¡Hola! Soy Lemoon, escritora de fanfics con preferencia en temas de romance, drama, algo de acción y self-inserts.
El contenido es variado, con mayormente Slashers, Yautja e incluso contenido de animatronicos. Pero todo depende de la obsesión que tenga en el momento.
¿QUÉ SÍ ESCRIBO?
✅Romance (cualquier ship o género)
✅Self-inserts o lector/a como personaje
✅AU, universos compartidos, personajes originales
✅NSFW +18 entre personajes adultos
✅Temas sensibles con respeto y cuidado
¿QUÉ NO ESCRIBO?
❌Incesto, pedofilia, zoofilia
❌Contenido no consensual o extremadamente violento
❌Gore detallado
❌Temas que me resulten incómodos (consultar primero)
Summary: After so many mental breakdowns and college being a big pain in your ass, your best friend comes to you with great news!You guys are going to a party.
Alcohol, poor decisions and lots of regret prepared for the next morning.But who gives a damn if that means you get to relax a little?
Content Warning: Explicit sexual content (P in V), mating press, face-fucking, choking, spit kink, doggy style, alcohol consumption, one-night stand, Gojo being a bit of a freak because the man is down bad. He needs that cookie. Sukuna being a very, very petty man.
Creddit to the artist on X! : @mochikuyo!
Note: Well I hope this is somewhere near good. English is not my first lenguage so im sorry from now on AND this is the very first time I write (or try, very heavy on try) write smut.
This whole thing came to me after watching a tiktok of a girl (@kunasprinc3ss) with this idea and it's also published on AO3.
WC: 8.5k
College was dragging you by the hair.
And not in that pathetic, half-hearted fight kind of way where someone tugs a little and then lets you go so you can get back up. No. This was the kind where they drag you without giving you a second to breathe.
Logs, exams, retakes, mandatory seminars, assignments and more assignments where you’re desperately trying to scrape together enough credit to save your grades and dignity. Professors with less patience than starving wolves, disappointed in life and in this new generation of professionals who collapse the moment they’re asked to read a few books from the bibliography.
But God, with what fucking time?
All of that and more runs through your mind while frustrated tears slide down your cheeks inside your little library cubicle. It’s not even exhaustion or sadness anymore. It’s straight-up frustration.
“I can’t be this stupid…” you try to cry quietly so you don’t disturb the private breakdowns of the other poor students.
Your grades are surviving on pure luck at this point. You don’t even understand how the hell you’re managing it. Mostly at the cost of your social life. You already have limited social skills as it is, missing every event because you don’t really have friends doesn’t help either. It’s not like you’re isolated.
You’ve studied with classmates more than once. That pre-exam panic where you either explain everything like a professional or sit there while someone else explains it to you. You’ve held hands and had hands held countless times by girls you later only greet with a nod and a polite smile. You’ve compared answers and felt like the dumbest creature alive, or made someone else feel that way. You’ve walked out of classrooms jumping with happiness, hugging someone or being hugged by whoever throws themselves into your arms.
Hell, you’ve even gone out for celebratory drinks after a particularly brutal semester. But never a real friend.
Someone to gossip with. To laugh with. To build inside jokes. To have memories outside campus and three in the morning phone calls with.Your ride or die.
Well. You do have one.
It’s just that the poor guy is always busy taking care of his little brother. “Stop crying already,” a voice interrupts from behind you. A tissue lands on the desk. “Your eyes are red.”
You grab it to wipe your nose, which was seconds away from betraying you, and turn around to see the man standing there.Cheeks soaked, lower lip trembling in the biggest pout of your life. “Choosoo…”
Your only friend on campus. The man who walks you to class, grabs coffee with you, and goes with you to every random new place you decide to explore. A tattoo across the bridge of his nose, a black line that constantly reminds him of the grave mistake of getting inked drunk at sixteen. Black nail polish, dark clothes and his hair pulled into a low ponytail.
Someone didn’t feel like doing his usual buns today. Dark circles under his eyes, pale and tired, as always. He takes the empty chair and drops into it, you can see the sunlight catching on his rings.
“You need to relax a little,” he says, playing with one of your pens like it's the most interesting thing ever. “I’m serious this time. Let’s go eat something good. I already told Yuuji I won’t be with him these days.”
You feel guilty the second the words leave his mouth. He adores his brother. Hates being away from him. “No, Cho. It’s not necessary.” Says the woman who cried herself into hiccups last night.
He gives you that side eye of I dont believe your crap, one eyebrow raised. “You’re crying.”
“Yes…”
“In the college's library.”
“…Yes.”
“At one in the afternoon!” He tries to keep his voice down. “Look, cutie, you worry too much.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, wiping away the last of your tears. “It’s because you’re doing well! Choso, I’m one step away from being last in the class.” Still playing with your pen, expression completely neutral, he just goes “We share a class with Sukuna Ryomen. You will never be last.”
You open your mouth, offended on the frat king's behalf “He’s a genius! If he actually put effort into this, he’d leave Nanami Kento and Higuruma Hiromi eating dust!” That earns you another sideways glance. “None of them are even in our program…”
Your cheeks immediately flare red. “God forbid a girl knows people.” He finally smiles, soft and stupid. “Youuu like one of themm.” May his favorite stupid ring get lost forever. “That’s not it! Higuruma has a girlfriend, a really cute girl from his criminal law class by the way, and Nanami only talks to Gojo.”
“Which one? Sato or Toru?” You always forget about that pair of model-looking twins. In fact, you always forget which one is which. You press a finger to your lips and squint, killing your last two brain cells trying to identify them. Nothing.
“Isn’t one of them in a fraternity? The one who throws parties, hooks up with half the campus, and fights Sukuna every two weeks?”
“You forgot to mention team captain,” he mutters, rolling his eyes. Jealous. “That’s Sato.”
“Then the one who’s first in his class and everyone begs for tutoring…”
“Toru.”
You nod firmly, deciding that this time you’ll actually remember. “Then Toru. Nanami only talks to Toru.”
“And me,” he says casually, resting his head on one hand as he looks at you like you’re the most interesting thing in the world. Because right now, you are. Red face. Mouth slightly open. Eyes as wide as they can physically go. You feel sweat forming at the back of your neck.
“I hate you, Choso Kamo,” you declare, covering your face with one hand. “With all my heart.” He lets out a small laugh, gently patting your back. “We’re not friends. We just talk when we run into each other. Besides, Yuuji adores him.”
“Oh! So you’re not friends, but Yuuji, your greatest treasure, loves him?”
“You know how Yuuji is! He’d befriend a rock if he could!”
“Lower your voices!” the librarian snaps, making both of you jump out of your skin. “You’re in the library!” You both shrink in your seats. “Sorry!” You glance at him and he was already looking at you. You both struggle to hold back the stupid laughter bubbling up.
You run your hands through your hair, trying to fix it, when a thought hits you. “Didn’t you have a filler class for credits?”
Choso shrugs and looks at you again. His eyes sparkle. He’s excited. Something happened. “Maybe…someone stopped to talk to me and…well, maybe that someone knows about my band and the music we play…he was kind of confused about it but—”
“Choso” You can’t help the teasing smile spreading across your face. He always loses himself in his own sentences. “Get to the point.” He throw some gun fingers at you in the way he always does. “Right! Okay, so… Sato invited us to his party tonight. At his frat house! ” You have so many questions.
“Usssss? Choso, that guy doesn’t know anyone who isn’t a cheerleader, an athlete, in a frat, or at least in the top ten most hot of the class,” you explain, counting on your fingers for emphasis.
He raises his hands with a small smile. “Excellent point! But he knows my band. He wants live music. And he said we could bring someone.” Ah. There it is. You look at him blankly. “And that’s where I come in.”
“And that’s where you come in! See? You’re smart.” He flashes a full-toothed smile. Not real, not sweet. Nothing has even happened yet and you’re already stressed. You exhale sharply through your nose. Look at your friend, his eyes shining because he wants to go and you know he needs you there to feel more comfortable.
But it’s a damn party. Loud. Full of strangers. Who are you supposed to talk to while Choso plays? What if you can’t talk to anyone and they all think you’re weird? What if you just sit there on your phone like a loser? And those parties always end with something. Fights. Police. Threats from the administration about scholarships being revoked or credits limited.
You are not in a position to risk that. But Choso always goes with you. He’s always there. Even when you have to hang out with his sixteen year old little brother and his friends. Even when you spend more time with Nobara listening to her high school drama than with him. Or when you cook industrial amounts of food for Yuuji. Or when you have to deal with Megumi’s very fine, very single father.
Choso is always there. The sigh you let out empties your lungs completely. You feel the anxiety climbing up your stomach stronger than ever. “Fine, Cho… we’ll go to the damn party.”
Some hours later, your dorm room is a complete disaster. You don’t even understand how it got this bad. Makeup scattered across the floor. Half your closet dumped onto your bed. Heels and sneakers everywhere. You fell once after stepping on a stiletto.
The bathroom isn’t any better. You just took a full, borderline ceremonial shower. You came out more exhausted than when you went in. Exfoliating. Deep conditioning. Body lotion. Hair masks. The water at the exact right temperature so your pores would “open properly. Shaving. Fully, by the way.
You just want to be prepared for any possible scenario! What if there’s a pool and someone dares you to jump in wearing only your underwear? The party starts at eight. Choso said they’re going on at nine-thirty to keep the energy up.
It’s eight-thirty. And you’re not even dry yet. You’ve rejected at least six different underwear sets. You feel ridiculous. Who even cares? You could wear your grandma panties and be comfortable. You bite the inside of your cheek again. This is a war zone and you are losing.
“Why the hell did I say yes?” you groan, collapsing onto your bed and stabbing yourself with one of your perfume bottles in the process. Naked, soaking wet and desperate. In another context, that would be promising. Not now, when you still have to dry your hair, style it, moisturize your entire body, do your makeup, and choose an outfit. Especially when the frat house is all the way across campus.
Your eyes drift to the empty side of the room, just the skeleton frame of a bed where your roommate is supposed to be.
You’ve been alone since freshman year. You have space, privacy and autonomy. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want someone right now to tell you what to wear, what to say and how to act. “Damn you, Choso,” you sigh, finally committing to black underwear. Safe. Neutral. Strategic.
You’re halfway through blow-drying your hair when someone knocks so hard on your door you nearly smack yourself in the head with the dryer. Before your brain even processes that yes, there is in fact someone at your door, you dive for the biggest oversized t-shirt you own.
The multi-purpose one. For sleeping, studying, hair dye sessions and emotional breakdowns.
Because only one person knocks like that and shows up unannounced. “I have my eyes covered. Don’t scream,” the dark-haired menace announces as he steps inside. He is, indeed, covering his eyes. “Choso, damn it! You almost gave me a heart attack!” He feels his way toward the bed, mostly trying not to trip over the pile of clothes he knows is there.
After shoving things aside, he drops onto it and pulls out his Phone. “It’s late, in case you didn’t notice,” he says, pretending to scroll. The way he keeps fiddling with his chain tells you he’s nervous. “If you could hurry up, that’d be great.” You roll your eyes, but you smile anyway. You squeeze his calf gently. “You could go ahead and organize with the guys. They’ll get annoyed if you’re late.”
He lifts his phone over his shoulder to show you the group chat. Panic and pure chaos. You think you read something about someone locking themselves in the bathroom for fifteen minutes. “Don’t leave her alone. Just get here like ten minutes before.” Oh. Well. That’s…nice.
“It’s the first time any of us are going to one of their parties,” he says, settling into your bed like it’s his. Cushion tucked under his arms, eyes closed, slow steady breathing. “Especially invited by Sato. I’d rather show up with you.” You smile to yourself. You would’ve absolutely spiraled if you had to walk there alone and walk in by yourself. “Okay, okay! Give me five seconds.”
“One…” You adore him. He is also insufferable. “Two…”
“Cho, I’m not even dressed!”
“Do it in record time. Three…” You consider throwing the hair dryer at him. “Two…” Or pulling his hair buns loose. That would ruin him. “Oneeee—”
You stare at him deadpan, biting your cheek so your expression doesn’t betray you. “Ready! Let’s go to the party!” You grab the nearest object, some rolled-up socks, and nail him in the head. You’re exhausted and it’s not even nine.
After an entire session of Choso criticizing every outfit you tried on, debating makeup choice and arguing about whether to style your hair or leave it natural... “Just wear that one!”
“It’s too short!” The look of disappointment he gives you is straight up father energy. “It’s a party! That’s probably the longest skirt anyone will be wearing.” You’re finally ready. Simple, but good. Dark jeans fitted from your hips to your knees, looser at the bottom. Your reliable top, the one that always looks incredible on you. Simple makeup. Red lips (because something needs to have color), black liner, some mascara and your best perfume. And absolutly too much glitter.
Choso is collapsed on your bed from pure nerves. Your dorm is the only place he can actually relax. He doesn’t get along with his roommate, and neither of them can move on. Something about campus policy, you never fully understand what Choso means by that. Naoya Zen’in, from what you’ve heard, is a nightmare.
“He’s a misogynistic piece of shit,” Choso mutters, resisting the urge to rub his eyes and ruin his eyeliner. “He makes girls miserable. He's Loud, cocky and annoying.”
“I know. That’s why you sleep here three nights a week.” You slip on your shoes and grab your bag. Cleaning will be future you’s problem. You both step out. Choso holds your door so you can walk through first, making sure it locks properly. Neither of you has forgotten the unfortunate couple that got the wrong dorm room once. The laughter from that night probably reached the dean’s office.
You don’t usually go out on Fridays. You’re always too drained, so you stay in your room, binge shows, eat snacks. Sometimes with Choso. Sometimes alone. You always assumed that aside from frat parties, campus would be dead.
You’ve never been more wrong. The second you step outside the dorms, you’re hit with life. People playing guitar on the grass. Warm string lights around food stands. Groups studying, but it looks more like friends laughing and passing around a suspicious water bottle.
Choso notices your eyes moving from group to group and snorts.“I can’t believe this is your first Friday night outside.”
You shove his arm lightly. “Is it always like this?” He nods. Both of your hearts are racing. “Yeah. But I’m usually with you, Yuuji, or the band.”
“You could’ve told me!” You can already see people heading toward the party. Some are already stumbling. “We’d do the same thing we always do, just outside!” He laughs and bumps your shoulder. “We’ll do that next time.” The rest of the walk is nonsense conversation. He keeps playing with his chain. You won’t stop moving your hands. Both of you are one minor inconvenience away from social collapse. Until you reach the frat house. Your legs start shaking.
“Choso, I don’t want to go anymore,” you whisper, clinging to his arm. “A little late for that,” he replies quickly, wiping sweat off his forehead. You’re about to step in with the crowd when he appears. Sukuna Ryomen.bIn person.bThree feet away. Holy hell, he’s even bigger up close. Taller than Choso. Broad shoulders, intimidating in a way that feels intencional. The three of you stare at each other for a beat.
Then Sukuna steps back and leans inside the doorway .“Oi, Sato! Your musician and his date are here!”
“Ah! I’m not her date!”
“I’m not his date!” You both say it so fast it overlaps, barely coherente. Sukuna heard what he needed to hear. A slow, feline smile spreads across his face. Relaxed eyes. Arms crossed. "Awesome...” Your mouth opens before your brain catches up. He steps between you and Choso, brushing past you, close enough that he dips his head slighty. He inhales. Your perfume. You turn on instinct.
His eyes are red, who the hell has red eyes!? He lets out a low, amused laugh before walking off. You stand there in stunned silence. Choso looks at you with the exact same thought in his head. “Sukuna just clocked you.
“No,” you say automatically. Static in your brain. “No, he didn’t.”
“Oh, he absolutely did.” Choso laughs and hooks an arm around your neck, all his nerves gone. “This is going to be a great night.”
“Oh no…”
The inside of the frat house is pretty big. If you’re not mistaken, this is the biggest one on campus. It has to be. It’s the only way Sukuna and Sato’s egos could coexist. People are moving everywhere. Waves of gorgeous girls in short outfits and perfect makeup, followed by tall guys with square jaws and drool practically falling out of their mouths. Now you kind of regret not wearing that damn mini skirt Choso approved.
You can see the space they set up for Choso’s band, perfectly arranged and big enough so no accidents are going to happen. The rest of them are already there, getting their basses ready, lining up the drum cymbals, adjusting the mic.
That’s when you notice something. A lot of these people are dressed in a very specific way. An imitation of emos and metalheads. Not mocking exactly, but still a costume.
It’s a damn themed party. You’ve got to be kidding. "Choso! bro, you finally made it!" The excited but relaxed voice makes both of you turn. Choso smiles easily at the white-haired guy but…you? You’re gone. Sato, the team captain and designated campus playboy, is literally four steps away from you. Three steps. Two. God, his eyes are insane. You’ve never seen him this close.
This must be what meeting a god feels like. "Man, Sato!" Choso stretches out his hand just in time to greet Gojo. "The vibe’s amazing."
"Right?!" His eyes shine even more, if that’s even possible. "Ryomen said nobody would like the idea. Miserable bastard." They talk a bit more while you just stand there, hands crossed in front of you, your eyes anywhere except the tall, solid body in front of you. You completely understand why the whole campus wants this man.
"So, we start whenever we want?" Your heart speeds up. That's at least an hour without your best friend by your side.
Sato nods enthusiastically, that dazzling smile in full force. "Of course!" That’s when he looks at you again. This time more carefully. "You’re…his girlfriend, right?" Fuck. "No!" Once again, you both answer at the same time. An awkward laugh slips out of your throat. Your hands are sweating. Why are your hands sweating right now?!
"We’re friends…best friends, actually." You don’t know what to do. Should you reach out your hand to say hi? "Cho told me that since they were coming to play, they could bring someone." Sato rolls his bright blue eyes dramatically and lets out an exasperated groan.
"That’s Sukuna and his crazy rules, man. Him and his damn obsession with ‘exclusive’ parties." He even does air quotes with his fingers. You let out a silly little laugh. He’s ridiculously expressive. "Well, whatever. I’m here now."
"And you’re more than welcome!" He’s so sweet. Easy to adore. "The band’ll play for a bit to set the mood, but after that everyone’s free to do whatever they want. The bedrooms are upstairs, all available." He leans a little closer to you with that last comment. Like he’s telling a secret. Which...is not, because obviously everyone knows what happens at these parties.
It’s your first time coming, but the rumors spread like wild fire. "All except mine. If I catch some idiot screwin' in my room I’ll drag his ass out even if his dick’s still out." Goddamn, who the hell talks like that?! "Ryomen…"
"Gojo…"
"Aren’t they from the same fraternity?" you whisper to Choso. He shrugs subtly. "Sato wants Sukuna’s spot…"
"Oof…"
"Still as bitter as ever. A little sex shouldn’t bother ya," Sato shoots back immediately. His favorite game is getting under the tattooed guy’s skin.
"Ain't bother me, but my room is off-limits." His voice is deep, like every word comes out with a low growl. You almost miss the sideways glance he gives you. "Unless I’m involved…that’s a different story."
Sato wrinkles his nose at that. "Gross. Now get out of here with your cheerleaders before you scare my new friends!" Sukuna leaves, but not before bumping Gojo with his shoulder on the way past. The white-haired man laughs softly at this and you catch something dark in those bright eyes as he watches him go.
Not that goofy, cheerful, soft expression he wears in photos, on the field, or around everyone. You can see how sharp his features really are. How masculine everything about him is. "Well! That was awkward," and just like that he’s back, like flipping a switch. "Alright, Choso and…sorry, gorgeous, didin't catch your name."
You’re not offended. You can’t be offended with him. You just tell him, smiling and nodding your head.
Sato smiles again, softer this time, repeating it quietly, more for himself than for you. "Have an amazing night," his voice is lower now. The tone does something between your legs. "I’ll be around if ya'll need anythin'." Once again, your brain turns to mush. "You’re very popular tonight," Choso murmurs as you both watch Sato disappear into the crowd. "First Sukuna, now Sato himself."
"Oh, shut up," you answer, face burning. "By ten he’ll have his tongue halfway down some pretty blonde’s throat." That gets a laugh out of your friend. He grabs your arm and turns you toward where he’s heading, straight to his band, where the guys are waiting with wide, horrified eyes.
"Let’s get started." He’s smiling, but you know he’s deeply worried. "You gonna be okay?" No. Of course not, absolutely not. You’ll be alone in a corner, curled up on a couch with your phone, trying to distract yourself while everyone else mingles because you don’t know anyone here. It’ll be awful until Choso comes back.
"Yeah," you say with the same determination as a cat walking through a pack of dogs. "Relax and focus on playing your heart out. You’re gonna kill it!" Choso nods and walks off after giving your hip a gentle squeeze. The other guys give you quick nods and shaky thumbs-up.
They get organized fast. The nerves grow, for them and for you, as people start realizing a band’s about to play. You bite your lip hard but smile as soon as four pairs of eyes lock on you.
Thumbs up. No fear on your face. "You’ve got this," you mouth. And the songs start. It’s generic old-school rock, songs everyone, or almost everyone, knows. Even if you don’t know all the lyrics, you know the chorus. If not the chorus, then the beat. So yeah, everything goes well.
With all the noise, you don’t even care anymore that you’ll be alone for the next hour. So with a big smile, you drift away from the makeshift stage.
On the other side of the house people are still partying, maybe singing a little quieter or moving closer to the band. Bars lined with red cups you have no idea what’s in, couples kissing like there’s no tomorrow. "Hey, babe, is that you!?" You barely hear her over the noise, but the hand touching your arm stops you as you head toward the frat house exit.
Your eyes widen in surprise. "Mary!?"
"Hi!" Mary, a girl you took a partner exam with. You suffered through a whole afternoon together. You both passed. "I never expected to see you here! I thought I was mistaken. Is that Choso and his band playing?"
"Yeah, yeah! They’re doing amazing." You both laugh softly and nod. You figure this is the part where the reunion ends and she— "Well, come on! It’s obvious Choso’s gonna be busy for a while, and I don’t want you wandering around alone."
Just like that, Mary grabs your hand and drags you toward a huge group of people gathered together. Drinking, laughing, chanting along to the songs.
Your escape plan to go get some air? Completely ruined. Everyone in the group greets you, loud and cheerful. All the guys are sitting on the floor or sprawled between some girl’s legs, while the girls take over the long couch.
Mary immediately makes room for you at the edge and pulls you down to sit. You figure she’s had a few drinks already. "Here!" A round of red cups goes around and everyone grabs one. She pulls one out for you. "What is it?" because responsibility comes first. "Whiskey…or at least I think so!"
"It’s beer!"
"Rum!"
"Just drink!" Great. You hate your life. You sniff the cup, this is definitely not beer. It’s strong. "Please don’t burn". Your prayer is forgotten the second you take a sip. This shit is vodka. Why is there vodka at a massive college party!?
By the third sip your body’s warm and relaxed. The laughter comes easy, natural. You watch a bunch of guys playing drinking games and the lo ser, of course, has to drink. They’ve done four rounds trying to make Sukuna lose. The bastard’s undefeated.
You hadn’t even noticed the music had stopped, replaced by a faster beat and almost no lights. "There you are!" Choso has the biggest smile on his face and probably a couple new numbers in his Phone. He drops down beside you, squeezing you and everyone else already sitting there. A cup in his hand, and judging by his red face, definitely not his first.
"You did amazing!" You’re not slurring yet, that’s good! One point for you. "I know! Dakota from med school wants to sleep with me!" One point your friend clearly does not get. "Cho!" you shout, covering his mouth while the rest of the group erupts in hysterical laughter.
You both laugh too, grabbing more cups as they pass by. After the fifth drink you have no idea what time it is. You just know you’re alone on the couch now, the others went "to the bathroom" or "to get air." Some are still nearby, chatting here and there. People keep dancing. The tempo goes up instead of down, despite how drunk everyone is. More shouting, barely enough to talk. More drinks you don’t recognize.
More girls asking Choso if you’re his girlfriend and their eyes lighting up when they hear the answer. Sukuna sits right in your line of sight. You know he did it on purpose. A girl on each leg, kissing them one at a time. He kisses one, you see his tongue slide into her mouth. The way his fingers dig into her hip while the other kisses his neck. After a minute, he switches. Shit, you even think he spit into one girl’s mouth and made them kiss. You’re not sure, it might be the alcohol.
What you are sure of is that every so often he looks at you, hungry, impatient. Like he wants you to be the third girl. And with all the drinks in you…you probably wouldn’t even care. The only one missing is the damn host. Where the hell is Sato?
"Ladies and gentlemen!" The music drops low enough for you to hear your thoughts again. Someone’s talking on a mic. "May I have your attention for a moment!"
"Sato?" Choso murmurs, forgetting the girl sitting next to him. Huh? "Ryomen! Do me a favor and stop shovin' your tongue down those dolls’ throats! Your obscene noises are makin' it hard to think!" Of course that’s Sato. Loose light-wash jeans, red cap backwards, sunglasses on (indoors, at night, obviously) and a tight white shirt. Sato, live and in person after hours out of your sight.
"Baddies of the night!" You catch Sukuna muttering what the hell is he doing now under his breath. "We’re gonna play a lil' game!" The crowd’s already screaming for him.
"Is this normal?" you mutter to no one in particular. "Very normal," Mary answers. You hadn’t even noticed she came back. "He always does dumb games. Offers kisses or one of the frat guys who wants to hook up. Who knows what it’ll be today." Sato’s grin gets even bigger, and the screams get wilder, when he pulls off his shirt.
Perfectly carved abs, sharp obliques, a thin trail of white hair disappearing under his waist band. You squeeze your thighs together before you can stop yourself. "Whoever catches my shirt gets to spend the whole night with me!"
The crowd loses their minds. Girls shoving forward to get closer to Sato, who’s standing on a table.
Others, Choso and you included, shout in bliss before breaking into laughter. Because this is unreal. You can’t believe you’re seeing it live instead of hearing about it in the campus halls. Sato tosses it up with a smooth flick forward, and the fight begins. Girls falling, stepping on each other.
Broken acrylic nails, elbows to ribs, headbutts that could knock someone out. The smell of the sweat, alcohol and perfumes combined are making you so dizzy. The shirt gets grabbed, ripped away, tossed back into the air while people scream, laugh, scatter from the moving human stampede.
It lands at Sukuna’s feet. He rolls his eyes so hard you swear you hear it. He picks it up with two fingers like it’s the dirtiest thing alive and throws it again. More screams, laughter, panic. Someone falls into the arms of four guys who are losing their shit. What nobody expected was for the white shirt to fall right into your hands.
Exactly into your hands. You were mid-laugh when you felt it land on you. You don’t want to look. Maybe it’s a mistake, maybe it’s someone else’s shirt. But when you look at Choso and see pure horror on his face, you know the truth.
The room goes quiet for a moment, because at the end of the day…nobody here knows you. Sato learned your name like three hours ago.
So you do the obvious thing, laugh, face burning, and stand up. "Heads up girls, here it goes!"
"We have a winnerrrr!" that's absolutly Sato's voice. What? How? The shirt’s still in your hands. The crowd screams again. The girls step back, disappointed, and Sato walks toward you with steady steps.
This can’t be happening. "Sato… I" you what!? Think fast! "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to catch it but the damn thing fell in my hands and—"
"You didn’t mean to catch it?" The disappointment in his voice hits you like a sucker punch. You gather the courage to look at him and immediately know it’s a huge mistake. The poor guy has “disappointed” written all over his face.
Furrowed brows, sunglasses low on his nose so you get the biggest puppy eyes ever, and…you swear you can see a little pout on his lips. So…he doesn’t mind?
You don’t know what to say. "Ah…well, it’s just that…Sato, we just met today and the other girls…they…" Choso is sitting next to you, watching you dig your social grave with every stammer. Now he’s definitely pouting. "Who cares? You caught it, you won the prize." You can’t breathe. Definitely can’t.A nervous laugh escapes your throat.
"Sato, I really think—"
"It’s fine if you don’t want to," he says, but his tone says the opposite. "Just so you know, I wouldn’t mind." Of course he wouldn’t mind. The guy has had his eye on you since the second he saw you standing next to Choso, with your soft smile and bright eyes, looking lost in the middle of all this chaos.
Of course it would be ideal if you said yes, just to confirm that noises escaping your mouth aren’t just formal chatter and nervous giggles. Because Sato has imagined you open and pretty across his lap since the moment he noticed the way you looked at him. Because he had to drink, even though he hates it, just to work up the courage to play this stupid game, risking someone else catching the shirt before you did.
Sato knows Sukuna has you in his sights. He also knows that guy doesn’t play fair. It’s him or Sukuna. And with a girl like you? He refuses to lose. But, of course, you have no clue about any of this.
"Sato, buddy!" Choso’s voice makes you jump. An arm snakes around your shoulders. "Give me two minutes to talk to my dear friend here."
The taller guy nods, chatting with a couple of girls who were trying to get his attention. Your friend, on the other hand, drags you a few meters away. "Cho?"
"Alright, what do we do?" You’re face to face. His hands rest on your shoulders, his face red but serious. He’s not playing around right now. You bite the inside of your cheek. The alcohol is making your thoughts messy. "I want to go with him, but I’m scared." Choso nods once. "Look, if you don’t want to, I’ll help you get out of here and we’ll run. Done."
"You’ve got a line of girls—"
"I don’t care," he declares as if that ends the discussion. "We leave and forget this ever happened. Even if we have to avoid Sato and Sukuna for the rest of college… but if you want to do it, go upstairs and ride Sato until your leg cramps." Oh my god. "Choso, everyone’s going to know!" That’s your biggest worry right now. "I’ll be just another girl passing through his room."
"And what does that matter to you!?" He’s right. "You’re not the first, and chances are you won’t be the last. And that’s fine. It’s Sato! He’ll never tell anyone what happened." And that’s true, every time you hear about something happening with him, it’s because the girls spilled, not because he went running his mouth.It’s a little secret. Small. Tiny. One night. Who does it hurt? Certainly not you.
The music is louder now, if that’s even possible. Sweaty bodies dancing, rubbing against each other. Guys kissing girls while walking to the second floor, all of them absolutly busted. Board games turn into “who survives the blackout first, wins.” Shirtless girls letting shots run down their necks and guys drinking then from their tits.
You’re pretty sure someone in a dark corner is riding Sukuna. Not either of the girls from before, someone new.
Short skirt, barely-there top, flushed face, dazed eyes. All while the tattooed man moves her smoothly up and down.
Once again, he looks at you. He doesn’t look even half affected. Bored eyes, tight lips, a light sheen of sweat. But the bastard still smirks in your direction.
"Want some?" he mouth. How much do you hate him? Of course you want it.Damn it, since when are you such a slut? You gasp, making Choso follow your gaze. His eyes widen in shock. "Damn, someone’s having fun."
"I’m going to fuck Sato." You don’t know where that decisive tone came from. The raven-haired guy grins ear to ear and nods, patting your back. "Excellent! I’ve got a couple beauties waiting for me. I’ll hang close and keep my phone ready if you need me, I’ll kick that door down." He’s joking, but you know he would. So you smile back and give him a playful hit on the shoulder. "Use a condom."
"Oh, of course!" With a final pat on your back, he pushes you forward. "Good luck, I’ve heard some rumors 'bout the guy."
"Uh?" But before you can even ask nicely, Choso is already walking toward two pretty cheerleader. What rumors, though? Well, to hell with it. You’re doing this, and you’re not going to regret it.
You walk toward Sato, your heart in your throat and your back damp with sweat.
At this point, it’s a miracle if anyone in this house is dry.
You reach his side, and he’s already looking for you. He smiles when he sees you. Soft, playful. “There you are! Thought you ran off with your knight in shining armor.” Don’t throw up. “Sato” you try to look mature, decisive, but your hands won’t stop sweating. “...I want the prize.”
That makes him freeze. His whole body seems to hit pause. For a split second, you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole. The feeling lasts until he smiles again, softer this time. “You sure? No pressure.” You glance around one more time. More kissing. More bodies. More hands wandering. Choso has both girls draped over him, the three of them making out like they’re the only ones in the room. Sukuna doesn’t even bother hiding it, the girl is riding him openly, shameless.
So what if you hook up with Sato? “Yes.” Your face burns. You’re grateful for the dim lighting. “...Yeah. I want to.” Sato’s smile widens, and he takes your hand. His skin is already warm. You let him lead you upstairs. The second you’re out of everyone’s sight, he pushes you against the wall. He grips your chin and kisses you.
It’s all tongue, teeth, and saliva. Your hands fly to his arms instinctively, trying to steady yourself. He pulls back for half a second, lets a thick, dizzying string of saliva fall onto your tongue just to lick it away and kiss you again. If you were already wet from all of Sukuna’s teasing earlier, this only makes it worse.
Blindly, Sato fumbles for a doorknob. He has no idea whose room it is. He only knows it’s open and available.You stumble inside, still kissing him like your life depends on it. His hands go straight to your chest, squeezing and kneading. He kicks the door shut behind him, the slam echoing through the house. Your hands roam over his sculpted body. You trace his abs, drag your nails lightly across his ribs, pulling a soft, breathy sound from him.
You keep walking until the back of your legs hits the bed, and you both fall onto it. Sato kisses down your neck desperately, biting, licking long and slow. Your legs wrap around him automatically.Fuck. Why the hell did you wear jeans?
“Arms up,” he murmurs hot against your ear. You obey before you even think. With quick precision, he pulls your top off and tosses it to the floor, taking in the view. You’re already a mess and he hasn’t even really started. “Sato…”
He doesn’t let you finish. He can’t. His mouth bites and licks everywhere it can reach. He shoves your bra down instead of taking it off, just enough to play with your nipples. He takes one into his mouth, sucking and circling it with his tongue while his fingers toy with the other. You gasp and moan without control. You’re dizzy. Is it the alcohol? “More…”
“More… what? Hm?” he murmurs, fake innocence dripping from his voice. Bastard. “What’s the magic word?” Your face burns, but the need to feel his hot cock inside you is stronger. “Please.” It comes out in a breath. Sato brings one finger to his lips, pretending to think. “Ohhh, didn’t hear you! What was that?”
“Please!” The word comes out with a moan as he squeezes your chest again. “More, please…” The white-haired bastard laughs softly, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them down to your ankles, where you kick them off the rest of the way. “That’s it. Good girl.” His eyes are locked on the sight between your legs, your cute black underwear, completely soaked. “What a mess. You’re so filthy.”
You close your legs at that, forcing him to reposition himself between them. His strong torso pushes them open again.
He brushes over the fabric with his thumb, almost ghost-like, savoring the wetness. Then his fingers slide beneath the fabric, playing directly with your folds. Your hands grab the sheets, wrapping them around your fists and pulling tight.
Your eyes stay shut, your mouth falling open into a sea of moans. Sato keeps going, watching your reactions carefully. His fingers slide down to your entrance, then come back up slick to your clit, tracing slow circles. “Uhm—” you try to say something, anything. Your brain refuses to cooperate. “…Ah… like that…”
The proud smile doesn’t leave his face. “Open your legs wider for me, yeah?” Once again, you just obey. “Ah, no, not like that, baby…”
He grabs your leg by your calf and lifts it over his shoulder. The other one he pushes aside exactly how he wants it.
Because that’s how he is. A spoiled brat who always gets what he wants. He feels the saliva building in his mouth. You, with your pretty tits out, nipples hard, gripping the sheets, spread open. Ready for him. But not yet.
You have to wait a little longer. With practiced hands, he pulls your underwear off. Another piece of clothing hitting the floor. Now that he has a full view, Sato can’t help the smile spreading across his face. How is it possible he just met you? Something this cute.
Good thing he beat Sukuna and his fucking pierced dick. Weird bastard. His fingers slide down again. One pushes slowly inside you and you see stars, your hips moving without your permission.
“God, do you want it that bad?” he murmurs more to himself than to you. “You’ll look perfect with me inside you.”
A second finger, and your last rational thought is thanking the universe that the music downstairs is still blasting. The bass vibrates through the floor. Because you cannot keep your fucking mouth shut like this.
His fingers move inside you, the wet sound of your cunt swallowing everything. You didn’t know you could sound like that. “Like that...like that! Please!” Is that your voice? “You like it?” he laughs, biting the leg resting on his shoulder. “Use your words. You have to answer or I’ll stop.” No, no, no. He can’t stop now.
“I like it!” you moan, opening your eyes and seeing how dark his gaze has gone. Dilated pupils swallowing the blue. “I love it, Sato, please!”
“You learn fast,” he mutters before pulling his fingers out. A strangled whine escapes your throat, cut off immediately by the heat of his mouth on you. He goes straight to your clit, his tongue dragging slow and deliberate. Your eyes roll back instantly. Another moan, louder this time. Now he's all in for it, his mouth finally busy.
He sucks and licks with focus, long strokes of his tongue. Sliding it inside you to taste everything. His fingers return, pressing against that sweet spot that makes you spread your legs even wider so he can settle in better. Your breathing is short, uneven. Your hands leave the sheets and tangle in his white hair, tugging without meaning to.
You can’t see the way Sato shifts against the mattress, trying to ease the painful erection straining in his pants. Hard and hot. One of his hands slips down to unbutton his jeans, giving himself more room. He can’t help palming himself, pressing closer against you. Your legs around his head. Your hands buried in white hair. Your head thrown back into the pillows. This is delicious.
Until he pulls away from you completely. No more mouth. No more fingers. Your eyes snap open at the loss. Your brain reduced to líquido. His jeans finally hit the floor. You push yourself up just enough to finish taking off your bra. Sato licks his lips and leans in to kiss you again. You can taste yourself on him.
Everything mixed together. His fingers tangle in your hair as he kisses you, over and over, tongue twisting with yours. You have to swallow the saliva building in your mouth just to keep breathing.
You don’t even notice when his hand leaves your hair. You don’t notice when his boxers hit the floor either. You do notice when he takes your hand and guides it to him. Hot. Big. Thick.
Now you understand the rumores. His cock is fucking huge. Pre-cum already dripping down toward your thighs. You finally look at it and can’t help the soft breath that leaves you. Even his dick is pretty. How is that even possible?
“Say aah,” he commands, one hand still tangled in your hair. “Come on. Like the good little slut you are.” You open your mouth. There’s no way that thing is fitting all the way in, but you can dream. It’s heavy on your tongue, filling your entire mouth. Small sounds escape your throat as you try not to bite down. Are you doing this right?
You suck with your eyes half-closed, sliding your head back and forth, moving your tongue in the little space you have. Playing with the tip. Using your free hand on his balls while the other wraps around him to help. You glance up. And oh. Oh. What a fucking view. Sato staring down at you, practically drooling.
His pale cheeks flushed deep red. Enjoying every second of you taking as much of him as you can. Choking on him. Gagging. Your saliva and his pre-cum everywhere, dripping down your chin, staining your thighs. His too. Who the hell cares? “That’s it,” he groans shamelessly, deep sounds tearing from his throat as his head tips back. “Can ya hold out for me? Can ya give me that lil' effort?”
You nod without taking him out of your mouth. Of course you can give him whatever he wants. The second you give him the green light, he licks his lips and takes control of the rhythm with the hand in your hair. Fast. Brutal. His hips chasing your mouth instinctively, refusing to leave the warmth and wetness you’re giving him.
Your nails dig into him. Everything gets wetter. Dirtier. His eyes squeeze shut, groans spilling out uncontrollably. You can feel the way he moves inside your mouth and you know he’s close. You wouldn’t even mind if he finished right here. Not at all. But that’s not his plan.
In one sudden motion, he pulls you off him, breathing hard, hips still twitching like they’re trying to find you again. Thick saliva drips down your chin. You try to swallow, coughing once so you don’t choke.
He doesn’t give you time to recover. He just kisses you again. “You’re so good,” he murmurs between kisses. “So fucking good…the best…” You just nod, dazed. Drunk on his body and his scent. “Turn around, baby.” He scans the room briefly, grin widening as he walks to the nightstand and grabs a condom. “Hands on the bed. Ass up.”
You move as fast as your shaking legs allow. He laughs playful, almost soft, like when you first saw him downstairs hours ago. Four hours? Five? “Spread for me, baby.” Fuck it. That doesn’t matter. His hands find your hips and drag you closer to the edge of the bed. He pushes you down so your back arches perfectly. Chest against the mattress. Ass high in the air.
Just how he likes it. “Breathe,” he pants as he lines himself up, the tip pressing desperately at your entrance. “…tell me…tell me if it hurts…” It’s going to hurt. But you’ll take it like a champiñón. You nod Anyway. He pushes inside and the burn hits, this is the consequence of all the alcohol in your system. But it’s worth it.
Your hands twist into the sheets again. He notice this and slide one of his hands over yours, thumb tracing circles on your hip.
He keeps pushing until he’s as deep as he can go. The air leaves your lungs and his weight against your back doesn’t help. “Hah…that’s it…” He licks along your spine, lost in you. “So good…so tight…”
“Satooo,” you moan, tears pricking your eyes. “…move…” He doesn’t make you say please this time. He’ll make an except ion. His hips start moving, slow at first. Back and forth. Hitting deep. Again and again. Slow thrusts, savoring the way you squeeze around him like you don’t want him slipping out.You spread your legs wider. Arch your back more. Your whole body trembles.
“Want more?” he murmurs against your ear, abs pressing you into the mattress. You swear your arms and legs are about to give out. “Ask for it.” Shit. Shit. Shit. Sato is a menace. “Give me more!” you cry, loud and clear. “Faster, Sato, please! I can take it!”
“Atta girl…” He straightens up, gripping your hips with both hands and moving you like you’re nothing but a ragdoll.
The sound is obscene, filling your ears along with your moans and his groans. Every thrust hits that exact spot that makes your eyes roll back, drool slipping from your mouth onto the sheets. Your hips snap forward and back. Paff. Paff. Paff.
You bite into the sheets to muffle your noises. His fingers dig into your skin hard enough that you know there’ll be marks in the morning. You feel something wet hit your back after he spits on you. A low laugh escapes him between moans. “God, this pussy is perfect!” Another unhinged laugh. He sounds like he’s losing it. “I can’t...I can’t...fuck!”
Without warning, he grabs you by the neck and pulls you upright, never stopping his movement. His hot breath against your neck. Both of you drunk.
On each other. His grip is just enough to make your head spin, just enough to make you crave more. Harder. Less air. More of Sato's cock. It’s the only thing in your head anyway.
“You can't hear now that I’m inside you?” he mutters through clenched teeth at your ear. Your stupid little “huh?” is all you manage. “On your back,” he orders, but he flips you himself Anyway. You barely process anything.
The pillows catch you like clouds as you scramble to adjust before he’s over you again. His hands grab your legs, lifting them onto his shoulders. He lines himself up and thrusts back in deep. Making you scream.
You’re completely at his mercy. Trapped beneath his massive body, you couldn’t push him off even if you wanted to.
And you don’t. He bites your neck again and again like a dog in heat. You stare at each other. Sato never stops moving. Your heels dig into his back, overwhelmed by the way your pussy seems to suck him in deeper and deeper.
You lick into his open mouth and he follows instantly. Tongues sliding, sucking, licking each other. Without warning, Sato spits into your mouth.
You swallow. “Fuck,” he pants in a broken groan. “...Where the hell was Choso hiding you?”
“Don’t stop, please!” God, that sounds good. “Please, please!” Your face feels wet. You’re crying. Hot tears slide down your cheeks without control, and Sato’s ego swells three sizes bigger. He licks your cheeks, keeping his rhythm steady. No stopping. No mercy. “That’s it… let it out…I’ve got you, baby…”
You can’t say anything except Sato, yes, and more. It’s embarrassing what a heavy, perfect cock can do to you. He bends you even further, if that’s even possible. You can barely moan anymore, your voice caught between tears and pleasure. The rhythm. The pressure. The angle he keeps hitting you at. A different kind of heat starts building in your body.
“Sato!”
“That’s it…give it to me, baby, come on…”
His fingers on your clit are all you need.
Your head falls back into the pillows, eyes rolling as a silent scream tears from your throat. Your nails drag down the albino’s back and he rolls his own eyes at the sting. You’re still shaking through your orgasm when Sato buries himself completely inside you, eyes squeezing shut again. His face pressed into your neck, hips moving like they have a mind of their own.
You both just had the orgasm of your lives. You can’t think. You don’t know what time it is. You don’t even know if the party is still going because you can’t hear anything. When did the music stop?
All you know is your legs are still hooked over Sato’s shoulders and he hasn’t moved. You’re both just panting. Over and over. Trying to get oxygen back into your lungs.
You’re drenched in sweat. Yours and his. In your own fluids sliding down your thighs. The bed is a fucking disaster. You feel a little bad for whoever owns the room. Sato finally moves, pulling out of you. The sensation makes both of you groan one last time. He tosses the used condom somewhere without looking and drops down beside you.
Now he laughs openly, shameless, turning to look at you with a soft glint in his eyes.
“That was insane, don’t you think?”
And there it is again, that teasing, easy spark in him. You smile back, unable to stop yourself from laughing softly.
“Yeah…it was insane…”
You’re hit with a wave of awkwardness because…now what? If you were dating, you could clean up and just fall asleep. Maybe talk, maybe cuddle. But first of all, you hadn’t even planned this. “Uhm…” you murmur, suddenly unsure. “…what time is it?”
Sato searches for his phone on the floor. Zero dignity left behind his ass. “Uuuh…it’ssss…hold on, babe—” He finally finds it. The screen lights up his grimace. “Almost six!” You have got to be kidding. Your mouth drops open. You rush to get out of bed and immediately regret it.God. Your body aches like you just ran a damn marathon.
Sato lets out a quiet laugh and starts gathering your clothes carefully. Top, jeans,underwear. He places them within reach while he pulls his boxers back on.
You get dressed with shaking legs and jelly arms. Your eyes feel heavy now that the alcohol and adrenaline have worn off. A yawn slips out while you button your jeans.
“You know,” he says suddenly, making you look at him, “I would’ve invited you to stay over if we’d actually made it to my room.” You smile, because for a second he sounds genuine. “Thanks…I guess.” He nods once, watching you finish getting dressed. “Can I get your number?”
You freeze again. What the hell? Sato. King of one-night stands. Wants your number? You need to clarify things, like right now. “Sato, look, I know we just did…all of that, and maybe you think I’m always like this, but—”
“We could just grab coffee” he cuts in. This cannot be happening. You should stop standing there with your mouth open, but the surprises keep coming. “How about…you find me on campus on Monday,” you say instead. “And we’ll see.”
That’s enough to make him grin, that shiny and charming smile. “See you on Monday then!” You nod, picking up your poor phone that hit the floor when you took off your pants, and step out of the room. Your heart is racing and desperately need a shower and your bed. You’re not sure in what order.
You’ve barely taken two steps toward the stairs when you see Sukuna coming up. You’re not the only one who needs sleep and a shower. You stare at each other.
You, completely wrecked by a man who wasn’t him. Sukuna, sexually frustrated because someone else took his prize to bed. None of the other girls filled the hunger he had. He only wanted you.
“Good…morning?” Why would you say that to this man? He just growls at you and brushes past on the stairs. Too tired to play games, you assume. Good for you. Good for him.Time to run.
“Oi.” Shit. You stop right before the last step and turn to look at him. “Where the hell are you coming from?” You hesitate.
At this point, though, it hardly matter. So you point to the room right at the top of the stairs. Big door, polished and carefully maintained. You watch, live and in real time, as his face twists into pure rage.
“GOJO!” he roars, sprinting up the stairs and waking every soul still in the house.
The door flies open with a kick. You can hear a high-pitched yell from Sato.“It was the heat of the moment! Listen to me, Ryomen, we’re friends! This can be washed!”
“Go to hell! You screw her before I do and in my room?!” A beat of silence. “Is that a used condom!?”
“I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen like this!”
“Lying bastard!”
The shouting and chaos are your perfect cue to run. You are not getting involved in that fight, especially knowing a tiny part of it is technically your fault. Very tiny. But still there. So better not take the risk. Everyone else scatters too. They all knows fights between those two escalate fast.
“Cho?! Choso?!” you yell as you call him. If you came with your friend, you’re leaving with him. “There’s the star of the night!” he appears behind you, grabbing your forearm and dragging you outside. “How was it?!”
“Amazing!” you shout as everyone rushes out while chaos explodes inside. The other frat guys trying to separate the idiots. “And you?!”
“Best night of my life!” Choso runs with his hair down, lipstick marks all over him, only his base layer of clothes still on. His jacket and hoodie are dangling from his hand. You’re holding your shoes and jacket, your hair a complete disaster, lips swollen and red. “Your dorm?!” he asks, glancing back at the sight of Sukuna and Sato rolling across the grass outside.
“Is that even a question? Of course!”You both burst out laughing. Definitely shower first. Sleep after. But still. It was the best party of your life.
Predator 1: I will announce my presence and fully uncloak so my enemies can see me. I will also fire a non-lethal warning shot at the teenager of the group and won’t immediately target him, as an honourable yautja should.
Predator 2: I use my cloak excessively but won’t interrupt an ongoing fight between the two humans. I will also uncloak just before attacking. The fight between me and my enemy is about fair…if you squint.
Predator 3: FUCK IT WE BALL. IF YOU CANT STAND THE HEAT YA SHOULDN’T HAVE GONE INTO THE KITCHEN
[Después de un merecido descanso en el río, Jeanette y tú van al gran comedor para una merecida cena. A ella le surge una inquietante duda]
OPERACIÓN NO AUTORIZADA.
—¿Qué crees que son lo que tienen en la cabeza?—pregunta de la nada, haciendo que levantes la mirada de tu plato.
—¿Qué cosa?
Ella apunta de forma sutil a un Yautja—¿Es pelo o tentáculos o qué?
Analizas un segundo las rastas de un Yautja cercano, la miras de distintos ángulos pero no das con ninguna respuesta—No lo sé, quizás es pelo y ya.
—¿Cómo se han de sentir al tacto?
—Quizás raras, se ven raras la verdad.
—Vamos a tocar una.—la felicidad de su rostro la hace parecer como que dijo algo completamente normal.
En ese mismo momento miras a Jeanette como si no pudieras creer lo que salió de su boca, porque efectivamente no podías creerlo.
—Estás loca.—murmuras, mirando a tu alrededor esperando que ningún yautja la haya escuchado.
—Es una duda, nada más—responde ella con una risita suave— ¿Qué daño puede hacer?
Dejas aire salir por tu nariz y volteas para mirar a todos los presentes en el comedor, Imp'ro no está pero Khai'ro sí, hablando de forma animada con un grupo de jóvenes que hacen pregunta tras pregunta.
Ella llama a tu nombre—¿Qué dices?
—Que no—gruñes pasando tus manos por tu cabello mojado—, si Imp'ro no nos deja menos lo intentaré con alguien más.
La rubia hace un puchero, jugando con su propio cabello—¡Yo lo haré!
Ruedas con ojos con cansancio y la detienes antes de que se levante de la silla, le das una mirada seria para levantarte sin mucho ánimo.
—Me darás tu chocolate la próxima vez que alguien te dé.—ella asiente de forma animada, esperando expectante tu muestra de valentía.
Te alejas de tu mesa donde había una cena más o menos comestible, nadie te presta mucha atención ya que las conversaciones están animadas por todos lados.
Tus ojos fijos en Khai'ro.
Sus rastas, para ser más específicos.
Con lentitud te posicionas en su espalda aún con unos pasos de distancia, tanto él como los jóvenes saben que estás ahí pero si Khai'ro no se altera es porque no eres una amenaza.
Piensas, una y otra vez, podrías perder la mano por hacer esta estupidez.
Quizás no deberías confiar tan ciegamente en la confianza que estás ganando con él.
Sigue siendo un guerrero mortal.
Las rastas negras adornadas con oro te llaman, brillantes y llamativas como ellas solas.
Todo o nada.
Estiras tu mano en una fracción de segundo y alcanzas a tocar una, se sintió extraño al tacto, fría, no es parecido a nada de lo que habías tocado pero sin ninguna textura adicional.
Es todo lo que pudiste analizar antes de que el yautja diera, de forma literal, un salto hacia adelante con sus ojos bien abiertos.
Ahora si todo el mundo te está mirando.
Los yautja viejos están sorprendidos de que sigas respirando, los jóvenes no pueden creer lo que hiciste y los humanos sienten la necesidad de huir o esconderse.
Jeanette te mira con una mano sobre su boca, te pide perdón con los ojos.
Te quedas estática, la mano todavía en el aire cuando Khai'ro deja salir un rugido y se voltea para enfrentar al irrespetuoso qué se atrevió a tocarlo.
Su rabia se apaga en cuanto confirma que eras tú, ojos abiertos y aterrados, tu mano ahora apegada a tu pecho.
—L-Lo siento...
El jadea y cierra sus ojos.
Cuenta hasta 5, 10, 100 y 1000 más rápido de lo que alguna vez creyó que podía haber contado.
Abre sus ojos y algo sale de su pecho, no un gruñido, es lo más cercano a una risa que Khai'ro ha hecho en mucho tiempo.
Una mano grande se acerca a tu rostro y lo levanta—No debes tocarlas, son privadas—su voz es pacífica, pero retumba en tu pecho—. Por lo menos no debes hacerlo en público.
Tu rostro se enciende como un farol, sus ojos son amables cuando se fijan en ti y tras darte un asentimiento se voltea para seguir hablando con los jóvenes.
Sientes las piernas de jalea, a penas llegas a tu silla cuando caes sobre esta como un peso muerto. El comedor se ha vuelto a llenar de ruido.
—¡Jamás pensé que eso pasaría!
—Sí...se nota...—dejas caer tu cabeza en la mesa, el rubor te sube hasta el cuello.
Haces una nota mental remarcada en rojo de jamás volver a hacer una estupidez de este calibre.
[Un mes había pasado desde el inicio del intercambio y muchos humanos se sentían aburridos, tú incluida. Los yautja deciden hacer algo para solucionar eso y no sale como lo esperaban.]
EXPERIMENTO SOCIAL.
—¿Qué demonios pasa?—gruñes molesta al ver las luces rojas encenderse, miras a Jeanette de reojo qué se ve igual de perdida que tú.
—¿Quizás son de prueba?—murmura con los ojos fijos en la luz que tiñe el comedor.
Había sido así durante las primeras semanas, alarmas, cierres de emergencia, cambios de oxígeno en las alas controladas.
Arrugas la nariz y niegas con la cabeza—No lo creo, quizás lo mejor sea ir a ver.
Ambas se levantan y caminan por el pasillo, los yautja se ven completamente tranquilos con lo que esta pasando, demasiado tranquilos.
Les das miradas de reojo a medida que avanzas, no te das ni cuenta cuando varios humanos van en la misma dirección que ustedes dos, directo hacia una gran sala de reuniones que parece una jodida mansión al otro lado de la nave.
Ahora si que es sospechoso.
¿Qué planean?
Jeanette llama a tu nombre, haciendo que la mires—¿Ese de allá no es Khai'ro?
Tus ojos lo buscan, el yautja de elite recién llegado a la nave y rodeado de sangres jóvenes como siempre, lo cual te hace rodar los ojos.
—Sí, es él—respondes mirándonos tu alrededor una vez estás adentro de la sala—, a quien no veo es a Imp'ro.
Ella deja salir un pequeño ruido de aprobación y comienza a buscarlo, hay demasiados humanos y bastantes yautjas adentro.
Algo es tu estómago te dicen que debes salir de ahí, pero no puedes ya que la entrada está bloqueada y tu ansiedad sólo crece más. Tomas la mano de tu amiga en caso de que ocurra una emergencia.
Khai'ro notó el cambio en el ambiente, por ende está más atento que nunca a los ruidos a su alrededor y, entre toda la multitud, reconoce tu rostro.
La humana sin miedo.
Te ves bastante asustada ahora.
Eso lo molesta.
Está a punto de hablar cuando es cortado por el grito de una mujer.
—¿¡Qué mierda es eso!?
Apunta a una estructura metálica en el techo, todos buscan con ojos y oídos atentos pero nadie capta nada.
—¡No hay nada!
—¡Les juro que vi algo!
Tus ojos notan como, efectivamente, algo se mueve en el techo y apretas con fuerza a Jeanette, quien te mira con ojos de preocupación.
—No te sueltes de mi.—murmuras.
Los yautja no se ven muy seguros de lo que está pasando, por lo que toman sus máscaras para analizar la situación mejor.
Un joven maldice en su idioma por lo bajo y busca por una de sus trampas.
Pero es demasiado tarde para todos, lo que se supone que sería una inocente broma escaló con una rapidez agobiante.
—¡ES UNA ARAÑAA!—Grita un hombre con su rostro blanco y bañado en pánico.
Cómo si de una señal se tratara, la supuesta araña se deja ver en todo su esplendor, patas peludas, 8 ojos saltones y rojos carmin.
Es del mismo tamaño que un perro.
Un perro mediano.
Caos puro se desata, 30 humanos en una estampida hacia el exterior y la criatura se deja caer al piso persiguiendo a quien se le cruza a una velocidad impresionante que sólo genera más pánico entre todos.
Estás bien aferrada a la mano de Jeanette a medida que la arrastras a la salida, destino de todos los demás.
Ya saben, su instinto de caza y todo eso, quizás correr no era la mejor idea.
Los yautja en la entrada ríen y se ponen firmes para evitar que salgan, disfrutando del miedo humano, lo que no contaban es que son varias personas corriendo a toda velocidad motivadas por algo muy fuerte en los humanos.
Adrenalina mezclada con miedo.
En una ola todos son empujados fuera del camino y afuera nada cambia, los jóvenes tratan de atrapar al animal que los burla como quiere mientras que Khai'ro revisa a sus hermanos en el piso, impactados por la fuerza de los humanos.
—¡La tengo encima, la tengo encima!—grita una mujer llorando, literalmente, sobre un Yautja.
—¡No tienes nada!—grita el pobre guerrero agobiado.
—¡QUITENMELA!—Ruge un hombre que se azota contra una pared.
—¡ESTÁ EN EL PISO!
Con eso, todos los humanos miran al yautja qué tienen al lado y se le lanzan encima, de a uno, de dos o de a tres.
Khai'ro te busca y te encuentra aferrada a una pared con tus ojos bien cerrados, salvaste a Jeanette dejándola con un guerrero pero tú te quedaste abajo.
Estás aterrada y aún así te sacrificaste por salvar a tu compañera.
Justamente cuando se iba a acercar a ti para tomarte en brazos un Yautja aparece a toda velocidad, arrebatando a Jeanette de los brazos del otro guerrero y tomándote a ti en los suyos.
—¡Imp'ro!—exclamas, finamente abriendo los ojos.
—¡Lo siento tanto, se supone que yo traería al Cekla pero se me escapó!
Todos fruncen el ceño o sueltan molestos rugidos en dirección al pobre yautja que se ve totalmente derrotado.
—¡IMP'RO!
Por primera vez en un mes completo, tanto yautja como humanos estuvieron de acuerdo en algo.
A drawing I made of BiilLLL̸̲͍̭̐̈́l̸̜̉̌ͅL̴͉̤̾l̴͍̪̿̆̎l̵̝̜͖͝l̴̤̦̉͌l̵̫͕̬̬͛̉̒̂L̵͙̠̮̓̏l̶͚̜͗̒̄̀d̸̬̀̊ļ̴̮̞̮̀d̶͉̂l̵̹͛̈́̋̓l̶͚̺͓̇––.̴̨̩͖̻̞͕͇͉̝͔̤̻̈́̽̑͐̊̽̌͂̋͋̿̕͘̕͝͝.̴͇̩̎̉.̴͔̲͕̺̮͉̰̘́͌̆̆̀̀̃̀̊̈̃̅͘͜͝
.̴̨̩͖̻̞͕͇͉̝͔̤̻̈́̽̑͐̊̽̌͂̋͋̿̕͘̕͝͝.̴͇̩̎̉.̴͔̲͕̺̮͉̰̘́͌̆̆̀̀̃̀̊̈̃̅͘͜͝Ḩ̸̧̢̮̣͙͎̞̐͛͊̄̓̃̏͐͗͆̕͝͠͝- HI HUMANS!!! IT’S ME, BILL CI––I MEAN… YISUS ANIMATES… (THAT’S HIS USERNAME, I THINK). LOOK, YOU SHOULD TOTALLY LIKE AND REBLOG THIS DRAWING OR ELSE IM GOING TO E̴̢̡͕̣̥͕̟̱̦̿͋̀̑͐̑̕̕̕̚̕ͅA̵̧̻̘̬̱̘̲͓̥͉͉͙̫̮̪͖̒͌͛̊T̶̛̜͉̜̼̱̙̩̗̏̀̽͌̎̃̀ ̸̞̣̫̑̆͘͝Ÿ̵̤̙̙͚̫̥͕̈O̸͎̬͚̘͖̥͈̲̥͔̮͇͊̋͊̄̿̂͊̅́̚͜͝͝͠Ȕ̸̯̥̯̹̿̆͠Ŗ̷̛͉̦̖͖̯̩͚̦̼̞͐͐̏̆͛́̃̅͒̎́̕̚̚ ̴͖̮̞͔̮͉͍̯̩̭̞͔̬̟̋̀̋̉̌ͅE̶͍̳̝͐Y̵̢̧̨̨͙̞͙͖͖̯̞̮̻͚̳̍ͅĘ̸̛͎̙̥͉̥́̆͊͆͌̔̇͑̑̀̿͋̏̈́͘B̴̢̧̛͕͔̘̰̦̟̥͖̠͙̀̆̃͗̏͂̈́̕ͅA̶͇̳͙͆̍L̷̤̱̥͇̟̩̥͔̺̺͊͆͑́̅̈̋̇͌̍̒̓̆͆̕͠͝LS
ANYWAYS HERE'S SOME MORE DETAILED STUFF ABOUT THE DRAWING PROCESS ⬇️
HERE'S A CLOSEUP ON ME I MEAN... ON BILL CIPHER... WHO ISN'T ME (I'M NOT BILL CIPHER)!! WOW!! BILL IS SUCH A VERY HANDSOME GUY, LOOK AT THIS HANDSOME FELLA, HE'S TRULY ONE OF A KIND HE'S SO COOL YOU GUYS!
HAHA! LOOK AT THAT HAND! MUST'VE BEEN A NIGHTMARE FOR THE LOSER WHO HAD TO DRAW THAT HAND WITH PERSPECTIVE!
WHAT'S WITH THE MESSY ROOM ANYWAYS? LOOK PAL, IF YOU'RE SKILLED ENOUGH TO PULL THIS OFF WITH YOUR OWN HANDS, THEN YOU COULD ALSO USE YOUR HANDS TO DO SOME CLEANING ON YOUR DESKTOP... JEEZ!
BUT THAT'S ALL I HAVE FOR TODAY! REMEMBER, REALITY’S AN ILLUSION, THE UNIVERSE IS A HOLOGRAM BUY GOLD! BYEEEE!!! ▲👁️
Content warning!!! Manhandling, non consensual undressing/kissing/grinding, overall kinda pervy Brahms
The weight of the Brahms doll lays on your shoulder, your hand gently on his back. You continue to go through his routine but with a new found edge. You saw him, the real Brahms, last night.
Distinctly, you remember his sharp eyes looking at you like a deer in headlights. You remember your debilitating fright. Did he come to kill you, you thought? But he didn't move a muscle, didn't lunge at you, he only swayed slightly in your closet, eyes fixated on you. You were the first to move, stepping back. But each step you took he echoed you, refusing to be away from you. You choked out a sob, shaking so hard you thought you might be blown away by his breath. Then, after a dance of powerful footsteps fueled with fear and an unknown intention you ran. Ran out of your room, down the stairs, then to the foyer.
You hesitated at the door, he didn't follow you or at least to your knowledge. The silence scared you more than his presence. Your fast breath echoed through the silent home, hitching every once in a while. Soon, paranoia got the best of you. Every few seconds you turn to see what lurks in the unknown darkness of the home, awaiting him, but he never comes. You stayed in that state until the morning light penetrated through the windows, illuminating the eerie house.
The house was alive again, dancing with light and life. This made you wonder if this was all in your mind, a paranoia fueled vision. All those thoughts of the doll being alive, him finding you. You were in no state to be taken seriously, but it all felt too real. With a wave of emotion exhaustion you fall to your knees sobbing. What's wrong with me, you thought wiping your tears away. As the sun continues its journey into the house you get up, knees bruised and eyes wet and tired.
Now, Brahms lay on your shoulder many times smaller than your vision of him. Though you're exhausted you continue with his routine. Vigilantly making sure not to miss a single thing in fear of what he'll do. But at some point throughout the day you let your guard down, letting your heavy eyelids fall and drift off. Once your eyes opened up again you panicked. The sun was once again gone from the house, the familiar dark took its place instead.
You sat up, trying to get your bearings. Soon you realized you were tucked in bed in your room. You were sure you fell asleep in the study or perhaps the kitchen and you certainly didn't tuck yourself in. With fear once again surging through your veins you lit a candle only to find doll Brahms tucked in besides you. You screamed, almost dropping the candle. He did this. But how did he carry you all the way up here, you thought, he's just a little boy. You set your candle down on the nightstand and examine the doll.
"Brahms," you whispered with a quiver in your voice, "please I need to know that you did this." Your response is met with heavy silence. "Please," you plead, "be a good boy and give me a sign," your voice began to rise in volume, choking back tears once again, "give me anything!" You waited a moment, intently staring at him awaiting a response but you got nothing. In defeat, you sob into your hands, your head pressed to your knees. "Am I going crazy?" you sob out.
"Y/n?" A little boy's voice calls out to you. Slowly you lift your head, staring at the doll. With tears rolling down your face you froze, eyes bugged out and red. You stare at the doll. Then, a creak in the floor boards alarm you that someone is behind you. You straighten up your back and feel chills run up your spine all the way to your neck. You close your eyes and let silent tears fall. A hand lays on your shoulder, causing a cry from you. This must be him.
"Cole," you cry out, "what do you want from me?"
"Y/n," the little boy's voice returns, "I don't understand," the voice slowly gets lower and more menacing, "who's Cole?" Slowly, you turn your head around to see Brahms, the Brahms you saw last night. Tall man with a porcelain mask mirroring the one on the doll. His green cardigan wrapped around his strong shoulders and a wife beater shirt under neither with an unknown stain. Black suspenders hold up his dark pants, almost covering his feet. You continue to sob inching away from him. He tilts his head. You scream, and inch closer away till your back hits the bed frame. He begins to climb on the bed and slowly crawl towards you. "Pretty Y/n." he mutters.
"What do you want!" you scream out.
He extends his neck till your noses are touching, "you."
Before you could respond he grabs you, turning you around so your back is pressed up to his chest and his arms encapsulating yours. You thrash around and scream but you're no match for his strength. He begins to drag you into your closet holding you tighter. Your screams become more and more ear piercing, drowning Brahms in your terror. This only caused him to hold you tighter as he dragged you inside the walls.
Attempting to save your life you begin to beg, "Let me go please Brahms please!" His heart burns with sorrow to hear you so scared but he wont relent, not even for you. In an attempt to calm you he quietly says to you "Shh, pretty Y/n, shh"
Eventually, he gets you to his room in the walls. You look around to see meals you kept in the freezer all scattered around, a couple of pairs of underwear that went 'missing', and your coral dress put on a fake version of you. He plops you down on his bed and throws the fake you aside. "Don't run." he commands. Knowing your no match for him you sit still on the bed. He returns to the fake you and takes off the dress, his hands feather light and careful. Then, he turns around to meet you, he sits on the bed next to you.
"Brahms, please-"
"Shush," Brahms says in a sweet voice. He lays a hand on your thigh earning a flinch from you. He retracts his hand. Getting up he turns to you and gives you the dress. You run your fingers through the end of the dress and find a stain, you can't figure out what caused it. Brahms continues to stare at you like he expects something. You look down at the dress and then back up at him, he wants you to put it on. You press the dress to your body and he nods. You start to put the dress on over your clothes but he stops you.
"Take off clothes first." he mutters innocently.
"No-" you protest in disgust and fear but then he begins to pull up the hem of your shirt. "Brahms!" you yell. Startled he looks at you tilting his head. "I'll-I'll take them off but you can't look, okay?" He nods slowly and turns his back. Without a second thought you run around him and head for an exit. Before you get far he grabs you by the waist, turns around and slams you on the bed causing a yelp from you.
"I said don't run!" he yells.
"I-I" you mutter in fear, "I'm sorry, please Brahms just let me-"
Without letting you finish he begins to rip your clothes off you, he gets on top of you so you can't run again. You begin to scream again but this time in embarrassment.
"Pretty," Brahms mutters looking at your bare chest, "pretty Y/n." Your screams die in your throat and you begin to sob into him, searching for comfort from the once causing the pain. He pats your head and gets off of you to take off your pants, you've stopped struggling. After your pants are off Brahms dryly asks, "Sit up." You do as you're told and he mutters, "Good." He puts the dress on you, flattening the fabric down on your thighs. "Y/n" he asks, you look at him teary-eyed. He bows his head down to meet your level and keeps his face half an inch away from yours, breathing heavily. Then he presses his lips against yours passionately. You begin to whimper, which seemed to have an effect on him. He pushed you down to the bed again and lays on top of you, his hands cupping your face. He grows more passionate and begin to grind himself against you, moaning and whimpering.
"Brahms," you mutter, he ignores you, "Brahms!" you sob out, he ignores you again only grinding harder against you. His hips begin bucking up involuntarily against you, his whimpers getting higher and more frequent.
"Your mine," he mutters in a high voice, "Mhh, all mine."
The friction he causes begins to have an effect on you too, you cover your mouth to stop your cries from being heard. A new set of tears rolling down your cheeks scared for what comes next. Brahms looks up at you with neediness in his eyes only to stop abruptly when he sees your tears. "Sorry," he mutters quickly getting off of you, "I'll be a good boy, I promise!" You just lie there still sobbing. He bends down and kisses your tears away and holds you. You cry into his arms. Soon he lays down next to you and continues to hold you laying his head on top of yours.
"I'm so sorry, love. You've been so good for me, I'm so sorry."
Thinking about how my mom tried to “seduce” my dad when they were in college together by sneaking oranges into his backpack, because she grew up food insecure and feeding someone/sharing food was a big deal with her upbringing with a lot of emotional meaning–
and meanwhile my poor dad is just convinced that he’s been haunted by some citrus poltergeist because why the fuck are there always oranges in his bag he swears he did not put there???
