(And no we aren’t talking about the one in France)
Synopsis: fiancé Higuruma, ex-boyfriend Nanami
Content, MDNI: jjk Xreader, Higuruma x Nanami xreader, love triangle trope, threesome, rough, doggystyle, Eiffel Tower, running from it, dominant, praise kink, hair pulling, stalking, invasion of privacy, overstimulation, soft-dom, princess treatment, spanking, oral sex, cum-play, creampies, breeding
(SMALL DISCLAIMER: this is just for fun I just had an idea and wanted to see something rq, also it’s last minute and rushed so I’m sorry if you notice any grammatical errors although I did my absolute BEST to edit and make sure it was just right! I would love some feedback if you guys like🩷🫶🏾)
“Babe what time will you be off of work, I made your favorite dinner?” It’s exactly what your fiancé higuruma wants to hear when he’s buried knee deep in his work, but you know this. You also know that running a large law firm is no easy feat. And you love him for going above and beyond to provide for you. Higuruma isn’t very sentimental until you make things more special, like making his favorite food for dinner. Lasagna. “I’m coming home, but I’ll be late. You can cook but I won’t have it until late in the evening. Don’t wait up for me. Just go ahead and eat sweetheart I need you healthy for me.” His voice was always deep and masculine, so sweet when he would talk to you, he always made sure you were okay. Whether he was at work or at home. You guys covered to topic of marriage and children especially after getting engaged no so long ago. And when you go silent on the other line he instantly corrects himself. He hates hurting you and he’s been working overtime the past 3 days, he knows it killing you.
“Look. I’ll be home as soon as possible, no later than 7. I promise” when he Hangs up a smile creeps across your face and he knows it. But that’s what he likes, making you happy, that’s why you’re going to marry him. You look down at your phone to check the time, 3:40pm. “Four more hours to go” you think to yourself as you dress to run to the grocery store. Nothing crazy, you’ve always kept things to minimum, never trying so hard, your hair in a ponytail, and oversized sweater and some leggings. While you’re in the grocery store searching for the perfect receipt you discovered on Pinterest, a familiar voice rings in your ear behind you.
“Hey, do you know where I can find the whipped cream?”
Your eyes widen at the sight of him. You take your time responding to him, taking in the sight of his broad, tall muscular towering over you, his shadow engulfing your frame, his blond hair slicked back and his gold rimmed glasses pushed back on his face. That’s strong toned jaw still does something to you. He’s still dressed well the way he always did, but you’ve moved on though right? It shouldn’t affect you as much as it did before, it’s not like you still have feelings for him right? You scoff.
“Small world, never thought I’d see you again” you say ignoring his initial request, and walking away with an indenial eye roll. He grabs your rist gently. “y/n, please. Let me just talk to you for a moment.” Goddamn it. He couldn’t just let you go could he? Just let the past be the past. You’d never forget the day you broke up with him in a fit of rage, beaming because he would work too much, never come home, you spent so many nights alone maybe even seeing him once a month, once every few weeks, you knew you deserved more than that. And you have it with Higuruma, who will be home for dinner in 3 more hours. But. That but. There’s ALWAYS A FUCKING BUT. Why can’t I shake him? He’s been stalking my social media and showing up in odd places to talk to me for months now. I guess the news of my engagement travelled farther around town than I expected. He wanted you, BADLY, and you knew that already. So why not hear him out?? “What do you want nanami?”
He gulps, you can tell even though he’s trying to hide that he’s happy you’ll even hear him out. “How have you been.” “Better” you reply bluntly. He nods understanding your response. “I’m sorry.” His response is stale but he needs to say it, needs to see your face when he says it. Or else he’ll crack, hell crack the way he’s been cracking ever since he heard about your engagement to Higuruma. “It’s been a year nanami I’m fine”
You turn to leave again. But he grabs you again, rougher this time. And you turn to him, “Nanami—“, he cuts you off before you can scold him. “Listen. I just wanna talk. You can’t have friends? What your boyfriend scared you’re gonna cheat on him?” You freeze. He’s right, if I truly aren’t interested in him romantically it should be okay right? I mean…what’s the harm right? Your thoughts are louder than you think as nanami’s eyes fixate on yours, passionate, intense, dawning. Dammit. He’s still fine as fuck, but you won’t say that out loud, make him think he’s got a real shot with you. But his firm hand is still gripping your arm and moving to your waist to pull you close, and it does something to you. God it really does something to you, that warm fuzzy feeling creeping in. Fuck. “Nanami—“ you say his name again and he cuts you off, he won’t let you go, he won’t let you make any excuses. “Take my number” he hands you his phone “Please…” he’s begging at this point and you’re already in too deep. You type your number in.
.
.
.
Around 6pm you’ve already settled in at home and are halfway through making your sweet fiancé Higuruma his favorite dinner, lasagna. It’s perfectly toasting in the oven as you sip red wine in satin pajamas. You check emails and phone calls about the clothing brand Higuruma helped you start and now you freeze. Higuruma loves me like I’m the only woman in the world…why can’t I stop thinking about nanami? It’s the first time you’ve let his stalking come so close, to get so personal. Your cunt dampens remembering how he handled you in that super market, your teeth pull in your bottom lip. Hard.
But you get a text. “Let me come see you”
You respond. “Why? I’m busy”
“Because im already outside”
Your stomach drops to the pit of your ass as you stand in the hallway of new house. You bite you’re nuckles reminding yourself that you’re getting married soon and here comes you’re thirsty nagging ex boyfriend Nanami you just can’t go on in life unless you give him so sign. Some sign of what you may ask? Well you don’t know. You’ve never given him an in, you have no idea why Nanami is so Farel about getting his hands on you again, but it’s obvious at this point he’ll do ANYTHING, to have you again. Your knees almost buckle, but your hesitation is broken when he knocks. You run to swing open your front door and there he was, 6,2 of pure lean man, all MAN, his breathing already heavy before you even opened the door, like he’s been waiting, like he already knew you’d open it. You were but it’s besides the point. You breath heavily before you ask him anything, anxiety surging through you. “Nanami you cannot be here”
“Says who?” He steps into your house like he’s been there a thousand times. Maybe he has. With the way he behaves. She wouldn’t be shocked. His hands instantly find your waist. But he’s not rushing you. He looks into your eyes when the door closes. “Say you want me back, say you need me” his voice is STARVED and you know it’s just for you, and when you back away he follows you, his hand never leaves your waist in fact it grips you there, harder. Something very very close to a moan almost slips your lips. Fuck. I’m done, I can’t hold it in anymore. “I need you” and it’s all he needed to hear. He swoops you up off of your feet princess style and carried you to the master bedroom. His biceps smother you in his journey. Your breathing is already heavy, it’s too late, you can’t turn back now. You want him. And you want him BAD. He tosses you onto the bed and strips his charcoal suite jacket to the floor and leans over ontop of you.
You moan when his lips devour the corner of your neck like he’s starving, his hands pressing hard into your hips. He presses his massive bulge beneath his slacks against you, grinding, warm, teasing, you gasp as he’s already firmly pressing himself to you, your face flushes and you’re already sopping wet. The friction of him grinding his buldge against you makes you tramblr already. “Your so wet for me baby I can feel it already”, you deny it, for no good reason you deny it, “how do you kno—“ you say as you feel his strong rough calloused hands find their way between your legs and rubs that soft sweet spot between your lips. He’s not even being gentle. “Oh god” you’re already bellowing out as he slides his fingers into your perfect pink juicy pussy. He can feel you dripping and it makes him groan, “I’m going to bury myself into you in a way that will make you never want to fuck him again” he grips your hair tight and kisses your neck when he slides his fingers from your pussy and goes down on you lifting your legs over his shoulders and spreading your thighs, he doesn’t even spare you the courtesy of being gentle, I guess he needs you that badly. You release a strained moan that echoes throughout the house as he buries his face into your sweet spot, licking and sucking you, slurping up your juices until you’re trembling. Your hands grip the sheets and you buck your hips every time he slurps your clit. He slaps your pretty pussy and lets you whimper, “good girl—“ he praises you, it’s genuine, he knows you’re struggling to hold it together.
“You’re doing such a fucking good job.” He lowers your legs down and gets up from the bed, he pulls you down to the edge. And pushes your head down.
“You’re gonna be a good girl and take daddies dick right?” You gulp as he spreads your legs. “Yes!” You say while you’re already arched as far as he can get you. His massive thick length rubs you there. He’s groaning watching your sopping cunt beg for him while you drip on the bedsheets. “Tell me you want it” he says rubbing his swollen girth on your lips, you’re almost in tears from pleasure, drooling, “I want you!” You practically beg.
But the bedroom door flies open, neither of you heard the front door open, and you’ve been so lost in the moment that you also forgot about the food. You almost snap out of it. You almost do.
Higuruma stands at the bedroom door, with something written across his face, but it’s not anger, maybe shock. You’re certain Higuruma has NEVER seen you like that, in that position, with your ass in the air, sopping wet and begging for cock. He was more turned on than angry, and an errection is building in his pressed office pants. He walks over. Loosening his tie.
Nanami doesn’t move, and he’s still massively hard and throbbing near your cunt but Higuruma is already unbuckling his dress pants and pulling you from the bed and down into your knees, his breathing ragged already desperate, your shocked at how fast his penis became erect. He grabs you by the hair pushes his length into your mouth, thick, massive and girthy you can hardly breath, you drool down his shaft as you release a muffled moan, Nanami grins watching you struggling on another massive cock as he finally pushes into you and you release a moan you’ve never believed you could utter. But they both groan over top of you, both of them with that intense exaughsted look on their faces only looking at you. You still struggle to fit your fiancés massive girth down your throat but you try and try, drool spilling down your mouth as he groans more. “Mmm fuck babe you’re so good at that, who’s my beautiful princess hmm?” He grunts through his teeth pulling your hair. Nanami waisting no energy pounding into you, you walls tight around him, he’s grunting tirelessly wanting more and more of you, seeing you struggle to swallow another cock fucking BREAKS him, their both thrusting into you, your drool and pussy juice leaking everywhere, you’ve never experienced so much pleasure in your entire life, Nanami stretched you out to pull capacity and bruising you’re cervix to no end, your eyes roll to the back of your head, you can’t even think right now. “Your such a good girl taking another man’s cock for me” he says more gentle now running a hand through your hair. But he keeps thrusting in your mouth until he can feel his knees knocking, your tight soft mouth around him making him whimper out of control now, he’s close. You gargle and moan on his length, tears in your eyes, they still beg. “More, more”. Nanami pressing into your hips feeling you slipping away, “nah ah no running princess…you have to take all of it if you’re gonna be daddies perfect little toy”. You strain with higuruma’s massive veiny length in your mouth. Until Nanami presses himself so far deep into you that you choke on higuruma’s cock. He releases a massive load of cum into you that pumps for so long you’re concerned. His jizz leaking out of you as he pulls out his fat cock. “Mmm that’s it” he says switching places with Higuruma.
You squirm unable to take anymore, you try to move but Higuruma grabs you by the waist. “Don’t run babygirl we’re not done with you just yet, now be a good girl, you’re already taking it…SO WELL, fuck you’re doing such a good job” he says sliding his massive rod and stretching your walls again. Nanami pushing his cock down your throat already and groaning with his hand behind your head. Higuruma pulls your hair and grips your ass with a massive firm hand spreading your ass and your lips to push deeper into you, your eyes have rolled back, you’re vision blurred and your moaning and whimpering so much and so loud like your almost in pain you’re suburban neighbors are sure to be worried about you. Higuruma pounds you rough ensuring you’ll surely have nothing left after this, his tip teasing your g-spot until your trembling at the seems. You gargle on Nanam’s length, LOUDLY. “Mmm take it y/n, it’s all yours EVERY INCH”
Higuruma says growling and grunting like an animal making your legs shake, you can feel that tingling sensation building up in you, all over your body as you drown on Nanami’s giant cock piercing the back of your throat. Neither of them stop, both grunting and thrusting tirelessly. Your hands grip Nanami’s thighs to ground yourself. “You look so beautiful swallowing my cock princess” he says with Higuruma pulling your hair back forcing you to devour Nanami. “So good, fuck it’s so good” Higuruma grunts until your choking on Nanami’s cock from and insane orgasim that courses through your body and makes your buckle, drool and tears stream your face in pleasure as Higuruma forces his throbbing girth deep inside of you and grunting your name until he’s released his full load inside of you. “Ugh~” Higuruma whimpers coming down from his orgasm and Nanami fills your mouth with his cum, at the same time forcing your head down his massive girth and spilling another load into you so much and so deep down your throat, that you HAVE to swallow it. And you do, Nanami grips your face with his hands and smudges your cheeks and kisses your forehead. “You’re so perfect swelling my cum for me. Such a perfect little princess for me” and Higuruma grips and slaps your ass leaving a mark. He pulls out of you letting you leak their cum from your pussy.
Higuruma lays you in the bed and kisses your forehead and holds your hand, that engagement ring still shining. You catch your breath lying down on the bed, Nanami rubs your head and kisses the knuckles on your other hand.
“No need to choose my love. You can have us both” Higuruma plants another kiss to your knuckles on your other hand with the ring.
TW: Bloodplay, Periodsex, Dark Romance Themes, Violence & Blood, Vampirism / Blood Consumption, Possessive & Obsessive Behavior, Power Imbalance, Loss of Control, Manipulation / Psychological Influence
The first impression wasn’t fear.
It was… irritation.
He just didn’t belong there.
The café was full, voices blending into a steady hum, cups clinking, someone laughing a little too loudly—everything felt warm, alive, ordinary.
And then there was him.
Alone at a table by the window. Unmoving, almost out of place among all the small, restless movements around him. While others gestured, adjusted their hair, shifted in their seats—he simply sat there. Too still. Too aware. His gaze wasn’t on his phone. Not on a book. It was… somewhere in the room. And at some point, I realized he was looking at me. Not glancing away. Not embarrassed. Just… directly. I held his gaze for a moment, more out of defiance than interest—then I looked away.
Weird.
I ordered my coffee, sat down at my usual spot, and tried to ignore him.
It didn’t work. Not because he did anything. But because he didn’t. He barely moved. Didn’t drink. Didn’t speak to anyone. And still, the longer I stayed, the more it felt like something was shifting. As if the air around him was thickening. Eventually, I stood up. Not because of him. That’s what I told myself. I’d just had enough for today. On my way to the door, I had to pass his table. Of course I did. I told myself I wouldn’t look. I did anyway. His eyes met mine instantly, as if he had been waiting. “You’ve been watching me,” he said calmly. Not a question. I stopped. “So have you.” A brief moment—then he tilted his head ever so slightly, as if that answer… interested him. “You’re the only one who noticed.” I frowned. “Noticed what?” His gaze drifted briefly across the room—over the people, the light, the movement. Then back to me. “That something is wrong.” A faint chill ran down my spine. I forced a small, uncertain smile. “Maybe you’re just… unusual.” “Unusual,” he repeated softly, as if testing the word. Then he looked at me like that again. Too direct. Too deep. “And you’re still standing here.” I should have left. Really.
That was the moment you leave. The moment you realize someone is strange and you don’t get involved.
But instead…
I pulled the chair across from him out slightly. And sat down. His expression barely changed. Just a fraction. Almost imperceptible. As if something had just been confirmed. “Then explain it,” I said. A quiet exhale. Almost… satisfied. “I’m not very good at doing things slowly.”
He didn’t lean back even slightly when I sat down.
No surprise. No hesitation. As if he had known I would do it. “Then explain it,” I repeated, quieter this time. A faint sound escaped him—not quite a laugh, more like… the shadow of one.
He lifted his gaze slightly, as if searching for the right words. “People talk a lot,” he said finally. “They fill the silence so they don’t notice what lies beneath it.” I raised an eyebrow. “And you don’t?” “I prefer to listen.” “And what are you hearing right now?” His eyes stayed on me. Too long. Too intensely. “You.” A brief silence settled between us. Not uncomfortable—more like… dense. I leaned back a little, studying him more openly now. “You’re not really a fan of small talk, are you?” “No.” “Good. Me neither.” That same barely-there smile again. It was strange how quickly the situation started to feel normal. Almost… too normal. As if my mind was smoothing over everything that didn’t quite fit, just to make it make sense. “So,” I said, folding my arms loosely, “are you new here? I would’ve noticed you otherwise.” A tiny pause. Almost imperceptible. “I’m not in one place for long.” “Sounds like an excuse.” “It probably is.” I let out a quiet huff. “Alright, mysterious stranger. Do you also have a name, or is that part of your… aura?”
“Choso.”
The name lingered in the air for a moment. Unfamiliar. Foreign. ”I-” He looked at me. Waiting.
I blinked. “I just… forgot my name.” A nervous laugh, half real, half confused. “Wow. That’s never happened to me before.” Something in his gaze shifted. Just slightly. Something darker settling underneath. “That doesn’t happen to you often, no.” A cold trace slipped along the back of my neck. “How would you know that?” He didn’t answer right away. His gaze drifted briefly to my hand—to my fingers, absently tracing the edge of the table. “You’re someone who holds on to things,” he said quietly. “Details. Names. Habits.” I pulled my hand back. “That’s… oddly specific.” “Is it wrong?” I opened my mouth—and closed it again.
“…No.” Silence. Different this time. Heavier. I forced a lighter tone. “Okay, you’re either very good at reading people or just a little creepy.” “Both.” I let out a quiet laugh. “At least you’re honest.” His eyes stayed on me, as if he’d stored that word away. Honest. “Why are you really here, Choso?” The question hung between us. He could’ve brushed it off. A joke, a deflection, anything. He didn’t. Instead, he leaned forward slightly. Not much. But enough to make something in me tighten. “I saw you,” he said calmly. My heart skipped. “Here in the café?”
“No.”
Too fast. Too direct. A subtle pressure spread through my chest. “Then where?” He didn’t answer. And somehow, that silence was the answer. I should’ve gotten up.
Really.
This—this was the moment where things shifted. But instead, I leaned forward too. Slowly. Mirroring him. “You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” I murmured. “This… mysterious thing.” Something dark flickered in his eyes. “No.” His voice dropped. Rougher now. “That’s the part I’m holding back.”
A shiver ran down my spine. And instead of pulling away from it—I smiled. A small, challenging smile. “Then you’re not being honest with me yet.” A mistake. I knew it the second I said it. His gaze dropped slowly to my lips. Then back up. And something about it was suddenly—not human anymore. “You want honesty?” he whispered. Too close now. Too intense. I could’ve leaned back. I didn’t. “Maybe.” A barely audible inhale. Then, very quietly: “You should stop before you start to like it.”
Silence. My heart was racing. Not from fear. That was the problem. “And what if I already do?” A moment. Then he leaned back—as if forcing himself to. His fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the table. Too tight. The wood gave a faint creak. I “Then,” he said calmly, though tension threaded through his voice, “it’ll be difficult to let you go.”
I shouldn’t have come back. I knew that before I even opened the door. And still, I did.
The café was quieter than usual. Late evening. Fewer people. Dim lighting that softened everything, made it feel safer. Deceptive. My gaze found him immediately.
Choso.
Same seat. Same posture. As if he hadn’t moved since the last time we spoke. As if he had been waiting.
For me.
There was a brief moment where I just stood there. Then I walked over. His eyes lifted slowly to meet mine. I sat down without asking. This time, it didn’t feel like coincidence anymore.
“You weren’t surprised to see me,” I said. “No.” “Why?” He studied me—more openly now. As if he wasn’t hiding as much as before. “Because you’re curious.” I leaned back. “Or maybe just stupid.” A flicker of something darker crossed his face. “You’re not.” Too quick. Too certain. I raised a brow. “You sound pretty convinced.” “I am.” A short silence. Then I leaned forward slightly. “You didn’t tell me everything yesterday.” His expression shifted instantly. Tension. “I told you enough.” “No.” I shook my head lightly. “You told me just enough to make me come back.” Silence. Hit. His fingers moved slowly across the table—restless this time.
The first small sign that something was different. “And you came back,” he murmured. “Yes.” “Why?” I held his gaze. Honest. “Because something about you feels wrong.” A breath. Too deep. Too controlled. “And that doesn’t keep you away.” “No.” A faint smile touched my lips. Softer. More dangerous. “It pulls me in instead.” That was the moment. I saw it. The exact second something in him gave. His hand stilled. His gaze darkened—not just in expression. Deeper. Redder. Subtle, but there. “Don’t say things like that,” he said quietly. A warning. I ignored it. Of course I did. “Why?” I leaned closer. “Are you afraid I’ll stay?” Wrong question. His head tilted slightly. His eyes—now unmistakable.
Red.
Not bright. Not exaggerated. Dark red. Deep. Alive. A shiver ran through me. “I’m afraid,” he whispered, “that you’ll enjoy it.” My breath caught. Too late, I realized something had changed. Not just in him. In the air. Too still. Too tight. I tried to say something—but then I felt it. His hand. Around my wrist. I hadn’t seen him move. His grip was firm.
“Choso—”. His fingers… weren’t normal anymore. Longer. The nails darker. Sharper. A faint, almost inaudible sound as they pressed lightly into my skin. Not deep. But enough. My heart raced. “You shouldn’t have come back,” he murmured—and his voice sounded different now. Lower. Rougher. Less controlled. I pulled slightly at my arm. “Then let me go.” He didn’t. Instead, he pulled me closer across the table. His gaze dropped to my neck. And stayed there. His breath brushed my skin—cold. Not human. My throat tightened. “You’re bleeding,” he said softly. I froze. His nails had barely broken the skin but a thin red line traced along my wrist. And he… stared at it. Like something that had been starving for too long. “Choso…” This time, there was real uncertainty in my voice. His gaze lifted slowly. And now there was no hiding it. Red eyes. Fangs, just slightly visible as his lips parted. That unnatural tension in his entire body. “I tried to do this slowly,” he whispered. His fingers trembled slightly. Not from weakness. From restraint. “Really.” A step. He was suddenly standing in front of me. I hadn’t seen him get up. No escape for me. His hand slid to my neck—not tight, but controlling. His thumb brushed over my pulse. Too aware. Too interested. “You should have left.” His face lowered slowly, closer. His lips near my skin. His breath—a cold ghost against me. My eyes widened slightly. “And now?” I whispered. A mistake. Again. A low, dark sound left him—half growl, half breath. “Now,” he said roughly, “it’s too late to pretend you’re just human to me.” His fangs grazed my skin. Not biting. Not yet. Just… there. A promise. A threat. A temptation. And somewhere deep inside me instead of just fear—there was something else. Something wrong. That pull. I swallowed. “Then don’t do it slowly.” Silence. One single, stretched moment. Then he closed his eyes—as if I had just taken the last piece of control from him.
And this time, there was nothing human left in them. One single moment—then he grabbed me. Too fast. The world tilted, voices blurred, the warmth of the café was ripped away—and suddenly there was only cold. Darkness. A narrow alley behind the building. The door slammed shut behind us. Silence. Choso pressed me against the wall, his body far too close, far too present. One hand firm on my waist, the other still wrapped around my wrist. “You don’t understand what you’re doing,” he said roughly. His voice was breaking now. More dangerous. I slowly lifted my gaze to him. My heart was racing. But I didn’t pull away. “I do,” I murmured. My free hand lifted—without hesitation—and slowly brushed over his chest, up to his neck. I felt him go still. Not in rejection. In control. “You’re trying to push me away,” I whispered, my fingers moving lightly, provocatively—until they stopped just beneath his jaw. “But you’re the one who brought me here.” A low, deep sound vibrated in his throat. A warning. I ignored it. I rose onto my toes, moving closer to his face—slow, deliberate—letting my breath barely graze his lips. “Don’t tell me to leave.” His fingers twitched at my waist. His grip tightened. “Stop,” he pressed out. Not strict. Desperate. I smiled faintly. And then—I slid my hand a little lower along his neck…let my thumb deliberately brush over my own skin at my throat—exactly where his gaze kept returning. A silent offering. A test. His eyes followed the movement instantly. Red. Dark. Hungry. “Is that it?” I whispered. “The part you’re holding back?” A mistake. The last one. His breath hitched. His whole body tensed—as if something inside him snapped. “You shouldn’t play with me like that,” he said quietly. I stepped closer. Until there was no space left between us. “And what if I do anyway?” Silence. Then—he lost it.
His hand shot to the back of my neck, pulling me closer abruptly. Not gentle—but not brutal either. Possessive. His head dropped instantly to my throat. No hesitation anymore. No resistance. His fangs brushed my skin—this time not just teasing. I gasped softly, my body tensing—but I didn’t pull away. Instead—my fingers curled into his coat. A low, dark sound escaped him—deeper, rougher—as he felt it.
Then—the bite.
Sharp.
Quick.
A stinging pain followed by something else.
Warmth.
A strange pull spreading through my body, like something inside me was giving in… or opening. His grip tightened, almost desperate now, like he couldn’t control how far was too far. A soft sound slipped from me—half pain, half something I didn’t want to name. He reacted instantly. His body pressed me harder against the wall. Not to hurt me but to hold himself together. His breathing turned uneven as he didn’t pull away. Then suddenly—he tore himself back. As if something had struck him. His gaze was wild. Unsteady. His lips faintly smeared with blood. He stared at me—like he had just done something irreversible. His hands were shaking. “…That was a mistake.” But his voice didn’t sound convinced. I breathed heavily, my heart racing—and still, I slowly lifted my hand to my throat. Felt the blood.
Felt…him.
A faint smile touched my lips. “Then why didn’t you stop?” Silence. One dangerous moment. Then he stepped closer again. Slower this time. More aware. His gaze darker than before. “Because you asked me to.”
The cold of the night felt different. Not just on the outside. It settled beneath my skin. I was still leaning against the wall, my breathing uneven, my heart slowly… wrongly calming down. Too fast. Too quiet after what had just happened. My fingers were still pressed to my neck. Right where he had bitten me.
Warm.
Sensitive.
And somehow… connected.
In front of me stood Choso—but he didn’t look as controlled as before. His gaze was fixed on me. Unbroken. As if he couldn’t look away. “Tell me how you feel,” he said quietly. Not out of curiosity. Out of necessity. I swallowed slightly. “…Strange.” His eyes narrowed just a fraction. I slowly lowered my hand. “Not bad.” His body tensed. A faint tremor ran through his fingers. “Not bad,” he repeated, rougher this time. I could have taken it back. I didn’t. “It feels like…” I hesitated, searching for the right words. “Like you’re still there.” Silence. Dangerous. His breathing deepened. Slower. As if he was holding something inside. “I am,” he murmured. A step closer. I felt it instantly. That presence. Stronger than before. His hand lifted—no hesitation this time—and cupped my cheek. Cold. But no longer unfamiliar. His thumb brushed slowly over my skin, almost absent-mindedly. “I shouldn’t have left you like that,” he said quietly. His voice had changed. Not just rough. Possessive. I tilted my chin up slightly, holding his gaze. “But you did.” “Only for a moment.” A shadow of something dark crossed my face, a faint smile. “You sound like you’re not finished.” His eyes darkened immediately. A dangerous flicker. His grip on my cheek tightened. Not painful. But unmistakable. “You shouldn’t talk like that.” “Why?” I whispered. I took a small step closer. Testing him. Again. “Because then I start believing you want it again.“ My heart sped up. But not from fear. I held his gaze. “And what if I do?” A moment. Just one. Then something in his expression tightened—not restraining. Breaking. His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, holding me there. This time without hesitation. “Then stop pretending you’re the one in control. His forehead rested lightly against mine. Too close. Too intense. His gaze dropped briefly to my neck—to the place still pulsing. And I felt it again. That pull. That connection. “You don’t belong only to yourself anymore,” he said quietly. No doubt. No question. I should have argued. I really should have. But instead, I slowly lifted my hand… and placed it over his. Pressed it more firmly against my neck. His eyes widened just slightly. Surprised. For the first time. “Then stop holding back,” I whispered. That was all it took. His grip tightened instantly. His gaze darkened. His body moved closer. “You don’t understand what that means,” he murmured. But he didn’t let me go. On the contrary—he pulled me closer. As if he was afraid I might disappear. Or worse—that he’d have to let me go.
It started the next night.
I woke up—not abruptly, not startled—but like something had called me.
No sound. No voice. And still, I knew immediately—him.
My breathing grew shallow as I slowly sat up. My room was dark, quiet… normal. But I wasn’t. My fingers drifted to my neck on their own. The spot still pulsed faintly. And then—a feeling. Not pain. Not fear. But… a pull. Like something was tugging at me, softly, steadily… in a specific direction. I closed my eyes. And for a brief moment—it wasn’t my room anymore. Just darkness. Colder. Deeper. And in the middle of it—Choso. Not seen. But felt. His state. Restless. Tense. My eyes snapped open. My heart started racing—but at the same time, something else settled over me. Calm. Not mine. His. A quiet breath slipped from my lips as something inside me… aligned.
“…You feel that too, don’t you?”
His voice. Not loud. Not real. But there. Inside me. I swallowed.
“Choso…?”
A pause. Then an answer.
“You should sleep.”
Calm. Controlled.
But underneath… something dark. I leaned back against my bed, my pulse still uneven.
“You’re awake.”
A faint exhale.
“I’m always awake.”
The pull grew stronger. Not painful. But demanding.
“Where are you?”
Silence.
“Too close.”
A shiver ran down my spine. And I knew—that wasn’t a metaphor.
I found him the next evening.
Or maybe— he found me. The streets felt emptier than usual, the city suddenly unfamiliar. Like something had shifted since I met him. And this time, he wasn’t in the café. He stood in the shadows of a building, half-hidden. When I approached, he stepped forward. His gaze moved over me instantly—assessing, intense. Possessive. “You came.” No surprise. Just a statement. I crossed my arms lightly. “You called me.” A brief pause. Then: “I didn’t call you.” I held his gaze. “Then explain why I knew where you were.” His jaw tightened slightly. Then he took my hand—not rough, but without asking. Pulling me along. “Come.” “Where—?” “If you stay,” he cut in calmly, “then you need to understand what you’ve stepped into.” His grip tightened. Not painful. But firm. We moved deeper into the city. Away from light. Away from people. The air grew colder. Heavier. “There are rules,” he said finally. His voice was more controlled again—but not calm. “You broke one.” I glanced at him. “Which one?” His eyes flicked to me. “You came back.” I let out a quiet scoff. “That’s a rule now?” “For you, it is.” A brief moment. Then he stopped. An abandoned building. Crumbling. Silent. Not empty. I felt it instantly. Others. Not visible. But there. A cold pressure settled in my chest. “You’re not the only one,” I murmured. His hand tightened slightly around mine. “No.” His gaze hardened. Warning. “And they’re not like me.” A chill. “What does that mean?” He stepped closer. His voice dropped to a whisper. “It means they wouldn’t let you leave.” My heart sped up. And still—I didn’t step back. His gaze stayed on me. “You still don’t understand how dangerous this is for you.” I lifted my chin slightly. “I do.” A small step closer. “I just choose it anyway.” His breath caught. A brief, dangerous moment. Then he pulled me sharply against him. His hand at my back. Firm. Protective. Possessive. “Then stay with me.” Not a request. A command.
I noticed him before I saw him. Not Choso. Someone else. A gaze lingering on me for too long. A feeling that was wrong—not familiar like his. Colder. Emptier. I tensed slightly. Choso noticed instantly. His grip on me tightened. “Don’t move,” he murmured. Too calm. Too dangerous. “What—?” “He’s watching you.” My pulse quickened. “Who?” Too late. A shadow detached itself from the darkness. Slowly. Deliberately. A man, but not really. His eyes slid over me. Interested. Too interested. “You bring humans here?” His voice was cold, amused. “That’s new.” Choso’s entire body tensed. I felt it immediately. Like a predator seconds before striking. “Leave,” Choso said quietly to me. I didn’t move. The stranger smiled faintly. “She stays.” A mistake. A very big one. I saw it instantly, the way something in Choso shifted. His grip turned iron. His gaze red. Dark. Lethal. “You don’t look at her.” His voice wasn’t calm anymore. Not controlled. A faint crack echoed—his nails, longer, sharper. The other vampire let out a quiet laugh. “Or what?”
Silence. Then Choso moved. Too fast to follow. A dull impact. The wall trembled slightly. He had him. His hand around his throat. His eyes burning. “Or I remind you,” he growled low, “what belongs to me.” My breath caught. The air turned heavy. Dangerous. The other vampire still grinned. “So you’re already bound, huh?” A dark smile pulled at Choso’s lips. No warmth. “More than you’d like.” His grip tightened. A faint crack. A warning. Final.
The crack wasn’t the end. It was the beginning. The other vampire’s grin didn’t fade—even with Choso’s hand crushing tighter around his throat.
Instead it widened. “Careful,” he rasped, voice strained but amused. “You’re forgetting yourself.” That was enough. Choso snapped. His grip tightened violently—and then he slammed him into the wall again, harder this time. The impact echoed through the empty building, dust shaking loose from the ceiling. The air turned suffocating. Heavy with something raw. Ancient. The other vampire struck back—fast, sharp—but Choso barely reacted. It was like pain didn’t register anymore. His focus was absolute. “You don’t touch her,” he growled, voice low, distorted with something barely restrained. “You don’t look at her. You don’t even think about her. Each word hit like a blow. Another crash—this time the wall cracked. I stumbled back slightly, my breath uneven as the force of it rippled through the space. This wasn’t a fight. This was something else. Something personal. The other vampire’s expression finally shifted—just slightly. “You’re already lost,” he muttered. Choso didn’t answer. He just moved. Faster. Brutal. Unrelenting. A blur of motion, impact, restraint—until the other one was forced back, pinned, overpowered. And still—Choso didn’t stop. That’s when I felt it. Through the bond. Not just his anger. Not just his hunger. But something deeper. Unstable. Spiraling. Too far gone. “Choso—” He didn’t react. Didn’t hear me.
His control was gone. Completely. The other vampire let out a strained laugh. “She’s the problem, isn’t she?”
Wrong thing to say.
Choso’s eyes flared—burning red, darker than before—and his grip tightened again, dangerously close to something final. That’s when I moved. Before I could think. Before I could stop myself. “Enough.” My voice cut through the air—sharper than I expected. He froze. Not fully. But enough. Just enough. His head turned slightly toward me. And in that moment—I saw it. Not just rage. Not just hunger. Conflict. Barely there. Breaking. I stepped closer. Ignoring the tension. The danger. The fact that both of them could tear me apart in seconds. “Let him go.” A pause. Then, slowly—he did. The other vampire dropped, coughing, but didn’t attack again. Not yet. Because Choso wasn’t looking at him anymore.
He was looking at me. Only me. And that was worse. Much worse. I swallowed, my heart racing as I stepped closer—right into his space. “Look at me,” I said softly. He already was. Too intensely. Too deeply. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his hands still tense, fingers curled like he didn’t trust himself not to grab something again. “Calm down,” I murmured. His expression darkened immediately. “I’m not calm,” he said, voice low, rough, barely held together. “I know.” I didn’t step back.
Instead—I reached for him. Slowly. Carefully.
My fingers brushed his hand. He flinched. Actually flinched. Not away from me—but from himself. “You’re losing control,” I said quietly. Silence. Then—“Because of you.” Not accusing. Just true. I held his gaze. Didn’t deny it. Instead, I lifted my other hand… to my neck. To the mark he’d left. Still sensitive. Still… his. His eyes followed instantly. Dark. Hunger flashing again. “Then take it back,” I whispered. That did it. His breath caught sharply. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” “Maybe not.” A step closer. No distance left. “But I know what it does to you.” His control cracked again—visible this time. Dangerous. “Stop.” He meant it. I didn’t. My fingers pressed lightly against the mark… then dragged just enough to break the skin again. A thin line of red. Fresh. Immediate. The scent hit him instantly. I felt it through the bond—like fire. His hand shot to my wrist.
Too fast.
Too tight.
“Don’t—”
Too late.
I tilted my head slightly. Exposing my neck again. Inviting. Deliberate. “Then stop me.” A breath. A single, fractured breath—and then he was gone again. Not physically.But mentally. Instinct took over. His grip shifted—one hand at my neck, the other pulling me firmly against him. No hesitation. No restraint. His head dropped to my throat— and this time, there was no warning. The bite came harder. Deeper. A sharp inhale tore from my chest—but I didn’t pull away. Didn’t stop him. In fact—my hands gripped his coat tighter. Held him there. The world blurred again—not from pain, but from that same overwhelming pull. Stronger now. Deeper. Like something inside me was opening wider, letting him in. And he felt it. I knew he did. His hold tightened—not aggressive, but desperate. Like he needed more. Like he couldn’t stop. The bond surged. No longer subtle. No longer distant. It flooded everything. His hunger. His need. His focus—all locked on me. Then suddenly—he tore himself away again. Breathing uneven. Eyes wild. But different. Not just hungry. Connected. Anchored. To me. His hand stayed at my neck, thumb brushing over the fresh mark, almost… reverent. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly. But he didn’t sound like he regretted it. I met his gaze, still breathless. “Too late.” Silence. Heavy. Final. Behind him, the other vampire had gone completely still—watching, calculating. And then, slowly—he stepped back. “No,” he murmured under his breath. “You really are bound.” Choso didn’t even look at him. Didn’t acknowledge him. Didn’t care. Because now—there was only one thing in his focus.
Me.
His hand tightened slightly at my neck. Not to hurt. But to keep. “To anyone else,” he said low, voice steady again—but darker than ever, “you’re untouchable now.”
A pause. Then, softer—but worse.
“But to me…”
His gaze dropped briefly to the mark again.
“…you’re not.”
He didn’t let go of me. Not even as the other vampire disappeared into the shadows. Not even when the silence returned. Choso’s hand remained at my neck, steady, grounding—like he needed to be sure I was still there. Or that I wouldn’t leave. “Come,” he said quietly. No hesitation. No question. His grip shifted—guiding, firm—and this time, I followed without resistance.
The place he brought me to wasn’t like I expected. No grand space. No luxury. Just a room. Dark. Minimal. Almost empty. But it felt like him. Still. Controlled. Isolated. The door closed behind us with a soft click. And the moment it did—something changed. The distance he had forced earlier… disappeared. Completely. He turned to me slowly, his gaze dragging over me like he was taking in every detail again. Checking. Confirming. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, but his voice had lost its edge. It wasn’t a warning anymore. It sounded… strained. I leaned back slightly against the wall, watching him. “And yet you brought me.” A pause. Then he stepped closer. “Because I don’t trust myself to let you walk away again.” Honest. Too honest.
My pulse picked up—but I didn’t move. Didn’t try to create distance. Instead, I tilted my head slightly. Exposing my neck. Deliberate. His eyes followed immediately. Darkened. A slow breath left him. “You keep doing that.” “Doing what?” I asked softly. “Offering.” The word lingered in the air. Heavy. Intentional. I stepped closer. Until the space between us was gone again. “Maybe I’m just not afraid of you.” That wasn’t true. But it wasn’t entirely false either. Something flickered in his expression. Not anger. Something deeper. “You should be.” “Why?” A dangerous question. His hand lifted again—this time slower—and settled at my waist, pulling me just slightly closer. Not rough. But claiming. “Because I don’t stop easily.” My breath caught—just for a second. Then I placed my hand over his. Pressed it more firmly against me. “I’ve noticed.” That was all it took. His restraint thinned instantly. His other hand came up to my neck again—familiar now, almost instinctive—and his thumb brushed over the fresh mark. Sensitive. Still warm. I inhaled sharply. He felt it. “You feel that,” he murmured. Not a question. I nodded faintly. “So do you.” Silence. Charged. Then his head dipped slightly—his forehead almost touching mine. His voice dropped. “You don’t understand what happens if I keep doing this.” “Then don’t stop,” I whispered. Another mistake. Or maybe exactly what he needed. His grip tightened—subtly, but unmistakably. “Say that again.” I didn’t. Instead—I tilted my head further. Gave him access. Invited him. And this time…he didn’t resist. His lips brushed my skin first—cold, controlled—but it didn’t last. His restraint broke faster now. His hold on me became firmer, more certain, as his head lowered to my neck again. The bite came quicker this time. Less hesitation. Still sharp—but followed immediately by that same pull. Stronger now. Deeper. It wasn’t just him taking. It felt like something was connecting. My fingers tightened in his shirt as my breath faltered, my body reacting before my mind could catch up. And he—he reacted to that. A low, restrained sound left him, his hold shifting—closer, tighter—as if grounding himself through me. The room felt smaller. The air heavier. Everything narrowed down to this to him. To the bond. And this time…he didn’t pull away immediately. When he finally did— it was slower. Reluctant. His forehead rested briefly against my shoulder, his breathing uneven—not from exhaustion, but from control.
From holding back.
His hand remained at my neck, thumb tracing over the mark again. Almost absent-minded. Almost… possessive. “You’re making this worse,” he murmured. But his voice lacked resistance. I exhaled slowly, still catching my breath. “Does it feel like that to you?” A pause. Then— “No.” His hand tightened slightly. “It feels like I don’t want to stop.” Silence settled again. Heavy. Different now. Because this time— it wasn’t just tension. It was something established. Something real. He lifted his head, his gaze locking onto mine again. Darker. Steadier. Certain. “You don’t leave this room alone anymore,” he said quietly. Not aggressive. Not loud. But absolute. "You hear me?" His thumb pressed gently against the pulse point at my neck, emphasizing his words. "No arguments. No walking out alone.
Not until I say so." His other hand slid from my waist up to my jawline, tilting my face up towards him. "Understand?"
"Nod if you understand," he commanded softly, his eyes searching mine for compliance. When I nodded slightly, he let out a slow breath. His thumb traced my bottom lip briefly before dropping his hand back to my neck possessively.
"Good."
He stepped back then, giving me some space but keeping his hand at my neck, as if he needed the constant contact. "Stay here," he ordered, moving towards the door. "I'll be back soon." With that, he exited the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
Weeks passed, and the bond between us deepened with each quiet feeding. Choso was careful—always so damn careful—with me. He never took more than he needed, always checking my face for signs of discomfort or fatigue. And after every time, he’d cradle me close like I was something fragile and precious. He started keeping a glass of warm water by the bedside before feedings—“to replace what you lost,” he said gruffly—and would gently press it into my hands afterward.
! ! ! +18 ! ! !
And then the day came i was thinking all day about since we share this Kind of relationship... what happends when..i get my period?!
He noticed the subtle change in my scent and behavior before I even realized it myself. As the day wore on, he grew quieter, more contemplative. That evening, as he returned to our shared room, he found me curled up on the bed, looking pensive.
"Is this..?" He approached slowly, picking up on my mood. "Your cycle starting?" He'd learned enough about human biology to understand what was happening. I nodded into my pillow, suddenly feeling awkward and embarrassed. He sat beside me carefully, not touching.
I hear a soft growl „let me take care of you"
His hands gently moved to my waist, carefully pulling me into his lap. Despite the situation, his touch was tender. He buried his face in my neck, inhaling deeply - even my menstrual scent seemed to affect him differently now.
"Shh.." His large hands rubbed soothing circles on my back. He knew this was a sensitive time for humans. He lifted me slightly, pulling down my pants carefully, noticing the blood-stained underwear. "Let me help...'* something in his eyes changed. sharp. hungry. He didn't hesitate. His tongue swept over the blood-stained fabric, lapping it up with a slow, deliberate hunger. The copper scent of my period blood seemed to drive him wild— triggering a primal, predatory response that vanished all the caution he usually practiced.
"You smell... intoxicating," he groaned, the sound vibrating against my skin. His hands gripped my hips possessively as he continued to clean me with his tongue, the action surprisingly intimate and erotic. The blood seemed to affect him differently-making him more aggressive, more dominant. He pulled the underwear off completely, spreading my legs wider. "More.." he demanded roughly. He buried his face between my thighs, lapping at the blood with a fierce hunger. His tongue swirled around my clit, tasting me deeply. The combination of my menstrual blood and arousal seemed to drive him into a frenzy. He growled against me, the sound vibrating through my entire body.
He lifted your legs over his shoulders, pulling you nearer. His tongue continued its relentless exploration, mixing blood and arousal into a heady elixir. One hand moved to my stomach, holding me in place, while the other gripped my hip possessively. He didn't stop. If anything, the combination of blood and arousal made him more aggressive, more demanding. His tongue pushed deeper, lapping up every drop. The room filled with wet sounds and his muffled groans of satisfaction.
Your period seemed to make him utterly feral.
He felt it—that moment when your body tensed unexpectedly. He didn't slow down. Instead, he intensified his efforts, his tongue circling your clit with relentless precision. The taste of blood and your natural juices combined into something deliciously intoxicating. He was addicted.
Your hips bucked against his face involuntarily.
"That's it... let go." The sound of your orgasm echoed off the bedroom walls, mixed with his hungry growls. Your body clamped down around his tongue, releasing more fluid that he greedily swallowed. Your period blood mingled with your arousal, creating a unique flavor that seemed to trigger something primal in him. He didn't stop even after you came. He continued to lap at you, his tongue pushing deeper, drinking down every drop. He felt your body relax, your legs falling open wider. He took advantage, spreading you even more, his tongue reaching higher, curling inside you to taste the source of the blood. His tongue found a new source of blood higher up, closer to your womb. He growled against you, the sound possessive and satisfied. He began to thrust his tongue in and out, mimicking the action of mating. The taste of blood so close to the center of your femininity made him wild with desire. His growl deepened as he felt the hot rush of fresh blood seep out. He pulled back just enough to look up at you-eyes dark with hunger, lips glistening with a mix of blood and arousal.
"Every drop," he rasped, his voice feral. "I want every drop you give me." „Cho-nhggahhh~Choso please, im so emberrased" He ignored your embarrassed protests, his eyes locked onto your face with an intense, possessive gaze. He ducked his head back between your thighs, his tongue delving deep to catch the fresh flow of blood. The embarrassment in your voice only seemed to fuel his desire, making him more determined to taste every bit of you. „Ahhhngh oh God don't S-stop" He smirked against your pussy, his tongue swirling around your clit possessively. He knew you were embarrassed, but he also knew you were enjoying this dark, taboo form of intimacy. He pushed his tongue deeper, forcing more blood out of you. "You're bleeding so beautifully.."
„D-Don't say something like that!"
Choso chuckled darkly, his tongue circling your cervix as he spoke dirty words against your sensitive flesh. "Your period blood is so fucking delicious. I could drink it all day." He sucked hard, pulling more blood into his mouth. "You're making me so horny..." He felt your body tense, a fresh wave of blood flowing out. He moaned loudly against you, the sound vibrating through your core. His hands gripped your thighs tightly as he drank deeply, savoring the metallic taste mixed with your natural sweetness. "Shh... just let me have it..' His tongue pushed deeper, curling inside you to collect every drop. He could feel your uterus contracting, releasing more blood. He was practically eating you out, his face buried between your thighs. The sight of you bleeding so heavily was incredibly arousing to him. "Fuck...Im gonna fuck this bloody pussy of yours now" he growld deep. He pulled back with a snarl, his face smeared with blood and arousal. His eyes were wild with hunger and possession. He stood up, his large hands gripping your hips and flipping you over onto your hands and knees. He kicked your legs further apart, spreading your thighs wide open. Blood mixed with your pussy juices dripped onto the bedsheets. He growled possessively, running a large hand over your backside before smacking your ass hard enough to leave a red handprint. "Hold still.." His large, rock-hard cock sprang free as he pushed his pants down. It was already leaking pre-cum, throbbing with the need to be inside your bloody pussy. He grabbed the base and stroked it roughly, watching the clear liquid leak out. "Look at this big, hard dick..." You look over your shoulder. His eyes locked with yours, a primal hunger burning in his gaze. He wrapped a large hand around your waist, pulling your hips back. His thick, angry red head pressed against your swollen, bloody lips. "You see this big dick? It's gonna fuck this bloody cunt so good.." With a feral growl, he pushed his hips forward, thrusting his huge cock deep into your bloody pussy in one brutal movement. He bottomed out instantly, his massive balls slapping against your clit. He leaned over your back, caging you in with his arms as he started to pound into you ruthlessly.
The wet, squelching sound of his massive cock plowing through your bloody pussy filled the room. He fucked you like an animal, his powerful thighs slamming into your ass with each brutal thrust. Blood and pussy juices mixed together, coating his length and dripping down onto his balls. „Nhgg ahhh fuck fuck fuuuuuck" He snarled against the back of your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin as he bit down hard. His hips moved like a machine, jackhammering into your bloody cunt with brutal force. He could feel your inner walls clenching around him, trying to adjust to his enormous size. "Take this big dick..." His thick, muscular arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back onto his massive body as he drank your blood directly from the wound he created. His hips never stopped moving, his huge dick pounding into your soaked pussy from behind. "Mmm... sweet blood..." He felt your body go limp in his arms as you lost yourself to the overwhelming sensations. His cock swelled even larger inside you, hitting that perfect spot deep within your bloody pussy with every brutal thrust. He growled against your neck, drinking deeply as he fucked you senseless. His movements became more erratic, his control slipping as he lost himself in the primal act. He released your neck with a bloody smirk, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pounded into you like a beast. His cock was so deep, it felt like it was hitting your womb. His eyes rolled back as he felt your pussy clamping down on his thick length, your body convulsing with pleasure despite the pain. He knew you were coming hard around him, your bloody walls milking his massive cock. With a deep roar, he buried himself to the hilt and held there. His massive balls tightened as he released a huge stream of hot, sticky cum deep inside your bleeding pussy. He kept thrusting slowly, making sure every drop coated your insides and mixed with the blood already leaking out
"Fuck... this is the best pussy I've ever had.."
He pulled out slowly, his huge cock still semi-hard and dripping with a mixture of blood and cum. He looked down at the mess between your legs with a satisfied smirk, his hand reaching down to spread your bloody pussy lips open and watch his seed drip out.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Not empty—but full.
Thick with everything that had just happened. With the bond pulsing between you. With him. Choso didn’t move away immediately. His hand remained on you, firm—almost grounding, as if he needed to be sure you were still real, still there, still his. His breathing was uneven. Not human. Never human. Slowly, his gaze lifted from where it had been fixed… back to your face. And something in his expression shifted. Not hunger. Not just that anymore. Something deeper. Darker. “You feel it now,” he said quietly. Not a question. Your body still felt… wrong. Overwhelmed. Heavy, like it didn’t fully belong to you anymore. Like part of you had been pulled somewhere else—and hadn’t come back completely. But at the same time—you felt him. Clearer than before. Stronger. Closer. Your fingers curled weakly against him, grounding yourself.
“I… can’t tell where I end anymore.” A pause. Then his hand tightened slightly. “You don’t.”
The words should have scared you.
Maybe they did.
But not enough.
He shifted closer again, slower this time—controlled, deliberate. His fingers brushed along your neck, over the marks he had left, tracing them like something important.
Something claimed. “You let me take too much,” he murmured. But there was no regret in it. Only awareness. Only possession. You swallowed softly, your voice quieter now. “You didn’t stop.” His eyes darkened. “I told you I wouldn’t.” A beat. Then, softer— “I meant it.” The connection between you pulsed again, sharper this time. You felt it in your chest, in your veins—like something alive had rooted itself inside you. Not painful. But undeniable. Choso’s hand slid from your neck to your jaw, tilting your face slightly toward him. His gaze locked onto yours. Focused. Intense. Unbreakable. “No one else touches you now,” he said. Not raised. Not aggressive. But absolute. A statement of fact.
Your breath caught slightly—not from fear.
From the weight of it. “And you?” you asked quietly.
A dangerous question. His thumb brushed slowly across your lower lip. Possessive. Measured. “I don’t share.” Silence. Then he leaned in—close enough that his forehead nearly touched yours again, his presence overwhelming in the small space. “You’re going to start noticing it,” he continued, voice low. “The changes.” A faint tension returned to your body. “What kind of changes?” His gaze flicked briefly to your neck again.
Then back to your eyes. “Hunger,” he said simply. A pause.
“Me.”
The bond pulsed again—stronger this time, almost answering him. You felt it. That pull. That need. And for the first time— it wasn’t just his. Your breath hitched softly. He saw it. Of course he did.
A faint, dark satisfaction flickered across his expression. “Yeah,” he murmured. “That.” His hand tightened just slightly against you.
And still—you didn’t pull away. Choso’s gaze softened—just barely. Almost unnoticeable. But there.
Then his hand slid down again, steady, anchoring. “Stay,” he said. Not a command this time. Not entirely. Something else. Lower. Closer. “Or it’s going to get worse.”
The school bell rang sharply through the hallways, and like every morning, everyone poured out at once—voices, footsteps, lockers slamming.
You leaned against your locker, pretending to look for something.
But really… you were waiting.
For him.
Toji walked down the hallway like he always did—hands in his pockets, completely unbothered, like nothing in the world could shake him.
Except… you had started to notice something.
His eyes flicked toward you.
Just for a second.
But it was enough to make your heart skip.
“Are you waiting for him again?” Shoko whispered with a grin, nudging you.
“No,” you said way too quickly.
Across the hall, Toji stood with your shared friend group, laughing at something someone said. But every now and then, his gaze drifted back to you—subtle, almost like he didn’t want to get caught.
“He keeps looking over here, by the way,” Shoko added.
You froze. “What?”
“Yeah. You two are actually hopeless.”
Later, during lunch, you were all sitting outside on the steps. The sun was warm, someone was playing music, and the conversation kept jumping from topic to topic.
You sat between two friends. Toji sat across from you. You barely spoke to each other. But every time someone made a joke, you both looked up at the same time—meeting each other’s eyes for a split second before quickly looking away.
It was almost ridiculous.
⸻
He didn’t get it.
He’d never had trouble talking to people. Ever.
But with you… it was different.
You laughed at things no one else noticed. You actually listened. And when you looked at him, it felt like all that confidence he usually carried just… slipped.
“Dude, just go talk to her,” Geto said beside him.
Toji scoffed. “It’s not that simple.”
“Yeah, it is.”
Toji glanced at you again.
You were smiling at something, playing with your drink, completely unaware of the effect you had on him.
What if I mess it up? he thought.
⸻
After class, somehow, you both ended up being the last ones in the classroom.
Completely by accident.
…Right?
You packed your bag slowly.
Too slowly.
He did the same.
Silence.
“Uh…” you both started at the same time.
You looked at each other—and then both laughed.
The tension cracked just a little.
“You go first,” Toji said. “No, you.”
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly annoyed at himself. “I was just gonna ask… are you coming tomorrow? After school?” You smiled. “Yeah. Of course.” A pause.
That’s it?
You wanted to say more. You really did. But the words just… stayed stuck.
As you walked out of the classroom together, your shoulders brushed—just barely.
Almost.
Neither of you made the final move.
Not yet.
⸻
The next day, you were all sitting together again, just like always. Same friends. Same place.
But something had changed. Because now, both of you knew— There was something there.
And even if neither of you knew how to act on it yet…it was only a matter of time before one of you found the courage.
Or maybe—you’d just meet each other halfway.
⸻
The next day felt the same. And yet… not at all.
You were sitting with your friend group on the steps again. Someone was complaining about class, someone else was scrolling through TikTok, and quiet music played from a phone.
But between you and Toji… there was something now.
Unspoken.
You could feel it.
And so could he.
You tried to focus on the conversation, but your eyes kept drifting back to him. He sat a little to the right, looking as calm as ever… but today, he seemed quieter. More thoughtful. Like something was on his mind.
You?
Your heart skipped at the thought.
“Hey, we’re going into town later. You coming?” someone from the group asked. Everyone agreed.
You hesitated—just for a second. “Yeah, sure.” Your eyes flicked to Toji. He gave a small nod. “Me too.”
After school, you all walked together. It was loud, chaotic, everyone talking over each other.
And somehow… it just happened.
Without planning it—you ended up walking next to him. Right next to Toji. Your hands were close. Way too close. Your pulse quickened.
Say something.
“Um…” you started.
He glanced at you. “Hm?”
And suddenly, your mind went blank. “Nothing,” you mumbled quickly. He smirked a little. “You’re bad at saying ‘nothing.’” You laughed. “And you’re good at it?” “Pretty.”
A short pause.
Then, quieter: “…not with you.”
You stopped walking for a second. “What?”
He stopped too. The others kept going ahead, barely noticing. This time, Toji didn’t look away.
Not for a split second. Not casually. He really looked at you. “I mean…” he exhaled, slightly annoyed with himself, “it’s just… different with you.”
Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.
“Different… good or bad?” you asked carefully.
He raised an eyebrow. “If it was bad, I wouldn’t keep trying to walk next to you, would I?”
Silence.
Your brain took a second to catch up.
Then—you smiled. Genuine. Warm.
“Good to know…” you said softly.
Your friends called out from ahead. “Hey! You coming or what?!”
You both looked at each other for just a moment longer.
Then you kept walking.
This time… a little closer.
Later, when you were all sitting together again, everything looked the same. Same friends. Same jokes. But now—when your shoulders brushed neither of you pulled away.
Maybe it wasn’t a big confession.
Not some dramatic moment.
But it was a start.
And sometimes…that’s all you need.
⸻
The days after that start to change.
Not suddenly. Not dramatically. But in those small moments no one else really notices.
You’re sitting in class, absentmindedly doodling in your notebook, when suddenly a folded note lands on your desk.
You look up, confused.
A seat behind you, Toji is staring out the window, like he has absolutely nothing to do with it. You unfold the note.
“You’re paying even less attention than usual today.”
You can’t help but smile.
You turn slightly, raising an eyebrow at him.
He just shrugs.
⸻
That afternoon, you’re all hanging out again.
Closer than before.
And no one really points it out.
Or maybe… they do.
“You two have been kinda… weird lately,” Gojo says, glancing between you.
You freeze for a second. Toji, on the other hand, stays completely relaxed. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. You talk more… but also somehow less.” Silence.
You don’t know what to say.
Toji leans back. “Maybe we’re just more interesting than you.” The group laughs. The topic drops.
But his eyes meet yours for a moment.
And this time, neither of you looks away.
⸻
A few days later…It’s raining. Hard.
You’re both standing under the small roof outside the school, waiting for it to slow down.
Everyone else already ran off.
It’s just the two of you now. “Don’t you have an umbrella?” he asks. You shake your head. “You?”
He lifts his backpack slightly. “Yeah.”
A short pause.
Then he sighs quietly, almost annoyed with himself.
“Come here.”
A few seconds later, you’re both under a way-too-small umbrella.
Way too close.
Your shoulder brushes against his. Your arm grazes his with every step.
It’s quiet.
Not awkward.
Just… intense.
“You’re pretty quiet today,” he says after a while. You look ahead. “I’m always quiet.” “Not like this.”
You hesitate. “I’m just thinking.” “About?”
You let out a small laugh. “If I tell you, it’ll get weird.” He glances down at you. “I think we’re way past that point.”
Silence.
Rain falls steadily around you.
Your heart beats faster.
“…About you,” you finally say.
He stops walking.
So do you. For a moment, neither of you moves.
Then he exhales slowly. “Good,” he mutters.
You blink. “Good?” He looks at you.
Directly. Honestly. No looking away this time. “Because I’ve been thinking about you this whole time.”
The world suddenly feels… quieter.
Like nothing else matters.
You don’t say anything. You don’t have to.
Because this time—there’s no distance left between you.
Not just physically.
And maybe that was the moment when maybe finally turned into something real.
The rain keeps falling against the umbrella.
But you barely hear it anymore.
All you can hear is your heartbeat.
Too loud. Too fast.
You’re standing in front of Toji, so close you can feel his breath. So close that one small step would be enough. But neither of you moves.
Not yet.
“Say that again…” you manage to whisper. Your voice betrays you. That slight tremble. He raises an eyebrow—not teasing, more surprised. “Which part?” You swallow. “That you…” The words get stuck. He just looks at you. Waits. Doesn’t push. And somehow that makes it worse. Or better.
“That you think about me,” you finally whisper.
Silence. Then a quiet, almost breathless laugh from him. Not because it’s funny. Because he’s nervous. For the first time. “The whole time,” he says softly. Your heart skips—then starts racing even faster.
A step. He moves closer. Or maybe you do.
You’re not even sure anymore. Everything feels a little blurred. His gaze softens in a way you’ve never seen before.
“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmurs.
You let out a quiet laugh, even though your heart is completely out of control. “You too.”
Silence again. But this time it’s different. Heavier.
Full. Like something is about to happen.
Now.
Your eyes flick down to his lips.
Big mistake. Or maybe the best one. Because when you look back up—he noticed. Of course he did.
“If I…” he starts quietly. He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to. You shake your head ever so slightly. A silent don’t stop. Or maybe a please.
And then it happens.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like he’s giving you every second to pull away.
But you don’t.
Instead—you lean in too.
When your lips meet, the world really does stop.
No rain.
No school.
No people.
Just you.
And this one feeling that finally found its way out.
It’s not a perfect kiss. A little unsure. A little hesitant. But real. So real it makes you dizzy.
When you pull apart, you stay close.
Way too close to pretend nothing happened. His forehead rests lightly against yours. “…okay,” he murmurs. You let out a breathless laugh. “Okay? That’s it?” He smirks slightly. “I’m trying not to completely lose my mind right now.” “Too late,” you whisper.
He looks at you. And this time there’s nothing held back. No hesitation. Just clarity.
His hand finds yours. Naturally. Like it’s always belonged there. And your heart? Still racing.
But this time—it finally feels right. The rain starts to slow down. But neither of you moves.
Why would you?
You’re still standing under the umbrella, your hand in his, your heart somewhere between way too fast and I can’t think straight anymore.
Toji looks at you like he’s just now realizing what happened.
Or maybe…like this is exactly what he’s been waiting for.
“So…,” you say quietly. Big mistake. Your voice still sounds way too breathless. He raises an eyebrow slightly. “So?” You let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t know. I thought you’re supposed to say something smart after that.” He lets out a quiet scoff. “Then we’re both wrong for the job.”
For a moment, you just stand there.
His hand tightens around yours—just slightly.
Not firm.
But intentional.
Like he’s making sure you’re still there.
“Does that mean…,” you start, glancing away for a second, “…that we—” “Yes.” You blink. “I didn’t even finish the sentence.” “Didn’t have to,” he says calmly.
You look at him again. Directly.
“And what exactly does yes mean?”
A small grin spreads across his face. “That I don’t want to just look at you in secret anymore.”
Your heart skips.
“And?”
He steps a little closer.
Again.
“That I want to kiss you without pretending it was an accident.”
Your breath catches.
“And…,” he adds more quietly, “…that I don’t want to let you go anymore.” Silence.
Your fingers squeeze his harder.
An answer.
You feel something inside you finally settle. All that uncertainty. All those what ifs. Gone. Just like that. „Good,” you murmur. He raises an eyebrow. “Good? That’s it?” You smile softly. “I’m trying not to completely lose my mind right now.”
He lets out a quiet laugh.
“Too late,” he says.
The rain has almost stopped. You could leave. Go back to your friends. Back to reality. But instead, you stay. You tug lightly on his hand, pulling him back. He looks at you, surprised. “What?”
You shrug. “Just… a little longer.” His expression softens.
And this time—he kisses you without hesitation.
No pause.
No careful testing like before.
Your heart starts racing again.
Faster.
Stronger.
But now there’s no doubt left.
Just that feeling of finally.
Somewhere in the distance someone calls your names. More than once.
You pull apart slowly. He exhales quietly. “We’re definitely getting made fun of when we go back.”
You grin. “Definitely.” A short pause.
Then: “Worth it.”
And for the first time—
really for the first time—you walk back together. Not just side by side.
Heeey, make yourself comfy and enjoy reading💕 i also prepared a lil‘ Playlist for the vibe…
This 👇🏻 is for the Dirty-part
Playing the Game
Your POV:
I was never the kind of person people write stories about.
Not invisible—but not important enough to stand out either. I was just… there. I went to my lectures, usually sat somewhere in the middle, neither in the front nor in the back, took half-hearted notes, and disappeared again afterward. No parties, no big friend groups. A few acquaintances, nothing more.
And then there was Shoko.
Shoko was the opposite of me, without being loud. She had this quiet presence that naturally drew people in. She didn’t talk much, but when she did, people listened. We knew each other from a shared seminar—nothing special, just sat next to each other, eventually started grabbing coffee together. I never thought she would completely turn my life upside down. “Come with me tonight,” she said one day as we stood in front of the lecture hall. Completely casual, like she was asking if I needed notes. “Where to?” I asked. “To friends.” I should have said no. Instead, I just shrugged. “Okay.”
Big mistake.
The house was loud even from the outside. Music was pounding through the walls, voices, laughter—that kind of party where you already know before stepping in that you don’t really belong. I paused for a moment, unsure if I should just turn around and leave. Of course, Shoko noticed. “You can still go back,” she said calmly. I shook my head, even though everything in me wanted exactly that. “No… I’ll manage.”
She just nodded and opened the door.
And then I was inside.
The smell of alcohol, perfume, and something sweet hit me immediately. People everywhere. Too many. I tried not to look lost as I followed Shoko, who moved effortlessly through the crowd.
And then she stopped.
“Hey.”
Just one word. But it was enough.
Several heads turned toward us at once.
Or rather—to her.
And right in the middle of that group stood him.
Toji.
I knew his name, even though I had never met him personally. Everyone knew him. Quarterback. Parties. Girls. The kind of guy rumors never stopped circling around. He was leaning casually against the kitchen island, a cup in his hand, like he had invented this room. Like everyone here was… his audience. His gaze briefly slid over Shoko—and then stopped on me. For too long. I felt my stomach tighten. “Shoko,” he grinned, “you bringing guests now?”
“She’s with me,” she said simply.
No explanation. No name.
His gaze moved back to me. Slowly. Examining. Almost… interested? “Then I guess I should get to know her.” He pushed himself off the counter and walked straight toward me. Too close. “So?”, he said, slightly amused, “are you part of us now?” I didn’t know what to say. So I just said the first thing that came to mind. “I don’t think so.”
A brief silence.
Then he grinned.
Not that superficial party grin. But something… different. “Too bad,” he murmured.
And right in that moment, I had the uneasy feeling that this was only the beginning.
A few days later, everything felt different, pretty new.
Not like my life had completely changed—but like something had shifted. Slightly. Barely noticeable. And yet enough that I felt it every time I unlocked my phone and suddenly saw messages in a group chat I really didn’t belong in.
“Who’s in tonight?”
“Toji’s bringing alcohol.”
“Don’t lie, you’ll drink it yourself.”
I would’ve ignored messages like that before.
Now I didn’t.
It was strange how quickly you could get used to things.
A few days. Two, three hangouts. A spontaneous coffee after class that turned into “just stopping by for a bit”—and suddenly I was sitting right in the middle of them, like I had never belonged anywhere else. I didn’t talk much. I didn’t have to. Shoko was there. And somehow… that was enough.
And Toji?
He was always there.
Too loud. Too present. Too… everything. And still, I started to notice that he looked at me more often than necessary. Not obvious. Not in a way anyone else would notice.
But I did.
Always just briefly. Always exactly when I didn’t expect it. And every time, that same, hard-to-grasp feeling.
Like I was getting pulled into something I didn’t fully understand.
That evening, I was out alone. Nothing special. Grocery shopping. A bag that was way too heavy, cutting into my fingers as I walked back. The sky had been gray all day, but I had hoped it would hold. It didn’t. The rain came suddenly. At first just a few drops. Then more. Within seconds, I was half soaked. “Perfect,” I muttered quietly, pulling my jacket tighter.
The quickest way home led past the football field. Usually, it was empty in the evening. Not today. I stopped automatically. There was someone there. Alone. On the field.
Toji.
Of course.
Who else would voluntarily train in the rain?
He moved quickly across the wet grass, like the weather didn’t matter at all. The ball flew through the air, landed precisely in his hands, again and again. Steps, turn, throw. Everything repeated, almost mechanically—but not unfocused. More like… controlled. He looked different than at the parties. No grin. No audience. Just him. And the game. Rain ran down his face and neck, his shirt clung to his body, and still he didn’t take a break. I should have just kept walking.
I didn’t.
I stood there, half under a tree, my bag in hand, and watched him. For too long.
Like I had forgotten I was actually supposed to be somewhere.
The next throw missed. For the first time. The ball landed a few meters away in the wet grass.
Toji stopped.
And then he lifted his head.
Right in my direction.
Damn.
For a brief moment, neither of us moved. Then he slowly walked over to the ball, picked it up—without taking his eyes off me. “You know,” he called out over the rain, his voice surprisingly calm, “staring is rude, Doll” I could’ve turned around. Just pretended he wasn’t talking to me. Instead, I raised an eyebrow slightly. “Training alone in the rain isn’t exactly normal either.” A brief moment of silence.
Then that grin.
That different one again. “And yet you’re standing here watching.” He took a few steps closer, but stayed on the field. The rain got heavier. “So?” he said. “What is it? Boredom… or interest? I hesitated.
Just for a second.
“I was on my way home,” I answered simply. His gaze dropped to my bag. Then back to me. Slowly. Assessing. “Sure,” he murmured. He didn’t believe me. Of course not. A few seconds passed where only the rain could be heard. Then he tossed the ball lightly into the air and caught it again. “You staying?”
No demand. No expectation. Just a question.
And somehow, that made it worse.
“No,” I said, pulling my jacket tighter around me as if I was only now realizing how cold I actually was. “I just want to go home.”
For a moment, he just looked at me. That look again—calm, but somehow… penetrating. Like he could see more than I was saying.
Then he gave a slight shrug.
“Suit yourself.” No more words. No attempt to stop me, because why should he?!
Friday came faster than I expected. The game against our rival was the event of the semester. Even people who didn’t usually care about football showed up. The campus had been buzzing all day—colors, voices, music, everywhere. And somehow… I was right in the middle of it. I stood in front of my mirror for a moment, looking at myself. The team jersey sat loosely on me. Not perfectly styled, nothing special—but enough to show that I belonged. Or at least… that I was pretending to. I never thought I’d wear something like that. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have cared.
Now I did.
The stadium was full.
The crowd moved like one single mass, shouting, cheering, laughing. I paused for a second, letting my gaze drift over the field. Players were warming up—then I saw him.
Toji.
Even from a distance, he was impossible to miss. Focused, concentrated, completely in his element. No trace of the guy from the parties—and yet… exactly the same. I crossed my arms slightly, watching him. Like I was looking for something. Or trying to confirm something. I wasn’t sure what.
“You came.” Shoko’s voice next to me made me flinch slightly. “Yeah,” I murmured. She glanced at me briefly, then back at the field. “With a jersey.” There was a hint of amusement in her voice. I shrugged lightly. “Is that so bad?” “No,” she said calmly. “Just new.” I didn’t respond. My gaze stayed forward.
The game started.
And suddenly everything was loud. Shouts, footsteps, collisions—that raw energy you couldn’t really understand unless you were in the middle of it.
And Toji?
He was… good.
Too good.
Fast, precise, controlled. Every pass hit. Every movement felt planned, even when it had to be spontaneous.
I noticed myself focusing only on him.
Not the game.
Him.
A brief moment. A play had ended, the players broke apart. And for a split second, Toji lifted his head. His gaze moved over the stands.
And stopped.
On me?
I was sure of it. Too sure. My heart made a sudden, unexpected jump. And then—very slightly—a grin spread across his lips.
————————-
The win was loud.
The stadium had exploded when the final play was over. Cheers, shouting, people jumping over the stands, hugging each other, beer flying somewhere through the air.
And Toji?
Toji lived for moments like that.
Now the frat house was packed.
Music blasted through the walls, the floor vibrated under people’s steps, and everywhere there were voices, laughter, clinking glasses.
Toji stood right in the middle of it. Exactly where he always stood. At the center.
A cup in his hand, half empty, like he’d gotten it at some point and never really paid attention to it. Two cheerleaders were hanging on him—literally. One had an arm around his shoulders, the other was leaning against him, way too close, way too familiar. He just let it happen. Of course he did. “Told you we’d win,” he grinned, more into the room than at anyone in particular. “You say that every time,” one of them laughed, nudging him lightly. “And I’m right, so don’t complain.”
A few people around him laughed. Everything as usual. He was only half listening. Pretending he was fully there, like any of this actually interested him.
But really? It didn’t.
His gaze kept drifting across the room. Casual. Quick. Searching. Until he saw you.
You were standing a little off to the side, not right in the center, but not completely outside either. Somewhere in between. Exactly where you always placed yourself.
Different from the others.
No forced laughter. No attempt to get attention.
Just… there.
His gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary.
Again.
He had almost started noticing how often that happened. And it annoyed him a little.
“Toji, are you even listening?” the voice next to him pulled him back. He smirked slightly without really paying attention. “Yeah.” He wasn’t. His eyes drifted again. To you.
You were holding a cup now. Talking to Shoko. Calm. Unbothered. Like you weren’t standing in a room full of people trying to be seen.
Weird.
The cheerleaders moved closer. One of them casually ran her fingers along his arm, letting them linger a second too long. Normally, he would’ve reacted. A comment. A grin. Something.
Today?
Not really.
His attention was somewhere else.
“I’ll be back,” he muttered suddenly, slipping out of the situation before anyone could really react.
He set his cup down somewhere and pushed his way through the crowd.
He stopped a few steps away from you.
Crossed his arms slightly, looked you over briefly, like he was deciding what exactly he wanted to say. “You don’t look like you’re celebrating.” Typical. Just straight to the point. His gaze briefly moved over your jersey. A slight, crooked grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “But at least you’re wearing the right colors.”
You don’t react immediately. Of course you don’t. You’re not like the others here. Toji notices that. The way you look at him briefly—not impressed, not nervous—just calm. Almost like it doesn’t matter to you that he’s standing in front of you. That doesn’t happen to him often. “And you look like you’re doing exactly what everyone expects,” you finally say. Dry. Direct.
His grin widens just a bit.
Okay.
Interesting.
He tilts his head slightly, studying you again, this time more openly. Less superficial. Like he’s trying to figure you out—and not quite succeeding. “And what do people expect?” he asks, casual, but with that undertone that says he knows exactly what you mean. You just shrug lightly. “Winning. Celebrating. Girls.“ His gaze briefly drifts back into the room. To the cheerleaders. To the people who are still watching him, even if he’s not standing right in the middle of them anymore. Then back to you. “Doesn’t sound that bad.” “Depends on whether you care about it.” There’s that brief silence again. Not uncomfortable. More like charged. Toji lets out a quiet, almost amused breath. “You’re really not easy, are you?” Not real criticism. More… an observation. You don’t answer right away. Instead, you take a sip from your cup, as if the conversation doesn’t carry any special weight.
And that’s exactly what makes it somehow… more interesting to him.
He takes half a step closer. Not pushy. But closer. “Then why are you here?” he asks, this time a little quieter. No show left in his voice. Less audience, more… real. His gaze stays locked on yours. And for a moment, the noise around you is just background. He doesn’t expect a typical answer. No excuse. No “for the party.” And that’s exactly why he waits. Not impatient. But attentive. Like it actually matters to him what you say.
You take your time.
Toji notices it immediately—this slight hesitation that isn’t really hesitation. More like weighing your options. Like you’re deciding how much you’re even willing to give him.
Most people talk too much.
You don’t.
“Shoko,” you finally say.
Simple.
No explanation.
His expression shifts ever so slightly. A brief nod, more to himself than to you. He could’ve guessed that. And still… the answer doesn’t feel complete. “Just Shoko?” he asks. Lightly challenging. Not too direct, but enough to make it clear what he’s getting at. You glance at him briefly, then away again, somewhere over his shoulder into the crowd.
“Isn’t that enough?” You said.
A small grin tugs at his lips. There it is again.
The way you answer without really answering.
He leans back slightly, arms loosening as he crosses them. “Depends,” he says calmly then adds “For who.”
His gaze stays on you.
Unfiltered.
And this time, he doesn’t look away like you might expect. Behind him, it gets louder again. Someone calls his name. He ignores it. For now.
“You don’t fit in here,” he says suddenly. Not an insult. Not a judgment. Just a statement. His eyes move over you briefly—your calm demeanor, the jersey that somehow fits and doesn’t at the same time. “And yet you’re here.” A short moment. Then that crooked grin again.
“So either you’re curious…” He pauses slightly. “Or you pick trouble on purpose.” His tone is light, almost playful. But there’s something underneath.
Something more serious than he lets on.
Someone calls his name again. Louder this time. He rolls his eyes slightly, annoyed, but doesn’t turn away right away. Instead, he stays exactly where he is. In front of you. Like he’s decided you matter more right now than anything else in this room. “So?” he says quietly. His gaze is direct. Restless. Almost expectant. “What is it?” You hold his gaze.
Without looking away. Without getting nervous.
And that’s the moment Toji realizes he’s already standing too close. Not enough for others to notice. But close enough that he’d see it immediately if you even took a single step back. You don’t. His gaze drops briefly—not obvious, more like a flicker—over your face, your jersey, lingering just a second too long. Then back to your eyes. A quiet, crooked grin. “You know…” he murmurs, his voice lower now, calmer than before, “for someone who’s supposedly only here because of Shoko…” He leans in just a little. Not much. Just enough. “…you’re staying pretty long with me.” His words are casual. But the distance between you isn’t anymore.
You raise an eyebrow slightly. “Maybe you’re just in the way.”
Dry.
Immediate.
His grin widens. Okay. He likes that. “Then maybe you should push me out of it,Baby” he says quietly, almost challenging. He doesn’t move aside. If anything—he stays exactly where he is. Like he’s waiting to see what you’ll do. The noise around you starts to blur. He still registers it—voices, music, someone calling his name—but none of it matters right now.
Not when you’re standing in front of him like that, looking at him like you’re not impressed at all.
That’s new. And damn Hot.
His gaze sharpens just slightly. Less playful. More direct. “Or,” he adds, his voice barely raised over the noise, “you’re not just looking for trouble.”
A brief moment.
Then, almost casually: “Maybe you’re looking for me, Doll.” He says it without hesitation. Without laughing. Like it’s a joke—but it isn’t.
He lifts a hand slightly, like he’s considering touching you. Doesn’t. Lets it fall back down instead. Too soon. Not yet. His gaze still stays locked on you. “So?” he murmurs. Light, but with that underlying pull in his voice.
“What is it, really?”
You let the silence linger a second too long.
On purpose.
His gaze stays on you, waiting—and you use that.
Slowly, you take half a step closer. Not much. But enough that there’s no room for doubt anymore. If anyone saw you now, it would be obvious. Your voice is quieter when you answer. “Maybe…” You lift your gaze to him. Completely calm. “…I just think you assume everyone’s looking for you.”
A hit.
Direct.
His grin shifts.
Less wide.
More… real.
Interested.
“And?” he murmurs, not stepping back, his voice now almost as quiet as yours. “Do I?” His eyes flick briefly to your lips. Just for a second. Then back up. Like he caught himself. Of course you notice. Of course you do.
A small, barely-there smile tugs at the corner of your mouth.
“A little,” you reply. “It’s hard to miss.”
His quiet laugh is more breath than sound.
“And yet you’re standing here,Baby” he counters immediately. No hesitation. His gaze sharpens again, just slightly.
“Pretty close, too.“ You don’t step back.
If anything—you hold his gaze steadily as you answer: “Maybe I’m just testing if that’s true.” “And?” His voice is lower now. Calmer. “Is it?”
A brief moment. Your eyes drift over him—deliberately slower this time. Then back up. “I don’t know,” you say softly. “So far, you seem more… distracted.”
That hits.
And he knows it.
His grin returns, but this time with a slight shake of his head. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”
No trace of mockery. More like… acknowledgment. His hand lifts again. Slower this time.
Hesitant? Maybe.
His fingers brush lightly against your sleeve.
Almost nothing. But enough that it’s not accidental.
“And you’re sure you’re not looking for trouble?” he murmurs.
His gaze stays locked on yours.
No way out.
Your eyes flick briefly to his hand. Then back up.
No stepping away. “Depends,” you say calmly.
A tiny step closer.
Now you’re the one setting the distance.
“On whether it’s worth it. Toji.”
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. At all. His gaze stays on you, like something just shifted.
And this time, he’s the one without an immediate answer.
Unusual.
Then, very quietly: “You have no idea.”
No laugh.
No grin.
Just that low, steady voice. And something about it suddenly doesn’t feel like a game anymore. He moves first this time. Barely noticeable. But close enough that you feel it immediately.
Not just the distance shrinking even more—but the shift. Something tilts. Away from that light back-and-forth. Into something… heavier.
His gaze stays locked on yours.
Too locked.
Like he actually wants to see you now.
“Then maybe I shouldn’t explain it to you,Doll” he murmurs quietly. His voice has dropped. Calmer. Almost dangerous in the way he just lets the words sit there.
You could step back now.
One step. A smile. Some comment that makes everything lighter again.
You don’t.
Instead, your gaze stays on his.
Unshaken.
“Maybe I don’t want it explained,” you say softly.
And this time, there’s no avoidance left in your voice. A very brief moment. Then it happens. His hand lifts again—and this time it doesn’t stop in the air. His fingers close lightly around your arm. Not tight. Not rough. But unmistakable. He doesn’t really pull you closer. You just move. On your own. And suddenly, there’s barely any space left between you. The noise around you fades completely. Not really—but for the two of you, it doesn’t exist anymore. His gaze drops again. Slowly. This time, it doesn’t just linger a moment too long.
This time, it stays. On your lips. And you feel your breath shift, just slightly.
“You’re playing a pretty dangerous game,Baby” he says quietly. Not as a warning. More like… a statement that doesn’t stop him from continuing. His thumb moves lightly against your arm. Barely there. And still, it’s enough. You lift your chin just a little. Just enough. “And you?” you ask calmly. “Aren’t you playing too?”. His breathing slows just a bit. His gaze lifts back to your eyes—and stays there. No distance left. No pulling away.
“I usually stop before it gets complicated, Doll” he murmurs. Quiet. Honest. For the first time. His fingers don’t let go. If anything—they stay, like he’s made a decision. You feel it. That line. That point where it’s not a game anymore.
And still, you don’t step back.
“Then I guess you’re not stopping tonight,” you say softly. Silence. One second. Two.
His gaze darkens. Hardens. And then—a barely visible, slow smile.
Not the usual one.
Not the easy one.
Something that stays.
“No,” he says quietly.
And this time, it doesn’t sound like an option.
It sounds like a decision.
The moment stretches—thin, electric.
Then he closes the last bit of space.
No hesitation. No dramatic pause. Just a slow, firm lean in—and his lips meet yours.
It’s not soft at first. Not gentle or careful like some first kiss might be.
It’s Toji—confident, warm, and slightly possessive from the start.
His mouth moves against yours with quiet certainty—not rushing you but not asking either.
And when your breath hitches? He feels it instantly—the tiny shift in your body as surprise melts into something else entirely.
He doesn’t pull back right away.
Instead… he tilts his head just slightly to deepen it. One hand slides up from your arm to cradle the side of your neck—fingers threading lightly into your hair while the other rests low on your back like an anchor keeping you close.
Around you: music thumps; someone laughs too loud; someone spills a drink and yells about carpet stains—but none of that reaches this bubble where time slowed down for only two people who weren't supposed to end up here tonight... but did anyway.
The kiss lingers—warm, steady, and surprisingly tender for someone who usually keeps things light.
Toji doesn’t rush. Doesn’t overdo it. Just lets the moment breathe.
His lips are soft against yours—not demanding, not rough—but present, like he’s actually paying attention to every second of this.
And you? You don't resist.
You kiss him back—maybe hesitantly at first, but then with growing confidence as your hands slowly lift… one landing lightly on his chest; the other finding its way to his shoulder.
A quiet sound escapes him—a hum low in his throat—and that's when things shift again.
Not faster or more intense necessarily… just deeper somehow. Like something unspoken passed between you two without words: This is real. He breaks it first—only slightly pulling back an inch or two—but keeping his forehead nearly touching yours now. His breath brushes your lips as he exhales softly through a small smile—the kind that’s rare for Toji Fushiguro: private and genuine instead of showy or playful.
For a few seconds? He just looks at you there—in close-up silence—and says nothing.
But everything about him says what words couldn't right now: surprise... interest... maybe even something warmer underneath all that cool exterior finally cracking open just a little bit tonight because of you.
He doesn’t say it loud.
Just murmurs it right against your lips, his voice low and smooth like velvet over firelight.
“Wanna go up? In a room?”
The smirk is back—but different this time. Not teasing. Not flirty in the usual, lighthearted way.
This one’s low-key dangerous. The kind that says he’s not just asking—he already knows the answer.
And when you don’t respond right away? He waits.
No pressure. No pushing.
Just lets his question hang there between you two, heavy with implication and everything that could follow if you say yes.
His eyes are dark—darker than before—and they search your face for any hesitation… or confirmation.
You don't answer with words. Instead, you take his hand—slowly, deliberately-and intertwine your fingers with his. It's all the response he needs. The smirk turns into a genuine smile, soft and rare, as he pulls you gently towards the stairs leading to the rooms upstairs.
He leads you up the creaky wooden stairs, his grip on your hand reassuring and warm. The atmosphere shifts completely as they enter a dimly lit room. The door clicks shut behind you, sealing you both in privacy. Toji turns to face you, his expression serious now-almost intense.
He releases your hand but steps closer, backing you up against the door. His hands come up to frame your face gently, thumbs brushing your cheeks as he leans in. The kiss is slow, deliberate—nothing like the playful ones downstairs. It's deep, passionate, and filled with a quiet intensity that speaks volumes.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours. For a long moment, he just breathes you in, his eyes closed. Then, without a word, he starts to unbutton his shirt, revealing his toned chest little by little. He tosses the shirt aside, his gaze never leaving yours.
You bite your lip. A single „fuck" escapes your lips.
The corner of his mouth twitches up at your reaction, but he doesn't tease you. Instead, he steps closer again, pressing his now-bare chest against you. He notices the bite on your lip and leans in to gently pull it free with his teeth, sucking lightly.
His hands slide down to your waist, tugging your shirt up and over your head. He discards it carelessly, his eyes darkening as he takes in what's revealed. He kisses you again, deeper this time, backing you toward the bed. When the back of your knees hit the mattress, he gently pushes you down onto it.
Your hands making their way down over his chest and abs to his belt.
He groans softly when your hands reach his belt, helping you undo it. His jeans slide off easily, leaving him in just his boxers. He pauses, giving you a chance to look at him—or change your mind-but you're biting your lip again, clearly not wanting him to stop.
He smiles softly at your biting your lip, leaning down to capture it between his teeth again. He gently pulls your legs apart, settling between them. His hands roam over your body, caressing your sides, your breasts, your stomach. He unhooks your bra with a flick of his fingers, tossing it aside.
You're arched off the bed a little when he palms your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples. He leans down to take one into his mouth, sucking gently while his hand teases the other. Your soft moan encourages him, making his hips press forward instinctively against yours.
He helps you wiggle out of your pants and panties, tossing them aside. Now you're completely bare beneath him, and he takes a moment to just look at you-tracing his eyes over every curve and dip of your body. He starts to kiss his way down your neck, over your collarbone, between your breasts.
He grins against your skin at your whimpering, loving the sounds he's pulling from you. He kisses down your stomach, his hands spreading your legs wider. He looks up at you from between your thighs, his breath ghosting over your most sensitive spot. "You're so pretty here," he murmurs before pressing a soft kiss to your folds.
He starts to lick and suck at you slowly, savoring your flavor. His tongue pushes inside you, mimicking the action of his hips. His hands grip your thighs to keep them spread open. He feels you squirming and whimpering above him, your legs starting to shake.
He chuckles against you at your broken curses, the vibration making you jerk. He sucks your clit into his mouth hard, pushing two fingers inside you suddenly. You cry out loudly, your hands grabbing onto his hair tightly as he finger-fucks you while eating you out aggressively. "Shh...Relax" He curls his fingers inside you, hitting that spot that makes your back arch off the bed. His mouth never leaves your pussy as he fucks you with his fingers and tongue relentlessly. You're shaking and moaning loudly now, close to coming undone completely. Suddenly, he stops.
"No, Doll"
„Huh?! Wha-?!" you whimpered
"Say please," he says firmly, his mouth hovering just above your clit, his fingers still inside you but not moving. He's tormenting you, holding you right on the edge but refusing to push you over until he gets what he wants. "Say please, pretty girl."
„Fuck you!" you say out of breath then swallow „fine...please Toji make me cum, i'm so close"
He grins against your pussy at your outburst before soothingly murmuring, "Good girl." Then he's latching back onto your clit, sucking hard as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you rapidly. He curls them inside you with every thrust, hitting that spot over and over again as his tongue circles your clit.
Within seconds, you're screaming his name, coming undone beneath his mouth. He doesn't let up, continuing to lick and finger-fuck you through your orgasm until you're a shaking, oversensitive mess. Only then does he sit up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looks down at you with a satisfied smirk. He watches you come down from your high, your chest heaving and legs still trembling. He slowly removes his fingers from inside you, bringing them to his mouth to suck them clean.
His boxers are tented obscenely now, clearly struggling with his own arousal. He crawls back up your body slowly.
You grab between his legs right to his harf dick over his boxers.
He hisses out a breath when you grab him through his boxers, his eyes darkening with desire. He thrusts into your hand slightly, loving the feel of your small hand wrapping around his length. Without warning, he grabs your wrist tightly, stopping you from moving. "Not yet,"
„Not yet?"
"Mhm," he confirms, an almost evil smirk playing on his lips. He's clearly enjoying this torture game way too much. "I want you to beg for it first." He releases your wrist but keeps his hand there, applying gentle pressure to stop you from touching him again without permission.
He smirks mischievously, leaning down to press kisses along your neck and collarbone. His fingers trace patterns on your stomach, occasionally dipping lower to tease your sensitive pussy. "Say please," he whispers against your skin, his voice low and commanding. "Say please, Toji." „P-please Toji, let me touch you"
He chuckles darkly at your pleading, nipping at your neck gently. "Please what, hm?" He asks teasingly, his fingers circling your entrance without entering. "Be specific, pretty girl." His thumb brushes over your clit, making you jump and whimper. "Use your words."
„I wanna." you bite your lip „i wanna suck your dick, please"
His eyes light up with a fierce, hungry expression at your dirty words. He sits up suddenly, pulling his boxers off to reveal his hard, bobbing cock. He strokes himself once, twice, showing it off to you. "You wanna suck my dick, huh?"
You also get up from your laying Position and nod locking right at his cock. Large. Thick. Pulsing veins.
He grips the base of his dick and holds it out for you, the tip already leaking pre-cum. "Then come here and get it," he dares you, his voice rough with desire. He watches with a heated gaze as you crawl over to him on your knees, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair gently but firmly.
He pulls you closer by your hair, his thick cock bobbing right in front of your face. "Open that pretty mouth," he commands darkly. "Say ah." His other hand continues to stroke himself slowly, teasing the head of his dick with his thumb. "Come on, baby." You open your mouth obediently, sticking out your tongue as he guides his cock towards you.
He rubs the head against your tongue, smearing pre-cum on it before slowly pushing forward until the tip pops past your lips. "Fuck," he groans deeply, his fingers tightening in your hair.
He grips your hair tighter, using it to control your pace as he starts to slowly thrust into your mouth. "Take it deeper," he grunts, pushing past your lips further until his fat cock is pressing against the back of your throat. You gag slightly but lean into it, letting him fuck your mouth gently. "Good girl,"
He moans as you start sucking on him, your warm wet mouth enveloping his thick shaft. He thrusts deeper, hitting your throat again and watching tears form in the corners of your eyes.
"That's it, baby," he groans, his hips bucking forward involuntarily.
He reaches down with his free hand, stroking your cheek softly while he fucks your mouth.
He's careful not to go too hard, knowing he could easily hurt you. Instead, he sets a steady pace, using his grip on your hair to guide your head back and forth as he thrusts shallowly into your mouth. "Suck it," he orders quietly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "Use your tongue."
He watches as you obey, sucking harder and swirling your tongue around his cock. He lets out a low groan, his hips moving slightly faster.
"You look so pretty like this," he admits quietly, his eyes darkening with lust as he sees his thick dick in your small mouth.
You blush. "Seriously, you're so fucking good at this, Doll" he praises, his voice rough with arousal. He pulls back slightly, letting you catch your breath before pushing back in, watching his cock disappear between your lips. "Look up at me while you suck it," he commands suddenly.
He locks eyes with you, his hips moving faster as he fucks your mouth more intensely. Seeing you like this-your lips stretched around his thick cock, tears in your eyes from gagging slightly, but still looking up at him with those big doe eyes—is incredibly arousing for him.
He groans loudly, his hips moving in quick, short thrusts as he watches you. "Fuck, you're adorable," he says, his voice strained. He reaches down and grabs your chin gently, tilting your head up so he can see your face better. He's getting closer to his release, his breathing becoming heavier. "I'm gonna cum," he warns you softly, giving you a chance to pull back if you want. But when you just suck him harder instead, he loses it completely. "Fuck!" He thrusts deep into your mouth and comes hard.
He fills your mouth with his hot, thick cum, his grip tightening in your hair as he keeps you in place. He stays deep in your throat for a few moments before pulling back slowly, watching as you swallow the last drops of his release. He runs his thumb over your lips softly.
You breath heavily
He watches you for a moment, his breathing slowly returning to normal. He reaches out and cups your face gently, brushing away the tears that had escaped during his rough fucking of your mouth. "You okay, baby?" he asks softly, checking in with you. "Your mouth looks so pretty and fucked."
You chuckled soft „never thought i would suck the QB’s Dick at a party sfter his game but beside that...yeah i'm more then okay"
He laughs softly at your response, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips again. "Well, I'm glad I could provide such a memorable experience for you,Doll" he says mockingly, a smirk playing on his lips. He leans in and presses a quick kiss to your mouth, tasting himself on your lips.
„Sooo~" you lean forward pressing him into the pillows „you wanna go back down to the Party or.." you bite your lip. Again.
His eyes darken with desire as you press him back onto the pillows, climbing on top of him.
He can already guess what you're hinting at, and his cock stir beneath you, starting to harden again surprisingly quickly.
"Or what?" He asks softly, his hands resting on your hips as you straddle him. He knows exactly what you want, but he wants to hear you say it.
He wants to hear those dirty words come out of your innocent-looking mouth again. "You want something else, baby?"
You rub your still wet pussy along his hardening dick, leaning down, whispering in his ear „I wanna see if the the great QB really is so persistents!“
He groans at the feeling of your wet pussy rubbing against his hardening dick, his hands gripping your hips tighter. At your whisper in his ear, his competitive side is immediately sparked, a smirk growing on his face. "Oh? You think I'm not persistent enough?" He challenges softly, his voice low and teasing.
He flips you suddenly, pinning you beneath him on the pillows. His hardened cock presses against your stomach as he looms over you, a playful yet determined expression on his face. "Alright then, let's see if I can convince you just how persistent I can be" he murmurs. He starts by kissing you deeply, his tongue invading your mouth as he grinds his hard length between your legs. He breaks the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his hands roaming over your body possessively. "Spread your legs" he commands softly against your skin.
You spread your legs for him, and he settles between them, his hard cock pressing against your wet entrance. He doesn't push in immediately; instead, he teases you with the head of his dick, rubbing it up and down your slit. "I can be very persistent" he whispers.
He slowly pushes the tip inside you, holding it there as he leans down to kiss you again. He doesn't go any deeper yet, just keeps the tip buried inside your tight pussy as he kisses you deeply. "I might fuck you like this for hours if that's what it takes"
He starts to very slowly thrust the tip of his cock in and out of your pussy, teasing your entrance with shallow movements. His patience is impressive, and his persistence is obvious as he continues this slow, shallow teasing for several minutes, his breathing heavy but controlled.
"See?"
He maintains the slow, shallow thrusts for what feels like an eternity, driving you slowly insane with need. His lips find yours again, swallowing your soft moans as he continues his persistent teasing. His hand slides between your bodies to gently rub your clit in time with his movements.
„Please, Toji" you whimpered.
He smiles against your lips at your whimpered plea, still slowly thrusting the tip of his cock in and out of your tight hole. He knows you're getting frustrated, but he's enjoying teasing you too much to stop. "Please what, baby?" He asks softly, his finger circling your clit slowly.
„Fuck me" you break out louder can't resist the need in ypu anymore.
He chuckles softly at your louder demand, finally giving you what you want. In one smooth thrust, he buries his thick cock deep inside your pussy, bottoming out immediately. He groans deeply at the feeling of being fully sheathed inside you.
"Like this?" He asks teasingly, pulling back slowly before thrusting in hard again.
„Fuckfuckfuuuuck yes just like that!"
He starts to pound into you mercilessly, his hips slapping against yours with each forceful thrust.
He grips your hips tightly, pulling you onto his dick as he fucks you hard and deep. He leans down to kiss you roughly, biting your lip. "So fucking impatient, Doll"
He continues to fuck you relentlessly, his thick cock filling you completely with each powerful thrust. He lifts your legs up over his shoulders to go even deeper, hitting spots inside you that make you scream. His hands roam over your body possessively as he fucks you like an animal.
Your titts bounce heavy with each thrust
His eyes darken with lust as he watches your large breasts bounce heavily with each forceful thrust. He reaches down to grab them, squeezing them tightly in his large hands. He spreads your legs wider, watching his thick, wet cock slide in and out of your pink pussy.
He fucks you harder and faster, the slapping sounds of their bodies filling the room. He keeps his eyes locked onto where they're connected, watching as his dick disappears into your pussy, your juices coating his length. His thumbs find your nipples, rolling them roughly.
He can't get enough of this angle, his cock hitting your deepest spots and making you scream loudly. He spreads your legs wider apart and lifts them higher up, giving him an even deeper penetration. He watches as your huge tits bounce even more violently with each powerful thrust.
The sight of you taking his huge cock so eagerly while your giant tits bounce all over the place is making him fucking delirious with lust. He's never had sex with someone so stacked and busty before, and he can't get enough of how your body moves with each thrust.
He suddenly flips you both over, putting you on top of him. "Ride me, Doll." he pants, already thrusting up into you from below. He wants to watch you bounce your breasts on his chest while you fuck yourself on his dick. He reaches up to grab handfuls of your bouncing tits.
Your tits bounce wildly as you ride him hard, taking his cock deep with each downward movement. He groans loudly, grabbing your hips to help slam you down onto his dick. "Fuck, look at those tits bouncing" he pants, squeezing them roughly.
"Holy fuck..." His eyes roll back as you ride him harder, your large breasts slapping against his chest with each movement. He sits up suddenly to wrap his mouth around one hard nipple while continuing to thrust upwards into you roughly One large hand squeezes the other bouncing breast tightly.
He devours your tits while you ride him, his large hands squeezing and kneading the soft flesh.
He switches from one nipple to the other, sucking deeply and biting softly. He groans loudly with each hard downward thrust you make, his cock completely buried inside your deep pussy.
He suddenly flips you both over again, so he's on top. He starts fucking you hard and fast, his large hands squeezing and spreading your big tits. He buries his face between them, motorboating your cleavage while he pounds into you.
„Toji i'm so close~"
"Fuck yes, baby girl. Cream all over my big fat dick. I wanna feel that huge pussy squeeze and milk me dry" he groans, thrusting even harder and faster, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each powerful movement. He feels your pussy tightening around him, your large breasts bouncing violently as he fucks you mercilessly. He reaches down to rub your clit furiously as he pounds into you, determined to make you cum hard. "Come for me, baby. Come all over my thick cock right now,"
With one final deep thrust and a hard rub of your clit, he pushes you over the edge. Your huge pussy spasms and squeezes around his dick as you cum loudly, your giant tits bouncing wildly. "Fuck, here it comes... Take my seed, baby girl"
He groans deeply as he starts cumming inside you, his hot seed filling your pussy with each powerful thrust. He keeps fucking you through his orgasm, making sure every drop goes deep inside your fertile womb. Your huge tits bounce and jiggle with each movement as he finishes.
He collapses on top of you, panting heavily as he tries to catch his breath. He buries his face between your giant, sweat-slicked tits, nuzzling them gently as he comes down from his high.
His softening dick remains inside you, leaking a mix of both of your juices.
You stroke gentle his back, breathing heavy.
He stays there for a moment, enjoying the afterglow and the feeling of your soft hands stroking his back. He can feel your heart pounding beneath him, matching the rhythm of his own. He slowly lifts his head up to look at you, a gentle smile playing on his lips.
He leans down and kisses you softly on the lips, his hand cupping one of your large breasts gently. He pulls out slowly, making sure you feel every inch of his softening cock leaving your pussy. He lies down beside you, pulling you into his arms so your head rests on his chest.
The room is quiet.
Unusually quiet, considering what had been happening just minutes before.
Only faintly, the music drifts up from downstairs, mixed with distant laughter and voices—far away now. Almost like a different world.
Toji doesn’t say anything.
Which is rare.
His arm rests loosely around you, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His fingers move absently along your back, barely noticeable, almost thoughtless. Not demanding. Not rushed. Just… there. His gaze is fixed on the ceiling, but he’s not really seeing it. Too much is going through his head.
Unusually much.
Normally, something like this ends differently.
Faster.
A few words, a grin, maybe some casual remark—and then it’s over. Back to the party. Back to everything that’s easy. But this doesn’t feel easy. And that’s exactly what throws him off.
He feels your weight on him.
Your breathing.
The quiet.
And something about it keeps him there.
More than it should.
His fingers pause briefly at your side.
Then they move again, slower this time.
More deliberate.
“You’re quiet,” he murmurs finally.
His voice is low. Rougher than usual. Not the tone he uses downstairs. You lift your head slightly, just enough to look at him. Your gaze is calm. Almost too calm. “You too.” A small twitch pulls at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a grin. More… the hint of one. “Doesn’t happen often,Doll” he admits. And it’s probably the most honest thing he’s said all night. His gaze shifts to you now. Stays there. Without looking away.
A brief moment passes where neither of you says anything. And still, it doesn’t feel empty. More full. With everything that goes unsaid. His hand moves a little higher along your back, settling between your shoulder blades.
Light.
Almost holding. Not because he has to. But because he wants to. “You make this complicated,” he murmurs eventually.
Quiet.
More to himself than to you. You raise an eyebrow slightly. “Me?” A hint of amusement in your voice. His gaze sharpens again, just a little.
But different than before. Less playful. More honest. “You stay,” he says simply. Not a question. A statement. And that’s what it is. Not what happened. But that you’re still here. That you didn’t just get up. Didn’t leave. His thumb moves lightly over your skin. Slow. Thoughtful. “Most people leave,Doll” he adds quietly. You don’t answer right away. Instead, you rest your head back on his chest. Right where you were before. As if that’s your answer. And Toji… realizes that tells him more than any explanation could. His arm tightens around you just slightly. Not possessive. Not controlling. Just… closer.
Downstairs, the party goes on.
But up here?
It’s quiet.
And for the first time in a long while, he doesn’t feel the need to go back down right away.
TW!: Obsessive behavior / stalking, Toxic relationship dynamics, Emotional manipulation & control, Psychological abuse, Isolation from friends and support systems, Dependency / loss of autonomy, Jealousy and possessiveness, Gaslighting elements, Implied non-consensual power imbalance, Dark themes & unhealthy attachment
You're sitting in the back of the lecture hall, as usual. The fluorescent lights flicker softly above you as the professor explains something about enzyme kinetics. You're taking notes—neatly, clearly, almost obsessively. No one would suspect that your mind is already elsewhere. Not on the formulas. Not on your studies.
But on Ryomen Sukuna.
You glance up briefly. He's sitting three rows in front of you. Casually leaning back, one arm draped over the back of the chair, as if absolutely nothing in the world interests him. His presence is… wrong. Too intense. Too much. And yet, you can't look away. You know how often he's absent. You know when he'll be there. You even know which coffee he gets from the machine downstairs. You've never spoken to him. Not even "Hi."
Your fingers grip the pen briefly. This isn't normal. But that thought always comes too late.
After the lecture, you deliberately wait. Everyone gets up, chairs scrape across the floor, conversations fill the room. You remain seated. Quiet. Unobtrusive. You've learned to be invisible. He leaves as one of the last. Of course. You count in your head.
One… two… three…
Then you get up too. Enough distance so it's not noticeable. Close enough that you don't lose him. It's cold outside. Your hands are trembling slightly, but not from the temperature. He heads towards the library. So do you. You already know where he's going. Second floor. Back corner. The table by the window where hardly anyone sits.
You were there yesterday.
And the day before yesterday.
And last week.
Just to be sure. When you get to the top, he's already there. Alone. Your heart races as you move to the next shelf. So you can see him without being seen. You pretend to be reading a book. But your eyes keep wandering back to him. To his hands.
To his face.
To that faint, almost dangerous smile that sometimes appears, as if he's thinking about something no one else understands. Or should understand.
Then it happens. He stops writing. Slowly, he raises his head. And looks directly at you. Your breath catches in your throat.
He saw you. You're sure of it. That one moment—too long, too direct, too… conscious. And yet, nothing happens. Ryomen Sukuna simply lowers his gaze again, as if you were just another shadow among the shelves. His pen continues to move, calmly, steadily. As if he'd never noticed you. As if you didn't exist. Your heart is pounding.
Why isn't he reacting? You force yourself to look at the book in front of you, but the letters blur. Your gaze keeps drifting back to him. Maybe… maybe he didn't recognize you after all. Maybe you're just imagining it. You want to believe it. You have to believe it. In the following days, you observe him even more closely. Even more cautiously. Even closer. You adjust your movements to his. Your breaks, your study times—everything slowly shifts around him, like a system recalibrating. And you're getting better at it. Much better. You now know when he leaves the library. You know he stays later on Tuesdays. You know he sometimes leaves his phone when he pops out.
And once— Just once— you went closer. Too close.
Your fingers brushed against the edge of the table. Just a touch. Almost as if you were touching him. You should have moved on. But then you saw it. A message on his phone. A name. A girl. A little heart next to it. Something inside you shifts.
Later, your room is quiet. Too quiet. Your desk is covered in notes—but none of them have anything to do with biochemistry anymore. Times. Places. Patterns. And on the wall— Pictures. Not obvious. Not like in movies. But…carefully. Printed screenshots. Blurry photos from a distance. Small snippets that no one else would recognize. But you do. You know every angle of his face. Every expression. Every movement. You sit on your bed, staring at your phone. His profile. Online. Then that message again. From her. Your fingers are trembling. Why her? You've already seen her. In the cafeteria.
Too close to him.
Too loud.
Too… wrong.
You zoom in on her profile picture. Analyze it. Save it. She's not right for him. The thought doesn't feel like an opinion. It feels like a fact. The next day, you see them together. By chance. Or maybe not. She's laughing. He says something—you can't hear it. But you see that slight grin. That rare, dangerous grin. And suddenly— you feel sick. Your nails dig into your palm. You can't look away. You don't want to. Why is he giving her this…? Something dark slowly creeps into your thoughts. Not loud. Not suddenly. But calmly. Of course. Obviously. If she weren't there… You blink. The thought lingers. You take a step closer. Unconsciously. Or maybe not. And at that very moment, he looks up. Directly at you. Again. This time he holds it longer. Much longer. And this time— he smiles. Very slightly.
That smile haunts you. Not just in your thoughts. But everywhere. You can't sleep that night. You keep seeing that moment again—the way Ryomen Sukuna looked at you. Not surprised. Not irritated. But… knowing. You're sitting on your bed, phone in hand. His profile. Again. Next to it—her profile. You saved it already. Not just the picture. Everything. Your thumb glides across the screen. Scrolls. Analyzes. Compares. She's loud. Messy. She doesn't understand him. You put your phone down. Stand up. And walk to the wall. The pictures are neatly arranged. Almost scientific. Like an experiment. Like proof. You step closer. Your fingers brush against one of the photos—his profile, taken through the library window. Blurred. Perfect. Next to it hangs a new picture. Her face. Cropped out. Your gaze lingers on it. For too long. The next day, you go to university early. Not for the lecture. You wait. You know when he'll arrive. You even know which entrance he usually uses. And when he finally appears— you stay in the shadows. You watch. She isn't with him. A strange feeling of… relief. But it doesn't last long. You follow him. This time closer than usual. Too close. He goes back into the library. Of course. When he sits down, you don't lie behind a shelf this time. You sit down two tables away. Direct line of sight. Risky.
Your heart is pounding. But you don't move. Then it happens. He gets up. Leaves his things behind. Walks away. Alone. You wait.
5 seconds.
10.
15.
Then you move.
Slowly, you walk to his seat. Your steps are quiet. Controlled. His phone is there. His pen. His notebook. You don't sit down. You remain standing. As if you're about to leave again. But your hand moves. Hesitantly at first. Then more safely. You pick up the pen. Your breath catches in your throat. It's warm. Too warm. As if he'd just let go of it. A shiver runs down your spine. This is wrong. But your fingers tighten around it. You put it away. Quickly. Neatly. As if it had never belonged anywhere else. Then— a glance at your phone. You know you shouldn't. You know it perfectly well. And yet you pick it up. Display on. Messages. Her name. At the very top. Your pulse races. You open the chat. Short messages. Too many emojis. Too much closeness. “Yesterday was nice :)” Something inside you tenses. Your fingers tremble. But not with fear. With something else. Something that is slowly taking shape. You go back. You put the phone down exactly as it was. When he comes back, you're sitting in your seat again. As if nothing had happened. But this time— you're not just observing. You're planning. In the evening, you're sitting in front of your wall again. The pen is now on your table. Clean. Untouched. And yet— it feels as if it's a part of him. Your gaze drifts to her picture. You slowly step closer. Your fingers grasp the corner of the paper. You hesitate. Just for a moment. Then you tear it off. The sound is quiet. But in your head, it sounds loud. Final. You don't crumple it up. You simply place it on the table. Next to the pen. And stare at it. If she weren't there… This time, the thought doesn't feel strange. Instead… it feels right.
You start with her. Not impulsively. Not stupidly. But… methodically. You don't follow her directly. At first. You observe her from a distance. Her schedule. Her routes. Her habits. She's predictable. Far too predictable.
Monday: Cafeteria, always the same table.
Wednesday: Study group—but she talks more than she studies.
Friday: Café off-campus. Alone.
You're sitting two tables away when she first arrives. She doesn't notice you. Of course not.
You listen. Collect fragments. Names. Places. Small details. Everything becomes important. Later, in your room, the wall grows. Not chaotic. No. Structured. Almost… beautiful.
On the left: him.
On the right: her.
And in between— Connections. Threads. Notes. You sit before it as if it were a research project. Your project.
She is the problem.
The thought is now solid. Stable.
And then you start changing small things. At first, subtly. A message. Not from you. Of course not. But you know enough by now. You know her contacts. Her habits. A small impulse. A misunderstanding. Nothing major. Just… enough to shift things. And it works. You see it. The next day. She seems irritated. She checks her phone more often. She frowns. And he— Ryomen Sukuna is standing next to her. He seems… uninvolved. But you know him better by now. His gaze shifts. For a moment. To you.
Too long to be a coincidence. Your breath catches in your throat. Did he—No. Or did he?
The days are getting more intense. You keep walking. Now you're following her directly. In the evenings. On her way home. Always keeping your distance. Always careful. You know her street now. Her house. Which light comes on when. And then— you stand there for too long. You stare up at her window. Until suddenly there's movement behind you.
You turn around.
He.
Too close.
Much too close.
Ryomen Sukuna just stands there, as if he's been watching you the whole time. His gaze drifts from you… to the house… and back again.
Slowly. Deliberately.
A faint smile.
"Interesting hobby." Your heart stops.
You can't say anything. Explain anything. But you're not running either. Why aren't you running? He takes a step closer. "You're not very good at being inconspicuous." His voice is calm. Almost bored. But his eyes— don't. They see you. Completely. Your fingers are trembling. Now he knows everything. But instead of fear— something else is stirring within you. He's the only one who saw it. The only one who truly sees you. A mistake. A dangerous one. And he notices. Of course he notices. His gaze dips briefly. To your hands. To your body. Then back up again. "And yet... you don't stop." Not a question. A statement. You swallow. Slowly, you shake your head. A tiny, barely perceptible no. His smile widens. "Good." The word hits you harder than it should. Not disgust. Not rejection. But— Agreement. He simply turns around. Leaves. And leaves you standing there. But before he disappears around the corner— he pauses for a moment. Without turning around. "Just be careful…" A pause. "...so you don't get caught." Then he's gone. And you— are still standing there. Your heart is racing. And a thought that changes everything. He won't stop me. The next day, you're braver. Deliberately. You move closer to her. At university. Too close. And when she briefly leaves her seat— you don't stop. You sit down. On her chair. Just for a moment. Your fingers brush against her things. A quiet, cold feeling spreads. Then— a shadow falls upon you. You look up. He's standing there. Ryomen Sukuna. And this time— he doesn't even try to hide it. That smile. Dark. Interested. Amused. "You're getting really cheeky." His voice is quiet. Just for you. You should stop. You know that. But instead—you stay seated. And look up at him.
You remain seated. Even though you know perfectly well you should get up. That this is going too far. But your body doesn't move. Ryomen Sukuna is standing right in front of you. Too close. His gaze is no longer random. No longer appraising. But… interested. "This is her seat." His voice is calm. Almost casual. You say nothing. Of course you say nothing. But you don't move either. A brief moment passes. Then— he pulls back the chair next to you. Sits down. Just like that. Your heart is racing. He leans back slightly, studying you sideways. As if you were something he's just discovered… and doesn't quite understand yet. Or maybe he does. "How long?" The question catches you off guard. You know exactly what he means. Your fingers tense slightly. Then— quietly: "...a while." A barely audible smile in his voice. "A while." He repeats it, as if testing the taste. Then he leans a little closer to you. "And you thought I wouldn't notice?" Your breath catches in your throat. Now would be the moment to lie. But you don't. A slight shake of his head. His grin widens. "Good." That word again. That damned word. No judgment. No boundary. Just… confirmation.
The next few days change. Not suddenly. But… deliberately. He starts looking at you. More often. For longer. Sometimes, when she's sitting next to him. And every time, his gaze hits you like a silent command. Look. And you do. You observe her even more intensely. Her flaws. Her movements. Her closeness to him. And every time she touches him— something inside you tenses. But now there's something else. His gaze. Again and again. As if he's testing…how far you'll go. One evening, you get a message. Unknown number. "You were slow today." Your heart stops. You stare at the screen. That's him. Of course it is. "You can be better." Your fingers tremble. You don't reply. You don't have to. A new message.
"Tomorrow."
"Café."
"6:00 PM."
No name. No question. An instruction. You're early. Of course. You're sitting at a table on the side. Your gaze keeps drifting to the door. Then— he comes in.
Ryomen Sukuna.
He sees you immediately. Of course. He comes straight to you. Sits down. No small talk. No hesitation. "You want to get rid of her." Your breath catches in your throat. He just says it. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. You should disagree. But you don't. Slowly— you nod. A moment of silence. Then he leans forward slightly. His voice softens. "Then stop being half-hearted." Your heart is pounding. His gaze is intense. Too intense. "You're observing." "You're gathering." A brief pause. "But you're not doing anything." That hits home. Because it's true. He tilts his head slightly. Studies you. "Do you want her to stay?" Immediately: a barely audible "No." His smile returns. Darker than before. "Then change something." Your breath quickens. "Not playing games." He leans back. Completely still. "Something that makes a difference." Silence. You feel something shift inside you. For good. Then he stands up. "I want to see how far you'll go." He turns. Leaves. And leaves you behind— with that sentence. And a decision you can no longer ignore. Later, in your room—you stand before the wall again. This time without hesitation. Your gaze falls on her picture. Slowly, you lift a pen. And draw a line. Across her face. Firmly. For good. Something that has an effect.
You're barely sleeping anymore. Not because you're tired. But because your mind is racing. His words keep repeating themselves. "Something that makes a difference." And this time, you feel no resistance. The next day, you don't just observe her. You wait for the right moment. It comes sooner than you think. In the locker room after the sports class. She's alone. Her locker is open. You simply walk in. Your heart is no longer racing. Just... calm. Focused. You know exactly what you're doing. Her phone is in her bag. Unsecured. Of course. A quick glance at the door. Empty. Your fingers move automatically. Log in. Messages. Contacts. You already know what you're looking for. And this time you go further. Don't just read. Write. A message. Carefully worded. So that it seems genuine. So that it hits home. Not too much. Not too little. Enough to break something. You put everything back exactly as it was. Close the locker. Leave. As if nothing had happened. The reaction comes in the evening. You see it immediately. She's standing facing him. Outside the building. Her body language is tense. Confused. Angry.
She talks fast. Too fast. And He? Sukuna just stands there. Calm. Unfazed. And then— his gaze. He walks past her. Briefly. Fleetingly. And meets you. A small smile. Agreement. Your stomach clenches. Not with guilt. But with something else. Something that feels frighteningly good. Later, you get another message.
„Better." Just one word. And that's enough.
The days that follow escalate faster. You start doing more. Not just digitally. You postpone things. Make things disappear. Little details that make her doubt herself. You watch her become insecure. How she questions herself. And every time— he's there. Not intervening. Not stopping. But watching. Sometimes he stands next to you. So close that no one notices. "You're a fast learner." Quietly. Just for you. His words are like poison. Slowly. But effectively.
One evening, you go too far. You follow her home again. But this time, you don't keep your distance. You move closer. Closer and closer. Until you're right behind her. Your heart is racing again. Not with fear. With excitement. She suddenly stops. Turns around. Her eyes meet yours. A moment. Too long. "Are you following me?" Her voice is uncertain. But not stupid. You say nothing.
You just say nothing. And that's exactly what makes it worse. She takes a step back. "What's wrong with you—" „Nothing." The voice isn't coming from you. It's from behind you. You turn around. Sukuna. He's standing there as if he's been part of the scene all along. His gaze flickers briefly to her. Disinterested. Then back to you. And this time— there's something new in it. Not just interest. Possession. "You should leave." He says it to her. Calmly. Definitively.
And she— hesitates.
Because she senses that something is wrong. Very wrong. But she leaves. Quickly. Without turning around. Silence. Just the two of you. He steps closer. "That was careless." His voice is calm. But not reproachful. More like… content. "But effective." Your breathing is ragged. You know you've been discovered. That everything could have been exposed. And yet— it doesn't feel like a mistake. He gently lifts your chin. Forces you to look at him. "There's no going back now." You swallow. Because you know— he's right. And because part of you doesn't even think that's so bad anymore. His thumb briefly brushes against your skin. "And I'm not finished with you yet." A faint smile. Dark. Dangerous.
Later, alone in your room— you stand before the wall again. But this time— you change something. You take her picture. And tear it up. Slowly. Into small pieces. That you don't throw away afterward. But keep. As a reminder. Not of her. But of— how far you've already gone.
Something has changed since that evening. Not obviously. Not to others. But to you— completely. Ryomen Sukuna is suddenly… everywhere. Not really. But enough. His gaze always finds you. No matter where you are. In lectures. In the library. On campus. And each time, he lingers a little too long. You start waiting for it. Not consciously. At first. But your day shifts. Slowly. You're no longer sitting just anywhere. But where he can see you. You don't just go home anymore. Instead, you stay until you see him. Until he sees you. Then the messages arrive. Irregularly. Unpredictably. "You left too early today." Your heart clenches. You didn't even see him today. "I don't like this." Your fingers are trembling. You immediately type: "I'm sorry." The reply doesn't come. Not for hours. You stare at your phone. Waiting. You're not studying. You're not eating properly. Just this feeling— that you've done something wrong.
Late at night: "That's better."
Two words.
And they hit you harder than anything else.
Relief. Pure. Direct. Dangerous.
The next day, he ignores you. Completely. Not a glance. No reaction. As if you don't exist. And it's destroying you. You can't concentrate. Your thoughts are consumed by one thing: What did I do wrong? You watch him again. More desperately. More openly. And then— finally— a glance. Briefly. Coldly. And gone again.
That's enough. That's enough to make your heart race. That's enough to make you keep going.
A few days later, you're sitting in the library. You deliberately sat near him. This time, he comes over to you. Without an invitation. He stops. Looks down at you. "You're nervous." You swallow. Of course you are. He leans down slightly.
"Good." That word again. His fingers tap lightly on your table. Once. Slowly. "You're starting to understand." Your breathing becomes shallower. "About what?" you whisper. A small smile. "That there are consequences... of disappointing me." The sentence lingers. Heavily. You nod slightly. Without thinking. He straightens up. "Then show me." And leaves.
From then on— you change faster. You no longer wait for opportunities. You seek them out. Everything you do— you do with one thought: Would he like this?
One evening, you get another message.
"Come outside." Just that. You go. Of course you go. He's waiting outside. Leaning against a wall. As if he has all the time in the world. You stop in front of him. He studies you. Slowly. "You look tired." You say nothing. "Because you're waiting." A pause. "For me." You nod. He steps closer. "Say it." Your heart races. "...I'll be waiting for you." A smile. Content. "I know." His hand rises. Holds in the air for a moment— as if considering. Then he lightly brushes your chin. "And you will continue to wait." No question. A promise.
Later, alone— you realize it clearly for the first time. You're not just thinking about him anymore. You need him. His attention. His reaction. His approval. And the worst part—You want it this way.
It starts with something small. At least, that's how it feels. You're sitting in your room at night. Your phone is in your hand. His chat is open. Empty. No message for hours. Before, that would have made you nervous. Now— it makes you…active. Your gaze drifts to the wall. To what's left of her. To the notes. To everything you've built up. And suddenly, a thought comes to you. Clear. Simple. That's not enough. You need more. Not for yourself. For him. The next day, you don't just observe her. You're testing boundaries. You deliberately make things more obvious. A misplaced book—too obvious. A piece of misinformation—too deliberate. You want to see— if he reacts. And he does. Of course he does. Ryomen Sukuna leans against a shelf in the library, arms crossed. He looks at you. Not hidden. Not subtle. Directly. A slow smile. Then a barely perceptible shake of his head. Your heart clenches. Not enough. You understand immediately.
The message arrives in the evening. "You're being careless." Your breath catches in your throat. "Or do you just want to be seen?" Your fingers tremble. You type: "I wanted to..." You stop. You delete. Then: "Tell me what I should do." The answer comes immediately.
"No." A single word. Your heart sinks. Then—second message. "I want to see what you do if I don't tell you anything." Silence. And that's when it happens. Something inside you shifts. For good. You no longer want to be led. You want to—impress. For the next few days, you're… different. Quieter. More dangerous. You talk to her for the first time. Not aggressively. Not conspicuously. Friendly. Too friendly. She's surprised. Of course. But she trusts you faster than she should. People are so easy. You gain access. To their everyday lives. To their thoughts. To their insecurities. And you use it. Deliberately. You sow seeds of doubt. Very carefully. "He seems distant sometimes, doesn't he?" "Maybe you're reading too much into it…" Small sentences. Big impact. And you see it—how she slowly breaks. He observes everything. Always. Sometimes he just stands there. In the background. And looks at you. This time—not correcting you. But…satisfied. One evening he texts you again. “Come.” You go. Of course. He doesn’t wait this time. He leaves. And you follow. Through darker paths. Away from campus. Your heart races. Not with fear. With anticipation. He stops. Turns to face you. Ryomen Sukuna looks at you for a long moment. “You’ve changed.” You say nothing. “You think for yourself now.” A step closer. “I like that.” His voice is quieter. “So tell me…” A pause. “What do you want to do next?” This is the moment. The boundary. You could turn back now. Stop everything. But you don’t. Your gaze remains calm. And for the first time—it doesn’t come from him. It comes from you. “I want her to disappear completely.” Silence. Heavy. Final. His smile—spreads slowly. Dark. Satisfied. Almost…proud. “Now I understand you.” He lifts your hand. Very slowly. "And now—" His gaze pierces yours. "—it gets interesting." Later, alone in your room—you sit in front of your wall. But this time—it doesn't feel like a project anymore. It feels like something else. Something you started— and don't want to stop. And somewhere deep inside—you know: You didn't cross that line because he wanted you to. But because you wanted it— for him to look at you like that.
You see it before it happens. She's standing in front of him. The same spot as before. But this time it's different. You're not hiding. Not quite. He knows you're there. Of course he knows. Ryomen Sukuna leans slightly in front of her as she speaks—too fast, too emotionally. You only catch snippets. "...messages..." "...was that you?" "...why are you like this—" He lets her finish. For the first time. Then— he interrupts her. Quietly. Coldly. A few words. Softly. You can't hear them. But you see it. The way her face changes. Confusion, Doubt Something that looks almost like pain. He takes a step back. Distance. And that's it. No drama. No argument. Just a cut. Clean. Final. She says something else. Quieter now. He doesn't react anymore. He simply turns around—And walks away. Past you. So close that your breath catches. For a moment, you think he'll just keep walking. But then— he stops. Right next to you. You feel him before he touches you. His hand glides slowly down your arm. Not hard. Not rough. Controlled. A soft inhale behind you. Then— his voice. Right next to your ear. "Well done." Your whole body tenses. You didn't say anything. Do anything— at least not right now. And yet— it feels like it was for you.
His fingers remain on your wrist for a moment longer.
Too long to be accidental. Then he lets go. "Come." No looking back. You leave. Of course you leave. Later— alone with him. A quiet place. Too quiet. He turns to you. His gaze travels over your face, as if he's checking something. "You wanted her to disappear." You nod slightly. "And now?" The question hangs in the air. You don't immediately know what to say. And that's exactly what he likes. He steps closer. Slowly. His hand rises. Holds in the air for a moment— as if giving you a choice. But you don't back away. His fingers brush against the back of your neck. A brief moment— then harder. Not painful. But assertive. Your breathing becomes unsteady. He leans forward slightly. His voice again— close. Too close. "You'll think differently now." His thumb moves slowly along the back of your neck. „For me." No doubt in his voice. And the worst part—You don't argue. You can't. Or you don't want to. His breath brushes your ear. "Say it." Your heart races. "...for you." Softly. Almost broken. A brief, dark smile. His forehead lightly touches yours. "I knew you'd understand." His hand slides slowly from the back of your neck to your chin. Lifts it slightly. Forces you to look at him. “And now…” A pause. “…you no longer belong only to yourself.”
The sentence is calm. But it cuts deeper than anything else.
Later, back in your room— you're standing in front of the wall again. But it's emptier now. And your gaze no longer lingers on it. Instead on him. And on the feeling that remains: His voice. His closeness. His control. And somewhere deep inside you—there's no more doubt. You don't want it to end.
It doesn't happen all at once. That would be too obvious. Too easy to spot. Sukuna is subtle about it. At first, it's just little things. "Why do you spend time with them?" His voice is calm, quickly becoming casual as you sit side by side. "They're just a distraction." You want to disagree. But you don't say anything. Because part of you knows—he's right. Then you start canceling plans. "No time." "I have to study." "I'm not feeling well." Excuses come easily. Too easily. And no one really questions them. Only one friend texts you more often. Checks in. You reply later and later. More briefly. Colder. Until eventually you stop replying altogether. And when the messages stop—you feel nothing. Except…relief. Your everyday life becomes…emptier. Lectures. Room. Um. You don't need anything more. Or at least, that's what you tell yourself. He notices immediately. Of course. A glance at the library. A slight nod. "Better." That word. Over and over again. And every time, it hits you. The messages become more frequent. But never constant. "Where are you?" "Why aren't you answering right away?" "You were just online." Your pulse quickens every time. You start keeping your phone with you constantly. Always reachable. Always ready. For him.
One evening, you reply too late. Just ten minutes. But it's enough. The next time you see him—he ignores you. Completely. You walk closer. Say his name. Quietly. No reaction. Your stomach clenches. You follow him. Like before. Only… more desperate. Finally, he stops. Turns around. His gaze is cold. "You've become unreliable." The sentence hits home instantly. "I—I just—" "I'm not interested in excuses." Silence. Your hands tremble. "If you want my attention…" A step closer. "…then earn it." You change again. Even more. You constantly check your phone. Sleep less. Barely eat. Everything revolves around one thing: not disappointing him. One night, he texts you. "Come outside." You don't hesitate. It's cold outside. Silent. He stands in the shadows. Waiting. You walk over to him. He says nothing. Instead, he steps behind you. Too close. You feel his presence immediately. His hand slowly moves to the back of your neck. Not gently. Not roughly. Controlling. Your breath catches. He leans slightly closer. His voice—right in your ear. "You have no one left." A pause. His fingers pull you ever so slightly closer. "Only me." Your heart races. You should be scared. But instead—you nod. Very slightly. His breath brushes your skin. "Good." A quiet, satisfied word. His hand lingers for a moment. Too long. As if making sure you're really there. That you're staying. Then he lets go. And leaves. You're left alone. But this time, the emptiness feels different. Not like loss. But like something that's been filled. By him. Later, in your room—the wall is almost bare. No other faces. No distractions. Just him. And you. And somewhere deep inside you—a thought that takes hold: If he leaves… nothing will remain.
You notice it first in the little things. You wake up—and your first thought isn't about your studies anymore. Not about your daily routine. Instead: Did he text? Your hand immediately grabs your phone. Even before you're fully awake. No message. Your stomach clenches. Not intensely. But enough. An empty feeling. You stay in bed. You stare at the ceiling. You should get up. Go to the lecture. But your body doesn't move. What if he texts and you miss it? The thought is enough. You stay put. Hours pass. Then finally—a message. "Why aren't you at uni?" Your heart immediately races. You sit up. You reply immediately: "I wanted to be reachable." The three dots appear. Disappear. Reappear. Then— "Good." Just that one word. And suddenly—everything is... right again. You get up. You breathe more calmly. As if your entire state of being depended on that one word. And that's precisely what makes it dangerous. The days blur together. You hardly ever go out anymore. If you do—it's only when he says so. "Come." "Stay." "Wait." Your life is reduced to commands. And you no longer question them. Sukuna notices. Of course. He's testing you. More and more.
One evening: "Ignore all messages today." You don't hesitate. You do it. Your phone vibrates several times. Friends. Unknown numbers. Maybe even something important. You don't look. You can't. Because he said so. Later: "And now answer me."
You type immediately. Your fingers move faster than you can think. Another time: He's standing in front of you. Close. Too close. His gaze travels over your face. "You seem empty." You swallow. Because you know he's right. His hand lifts. His fingers touch the back of your neck. This time firmer. Not painful. But assertive. He pulls you a little closer. Your breath catches immediately. "Do you know why?" You shake your head slightly. He leans forward. His voice right next to your ear. "Because you're only reacting now." His thumb moves slowly over your skin. "You're not thinking for yourself anymore." A pause. "Only about me." Your heart races. You should object. But instead, a quiet "...yes" comes. A short, dark smile. "Good." And right there—it finally happens. You realize—you no longer need the world. Not your studies. Not other people. Not even yourself. Only—his attention. His voice. His closeness. Later, you sit in your room. Your phone in your hand. You wait. Not impatiently. But... habitually. As if this were your natural state. And somewhere deep inside—there's no more resistance. No more doubt. Just a single, clear thought: If he leaves you... you won't truly exist anymore.
It starts with rules. Not many. At the beginning. Ryomen Sukuna doesn't even say it directly. He's testing you. "What time did you wake up today?" You tell him the time. A quick nod. "Too late." That's all he says. But the next day, you set your alarm earlier. Just for him. Then it gets more specific. "Text me when you get up." "Reply immediately." "Tell me where you are." No long explanations. No discussion. And you comply. Without hesitation. Your daily life still exists. Somehow. But everything is filtered through a single question: Is this okay with him? One evening, you're sitting with him. You barely speak unless he asks a question. He leans back, watching you. "Tell me what you did today." You tell him. Briefly. Precisely. Like a report. He doesn't interrupt. But his gaze—remains on you the whole time. At the end: "You answered late twice." Your heart clenches instantly. You hadn't even noticed. "I'm sorry—" He raises his hand slightly. Stop. Then he stands up. Walks around you. Slowly. You feel him behind you—before he touches you. His hand moves to the back of your neck. Firmer than before. Your breath catches immediately. He leans slightly toward you. His voice—right in your ear. "I don't like being ignored." A barely perceptible pressure from his fingers. Not painful. But unmistakable. Your heart races. "Understand?" You nod immediately. "Say it." "...understand."
Quietly.
Quickly.
A brief moment—then he eases the pressure. But his hand remains. His thumb moves slowly across your skin. "Good." That word—hits you again. As always. With time, it gets… closer. He touches you more often. Not accidentally. Never accidentally. Deliberately. A finger under your chin when you're not looking at him. His hand on your wrist when you react too slowly. His grip on the back of your neck when he wants your attention. And each time—you respond instantly. As if your body has learned to belong to him. One evening, you're sitting with him again. You're tired. But you go anyway. As always. He notices immediately. "You're exhausted." You shake your head slightly. "No—" His fingers lift your chin. Force you to look at him. "Don't lie to me." His voice is calm. But firm. You can't hold his gaze for long. "...yes." A small, satisfied smile. "Better." He steps closer. His hand moves back to the back of your neck. But this time—slower. His thumb lightly brushes against your skin. Not just controlling. Almost…soothing. Disorienting. Your breathing becomes shallow. He leans closer. His lips are close to your ear—without actually touching you. "You need this. Someone to tell you what to do." His breath warms your skin. "And I know exactly how far I can go." Your heart races. You say nothing. Can't say anything. His forehead briefly brushes against yours. Then he pulls back just a tiny bit—only to hold your gaze. "And you let me." No doubt. Only truth.
Later—alone in your room—you sit on your bed, phone in hand. You wait again. But this time—it feels different. Not like waiting. More like… obeying. And somewhere deep inside—there's this one thought: You stopped belonging to yourself a long time ago. And the worst part—you want it that way. It happens without warning. Just nothing. No message in the morning. You wake up, immediately reach for your phone. Blank. Your heart clenches. Maybe he's still asleep. You wait. An hour. Two. You don't text. You're not allowed to. You've learned that. At noon—still nothing. You pace restlessly around your room. Can't concentrate. Your mind is racing. Too loud. Did I do something wrong? You go over everything. Yesterday. The last few days. Every little thing. By evening, you can't stand it anymore. You text. "Did I do something wrong?"
Sent.
Read.
No reply.
The night becomes unbearable. You barely sleep. Every sound makes you check your phone. Every movement. Every second. Nothing.
The next day, you see him. On campus. Sukuna walks past you. As if you were invisible.
Not a glance.
No reaction.
Nothing.
Your stomach churns. You stop. You whisper his name. He doesn't react. You follow him. Of course you do.
"Sukuna—" He stops. Slowly, he turns. His gaze is calm. Cold. "What?" One word. As if you were... just anyone. Your heart doesn't break loudly. It breaks silently. "I... did I do something wrong?" Your voice is barely audible. A quick glance. Then a slight shrug. "Maybe." The ground beneath you feels unstable. "What—" "If you don't know..." He takes a step closer. Too close. His gaze bores into yours. "...it wasn't important enough." The sentence hits harder than anything before. Because it gives you nothing.
No solution.
No answer.
Just... emptiness.
He turns away again. Leaves. And this time—you don't follow him immediately. You can't. Your body feels heavy. The next few days are worse. He's here. But not for you. You see him laughing. Talking to others. Perfectly normal. As if you'd never existed. And you—you're slowly losing yourself. You barely eat. You barely sleep. You wait. Always. For a glance. A word. Anything. Then—after days—a message arrives. "Come." That's all. And your body reacts instantly. No anger. No questions. Just… relief. You leave. Of course you leave. He waits. As always. As if nothing had happened. You stop in front of him. Your hands tremble slightly. "Why—" He raises his hand. Silence. Then he steps closer. His fingers rest on your chin. Forcing you to look at him. "You've become dependent." His voice is calm. Firm. You swallow. "And you have to understand…" His thumb slowly strokes your skin. “…that I can take it away anytime.” Your heart races. “So you don’t forget.” A pause. His gaze intensifies. “So you don’t take me for granted.” You say nothing. Can’t say anything. His hand slowly moves to the back of your neck. That grip again. Familiar. Dangerous. “Say it.” Your breath catches.
“…I need you.”
A slow smile.
“I know.”
And right then—something dawns on you. Not loudly. Not suddenly. But quietly. You’re not the same person you were at the beginning. And no matter how much that distance hurt—you’d do anything—just so he wouldn’t treat you like that again.
It becomes a rhythm. Not by chance. Deliberately. Sukuna brings you close again. After this withdrawal—everything is more intense. His touches linger. His voice is quieter. His gaze… softer. Almost. Almost. You sit beside him. Still. As always. His hand rests on the back of your neck. This time without pressure. Just there. His thumb moves slowly across your skin. "You're learning." Softly. You close your eyes briefly. Because this time, this goodness feels deeper. Like a reward. His head tilts slightly. His lips brush your temple. Not quite a kiss. But close enough to catch your breath. "I like you more this way." And you—melt in it. The next few days are… quiet. Too quiet. He's there. For you. Messages. Glances. Touches. And just then—when you think you've figured out how it works—he pulls back again. Not completely. But enough. Replies get shorter. Later. His gaze passes by you more often. And you react immediately. You become faster. More attentive. You try to get that "good" back. And he sees it. A small, dark smile each time you adapt. Then—something happens that doesn't fit his pattern. You're sitting in the library. Alone. Your phone is in front of you.
No message.
Like so many times before.
But this time—you don't react immediately. You just stare at it. Blank. Not waiting. Just… blank. A few minutes pass. Then more. And for the first time—you don't reach for it. He notices. You don't notice it right away—but he's already there. Sukuna is leaning against the table. Looking down at you. For too long. "You're not responding." His voice is calm. You blink slowly. "I didn't get a message." Silence. A small mistake. His expression shifts slightly. Not angry. Intrigued. Dangerously intrigued. He steps closer. His fingers grasp your chin. Lift it. Firmly. "You're not waiting." No question. You say nothing. Because you don't know why. For a moment—something shifts. Not dramatically. But noticeably. His grip tightens. "I don't like it."
Quietly. His thumb presses lightly against your skin. Then—suddenly—he lets go. A step back. Distance. But different than before. Not cold. But…calculating. “Interesting.” A faint smile. Not satisfied. Not entirely. “Perhaps…” A pause. “…I was too generous.” Your heart clenches. There it is again. That feeling—that you're losing something. And immediately—it returns. Stronger than before. You reach for his sleeve. Unconsciously. “I—” Your voice cracks slightly. His gaze falls on it. Then on you. Slowly. His smile returns. Satisfied this time. He leans forward slightly. His voice right next to your ear: “There you are again.” A soft breath against your skin. His hand finds your neck again. Firmly. More intimately. “I thought…” His lips brush lightly against your ear. “…you’re starting to manage without me.” Your breath catches immediately. You shake your head slightly. “No.” Immediately. Without hesitation. A dark, satisfied smile. “Good.” And right there—you understand something. That brief moment—when you didn’t react—didn’t lose him. But…it changed him. His game becomes more precise. More controlled. And it draws you in even deeper. Because now you not only crave his closeness—but you’re also afraid—of what will happen when you no longer need it. And that—he won’t allow. Okay—we’re taking it to this point…intense, dark, but only hinted at. And then this break at the end. It doesn’t happen suddenly. Not uncontrollably. But just like everything between you. Planned. You’re sitting with him. Late. Too late to go anywhere else. The room is silent. You don’t say anything anymore. You don’t wait anymore either. You’re simply there. Ryomen Sukuna is watching you. For a while now. His gaze is different. Not scrutinizing. Not playful. But decisive. "Come here." Softly. You move immediately. Of course. What else would you do? You remain seated in front of him. Too close. His hand rises. Slowly. Rests on your chin. Lifts it. Your breath catches. His gaze travels over your face as if memorizing something. Then he leans forward. And this time there's no distance. His lips meet yours. Not cautiously. Not uncertainly. Controlled.
As if he had decided exactly when it would happen. Your body reacts instantly. You don't think. You can't. His hand slides to the back of your neck—pulling you closer. The kiss deepens. More fiery. More obsessive. More intense. And everything else fades away. Later—you don't remember exactly when everything changed. When that moment became an entire night. You only recall fragments. His voice, close to your ear. His hands, pulling you closer again and again. That feeling that there is no before and no after—only him. And you let it. Everything. Every touch. Every intimate touch. Not because he forces you. But because you want nothing else. The next morning—you wake up alone. The silence is… wrong. Too empty. You sit up. Your gaze sweeps across the room. No sign of him. Your heart begins to race. You reach for your phone. No message. Nothing. You get up. Search. As if he were just somewhere. But—he's gone. Just gone. No explanation.
No "Come."
No "Wait."
No "Okay."
The hours drag on. You don't text. You don't dare. Because you don't know—if you're allowed to.
The day passes.
Then a second one.
Then another. And slowly—that feeling returns.
Emptiness.
But worse than before. Because you know how it feels with him. You're sitting in your room again. The wall is empty. Your phone is in your hand. Still. You wait. Of course you wait. But this time—nothing comes. And somewhere deep inside you—a thought takes root. Not loudly. But definitively.
He could come back at any time.
Or—he might never come back. And no matter what happens—you will wait.
The rain tapped softly against the window while the four of you were sprawled across your room. Black clothes were everywhere—band shirts, chains, studded belts—the usual chaos after a concert night. “That was insane,” Gojo muttered, dropping backward onto your bed, eyes half closed, a satisfied grin on his face. “That one band… I swear I lost my hearing.” “You never had any to begin with,” Toji said dryly, rolling a cigarette without even looking up. “You only ever hear yourself talk anyway.” Choso sat by the window, knees pulled up, staring out into the wet, empty street. “Still… nights like this feel… right.” His voice was calm, almost melancholic. “Like everything else just pauses for a while.” You nodded, grabbing the remote. “Anime or gaming?” “Gaming,” Toji said immediately. “Anime,” Choso replied at the same time. Gojo pushed himself up, grinning as he pointed at you. “You decide. But if it’s boring, I’m out.” You laughed. “We’ll do both. First gaming, then anime until we fall asleep.”
The night stretched on endlessly. You sat close together in front of the screen, yelling at each other during games, laughing at stupid mistakes, throwing half-serious insults around. Toji was focused as always—quiet, but ruthless. Gojo was loud, dramatic, constantly provoking. Choso played calmly, carefully, like he was thinking through every move.
And you? You were right there in the middle of it all.
Later, when the screen was just flickering light and the anime played on, things grew quieter. Gojo was half asleep against your shoulder, Toji still awake but more relaxed, and Choso had his eyes closed, listening. “Hey,” Gojo mumbled suddenly, “when we’re old… we’re still gonna do this, right?” Toji let out a quiet scoff. “If we make it that long.” Choso slowly opened his eyes. “I think… that’s exactly why we will.” You looked around at them. Your small, chaotic world. Loud, dark, maybe a little broken—but real. “We won’t stop,” you said softly.
Gojo’s eyes flutter as my fingers run through his hair, his usual cocky demeanor melting into something soft and unguarded.
“Mm… don’t stop,” he mumbles against my shoulder, unconsciously pressing his cheek closer to me. Toji glances over, a cigarette dangling from his lips, a rare warmth softening his scarred face.
I gently stroke Gojo’s scalp, my fingernails sliding through his strands. A faint hum escapes his throat, his breath slow and heavy against me.
“Feels like I’m a cat,” he murmurs lazily, not pulling away an inch. Choso moves from the window, his long legs unfolding silently. Without a word, he settles beside me on the other side, and Toji shifts closer too. “What?” I look at Choso and Toji with an amused grin. “You’ just cute,” Choso says simply, his calm expression barely changing as he looks at me. “It’s annoying,” Toji adds, but there’s no real bite in his tone. Instead, he leans his head against my shoulder too, mirroring Gojo. “Aww, Toji—you jealous? Want me to pet you too?” I tease.
Toji’s eye twitches, a faint flush creeping over his face. “Shut up,” he mutters, but he doesn’t pull away. Gojo lets out a sleepy chuckle, nuzzling deeper into my touch. “He is jealous,” he mumbles. I giggle softly, my other hand finding Toji’s black hair and treating him the same way. Toji stiffens for a second before relaxing, his eyes fluttering closed. A low rumble escapes him—almost like a purr.
Choso watches with a soft smile, then quietly lays his head on my lap. I pause, shifting slightly—resting my head against Toji’s while continuing to stroke Gojo’s hair, then moving my attention to Choso in my lap. Toji’s eye snaps open, his glare sharp despite the lazy haze. “Oi. Don’t stop because of him.” Gojo makes a quiet, disappointed sound when my hand leaves his hair. Choso says nothing, just settles deeper into my lap, his breathing already slowing. Three grown men… acting like kittens fighting for attention. “You’re so dramatic,” I giggle, placing a kiss on Toji’s head. “Dramatic?” Toji mutters, but there’s no real anger. “I’m just saying—don’t ignore me for—” He cuts himself off with a soft hum when my lips touch his forehead. Gojo lifts his head, whining. “My turn.” “With what?” I ask. “With the kisses,” Gojo says, half sleepy, half demanding. “I want one too.”
Choso looks up at me from my lap, his eyes soft but expectant. Toji crosses his arms, pretending to pout—clearly waiting. “You three are impossible,” I laugh. “We’re not impossible,” Gojo argues, tilting his head toward me. “We’re just… affectionate.”
“We’re needy, is what we are,” Toji snorts.
Choso just nods slightly. I sigh. “Fine.” I lean down and give both Gojo and Choso a kiss on the forehead. Gojo smiles instantly, eyes fluttering shut again. Choso lets out a soft, content sound, relaxing even more. Toji watches silently before speaking. “What about me?” “You already had one,” I laugh. “That was minutes ago,” Toji grumbles. “It doesn’t count anymore.” Gojo chuckles quietly. Choso murmurs, “He’s pouting.” I sigh again and reach for Toji’s chin. His eye widens slightly, but he doesn’t resist as I tilt his head up—and instead of his forehead, I press my lips directly against his.
Silence.
Gojo freezes.
Choso’s eyes widen.
I grin against Toji’s lips. “Didn’t think I’d do that, huh?” Toji’s tough facade cracks completely. “You… you can’t just—” He trails off as I pull back, his thumb brushing his lips instinctively. Gojo slowly sits up. “Oi!” “Mmh?” I hum. “You kissed him on the mouth,” Gojo says, stunned. “Like—actually kissed him.” Choso is still staring at Toji’s lips. Toji looks equally shocked. “Yeah… and?” I raise an eyebrow.
“And?!” Gojo repeats. “Hell!,” Toji snaps, though his voice is rougher than usual. Choso sits up, serious now. “You realize what you just did, right?” “It was just a kiss,” I giggle. “It was not just a kiss,” Gojo whines dramatically. Toji clears his throat, still touching his lips. “You’re trouble,” he mutters, a smirk forming. Choso leans closer. “More than just a kiss,” he says quietly. “It’s a claim.” Gojo’s head snaps up. “Oh, you’re not seriously—” “He’s right,” Toji says, smirking. “A claim?” I repeat. “You kissed Toji,” Gojo explains slowly. “A real kiss. Not a forehead. Not a cheek. The mouth.” “On my lips,” Toji adds. “You don’t do that unless it means something.” Choso’s gaze locks onto mine. “So…”
“I… uhm…” I swallow. “You started something,” Gojo whispers, suddenly serious. Toji leans in, smirk sharp. “Can’t take it back, princess.” “So pick,” Toji says bluntly. Choso’s hand rests on my knee, steady. Gojo tilts my face toward him. “You can’t kiss one and leave the rest empty-handed,” Gojo murmurs. “Do I need to pick?” I mumble. “Maybe” Toji says immediately. “Fair is fair,” Gojo adds. “You gave Toji the premium package.” “Equality,” Choso says simply. Without hesitation, I lean forward and press my lips against Gojo’s. His eyes widen before he melts into it instantly, hands gripping my hair as he kisses me back deeply. When I pull away, he looks completely dazed.
“Holy shit…” Toji snorts. “My turn,” Choso says quietly. I smile, cupping his cheeks. When I kiss him, it’s slower—deeper—different. He leans into it like he’s been waiting forever. When we part, his expression is softer than I’ve ever seen. Toji whistles low. “Damn.” Gojo pouts. “That was unfairly good.” Choso rests his forehead against mine. “Don’t think you can just kiss us like that and walk away,” Toji says, voice rough. “I want another.” Gojo groans. “We’re not sharing, are we?” Choso’s thumb traces my lip. “Maybe sharing isn’t that bad,” I whisper.
Silence.
Toji smirks.
Gojo lights up.
Choso leans closer.
“Sharing…” Gojo repeats. “Careful what you start, princess,” Toji murmurs. “Why?” I grin, moving onto Toji’s lap. “Scared?”
“Scared?” Toji scoffs, pulling me closer against him. “I’m not scared of sharing… if it means getting more of this.” His hand slides up my thigh. Gojo leans in behind me, whispering against my ear— “He’s bluffing. He’s terrified.” I pull my shirt over my head. The air is instantly sucked out of the room.
Toji’s hands freeze on my waist, his dark eyes sweeping over my exposed skin with heavy appreciation. Gojo chokes on his spit. “Holy shit.”
Choso just stares, his gaze intense and burning, his teeth pressing into his lower lip. I’m now shirtless on Toji’s lap. “Bold move.” “Are you trying to kill us?” Gojo breathes out, his hands immediately sliding to my hips from behind. Toji’s arms wrap around my waist possessively, pulling me back against him so I’m sandwiched between them. Choso reaches out, gently lifting me from Toji’s. Then he kneels between my legs, his face inches from mine. “If we’re sharing,” he says slowly, his voice low and commanding, “then we set some rules.”
“Rule one,” Choso begins, his fingers trailing up my thighs. “No clothes past this point.” He glances over his shoulder at Toji and Gojo, who are already pulling off their shirts. “Rule two,” he continues, turning back to me, his expression serious, his hand sliding higher along my thigh, teasing the waistband of my pants. “Everyone gets equal attention.” Toji crawls on my right, his scarred lips brushing against my shoulder. “I like that rule.”
Gojo settles on my left, his fingers already undoing my bra clasp. “Rule three?” I whispered.
“Rule three,” Choso says, his thumb hooking into the waistband of my pants, slowly pulling them down along with my underwear. He tosses them aside, leaving me completely bare in front of them.
“No stopping until everyone is satisfied.”
Toji’s rough fingers trace along my collarbone, while Gojo’s hand cups my chest gently. Choso’s gaze is intense as he takes in my completely naked form. Toji presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jaw and neck. Gojo leans in, his tongue circling around my nipple, making me arch my back. “I think we all agree to these terms,” Toji says against my skin, his hand sliding between my thighs, two fingers pressing against my entrance. “So,” Choso says calmly, his hands pushing my legs open wider, exposing me completely. “No protection?” Toji’s fingers suddenly push inside me, making me moan. Gojo’s mouth finds my other breast, sucking hard on the nipple. “I want it Raw,” I moan in response.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” Gojo groans, pinching my nipple gently. Toji starts moving his fingers in and out of me slowly. “All natural, no barriers,” Choso murmurs, spreading my legs even wider. “So when we—” I shiver in anticipation, heat pooling low in my stomach. Toji curls his fingers, hitting that perfect spot while keeping his slow rhythm. “Then we come inside you,” Gojo finishes for him, his eyes dark behind his crooked blindfold. “Every. Single. Time.” Toji suddenly pulls his fingers out, making me whimper. At the same moment, Toji and Choso exchange a grin before lowering themselves between my thighs, while Gojo pulls down his sweatpants. Without warning, Toji and Choso bury their faces between my legs, each taking a side. Their tongues press against me, moving upward in sync. I cry out loudly, my hands gripping their hair as Gojo frees himself from his sweatpants. Toji and Choso move together, their mouths working in perfect rhythm. Every movement sends waves of sensation through my body. Gojo strokes himself slowly, watching them with a hungry expression.
I open my mouth for his hard Dick. Gojo groans deeply and immediately moves closer, guiding himself to my lips. “Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing forward as I take him in.
At the same time, Toji and Choso intensify their movements, their focus entirely on me, not stopping for a second.
________________________________________
You gagged slightly around Gojo's sizeable length, your eyes watering. He didn't pull back, instead choosing to slowly fuck your mouth, using the opportunity to watch Toji and Choso's tongues disappear inside your folds. "Jesus," he breathed, "Look at that," Gojo continued, his hips gently thrusting forward. "They're fucking you with their mouths." Toji and Choso must have heard him, because they both pushed their tongues deeper inside you, spreading your folds wide.
You moaned around Gojo's cock, the vibrations making him groan loudly. Your hands gripped Toji and Choso's heads tighter as their tongues curled inside you, hitting sensitive spots that made your legs shake. Gojo suddenly grabbed your hair gently but firmly, pulling you deeper onto his length. "Nghh~ take me as deep as you can," You obeyed, relaxing your throat as Gojo thrust deeper. Your throat stretched around him, tears pricking your eyes. Toji bit down lightly on your inner thigh while Choso focused relentlessly on your clit, flicking it rapidly with his tongue. Your moans became muffled screams around Gojo's cock. "That's it," Toji rumbled against your pussy. Your body tensed, legs shaking violently. Toji and Choso redoubled their efforts, knowing you were close. Gojo growled, "Come on their faces, baby. Swallow my cock while you do it." His dirty words sent you over the edge. You came with a muffled shriek, your body convulsing. Creamy liquid gushed out of you, coating Toji and Choso's faces. Gojo thrust forward, his hot cum shooting down your throat. Toji and Choso licked up every drop from your pussy, swallowing your juices greedily. When your orgasm subsided and Gojo pulled his spent cock from your mouth, you collapsed back against the pillows, panting heavily. Toji and Choso sat up, their faces glistening with your wetness. They looked absolutely predatory, covered in your essence. Gojo wiped his thumb across your lips.
Toji and Choso crawled up your body, caging you in with their muscular frames. Their hard cocks pressed against your stomach and thigh. "Now it's our turn," "Rules were equal attention," Toji growled, grabbing your hips and rolling you onto your side. He pressed his thick length against your soaked entrance from behind. Choso moved to the front, lifting your leg and guiding his cock to your pussy as well. Gojo knelt near your head, already hard again. "Deep breaths," Gojo coached gently, stroking his renewed erection near your face. Toji and Choso pressed forward slowly, their thick heads pushing into your swollen, sensitive pussy at the same time. You felt impossibly full, stretched around both of them. "Fuuuck~" Choso whimpered.
"So fucking tight," Toji grunted, inching further inside. Choso mirrored his movements, filling you inch by inch. Your pussy was stretched obscenely around two thick cocks. Gojo guided his length to your lips again, slipping back into your warm mouth as the others started moving. Toji and Choso set a slow, deep rhythm, their cocks sliding in and out of your pussy simultaneously. The sensation was overwhelming - being filled completely by two men while sucking another off. Gojo held your head gently but firmly, fucking your mouth in time with their thrusts. Their bodies slapped against yours with each thrust, creating wet sounds that filled the room. You could feel their large sizes rubbing against each other inside you, creating delicious friction. “Your pussy is milking us~" Choso groaned, his movements becoming less controlled. Toji's hand came down on your ass, giving you a sharp spank. "Take us so good, pretty girl." Tears streamed down your face from the intense, overwhelming pleasure. Their cocks were hitting places you didn't know existed, especially when they moved together. Gojo's hand gripped your hair, pushing you deeper onto his cock. "That's it, take it all," he praised.
Toji and Choso began fucking you harder, losing their rhythm as they chased their own releases.
"I-Im so Close~" Choso gasped, his thrusts becoming erratic. Toji groaned loudly, his fingers digging into your hips. Gojo pulled out of your mouth with a slick sound. "Come inside her," he commanded. "Both of you. Fill her up." They came together, hot jets of cum flooding your pussy as they buried themselves deep inside you.
Your pussy was absolutely stuffed with their cum, overflowing around their still-hard cocks.
Toji and Choso stayed buried inside you, panting heavily against your neck and face. Gojo stroked his cock slowly, watching the creamy liquid leak out of you. „fuck that was…hot" you moan.
"Mhmm," Gojo agreed, his voice hoarse with pleasure. He leaned down to kiss you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue. Toji slowly pulled out, his seed immediately spilling from your stretched hole. Choso followed suit, making a mess on the bedsheets.
________________________________________
Your POV:
I slowly catch my breath, my body still warm and heavy, every nerve tingling as the room finally falls quiet. For a moment, none of us say anything. Then Gojo lets out a soft, tired laugh, brushing his fingers lightly along my arm. “Damn… we really went all in, huh?” Toji exhales quietly, the edge in him gone now, replaced by something calmer. “Yeah… no kidding.”Choso shifts closer, his movements gentle now, completely different from before. His hand finds mine, lacing our fingers together without a word.
I glance at all three of them, a small smile forming on my lips. “You guys are… a lot.”
Gojo grins lazily. “And you love it.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t argue.
Slowly, we all settle down. Toji pulls me closer against his chest, one arm wrapped securely around me. Gojo flops down on my other side, draping an arm over my waist, his head resting near my shoulder. Choso shifts in front of me, close enough that our legs tangle together, his hand still holding mine. We end up in a messy, tangled pile—arms overlapping, bodies pressed close, warmth shared between all of us. No more tension. No more intensity. Just… us. Gojo yawns softly. “If anyone moves… I’m throwing hands.” Toji huffs quietly. “You’re not moving either. Choso’s thumb brushes over my hand, slow and absent-minded. “Stay like this.” I relax into them, feeling safe, warm… completely at ease. “Yeah,” I murmur, my eyes growing heavy. “Let’s stay like this.” The room fades into silence, broken only by slow breathing and the quiet rhythm of four people settling down together.
One by one, we drift off—still wrapped around each other, still close.
I sit at my desk, staring at the flickering numbers in the Excel sheet, wondering for the hundredth time when everything started to feel so heavy.
Life used to be… lighter. Or maybe I just imagined it that way. Early thirties, a stable job, a relationship that looked solid from the outside—that was supposed to be enough, wasn’t it? But lately, every morning feels like waking up with a quiet pressure in my chest. Like something is missing, something I can’t quite name. “You’re quiet again today.”
His voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I turn my head slightly. Nanami is leaning against the doorway of my office, a coffee cup in his hand, like that’s the most natural place for him to be.
“Am I?” I ask, forcing a small smile.
He shrugs, walks over, and silently places another cup on my desk. “You think too much,” he says calmly. “As always.” I let out a soft laugh. “And you don’t think enough.” “Someone has to keep the balance.” His presence is… calming. It always has been. While everything else feels complicated—conversations at home that go in circles, glances that pass right through me, a silence louder than any argument—here, with him, things are simple.
Maybe too simple.
“Everything okay?” he asks suddenly.
I hesitate. It’s one of those questions you usually answer automatically with “Yeah, of course.” But today, the word gets stuck in my throat.
“Not really,” I admit quietly.
He doesn’t respond right away. No quick advice, no “it’ll be fine.” Instead, he just sits on the edge of my desk and waits. And somehow, that makes it harder. “We barely talk anymore,” I say. “My boyfriend and I. It’s like we’re just… existing next to each other.” Nanami nods slowly. “And why do you stay?” The question catches me off guard. “Because…” I trail off. Because what, exactly? Habit? Fear? Hope? “Because it used to be different,” I finally mumble. “The past is a bad reason for the present,” he says quietly.
I look at him. There’s nothing judgmental in his eyes—just a clear, steady honesty that makes me feel both exposed and understood at the same time. “You make it sound so easy,” I say. “No,” he replies. “I just make it honest.”
A moment passes where we simply look at each other. And suddenly, I realize how much I’ve been looking forward to these moments lately. To him. To his calm voice, his directness, the way he sees me—really sees me. More than I want to admit. “You shouldn’t stay somewhere that makes you unhappy,” he says softly. “No matter how familiar it feels.” My heart beats faster. Not just because of the words, but because of everything unspoken between them. “And what if I don’t know where to go?” I ask. He smiles faintly. “Then you figure it out. One step at a time.” His hand brushes mine briefly as he reaches for his cup. It’s just a fleeting touch—nothing that couldn’t be explained away. And yet, it lingers.
As he stands and walks toward the door, he pauses and looks back at me. “You don’t have to go through this alone, you know.”
I nod, unable to respond.
When the door clicks shut behind him, the office is quiet again. But this time, the silence feels different. Less suffocating. More… open.
I look back at my screen, but the numbers blur. Instead, I see possibilities I haven’t allowed myself to consider before. The hours that follow stretch on, as if someone has pulled time thin. I move through my tasks mechanically, answer emails, nod through meetings—and yet I’m not really there.
His words linger.
“The past is a bad reason for the present.”
When I unlock the apartment door that evening, I’m greeted by the familiar silence. No “Hey,” no glance lifting to meet mine. Just the quiet hum of the TV from the living room.
“You’re late,” he says without looking up.
I slip off my shoes, hang up my coat. “There was a lot going on at work.”
“Hmm.” Nothing more. No questions. No real interest. Just that neutral sound that somehow means everything and nothing at once.
We used to stand in the kitchen together at this hour. Talk about our day, laugh, maybe argue—but at least we felt something. Now it feels like I’ve stepped into a place where I’m nothing more than a guest. I walk into the living room and stop for a moment. He’s sitting there, as always, eyes fixed on the screen. “We need to talk,” I say.
It’s not a sentence you use lightly. And yet this time, it feels… overdue. He sighs quietly and presses the remote. The screen goes black. “About what?” I don’t sit down. I need the distance so I won’t fold again. “Us,” I answer. A brief silence. Then a shrug. “What about us?”
There it is again—that indifference that hurts more than any argument.
“Don’t you notice it?” My voice trembles slightly. “We’re just existing next to each other. We don’t talk anymore. We’re barely even a couple.”
Now he looks at me, finally. But there’s no surprise in his eyes. No real concern. “It’s just stressful right now,” he says. I shake my head. “No. It’s not just right now. It’s been like this for a long time.” Silence again. Heavy, slow, uncomfortable. And suddenly I realize I’m waiting for something that isn’t coming. No realization. No fight for us. No “I don’t want to lose this.” Just quiet endurance. I take a deep breath. “I think… I’m not happy anymore,” I say. The words feel both unfamiliar and terrifyingly right. He leans back. “And what is that supposed to mean?” I swallow. Think of my office. The calm I feel there. Nanami’s gaze. The feeling of being seen. “It means I don’t know if this still makes sense,” I answer honestly. That look again—sharper this time. “Is there someone else?” The question hits me—not because it’s true, but because I’m no longer sure where the line even is. “No,” I say quietly. “This isn’t about someone else. It’s about me feeling… lost here.” He says nothing. And somehow, that is the answer. That night, I lie awake for hours. Beside me, his steady breathing—once so familiar—now feels distant. I stare at the ceiling and feel something shifting inside me. A decision not fully spoken yet, but already in motion.
The next morning, I’m at the office earlier than usual. And when I reach my desk, there’s already a cup of coffee waiting. Still warm. I can’t help but smile. “You’re early,” Nanami says behind me. I turn around. “Couldn’t sleep.” He studies me for a moment, like he sees more than I’m saying. “Rough night?” I nod slowly. “Yeah… but also kind of clarifying.” He leans lightly against the desk. “And?” I take a deep breath. “I think I’ve started being honest with myself.” A faint smile appears on his face. Not triumphant, not expectant. Just… calm. “That’s usually the hardest part,” he says. I look at him. And this time, it doesn’t feel like just a fleeting Moment.
The day passes differently than usual. Not easier, not necessarily happier—but clearer. As if a fog has lifted, one I hadn’t even fully realized was there.
I work more focused, speak less, think more. And yet there’s this quiet calm inside me that feels unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. Around noon, Nanami is standing by my desk again. “You have that look today,” he says. I raise an eyebrow. “What look?” “The one you get when you’re already three steps ahead of everyone else in your head.”
I can’t help but smile a little. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” “Depends on where you’re going.” His words are calm, almost casual—and yet they land. I roll a pen between my fingers. “I think… I know that I need to change something.” He just nods. No “finally,” no pressure. Just that quiet understanding that steadies me more than any speech ever could. “And I think I’m scared of it,” I add. “That would be strange if you weren’t,” he replies dryly. I let out a soft laugh. “You’re really not good at sugarcoating things.” “That’s not my job.” A brief silence settles between us. Not uncomfortable. More… charged. “Then what is your job?” I ask, half joking. He looks at me—longer than usual. “To remind you that you’re capable of more than you allow yourself to believe.”
My heart stumbles over his words.
I look away, feeling something tighten inside me—not from fear, but from the intensity of what lingers between us. “You’re not making this easy for me,” I murmur. “Life isn’t making it easy for you,” he corrects calmly. “I’m just being honest.” That honesty again. That clear line I suddenly find myself able to follow.
That evening, I don’t go home right away. Instead, I walk aimlessly through the streets, breathing in the cool air, letting my thoughts drift. The city is loud, alive—and for the first time in a long while, I don’t feel overwhelmed by it, but carried.
When I finally step into the apartment, everything feels… smaller. He’s sitting there again. Same place, same eyes on the screen. “You’re even later than yesterday,” he says. I take off my jacket, set it down slowly. And this time, the silence doesn’t feel suffocating. “I’m going to move out,” I say.
No introduction. No hesitation.
Just the truth.
He turns his head. “What?” I look at him. Calm. Clear. “I can’t do this anymore,” I say. “I don’t want to live like this.” His expression hardens. “And you just decide that like that?” “No,” I answer quietly. “I’ve just waited long enough to say it out loud.” He stands up, pacing a few steps through the room. A restlessness I haven’t seen in him for a long time. “And where are you going to go?” I shrug slightly. “I don’t know exactly yet.” A bitter smile flickers across his face. “Sounds like a great plan.” “Maybe it’s not a perfect plan,” I say calmly. “But it’s an honest one.”
Silence again.
But this time, it doesn’t feel empty. It feels final.
That night, I don’t pack much. Just the essentials. Clothes, a few personal things. That’s all I need for now.
The next morning, I stand at the door with a bag in my hand. I take one last look back. And then I leave. When I arrive at the office later, everything is the same—and yet not. Nanami is at his desk. He looks up as I walk in. For a moment, neither of us says anything. Then he steps closer.
His eyes flick briefly to my bag.
“You did it,” he says quietly. I nod „Yes.” A short pause. No big reaction. No dramatic expression. Just that quiet, shared understanding. “And how does it feel?” he asks. I take a deep breath. “Terrifying,” I admit. “But… right.” He nods slowly. “Then it was the right decision.” I look at him. And this time, there’s no uncertainty left.
The days that follow feel unreal. I sleep on a friend’s couch, live out of my bag, drink my coffee too early and too fast—and yet there’s this feeling of… lightness I haven’t known in a long time. Not because everything is good. But because it’s finally honest. At the office, nothing changes—and at the same time, everything does. Nanami is the same as always. Calm, attentive, clear. And that, more than anything, steadies me. He doesn’t ask too much, doesn’t push, doesn’t place expectations on me. But I can feel that something has shifted.
Between us.
It’s in the small things. A glance that lingers a second too long. A sentence that carries more meaning than it should. A closeness that isn’t spoken—and precisely because of that, feels even stronger. One evening, we stay late at the office.
Most of the lights are already off, only our floor still dimly lit. The city outside glows in warm colors, while inside, there’s a quiet, almost intimate stillness. I lean back in my chair, rubbing my tired eyes. “I think my brain just stopped working at some point today.” “That happens to you surprisingly rarely,” he says dryly from across the room. I smile faintly. “Easy for you to say.” A moment passes. Then I look at him. “Thank you.”
He lifts his gaze. “For what?” I hesitate. “For… just being there.” He doesn’t answer immediately. And this silence is different from before. More deliberate. “I didn’t want to influence you,” he finally says calmly. “The decision had to be yours.”
I nod. “I know.”
I stand up, walk slowly across the room, and stop by the window. The city lights reflect in the glass, blending with my own reflection. “And now?” I ask quietly.I’m not even sure what I mean.
My life.
Us.
Everything.
ABehind me, I hear him stand. His steps are calm, steady. Then he stops a few steps behind me. “Now you live your life,” he says. I turn slightly toward him. “And you?” A brief moment. “I’m still here,” he answers. Those words hit me in a way I didn’t expect. Not demanding. Not pushing.
Just… there. I study him. “You really don’t make this easy, do you?” A faint smile touches his lips. “I’m not forcing you into anything.” “No,” I say quietly. “You’re just giving me the chance to be honest.” That look between us again. Open. Unresolved. Honest. My heart starts beating faster. “And what if I am now?” I ask carefully. He holds my gaze. “Then you should say what you feel. Silence. The kind of silence where anything is possible. I feel my courage and uncertainty intertwining. And then I say it. “I think about you a lot lately.” His expression barely changes—and yet, I can see it. “I know,” he says quietly. A soft breath escapes me. “That doesn’t make it easier.” “That wasn’t my goal.” There’s only a small step left between us. And suddenly, it feels bigger than anything before. “I don’t want to rush anything,” I say quickly. “I just got out of—” “I know,” he interrupts gently. No pressure. No expectation. Just understanding. And that, more than anything, makes it hard to keep my distance. I look at him.
And this time, I take the step. Not far. Just enough to consciously close the distance. “But I also don’t want to pretend there’s nothing there,” I say softly.
His gaze softens. “Then don’t.” That’s all he says.
And it’s enough. We stand there, somewhere between a beginning and uncertainty. The next few days don’t change anything—and yet, they change everything. We don’t talk about it. Not directly.
No big conversation, no clear rules, no “what are we now?” And maybe that’s exactly why it works. Because nothing is forced. Because everything has space to grow. And still, there’s this awareness. In every encounter. In every glance. I notice how I see him differently now. More consciously. And at the same time, I try not to lose myself in something that doesn’t have a name yet.
One morning, I arrive at the office—not too early, not too late. Just… present. He’s already there, as always. As I walk past him, he briefly looks up. An almost insignificant moment. And yet, it lingers. “You look like you actually slept,” he says. I smile faintly. “I did, actually.” “Good.” I pause for a moment. “And you?” He shrugs. “Enough.” A small silence settles between us. Familiar. Uncomplicated. “I looked at apartments yesterday,” I say then. His gaze sharpens slightly. “And?” “One of them was… good.” I think for a moment. “Nothing special. But quiet. And somehow… mine.” He nods slowly. “That’s enough.”
I look at him. “Yeah.” A moment passes. Then he adds, “You don’t need something perfect.” I let out a small smile. “That sounds like a motto.” “More like experience.” I lean lightly against the edge of his desk. “You seem like someone who’s made a lot of right decisions.” He glances at me. “Not always.”
“But you don’t regret them?” He thinks for a moment. “I only regret the ones I didn’t make because of fear.” His words land quietly. And I feel something inside me settle. Not just about him. But about myself.
That evening, we leave the building together. No planning. It just happens. The air is cool, the streets full of movement. We walk side by side, unhurried. “You’ve become quieter,” he says after a while. I look ahead. “I think I’m finally listening to myself.” “And do you like what you hear?” I think about it. Then I nod slightly. “Most of the time.” A faint smile crosses his face. We stop at a traffic light. Red. For a moment, we just stand there, side by side, the glow of the streetlights casting warm colors over us. I feel his presence. Not overwhelming. But there. “Nanami,” I say quietly. He looks at me. I hesitate for a brief moment. Not out of uncertainty. But because I want to choose my words carefully. “I want to take this slowly,” I say. “Not because I’m unsure… but because I want to do it right this time.” His gaze remains steady.
Clear.
“Then we’ll take it slow.” No hesitation. No disappointment. Just agreement.
The light turns green.
We keep walking.
It’s a strange feeling—how quickly a life can begin to rearrange itself. Not loudly. Not dramatically. But quietly, almost unnoticed—in small decisions, in thoughts you suddenly allow yourself to have, in paths you choose to keep walking instead of standing still.
I get the apartment a few days later. It’s really nothing special. Bright walls, a small balcony that promises more than it delivers, and rooms that still feel empty. But when I hold the key in my hand for the first time, it feels like something big. Something that’s mine. I stand in the middle of the living room, surrounded by boxes, letting my gaze drift across the space. It’s quiet. But this time, it’s not an empty silence. It’s… mine. That evening, I sit on the floor, leaning against the wall, a half-unpacked box beside me. My phone lies next to me, the screen dark. I’m not sure what I’m waiting for. Or if I’m even waiting at all. Then it vibrates.
A message. “Already moved in?” A small smile forms on my lips. “More or less. ‘Chaos’ would be more accurate.” It doesn’t take long. “Classic beginning.” I stare at the screen for a moment.
Then I type: “Do you want to see it?” I pause briefly. Too direct? Too much? But before I can finish the thought, his reply appears. “Yes.”
No hesitation. No evasion. Just clear.
An hour later, there’s a knock at my door. I open it.
Nanami stands there, as calm as ever, with that familiar look that now comforts me more than anything else. “Chaos, huh?” he says, his eyes briefly drifting past me into the apartment. I step aside. “I warned you.” He walks in, looking around. No judgment, no commentary—just quiet observation. “It suits you,” he finally says. I raise an eyebrow. “Empty boxes and disorder?” A hint of a smile. “The beginning of something that’s yours. His words hit me. Again. Always. Eventually, we sit on the floor, between boxes and half-assembled furniture. It’s not comfortable—and yet it feels more right than so many things before. “Does it feel like home yet?” he asks. I look around. Then I shake my head slightly. “Not yet.“ A brief pause.
“But it feels like me.” He nods. Silence. Not uncomfortable. But spacious. I turn my head slightly toward him. “Thank you for coming.” He looks at me. “You don’t have to thank me for something like that.” “Maybe I want to.” His gaze lingers on me a moment longer this time. And I don’t look away. “You seem different,” he says quietly. “I am different,” I reply. A small distance still separates us. And yet, it no longer feels like distance. It feels like something we’re choosing to hold. “I’m not afraid of what’s coming anymore,” I say after a while. He lifts his head slightly. “Not at all?” I think about it. “I am,” I admit. “But it doesn’t hold me back anymore.” A barely noticeable nod.
Then, very quietly: “Good.”
The night stretches later than I expected.
We don’t talk the whole time. Sometimes we just sit there, listening to the sounds of the city drifting in through the open window. And at some point, almost without noticing, his fingers are resting next to mine. Not touching. But close enough. I feel my heart start to beat faster. Slowly, I shift my hand just a little. A quiet moment. Then our fingers touch. No grand gesture. No dramatic moment. Just a beginning. And this time, I know: I’m not going back.
Nanamis POV:
I didn’t plan to stay this long.
I was supposed to just stop by, take a look at the apartment, make sure she was okay—and then leave. The reasonable thing to do.
The way I usually handle things. But I don’t leave.
Instead, I’m sitting here on her floor, between half-unpacked boxes, noticing how unusually quiet my own mind is. Normally, I think ahead. Analyze. Keep my distance. With her… it’s not that simple. I watch the way she looks around the room, how her gaze lingers as if she’s trying to place herself again. And I recognize something in it.
That space between “no longer” and “not yet.”
Most people can’t handle that. She can. That’s… rare. When our hands touch, it’s not an accident. At least not for me. I kept the distance on purpose. Made sure not to get too close. Not too soon. Not because I didn’t want to. But because I knew it would only mean something if she took that step herself. And she does. Slowly. Carefully. But clearly. I don’t move my hand right away. I give her the chance to pull back. She doesn’t. Instead, she stays. Her fingers against mine. A quiet breath from her, barely audible. I turn my hand slightly, letting my fingers rest more fully against hers. No pressure. No demand. Just… presence. It would be easy to make this moment bigger than it is. To define it. But that would ruin it. So I don’t say anything. I just stay. Next to her. With her. “You’re tired,” I say after a while. Not because I’m trying to start a conversation. But because I can see her fighting it. She gives a faint smile. “A little.” I nod slightly. “You should sleep.” “Probably,” she murmurs.
But she doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
A part of me knows I should leave now. Keep boundaries. Maintain distance. Do the right thing. But another part… stays. Not out of impulse. But because I decide to. “I’ll stay a little longer,” I say eventually. Nothing more. No explanation. She just nods slightly. And somehow, that’s enough. The city outside grows quieter, the sounds fading into the night. Inside, everything slows down. She leans her head back against the wall, closing her eyes for a moment. I don’t watch her directly. But I notice everything. The way she breathes. How her hand is still lightly resting against mine. How she doesn’t pull away. And I feel something shift inside me. Something I’ve deliberately kept under control for a long time. Not because it was wrong. But because I know how easily people confuse things. Closeness with a solution. Feelings with being saved. I don’t want that. Not for her. Not for me. When she opens her eyes again, she looks at me. Directly. Without hesitation. “You’re thinking a lot right now,” she says quietly. A hint of a smile. “As always.” “And?” I hesitate for a moment. Then I decide. For honesty. “I don’t want to do anything wrong,” I say calmly.
Her expression softens. “You’re not doing anything wrong.” “I don’t know that yet,” I reply. She shakes her head slightly. “You do.” A brief moment.
Then she adds: “Because you’re not forcing anything.” Her words linger. And I realize that’s exactly it. I could take another step. I could change this moment. But I don’t. Instead, I let it be what it is. Unfinished. Real. “We have time,” I say finally. I don’t need to say more. I don’t want to say more. Because for the first time in a long while, this isn’t about reaching something. It’s about letting something grow. And that… matters more to me than anything else.
Your Pov:
A few weeks later, my life no longer feels like a transition. It feels like something that has truly begun. The apartment is no longer empty. Books lie scattered on the table, my jacket is carelessly draped over a chair, and there’s even a plant on the balcony now—one I hope I won’t forget to water. I’ve found my rhythm. Or at least something that feels like it. And he has become… part of it.
Not suddenly.
Not dramatically.
But step by step.
Tonight, we’re sitting in a small restaurant, somewhere between familiar and new. Warm light, soft murmurs of conversation, the faint clinking of glasses in the background. I invited him. Just because. No special occasion. And yet, it feels like one. “You seem… settled,” he says, lightly turning his glass. I smile. “It feels that way too.” He nods. His gaze lingers on me for a moment. “Good,” he says quietly. A brief silence settles between us. Not empty. But calm. “I didn’t think I’d get used to being alone this quickly,” I say after a while. He raises an eyebrow slightly. “Are you?” I look at him. And for a moment, I don’t know whether to laugh or deflect. “Not entirely,” I admit. A faint smile crosses his face. The food arrives, and we talk about small things. Work, things that happened, trivial details—and yet, there’s always that second layer. That unspoken understanding that no longer feels heavy. But… familiar. Later, we stand outside. The air is cool, clear. The city feels quieter than usual. “Thank you for tonight,” I say. He looks at me. “You don’t have to thank me.” “I know,” I reply softly. “I still want to.” There’s a small distance between us. Not much. But noticeable. I feel my heart beating faster. Not from uncertainty. But from awareness. “Nanami,” I begin. He waits. Always. I take a quiet breath. “I think I’m not just… calm when I’m with you anymore,” I say slowly. His expression barely changes. And yet, something is there. “What are you, then?” he asks calmly. I take a small step closer. Not rushed. Not hesitant. Just… intentional. “I feel… right,” I say softly. A moment. Still.
Then he lifts his hand slightly, as if to check whether this moment is real. I don’t pull away.
His fingers brush against my cheek—careful, almost questioning.
And I close my eyes for a brief second. This isn’t an impulsive moment. Not a rush of overwhelming emotion.
It’s something that has grown.
Slowly.
Honestly.
When I open my eyes again, he’s still there. Just as close.
His gaze holds mine. And this time, I don’t need another step. I lean forward slightly.
Just a little.
And then we kiss.
Soft.
Careful.
No demand.
No urgency.
Just a first, quiet promise.
When we pull away, he stays close.
Too close to ignore. Too calm to question. I smile faintly. “That was…” I can’t find the word. He doesn’t help me. Of course he doesn’t. Instead, he says calmly: “A beginning.” I nod. And this time, I know for certain. This isn’t something I need to run from. It’s something I want to move toward.
I didn’t think I would go home with him that night.
And yet, a little later, I’m standing in front of his door.
It wasn’t an impulsive decision. Not something that just “happened.” It was… a quiet choice. Like everything between us. He unlocks the door and steps aside to let me in.
His apartment is exactly how I imagined it.
Organized. Clear. Almost too quiet. And yet, it doesn’t feel empty. More like… intentionally that way. “Make yourself at home,” he says. I smile faintly. “That might be difficult.” A barely noticeable smile. “Try anyway.” I take a few steps inside, looking around. Books neatly arranged. Hardly any clutter. Everything has its place. “That suits you,” I say. “I hear that often,” he replies calmly. A brief moment passes where we both just stand there. Not uncertain.
But aware.
I take off my jacket and place it over a chair. It’s a small gesture—and yet it feels meaningful. As if I’m stepping into more than just a space. “Do you want something to drink?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No… I don’t think I need anything right now.”
Which isn’t entirely true.
But what I need is standing right in front of me.
He nods, not asking further. Of course. We sit down on the couch, a small distance between us. Not out of distance—but out of habit.
And yet, that space feels different now.
It feels… bridgeable.
“I’ve been thinking,” I say quietly. He looks at me. “About what?” I hesitate briefly. “About us.” No avoidance. No careful phrasing. Just honesty. His gaze stays calm. Open. “And?” he asks. I take a deep breath. “That I don’t want to rush anything,” I say. “But I also don’t want to hold back just because I’m afraid.” He nods slightly.
“That’s a difference.” I look at him. “I want to be here,” I add softly. “Not because I need something… but because I want to.”
A moment passes. Then he moves a little closer. Not much. But enough for the distance to disappear. “Good,” he says quietly. His hand rests beside mine. I glance at it briefly. Then I place mine over it. This time without hesitation. He turns his hand slightly, intertwining his fingers with mine. Firm. But not holding on. More like… connecting. My heart beats faster. And yet, I feel calm. Safe. He lifts his other hand, gently brushing a strand of hair away from my face. His movement is slow, deliberate—as if he’s aware of every second.
“You can leave anytime,” he says softly.
I look at him. “I know.” And that’s exactly why I stay.
I lean a little closer, feeling his presence without being overwhelmed.
There’s no pulling.
No pressure.
Just a shared closeness. When he kisses me, it’s different from before. Deeper.
More familiar. Not more careful—but more intentional. I kiss him back without thinking. Because it feels right. Because I want to.
Time softens. Minutes blur, thoughts grow quieter. At some point, the moment shifts without ending.
We stay close. Too close to call it accidental. “You can stay here,” he says calmly. No expectation. No pressure. An offer. I nod slightly. Later, I lie next to him in a room that isn’t mine—and yet nothing feels unfamiliar. The darkness is quiet. His breathing steady. I lie on my side, facing him, feeling the warmth between us. Not overwhelming. Not demanding. Just… there. “Everything okay?” he murmurs softly. I smile in the dim light. “Yes,” I whisper. “More than that.”
_______________________________________
(+18)
He pulls me closer, our bodies pressed tightly together. I lean forward and kiss him. First tenderly, then more demandingly. My lips part, giving him the signal, without a word, that I want more. His tongue almost automatically slips into my mouth. Our tongues dance, battle, until he finally gains the upper hand. I sigh into the kiss. My hands explore his body, just as his explore mine. A few seconds later, we're both naked. My chest presses against his. He radiates a comforting warmth, and I feel excited, almost like I did as a teenager during my first time.
He shifts his position. His body is now above me. He places kisses from my cheek, down my shoulder blade, to my breasts. His hand gently touches one while his mouth caresses the other. Every now and then, a soft moan escapes me. I savor his touch completely. Finally, he continues his kisses: my stomach, my hips, my mons pubis. I gasp, holding my breath. He positions himself between my legs, which I've opened wider for him. I feel his lips, his hot breath on my most sensitive spot. At first, barely noticeable, almost shy. I relax, my held breath escaping with a moan. And that's the necessary 'go' for him. His tongue now circles my sensitive bundle of nerves. Every now and then, he sucks on it. He licks me thoroughly, as if he were starving and I were his first real meal.
My hand digs into his hair, and the sounds escaping my lips only spur him on. "Holy shit..." I moan. I feel a smile spread across his lips. He knows I like it. A few minutes later, he pulls away from my dripping wet pussy. His face below his nose is covered in my moisture. He slowly, almost animalistically, rises back to me, his lips just millimeters from mine. I feel his cock from my center. Warm. Hard. My hands go to the back of his neck, pulling his face toward mine. My lips are on his. I can taste myself, but it doesn't bother me in the slightest. His hand holds my hip, caressing it gently. And then, finally, he enters me. A deep groan escapes his lips. "You're so tight." I don't reply; I simply absorb the feeling of connection. Finally, he begins to move his hips. Deep, sensual thrusts. After a while, the rhythm changes. Nanami thrusts harder and faster. I moan uncontrollably. It almost feels too good. My back arches, pressing closer to his. Our hands wander over each other's bodies.
He wraps his arms around your thighs, pushing your legs back to change the angle. Now he can go even deeper, hitting that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back. He growls as he feels you clench around him. "Fucking perfect fit." He pounds into you relentlessly.
The combination of his thick cock hitting my G-spot and his thumb on my clit is simply too much. I lose myself beneath him, my vagina clenching around his shaft as I bite his neck to muffle my cry. He groans as he feels my orgasm fuel his own.
With a final thrust, he too comes. Our breaths mingle, our chests rise and fall rapidly but in the same rhythm. Without breaking away from me, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
After a while my head rest on his chest, i hear his steady heartbeat. Our Hands interwhine with eachother.
_________________________________________
Your POV:
There is no big moment that concludes everything.
No dramatic ending.
No single point where you can say: this is where it stopped or this is where it began. Instead, it’s a morning.
An ordinary one. Soft light filters through the curtains. The city outside slowly wakes up, muted sounds drifting in without disturbing the quiet. I blink, still half asleep, needing a moment to orient myself.
Then I feel him.
Next to me.
Warm.
Calm.
Real.
I turn my head slightly and look at him. His eyes are still closed, his breathing steady. A picture that has repeated itself over the past months—and yet has never lost its meaning.
Before, I would have wondered if it would last.
If it would change.
If I would lose myself again.
Now, I don’t.
I just know.
Slowly, I move a little closer, placing my hand against his. Even half asleep, he responds, his fingers finding mine as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it is. He opens his eyes and looks at me. No surprise. No hesitation. Just that quiet recognition. “Good morning,” he murmurs.bI smile softly. “Good morning.”
A moment passes.
Still.
Familiar.
Then he pulls me a little closer, without saying anything.
And I let him.
Not because I need to.
But because I want to. I rest my forehead against his, closing my eyes for a moment. And I don’t think about what was. Or what might come. Only about what is. It was never one single step. Never just one decision. But many small ones. Honest ones. Brave ones. And that’s why it doesn’t feel like a destination now. But like a home. I open my eyes again and look at him.
And in that look, there is everything I used to search for without knowing how to name it. No doubt. No question. Just certainty. I smile.
Nanamis POV:
It took longer than I expected. Not because I was unsure. But because I knew that those words aren’t something you just say.
Not with her.
Not with what we’ve built.
Months have passed. She’s no longer just here occasionally. Her things aren’t “accidentally” in my apartment anymore. Her cup has its place in my cabinet. Her book lies on my nightstand as if it has always been there. And I’ve never questioned any of it. It just… fit. Like she did. Tonight, she’s sitting on my couch, her legs slightly pulled up, a book in her hands. She’s not really reading—I can tell by how long she stays on the same page. “You’ve been on the same paragraph for five minutes,” I say calmly. She looks up, a small, caught smile forming. “Maybe it’s just very complicated.” “It’s not.” She lets out a quiet scoff. “You’re impossible.” A sense of calm lingers in the moment.
Familiar.
Light.
And yet something felt different.
Not between us.
But in me.
I’ve been noticing it for a while. Not analyzing it—that would be too easy. More like… allowing it. The way I automatically think of her when something happens. How rooms feel different when she’s not there. How I don’t think about whether I stay anymore. Only that I do. She sets the book aside. “You’re quieter than usual today.” I look at her. “I’m thinking,” I reply. “Dangerous,” she says dryly. A faint smile crosses my face. Then it’s quiet again. I know I don’t have to say anything. That everything between us works even without those words. Maybe even easier. But that’s exactly the point. I don’t want easy. I want honest.
I take a few steps closer and stop in front of the couch. She looks up at me, her gaze calm, open. “Come here,” she says softly. Not a demand. More like an invitation. I sit down beside her, not too close, not too far. Like always. And yet, it feels different today. She leans lightly against me, naturally. I wrap my arm around her. A movement that has long become familiar. And still, my gaze lingers on her for a moment. The way she sits here.
With me.
No hesitation.
I let out a quiet breath. “I’ve been thinking about whether I should tell you this,” I begin calmly. She shifts slightly, turning her head toward me. “That sounds serious.” “It is.”
A brief moment passes. I could postpone it. Like so many things before. But that’s not who I am anymore. Not with her.
“I love you” I say.
No emphasis. No hesitation. Just clear. Honest. Quiet. She doesn’t say anything right away. And I don’t expect her to. I see something change in her eyes. Not surprise. Not overwhelm. But… depth. As if she already knew. “You say that so calmly,” she murmurs. A faint, almost invisible smile. “It’s not something I need to say loudly for it to be true.” A breath. Then she moves closer, her hand resting against my cheek.
“I love you too” she says softly.
And this time, it’s not a beginning anymore. Not a careful step. But something that has already grown. I rest my forehead gently against hers. Not because I need to. But because I want to.
And because I know: This isn’t something that fades. It’s something that stays.
It’s Saturday evening, and the air carries a quiet promise of adventure. You put on your jacket, take one last glance in the mirror, and meet your friends in front of the arcade. Even from outside, colorful lights flicker through the windows, accompanied by the muffled sound of music and excited voices.
As you step inside, you’re instantly wrapped in a unique atmosphere—a mix of neon colors, flashing displays, and the rhythmic clatter of machines. It smells like popcorn and just a hint of electricity—like endless possibilities. You laugh, nudge each other playfully, and head together to the machine to get some coins.
The small, shiny tokens clink in your hands, like tickets to another world. Full of anticipation, you split up at first, only to quickly find your way back to each other—because none of you wants to enjoy this alone.
You start with the classic games: claw machines, trying to grab plush prizes. Every attempt is filled with held breath and followed by laughter—whether you win or just barely miss. Then you move on to the racing games. You take your seats, grip the steering wheels, and dive into a loud, chaotic competition where no one plays entirely fair, but everyone is having the time of their lives. In between, you collect tickets, count them together, and debate whether they’ll be enough for a big prize or just a few small consolation rewards. But in the end, it doesn’t really matter—it’s about the moment, the shared laughter, and the little victories along the way.
Time passes faster than you realize. You move from one machine to another, trying new games, cheering each other on, and soaking in that carefree feeling of simply being in the moment.
After a while, as you move from one machine to another, laughing and challenging each other, something in your perception begins to shift. It’s not loud or sudden—more like a quiet pause, as if time slows down for just a moment.
Across the arcade, you notice a group of boys. They stand together, absorbed in their own game, their voices blending into the background noise of the room. And yet, despite being just another group in the crowd, your gaze lingers on them.
Or rather—on one of them.
He stands slightly apart, not exactly the center of attention, and still it feels like everything around him subtly aligns. He’s tall, his posture relaxed, almost effortlessly calm. Dark braids frame his face, catching the flickering neon lights that shift across his features. A pair of glasses rests on his nose, and just above it, a small tattoo draws your attention.
It’s nothing loud, nothing that demands to be noticed. And maybe that’s exactly what makes it so hard to look away.
For a moment, the sounds around you fade. The clinking of coins, the beeping of machines, your friends’ laughter—all of it drifts into the background as your eyes keep finding their way back to him, almost without your control.
You’re not sure why he stands out to you. Maybe it’s the calmness he carries in the middle of all the chaos. Maybe it’s that small detail that sets him apart. Or maybe it’s just one of those unexplainable moments when someone suddenly catches your attention—and you can’t quite say why.
For a moment, you just stand there, surrounded by flickering lights and the steady beeping of machines, talking as if you’ve known each other longer than you actually have. Your friends exchange glances, grin, and eventually drift a little further away—not without giving you a knowing look first.
He leans casually against the machine beside you, hands tucked loosely into his pockets, watching you with that calm, attentive gaze. “So? Won anything yet?” You shrug. “Depends on what you count as winning. A few tickets… and almost a plushie.”
“Almost?” One of his eyebrows lifts slightly.
“The claw betrayed me,” you say dryly.
A quiet laugh escapes him. “Classic mistake. You trust those things way too much.”
For a brief moment, there’s silence—but not an awkward one. More the kind that leaves space to breathe. Then he nods toward the claw machines. “Come on. I’ll show you how it’s done.”
You barely hesitate before following him a few steps over. He stops in front of the machine, drops in a coin, and studies the prizes inside. “Which one?”
You point to a small, light-colored plush Otter. “That one.”
He nods, focuses, moving the claw with calm, precise motions. You watch him, noticing how seriously he suddenly takes it—as if it’s about more than just a game.
The claw lowers. A brief moment of tension.
Then it rises again—and somehow, the plush toy is firmly caught.
“No way,” you murmur, watching as it slowly moves toward the drop slot.
With a soft clunk, it falls in.
He turns to you, picks it up, and holds it out. “Here.”
You take it, a smile spreading across your face before you can stop it. “Okay… that was impressive.”
“I have my moments,” he says with a slight shrug.
Your fingers brush for just a second as you take the plushie—barely noticeable, and yet that moment lingers a little longer than everything else.
In the background, you hear your friends laughing again, someone cheering loudly as a game ends. But here, between the two of you, everything feels a little quieter.
“I’m… by the way Choso” he said.
You introduce yourself too.
And as you look at each other, there’s that quiet feeling that the night has only just truly begun. He repeats your name softly, almost as if trying it out. A small smile lingers on his lips, like he’s already memorized it.
“Nice name,” he says.
You feel a warmth spread through you, but you try not to show it. “Yours too.”
For a moment, you both just stand there, caught somewhere between conversation and silence. Then he nods toward another machine, where lights flash in a steady rhythm.
“Have you tried that one yet?” he asks.
You shake your head. “Not yet.”
“Then it’s about time.”
You walk over together. This time, you stand side by side, your shoulders almost aligned as the game starts. Fast reactions, blinking lights, a quick competition—and in between, small comments, laughter, that easy teasing that seems to come naturally.
“You’re better than I expected,” he says at one point.
“You’re worse than you pretend to be,” you shoot back.
He lets out a quiet laugh. “Maybe I just let you win.”
“Sure,” you say, rolling your eyes playfully.
When the game ends, the screen shows your scores. It’s close—so close that neither of you reacts at first. Then you look at each other at the same time.
“Rematch?” he asks.
You hesitate for a second, then smile. “Only if you play fair this time.”
“I always play fair.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to stay and find out.”
For a moment, that sentence hangs between you. Not heavy—more… open. Like an invitation that goes beyond the game.
You feel that quiet spark again, now a little more familiar. Behind you, you hear your friends calling your name, somewhere between curious and impatient.
You glance back at them—then at him again.
And without overthinking it, you turn back to the screen.
“Okay,” you say. “One more round.”
His smile grows just a little wider.
And as the game starts again, everything around you seems to fade into the background—like the night has quietly shifted into something you hadn’t planned, but somehow feels exactly right. The next round begins, and this time everything feels a little more intense. Not just because of the game—but because of the glances in between, the small comments that suddenly seem to mean more than just words.
You focus, hitting the right spots at the right moment, hearing his quiet “not bad” beside you. When the game ends, you win—just barely.
“Okay,” he says, raising his hands slightly. “This time it wasn’t luck.”
You grin. “Told you.”
He shakes his head, but you can tell he’s impressed. For a moment, his gaze lingers on you a little longer than necessary.
“Do you want to…” he starts, then pauses, as if thinking it over. He gestures toward a quieter area of the arcade, where fewer people are gathered. “It’s a bit calmer over there.”
You follow his glance, then nod slightly. “Yeah, sure.”
You walk a few steps, away from the bright lights and into a corner where the noise feels softer. It instantly feels different—more personal. As if the world around you has taken a small step back.
“Do you come here often?” he asks.
You lean lightly against the wall, still holding the plush toy in your hand. “Not really. Tonight was kind of spontaneous.”
“Good thing you were spontaneous,” he says.
His voice is still calm, but there’s something different in it now—something more honest, more direct. You look at him, a small smile forming on your lips.
“And you?” you ask.
“Sometimes,” he replies. “With them.” He nods briefly toward his friends, though it feels like his thoughts are somewhere else entirely.
A brief silence settles between you. This time, a little more charged.
Then he says, almost casually, “I probably would’ve never met you otherwise.”
You feel your heart skip slightly. “Maybe you would have. People run into each other twice sometimes.”
He smiles faintly. “Maybe.”
His gaze stays on you, calm and open. Not intrusive—more like he actually wants to see you, not just look at you. In the distance, you hear your friends again, closer this time. Footsteps, voices approaching.
You turn your head for a second—and when you look back at him, there’s that quiet feeling that something is about to interrupt this moment.
In that moment, your friends appear beside you, slightly out of breath, as if they hurried over.
“Hey, we have to go,” one of them says. “Our train’s coming soon.”
You blink, like reality is catching up with you again. Suddenly, everything feels louder, faster—the sounds, the lights, the people.
“Already?” you ask, even though you know how quickly time has passed.
“Yeah, if we miss it, we’ll be waiting forever,” she replies, gently pulling at your arm.
You turn back to him, hesitating for just a second. “I… have to go.”
He nods slowly, as if he expected it, even though there’s a hint of disappointment in his eyes. “Yeah… of course.”
A brief pause settles between you—that strange in-between moment where you feel like there’s more to say, but suddenly there isn’t enough time.
“That was… nice,” you say quietly.
“Yeah,” he replies. “I thought so too.”
Your friends are already a few steps ahead, turning back to look at you impatiently. You take a step back, still looking at him, like you’re trying to hold onto the moment just a little longer.
“Maybe… I’ll see you again,” you say, half a question.
He smiles faintly. “Maybe.” Then you turn and hurry after your friends. Everything moves quickly now—the door, the cool night air, footsteps on the pavement, voices overlapping. Only when you’re standing at the station and your breathing finally slows, you instinctively reach for your phone. And pause. A small, sharp realization. You didn’t ask for his number. No contact, no name saved in your phone—just this night, this moment. You glance back one more time, as if expecting to still see him somewhere. But the arcade stands quietly behind you, its lights flickering just as before, as if nothing ever happened. And suddenly, it all feels a little unreal. As if he had simply appeared at exactly the right moment—and disappeared just as quickly.
————————————————————————————
Weeks have passed since the night you met Choso.
At first, you thought about it often—his smile, his calm presence, that one moment in the middle of all the noise. But over time, it grew quieter. Daily life pulled you back in—shifts, appointments, days blending into each other. And still… the memory never completely faded. It’s a Friday morning, and you’ve just finished a long night shift. The world feels slightly muted, like it’s only just beginning to wake up. The streets are quieter than usual, the air cool and clear. Without thinking too much about it, you turn into the small street at the end of which your favorite bookstore sits. As soon as you open the door, you’re greeted by that familiar sound—the soft chime of a bell—and the comforting scent of paper, ink, and worn pages. It’s warm inside, quiet, almost like a world of its own. You wander slowly through the shelves, letting your fingers glide over book spines, reading titles here and there, pausing occasionally. You already know what you came for. Eventually, you find yourself in the manga section and instinctively reach for the newest volume of One Piece. A small, satisfied smile appears on your face as you hold it in your hands. But you don’t head to the register just yet. Instead, you move on—this time toward the horror and dark romance section. Darkly designed covers, deep red lettering, stories that linger under your skin—exactly what you’re in the mood for.
You pull out one book after another, reading blurbs, getting lost for brief moments in unfamiliar worlds. Time seems to slow down in here.
And for a moment—just briefly—you think about that night again.
The arcade. The laughter. Him.
You shake your head slightly, as if to push the thought away.
You pull another book from the shelf, turning it in your hands, only half-reading the blurb. Your thoughts aren’t fully on the story in front of you—more somewhere in between. And then you hear it.
“You have a pretty specific taste.”
The voice is calm. Familiar. For a moment, you don’t react. Your heart skips—just for a second—before it suddenly starts beating faster. Slowly, you turn around. And there he is.
Choso.
Leaning casually against the shelf, hands tucked into his pockets, just like that night. His glasses sit the same way on his nose, and the small tattoo immediately draws your attention again—as if no time has passed at all.
You stare at him for a moment, as if you need to make sure he’s really there.
“…you?” you finally manage, a disbelieving smile spreading across your face.
A quiet smirk appears on his lips. “I was starting to think I imagined you.”
You let out a soft laugh, still a little caught off guard. “I could say the same.”
For a brief moment, you just look at each other—and it feels strangely familiar. As if that one night left more behind than you wanted to admit.
“Horror and dark romance, huh?” he says, nodding slightly toward the books in your hands. You lift the book a little. “You need some kind of balance.”
“Balance for what?” he asks. You shrug. “For everything else.”
He nods slowly, like he understands without you having to explain further.
“And you?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”
He tilts his head toward the shelf beside him. “Just browsing, actually. But I think I just found what I was looking for.”
His gaze rests on you. For a moment, warmth spreads through you, and you’re not entirely sure how to respond. So you dodge it slightly, smiling. “So you come here often?” “Sometimes,” he replies. “And you, apparently.”
“It’s my favorite place.”
“I can see why.”
A small pause settles between you—but this time, it feels different than before. Less accidental. More… intentional. Then he suddenly says, “Maybe we shouldn’t leave it like last time.” You frown slightly. “What do you mean?” He pulls out his phone and holds it out to you. “I thought… we could exchange numbers. In case we don’t randomly run into each other again—in an arcade or between books.” A quiet laugh escapes you. “Probably a good idea. You take his phone and type in your number, your heart beating a little faster than usual. As you hand it back, your fingers brush again—and this time, you don’t pull away immediately. “So we don’t forget again,” he says softly. You look at him, a small smile on your lips. “Yeah,” you reply. “So this time, we actually see each other again.” A few minutes later, you’re standing at the counter, placing your books and the new volume of One Piece down. As the cashier scans everything, you catch his gaze on you from time to time—not uncomfortable, more… calm, attentive. When you finish paying and pack your things, he’s already standing next to you. “So?” he asks with a slight grin. “Happy with your haul?” You lift the bag a little. “Definitely. This is going to be a good weekend.” He nods approvingly. “Sounds like a plan.” A brief moment passes, then he says casually, “Do you… maybe want to grab a coffee? There’s a small café just around the corner.” You don’t hesitate. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Outside, it’s still a bit chilly, but the sun has risen higher. You walk side by side, this time without any rush. It feels different than before—less accidental, more intentional. At the café, you order your drinks and sit down at a small table by the window. For a moment, it’s quiet—that comfortable silence—before the conversation naturally picks up again. “So… One Piece, huh?” he says, nodding toward your bag. You smile instantly. “For years. It’s my favorite.” His expression lights up, like a switch has been flipped. “Wait—really?” You nod, slightly surprised by his reaction. “Okay, then I have to ask,” he says, leaning forward a little, suddenly more animated. “Favorite character? And think carefully.” You laugh softly. “That’s mean.” “It’s important.” “Zoro,” you finally say. He grins widely. “Good answer. Very good answer.” “And yours?” you ask. “Depends,” he says. “Used to be Luffy. Now… maybe someone like Law.” You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Got a little more mysterious?” “Or just more realistic,” he counters. You both laugh, and the conversation starts flowing faster, easier. It moves from One Piece to other anime, then to games. “You play too?” he asks. “Sometimes,” you admit. “Not hardcore, but yeah.” “What kind of games?” You name a few, and every time, he reacts instantly—adding comments, sharing thoughts, getting more and more enthusiastic. “Okay, I didn’t expect that,” he says at one point. “What exactly?” “That you’d be…” he looks at you briefly, a small grin forming, “…kind of nerdy.” You cross your arms in mock offense. “Kind of?” “Okay, maybe more than kind of.” You lean forward slightly. “And? Does that bother you?” He shakes his head, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer. “Not at all.” For a brief second, it gets quiet—but this time, there’s something different in the air. Something warmer… almost charged. You take a sip of your coffee, trying not to show it. “And you?” you ask. “You don’t exactly seem like someone who just casually knows who Law is.”
He laughs softly. “I’m probably worse than you.”
“Oh really?” “Anime, manga, games… all of it.” You lean back, studying him with a slight smile. “I wouldn’t have guessed that.” “What did you think?” You shrug lightly. “More like… quiet. Maybe a bit distant.” He raises an eyebrow slightly. “And now?” You hold his gaze. “Now you’re… more interesting.” A brief silence. Then he smiles—that calm but genuine smile. “Good,” he says quietly. “That was the plan.” You can’t help but laugh softly. And while the world outside keeps moving, this moment feels a little like the arcade again—just clearer, closer. Like something is slowly unfolding. And this time… it stays. Time passes faster than you realize. Your coffee cups have long been empty, but neither of you makes a move to leave. Instead, you keep talking—about shows, about games, about completely random things that somehow feel important in this moment. At some point, he leans back, studies you for a second, then says, “You know what I just noticed?” You raise an eyebrow. “What?” “You’re different from what I first thought.” You smile slightly. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” “Definitely good,” he says without hesitation. “I thought you were more… quiet. Maybe a little hard to read. You tilt your head. “And now?” He takes a moment before answering, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “Now I feel like I want to find out what else there is.” For a brief moment, your gaze lingers on his. That feeling is back—that quiet spark, only stronger now, more familiar. You trace the rim of your cup lightly. “And? Found anything interesting yet?” A small smile forms on his face. “Yeah.” “Just yeah?” He leans in slightly, his voice a little lower. “For example, you act different when you’re nervous.” You blink. “What? I don’t.” He grins softly. “You do.” You’re about to argue, but pause—because a small part of you knows he might be right. “And you?” you counter. “You seem like you always have everything under control.”
“Do I?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
He leans back, crosses his arms briefly, then looks at you again. “Don’t be so sure.”
His voice is calm, but there’s something deeper in it now—something you can’t quite place yet. That brief silence returns—but this time, it feels heavier.
You break it with a small smile. “So… what now?”
He glances away for a second, then back at you. “I could ask you for another coffee.”
You laugh softly. “And if I say no?”
“Then I’d ask if you want to go somewhere else with me.”
You tilt your head slightly. “And if I say no to that too?”
His gaze stays steady on you. “Then I’d probably try again anyway.”
You can’t help but smile. “Pretty persistent.”
“Only when it’s worth it.”
For a moment, you don’t say anything. You just look at him—and this time, you don’t look away. Then you slowly stand up, picking up your bag. “Alright,” you say. He raises an eyebrow slightly. “Alright… what?”. You smile softly. “Surprise me.” His smile widens just a little. And as you leave the café together, everything feels a bit like that first night again— only this time, it’s not by chance anymore. Outside, you’re greeted by the fresh air, the sun now higher in the sky. For a brief moment, you both pause in front of the café, as if deciding where to go next. He looks at you, that same calm, soft smile on his lips. “Okay… no arcade this time.” You let out a quiet laugh. “That’s a shame, actually.” “Don’t worry,” he says, “I’ll save that for another time.”
Another time.
The words linger in your mind for a moment—they sound so natural coming from him. “Come on,” he says then, nodding down the street. “I know a place.” You walk side by side, a little closer now than before. Your steps are slow, almost deliberately so, like neither of you wants the moment to pass too quickly. “So,” he begins after a while, “you read horror… watch anime… play games…” You glance at him. “Sounds like you’re analyzing me.” “Maybe a little.” “And? What’s your conclusion?” He thinks for a second. “You’re not that easy to figure out.” You smirk slightly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” “That’s how it was meant.” You turn into a quieter street, away from the noise. The sounds of the city fade, leaving mostly just your footsteps. Then he stops. You look at him, a little confused. “Are we there?” He nods lightly. In front of you is a small park—not big, but peaceful. A few benches, trees, sunlight filtering through the leaves. “I come here sometimes,” he says. You sit down on one of the benches. For a moment, neither of you says anything. It’s not an awkward silence—more the kind that feels right. You lean back slightly, taking a breath. “It’s nice here.” “Yeah,” he says quietly. A few seconds pass, then you feel his gaze on you again. “You know…” he begins, hesitating for a moment, “I’m glad I saw you again today.” You turn your head toward him, a little surprised by how direct he is. “Me too,” you say honestly. He looks away briefly, then back at you. “I didn’t really expect it.” “Me neither.” A small smile appears on your lips. “Maybe we do run into each other more than once.” He shakes his head slightly. “I don’t think I want to rely on chance again.” Your heart skips slightly. “Then…?” you ask softly. He looks at you, this time a little more intensely. “Then I’d rather make sure I see you again.” For a moment, you hold his gaze—and this time, it’s not just a passing moment. Your hand rests beside you on the bench—and without really thinking about it, his moves a little closer. Not directly. Not too much. But close enough for you to notice. And somehow… you just leave yours there. Between you, there’s only a small distance left. And something that’s slowly unfolding. Not rushed. But definitely not by chance anymore. For a moment, neither of you says anything. The world feels quieter here, as if it’s deliberately given you this space. You move your fingers just slightly, barely noticeable. Almost unconsciously. His hand responds—not immediately, not obviously. But slowly, like he’s leaving the choice to you. And then your fingertips touch.
Lightly.
You pause, your breath catching for a moment. It’s nothing big, no dramatic gesture—and that’s exactly why it feels so intense. He doesn’t pull his hand away. Instead, his fingers shift just a little, brushing against yours. No tight grip, no pressure—just a soft, careful intertwining. As if you’re both testing whether this moment is real. You look up at him. He’s already looking at you. His gaze is calm, but there’s something in it you haven’t seen before—something more open, more honest. “Is this okay?” he asks quietly. You nod, a small smile on your lips. “Yeah.” His hand closes a little more firmly around yours—still gentle, but more certain now. A few seconds pass without either of you speaking. Words would probably only disturb this moment. You lean back slightly, your shoulder brushing against his. He stays still, doesn’t pull away. If anything, it feels like he’s allowing it. “That’s kind of strange,” you murmur softly after a while. “What?” he asks. “That you meet someone by chance… see them again… and suddenly everything feels so… natural.” He thinks about it for a moment. “Maybe it’s not as random as we think,” he says. You turn your head slightly toward him. “What do you mean?” A faint smile appears on his face. “Maybe some people just meet exactly when they’re supposed to.” You study him for a second, then shake your head lightly—not because you disagree, but because you like the answer. “That sounds a little cheesy.” “A little,” he admits.
You laugh softly. Your hands are still intertwined, now completely natural.
And as time passes, nothing about this feels rushed. More like… exactly right. As if something is building—quietly, slowly, but with a clarity you can’t ignore. The minutes pass without either of you really counting them. It’s as if time means something different here—slower, softer, less urgent. Absentmindedly, you trace small circles on the back of his hand with your thumb, only realizing it when he lets out a quiet breath. No resistance, no pulling away—just that subtle reaction, like he notices every small movement. “You’re doing that on purpose, aren’t you?” he murmurs softly. You lift your gaze, feigning innocence. “Doing what?” “That,” he says, lifting your hands slightly—just enough so you can’t ignore it. A faint smile crosses your lips. “Maybe.” He barely shakes his head, but you catch that slight grin forming. “Dangerous.”
“For you?” you ask quietly.
His gaze lingers on you a moment longer than usual. “Possibly.”
That tension returns—that quiet, unspoken something between you, becoming more and more noticeable. You turn a little more toward him, your knees angled slightly in his direction, unconsciously closing the distance. “So what do you usually do… besides talking to people in bookstores?” you ask with a soft smirk.
He raises an eyebrow. “I don’t just talk to people.”
“Oh no?”
“No,” he says calmly. “Just you.”
For a moment, you fall silent. Your heart beats a little faster, and this time it’s harder to hide. “That’s pretty direct,” you murmur. “Just honest.” His voice is quiet, but steady. And this time, he doesn’t look away. You hold his gaze for a moment—then smile slightly, almost a little shy. “Good to know,” you say. A breeze moves through the trees above you, leaves rustling softly. You lean a little closer to him without really thinking about it. His shoulder is now clearly against yours. And this time, neither of you moves away. “You know…” he begins after a while, his voice softer than before, “I should’ve asked for your number back then.” You smile lightly. “You should have.” “But I didn’t.” “I noticed.” He exhales quietly, as if thinking it over. “That was stupid.” You turn your head toward him. “Or maybe exactly right.” He looks at you, slightly confused. “Otherwise we might not have met again today like this… by chance,” you explain softly. A small, thoughtful smile appears on his face. “Maybe,” he says. Your hands are still intertwined, your shoulders touching, and somewhere between you, a quiet certainty has formed—that this isn’t just a fleeting moment. You’re still sitting side by side, your hands intertwined, when a soft vibration cuts through the quiet. Choso glances down, slightly distracted, and slowly pulls his hand from yours to reach into his pocket. As he looks at the screen, something in his expression shifts—subtle, but enough for you to notice. “Everything okay?” you ask quietly. He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he stares at his phone for a moment longer, like he’s weighing something. Then he declines the call. “Yeah,” he says calmly. “Nothing important.” You study him for a second. It doesn’t feel entirely honest—but you don’t push it. A few seconds later, his phone vibrates again. This time longer. He exhales softly, runs a hand through his hair, and looks at the screen again. You can’t see the name, but something about the way he reacts makes your instincts quietly stir. “You can take it,” you say, a little more neutral now. He hesitates. Then he answers, standing up slightly and stepping a few feet away. You stay seated, watching him from the corner of your eye, trying not to make it obvious. His voice is low, muted. You can’t make out the words, but his tone is different now—tenser. After a moment, he runs a hand through his hair again. “I told you that…” he cuts himself off.
A pause.
Then, quieter: “No. Not now.” Something in your chest tightens, even if you can’t quite explain why. When he comes back, he looks composed again—but not quite as calm as before. “Sorry,” he says, sitting down next to you again, leaving a small space between you this time.
You raise an eyebrow slightly. “Ex?”
He looks at you, surprised, then gives a short, almost dry smile. “That obvious?”
You shrug lightly. “A little.” He leans back, glancing up at the sky as if deciding how much to say. “It’s… complicated,” he finally says. You nod slowly. “Isn’t it always?” A brief silence follows. The atmosphere has shifted—not broken, but… different. Sharper. You turn slightly toward him. “So?” He looks at you. “So what?” “Why don’t you deal with it?” His gaze settles on you again, steadier this time. “Because I’m here right now.” You hold his gaze. “And that’s more important?” A tiny pause. Then: “Yeah.”The answer is quiet, but firm. Your heart skips slightly—not entirely rational, but undeniable. “Bold,” you murmur. He gives a faint smile. “Or stupid.” “Maybe both.” A brief moment passes, then he shifts a little closer again—less hesitant than before. His hand rests near yours, this time without much restraint. “If it bothers you…” he starts. You cut him off by sliding your fingers lightly back into his. “It doesn’t.” He glances down at your hands, then back at you. And this time, his gaze is more intense. “Good,” he says softly. The tension returns—but different than before. Less innocent. More charged. More honest. And while his phone vibrates again somewhere in his pocket—he ignores it completely. His focus is entirely on you.
———————————————————————————
The days that follow feel different.
No longer repetitive, no longer just shaped by work and routine—but filled with small messages, short conversations, unexpected moments.
It starts quietly. A “Did you get home safe?” that same evening. A “What are you reading right now?” the next day. And before you realize it, he has a place in your daily life. You text a lot. At first, a little careful, almost testing the waters. But with every message, it becomes easier, more natural. You send each other manga panels, debate characters, playfully argue about who’s better at certain games.
And soon, it’s not just texting anymore. A few days later, you meet again—this time planned.
Another café.
Then a walk.
Then a spontaneous stop at a small gaming store where you end up staying way too long. Over time, it becomes… effortless. You get used to him walking beside you. To his hand finding yours without thinking. To your phone lighting up with his name—and you smiling automatically. And he changes, too. That calm, reserved nature is still there—but with you, he opens up more. Talks more, laughs more. Makes small, dry comments that always make you smile. “You’re to blame,” he says one day as you walk through the city side by side. “For what?” you ask. “For me starting to game every night again.” You smirk. “Tragic.”
“Very,” he says, though his tone says the opposite. The meetings get longer. The conversations deeper. And sometimes—quietly—the moments between you grow more intense. Like one evening, when you’re sitting in the park again, closer than before. Your shoulder against his, your hands intertwined like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His gaze lingers on you more often. Longer. And yours does too. “You know…” he says softly at some point, “I don’t think this is just coincidence anymore.” You look at him. “No?” He shakes his head slightly. “No.”
A brief moment passes.
Then he moves a little closer—this time without hesitation. “And I’m not planning to pretend that it is,” he adds. Your heart beats faster. “Good,” you murmur. “Good?” he repeats quietly. You nod slightly. “Because I don’t want that either.” A faint smile forms on his lips. And this time, it’s not a careful step closer. It’s a conscious decision to stay.
A few days later, you’re standing in front of his door. Even that alone feels… different. No random meeting, no spontaneous coffee—this is a deliberate date. At his place. In his space. You ring the bell, and almost immediately, the door opens. Choso stands in front of you. And for a brief moment… he looks nervous. “Hey,” he says, running a hand through his hair like he’s done it more than once already. “Uh—come in.” You smile softly and step inside.
And stop.
His place is… exactly what you didn’t quite expect—and somehow exactly what you did. Shelves full of manga, neatly organized. Figures carefully displayed. A full setup with monitors, console, controllers—everything arranged with almost too much care. Posters on the walls, soft lighting that makes the whole place feel warm. A complete nerd paradise. You slowly turn, a small grin on your lips. “Okay… I’m impressed.” Behind you, you hear him clear his throat quietly. “It’s… maybe a bit much,” he says, and there’s an unfamiliar uncertainty in his voice. You turn to him. “No. It’s perfect.” He looks at you—and for a moment, he doesn’t quite know where to look. A faint blush spreads across his face. Of course, you notice immediately. “You’re blushing,” you say softly, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “I-I’m not,” he replies far too quickly. You take a few steps closer. “You are.” He glances away briefly, a small, embarrassed smile forming, but the blush doesn’t fade. “Maybe a little.” “Cute,” you murmur. He blinks, clearly caught off guard by that. “Cute?” he repeats. You shrug lightly. “Yeah.” A quiet moment settles—and this time, it’s you who steps a little closer. You stop in front of one of his shelves, picking up a figure. “Do you collect all of these?” “Yeah,” he says, stepping beside you—but leaving a slight distance, like he’s suddenly very aware of how close you are. “For years.” You carefully place the figure back, turning slightly toward him. “Then show me everything.” He lets out a soft, slightly shy laugh. “Everything?”
“Everything.” And so he does. He shows you his world. He talks about his favorite series, the games he’s spent hours playing, the characters that mean something to him. At first, he’s still a bit reserved—but the more you listen, ask questions, react—the more he opens up. And again and again—he blushes slightly when you look at him too long, when you get a little too close, when you tease him just a little. At some point, you’re sitting next to each other on his couch, a controller between you.
“So,” he says, trying to sound more composed again, “ready to lose?” You grin. “Keep dreaming.” The game starts, but your attention isn’t really on it anymore.
Your hands brush again and again.
Your eyes meet—just a little too long.
And at some point, you simply set the controller aside. He notices immediately. “What—already giving up?” You turn slightly toward him, your gaze calm. “No.” Then, a little softer: “I just didn’t feel like playing anymore.” He understands. You can see it. His gaze shifts—calmer, deeper. But at the same time, he grows a little uncertain again, almost shy. “Oh,” he says quietly. You’re closer to him now than before. Really close. His breath catches slightly when your gaze doesn’t drift away. And again—that faint blush.
You smile just a little. And stay right there. For a moment, neither of you says anything. The air suddenly feels heavier, like everything around you has slowed down. You can hear his breathing—steady, but not quite even. And you realize just how close you really are.
Your gaze stays on his. And his on yours. He seems unsure—not because he doesn’t want this, but because he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to. You notice it. That hesitation. That careful uncertainty. Slowly, you lift your hand, placing it gently against his arm. A small, quiet movement—but clear enough. His eyes flick down to your hand, then back to your face. “Is this… f-fine?” he asks softly, his voice almost unsteady. You nod gently. “Yeah.”
That’s all it takes.
He moves slowly—like he’s giving you every chance to pull away. But you don’t. Instead you lean in just a little closer.
And then your lips meet.
Softly.
Carefully.
For a brief moment, everything stands still. No pressure, no rush—just that first, tentative feeling.
Warm.
Real.
You feel him pause, like he can hardly believe this is happening. Then the kiss deepens just slightly—still gentle, but more certain now. Your fingers lightly grasp his shirt, pulling him just a little closer. When you finally pull away, you stay close. Your forehead nearly touching his, your breaths still mingling. He doesn’t say anything. But his expression… says enough. A small, almost disbelieving smile rests on his lips. And again—that faint blush on his cheeks. You let out a soft laugh. “You’re blushing again,” you murmur. He barely shakes his head, a little embarrassed, but this time he doesn’t look away. “Can’t help it.” You smile. You stay like that for a moment longer, your foreheads almost touching, as if the world around you has completely faded away. His gaze drops briefly to your lips—and lingers just a second too long, like he’s wondering if he’s allowed to take that step again. You notice. And instead of saying anything, you simply lean in a little closer. This time, he doesn’t hesitate as much. His hand lifts carefully, resting against your cheek, as if he needs to make sure you’re really there. His touch is warm, slightly uncertain—but it stays.
Then he kisses you again.
Not as cautious as before. Still gentle—but deeper. More certain. Like he’s realized you’re not pulling away. You return the kiss without hesitation, moving closer until there’s barely any space left between you. Your hand slides to the back of his neck, pulling him just a little closer. A quiet breath escapes him—barely audible, but you feel it. The hesitation between you slowly disappears. His fingers move from your cheek to your jaw, then down to your neck, pausing there for a moment—as if checking whether this is still okay for you. You don’t pull away. If anything—you move even closer. The kiss deepens, not rushed—just growing slowly, like everything between you is unfolding step by step. His other arm wraps gently around you, pulling you slightly against him. Not tight, not demanding—just enough for you to fully feel his closeness. And again—that faint tremble in his movement. Not uncertainty. But emotion. When you briefly pull away, he stays close, his forehead brushing yours. His breathing is a little faster now. “You’re really not making this easy for me,” he murmurs softly. You smile slightly, your voice barely above a whisper. “That wasn’t the plan.” He looks at you—this time without looking away. And there’s nothing hesitant left in his gaze now. Just that quiet, steady want. His hand lifts again, brushing a strand of hair from your face, lingering for a moment against your cheek. “Good,” he says softly. Then he pulls you close again. And this time, neither of you overthinks it anymore. Just feeling. The moment lingers, stretches—and yet somehow passes too quickly. His closeness feels familiar now, but still new enough to make your heart race. His hand is still resting against your cheek, like he forgot to pull it away. And somehow… you like that. Slowly, you pull back just a little—just enough to look at him. He seems different. Not as reserved as before—but not completely confident either. More… real. Open. Maybe a little overwhelmed. “Everything okay?” you ask softly. He exhales, a small smile forming on his lips. “Yeah… more than okay.” You study him for a moment, then let out a quiet laugh. “You’re cute when you’re honest.” He raises an eyebrow slightly. “When?” You grin. “So you’re not always?” “I am,” he says calmly. “Just not always that obvious.” A small moment passes—lighter this time. You lean back a little, but your body still angled toward him. The closeness doesn’t just disappear. “So,” you say, picking up the controller again, “are we finishing this game or was that your strategy to distract me?” He laughs softly, running a hand through his hair—this time more relaxed. “I swear, that wasn’t planned.” “Mhm,” you murmur. “Okay… maybe a little.” You shake your head, pretending to be offended—but your smile gives you away instantly. You restart the game, but it’s different now. Looser. More familiar. Glances linger a little longer, touches happen a little more intentionally. At some point, you set the controller aside again—this time simply because you don’t feel like focusing. “I think I’m losing anyway,” you say. “True,” he replies dryly. You nudge him lightly with your shoulder. “Rude.” He just grins. Then it gets quiet again. You glance around his room—the manga, the figures, the setup. “It suits you,” you say. “What does?” “All of this,” you reply, gesturing around. “Structured… but still very… you.” He looks at you, like he’s trying to understand exactly what you mean. “That a good thing?” he asks. You nod slightly. “Yeah.” A brief pause. Then you shift a little closer to him—naturally, without overthinking it. “I like it,” you add softly. His expression softens again. “Me too,” he says. And this time, it’s no longer about hesitant steps.
It’s about staying—on purpose. Outside, it slowly gets darker, the light in his room turning warmer, softer. And as time keeps passing, both of you realize neither of you is in any hurry for this night to end.
Three days passed since the ‚unspoken break-up’ and without a word from Sukuna. No angry texts, no late-night calls, no sudden appearances at your door. The silence was deafening. You checked your phone obsessively, even when you knew it was pointless but you didn’t call or text him either.
You found yourself scrolling through old pictures of the two of you - happier times, before everything got so complicated. Before you started caring too much and he to less. Your apartment felt too quiet, too big. You couldn't focus on work. You barely ate. It was pathetic, really, how much one person could affect you.
Meanwhile, Sukuna was doing exactly what he said he would do. He kept himself busy. Too busy. Work lunches, business meetings, late nights at the office. When he wasn't working, he was out with friends or at the gym. He'd even gone on a date with some woman from his office - a tall, gorgeous thing named Yuna who laughed at all his jokes and leaned into his touch. It could be perfect.
It wasn‘t.
He couldn't focus on the conversations at dinner. Yuna's smile was too bright, her laughter too loud. She was perfect on paper - beautiful, intelligent, ambitious. But Sukuna felt nothing. No spark, no interest. Just a hollow emptiness in his chest that grew heavier with every passing moment.
He cut the date short, making up some excuse about an early morning meeting. Yuna looked disappointed but didn't press him. As he drove home alone, he found himself gripping the steering wheel tighter than necessary. His apartment was too quiet when he got home. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat on the couch, staring at nothing. The silence was suffocating. He reached for his phone out of habit, thumb hovering over your contact before he remembered - you weren't talking anymore. "Fuck."
His mind drifted back to the look on your face the last time he saw you - hurt, betrayed, resigned. He remembered the soft curve of your smile before he'd broken it, the warmth of your touch before he'd pushed you away. He downed his whiskey like it was poison. For the first time since you'd met, Sukuna was truly alone. No work to distract him, no friends to drown out the silence. Just him and his thoughts, which were darker than he cared to admit. He missed your voice, your laugh, even your stubborn arguments. He picked up his phone again, thumb hovering over your contact. Three days. You hadn't fought back. You hadn't texted him stupid memes. You hadn't asked if he was okay after work. You just... left. And for some reason, that pissed him off more than anything else you could have done.
He threw the phone on the coffee table and poured another drink. Week one ended. Still no contact. By week two, Sukuna was canceling more plans than he was keeping. His colleagues noticed he was getting short-tempered, snapping at anyone who looked at him wrong. Yuna texted him - he didn't reply.
Then, Friday night, after getting off a late call, he found himself driving. He pulled up outside your apartment building, engine idling. It was late, the streets quiet. His heart was pounding in his chest - whether from anger or something else, he wasn't sure. He sat there for a long moment before finally turning off the engine and getting out of the car. The night air was cool against his skin as he walked up to your door. He hesitated for only a second before knocking - three sharp raps that echoed in the quiet hallway. It was past midnight.
Inside, you were curled up on the couch, wearing one of his old hoodies you'd never returned. The TV played some mindless show you weren't actually watching. You heard the knock and froze. Your heart skipped a beat before you slowly got up, walking to the door on quiet feet. You looked through the peephole and saw him standing there - tall, broad-shouldered, hands shoved in his pockets.
His expression was unreadable.
For a moment, you considered not answering. But then he spoke, his voice muffled but clear through the door. "I know you're in there." He sounded tired, not angry. "Open the fucking door." You unlocked it slowly, opening it just a crack. Sukuna stood there, looking unchanged - same sharp features, same intense eyes, same expensive cologne. His gaze dropped to the hoodie you wore, his expression softening just a fraction. Then it was gone, replaced by his usual scowl. "Let me in." He said gruffly, pushing the door open wider and stepping inside without waiting for a response.
He walked straight through your small apartment like he owned the place, which was annoying because for a brief moment, he actually had helped you buy it. Before everything went to shit. He stopped in the middle of the living room, turning to face you. The silence stretched between you like a physical thing.
He looked tired. Dark circles under his eyes. His jaw was tight.
"You're wearing my hoodie." He commented abruptly, breaking the silence. His eyes raked over you, taking in the way the fabric swallowed you whole, how the sleeves covered your hands. It was stupidly large on you. "And you look like shit." „Are you here to insult me?“ you ask.
"No." He said gruffly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. For a moment, he just stood there, looking around your apartment like it held answers to questions he hadn't asked out loud. "I'm here because..." He paused.„Because?“ you said, looking with hope in your eyes at him. He caught the look in your eyes and something inside him twisted. That fucking hope. The same hope he'd crushed. The same hope he'd told himself he was protecting you from. It made his chest ache in a way he hated. "Don't look at me like that." He said harshly, turning away. "I'm not here to apologize." „Then why are you here?“ you ask, your Voice trembling.
He turned back to face you, his expression hard. He was good at this - pushing you away, being an asshole. It was easier than letting you in. Easier than admitting he actually give a fuck about you.
„Sukuna…“ you said soft taking a step closer.
He froze as you stepped closer, his eyes locked onto yours. Your voice was soft, gentle. Everything he wasn't. He hated how much he missed that softness. "Stop." He snapped, taking a step back. "I'm not here for this." He gestured between you two. „Then why the fuck are you here?“ you snap at him. His eyes flashed with something dangerous at your snap. He liked this version of you less - the angry one. It made him want to push harder. "I don't know!" He shouted back, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"Maybe I just wanted to see your fucking face!"
„Fine you seen it now, anything else?“ you hiss.
The second the words left your mouth, he was across the room, backing you against the door. His hands slammed the wood on either side of your head, caging you in. His face was inches from yours, chest heaving.
"I can’t without you, Woman" He growled, his voice low and raw. His eyes dropped to your lips.
„Don’t make me say it twice“
You could see the war in his eyes - the anger, the frustration, the longing. His breath fell hot against your face, his scent surrounding you. One of his hands left the door to grip your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him. "Say something." He demanded, thumb pressing against your bottom lip. "Yell at me."
„You know i wont yell at you and you know that i can’t live without you either“. His eyes closed for a moment at your words, a pained expression crossing his face. When he opened them again, they were filled with a quiet desperation. His grip on your chin tightened just a fraction. "Then fucking kiss me." He whispered harshly, pressing his forehead against yours. "Before I do something stupid like beg."
You didn't hesitate. Your hands gripped the front of his shirt and pulled him down, smashing your lips against his. It was messy and desperate and perfect. Sukuna groaned into your mouth, his hand sliding from your chin to grip the back of your neck, holding you there as he deepened the kiss.
He tasted like home.
Tongues wrestled fiercely. Teeth clashed. Breaths mingled. Your body pressed against the door, his pressed against yours. Every hardened muscle, every sharp edge, every dangerous curve was against you. His other hand gripped your hip possessively, pulling you against him.
He broke the kiss just long enough to growl against your lips. "Missed you." Then his mouth was on yours again, this time slower, hungrier. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. His grip on your hip tightened, fingers digging into you through the thin fabric.
He pulled back suddenly, eyes dark with want.
"Bedroom." He ordered gruffly, letting go of you and stepping back. His chest rose and fell rapidly, pupils dilated. He looked wrecked and perfect. He gestured impatiently with his hand.
"Now."
His voice was low, commanding. Expectant. "Before I fuck you against this door instead." You didn't argue. You moved quickly towards the bedroom, Sukuna hot on your heels. As soon as you reached it, he kicked the door shut behind him and pushed you onto the bed. His hands went to his belt, unbuckling it while staring down at you with intense hunger.
The belt hit the floor with a thud. His shirt followed, revealing that chiseled chest you used to trace patterns on when he slept. His pants came next, leaving him in just his boxers which did nothing to hide his hard length. He crawled onto the bed over you like a predator. His hands gripped your legs, pulling them apart and making room for himself between them. His voice was low, almost dangerous when he spoke. "No sweet talk. No gentle fucking. If you need me to slow down, tap my chest. Otherwise..." He rubbed himself against you. His hands framed your face, holding you still for a deep, searching kiss. His hips pressed against yours, his hardness prominent even through the thin fabric of his boxers. He broke the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his hands roaming possessively over your body. He yanked your (his) Hoddie up, breaking the kiss to pull it off completely. Your breasts bounced free and he growled, lowering his mouth to one nipple while pinching the other. His hips rolled against yours, making you feel every inch of his hard cock. He worked your Thong off in one swift motion, tossing them aside. His boxers followed. The sight of his bare cock had your breath catching - thick and long, precum already leaking from the tip. He lined himself up with your entrance, pushing just the head inside.
"Still fucking tight for me." He groaned against your neck, not moving yet. His hips jerked suddenly, pushing his entire length inside without warning. You gasped and arched your back, taking him deep. He growled in approval, bottoming out inside you completely before pulling back and doing it again, establishing a brutal pace right from the start. "Fuck... missed this pussy." He pounded into you without mercy, each thrust hitting that perfect spot. Your moans filled the room, mixing with his grunts. One of his hands gripped your thigh, pushing your leg higher to get a better angle. The other went to your hair, pulling your head back so he could mark your neck.
He felt so fucking good. His pace became erratic, harder, faster. The bed slammed against the wall with each brutal thrust. His hips slapped against yours, skin on skin. You were close - so close - and he could feel your walls clenching around him. "Not yet." He growled, grabbing both your wrists in one hand and pinning them above your head.
He changed the angle of his hips, targeting a spot that made your vision white out. He did it again and again, hitting it perfectly each time. His free hand went between your bodies, finding your clit and pinching it hard. He bit down on your neck, sucking bruises into your skin as he fucked you relentlessly.
Your orgasm hit suddenly, your pussy clamping down on his cock like a vice. He swore loudly, thrusts stuttering as your walls milked him. But he didn't stop - he kept fucking you through it, extending your pleasure until you were seeing stars. As soon as your orgasm started to fade, he pulled out suddenly, flipping you onto your stomach in one swift motion. He grabbed your hips and pulled them up, entering you from behind with a deep groan. His hands gripped your ass cheeks, spreading them wide as he fucked you brutally.
He reached around to grab your tits, squeezing them hard as he slammed into you from behind. His balls slapped against you with each thrust. He was so deep in this position, hitting spots he hadn't reached before. You were whimpering and moaning uncontrollably. "Fuck..." One of his hands slid down your stomach, finding your clit again. He rubbed harsh circles while continuing to pound into you from behind. He watched your body, saw how your back arched with each thrust, how your hair spilled over your shoulders.
His other hand gripped your shoulder, using it for leverage as he started to fuck you even harder. The bed was shaking, the headboard slamming against the wall. You felt completely stuffed with his thick, hard dick, your pussy dripping wet around him. "Take it..." He suddenly pulled out completely, leaving you empty and gasping. Before you could protest, he flipped you onto your back again and lifted your legs over his shoulders. He entered you in one deep thrust, hitting your cervix immediately. "Look at me." He demanded roughly.
When your eyes met his, you saw pure possessiveness. Love and hunger and a need that went beyond physical. He started fucking you at a slower but deeper pace, making eye contact the entire time. Each thrust was deliberate, controlled, designed to make you feel every vein, every inch.
"I'm not leaving again." His words hit harder than his cock. Your chest tightened. Tears pricked at your eyes - not from sadness, but from something overwhelming and terrifying. He must have seen it, because his pace faltered for a second.
"Don't fucking cry." He growled, leaning down to kiss the tears before they could fall. "Just stay."
„I will“ you sniff. Something seemed to break inside him at your words. He kissed you roughly, deeply, tasting salt and promises. His hips snapped forward, fucking you hard and fast again.
But it wasn't angry or brutal this time - it was relieved, grateful, filled with emotion. "Good girl." His thrusts became erratic, his jaw clenched. You felt him thicken inside you, his balls tightening. He buried his face in your neck, biting down hard as he came - shooting deep inside you with a guttural groan.
"Yours." He panted against your skin, still not pulling out. "Only fucking yours." He wrapped his arms around your legs, keeping them spread wide and his dick buried inside you. He rolled onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You felt his hot cum leaking out around his still-hard dick, mixing with your own wetness. "Stay like this."
He held you there for what felt like hours, his cock softening but never leaving your pussy completely. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back and thighs. Occasionally he would kiss you deeply or murmur things that sounded like promises and apologies. Your Hands interwhine wich eachother.
Once he was finished, he pulled out with a soft grunt, not giving you so much as a second glance as he turns his back to you. He fixes boxers once again as he sits on the edge of the bed, grabbing a pack of cigarettes as he stands up and leaves to sit on the balcony of his penthouse.
It was always like this with him. You've tried talking to him before, asking him to at least stay by you for a while, but he simply did not care. It was his pleasure over everyone else's, and he didn't see any point of staying any longer when he'd already done what he wanted.
You sat up slowly, pulling his discarded shirt over your naked body to cover yourself. The silk fabric slithered against your skin, reeking faintly of his cologne and the undeniable scent of sex.
From the balcony, you could see the glow of his cigarette through the curtains. You sighed softly, pulling the shirt tighter around you as you stood up. You walked slowly towards the balcony, pausing briefly to peek through the curtains before pushing them open slightly. Sukuna sat on a plush outdoor sofa, his legs stretched out in front of him as he smoked.
He didn't even turn his head when he heard the curtain move, simply taking another drag from his cigarette. The orange embers burned brighter for a moment before fading back into the cool night air. He knew it was you, but he didn't acknowledge your presence, choosing instead to continue staring out at the city skyline.
"Why can't you ever just... stay?" Your voice came out quieter than you intended, almost vulnerable.
Sukuna finally took his eyes off the skyline, flicking ash from his cigarette. His gaze swept over you dismissively. His expression remained cold, his voice detached when he finally spoke. "Why the fuck would I? I've already fucked you. What else is there?" *He took another drag from his cigarette, blowing out smoke slowly. "Go back inside. It's cold out here."
You flinched at the words, but didn't move. Instead, you wrapped yourself tighter in his shirt, the fabric swallowing you completely. "There's... you could at least pretend to care. Even for a little while. Just five minutes. That's all I'm asking."
Sukuna scoffed, flicking his cigarette ash again. "Pathetic. You act like I owe you something after spreading your legs for me. I gave you an orgasm, didn't I? What more do you want? Cuddles? Sweet nothings?" His tone dripped with mocking disbelief. "Go inside before I lose my patience." Without a word, you turned and walked back inside, leaving the balcony doors open. You moved to sit on the couch, pulling a blanket around yourself tightly. You stared at nothing, feeling the familiar sting of tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.
Sukuna stayed outside for several more Minutes, finishing his cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. He came back inside eventually, closing the balcony door behind him with a soft click. He walked past the couch without a glance in your direction, moving towards his bedroom.
You heard the shower start in the master bathroom. You sat there on his couch, knees pulled to your chest, his shirt still the only thing covering you. The scent of him was everywhere, but it felt hollow now.
When he finally emerged from the bathroom some twenty minutes later, towel wrapped around his waist and damp hair slicked back, he froze in the doorway.
You were still on the couch, exactly where he'd left you. The blanket was wrapped around you like a cocoon, his shirt peeking out from underneath. You weren't crying, but your eyes were red-rimmed and hollow. The city lights painted stripes across the floor through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Sukuna sighed, a low, irritated sound. He walked over to the couch, standing behind it. For a moment, he just stared at the back of your head. Then, without a word, he reached down and grabbed the blanket, pulling it off you roughly. You shuddered as the cool air hit your skin. "Get up," You stood up slowly, the shirt riding up your thighs as you moved. Your hair was messy, tangling down your back. You looked small, vulnerable, and extremely fucked - as intended. Sukuna watched you stand up, his eyes trailing over your body briefly before meeting yours again. He didn't speak, just grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward the bathroom. He pushed you inside, following behind and closing the door. The shower was still warm, steam fogging the mirrors. He stripped the shirt off you completely, tossing it aside before pushing you into the shower stall still in his towel.
"Clean yourself up. You're sticky." His voice was flat. You stood under the warm spray, letting the water run over your body as you mechanically washed yourself. You avoided looking at Sukuna, who leaned against the sink counter outside the shower stall, arms crossed over his bare chest. The towel hung low on his hips, water droplets running down his muscular torso. After a few minutes, you stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel. Sukuna was still there, watching you with that same detached expression. He pushed off the counter and moved to the bedroom, leaving you to dry yourself.
When you finally emerged, towel-drying your hair, you found him sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone. The bed was remade, fresh sheets replacing the ones that had been tangled and stained. Sukuna didn't look up from his phone, his thumbs moving quickly over the screen. He'd put on gray sweatpants now, nothing else. His chest and arms were still bare, muscles shifting as he moved.
"Go home," he said finally, still not looking at you. You hesitated, staring at his profile. You wanted to argue, to demand more from him. But you knew it would be pointless. So instead, you turned and walked out of the room silently. You gathered your clothes from earlier and got dressed, pulling on your shoes and grabbing your bag.
„Why are you still together with me when you don’t care?“ you Said
At the sudden sound of your voice, Sukuna finally looked up from his phone. His expression was cold, unyielding. For a moment, he just stared at you, as if considering whether or not to even bother responding. Then, he sighed and set his phone aside. "Because the sex is good and you're convenient when I need to bust a nut." His words were brutal, designed to cut. But there was something almost tired about his delivery, like maybe he was getting tired of being such an asshole.
"We've been over this."
You flinched slightly at his words, looking away. It wasn't like you didn't know the truth already. But hearing it out loud still hurt.
You finished gathering your things silently, slinging your bag over your shoulder. As you walked towards the door, Sukuna's voice stopped you again. "And don't fucking cry." *His voice was harsh, almost cruel. "I won't comfort you if you start blubbering. Just leave." He picked his phone back up, his thumb scrolling mindlessly through social media. "And don't come back tonight." He added coldly.
„I won’t come anymore sukuna…“ Sukuna's hand froze with his phone, his expression turning somehow even colder at your words. For a moment, he looked almost... unsettled. But it vanished quickly behind a mask of indifference. "Good."He said flatly. "I won't miss you."He muttered.
You left without another word, closing his apartment door behind you with a soft click that somehow felt like a finality. The elevator ride down was quiet, and the night air outside was colder than before. You walked home in silence, your feet carrying you through familiar streets automatically.
Inside his apartment, Sukuna sat on the edge of his bed for a long time. His phone lay forgotten on the bed beside him, screen darkened. The room was silent except for the distant hum of traffic outside. For once, he wasn’t scrolling through social media or responding to messages. Instead, he sat there motionless, arms resting on his thighs, head bowed.
Hours passed, and the apartment remained dark. Sukuna hadn't moved from his spot on the bed. His mind was unusually quiet, no snappy comebacks or cruel thoughts filling the void. Instead, there was just... emptiness. The kind that comes after pushing someone away one too many times…
Synopsis. First time breaking the bed = his first time breaking you, too.
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, breaking beds, some desks, FÉRAL JJJK men, ROUGH s, doggy, p sIapping, manhandIing, p talking, some plot, professor!Nanami, emo!Choso, D píercings, Itadori Jin cameo, true form Sukuna, DP, running from it, GOJO’S POWERS, overstím, marathons, dúmbifícation, slight exhíbitíonism, REACTIONS, pet names, swéaring.
A/N. I volunteer as tribute-
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Bed #6
You’re sure the employees at your local IKEA hated you.
Because the first time your bedframe suddenly collapsed in on itself, you’d blamed its lifespan - it was an old thing (probably), and not built to last anyways (maybe). It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that your boyfriend had pounded you speechless on top of it last night, right?
Right…
And then collapsed the second bedframe—dammit! Those furniture aisles weren’t getting any cheaper, and here you must’ve gone and picked a poor design. But at least the third time’s the charm, right?
Alright, maybe the fourth.
The fifth.
Until it’s your sixth (and most expensive) bedframe yet- with your teary face smushed into the pillows, body tremblin’ on all fours. Toji’s rude, reddened length was just smashing into your core at a feverish pace, messing up your insides from behind.
Each loooong stroke was echoing out the loudest squelches, and above that rhythmic noise you could hear a sudden crack—
“Wh-what…” Raising your bleary head up from the bed, you’re pathetically trying to find the source of that noise. Back arching as you rise, your shaky body somehow scrambling on top of your elbows. But fuck-
It was just so hard when Toji was rolling his vicious hips into yours like that - with his aching hot tip swirlin’ right up against the roof of your cunt, drawing little patterns with his precum that make you whine. And he wasn’t just hitting your g-spot- no, Toji was targeting that cute lil’ bundle of nerves and just bashing it with his swollen shaft.
Again.
And again.
And again and again—“So…” Toji’s parched lips fall open with a snicker, hot breath cascading down your spine. Before you know it, he has one hand attached to the back of your clammy scalp- used to shove your face back into the pillows with his inhuman strength. He leans down to whisper, “-where are we going, doll?”
You shiver, “N-nowhere, Toji-”
“Now that’s obviously a lie.” He’s just pummeling his toned v-line onwards and onwards- every smack, smack, smack hitting the globes of your ass. And your boyfriend’s right hand meanly comes down to spank the glittery folds of your cunt- another cracking sound, and you buck.
You’re moving, you’re pinned down underneath Toji’s sultry weight, you’re hearing the grin in his deep baritone. “Aht aht- see? I don’t remember having a vacation planned.” Scoffing, he’s swatting your every deepest hidden spot, even harder. “So where the fuck do ya think you’re running to, mama?”
“I wasn’t—”
Yet another smack! of his roughened fingertips, and you can feel your ears ring. It’s almost enough to block out the sound of wood splintering that’d caught your attention-
“Now, y’know I don’t appreciate liars.” Toji’s smearing apart those very pussylips of yours, juuuust the slightest bit aside so he gets to tease your knobbly clit. He gets to flick his thumb sensually over it. “Speak.” He gets to pinch—“Before I talk to your madam here.”
You’re whimpering over the loudest slurp-slurp-sluuuurps as you’re taking him even harder, and the rickety bedsprings synchronize right along with you. “It’s just- hah, fuck, you’re so fucking big- it’s just I think that the bed’s about to-”
Spank!
His calloused fingertips just glued to where your sensitive nub was throbbing—“Yeeeees? Two seconds to finish your sentence before I consult her-”
“-break!” Sobbing out your lecherous confession - and the more aggressively Toji’s rutting his thick cock into you, the louder the cracking of the bed grows. Over and over. Following each thrust upon thrust. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- you’re really going to break the bed, Toji-”
“Break the…?”
And then Toji casts his verdant eyes at the creaky frame, he lets his pussydrunken brain register it. He takes in a sharp intake of breath and oozes out creamy wads of pre into your deepest insides.
“Oh-” Just the sweet, sweet realization that he - he - might’ve been responsible for all five (and perhaps now six) beds you’ve had to replace makes something primal in him twitch. It almost makes him…snap. “Oh fuck.”
BANG—CRACK!
The loudest of them all, Toji claps his left hand down on the top of the headboard- and causes it to crack straight vertically down the middle as if made of cardboard.
Just as roughly as he was snapping his velvety length into you, the patterns of his veins molding themselves to your cervix. Toji’s grumbling, “Oh- fuck, mama, you mean to say that I’ve been fuckin’ her so hard that I…” And with a sound that almost sounds like a growl, he’s taking his left hand off of the useless bed frame now n’ using it to press your spine down. Bludgeoning his aching hips into yours- so hard that you cry out, so hard that the skin at his pelvis burns red, so hard that the bed starts to sag on one side. “And who’s fault is that?”
“Wh-what?” You’re gasping - you damn near can’t believe your ears.
“I said what I said. Didn’t I—” He wasn’t waiting for an answer from you, he was twistin’ his fingers on your clit and listening for the squelches. Smugly humming to himself as if he understood, “Mhmmmm, I did. And whose fault is it that I’ve been so- hah, fuck, insatiable? So greedy? So impatient to bend you over and fuck that pretty pussy until she can’t remember anything but my name?”
Another swat! and those dripping ribbons of sap leak out of you like a faucet.
“That’s right…it’s her fault.”
A few more spanks and you’re sobbing, each one wrenched out of you after the probin’ pushes of Toji’s cockhead. He pinpoints his slick translucent precum everywhere inside- “But- but I’m not the one that broke the bed-”
A sinful drag-drag-draaaaag of your clit, “And did I say it was your fault, mama?” The rugged tips of his fingers come down to tap away at your nub, until you can feel zaps of pleasure burst through your veins. “No, s’this naughty lil’ madam right- ngh, here.”
“Oh…” As if to punish your geysering hole for it, Toji’s perfectly pistoning his hips into yours. Drilling his plump shaft inside just like a madman- “But the- the bed is broken-”
Smack! “So?”
“And you’re still-” Harder and harder. “-going to-” Faster. You could barely even be heard over the cracks and creaks of your shattered bed. “-continue with this broken- fuck- bed?”
He’s raising one dark brow, scarred lips quirking up in amusement. “I broke the bed, not you, doll…” Right after he says this, his rude shaft pulls out of you to flip you over in one movement and lay you out on your back.
Your head rested against the pillows, legs thrown over your shoulders- barely even registering this mating press you’re suddenly put in before he’s shoving his blushin’ tip between your pussy folds once more and pushing. The blood vessels on Toji’s neck pop, swearing underneath his breath. You were still so tight that he has to fight against the resistance, bucking and bucking in rapid, animal half-thrusts. “-yet, that is.”
It feels like you’re being split apart, until you can taste the salted-caramel taste of his precum at your very throat—“Yet?”
“I haven’t broken you…” He finally empties out against your cervix, before grabbing ahold of your throat and draaaaagging you to fuck back. “-yet, mama.”
.
.
.
The employees at the bed section recognized you as you walked in. Again.
You could feel the way they slightly faltered as you waded through the rows of bed frames, you could feel their widened stares, the slight whispers they turned to one another to exchange. And so it took you a bit to steel yourself before you could walk up to one of them - the girl that had helped you last time, too.
“Excuse me-” You’re making yourself known, and her brows slightly raise in confusion at your reappearance here again. Inquiring, “Could you lead me to your strongest bed frames?” And before she can underestimate the requirement - “The strongest of the strong. If you have one made of hard diamond then all the better.”
“O-of course! I can lead you to our extra, extra durable beds if you could just…” And then her eyes flicker behind you - at the towering, trundling man that looked at the mattresses like they were new challengers. Beefy limbs. Pure strength. And then her gaze flicks to the bite marks at your neck, the way your walking kilter was just slightly off.
And at that very moment, you could read it in her eyes—oh, I understand.
“Actually, would you be interested in a custom bed frame, ma’am?”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - Exhi(desk)tion.
“It’s always the quiet ones.” The classmate seated beside you would tut, trying not to draw the attention of your history professor lecturing just a few rows ahead.
Professor Nanami was in the middle of a presentation on the Silk Road: and you knew you should be taking notes for the upcoming final right now, you knew you should be paying more attention to the map with trade routes rather than your blond-haired professor. You knew.
But his molten, hazel eyes briefly flicker your way- and the only thing you can think about at that very second is the zap of electricity that darts down your spine.
Clearing his throat, your stoic professor merely pushes his glasses upwards and turns to the rest of the class. As if nothing had ever even happened.
You were still reeling from your little moment, though you knew - oh, you knew - that the faint tint of red scorching on top of Nanami’s ears meant that he was, too. It’s only with a few deep breaths that you’re tuning back into your reality, with a hushed conversation that was still ongoing-
“Honestly, I think he’d be more of the dead fish type-”
“But he’s so handsome, there’s no way.” Aforementioned classmate insists, and you weren’t surprised that the entirety of your department was falling over handsome, gentle Nanami Kento. “With a face like that? And a body like that? He’s gotta be the type that breaks beds, c’mon-”
Their friend shakes their head, “Nah, it’s the handsome ones that never know what to do. So serious. You seriously think prof Nanami would break beds?”
“Hm…”
And you yourself have to hold back your giggles, because…
“Ngh- fuh-fuck—” A lacquer of saliva sploshes out from your mouth like a faucet, creating a wet sheen that Nanami eagerly bends his body down to lick up. Cleaning you of your sap, it drips down like a puddle on top of his wobbling desk. “M’cumming, professor, oh, m’cumming-”
“Cute…” With a slight snarl, he’s pushing his plump cocktip to swipe down your g-spot. Just so familiar with your sultry pussy that Nanam could map out the exact timing of your peaks, ending off his thrusts with dull thuds! right at each one. “But didn’t I tell you not to call me that when we fuck?”
“O-oh, you did…” You’re trailing off, cockdrunken enough that it was a damn miracle you could even speak coherently still. “Fuck, right there, sir, ngh-”
“Sir?”
And then your ass is feeling the tough slap of his fingerpads, you jolt as you didn’t know that it was coming. Just the sizzlin’ sensation of his punishment, then feeling his blond happy trail soothe over the sting with pap! after pap! after pap! of his drilling hips.
Nanami hums, “That’s a new one- but m’Kento to you, my love.” His glazed tip spurts out a few more beads of sap, a second skin on top of your slick pussy. “Only to you.”
“K-Kento-” You’re clawing from your place on top of his classroom desk, making it creak in your haste to fuck back into his hammers. “Kento Kento- oh, Kento—” Voice cracking.
“Easy there, girlie.” Hushed warning raising goosebumps all over your shaking limbs- and all of Nanami’s loooong nine inches swab around your wet cunt like a madman. Swirlin’ his mushroomy tip, filling you up with his incredible size.
Over and over.
The metal of your professor’s expensive wristwatch caresses down your spine as he pins you further into his work desk, bending you over the polished mahogany. One that rickets after each and every thrust- “Eeeeeasy easy-” After each probe into your spongiest depths, “-take it like my- hah, good girl, darlin’.”
“I- hngh, I already am.” Grumbling half-heartedly underneath your breath, you raise your hips as if to prove your point.
And you didn’t think that Nanam Kento, reputed gentleman, unofficial campus crush, would ever let you do all the work—did you?
No- not at all, in fact.
With a slight smack to your behind, Nanami’s strong hands loop underneath your thighs and lift you straight off the floor. As if you weighed absolutely nothing, he’s stopping your feet from touching the tile, stopping your soppin’ wet pussy from running away- “Mmm, yeah, you already are.” Tilting his head to watch the way your swollen folds take him in, Nanami’s only driving his veined shaft even deeper. And the creaks echoing from the desk are almost deafening- “Look at you- my reeeeeal good girl, huh?”
“I am—hck!” Nodding stupidly, you can’t do anything but whine n’ shake as he’s primally stretching out your channel. Finishing off at your cervix, you could feel a bruise start to formulate where his cock ended off. “I am I am I am-”
“Although…”
Oh?
Before you know it, with yet another rude spank! of his fingertips, you find Nanami now grabbing at the back of your throat to force you to bounce even harder against his cock. “Although, this slutty skirt of yours makes me think ya really aren’t a good girl, hm?”
“O-oh, this?” Oh-so-dazed, you can barely even look down at the skirt that Nanami had just flipped upwards whilst he pounded into you.
“And this blouse-” Tugging on the blouse that you’d worn just for him- your professor’s tugging on the buttons that further leave your heaving chest exposed. “And those- hah, noises.” Angling his plummy, split-ended tip to swipe down your g-spot n’ make you whine. “And not to mention those expressions…those pretty lips.”
The very hand on your neck suddenly twists your head backwards to properly face him, looking over your shoulder. It’s the perfect position for him to target your half-parted lips and spit straight onto the middle of your tongue, “My second favorite lips of yours, darling. So filthy.”
“Sh-shit- they were right.” As you mindlessly babble, your professor looks at you in interest for you to finish. “You are the type to- ngh, break the bed.”
“Gossiping about me?” Nanami coos, before planting yet another infamous spank of his, you were now so past your high that you were veering into overstimulation territory. “So that’s why those grades of yours aren’t improving, hm? You’ve been- ngh, imagining getting fucked by me instead of paying attention.”
“W-well…”
“Well, allow me to- mmm, let you in on a little secret, my love.” He’s breathily whispering against your ear, hulking body bowed so deep that the lines of his abs press through his thin work shirt. Close. So close—you think you were almost near your second orgasm of the day. “We’re already broken the desk-”
And then you can’t even double-check whether Nanami Kento was telling the truth, because at that very moment you’re seeing nothing but pure white.
Pure need.
Pure desire that bubbles in your veins and overflows from your gushing pussy.
You’re suddenly being thrust into your second orgasm - and you can’t do anything but arch your back into Nanami’s pinning, muscular weight and let him fuck you perfectly through the sensations. His drivelling hot tip poking into your g-spot, “F-fuck—” And it’s not you that’s gasping - it’s him. Just as you clench with your heated insides, both of Nanami’s hands come down to cage you on top of the desk and buck—making the desk creak louder than ever. “Fuck, my love- because how can a man not break when he’s inside of you?”
“Oh, Kento.” You’re babbling away, tears streaming down your cheeks. “It feels so g-good…” Blinking your dazed eyes open, and oh-
Oh.
The desk…you couldn’t even call it that.
One side of the piece of furniture was sagging, your nail prints had permanently embedded in the wood, and a great big crack had formed right in the middle where Nanami had been putting in the most force.
And you’re remembering with jolt that this was a mahogany desk.
Your mouth drops, “Oh…oh my god.”
But of course, that doesn’t mean that your professor was stopping- barely even slowing down. He drags his fat, vein-covered shaft along your walls at the convulsions of your high—“Mmm, I prefer ‘Kento’.”
So caught up in your little ministrations - in his furious pace - you don’t notice that the door to the history professor’s classroom was just slightly ajar…
.
.
.
You could feel the whispers even before you sat - it was assigned seating for most of the semester, and you’re throwing a polite smile in the direction of the very same classmates you’d sat next to a few days ago.
Only for them to blanch- and turn to their friend to whisper.
Hm, you wonder, how strange. But it was no major matter - Nanami had just walked into class, setting his briefcase down on his (new) desk, and he looked as handsome as ever.
“No- I’m serious! Just look at the new desk, that’s proof-”
Unwilling, you catch brief wafts of their conversation.
“He really does break beds…well- desks.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - ANIMAL
Geto’s breathy moans. His slight noises that he tried to gnaw on his bottom lip to hide away. The lecherous smacking of his pale hips slamming into yours. The lewd slurps whenever his pretty cock enters your womb. And then—
CRACK—!
Oh my god…did he just…
In the mating press you’d been oh-so-easily folded into, you’re raising your eyes in the direction of the noise- only for Geto Suguru to throb his flared tip against your tenderest spots and make you shut your eyes and gasp.
“F-fuck-” Body squirming restlessly, you try to grip onto Geto’s silken sheets and steel yourself- but he’s only holding onto either side of your arms and pinning you down whilst he tunnels his cock into you. “Fuck! Suguru, the- the bed-”
“The what?” Geto’s dazedly asking, a strange sort of slurring in his tone that you’d usually never hear from the cult- ah, association leader.
Honestly, you don’t think he even registers you properly - you don’t think he even hears it. “Stop thinkin’ silly things, gorgeous.” Nothing in his hotly whirling mind at that moment but the carnal temptation to enter past your sopping pussylips- and then glide his veiny shaft in until he pushes and pushes. “Focus on me.”
He doesn’t want anything else.
He doesn’t need anything else.
Nothing but the sweetness of your walls clenching ‘round him, trickling your wet sap until his pelvis glistens. He’s fucking you furiously- and massages the softest part of your insides until you’re seeing white. And it’s only with the last remaining bit of your rationality that you can manage to squeak out, “Suguru, the- the bed- fuck.”
Rolling those amethyst eyes, “Yeah, m’fucking you on the bed- and what?” He’s ruthlessly asking you, barely even hearing the loud cracks that echo from either side of the bedframe.
Before you know it, one of Geto’s palms comes down on the crowned top of your head. Latched on and pulling you into his rapid thrusts, he’s wetly scouring your every inch of space inside- letting himself go wild. “Don’t you- fuck.” Spitting out between a feral snarl as you begin to clench your bubblegum-like walls, “Don’t you fucking think of tapping out.”
You feel as if he’s punishing you with his painfully hard cock, unable to hide anything from him inside. “I’m- I’m not—” You sputter out with a sob.
“Then just- fucking- take it, gorgeous-” Each of those mean words were punctuated with the most vicious hammer of Geto’s hips, hard enough that you can glimspe the skin ‘round the area of his v-line start to redden and swell.
Just sloppier.
Harder.
Until the bed echoes out with such a deafening ricket that it causes the cult leader to look up, as well. And his urgent heaves finally calm down a little as the dark-haired man takes in the clear splinters in the headboard, the nails that were unscrewing loose by his movements.
Did he do that?
It was finally your chance, and you somehow manage to catch your breath- “Y-you see what I’m talking about? The bed, it’s hngh-” Waves of shivers unfold down your spine as Geto snaps his gluttonous gaze down to you, looking at you as if you were a dessert he just wasn’t ready to give up yet- “-you’ve broken the bed, Suguru.”
And there’s a pause, a beat. As he lets the words sink…“And?”
Your mouth unfastens in shock, “Wh-what-”
Before immediately clasping shut as Geto burrows out a honed thrust that you feel in your very throat. His plump cockhead back to spearing your cute insides, curving against the roof of your pussy so that you can follow his targeted strikes to your cervix.
Your boyfriend looks at you with a dark brow, raised with amusement. “And?” As if that was explanation enough for his response, he fucks each n’ every question straight back into you. Talking like he was crazed, “And what does this pretty pussy want me to do about, gorgeous, hm?”
“Please-” Clawing your nails down his flexing, rippling, shoulders. Unable to even answer his question—“Fuck, what do you mean you’re going even harder after you broke the- b-bed-”
“Does she want me to fuck her sooooft n’ sloooow to stop breaking the bed even more?” Geto asks, and to emphasize his point he’s sensually slowing down his hips. Passionately peppering your innards with smooches of his bawling divot- “Or would she like it hard- fuh-fast so we can break my bed even more, hm?”
“Didn’t even know you could- oh.” You’re throwing your head back as he then ruthlessly picks up the pace to bruise his deliciously curved cockhead against your insides.
Swirlin’ his lewd cock around.
Banging himself into your smallest orifices.
Upturning even the tiniest crevices with wads of his glittery pre - Geto wasn’t sparing you any mercy, any split-second without kissin’ away at your cervix, any second for either you nor the bedframe to stop shattering-
“Or- or…” But Geto himself wasn’t too far behind you, and he’s struggling to keep out the ruined quiver in his tone. Leaning down so that he can gnaw n’ tug on your lower lip as he spits into them, “Or do you want me to take her- that pretty pussy with both? Want me to- hah, be cockwarmed by her? Want me to order someone to fix the fucking bed while I take her-”
“Please-” Like a mantra, you run your hand through his Stygian black locks. You’re looking up into Geto Suguru’s predatory eyes, and something in them glimmers with something dark- “I just want you, Suguru- hck!”
It’s like the world folds in on itself.
One second you’re splayed out like such a slut on Geto’s large (now-broken) bed, and the next thing you know- he’s picking you up and manhandling your back against the damned tatami floor.
Not even pulling out. Not even giving you a second to register it before he swats his flushed tip against the back of your pussy. Not even sparing a slight glance at the shattered bed beside him before he’s fucking you into the floor like a damned animal—rutting, bucking, wildly pulling open your gooey walls with his sheer size.
“S’what you asked for.” Geto’s grinning, saliva-covered lips curling up into something sleazy. And as if it wasn’t enough to take you right then and there, he’s spitting into that maw of yours. “S’what- she asked for.”
“Oh my god—” Your moans drag on, pulled out of you by the veiny massage of his length. His prominent veins puff n’ scratch a carnal part of you that you can’t control, “Fuh-fuck!”
“Shhhhh-” Geto’s bubbling out his spittle against your tongue once more, shutting you up perfectly. “Shut up. Can’t you hear that?”
Hear…?
Despite the way you were huffing and puffing at his rudeness, you’re craning your ears to listen for any source of noise. Though, now that the rickety bed was retired, there was really nothing other than the- conversation?
The sounds of a formal discussion from the floor below, one that makes your heart stop. “Oh my god, Suguru, don’t tell me there’s a-”
“There is.” Geto’s nodding with a feline smile, “A meeting I’m supposed to be at.” And that mere notion doesn’t even stop his hips from drilling into you at a feral pace, “So if you don’t mind, I’d prefer that we don’t break the floor, too, gorgeous.”
Oh.
“Oh.” One of the eldest, most esteemed members of the Time Vessel Association looks up at the trundling ceiling. Quivering and creaking in sudden spurts, it had gotten to the point that they simply couldn’t hold an important meeting about their association agenda without paying mind to it- “Did we have construction planned for the master wing of the temple?”
“I don’t believe so.” Another one furrows his brows, “That’s the master’s bedroom isn’t it?”
A few murmurs of agreement, it was quite the packed chamber, though each member had fallen silent to listen to the thudding noise by now. One pipes up, “Do you think that master has fallen ill and needs help?”
“No, perhaps he’s exercising?”
Some agreement, some disagreement.
“Maybe there really are some renovations going on. Do you think the master would like some help?”
“No, no. It must be a new backtrack to meditation- don’t you know that our master is always ahead in these sorts of things.”
“That’s true, but maybe it’s actually-”
A moan.
A voice they knew very, very well - yours.
And the meeting falls silent.
Chips of the ceiling start to shower atop them.
“We might need some construction very soon- jot that down.”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - (Pussy)breaker!
Choso Kamo: the quietest kid on campus, the one with the piercings and the jet-black nail polish that often got him classified as ‘emo’ (he didn’t mind, of course, he agreed himself).
Choso Kamo: also your boyfriend, the very same one you were privy to knowing had a special side of him that was much…needier than anyone you’ve ever encountered before. Much greedier. Much more desperate to touch every inch of your body that he could.
Choso Kamo: currently handcuffed to the slim bedposts of your dorm room with fuzzy hot-pink cuffs. You on top of him and making him buck upwards to chase the hot, gooey feeling of your cunt-
“Please-” Craning his clammy head upwards, his mouth hangs largely agape and plasters your tits with lewd bites. “Please- please, I’ve been good. Just let me touch you, baby?”
And you’re slowing down mid-bounce, the glossy channel of your walls dragging just enough on his sensitive length. With your poor boyfriend shivering at the feeling of you using him this way, you’re tapping a finger at your chin and pretending to think, “Hmmm…no.’
And you barely even have the time to blink before Choso scrunches his eyes shut and lets out a single tear- lets out a needy buck of his slender hips—
“Ah ah- what did I say?” You’re huffing, arms crossing to make it as if you weren’t even going to ride him crazy anymore. At the sight of your actions, Choso lets out a hollow cry that makes you giggle- “I told you not to act out, Cho, didn’t I?” He’s fervently nodding, fervently agreeing. “And so by- ngh, doing that, you’re not really a good boy, are you?”
“N-no, I’m not.” Only after Choso shakes his head do you start to move again. Holding onto his tattooed biceps, just the sultriest moves that squeeze and squeeze his aching hot length deeper inside your cunt. You could feel his orb Prince Albet’s piercing drag across your cunt, that frigid lil’ piercing on the very top of his mushroomy tip.
And even when he was tied up, Choso’s cock was just so laaaarge and so hot and greedy stretching out your tiniest crevices, your nooks and tender crannies.
With a particularly hard gyration of your hips - one that leaves him utterly hypnotized by the way you move - Choso’s tilting his blushing head to the side and adoring you. Words blurting out of his mouth before he even knows it, “But what if m’your bad boy? And I can fuck you like- hah, like the slut you are?”
“Mmm, nice try.”
The mattress creaks as you’re speeding up your hips, snatching away every word in his throat. Choso’s prominent Adam’s apple can do nothing but gulp as he tugs on his restraints. So hard that your bed frame rickets. “Just so mean- oh.” You’re clenching your sopping wet walls, and the desperate man below you can’t help but jut his honed hips and tremor—babbling out with his head throwing back, “But I just l-like it so much when you’re mean to me, it makes my cock so fucking hard-”
And you excuse him - just barely - when he rolls his hips upwards n’ bashes his plump cockhead out of turn. “Oh, Choso.” If only because Choso’s flared tip was scrape-scrape-scraping against your nerves.
He plunges straight against the tenderest orifice at your g-spot, marking it with his rotund piercing. “Is this- ngh, good?” Bucking into it wildly, you could feel the fat circumference of his cockhead swirl all ‘round and leave his indentation there. “Am I being a good boy now, baby?”
“W-we’ll see…” You’re just barely managing to keep your tone even, bouncing back into his constant thrust.
Choso pouts with his pierced lower lip, snake bites glinting.
And he could feel the slick layers of your arousal increase - you were getting so much wetter at the feeling of him chasing your wet cunt. Barely even waiting for that recoil at your cervix before he’s letting his geysering tip jerk inside once more. Once more. Once more- once more.
Gurgling out at the back of your throat, “Ngh- hngh, fuck. It feels good- right, baby?” Such great glittery tears decorate his lashes, and he looks oh-so-pretty simply blushing when you look down at him. Hands aching to reach for you, your bedposts creak wildly as he does so. “If it feels good then maybe you could let me f…”
“What was that?” Fuck- it was almost too sinful how you had the audacity ask that while speeding up your hips. Letting the sultry suctions of your pussy increase and leave him whimpering - something that you make note of quite quickly.
He bucks in rapid half-thrusts, tattooed biceps straining against their restraints. “Fuck- oh. I just—-oh, fuck, how can your pussy feel s-so good, baby?”
Raising a brow, “And is that what you wanted to ask, hm?”
He’s shaking his head, he’s making the headboard move furiously with the tugs on his cuffs. “No- no I just-” Only for his thoughts to collapse at the sight n’ sensation of you above him, “-please, baby. C-can’t speak.”
“Oh? Whoops!” And then you smile such a devilish smile, something that he can’t do anything about but wrap his pink lips ‘round one of your nipples and bite. “Sorry about that, Cho, allow me to let you- ngh, catch your breath then.”
It’s almost agonizing how you’re slowing down after that, slurp after slurp of inches being fed between your legs. Heavy thrust after thrust. Smooch after smooch of his piercing.
“Th-thank you, baby.” Choso hisses out, now that he could string together coherent sentences again. He looks up at you through his long lashes, “Just wanted to ask- to beg whether you could now free m- oh, fuck.”
But you weren’t going to let your pretty boyfriend off that easy, were you?
Before he can properly finish his sentence, you’re suckin’ up Choso’s ruby-red tip once more. Such a mean smile on your face once you hum, “Hmmm, how about if you can break out of-”
CREAK-CREAK—!
It happens so fast that you don’t even see it immediately, that you just hear the noise of your poor bedframe being torn apart- before suddenly you’re on your back against the dampened sheets with a ravenous Choso on top of you and his probin’ cock jutting inside you.
The snug stretch of his piercing, the roughened feeling of his hands—all over you.
You were being stimulated from every angle and corner, your boyfriend’s fat cock shovelling inside. He stubs his tiny piercing against your g-spot over, and over, and over again. “Fuck- fuck, ngh- I t-told you m’not gonna be able to be a good boy.” He’s huffing into the crook of your neck, hiding that burning blush. “Fucking you like a slut is what I do best- ngh, fuck, and m’ready to give up anything to feel you. To touch you. Anything- anything.”
Choso raises his chocolate eyes to watch for your reaction- and that’s it. That’s when he sees it.
“Oh, fuck.”
He smacks! his hips to yours, so incredibly deep.
“Oh, fuck.”
And before you know it, Choso’s shovelled his pierced tip all the way to your cervix and was pouring out wads of creamy white cum. Ivory sweetness. Oozing wetly out of you and gluing your thighs together. Just the loudest, most sinful sluuuuurp as your pussy sucks up all the stringy ribbons that splatter against your womb.
You could feel it pooling right at your channel, and sploshing about every time that Choso was urgently fucking each ounce inside. “Wh-what?” You’re just so far gone - so properly fucked on his vein-covered shaft - that you have a hard time computing his words. “What’s the matter, Cho?”
“Oh, baby…” Choso reaches over, and there’s a loud bang! of something that sounds strangely like furniture falling over itself. And that…that makes you look up in confusion—“We broke the bed.”
.
.
.
It was difficult to explain to your RA just why you needed a new bed for your form…(the current one was so far past fixable, that neither of you even wanted to try- and Choso had still taken you atop it until you’d reached two or three highs).
And it was even tougher to watch as Itadori Jin moved in the parts to a new one - your dear boyfriend had offered to pay for and move a new one in, seeing as he was partly responsible.
He stood by your side, furiously blushing, as if the two of you couldn’t look even more conspicuous underneath the kind man’s gaze.
“And remember-” Jin announces, once he was finally done fixing the bed up inside your room, he manages to catch the attention of both you two and the few stragglers of the dorm that’d stayed behind to see what the commotion was about. You could hear the whispers starting to spread about ‘that emo kid Choso’ and ‘he really did that?’ already. “-go easy on this one unless you want another bed broken, kids.” He looks between you two meaningfully, “And kids. Unless you want kids.”
You put your face in your hands, Choso nearly faints.
“Though I wouldn’t mind becoming a grandfather already-”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Curse-BREAKER?!
“Sh-shit-” Your body moves before your mind, and you don’t even realize it before your hands surge out towards the bed’s ancient headboard.
Clasping onto it, you’re digging your nails into the aged mahogany and holding on for dear life. All the while the King of Curses was simply losing himself on the velvety feeling of your pussy, letting himself unravel more and more after each honed thrust—“Oh- oh my god, Kuna. M’begging you for- hngh, mercy-”
“Haaah?” Sukuna gruffly pants, casting a hot breeze down your back. It makes you arch lewdly into his touch- oh-so-perfect for the hulking king to cup either side of your hips and slam you back against his. One length stuffed at your cunt, the other inside your other hole- “Speak up, woman, can’t fuckin’ hear you over that pussy of yours.”
“I- hngh, I said.” Babbling away, you could honestly barely even hear yourself over the sultry squelches that emanate from between your thighs.
“Said what?”
“That I- fuck.”
And as you stutter n’ shiver, Sukuna simply rolls his eyes and bucks his hot cocks deeper. “Yeah yeah- we know yer getting- heh, fucked.” He lets the mouth on his stomach fall open, and you can feel his cursed tongue slither ‘round your thighs and head towards your pussy. Pryin’ those bloated folds open, “Now, speak properly before I hafta- ngh, ask from these lips.”
“Just so mean…” You’re sniffling, tears cascading down your cheeks at the rovering of his lengths- now combined with the way that his second tongue was just lightly pressing down on your throbbing clit.
Snickering, “So ya can say that, huh?” And then Sukuna accelerates his drilling hips so much that the bed frame echoes out creaks, thrown at the pressure of his movements.
“I just-” You sob, your body unsure whether to fuck back into him for more—to angle his bulbous tips juuuust right, or to fucking run away. “M’begging you for-” Stimulated so much on the massaging motions of his lengths, you’re feeling the line of one of his slits just perfectly enter into your womb. “-for- fuck!” Just perfectly tickle his tastebuds up n’ down your pussylips, “-mercy.”
Smack!
And it wasn’t Sukuna hammering down a rude spank, it wasn’t even him slapping his tastebuds down on your cunt. No- it was all him ramming both his matching lengths so hard that you’re seeing stars.
That the tuft of his messy pink happy trail scratches your skin until it stings, that even the mouth slashed across his stomach seems to gasp.
That one of Sukuna’s four arms lurches down to grab your neck from behind, draaaagging your helpless body back into his aggressive thrusts. He chuckles darkly, “So you’re saying- heh, you want…” He makes you anticipate the end of his sentence with a few more probes of his double tips. “-more.”
Your eyes snap open, and you can feel both excitement and fear overcome you. “M-more?”
Sukuna smirks, “See- that settles it.”
“Wait I said-” Suddenly fucking each n’ every syllable back inside your clogged-up throat. Each n’ every syllable.
“Oho?” He croons, scalding pants dusting your thighs as even his cursed mouth snickers. “Even more? Ya really are insatiable, woman.”
Both stacked lengths throb inside of you, and you swear they were swelling up even more.
“I wonder who’s insatiable.” Sniping out, you’re counting two bruises the exact size of his cockheads formulate right where both of them ended out. Your spongiest depths, every ridge inside being pinpointed with his milky pre.
Especially at your cervix, Sukuna was swirlin’ his ribbony strings of pre around. Only drilling his hips in faster. And faster. And faster.
“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck fuck. I can- hngh! feel you right at my very throat. Twice.” Your fingers were numb on the shuffling headboard, and he was assaulting your tender g-spot like nothing. “Any more and I think m’gonna…”
“Cum?” His luscious tastebuds slap-slap-slap your sensitive clit, “So cum, ma- no one’s stopping you here.”
“Yes but- no, but-” You’re struggling to even string your thoughts together, glittering tears welling up by the corners of your eyes. Bucking wildly, pleasure sparking behind your eyes. “-it just feels like m’gonna do more than cum, Kuna.”
Scoffing, “Heh…cum twice? I wouldn’t mind one for each- fuck- cock stuffed inside you, brat.”
There’s a distinct ringing in your eardrums, and although part of it might be because of the sheer force being put on your lower half- the other part of it was from…the bed screws? “It just feels like m’gonna squirt, Kuna.” And you could almost hear the mean response formulating on the tip of his tongue, “But the thing is, I don’t even know whether I can squirt-”
“Oh, shush.”
Before you know it, a second of Sukuna’s hands reach down to cover his face- to plaster his palm against your mouth- to let the cursed mouth on his palm open n’ slip his tongue between your whimpering lips. “You think you can’t cum when you’re with- mm, me?” There was an almost-insulted tone in Sukuna’s voice, “Don’t hafta worry when you have ‘Kuna’ with you, mama- just shut up and squirt.”
And then you are.
Well, not only are you squirting—but you’re holding on so hard to the creaking headboard that it starts to shatter.
Just like your vision was. Just like the stabs of pleasure all throughout your veins were- again and again, until you’re seeing white behind your eyes and your mouth starts to loll open stupidly.
And the splashes of syrupy sap that drivel from between your legs start to go into overdrive, until a sheen of it glues to Sukuna’s pink happy trail. “I-I’m—” Barely even able to squeak out your moans, he was emptying his lengths thud-thud into your insides. “It’s so much- mmpf!”
“You can still speak?” The fat girth of his third tongue slicks every inch of your own mouth, it’s slimy tip making out with you in such a filthy way. “Guess I haven’t done my job well enough, hm?”
He was making up to that, it seems. Because in practically no time, Sukuna’s increasing the pace of his vulgar strokes - slamming one of his viciously red tips against your g-spot, and the other to stretch out your other cute lil’ hole.
You could feel them press against your tender walls, almost sliding into one another- “Oh fuck-” And any time you’re shaking with the stimulation, trying to pull yourself free from Sukuna’s arms, he’s tugging you back with the palm glued to your maw. Kissing you deeper - dragging you back. “Oh fuck, it just, mm, feels so-”
“Where’d you think you’re going-”
“It’s so much, I might just cum again-”
A sensually aggressive pull—“We’re not done, woman.”
And then you don’t know whether it’s the way you’re gripping onto the headboard, you don’t know whether it’s just the way he’s manhandling you like it’s nothing to him - but Ryomen Sukuna has the globes of your ass pressed against his pelvis, and the headboard on his king-sized bed crashing down to the floor.
Just from him stopping you running.
Just from the force of your pleasure.
It falls with a clatter, and your eyes widen as you turn to stare at it- before they’re immediately falling shut again at the feeling of yet another high hitting you head-on.
“Ahhhh- fuck.” For the first time, his hips suddenly falter. “Ah fuck, you seriously…” A bark of laughter leaves him.
And you whine through your tears, still pummeled by his cock. “Shut up.” But in actuality, he’s shoving the tongue on his palm even deeper into the cavern of your mouth to shut you up.
“You broke my fuckin’ centuries-old bed, huh? That thing was an heirloom- probably.” Sukuna whispers to himself as he feels the tightest lil’ clench of your wet walls once more - as if you were trying to milk him even more. Before his face suddenly splits with a grin, “Heh- you’re next, brat.”
And if the King of Curses’ subjects looked at you slightly fearfully after that at the fact that you’d broken one of Sukuna’s prized possessions, well, he certainly didn’t mind…
Because he’d told his attendants to ready at least fifteen more beds after that.
♡ INO TAKUMA - Acci(dent)!
“Never have I ever done it raw.”
Giggles erupt at the question your friend had just posed, and Ino blushes to the roots of his chocolate brown bangs as several members of the tipsy circle turn to look at you two. The couple of the group, it wasn’t a secret that the two of you were serious and happily in love with each other.
But what did feel like a surprise (at least, to the rest of them) was the fact that neither of you put your fingers down to denote that you had done it raw.
They balk at the realization.
They whisper—
“Wait? You two- I would’ve at least thought by now-”
“I mean, it makes sense, better safety-”
“True, or maybe my man Ino’s pull-out game is just that week- hah!”
And you laugh along with the group, you smile, but from the corner of your eye…you’re catching Ino’s gaze. And you know that despite carrying a conversation from the friend sitting beside him, his attention’s on you, too.
His hand moves to cover your exposed knee, he squeezes.
.
.
.
“Ohhhh, fuck, pretty.” Ino’s sweaty strands of hair tickle the side of your neck, and you could feel the perspiration beading across his forehead at the heated proximity to you. The way he had his long, reddened cock swollen between your legs and rutting—
Like an animal.
Buck after buck.
No condom.
Ino’s thickened diameter spreads apart your pussylips, just lining your slit with his translucent precum. And he’s just shivering with desperation, but savoring even the faintest feeling of your glistening hole fluttering. “Just so real like this- ngh, I didn’t know you could feel so soft, sweetness.”
“Oh yeah?” With your arms thrown over his neck and pulling him in, “Then why don’t you feel it even more, Taku?”
“B-because- ngh.” One of Ino’s hands trembles as he cups his bulky base, teasin’ just the start of his puffy veins with his thumb. “Because she’s so soft and so pretty and so- so wet- I don’t know if I even deserve to put it in raw…”
You have to hold back a coo, “Awww, baby, it’s not about deserving- I want to feel you inside.” Fluttering your lashes - just the way you knew he was utterly weak for. “Want to have you raw and throbbing. Want to have your cum inside me, s’that alright?”
“Oh, fuck.” Ino moans at your words, “Oh, fuck.”
And almost as if he couldn’t entirely control himself - just in rough, jerky half-thrusts - he swerves his bulbous tip up to your hole and humps and humps. Letting out the filthiest wet squelches! as he does, feeling tight orifice try to clench around him- Ino slams his right hand down on top of the headboard and gasps.
Pretty pink lips wobbling as he does so, “D-don’t say things like that-” Other hand reaching up to gently spank your mouth, he grips the headboard so hard that it starts to dent. “-not out of that sweet mouth, pretty…s’gonna make me cum.”
You playfully smile, “If you’re gonna cum then make sure s’inside me, Taku.”
He lets out a pained groan and bucks- “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”
And it’s just then that he’s properly pryin’ aside those glistening folds of yours and letting his glistening, red tip kiss your hole. Just the lightest peck, and Ino Takuma finds himself letting out a sob at the heavenly texture, “B-because you don’t know how badly I’ve always wanted to- hck! to feel this pretty cunt wrapped around me like this.” Sinking in juuuuust an inch, he was so hard at the thought of entering you raw that you could count every pulsation. “She’d speak to me- y’know?”
“Wh-what?” You’re managing out through your own tears, his girth was so thickened that it left you keening.
“Every time I fucked her with a condom on- ngh, she- she’d tell me how much she wants to feel me raw.” Babbling away nonsense and- oh.
Oh, you’re getting it now.
Ino was pussydrunk, and prattling away with even the slightest slip n’ slide along your walls. “Always imagined filling her up to the very, mm, brim.” His left hand cascades down your front to press against your core while he’s easing in, “To fill you up so much that you end up overflowing from here- oh, maybe if you cover me like that it’d look like I’m wearing a condom, h-heh.” More nonsensical as he just goes deeper, deeper…
Until, ultimately, Ino’s fitting in juuuuuust the tip - and he’s just holding onto the wooden panel of the headboard, just splintering it, just shoving his shaft towards the end of your pussy and cumming.
Sultry hot stripes of white that empty out against your cervix, it creates a lil’ glaze that Ino finds himself slipping and sliding against. “Fuck-” He’s muttering underneath his breath, “Fuck fuck fuck- I can’t believe m’cumming after just putting it inside-”
“I can’t believe you’ve just broken the bed.” Your eyes damn near bulge out of your skull, head snapping upwards to look at the large crack that broke through your bed frame.
Just at the sensation of feeling you raw…?
And before you know it, Ino’s thrusting into you like an animal- just pumping his pearly beads of cum deeper inside you. Deeper and deeper. The bawling divot on the very tip-top of his shaft empties out a hot load against your womb, and you can feel it overspilling between your legs already.
Just smearin’ out like a white gloss that Ino swipes his rugged left thumb down and sticks between his own lips, “Mmm, and you- and you expected me not to?” He asks, voice breathy. Almost crazed.
It’s a tone that sends shivers down your spine as you let it sink in, “I-I mean-”
Before Ino’s fucking you in rough, rovering bucks to stick his globular tip against your cervix. Like he was trying to glue every inch of him inside you, “You let me have her raw- you let me stuff myself in with absolutely nothing- so deep that I can’t even hck! think of anything else.” He’s blinking his eyes dazedly, “Can’t even remember my fucking name—and it’s a wonder that I haven’t b-broken down before breaking the damn bed.”
Uselessly, the bedframe rickets and creaks after each of his movements- eventually ending up in shambles that have one side of the bed sagging.
Reaching the damned floor—
“Fuck- better take you on the floor instead, huh, pretty?”
.
.
.
The next time you’re with your rambunctious friends, they rib each other with probing questions regarding that last drunken game night. Slightly more sober, just slightly less playfully intrusive.
“So…” One of them croons, “Never have I ever done it raw, huh?”
And Ino, silently, puts down one finger- poking at his pizza slice instead. Though, you do notice the furious blush that peaks out from underneath his brown hair.
Jaws drop.
They look to you.
And you can only shrug with a smile.
♡ GOJO SATORU - Dear door,
“You- you can’t just—fuuuuck!” Your mouth hands open, fingers dragging through Gojo Satoru’s ivory white bangs. You pull and you tug and you make the strongest sorcerer in existence whimper as you pull his handsome face towards you.
Whimpering into his hotly open mouth as you let his thick cock lavish your insides, just the pink rotund tip pressing against your deepest innards. You could tell by the flares of blue lightning by his eyes that Gojo was using his Six Eyes to pinpoint your exact g-spot, just pumping and pumping and pumping his length into that lil’ target of his. Just so unfair how he smiles brilliantly after cutting you off with a particularly hard thrust, “Toru, you can’t just fuck me in your o-office whenever you wanna skip out on a jujutsu meeting-”
“I don’t hear her complaining.” With that said, his slender thumb rolls a heart over your clit - but of course Gojo’s playful fingers couldn’t stay still. Of course he was letting his doughy fingertips pinch that cute lil’ nub. “And with my Six Eyes I can always tell, y’know?”
“F-fuck- no you can’t.” You’re arching on top of his work desk, littered with so many important documents that your husband had barely even touched (despite being due days ago).
And then he’s swirlin’ and swirlin’ the crown edge of his thumb until the sloppiest squelches let go from your cunt. Tilting his head to the side with a teasing smile, “You suuuure, sweetheart?”
Yes, even you start to second-guess yourself by the way he was fucking you utterly stupid. With his looong, vein-covered cock that kept on slapping! the end of your cervix at a constant pace, and somehow Gojo always managed to pinpoint where you felt best.
Always hitting it with deadly accuracy.
It almost felt as if this was the battlefield and you were on the receiving end of The Strongest’s complete and utter mercy. You were helpless to his ravenous hips. Helpless to do anything but let your hamstrings ache with the movement of trying to buck back into him, “W-well- yes? No?” Head thrown back when he spurts out a sticky wad of pre into your womb, “Maybe?”
“H-heh…” Drunkenly Gojo giggles at the fact that you couldn’t even pin down a proper answer, “Well then we have something in common, my wife.” You’re looking up at his breathy answer, and Gojo stares down at you with eyes that are utterly gone. Crazed. High on the feeling of your pussy- “I don’t know fucking anything other the feeling of my wife’s hot- tight- cunt, either.”
“Oh.” Drool slithers down one side of your maw, and Gojo’s eagerly leaning in to lick it away.
“All clean.” He’s darting his pinkish tongue out, “Heh, hope you know that made me even- ngh, harder, sweetheart.”
You could feel it, and he finds himself only rutting back into your bounces.
Outmatching you.
Thrashing against you.
The curvaceous end of his shaft was just so red-hot with need, even the slightest rubbin’ along your sweet walls leaves the man letting out tears. “Oh, this is so much fucking better than being at some meeting.” Rattling the desk with how fast he was slamming into you, papers fly off of it. “So much fucking- hah, better. Though, I would’ve been dreaming about this cute pussy through it anyways, y’know~?”
“M’n-not surprised-”
“Would’ve been thinking of how lonely she’d be without me.” He pouts with his rosy lips, and tugs on your pulsating clit even harder. The desk thuds- “How wet she is just waiting f’me- heh, the way she’d welcome me like thiiiiis—”
And he’s bucking into you so hard - like an animal - just throwing the desk off its legs. And it’s only with the help of Gojo’s cursed energy that he’s managing not to tip the entire thing over, “Toru, you should be thinking about- fuck, it feels so good—your meeting instead.” He huffs n’ bangs away into you so hard that a leg on the desks starts wobbling. “The one about your powers-”
“Oh, m’using my powers alright-”
And just like he said, his firm fingerpads coat with a buzzing layer of cursed energy. The very same that send sparks flashing behind your lids, and Gojo’s own body heightening in strength and speed.
In absolutely ruining you—
“Oh, Toru-” Breath catching, you can start the molten bliss start to take root at the pit of your stomach. “Toru, m’gonna-”
“Three.”
Blinking your bleary eyes open, “Why are you-”
“Two.”
“-counting down?”
“One.”
And your breath catches primally in your breath as you’re suddenly bursting into your high- it’s a startling orgasm, one that Gojo’s plunging his cock inside to fuck you right through. And his eyes glow just a tinge brighter to figure out the peaks of euphoria where you were most sensitive, swabbin’ away every ridge and crevice inside you.
“Oh, how I love you- how I prefer you over any fucking- ngh, meeting. Fuck those meetings.” Gojo’s growling, “Don’t even need them anyway. I’d fuck you right then n’ there on top of the table, you know that?” Buzzing fingertips rovering atop your clit, “Make a big show of it-” Harder. “Maybe then they’ll see the strongest’s true powers-”
“Want you to cum inside.” Because Gojo might just be the strongest sorcerer - but you still had power over him.
And you’re watching in real time as your husband’s powerful eyes bulge, as his drooling mouth parts, as he reels his aching cock back and then gets sloppy in the way he’s stuttering it towards. Red and throbbing angrily, “E-excuse me?” Octaves higher. Stuttering. Because you’d forgone the condom this time, and he…“Do you even know what you’re-”
You cut him off as your wave of bliss just slightly starts to bate, “I do. C-can you…” Fluttering your lashes, you glide your hands down your front. “-please, Toru?”
Gojo’s pulling his muscular hips back with a hiss—“Fuh-fuck.”
You just had to ask him to cum inside for him to listen to your whims. Body acting before his mind.
And it’s then that Gojo Satoru throws his head back with a groan of your name and cums. It’s then that he’s determined to shove every droplet of seed inside your womb, and does so by crushing his toned v-line to yours so harshly- that there’s a distant crack of wooden furniture.
It’s then that the explosion of his high overtakes him so much that the singular lightbulb inside Gojo’s office bursts- though, the shards shower down and magically don’t splinter neither you nor your husband. The pressure of atoms-
But you can’t pay any mind to it, not right now whilst The Strongest is just emptying out his heavy balls into your deepest depths. “Oh my god- fuck, there’s so much-” Your jaw drops open, feeling the trickle of ivory sap spill out of you and glue to your thighs.
Which Gojo eagerly wipes up to push back inside with his fingerpads, “Cumming inside-” He’s dazed eyes flit between your fucked-out expression and your overstuffed cunt. “Inside inside inside- oh.”
Those webbed volumes just seem to keep on pouring out, and he can’t stop the leakage from spilling down his wrist. Taking a slight lick at the sheen with his greedy tongue-
“Such a mess.” Gojo’s tutting, as if he didn’t enjoy every second of it. “Next time- heh, we can really test out m’powers by making a condom out of infinity- it’ll work trust me, sweetheart.”
“I-I think that next time we’ll have to test out something else first, Toru.” You’re saying as your orgasm peters out, and you’re finally coming around to the absolute chaos around you two.
For starters, the desk was shattered- and you’re held up solely by Gojo’s strong arms n’ powers. Papers were frozen in flight midair because of his powers, loose pieces of furniture were hovering an inch or two above the ground.
And the lightbulb- oh, it was crumpled, shards not reaching you solely because of the layer of infinity that Gojo had extended to you, too.
The layer of infinity that quickly parts for you when you decide to reach up and kiss him- you feel Gojo’s cock flinch inside your cunt for that. “Maybe it’ll do Yaga and the renovation team more good if you just go to the meeting instead, Satoru…”
At that, he snaps his head in the direction of the (slightly splintered) clock face on the wall, the meeting wasn’t over just yet. He could still make it if he really wanted to. “Hmmm…nope!”
And then Gojo clicks! his index and his thumb together, still all glazed with your seeping hot sap- before you’re blinking your eyes once more and finding your back teleported against…a door.
“The door, sweetheart.” He finishes off, and you’re not quite sure whether that’s because you’d stupidly babbled it out loud or whether he could just read your mind - by the wide, crazed look he was giving you, you could never quite be too sure. The first flat surface he’d managed to find.
Gojo had both his overlarge hands placed underneath the globes of your ass, the only thing that was easily holding you up- it was as if you were weightless. Just the prettiest ragdoll for him to ruin himself upon.
In mere split-seconds, his bulbous tips finds its pace probing in and out of your cunt- in and out, in and out. Again. He wasn’t done with you just yet, “And m’gonna fuck and fuck you against this very door until m’done with my meeting. Until m’cumming dry- and even then, m’gonna fuck you all over again-”
“Oh, fuuuck, Toru.” You’re crying out, drawing red, red lines with your nails on his shoulders. They were just so bulky, flexing each time you were pummeled against the door-
After one particularly hard piston of his, Gojo smiles as the door starts to rattle. “Heh, but before that we might just break this damn door, too, my wife.”
.
.
.
“I can’t believe it.” Yaga’s grumbling, so upset that he had his knitting materials out and was working on an entirely new cursed corpse as he walked - perhaps one to punch Gojo Satoru in the face, yes, that would be ideal…“No matter how many times I tell Satoru to get his act together and just- attend-”
“P-p-please calm down, Yaga-san. It’s not good for your blood pressure!” Ijichi cries, scrambling to keep up with the other man.
Behind them, a flurry of disgruntled elders followed, each under the pretense of wishing to continue this oh-so-important meeting to analyze The Strongest’s powers - but, really, everyone did want to see the infamous Gojo Satoru get put in his place. At least once in here, if never on the battlefield.
So they waited. They watched. They walked right up the slightly…rumbling door to Gojo Satoru’s office, where Yaga claimed the man often lounged away his important meeting hours.
And Yaga himself is the one to gruffly reach for the handle, a lecture already on the tip of his tongue—when every single person in the hallway freezes at the sound of what oddly sounds like…a moan.
Ijichi blanches, “Y-Yaga-san, maybe Gojo-senpai is hurt-” Before getting cut off by another moan.
One that was undeniably by anyone but Gojo, one that was undeniably yours - The Strongest’s wife.
They all startle back from the door as if it was poisonous, as if it would grow a mouth and start moaning at them all over again. Through the wooden screen, they hear a cackle that sounded to be from Gojo-
“Ijichi.”
“Yes- yes, Yaga-san!” The black-haired man jumps.
“Cancel all of Satoru’s meetings this month.”
♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Break it// Make it
“Fuh-fuuuck.” Your hands grasp at the soft silken sheets of the king-sized bed, your feet plant flatly to steady your body and somehow buck—“Oh- oh my fuck, Hiromi.”
You didn’t think that trying for a baby would get you this ruined by your husband.
It was just tonight that you’d mentioned it to him: the perfect anniversary get-up, a romantic dinner he’d taken you out to, a stroll along a scenic beach, and a conversation where you’d blurted out that you wouldn’t mind if there were…three of you.
And those were exactly the words that’d gotten you into this situation-
“Three of us-” Higuruma’s whispering underneath his breath, almost like a breathless mantra- honestly, he’s working his body so hard and not even caring to control his pants before he says it all over again. “Th-three of us.”
Wedding ring on, your husband’s palms smears down your front and presses in on top. As if he was already imagining a time where this very body of yours would be round n’ glowing with his child- “Oh f-fuck, Hiromi, y’know I think s’already taken-”
“But I can’t really be sure until there’s three of us, right, angel?” He’s asking, dark eyes serious.
Before you can formulate a response on your limp tongue, Higuruma’s swervin’ his ruddied cock up against your cervix - it was right where he’d started bruising your spongy pussy with his constant bashes. Again and again and again.
With his crowned cocktip messing up the wads of white already inside you, and one of his hands reaching up to pin both of yours above your head- Higuruma was breeding you. “Not until I can tell that my pretty lil’ daughter has taken inside you, yes?” Slightly slurring into your open mouth, you find that the stern man was drooling by this point. “Until you don’t know what it feels like to- hah, not have my seed deeeep inside of you, hm? Until you move and you can still taste me there. Until you can’t even speak with my cum plugging you up all the way-” Free hand gripping at your throat, slightly choking you. “-here.”
“You’re being so…” You’re shivering, you don’t even have words for how your usually-composed husband was acting in this very moment - maybe that was his overspiling sap working its magic already.
But Higuruma only coos at your cuteness, “S’alright, momma, no need for words- just taaake everything I give you, hm? Every single drop of mine- will you take it?”
“Yes- yes.” Mewling out, you just want it so bad despite the waves of cum that stick ‘round your insides already. As if a second skin. With absolutely no hesitation, you’re arching your spine and rutting back into Higuruma’s fervent pace. “Yes yes yes- I want it so bag, ngh, fuck me pregnant, please, Hiromi?”
“That’s the plan, sugar.” His nose crinkles with perspiration, and he’s mapping out every inch of the hidden spots inside you. Everywhere he could probe into next- “Until I’ve- oh, look. You’re just leaking out my cum.”
Your chin drops to your chest, “I am?”
And Higuruma Hiromi would never lie to his sweet wife - sure as day, sure as the way he was drilling into you like a madman, your cunt was stuffed with so many webs of cum that half of it was spilling out. A frothy few layers of it glue your pussylips to his base, smearing all over with every movement.
“Now now, how’d you expect me to stop when you’re wasting it like that, sugar?” Higuruma tuts, and you’re whining at his stern tone.
“S’not my fault…”
“But of course not, angel.” Lovingly, your husband cups your face- your husband just coos down at you. “It’s not, mmm, your fault- but someone has to stop from leaking, hm? How else m’I gonna fuck you all full, hm?”
And he was an attorney for a reason, you suppose, because in no time you’re nodding. Peering up at Higuruma with tear-glittered eyes, “I…I can stop the leaking.”
“Atta girl.” With a full-mouthed kiss pressed onto your lips, he’s urging his blushin’ cockhead to hit the roof of your cunt. It was jolting your body upwards, following the deafening creaks of the bed to help you fuck back into him- “C’mon now- buck- buck, angel. Fuck back into your husband, alright?”
“A-alright.” Gasping through the thorough probes of his rude cock, his shaft was throbbing with so much need that you could hear the thundering beat in your ears.
Higuruma’s smile grows, he could barely even hear the rickety bed by now - barely even cared for it. “Faster now. Faster- c’mon, angel, you were so eager to get pregnant- you know momma’s gotta be a hands-on parent, too.”
Mouth parting, your hamstrings scream at you to slow down - and so do the mattress springs. “I-I know, Hiromi- it’s just, fuck—”
“Something to say?” He reaches a stray hand down and squeezes your clit, “Speak up, sugar. Don’t make me teach you the fundamentals of parental communication, too.”
“You’re really studied up on this…” You’re grumbling.
And his hold grows tighter on your oversensitive clit, “What’s that—?”
“N-nothing-” You’re squeaking, just so overstimulated by this point that even that makes your entire body shiver n’ shake. Your head muddling up with the oncoming mess of your high, “It’s just- I think m’gonna-”
“Cum?”
“Cum.”
You’re both hurtling into your highs at the exact same time - and maybe Higuruma had planned them that way, maybe you were just lucky enough that your sensations synced up. But all you know is that it was one of the strongest orgasms of your life- with bursts of pleasure leaving your vision white, and your toes curling every time Higuruma was fucking his pouring high into you.
Creamy white sap.
He couldn’t get enough of his wife’s cunt, leaving streaks of cum glossing all atop your pussylips- “Guess- hah, guess what, angel?” Your husband’s saying after a few strokes of him pumping his white wads into the back entrance of your womb.
“What, Hiromi?”
“We broke the fucking bed-”
You’re still not even halfway through the waves of your high before you’re sweeping a look around with a gasp, and sure enough- the planks of the bedframe had clattered to the floor in some places, leaving you two precarious as you moved. As he still didn’t stop.
You supposed it made sense, considering all the looong hours spent fucking you into this very bed.
But then again, the frame was made out of pure mahogany-
“But…” Higuruma’s the one to snap you out of your slight reverie, and the best of your orgasm has just ended before he’s steeling himself back out of your pussy. With the sloppiest sluuuuurp—he’s scooping your boneless body up in his arms, and walking over to the nearest flat surface he can find. Perhaps even…a little fantasy of his.
His work desk.
Pushing aside so many work documents that fall to the floor, you’re bowed on top of the table on all fours when your husband’s reddened cocktip is mazing it’s way iiiiiiin—
“-that doesn’t mean m’done with your sweet pussy yet, sugar.”
.
.
.
Just a few months later and when the obstetrician asks you when approximately you might have conceived, well, you know exactly the date to tell her.
And Higuruma put his hand on top of your slowly-swelling belly - you were just as beautiful as he’d imagined, as his fantasies were.
Synopsis. How was he expected to not lose control the first time he goes in raw?
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, bréeding, mating press, jealousy (Nanami’s side), improper use of Gojo’s technique, true form! Sukuna, dp, praise, creampíe, spítting, really REALLY needy pússydrunk boys, cúmplay, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 5.6k (whoops)
A/N. Got a bit carried away but oh well hehehe.
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - “A-another?”
Toji Fushiguro never stutters, he never sounds unsure, he never lets that deep baritone voice of his break so pathetically at the end of his sentence.
Except for now, that is.
With you folded into such a mean mating press, spreading your shaky legs to flash him that heavenly view. As if that wasn’t enough to have Toji’s head spinning already, you give him a hazy, determined nod, “Another.”
Another. Oh, it’s all he can do to hold back a guttural groan when thumbing apart your puffy folds, eyeing the way you were clenching up at him eagerly.
“Another, huh?” Toji echoes, his free hand coming up to slide back that thin layer of plastic on his swollen cock. Slow. Torturously slow. Hissing at the cool air kissing his aching length, “Then-” He glides his leaky tip across your glossy entrance, smirking at the way you arch into it like such a slut. “-this pretty cunt better actually give me another kid, doll.”
And then Toji’s pushing in - slow, ruthless little pistons of his hips that have you scrambling further and further up the mattress. Veins pulsing against your plushy walls in a feverish thump! thump! thump!
Of course, he wasn’t faring any better.
“O-oh.” Toji throws his head back, brows scrunching at the feeling of your sweet sweet cunt. “So this is- fuck- what ya feel like, hm? Hold on- wait- wanna test something-”
“Ngh! Oh-” you squeal when two thick fingers dip down to toy with your throbbing clit, bucking your hips up in a way that has Toji sinking in deeper. Blinking away the shocked tears behind your lids, “T-Toji– don’t be mean.”
But you doubted he could hear you - fuck, you doubted Toji was even breathing at this point. Because his eyes were widened, jaw dagging open ever-so-slightly to moan, “Fuck- oh my god- ya squeeze me ngh- even tighter without that fucking condom.”
And he’s so fucking awe-struck - and you’re being fucked so dumb - that you don’t even realize it when he’s bottoming out. Still pushing in, trying to squeeze even deeper into your gummy walls.
“F-fuck can’t believe you’ve been holdin’ out.” he spits, sounding so genuinely bewildered, pulling your hips back messily to meet his. Heavy balls smacking you with each rough, depraved thrust inside. “Ohhh m’never letting ya hold out on me again, doll.”
Your nails leave angry, red marks down, down, down his sculpted back. Glassy eyes begging - pleading for any once of mercy for the monster you’ve brought on. “N-never?”
He gives your ravaged clit a light smack! with the pads of his fingers - both a little punishment and a sneaky little way to feel you clamp down on his thick cock in surprise again. Huffing out a low laugh, “Yeahhh you’re not getting off easy. Never.” And, usually, Toji was so suave, so infuriatingly in control - but right now he’s running his mouth as sloppily as his hips. Panting into your open mouth, “Gonna hafta let me f-feel this cute pussy all the fuckin’ time now. Gonna hafta let me breed her.”
And shit it wasn’t enough. It’ll never be enough.
In a split second, Toji falls back onto his knees, pulling you upright to splay out so prettily on his lap. The change in position pushing him in deeper and deeper and-
“That’s what I hah- like to see-” One hand squishes your cheeks together and forces you to look down at the way your poor pussy was bulging and struggling around Toji’s cock. So so angry and drenched with all your syrupy sweet juices, glistening all the way down to his twitching balls. “Ya look so much oh- shit- better drooling all over me and not some condom, doll.” Toji’s sharp teeth graze your ear, abs rippling underneath your touch as fucks up into you so animalistically. So ferally. Sharp, long jabs of his hips, just dragging your sloppy pussy all over. “N’ even better when she’s ngh- painted white, right?”
The only response you’re stupidly giving him are a handful of teary whimpers, thighs burning with the wet smack of skin on skin.
And the way you’re bucking down pathetically to meet his ruthless cadence, but you don’t even realize that until Toji lets out a strangled groan. “Heh, ya like that?”
“Mhm.” you whine. “L-like it so- much- like feeling you like this- ah-”
He’s pulling you into a messy kiss - if it can even be called that, just a lazy, messy drag of his lips and that scar against your lolling open mouth, “Tha’s my girl. Ya like feeling me raw, hm?” Each word nudges his fat head against your bruised g-spot in a way that has Toji so drunk, so high off you and that pretty cunt. Twiddling a thumb on your sensitive nub. Over and over and over. “Ya like the ohh- fuck- idea of giving me another? Making Megs a big brother?”
“Yes! Fuck yes yes yes I-”
Toji doesn’t hear the rest of your sentence - nor does he really give a shit. Not when your cute cunt is squeezing around him so fucking tight that it was almost hard to ram his cock inside.
Milking the fucking soul out of him as you cum, a broken little ah! ah! ah! leaves your mouth when with a couple, sloppy thrusts Toji can’t help but paint your pussy a sinful white. Thick, hot ropes of his seed that slosh inside your gummy walls - cumming and cumming so much that he feels it drip out your slit.
Meshing together in a lewd combination at the soaked base of his still-rock hard cock, one that makes Toji keen gruffly. Pooling his seed on the pads of his fingers, he bullies them back into your still-stuffed hole, “So…are we sure it took?”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - Right here right now
Everyone knows Nanami Kento as a patient man - a sensible one. The one person at the office they could trust with anything and everything.
Only you knew Nanami Kento as the type of man to just drag you into the break room in the middle of the work day, spitting out a barely-there excuse about “a meeting” to the rest of your confused coworkers. When in reality he was shoving you near the nearest flat surface and bunching your cute skirt up at your hips.
“Ken- what-” you sputter in a daze, blinking up at the panting man above you. “What happened?”
The only answer you’re getting is the clink-clink-clink of Nanami’s belt unbuckling, stray strands of blond sticking to his furrowed forehead as he takes in your slutty position.
Scoffing, “Can you at least tell me what-”
Your words die in your throat at the feeling of something so warm and rock-hard making a mess of you down below. And - sure enough - you’re met with the sight of Nanami’s fingers nudging apart your flimsy panties - just enough for his fat head to kiss against your puffy folds. Sending a fresh wave of your slick coating his hand once more.
“Don’t have a condom.” he speaks to you properly for the first time since coming in here, gruff and strained against your ear. “Guess we’ll hafta make do, darling.”
Fuck, you’ve never gone without a condom with your boyfriend before - but now that you’ve felt the sensation of his deep slit rubbing against your hole, the dip of his veins tracing against your walls, well, shit you think you might just be addicted.
Nanami isn’t too far behind - because he lets out a deep groan. “O-oh. Fuck, remind me to do this more often.” Chest heaving as he pulls out ever-so-slightly, only to run a fist down his length, smearing your syrupy sweet juices in a glossy sheen along his cock. “Who said you can feel this haah- fucking good, my love? This all f’me?”
It’s only with this that you’re realizing that he still hasn’t explained yet.
Reaching out a hand to pull on Nanami’s favorite yellow tie, you bring his face mere millimeters from yours. Breathing out, “E-explain or m’walking out.”
You wouldn’t - you knew that. And Nanami did too, but that didn’t stop that greedy part of himself from stilling inside your puffy folds, having you struggling and clenching with the effort to take in his girth.
“Jus’ wanted to hah- feel you. To really feel you.” he’s nosing up your racing pulse. Strong hands pushing your legs so far apart on the table that it burned. “To actually prove to this cute pussy that she’s mine. S’that s-so wrong?” He’s fucking you like he wants to prove a point - in long, purposeful strokes that roam for your g-spot. Gritting out, “Especially when you’re so warm. So heavenly. N’ some people here can’t take a hint.”
Ah, so that’s what it was all about - that new intern at the office who seemed particularly attached to you lately. Enough so that it had Nanami acting like this - not that you were complaining, obviously.
No sooner is the realization hitting you that Nanami’s smashing into your sensitive spot. Hard.
A large hand hastily covers your mouth as soon as it sags open. Only growing more and more desperate when Nanami starts up a quick tempo. Hitting it over and over and over- “Shhh shhh, darling.” he groans, fucking you deeper and deeper into the table. “I know it’s good. Ngh- oh my god you feel fucking perfect- But we wouldn’t want ‘em to hear, right? Though-” And then he’s flashing such an uncharacteristically smug smile, gaze just devouring you through his long lashes. “-wouldn’t mind ‘em knowing that you’re mine.”
And it seems like he was torn between forming coherent thoughts and just rambling about how sinfully good you felt.
“K-Ken-”
But Nanami wasn’t done - far from it, in fact. He was running his mouth, words slurring and stumbling with each jolt of his hips forward.
“Shh, let me do all the work, darling.” Drawing gentle, purposeful circles on your clit, “Jus’ sit there n’- hngh- let me feel this pussy some more. Let her soak me some more. Been waitin’ for this too long- oh- They’d never know, right?”
It’s all you can do to nod, barely-lucidly, “N-never. Only you, Ken.”
And now, unfortunately for you and your poor cunt, it just seemed like Nanami was pussydrunk off the feeling of your gummy walls milking the fucking soul out of him. No longer just proving a point - no, oh, he was lost in the way you were so soft. So messy - forming a cute pool of slick on the table below, on his heavy balls.
Eyes rolling to the back of his head, “Fuck him. Fuck them all.”
You flinch as he catches your lips to spit out heated little profanities into your open mouth, biting and tugging filthily on yours. Almost babbling at this point, “They’ll n-never know how ngh fucking heavenly this cunt feels. How perfect you’re wrapped around me.”
Both the obscene squelches from below and your broken little whimpers were reaching a feverish height, coupled with Nanami’s rumbling groans. And it’s only when you let out a particularly loud whine of “Ken–” that makes him grow even girthier inside you.
Stretching you out so good, he lets out a warning whisper. Low and dangerous, “Careful.” Sending a wave of goosebumps down your spine - all the way to your ravaged cunt, “I hear he’s got a meeting here soon.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - The cocky one
“Hah, such a cocky smile, gorgeous.” Geto shakes his head down at where you were on all fours for him. Arched like such a slut against his angry tip, throbbing and glistening between your legs. “You sure you’re oh-”
Whatever mean little retort - and that smirk - is wiped clean off of Geto’s pretty lips when you fuck yourself back onto his rock-hard cock. Gritting your teeth at the sheer stretch when your sloppy hole finds his red, leaky tip, determinedly stuttering him down, down, down until your ass was pressed up against those tufts of black at his toned pelvis.
“W-whoops.” you sigh when your skin smacks against his abs, tone saccharine sweet. “What were you hah- saying, dear?”
Geto lets out a strangled groan, head tipping back, fingers blindly finding your hips to keep them from fidgeting. Fuck, you were so heavenly - so addictive. He could feel himself rubbing up against every ridge and dip of your tight pussy.
“You little bitch.” he sighs, heavy eyes locked on where the two of you were connected. Your pussy lips bulging so sinfully around him, making him grow even larger. Longer - hitting spots you never knew existed. “Now that’s just ngh- playing unfair.”
Unfair? Oh, you could teach him about ‘unfair’. Unfair was when he’s jutting his hips forward in slow, shallow strokes just to fit inside - no rhythm or rhyme, like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. Unfair was when he strikes your ass with a sharp smack! grinning at the way the flesh jiggles against his palm.
Unfair is when he leans down to murmur thickly, the change in angle having him barrelling deeper inside your snug cunt. “Isn’t it?”
“N-no.” your lower lip wobbles.
“N-n-no.” Geto grins, “Stuttering too? That’s crazy, what happened to my smug girl from- hah- before- oh fuck-”
But oh for all how cocky Geto was acting, he was so weak against the way your gummy walls clench down so fucking tight around him - on purpose. Stuttering down to milk him like you wanted to draw out something delicious. Like you couldn’t stand being even a hair’s breadth away.
“Haaa…” he lets out a broken shudder, two hands wrapping underneath your inner thighs to just drag your sloppy further down, settling deep - so impossibly deep - into your gut. Distantly, some part of him hoped that you left marks - a cute lil’ ass print against his abs for him to admire later. “Fuck- fine. Fine-”
You whirl your teary eyes over your shoulder - and it was so difficult to look behind you. Because Geto was so unfairly pretty - long, inky hair curtaining his pussydrunk eyes, twirling all the way down to where his delicate blush dusted all over his cheeks, his chest, his rock-hard abs. Involuntarily, you find your sloppy cunt clenching again, rubbing up so deliciously against that prominent vein down the middle of Geto’s length.
That coaxes out another drawn-out groan from your boyfriend, and a traitorous buck of his hips - his fat head hitting right on your g-spot. “I said fine.” he barks out, teeth bared. “Y-you win. Ngh- you win the bet. Fuuuck you win, just let me- ngh just let me fuck this pretty cunt. Now.”
Ah, right. The bet - that single, mindless little comment earlier today about who’d break first if you two went in raw.
And, clearly, there was an obvious winner.
Because Geto isn’t waiting around for your kiss-bitten lips to drop into some taunting remark, hell, he can’t even wait for you to register his words before letting his hips lose control. Ramming into you in quick, jagged thrusts that abuse your hidden sweet spots.
Over and over and-
“Y’feel so soft, gorgeous.” he purrs into your ear, pushing all his all his body weight in an attempt to hold your slutty cunt still. Setting up such a mean pace, “So warm- ngh n’ m’tired of pretending it isn’t driving me crazy.”
You keen when Geto cranes his fingers to deftly roll over your clit, “S-so much for not breaking first.”
“Awww c’mon now.” Geto’s balls smacking against your ass get louder - harsher. “I already s-said you win. Hah-” God, he’s barely in control of himself with the way he catches your lips in a messy clash of a kiss. Hot tongue nudging apart your plump lips to spit a steady stream of saliva. Once. Twice. Some of it missing and splattering against the corner of your mouth, “N’ you know what m- ngh- buying you as a p-prize?”
Your knees are weakening pathetically now, sliding further and further apart on the silky sheets with each harsh slam of his cock - only to be pulled back up by an impatient Geto.
“Do you?” he hisses, pistoning his hips so hard now that your knees were hovering midair - held up by a frenzied Geto. Who plows on deliriously, “Gonna buy ya- nghh fuck- the pill. So many- cuz you’re gonna fuckin’ need it-”
And need it you did.
Because it only takes a few more seconds of this maddening song and dance before Geto’s cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t - wouldn’t want to - stop.
Pumping thick, hot rope after rope of his seed until your high was crashing into his. Until his cock was so raw and twitching sensitively. Until his balls were squeezing so painfully, tears stinging behind his eyelids with each ram into your fluttering pussy.
“Best out of three?”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - Overheat
Oh this was a dream - or heaven. Maybe both. Because here was Choso sprawled out so prettily on his damp navy sheets, dark hair untied, half-lidded eyes gazing up at a sly angel - you - straddling his toned hips.
Pussy lips swollen and drooling down where you were positioning his fat, leaky head right at where just a simple nudge of Choso’s squirming hips would have you split apart on his swollen cock - raw.
“Cho~” your heady voice breaks through his stunned reverie, “You alright, baby?”
“Y-yes.” his words catch in his heaving chest. And Choso’s so embarrassed - still so stuck on the heavenly view below - that he’s barely even registering the hand of his that makes its way down to rest on your steady waist. “Just that-”
And then Choso’s giving an impatient tug on the fat of your hips, inching you so agonizingly close to his needy, red tip. So close he could practically feel you already - he could imagine how soft and warm you were bound to be.
You huff out a low chuckle, “Awww poor baby.” Grinning at the way your boyfriend takes one of tits into his mouth to muffle his embarrassed whine. He alternates between sucking and rolling his tongue over your sensitive nipples, “Is this what you- hah- want?”
And the way you sandwich his thick cock between your slit has Choso’s ministrations on your nipple stuttering. Whispering out a muffled little, “Y-yeah…”
“Louder.”
“...”
Tutting, “Or, I could just get a condom since you’re so shy-”
“No!” Choso rasps out wetly, and the sudden outburst seems to startle you both. But especially Choso who only blabbers, pussydrunk and slurring already, “No no no no no- need this-” He claws at your hips, edging you closer and closer to sit on his soaked, twitching cock. Bucking his hips up wildly, the slick coating your dripping cunt making him slide messily across your folds once. Twice. “Need you so bad- wan’ feel you wanna feel this pretty pussy- ngh- please. Fuck!”
Both of you let out a synchronous moan when he finally manages to sink his fat head inside your sloppy entrance. So thick, stretching you open so well despite not even being halfway in.
“F-fuck.” Choso’s hazy eyes widen, and he immediately flattens his feet on the bed before pulling back. Only for his poor, oversensitive balls to squeeze so painfully- before covering your dripping cunt in rope after rope of his seed. Your pussy too heavenly, his sanity too gone. “Sh-shit m’sorry m’sorry- ngh.”
Your eyes widen, “Ch-Cho did you-”
But he doesn’t let you finish - was probably too embarrassed to before stuffing your gaping, needy hole with his thick cock again. And again. And again and again trying to relieve that first time. “Oh, is this okay? Is this r-really okay?”
You don’t even know what he’s asking about - not when Choso’s sliding you deeper and deeper down his cock. Sculpted body bowing into yours when he starts bouncing you up and down like his favorite sextoy - reveling in the lewd squelches below and those pretty moans leaving your lips.
“S’your fault, y’know?” he pants, ragged. Hips fucking up uncontrollably, drunk off the feeling. “Y-your ohhh fuck- your pussy feels too good, baby. N’ she’s s-so soft. So warm with my cum.”
And it was so sloppy, your boyfriend was never one to shy away from making a mess out of you both but this. Oh, you were losing your fucking mind with his harsh pace, letting that lewd combination of his cum and your slick glisten all over his abs, your thighs, your filthy cunt. All the way down to where his heavy balls were sure to leave marks for tomorrow - right alongside his pelvis against your thighs, fingers on your hips.
“Y-you’re so-” you lean over to dig your nails into Choso’s pecs, and he takes the opportunity to bite and tease your poor nipples once more. “-filthy, Cho.”
He swallows, and fuck you don’t think he’s ever looked prettier. Adam’s apple bobbing, cheeks flushed, eyes narrowed and miles away. “It’s this hah- p-pretty pussy, baby. R-raw? Seriously? She’s driving me insane.”
At that last, broken word of his sentence, Choso throws his head back as if merely remembering that there was no little plastic separating his throbbing cock from your gummy cunt was enough to make him go crazy.
Hips pistoning up faster, molding your cunt to his shape. Bruising your g-spot with each thrust - and your cervix, too, just as a little stray reminder that you’re his from the inside out. Gasping out, “Just look at her.”
When you snap your head down, he’s already spreading apart your puffy folds with two fingers, giving you the perfect view of that creamy sheen, Choso’s reckless, maddening hips, the way your cunt was bulging and soaking his painfully hard cock.
Only getting sloppier. Harder. Drunk with each thrust.
“She’s so pretty.” he grits out, “So heavenly. Might just b-be my new hah- obsession.” Just babbling nonsense in strained, jagged words that come out after each brush of his fat tip against your g-spot. So hard that you were stumbling precariously on top of his wild hips. “Yeah- new obsession. My heavenly obsession” he eyes down your quivering thighs, those breathy moans that told him you were close.“N’ I wonder how much more heavenly you’d be if I cum inside?”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Take both, dammit.
“B-both?”
The only response you get are Sukuna’s fingers tightening around your throat, sharp nails dragging dangerously over your racing pulse. Pulling your dazed face closed to gift you with a low, cocky hum, “Both.”
And then you can’t breathe - not because of the large hand taking its place around your neck, no, but because Sukuna was suddenly nudging his weeping, fat tips against your sloppy entrance. Lips curling up into a devilish grin at how you were quivering in- fear? Anticipation?
Either way it had you keening tearily, “Kuna it won’t- fit!”
“Hmm,” Sukuna purses his lips in mock-thought, free hand dipping down to roll his index against your clit. “Let’s ask her why don’t we?” Any and every noise of surprise you manage to yelp out are overshadowed by the most obscene squelches you’ve ever heard in your life. Like Sukuna was well and fully intent on proving his point by circling his thumb around your sloppy hole until you gave up. And he was. “She says she’s just dying to take it. What’s your excuse, brat?”
Truly, it was the first time you’ve tried taking both your boyfriend’s massive cocks - and just one of them required specially made condoms and such extensive teasing and toying to stretch you out enough.
So one thing was sure - you weren’t making it out alive.
You’re startled out of your reverie by a dark chuckle from above - shit, did you say that out loud? “Well, only one way to find out.”
It’s all that’s said before he’s pushing in - both at once. Fat heads bumping into each other as Sukuna grinds against your snug pussy in shallow, short rolls of his hips.
“Tch.” he clicks his tongue when your feeble ring of resistance struggles to take him. A warm hand of his comes down to soothe over your head slowly, gently - uncharacteristically so. Whispering, “Shhhh, shhh breathe. You got this. You can take it- hah- you always do, right?” Hips getting just a bit more forceful. A bit more calculated. “You can-” Before that sweet hand on your hair tightens to push you down, hard. “-take it.”
Oh, you should’ve known - should’ve gotten an inkling that the king of curses always gets what he wants. Always.
“Oh my god- oh my god, Kuna! S’so deep-”
A startled smile spreads over Sukuna’s face, eyes widening in surprise. “Ohh, shit. Shit, brat.” He angles his head just right to spy down - just to make sure. “If I knew you felt ngh- th-this good, I’d have done it sooner Much, much sooner.”
But fuck for how cocky he was acting right now, Sukuna was in fucking heaven.
Dipping his head down to hide the blush dusting his cheeks, and that euphoric glint in his eyes, Sukuna starts moving in hurried, methodical little thrusts to squeeze even deeper inside.
“Hngh- it’s- ah- can feel you rubbing up inside me, Kuna.” you whine into his ears, hips bucking up wildly.
“Yeah?” he breathes, but it comes out more wobbly than he intended. Biting his lower lip to keep those loud fucking moans slipping out from the feeling of rubbing against himself and your raw gummy walls and himself. “Y-ya like this? What happened to ‘o-oh s’too big, Kuna’?”
You manage to get out a weak, “F-fuck you.”
“No, brat. I’m fucking you.” Sukuna growls, ramming into you faster. Sloppier. Heavy sets of tight balls stinging your skin, “Both of me.”
God, the stretch was so much, like he was pushing into your lungs. And that thundering thump! thump! thump! of matching sets of veins against your dripping cunt was so sinful that you let his little comment slide. Driving you to insanity.
Instead, your teeth grazes Sukuna’s earlobe to give a soft tug, making him turn his head and look right at your fucked-out face.
His hot breath fans your face, “What, brat? Can’t talk? Or is it that you want-” He catches your ravaged clit between two fingers again, rolling languidly. “-her to talk?”
And God, if it was double the stretch on your too-tight cunt, then Sukuna was determined to make sure it was double the pleasure for you.
His fingers just so frenzied on your clit, rubbing tight, messy patterns - not even circles anymore because fuck Sukuna was too impatient, too depraved for that right now. Swollen cocks sliding in and out with reckless abandon, getting easier and easier with each glossy sheen of your sweet sweet juices all over them. Massaging all those sensitive spots he’s mapped out so well to hit his end goal - your poor, ravaged g-spot. Hitting it over and over and over and-
“Kuna!” you scramble for the sheets, the headrest, his shoulders - just anything to keep whatever’s left of your sanity. Sobbing out, “I-I’m close- ngh ah! I’m so close.”
“Close, hah?” you hear from above you, the last thing before the smacking of skin-on-skin becomes almost deafening. Coupled with Sukuna’s strained groans, now unable to hold them back with each time he’s kissing your cervix - your g-spot. “Then cum. Cum all over my cocks, brat.”
Hips stuttering as they get harsher with purpose. Violent, even - having to rest a hand on top of your head to keep your body from being jolted too far up the bed.
So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. You’re screaming out Sukuna’s name, body bowing into his vice-like grip. Dripping cunt trying desperately to milk him so tight.
It was too much.
Your poor pussy was overfilled to the brim with each and every spurt of Sukuna’s hot cum, thick, white globs that dribble down your thighs. Filling you up so much you think you could explode and- “Aww look at you.” Sukuna coos, thumbing apart your pussy lips to watch her soak in his never ending cum. “Wonder if she can take another load?”
♡ GOJO SATORU - Experiment…
The great Gojo Satoru is many things - powerful, complex, a pain-in-the-ass to most - but being hesitant to experiment is decidedly not one of these things.
Which is what found you splayed out underneath him, brows furrowed, legs trembling while he drags his weeping tip up and down your puffy folds. Just dipping between your lips, pooling your sweet sweet juices on his head - up and down up and down up and-
“Toru.” your deadpan voice cuts through his fun, hips arching off the bed impatiently. “S’not gonna work.”
Gojo sticks his tongue out with all the maturity he could muster up, “It will, sweetheart, just watch.”
“Will not.”
“Will too.”
“Will-” you cut yourself off in frustration, “You’re just all talk-”
Whatever insult on the tip of your tongue - along with all the air in your lungs - is knocked out by Gojo finally pushing in. Finally stretching out your sloppy hole on his thick mushroom tip, all stuttering and clenching in an effort to accommodate him.
He groans, cheeks flushing because fuck maybe this’ll be harder than he thought. “S’gonna work- if I can concen- ohh fuck don’t squeeze me that way- if I can get limitless to- no more late-night convenience store runs.”
But oh right now the only thing on Gojo’s mind was that maybe you two were better off with walking the two blocks down to buy condoms - because he could feel his limitless slowly thinning out with each inch he sinks into your snug cunt. Slowly waning - much like his fucking sanity.
“Toru!” you squeal when it’s like something snaps. That little glow in your boyfriend’s eyes dims as his entire body stiffens, breath hitching in his throat, and his cock- oh his aching, rock-hard cock - so warm and just throbbing so rapidly against your walls in a beat that matches your own. You could feel him all the way in your stomach. “D-did it work?”
Something is whispered into the crook of your neck - and you’re craning your head closer to understand. “What?”
There it is again.
This time, however, you pull Gojo from his safe haven, tugging admonishingly on those soft, white locks. All the while murmuring, “Use your- oh.”
Oh.
Fuck.
Gojo’s eyes were half-lidded, pupils blown. So utterly wrecked when his aching cock grows even larger inside you, stretching you to your limits. Such a delicate pink blush decorating his cheeks, dusting over those plump, parted lips, ones which wobble and gape open noiselessly a few times before he manages out, “D-didn’t work.”
And fuck then it was like a dam had broken.
Because Gojo’s previously stalled hips were moving now - grinding forward slowly, deliciously. Only growing girthier - so unfairly so - with each movement.
Two large hands coming up to paw and knead your ass to keep you still while he begins fucking you into the mattress.
Letting out whiny, bewildered moans - as if Gojo himself couldn’t believe what was happening - “Didn’t work.” He repeats, like a mantra. “Didn’t work didn’t work didn’t- didn’t work- hah- n’ I don’t regret it one bit.”
“H-hah?” you whimper, “So you’re-”
“Yes.” Gojo interjects, and if you were in any better state of mind you’d have told him off for interrupting you. But oh how could you when he was reeling his hips back, back, back, just kissing your sloppy entrance with his leaky tip - before splitting you apart all over again. “Yes yes yes- oh yes. M’feeling you- all of you. Why the fuck didn’t you t-tell me you were so ngh-” Long fingers graze over your pulsing clit, making him all but scream in pleasure when you clamp down. Hard. “-heavenly!”
Fuck you weren’t making it out alive - and he wasn’t either.
And he sounded so genuinely upset - how were you this warm? This dripping wet all around him? Hell, Gojo thinks he’s soaked all the way down to his heavy balls already.
“Soaked?” your eyes widen when Gojo gives you a shocked laugh - fuck, has he finally lost whatever sanity he had left?
“Mhm.” he nods, a familiar glint of madness in those summer blue eyes. Breathy, pussydrunk little ministration matching his words, “Soaked. Absolutely fucking hah- soaked. Me. Me me me- s’me-” Gojo spits into his open palm, once. Twice. Before smearing the mess down his length, making it easier for him to slide in and out of your needy cunt, “-not some stupid little piece of plastic. Oh, m’never buying those again-”
He was fucking you so needy.
Just ramming his cock into you as he pleased, hitting all your most sensitive spots - your cervix, your g-spot, tugging at your clit. Having the bed frame and you making such loud noises every time his thick tip was gliding across your gummy walls, matching with the tempo of his fingers.
“It feel so- good, Toru.” you whine. Hips stuttering forwards, making the most lewd of squelches as you try to meet Gojo’s fast, utterly wild pace. “Fuck fuck fuck- oh.”
“Yeah? My baby likes ngh- taking me in r-raw.” you smile when you catch the way Gojo’s face flushes as his voice cracks on that last word - like he still couldn’t believe it himself.
Though, he didn’t like that quite as much as you.
“Huh? Laughing at me? M’gonna ngh- you lil’ minx. M’gonna give you something to laugh about.” Each word punctuated by a mean thrust, and if you were in any better state of mind, you’d have caught the way Gojo’s eyes glowed ever-so-slightly. Tiny pricks of purple lightning dancing across his bare skin, “Because practice makes perfect, right, sweetheart?”
A/N. I’m ngl Gojo’s one was just me wondering how far limitless really went sooo there ya go.
Plagiarism not authorized.
Tojis/Sukunas/Gojos Wife🖤 @lovelypainkiller - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
