened your mouth and shut it, letting the process repeat as you mulled over the words in your head, wishing more than ever he hadn’t said them. Wishing more than ever you didn’t feel the same.
“I’d pick you, over and over again Satoru, every time, in a room full of people. Everyone would,” you huffed a fake laugh, blinking away your tears as you stared into his dumb perfect eyes. “I thought-” your lips quivered, chin wobbling at the humiliating admission. “I thought for once, someone had finally picked me.” The words slowly fell from your lips, laced with what one could only describe as pure heartbreak.
Gojo felt the final blow split his heart, not a clean cut, but a jagged uneven slash that cleaved it in two. He called your name, desperate and all, watching you spin on your heel and angrily walk away, your perfume hitting him as the wind blew.
He stepped forward- yelled your name again. But you didn't turn, didn't peek, didn't flinch as you sobbed, fingers constantly wiping your eyes to see where you were going as you drunkenly walked back to your apartment. Cried for yourself, mourned who you were becoming, who you were becoming with him. You had fallen in love with him too, of course you had. He was so easy to love.
You're a normal girl in college, a broke little barista and trying your best to keep your scholarships up - Satoru Gojo is not normal, not at all - he's the six eyes, the clan leader, and about to have to marry and take over. The two of you wish for something different when a rare comet shoots across the sky. And that's when you wake up in his body - Satoru Gojo, a powerful sorcerer a world away, and he wakes up in your tiny little dorm bed, with a pair of tits. The two of you stare in the mirror at unfamiliar faces and wonder if any of this is real, and just who the two of you were - could you get back to your bodies, and was a different life really any better?
pairings - Sorcerer! Satoru x fem! reader
warnings Based on the movie your name obviously - it will be very angsty, but also kinda cute - you will keep body swapping throughout, there will be a time difference - fix it fic. Toru is 22, you're 21. size difference to make it more dramatic and funny, canon adjacent (yes, I'm writing him as a sorcerer hehe) Geto never defected, eventual smut, lots of character and plot, emotional - planning on four parts to this. taglist open <3
art by @3-aem of courssee <333
part one
Life was normal before that comet shot across the sky.
You were just a normal college student – struggling in physics, but doing great in everything else. You had a part time job at a coffee shop in your little town, you had a boy you had a crush on and a few friends, but mostly – you studied. You studied till your eyes burned, till they hurt so badly you fell asleep right on your desk, drooling on whatever text book you had.
You didn’t come from money – your family in fact was too broke to put you through college, but they loved you, they helped you get financial aid and scholarships so hopefully you could do better than they did. You loved them very much, too, there were video chats every day since you lived in the dorm outside of your city.
Days were just that – normal, as you worked on your degree, a wicked hangover on your twenty first birthday, where you finally got your first kiss. Yeah – you could say you were that much of an introvert, you hadn’t even done that yet. You wish you remembered it more, it was something quick and hasty as fireworks went off, it was that time of year when you were born.
Something special, something beautiful, but something was…
Off.
It was off even that day. Maybe your period was coming or something, but everything on the day of your twenty-first felt off – especially when you got that damn letter saying if you didn’t raise your physics grade you’d lose that funding.
Tears blurred your vision as you collapsed onto your bed with that letter, knowing if your parents knew how horribly you were doing they would be so disappointed. You couldn’t help but wish for an escape from the crushing weight of all these expectations – many of which you placed on yourself, rushing to take that invite and get positively drunk at a party.
You didn’t tell the guy it was your first kiss, you just did that – let him slide his tongue in your mouth and press you against a wall, then it was all a bit of a blur – you heading back to the dorm, sneaking away. Crying yourself to sleep even though you technically ‘had fun’.
Why did you feel so lonely, though?
Yet when you woke up, everything changed.
Your body changed.
Your fucking room changed.
You were no longer in your little dorm – you’re in some fancy ass, rich ass room with an enormous bed and black silk sheets. You gasp and worry – did you end up with that dude last night? Did you think you got home but got too fucked up!? Your heart hammers in your chest as you peek down – and then you see it.
You see it and fucking scream so loud, seeing you’re wearing boxers rather than panties – and instead of your pussy, there was a dick. Oh, not a small dick, either – and not a soft one, a fully hard, massive fucking cock was on your body.
“What the fuck!? What!?” You jump up and fall, unused to the lanky ass legs that are currently under you, ones that cannot be yours – pale and muscular and so goddamn long. You’re way too tall, so tall you’d hit your head in your fucking dorm, looking down at everything in shock, stumbling into a dresser.
Even your voice is deep and – sexy!? You rush over to this fancy dresser, gasping as you see a perfect face in a mirror – a man’s face, with beautiful blue eyes and cheekbones to fucking die for. You smack at that face as if reality will hit – seeing chest muscles where your titties should be, blushing in his pale skin as you see that bulge in the mirror.
You're inside the body of the hottest man you’ve ever seen in some fancy ass home you could never afford!
“It has to be some dream,” you curse and rush out, running down spiral stairs – how big is this man’s house?! It’s a whole fucking confusing mansion, you’re rushing through everything, trying to find some hint of who he could be – of what weird ass fever dream you’re having, when the door knocks. “One minute!”
You’re rushing over now, opening it and seeing a dark haired man look at your body, rolling his eyes. “Put on some clothes, Satoru. We have training.”
“Training?” He raises a brow at you, and you struggle to act normal, searching your brain for anything. “Training…”
“Yeah, Satoru – training. Just because you’re perfect at everything doesn’t mean me and Shoko don’t need more practice. We have to set a good example if we wanna teach some day.”
“Teach. Examples…”
The man blinks his amethyst eyes, looking right at you now, too close, so close you fucking blush again. “What’s wrong with you, Satoru?”
Satoru – who was Satoru?
*****
Satoru was exhausted as he trained his fucking ass off, entirely exhausted – he wanted a break, he wanted a vacation, he didn’t want to fight anymore curses, or see anymore of his old classmates die. He didn’t want to take over the Gojo family name, and he sure the fuck didn’t look forward to the inevitable arranged marriage the elders were about to place on him.
Standing in his shower since he was covered in grime from fucking curses exploding, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he was not born a Gojo at all – what would it be like if instead, he had been someone normal? If he was just a normal guy at college, and not training to teach the newbies at Jujutsu high?
If he were a normal twenty two year old man who wasn’t about to have to become the clan leader, and take on all this goddamn responsibility he didn’t ask for? Sure, Satoru loved to be the strongest – but that didn’t mean he enjoyed the constant effort, the secrets, the lies they told – the way everything fell on him and his friends, all the expectations making him drown.
He was a Gojo – they were the strongest, and that’s all there was to it. Day in, day out, everything was simple. KIll everything bad, save everyone he could, but goddamit if he wasn’t exhausted, if he didn’t just want to go be a normal guy – maybe go study physics, study theories of the universe he wishes even he could know more about.
Go look at the stars with a pretty girl and laugh, a girl he chose.
Yet that doesn’t appear to be anything he will get – no, he was born a Gojo, and that was that. Even falling asleep in his silk sheets that night, he could not stop his mind from racing, frowning as thoughts raced through his mind at a rampant pace.
How could Satoru Gojo ever live a normal life?
Well, he wondered what normal meant that next morning when he felt hungover – something he never, ever was. Satoru did not drink, it dulled his senses too much, but every now and then he had gone out with Suguru and Shoko, Nanami throwing back whiskey like it was nothing, but he could barely hold one without getting sick.
And does he feel sick – and he feels sad, more sad than before, like emotional in a way he can’t remember being. He reached out as he felt tears burning his eyes – that doesn’t happen, either. Satoru trained himself not to cry from a young age, but now he’s doing just that, his fingers touching unfamiliar cheeks that were wet with tears he hadn't shed in years.
Unfamiliar.
He looks at this shitty little bed then and screams, plopping out of it – his arms fucking flailing. He can’t even take looking at these thighs – not his lanky ass legs, no, they’re cute thighs, ones he himself would grab and spread if it belonged to a pretty girl underneath him. Cute lil socks on his ankles covered in kittens.
Kittens!?
Satoru stumbles again, bashing his head and feeling hair fall against his shoulders, shocked with that alone, but especially not being white. He stands and rushes to the little dresser – too small for him, everything is too small for him, but he is not six foot four, not one goddamn bit he realizes, looking at his reflection, at the pretty tits half falling out of a tank top spun.
Tits on his body!? He grabs them and squishes them in his hands, confused as fuck now, but he can’t help but keep squishing these pretty tits, as if they could rid him of the fucking stress, looking at the unfamiliar face. Softer features than his, completely different in every way – though she…
He!?
This body was beautiful, this face was lovely, the type of girl he’d flirt with or throw on his charm, but be just a little nervous, a little shy. Her lips are swollen as if she’d been kissed all night, he knows that look from women he’s been with, that hung over, fucked out look – though…
He doesn’t feel fucked – well how would he know!?!? He pulls aside those shorts, blushing and then covering back up, the panties were just a little wet, soaking the matching kittens. And that’s when it hits him, that clenching feeling in his tummy – he’s got a pussy.
And TITS.
Satoru Gojo is a…
Knock knock knock.
Maybe it’s Suguru and this is a joke, maybe this is a curse fucking with him – it’s one of those terrible fucking villains who make his life hell, and he’s cast under something. Or it’s a test – Yaga is fucking with him, making sure he can tell what’s real or not. Some Gojo initiation.
Anything but what this is – when a girl knocks at the door and smiles at Satoru, leaning against the door and crossing her arms.
“How was the first kiss, birthday girl?” She teases, Satoru blinks.
“Um… kiss…”
She says your name then.
Your name, is that your name?
Just who are you?
“Are you skipping physics? Aren’t you failing bad?” She asks now, clearly concerned as Satoru sputters.
HIM failing physics? There was no fucking way – well, that and Satoru IS NOT A WOMAN. “Failing? Nah, I don’t fail any subject.”
“Girl last night you were a mess about it, what’s wrong?” She asks again, he shakes his head, well – your head – and your phone is ringing. “Gonna get that?”
“Yeah.”
What’s your pattern!? What’s your phone pattern!? He tries so many times he gets completely locked out, cursing. “Maybe you’re still drunk?”
“Um yeah, I’m gonna take a shower and… get it together!” Satoru says, trying to get used to the girlie voice rather than his own, laughing as he awkwardly rubs the back of his neck – much softer than his own. When she finally leaves he leans against the door, picking up that phone again – a glittery pink one.
What the fuck?
*****
You were wearing this unfamiliar dark clothing – you’ll give Satoru this, the man has taste – it was as fancy as clothing could get. You’re absolutely sure that it costs more money than anything in your dorm put together, even these shades you have to wear must be expensive.
One moment you’re another girl, the next – you’re seeing curses.
"Focus, Gojo,” Suguru is his name – apparently, the man with the long dark hair, smiling tiredly as he smokes a cigarette. “You’re off today.”
“Right, focus…” You trail off and sigh, holding up your hand and gasping when blinding light erupts from your palms, obliterating the practice dummies right in front of you. You stare at your shaking hands – huge ones, by the way, all of this goddamn man was huge. “I did that!?”
“Rub it in,” Shoko teases, laughing as she leans against Suguru, smoking a cigarette and laughing at you a bit. “We know you’re the best, Gojo. Stop acting as if you’re like us.”
“I’m not…” You trail off then, focusing on this insane fucking energy again, feeling it course through your veins.
You don’t even get tired, like something is regenerating you constantly.
What the fuck was this? What was this power, these creatures, any of it they were talking about? You can only hope when you go to bed tonight, everything is fucking normal – that you’re failing physics, and that you’re not a six foot four rich man who seemingly never gets a break.
And you thought you worked hard.
Every moment of Satoru Gojo’s day was taken up – from training, to this driver named Ijichi who takes him all over, to the next meeting where you have to fucking hope you can keep up this act, a room full of doors, interrogating Satoru about his upcoming wedding.
This man is getting married?
There are photos of prospective brides, and all you can do is shuffle through them, curious when the fuck you were going to wake up and not have a dick.
****
“You cheated on this test!” The professor of physics comes and yells at Satoru after he aces the test, he raises a brow at her. “No way you didn’t.”
“Why would I cheat?”
“You are the worst student in my class,” she slams the paper on Satoru’s desk, a blank test with different questions. “Do this, and I’ll watch you the whole time.”
His classmates – well they’re your classmates – look at him, all worried, but he aces the goddamn test again, until she’s sputtering. Satoru can see why you suck at physics, considering how mean she is – but luckily he just knows everything, and she can’t argue a second time.
“Well, I guess you pass.” She mumbles, handing him his paper with a hundred percent. “Barely!”
Satoru is tired when his phone goes off – work at six.
WORK.
He has to go work!?
He re-set your pattern to a fingerprint, so he got your phone open – and found just where you work, a little coffee shop. Satoru was a goddamn barista. He was getting bitched out by customers when he’s used to fighting curses – and that’s the craziest thing of all, besides having tits and a pussy.
He couldn’t see well – in fact, your vision was shitty. You had to wear glasses and these weird contact things, and he certainly couldn’t see curses – they could be all around, and he wouldn’t sense them.
He had to get back to his damn body.
*****
You’re so tired when you come back to the Gojo mansion you plop in the living room chair, yawning and kicking off his dress shoes, eyes shutting with your head leaned back. Your body is sore, and you still can’t sleep – this aching, gnawing feeling of being inside this huge body taking over, wondering just what sort of hallucination you were having.
You fall asleep on that couch, as Satoru crashes face first in your tiny little dorm room, and the two of you wonder…
Will you wake up from this weird fucking dream, of bodies you two can't recognize? Was any of this real?
patreon - comms
as these are short they'll actually be coming out fast hehe - this was eating me UP I can't wait for some juicy angst
His deep voice thrummed a taunt through you. Vibrating from the delicious stretch he wedged deep in your pussy. Pulsing into your nerves. Trembling your bones.
You always knew you wouldn't find another man like your ex. No one could pin you down like this. Flat on your tummy with your face buried into the pillow. No one knew how much you loved your arms trapped behind your back.
No one could make your pussy whine and cry like he did.
You listened to his unimpressed scoff. Shivered under the coarse drag of his kisses down your neck and between your shoulderblades.
"Telling me this pussy forgot all about me in only a year? Of have you just been fucking lousy men?"
Spank! His rough hand was sure to leave a welt on your ass. You hiccuped, tucking your face into the soft pillowcasing and muffling his name.
"Just. . . fuck. Give me a moment— asshole—" you grit, breathing hard as you tried to adjust to his size. "Never listen. This is exactly why I. . . ah."
Your eyes threatened to roll back into your skull as the gruff texture of his finger pad circled your puffy clit. Urging your traitorous hips to chase after his hand. Greedily bucking back and subsequently taking more of him.
The air choked out of you. Thighs tensing and trembling. The burn was sharp, sweet, too much.
A FEVER YOU CANT SWEAT OUT. 𑣲 introduction TAGLIST IS CLOSED IT WONT RE-OPEN SORRY
the cute emo boy from your college is completely enamored with you and your pretty outfits, so when he hears you and your shitty boyfriend finally broke up, he wastes no time in planning how to make you his.
pairing ˎˊ˗ emo! choso x girly! reader
BEFORE PROCEEDING this fic will include fem! reader, MDNI 18+, this will be a bit angsty, yuki is ooc here, cheating, miscommunication, friends to lovers, inappropriate use of drumsticks ( as in the instrumental tool ) , blowjobs, pussy eating, hair pulling, subby choso, he has a prince albert, yes he will whimper, fluff, tba… art by @/vah_arina
Club rush could count as Choso's favorite holiday. If it was a holiday.
What better way to kick off the school year other than joining the one and only music club that he's been leading for the past 2 years, right? Incoming freshmen or returning students could bond over instruments and emo culture.
"Yo, pass me that vinyl." Suguru pointed to the protected record. The table had been set up with music ranging from "Brand New Eyes" to "Pretty. Odd."
Choso handed it over to his friend carefully, watching as he sat it carefully up. Other students were putting up their booths as well. Some were under canopy tents to protect them from the summer sun.
"I'm fucking sweating like a pig." Choso rasped out, pinning his neck length hair up in two buns. "Told ya we should've bought a canopy."
"With what money, dude." Suguru took a step back, admiring their set up. "Where's Sukuna? He was supposed to print out the flyers an hour ago."
Just on cue, the pink haired boy reached the other two, papers in hand. "Got 'em." He held the papers up.
"How many did you print out?" Choso grabbed them from Sukuna's hand, seeing how the design came out.
"Couple dozen. When does this shit start? I got to pick up my brother from school today."
"Ain't he in high school? He can go on the bus." Suguru snatched a flyer from Choso's hand. "You didn't get them in color?!"
Sukuna frowned, slipping his box of cigarettes in his back pocket. "Hell nah. It was like a dollar extra."
"It's whatever," Choso interrupted. The last he needed was his two bandmates getting into an argument. "People are starting to come." Soon enough, a crowd began to form around the quad, students visiting the booths of interest.
You walked around with you low heels clicking on the ground. Definitely not the best choice of attire but it was you. A vintage Von Dutch purse was sat right on your shoulder, swinging with every step.
"Whatever happened to the fashion club?" You asked between chewing your bubble gum. Shoko lifted her head from her phone, confused at your question. "Girl, you made them disband. Remember?"
You let out an 'ohhh' as if you found out mind blowing news.
"Not my fault they were so poorly uneducated on Vivienne Westwood. Did they seriously have the audacity to ignore the fact that she was punk? What the hell were they on about saying that the brand was for clean girlies? Ummm hellooooo?" You raised a brow that was recently threaded.
"Right.. anyways." Shoko looked around, eyes setting on the medical club. "I'll be right back, I have to go sign up."
You nodded, blowing a goodbye kiss.
There weren't any new organizations this year that you know of other than the one your ex boyfriend was apart of. The sight of him just made you want to role your eyes.
The asshole had broken up with you over text and is going around saying you were the one who broke up with him.
Like, who the hell even does that?
You pushed yourself deeper into the crowd, making your way towards the heart of the quad.
"Music club is over here guys!" Choso yelled out as he handed people flyers. "We will be meeting on the second Monday of every month. Feel free to recommend us to your friends!"
Usually, you'd ignore anything that has to do with music. Not your forte.
But the washed out print on his shirt caught your eye.
A Fever You Can't Sweat Out.
That's the album you listened to non stop in your high school years. Your iPod was full with every version of it. The original, the demos, and even Live in Denver.
You listened to it so ofter that it burned onto the screen.
"Cool shirt." The words slipped from your mouth, surprising both you and Choso.
Because no way was a girl like you complimenting a boy like him. And over his shirt out of all things. "Uh, thanks." He stuttered, a crooked smile creeping on his lips.
He darted down to the papers in his hands, offering one to you.
You hesitated before accepting it. "Music club?"
Choso nodded. "Yeah, we mostly focus on emo music to be honest but we're always open to do other genres." God was he sweating? It felt like he was. Have you noticed? "You a Panic fan?"
You hummed, skimming through the small summary of the club. "Not really, just of that album. Well not anymore but high school me."
"No way. I mean, um, you have a favorite song?"
"I guess I liked Camisado."
"Oh shit, I love that one." Choso's eyes brightened. "You know the story behind it?"
You snorted. "Duh."
The way you spoke was soft and pretty to him, it made his heart beat like a teenagers.
"I'm Choso.." He mumbled.
"Hi Choso." You smiled up at him, exchanging your name as well. "I'll try and come."
He nodded, gulping. "We'll see you then.." His eyes stayed on your frame as you disappeared almost in a trance at the sway of your hips. "Suguru." He hit his friends' chest. "Fuck did you see that?"
"See what?"
"The goddess that just came up to me."
"Is the heat getting to you man?" Suguru pressed his hand on Choso's forehead, feeling the thin layer of sweat before hurling away in disgust.
"Surprised you didn't scare her away."
Choso smacked his shoulder playfully, returning back to distributing the flyers like the local newspaper. That dorky smile still evident on his face.
That was yesterday though.
And Choso hasn't shut up about you since.
"Do you think she'll actually show up to the meetings?" He ran the brush through his hair, undoing any knots made while sleeping. His broad chest was bare, showcasing all his tattoos. And not to mention the nipple piercings.
Sukuna groaned along with Suguru. "Bro, let it go already. Just cause she spoke to you for less than a minute-"
"It was over a minute, actually." Choso corrected.
"It doesn't matter. No offense man, but you're not her type. She dated Toji and they recently broke up. Doubt that she's already trying to get into another relationship."
Suguru yawned, standing up to grab another beer from the mini fridge.
"But ay, maybe you can change her."
A sigh fell from Choso's lips, feeling all of a sudden unmotivated. "She's so pretty."
"What would you even do if she did end up showing up? Woo her with your guitar skills?"
Choso paused.
"I mean.. yeah?"
Another collective groan escaped from the other two.
when the kamo clan sent you out for the assassination of 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈, you were warned of a few things.
he was incredibly fast, impossibly strong and fought with an intensity that shook the jujutsu world. a hulking, predatory, yet oddly intelligent freak of a man.
but you didn't expect this.
“mm what're they feedin' ya back at that clan? probably not good dick like this, huh?”
that scarred lip pulled back in a grin. you could barely bite back as a filthy grind on your cervix melted away all your curses. the only talking spluttered from your dripping pussy.
“fuck— fushig— hngh!” your thighs are wedged further up the wall, knees pinned beside your tits as his thrusts turn into a feral hammer.
the bastard leans in, grin sharper, eyes darker. “the name's toji, baby, won't you say it for me?”
his cock snapped into your gummy walls as it trying to engrave it's behemoth of a shape within you. a token for you to take back. ‘I didn't take out fushiguro toji but i sure as hell took him.’
“c'mon dollface, sing for me.”
his large palms squeezed on the backs of your knees and his hips committed to a sweltering rhythm. knocking up until your quivering slit took him all the way and cried around his hilt. all while he ground up into that devastating spot. slowly, roughly, until you left a perfect ring of cream around him.
“t-toj— toji,”
he grinned at your voice crack and bent over you. hooking your leg over his muscles shoulder so his forearm could slam beside your head. “there you go. sing it for me.”
before his wet slaps assaulted your clenching cunt until all you could was pitifully sob and dig your nails down his back. arch into the man you're supposed to be gutting.
but here he is. rearranging in your guts and husking to your ear all smug.
“think you're better suited for this. think you'd make a better whore than assassin, yeah? pretty pussy sure says so.”
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amandla
origamiaround
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