After a tragic accident erased your memories, you no longer remember the man you married. Unfortunately for you, Ryomen Sukuna remembers everything. And he'll do whatever it takes to make you remember him too.
Everything was so much weird.
When you first opened your eyes, the world was a blur of harsh lights and a rhythmic, annoying beep that made your head throb. A crowd of people were hovering over your bed, their faces twisted into expressions of pure horror and desperation. It felt like they were looking at a ghost or maybe a god that had suddenly fallen from the sky. The moment you blinked and stared back at them with blank, unrecognizing eyes, the room dissolved into quiet, breathless weeping.
You were completely utterly lost. Who was the woman with the dark circles under her eyes calling herself Shoko? Why was she gripping your hand like her entire world was ending? You knew your own name y/n echoed clearly in the empty caverns of your mind, but beyond that single fact, there was only a vast, terrifying void. You understood the modern world. you knew what a smartphone was, you recognized the concept of Wi-Fi, and when you mumbled those details, the doctors in the room let out collective, gasping sighs of relief.
But the real shock came twenty minutes later.
The heavy door to the hospital room burst open with a violent slam. A man lunged inside like a madman, his chest heaving as he fought for breath. You had never seen anyone look like him. His hair was a soft, striking shade of pastel pink so pretty and unexpected that you wondered for a fleeting second if he had dyed it just to stand out. Dark, intricate tattoos mapped across his skin, curling around his sharp cheekbones and framing his eyes. And those eyes... they were a piercing, burning red, swirling with a volatile mixture of terrifying rage and profound, shattering sadness.
You just sat there in your oversized, faded blue hospital gown, looking small and fragile as your confused gaze met his. The man froze, roughly brushing a strand of pink hair out of his face. His clothes were covered in a layer of grey dust and dried grit, looking as though he had sprinted straight off a construction site the second he got the news.
"Fucking... God. Hey, princess... fuck, don't you ever scare me like that again" he breathed, his deep, gravelly voice cracking as he took two massive strides toward your bedside, staring down at you with a desperation that made the air feel heavy.
You shrank back into the pillows, your brow furrowing. Princess? Were you in some bizarre historical simulation? Did kings and horses still exist? No, the blinking medical monitors around you disproved that immediately.
"Mr. Sukuna, please. I need to speak with you in private for a moment" a woman in her mid forties interrupted, her expression incredibly grave as she stepped between you and the huge man. She glanced at the other people lingering by the door. There was a teenage boy, maybe sixteen, who had the exact same pink hair as the tattooed man, his face streaked with tears. Beside him stood another boy with unruly, spiky black hair and a dull, stoic expression that couldn't quite hide the anxiety in his eyes. At the doctor's quiet command, they all slowly filed out into the hallway.
Left alone for a moment, you stared at the stark white walls, the untouched glass of water on the bedside table, and the crushing, dull monotony of the room.
When the door clicked open again, the female physician returned, holding a thick medical chart. The tattooed man followed closely behind her. He tried to offer you a small, reassuring smile, but it looked incredibly strained on his rugged face. His crimson eyes locked onto you, tracking every breath you took as if you might literally vanish into thin air if he dared to look away for a single second.
"Hello, y/n. I am Dr. Jennifer" the woman said kindly, stepping up to the mattress. "Do you know why you were brought here today?"
You frowned, looking between her and the towering man. "No."
The syllable was short and hollow. Beside the doctor, Sukuna’s entire frame stiffened. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered violently beneath his tattoos, his knuckles turning white as he balled his hands into fists.
"Right. But you do remember your name?" she pressed gently.
"Yes... y/n I am Y/N." you answered firmly. You knew the name belonged to you, even if the history attached to it was completely gone.
"And do you know where you are right now?"
"A hospital?"
"Correct" Dr. Jennifer nodded, opening the document in her hands. "Look, I am going to explain exactly what happened, and I need you to listen very carefully, alright?" You gave a small, hesitant nod. "You were in a severe accident yesterday evening. You were walking home from the local market when a car veered off the road and hit you. It is a miracle you walked away with minor physical injuries, but the trauma to your head has caused a severe case of retrograde amnesia. Honestly, it's a surprise you even remember your name right now."
You let out a quiet hum, your eyes drifting down to your own hands resting on the thin blanket. That was when you noticed it a slender, platinum band set with a brilliant, flawlessly cut diamond resting securely on your left ring finger. It looked incredibly expensive, classy, and entirely foreign
So you were married.
"Y/n" Dr. Jennifer’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You snapped your head up to look at her. "This man standing beside me... he is your husband."
The doctor tilted her head toward the giant. He was massive easily over six feet of raw, intimidating muscle, his tattooed face giving him a terrifying, dangerous aura. Your very first instinctual thought was that this man looked incredibly scary.
Sukuna didn't say a word. He just stood there, letting you analyze him, before he offered you a tiny, incredibly vulnerable nod. You tilted your head, staring into his intense red eyes, desperately searching for a single spark of familiarity. Did I really marry this giant?
"His name is Ryomen Sukuna, and he is going to take care of you" the doctor continued, closing her chart. "For the next few weeks, you need to let your brain rest, but you also need to gently stimulate it to try and regain those lost memories. Spending time in a familiar environment, in your own home with your husband, is going to be the best medicine for you."
You nodded mutely. You didn't exactly have a choice. You were being handed over to a complete stranger who happened to hold a legal claim to your entire life.
"Alright then. I wish you a safe and speedy recovery" Dr. Jennifer said with a final, empathetic smile before slipping out of the room.
The heavy silence that followed was suffocating. Sukuna cleared his throat roughly, taking a few slow, tentative steps toward the edge of your bed. He moved with an immense amount of caution, as if he genuinely believed a sudden movement might break you into pieces. He pulled up the small plastic chair, sinking into it.
"Hey" he said softly. Even in a whisper, his voice was incredibly manly, deep, and rough.
"Hello" you replied shortly, your eyes tracking his hands.
To your surprise, his large, scarred fingers were trembling slightly as he fidgeted with them, refusing to meet your eyes. When he finally looked up, you realized the piercing red of his irises was completely glossy, swimming with unshed tears.
"Yo... you're getting discharged today" he choked out, taking a deep, ragged breath as if the mere act of speaking was causing him physical pain. "I'm going to go sign the paperwork, and then I'm taking you to... our house. I'm going to do whatever the fuck it takes to help you remember, princess."
You stared at his rugged, tattooed face for a long moment before letting out a soft, distant hum.
An hour later, you were sitting in the passenger seat of a sleek, black Jeep, The man Sukuna kept his left hand firmly on the steering wheel while his eyes flicked toward you every sixty seconds, his intense gaze making a nervous flutter erupt in your stomach.
You stared out the window, watching the city buildings, sprawling neighborhoods, and vibrant green trees blur past. Intrigued by the warm breeze, you raised your hand, pressing your palm gently against the glass as if you wanted to touch the passing leaves. Instantly, the window smoothly rolled down. Startled, you turned your head to find Sukuna adjusting the master controls, his eyes locked onto you with an unreadable warmth.
"Can I ask you something-" you murmured softly.
"Yes." The answer came incredibly fast, almost desperate. He was hanging on your every word, practically begging for you to speak to him.
"How... how did we meet?" you asked, leaning your elbow on the door frame as the wind whipped through your hair.
"We met in high school" he answered quickly, navigating a sharp turn onto a quiet, "We've been married for seven years."
"High school?" You tilted your head, a faint smile touching your lips as you extended your hand just slightly out into the rushing air. "Were we friends back then?"
"Careful" he commanded firmly, though there was no real heat in his voice. You obediently pulled your hand back inside. A faint, nostalgic softness crept into his red eyes as he looked ahead. "Friends? no. You could say we didn't liked eachother each other when we first met. You thought I was a loud, arrogant mannerless jerk and I thought you were a stubborn, bossy brat."
He smoothly pulled the Jeep into a long brick driveway, coming to a stop in front of a breathtaking, modern two story house. It was painted a crisp, elegant white with sleek charcoal-grey accents, boasting massive, floor to ceiling windows that caught the afternoon sun.
"This is...our house" Sukuna murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "We've been living here for about four years."
He killed the engine, threw his door open, and practically sprinted around the hood of the car to open your door before you could even reach for the handle. He extended a massive, tattooed hand toward you, his palm open and waiting. You stared at his hand, your eyes traveling up the thick muscles of his forearm, before you deliberately stepped down onto the driveway without taking it.
Sukuna’s hand froze in mid-air. You watched his fingers slowly curl back into a fist before he pulled his arm away, a flash of pure, agonizing heartbreak crossing his features before he quickly masked it with a stoic expression.
As your feet hit the pavement, you looked up at the towering structure, desperately begging your brain to spark even a single ounce of familiarity. Nothing came. But as you turned around, you caught a glimpse of the man standing beside you. He was on the absolute verge of tears. His chest was tight, his jaw locked as he stared at you. You were his entire world, his beautiful wife, and yet you were looking at him like he was a total stranger. He suddenly felt a wave of profound hatred for every single time he had ever been mean or stubborn with you in the past, even in jest. He just wanted his girl back. His sweet innocent girl.
"The house is beautiful" you murmured gently, walking toward the porch.
'The house.' Not our house. The detached wording made Sukuna’s jaw clench painfully.
"Of course it is. I built the damn thing" he muttered, following closely behind you.
It was your exact dream house. Years ago, back when you were just broke college students dating in a cramped apartment, you had traced a clumsy design on a napkin, telling him you wanted a modern white house with endless windows, three bedrooms, and a kitchen large enough for the two of you to bake and slow-dance together while listening to old jazz records. Sukuna had kept that napkin. The moment he made his fortune, he hired a crew but did the vast majority of the heavy structural work with his own two hands. He had gifted you the keys on your third wedding anniversary, and he could still vividly remember the way you had wept tears of joy, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him until you were both breathless. He wanted that smile back. He would give anything just to have you look at him the way you used to.
You stepped inside, ignoring the heavy emotion rolling off him. Sukuna quickly gathered your small hospital bags and followed you into the foyer, shutting the door behind him.
Your eyes immediately gravitated toward the kitchen. It was vast, open, and undeniably stunning, featuring a massive quartz island and a huge sliding glass door that opened directly into a manicured backyard garden. The entire layout felt strangely perfect.
"Let me show you... around" Sukuna offered quietly.
He spent the next half hour guiding you through the corridors of what was supposed to be your life. But as he showed you the grand master bedroompointing out the side of the bed where you used to curl into his chest every single night your face remained entirely blank. You felt a twinge of heavy guilt pooling in your stomach. He showed you the living room, drawing your attention to a collection of large, breathtaking canvas paintings hanging on the walls.
"You painted those" Sukuna noted, a faint trace of pride in his rough voice. "You're a brilliant artist, princess."
You blinked in genuine surprise, looking down at your hands. "I drew these?" You were suprised, you don't even remember touching a brush in your life. But this is your new life. New start.
"Yeah." Sukuna stopped at the edge of the hallway, looking down at you with completely bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept a single second since the hospital called him about your accident. All he wanted to do was wrap his massive arms around your waist, pull you flush against his chest, and bury his face in your hair until the nightmare ended. But he couldn't. "Look... you can sleep in the guest bedroom down the hall, or you can take our bedroom and I'll stay in the guest room. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable you."
"Okay" you hummed softly.
His heart broke a little more at the compliant, distant tone. "I'll go start on some dinner, and then I'll get your medication ready. If you need a single damn thing, you just call out for me, alright? Your clothes are all in the dresser, undergarments in the top drawer, pajamas in the second..."
You nodded, offering him a polite murmur of thanks before retreating into the guest room. You changed into a simple, comfortable t-shirt and sweats. A little while later, his deep voice echoed up the stairs, announcing that dinner was ready. You walked down to the dining room, sitting at the large table like a polite houseguest waiting to be served.
"Do you need help?" Sukuna asked, carefully sliding a steaming bowl of homemade chicken soup and a large spoon toward you. You shook your head, grasping the utensil and taking a quiet sip. He sat across from you, his own bowl entirely untouched as he just stared at your face. "Y/n... you really don't remember a single damn thing about me?"
His voice cracked completely on the last word, the raw vulnerability of a ruthless man exposed right in front of you. You looked up, meeting his glossy red eyes.
"No... I don't. I'm really sorry" you whispered genuinely.
He let out a slow nod, swallowing the lump in his throat as he forced himself to look away. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault."
"Do I... do I have parents? Or friends?" you asked, a sudden curiosity about your own forgotten life bubbling up.
"Yeah. You have parents. Your father—"
"Where are they?" you interrupted quickly, leaning forward. "Do they know I was in an accident? Why aren't they here?"
"They haven't spoken to you in over seven years. Not since the day you married me" Sukuna said, his tone dropping into something cold and bitter.
"Why?"
"Your family is rich as fuck. Extremely strict, arrogant aristocrats" Sukuna explained, his red eyes locking back onto yours. "They completely forbade you from seeing me because I was just a rough, tattooed bastard from the wrong side of the tracks with a criminal record and a unstable future. They told you that if you walked out that door with me, you’d be cut off permanently."
You stared at him, a sudden spark of heat flaring in your chest. "Well, that's so stupid of them. It sounds like a good thing we don't talk to them then."
The sheer, unyielding loyalty in your voice made Sukuna’s lips twitch, a genuine, heartbreaking smile threatening to break through his stoic mask. Even with a wiped memory, his sweet wife still possessed that exact same fiery, protective spirit.
"Yeah" he chuckled hoarsely, letting out a long sigh. "You have an incredible best friend named Shoko. You two are both doctors. you work in the exact same surgical unit at the city hospital. We have a ton of mutual friends we met back in our high school days. And those kids at the hospital? The pink-haired teenager is my nephew, Yuji, and the dark-haired one is Megumi, our friend's kid. They practically worship the ground you walk on, princess. You love those brats to death."
"Can I see them?" you asked, a genuine smile finally breaking across your face.
"Of course. Whenever you want." he promised, his eyes tracking the way your lips curved.
Sukuna let out a sudden, rough snort, a wicked glint flashing in his eyes. "Old or not, woman... you're still completely breathtaking."
A deep, violent blush instantly stained your cheeks. You hadn't been around an attractive man or any man, for that matter in your conscious memory, and having this giant, dangerously handsome individual throw such a raw compliment at you made your heart do a chaotic somersault. You quickly looked down at your soup, missing the way his eyes softened at your reaction.
Over the next three weeks, the fragments of a life began to surround you, even if the puzzle pieces wouldn't quite lock into place.
Yuji and Megumi came over to the house constantly. Yuji spent hours enthusiastically teaching you how to make his signature protein shakes and weird jello molds, his loud laughter filling the quiet house, while Megumi sat nearby with his usual serious expression. But the moment you offered Megumi a soft, encouraging smile, his sharp features would instantly melt into something deeply tender. Yet, beneath their smiles, you could see the underlying sadness in their eyes every time you failed to remember a shared inside joke.
When Shoko finally visited, she broke down completely, throwing her arms around your neck and sobbing into your shoulder. It was a bizarre maybe stupid too, overwhelming feeling being fiercely loved by people you couldn't even remember and a heavy weight of guilt began to settle deep in your chest. You even met Toji, Megumi's father, a tall, stoic man who didn't say much but looked at you with a quiet, profound pity that made you realize just how broken your situation truly was.
And then, there was Sukuna.
Your husband spent every single day patiently guiding you through your routines, driving you past your old university, cooking your favorite meals, and trying every gentle trigger possible. But your mind remained a stubborn, locked vault. Sukuna was growing desperate furious and completely fucked up by the stagnation.
To make matters worse, just one week before the accident, you had playfully taken down every single one of your framed marriage photographs to rearrange the living room gallery wall, hiding them away in a "genius spot" that Sukuna had completely forgotten more like you didn't even told him. He had spent hours frantically tearing the house apart while you were out, searching for a single modern photo of the two of you together.
He was completely unraveling. He couldn't sleep. The woman he loved was sleeping in the room next to him, yet she looked at him with the polite, distant eyes of a stranger. He felt like a ghost haunting his own home. One evening, he sat alone in the dark kitchen and wept the third time he had ever cried in his entire life. The first had been tears of pure joy on your wedding day when he saw you walking the aisle. the second had been out of terror when the ER doctor told him a car had struck you. and now, he was crying simply because he missed his wife so damn much
His phone offered no help either. his gallery was filled entirely with candid photos he had taken of you you stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your head, you laughing in a department store dressing room, or a hilarious picture of you biting into a raw lemon and making a completely disgusted face. He had no photos of the two of you together on his device, you had always been the one insisted on keeping the physical, printed albums. The only joint photos he could find were a few faded, wrinkled prints from your high school days, showing a younger, wilder version of himself wrapping his arms around you from behind while you laughed into the camera. When he showed them to you, you just stared at them blankly. It was killing him.
At the end of the third week, Sukuna was sitting heavily on the living room sofa, completely exhausted after another failed search through the house. He was mindlessly scrolling through the candid photos of you on his phone, a faint, melancholy smile touching his lips. His fingers traced your face on the photo, your bright smile. your bubbly laughter at his most unfunniset jokes, now all of that are vanished.
The heavy front door clicked open. Shoko had taken you out for an afternoon of shopping to get you out of the house, and she had just dropped you off at the curb. You stepped into the foyer, balancing several shopping bags in your arms.
Sukuna instantly locked his phone, shoving it into his pocket as he stood up, his red eyes drinking in the sight of you. "Had fun, princess?"
"Yes, I did. And thank you... for letting me use your credit card" you said softly, walking over to the coffee table and gently sliding the black card back toward him.
"You bought dresses?" he asked, pointing toward the bags. Honestly, he didn't give a single fuck about the money. you could have emptied his entire bank account and he would have gladly signed it away just to see you happy.
"I bought a few things..." You cleared your throat nervously, your fingers twisting together. "But... I actually bought something for you, too."
The words hit his chest like a physical blow. Even with her mind completely wiped, your beautiful, kind soul was still looking out for him. "Really?" he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Can I see it?"
You gave a small nod, walking over to the couch and tentatively sitting down right next to him. The close proximity made his heart start to hammer against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"I don't know if it's really your style, or if you'll even like it..." you mumbled bashfully, reaching into a small velvet pouch and pulling out a heavy, intricately braided silver bracelet studded with raw, brilliant red stones. "The color... it just immediately reminded me of you. Of your eyes."
You gently reached out, grasping his massive, calloused wrist to drape the metal over his skin. Oh God, if you only knew how fast his heart was racing beneath his chest. Your soft, warm fingers lingering against his pulse point was pure, exquisite torture.
"It looks incredible, Y/n. Thank you." he whispered, a genuine, breathtakingly soft smile spreading across his tattooed face as he looked down at the crimson stones.
"Thank you... for being so incredibly patient with me" you said quietly, looking up at him through your eyelashes.
Sukuna let out a long, ragged sigh, his hand hovering over yours for a fraction of a second before he pulled back. "I will always be patient with you, princess. Always."
You looked directly into his burning red eyes, and for the first time in three weeks, a warm, genuine smile broke across your face. Sukuna felt his breath hitch. he was entirely certain he was about to pass out from the sheer weight of his love for you.
"Can you stay right here for a bit? I need to go jump in the shower real quick. I'll be fast" he muttered hoarsely, his hand instinctively reaching out to gently ruffle your hair a comforting, domestic habit he had carefully maintained. You let out a soft chuckle at the gesture.
The moment his heavy footsteps disappeared up the stairs and the sound of running water echoed through the pipes, you stood up, wandering aimlessly around the quiet main floor. Your feet pulled you toward the small, cozy library nestled just off the living room. The walls were lined with hundreds of books some ancient leather volumes, others modern art textbooks. You pulled one off the shelf, flipping through the pages before sliding it back into place.
As you stepped back, your eyes caught a glimpse of something hidden on the absolute highest shelf, shoved far back into the shadows near the ceiling. It looked like a massive, heavy frame leaning flat against the back wall, obscured by a decorative ceramic vase. Intrigued, you stood on your tiptoes, stretching your arms up as high as they could go, blindly reaching for the top edge of the wooden frame.
Your fingers caught the molding, but as you pulled, the heavy ceramic vase shifted, losing its balance.
Crash!
The vase shattered against the hardwood floor with a deafening, echoing smash. Startled, you let out a sharp cry, stumbling backward as the massive hidden frame came tumbling down from the top shelf, striking the edge of the desk before landing flat on the rug. The backing of the frame split completely open upon impact, and a massive cascade of loose, glossy photographs erupted across the floor hundreds of them, scattering like playing cards across the room.
You gasped, placing a hand over your racing heart as you looked away from the broken pottery, your eyes drifting down to the sea of images covering the floor.
You froze.
Right at your feet lay a massive, professionally printed portrait. In the photograph, you were sitting securely on Sukuna's lap. You were wearing a breathtaking, flowing white lace wedding dress, holding a vibrant bouquet of sunflowers, and laughing so brightly your eyes were crinkled shut. Sukuna was clad in a sharp, tailored black tuxedo, his massive arms wrapped fiercely around your waist from behind, an absolutely massive, unbothered, triumphant grin plastered across his face.
Your breath hitched violently. You stumbled forward, falling to your knees as your hands frantically snatched up another photo from the pile. In this one, you were hoisted high up on Sukuna's broad shoulders at a crowded, flashing outdoor music festival; your mouth was wide open in a breathless scream of laughter, while his large hands were clamped firmly around your thighs to keep you safe, both of your faces painted with pure, unadulterated euphoria.
You grabbed a third photo, and the entire world stopped spinning. It was a quiet, intimate shot taken right in the backyard garden outside. You were sitting cross-legged on the green grass, wearing a simple summer dress with a soft, shy smile, while Sukuna’s heavy head was resting completely in your lap. He was looking up at you with an expression of such pure, unconditional adoration it made your soul ache, while your fingers were woven gently through his soft pink hair.
Pink hair.
The backyard.
The jazz music.
The napkin.
A sudden, violent explosion of memories ripped through the barriers of your mind. It wasn't a trickle; it was a catastrophic, roaring tidal wave. Seven years of laughter, fierce arguments, passionate late-night apologies, the smell of his skin, the exact weight of his body pressing you into the master mattress, the sound of his deep voice whispering "I've got you, princess" into the dark. It all hit your brain at once with the force of a freight train.
The sheer, overwhelming velocity of the memories made the room spin violently. Your vision blurred into a vortex of white light and crimson eyes. You let out a choked gasp, your strength entirely giving out as your body collapsed sideways onto the hardwood floor with a loud, heavy thud, the scattered photographs of your life pooling around your unconscious form.
When you finally opened your eyes again, the harsh glare of the ceiling lights was gone, replaced by the warm, dim ambiance of the living room. You were laying flat on the soft fabric of the sofa.
"She's waking up! Sukuna, look, her eyes are moving!" Yuji’s panicked, loud voice cut through the quiet room.
You blinked heavily, your vision slowly focusing. Megumi was standing right beside his cousin, his dark eyes wide and completely swimming with anxiety. Shoko was hovering over you, a small medical flashlight in her hand, her face pale as she checked your vitals.
But your heart didn't care about any of them. Your eyes frantically scanned the tight circle of people, instantly landing on the massive, tattooed man standing frozen at the foot of the couch. His pastel pink hair was damp from the shower, his chest heaving under a plain black t-shirt, and his face was a mask of pure, absolute terror.
As your eyes met his, a single, heavy tear spilled over your eyelid, tracing a hot path down your cheek. The vast, terrifying void in your mind was completely gone, replaced by the roaring, beautiful fire of your reality.
"Ryo..." you choked out, your voice a broken, breathless sob.
Sukuna froze, his entire frame visibly violently shuddering at the sound of the nickname the private, intimate name only you were ever allowed to call him.
Before anyone else could even blink, you threw yourself forward off the sofa cushions, completely ignoring the dull ache in your muscles. You lunged straight into his space, your arms wrapping fiercely around his massive neck. You buried your face in the crook of his collarbone, gripping the fabric of his shirt with a desperate, white-knuckled intensity as you pressed a hard, crying kiss directly against his tattooed jaw.
"I remember... us" you sobbed violently into his skin, your entire body trembling as the tears flowed freely. "I remember everything, Ryo... I remember you."
Sukuna’s mind completely blanked. For a single, breathless second, he couldn't even process the words. And then, a raw, ragged sound escaped his throat a mixture of a sob and a laugh. His massive, powerful arms came crashing down around your frame, pulling you so close against his chest you could barely breathe, lifting your knees entirely off the floor as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.
And there, in the middle of his living room, surrounded by his family and the scattered photographs of your love, Ryomen Sukuna closed his eyes and wept for the fourth time in his life.
"I fucking love you" he whispers
(not me me writing all night just for 36 like and one reblog😣🙏🏾)
summary: Being a TA as an overworked college student is bad enough, and meeting with Sukuna, the most insufferable person you know every week doesn’t make things better. Especially not when he’s exploiting your attraction to him.
cw: university AU, fingering, cunnilingus, hate-fucking, sukuna is a shithead, biting, smut, piv, cockwarming, enemies to lovers (if you squint), little to no plot
a/n: this felt like pulling teeth
divider by @enchanthings
college!student Sukuna had not expected things to lead up to this.
The TA that hates him, currently on his lap with your skirt pulled up over the curve of your ass while he played with your pussy with your panties pushed to the side. He had to admit you were so cute like this. The pretty sounds you made almost had him believing he was dealing with a different person.
“So wet, already,” he crooned, fingers coating teasing your folds “You sure you don’t like me?”
“S-shut the f—ah!” you let out an embarrassingly high pitched noise when his finger brushed over your clit, making you squirm against his already hard cock beneath his sweatpants. Holding you in place, Sukuna couldn’t help but groan because fuck, did you feel so good grinding on him. Yeah, there was no way in hell he’d let you live this down after today and you knew it.
Since freshman year, he's been a thorn in your side. Sure he’s hot, but he’s a complete nightmare to be around outside of sex. Not that you knew about the sex part. Back during your pre-reqs, on more than one occasion you’d been assigned with him for group projects—you’d ask him to meet up somewhere and he’d show up hours late or didn’t wanna meet there. You get on him about doing his share of the work and he tells you to ‘Stop being such a brat’. He did it of course, but he was a shitty communicator.
He’s such a fucking bully too, scoffing loudly enough during class to ‘just get on with it already’ and snickering with shitty friends when you kept stuttering nervously during a presentation, only getting more annoying each semester to make you look like idiot when you were so confident in being right. Hell, there was even no escape in your social life when your friends dragged you to frat parties and he’d find some way to humiliate and piss you off enough into yelling at him.
Serves you right though, always thinking you were better than him, trying to revise everything he contributed. It was only natural for him to want to push your buttons with every nasty glare you gave whenever he saw you. Clearly you needed someone bend you over in a secluded room and fuck that attitude out of you.
He liked that about you though. He was so tired of girls sucking up to him and how easy it was to get them in his bed, so he found out you’d be his TA for this class, it both pissed him off and excited him. As he predicted, you were a harsh grader trying to screw him over for his “mediocre” essays, and he thought he’d might as well make your office hours worth his time.
It started off normal at first. The professor would be away sometimes due to health issues, so he unfortunately had to go to you for help. Despite your bitchiness, you did give him solid advice on how to improve and it was funny see your little reactions whenever you had to lean in closer to show him something or how you sometimes stared a little too long when he’d come in from a workout. Then things changed when he’d walked in one day to see you looking worse for wear. It seemed that your job plus the stresses of being a student were starting to take a toll on you.
He doesn’t know why he found himself caring so much, chalking it up to it being no fun if you were crying all the time so he left for a bit, leaving you confused. Not long after, he came back with some food and one of your favorite milkshakes (that he totally hadn’t been paying attention to). From then on things had gotten a bit more chill between you two until one day he had hardly been paying attention during this particular meeting.
“Are you even listening?” you asked exaspareatedly.
“My bad teach, it’s been a long day,” he said nonchalantly, leaning back in seat.
You sighed, facepalming. “You know what, fine we’ll go over it again.”
As you began the mini lecture again, he had moved a bit closer to you after a while. At first you tried to pay no mind, but the longer it went on, beads of sweat formed along your forehead and you began to stutter, trying to ignore the fact you can practically feel his body heat.
“Something wrong?” he asked, feigning innocence with his arm casually resting over the back of your chair.
Ok, so he was clearly trying to rile you up.
“I’m fine just…tired too,” you straightened yourself up, accidentally brushing your knee against his in the process, making you jump.
He said nothing for bit, watching as you try to stay out together before he moved his hand to trace circles on your upper arm. You turned to look at him, but his hand sliding lower to the hem of your skirt silenced the question that was forming. “Relax, how can I expect you to get shit done when you’re tense like this?”
————
After playing with your slit a bit longer, you suddenly sucked in a sharp breath as Sukuna traced a finger along your entrance before slowly slipping it inside. He chuckled as he watched your head loll forward into the crook of his neck, bracing yours hands on his shoulders and taking in the scent of his cologne.
“Fuck…” Sukuna muttered in your ear, his warm breath raising goosebumps along your skin. “You really kept this from me?” He leaned in to pepper soft kisses along your jaw while his finger curled deeper into your warm, tight heat. “Only a finger and you’re gripping like hell. Pussy’s so small and tight. You think you can handle my dick?”
He moved at a slow and steady pace, and it didn’t take him long at all to find your g spot given the cute little whine you made as you tried to pull away, squeezing your eyes shut. “There she is,” he smirked, slipping in another finger without warning. Briefly glancing over to the door, you clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle your moan.
“S—Shit Sukuna,” you panted, nails digging into his bicep. Those erotic dreams of him that haunted you nearly every night were nothing compared to this. With each slow thrust in-and-out, it felt like waves of electricity were buzzing through your nerves. You rolled your hips forward to keep in sync with his pace.
“Such a needy little slut. You wanna ride your “favorite” student’s fingers, yeah?” his face moved to your neck, sucking, licking and leaving little marks with his sharp teeth. A small whimper escaped your lips as your grip tightened. He leaned back, frowning when you didn’t give him a response.
“Hey, open your eyes. I asked you a fucking question,” his thumb pressed your clit, causing you to jump. Your teary, glassy eyes met his maroon, lust-filled ones.
“Ah—you’re not my favorite—“
“Is that so? Guess you don’t want it after—
“N—no wait! You’re my favorite— need you..,” you squeaked when his thumb applied a bit more pressure before giving your cunt little smack.
“Fuckin’ liar, that’s what I thought,” he leaned to give another harsh nip at your neck, before he started picking up his pace. Arching your back, you wrapped your arms around his neck as if afraid he’ll stop at any moment. Sukuna groaning against you as you rutted against him sent shivers running down your spine, while he softened his kisses.
“Ya know, I’ve been thinking about you for a while now,” his teeth grazed your neck again. “The things I’d wanna do, like watching you drip over my cock like this. Bet you want that as much as I do, huh?” His other hand slid from your waist to trace little patterns on your hip. Sukuna could feel your walls pulse around him, clenching him tightly with every shift in your movement.
“Not even an actual professor and think you know it all. Bet you can’t even cum right, hmm?” he grinned, tilting his head lazily. That wasn’t fucking true… well maybe, but you could barely speak right now. “Maybe it’s my turn to teach you.”
He suddenly pulled you into a kiss, his soft lips savoring the taste of yours “I’ll take that as a yes, but you’re being too damn loud right now. Tryin’ to get us caught?” he said mockingly. His fingers adjusted their pace to keep up with the movement of your hips.
“Some TA you are, riding me like cock-hungry slut. You really should take off work more often. Fuck…I’d never let you leave my room. Make you sit on my cock do my essay for me since they’re so mediocre, then hurt your little cunt until I feel like it’s perfect. More than your slutty ass deserves.”
You jolted, eyes opening again to find him tracing torturous circles on your clit. His grin widened with each prod and knead that had you making the cutest noises.
“K-Kuna,” you rasped, hardly able to find your voice. Your brain was starting to get foggy and it became hard to concentrate on what was happening anymore. All you knew was that you could feel the pleasure starting to become too intense.
“Sukuna’s mouth moved to your shoulder, nipping harshly before sucking on it to soothe the ache. “So you can still talk.” He went for your mouth again, slowly sucking on your tongue before leaving a trail of saliva as he pulled away.
“Should take a picture of you right now,” his words were lost on you at this point, too distracted by the way his fingers curled inside of you. You were starting to feel overwhelmed. His voice, the way he made you feel, the eye contact. It was all too much. You clenched him tighter like a vise, throbbing and twitching uncontrollably as you feel your release building.
“So…close,”
“That’s it, little girl. Show your favorite student how much you like him,” he growled. As if on command, your head fell forward to the crook of his neck and your nails dug into his back. You could hear him hiss a bit when you bit into his shoulder while the rush of pleasure rippled through you, your orgasm feeling as if it came out in waves.
He kept his fingers at it for a bit longer before slowly retracted them, dragging them against your gummy walls gathering as much of your slick as he could. Hardly acknowledging your fucked out state, he brings them to his lips
In your haziness, you felt him sliding a hand beneath your knees before lifting you. Meeting his wicked grin in confusion, he plops you onto your desk, sliding you back a bit which causes you to bump stacks of papers and other things off the desk. He’s already sliding down your panties and pulling your legs before you can scold him.
“Relax,” the feeling of his breath fanning against your pussy had your spine tingling. “I’ve barely even gotten a taste of you,” and then he dipped face between your legs, licking and kissing up your thighs until he reached your soaked cunt. The way his tongue lapped at your folds had you leaning back across the desk and leaving you gasping for breath with each pass.
“So good…” he mumbled against your tender flesh, the vibrations from his voice making you even shakier. His tongue made swirls around your swollen bud, shifting between soft licks and the occasional sharp nips. He was devouring you as if you were his last meal and it was getting so much harder for you to keep quiet.
Your fingers moved entwine in his soft pink locks as he took advantage of the sensibility from your prior orgasm. It was so annoying that he was so skilled at working his mouth and setting your nerves ablaze by sliding his hand up to slightly massage your stomach. Your nails dug into the edges of the desk, feeling yourself about to give in again.
Leaning your head back, you cried out as another wave spilled out, leaving you nearly sprawling over the desk as stars danced in your vision. Your breaths came out in short gasps, the intensity of the pleasure leaving you shaky.
Sukuna continues to lick up the rest of your substances to the very last drop. When he finished, he leaned over, splaying his hands on the desk between both sides of your of head, taking the sight of how adorably fucked out you were with a smug grin. “Better not be tryin’ to go to sleep on me. You still got work to finish.”
Tapping a pencil to your chin, your eyes were glued the screen but it was becoming harder for you to keep focus with every light caress over your thigh. “C’mon, focus.,” Sukuna chided mockingly behind you. “You’ve been on this paper for ages now.”
“Well…you aren’t making things easy,” you rasped, trying your best not to move too much from the feeling of his cock sitting snugly against your walls.
“Tch, acting like you weren’t begging for it,” he slightly moved the collar of your shirt to nuzzle and leave little kisses on your neck.
“It’s getting late and I’d like to g—fuck.” your back arched when rubbed your clit, eliciting a whine. “Sukuna, I swear to god I’ll make sure you’ll fail!”
“Like hell you will,” he hissed, continuing to knead your bud a bit more harshly now, cock twitching inside of you as he pulled you closer against him. “Make sure to fuck you til you’re sore.” The pencil falls your hand, grading, nearly forgotten from your mind starting to get fuzzy with him stretching you out.
“H-hey! Wait a…,”
“Oh, you really like the sound of that, sick fuck?” he slides a hand under your blouse, massaging one of your breasts. You swore under your breath, squirming in his lap from the friction inside you.
Giving up, you closed your laptop. Grades weren’t technically due until a few days, so surely it wouldn’t hurt to spend the rest of your time today letting him ping you, right?
Synopsis. 8010—DOKI-DOKI-GF: Are you a complete n’ utter nerd that just can’t seem to find a girlfriend? Have you lied to your family and told them that you’re seeing someone (when you really aren’t)? Do you need to save face at the next family dinner before your uncle makes fun of you until the end of time? Well, call our hotline NOW to access Tokyo’s #1 rent-a-girlfriend service!
Choso Kamo, unfortunately, is all of the above.
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!rentaI girIfriend!reader, nerd!Choso Itadori family shenanigans, meeting the family, fake dating, UncIe Kuna is MEAN, they’re onto you…, getting kicked out of restaurants, Iove hotels, vírgin!Choso, first times (his), PÚSSYDRÚNK CHOSO, making him crawI, oraI (f + m), fíngering, spítting, bíting, p taIking, scientific taIk HAHA, commands (from you), créaming his pants, making him cúm earIy, multiple o’s (him), MAJOR overstím, pánty-sníffing, ríding, making him whímper, making him cry, somewhat gágging (him), teaching him, creampíes, sIight cùmfIation, implied marathon, getting together, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 12.0k
A/N. HEHEHEH-
“—I’m so happy you’ve found your person, Cho…” Itadori Jin coos- tearing up.
“P-papa, people are staring.” Choso huffs, spooning the syrupy-sweet cherries on his sundae over to Yuji’s.
“I know, I know.” Jin bats a hand, not-so-discreetly dabbing underneath his eyes using his sweater. “It’s just- your uncle and I were getting so worried, y’know?” He gestures at his younger twin brother next to him—looking comically buff in that pretty pink ice cream parlor seat. Jin had chosen this place. “And although we didn’t lose hope-”
“Who’s we?” Sukuna snorts.
“I uh…well.” Jin adjusts his glasses and looks over at Itadori Wasuke - currently scooping out his own cherries to flick into the neighboring table’s cups when they weren’t looking. “Father and I didn’t lose-”
“I did.” Wasuke looks squarely at his oldest grandson, “No offense, kid- but I bet ¥400 that you’d die alone.”
Sukuna nods seriously, “I bet ¥20,000.”
To which you’re finally…reaching over to intertwine your fingers with Choso’s.
…Choso drops his cherries.
And you’re letting out such a sweet, sweet giggle - even sweeter than the linger of cherries on his tongue - before you duck underneath the table to help him pick them up.
Choso was already on his knees crawling after those damn cherries- and all it takes is a single glance at your face oh-so-close to his, in such short proximity, for him to jolt—and bang his head against the underside of the table. So hard that the glasses clink against one another, and Wasuke groans as he misses in his valiant cherry canons.
So loud that half the parlor stares at your little table.
“Oh no.” You’re reaching out in concern as Choso rubs his achin’ head. “Honey, are you-”
“I-I’m fine—!” Choso turns his face away - and the only things you could make out were the frames of his chunky glasses…and the burning red on the tips of his ears. Blushing. Though you’re not convinced, and once you get a little closer- he’s waving you off more fervently than ever. “I promise, I promise! I can handle it…babe.”
You quirk a brow - “If you say so, sugarplum.”
He almost jolts once more- too much…?
However, before you’re thrusting yourself once more into the stratosphere of emotional fathers (at least, one of them) and glowering uncles, you inch yourself closer to the nerve-wracked man - as quick as a flash. And then you’re pressing your lips to his right cheek—just a graze, just a peck.
But it’s enough for Choso to yelp-
And bang his head against the table once again.
“Easy there, tiger.” You’re giggling at him, “I need you in one piece.”
“N-need me…” Choso whispers to himself- perhaps thinking that you won’t hear.
And it’s a small mercy that you’re handing to him - pretending that you didn’t hear that. Instead, you’re throwing yourself back into your seat, and presenting your most-practiced smile at Choso’s eavesdropping family members.
In little-to-no time, Choso’s popping back up and plopping all those floor cherries into Sukuna’s black coffee. The older man swears.
Jin covers the seven-year-old Yuji’s ears.
And then your boyfriend’s excusing himself hastily to the bathroom. Leaving you alone with them.
Unsure how to proceed, there’s a few minutes of silence before you’re speaking first. “Quite the lovely place, isn’t it?”
“Yes- yes.” Jin snaps out of his little reverie—he’d been watching over your interaction with such unabashed pride. Such loving nosiness. Out of all the fathers of clients that you’d happened to meet, you think he might just be your favorite…He beams. “I’m so glad you like it, dear. I mean- the first girl that Cho’s introducing us to-”
“The only one.” Sukuna coughs.
“-I just knew I had to impress. I picked this one specifically because it advertised itself as a place that’s both family-friendly and open to coup-”
“So you met the wimp…how again?” Sukuna interrupts. And he ignores the look that Jin throws at him.
“Six months ago at university.” Choso’s finally finished up at the bathroom, within earshot of the table. He takes his seat right next to you.
“I hope you washed your hands.” You whisper to him.
“Of course, I did.”
The two of you had already repeated this tried and true story at the very start of your introductions. And it was clear that Sukuna was fishing for something…more.
You make a show of reaching for Choso’s hand on top of the table—intertwining your fingers with his. They were fingers much longer and thicker than yours- that you might not have expected. The most sensual calluses from what you assume to be turning pages of books. The softest touch nevertheless.
You squeeze his hand and shoot him a simpering smile.
Itadori Jin just about faints.
Sukuna scoffs at his overdramatic older brother, “S’that so…?” He then crosses his tattooed arms, “You don’t seem like the type to like ah- biology and hemorrhages.”
“It’s biology and hematology, uncle Ryo.” Choso answers crossly, “And no- we met in the campus library.”
Then you’re the one to pipe up. “Cho here- oh, sorry, Choso-”
“Call him whatever you like—!” Jin cries.
As his brother attempts to wrangle him back into his seat, you smile appreciatively and continue. “Cho here was the one that helped me find a textbook I’d been searching for for weeks.” Just to add a little flare to it, you’re squeezing his hand once more and staring deeply into his big, beautiful brown eyes when you speak. “He knew even better than the librarian! And he was just so nervous- stuttering and- and did I tell you that he almost tripped over himself handing me that book?”
Jin, so very interested in your story, shakes his head aggressively.
Meanwhile Sukuna merely rolls his eyes- though you note that he and Wasuke don’t interrupt you for a second.
“Yeah…that was when I knew.” You conclude. Patting lovingly at his arm, “And of course, it did take a few weeks of being friends for Cho here to finally build up the courage. But he did manage to ask me out in the end—”
Sukuna raises one mean, coral-pink brow.
And you’re elbowing your boyfriend.
“-didn’t you, honey?”
It was rather difficult to convince your boyfriend’s family of the story of you two meeting- especially when your boyfriend himself looked as though this was his first time hearing it…Choso kept an expression of sweet euphoria—something soft. Like he was watching a romantic movie play out.
One that was starring in- and you needed him to say something…
“Huh? Yes?” Choso blinks- sense coming back to him. “O-oh, yes.”
And then he straightens up.
Possessively placing his hand on top of yours, “I saw her and I just…knew she had to be mine-”
“See now, that where yer lying.” Sukuna leans over the table with a devilish smile- pointedly ignoring his brother’s swatting. “There’s no world in which Kamo Ultimate Loser Choso—had his first kiss with a biology textbook, asked out the high school lab skeleton before any real person - would be the one asking you out.”
You’re stiffening as he points at you.
“Are you just someone he’s paying to lie? Because whatever he’s paying, it surely can’t be enough-”
You’re plastering on your smile, “If by ‘pay’ you mean love and cherish me then-”
“Then I know my nephew would no sooner woo a damn lab rat than a real person.” Sukuna scoffs, crossing his arms and falling back into his seat. “Especially one so pretty.”
Jin looked tense- and he’d forgone swatting at Sukuna underneath the table to now openly pinching his bicep. Still, the pain seems to do nothing to bate his suspicion.
“More sundaes, everyone? More sundaes?” Jin asks in a strangely high tone.
The only ones unaffected at the table was Yuji currently plucking at his sundae cherries, and Wasuke who stared at them with the internal debate as to whether or not he should fling those at the neighboring table, too. You almost wanted him to—anything to distract from the terseness that had suddenly taken over.
And to your surprise - it’s Choso who’s the first one to speak. “Why, uncle Ryo…” Those doe-like eyes of his narrow into an expression you’ve never seen made by the sweet, sweet boy thus far. “-jealous?”
Sukuna startles- “The hell did you s-”
“Dagnabbit I almost had it this time-” Wasuke gives up on considering and swipes one of Yuji’s overabundance of cherries to throw into their neighboring tables glass. It’s a hole in one.
“Grandma, do that again—!” Yuji squeals and claps his hands.
“Huh, where? I’m grandpa-”
“Everybody silence!” Jin’s voice raises above than the rest - and into every corner of the ice cream parlor. Echoing. He hadn’t realized it in the heat of the moment, but he found himself standing as he stopped the chaos—and rushed to sit down after some apologetic bows at the wider population being subjected to the catastrophe that was…their family.
And his next apology is directed at you. “My dear, I cannot tell you how sorry I am-” Now instead of pinching Sukuna, he outright gives the man a brotherly smack upside the head. Unafraid of doing so; Jin makes it hard enough that even Ryomen Sukuna winces. Now you understand how he kept his title shining as older brother…“-that I am related to a bunch of buffoons, and Yuji.”
“Yuji has been quite the distinguished gentleman.” You’re nodding at Yuji and his ice-cream-covered grin. “But it’s alright, Mr. Itadori. Honestly- promise I wasn’t offended by anything said.”
Your hands have seemed to find a permanent home in Choso’s - at least for the time being - and you squeeze his.
“I understand that you’re just ah- cautious as the first girl to meet you like this but…I get it. Really.” Jin’s expression just seems to melt as you keep speaking. “Cho really is someone special to me. And I want to protect him, too.”
Next to you, you hear Choso suck in a shaky breath.
“Really? And you truly promise that it hasn’t been too much?” He probes with shining eyes. “Ryo here can get a little too mouthy-”
“Hey!” Sukuna starts—then immediately winces as Jin’s fingers twitch towards him again.
“Please do forgive him- it’s in his nature.”
“Absolutely promise. And I don’t hold anything against Mr. Sukuna, either.” You knew to hit juuuust where it mattered - and referring to Sukuna using such a title made the man straighten in his chair a little. “Choso did warn me that his family might be a little…excited. But to be honest with you, I always have had a soft spot for big, loud families.”
“Well…” Jin blushes happily, before reaching across the table and shaking your hand. “You may call me Jin, if you’d like. And I’d like to welcome you into our big, loud family.”
“I’m so honored- thank you.”
“The honor is all ours.”
“Oh no, it’s ours.”
Sukuna glances at Choso and scoffs. Underneath his breath, “That’s as long as that wimp has paid for-”
The table rattles as Jin kicks him underneath it. “The honor is all ours. Isn’t it…younger brother?”
“Ye-yes—” Sukuna wheezes. His large hand comes slamming down- merely something to hold onto his dear life for. “Welcome to the family, girl.”
You beam like it’s the happiest day of your life.
Head rested on Choso’s shoulder, and your head nodding at the flow of conversation. “This is cooler than the Turritopsis dohrnii.” He breathes.
Save for the brief hiccup earlier- you’d consider your first meeting with Choso’s family to have gone swimmingly. And sure, perhaps Sukuna held the faintest inkling of suspicion that what the two of you had was a ruse—but he’d been shot down almost immediately by Jin.
And thank goodness for that.
“Let’s celebrate by getting the double double heart-shaped cones- oh, I wonder how they get them into that shape?” Jin hums. “And then I want chocolate chips, dipped in the bubblegum drizzle and- oh, hello.”
He beams as their server nears the table.
“I would like-”
“Sir, we’ve been getting complaints of cherries being flung into people’s glasses and we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Oh.”
Because of course…Ryomen Sukuna had been completely correct.
As the group gets up to leave - perhaps to another diner downtown or so - you’re refusing to let Jin apologize. And you’re still holding onto Choso as though he was the dreamiest boyfriend in the whole wide world, and you were the luckiest girlfriend—as dreamy as he may be…you weren’t the girlfriend he’d been dating for the past five months.
In fact, you weren’t his girlfriend at all.
In fact, you’d only met two hours prior.
You were #1 Rental Girlfriend in all of Tokyo. And this time, you’d been hired to save face at a family get-together.
Of course, it wasn’t the first time that you’ve had to pretend your way through such a predicament - more people than one would think had less and less time for love. Especially not in this day and age. Especially not when work and responsibilities latched onto you like a starving tick, and though its blood supply might be modest at first, it only grows hungrier and hungrier—greedier, until you’re bone-dry. Bone-dry. Bone-dry. And it still feeds- what’s next? The bones and all?
And society still looks at you with the same standards—yes, the parasite’s gotten bigger, but why are you so frail?
And before you know it, you’re hiring a rental girlfriend to prove to your parents that yes- you can still be a functional and well-balanced adult still!
This was exactly why you continued being a rental girlfriend.
It’d started out as a side-job during your first year of university—your friends were all getting partners or throwing themselves into their studies. And you needed something fulfilling to pass the time.
Then, your best friend suggested getting a part-time job.
You’re sure she didn’t mean as a rental girlfriend.
But you couldn’t help it - it’d been the first advertisement for Hiring that’d popped up once you’d searched online!
And it was meant to be for a few weeks initially- really, you hadn’t planned on continuing this career for so long. Let alone making it a sort of career.
That morning, you’d opened up your approved application for Doki-Doki-Girlfriend and determinedly made your way to the interview section - promising yourself that you’d run at the first sign of anything off. The interview was being held at the Doki-Doki headquarters: this pretty pink-colored building in downtown Akihabara that had formerly been a host club. It’d been dimly-lit and draped in old perfume and even older sex.
Though you’d been nervous the first time you entered, you’d been quickly taken by the Doki-Doki owner—Tsukumo Yuki.
The first thing she asked you was what your type in men was.
And when you’d answered - through your shock - that it was the shy, stuttering type- she laughed that that was about 95% of their clientele. So you’d be lucky, perhaps.
Yuki, as she insisted you call her, explained to you the ins and outs of being a rental girlfriend. To smile. To simper. To be sweet but not overly so.
To never let them pressure you into anything. They weren’t the type of rental business that offered other sorts of services.
What people were searching for above all was a connection- for at least this brief moment in time. And the both of you would understand this transaction: it was the fantasy of a human bond that you were selling, and they were buying. It was your time. It was your emotional investment.
But later…you would come to genuinely connect with most of those you worked with.
After that interview—which you passed with flying colors, you spoke with some of the other girls working there and decided to continue with the job opportunity. Much to Yuki’s delight, who’d taken a liking to you almost immediately. After that was the training period - during which you accompanied some of the other rental girlfriends on their dates.
You were introduced to some as their friend—and as many guys as expected were actually flattered to be seen with two ‘girlfriends’ in public.
You took notes on conversation topics. You watched their behaviours.
You understood how they’d change their approaches according to the needs of their clients, and you absorbed it all.
After a few weeks of observation, you were finally added to the roster of rental girlfriends to go on your own dates.
You just didn’t expect to shoot to the top of the ranks.
#1 in Tokyo.
Perhaps one of the Top 5 in the entire country—only three years after starting, in your fourth year of university.
The clients adored you.
They draped you in gifts. They went on repeat dates - spending extra just for a minute of your time, though you often refused the additional amounts. Of course, there would be no funny business (and this was something you made quite clear within the first few minutes of meeting a new client). And excluding one or two unsavory clients that were quickly blacklisted from Doki Doki, you’d grown rather fond of your regulars.
There was the older woman who’d practice speaking to women through you- for when she planned on getting her first girlfriend. There was the excitable college student who tested out date spots with you. There was the pensioner who wished to take a monthly stroll through the park, simply talking about their day.
It was the feeling of belonging amongst strangers. Connecting with people you never could have imagined finding common ground with before.
And you believe, through this line of work, you began to understand humans better.
Humans were all just…really, really lonely.
Choso had been the same when he came to you.
It had been a working day like any other - you’d been called to the front desk of Doki Doki in order to be given a briefing of your next date. It was all standard processes, really.
Name: Kamo Choso
Age: 23
Occupation: Student
Prior appointments: None.
Prior love life: None.
Purpose: Client seeks a rental girlfriend to sit through a family dinner with his family, pretending to be his girlfriend. Prior backstory required to be able to maintain the conversation and create the illusion of a loving relationship (5 months). Flirting and mild physical affection.
Extra notes: Client says to please be wary of his extra ‘rowdy’ family.
And so, you’d accepted.
You met up with the aforementioned Choso—and found yourself a little taken aback at just how…cute he was.
Nerdy. Nervous.
Pushing his glasses up as he frantically introduced himself - that, too, messing his name up a few times before actually telling you.
Exactly your type. Yuki had been right.
He was your age, and went to - it turns out - the same university as you. Though the two of you hadn’t seen each other before, Choso confessed that that might be because he was cooped up in the library most of the time.
He bowed at least a dozen times through apologies for the trouble- even though you assured him that meeting a family wasn’t anything out of your way. And then he insisted on paying extra, on coming up with a code should you want to leave, on—you shook your head and grabbed his hand. “So, how did we meet, boyfriend?”
You always did enjoy the ones where big families were involved - sure, they might be more awkward in the long run…but those types of dates always did manage to make you feel so warm inside. Big families. Big emotions.
And the biggest, perhaps, of all had been meeting the Itadori family.
They’d been unlike any other family you’ve ever met.
And that was saying a lot.
Thus, you’re letting out a prolonged sigh the moment you’re stepping outside—it was some downtown diner that the six of you had ended up at after your less-than-ceremonious exit at the ice cream parlor. Sukuna had been craving something hearty after living through that introduction on just sweets and coffee - and Jin had suggested one of their favorite ramen places.
It was only after you’d sat down with them at one of the booths - the one they called their ‘usual’ - that Jin had revealed that when they referred to it as ‘their’ ramen place—they really meant the their.
In everything but ownership.
This was the first restaurant they’d gone to celebrate Choso’s first birthday, this was the first restaurant they’d gone to after Jin’s mother had passed, this was the first restaurant they’d gone to after Yuji was born and Jin was granted full custody.
And you couldn’t help but feel a strange sinking feeling at the pit of your stomach. What was that you said about family-oriented dates being the most awkward in the long term?
At least the ramen had been the best you’d ever tasted- and the conversation flowed freely. Even Sukuna seemed to forgo his initial suspicion to make some conversation with you on Akihabara’s best spots.
And in the end, you were walking out of that ramen restaurant with a full stomach and an even more full heart.
Waving to the retreating backs of Jin, Sukuna, Wasuke, and a sleeping Yuji—you’re turning to Choso once they were completely out of sight. “Your family is…”
“Abhorrent?” He pushes his glasses up with a crooked smile. Choso had eased up around you significantly compared to your initial meeting outside the Doki Doki building, stammering through an adequate backstory for your faux-relationship, though he still seemed to be the nerve-wracked type.
“No…” You pretend to think.
“Overbearing?”
“No.”
“Savages?”
“Certainly not.”
“The servers at that ice cream parlor would disagree.” Choso mutters, “How about aneurysm-causing?”
“No.” You’re shaking your head once again, before turning to him with a smile. “They’re loving.”
Choso says nothing, but the tips of his ears burn.
“They care about you a lot- even your uncle was making sure I wasn’t some stranger just taking your money.” Well…
The long-haired man pushes his glasses up with a sputter of confirmation- or at least something that sounds like it. “I-I suppose ah- in their own…ways they’re rather…” Choso swallows a few times, and you’re watching his face as he does so—the Sun was dipping past the horizon now, and cracking its golden yolk over the grooves of his worried face. Handsome. Choso Kamo was just so handsome.
With his lashes dark and draping over his cheekbones. With his lips pouty and bitten whenever he was thinking deeply about something. With his stature so tantalizingly tall—though he didn’t even seem to be aware of it, as he navigated the world like a newly-birthed fawn.
He was the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen - glasses and all.
“—caring.” Choso finally finishes his sentence.
You’re letting a smile stretch across your lips- and before you can think twice, you’re clasping Choso’s hand once more. You’d been doing it so often over the course of the date that it almost feels- natural now.
“You know…you paid for five hours of my time, Choso. Do you know how much more time we have left?”
“Two hours, fourteen minutes and—” He grows ever-redder as he stares down at you. Were you…leaning in? Pressing yourself against him? Fuck. “-f-fifteen seconds.”
“Mmmm, I do love a smart boy.” Beginning to tug him in another direction from the path to the Doki Doki building - though you leave enough leeway that he can stop should he want to. Choso follows you like a dog on a leash. “I don’t usually do this, but if you want to spend the rest of your time with me then…I know this ah- other place we can go to?”
“Like you want me to c-call my family back for another family dinner?” Choso asks, eyes bulging.
“Oh no, no.” You laugh. “This place isn’t family friendly at all.”
.
.
.
“A-a love hotel-”
“One room, please. Standard.” Interrupting Choso, you smile at the receptionist.
“Will that be for an allocated time or overnight?”
“Hmm…” You glance sidelong at the gawking Choso next to you- looking around the hotel lobby as though it was some sort of attraction. “Overnight, please.”
As the woman behind the desk continued tap-tap-tapping away at her keyboard, you take a moment to look at Choso - now adjusting his glasses to make sure that he was seeing right. That really was a bowl of condoms sitting on the front desk. As the heat rushes up the back of his neck, you’re wrapping your arms around one of his own—and pressing your body against his. “Everything alright, Cho?”
He’d been like this ever since you started heading him in the direction of the glitzy love establishment. Pink walls. Fluorescent lights. He’d agreed to going…elsewhere to continue your date- but he’d expected your apartment or something! Choso had been stunned but allowed you to lead him in front of the love hotel, and once outside you turned towards him once more. It was the first time you yourself was doing this with who was supposed to be a client. “And you’re really su-”
“Yes.”
And that was that.
The lobby was quiet…too quiet. In a way that made your spine tingle with anticipation.
“That’s a…a real bowl of condoms.” He exclaims- earning a look from the receptionist.
“That is. Is this your way of saying that we don’t need any?” You joke…mostly. Then the key gets slid over to you - Room 143 - and you’re nodding at the receptionist. “Thank you.”
The two of you make your way down the lust-pink corridor and take the elevator up to your room - jamming in the key to open up a space that looked as if a honeymoon threw up all over it. Rose petals on the floor. Faux candles flickerin’ on the beside cabinet. Rows upon rows of even more condoms lined on the middle of the queen-sized bed.
If you looked at it from the right angle, it formed a few hearts.
“I didn’t mean we shouldn’t use them…” Choso’s the first one to speak- and he visibly gulps as you close the door behind you two. “It’s just…I-I’ve never done this before.”
Your eyes widen—you’d been suspecting this ever since you entered. But to have it actually confirmed…“No fooling around before finals or anything? Nothing to de-stress?”
He shakes his head n’ bites his lower lip. “Nothing. I haven’t even had my first kiss, to be honest…” Choso looks up at you with those nervous eyes. “Is that okay?”
“Okay?” You smile. Walking over to twist your hands into his lapels- and tug him to you. “It’s perfect. And since you’ve shared a secret with me, I’m gonna share one with you, okay?”
He nods.
And so you’re leaning in so that your lips are grazing - just grazing - his pretty, blushing ears. “It turned me on more than it should’ve, seeing you on your knees in that parlor.”
Choso gasps-
And then your lips are on his.
Then you’re tucking his cute, shivering bottom lip into your mouth—and sucking softly. Choso lets out the most guttural groan at the act- and his hands tremble in mid-air not knowing what to do.
“Don’t be shy.” You’re cooing at him - reaching up and guiding one of his hands to be on the back of your neck—the other one on your ass. You lean into his surprisingly firm chest, “Although…I find it really cute when you’re shy.”
His involuntary whimper gets swallowed up by your own lips.
You’re the one that’s guiding him through the sensual motions of your mouth. Kissing and kissing him till he’s senseless.
Till those thick glasses of him have been knocked ever-so-slightly askew.
Till you’ve left him weak in the knees - literally.
Choso Kamo is melting into you—he’s letting his hands grasp your body as though a forgetting man holding onto his last memory, a drowning sailor holding onto a lifeboat. It doesn’t even feel real to him. And he can’t stop himself as his hands, his body, his knees buckle n’ he’s sliding doooooown the expanse of your body- lips breaking contact with yours with a pained grunt.
Before he knows it, his knees are hitting the floor.
And he’s peering up at you with a desperate expression; brows pinched, mouth kiss-bitten and trembling. Expression something of dazed awe. It makes your pussy clench at just how utterly pathetic he looks. “Everything alright, baby?”
“Ngh- yes.” You watch as one of his hands automatically shoots to cover his crotch - he was rock-fucking-hard already.
“You suuuuure?” Teasing. There’s a devilish twinkle in your eyes that’s reflected through his as utter indigence.
And without saying anything more, you step backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. Bouncing a few times. You’re sitting yourself down on the plush bedsprings, crossing your legs- and watching him through half-lidded eyes. Not a single word comes out of you.
But it doesn’t take a single word for Choso to realize what you wanted with a jolt—
He crawls to you.
He crawls to you.
Choso’s letting his features twist into something akin to embarrassment - with the tips of his ears so red that they were practically radiating heat - as he edges closer. As he shifts on his knees. As he crawls just as he had been doing in the ice cream parlor—except this time, the only cherry he was searching for was that cute lil’ wet spot between your legs.
Your dress was short and already hiked up to reveal those pale pink panties.
Was that a little bow on top?
Though it seems like an age before he’s finally able to reach close enough to affirm that- yes, that was a little bow on top. Choso finally manages to without combusting, and looks up at you with wide, pleading eyes.
“Please…” He begs.
You’re softly caressing his cheek- almost lovingly. And Choso’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into the touch in an almost feline manner.
Moving to his jawline. Moving to the back of his sweaty scalp.
And then you’re shoving his pretty face between your legs—and Choso’s letting himself gladly be shoved. Manhandled. His chin sticks against the foamy mess of your panties, so wet with all your leaking juices. His nose digs between the plushest parts of your swollen pussylips. And Choso lets out a hallowed breath as he gapes his mouth ever-so-slightly wider-
“Awww, why so shy, baby?” You’re cooing down at him.
With your hand clasped onto the back of his head- you’re guiding Choso’s mouth to better plaster against your pussy. For him to find his balance.
“S-s’like a second kiss.” Choso sputters out. And you’re grinning.
“Naughty, are we?” You had a feeling that this was going to be a loooooot of fun…
Choso’s mouth was parted. And his lips were rubbin’ incessantly up and down the outline of your cunt—up and down, up and down.
That flimsy fabric of your panties was just glued to your sopping wet pussy, and he’s able to slot his lips over your folds perfectly. Managing to string down a line of hot wet kisses where you needed him the most- “Mmmm…” You’re arching your back with a deep groan as his nose fits between your pussylips—the pointed tip pressing on your clit. “Just like that, Cho. You can go deeper if you like, y’know that?”
“H-how, baby?” He rasps. Those pleading eyes of his were just so cute- and Choso can’t last too long speaking without pressing a few more open-mouthed kisses on your cunt.
“You want me to teach you?” You’re asking him, to which he nods. “Mmm, well open your mouth a little wider- just a little wider-”
And he does- his cute canines snaggin’ against the top of your pussylips.
“You can just start off by kissing lightly, baby. Remember how we did all that kissing earlier?” Nodding once more. “Yeah- just try to replicate that.”
“M’gonna do my best, baby…” He’s starting off soft at first- slow. Almost timid in his movements as he properly slots his mouth over your pussy - over your panties - and kisses n’ sucks lightly.
“Fuck- you study biology, so you know where the good spots are, hm?”
“The glans clitoris a-and the…” Kitten kisses. “-the labia minora contain an immense number of nerve endings.” Chaste pecks—but every single droplet of your pussy’s juices splashed onto his tongue seems to leave Choso Kamo reeling.
Eyes drawing to the back of his head. Ragged pants emanating from the back of his throat.
And he’s pushing himself deeper, deeper, deeper - making out with your pussy so desperately, depravedly that his glasses were crushing against your pelvis—“Easy there, baby. Easy.” The only way to even get him to take a breath is to tug him back using his hair. “We have more than ‘nough time, okay?”
“Mhmmmm…” He nods through a pout- lips sucking off the juices seeped into your panties. “All night.”
“Eager boy. Next, I want you to use your tongue, okay?” His expression turns into something startled. “What? Not scared are you, Cho?”
Choso shakes his head furiously—as though he couldn’t stand the mere thought of it. “N-no.” He hisses, hot breath gluing to your leaking core - the way he was just so…greedy to lavish your pussy left you even wetter. And he was gladly allowing the excess residue to land all over his face and end up sliding off, “No no no- not at all. This pretty labia- Mmmpf—”
Whatever else was on the tip of his tongue gets muffled-
For then Choso’s flattening his tastebuds on top of your pussy. Those swollen pussylips. Movin’ his muscle siiiiiiide to the siiiiiide and then up and down the line of your slit.
You whine, “Oh- just fuck me with it.” Tugging on his locks, “Fuck me with your tongue- ngh, the way I know you’ve been wantin’ to since we met. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you were looking at me…”
“I was…” He pleads. He prays between your legs. Zig-zagging his tongue wildly.
And then after he’s sucked off your panties all clean - Choso reaches one of his hands upwards to try and take off those useless undergarments-
But you’re faster than him.
And you’re stopping him with a searing pull at his scalp. The nerdy man lets out a sudden yelp and looks at you with the prettiest doe-eyes. “Ah ah—” It almost ached your heart to act so mean to him, not giving him exactly what he wanted. But more than your heart- it was your pussy that was throbbing. “Now who said you’ve earned the right to take them off, hm?”
“B-but…” Choso’s peripherals widen - they were glazed-over with lust. “How can I reach the tunica mucosa if I don’t take off—”
“You don’t have to take it off, right?” You hum. “Eat me out through my panties-”
Just the mere sound of that sentence makes Choso moan.
“-and…” And you’re cocking your head to get a better look at where his hips were starting to rut. Against the rickety frame of the love hotel’s bed, he was grindin’ and crushing what seemed to be an aching erection. “-don’t touch yourself, either.”
Choso’s free hand immediately halts in its tracks.
He’s shooting you a pained look- but more than that, it was flooded with pure, unabashed need.
Something dark. Something primal.
Choso’s tipping his head back and letting you plough your pussy against his mouth- in rough, rapid grinds. You don’t wait a single moment for him to catch his breath—and that seems far from his main priority in the first place. He’s merely flopping his lengthy tongue out - so pinkish n’ pretty - and slithering it past your panties.
Riiiiiight underneath, after a few tries he manages to ease it past the rim of your puckered entrance.
You’re letting out a semi-shocked gasp once you feel your convulsing walls streeeeetching at the girth of him. He was thicker than you’d expected- with the ridges of his tastebuds melding to your inner channel. And without any experience, Choso doesn’t know how to ease into it - which works just as well for you as he’s expanding his thick tongue inside of you. And then thrashing n’ thrashing away. “Sh-shit, keep going, Cho.”
“What- hck! what do I have to do?” He manages to somehow ask between heavy gulps. And even that amount of time spent parted with your pussy means that he’s letting out loooong, luxurious licks inside your velvety walls to make up for it.
“H-huh?” You blink down at him through your bleary eyes. “Keep going, ngh- faster, baby.”
“No, I just meant…” Choso blinks those big, beautiful peripherals at you. He kept both hands on your thighs to press himself ever-deeper—he couldn’t get enough. “-what do I have to do t-to take off your panties? I wish to see all of you…that pretty vulva like a flower, the- ngh, prepuce…”
The mere thought has him ruttin’ away against the bed once more.
“How about you make me- haaaah, cum, baby? Hm?” You smile down at the desperate man, “And you have to do it before cumming yourself, m’kay?”
He can’t remove your panties.
He can’t touch himself.
He can’t cum before stuffin’ his face between your legs and making you cum first—
Choso was in heaven.
Even through the obscurement of his now-fogged glasses, Choso’s features twist into something primal- and he lets out a looooow whine before drag-drag-dragging his tongue into your clingy walls again. Thrusting in and out at a frenzied pace—the nerd was eating you out like a man starved.
Almost wolfish.
Choso was suckin’ and biting and snarling deep into your cunt. His glasses stick against your clit, and every single time he was forced to part with your pussy in order to breathe felt like fucking torture to him. “The clitoral nerve network consists of about 8000 to- ngh, over 10000 nerve endings-” Before you know it, he’s spitting. Letting it smear down your panties. Then dragging one of his calloused thumbs down that buttony nub. “-and baby, I need you to feel every single one.”
“Ohhhhh, fuck.” Your back arches deeper into him. Hands planting against the mattress in order to steady yourself, “A man that knows anatomy is dangerous.”
“And then the tunica mucosa…those spots there are also-” Such a priggish smile spreads across Choso’s mouth - one that you’re feeling on your cunt - as he swabs his tongue inside and stimulates some of those sweet nerve endings he was talking about. The hooked end of his muscle pushes apart your clingy walls, and somehow manages to find those sensitive areas so easily- “-effective…”
“Shut up and eat me out.” Pushing him deeper between your legs.
“A-and that’s not to mention—” But of course, you should’ve known that it isn’t easy to shut a STEM major up when it comes to their subject of interest. Choso most of all. And that nerdy man is babbling away whilst he’s slipping his tongue in and out, in and out, of you at a furious pace- until it was nothing but a pinkish blur squeezing away between your pussylips. “-the Gräfenberg spot-”
“You mean the g-spot?!” You’re wailing out.
“My favorite.” Choso nods, with your clit sucked into his mouth. Holding your panties to the side. He now alternates between rolling his tongue over your sensitive nub, and pushing it deep into your hole—stretchin’ you out juuuuust enough for his fingers to slip n’ squelch their way inside.
You’re letting out the shrillest keen as two of his fingers scissor apart your cunt’s walls, pushing up into their spongy surroundings to mold his sheer size into you. He’s softer on the tips of his digits, and rougher against the sides - “Easy there. Fuck, easy…” Choso’s sucking in a harrowed breath.
“I should be the one saying that to you.” You huff. Because Choso wasn’t dry-humping the foot of the bed whilst eating you out anymore - he was way past that.
Now solely keeping himself pushed- wedged in one place because just a little more friction and he’s bound to be cumming. “I-I’m alright, baby.” He tells you, “The Gräfenberg spot is located on the anterior wall, so right…up…”
Just a single press up into the roof of your cunt makes you buck - not having pressed on your sweetest spot just yet but-
“And then about two- three inches deeeeeep—” The loudest, sloppiest squelch! echoes across all four corners of the love hotel room as he eases inside. Roverin’ about inside your tight, wet channel for a few strokes before an explosion of pleasure runs right through you. “-right- there-”
“Fuuuuuuuck, oh.” You simper out. “There- right there- ngh.”
And then he’s thump-thumping his perfect fingers inside your cunt- accurately pinpointing that one spot inside you with his digits like a searchlight. Again and again. And don’t think that his mouth wasn’t working overtime—Choso kept his maw permanently gaped on top of your clit and had his lips hollowed with a constant suctioning motion.
Letting out broken moans off into your cunt all the while-
Choso manages to slip in a third finger- though those damn panties kept getting in the way. “Baby…” There’s a rasping, almost guttural tone to his words that you don’t recognize at first- you’re even raising onto your elbows to make sure that this was the same Choso Kamo.
But it sure was.
Glasses pressed up against your cunt—getting wetter by the second. “Baby, you’re experiencing vaginal contractions and tremors. Your pulse is faster. Your transudate is leaking even more- you’re getting wetter. And your clitoris is growing even, mmm-” He savors the feeling of your nub being pulled n’ dragged into his mouth. “-more swollen.”
“A-and that means…?” Though you already have an inkling of it.
“You’re going to orgasm, baby.” He never sounded more confident than when he was speaking science between your pussylips. “And I need you to cum aaaaaall over my mouth, okay?”
“Was planning to.” You whisper-
And it’s with a few more strokes, with a few more gashes of your pussy against his face, that the pressure that’d been building in your pelvic region finally explodes.
It thrums through your body faster than you can announce it—making every single vein, artery, and axiom within you vibrate until they’re sizzling at the sheer pressure. It felt as though your body was on fire. And the hottest it could get was at your sopping core- shoved against Choso’s pretty plush mouth and getting draaaagged through the violent peaks of your high.
The best you’ve ever had.
Choso manages to locate your g-spot right when the pleasure was hitting you the most - and you’re getting the faint suspicion that he was counting your throb-throb-throbs until he’d timed it just right. “One…two…”
Thrashing his fingers deepest.
Damn-near tearing your panties.
Shoving his erection against the bed.
And his tongue would move over your clit in an almost soothing motion- “Your vasocongestion m-means you’re sucking me up even- ngh, more. Fucking tight.” He spits. “Myotonia and contractions. Your orgasm’s strong, baby.”
“Didn’t need science to tell me that.” You comment.
Thrown through your orgasm.
It’s a crescendo then a plateau, and then when you’re finally done - Choso keeps jabbing his greedy fingers into you just for a few seconds longer. Fucking you through it. Fucking you past it.
You’re so sensitive by this point that you’re sobbing- pushing on his sweaty forehead. “Baby—oh, baby I’m done.”
“Done…?” He rasps. Eyes bleary as he raises them up, seeing you on your elbows. “Oh.”
“And you did as I wanted.” It takes much more effort than you expected to detach him from your quivering pussy - still a little sensitive from your previous orgasm. It was incredible. A part of you almost couldn’t believe that it’d been poor, inexperienced Choso Kamo that pulled that out of you.
He’s setting your cunt free with a whimper n’ a loooooud slurp!
Watching slack-jawed as you peel off your soaked-through panties and throw it right at him- it makes you gasp when Choso catches it with one hand…
Then brings that flimsy fabric riiiiight up to his face to sniff, to suck off the remnants of your syrupy sap. Not a speck of regret.
“Filthy.” You leer.
And then you’re tightening your hold on him—merely than sound was enough to wrench out a yearning croon from him. Preventing Choso from chasing after your cunt once more, “Now now…you don’t want to continue losing that virginity of yours, baby?”
“I-I do.” He eagerly nods.
“Good. Then get on the bed f’me.” You’re patting at the space beside you.
Soon enough, your positions are somewhat flipped - Choso finds himself lumbering onto the bed. Back against the mattress. Skin searing at the heat that your body had left behind.
He lies where you did- and you’re making quick work of discarding his graphic t-shirt (proudly claiming ‘I found this humerus’ next to a picture of a bone) and his trousers. The tent in his boxers was jaw-dropping—Choso stood proudly erect, thick and looking heavy between his legs, his bulbous tip kept trickling out more n’ more precum the longer you stared.
And had he just…
Taking off his boxers to make sure—you’re revealing his cock. Long and rock-hard.
It slaps against his soft core, and leaves a heart-shaped mark of sap. Just about seven or so inches in length- though the longer your gaze lingers on him…the longer he seems to look. Shit, was he about nine inches, maybe? And he wasn’t too thick - just flared enough at the tip that he’s sure to make your walls feel it.
But Choso had an abundance of pretty, long veins decorating down the shaft—underneath the tip, creating patterns down to his base. One which had a few sparse tufts of curly brown - almost black - hair.
Yet what you’re interested in the most was how Choso was so damn hard that his blushin’ red tip looked just about ready to fall off—
“I c-couldn’t help myself, baby.” Choso admits shyly. His hands reach downwards to try and cover his mess- but you’re waving him off. “Having you cum aaaaall over my mouth made me- ngh, want to cum as well.”
“I can see that.” You smirk.
“I didn’t mean to.” He insists, voice growing urgent as the silence stretches - fearing that you’d perhaps refuse to continue as he somewhat broke his promise. “P-promise, I didn’t mean to! It’s just that your tunica mucosa was squeezing me so tight- and your vaginal lubrication just tasted so sweet-”
“Choso?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Shush.”
“I- oh.”
Because, initially, you’d planned on riding the man senseless. But now you were leering yourself closer—almost sake-like in motion.
Staring deep into Choso’s widening eyes once you’re hovering yourself over his shivering legs. His long abdomen. And pressing a cute peck right on the top of his frothing tip—the splashes of his precum were syrupy-sweet. And they were combining with Choso’s cum from earlier to add a salty tint-
“So messy.” You’re whispering as you run your tongue ‘round and ‘round the top of his shaft. Cleaning him off until he was shining. “Are you gonna make a mess like this inside me too, hm?”
“D-don’t say something like that…s’gonna make me cum again.” Choso pleads.
And he really was serious - his words were on the verge of shattering.
You’re letting out a giggle- right into his aching hot cock. The vibrations sprint through his body and make him buck up into you—body before his mind, he doesn’t even realize until he’s doing so with a startled yelp. “My apologies-”
“Mmm, keep going. Get some practice in before the real deal.” You hum once more.
Choso seems as though he’s about to sob - this was too good for him - as he fucks his cock into your mouth a few more times. You relax your throat to take down most of him, and the parts that you can’t get milked with one hand.
Once. Twice. Thrice and quadruple before his flared tip starts twitchin’ wildly—draaaaagging up the soft insides of your throat, he leaves a salty aftertaste behind that makes you realize…
You’re pulling off of his cock with an emanating pop! “But you’ve got to save that up for inside, got it?”
He’s nodding so hard you idly wonder whether he might get whiplash. “Yes, baby. Anything for you, baby.”
“Mmm…” Climbing up the expanse of his body, you’re kissing Choso squarely with the same lips. “Just how I like it.”
And then your knees straddle Choso’s slender hips, your thighs press against his sweltering skin - you reach behind you to grab ahold of his cock’s base—and the sudden squeeze is enough to make him jolt. Bodily. He’s letting out a visceral shiver, “B-baby…”
You guide his ruddied tip to you—and just the barest, briefest smooch of your sweet pussy makes him jolt. Just feelin’ his hardness press up against your softness.
It makes him drive his hips off the mattress suddenly.
“Ah ah-” You warn. “Take it easy, baby. We have all night, don’t we?”
“But…” Choso’s eyes flicker between your face n’ where the two of you were about to connect. Something in him seems to almost break. So close. So close- “That’s so unfair. Your pussy feels like this and you’re expecting me to take it easy?”
A hand claws down your arched spine.
“Not even the textbooks could replicate how good it feels- m’not even inside you yet and I feel like I’m going insane.”
You swipe a thumb down his throbbing tip—catching a bead of white that was threatening to pour out. “I told you. As long as you keep it inside, Cho.”
And then you’re letting your hips lower - aiming to seat yourself down on that toned pelvis of his. “Ohhhh, fuck.” Your back bends, your head tips backwards as you’re taking in the inches of him. It’s a slow process - given that Choso was much larger than average - and you’re wrenching out primal moans as his thick length invades your core. A sweet prodding vein down the side of him was already massaging your insides—“You’re so big, baby. It’s always the quiet ones, huh?”
If he heard you, then he doesn’t make a show of it.
Choso’s handsome features scrunch up into something of pure ecstasy as he dives his cock deeper into you. Hands flying to your waist. Bottom lip stuck between his teeth. “Inside-” He whispers.
“Hmmm?”
“Inside- inside.” Choso gets out through heated pants. His mouth was moving a mile a minute- fuck, even his mind was. But he couldn’t possibly juggle any single coherent thought when his cock was sucked between your soft, soft pussylips and getting practically drained already. “A-am I really going inside? Or is this just a dream, baby?”
Without waiting around for an answer- he’s pinching his arm.
It leaves an angry red mark that proves to him that no…life really was this sweet.
“I am?” As though still in disbelief.
As though this in and of itself would be enough to make him cum and- oh, shit.
He really was cumming.
It seems to take the both of you by surprise, and Choso’s lunging his hips completely off the mattress - slamming his cockhead into the springy back of your cunt.
Bouncin’ off at the sheer force for a few seconds- it isn’t long before he’s then scouring deep into your walls and letting his bawling divot run free. Cumming in less than a single stroke inside you. “Oh- oh, shit.” Choso’s mouth waters, a single line of spittle running from the corner of his lips. “I’m sorry I…”
But he doesn’t have an answer.
He really, truly doesn’t.
“Pussy got your tongue?” You giggle.
This was his first time - and your pussy just felt that good all wrapped ‘round him and keeping him hostage.
His cum’s flooding you with a warmth, spreadin’ from the in-betweens of your legs and then right upwards. The satiny tresses of it rush uuuuup your walls n’ then right back down—those goopy layers then getting fucked back in by his desperate semi-thrusts.
Squelch after squelch as he accumulates the cum like frosting on top of his swirling tip. Shoving.
Choso scrunches his eyes shut and tears start to well up behind- now he was crying, too? Crying just by putting it in?! Buried like this, he feels like he’d do anything for you right now. He feels like he could lay his life on the line for you right now. He feels like—like—he could really truly ask you to become his real girlfriend now…
“Baby, I think I love you.” Choso blubbers up. “Do you want to marry me?”
“Let’s get dinner first.” You giggle, lovingly patting his cheek.
“Oh…”
If you could feel the way his ruddied tip twitches inside you (and you could) then you’re not teasing him for it…much. Simply a smirk before you’re veering your hips down until he’s bottomed-out.
Clit massaging against the scruff of his happy trail. Pussylips struggling to squeeze around his sheer size. “Fuck.” You’re groaning, starting up a lecherous pace that keeps Choso’s toes curled - his head thrown back into the pillows, his skin blushing. He was flustered.
But more than that- he wanted more.
And sending a silent word of gratitude to the chance of the universe and science itself, Choso slithers that same right hand of his between your sultry legs. Sheened with slick.
You were making such a mess fucking him whilst you’re still keeping his cum inside you—he scrapes his calloused thumb up, up, uuuup the few inches of his cock still left to fit inside. Collecting the slimy layers of slick up until the folds of your pussy. Reaching it up to his mouth-
“Now, now.” You tut. “Are we just going to waste that, hm?”
“Oh…you’re right.” With a quiver of his lips, he then plunges it back inside. Then repeats the motion again and again until you’re feeling stuffed to the brim—with both his cock n’ his sappy fluid. Like you said before, it all deserved to stay inside.
And you better keep it.
The rickety bedsprings creeeeeeak—! as he meets your pace.
Choso continues, “Not just cum.” His curvaceous thumb swipes your inner folds again, “But that bulbourethral fluid deserves to stay inside, too. How else m’I gonna fill you up, baby?”
“Oh, of course.” You coo, something sensual. “But don’t think that that’s going to be your last time cumming tonight, Cho.”
His eyes damn-near bulge out of their skull. “E-excuse me?”
“It’s not even your last time cumming in this hour.” Oblivious - or so you pretend to be - to his growing concern n’ his gaping mouth. You’re bowing your body into his—manoeuvring your hips in somewhat of a circular motion, the slightest figure-eights and curves, that drag his tunneling cock juuuuuust right against every nook and cranny of your walls. Every hidden spot. “You’re gonna cum for me at least twice more, right?”
“I-I—I don’t know if that’s even possible!” Choso sputters, pushing his glasses up with his free hand- it was glossy with the excess of your slick from earlier.
And without warning, you’re leaning down to lightly lick off a bit of that glittering sheen.
Choso moans n’ feels his overly-stimulated length jolting away inside of you. “Baby, just consider the refractory period. Has it even been a few minutes since I last…?”
“Just about.” You’re smile. “Should be enough, no?”
“Though it varies based on age and health- when I can cum next depends on the blood redistribution, and how long prolactin and serotonin lasts in the body.” Choso admits then, albeit a bit sheepishly. “And I’m still fuh-feeling so goooood, baby- fuck I can’t—”
“But my smart boy’s gonna find a way, right?” Even if he couldn’t cum again, however - it was just too cute to watch Choso squirm like this. “When I said I wanted it inside, I wanted it stuffed inside, Cho.”
“S-stuffed…” He breathes - almost hypnotized by your pussy.
You’re grinding and swervin’ and clenching around his vein-loaded length in ways he could’ve only ever dreamed about before…“Mhm. Need it pouring out of me.” You beg, putting your best pleading expression on. “Need it up until…”
Hands scouring up his front to press down on your stomach- almost up to your chest.
“-here.”
You pout.
“If m’not bloated with your cum, Cho, is there even a point?”
“No there isn’t.” Choso’s jaw drops—as though the epiphany had just dropped on him. And no sooner are the words leaving his worry-bitten lips, he finds himself pumping wispy ropes of cum deep past your entrance.
He doesn’t even know how he did it.
His body just seems to listen to you more than himself - and Choso jerks his pelvis up in synchronization with the faintish strings of cum that escape him. Thoroughly into your cunt. Thoroughly coating it on top of your womb.
You’re shivering as you feel the thin excess thwack! against your deepest innards. Such a lecherous feeling that cannot be replicated.
Every time he strikes your spongy cervix, Choso lets out a sudden whimper. He sobs. He groooans. He’s fighting to clamor onto your body in any possible way that he could - your waist, your legs, your tits. It doesn’t matter where, Choso just needed to grab ahold of you and perhaps try to get you to fucking slow down—
“Please.” Every single letter in that word is botched with a cry, “P-please. Baby, keep riding me like this and you’re going to make me cum again-”
“Isn’t that the point? Third time’s the charm?” You ask.
“Oh…” It’s then that he remembers that you’d said twice more- he has to cum twice more. Hiccuping, “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Cocking your head with a smile, “And would you like to stop?”
“Not at all.”
Then you’re planting one hand in the middle of his defined chest for balance. Throwing your head back and ridin’ him silly.
Choso cries beneath you. Choso babbles. Torn between the pleasure of having those sweet, sopping lips wrapped ‘round him- and the insanity of his orgasm just barely bating before you’re attempting to hurtle him into another one. This was almost too much for his just recently-lost virginity, but Choso begs for more, more, more. “Please- please- that anterior wall of yours is so clo-”
With your other set of fingers then shoved into Choso’s pretty mouth- spit splashes from the sides of his lips. But he’s taking you so happily—“No no, keep going.” You tell him once his brows raise in surprise, “I just wanna watch my poor boyfriend struggle just a bit.”
“Mmmmpf- soooo good.” He lets out an agonized moan, muffled through the intrusion of your digits. You’re swirling them ‘round his mouth and watching him lightly choke on them. “I need to c-cum just once more, huh?”
Choso’s tears were enough to wash off the fog from his glasses lens.
And he blinks those teary eyes up at you - a few times before one of his hands slithers between your legs. Almost difficult, considering how the space between your two sweaty, crashing bodies was practically non-existant—but his long fingers find a way to thumb apart your puffy pussylips. Nearly swollen shut.
He runs the doughy tips of his digits across your clit, “Around it…just light kisses.” Choso murmurs to himself. “Juuust a little- ngh.”
A single squeeze of your fluttering walls leaves him reeling.
“And then the good spots-” Peering down at your glossy cunt through his glasses, his half-lidded eyes. “The primary erogenous zones are the clitoris and introitus. Then the periurethral surrounding the urethra is also…oh…” Alternating between bashin’ his swollen cocktip against your g-spot, and thoroughly massaging every good spot he’d memorized.
“Shit…” You suddenly clench around him. “Keep going.”
He was seeing stars at the mere action. “And then the- hngh, even the perineum…” Fingers dipping just a liiiittle downwards to roll over that spot. He was unabashed - not in the state to be as he usually would. “And then fucking- at least as much as I can…here…” Slack-jawed, gaze unfocused. “My favorite is the clitoris.” The nerd presses the crescent pad of his thumb down on that knob.
Your hips are stutterin’ at the sheer amount of pleasure overwhelming you. Choso has taken up stimulating your clit in constant circular motions now. “I th-thought you said your favorite was the g-spot?”
“Both.”
As if on cue, he’s banging his thick tip against that ooooone spot.
Choso was stimulating you almost too well. Leaving you the one speechless as he drills his hips into you at a relentless pace—almost painfully desperate.
“Good boy.” You whisper.
“Just need to make you- mmm, cum soon.” He states. “Because if you cum…then I’m sure to cum, too.”
Shoving a third finger in his mouth, he moans as he sucks. You hum, “And you’re sure you’re a virgin?”
“S’just everything you t-taught me.” He insists, mouth full yet listening to every word you said - if you expected an answer, then he was giving you an answer. “And sometimes…I’d search up…things online…”
“Online? Poor, innocent Choso Kamo watches porn?”
“Not that, I get too shy.” Choso responds. He blushes all the way down to the roots of his hair, “But using my textbooks, I’d- hah, read through them…study them…look at all the diagrams…”
You smirk. “Ever jerked off to a textbook, Choso?”
His jaw drops. “No…” Although you remain rather suspicious of the ever-deepening blush that seems to invade his cheeks—all the way down to his collarbones. “But I did jerk off just today.”
“Today?” One of your brows raise, “Don’t tell me this was- hah, before we met or…?”
He shakes his head. “After. After.” Big, bulbous tears make their way down his cheeks - and Choso tastes the salt on them as they splosh across his lips. You do too, as you kiss him. “S-snuck right into the bathroom at that ice cream parlor and- oh—”
“And what for? Saw a pretty someone at the neighboring table?”
Shaking his head even harder- “It was…you.”
“Me?”
“You said that thing- fuck, you said you needed me.” Choso’s dark chocolate-brown eyes glaze over as if he’s reminiscing the very moment. Living in it. “Under that table. And I couldn’t run to the bathroom faster to r-relieve myself.” Ah, this was that time then…
Your faux-boyfriend’s brows are then knitting.
His cock tunnels into you at an even more accelerated pace - one that leaves your head dizzy. Flinching at every run of his thumb down your pulsing clit.
Choso finishes, “But I only lasted two pumps- the thought of you, ngh—” Thrusting in so deep that it felt as though, if he could go past your gooey cervix, then he long since would have. Choso thumps against the back of your cervix and remains there, “-wrapped around my cock and usin’ me to make your anterior- pussy feel pleasure was just too good of a fantasy for me.”
It’s a lewd admission.
It’s almost startling to hear this from Choso above all.
And it’s exactly what’s making you cum—just in time that he is. Your orgasm is prolonged and has been building up ever since he tickled your g-spot for the first time- “C-cumming—!” Belatedly, the announcement leaves your lips.
But Choso already knows.
He can already feel the rhythmic clenches of your sopping wet walls - the soft thing he’s ever felt. They’re tightening around him and tuggin’ on his pistoning cock like you didn’t fucking want him to leave.
Toes curling. Back arching.
The bang after bang after bang right on that target of your g-spot meant that your orgasm was being intensified. Every peak left your thighs clenching around his waist, and you bounce your hips up n’ down furiously. Up n’ down. Up n’ down. “Yes- yes, yes, yes—and you’re c-cumming too, Cho.”
“I am?” Choso blinks his teary eyes down at your lower halves. The smacking of skin-against-skin was deafening, and Choso’s pelvis was rawly red due to the sheer friction.
But more than that…he was feeling his even redder tip twitch a few times. Once. Twice. Thrice- before the warmth of bliss takes over his body. It’s a wave of euphoria even stronger than the last few, and it makes the nerdy boy flinch his hips up into yours- agonizingly good. He was hammering into you so animalistically- jabbing short, sloppy semi-thrusts. “I am.” Choso gasps out. “I’m cumming-”
He’d predicted as much earlier, but it actually worked?!
“M’filling you up, aren’t I?” Choso blabbers, a crazed smile on his face. “This virgin…I was able to stuff this pussy full.”
Lovingly patting your cunt.
“So much so that- hah, look she’s even struggling to- ngh, take me. That cervix uteri is all flooded, huh? All drenched in me?” Through the waves of your high, you’re feeling your orgasm fizzle and pop as he rolls his thumb doooown your clit a few more times. “And these pretty labia of yours are all swollen- bloated with my cum, hm?”
“Mhm…” Before you blink a few times. “Oh- this one was shorter than the last though, wasn’t it? Maybe we need to go again- heh.”
“S’it already done? I…but I’m still…” Choso jabs out numerous more thrusts before he’s pulling out.
And whilst you’re interested in the squelch! and the feeling of hot, wet cum splashin’ out of you and onto his toned hips—Choso himself is more interested in the way his cock twitched n’ feels like he’s cumming…but nothing is actually coming out.
“Orgasmic anejaculation?” He states in shock. “Baby, you’ve made me cum dry—”
“Oh.” Lips parting, you look down to watch as his pretty reddened tip jolts about irritatedly as though he was in the throes of his orgasm - and he was. It’s just that nothing was coming out.
“I-it’s likely that this is due to the lack of semen replenishment. Thus, if there’s none left to-”
“So fourth time’s the charm, right?” You cock your head down at him with a smile.
Another time?!
His half-hard length twitches in interest.
“You really are going to be the death of me.”
Choso really, really needed to ask you out after this.
.
.
.
Ryomen Sukuna knew that the two of you weren’t dating.
He knew it.
He just had no way to prove it.
That is…until one day, just a week after that initial introduction to you, Jin had bothered Sukuna into visiting his nephew. He’d made some cookies—some of your favorites that you’d briefly mentioned at the ramen place, and Jin had immediately gotten to work scouring through his recipes. Flipping through some of grandma’s old cookbooks - he really did get his love for cooking and baking from her.
And then trialing batch after batch of cookies in order to make the perfect one.
And Sukuna hadn’t minded, of course - no one in the house had. They each got to scarf down the ones that Jin deemed as ‘failed’ and they turned out as great as ever. Sukuna honestly didn’t know what more perfection Jin was searching for—especially not for someone he knew Choso was surely paying you in some manner…
There was no conceivable world in which his nephew - as much as Sukuna respected him, for the sole reason that he was related to him (and anyone in some proximity to the great Ryomen Sukuna can’t be all that bad…) - would ever have enough courage to ask a real person out. Let alone someone as electric as you?
Let alone have you say yes?!
Something was up. And Sukuna was on the case.
At least after he finishes this mountain of cookies…
Either way, it took an entire week for Jin to perfect his cookies. And once completed, he’d thumped Sukuna over the head with a couch cushion and told him to go deliver them to Choso.
Unfortunately they hadn’t managed to catch your address or anything of the sort - and there was no telling when Choso would have enough time between his studies and library-haunting to visit. Thus, it’d be easier to just have Sukuna (who was far too busy doing a whole load of nothing) drop the cookies off at Choso’s apartment and let him give it to you.
Jin could trust Choso with handing them to you safe n’ sound.
He couldn’t trust Sukuna not to swallow them whole on the way, however…
So it was with a tonne of brotherly intimidation and threatening brandishes of that cushion that Jin waved Sukuna off—‘you better not eat those cookies, Ryo.’
But Sukuna promised. He promised.
He had other, more important, things on his mind - like cornering Choso into admitting that the two of you actually weren’t dating. Maybe if he didn’t relent so easily, he’d even look around the apartment to check for signs of you or anything you’d left behind—after five months of dating, surely, there’d be some evidence, wouldn’t there?
And then maybe he’d eat the cookies- hah!
The perfect plan.
Ryomen Sukuna what a genius you were, what a mastermind—who said that Jin was the smarter brother?! It was Sukuna that liked literature and poetry (wait, was nerdiness genetic?) No one should underestimate the sheer underappreciated brilliance of a prodigy like-
“Choso’s uncle?” He gapes as you answer the door- and you’re just as beautiful as he remembered you. And oh, alright—Sukuna admits you’re beautiful. Gorgeous, actually.
Which is also why he found it hard to believe that Choso could ever manage to bag you- sure, he wasn’t bad looking…but that’s only because Choso was related to him.
Then again, he wasn’t any Ryomen Sukuna.
A Ryomen Sukuna that was feeling rather…a lot…small as he looks at you.
Your eyes widen as you recognize who your visitor was, though your smile never falters.
“Oh, Cho should be right out. Please come in, have you eaten breakfast yet? You should join us!”
Opening the door even wider, though he stands as still as a statue.
“Is…everything alright.”
No movement once more. No answer, either.
“Ummm, maybe it’s more comfortable there then?” You’re awkwardly smiling at his lack of a response - this certainly wasn’t the Ryomen Sukuna that you’d met at the family dinner…And perhaps at the same time, you’re realizing why.
Because you weren’t just answering Choso’s apartment door—you were doing so in nothing but sleep shorts and a humerus-related t-shirt that was most definitely not yours. And above the hem of that ratty t-shirt were a series of bite marks, nail marks down your neck…such an obscene display that makes you immediately yelp and tug your neckline upwards.
Though Sukuna remains gawking. “I uh…”
“I am so sorry.” You’re blubbering away, and when your neckline fails to cover you adequately without showing off the similar marks on your midriff- you’re reaching your hands up instead. “We’d just been making breakfast, and I’d completely forgot-”
“No, that’s fine uh…” Goodness, when has the rough n’ tough Sukuna ever floundered like this? “It’s my fault for coming unannounced um…”
“What’s this?” Another voice sounds from inside the apartment.
Soon enough, Choso’s joining the two of you at the door—he’s in JBA sweatpants and pulling on a t-shirt as he walks. With whatever mercy that the universe had granted Sukuna, Choso sneaks up behind you, so he doesn’t see whatever similar markings might have been left on him as Choso finally wears his t-shirt properly.
There’s amusement in Choso’s tone as he adjusts his glasses and speaks, “I never thought I’d see the day that you apologize to anyone, uncle Ryo.”
Choso throws an arm over your shoulder - the intimacy was palpable. Something far more different than at the ice cream parlor, and yet…Sukuna should’ve recognized the same admiring glint in Choso’s eyes back then, too.
The apartment behind was messy in that domestic way. There were eggs frying on the stove.
“Sh-shut it.” Sukuna spits. “This is all your…girlfriend’s fault.”
Ah, you really were his girlfriend. The great Ryomen Sukuna has been wrong. How could this be? How could he fathom such a thing?
The screen of your phone lit up with a picture of Sukuna looking entirely unamused, his contact name accompanied by a string of heart emojis that you had forced him to set up himself.
You swiped to answer, balancing your water bottle and yoga mat under one arm as you stepped out of the pilates studio and into the sweltering afternoon heat.
“Tell me you’re outside,” you breathed into the receiver, scanning the line of parked cars. “Because my legs are literally shaking and if I have to walk more than ten feet, I’m going to collapse on the pavement.”
A heavy sigh crackled through the speaker. “I’m sorry babe, not outside.”
You stopped in your tracks. “What do you mean you’re not outside? Babe, you promised.”
“I know, but the meeting ran over,” he grumbled, the sound of a pen clicking rapidly in the background giving away his irritation. “I can’t leave for another forty minutes. Order a Lyft.”
“A Lyft? Are you kidding me? Do you know what the surge pricing is right now?”
“When has that became a problem for you and more importantly, for ME?” he shot back, his voice dropping an octave. “Just book the car, baby. I’m sending you the money right now.”
“No, don’t!” you argued, shifting your mat to your other hip. “I still have like, half of the allowance you gave me on Monday. I can just use that.”
“No. Check your phone.”
Your phone buzzed against your cheek. You pulled it away to look at the notification. Sukuna sent you $100.
“A Lyft home is twenty bucks.”
“Yes I know. I sent you extra to get the Black SUV option, just add the change to your allowance or whatever. I gotta go, they’re calling me back in. See you at home.”
The line went dead before you could even get another word in. You stared at the screen, then at the $100 sitting pretty in your account. You looked up. Directly across the street was that insanely overpriced artisanal bakery you loved.
Then, you looked down the block. The entrance to the subway station was right there. The train ride home was exactly $2.75.
An idea immediately took over your brain. If you took the train, you would have $97.25 left. That was practically free money. It would be a crime not to spend it on a little treat.
An hour and a half later, you pushed the front door of your shared apartment open, using your hip to bump it shut because both of your hands were completely occupied.
Sukuna was already home, sitting on the edge of the kitchen island. He had stripped off his suit jacket, his tie hanging loosely around his neck and the top three buttons of his dress shirt undone, exposing the dark ink on his chest. He looked exhausted, holding a car of beer in one hand, but his eyes immediately snapped to you as you waddled in.
His gaze dropped from your face to the three massive bakery bags in your arms, to the iced matcha latte balanced precariously in your grip, along with your mat & bottle. A surprise he always think about since your hands are too small yet you seem to carry everything at oncr.
“Hey,” you chirped, kicking off your sneakers.
Sukuna blinked. He set his can down on the marble counter. “What the hell is all that?”
“Snacks,” you said simply, dropping the bags onto the island next to him. “I got the pistachio croissants you pretend to hate but actually love, two slices of the truffle flatbread, a whole box of macarons, and some weird strawberry tart thing that looked pretty.”
He stared at the feast, then looked back up at you, his eyes narrowing. “You bought all this with the coffee money?”
“Well, no.” You took a sip of your matcha, avoiding his gaze. “I used the Lyft money.”
Silence stretched across the kitchen. Sukuna tilted his head, his expression dangerously blank. “You used the Lyft money.”
“Yeah.”
“The money I gave you to get a safe, air-conditioned ride home.”
“Mhm.”
“So how did you get home?”
You smiled innocently. “I took the train.”
Sukuna closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a long, deep breath. “You took the train.”
“It’s only four stops!” you defended, crossing your arms. “And the bakery was right there! Do you know how fast those croissants sell out?" He scoffed as you defended your point. “Plus, the train is good for the environment. I’m reducing my carbon footprint.”
“Baby, you don’t even know what a carbon footprint is,” he deadpanned, opening his eyes to glare at you. “I sent you a hundred dollars so you wouldn’t have to haul your ass onto a crowded subway car after a workout.”
“If I took the Lyft, I wouldn’t have had enough for the macarons. And you love the macarons.”
“..... So you're saying you did this for me,” he snapped, though his eyes briefly flicked down to the box. “Yeah! I thought about you when I was in line.” You saw him bite the inside of his cheek, supressing a grin that's almost coming out. “You're gonna be the death of me.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being dramatic? You’re stubborn as hell!” He reached out, grabbing your waist and pulling you flush against his legs. He smelled like expensive cologne and beer. “You have the worst spending habits of anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Do not scurtinize me, and fyi; it’s called girl math,” you said smugly, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Besides, I saved you money. Technically, I made a profit.”
Sukuna let out a harsh laugh, his hands squeezing your hips. “That is the dumbest logic I’ve ever heard in my life.”
“For you, but not for me,” you batted your eyelashes, holding up the half-eaten croissant. “Bite?”
He looked at the pastry with disdain, then leaned down and took a bite anyway. He chewed slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Fuck,” he grumbled, swallowing. “That’s actually really good.”
“See? My investments always pay off,” you grinned, “High ROI.”
“Don’t use corporate terms, you don’t know what they mean,” he sighed, wrapping his large hands around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “If you ever pull this ‘girl math’ bullshit with our actual bank accounts, I’m having you legally committed.”
“I would never,” you gasped in mock offense. “I only use girl math for the important things. Like treats. And shoes. Speaking of which, since I saved you forty dollars on that Lyft today…”
Sukuna groaned, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. “I am not buying you another pair of shoes because you took the fucking train.”
You laughed, thoroughly satisfied. Oh well, free pastries for you, I guess.
an: saw this shit in my drafts. this was true to life btw, my bf will send me money to book an uber after school when we were in college but i'll use it for food so I have something to eat while commuting hahshsjaj. dividers by: @dollywons 🌼 idk who the artist for the visuals above but i got it here + here @pixelins
also! i'm tryign different layouts, do you like it?! or just the simple text is enough? 😇
cw: MDNI, dark fic but its crack treated seriously, yandere sukuna, non-con/dub-con, references to some mario games, smut, kidnapping, captivity, cunnilingus, anal play, anal sex, aphrodisiacs(mushrooms from the games), obsession, vaginal and anal fingering, light bondage, spanking
wc: 6.3k (wtf happened)
a/n: Since this is kinda dark, for those of you in my perma taglist, please let me know if you’d like to be removed from this story.
dividers: @/dollywons @/cafekitsune @/honeyluvsw
You really can’t catch a break can you?
But honestly, it was kind of your own fault for being a little too careless. How could you not see that things were a little too peaceful for the past few months or so? Maybe the whispers of you being too kind for your own good were true, especially when it comes to your enemies.
Even so, you always tried to give people a benefit of the doubt and see the good in them, even someone like Sukuna. While you did find his obsession with you a bit unnerving at times, you thought maybe by trying to bring out more of that softer side might convince him to end this exhausting feud between your kingdoms.
And look where that got you.
While you were no stranger to bearing the brunt of his schemes, having Satoru around made you hardly imagine a scenario where he’d actually win. Not that you underestimated Sukuna that much, but it surprised and saddened you how easily you played right into his hands. You seriously regret not sending more of an entourage with Satoru when he got that letter about winning some free mansion, but at the time you felt like you both needed a break away from your everyday lives.
Not too long after he left, you decided to do a little traveling yourself, just to see what some of the vacation spots in your brochures had in store. Next thing you know, you’re ambushed while sightseeing and now you’re stuck in his castle—in this room with no clue of Satoru’s whereabouts. Usually he’d have been here within a few hours, but as the days went on in this gloomy place, you lost track of time and started to worry. Still, you tried not to lose hope, taking matters into your own hands and plotting your escape.
Although, that’s easier said than done. Sukuna had left you confined in this gilded cage of a room for the duration of your captivity, only letting you out to join him for meals, the occasional walk or ceremonies celebrating his latest conquest so the best course of action would be to lay low. Slowly gaining his trust and being sweet enough to convince him to let you roam around a bit more, which seemed to work pretty well surprisingly. At times you could almost forget how dangerous he really was when he tried to charm you with gifts, or ignore how creepy it was that he tailored this room to almost resemble yours back home.
Either way, this place was really getting to you, but now was your chance.
It was late, and currently Sukuna was probably resting from what you know, and hopefully it’d stay that way while you finish picking this lock.
The sound of lock clicking made you pause briefly.
It actually worked.
Tentatively, you slowly pulled the door open enough just to peak through the crack. Silence. Opening it a bit wider, you stuck your head out—looking both ways down the hall.
Empty.
You should really be offended. No one around takes you seriously enough to keep a look out? Or maybe they slack off when their boss isn’t around.
Quietly closing the door behind you, you started to make your way out, making sure your footsteps were quiet as you took in your surroundings. Even when you were let out, the places you were allowed to go were limited, so you still didn’t have much of an idea of the layout of this place. It made you wonder if anyone else got lost here sometimes.
As you expected, the escape was not going as smoothly as you planned. You ended up having to hide or take a bunch of weird routes, to avoid being seen, sometimes wandering into areas that seemed like trap rooms. Was this what Satoru went through every other week? If you had known you’d get this far, you probably would’ve waited a bit longer to plan things out. Maybe if you’re lucky, you could find a map room or something and try to search for a warp pipe that leads somewhere far away from this place. Then from there you could find a way back home, and start a search for Satoru.
Eventually things started to clear up a bit as you reached what looked like the kitchen area. If you remembered correctly, you could have sworn there—
“Taking a little night stroll?” a voice from behind cut through the silence of the corridor.
You froze in your tracks, unsure how you could even face him right now. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. You should’ve given yourself more time to plan this out. Or found a power up lying around somewhere? Why? Why now, when you were so close? Taking a few deep breaths, you calmed yourself down.
It’ll be okay. There’s still hope. You can get outta this.
Turning around to meet Sukuna’s intimidating glare, you gave your best charmingly apologetic smile you could muster, which was pretty easy with how fucking scared you were right now.
“Oh…you’re still up too,” you spoke softly, fiddling with your hands, noticing that he was in his usual spiked cape that did little to cover his muscular physique. Does he ever wear a shirt?
“I am,”
“I-I know it’s late but…” your eyes darted away briefly as you bit your lip. “I haven’t been feeling too well lately…m-maybe a little restless…and umm…I guess someone left my door unlocked, so I’d thought I’d come down and make some tea…and uh…”
His expression remained unreadable behind his cold gaze as he watched you stammer and stutter like a moron. God, you probably looked so pathetic right now. Get it together already! You deal with him on a regular basis!
Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead, as you mentally shook yourself. “D-do you think…you have the ingredients around here somewhere? It’s a special kind of tea that’s my comfort drink. Oh! And I’ll make you some too! It’s a pretty popular recipe back in my kingdom and I’m sure you’ll love it. Maybe we can even take a st—
“Enough with your lies, brat,” he cut you off, making you flinch.
Oh he’s pissed.
“You really are a sneaky little thing,” his figure towered over you as he approached. “Batting your pretty lashes thinking you can fool me.”
You tried to make a break for it but he was quicker, grabbing you roughly and forcing you to face him as he pulled you close. “Ungrateful too.” One hand gripped your chin, tilting your head up as his crimson eyes bore into yours. “I really don’t get it. Why are you so desperate to go back to that sorry excuse of a kingdom? To that…plumber.” His nails dug harshly into your cheeks as he emphasized that last word.
“I—I’m so—“ you squeaked
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” his voice giddy and high pitched as he mocked you. “It’s always lies with you, you little shit! You really don’t know what’s for your own good. When you’re being done a favor.” His hold on you had become so tight, you thought he was going to crush you—hyper aware of how your breasts were practically squished against his bare chest. The tears you tried to hold back, started to blur your vision. You’ve never seen him this mad with you before.
He sighed, his grip loosened slightly before he continued. “You know you won’t stand a chance right? Against me or some other major threat that comes along.” The hand that held your chin left to stroke your hair. “Some defense to have. Look how easy it is to subdue you.”
“And you think keeping me locked in here like some caged animal is an ideal solution?” you hissed bitterly.
“I did allow you freedom, but obviously that was a mistake. I just might have to keep you chained up from now on.”
“And what about my friends?! You and your minions are always attacking and trying to kill my people and you expect me to just be okay with that? You say you care about me giving me all these frivolous gifts, but have you even considered how I feel?!”
You continued to prattle on, but it might as well be white noise to him. As frustrating as your defiance was, he knew it wouldn’t be easy keeping you here. Things like this take time, and you’ll learn to love him soon enough.
But that doesn’t mean he’s letting you off the hook.
So he held you there as you eventually stopped trying to reason with him and cried your heart out, gently rubbing soothing circles along your back. “Hey.” he murmured, resting his head against the crook of your neck. “Quit getting yourself so worked up. You’re gonna make your headache worse.”
“Huh? But I—“
“I know, but you’re not feeling well, right?”
He lifts his head from your shoulder and your teary, blurry vision, you see him pull out something small and pink from his pocket. Some sort of pastry…no, a mushroom? But before you can question it, he’s bringing your chin up to face him again—
“Open,” his voice stern as he grips your jaw.
“Wh—“ then he stuffs the little thing in your mouth with both fingers. Confused and muffling you try to resist
“Quit be so fucking difficult. I’m trying to help you.” he grunts, forcing your mouth open just a bit wider, as he slides the shroom in and holds it in place until you give in. “Good girl.” With a satisfied smirk, he slowly retracts fingers, a string saliva trailing behind as they pull out with a satisfying pop. “Now chew.” Using that same hand, he moved your jaw up and down, before tilting your head up further until you swallowed, your grimaces and glares only furthering his amusement.
Whatever he just fed you was very sweet on your tongue—way too sickeningly sweet like the first time you ever baked—and you’re sure it’ll leave the worst aftertaste imaginable after a while.
“The fuck was that?!” you shoved away from him, or rather he pretty much let you, as you sputtered and gagged, wondering how many times you’ll have to brush your teeth to make the sweetness go away.
“Stop your whining, I didn’t poison you.” he simply rolled his eyes at your displeasure.
You might as well have!, you wanted to respond, if you weren’t so preoccupied with getting rid of this revolting taste. Fuck. You needed some water. Some ice cold water, to wash it down, and maybe some to pour over the rest of you, with how increasingly warm it was getting. Seriously, why was it getting hotter?
“Something the matter, princess?” you could practically hear the smugness in tone as he approached you again.
“Just…leave me alone! What did you even do to me?” you rasped, wiping the sweat from your brow. The stupid dress you were wearing suddenly felt like it had too many layers, and you desperately wanted out. Your vision seemed blurrier as you stumbled—trying to get anywhere away from him, but he caught you in his arms before you could make another move.
“Giving you a little push,” he chuckled, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine as he started to pepper little kisses along your cheek and jawline, stunning you for a second. The other hand around your waist toyed with the lace of your corset—loosening it slightly. Every bone and nerve in your body was practically screaming for you to flee, and you desperately did—hating how the softness of his lips raised goosebumps along your neck, or how this unbearable warmth was starting to build up and replace your fear with…desire?
That wasn’t a power-up.
One moment you’re trying to get him off and the next, you’re being hauled over his shoulder like a sack of bread as he carries you back upstairs—with you cursing and screaming the entire way, probably loud enough to wake the entire castle. It seemed like it was starting to kick in, seeing how you’re being brattier than usual.
By the time he reaches his room, your hits against his back have become sloppy—panting heavily as you take in the surroundings.
“Let me go you asshole!” you shout and continue to struggle, as he presses you up against the wall. “Take me back to my r—,” he soft lips pressing against your shuts you up except for a confused moan that muffles as is tongue swishes with yours. Your breath hitches when he starts to hike up your dress, his hands uncharacteristically warm against your skin as they trail up your thighs.
“I really don’t know what to do with you anymore, princess,” he pulls away from your warm mouth, sighing. His words were soft in contrast to the cruel way he kneaded and teased your curves “Would’ve waited for our wedding night like you wanted, but you just had to up and—Oh, what’s this?” His smirk widened when his fingers brushed along the slickness you leaked, as he got closer to your most sensitive area.
You couldn’t do more than let out short gasps and whimpers as continued to do what he pleased—his finger lightly tapping the now soaked material that barely covered your throbbing cunt and goading sparks of unwanted pleasure out of you from your increased sensitivity. A single touch and you were already losing your mind, from the likes of him—craving him.
“Oh, you really like that huh?” His voice sends vibrations throughout your body as he leans into your neck to leave more kisses. “Didn’t know my little princess was such a slut,” He pressed his finger a bit harder before rubbing little circles along the fabric where he could feel the outline of your slit, his other hand settling on the crest of your ass, his prodding and kneading of the plushness of it making your highly stimulated state worse.
Feeling overwhelmed you try to shove him off again, only for him to laugh giddily as he presses himself tighter against you, muttering about how fun it’ll be to tame you and other heinous things—gasping when you felt the hardness of him through his pants pressing against your thigh, much to your disgust. With every new sensation, it was as if your cognitive process was slowly deteriorating and giving in to his whims. The shroom—his hands like fire against your skin was all too much.
Would he have you feeling this good if he hadn’t drugged you? Have you grinding against him like some animal in heat? No
“S’ fucking wet... Want me to fuck you with my fingers, yeah?” he rasps, cupping your soaked mound with palm and giving it a little squeeze.
“N-no!” you said abruptly, not caring how your body wanted nothing more for him to slide your panties to the side and fix what he started.
“No?” he raises from your shoulder to look at you, tilting his head to the side pouting. “Scared I’ll make you come? Knowing you can’t do anything about it?” You could feel the ball of his palm massaging over your clothed clit, pussy twitching in anticipation.
“P-Please d-,”
“Don’t stop”? his hand gives your cunt a light smack, eliciting a cute little yelp “Or maybe you still think your little knight is gonna barge in, watching his precious princess begging for her new ki—“
The mention of Satoru has you slapping him hard across the face before you can even think. His ministrations coming to an abrupt pause, as blood trickles down his lip from where he bit his tongue. Flinching, you expect him to retaliate.
“Guess you’re not ready for your reward yet,” he huffs, then retracts his hands, leaving you feeling cold.
It was like your emotions were at war between relief and regret. Instinctively, you grabbed his hand that felt oh so good against you, trying to make him keep going, but he was having none of it. You’ve never felt so pathetic needing his finger inside you—needing to clench them.
“Oh no, it’s too late for that,” he chuckles, hauling you up again and ignoring your pleads.
What is he going to do now? Is he taking you back to your room? Hopefully not like this and leaving you at the mercy of your own fingers. There’s no way you could satisfy yourself as much.
He stops to get something, and then you’re plopped down face first onto his bed. As you tried to gather your bearings, he was already on top of you with a firm grip of your wrists, forcing them up and beginning to tie them to the pole of the headboard with a thick rope. “Such an ungrateful brat. I provide you anything you could possibly want, lovely dresses, your own goddamn room” he grunts, tightening the rope as if to emphasize his point. “Don’t even have to lift around here, and this is how you behave.”
He lightly tugs up your skirt again, his hand sliding along the curve of your hip making you stiffen and cunt throb with excitement. Please please please. Just a little higher. “This power up is supposed to last a few hours or so. Really a shame, but I think leaving you here would be a fitting punishment.” Giving your hip a little pat, he gets up.
No, no no no. You shake your head, whimpering and struggling with your bindings.“Wait! No please! You can’t—don’t leave me here!” But your pleas may as well have fallen on deaf ears as you watched him retreat to a little armchair across from you, sitting lazily with one leg crossed over his knee, chin resting on his fist like it was his own throne.
Thanks to your little stunt earlier, Sukuna was wide awake and could probably do this all night if he wanted. Hell, he actually might, just to see how much of your resolve he could break. His beautiful face carved with an evil as he observed every whine and jerk, with glee. Maybe, he’ll leave for a bit to go torture prisoners down in the dungeon and come back to see to you as nothing than a sobbing, writhing mess. It was pitiful, but it was your own fault after all.
You were in a state of delirium, stuck in this desperate endless cycle of needing to cum and not cumming. At times you growled in frustration when you tried to quell your arousal with your hands, only to forget they were bound. Then you tried rubbing your thighs together but it wasn’t a good substitute for the need to be filled, so you were left rutting against the mattress like some depraved beast.
“Fucking fuck! Fuck you Sukuna! I swear I’m gonna fucking kill you!” you spat, words full of venom as saliva dripping down your chin, staining the pillowcase. You’ve never been so humiliated in your life. Satoru would never do this to you. You wished he were here right now—imagining him taking care of you, which only made you hornier.
He simply quirked an eyebrow. “You will?”
“J-just shut th— come fix this already!”, the words died in your throat, as you squeezed your eyes shut on the brink of tears again. “Please…” you cried softly. The ecstasy was becoming so much to handle that you felt like you’d die if you didn’t get your release soon. You fucking hated him s—
“My my you’re seeming a little desperate,” your eyes flew open when you felt his warm breath brushing your ear. Your head immediately turned to see him at your level with arms propped up on the bedside. “Is that begging I hear?”
Nails digging into your palm and lip trembling, you were torn between your pride and dignity and giving in. There’s no way you can do it. You just can’t succumb to this monster. No amount of shrooms can or If you try hard enough, you can let yourself be lulled to sleep into some faraway dream that’ll take care of the rest.
How hard can it be?
“Well? Speak up, brat.” he suddenly frowned, with an impatient edge to his tone.
How long was a few hours?
“Tch, maybe I’m hearing things.”
And these bindings are awfully tight.
“As much as I love the sound of your voice, your little tantrum is starting to bore me.” Leaving your field of view, panic starts to settle in when hear his retreating footsteps.
“No no no! I-I’m sorry! Don’t leave! I really am this time!” your breaths heavy as you wriggle and squirm, somehow thinking you can go after him if you need to. “Please… Sukuna! Need…to cum! P-please make me cum. Make me cum…”
Silence. Coming to the conclusion he left the room, your heart sank. Who the fuck were you kidding? There’s no way you’ll get a wink of sleep in this posi—
“And why should I do that?” his large hand snakes between your legs, briefly brushing against the area you want it most before settling on the curve of your ass. There it was again. That rush of sudden contact that has you jolting and sucking in a sharp breath. You didn’t even bother to resist arching into it.
“Still thinking you have the right to make demands?” his fingers slide between hems of your pretty laced panties. You tense a even more as he pulls them down,
“I-I—,”
His hand suddenly comes down hard on your ass followed by a loud smack. The stinging impact making you let out an embarrassing yelp as you scrambled your body further up the bed to get away.
“You really think you deserve to be rewarded?” he asks calmly, gently rubbing and massaging your stinging flesh soothingly before slapping it harder this time.
“N-no!”
“Mmhmm, and why is that?”
The painful sensation made it difficult to string your words together, which didn’t satisfy him in the least. He brought his hand down again and again, only managing to hear the sounds of your shrieks in return. It hurt like hell, but you couldn’t deny that it felt so painfully good. Burying your face in the pillow, your nails dug into your palm almost hard enough to draw blood as your pussy clenched with need.
“I’ll keep going until I get an answer.” he said bluntly, this time striking your naked cunt.
“B-because I t-tried to run!”
“And…?”
Another smack.
“I-I hit you—,” you blubbered through choked sobs. “and d-disrespected…you!”
“Correct. And that’s worthy of a punishment is it not?”
“Y-yes.”
“Very good,” he gave your ass a light squeeze. “Now I want you to count, just to be sure you’re really sorry.”
So you tried to oblige his command to the best of ability, but the tremors along with the intensity of strikes increasing with each count made you lose your train of thought. You were glad you weren’t able to see his face in this position, your shame and humiliation at full display.
“Start over. You’re too sloppy.” his voice low and dangerous as he tugged your head up by the hair from the pillow to hear you more clearly. Then he began again, his grin full of mania while he watched you slowly break down from the rough treatment. His other hand reached down his pants to stroke his swollen cock to how nice your cheeks jiggled.
You don’t know how long you’ve been stuck in this state of pleasured agony, but it seemed like he was dragging it on as long as possible this time, with the knot in stomach growing tighter and cunt pulsating. But he was right, this was your fault. You deserved this.
Why were you even fighting this?
“Good girl,” you heard him say over your sobs and racing thoughts, caressing and soothing over your abused skin lovingly. No doubt you’ll have quite a few bruises blooming there for a while. He leans down to gently brush away some tears running down your face sideways with a soft expression. “You’re so much fun when you misbehave.”
Whatever dignity you had left was gone at this point.
Sighing, he starts to shimmy off his cloak, bringing more of your attention to the taut muscles of his abs and the sharp, angular tattoos. You were ashamed to admit that even without the shroom, you couldn't deny you found him attractive when he wasn’t absolutely deplorable.
“Like what you see?” he gave a sharp-toothed grin, that predatory glint in his eyes returning. He tossed the cape somewhere off to the far corner of the room before sliding down his pants. Your eyes followed every detail from his muscular thighs and the tattoos trailing down his v-line, to his half-hard cock springing free, eyes widening at the size of it.
There’s absolutely no possible way you can take that. That thing will rip you apart, but the excitement and lust made it too hard for you to care all that much.
Your breaths came out short and fast when you could feel Sukuna climbing onto the bed over you, the mattress dipping under his weight. His hands wrapped around your midsection as he arches your ass up higher, causing your head to press down further into the pillow.
“What a mess you're making,” he tuts, bringing your embarrassingly wet mound closer to his view. He tilted his head as if he was studying a piece of art on a canvas, tracing a calloused finger down your entrance and prodding at the lips. Hearing you a squeak from the touch, he chuckled. “Relax princess, I’ll take good care of you,” he coaxes, licking the sample taste of your wetness from his finger before bringing his face closer to breathe in your scent.
His hands sensually running along the smooth skin of your thighs does little to ease your shakiness, nor is there any time to mentally prepare yourself when the slick warmth of his tongue makes contact with your throbbing slit, savoring the taste as he moves more further to lather your sensitive clit. The pressure applied to your bud has scrambling and squirming in your bindings, wishing for anything to grab onto. It was agonizingly delightful. The coaxing pattern of his tongue moving back and forth has you nearly losing yourself and mewling in pure ecstasy.
“Ah—f-fucking, stop it,” you rasp, despite the way your body grinding against his face wants otherwise.
“Stop your whining,” he mutters, and you can feel him grinning against your skin. “I meant what I said about helping.”
He gives your heated sex another ravenous lick before slithering his way up to the tight rim of your asshole, turning your little huffs into a confused yelp.
“H-hey what the fuck?! Ew!”
But he simply laughs and pays your complaint no mind, and lets your body speak for itself. Spreading your cheeks further apart, his grip on your ass was firm as he continued to swirl around the tight ring of muscle, until the ache of his own arousal became too much to bear and let his hands wander. Trailing up the curves of your hips and his claws to tear through more of your corset. Your nerves felt as if they were set ablaze as his hands reached further up your ruined dress, tenderly brushing along your stomach as they reached to cup your breasts.
“You taste so sweet,” his low groan against you sends vibrations throughout your nerves. One of his hands reaching down to jerk his swollen cock ease the ache.
“S-shit— ah! quit it!” your shrill voice cut through when the sinful touch of the palm tugging and massaging your pebbled nipple went back down to rub little circles along your clit.
In response, he hummed mischievously and gave it a little spank as he rubbed it harder while simultaneously slipping two fingers in and out between your folds.
Panting heavily, a small smile formed on your face as the pressure in your core kept building like a dam about to burst.
“Fuck—… gonna cum,” you breathe, but he hears yours plea just fine, pulling out his fingers and burrowing his face in your cunt again to fuck you out with his tongue.
“Let it out….that it’s…there you go,” his voice sultry as he coaxes you through the creamy flood that gushes from you, his mouth open wide licking and taking in all of your sweet arousal, feeling like he was about to nearly come himself.
From your point it was as if the rest of the world ceased to exist, losing yourself in his whispered praises and the still ever burning lust coursing through your veins. This was nice. You were so silly for even trying to run from this.
You’re hardly given a moment to catch your breath, when his fingers start running up your thighs gathering up more of your slick as they move to tease your entrance again, making you jerk as you try to look back at him.
“You don’t seriously think I’m done with you yet, do you?” he jeers, planting a wet, sloppy kiss along it. Without thinking, you’re already pressing more of yourself onto him, which he indulges by playing with the sensitive bud of your clit.
“My sweet princess,” he sighs in mocking disappointment, a thick finger circling the rim of your other entrance. “What would your poor citizen think if they’d known you liked to be bent over like some common whore?” The rest of his sentence could barely reach your ears over the sharp cry that you let out when he breached the tiny hole that fluttered your insides. His other hand continues his assault on your clit, applying more pressure and circling it more quickly.
Not trying to boost his ego any further, you planted your face back into the pillow to stifle any more embarrassing sounds you were making. You shuddered in disgusted pleasure from the amount of cum you felt leaking down your thighs to your lower legs.
“I see that plumber hasn’t managed to stretch you out properly,” he rasps, the sound of his tone could be misconstrued for frustration. “The one time he does something that’s not a pain in my ass.” He has you both moaning in unison from the stretch, as his finger curls deeply in and out.
“P-please,” you muffled, not having the energy to raise up and look back to challenge his words. All you could think about was your satisfaction. For him to keep going, arching up higher as he enters a second digit, his other finger along your pussy ramping up its ministrations your clit faster and harder.
“More…need…” your nails dig so deep into your palm they break a layer of skin.
Then it all stops, his hands retracting and making you lift your head in confusion. Somewhere from behind you can hear him rummaging through one of the nightstand drawers and the sound of a cap popping.
Oh no.
He’s not actually going to do it?
And then the feeling of a cold blob circling around your tight hole confirms your worst fears. You writhe and squirm as a wave of panic starts to cut through your lustful haze, his cruel laugh serving as a reminder of your situation and that no one was coming to save you.This fucking psycho. He’s out of his goddamn mind.
He’s actually going to fuck you there.
“W-wait!” you try to move, wincing as his claws dig into your skin to keep you still. “Will it even f—,”
“It will,” he says dismissively. You don’t even need to look to know he was grinning like a maniac. Shutting your eyes you plant your face back down with shuddering breaths as his hot and and heavy member drags along your thigh—precum smearing your already glistening skin.
“And stop clenching so damn much,” he lightly pats your thigh, like that’ll fucking help. “It’ll hurt less if you relax.” Smoothly massaging your skin, he prods at your hole.
You made it this far, right?
You know it’s coming, but that doesn’t stop the high pitched mewl that escapes from you when the fat tip of his cock stretches you as it slowly breeches through. Your face burns as more tears trickle down your cheeks from the sensation of being slowly filled.
“Theeerre we g—fuck…Doin’ real good, princess.” his voice shaky and breathy, his composure already slipping as he steadies your hips to keep you spread out with a bruising force. “Just stay like that for me.”
You’re rewarded with a hand reaching to stroke more coaxing circles along your clit, which mixed with the effect of the drug soothes you through the pain enough to distract you from the thickest part of him nestling his away inside, whimpering as he sinks deeper in by inch. Briefly, you’re able to relax slightly once you’ve taken in the hardest part, before your breaths shorten when he bottoms out around you snugly.
“Wasnt so bad now was it?,” he leans to kiss along the shell of your ear, pushing his hips tightly against your ass. “Told you it’d fit.”
One of his tattooed hands splayed beside your head as he began to move, his grunts mixing with your whimpers as you struggled to take his achingly slow thrusts. Unsurprisingly it hurt like hell, but at the same time you needed it, gasping through the pain eventually dulled into pure blissful pleasure.
“All that crying only for you to like it, huh?” he says hoarsely, the slow stretch with each push of hips knocking the air from his lungs, one arm snug around your waist keeping your ass arched up high.
“Fucking you so silly, you can’t even run your mouth,” then his pace starts to pick up, groaning and grunting as his cock twitches dragging along your fleshy walls, your vision getting blurrier as the hand behside you leaves to entangle through your locks of hair. “Should be lucky I didn’t make you wait longer.”
Drool starts to spill from your mouth as you’re nearly left speechless save for your moaning, as he continues having his way with you—claiming ownership over your mind and soul. Over the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass, bouncing off the walls, you listen to him prattle on and on about how long he’s waited to have you all to himself, but that stupid plumber was always getting in his way. Taking you from him. When you’d be much better off by his side, a whole empire to worship the ground you walk on. Make sure no one dares lay a hand on you.
It was disgusting really, yet your cunt throbbed and dripped with every filthy image he planted in your mind as he went into detail on how hard it was to hold back from dragging you on his throne to bounce you his, forcing Satoru to watch while he gave you orgasm after orgasm.
“Hm, actually maybe I’ll bring him here for a while. I’m sure you’d like that too, peaches?” his tone taking on mock innocence. Just another excuse to further your humiliation and shame, reveling how much you pulsate around his cock as he fucks into you deeper.
“Oh, you’re crying again.” Hang on, I wanna get a good look. His claws swipe through the ropes ensnaring your wrists with only a moment to process the relief of relaxing your arms before he’s flipping you over, giving you a nice full view of his flushed face and sweat running down his chest and abs.
“Fuck…you’re so pretty,” he gently cups your face with one palm. Your tearful, defeated fucked out expression and body were like a work of art. He might even consider painting this exact moment later on. Another swipe and rip and your gown is fully torn, letting your tits bounce freely bobbing up and down.
Pulling you closer, he threw your legs around him only making you feel more vulnerable and exposed letting him see every reaction, he garnered from you being stretched and filled.
S’ too much,” covering your face when one of his large hands trails over your delicate collarbone before trailing to grab one of your breasts, gasping and whining with each tug and pull.
“Don’t hide from me” he growled, a sharp pinch to your abused clit has you crying out. “I want you to watch. I need to see all of you.”
You were getting that feeling again, sensing it clawing its way to the surface to be set free.
“Can’t wait to make you my pretty little wife,” sweat dripping down his face as his thrust become more erratic, his fingers rubbing your pussy lips harshly. You’re seeing stars dotting your vision as you watch him move back and forth, sure that he’s reaching your stomach at this point.Not that you cared much, too focused on how you could feel every ridge and vein sliding against your walls, grasping the sheets so harshly they might tear.
“Gonna make sure to fuck all your holes every night. Treat you like a queen.” his words slur as he laughs looking so unhinged it’d terrify you more if your mind weren’t turned to mush.
“P-please,” was all you could manage with a hoarse voice. Everything around you was getting so spiny and dizzy that you’re starting to laugh too. Your body feeling like it was being boiled from inside out as more stars flash your vision white.
“Cum for me, peaches,” you hear him say, hardly registering his arms wrapping around your shaking form, screaming a broken moan against his chest, nails digging into skin as you convulsed and squirted with him continuing to rut you through it.
You didn’t mind one bit as he kept you there, bringing you into another sloppy kiss until he came hard in and out of you. Face all scrunched up as he filled you to the brim and jerking the rest of his arousal up your chest and stomach with a low groan until it reached your lips. Pressing his mouth to yours, he swirled his tongue around as he forced you to taste him.
Then with a satisfied ruffle to your head he pulls away to get you cleaned up.
But the drug was still running hot in your veins, you’re grasping out to pull him back. He did this to you, and you’re sure as hell gonna make him own up until you passed out
“Still eager, huh?” he chuckles settling back down to bring your hand over his still swollen erection. “Maybe if you put that mouth of your to good, use I may consider fucking your other hole next.”
a/n: oof, that was a lot. I’m planning on doing another fic with bowser!kuna as a threesome with Gojo some time in the future. Anyways I’m going to sleep now. K, byeeee!
in which Gen Narumi finds out that his girlfriend's secret it's not something he should be worried about lmaoo
Requested by: @narumimiz
The first thing Gen noticed was the salt.
Not the salt itself—everyone had salt in their kitchen. It was the amount of it. The sheer, staggering volume of it. There were containers of sea salt on the counter, rock salt in the pantry, pink Himalayan salt in a little ceramic dish by the stove. There were salt packets in her purse, the kind you stole from fast food restaurants, and a small pouch of coarse salt tucked into her jacket pocket like a talisman.
"That's a lot of salt," he said once, watching her sprinkle a fourth pinch into her soup.
"I like salt."
"You're salting your salt."
"It's called seasoning, Gen."
"It's called hypertension."
She'd laughed and changed the subject. Gen hadn't pushed. He was good at not pushing, mostly because pushing required caring, and Gen Narumi did not care about things. Except he did. He cared about her. Which was exactly why he was standing in her kitchen at two in the morning, cataloguing all the ways she didn't make sense.
The salt was the first sign. The second was the water.
She drank it constantly. Not sips, not glasses, but gulping, desperate quantities that should have made her sick. She filled water bottles before bed, before leaving the house, before sitting down for a meal. She ran the shower for exactly five minutes every morning—not to bathe, he'd checked, the bathroom door was always open and she was always just standing there, hands under the spray, eyes closed like she was recharging.
There was also the humming. She hummed without realising it, a low, lilting melody that sounded like nothing he'd ever heard on any radio station. It made his head feel strange. Floaty. Like he'd been awake too long, or not long enough.
And then there were the disappearances.
Full moon nights. Always the full moon. She'd text him some excuse—headache, early bedtime, visiting a friend—and then she'd vanish for exactly twelve hours. Her phone would go straight to voicemail. Her apartment would be empty. And the next morning, she'd show up at his door looking tired and windswept, smelling faintly of brine.
"Where were you last night?" he asked, the third time it happened.
"Headache."
"You had a headache at the beach?"
She'd frozen. Just for a second. A flicker of something sharp and panicked in her eyes before it smoothed over. "I wasn't at the beach."
"You smell like the ocean."
"I used a new shampoo."
"Your shampoo smells like seaweed?"
"It's organic."
Gen had let it go. But he didn't let it go.
That was the night he became a detective. A very reluctant, very annoyed detective who was definitely not spiralling about his girlfriend's weird behaviour. He was just gathering intel. That was all. He was a strategic information collector, and he would not rest until he cracked this case wide open.
The case, as it turned out, cracked him first.
Week one of Operation What The Hell Is My Girlfriend Hiding was a comedy of errors. Gen wasn't built for surveillance. He was built for sitting in a gaming chair and yelling at strangers on the internet. Subtlety was not in his stat block. He followed her to the grocery store and got caught in the cereal aisle because he knocked over a display of granola bars. He tried to check her phone once while she was in the bathroom, but she had a passcode, and his first guess—1234—did not work, which felt like a personal attack.
"She's hiding something," he told Soshiro during a rare moment of desperation. They were in the break room, and Gen was hunched over a cup of coffee he hadn't touched. "She disappears on full moons. She has salt everywhere. She hums this weird song that makes my brain go fuzzy. And she smells like the ocean. Constantly. Even when she hasn't been near water."
Hoshina stared at him. "Maybe she's a mermaid."
"Be serious."
"I am serious. Salt, water, moon cycles, ocean smell, weird humming. That's textbook mermaid behaviour."
"Don't be ridiculous. Mermaids aren't real."
Hoshina shrugged. "Neither is half the stuff we deal with, but here we are."
Gen dismissed this immediately. Mermaids were not real. His girlfriend was not a mermaid. She was hiding something, yes, but it wasn't that. It couldn't be that.
What it could be, he decided on a particularly dark Tuesday night, was another man.
The thought hit him like a truck. She was beautiful and mysterious and too good for him—he'd always known that, had accepted it as a fundamental law of the universe—and now she was pulling away, cancelling plans, disappearing on full moons. Full moons were romantic. People went on romantic dates during full moons. What if she was meeting someone? Someone who wasn't emotionally constipated? Someone who didn't communicate exclusively through gaming metaphors?
The spiral was immediate and absolute.
"It's another man," he announced to no one, pacing his apartment at midnight. "She's been seeing another man. That's why she smells like the ocean. He's a surfer. Or a lifeguard. One of those guys with perfect abs and functional communication skills."
His slime plushie stared at him from the couch with its usual blank expression. It offered no advice.
"Maybe he owns a salt company. They bonded over sodium chloride. That could happen."
The slime plushie remained unhelpful.
"I have to know," Gen decided. "I have to catch her in the act. I have to see this salt-obsessed surfer with my own eyes."
The next full moon, he put his plan into action. He stationed himself outside her apartment building at 8 p.m., armed with a hoodie, a pair of binoculars he'd bought online, and a thermos of coffee that was already cold. He was going to catch her. He was going to confront her secret ocean boyfriend. He was going to be very mature and reasonable about it, and definitely not cry in his car afterwards.
She left at exactly 9:47 p.m.
She was wearing a long coat that covered her from neck to ankle. Her hair was damp. She moved quickly, her head down, walking toward the coast.
"Gotcha," Gen muttered, and followed.
The coast at night was a different world. The moon hung low and heavy over the water, painting the waves silver. Gen followed her along the shoreline, keeping his distance, his hood pulled low. He was doing great. He was being stealthy. He was practically a ninja.
Then she stopped. She looked around—once, twice—and then she walked directly into the ocean.
Gen's brain short-circuited. "What the—"
She didn't come back up.
He ran. He sprinted across the sand, his shoes filling with grit, his heart hammering in his throat. She was drowning. She was drowning, and he was going to save her, and then he was going to yell at her for being an idiot, and then he was going to kill her secret ocean boyfriend for letting this happen.
He splashed into the surf, the cold water soaking his jeans, his hoodie, his dignity. "What are you doing? Where are you? Come back here!"
Nothing. Just the waves.
And then, ten feet away, a head broke the surface.
But it wasn't her head. Well, it was. But it was different. Wetter. Wilder. Her hair was plastered to her skull, dark and sleek, and her eyes—her eyes were huge, pupils blown wide and dark, catching the moonlight like polished stones. And she wasn't standing. She was floating. Suspended in the water in a way that didn't make sense, that defied physics, that—
She rose higher. And Gen saw the tail.
It was long. Longer than legs. Iridescent scales in shades of green and silver and blue, shimmering like oil on water. Fins flared at the sides, delicate and translucent, catching the moonlight. The tail moved lazily beneath the surface, keeping her buoyant, and the woman attached to the tail was staring at him with an expression of pure, undisguised horror.
"Holy—" Gen's voice cracked. "You're a mermaid."
"Gen." Her voice was thin and terrified. "Gen, please. Let me explain."
"You're a mermaid. An actual mermaid. With a tail. In the ocean."
"It's not what it looks like."
"It looks like a tail."
"It's—I can explain—"
"Explain what? You have a tail. You've always had a tail? This whole time, you've had a tail, and you didn't tell me?" He ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. "The salt. The water. The full moon. The—the humming. The gills. Oh my god, those are real gills."
"Please stop yelling."
"I'm not yelling. I'm processing. There's a difference." He waded deeper into the water, his clothes soaking through, his teeth beginning to chatter. "You're a mermaid. That's why you always smell like the ocean. That's why you drink so much water. That's why you've been pushing me away."
"I didn't want you to find out." Her voice was barely a whisper, even now, even with the waves crashing around them. "I didn't want you to look at me like—like I was a monster."
"Who said you're a monster?"
"You're looking at me like I'm a monster."
"I'm looking at you like you're a mermaid. Which is different. Also—" He paused. A realisation struck him with the force of a tidal wave. "Wait. There's no other man."
"What?"
"The surfer. The salt tycoon. The guy with perfect abs."
Her brow furrowed. "Gen, what on earth are you talking about?"
"I thought—" He dragged a wet hand down his wetter face. "I thought you were seeing someone else. That's what I was doing here. I was trying to catch you meeting your secret boyfriend. I had binoculars. I made a timeline. I even considered making a PowerPoint."
"A PowerPoint?"
"The point is—" He stumbled forward, the water sloshing around his waist. "The point is I convinced myself you were cheating on me because you smelled like the ocean and disappeared on full moons and I couldn't figure out what was happening. And all along you were just... a mermaid."
"You made a timeline."
"It was very detailed."
"You thought I had a secret salt tycoon boyfriend."
"I was sleep-deprived and emotionally compromised. My brain went to dark places." He reached out, his hand hovering just above her tail, which was still swishing lazily beneath the surface. "Can I touch it? The tail? Is that weird? It's probably weird. I'm being weird."
"Gen."
"Because it's a very nice tail. Very shiny. The scales are—"
"Gen!"
He snapped his mouth shut. She was looking at him with an expression he'd never seen before—half terrified, half hopeful, completely vulnerable.
"You're not scared?" she asked.
"Of what?"
"Of me. Of this. I'm not human. I'll never be human. I have to be near water constantly. I have to sing to the moon once a month or I'll get sick. My family is a pod of mermaids who live in the Pacific Ocean and they think I'm insane for living on land. I come with baggage, Gen. Literal, oceanic baggage."
He considered this. "Are any of the mermaids trying to date you?"
"What?"
"Ex-boyfriends. Pod romances. Secret merman fiancés."
She stared at him. "No. There's no secret merman fiancé."
"Then I don't care about the baggage." He waded closer, until he was close enough to touch her. "I thought I was losing you to some guy with functional emotional intelligence. Instead I find out you're a mythological creature with a tail. This is a significant upgrade in my evening."
"You're so weird."
"I'm emotionally honest. There's a difference." He reached for her hand, his cold fingers wrapping around hers. "Listen. Whatever you are, whatever you've been hiding, whatever reason you had for not telling me—I don't care. I'm not going anywhere. You're my player two. I don't care if you have fins."
Her eyes filled with tears. "Gen—"
"I mean, obviously there are logistics. We'll need to live near water. I'll have to learn about salt content and moon cycles and whatever else mermaids need. I'm assuming you need a bigger bathtub. We can get a bigger bathtub."
"You're already planning our life together?"
"I've been planning our life together for six months. This is just a new variable." He squeezed her hand. "So. Is there anything else I should know? Scales, gills, anything venomous?"
"I'm not venomous."
"Good. That's good. Venom would have been a dealbreaker."
She laughed. A real laugh, bright and watery and completely unguarded. And then she leaned forward, her tail propelling her through the water, and pressed her lips to his. Gen Narumi, who had never been good at feelings or words or emotional honesty, kissed her back like it was the only thing he'd ever wanted to do. Like it was the only thing that mattered.
When they pulled apart, her gills were fluttering, and his ears were red, and they were both half-submerged in the Pacific Ocean.
"You're going to have to explain the full moon thing," he said. "And the humming. And the salt on the windowsills."
"It's a long story."
"I have time." He rested his forehead against hers. "I have all the time in the world."
"Also," she added, a hint of her usual sharpness returning, "you made a PowerPoint?"
"In my defense, I didn't finish it."
"Can I see it?"
"Absolutely not."
"Gen—"
"I was in a dark place. You smelled like seaweed and I thought you were dating a surfer. We're not dwelling on this."
"I want to see the timeline."
"The timeline is classified."
"Was it colour-coded?"
He didn't answer. Which was answer enough.
Her laughter echoed across the waves, bright and wild and full of joy. And in the moonlit water, with a mermaid in his arms and salt on his lips and his ruined shoes somewhere at the bottom of the sea, Gen Narumi thought that maybe—just maybe—being wrong had never felt so right.
The next morning, a very damp, very exhausted Gen showed up at the base with sand still in his hair.
Hoshina took one look at him and raised an eyebrow. "Rough night?"
"My girlfriend is a mermaid."
"I told you that."
"You didn't tell me. You guessed."
"What's the difference?"
"I thought she had a secret boyfriend."
Hoshina's expression flickered through several stages—confusion, disbelief, and finally, deep, genuine amusement. "You thought your girlfriend was cheating on you because she smelled like the ocean, and instead of asking her about it, you stalked her to the beach and discovered she was a mythical creature."
"I made a timeline."
"You're the most insane person I've ever met."
"I'm aware." Gen slumped into his chair, still damp, still sandy, still reeling. "She's a mermaid. An actual mermaid. And I accused her of dating a salt tycoon."
Hoshina's silence was deafening.
"Don't," Gen warned.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were going to."
"I was not going to say anything."
"Your face was saying it."
"My face is expressing sympathy," Hoshina said, his voice perfectly level. "And also mild amusement. But mostly sympathy."
"I hate you."
"You hate that I'm right." He paused. "So. Mermaid girlfriend. That's new. Does she need anything? Bigger bathtub? Kelp subscription?"
"Don't start."
"Too late. I've already started." Hoshina leaned back in his chair, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Does this mean you're moving to the beach?"
"I haven't thought that far ahead."
"You should. Property values near the coast are very reasonable this time of year."
"I am not discussing real estate with you at nine in the morning."
"You're the one who brought it up."
Gen buried his face in his hands. His ears were still pink. He could still feel the ghost of scales against his palms, the press of her lips, the salt water drying on his skin. He was exhausted and confused and completely, incandescently happy.
"I'm going to marry her," he said, his voice muffled by his hands.
"Obviously."
"I'm serious."
"I know you are." Hoshina clapped him on the shoulder. "Now go take a shower. You smell like low tide."
Gen flipped him off. But he was smiling.
And somewhere, in an apartment by the sea, a mermaid was humming a melody that sounded like nothing on any radio station, and thinking about a boy who'd made a timeline and a PowerPoint and followed her into the ocean. Thinking about a boy who'd looked at her tail and her gills and her scales and decided she was worth it anyway.
Thinking about a boy who was, without question, the strangest, most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her.
She checked her phone. A text from Gen lit up the screen: just so you know, the salt tycoon thing is still embarrassing. we're telling the grandkids a different story
She laughed, her gills fluttering, and typed back: what story?
His response came immediately: idk. something with dragons. i'll workshop it
you're ridiculous
you're a mermaid. we both have secrets
She smiled at her phone, her tail swishing lazily in the bathtub, and thought about the future. About bigger bathtubs and moonlit swims and a boy who loved her even when she didn't make sense. About a life that was strange and salty and completely, perfectly theirs.
zombie apocalypse sex with protective caleb after a near-death experience
cw: mention of potential sa and just generally feeling like prey during the near-death experience portion of this. typical apocalyptic violence outside of that.
It's easy to forget his strength when his touch is always so gentle. When you're safe, he lets you forget everything he's capable of; the reason you've both made it this long.
Safety lets you forget.
And then—when it inevitably all it all goes to shit again—you remember.
"Get in!" he calls through the wall of bodies separating you. He keeps the attention of most of them, but there's a few stumbling in your direction—too many for you to handle alone. "Now!" he shouts as he takes another moaning monster down.
It goes against every instinct you have—to leave him to fight this alone. But this was his domain. This was when you did whatever the fuck he told you to do. It was how you survived.
You drag the door of the huge shipping container open, grunting as the heavy metal fights back. It's a makeshift prison cell, one that was supposed to be filled with live bait for the monsters. It would be if it weren't for Caleb. He was almost single-handedly dismantling whatever fucked up enterprise you'd both stumbled upon.
One of them reaches you before you'd manage to push the gate open enough to slip through.
One is fine. You can handle one.
Turning around to deal with it gives you a split second to check in on your brother. He's making a dent in the mass of bodies, but it's not enough. Not with the shouts of the living making their way closer.
You kick the monster you've knifed back into the mass of bodies approaching, giving you just enough time to slip through the crack you've made in the sliding door and slam it closed behind you.
Locking it is another story.
You have no hope of accomplishing that.
Still, it's enough for now. It's enough to let Caleb keep his focus where it needs to be as you deal with as many as you can through the bars.
Then one gets shot down. Caleb helping you from a distance is your first thought. But then two are shot down at once. And then the voices reach your ears. Voices are bad. Mindless moaning monsters you can handle. The living was another story. Nothing stoked the fear constantly simmers in your gut like the voices of the living.
They shout over each other, calling directions as they pick off the mass with a spray of bullets. You can't see Caleb anymore. He's either dead or hiding.
Hiding. Hiding. Hiding.
You shift back into one of the dark corners of the container as the shouts draw nearer.
“What the fuck happened?! Don't shoot them you dumb fucks! Get any you can back into holding!”
Any second now... any second they'd find the only person you loved and your world would end. The living were different. The living were monsters of a different kind.
"They're bunched up around this one!" someone shouts.
You hold your breath.
"Well, check it out then!" another commands.
Oh, fuck. You grip your pistol. Your aim was decent. You could take one out, maybe two. But there's a whole group... and they were coming for you.
You scramble to the other far corner as the last of the moaning dead are cleared from the entrance, hoping to take advantage of the darkest shadows. Caleb would be watching... waiting. A predator in the shadows. Any extra moment you could give him could be vital.
"You better come out now," a man calls from outside. He's just out of sight, using the edge of the container as a shield, prepared for you to be armed and ready to fight. You'd hoped to have the element of surprise. "I ain't asking," he adds.
You know what'll happened when they find you. It's a predictable evil. You're prey to people like them—something to hunt and occupy their time with in a world without the threat of consequence.
Your silence buys you less than a minute before the first of them are dragging the metal gate open. If you shoot, they'll shoot back. It's not something you'll survive cornered like this. So you bet on them being the same as the rest. You let them know you're prey.
"Please," you call, as meek and afraid as you can manage. It's not hard to pull off considering the genuine fear wracking your body. It helps your performance. Make them drop their guard. Small. Afraid. Unthreatening. Alone. "I'm—I'm unarmed."
They hesitate. The barrels on their guns start to lower.
Then a bright light blinds you.
"What the fuck?" one of them exclaims.
Then, "Where'd the fuck this little thing come from?"
There it was: little thing. You were nothing. You're not a threat. You'd bought Caleb more time.
"Come on out, girl. Come on." They call you like you're a dog, something less than human. That's how they see you. Something to use.
You take a small step forward, still blinded by their flashlights. Caleb was alive. He was alive and hiding and he was waiting for something. You repeat it to yourself like a prayer.
You just had to stay alive.
"What do you... want with me?" you ask, still taking tiny steps towards the light. Weak. Vulnerable. No threat.
You get muffled laughter in response.
Their guards are down. They're distracted.
"What do we want? We want a little fun, honey. That's all. Just a bit of fun."
Their flashlights drop as you approach the entrance. They've pulled the gate all the way across.
Five. You count five. If you kill two...
"Why is she alone?" one of them questions. He's younger—probably still a child—a little less distracted.
The rest ignore him.
Then one of them has you by the arm, dragging you the rest of the way out of the makeshift cell. Their hands send a wave of repulsion through you as they grab at you, pulling you around and shoving you in front of them. They may as well be the undead the way their slimy touch feels against your skin.
The young one doesn't move out of the way when you reach him. Instead he stares into you, suspicious and angry. "Who are you with?" he asks. Even then, his gun is lowered. Even to him you aren't a threat.
"Get the fuck out of the way," the man gripping your arm growls, impatient.
"But—"
"Now."
His eyes narrow, but then he steps aside—his back pressed to the wall to let the rest of the men past. It's now that you get a look down into the pit of monsters, the one's they've managed to recapture rather than take out. They reach up towards you, hands grabbing for you.
Then, only a few steps later—you're pulled to a halt. The man with his hand wrapped around your elbow leans over your shoulder, his rancid breath invading your nostrils as he speaks. "You alone?" he asks. "You tell me right now."
You blink away the burn of sudden emotion threatening to pool tears in your eyes. Were you alone? If you were...
The man's grip tightens, the only warning you get before you're forced to your knees and staring down into the pit of hungry undead. "Speak," he demands, nails carving into your skin. "I'd hate to waste you like this."
There's two other men behind you. Three surrounding you in total. You could take one out for sure. They hadn't even searched you for weapons. They expected nothing out of you at all.
But then there'd be two, only counting the ones in reaching distance. How long would it take the other two further away to aim their guns in your direction?
You were dying tonight if Caleb was dead, that was certain. Your only hope was that he was waiting and watching... but what would he be waiting for...
Your pistol sits at your hip, a comfortable weight.
You take a deep breath. You could wait to die. Or fight now and hope that's the moment he's waiting for... if he's waiting at all. A heavy weight sits in your chest, reaching it's hands out towards you, like the monsters in the pit: doubt.
The man holding you drops to one knee behind you. He leans over to speak in your ear. You wouldn't need to rely on your aim for the first kill, only any that followed. It was a headstart you weren't likely to get again. You reach for your pistol, and before the man can open his lips and taint your senses with his rot once more, you shoot him through the underside of his jaw.
Your ears ring as his body drops. But you were ready. The men behind you aren't.
You were nothing. Prey.
The few seconds that affords you are priceless. You manage to shoot one more through the forehead before he can get hands on his own weapon.
The third is another story. His gun is pointed at you for what must be milliseconds. They drag though. Those moments with an enemy weapon pointed directly at you always do.
But then Caleb is there, strangling the man from behind with the body of a rifle and shoving his body into the ground with a force that reverberates through the metal. It's only when he snaps the man's neck that you spot the bodies behind him: eliminated during your own attack.
He'd been waiting for you. If he attacked before you were ready, they'd use you against him. So he'd waited until the exact moment you'd shot the first one under the chin.
You watch him stand, hair hanging in his eyes and his chest rising and falling with his deep breaths.
Then his purple eyes are on you.
Then his hands.
Those hands... the same ones he'd used seconds earlier to break a man's neck. His fingers are feathers across your skin as he brushes the hair back off your face. "Okay?" he asks, soft and a little shaky. His fingers struggle to secure your hair back behind your ear, trembling.
You nod.
"You did so good," he soothes, that familiar comforting voice easing you back into your own body. "You were perfect." His hand makes a trail down to your neck, gentle and slow over your pulse point before it rests at your clavicle. "We need to leave," he says, finally steadying his own breathing. "Stay close to me."
—————
The first time after is always the same—after you're forced to remember how close death is. It adds something to the way his gentle hands feel as he reaches over your hips to dip between your legs—to the way his body feels pressed up behind yours.
His long, thick fingers slip between your slick folds as he holds you tight against his chest. Heat. It's an overwhelming heat. He crowds you, practically curled around you. A protective warmth.
"You like that, sweetheart?" His lips graze your ears and his long hair tickles your skin. It falls down around his neck at the back, a messy wolf-cut that you hack at with a knife when it gets long enough to bother him. "You're so soft for me... dripping all over me... welcoming me in. You did so good today... so perfect..."
You offer a small whine in response, squirming a little.
He sighs, finger prodding over and over at your swollen entrance—a teasing little hint of what's to come. He dips in slightly, his calloused fingertip pressing into your twitchy entrance just enough to have you whimpering his name.
"It's alright," he soothes. "You need me here? Inside?"
"Mm," you whine with a desperate nod. "Empty."
His grip around your ribs tightens for a moment before he's pressing you into the ground—cushioned by the few blankets you carry. He's rolled you onto your belly as he covers you completely with his huge body, a living blanket shielding you from all the world's dangers.
"I'm sorry they put their hands on you." His breath warms your skin, and he sounds pained.
"I'm not hurt," you remind him, again.
"Shouldn't have let them touch you."
You'd been through this before. More times than you could count. He would torture himself in the days after this. Perfection was all he ever accepted from himself, and arguing would get you nowhere.
So you reach blindly to find his wrist and grip it firmly. "Hold me tight," you whisper into his ear.
His weight is heavy over you as he drops his lips to your neck, a silent acknowledgement of your pleas. Another apology.
Then he's scooping you up, lifting you and rearranging you exactly the way you want him to. Because he always knows.
He has you pressed to his chest with your tits against his skin as he lays back into the makeshift bed you've created for the night. His arms wrap around you, one across your shoulder blades and the other around your waist—secure and firm. His fingers press sporadically into your skin a little more than needed, like he's testing his grip on you—like he's testing he has you in his arms good and tight.
Then he hooks one leg under yours, a gentle guide to part your legs just the way he needs.
"Won't let anyone touch you again," he breathes against your temple as one of his hands leaves you. "Never."
The loss of his hand on you is temporary, you remind yourself. He'd be wrapping you up securely as soon as he buried himself deep—as soon as his cock was guided safely inside your dripping cunt.
You nip at his neck in response, chasing with a delicate lick at his salty skin. "Please," you ask softly.
Then he's adjusting you against him a little, ensuring you're exactly where he needs you to be. "I've got you," he says as his leaking tip prods at your entrance. "Got you," he repeats.
He mumbles it over and over as he teases—plays. This was what he did: pushed you to the brink as he guides his tip over your twitchy hole and through your lips over and over.... and over... until you forget everything but the feeling of him against you and all the desperate need building up inside.
Then, eventually, he presses inside. Just the tip... and not far. Just enough so that he can wrap his arms around you again. Just enough that he can have you whimpering his name as he prevents you grinding down to take him deep inside.
This is when he gives you a little taste of his actual strength. The strength he used to keep you safe every single day. It's easy to keep you from your goal, his thick arms pressing you into his torso a little harder each time you attempt to resist.
He keeps you there, just with a teasing sample of that fullness—of having him as close as it was possible to be. "Kiss," he orders, simple and a little croaky.
You obey, pressing your desperation between his lips. It's wet and messy and interrupted by moments where you simply need to breathe, heavily.
His lips chase yours as you attempt to catch your breath. One kiss to your swollen lower lip as you pant. Then he licks at the drool glistening across your chin.
His grip around you tightens a little as you drop your face to his neck with a whimper.
And then, without warning, he pulls you down to meet his leaking cock—to fuck himself deep. It's sudden, and it's all forceful strength, exactly like you need it—exactly the way he knows you want it. You bite into his shoulder as he keeps you there, stuffed full—the thick throbbing length of him stretching you out so completely.
Then, "Like that?" he asks, that sweetness back in his voice—like he's offering you a gentle back massage instead of holding you down on his cock.
You nod weakly in response.
His fingers press into your skin a little more, a silent warning moments before he's moving—fucking himself with your cunt as he pulls you down to meet his powerful thrusts. You're completely pliant like this, all control relinquished.
He's got you.
He attempts to grunt broken sentences into your ear as you jostle against him. "Sucking me in... sucking at my cock with your messy little cunt... it's okay... you're okay..."
One of his hands moves to your hair occasionally, a temporary and seemingly subconscious attempt to get a better grip—or just to hold you closer. His fingers tangle in the strands, never tugging hard—never hurting.
"My pretty girl." He holds you down against him, buried to the hilt, and grinds up into you with a roll of his hips. "My pretty little baby... fu-fuck... keep you safe."
It's only when he's nearing his end that he flips you onto your back and you get a real display. He grips your hips, lifts them up, and tugs you onto him—each thrust a vulgar slapping of skin that punches a helpless sound from your lungs.
Strength.
You watch the muscles in his arms move as he uses you, moving you against him like you weigh nothing at all. His calloused fingers dig almost painfully into your hips. He's all power and murderous protection, and you feel it all as he drives himself through your walls again and again.
He falls over you when he finally floods you, his cock twitching and pumping you full. But even then, even as he loses himself, he catches his fall—thick, sweaty arms landing either side of your head to cage you in. "Got you," he gasps out between desperate lungfuls of air. "I've got you."
When Marquis Gojo Satoru goes missing after the bloody fight, the entire empire is in uproar! Until his loyal soldiers accidentally discover him living in a small village working as a... noodle seller? And he has a wife?!
pairings: Gojo Satoru x Reader
content/warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff, tooth-rotting fluff, inspired by drama, Gojo yearns to have a family, domestic life he deserves, pregnancy, marriage
WC: 5.5k
a/n: loosely inspired by Chinese drama Pursuit of Jade 逐玉！
idk who the artist is, pls help!
Two men walked through plains and meadows under the scorching, merciless sun. Their full armour weighed heavily on tired shoulders, and horses were getting more tired each day. They barely had any water, and milky buns long gone stale, with their usual soft dough crumpling under their touch.
They've been looking for their general for six months already, with the hunt being fruitless from the very start. Marquis Gojo Satoru fell on the battlefield alone, with all his other soldiers getting bowled like wild deer. Since that cursed night – no one has seen him. The most powerful general in the entire empire, with the emperor himself paying in pure silver just to find his most precious warrior.
That's why Suguru – his strategist – and Nanami – most devoted general – decided to walk the vast plains of the empire, just to find their Marquis. He wasn't dead, surely, as not many things could hurt his almost divine body. As if created by the Jade Emperor himself.
Built like a boar, with the strength of a thousand men, Gojo Satoru was the strongest one in the whole empire. Surely he must've been kept hidden, with hundreds of men trying to conceal the Marquis from the world and use him as a future leverage.
Could someone from a traitorous clan kidnap him?
Maybe his wounds after the fight were truly too severe, and he just wasn't strong enough to break free?
Whatever the reason was, Suguru and Nanami were dead-set on finishing their mission.
After a half day of walking, they stepped down the mountain, following a gentle brook that let their horses drink to the brim. Both men cleaned themselves up a bit and ate last, stale buns, dreaming of having even a simple bowl of noodles.
Thus, imagine how joyous they were upon seeing a little village, hidden deep between the mountains with nothing but tall trees and a wide river spinning through it. If Suguru didn't lift his head up while drinking from the brook, surely he wouldn't notice it. Low, wooden roofs were almost fully obscured by lush forest, and nothing but a gentle, white smoke curled around some dirty chimneys.
Food!
Both men almost run that way, with stomachs squirming in hunger and sweat dripping down their backs. Nanami dreamed of sitting down with a drink and meat, while Suguru foolishly wished that the villagers would know something about their Marquis.
After all, the battle was not that far away from here, and there was a chance that someone might've seen a wounded soldier wandering around the meadows.
When their horses passed the small, wooden gate, the little child immediately ran up to them.
"Can I pet, can I pet?" his small hand reached out towards the raven horse, brushing its massive leg gently before Suguru could even nod.
He got off the mare, squatting down to be on the same level as a kid.
"Tell me, boy, do you have any nice restaurants here in the village?" he asked, and the child hummed.
"Of course we have! The best noodles in the whole region, pretty lady!" he chirped, oogling Suguru's long hair smooching his cheeks.
Nanami scoffed, while Suguru only smiled gently. "Well, could you maybe take us there? You see, these two soldiers are very, very hungry."
The boy didn't seem to care about Suguru's pressure on the soldiers and simply nodded. He left the horse and pointed a finger at the small, two-level house, with multiple people sitting outside on little stools and grey smoke twisting around its roof.
"Thank you, dearest," Suguru said warmly, placing a sliver coin in the boy's hand.
Well, it should help his family last for at least a month.
"Do you think someone may've seen him?" Nanami asked while tying the horses to the fence outside the small restaurant.
"I hope so. But firstly, let's eat. I'm ready to collapse any second," Suguru mumbled, passing the wide-open doors.
The inside was rather simple but homely, with multiple families chirping joyfully over their noodles. The delicious smell of spices immediately hit Suguru's stomach, and long-withheld hunger suddenly became even worse.
They sat at the small table near the open window, enjoying the serene view of the slowly running river, with a few children playing at its crystalline water. Their laughter filled the stuffy air, and the gentle wind brushed Suguru's tired cheeks, bringing him a slight comfort. Birds chirped sweetly, and passing girls giggled under their noses, seeing two handsome, strange soldiers sitting politely in the restaurant.
And while they were waiting, with minds enjoying the peacefulness of this place, someone's voice suddenly brought them back.
"What can I get for you, gentlemen?"
Suguru turned his head, ready to order a bowl of spicy noodles and–
Oh.
Oh!
His knees went weak, and if not for the stool, he would surely fall miserably on the wooden floor. Blood immediately rushed to his head, fingers started to tremble, and if Nanami didn't grab his hand, it would surely curl around Gojo Satoru's neck.
Because why, dear heavens, the Marquis himself was standing before him perfectly fit and cheeky, with healthy rosiness blooming on his face and muscular body dressed in simple, commoner robes?
"M-Mar–" he stood up, but Satoru quickly pushed him back down.
The smile wasn't coming off his face, but his voice rolled out low and irritated. "Why are you here?"
"Why are we here?" Suguru almost burst. "Marquis, what do you mean by why are we here?!"
He couldn't quite believe it – the Marquis, man announced by the ministers themselves as surely dead, was, in fact, looking as if resurrected. His eyes, usually hued in deep ocean colour, looked rather... alive. Light and shiny, resembling the cyan paint spread over the canvas, soft and wet, glimmering under the warm beams of sunshine. His always so pale skin brimmed with healthy rosiness, usually suitable for most dearest birdies. Wet forehead was tied with milky cloth, keeping the snowy hair away from the brazen eyes.
Creamy robes hugged him loosely, with a few chilli oil stains bussing its grainy material.
He looked so... not noble. Not Marquis-like.
But much happier.
"Marquis, if we could talk–" Nanami started, but before he managed to finish, another voice chipped in.
Loud and angry, with a tired sigh and in the company of a fat finger knocking on the wooden table. "Hey, pretty boy! I ordered seconds a while ago!"
Suguru straightened up, jaw visibly tensed. He was ready to pull out his long sword and cut the man on the spot. "How dare you to talk to Ma–"
But before it, Satoru quickly smacked the back of his head.
"Sure thing, just give me a minute," he chirped politely, and Suguru almost fainted.
Never in the thirty years of his life has he ever heard the Marquis being polite to... anyone. Truly.
And so obedient at that, with a gentle smile curving his lips and a little nod of his head. The man, however, didn't seem to be satisfied, rambling under his breath and throwing a few curses every few seconds.
Six months ago, Suguru would see his head rolling on the wooden floor, with a Marquis slashing it off in a single, clean cut.
But now? Now his massive hand was keeping Suguru in place, not allowing him to stir up any trouble.
"You both eat first. I'm sure you must be hungry," he said warmly, patting the shoulders of his most reliable commanders. "We'll discuss it later."
"Marquis, but–" and, once again, before Nanami could finish, the rude customer decided to strike again.
"Pretty boy, I don't see you walking back to the kitchen for my seconds!"
Satoru sighed. His palms squeezed their shoulders, long fingers digging deep into the armour. Suguru, for a fleet moment, saw this familiar frown and blue veins popping on the Marquis's forehead, as if ready to burst with a merciless fury.
He's going to strike, Suguru thought. He won't let that bastard trash his good name.
Satoru rolled up the wide sleeves of his creamy robes, tying them with a thin rope around the elbows. Bulging muscles of his forearms glistened in sweat, with the sun cruelly smooching his pale skin.
And when he thought that Marquis, finally, finally, will deal with a man, another voice filled the heavy restaurant's air.
"Hey! Stop being rude to my husband unless you want to deal with me!"
It drove Suguru into the wooden stool, with its honeyed sweetness marked by an authoritative tone. Not many people were able to put someone into their place solely with a voice, but a fragile woman who came out from the kitchen, with a heavy chopper in her hand – could.
Husband?
Suguru's head started to spin. He looked up, seeing Marquis's lips curving in a gentle smile. Eyes cheeky, like two pale moons, while glancing back at the woman storming through the small restaurant.
"Think you can bully my husband while I'm here?"
Man's cheeks washed in embarrassment before he coughed. "My apologies, miss. If I knew he was your husband–"
"Even if he wasn't, you shouldn't be rude! He's too polite and won't harm a soul, but me?" she took a step, but Satoru quickly grabbed her. "Try me!"
She surrounded herself with an imposing aura, although standing next to Satoru, her head barely brushed his chest. Hair curled around the hearty face, with a light robe and dirty aproan hugging warmly plush hips.
"What a menace," she scoffed loudly, cleaning the chopper with a cloth, before glancing up at the Marquis. "And you should get more assertive. Must you always be so obedient?"
Obedient?
"Stop acting like a pushover, what if someone attacks you, hm? We have lots of bandits these days, and I won't always be there to protect you."
Pushover?
Protect Marquis?
Suguru sighed, grabbing his head. It pulsed with a malicious headache, and the more you talked, the more he felt like fainting.
"My dearest," Satoru smiled, looking down at your fuming cheeks. "Have I ever told you how beautiful you look with this little crease on your forehead?" he lifted up a thumb, placing it right between your eyebrows.
He started massaging it in gentle circles, rolling a sweet giggle out of your lips and finally getting rid of the frown.
"There she is," he whispered, cupping your cheeks stained in reddish oil. "My beautiful, ferocious wife. You need to stop threatening everyone with a chopper. What if one day you come upon imperial soldiers?"
You tsked, nuzzling into his warm hands. "I'll chop them too, if they try to bully you."
Suguru just couldn't listen to it anymore. Not only the intimate tension between Marquis and... you... was unbearable, but he also simply couldn't comprehend the sudden change that bloomed inside the most ruthless, powerful general of the empire.
He coughed quietly, finally getting your attention.
"Oh," rolled politely, before you quickly hid the chopper behind. "I'm sorry, gentlemen, too many people like to bully my husband and, well, you know how it is..." your hand unconsciously waved with a chopper again, and Suguru barely dodged its sharp steel. "Sometimes the wife needs to step in. You see, my husband is a scholar, so he's, hm, the more compliant one in this marriage."
Nanami laughed, but Suguru quickly threw him a cold stare.
He brought back a polite smile to his face, still slowly massaging the buzzing temple. "Miss, my friend and I have travelled a long way to meet with Mar– your husband. I hope you don't mind, we'll take him away just for a moment."
Your eyes bulged in surprise, looking up at Satoru's warm gaze.
"I didn't know Satoru had... friends," you giggled, hearing a soft scoff coming from your husband. "Of course you can, but eat first, please. You sure must be tired. If you wish, you can stay a few nights in our house too. Right, darling?"
Satoru grimaced when you looked back at Suguru, and his eyes narrowed. "Sure, baby. If that's what you want. But aren't you rather busy, my dear friends?"
It sounded like he was giving Suguru a choice, but the coldness of his gaze and slowly shaking head were enough to convey that both of them were forbidden from agreeing with his wife's idea.
Suguru, however, was furious as it was, and if staying a day or two meant taking Marquis down to size – he would be more than happy to do it.
Before Nanami murmured that they are, in fact, rather busy, the strategist quickly chirped in.
"My precious friend, I would be more than happy to stay under your roof," he said, standing up and bending down politely your way. "Miss, we're grateful for your priceless hospitality."
You giggled, waving gently with a chopper. "There's no need for courtesy. Stay as long as you want," your eyes moved back to Satoru, his arm curling around your waist. "Darling, just remember to pick up the vegetables from Fang's restaurant. Oh, and Miss Hua needs to write a letter to the magistrate, help her with that too, hm?"
You chirped while Satoru was looking down at your rosy face with a bizarre caress behind his serene eyes. As if gazing on the most precious, loveliest little nymph. In fact, he looked as though he wasn't listening at all, with fingers climbing up to your plush cheek, and a thumb brushing over the red, oil stain.
"Right, and come back before supper. You know that at that time I usually–"
"I know, the little brat makes her mommy nauseous," he smiled softly, and Suguru suddenly lost his appetite.
Wait a moment.
"Little brat?" Nanami chipped in first, with brows almost brushing his hairline. "Mar– Satoru, do you mean that your wife is..."
You looked at them, then at Satoru, then back at them, with a little tsk and hand patting his shoulder. "Truly! You didn't even tell them that you're going to be a father? What a good friend you are."
There was a second of silence, with Satoru trying to coo you sweetly and Nanami standing there like a log. With a slightly hazy gaze and mind trying to comprehend how a Marquis – the strongest man in the whole empire – got himself entangled not solely in a marriage with a commoner, but also in parenthood. His bloodline was precious, and his family would surely not accept the child whose mother was a simple noodle shop owner.
But then the three of them heard a loud thud, and a dark shadow of a man slowly hit the wooden floor.
Suguru, finally, fainted.
❀ ❀ ❀
He woke up a mere hour later, with a wet compress on his forehead and skull buzzing from the heat. The air felt sticky, like honey, sliding down his coarse throat and cumulating somewhere deep in chest. His head felt heavy, and warm beams of sun slipped through an open window, brushing his slightly wet forehead.
He noticed that heavy armour was removed from his body and replaced with thin, navy robes, with wide sleeves and a narrow, open collar.
The smell of boiled meat went straight to his stomach, although he wasn't in a restaurant anymore.
No, this room was neat and brimming with warmth, although rather small. The soft bed dipped under his weight as he slowly stood up. The wooden floor was cold against his feet, and he noticed a small table right in front of him, with a bowl of cold noodles and a cup. His knees hit the floor, and when eyes looked inside, he noticed a weird, lush mixture of herbs – probably something to help with overheating.
He inhaled noodles in a few seconds, with salty soy sauce dripping gently down his throat and into stomach, finally filling it with a delicious, homemade meal.
Suguru felt like crying, tasting something carried as if straight from the heavens. Something worthy of an emperor himself, with a perfect seasoning and spongy texture bouncing under his teeth.
The herbal mixture followed next, and he saw a small milky candy wrapped in paper, right next to the cup. When the bitterness of a drink struck his mind, he immediately took the candy and chewed on its creamy sweetness.
Although the meal made him a bit lazy and he wanted nothing more than to return to bed and sleep like a baby – the case of Marquis still hasn't been closed.
So he stood up, dusting off his knees and quietly went outside, covering eyes from the sun. It seemed that the restaurant was right below, with a few customers pottering around and your sweet laughter once again filling his mind. Going down the wooden stairs, he noticed your small figure through the window – with half-pinned-up hair brushing your cheeks and a warm smile, when another customer hummed deliciously over your noodles.
Your eyes met his lavender gaze, and you gasped, quickly going outside to meet his pale face. "Are you alright–"
"Suguru."
"Right," your hand landed on his cheeks, squeezing it softly as if kneading a bun. "You look much better now. The travel must've been tiring."
You took him by surprise, but something warm spread in his chest, feeling your gentle caress and thumb brushing over the rosy skin. Not many people treated him kindly, with care, and he tried to suppress an urge to nuzzle into your hand.
"If you're looking for Satoru, he went with your friend that way," you pointed a finger towards the small hut on the other side of the river. "This village is not big, so surely you'll find him somewhere."
Suguru nodded, still tracing the softness of your hearty face, with the kindest eyes he had ever seen. Truly, no noblewoman could be compared to the loveliness you carried like a second skin.
He strolled around the sandy paths, kicking the little stones that rolled under his feet. Curious villagers oogled him shyly, and each time he nodded politely, sending humble smiles and greeting a few children on the way. They followed him around the village, with little heads sweating under the sun and chubby hands reaching out for long, raven hair brushing his hips.
The smell of jasmine flowers filled the air when he crossed the small bridge, and a few petals slipped away from the fragile branches. A young girl laughed cheerfully in the house next door, and two old men sat calmly near the river's bank, trying to catch the splashing fish.
The village truly was... calm. Serene, almost idyllic, as if painted by the gods themselves, with the peaceful faces of the villagers and their cooing voices greeting Suguru on every corner.
He finally noticed a flash of snowy hair and quickly moved its way.
Satoru sat in the garden with a young woman and a little boy snuggling on her lap, while Nanami... dearest. Nanami was fixing the roof.
Never in his life would he have thought of seeing the first army general nailing the wooden planks with such a focus.
"I also want at least two taels of silver," the woman sighed, and Satoru politely wrote down her request. "But one is also enough. If that bastard decided to leave me, then let him pay."
"Two taels may be too much, but I'll try to bargain for you. Let's see," Satoru muttered, placing neat characters one under another. Little brush scrubbed slowly against the delicate surface, and only Suguru knew how skilled a calligrapher the Marquis was.
Truly taught by the best masters in the whole empire!
But the woman couldn't care less, for she never learnt how to read, and small characters reminded her of nothing but cute little bushes. Bending and curving under Satoru's steady hand, before he finished the letter and left it to dry under the sun.
His light eyes noticed Suguru's figure, and their cheerfulness was immediately replaced by a stroke of irritation.
What a bastard!
"Thank you, Satoru, I truly don't know how to repay you," the woman said shyly, gripping the letter in her hands.
The boy wriggled on her thighs, tugging on his mother's loose hair. Satoru lifted up a hand and pinched his chubby cheek, rolling a little giggle out of his lips.
"No worries, it's nothing. Just come to me when they reply, and I'll read it for you."
Nanami finished his little job too, and all three of them strolled outside through the wooden gate. Suguru didn't say anything for a while, taking in the rosy cheeks of his Marquis and oogling with curiosity all his exchanges with the villagers. They strolled around, picking up side jobs Satoru supposedly did every day – placing an order for vegetables and getting freshly delivered ones, checking the assortment for a little pharmacy, or giving short reading lessons to the local children.
People greeted him with this kind glimmer in their eyes, and kids hugged his legs, placing little stones, flowers and candies in his hands. He thanked them each time, ruffing silky hair, pinching their chubby faces and hiding every little, dirty stone in the sleeves of his robes.
On their way back to Satoru's house, Suguru finally managed to ask.
"Marquis, are we going to discuss it or just ignore the fact that you faked your death for six months?"
Satoru slowed his pace before finally stopping. Three men stood near the bridge, with light petals of the jasmine tree falling down on Satoru's milky hair. With no villagers around, he finally sighed.
"I didn't fake my death," he murmured, sitting near the riverbank.
The sun was slowly setting over the tall mountains surrounding the village, with tender hues of purple and pink and orange brushing the evening sky. Birds were slowly preparing for sleep, and villagers coming back from work in the fields. Big ox strolled behind them, tugging a little cart loaded with fresh fruits.
Satoru's eyes glanced up, reflecting the last rays of tangerine beams.
"After that battle, I fell into the river. The water must have thrown my body on the bank, because she saved me and took me back to her house. When I woke up, she was already there – tending my wounds and trying to stuff me full with noodles," he laughed warmly, as if remembering the first days spent in your presence. "I really wanted to heal up a bit and go back, but..."
Nanami and Suguru sat next to him, looking up at the fragrant jasmine branches hanging over the river.
"But I couldn't. You both know I never wanted to marry and have a family, but back there, after hearing her laugh the first time, something panged in my chest."
"Maybe your wound has opened," Nanami mumbled, and Suguru pinched his arm.
Satoru laughed, eyes still tracing the changing sky. "After meeting her, I finally understood what it truly means to be happy. To seek the next day and live in peacefulness, with nothing but her touch waking me every single morning."
Suguru hummed, remembering how warm you felt when your hand pinched his cheek. So kind and lovely, as if you honestly cared about this stranger you've met just an hour ago.
"She was constantly worried about people gossiping about her marriage, so I decided to use this chance and marry her. She wanted a husband, and I wished for nothing but to stay with her as long as I could," he continued, taking a white jasmine petal off his head. "But she was constantly afraid I would leave her one day, so to prove my devotion..."
Oh dearest god.
Suguru almost fainted again. "You decided to trap her with a baby? Are you crazy?"
He was crazy. So, so miserably crazy, and Suguru could see it in his eyes. In his hands, grabbing your waist in an almost possessive manner, and his always oh so gentle gaze, as if nothing else but his dear wife mattered in this world.
"I didn't trap her... well. At least she doesn't feel that way," he coughed, smiling like a fool. "She always wanted to have a family, so I decided to give it to her. What's wrong with it?"
"Marquis, are you hearing yourself?" Suguru almost hissed. "Just a year ago, you declined the most beautiful women offered to you by an emperor himself. And now you're telling me you decided to marry a simple commoner after knowing her for a month?"
"Well, he never offered me her," Satoru giggled. "And it was a week. She asked me to marry her after a week."
"She asked you?"
"Yes."
"And you agreed? Just like that?"
"Of course, it was love at first sight."
Suguru looked at Nanami, as if trying to make sure he wasn't the crazy one here. That Marquis truly went mad, and he lost all his senses.
Maybe while falling down, he hit his head? Maybe you bewitched him and forced a marriage?
But no one in this world could possibly force a tyrannical Marquis to do anything. Well, at least that's what Suguru have thought.
"Marquis, does it mean that... she doesn't know who you are?" Nanami asked, and everyone suddenly held their breath.
Including Satoru, who scratched his head sheepishly.
Oh.
Oh!
"She doesn't. You didn't tell her?!" Suguru once again almost shouted, and Satoru quickly shushed him.
"How could I? She thinks I'm a simple scholar who can do nothing but sweet-talk and read," he brushed another jasmine petal, and Suguru noticed a bit of worry behind his ocean eyes. "If she knew my real rank... There's a chance she would leave me. She's alone in this world – no parents, no family. If revealing my situation would mean losing her, I'd rather live as a commoner."
Suguru couldn't simply comprehend the weight of his words. For living as a commoner was everything people of their sort feared. To lose a status that could save your head in turmoil times such as this one was almost like a death sentence.
And Marquis was ready to do it solely for a fleeting tenderness.
"Does it mean you're not planning to go back?" Nanami asked quietly. "Do you want to stay announced as dead?"
Satoru was silent for a few minutes, with rays of sunshine slowly leaving his face. The moon lurked shyly from between jasmine branches, reflecting his wandering gaze. Suguru has never seen Marquis so quiet, so calm. As if his soul truly healed up from all the bestiality he needed to suffer just to float above anyone else.
The cold, sharp Marquis was no longer here, replaced by a man who tasted love for the first time. He was like a child learning how to walk, but at the same time, constantly looking over his shoulder to make sure his mother was watching over him.
And for Satoru – it was you.
You showed him the kindness of this world, and life deprived of the wrath he has felt for such a long time.
Marquis didn't say anything, but stood up instead and laughed under his breath. "It's almost supper time, let's go back. My wife always gets nauseous around this time, so I'll be the one cooking."
Suguru and Nanami simply nodded, following the Marquis back to the warm house.
They found you in a kitchen, humming softly and cutting the vegetables. The restaurant was already closed, and nothing but a soft beam of candles and a little buzz of crickets filled the small room.
Suguru has only now noticed your little bump, and he smiled when Satoru hugged you from behind.
"Sorry we took so long," he murmured, placing a wet kiss on your cheek. "There was simply too much to talk about."
You hummed, nodding head softly, till a few strands slipped away from your pinup. "It's okay, Satoru. Spend as much time as you need," you said, before looking up towards two men standing in the doors. "The room for you is ready. The supper will be, as soon as Satoru starts cutting the meat."
Marquis laughed, taking a heavy chopper and a fat piece of flesh. Suguru has never seen him in the kitchen, so he looked with pure curiosity at the way the iron blade slashed the tender meat.
What a bizzare sight, truly!
The supper wasn't anything special, but sitting together, talking and drinking – well, aside from you, of course – was the first time Suguru saw Marquis so relaxed.
Cheerful, free, with his head lying softly on your thighs and smooth locks caressed by your fingers. He was getting drunk faster than usual, babbling carelessly under his breath and peppering your little swell with kisses, till you flushed like the sweetest cherry and pushed him away. He joked and laughed, reminiscent of the days spent in royal academia with Suguru and Nanami (apparently, all of them met there, absolutely not on the battlefield) and delighted himself in stories about your first meeting.
About the moment he opened his eyes and saw an angel itself, to which you flushed feverishly and mumbled oh stop. Drunk Satoru was like a teenage boy boasting about his first love, and Suguru couldn't help but feel warmth spreading all over his chest every time Marquis peeked up at your lovely face.
When the night came, and it was time to part your ways, Suguru...
Dear heavens.
Suguru wished for nothing more than to be anywhere but right next to your room. For he heard everything.
Every sloppy kiss, every giggle, every shuddered breath of yours and silent Satoru, we can't, they're going to hear us. But Marquis, who was nothing if not madly in love, promised that don't worry baby, they won't, it will be fine, just let me taste you.
Fortunately, it seemed that you slapped his nosy hands away, because for the rest of the night, Marquis stayed silent.
Suguru and Nanami decided to stay for a few more nights, enjoying the idyllic charm of the village. Nanami would help in fixing the houses after the recent flood, and Suguru devoted his time to helping Satoru teach local kids. Marquis was the only person in the whole village who could read and write, thus local folks gladly attended his short, daily classes.
When Suguru came, the kids took a deep breath as if charmed by the gentleness and vigilance of his face. Satoru liked to fool around with little brats, but Suguru immediately put them in place, imposing a harsh, hour-long lesson as worthy of the most prominent strategist in the whole empire.
They sat with focused foreheads and beams of sweat glistening on their temples, while chubby fingers tried to draw clean, straight strokes.
Later that evening, Satoru told him that children liked the new pretty lady teacher, and you burst out in the most melodic laughter he's ever heard.
During the days, they fooled around, helped at the restaurant and did odd jobs for villagers, but the nights...
The nights were always reserved for you and Satoru.
And Suguru never dared to impose this gentle time between the two spouses, closing himself and Nanami off in the bedroom.
But he heard every little word rolled intimately between the two tender souls.
He heard the soft creak of the mattress as Satoru shifted closer to you, as if even sleep demanded less distance between your bodies.
He heard your quiet laughter, muffled into pillows, as though you didn't wish to disturb your guests.
He heard of your simple dreams and plans and all the worries you seemed to always have at the back of your mind.
He heard your quiet I love you and his trust me I love you more, followed by a silent kiss.
He heard the gentle splash of water shifting in the tub, followed by your quiet hum, almost absent-minded, while Satoru moved around you with careful hands.
He heard the faint press of lips against your temple.
The whispered goodnights that always sounded like promises.
And sometimes, he heard nothing at all.
Just silence.
But he knew that even during the most hushed nights, Satoru was always keeping you close – to his heart and soul and eyes. For he has never seen anything more precious than the peacefulness haunting his wife's forehead. And if a little, worried crease would appear between your brows, his thumb would gently massage it away. Lips would kiss it off, and you would snuggle up even closer, as if your body unconsciously yearned for your husband's touch.
There was a special kind of intimacy between the two lovers, whose odd fates and minds mixed in one lifeline. A bond most could be jealous of – in the way Satoru seemed to have you at his fingertips and you somehow always curled around them, floating near like a little goddess.
If Satoru was a believer, he would pray to nothing but the giggling eyes of his wife.
A few days later, when they were getting ready for the road, Suguru would look back at the young couple with a swelling heart.
For Marquis, who suffered enough in his short life, deserved nothing more than to gleam under the warm sun like a fair child, with his bright laughter forever carried through the mountains and meadows of the great empire.
A new upload from Ryotic—the anonymous artist whose ink bleeds between exquisite anatomy and monstrous, tentacled fantasies.
But it isn't just his art that makes your breath hitch, it's the audios that play over them. His voice is a dark, velvet sandpaper—a rich, deep baritone that thrums in the back of your throat. It's smoky, authoritative, and devastatingly masculine.
“Come here, give me your hand,” he murmurs, and even though he’s miles away in a soundproof booth probably, you find your fingers twitching. “Let me show you how I touch myself when I think of you.”
Cast in the blue glow of your screen, your hand is already drifting down to the damp silk of your underwear. It's pathetic, really. You're obsessed with a faceless illustrator with a sexy voice.
The wet, sticky click of skin on skin as he pumps himself in slow strokes comes next. You can hear the weight of him, the heavy, deliberate slide of his fist gripping his cock. It’s unhurried and filthy. He lets out a low, gruff grunt, a sound so primal it feels like it’s scarring your very psyche.
“You like being called names, don't you?” He chuckles, a devastatingly earnest rumble that feels like a caress. “Yeah, you little fuck toy? Wanna be pushed around and folded into whatever position I want, huh? Be a good girl and let me hear you, fuck yourself like you want me to.”
The pace of his strokes quickens with your own fingers as the pads rub firm circles onto your pulsing bud. The audio is crisp—you can hear his breath hitching, the desperate, needy way he’s inhaling.
“Ah, fuck, baby," he slurs, the endearmeant dripping off his tongue like honey. “That's it. Fuck that wet little pussy for me. Are you actually flustered while you're riding your fingers?”
Your dirty little secret is lost in the throes of pleasure. The sounds are raw—the kind of unhinged, guttural groans that would haunt your bloodline if they ever leaked into the open air. He sounds animalistic, his breath catching into strained, choked-off whines as he nears the edge.
“Uh-uh, don't run. You're not gonna piss yourself, this is the best part,” your mouth falls agape when his voice cuts in right as you're shying away from your hand when your bladder feels heavy, “Relax, you can handle it. Thaaat's my girl. Cum for me.”
You do, white hot pleasure bursting behind your squeezed eyelids as a spray of hot liquid drenches your pajama shorts, thighs trembling and pussy milking your fingers.
His orgasm is a wreck of sound—a series of rough grunts and a sharp, pained inhale. You hear the sopping, quiet splat of him coming all over himself, followed by the heavy, post-orgasmic thud of him leaning back against his chair.
The ragged, heaving gasps of a man completely spent spills into your ears. Then comes the ruinous part: a soft, breathless chuckle. It’s warm, genuine, and domestic. “Shit,” he huffs in amusement, his voice even deeper now, thick with a haze. “Look at the mess you made me make.”
Panting, your hand slips out of the waistband of your shorts, webbed with your slick, your eyes fluttering shut as you slump back on the headboard. In your mind, you aren't alone. You're crushed beneath him.
The only problem—the absolute tragedy of your life—is that the only voice you'd ever heard with that specific, chest-rattling resonance belongs to Sukuna.
He's a friend of Yorozu, who you've known since high school. The asshole is a towering, terrifying man whose presence is a threat in and off itself. Tattoos swirl like dark smoke up his body, across his jaw, and disappear under the sleeves of his shirts, wrapping around his wrists. He treats you like a persistent gnat, and you return the favor with sharp-tongued vitriol.
Even with his blush pink hair, he looked like he belonged in a back-alley brawl, usually grunting a greeting before disappearing the moment you appeared. But his voice... it was a dead ringer for Ryotic. Every time Sukuna told you to “move” or “pass the salt,” a traitorous spark ignited between your thighs.
Spurred by a mix of horniness and defiance, you started your own anonymous account: Comfy&Cumming. You post faceless, inconspicuous videos of yourself in high-cut lace, humping a plush body pillow. In every video, you're actually listening to Ryotic's dirty talk, pretending the pillow was his thick thigh or fat cock.
“I want to see you come on that pillow,” the voice in your ear purrs. “Wring yourself out for me. Imagine it's my cock stretching you open.”
Within two weeks, you're a sensation with merely five videos and ten thousand followers. Then, the notification came: @Ryotic followed you. Next, a tag: a sketch of a woman in your exact lingerie, arched over a pillow, with the caption: “My new muse.”
He shamelessly likes your videos, especially the ones filmed from the back where your plush ass and the sliver of your pussy is winking at the camera through your soaked, translucent panties as you bounce on the pillow, rubbing your aching clit against it and sighing lascivious moans. The curve of your ass might as well be a part of the Golden Ratio as you fist the pillow and fuck it hard.
It has to be a coincidence that his latest animations are all of women humping pillows, their rolling hips stuttering as they give soft cries when they come.
The air in the cramped bar is thick with cigarette smoke and the scent of gin as your group of friends gather for drinks and to catch up after two weeks of being busy with work.
“What's hotter than sex?” your friend Yorozu asks, leaning in, breath sweet from her fruity margarita as a mischievous smile pulls at her lips. “A specific kink, a moment, whatever.”
You, three drinks deep and feeling reckless, let your mind drift to Ryotic's video from the previous night. “Watching a man come in his pants,” you blurt. “The loss of control, the mess... just seeing him unable to hold back.”
Across the table, Sukuna, who had been silently nursing a whiskey, goes dead still. He cuts a look at you—sharp, predatory, and suddenly focused. It's the first time he hadn't looked at you with bored annoyance.
Flustered, you hide your face behind the rim of glass, your heart hammering against your ribs. With horrifying clarity, you're doused with the chilling realisation that you'd just bled in front of a shark.
“Gross! That's so messy,” Yorozu laughs. “Ryomen, what about you?”
Sukuna takes a slow, deliberate sip of his drink. His eyes never leave yours. “Watching a woman hump a pillow,” he drawls, his voice dropping into that familiar, floor-vibrating register. “Seeing her so desperate for a fix that she has to use an object ‘cause she's starving for the real thing and too scared to ask.”
Blood drains from your face swiftly like someone unplugged a bathtub. Your grip on the glass tightens until your knuckles turn white. It couldn't be. You just drank too much.
The conversation shifts, the alcohol flowing faster. “Something you’ve never tried but want to?”
“A headlock,” you sigh dreamily, the secret shame of your latest fantasy spilling out as your manicured fingers curl around your neck. “Being held from behind in a bear hug, beefy arms around my head, totally trapped while he fucks me.”
Sukuna sprawls out on his side of the booth, a smirk ghosting his lips, tattoos inching higher when you give your throat a squeeze, earning giggles from your friends.
“Funny,” he muses with a hum. “I’ve always wanted to put a woman in a headlock, smothering her moans while I take what I want. See how loud she can scream when she’s got nowhere to run.”
A dizzying glance is shared as the visual both your words paint flashes in behind your fluttering eyelids. His hands already dwarf yours and would make a pretty necklace around your throat.
He can see it now, his hulking body crowding you from behind, so strong and all-consuming as his shadow swallows yours. Arms band around your neck in a meaty cuddle, muscles flexing as he pounds into you, listening to you get choked up, dewy face tear-streaked, mascara running down your cheeks as your eyes glaze over with that spaced-out gleam. Crying out his name in that breathy, salacious gasp of yours as you claw at his forearms and buck against him for more, more, more.
Rubbing your thighs together, his crimson eyes flicker to yours, pupils spilling into his irises at the sight of your pinched brows and far away look. He almost wonders if you saw what he saw. You look distressed, lips glossy and pouty as you're made painfully aware of how slippery you are along your slit and squirming just has your clit rolling side to side as your stomach somersaults.
“You good?” he asks as if truly concerned but there's a hint of mirth in his eyes.
Snapping out of your stupor, you come to to find yourself ogling the broad expanse of his torso in that paper-thin, flimsy tee that does nothing to hide the outline of the tattoos framing his chest and abdomen, crawling beneath the waistband of his jeans like spilled ink dripping down, down, down. The fabric is holding on for dear life as it stretches across his plump pecs.
“Peachy,” you bite out, going back to listening to Gojo talk about his latest conquest and ignoring the heated stares cast your way every now and then.
The next night, you sit in your room, trembling as you refresh Ryotic's feed. A new post appears: a high-quality animation of a tattooed man holding a woman in a crushing headlock from behind, biceps bulging and veins rippling, his cock driving inside of her over and over again with each mean snap of his hips.
Shakily, you press play.
The audio starts, but it isn't just his voice. Beneath the deep growl of him saying, “Fuckin’ space out, huh? Seeing stars, baby?” there's a woman’s voice.
Jealousy doesn't get the chance to coil in your gut, not when you realise it's your voice.
He had taken a voice note you'd posted on your anonymous account—a private, experimental clip of you whimpering—and layered it over the animation. The sound of your own wet, desperate moans echoing back at you, perfectly synced to the rhythm of the animation.
The caption read: “Found you, my muse. Collab? Or should I just come over and do it for real?”
Dumbfounded, you stare at the screen, your phone vibrating with a DM from a private account.
R.S: Had a feeling that was you before you outed yourself last night.
R.S: I'd recognize that ass anywhere.
Honestly, this was the perfect outcome for the pink-haired man as he'd been using you as inspiration for his female protagonists for years now. Same attitude, similar body shape, same expressions, same habits and so on. Think of it as his outlet of his frustrations where he could draw a man resembling him fucking the brattiness out of you.
Finding out that you were also his latest muse and a big fan of his work was a dream come fucking true. His cock swells and kicks, leaking excitedly at the thought of getting to finally have you.
And with how your subscribers are flooding your inbox and bank account with thousands of dollars, begging you to take him up on the offer, you simply cannot refuse.
Synopsis. On campus? Choso Kamo’s the sweet, shy nerd you share film class with - the one who can barely meet your eyes without blushing. Online? Choso Kamo is really @cursed(your)wombz—the #1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends with 820k followers to see his…nine inches. And he might just be looking for a partner.
Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!reader, streamer!Choso, (sort of) B́J Alex AU, cámboy!Choso, college AU, he’s a nerd, film nerd!Choso, secret identities, masks, píercings (ears, tóngue, D), tattoos, chat, streaming, you’re a fan, identity reveal, exhíbitíonism, oraI (fem rec.), again PlERCINGS, tongue f, spítting, p sIapping, p talking, letting the viewers choose, fíngering with rings, overstím, dúmbifícation, Jacob’s Ladder, rough s, fiIthy s, he’s sIightly mean, tummy buIges, making it fit, pressing down, talking you through it, cIit pinching, pússydrúnk Choso, matíng presses, chokíng, manhandIing, mocking, sIight níppIe stim, creampíes, chat Iove you, cúmpIay, getting together, Phantom of the Opera references, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 14.9k
A/N. Hehehehehe-
Sunday was the night you’d found him; sprawled out on your bed and thumbing through the Internet. Some glitzy pop song you couldn’t name blasted from your speakers, and the room was saturated in the tingly excitement of having speedy Wi-Fi, no assignments, and the night to yourself. LED lights pink.
You’re checking some of your messages - doling out a few hearts, a few reposts - when that bell-shaped button bursts in blue. A new notification.
@cursed(your)wombz liked your repost.
It was on a photograph of the Sun—big and yellow, seemingly melting over a grey horizon.
Which was perfectly ordinary- this was the Internet, after all. And though your list of followers was modest, of course you’d interact with a stranger here and there.
The problem was in the way the notification disappeared as soon as it came.
An…accident maybe? This person had liked and unliked your repost. And without a second thought, you’re typing their username into the search bar.
And clicking on their profile.
@cursed(your)wombz huh?
He had a pitch-black profile picture and a layout with nothing of note, a banner as equally colorless and unnotable, and a simple bio stating:
I know what you want…
- C.
And beneath that was a link.
It stood out stark against the black background. You don’t click on it, of course- for fear of being something malicious, you’re avoiding it like you’d avoid a minefield.
You’ve already heard one too many horror stories on here about such things. One click and you’d find your address posted somewhere. Instead, your eyes drop to the number of followers he had…and your eyebrows are immediately shooting up.
0 Following.
581k Followers.
Now that makes you blink.
Okay- alright, maybe it wasn’t the most astounding number you’ve ever seen throughout your expansive time on the Internet - but it was still niche celebrity-status. Especially on this app. Especially to be stalking an account like yours…where all you did was repost the stray picture of a pretty landscape or yell into the aether about your missing assignments for your friends to comment on.
Now that was a little strange.
And so you’re scrolling down.
And you never quite know what you’re in for whenever you enter the realm of a person’s account—fanfiction with tags you never knew existed, one part of an argument on social media that really shouldn’t exist, mpreg.
Which was all fine and dandy to be quite honest- you just never expect to be met with the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on.
The first picture you’re seeing- pinned.
Posted just an hour ago. It’s a mirror selfie taken at a low angle; of a man with his body angled towards the lens and his phone covering his face. In nothing but a towel. With nothing but his chiselled body. His beefy arms flexed as he takes the picture, biceps rippled with a few veins—though still lean and almost smooth to the touch. Pierced nipples. Defined abs. Your eyes linger on the sparse dusting of dark hair leading below, below, below his fluffy white towel…
The picture cuts off just a few inches past his navel. You know because you’re enlarging it.
The photo is almost vampiric in nature.
Somehow.
Dimly-lit. Beautiful—he clearly knew his angles and lighting. It’s slightly blurry and you can’t make out much of the man’s features - nothing more than the slender length of his fingers, silver rings, and the outline of his dark (perhaps brown?) hair. Touching his shoulders. From just above the hem of his towel, the amorphous blur of a tattoo snakes down his left v-line - and no matter how much you’re zooming in, you can’t quite figure out what it is.
Something twists at the pit of your stomach as you’re latching your eyes onto the very obvious bulge he was sporting through the towel - very.
The flash created a shadow of his lengthy cock—oh. Hanging between thick thighs, heavy and needy. And it also illuminated the slight dampness clinging onto his body; perhaps he’d just gotten out of the shower, or was about to take on after a workout.
Whichever scenario it was, both made your thighs clench- fuck.
Fingers slightly shaky, you’re exiting out of the picture and scrolling down for more.
The next post is a video seemingly taken from the very same instance: it was from the point of view of the beautiful man. Facing downwards, as he zoomed the camera in on his bulge and ran one vein-covered, ringed hand down his abs- down his pelvis- down to that throbbing erection and squeezed himself through his towel.
And then through your speakers echoes out the most pornographic moan.
Thank goodness your dorm had thick walls.
And that’s when you decide that you’ve seen enough.
Not enough as in enough enough to block this strange man and move on with your life- of course, not. As quickly as your fingers would possibly let you, you’re exiting out of the video and scrolling up to a bio that seemed to have more to hide than the first time you read through it.
The link stands mockingly stark - almost winking at you - against the dark background. You think you know what it is.
And you click on it.
Suddenly, your laptop screen’s flooding with a gaudy pink color. A loading circle swivels in the middle of it for a few seconds, before you’re met with a logo in swooping, slanted black script: C4mBoyfriends. Better than that boy in your dms.
Rapidly, you’re opening up a new tab and typing in the name.
“C4mBoyfriends is an adult streaming platform that hosts webcam performers that choose to label themselves as male. Here they can stream live video, post photographs, and interact on forums with a wide array of paying viewers—for a range of content catering to specific niches or sexual roleplays. C4mBoyfriends, since its recent launch, has shot up in the industry as one of the most-visited adult sites and the safest for its performers. All cuts go to the performers themselves and the site runs on separate donations from its audience.”
Ah- you’d guessed right.
Excitement burbles at the pit of your stomach for a few seconds. You’re clicking back onto the tab with the pink logo, and finding that it’d stopped loading.
It was in the layout of a streaming device, with static images of ongoing streams on one side of the platform, and different pages listed out on top. But what took up the majority of your screen was the vision of the very same man from before- from the mirror selfie, from the video.
This time, it was a stream.
@cursed(your)wombz is streaming—#1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends [101 week streak]. [Only solo]. Your internet boyfriend <3
0 Subscribed.
820k Subscribers.
455k Currently watching.
This time, he had his towel lifted up and his hands fisted around his fat cock.
Perfectly angled.
Your jaw drops. He was about eight- maybe more inches, though you weren’t in the state to count. Way too entranced by the way his veiny, ring-decorated hands were wrapped around his cock. Large. He was just so loooong and standing tall between wide-spread legs, shiverin’ every time he’s gliding his hand up and down. Up and down.
Again and again.
Getting faster by the second before he arches-
The edge of his thumb’s reaching for his ruby-red crown—then smearing the glistening liquid that just kept on foaming from the top. He lathers it upon his palm and drags it down his hot erection, making every inch gleam underneath the off-camera lighting.
You’re clicking on a button to increase your volume.
And just in time, too, because then he snakes his left hand down and squeezes his heavy balls- letting out a botched groan that leaves your shorts oh-so-wet.
Deep and guttural; there’s a slight quiver in them as he whispers. “F-fuck.” Just so full and sensitive—the man’s head tips backwards and his hips buck off the cushioned chair. Sluttily. As though he was fucking something invisible. It’s creaking ever-so-slightly as he settles back down, composing himself just a little bit before he starts cumming.
Pearly white droplets of cum.
Beading from the very top of his shaft - where he was the most pink n’ angry - shaking as he empties out. Globs of it start to glide down his length, and a few more collect where his silver Prince Albert’s piercing was positioned right beneath his mushroomy tip.
You’re just letting your eyes linger upon that little heap of satiny sap, when the man thumbs upwards and smears that, too. Such a mess.
And you think that might be all- but then he’s reaching his non-dominant hand upwards and pressing down on his frothing cockhead. Stopping himself from cumming - and as he leans to the side, you swear you’re glimpsing the twinkle of even more piercings on the upper side of his shaft. Was that…a Jacob’s ladder?
You’re rendered so damn speechless that you almost don’t register him speaking- “Awwww, did my pretty sluts wanna watch me cum?”
A shiver runs down your spine at the hitched tone of his voice- drunk on lust. He’s slightly slurring. So alluring, you almost catch yourself nodding.
“Well, too bad.” The man meanly snickers, before he’s suddenly reaching out with his non-dominant hand and angling it higher. The screen shifts to display that very same mouth-watering body from the picture—though, this time with the addition of a black-and-white mask that covered his features from forehead to his sharp jawline.
The only opening in it was a concave cutout for his mouth - almost reminiscent of a Phantom of the Opera mask. In the background was a clearly expensive bedroom of a clearly expensive home - far different from your single dorm - an artwork that you couldn’t name on the wall behind him. Something like a photograph or a portrait. Something about it was so precise- so cinematic. Like watching a movie scene. He continues, “Because you know why? You don’t deserve it.”
There’s a flurry of comments on one side of the screen, so fast that you wonder how he reads it.
“Didn’t I tell you to spam me with your nastiest stories in the chat?” He asks, and from beneath his mask you catch the outline of dark eyes shifting down those hurried words. Those needy comments. “None of you are nasty enough, so none of you get to see me cum…”
You’re tearing your eyes off of him to peruse what they were saying.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: nuuuuuu please, curse! i’ll get on my knees!!
@vampzo333: me too ME TOO
@likezmenpregnant: My story about the body pillow wasn’t nasty enough? TT
@CCpervnextdoor: AWWWW I’m begging~
@Curse’swifey: I’LL PAY YOU EXTRA PLEASEEEEEEE
@Curse’swifey donated 500 cherries.
“Tch- what a desperate bunch. Just fucking look at yourselves…” And though his words weren’t in the least bit nice, you couldn’t deny just how badly he made your cunt twinge.
Curse…that’s what his name was, huh?
You’re squeezing your thighs together- your sleep shorts were definitely soaked.
Curse rolls out the kinks in his neck just a little, and stares down at the camera with a crooked grin. “But that’s not gonna be enough. I said to be nasty- so be nasty.” The active chat becomes nothing but a blur once more: pleas, donations, stories half-typed in their urgency. “And in return I’ll moan whatever name you want me to moan when I cum.”
Before you know it, you’re opening up the sign-up page in a new tab.
Keeping Curse’s livestream playing in the background as you zip through your details. You’re picking out a username for yourself: Ietsmakeamovie and hastily going back to the ongoing stream with your newfound handle. Was it too obvious to make it the same username as your other account? The one that he had stalked?
Fuck- you’re too wound up to think of something else at this point. You decide that you’ll change it later…
Luckily, Curse’s stream didn’t have a paying threshold before you could comment. And you’re jittery with excitement as you pull the laptop closer to yourself and start typing out something—hitting send before you could overthink it.
@Ietsmakeamovie: Seeing you is the first time I’ve gotten this wet.
Curse’s eyes drift down the chat, and he seems to latch onto something. Eyes widening just a fraction.
“The first time?”
Fuck.
You’re feeling a jolt at the way he addresses you - never expecting him to pick out that comment amongst tens of thousands of others that were uttering even filthier things. Curse leans in and speaks with his deep tone, “Those other boys didn’t know how to treat a perfect pussy like yours, huh? This is why they call me the Internet boyfriend, baby.”
@Ietsmakeamovie: Yeah.
@Ietsmakeamovie: Fuck, you’re so hot.
@Ietsmakeamovie: I don’t even wanna look away to touch myself.
You feel embarrassed typing it all out - but you console yourself with the notion that no one here knows who you are. And you don’t know anyone here, either.
Curse leans back and starts pumping his cock even harder—taking his left hand off the drivelling top. His milky-white precum is frenzied n’ sticks to his hand like glue, and the chat grows more and more excited as Curse’s actions do the same.
“That’s alright, baby, you don’t have to finger yourself.” He chuckles, eyes locked on the comments. “I’d be doing that for you if I was there.”
@Ietsmakeamovie: Wish you were. You’d reach so much deeper.
@Ietsmakeamovie donated 1000 cherries.
“Fuh-fuck—” He hisses, head throwing back in his chair. You take the time to admire the lines of his prominent Adam’s apple - the way it bobs every time he’s taking a shaky swallow. “No need to donate or anything, baby, just keep- ngh, talking t’me like this and that’s enough…”
@0003h0lesforCurse: holy shit. i’ve never seen him like this.
@CCpervnextdoor: Needy Curse I like it~
@bewbsRlife: KEEP GOING OP KEEP GOING!!
You giggle to yourself.
@Ietsmakeamovie: Enough to make you cum, Curse?
“Greedy, greedy girl…” Through the slightest gaps in his mask you’re catching the way his nose crinkles in amusement. A wolfish smile. “S’that what you all want?”
The chat explodes in agreement.
He cocks his head, “Movie?”
Was that your new nickname now? Hastily, you reply-
@Ietsmakeamovie: Mhm.
“Well then…” He grins, toned body arching off the chair. “Get ready for a show—” Darkened gaze narrowing at the comments, “And you better not take your eyes off of me for a single second- hump your damn pillows if you have to. I don’t care.”
Quickly grabbing your own puffy pillow, you’re stuffing it between your legs.
Right as Curse lets his head loll backwards- and his cum drizzles out of his cock. He’s been edging the poor viewers and overstimulatin’ himself for so fucking long now—all it takes is a few pumps to let the cascade of white coat his hands and his rings. Just the slightest bit of silver peaking through.
Hard and fast.
The man’s cockhead flushes even redder as he drags his high out deliciously. Every burst of dopamine. Every heaving pant. Every pretty moan escaping him.
It seems to be ramming into him in waves- gooey ribbons of seed coat his digits. Getting smeared like a gloss across eeeeevery single inch, ridge, and vein—and since Curse’s pace was something furious, a few globs of cum splatter across the towel and onto his thighs. A mess that he’s seeming to love.
Because in the next few seconds, he’s wrung out just the final bits of pleasure in him- and is raising his cum-coated fingers up to his mouth and sucking. Staring straight into the camera lens as he does so.
You’re watching slack-jawed as those long, lacquered digits disappear between his lips. Finishin’ them off squeaky clean and letting his head tip to the side.
He mouths, “Movie—”
Part of your username.
Though you hadn’t asked for him to moan your name, as he’d promised to do to one of the viewers had they been nasty enough. And this special treatment…
Maybe he did it to every new viewer. Maybe he just liked how much you complimented him- though everyone else did, too. Either way, it’s perhaps what sets off the bursts of electricity between your legs—and soon enough you’re hurtling into a high you hadn’t even realized had been building up and up and up.
Your lashes flutter shut as the orgasm overtakes you.
Hips ruttin’ away into the plushness of your pillow- you wonder just how much better riding him would be…
And that’s setting off a whole new layer of dopamine at your core, your cunt quiverin’ as white-hot pleasure makes your heartbeat throb in your ears. Chest pounding. Breaths heavy.
By the time you’ve finished pushing through your high, you’re coming to find that Curse had somewhat cleaned himself up with the towel and was bantering back n’ forth with the chat. He rests his head on one hand and sweeps his eyes down the usernames, “What happened to dear Movie, huh?” Curse pretends to pout. “The first stream wasn’t too much for her, right?”
@girrrrrrrrrrth: kekekeke you’re too freaky, curse!!
@CCpervnextdoor: So dirty~
@daddytoeknee: Must thank Movie for the show though…
Urgently, you’re gathering yourself and tapping a few buttons on-screen.
@Ietsmakeamovie subscribed to @cursed(your)wombz.
@Ietsmakeamovie donated 2500 cherries.
@Ietsmakeamovie: It’d never be too much.
“Ahhh, there you are.” Such a beautiful smile smears across his face, and Curse’s leaning in to take a closer look at the comments. “And thank you for subscribing, same time tomorrow?”
You’re unsure whether that was directed at you or everyone viewing- but you’re chiming in agreement alongside the rest of the comments. And Curse reads through them, lingering for just a little while longer before he grins.
“Heh- bye, sluts.”
And he covers the camera, the stream cuts off.
Yet your heart still thunders.
Ignoring the time at the bottom of your laptop screen, you’re then clicking on his profile and scrolling through what other videos he had…
.
.
.
It was your fault that you kept dozing off.
Honestly.
You should have known better- and you know that you should’ve known better…but you couldn’t help yourself. After Curse’s initial stream, you spent some time browsing through the numerous photographs and short clips that he’d posted; there were even some saved streams that were each dirtier than the last—each with his attractive mask and his even more attractive voice, his sensual cock getting pumped over and over for the audiences.
And so you’d left a few comments, a few hearts.
Throughout all of them, you made the peculiar discovery that they were all more high-quality than the last. The standard of being the #1 on the site, you guess. But the lighting and angles were all just so perfect…
You’d watched them for just a little while- at least, what you’d thought was a little while. Because by the time you’re realizing that your laptop battery was dying, and your eyes were tired, you’re turning your head in the direction of the dorm windows and- fuck.
Why was the Sun coming up?
And so you’d rushed to get at least half an hour of sleep before you had to get up for your 8AM lecture.
Professor Yaga taught Film 101 as though he was trying to scare everyone off it. Rigorous coursework and never-altered deadlines. Though you yourself wouldn’t consider him an unreasonable man, it was impertinent to be punctual and alert in his classes - and right now, you were feeling neither of those.
By the grace of the universe, you’re somehow managing to stumble into class just two minutes after it starts. It’s not enough to rouse Yaga’s anger - and either way, you had made a name for yourself as one of his most avid students - though it does get you a sternly raised brow as you apologize and take the nearest open seat.
Just-so-happening to be in the very last row.
At the very forgotten corner.
Right beside who you knew to be Yaga’s actually most avid student—Choso Kamo.
Had it been a race between the two of you - perhaps between the entire department - Choso would have finished five times before anyone’s even stepping past the finish line. You would’ve gotten second. And that wasn’t to diminish your abilities in any way - you’d long since proven yourself to be one of the best students this course had even seen - it’s just…Choso was a film nerd through and through.
If there was anyone that could live up to such a title, then it was him.
Choso lived, slept, and breathed film and television. He could name any television show around the world with just a single frame, and most he could recite line-for-line. Oh, that? He learned Korean just to immerse himself in that scene in Parasite. That scene? It was from the 1957 Sri Lankan film Amba Yahaluwo, by the way did you know that Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom was filmed there, too?
Knitted vest. Hair in two messy space buns.
Clunky glasses rested atop his nosebridge, and dark bangs covering most of his vision, you’d often see him tottering around campus with a column of books that was damn-near taller than him. And despite his towering demeanour - from your mental counting, Choso was around 6’2 or more - around most of the student body, he was the type that couldn’t meet your eyes no matter how many classes you shared with him.
Even now, as you seated right next to him and smiled- Choso softly yelps and turns away from.
You don’t take it personally, of course, as he was simply the shy type. And by the flush that rises to his high cheekbones, you know he - at the very least - doesn’t dislike you.
Situating yourself, you’re opening your bag and pulling out your laptop. Opening it- fuck.
The briefest flash of one of Curses’s previous streams—where he had his cock in his hands and his face contorted mid-ecstasy flashes across your screen. And you can’t slam your laptop shut fast enough- cracking it just the slightest bit to exit out of the numerous tabs, fingers nothing but a blur. Thank fuck your volume hadn’t been set on high.
Head ducked, you’re looking out from the corner of your eye to check whether Choso had seen anything.
But if he did, he shows no indication.
Only keeping his back ramrod straight- his gaze ahead- his flush fiery as he listens to whatever Yaga was saying.
And so you think you’re in the clear…for now…
Opening your laptop up once more, you’re logging onto your lecture platforms and attempting to forget about last night. Which was difficult when that smile upon Curse’s face, just beneath his mask - was the only thing running through your mind.
And before you know it, you’d been staring blankly at your screen for a few seconds—before Choso inches in just a centimeter closer. Unwilling to let himself take up even more space. He keeps his eyes trained ahead and his voice - fuck, you’d never heard his voice before but it was just so deep and measured, something you wouldn’t have expected out of him - low.
Whispering to you, “H-he’s on Chapter 18 of Stone Butch Blues, we’re about to write a screenplay for the zoo scene.”
“Ah…” You don’t know whether you’re more surprised at the timbre of his voice or the way he managed a proper sentence out to you. All your previous attempts at conversation throughout the semester had been futile—and you’d long resigned yourself to the idea that he was too nervous to ever talk to you. “Th-thank you.”
He doesn’t answer but nods in shy acknowledgement.
And as you’re opening up your file, you bask in the realization that Choso Kamo was actually hot underneath those glasses. If only you could see his features further…
Maybe you’re being a little delirious. Your eyes feel heavy.
Heavy.
Heavier.
Tap-tap-tap.
A shake.
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
A warm hand on your shoulder, by the time you’re opening your eyes- you’re looking up into even warmer, molten chocolate-colored ones. They were framed by fawny eyelashes and thick glasses that made his shy gaze seem ever-so-slightly amplified.
You think you’re stunned for a few seconds before Choso speaks, “U-um…class is over.”
“Oh.” That makes you dart your head up and look around, noticing that most of the students had filtered in or were in the process of already doing so. “Oh, shit-”
You’d seriously slept through all that?
And Yaga had left you alive?!
No, you weren’t going to question this act of mercy—thank goodness for the last row, because he likely hadn’t been able to see you. Shooting upright, you’re grabbing all your things and hoping you hadn’t snored next to the sweet boy - “Thank you so much for waking me.” You’re turning towards him and saying, earnestness seeping into your tone. “Knowing me, I would’ve slept right through till next class. Might actually have been more convenient.”
He startles into a laugh then raises a hand up to his mouth and quietens himself down, “It’s alright.” You’re staring closely at the little bells of laughter, and he turns his eyes downwards. Bashfully admitting, “Happens to me too, whenever I stay up um- studying. Long night?”
You sigh, “You could say that…” Not a long night studying, but…
And as the conversation quietens down and Choso worries down on his bottom lip, you’re hiking your backpack up on your shoulders and saying. “Well, I guess I should be going then. Catch up on the recordings of the lecture and everything-” Turning, “See you ‘round—and thanks again.”
You make all of five steps before Choso finally gathers up the courage to call out-
“Wait—!”
Confused, you’re facing him once more. “Yes?”
And his hand was out, his fingers were slightly trembling. He was mouthing out the words as though still debating whether to speak them into existence - whether he was capable of. “I…we-” Eventually mustering up the courage once you give a reassuring nod, “When will we meet up?”
That makes you pause.
Was he…
“F-for the assignment.” Choso clarifies, a flush rising to his cheeks as he likely realizes he should’ve led with that. “Professor Yaga’s mid-semester project he always does…”
Ah—you’re clapping a palm on your forehead. How could you have forgotten? Yaga had announced at the start of the semester that about halfway through, the class would be paired up or put into groups to work on a collaborative project that contributed to about 50% of your grade. This semester, it was to write a full-length movie screenplay for a book or musical of your choice. And you’d been excited for it, in fact, but after the…activities of last night it’d completely slipped your mind that he’d be delving more into it this lecture.
And the poor boy stumbles through his explanation, “H-he let everyone choose their partners, and I wanted to wake you up but…you just looked so peaceful.” He fidgets with his fingers and flushes, “I th-thought one of your friends would come up here and choose you but-”
Probing him gently, “But?”
“B-but I’m afraid you ended up paired with me.” Choso just looks so genuinely apologetic- “I’m sorry- no one picked me either. I should’ve woken you up, but we can go talk with Professor Yaga about changing partners if you’d like-”
“Hey—wait.” You’re cutting off his spiel, something in your chest aching at the utterly devastated furrow between his brows. You take a step closer to him, “I would love to do the project with you, Choso. No need to talk to Yaga about anything.”
He looks up at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “B-but your friends…”
“I don’t really have close friends in this class, anyway.” You smile, “I’d much rather do it with you.”
“Really—?” Breathed. As if he couldn’t believe it.
And it’s after some time - and a deep inhale - that he speaks again. Finally sinking in that someone would choose him of all people—that you would, that he speaks again. “And um- would you like to work on the script at my place?” Before you can answer, his breath hitches and his head shoots up. “N-not that I’m pressuring you into…it’s nothing weird, I promise! We can meet anywhere else you like- the library, your place- wait, no that’s weird, too…”
“Choso- Choso.” You giggle. And if this was anyone else then you would’ve assumed that they were putting the moves on you. “I’m okay with your place.”
.
.
.
The apartment was a fair distance away from the campus dorms.
Which made sense, you suppose, given the fact that less than half the people there would be able to afford the rent on such a place—especially after tuition. The highrise dove into the clouds, its vermicular body scaled in glistening windows and gold-accented furnishings within. You got the distinct feeling of being swallowed whole as you entered through the widely-gaped entrance, with several doormen and security that eyed you up and down, bowed at Choso.
You thanked them and made your way - slightly speechless - through the hallways.
This was everything you could ever dream of, and you’re sure you spot the odd actor or two down in the lobby. As you’re getting into an elevator the size of your entire dorm room, Choso punches in one of the highest floor numbers and turns to you-
Throughout the bus ride here, you’d been the one chattering away. And so it surprises you once he finally speaks, “I-I’m sorry…my place is a bit of a mess.”
“Can’t be as bad as mine. I won’t judge.” Who cares about a mess when he lives in a place like this? You couldn’t wait to go inside…
He pushes his chunky glasses upwards and gives you a shy smile, “Thank you.” Looking down at his polished shoes, “You’re so sweet.”
“Thank you.”
And you rise upwards in silence.
Soon enough, you’re finding yourself being led up to his massive apartment. He’s punching in the numbers of the code and setting his backpack down—telling you to make yourself comfortable. And you shuffle inside awkwardly; past the lavish furnishings and the alien-shaped lamps that all rich places seemed to boast.
He leads you in the direction of the master bedroom - where Choso said that his film collection was vast and likely to reveal techniques that the two of you would be able to incorporate into your own script.
“I even have a copy of Momijigari- it’s one of my most prized possessions.” He shoots you such a charming smile, eyes twinkling behind his glasses, over his shoulder. Heading inside.
And you can’t help but follow.
A single step inside his not-so-humble abode and you’re feeling a sudden sense of déjà vu wash over you, rendering you unsteady on your feet. Not quite sure why, you’re sweeping your eyes around the space: the high-quality camera equipment in one corner (not unusual to see for a film student), the chic furnishings, and then over to the empty wall space above the king-sized bed, something in you remained dissatisfied as they find nothing there but white plaster.
Choso notices that you’ve stalled behind and looks over at you curiously—he was taking a seat on the carpet, laptop opened up on top of the coffee table. “Something wrong? I’m sorry, I know it’s really messy but-”
“No, you’re good.” You shake your head, “It’s actually not messy enough.”
He smiles.
That night, you went home and wondered why Choso’s smile looked so familiar.
.
.
.
The musical that you’d chosen for your ‘adaptation’ was The Phantom of the Opera, suggested by you, of course.
And if there had been any connection to the masked man you’d been watching the night prior, then you were just glad that Choso had no idea.
It was far easier, given the fact that it’d already been adapted from the initial novel—though that only meant that Yaga would be critiquing yours even harder.
So you had to strive to be more cinematic, than the others in your class, stronger in ways than the ones before you - and though you doubt you’d ever match up to Schumacher’s visuals, there was little doubt as to whether you’d be the best amongst the students. This was a screenplay made to impress, and in the week since you’d pored over it—and Choso Kamo’s mahogany coffee table typing away at it, you only grew more determined in the fact. And throughout the week, you’ve been flitting in and out of that very apartment of his.
Choso had been a lovely partner for the project - the best you could’ve ever asked for - and you’re coming to find that he was actually far more funny than anyone ever gave him credit for. Far more open. Far more active when it came to something he was passionate about.
And of course, you knew that he’d be sweet.
Despite his initial insistence that he could do the project himself, you’d taken up half the work. And you’d joined him in browsing through his massive catalogue of movies, in searching up screenplays to read, and in annotating them for techniques when starting to write yours.
You’ve come to make friends with one of the doormen by now.
Just today you’d watched the 2004 Phantom of the Opera adaptation. And after a few hours of occupying his space and getting to know the nerdy boy a little better, you’d go straight back home to…Curse.
Whenever Choso made you feel tingly with his sweetness, Curse would amplify that heat to right between your legs.
It’s been a week of getting to know Choso Kamo, and a week of having Curse splashed across your laptop screen—cock furiously hard n’ his moans echoing. He’d smile and utter your username whilst wearing his iconic mask and it’d be a high strong enough to follow into the day after. And often Choso would ask you what you’re so happy about.
Today, in particular, Curse had just finished one of his streams - cumming aaaaaall over the desk this time - when he’d settled himself back down and started chatting with the comments. Responding to one or two of yours.
You’re just about to joke about why he was sticking so long after his orgasm when he speaks once more-
Voice somewhat serious, “Alright, now…settle down, settle down.” Curse waves his hand airily at the camera, throwing a middle finger up when the chat only gets more frenzied. “Tch- what brats you all are, would you wanna roleplay that someday?”
@vampzo333: YES PLEASE.
@likezmenpregnant: How about you be the brat…?
@Ietsmakeamovie: I would like that.
@sixeyesorsixh0les: ^^
@0003h0lesforCurse: ^
“Fine fine…” Underneath the mask, he rolls his eyes fondly. “But I really do have something to announce-”
@likezmenpregnant: You’re pregnant.
@Ietsmakeamovie: I’m the father-
@Curse’swifey: NO MEEEEEEEEEEE!!
“I’m thinking of getting a partner for these streams.” He finally admits, rubbing his chin as though still in thought. And your heart stops-
@bipplruletheworld: so down.
@Cursenoticeme44: Omg yeeeeeeeeees!!
@daddytoeknee: YESYESYES.
The chat practically explodes, and you’re unsure what to feel about it—after all, you don’t know Curse and it’d be strange to feel a little possessive over his solo streams, however, you did have your preferences. But then again, you can’t help but imagine just how much hotter it would be to have two people- perhaps to see him make expressions he never has before…
Ultimately, you’re quiet as Curse leans in and scans the chat. His brows furrow just a little as he sweeps through the blurring usernames, “I dunno…I’m still thinking about it- I haven’t even asked this person, to be honest. I just wanted to know what you guys thought.” Nodding his head along or huffing out laughter at some of the comments, “Movie?”
You jolt—at being called out.
He wanted your opinion specifically? You suppose you did contribute to about half his comment section most streams.
But you stall as your fingers reach for the keyboard.
Biting down on your lip and contemplating for a little while. Though he waits as patiently as ever-
@Ietsmakeamovie: I don’t mind!!
Something seems to wash over him as he reads your comment, nodding. “I see.”
He moves onto something else and his expression was indiscernible.
You’re flickering your eyes to the artwork behind him, the small corner of it peaking into the frame, and it suddenly hits you that it’s the theatrical poster of The Phantom of the Opera (2004).
.
.
.
It can’t be.
It can’t be.
It can’t be.
There’s something your brain was telling you that you’re absolutely refusing to believe—after all, how many people in the world loved The Phantom of the Opera? Hell, how many people in the world have watched The Phantom of the Opera?
That didn’t mean that everyone you came across had a secret identity as one of the hottest streamers on C4mBoyfriends.
You were being paranoid, you told yourself. You were being utterly silly- and the next time you’re going over to Choso’s apartment was the very next day. Which wasn’t entirely ideal, given how much you’d tossed and turned after Curse’s last stream conjuring up all the possibilities…but Yaga wouldn’t accept a request for an extension even if you were set on fire in front of him. And so you went.
The pit of your stomach twists as Choso swings the lavish wooden door open and gives you a beaming smile. So innocent. So sweet.
He shakily pushes his glasses up as he welcomes you in. “Come in—s-sorry if I took a while to get to the door, I’ve been doing some decorating recently.”
His nervous smile is what makes you find your voice. And you’re dubiously looking around the luxurious apartment, “You need to do some decorating?”
“Believe it or not, yes.” Choso huffs. “Would you like something to drink? Or maybe to eat? I checked out that bakery you recommended last time and you’re right- they have the best Danish pastries.”
“Actually, Choso…” You’re shaking your head, shooting him a grateful smile. “I’m good. I’d think I’d prefer to start right away, if that’s alright? I really wanna get to Act 2 today.”
“O-oh, of course—!”
And he’s sweetly guiding you inside, whilst you attempt not to look like you’re taking two steps at a time. Back to that familiar room. Back to that familiar desk. Back to that (somewhat) familiar bed which most certainly did not have an artwork from The Phantom of the Opera on it—
You open the door and the first thing you’re seeing is the familiar plane of that white mask. The Phantom.
Choso follows behind you and catches you staring at the poster. Gravelly tone echoing from behind, “I told you I did some decorating.”
And you jump-
Swivelling around to find him bearing you a sheepish smile, “Sorry if I startled you.” He pushes those chunky glasses up, “Tea?”
“S-sure…” You breathe, if anything for a thing to occupy your mouth with. Wait- not like that—!
And as Choso disappears down the hall, you’re taking a seat on the bed you’ve sat on countless, countless times before without a single care in the world. Now you’re sinking into the very - the very - edge as though it’d swallow you whole.
Body just resting on the plush comforter before-
“Hey, so I also have coffee if you would prefer?” Comes Choso’s sudden voice.
And you’re startling once more- “Just tea is fine, thanks.” Barely managing to get that through your lips, you’re watching as he disappears…as the sound of his footsteps echo…
Before darting off the bed and now heading towards the camera equipment you’d noticed in the corner the first time you’d been here. What you’d assumed to be part of another one of his classes or personal projects. Now, you’re leaning in and wondering with just which camera he showed his pretty cock off to millions, at just what height of his tripod he made your cunt so heated.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck this was real.
Now, you’re noticing things in the room that you’d never noticed before. Like the ring light kept underneath his bed, and the dresser in the corner with numerous rings- those weren’t costume props or anything. They were pure silver.
Heavy.
Heavy, like the pit in your stomach—excited and swirling. Just trembling at the tips of your fingers - ever-so-slightly - you’re reaching out as though to touch it, as though to feel the alternate version of Choso that you knew longer than you knew Choso-
“Ah, so you’ve realized.”
And then his voice permeates the room.
The room that suddenly seems smaller, the room that suddenly seems to rise ten degrees in temperature - though goosebumps skitter across your skin. And almost as though in a horror movie, you’re turning in slow motion to face the bespectacled man who was now holding up a tray of steaming hot tea.
He walks over soundlessly and sets it on the coffee table with a slight click! And besides that, Choso walks over to the dressing table and puts his silver rings on.
One by one.
His eyes hold court with yours through the mirror, “How long?” Voice a deep timbre.
You’re taking a step closer without even realizing, “Um…just last night. Just now- actually.”
He chuckles and you realize he’s asking how long you’ve known about Curse.
“I-I found you by chance. About a week ago, actually…” And then you say what’s been on your mind ever since you had, “Ever since you liked and unliked my repost.”
“Ah, a rookie mistake.” Choso comments. “I should have known better than to stalk using my public account.” And with all rings now put on and glinting in the lighting of his bedroom, Choso shuffles through his jewellery tray to pluck his earrings in and one eyebrow piercing. And then…one lip piercing—a lip ring that twinkles mischievously as he smiles.
He rises and you think you’ve never quite appreciated his built frame.
His deep eyes as they’re locking in on you. Echoing out, “Though…you really can’t say much- can you, Movie?”
And though you knew that he knew- you can’t stop the zaps of electricity running through your body.
Sputtering out, “Yeah-” Your fists clench and you’re looking up at the object of both your fantasies and your secret interest these past few days - melded into one. “Yeah, I really can’t. Choso you’re so…”
“Different?” He fixes his glasses, “Though I really am shy, I can’t deny that- especially around you. But it helps to be a little more antisocial when I’m around idiots.”
He leans in closer- so close that his scorchin’ hot breath wafts across your features. You have no idea how you’d diminished such a distance so soon…
“And if my memory serves me right-” Choso taps on the edge of his chin, in mocking thought. “-I seem to remember that Movie agreed to have a partner on my stream.” You shiver. And he looks at you adoringly, “So how about it? Wanna make a movie, baby?”
You step a little closer.
“Only if I get to match wardrobes.”
He chuckles and picks you up to spin you around-
And then it’s getting to work. And then it’s shuffling through his closet to find a mask that matches his own.
He stretches on the rubber a bit and brings it to you—“I bought this one when I first started, but it ended up being too tight- I think it’d be just the one for you.”
It was. It fit perfectly.
And then he paces around the room and starts to set up- before Choso’s gaze catches you hovering around the bed, and then he’s clicking his tongue and forgoing the tripods altogether. With just the professional lights and the high-quality camera, Choso places the camera on top of the coffee table. Facing the foot of the bed - everything and anything could be seen.
Just with a few clicks he’s started the stream.
And with just a little nudge he’s urging you to sit next to him.
“Hello, my little sluts—” Choso- or should you say Curse croons towards the camera. On one of his monitors you can see him being projected there - waving, in his knitted vest that clashed with his mask. You stand off awkwardly out of sight from the camera. He smiles. “As you can see, things are a little different today…”
@girrrrrrrrrrth: uuuuuu change of angle!! change of angle!!
@bewbsRlife: ARE WE GETTING A SURPRISEEEEEEE??
@likezmenpregnant: Pls be pregnant, Curse <3
“No- no, I’m not pregnant.” He laughs, “But I have been thinking about what we talked about last night.”
@bipplruletheworld: omg this can’t be…
“And guess what? I did what you guys told me about- and I talked to her.”
@bipplruletheworld: yessssssss
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE^^
@bewbsRlife: WOOOOOO-
@daddytoeknee: Omg where’s Movie, Ik she’d love this- heh. Imagine this WAS Movie though…
“So, my little sluts…” Choso announces, “I’d like to introduce you all to my new partner—” And he’s reaching out and clasping your wrist, looking up to check for reassurance before continuing. Miming whispering to the camera, “And this is her first time on stream, so be nice…”
You’re sheepishly walking into their view.
Slightly bowing your intrusion into the stream, “Th-thanks for having me?”
“Isn’t she cuuuuute?” He asks the commenters, and there’s a flurry of agreements. You’re even spotting a few questions about your name n’ interests, even kinks, amongst those - all of which Choso waves off with a laugh. “Now now—we can have the Q&A later. For now, let’s get to the fun part…”
@Curse’swifey: FUCK THAT’S MY FAV PART-
@2coolforcond0ms(i’mavirgin): Movie you’re missing out on a historic moment uwu
And the fun part consisted of clamoring onto the bed as fast as lightning. Letting the mattress dip n’ creak its protests out as Choso sits on it with his back turned to the camera, then lovingly pats his manspread thighs as a signal for you to climb on. Meaty muscles. Thick enough for you to want to sink your teeth into- how could you never have noticed?
Perhaps because this was the polar opposite of how he acted when he was on campus - always keeping to himself, never taking up too much space. Now he was practically vacuuming it all up so you had nowhere else to sit.
And you were more than happy to climb onto Choso Kamo’s lap.
Sitting your ass down on his readily-awaiting seat. From under your skirt you feel something hot—and throbbing between his legs. Cylindrically shaped and curved to the left.
Just the slightest movement makes his rock-hard erection twitch underneath- and you’re whimpering at the lewd sensation. At the way he drips out a hefty dollop of precum that seeps through his trousers and sticks to the front of your panties, making you gasp—“Ch-Cho-”
“Shhhh.” Choso wraps a hand ‘round your throat and cuts you off.
And before you know it, he’s bouncing his knees to get you to slide your drippin’ pussy up and down his bulge. Up and down. Turning towards the camera, “Ya hear that?” Up and down. “My girl’s so needy- she’s already begging for it. But I dunno if she deserves it, huh?”
@bewbsRlife: I MEANNNN
@theh0rniestsoldier: i’m feeling mean today…
@daddytoeknee: Give her your mouth!!
“Mouth? I love that idea.” Choso titters.
And then he’s giving a teasing slap on the side of your ass cheeks—smack!
“Please-”
“Sit on my face now, baby.” He purrs, eyes flickerin’ with pure need underneath his mask. Then leaning in to whisper in a loooow tone for only you to hear. “You know Choso, but let’s see if you can handle Curse.”
Then he leans back on the bed - his head pointing in the direction of the camera.
And you’re shuffling up Choso’s toned, brick-hard body—straddling your knees upon either side of his head, veerin’ your hips right atop that pretty face. You’re sitting - right in front of the camera. Though nothing was revealed…yet.
And Choso’s digging his tongue up to you instantly- he isn’t even making it past the fabric of your panties. But that doesn’t stop him from lettin’ his tastebuds take a looooong, luxurious lick of your swollen pussy.
Right down your sopping wet slit.
Suddenly, the room echoes with one of his pornographic moans- the very same ones you’d listened to night after night through your laptop speakers. Now they’re even louder, and somehow even sexier, sending electricity shooting straight up, up, up from your core.
And even more treacherous was the way you’re feeling something cold…and metallic at the very middle of Choso’s tongue. Rock-hard. It takes whatever’s left of your rationality to realize that it’s a silvery tongue piercing smack-dab where his tastebuds kissed your pussy. Scraping alongside where you were most sensitive.
Instantly; your head tips back and saliva starts bubbling at the sides of your lips. “Fuh-fuck…” And before you know it—you’re starting to drag your throbbing pussy up n’ down his features.
Short, barely-there jerks of your shy, shy hips.
And Choso chuckles huskily to himself at the cute way you were yearnin’ for his mouth. But what you didn’t expect was for him to reach one ringed hand up and squeeze the left side of your hips.
Your only warning.
Before he’s suddenly tightening his hold on you and reaching one more hand up- snaking it beneath your skirt like some pervert. Choso edges towards your throbbing cunt and places one good slap—
It’s the resounding smack! of skin-on-skin that makes you halt more than anything.
Jaw-dropped. Thighs quivering. The white-hot pleasure runs through your spine and leaves you barely hearing his roughened words, a tone lower than you knew his voice to be- as though drunk on the delicious taste of your pussy already. “Greedy, greedy girl…” Choso tuts, “Don’t tell me you’re trying to enjoy yourself without letting our dear audience in on the fun?”
Oh, shit.
You’re letting your head snap to where the camera was positioned and blinking its one gluttonous eye. Comments flooding the screen of the monitor so fast that you couldn’t read them-
You’d completely forgotten about the stream for a second.
“I—oh, I um.”
Yet another harsh smack! “Forgot, huh?” Amusement seeps into Choso’s words, as though he’d already guessed the situation.
You admit, “M-maybe…”
“I’m afraid I can’t blame you, baby.” Smack! “Curse’s mouth is too good, huh?” He yammers on and on, his tongue nudging deeper, his rippling tastebuds skidding into every ridge- as if trying to fuck you through your damn panties. “This pussy’s too good–she’s purring f’me already. Hear her?”
And you’re not sure why- but you’re nodding to whatever he says. “Y-yes—fuck.”
“Mhm. So why don’t we let our lovely audience hear, too, huh?” You’re barely given the time to register his suggestion, before Choso husks out a command. “Lift your skirt up, baby.”
Your thighs squeeze around his head at the notion-
And your fingertips touch the short hemline of your skirt.
@Cursenoticeme44: Holy shit.
@theh0rniestsoldier: i’ve been waiting for thisssssssssss-
@daddytoeknee: WOW.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: bby’s so needy!!
@R€4leater: munch Curse #canon
The chat explodes as you let them bear witness to Choso’s face stuffed between your pretty legs- he’s redly-flushed and ravenous. They could see the slightest glimpse of his nose n’ the way he’s driving it between your sodden pussylips, diving and diving, they could see the glossy layers coating your cunt—and the way Choso’s pink lips come up to suck on it.
Those handsome cheeks of his hollow out, as he’s makin’ out with your pussy through your panties.
Like a man starved.
Long canines slightly nippin’ at your folds- almost wolfish in mannerisms.
“Oh p-please…” You’re quivering atop him. You don’t even know what you’re begging for—just that it feels so good to have him veering his tongue hungrily against your cunt like this. And you wanted more.
More, more, and more.
Choso’s holding onto your restless hips with a clammy hand- he’s stuck to you almost like adhesive. And he guides your hips - he fucking slows them down - whilst you continue moanin’ and shaking atop his raw mouth. Glistening wet tongue extending even more than its usual length to slide-slide-sliiiiide your panties to the side-
And you’re gasping at the sudden whiff of cold bedroom air against your naked pussy. “Ch-” A spank. “I mean- fuck, Curse?”
“Mhm, m’here, baby.” He drawls out. Slightly slurring with all the extra globs of your pussy juices - pooling straight into your mouth, n’ Choso reaches up and smooches your soft swollen folds to smear it all around. Like some gloss. “M’here aaaaaand- so are 820k sluts that wanna watch you break.”
“B-break?” You’re gaping, “I thought you were just gonna- ngh, eat me out…?”
“Baby, Curse never ‘just’ does anything.” And you’re shocked to find him sliding his tongue out, tipping his head back to refer to the camera on the coffee table. “Isn’t that right, fuckin’ pervs?”
@daddytoeknee: Hell yeah.
@0003h0lesforCurse: duhhhhhhhhh
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: YOU’RE THE BEST CURSE
@Fishygurodad: Fuck, her pussy’s divine.
“Heh…” Choso smiles into your cunt, “And so whaddaya say? How many slaps before I stick my tongue in her?”
@vampzo333: 3
@bbynohuuuuzz: 14
@Ilikepr1menumbers: 29
“Since m’feeling nice- read your favorite one out, baby.” He murmurs.
To which you’re unable to do anything but- you tilt your upper half just the slightest bit closer to the monitor and pick out the first one you can read through the blur of words and numbers:
@Fishygurodad: Until she cries.
Oh.
Your blood runs cold.
Your cunt grows heated.
And before you can either rectify your recitation or beg for mercy—Choso doesn’t hesitate before fixing the rings on his fingers to be slightly higher than before. Making sure they’re in line of him planting one- two- three good, loud spanks on your sobbin’ cunt. “O-oh my god- fuck, mmm, oh my god.”
Until the skin of his fingertips seems to redden, and your pussylips feel raw - “How about that?” He asks- not from you, but from the viewers.
@daddytoeknee: I don’t see her crying yet…also idkkkkk I’m getting Movie vibes.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: movie would’ve loved this-
And then it’s one after the other. Again and again, Choso’s emblazoning the rude outlines of his rings against yours - until you’ve fucking memorized the ridges n’ patterns of the one ring on his middle finger with the carving of an octopus.
Tentacles flared out.
“Shit, not that damn ring again.”
And as he’s doing so he can’t help himself- fuck, he can’t heeeeelp himself. His canines dig into the sticky fabric of your underwear like a damn dog - and throughout the duration of what his hands were doing, you’re hearing the sharp riiiiip of fabric tearing—!
Soon enough, your panties are tattered and ruined in Choso’s maw- just from his mouth. He spits it out and continues swerving his thickened tips inwards to give a loving pinch on your clit—and you can’t help but burst into peals of shrill, needy cries. Both pain and pleasure mixing as he doles out a final swat-
Before Choso swipes your pussylips apart and spits- the glutinous glob of his saliva landing directly on your hole. He doesn’t give it the time to seep back out—instead, he’s surging up and shoving his face between your legs.
This time, without the barrier of your panties in the way.
@CCpervnextdoor: HE FUCKING RIPPED IT OFF WITH HIS MOUTH??
@bewbsRlife: HOLY SHIT CURSE-
@Fishygurodad: Shiiiiit, I’d do the same ngl.
And then Choso’s shoving his tongue inside and slurpin’ all around your wet hole like a damn animal…
In and out.
In and out.
Probin’ into slippery sweet spots.
Chin hitting the back of your slit. Plastic mask rubbing against your clit.
Choso’s pierced tongue was going absolutely fucking wild inside of you. He wastes no time before gripping either side of your cute hips and slammin’ your pussy down onto his mouth- hard and fast. The perverted nerd is slashing his tongue inwards, smearin’ apart your glue-covered folds. As deep as he could go. He doesn’t care if it hurts, he just needs to make sure that loooong slick muscle of his tastebuds were scrapin’ every inch of your walls.
With the curved tip of it, he flexes it against a sweet bundle of nerves. Making you buck with a pitchy moan of his name—“Ch-Cuuuurse—!” And the sensation was made even more delicious with the way his orb tongue piercing presses in contrast against your hot cunt. “It feels so good, Curse.”
“I already know.” Choso pipes up- cocky in all the ways you never knew he could be. “I already know- but what about those fuckers watching, huh?”
“W-well…” Spit drivels down your chin, and you’re struggling to keep your eyes focused to read the urgent chat.
@bipplruletheworld: they’re so HOT!!
@NERDSAREMYBABYGIRLZ: OHHHH WHAT A MUNCH
@daddytoeknee: Me next <3
And it was clear that they were seeing the effect he had on you- how could they not?
Your eyes were dazed and teary, your thighs were shaking like leaves in the wind, Choso was making your body twitch—just from the way he’s reeling his entire tongue out. And breathing out steadily and slowly against your twitchin’ pussylips, freezing cold air that leaves you even wetter on top of him.
He’s unfastening his mouth - leaving it wiiiiide open for all the satiny ribbons of your slick to enter his gullet. And once you’re done- that isn’t enough riling you up.
Choso leaves a good slap on your folds and asks, “So…what about it?” Muffled through his mouthfuls.
“They agree- they agree—” You’re keening out. Star-struck, seeing pleasure burst behind your shuttered eyelids at the sudden stinging. “Fuck- you’re the hck! best I’ve ever had, Curse.”
“I agree.” He hums. And as if this entire ordeal wasn’t sinful enough, Choso’s swashing around the silky-smooth sap he’d collected from your leaking pussy. Letting the flavor seep into his tastebuds, before he’s then spitting again on your pussy. A semi-opaque layer of lewdness that coats your inner thighs in a sheen that catches the lighting.
Perfect on camera.
You’re squeezing your wettened thighs together and creating an audible squelch!
“Awwww, look- this pussy agrees, too.”
The gooey addition startles you- and you rut.
Only straight down onto his awaiting fingers.
@girrrrrrrrrrth: oh, shit is he…
@legsopenforcurses: With the rings on, too!!
@likezmenpregnant: My show is onnnnn
It’s such a fucking mess for him to navigate- even with his own fingers. Soon enough, you’re arching your back as you feel him intrude a single ringed digit between those utterly swollen pussylips of yours—almost difficult to find your snug hole between them. You’re damn lucky that Choso’s fingers were slender as well as incredibly lengthy.
Because he’s circlin’ your tight orifice a few times - only a few times - before inserting the sections of his finger. Quirking just right and hitting the exact bundle of your nerves.
That infamous g-spot that made you yelp once he starts and keeps on hitting.
And his rings- oh, fuck, his rings.
Just so chunky and textured. They were the perfect designs to press up against your walls and massage them stupid- every drag meant that you’re feeling them dig into ridges n’ crevices you hadn’t even known existed.
Hitting and hitting. Curling his dexterous finger and scraping- “Fuuuuck, oh my god.” The doughy tip of his finger soon becomes damn-near molded to the area where it was, and your eyes flicker to the back of your head as you continue anglin’ your hips so he could hit it perfectly. “Right there, Curse- r-right there.”
“I know.” Choso rolls his eyes - at least what seems like it underneath his mask. “That’s why I’m hitting it. Honestly…is my girl dickmatized?” He utters as he sucks on your clit—ultimately erupting a sobbing slurp! that makes him nod. “Mhm, I think my girl’s dickmatized.”
Tipping his head back before you can refute his claims. He then addresses the audience-
“Whaddaya think, my little pervs? Dickmatized already…maybe I should go easy on her, huh?”
@olderandR4w: nooooooooooo
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: NEVER.
@Fishygurodad: Go even harder.
“Tough crowd.” And with that said, Choso’s stuffin’ in just a few more fingers. Each with their own numerous rings and sopping wet sounds accompanying them—slurp!
One.
Two.
You’re counting about three of his prolonged digits pushin’ your tight walls to their limits, rubbing your sweet spots raw with his constant bashing rhythm, before lustful fogginess coils around your brain. And it’s around here that Choso catches onto the glazed look in your eyes and chuckles—
“Ohhhh, you really are dickmatized.” He hums to himself, though you’re sure the professional mic picks it up either way. “And so soon, too. Probably hasn’t had a good finger-”
A fourth being added so that he can scissor apart your velvety channel whilst still multi-tasking with his other fingers to ram into your g-spot.
“-or even a good mouth on ‘er…” To emphasize his point, he presses a dramatically loud kiss upon your clit. One that’s making you bounce n’ bounce your hips atop his clammy face, and grind your throbbing nub down on his pointed nose. The addition of his mask just makes that cool touch even more lecherous. “My poor girl.” Choso still mutters out despite the way he’s gluing your cunt to his mouth. He pulls away from your clit with a loud pop! “What do you think, my slutty audience?”
At the slurring question you’re letting your head down to watch him. “Ch…Curse, what’ve you got on your mind-”
“M’just asking what else you deserve, baby.” He coos. And questions them once more, “How about a little quiz? Which parts of Curse are going to make my poor, poor girl feel the best? A). My fingers. B). My mouth. Or…”
And he pretends to listen to your noisy wet pussy once more.
“Or C…” You could practically feel the grin plastering against your needy pussy. The way his eyes narrow in sinful amusement beneath his mask- you didn’t have to see his full face to know that Choso was enjoying this perhaps way more than he should. “—all of the above.”
And it was futile to think that they would answer anything else.
C floods your vision.
You’re letting your mouth droop, and your gaze meet Choso’s own between your legs- but you’re finding that you don’t have to say a thing for him to already know the answer.
And as expected, he gives a final roll of his tongue atop your clit - before munchin’ on your aching cunt once more. This time, he’s tunneling his fingers deep into your cavern whilst still licking inside with his prolonged tongue—when stretched out, Choso’s tongue could reach almost as deep as his fingers could.
Your cunt was being stretched-out to lengths you never thought about before.
Not only were Choso’s fingers thicker than yours, but his tongue was something ravenous- no matter how much you’re flinching in sensitivity, he isn’t slowing down. “Mmm-” He groans, barely breathing through even his flared nostrils. You’re hit with the distinct feeling that he thinks he doesn’t even have to breathe as long as he had you on him like this - “Mmm, hold still.”
Taking advantage of the fact to lavish your sensitive inches with kiss upon kiss. To grind his nose down purposefully on your clit. To glide his metallic piercing across those hidden spots. To bash your poor g-spot in again and agaaaain with his fingers before his tongue’s coming to the rescue to soothe the slightly raw sting-
So it’s not long before you’re throwing your head back and cumming.
Perhaps the strongest you’ve ever felt when you’re in the throes of your high.
You barter your hips forwards and keep up a steady pace - one that’s making Choso hit the exact spots you wanted him to during the peaks of your high. The utmost peaks. “Shit—shit, just like that.” Breathless. “K-keep going, baby, it feels so good.”
And he doesn’t even answer - too caught up in fucking you through your orgasm.
In the way you shudder above him. In the way you’re only getting even sweeter by the second-
Bodyheat raising a few degrees in temperature; your heart sings and the bed creaks with how much you’re jostling from above. This was even better than touching yourself to videos of him, there were so many thrills of bliss that he’s wringing out of you- like he’d wring out of himself during his solo videos.
With both his fingers and his tongue, slurpin’ and sliding. Those doe-like eyes of his are edging straight to the back of his skull as he feels your drenched walls cleeeeench around his pierced tongue, as though it’s the best thing he’s ever fucking felt. And you’re acting on impulse - you really are - because the coffee table was positioned right beside the foot of the bed.
And all you had to do was reach your arm out to grab the simple camera there. Turning it into your point of view as Choso’s sweaty brown bangs stick to his forehead, as sweat trickles down his temple, as he lets out soft yet unyielding moans whenever you’re squeezing your thighs around his head.
@cockycockowner: no homo but that’s the most beautiful man i’ve ever seen.
@theh0rniestsoldier: woah he’s PUSSYDRUNK
@Fishygurodad: Show me his POV.
@daddytoeknee: Don’t you know that she’s his girl now smh?^^
@daddytoeknee: Movie-core- wya ml??
Choso cocks his head and keeps making out with your pussy in all the ways that make your toes curl—pleasure elongating from your orgasm and spreading into every part of you. Your vessels, your cells, your atoms.
They’re all buzzing with pleasure and still aching for more once Choso finally pulls away with a loud pop! of his lips releasing.
When they do, you’re sneaking a look down at him and noticing just how red n’ swollen they were. Even the skin around his jaw was flushed with the constant ramming contact. And the viewers are just gobbling it up - subscribing bells keep dinging here and there, and everywhere.
Just a single look at his stats on-screen reveal that Choso’s climbed up to 870k just since you’d started this stream.
And it’s after a little while - after he’s had his fill - that the dark-haired man finally taps at the side of your thigh to gesture for you to get up. Though, even then, he’s tightening his grip on your body—going against his own fucking instruction to press a final few open-mouthed kisses before he’s done.
He chases after your pussy with his maw for a little- before he’s finally sitting up.
And it’s only then that he seems to notice the camera in your hand, blinking his glazed eyes a few times to make sure he isn’t dreaming things up. Once it finally registers, the most attractive grin spreads across his face. “You changed POVs?”
“Had to.” You admit, “I wanted them to see how pretty you are…”
“Guess you finally learned about sharing, hm? Greedy girl.” He chuckles darkly to himself. And then he starts looming closer, “But you realize that the show’s not done yet, right?”
You gulp.
@Fishygurodad: Fuck her already, damn!! I’m only here for her.
@2coolforcond0ms(i’mavirgin): Hate to admit it, but he’s lowk right. I think I’ve discovered I’m bi…
@vampzo333: ^^
@girrrrrrrrrrth: ^^
“So impatient.” He looks at the monitor, reading the chat and tuts. “Honestly- so ungrateful. I should end the stream right here and fuck her on my own terms.”
There’s a frenzied flurry of comments- all of which you were sure were begging for Choso not to stop and bashing that one commenter for attempting to start a revolution. To which you’re only giggling and handing over the camera to him.
Choso - as the expert - then positions it somewhere by the edge of the fluffy pillows: where they’d be able to see the expanse of both your bodies and where you’d soon be connected…
And then you’re shedding your clothes in a hurry- making it to your smart blouse before he’s reaching a hand up and tearing through it. The buttons hit the floor, and at your noise of displeasure Choso merely lets out a half-delirious giggle.
He leans in and whispers, “I-I have a Phantom of the Opera t-shirt I’d love for you to wear.”
The change in demeanour gives you utter whiplash, and you can’t help but stare at him open-mouthed.
“What?” Choso asks, next moving on to shrugging off his own fabrics. They’re landing on a heap beside the bed, and your lips slightly part at the display of his red-hot erection—it’s just as large and sensual as all those streams had proven him to be. Polished strawberry top. Slender veins along the middle.
A happy trail of dark brown - nearly black - glistened with the splattered remnant of his precum. Just like the gleaming mess across his chin, mouth, and cheekbones that Choso wore like a medal.
He was slightly longer than even on camera- and even prettier up-close. Way up close- he shuffles his body up yours n’ fucks your tits a few times to dollop out glistening translucent precum across yours tits.
“Lighting’s not the best here.” Choso explains- or at least attempts to pin an explanation onto that. Onto something he’s clearly been wanting to do for so long. “Had to highlight ‘em, baby.”
You scoff, “It’s just…” Throwing a cautious glance at the camera, you lower your voice. “You’re so different from how you are in real life.”
“Oh? And how did you expect me to be, huh?” He positions himself between your legs - wrapping both of them around his waist. Before then thinking better of it and throwing them even more lewdly around his neck instead—his plush priggish tip kisses your entrance. “Did you expect me to be like…”
He trails off.
He doesn’t need to complete the rest of his sentence- and you don’t think you’d have heard him even if he tried.
Because in that very moment, Choso’s jerking his pale hips back a mere few inches—then plopping his globular tip between your pussylips and push-push-puuuuuushing. Fucking past the initial restraint of your first ring of muscle, he’s funneling in some thick inches that make your heels bang against the muscles of his back.
And he doesn’t even seem to notice.
He doesn’t even seem to breathe as he’s letting his cock swerve inside. Get suctioned inside. Get his Prince Albert’s piercing crept down your sensitive innards. Get gobbled up between your greedy legs-
You clench ‘round him and Choso throws his head back with a low, broken moan.
“Oh p-please—” He’s babbling out through unsteady pink lips, a lazy line of dribble starting up from one corner of his mouth. Those long lashes of his flutter as he’s reaching one bulky hand up to grip the headboard, and placing his right one on your hips- keeping you steady.
Fingers trembling. Muscles rippling.
@likezmenpregnant: Woah…make him do that again…
@sixeyesorsixh0les: SUBBY CURSE HELLO??
@whimperwhiteboywhimper: oh I am SO here for this
@Fishygurodad: Whatever…
Your eyes bulge once his throat cracks with what sounds like a whimper—“Please it feels so good.” And though you couldn’t quite make it out, even the chat seemed stunned as Choso punctures out a broken stutter of his hips. Delving a few inches into your goopy insides- though not enough to bottom out completely, as you’re still too wound-up for him to fit completely. And you’re able to pinpoint exactly where he’s using the orbed metal of his first piering. With more to come…“Ngh- oh.” Broken noises emanating into your eardrums and the mic. “It f-feels shooooo good, baby.”
Choso’s head drops into the crook of your neck, and there - and there - you’re feeling his cheeky grin.
And suddenly you’re understanding.
Oh—he was toying with you.
And he was doing it in a way that’d completely fooled you- and perhaps all of his viewers, too.
But before you’re able to open your mouth to bite back something at him, Choso staggers his hips back and gives you a vicious jackhammer with his cock, “O-ohhhhh, my god—” Your toes curl atop his shoulders, slippery with sweat. He hadn’t even rammed all the way inside yet, and yet the slightly left-leaning angle of his shaft was driving you wild.
Big and thick.
Running the slick globe of his tip down your walls, Choso probes a direct hit to that spot you loved so much. And he knew you loved it so much—he’d mapped out your entire pussy earlier, of course.
And yet, he’s still gasping as though the pearls gates of heaven had descended right here and there. He’s letting his sweet caramel eyes widen convincingly as he peers down at you, “I-is that…the spot, baby?”
@Curse’swifey: HE sounds SO NGH.
@daddytoeknee: Daddy likey…
@daddytoeknee: Also Movie would’ve really LOVED this, huh?
You hiss, “Curse, you should already know-”
“But how could I know—?” He exclaims. “This is my first time, after all…” Then Choso’s plastering his clammy tattooed hips - with a snake on the side - to yours, as though the two were connected by the force of the world’s strongest magnets: pulling and pushing, pulling and pushing. Every single battering ram of his mazing cocktip ends up lodged against your sweetly bruised g-spot, marking his circumference out with the sheer pace at which he was hitting it.
“Shit—” Your nails clench on the sheets, and feeling jealous- Choso guides them to fist his hair instead. “Shit, right there. It f-feels so good-”
“There?” The once-nerdy man breathes out in awe. Disbelief every single time - or at least the mocking imitation of one. Swipin’ a line of precum down your nervy spot once more, “Th-there, baby—?”
Something breathy- octaves higher in his tone. “Yes- yes there-”
“There-” Choked up and ruined. Husky grunts hatching in the back of his throat. There was something there in his words that you couldn’t quite pinpoint—a sort of undertone of primal need, primal amusement as he ruined your pussy with his speedily pap-papping hips, but acted as though he had no idea what he was doing. Every single syllable uttered was met with a thorough whack of his curved cockhead against your particular spot- “There there there there- there-”
“Fuh-fuuuck-”
“So this g-spot’s really m-mine now, baby?” Choso asks.
You whine, back arching off the mattress. “Yes-”
“Does she really have my mark on it now?”
“Yes…?” Eyes shooting open as you’re half-registering his question in your hazed brain. He bores his dark eyes down at you intensely. And as though to emphasize his point, you’re feeling his perfectly round tip squeezing into your throat by the next few thrusts. Deeper and deeper.
His Jacob’s Ladder starting to ease its frigid way past your entrance and glide across the roof of your cunt. It was a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt before.
Choso probes even more, “I-is she really shaped to the shape of my cock now?”
“Cho—ngh.” Quickly shutting your cockdrunken self up. Quickly reaching a ringed hand up to squeeze your throat- before he’s languidly snaking his way up to squeezing your pretty cheeks together.
Smushing your face in a way that was almost disrespectful- though, not that you were in any state of mind to call him out on it. And there’s a mean inkling in Choso’s tone as he coos, “Awww, b-baby, why aren’t you answering me?” Another rude slap! of his hips make your own sear in flames- that damn strength of his. Those damn piercings of his. “Is your poor, poor Curse not good enough?”
Before you can answer, he’s looking at the blinking camera.
“My babies, my girl doesn’t love my cock anymore…”
“I do—I do-”
Squeezing his doughy-soft restraints - those contrastingly mean fingers of his - around your cheeks. He’s managing to smush your mouth shut and make you echo out the most pathetically pleading whines—as he fucks you. Determined and targeted.
The glossy rotund edge of his tip presses against your g-spot a few more times before you’re managing to make yourself take a peek at the comments on the monitor.
Almost too far away- almost too blurry with the tears in your eyes.
@Curse’snewestharem: Awwwww poor bby </33
@CCpervnextdoor: I would LOVE your cock, Curse!!
@girrrrrrrrrrth: is it just me or is he teasing us?
@Fishygurodad: ^^Yeah, he’s totally a fraud.
@Curseswombmommy: ^^girl shut up
“Th-they really think you’re oh-so-innocent…” You’re whispering up at him. Overstimulated tears in your eyes.
Breath hitching every time he’s surging his tattooed hips forwards and hitting that one spot particularly hard. Though there was never such a thing as too hard…
And Choso’s shooting you a secret smile - one just between the two of you - before morphing his expression into that of picture-perfect innocence. Roleplaying the demeanor of his nerdy self on campus, mixed with the utterly sultry—sexual way he was draaaaagging his lengthy cock in and out of your cunt.
Eventually, Choso’s emptying his inches out n’ bruising the bottom of your pussy. All of his nine - you seriously felt nine throbbing inches - inches shaping out the in-betweens of your legs. All of the beaded barbells of his Jacob’s Ladder massaging inside- the slitherin’ feeling of them making themselves at home. Zig-zagging and slithering.
He feels the sponginess of your cervix and presses a hand down on your abdomen just to make sure, before changing that excitement into one of almost-genuine bafflement- “I-I really bottomed out?” Choso’s pinkish bottom lip juts out and quivers dramatically.
“Of course, you did.” You’re ready to scoff-
But whatever sarcastic sound was in the back of your throat gets quickly dissolved at the sight of Choso with genuine tears in his eyes. Glistening. “But I never- ngh, never thought I’d be able to.” He puts some more merciless pressure on your stomach that makes you buck—
And the only thing you can do is let your head tip back into the pillows.
The only thing you can do is let out a few mottled moans as he rubs over the small tummy bulge he was fucking into you. Pushing his palm down so that he could feel it.
Whispering out, “I-I never thought this pussy would claim my cock as- ngh, hers, hm?” And for the moment there, you’re completely sure that he isn’t talking to you. Rather, your pussy that was sobbing out squelches after every one of his jackhemmerin’ thrusts. “And it’s not too big, right?”
“N-never—”
“Because m’just a nerd with a- hngh, biiiiiig fuckin’ cock.” How pitiful, right? He’s letting his long, dark lashes flutter as Choso avoids meeting your eyes—as though in shyness. He drills his hips even deeper - one unforgettable strike after the other following every word he spoke. “Just a big- fat- fucking- cock-”
“Please—!” Eventually, your arms reach upwards and you’re grabbing ahold of whatever part of him it is you could reach first. Which just-so-happened to be his bulky deltoids.
Choso’s brows genuinely seem to furrow at the lewdness of you digging your nails into his muscles, leaving your marks for everyone and anyone to see even after this stream has ended. And so he continues in his faux-innocent tone, “Oh? Did that feel good, baby?”
Purposefully slidin’ his cock across your g-spot so that you’d have to cry out. “Y-yeeees—”
“I didn’t even know, baby.” His mouth hangs open, and the most lustrous squelches! echo between your two connected bodies. Your cunt n’ his precum were making such messes…“I had no idea…”
His Jacob’s Ladder leaves your channel feeling raw n’ overstimulated- you feel raw and overstimulated.
And you’re laid-out on the bed dazed and feeling so fucking good as Choso’s picking his pace up even more, you notice for a split-second that his hands have moved. No longer was he holding onto your cheeks n’ watching you squirm—now, the nerdy man hooks both hands around your sweaty thighs and pins them close to his body.
Holding them in place as he leans down, down, dooooooown until the caps of your knees hit your tits.
You’re keening at the stretch, and a searing burn spreads from between your pussy and along your hamstrings. How did he even hide such strength underneath those soft knitted vest? Such a body?
Before you know it, you’re being pressed into your first-ever mating press.
And Choso gapes as though he was just as bewildered as you, “O-oh…did I do that?” He’s fucking asking you—however, when your stunned expression bears no answer, he turns and asks the same question from the camera. The bursts of replies obviously agree n’ tease him. And he’s shaking his head ever-so-slightly, “Did I really bend you in- heh-” A slight chuckle escapes him. “—half, baby?”
And what else can you do but nod and nod and nod—?
“I think this is called a…breeding press?” He cocks his head ever-so-slightly, before shaking his head. “No wait- a mating press.”
“A m-mating press.” You’re repeating lamely.
“I c-can’t believe I’ve folded you into a mating press, baby.” Choso nearly snarls at himself, his hips accelerating until that rouge-tipped cock of his was almost nothing but a blur. “Can’t believe—s’like my body is moving before my mind, ngh. My fat cock’s not hittin’ you too deep, right, my girl?”
“Not in the l-least…”
And he really was long enough to make each and every probe feel as though it was slam-slam-slamming into your throat- the capped crown of his shaft was entering crevices n’ crannies you hadn’t even known you possessed. All marked out precisely by the silvery orb of his Prince Albert’s.
Just then, after your answer, Choso reaches his left hand up to wrap ‘round your throat - and then hauls you back down to meet his slapping hips.
A thrust even harder than the ones before it.
Your breath gets snatched out of your lungs, dissipating into the heady air filled with the contact-riddled sounds of sex. Hard and fast. Only getting harder the longer you have your ankles looped ‘round his neck—“Not too hard, is it, baby?” Chosos asks you once more.
And you don’t have anything to spit out besides, “Oh f-fuck off.”
He gasps dramatically-
Well, not exactly dramatically. But in a way you knew was fake, and in a way that sends the chat exploding into comments.
The nerd pouts cutely, “Well, that’s not very nice…”
You’re rolling your eyes—right before Choso’s genuinely sending them rolling with his two fingers clamped around your clit. Using the silvery edges of his rings, he runs a few massages that end up with you sobbing and blabbering out your pleasure.
@Curse’swifey: FUCKKKKKKKKKK they’re both so hot. THEY’RE BOTH SO RUINED.
@peepeesarebetterfictional: they both look like they’re gonna cum soon hehe
@bewbsRlife: CUM CUM CUM CUM CUM
Biting back. “I would argue th-that that’s not very nice, either.”
“But m’just trying to make my gorgeous girl cum…” And from where he’d been looming his pretty face above yours, Choso then lets his head droop down between your tits. During his ravenous pace, he’s roverin’ his mouth all over to kiss and suck at your tits, your nipples.
His cold lip ring drags across your left areola- and he catches onto the way you’re shivering. Before Choso then grabs your nipple between his lips n’ hollows his cheeks out sucking—“Promise m’just trying to make you feel- hah, good.” He mutters, slightly muffled. “Promise I just wanna fuck my cock raw if it means making my lifelong crush feel good…”
“Cho- Curse, are you…?” Your eyes widen.
And his own flap droopily a few times, “Hmmm?”
And that proved it.
That proved it.
Because Choso Kamo could be pretending to be a stuttering, panting, blushing mess on your heavenly cunt all he wanted- he could pretend to be pussydrunk out of his mind. But at the end of the day, it was impossible to hide when pretend turned into something…more.
When the cocksure streamer that’d been driving you wild all this time morphs into the contentedly pussy-whipped nerd you expected him to be deep down inside.
His eyes genuinely glazed and blinking longingly.
His hair drenched in sweat.
His skin flushed with need- and only flushing even more fiercely the longer he kept his eyes on you.
Without much ado, you’re throwing your hands around his neck and tuggin’ him as far as he could crane his neck when his entire body feels like collapsing onto you and into your maddening pussy.
Choso pistons his hips slightly upwards to hear the slurp of his Jacob’s Ladder sliding across your walls, and he grooooans—
“Curse, baby…” You hum.
“Mhmmmm?” He replies with half-lidded eyes. Barely focused.
This was the big, bad #1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends? As though sensing your thoughts, Choso’s fingers grow a little more frenzied on your clit. “I need you to cum inside, okay?”
He jolts at the idea- that sinful, sinful idea. Before chuckling, “Never had any other plan, baby.” And then he turns to the camera, “What do you think, fuckers? Think my girl deserves to cum?”
@Fishygurodad: Yes.
@Curse’swifey: YES.
@likezmenpregnant: Yesssss~
@girrrrrrrrrrth: yesyesyes.
@daddytoeknee: Hell yeah-
He’s holding out a little longer to make sure there wasn’t a single ‘no’ in there - and had there been one, you’re sure that Choso would have stopped and edged your incoming orgasm until it was a wave of complete agreement.
Luckily for you, they liked you.
And all he does now is press down harder on your g-spot from inside, lingering, and massage a pretty heart on your clit once more, lingering—before a final, thorough stroke is all it takes for you to hurtle into your second high of the night.
For you to arch your body into his chest, and shutter your eyes. “Ch-Cho…”
Barely a whisper. He’s crashing his mouth into yours to make sure that secret between you two isn’t revealed. And you’re moaning deeply into Choso’s mouth as you cum—“Feels so- oh. It feels so…”
“Mhmmmm.”
Unable to even find the words.
The only thing you can do is riiiiiide out the massive wave of your high. It’s torrential; pure bliss floods your system from head-to-toe, and no matter how much you’re squirming your overstimulated hips, Choso only succeeds in batterin’ away his pierced cock into eeeevery single hidden sweet spot inside of you. The ones that prolonged your bliss and left spikes of euphoria leading up to your brain.
Your cunt clenched so tightly around his cock- almost as though you didn’t want him to even pull out. And Choso’s sweaty head drops once more into the crook of your neck as he cums with a shudder.
The knot between his brows deepening, the bedsheet around his knees bunching up as he surges his body upwards. Almost animalistically.
Choso bottoms out his furious, twitching cock and keeps it there- “Oh, fuck…” It didn’t sound like he was acting once his bawling red divot starts splatterin’ out more milky white wads. Deeep in the back of your pussy, right where your womb was, Choso puddles out his ecstasy in long ribbons. “Oh fuck fuck fuck—fuck. Always knew it’d feel this good.”
Wave upon wave.
Toes curling. Eyes scrunching shut.
If you thought his moans were sensual before, then you weren’t prepared for the ones your pussy was able to drag out of him - ragged and hollow utterances of your name. Over and over like a broken record, like a mantra.
He’s fucking into you to milk them out of his hefty balls- then fucking you again just to pump those webbed wads right back in. From the top of his rotund tip and dooooooown to the tufts of hairs at his base. All nine inches of him being used to stuff you till the brim—
You’re sure your insides look like an utter fuckin’ mess by the time he’s slowing his tattooed hips down ever-so-slightly—still shaking from the aftermath of his orgasm. This was far stronger than anything he’s ever experienced before.
Drunkenly, you’re blinking your eyes up at him. “Always?”
He smiles, “Ever since our first lesson of Film 101.” Admitting, he lovingly wipes off a bit of his cum you were foaming between your pussylips. “You referenced Pride and Prejudice when talking about the best lines of dialogue of all time, and I-I’d been a goner since then.”
“Corny…” You snort. Though you can’t help the flutter of your heart.
“So um- coffee after this?”
“It better be dinner.”
He laughs in agreement. “Also I bought a vibrating piercing the other day and have been dying to try it…”
Your eyes widen.
And once you’re helping him pull out- Choso reaches for the camera and gets a good shot of the cum leaking between your legs. Before you’re both waving at it, “Thank you for joining us, today—this was the most fun I’ve had on stream yet- heh.”
You’re shooting the camera a pretty smile, too.
And Choso kisses the corner of your cheeks, “Until next time. This has been Curse and Movie.”
@girrrrrrrrrrth: holy fuck??
@Curse’swifey: WAIT WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT NO WAY-
@bewbsRlife: HOLD ON-
@CCpervnextdoor: SAY SIKE RN?
@bipplruletheworld: oh my god that’s amazing.
@likezmenpregnant: Oh, a love story for the ages~
@yoyoyoureinmypuss: YOU TWO LOOKING FOR A THIRD??
@Fishygurodad: Damn.
@Fishygurodad: Hmu when he messes up.
@daddytoeknee: Stfu he won’t.
@daddytoeknee: Also I totally called it <3
A/N. I did NOT plan to have me inserted and beefing with Toji Fushiguro but here we are-
What do you think about Yuuji being so engrossed in fucking you that he accidentally let Sukuna out?
🛞 FLIP THE SWITCH ✩ yuuji itadori ft ryomen sukuna .ᐟ
🏁 pit stop ! 𖦹 yuuji always maintains a good grip on his emotions. for his friends, for his old teachers, for you. he has to, in order to protect the ones he loves from sukuna. except for the one time he doesn’t. (3.1K)
🏁 safety car ! ⋆ not safe for work ⋆ smut ⋆ eighteen plus only. curses au, sorta canon compliant, characters in 20s, established relationship, dubcon, marking, cheating (kinda?), implied violence, rough sex, unprotected sex, jujutsu sorcerer yuuji itadori, sukuna & fem reader.
i feel like yuuji always does his best to make sure he’s in control around you. he’s pretty good at keeping sukuna in check usually, around his old teachers and his friends — but around you he works overtime. there’s a constant fear that the king of curses will jump out and maim you… it’s all sukuna really talks about. how he’s so excited to taste your flesh, pull you apart maybe even wreck that sweet hole of yours if yuuji lets him slip.
it’s why he keeps his emotions in check too. you never fuck angry, you never stay angry at one another in case sukuna sees a crack in your sweet boyfriend’s resolve and does his best to break free — trickling through the teeny tiny emotional wound before the two of you’ve had a chance to patch things up. sukuna’s always watching though, waiting — he almost knows your body as well as itadori does since he’s seeing the world through his eyes, anyway. you love being full, two fingers reaching for the back of your throat whilst two more play with the gooey mess lathered over your clit. sometimes, you like it soft and tender — on your back while the brat moves languid and slow as if he’s trying to carve his way into the depths of your body and live between each one of your ribs. he might as well enjoy the show.
sukuna’s memorised the way you moan when your flesh is tortured with teeth marks and bitten into. how you gush hot slick when your tummy is pressed down on and how pathetic you look when you stand on the very edge of ecstasy like a thrill seeker — ready to die for the love of it all. you get all teary eyed and helpless underneath itadori’s brute strength and ravaging thrusts. you’re so soft, sukuna aches for the day it’ll be his turn to ruin you and show you real sin. he’d be lying if the thought of you fearful and weak underneath him didn’t make his mouth water. with a pussy so pudgy and ripe for the taking, how could he not? you’re lucky the pink haired brat is so difficult to over turn.
regardless of sukuna watching or not — sex with yuuji is always so intense. his mind empties of all thought, except for you, zeroed in on your pleasure. the man pours enough passion into you until your cup overflows and tips over, spilling the secrets of his affections for you like that of wine. blood red like that which courses through his veins and heart that beats purely for you. even if it’s deep rooted and fuelled by emotion, yuuji keeps himself contained in fear of switching out. hurting you. showing you the face of someone he can’t bear to see in the mirror.
though it’s a little more difficult for him when the day has been rough and worn hard on the sorcerer. there’s bruises all over his body, hot to the touch and tender under your fingertips that claw their way into his skin and he’s tired. so, so tired, he feels that he might break into a thousand tiny pieces that only you can slot back together — knowing where each of them fit. the mission today was a bust, nobara with her nagging had pissed him all the way off and people… people died. he knows he can’t erase it, wash the blood from his hands and shower away the weight of improper deaths — but what he can do, is lose himself in the beauty of you.
soft and safe — supple skin running warm with heat radiating from your body, enough to thaw out itadori’s heart before it has a chance to turn cold and corrupted. he leans into you, hopes that you’ll bathe him in good and scrub the dirt of his crimes from underneath his fingernails. when he said he needed you, you didn’t hesitate to give up your body and your heart to soothe him — letting muscle and bone meld with your own like hot iron smelted down into something more viscous. like liquid lust.
yuuji has your ankles by his ears, sloppy open-mouthed kisses tracing the swell of your calf in a wordless declaration of love. thank you for being here. thank you for letting me use you. the position stretches your pudgy pussy over his thickness, widest as the base where the pink haired sorcerer bottoms out each time — caramel eyes sweet as molten sugar dart down to the slick space between your legs where you shimmer for him, around him, drooling all wet on his shaft that pumps in and out of you deeply.
his eyes gloss over, darkened, but hardly unsettling — it makes your belly swirl with butterflies, the delicious burn of his girth carvings way inside of you. the pulsating veins brush up against spots you can never seem to reach yourself and his bulbous cockhead pushes out copious amounts of precum along your cervix. marking you from the inside out. it hurts in the best of ways but you can see yuuji losing himself too much to memories outside of just you and him. the day that wreaked havoc on his joy turns his thrusts to a bullying pace and sends the headboard slamming into the wall behind the bed, who wails under every forceful swaying motion.
“god, y-yuuji…!” you yelp dreamily, a sharp buck of his hips sending you reeling. feeling as though his hardness is far enough inside you to lie between your lungs.
to bring him back to you, your trembling fingers reach out to touch itadori’s scarred face — your thumb brushing over the damp swell of his bottom lip and tracing the chapped skin there. smoothed over by his drooling. yuuji tilts his head away from where his nose is tucked against your calf, fluttering gaze finding yours before he switches gears pushing behind your knees with a rough palm so that they bend at his waist whilst he lies between them where you’re spread.
“i know baby, ‘m sorry, i know,” some semblance of the sorcerer that you love emerges from his hazy state, still gliding in and out of you with sloppy ease but this time — close and personal, back where he needs to be. yuuji presses a kiss to your temple, balmy when he gathers enough energy to speak. “fuck, you take it so well, even when ‘m being rough. makin’ me feel s-so good, baby.” he praises, heady need spreading through his limbs like an uncontrolled fire. you feel it too, doing your best to grind up into him and meet your boyfriend’s pace rather than run from it. he needs you today.
“mmnnn…fuck, yuu!” you gasp wantonly — back arching from the sheets coated in your sweat and other evidence of your tiny together. “f-fuck me, m-more! please!”
you plead wildly, but you’ve no idea what it is that you’re asking itadori for. he does what he can to soothe you, tongue dragging down the side of your face while his rough hands roam free. tweaking the sensitive peaks of your nipples, smoothing down your navel shortly after just to roll your clit from side to side between your sticky folds. he’s relentless, taking frustration out on you that he can’t seem to get out of his head. and you’re such a good girl because of it, cunt suctioning him down — obscene claggy noises echoing between your bodies and tangling with moans that hang in the balmy air.
“mhm, yeah? you just want me to take it all out on you,” itadori mumbles attentively, a groan so deep and debauched rumbling from the centre of his chest and right through you. the sound is soft, cushioned by sweet nothings and gentle praises written into your feverish skin but contrasts with the manner in which yuuji manhandles you — pulling you up by the backs of your knees off the bed, settling further into your cunt that strangles him so sweetly. “gonna cum for me, baby? can feel you getting so close. so goddamn warm and tight, fuck.”
his vocal tone, so far gone and dangerous causes your eyes to screw shut and your pussy to gush involuntarily like she has a mind of her own. your shaky arms weave their way around yuuji’s neck to anchor him to you whilst you nod along with his mindless, horny chatter. “y-yes, please…” impossibly, he presses himself closer as you cry and squeal, the knots winding and binding you to hold your orgasm back slowly beginning to unravel before you have a chance to register. sweat drips from his torso to yours, droplets running between the valley of your bouncing breasts.
he doesn’t say anything in response, gargling on his own gripes and groans — focused on pumping you full of everything he has to give, lining your ripe walls with an early release. with yours just over the horizon, yuuji bucks his hips faster and harder, just barely pulling himself from your snug sex. for a moment, the world stills, the only sounds bouncing off the walls and condensing against them being the souse slap of skin on skin in unequal rhythm — signifying the crescendo of your love making.
you leave tiger’s stripes down the length of his back with your nails, crescent moons at intervals because you need anchor yourself to the earth before he takes you to the heavens. in return, yuuji pants hungrily into your ear — jumbled promises of filling you up sliding over your brain like a dark veil. he’s just as close as you are, you can tell my every twitch and tick of his body against yours … but suddenly the vibe shifts into something more uncertain. almost frightening.
you feel him swell between the thighs, thicker than he was before — having to work extra hard to drive those inches into your ruined, sloppy mound. the higher octave of yuuji’s sweet molasses voice bubbles into something gruffer and sinister as he curses against your bare shoulder, pink hair tickling your neck for only a second. in the next, your boyfriend is lifting his chest from yours to grasp at the headboard — knuckles whitening from the grip on hard wood.
deft digits press into your pulsating flit, flicking it aggressively from side to side whilst you bow upwards and away from the damp linens sticking to your back. this isn’t like yuuju, to rough you up without notice — to make it spring as he folds you in half and plunge into your rippling walls with violent vigor. it’s only when a sharpened gallon spreads your slit wide on his devastatingly fat cock do you realise who and what is above you.
the king of curses, balls deep in your pussy that greedily locks around him like he’s yours.
everything about him is near identical to your loving, doting boyfriend. the one who protects you, makes love to you and cherishes your kisses like they’re made of wisps of sugar that’ll melt in water. now that sukuna’s taken over — brutish and bullying as he bulges within your stomach and spreads your legs wide enough to hit the strength of his hips. the weight of him crushes you delightfully, roughly smacking into you, pressing down on your lungs and heart. you know that at any moment — he could kill you and leave you a mess for itadori to clean up. so even though you should, you don’t hate it.
“s-sukuna—!” nonetheless, you whimper — vision blurred in bliss, every inch of your body and all four of your limbs trembling.
“you don’t look so happy to see me, human,” a cruel grin splits wide on familiar lips — the expression somehow sinister on the face of the man you love so much. sukuna leans in, the black ink lines of his tattoos settle, and crease in concentration as he ploughs you into the bed so hard it screams for him to stop. you feel him grind against your g-spot, tormenting the squishy patch over and over. your quivering hole spews waves of essence, bathing what’s inside and what doesn’t fit. much larger than your boyfriend — you hate to admit. “i’m here to finish the job that brat can’t. he’s too tired to make this hole wet like it’s supposed to be.”
in a frenzied and weak attempt, you shove hard at yuuji — sukuna’s solid his chest and even though, you like it so much, your hips try to squirm away but to no avail. the curse has you pinned against the bed by his taut abs mashing against your puffy pleasure nub. “p-please, d-don’t!”
“why not? because you’re scared you might be cheating on the brat?” sukuna leers down at you, predator on prey, and lifts you by the fat at your hips — pulling you back and forth on his erection as though you’re a rag doll. all you can do is moan whorishly, high and loud, because you’re overwhelmed at the weight of him brushing up against your sensitive spots. his cockhead ripe and raw red threatening to fill you with the cum broiling in his plump balls. they clap wetly against your ass the faster he moves. “he’s asleep, little human. he won’t ever know. just let me use this perfect cunt while i’m here. i’m tired of waiting around. let me show you how it’s done.”
you shake your head ‘no’ but everything else about you is screaming ‘yes!’. everything is so intense, harsher than tbh ever would be if it were your boyfriend. he’d never rough you up like this, wind that hot coil in your gut thrust after thrust. w-wait!” you cry lecherously, your body failing to fall in tune with the curse’s rampant rhythm. even though it’s bullying and harsh, it’s still coordinated enough to make you see stars. “oh god….”
the closer you get the more you succumb to the curse’s charm, falling under sukuna’s spell as he rocks you over the the length of him — your cream catches on the ridges that spiral down his cock. purple and blue veins pulsing with his own impending release, brought forth by yuuji earlier on. sukuna cages you in, chest to chest, your nipples brushing over his sturdy pecs and sweaty black markings before growling against your neck. his teeth brush over the skin, sharper than yuuji’s, but he doesn’t dare leave a mark — only taunting you with the possibility of ripping your throat out.
you keep him close, shaky fingers raking through the undercut he shares with your boyfriend and easing into soaked pink hair — you yank as hard as you can, though you’re sure he feels no pain in comparison to your puny assault.
“that’s right, pretty human. take it. use it. cum on it like the pretty cockhungry thing you are.” the loss of rhythm and control in sukuna’s lunging hips becomes too obvious to ignore, chasing his own high. like you’re nothing but a pocket pussy for the greedy curse to use after a millennia of sex starvation. you throb at the idea of cumming on him, for him — terrified by the guilt it may bring. though, you no longer fight the reckless sway of your hips up to meet his and you settle into his bruising grip — claws digging into the flesh at your hips.
your final straw is when the brutish curse lets his thick, saliva soaked tongue lave over your chest — curling around the underside of your boob to taste the perspiration that gathers there. you hiccup weakly at the sensation, throwing your head back into pillows saturated with your boyfriend’s scent whilst you scratch at sukuna’s scalp again. “‘m… fuck! ‘m cumming —!” you announce, convulsing as the words come out and your juices splash between your folds, smearing all over sukuna’s tummy.
he does nothing but snarl like he’s won something, dark eyes lighting up with mischiefs and reward. “that’s right, pretty human. cum for me like you couldn’t for that insolent brat,” sukuna follows suit, barely holding on behind you, lifting you high off the bed as his cum pours into you hotly. thick; potent as it lines the entrance to your womb. you suction around him, pulling what spills out back in and he makes it stick — just barely managing to tug himself from your selfish entrance only to slam it further into you.
when sukuna is done… there is no kiss to calm you down or praises against your ear to tell you how well you’ve taken him. instead, he draws back just enough to look at you — menacing yet magnificent. ruined by sex, yet pleased all the same. wearily, you blink up at him and blink away tears to avoid the shame unsure of what to expect or how frightened you should be…
sukuna surprises you, brushing back your sweaty hair drowsily — on the verge of collapse as your boyfriend resumes control.
“see you next time, little human.”
he says carefully, eyes rolling back into his skull against his will.
a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding makes its way out into the humid air. shaky because of his promise or his threat as he passes out on top of you.
you don’t know how long you lay there, boneless underneath the heat and weight of… what’s now yuuji. his markings long since faded. immense guilt gnaws at your nervous system and you’re afraid that if you talk, you’ll break yuuji itadori’s big heart. he softens inside you, wrapped in the warmth of your orgasm snd his thick cream — that came from him but spoke the claim of the ryomen sukuna. it feels nice, though foreign, you don’t dare admit that you might have liked the trade off.
“wh-what happened?” groans your boyfriend when he finally comes to, lifting a fluffy pink head full of hair from your heaving chest. “did you… did you finish already?”
“passed out when you came with me,” you giggle and brush back his bangs. a sugar coated lie to keep his precious heart safe. “it was perfect. you’re perfect.”
it’s a weak narrative that you device to spin, one that yuuji runs with — believes in because your slick is running down his shaft that glistens with milky white precum and smears lazily over plush folds. he peppers innocent kisses across your wet cheeks, the promise of cleaning you up later hidden behind them. the action makes you shiver, not just because of how loved you feel…but because of how much thrill seeking it is to have a sukuna watch you. make sure you play pretend just right.
end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!
Imagine: The first time Na'vi! Caleb sees a human.
Content warning: size difference, possessive!Caleb, obsessive!Caleb, use of she/her pronouns, feral behaviour.
Authors note: Translations from Na'vi to English are ordered according as sentences appear. You can find the translations at the bottom of the post. The translations I did may not be at all correct because I translated word by word trying to make each sentence coherent by using the dictionaries and translators of Na’vi language. Sorry for the incorrect grammatical pronunciations. Also sorry for gramatical errors, english it's not my first language.
Credits to divider: @cafekitsune
Na'vi! Caleb, who was going out for a hunt, all damp from the rain. The sound of the droplets mixed with everything, making his hearing difficult to his surroundings, but the scents in the forest are more prominent to his nose thanks to that. His eyes are focused on every move, watching his steps of a possible mistake to scare away the prey, but there is something strange, something new, an aroma he has never smelled before. It was sweet, ripe like a pale pod; his fangs itched at the mere thought of running his tongue over it, licking, sucking, marking. He shook his head trying to come back to his senses, it was intoxicating.
His long muscular legs moved with stealthiness at each step he took, moving the dirt beneath his feet with ease, bow in one hand and the other adjusting his arrow, ready to shoot and kill. He aims in front of him in a single movement, shoulders flexing and torso expanding, but he stops abruptly when he sees you. A human.
Caleb lowers his arrow as he looks at your terrified expression. His eyes observing your smaller form, soft compared to a Na’vi body, weaker. Your chest was plump, two small buds peeking against the wet clothes by the cold, and your aroma, it was intoxicating, it made his heart accelerate, making him feel strange, a sensation of deja vu, members of his clan describing that sensation when finding a mate.
He was fascinating; so this is how a human female looked like, compared to a female Na’vi body, they had some similarities.
He relaxed his pose, less intimidating, he hadn't meant to scare you. “Mawey… Tawtute”. He kneels, raising his hands showing you he is no threat, looking at each of your reactions, how your breathing becomes slower, the way you stop biting your lower lip and your nails stop digging in your palms. He points at his chest “Caleb” he says slowly, tapping his fingers and repeating his name. You gulp the fear down your throat as you imitate the gesture of his hands, you pronounce your name; Caleb savorates each syllable in his tongue, your name was so precious to him now, he would never get tired of repeating it.
Na'vi! Caleb, who’s first time seeing a human. He was taught since young that the sky people were soulless creatures, who worshipped the steel like a god, destroying everything in their path. He was supposed to hate humans, kill them; but looking at you made all those hostile thoughts disappear. Humans were demons, then why did you look as if Eywa had created you just for him? So small, so soft, so vulnerable, his mate. Your head barely could reach his hipbone, and still, in your eyes he could see your feistiness.
You were wearing a strange kind of large white tunic that was soaked by the rain, he could inspect that synthetic material later, right now he needs to get you to a safer place, dry and cozy, like hell he was going back to hometree so his clan could question him and kill you after it. What he didn't know is that you had got lost after escaping the RDA laboratories.
Na'vi! Caleb who holds you with ease despite your restless movements, he was being careful, bringing you to his hunting spot above from the ground. It was too high to escape as you looked down from the branch. The higher you both were it was safer, he thought as he began to descend the tree. “Wait! I don’t want to be left here!” you told him, grabbing for dear life at the trunk behind you. But Caleb didn’t understand your language, so he just understood your desperate actions for some kind of need, maybe some food. “Tawtute ohakx, tätxaw mawkrra”, he smiled at you as he left.
You didn’t understand a single word that came from his mouth, ironic, since you were born in Pandora, but growing up with humans in the laboratories was different; speaking your native language every day and barely hearing one or two Na’vi words all your life. That happens when the RDA decides that it’s a great idea that humans should grow a neural queue by changing their DNA, still considering today that the Avatar project was a waste of time and this being the solution for the future human race. You had escaped.
Na'vi! Caleb, who is back from a successful hunt, begins to clean the carcass and starts a fire, roasting the meat and mixing with some vegetables. After he finishes he extends the bowl at you, but you backed away without taking your eyes off him, you didn’t know if all Pandora’s food was edible for humans. Caleb observed you, concerned as you weren’t accepting the food he had made specifically to make you gain more calories by the coldness of your body. He smiled again, this time bringing the bowl near your face, caressing your leg as a way to comfort you, “Nga zene yom”, but you looked away. That was not the reaction he wanted.
If Eywa had sent him this human girl as a mate, it was his duty to care for her, to protect her, to keep her warm and full. Maybe she was being shy, still not recognizing his caring as a devoted future mate, he thought. She just needed time.
You screamed when suddenly you were picked up and placed on Caleb’s lap, one hand holding you down, his fingers almost covering your abdomen and waist completely. He reached for the bowl taking in between his fingers a piece of meat and bringing it to your mouth; you backed away again, desperately trying to get off of him, “I don’t want it, it’s not safe”, he interpreted your words as if you were scared of the food, “Mawey, syuve ke txumnga’ ’”, he brought the meat to his mouth as his fangs tore a piece, chewing and swallowing, showing you there was no danger. You didn’t oppose him this time, he waited patiently until you opened your mouth and chewed. He caressed your bottom lip as a reward, “Sìltsan lefnele”.
Na'vi! Caleb, who becomes more obsessed of you as the days pass. Most of the time he is near you, keeping a watchful eye on your movements as he sits on the edge of the branch cleaning his weapons meticulously. You would’ve thought he was just observing his bow, but when you attempt to put a foot out from the pelts he arranged especially for you, he would immediately look inside the tree. Freezing you would cover yourself again and not dare to come out.
You look down at the forest floor, it was a strange place but majestic at the same time, growing up surrounded by white walls was all you knew. The people at RDA told you stories about earth, how once it was a place full of green growing life, today in day it was ruled by steel. You flinched when you suddenly felt his presence behind, you looked up at him as his yellow eyes observed every detail at the light of the sun, his hand resting on his hip and the other caressing your cheek. “Could you help me get down?” you hoped he understood this time, just a little bit, but Caleb only smiled and walked away starting to prepare dinner. Maybe it was time to find a way down from this gigantic tree on your own.
Na'vi Caleb was so gentle with you, each step he took was three for you, so trying to avoid his massive body was complicated. He would kneel waiting for you to approach, you would ignore him; sometimes he was tracing and twirling the locks of your hair, taking his time to comb out the knots, but when his fingers got near your neural queue, at least that was what humans called it, you would step out from his embrace leaving him dumbfounded. That place on your nape made you really sensitive, so letting someone else touch it wasn’t that comfortable. Caleb didn't seem to mind letting you be, it was strange for him seeing a kuru on a human but didn’t dare to touch further. Grateful to Eywa by letting you breathe Pandora’s air, he could try asking later.
There were days you weren't in mood of feeling his hands enveloping or caressing your body so you would yell at him for some space and punching his chest at the same time, barely feeling any pain by your small hands but he listened; Caleb understood basic emotions in other creatures so your anger didn’t look alien to him, he would let you be, going out for hours and bringing back bigger hunts and sometimes courting gifts hoping it would make you happy. When you accepted his offerings he would just give you that big puppy smile and making those strange purring sounds from his chest.
It was starting to get suffocating staying at the same place after days, it's not like you had another place to go, the RDA was all you knew and this small tree home. So when Caleb began to climb down you followed, alarmed he immediately climbed back up carrying you in his hand with a swift motion, your feet touching the branch again. “Let me come down with you! It’s getting boring being up here alone for hours.”, Caleb only looked at you, “Lehrrap, tawtute hì'i sì kì'ong. Nga ke tsun nong oe mi. Fìtseng kxuke ne nga”. You didn’t understand the meaning of his words, but his expression said it all when he began to descend again, he would be back at nightfall. You couldn’t wait another day like this, it was becoming claustrophobic in a way.
An hour passed by, it was time. Holding for dear life at every branch and vines, your feet carefully stepping at giant fungus; it may have taken you half an hour, but finally you were standing on the wet soil ground. You ran away from that place.
Na'vi Caleb, who got back from another successful hunt, wanting to surprise you with some sweet fruit he found on his way, imagining the expression on your face when you gave the first bite just made his heart flutter. As he entered his small home he was welcomed by silence, your scent was still there but you were nowhere to see; his instincts were on full alert in an instance, searching for any trace of a predator, crouching as he moved in a slow calculated pace around the room, he lifted up the pelts you slept in, searched the treetop, inside his small home again, but you weren't there. As he stood outside on the branch his eyes traveled all the way down to the base of the tree, his pupils contracted. “Skxawng”.
There were too many dangerous in Pandora’s forest, animals could easily attack a human and devour them, poisonous plants could spray their toxic spores at you and would be dead in seconds, you could fall at the river bank hitting your head with a rock at the tumultuous current, or a Na’vi from his clan could find you in his path and kill you without hesitation. His people couldn’t understand the connection he had felt the first time he saw you, so there was no safer place than staying by his side.
He was a hunter, a skillful hunter. So finding you wouldn't take him that long. His hands traced the wet soil, his developed sense of smell perceiving the aromas nearby, a faint sweet scent of sweat droplets was still in the air impregnated in the plants.
You were running, but he already knew where you were going.
| Translations |
Mawey… Tawtute: Calm down… Human.
Tawtute ohakx, tätxaw mawkrra: Human hungry, return later.
Nga zene yom: You must eat.
Mawey, syuve ke txumnga’: Calm down, food not poisonous.
Sìltsan lefnele: Good female.
Lehrrap, tawtute hì'i sì kì'ong. Nga ke tsun nong oe mi. Fìtseng kxuke ne nga: Dangerous, human small and slow. You still can't keep up with me. Here is safe for you.
Skxawng: Idiot.
Authors note: Thankssss for reading. It's been a long time since I wrote fics again, it feels like the first time that it made me nervous to publish. Maybe I'll right a second part if my inspirations doesn't vanish lol.
Loved it ! 🩷 It was so very interesting. Although, I kinda laughed a little thinking of the size difference. 😆 Reader must be like a barbie doll compared to Na'vi! Caleb.
ೀ ㅤ۫ ㅤ۪ㅤ۫ ㅤ ♡ ㅤ. if you wanna come, give my brother some!
synopsis: the one where you’re dying to go to a frat party. you don’t want to go alone, and your best friend itadori promises to take you on one condition: you talk to his older brother. just talk, nothing crazy. of course, you never do anything half-assed.
content: MDNI. frat!choso kamo x reader, top reader x sub choso, college au, modern au, drinking, edible usage, vaping, alcohol, hookup, mutual attraction, explicit smut, slight age gap (college, reader is a freshman and choso is a senior), oral sex (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, creampie, dry humping, choso cums too soon, reader tops, teasing, crack humor, overwatch references (i have an addiction)
wc: 4.6k
a/n: art by thatsallitchief! y'all when i tell you i had so much work to do after spring break but mama got it done and is feeding y'all. except i feel like this one wound up being kind of rushed... also can you tell i've never been to a frat. they lowkey scare me which is why i would want my close personal bestie yuji itadori to accompany me to one!! anyways. i wrote most of this while half asleep soooooo sorry if there's any mistakes i missed while proofreading <333 i feel like i treat a/ns like diary entries lmfao
“pleaaaasee, itadori,” you pouted and rested your head on his shoulder, giving him puppy eyes. “please? kappa is throwing a huge one this weekend.”
itadori, who had his laptop open to his lecture notes but was really buried in his instagram reels, waved a hand. “kappa sucks anyways. weird ass frat.”
you raised a brow. “and you would know? you never go to frats, you spent every friday night playing fortnite or whatever…” you retorted, crossing your arms and slouching back in your chair. itadori scoffed in response. “modern warfare. and for your information, not every friday! sometimes i go to sig tau.”
“sig tau?”
“yeah. my older brother is a member.”
you shot up in your seat. “you have an older brother?” your jaw dropped, and itadori finally looked up from his phone. “yeah. look, dude. tung tung sahur.” he grinned, showing you his phone. you didn’t pay any attention to the brainrot he was showing you, more focused on the pressing matter at hand.
“itadori. you have an older brother who’s in a frat and you haven’t taken me yet?”
he shrugged. “i didn’t think you’d wanna go. buuuut i guess i can bring you with this weekend… on one condition.”
“anything.”
itadori grinned like how he did when he was about to steal one of your ramen cups. “talk to my brother.”
your raised brow and your smile dropped. a set up? “hell no.”
“please? i think you’ll really like him. he’s on the rugby team, he’s really tall—“
“nope. i told you, after that situationship from welcome week, men are off limits for me,” you held up a hand, shaking your head. itadori scoffed. “i wouldn’t really call fushiguro a situationship, more like a deluluship—“
“regardless! men are a no-no.”
itadori gave you a knowing look. “okay then. no frat. you can go to kappa on your own.”
you frowned at the thought of sticky floors, cheap alcohol, and being by yourself with no other friends. kugisaki and maki had no interest in coming with you to a frat. “… fine. what’s his instagram?” you gave in with a sigh.
itadori’s thumbs flew across his screen before he pulled up the page: a blank. user chosokamo. not even a profile picture.
“wow. he’s handsome,” you muttered sarcastically.
“he’s shy.”
“a shy frat guy on the rugby team? i don’t buy it.”
“you’ll see,” itadori grinned. “he’s nice. really, he’s quiet, but he’s a sweet guy. you’ll love him.”
“do i have to sleep with him or something?”
“i doubt you’ll get that far.”
you weren’t one to turn down a challenge. come friday night, you’d stalked down all of choso’s profiles. instagram, twitter, snapchat (practically nonexistent snap score), tiktok, spotify, linkedin, battle.net account. reposts of cat videos, playlists with rap and 2000s emo rock music for workouts, worked at a… plant nursery as a part time job? majored in biology with a focus in hematology. mained mizuki in overwatch.
you looked yourself over in the mirror while itadori waited outside. micro shorts, a cute halter top, some layered jewelry, shitty sneakers (in case of spills), and dolly makeup. good enough.
“come onnnnn slut!” itadori groaned outside your door. you swung it open and glared at him. “give me the goods.”
itadori rolled his eyes and slammed a red, sugarcoated gummy and pink vape in your hand. “can’t believe i’m your plug and your ride to a frat. for free.”
you scoffed, chewing the gummy. “hey, i gave you answers to the midterm, didn’t i? consider this payment. also, strawberry cloud dream?” you raised a brow at the pink device.
“it matches my hair!”
the sigma tau house was three blocks from campus and you could hear it before you saw it. it was brick and not exactly a small house, led lights in each window. red cups littered the lawn and a few guys out front were doing something that looked like it had started as a drinking game but had wound up being something entirely different.
you took a long drag of the strawberry cloud and ghosted it before braving a step inside. sticky floors, bass that vibrated your inner ear, faces you couldn’t really make out due to the low lighting.
you hadn’t even realized itadori left your side when he came back to you bearing gifts: a red solo cup. “sprite and svedka,” he grinned proudly.
you took a hesitant sip and grimaced. “holy shit. dude, this is svedka and like… a splash of sprite.”
itadori laughed and slung his arm around your shoulder. “welcome to your first frat party. okay, so, choso is in the kitchen—“
“the kitchen?”
“yeah, he doesn’t like the main room. actually, he doesn’t like coming out of his room…”
your brow furrowed. this guy didn’t sound like he belonged to a frat. then again, he studied blood. you let yuji lead you to the kitchen, shuffling past a girl who was throwing up into the trash can and right towards—
holy shit.
definitely over six feet worth of pure muscle, not too bulked but just beefy enough, eye bags, a scar on his nose bridge? no matter. dark hair that reached just below his ears, a wearing a band top and jeans. the hand holding his phone was both veiny and boney, his knuckles highlights with ridges of veins that ran down to his forearms. definitely your type. fushiguro who?
“yo, bro!” itadori smiled and waved, guiding you towards him. the man looked up, glanced at you, then looked back to his brother. “hey, yuji.”
you stood awkwardly at itadori’s side, mouth watering as you watched his older brother converse with him. his jaw was nice and defined, his lips pouted just the slightest bit…
“so this is my friend…” he finally introduced you. “the girl from my freshman year seminar i told you about? and this is my brother choso kamo, he’s a senior… right! so, um, i’m gonna go grab another drink—“
“wait, itadori!” you hissed, but he was gone in a flash. you whipped back to face his older brother, laughing nervously. “hi…”
“… hi.”
you stood in awkward silence for a moment. “so… kamo? not itadori?” you blurted out the ice breaker, and immediately regretted it. who asked a stranger about the specifics of their last name? was it the alcohol, or your nerves, or both?
“it’s… a long story…” choso looked away.
“right…” you dropped your gaze to the ground, then back up at him. you weren’t giving up. “so… itadori tells me you study biology? hematology?” a lie, obviously you’d figured out from stalking his linkedin. choso blinked up at you. “… yeah. he told you that?”
you nodded and lied through your teeth. “yeah. pretty… specific. why blood?”
choso shrugged and took a sip of whatever was in his cup. “my family has a history of blood disorders…” he murmured. “i wanted to understand it, so… i studied it.”
“oh,” you nodded slowly. it wasn’t the answer you’d expected. to be honest, you didn’t know what to expect with this guy. his head tilted up and you could make out the faintest tint of pink of his ears. “sorry. not good party conversation, huh?”
you shrugged. “i wouldn’t know. this is my first frat.”
his eyes widened. “your first— and you’re talking with me?” he scoffed. “you should go out and have fun with yuji.”
“i like talking with you,” you blurted out thanks to the 99% svedka drink in your cup. you realized how stupid you'd sounded. maybe three sentences exchanged with this guy and you liked talking with him?
he swallowed thickly. “you do…?” he mumbled, then straightened up when you nodded. “… what do you study?”
you could’ve easily ended the conversation fifteen, twenty minutes ago. once you got to the forty minute mark and had flown through three different topics of conversation with choso, you’d forgotten about your deal with itadori.
“so… mizuki?” you tilted your head. choso was smiling just the slightest bit by now. “yeah. used to main reinhardt, but his shield got nerfed.”
“so you abandoned him for support?” you laughed softly. “hey, at least you could be my d.va’s pocket healer now.”
choso raised a brow. “you play d.va? not surprised.”
you scoffed. “what’s that supposed to mean?” choso shrugged, not answering the question. “you play other video games?” he asked. you shrugged. “usually cod or fortnite with itadori. you?”
“… league of legends. on occasion.”
“ew.”
“hey!”
you busted out laughing, holding his arm for balance. you were about to make another snarky comment about his taste in video games when a head of pink hair swayed up to you guys.
“heyyyy guyssss…” he laughed and threw his arms around the both of you, effectively squishing you against choso’s firm chest. “having fun? need refills? you want—“
“yuji. go away,” choso playfully shoved his brother, earning a wide grin from your friend. “right right, of course, if you guys need anything… more drinks, condoms—“
“yuji!”
you laughed and rested your hand on choso’s chest, not having moved from where you’d been pressed against him. he tilted his head down to look at you. “sorry about him.”
“don’t apologize for him,” you smiled. “he’s an idiot, but i'm getting used to it.”
“yeah? how’s that going?” choso smirked, earning another small laugh from you. “not well.”
choso hummed. “try living with him for 19 years.”
“huh?” you tilted your head. the music had been turned up impossibly louder. choso leaned in and spoke a little louder in your ear. “i said, try living with him for 19 years.”
you laughed softly, the alcohol making you bubbly and flirty. “it’s loud in here.”
“it is,” he agreed, setting his cup down. “you wanna go up to my room?” he blurted out, then stilled. “i mean… just ‘cause it’s quieter. and i have my xbox so we can play games. not ‘cause… i mean— unless you’d—“
you suddenly felt sobered up. this had just been a stupid challenge, you remembered, but now it was real. “choso,” you cut him off, then nodded with a small smile. “lead the way.”
on your way up the stairs, led by choso holding your hand. you glanced down at the party to find itadori’s jaw dropped as he stared up at you, then he gave you a thumbs up and a big smile. you pretended you didn’t see him.
choso’s hand immediately left yours as soon as you were in his room. assuming he was undressing or tidying up his bed or something, you looked around his room. my chemical romance and deftones posters, textbooks, a bonsai tree.
then you heard the xbox turning on. you whipped around to find him sitting in his beanbag, thumbing the controller and looking up at you expectantly.
oh my god. he was actually serious about playing video games.
you glanced at him, then the tv. “you’re… serious?”
he furrowed his brow. “why wouldn’t i be?”
you pushed aside the ache between your thighs and settled next to him in his beanbag, noticing how he tensed up a little. you took the second controller and resigned yourself to the fact that instead of getting laid tonight, you’d be queuing up in ranked.
you were terrible at overwatch on console. you were used to pc and were still getting used to the controls. “you just walked into the enemy team,” choso muttered.
“excuse me. i’m tanking.”
“your kd is tanking, you mean.”
you frowned. “i’m used to pc, okay?”
“here,” he actually smiled, scooting closer behind you, wrapping his arms around yours and placing his hands over yours. “okay, left stick moves,” he mumbled in your ear. “right stick is for camera. this button shoots. this one’s your ult. you good?”
you glanced up at him, your faces inches away from each other. “yeah…” you murmured, looking back to the screen and playing better now that you knew the controls. “like this?”
“yeah, just like that… good.”
your thighs squeezed together, and you blushed as you realized he was close enough to probably feel it. you glanced back up at him, hearing your character die on the screen as you lost focus. choso didn’t comment, only staring down at you. he was close, close enough that you could make out the little scar on the bridge of his nose, the slight furrow of his brow, the way his lips had parted just a bit.
without thinking, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his. both controllers clattered to the floor.
choso was quick and eager, returning the kiss and grabbing your waist. his tongue slipped into your mouth, rubbing against yours as he grunted with effort. you felt his cock straining against his jeans as he almost rutted against your thigh.
he caught himself, though, and pulled away panting softly, his lips glossed with your saliva. “s-sorry, that was—“
you shut him up with another kiss, pulling him close and swinging your leg over so you were straddling his lap. he groaned and pulled you closer, grinding up into you. you rolled your hips in response, and a high pitched noise bubbled up from his throat.
you pulled away to find him beet red with wide eyes. “that wasn’t—“
“you whimpered.”
his face scrunched up a bit. "what? no, i didn't-"
his protest was cut off as you rolled your hips again, an undeniable, broken, high pitched noise spilled from his lips. his fingers dug into your waist, trying to hold you still as he looked away, his cheeks flushed.
"oh my god," you half breathed out, half laughed out. "you're serious."
"stop." his voice held no conviction, his body betraying him as you felt his hips bucking up and rubbing up against you just the slightest bit.
you smirked and lifted your hips, pulling off of him. "fine," you murmured, and he immediately got the look of a kicked puppy, instinctively reaching for your waist again. "wait, no, don't-"
he paused as you got on your knees in front of him, running a hand through your hair to push it back. "... oh," he murmured, his hand sifting into your hair as you undid his jeans. his breath audibly hitched when you pulled his boxers down, his cock slapping up against his abs. he was already throbbing in your hand and beading pre, which you thumbed and smeared over his flared head.
“fuck…” he groaned, spreading his legs further apart. you looked up at him through your lashes. “sensitive?” you teased, and he only managed a nod in response.
you hummed and gently pumped him, barely even that. deciding to tease, you basically ghosted your fingers over his length, then leaned in and pressed a little wet kiss to his leaking tip.
“mm-hm!” his hips bucked up and a whine bubbled up from his chest. his tip prodded at your lips, and you took the opportunity to close your lips around him and sink your head down just a few inches. he was already a whining mess, tugging at your hair as his thighs tensed.
“fuck—“ he groaned after not even a minute. “wait, wait, wait— ‘m not gonna—“
you pulled off of him, lips still connected to his cock by a string of saliva. “don’t tell me you’re already close,” you raised a brow.
he huffed a small, nervous laugh. “i… think i am…” and judging by how he looked, he wasn’t lying. dark hair sticking with sweat to his forehead just a bit, his chest rising and falling as he panted, his flushed skin, face and ears tinted pink.
“that fast?” a shit-eating grin tugged at your lips.
he groaned and let his head fall back, scrubbing his free hand down his face. “you were just…!” he protested, gesturing vaguely to his lap, then you.
you hummed. “fair.” you moved to take him back into your mouth, but a tug on your hair stopped you. frowning, you protested. “what…?”
his chest was still heavy with his panting, his hips twitching up into the air. “just— i won’t last if you keep—“
“so?” you shrugged, dropping your gaze back to where your hand was wrapped around him. you stuck out your tongue and let a glob of spit spill to his tip, then smeared it along his slit. “i know i was teasing you, but i don’t care. really.”
he groaned and tugged at your hair again, then reached down and pulled you up by your arms, making you squeak in surprise. “choso—!”
“not like this…” he grunted, hoisting you up effortlessly, holding your legs around his waist as he stood. “wanna make you feel good first…” he mumbled shyly into your neck, setting you down on the bed and kissing down your body. his lips left a wet, cool trail on your skin, goosebumps following.
your stomach did a flip. itadori was right… he really was sweet. your expression softened. “you don’t have to—“
“i want to,” he mumbled against your inner thigh, his lips suckling gently at the skin there. he hesitated, pulling just an inch away and gazing up at you like he was already drunk on you. “… is that okay?”
your heart flopped around in your chest. “yeah…” you sighed out softly. he nodded and carefully undid the button and zipper of your jeans, pulling them down with your panties.
“holy shit…” he mumbled aloud, probably meaning to keep that in his head. he reached up hesitantly and gently spread your drooling folds with his fingers. he glanced back up at you with wider puppy eyes, quietly asking for permission.
you nodded, fingers threading into his dark locks. “go ahead.”
he didn’t waste a second, pressing a wet kiss to your clit before suckling the bud between his lips.
“fuck—!” your knees jerked up along with your hips. "oh my god, where the fuck did you-?"
"mmph," he grunted against your cunt. "'m not a virgin, y'know,"
your cheeks flushed. "yeah, i knew that..." you grumbled, even though up until about five seconds ago you'd figured he hadn't felt the touch of a woman before. he huffed against you and picked up his pace as if he now had something to prove, his tongue delving between your folds and slurping up every drop of your slick. his thumb came to rub quick little circles into your swollen bud, leaving you fisting at his hair.
"choso- holy shit-"
"mmf..." he grunted, his hips jerking against the mattress. he kept humming and grunting in both the effort of eating you out and the pleasure from grinding against his bed, the vibrations shooting through you and making your back arch.
he definitely knew what he was doing, at least with you. every time your hips jerked up or your thighs twitched or you tugged at his hair, he chased it, learning you in real time. his hand slid up your stomach, grabbing a fistful of your top to ground himself. he was practically humping the mattress, desperate for friction to soothe his throbbing cock.
you were too lost in your own cloud of pleasure to even notice it. one hand fisted at his hair, keeping his face buried in your pussy, the other fisted at the sheets. "f-fuck, cho- 'm close..."
he groaned and grabbed your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to his face. "c'mon." you could barely make out what he said, his voice was so muffled. he sucked harshly on your clit, then brought his hand to plunge two deft fingers into your hole, bullying your g-spot. "c'mon, give it t'me... please..."
you came with a whine of his name, your back arching and obscene squelching noises coming from where choso’s tongue met your sticky walls. he groaned loudly, his jaw going slack for a moment, and the moment the mattress stopped squeaking was when you realized it had been making noise at all.
he shuddered a bit, pulling away from you with glossy lips, your cum dripping down his chin. your hazy gaze raked down his body as he sat up, finding a dark patch in his boxers.
you couldn’t help the laugh you exhaled. “did you seriously cum in your pants from eating me out?”
choso was beet red again, red crawling up his neck. “shut up.”
biting your lip, you smiled and crawled forward, slowly and deliberately, like a jaguar stalking her prey. choso gulped visibly, almost shrinking back a little, but his body froze up in fear... or excitement. or both.
"you couldn't even wait..." you smirked, tilting his chin up once you were on top of him. your fingers ghosted down his shirt, feeling his abs, dipping below his waistband.
choso let out a shaky breath, bringing his hands to hover over your waist, as if he wanted to grab on but he wasn't sure if he was allowed to. "i- i tried..." he murmured, the tips of his ears blushing pink.
your smirk widened. "didn't seem like it."
he swallowed hard at that, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat. your fingers teased right at his trail, waiting until he was bucking up into you to pull his waistband down. he was still rock hard and throbbing, sticky cum dripping down the veins of his cock.
you bit your lip and smiled, your eyes lighting up at the sight of him like you'd just won the lottery. "mmh..." you moved your hips to hover over him, and he finally grabbed onto the swell of your hips.
"wait-" he stammered out. "... protection? i have condoms-"
"fuck that, 'm on the pill," you muttered, tossing your hair back and moving to sink down on him.
"are you s- ohhhhmygod..." he groaned, his eyes squeezing shut and his brow knitting as you enveloped him with a sweet squelchh! the stretch dragged a little whine out of you, and you bit your lip to hold it back. you bottomed out, ass flush to his thighs, and took a moment to stare at him. panting, flushed, brow seemingly permanently knotted upwards.
"choso."
"one second."
"are you seriously trying to not cum already?"
he whined and let his head fall back to the mattress, already humiliated from cumming in his pants, and now you were just being cruel. "just- give me a second, okay? jesus..." he panted.
you gave him a second, waiting patiently. then two, three, four, five...
you rolled your hips, and his hands flew to your waist. "fuuuuckk...!" he rasped, lifting his head to glare up at you, only to find you with a shit eating grin. "theerre he is..." you purred, rolling your hips again.
"please-" he whined into the back of his hand after throwing it over his face. "please, i just need a minute, 'm not gonna-"
"choso," you pulled his hand away, staring down at him. your free hand smoothed over his chest, feeling his heart banging against his ribcage. "look at me. you're doing so good..."
the sound that left him was sharp, broken, and obviously he hadn't meant to let it slip out. something like a whimper crossed with a groan and maybe even a little sob. his hips bucked up into you, your hole squelching softly. "don't say that..." he murmured, his face hot.
"takin' me so well, stretchin' me out..." you purred, just to see his reaction. it was gold, of course, another whine spilling past his lips. his fingers dug into the fat of your hips, not stopping you, just holding on for dear life. "you're doing that on purpose," he accused breathlessly.
"obviously."
you took his hands from your hips and brought them up to the curve below your breast, letting him hold you where he could feel your heartbeat. then, bracing your own hands on his chest, you leaned forward a bit, glancing down at where his cock disappeared between your drenched folds. little bubbles of pre foamed at where he did.
you dragged your hips up, then sunk down-
"fuck-" choso's breath hitched, and his bit his lip to keep from being loud. his jaw clenched, his eyes were shut tight like if he didn't look at you, maybe, just maybe, he could keep himself from cumming right now.
"you can be loud, cho. no one's gonna hear you over the party downstairs."
he swallowed thickly and nodded. "right, right..."
"and open your eyes. wan' you to watch me ride your cock."
he twitched inside you, and he huffed. "can you not-"
you rose and dropped your hips to shut him up, and a broken whine interrupted whatever complaint he had. and you didn't stop there, speeding up and bouncing on him without any pauses.
"shit, shit, oh my- fuuckk-" it dragged out of him. long and dissolving. his head pressed back into the pillow, his hands flexing against your waist. "okay. okay, okay, okay-"
your hands moved from his chest up to his hair, fisting his soft locks in both hands like handlebars. he whined and hugged you to his chest, burying his face in your neck.
"cho-"
"don't stop, please..." he almost cried into your neck. "please don't stop, feels s-s'good, 'm... fuuck, 'm not gonna last..." he dragged his words out with soft whines.
you felt it building in your stomach too. it was impossible to ignore at this point, the way his cock was rubbing up on your gummy spot and smearing globs of his precum over it.
"yeah?" you managed to pant out, dipping your head down to gently nip at his earlobe. "you gonna fill me up? hm?"
"hngh- fuck-"
you sped up, sweaty skin slapping against sweaty skin as he began to buck up desperately into you.
"hm? can't hear you, cho. i asked if you're gonna cum inside me," you panted. choso was panting heavily, his gaze trained on where your pussy lips stretched and drooled around his cock, bouncing up and down.
squelch!
squelchh!
squelchhh!
he finally slammed his hips up into you, his head thrown back as a strained cry spilled from his raw lips. "h-hngh- 'm cumming- cumming-!!"
his cock throbbed and twitched against your velvet walls, spurting and sticking his seed to your walls. "oh my god..." he panted, hips hips rutting up in aftershock, mushroomy tip smearing his sticky white allllll around your walls till he was leaking out of you.
you followed close behind, your fingers twisting in his hair, back arching and head tilting back. your poor hole quivered around him, squeezing his swollen cock in quick pulses. you glanced back in the mirror to find sticky patches of white dripping down your inner thighs, and your jaw dropped.
you looked back down at him underneath you: totally fucked out, half lidded eyes, chewed and raw lips parted, drool slicking down from the corners of his mouth. "that was..." he rasped, then closed his eyes.
"yeah..." you exhaled a small laugh, still catching your breath. you pulled off of him with a lewd drag, then plopped down beside him. his hand subconsciously came up to your hair, sifting into your locks, and you wondered if he was even awake at this point.
careful not to wake him up, you reached across him to the nightstand for his phone, hovering it over his face for the face ID. you scrolled to his messages to add your number, then furrowed your brow as you saw his group chat being blown up.
SIGMA TAU BROTHERHOOD 🔥💪🍻
todo aoi: CHOSO GETTING CHEEKS TN YO
todo aoi: I SAW HIM TAKE A GIRL UPSTAIRS
itadori yuji: i set it up hb of the year over here
naoya zenin: kamo actually pulled? no way LMFAOOOOO
kinji hakari: STOP CALLIN MY PHONE SHE GETTIN FUCKED TN😹😹😹😹😹😹😹😹😹😹
naoya zenin: yo this mf got negative aura how did this happen
todo aoi: CHOSO BROTHER I'M SO PROUD
naoya zenin: i'm serious bro wtf
you snorted and tossed his phone to the side, burrowing your face into choso's neck and snuggling into him. the party thumped on downstairs. for once, though you'd hate to admit it out loud, you could say itadori was right. you were glad you didn't go to kappa.
Synopsis. Four arms. Four eyes. Two mouths. Ryomen Sukuna has everything he needs and more: power, riches, enough concubines that he’s grown bored of such frivolities. That is, until you’re entering his royal estate as the newest addition—and he just didn’t expect such a puny little human to become…
His favorite.
Pairing. Ryomen Sukuna x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!concubine!reader, Heian era!Sukuna, true form!Sukuna, DP, Sukuna’s second mouth, the Sukuna Estate, other concubines, schemes, sIight pIot, mostly just true form Kuna mmmmpfg, he’s the master, he’s BIG (like really big), four arms, two mouths, he’s FÉRAL, mouth-ríding, sort of face-sítting, p sIapping, oraI (f + brief m), DÚMBlFICATION, making it fit, tight squeezes, stretching, tummy buIges, cervíx smooches, sIight degradation, bréeding, mentions of heirs, MANHANDLlNG, tension, full nélsons, overstímulation, spítting, foIding, stopping you from running, making you CRY, rough s, he’s MEAN, creampíes, cúmpIay, muIti-tasking (iykyk), implied marathon, slight proposals, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 10.5k
A/N. Blame that split-second frame from the last episode not me…
“Of the eighty-two chambers, you are free to enter most.” Uraume’s words were smooth, steady, and not a second longer than necessary; just as their steps were down these winding hallways.
You’re hastening your strides to keep up.
“You may roam in the gardens and libraries. The main kitchen has its doors always open, the Eastern one is for specialty desserts and guests, and the Western one is for poisons…and guests.” They continue, “The dojo is forbidden to anyone but the master, and you are expected in the Buddha room every evening.”
They suddenly halt.
Boredly, “You do plan to stay alive, I believe?”
And you could barely breathe, “I-I believe so?”
You’re realizing that you’ve stopped at the end of a massive bridge connecting to a quieter wing of the estate—intricately carved, and accompanied by a slow river drifting underneath. Uraume’s hand falls to the edge of the lattice doors, “Good. Here we have the concubine quarters-” Looking at you seriously, “-where you shall reside.”
A shiver runs down your spine.
Truth be told, you hadn’t expected to get this far.
According to what the stories and legends claimed, a mere mortal like you would have been sniffed out—would have been sought after, would have your flesh torn to shreds the very second you stepped inside the Sukuna Estate. If not by the monster that inhabited it, then the Estate itself.
Some whispered that it was inhabited by cursed spirits - amongst something far, far worse - that both guarded and imprisoned. Whilst others whispered that the house itself was a cursed spirit in the form of this sprawling aristocratic estate—as vast as a palace. Even more whispered that whomever entered the house gained a taste for blood, and even most claimed that a house’s auspiciousness reflected that of its master’s.
For who else would inhabit such a place but Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses himself?
If the public whispered about the estate, they simply yelled about the sorcerer that inhabited it. Blood-curdling screams.
There was no avoiding the rumors that swirled around the special-grade; those who were unfortunate enough to cross his path painted a picture of a beast more than eight feet tall, with glowing blood-red eyes and horns that tore open the skies. Storms he could silence with a single wave of his hand. His powers were what made legends—never before had there been seen a sorcerer as strong as he, and it was likely that there never shall be again. Though that was not for a lack of trying, or talent, or assassinations.
Despite remaining living, he was depicted in temples and murals of hell. Four arms. Four eyes. Two mouths and countless tattoos. So imbued in his sorcery that it metamorphosed his physical body itself - Ryomen Sukuna was said to be something more than human, but something less than a person.
Look at him wrong and you might find yourself without sight. Without life.
Thus, not many dared to lay their eyes upon him—but they didn’t have to. He left a pathway of destruction and blood-soaked footprints wherever he went.
A kill count higher than several populations.
Wherever he went, it loomed the dark shadow of a hand across the land. Currently that hand was grasped tight around the city of Heian-kyō: the home of Ryomen Sukuna, it sat at the very center of the capital. Dubbed aptly by the citizens to be The Estate of the Dead. For no human that wandered inside, will ever wander out.
And yet, that’s exactly the chance you’d taken today.
You’d had enough.
You’d waltzed right up to those grand doors this evening, dwarfing everything and anything around it, and knocked. Dark mahogany panels. Gilded handles. Unlike most noble homes, the Sukuna Estate didn’t need to have guards stationed outside it—for who was mad enough to bother the King of Curses?
You, it seems.
And so the busy road froze around you; the residents paused mid-gossip, the merchants stopped haggling their prices, the carts and wheels creaked to a halt—the world itself held its breath as the doors to the estate had opened.
And a short, slender person stepped outside.
They were dressed in a dark monk’s robe draped over a white kimono, equally white hair dazzling - almost ethereally odd - underneath the sunlight. They closed the door behind themself, and looked at you intensely. “State your purpose.”
You struggled to remember why you were here in the first place, “I-It is my greatest honor to-”
“Hasten.”
“I only wished to-”
“Hasten-”
“A position.”
You weren’t sure who was more bewildered at the words that blurted out of you—you or the citizens around you. There were soft gasps that echoed into the air, peering even closer at the strange interaction. However, the attendant merely looked at you uncertainly, and you hurried to explain yourself. “I come seeking employment, my lord of the house.”
“I am but a mere servant.” They replied, raising one hand. “And we seek help no longer.”
As they attempted to turn back and go inside, you’re rushing. “Please-”
Brows furrowed, “I said we seek help no-”
“But I swear that I shall be the most loyal servant to the master…” Bowed slightly, a slight rush of relief goes through you as you notice they’ve turned back. Just barely, but it’s something. “-after yourself, of course.”
They huffed in slight amusement.
And your hands shook. Gripped onto the long length of your sleeves, you steadied them before you continued - just as you’d practiced. “I swear upon my soul that no assignment shall be too great, no concern too small. Please—please, I have scoured every street and alley for weeks now in search of employment, and you have been the only one kind enough to open your doors…Any job is enough for me- any. Just spare me the chance.” Hands twisted together into a plea, “I beg of you.”
They looked slightly taken aback, and you stepped closer to seize your chance.
“My body is the master’s, and I shall gladly undertake any task.” You gazed straight into their doe-like, brown eyes—“Any task.”
Their lips barely moved as they repeated, “Any?”
“Any.”
There was a ringing silence following your answer, and you knew that everyone in the once-bustling vicinity must have been staring at you. But that didn’t matter.
Nothing mattered but the way the white-haired attendant let their brows raise, they appraised you from head to toe.
Head to toe.
Head to toe.
It honestly seemed like forever before they finally sighed, “At ease.”
And you shot upwards from your painstaking bow with an awed breath.
Untold, the doors to the Sukuna Estate opened. They turned around, not meeting your eyes - nor that of anyone around you two - and gestured for you to follow them inside. Stepping inside as though they didn’t care whether you proceeded or not, the strange attendant uttered. “I expect you to use your body well to serve the master.” Just barely tilted to the side to take another look at you, “You have one night to please him.”
The sound of wrought iron echoed through the ancient city like thunder.
And you touched your sleeve once more - your best silk, but more specifically…the dagger you’d hidden beneath it.
You had one night to take down the King of Curses.
In no time, you’d been led around the massive estate by Uraume - they’d uttered their name to you between the meeting chamber and the second library - and your heart still thumps away at your throat as they now creeeeeeak—! open the quarters for the concubines. Blood bubbling in your veins. Blade cold against your skin.
There was a buzzing sort of excitement that seemed to extend from the weapon and onto you—only growing stronger as you’re pacing inside.
It wasn’t the small, structured sort of barrack that you might’ve expected - you weren’t sure the validity, but you’d already heard stories about how concubines were cramped together in certain royal palaces. Bunks on top of bunks. Bodies that remained undernourished and untouched.
However, what Uraume takes you through is a gilded hallway—nothing out-of-place from the rest of the palace. On one side was a line of separate rooms, at the end of the hallway the paneled doors opened to a garden. It had unlit lanterns on the high ceilings and intricate artifacts that seemingly sprouted from the gleaming wooden floors; the spotless corridor branched and divulged into several other rooms and hallways, weighed with nameplates, and you were shocked to realize that each concubine seemed to have their room - no matter how small their rank; there was a lingering of perfume in the air.
Fit for royals.
Your eyes bounce off of the walls, and Uraume watches your reaction closely. “I assume it is to your liking?”
“Yes-” You wouldn’t want to give off the wrong impression - especially not when a mere offense could mean death—“F-forgive me, it’s far more than to my liking, it’s…” Taking another awed look around, “-magnificent. I suppose I didn’t expect it to be so…”
“Beautiful?” Uraume seems to read your mind.
And you can only turn to them and nod.
They sagely nod, something knowing in their tone. “The master has an inclination to all that is beautiful and surprising.” Looking at you closely, “Particularly surprising.”
Uraume’s expression gives nothing away, and you attempt to do the same - the dagger glints coldly against your hand. A single movement and it could cut you. A single movement and it could be in your hands.
You don’t know how long they maintain eerie eye contact with you before the sound of footsteps makes you tear your eyes away—and where you’re perhaps expecting to see the monster, the inhuman, the master of this house himself—it’s another woman. Human, perhaps.
Donned in expensive silk that robes her figure, she tip-toes towards the two of you with a sheepish smile upon her painted face.
She bows, and you’re bowing back.
“Forgive my intrusion.” She says as she straightens once more, “It is seldom we meet a new girl. Perhaps this is forward, but am I right in presuming you are one of the new concubines?”
“O-oh, you are correct.” You’re surprised by her warm and welcoming demeanour - weren’t fights and jealousy typical of close concubine quarters? Wasn’t she supposed to scheme and plot against you just as you were doing against her- you suppose your master?
But she takes your hand and beams at you, “Then it is most wonderful to make your acquaintance. Ask me anything you would like.”
Your lips part - unsure what to say - but the white-haired attendant at your side beats you to it by announcing. “Dinner shall be served shortly.” They turn, about to make their exit before eyeing you closely. “Human.”
And you wondered whether they meant to call you human…or they meant that dinner was human.
Once those delicate doors slide shut, and Uraume’s footsteps disappear, you’re just then realizing that you were still holding onto the other woman’s hand. Mustering up some semblance of a smile, you’re asking her—“Could you tell me about…Ryomen Sukuna?”
.
.
.
“There’s a descendant of the esteemed Kamo clan here, as well—” One of the women chuckle, taking a deep drink of her sake - one of those expensive types that came in an intricate wooden box. She smacks her lips in satisfaction, “-but you just missed her.”
Your heart batters against your chest- you still had the dagger hidden up your sleeve. Setting down your water, you hope that none of the other concubines here can hear the waver in your voice- “I see. Is she perhaps attending the…?”
“Huh?” The woman looks at blearily for a few seconds. “Who? The master?”
You nod silently.
She exchanges a look with one of the other women-
Before bursting into rambunctious laughter.
And you’re sitting there confused as they clap one another on the shoulders, as they rattle the food-laden table—as they wipe mirthful tears from their eyes. Repeating the last sentence to one another and breaking out into peels of laughter once more. Surely, you hadn’t said anything too humorous…perhaps this was some unspoken rule of etiquette you’d missed?
It hadn’t been too long since you’d been somewhat- absorbed into the group of numerous concubines upon concubines that were housed in the Sukuna Estate. Many more than you’d initially predicted - the hallway you’d entered had been just one of many residential wings.
Right now, about half of them sat at a long table of which you couldn’t clearly see its end - both because of length and the sheer volume of food towering upon it. All sorts of soups and noodles. All sorts of breads and wines. All sorts of meats and charred vegetables. Desserts and colorfully-packaged sweets from around the world that you’d once believed that only the emperor himself would have been able to taste.
It would have been possible to dislike every food you’d ever known, and still find something here that made you wish to stay…if just for the food.
You could hear the other half of the women chattering and laughing away in another dining room connected to this one.
All in all, your proponent - a woman you’d learned was connected with the Fujiwara family - had told you everything about Sukuna as she introduced you to the other concubines. They took you in readily, to your surprise, and cooed and surrounded and showed you around. Speaking to you about how the estate was designed personally by Sukuna himself. How Uraume was his (human) cook. How he was a ruthless ruler, and the hallways were more often bloodied than not—but he didn’t lay a hand on them.
When they’d told you this, you’d assumed it was regarding his more…aggressive reputation on the battlefield. You didn’t think it meant-
“Our Kamo girl has travelled to Edo.” The woman from earlier - Abe, you remember her name being - continues as the others settle down. She whispers scandalously, “To visit her lover.”
You breathe in sharply, “The master permits you to take lovers?”
“It isn’t that he permits…” Fujiwara smiles warmly at you - not too far down the table. The other concubines nod as she continues, “It’s that he doesn’t pry—he has no time for human frivolities. After all, the master hasn’t called for one of the girls in…well, since we can remember. He’s a picky man. But nowadays, girls enter and leave the estate as they please, as they wish for employment. Most choose to join the house staff in time, for we aren’t bound, and the master seems to have no need for concubines these days.”
Surprise overtakes you, your hand grips tightly on your sleeve. But your objective…
Abe speaks up now, “Which is why it’d been quite the surprise to know he’d allowed in yet another.” She leans in with a conspiratorial smile, “Perhaps you’re the type to really get his loins going-”
“Abe—!” A few other women swat at her.
“I jest- I jest—” She winks at you, “In part. Would you prefer to lay with the master?”
Something twists at the bottom of your stomach, “I-if it must come to it, I wouldn’t mi-”
You’re cut off as they exclaim in scandal all around you.
Fujiwara shakes her head with a smile, then she looks at you. “No matter what it is, you shall be housed and fed here. You shall never go without despite the master’s…”
“Impotence?”
“…”
“I jest-”
“What’s more—” She pulls back her sleeves and gestures for a bowl of sake, “Given the state of affairs, I highly doubt that you would ever have to-”
Just then, there’s a tap at the sliding doors.
An announcement of Uraume’s title—before they’re cracking the entrance open just a fraction. That stark white hair of theirs flashes from the gap in the door, illuminated by both the dim yellow lighting and the curiosity leaking out of the dining room; eyes scanning the vast chamber before finally landing on you.
An utterance of your name.
All eyes snap to you.
“The master wishes for you to join him tonight.”
One by one, you could feel the jaws of the other women drop—as well as your own. Right alongside something at the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t quite describe.
As the silence stretches and expands to the other speechless dining chamber- Fujiwara lets out a pointed cough—and it’s all you need to jolt right back to your senses. Scrambling to stand up, you barely have the time to smooth down your kimono before following Uraume out of the room - throwing a cautionary glance over your shoulder.
Fujiwara smiles, slightly shocked.
Abe winks.
The sliding doors rattle closed, and the whirlwind of gossip that follows accompanies you even to the bridge.
Head ducked. Hands in sleeves. Uraume remains painfully silent as you’re following them down winding hallways and past chambers vast enough to be estates themselves; and though you’d been given a tour of the place beforehand, you can’t help but let your mind get just a little frazzled at the thought of what was to come after.
Of what was to come once they finally stopped.
And they do—after what feels like nights upon nights, the white-haired attendant stops before two sliding doors - nothing but sliding doors. Though you’d assumed that the King himself might have decked his personal chambers with several of his best guards, you’re realizing with a prickle of anticipation that he didn’t need them.
But that only made your job easier.
Invisible hands seem to pull the doors - panes decorated in artwork depicting archery - apart, and you’re entering a room that would have been too lavish for an emperor.
A massive rectangular-shaped room of which strange interconnected woodwork make up the flooring; windows towering from floor-to-ceiling, half-hidden by thick curtains of red velvet. They clung themselves onto a ceiling that was gilded, calligraphy rounding the high perimeter, and a chandelier-like composition of lanterns fashioned down from it. Reds and greens and blacks and golds, the most eye-catching painting colors of furniture within.
In the far end of the royal chamber was the futon.
And you would describe its incredible size and its golden threading, even the red, red blanket that covered it- you would…but your eyes were far more interested in who was occupying it.
Thighs spread. Two elbows resting on his knees.
All four eyes locked on you since the moment you step inside-
“Uraume.” His lips barely seem to move, though that hoarse baritone is hard to deny. It wasn’t as inhuman as you might have expected—it sounded human and yet, there was surely something malevolent in the way he made your thighs squeeze together with just a single word. “You are dismissed.”
You’re feeling Uraume bow deeply next to you, and in the blink of an eye they’re gone-
In another blink of an eye, Ryomen Sukuna has one large hand stuck out - index quirked at you, he beckons you to him once. Only once.
And you gulp as you walk to him.
This was your first time really seeing the King of Curses- fuck. He was wearing nothing but baggy white pants and a strange, carnal inkling about him. Engulfing you in it the second you’re locking eyes with him. The legends were right…somewhat.
Because Sukuna truly was larger than any mere mortal could ever be: with shoulders sculptured and broad enough that they’d put your best warriors to shame, with corded muscle around biceps the size of your head, with his pecs creating a bumpy road for his tattoos. He was about nine feet tall—perhaps even taller than the stories said. Far taller. Far stronger. Far more monstrous.
Abs consistently patterned his front, disrupted only by the presence of his second mouth - it slashes aaaaall the way across his navel, large n’ licking his cursed lips with a grin.
And those tattoos- oh, those tattoos.
They were the tattoos of a criminal - two looping around each of his four arms like shackles, and then a circle on all four deltoids.
You bite the inside of your cheek—you knew your mission. But fuck- you won’t deny that a part of you wanted him so bad.
Sukuna’s pink hair catches the lantern light as he leans back on two hands, meaty thighs manspreading before you. And in-between you swear you could see the thick, throbbing outlines of two-
“On your knees.” The King commands. Crimson eyes narrowing, “Should you so wish.”
And your knees are buckling almost instinctually- he raises a rose-pink brow as he watches your hands reach for your sleeve…before ultimately going against your orders to settle down before the foot of the bed where he was seated.
Embarrassment curdles in your chest as you’re crawlin’ yourself closer to him, and the sorcerer himself hums in approval once you’re leaning your cheek against his right thigh. Rubbing.
The muscles underneath twitch—and Sukuna’s swollen tips let out a spurt of precum that puddles right in front of your lips. That translucent dampness stretches across the fabric and wets your lips with its salty taste- you whine.
Right before he grasps the back of your sweaty scalp with one massive hand- and shoves your head down onto one clothed cock. Your mouth gaped wide and plopping! right on top of his mushroomy tip—an open kiss against where his sensitive slit was flared outwards.
He’s pulsating against your lips.
And you’re moaning with your eyes squeezed shut at the feeling of his entire tip being nearly fuckin’ big enough to envelop your entire maw-
“Do you understand now?” Sukuna’s tone rumbles from above - low and level in a way that speaks of such power. He doesn’t reveal anything more, however. “Do you understand that your puny human body cannot handle me?”
You’re looking up at him with furrowed brows, “I-I understand…”
“Do you understand that I may ruin you?”
“I understand.”
“Do you understand that you cannot take m-”
“I want you-” And almost as bewildering as the fact that you’ve interrupted him, is that Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t crush you with his cursed energy on the spot for interrupting him. “-my lord.”
But that seems to be his tipping point. For his large stomach mouth quirks upwards in what almost seems like a smile—
And Sukuna gruffs out, “Then kiss your King.”
And so you’re gripping onto the soft edge of the mattress and leaning yourself up into his kiss- not the one his face was so ready for—but one where you’re leaning in and pressing a chaste peck onto his second mouth.
Onto those monstrously large lips hungrily gaping at his stomach.
Onto that fucking hungry - starved - maw so deprived of any touch that he’s immediately slurpin’ the edge of his textured tongue outwards. Attempting to enter his incredible size between your own lips, Sukuna’s only managing to fit about an inch of his cursed tastebuds—swipin’ the insides of your heated cavern and making you gasp, before he’s searing his grip into your scalp and tugging you off-
“Naughty naughty.” He trundles. And yet there’s a glimmer of something different in his eyes that told you Ryomen Sukuna was almost…excited. He’s patting one side of him on the futon, “Come up here with me, insolent thing.”
In no time, you’re hauled onto the bed and straddling the infamous King.
Thighs struggling to squeeze around his toned core, cunt drooling your slick through your panties. As you’re inadvertently rubbing uuuup and down his ridged abs- it creates a snail trail of glistening sap that trickles all the way down to his pinkish-brown happy trail.
Sukuna titters once he leans his head down and takes in the mess - n’ then he’s gripping one side of your waist with a single hand.
Squeezing lightly, it doesn’t take even a mere fraction of his power to glide the exterior of your pussy down those unruly tufts of hair—dooooooown in a carnal scratch as he positions you directly on top of his second mouth.
His second mouth.
Now gaped wide open and fucking ravenous.
Immediately cracking apart from each other with a parched gasp- something deep and rumbling from his underbelly. It reminds you of a creature that’s been starved for eons—something that makes shivers run up your spine right from the in-betweens of your drippin’ wet cunt. Right as you’re feeling his oversized tongue press aside your ruined underwear and start to eeeeeease inside-
“Fuh-fuuuuck—” Dazed peripherals rolling to the back of your head - without even realizing it, you’re planting your feet onto the futon and bucking- whether more into Sukuna’s cursed mouth or away from it…you’re unsure.
But he’s making the decision for you. He’s cupping either side of your hips with two clawed hands, letting those pointed tips dig into your clammy flesh, “Easy-” Letting out a rumbling chuckle. “Easy there, woman.”
Gasping, you’re lurching-
“Easy.”
And it’s all he needs to steady you.
It’s all he needs to tighten his hold onto your squirmin’ body, until it’s like he’s attached onto you with adhesive. It doesn’t take much of him to move you ‘round and spread open those folds even further like a pretty flower—that massive tongue of his wastes no time before swirling around that first ring of muscle. Cutely clenching around him- fuck, he can’t wait.
Before slurping his muscle back and shoving it straight between your pussylips.
Through the popping pressure in your ear, “Because how’re you gonna take my cocks otherwise?”
And you really didn’t forget who you were dealing with, did you?
You really didn’t think that Ryomen Sukuna - the King of Curses - was going to go easy on you…did you?
Because without even waiting for your struggling walls to get used to the size, his enlarged tongue reels all the way backwards with a deafening slurp! Right until the curvaceous tip was ticklin’ at your entrance, before Sukuna’s thrusting all the way back in. Again.
Your toes curl. Your eyes dart instantly to the back of your head.
Sukuna himself cracks a smirk- before he’s then doing it again.
And again.
“Don’t think yer running from it.” A third hand ends up plastered atop your clammy scalp- dangerously gripping your head and puuuuuushing you down onto him.
As far as your tight hole would let him. Your thighs quiver, “B-but-” Bucking.
“Now now, brat—” Pushing you back down. “Ya get what you’re given.”
Again and again.
It doesn’t matter how many times you’re twisting on top of him because of the ruthless swabbin’ of his tastebuds inside. Honed at the very tip and zig-zagging around in a way that makes you viscerally shake on top of him—he’s slipping his velvety muscle inside and stirring it a few times to get a reeeeally good feel for your walls. For how much you’d stretch. “Because you shall fit- oh…” He seethes between clenched canines, nose scrunched at the very top. “You must- fit it. You must not run away.”
Another tough battering ram of his thick tongue - it’s almost adorable how your poor body is being jerked to and fro. He murmurs, “For who can possibly escape Ryomen Sukuna? Heh.”
His tongue seems to wind n’ stretch even deeper inside you after his own self-praise - you always have heard rumors about the King of Curses being particularly egotistical…though righteously.
And again and again—“P-please.” Sukuna’s second tongue fills you up in all sorts of ways you’ve never felt before - not with the texture or the size or the complete and utter need…Those ridged tastebuds of his were pushin’ into eeeeevery single nook and cranny he could reach - which was all of them. At least, as far back as your dewy walls were allowing him to go, “Such a size should be-”
“Necessary.” He’s cutting you off cleanly. “Besides…”
Sukuna raises a pink brow, leaning backwards on the mattress to watch his massive tongue indulge in and out. In and out. In and out.
Your puffy folds being pushed apart at a rapid pace, your gloss seeping everywhere as he tunnels inside—he’s letting out a low whistle of approval as his second mouth creates such a mess between your legs. Monstrous tongue jerking outwards and slapping the front of your cunt teasingly- it makes a fresh wave of your juices slather down your thighs.
And he smiles - already knowing that he’s going to clean this up later.
The King’s chest rumbles with satisfaction, “Heh- you should be aware, little human…that m’not even halfway inside yet.”
There were two things in that sentence that drove you utterly wild: the fact that he mentioned he was barely inside, and the fact that he said…yet. As though to prove the point he’d just sparked inside your muddled brain, Sukuna arches his hips off the bed and ruts-
Pistoning his tongue a mere inch deeper.
Even though - to you - it feels like he’d just struck his tongue against your very throat—“Wh-what you claiming…” Your thighs quake as he continues fucking you between them, “How much longer may you possibly have to go?”
“Oh…an inch, two, four….seven.” Sukuna tilts his head airily, “Tch- such tedious tasks are meant for humans. How about you count instead?”
You balk, “Pardon, master?”
“Count, little human.” And without a single warning, his fourth hand snakes underneath your flapping kimono- between those sopping pussylips and squeezing at your poor clit. “Your master orders you to count.”
And the only thing you can possibly do is let your eyes shutter at the pleasure, lips trembling as Sukuna’s second tongue finds its mazin’ way across your walls. As you’re struggling to get a single word out, however, at least the ruthless sorcerer slooooows his pace down to something more languid- making sure you feel every bump and vein.
Every quirk.
Every inch.
Until finally you’re throwing your head behind and vocalizing—after only a few sloppy strikes. “T-two…”
“Heh…interesting.” One of those gnarled hands clasped onto your sides reaches upwards n’ grabs onto your pretty face, smushin’ those cheeks together as he stares deeply into your eyes. Sukuna takes in your dazed peripherals, your spit-glossed lips - the way you looked completely and utterly gone on his tongue, and yet…still managed to answer his question.
Mere mortals never did manage to surprise him anymore. You, however…
Before even he knows what he’s doing, Ryomen Sukuna leans inwards and spits between your gaped maw. Rushing to then kiss you with his own lips - eyes widened, mouth hungry. He looks bewildered himself, as his cursed mouth continues rubbin’ your pussy raw—“It seems we have a feisty little human on our hands.” Three out of four hands groping at your sides and making you ride him-
You’re trembling.
“And yet, who told you to cease your counting?”
Thwack!
“Three—” You cry out. Expectedly, Sukuna was mean—that fourth n’ final hand of his plasters his knobbly fingertips against your sensitive nub. Spanking you hard enough to see stars.
But Sukuna only grins, “Incorrect.”
Yet another spank. Yet another brush of his cursed tongue inwards- and you swear that you’re starting to hear his second mouth start to snicker to himself. Was that even possible?
Were you even thinking? Were you even breathing?
It doesn’t take his keen eyes long to realize that he’s left you completely and utterly stupid on his tongue—just so luscious and lewd. Spreadin’ apart your puffy folds and funneling your insides with him, “Four- four—”
“Correct.” Just to tease you, those fingers of his leave another rude spank.
And Sukuna doesn’t bother letting you gather your bearings before he’s delving even deeper.
“F-five…” You’re trembling out as you feel the massaging texture of his tastebuds enter, they’re pokin’ into spots you hadn’t even realized you had - filling out your tight channel and leaving his shape molded straight into your cunt. “And is that…ngh- six?”
“That was seven.” He rumbles out in a smug tone.
Your jaw drops as you register the massive number - seven inches of his cursed tongue fucking your pussy. And yet it still doesn’t seem as though he’s planning to stop anytime soon…
Back arched, you’re keeping your hands on top of Sukuna’s broad shoulders. Nails digging into his deltoids. And with all the strength that you could muster, you’re attempting to riiiiiide your hips back down onto his—grinding in figure-eight motions.
Sukuna was already manhandling you down onto him - now it might just be your turn to control the cadence. To control how much of him went inside you.
“J-just fuck me already—” You’re pleading. Your jaw drops with a parched whimper, hips veering down harder and harder- “Ngh- that was eight. Nine. Just fuck me- all of me.”
Sukuna’s eyes widen in slight surprise- before he’s quickly catching himself and tightening the two hands at your waist. “Now now…easy there. Go too fast for a little human, and yer going to hurt yourself.”
“But I need it.” Lip jutting out in the cutest damn pout, “I need you inside me, Kuna.”
His breath catches, “Repeat what you just uttered.”
Back bending into the most delicious curve, pushing up against his sweaty pecs. You’re sobbing out as his stomach mouth gapes even wider n’ seemed to push in even more, more, moooore of his sultry inches—“N-nine and a half…? I need you inside-”
“Not that-” Smacking your clit once more. “-you insolent brat.” The tip of his tastebuds reach the very back of your pussy, and it’s a sensation you just can’t describe. “That…title. I command you to hah, repeat it.”
“Title?”
Thwack!
“Repeat it.”
And it’s taking everything and anything in you - in your utterly cockdrunken mind - to conjure up the faintest inkling about what Sukuna was talking about. To let your head throw back with a final primal cry—for the first time since he’d started fucking you with his stomach mouth, you’re finally feeling your ass cheeks seat down properly on top of his washboard abs.
And then you’re finding yourself in his strong arms, your moans muffled into his actual mouth. “T-ten.” Gasping through the constant drool n’ sounds of pleasure clogging up your throat, “That’s ten, Kuna—”
And there it was.
Theeeeeere it was - in more ways than one.
Ryomen Sukuna’s getting to hear that sultry nickname fall from your mouth once more - for some inexplicable reason leaving the tips of his ears feeling warm - and he’s getting to see you complete his command.
Ten entire inches of his cursed second tongue- lickin’ away every trace of sap at your inner thighs, before he’s pushing it all the way inwards. Inwards and inwards. The maw slashed across his stomach grins as he’s hitting the very back of your pussy-
And before you know it, the King is tugging you into his arms.
He kisses your mouth sloppily while his second tongue continues fucking you between your legs. Harder by the minute.
Sukuna grunts as he opens his mouth wiiiiide n’ slips his tongue between your jaw- “Suck on my tongue.” He’s echoing out in a hollow tone.
And you can do nothing but squeeze your glossy lips together—eagerly suckling on his tongue. You’re unsure whether it was from your lavish dinner prior or whether it’s just how hazy your brain is, but you’re finding him to taste almost…sweet.
And your eyes roll to the back of your head as you do so-
“Heh-” Sukuna manages to pant out between kisses, open-mouthed and hot. “Now both pairs of pretty lips are sucking on my tongue.”
And your jaw…drops- only for him to use the opportunity to kiss you even deeper.
Making you ride his stomach mouth whilst he kisses you stupid - his tongue probing inwards, inwards, inwards in looooong slick thrusts. Scrapin’ every orifice inside but especially bending around to hit your g-spot.
You’re sure your body jolts as you feel the sudden zaps of charged pleasure, setting your body positively alight. “I-I’m so close, master.” You pout, “I must- hah- cum.”
“Must, hm?” Sukuna mutters - almost to himself. “And am I to believe that my human deserves to cum? Am I to believe that she is ready to take both my cocks?”
Nodding fervently, “Y-yes—yes, please-”
“Am I to believe that she will have no trouble taking me down to the very womb?”
“Yes-”
Crimson eyes narrow, “I will not slow down, needy human. Am I to believe that-”
“Yes-” Just so gone on your impending high. So close.
And to your surprise, the King merely chuckles as you’re interrupting him - had this been anyone else, then they would have found themselves being made an example of. But you…you’re finding yourself jerked almost aggressively upwards as he bucks his hips, more to run the ridges of his cursed tastebuds along the interior of your walls. Harder. Faster.
You hurtle straight into your high at an incredible pace-
“If you had let your King finish…” It’s the last thing you’re hearing before the pleasure overtakes you - Sukuna’s rumbling tone. “-then perhaps you would have known my question was whether I’m to believe you shall give me an heir in my name.”
His question was going to be whether you’d give him an heir.
His question was going to be whether you’d give him an heir.
But you’re unable to articulate anything more than a few whimpers n’ grunts - because the waves of your orgasm that overtake you are enough to leave you numb. Enough to leave you babbling. Enough to leave you shaking on top of Sukuna’s toned body as he shovels his fat tongue in and out.
In and out. In and out.
The way his overlarge tongue curved was just perfect for hittin’ every spot, and you’re feeling him time out your peaks perfectly—knowing juuust when the surges of your dopamine were at their highest.
Just then, he’d slam! his flattened tastebuds onto the exact spot of your nerves. Fingers nothing but a dizzying blur between your legs as he rolls his thumb over your clit, “Gonna take my t-tongue-” Sukuna spits between honed canines, “Gonna take my cocks then- gonna take my seed.”
“Sh-shiiiiit—” You yowl, “It feels so good, Kuna-”
“That’s ‘master’ to you.” He scoffs, nose sliding down the column of your throat. Sukuna takes one more look at the way you’re swallowing him up - at the way you grind deeper to stuff his glistening muscle between your pussylips, and shivers. “Or…consider yourself lucky to be shown mercy this time, human. Say thank you.”
“Thank you, Kuna.”
“Tch-”
And with that said, it’s not long before you’re completely and utterly fucked through your orgasm by the mouth on his stomach—through every tiny shred n’ ounce of pleasure.
Once Sukuna feels your quiverin’ pussy finish, he’s pulling out of you with the most lecherous squelch! Letting your thighs drape limply around his waist for a few seconds- that’s as long as the King can manage before he’s sitting up on the futon and flipping the two of you around.
So that your back was against the mattress. So that your head was hitting the pillows.
Sukuna crawls his massive figure down the length of your body- four arms pinning back your slick-sheened legs as he pushes his head between them. He’s wasting no time before digging his larger-than-mortal nose between your sodden pussylips and giving your cunt a good liiiiiiiiick of his actual tongue - this time tasting you with his actual mouth.
“Shit—” You’re surging up from your comfortable position, sparks sizzling in your brain. “A-again, Kuna?”
“Your master never had his fill.”
And with that said, he’s lavishin’ your pussy with countless long licks and dribbles. Lips glued to your folds. Breathing through his nose. Sukuna darts his tongue out - thick, though definitely not to the extent of his stomach mouth’s - and zig-zags it across your entrance.
Easing his wet muscle inside—inside and inside. He’s scourin’ every inch of your walls as though to check every mark he’s made before. Just so tender.
The velvety inches of his tastebuds flickering in and out- five inches long, you’re realizing automatically. Far longer than a normal human’s.
And it just drives you insane.
The edges of his fangs nip either side of your entrance - Sukuna had already left you so raw with his cursed tongue prior, so now it’s only taking a few seconds before he’s getting you to spray your orgasmic juices all over his mouth once more—“K-Kuna, I’m close.”
He hums at the feeling of your trembling fingers weaving into his pink hair, “Close? Stupid brat, you’re already cumming.”
The wetness of your cunt spills down his chin.
And Sukuna’s dragging his tongue iiiiiiiiiiiin and out at a constant, sloppy pace to get you through your high. To elongate it. Curving the pointed tip of his tongue against your g-spot - he holds it there for a few seconds just to feel you shake n’ clench around him.
Before he’s breathing through his nostrils and starting to synchronize your peaks with the slashes of his tongue. “Mhmmmm—” He moans out sultry vibrations, they send shockwaves up your spine. “Yes- fuck, yes. I believe this pussy is ready for me.”
Raging through you hard and fast - he doesn’t have much time before your legs start to twitch cutely with overstimulation. Tears sheening down your face. Your jaw unfastened with the most sinful noises.
Sukuna’s prominent nose pushes up against your clit and you’re crying out—
Looking up at you with hungry, half-lidded eyes. “I believe this pussy is ready to be my queen.”
With the pins and needles of your last two orgasms still coursing through your body, it’s nothing but a blur to you as Sukuna hovers his large body over yours once more. And it’s as if one second you’re blinking up into his handsome face, and in the next—you’re finding him laid back against the mattress- and you laid back against him.
Your head rests against his collarbone. Your back was arched against his stomach mouth.
Your legs were dangling off somewhere around his lower half- until Sukuna reaches two of his powerful arms down to position you properly. First, he’s grabbing either side of your waist and aligning you with where his clothed erections were—then he’s spreading your legs wiiiiiiide open.
Finally, he’s cupping his clawed hands underneath your thighs and pulling them up, up, up, upwards—until they were stretched out almost beyond your ears. And Sukuna was just basking proudly in this rude full nelson that he’d manhandled you into.
Gruff laugh echoing by the side of your ear, “And now…” In the corner of your teary peripherals, you’re seeing his other two arms bend to your lower half. “-to check for myself whether this pussy can really follow orders…”
Your kimono was already an utter mess- and Sukuna doesn’t have to do much to have it bunched around your naked hips. Your cunt all glistening with slick n’ saliva from earlier—hissing at the heated air that’s hitting you. “Shit…I need you so badly, master.”
“Then I expect you to take every inch.” He replies ominously. Just then, his eager fingers drop to the hemline of his pants. “I expect you to take every drop-”
And he’s tugging.
Only for your jaw to fall—
Because Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t just huge - you’d already expected as much, given his height and other physical prowess. But he was just staggering.
Just like the rest of him, there was double the number of appendages as there would be on a normal human. Two achingly-hard cocks stacked on top of each other. Inches upon inches. Despite your counting challenge earlier, you’re having trouble registering the sheer lengths that he could possibly be - ten…no….twelve? Perhaps even longer. Though you’re noticing that the upper one was just the slightest bit longer than the other.
Both just as girthy.
Round and reddened. The plump, puckered tips upon their ends throbbed with carnal desire- oozing out generous helpings of milky-white precum that dribble down the front of your cunt. It mixes with the mess already made before, and leaves your thighs sticky with need.
Heavy ballsack twitching underneath his second shaft. So many veins that you lose count.
“K-Kuna—” You’re whimpering as he starts to rub the shafts of his two cocks between your swollen pussylips. Pushin’ them apart and making space for his ruthless girths instead, “Want it inside, Kuna- hck! I really crave you inside me…”
“Oh, little human…” He coos from above. Larger face craning down next to yours, “Did you really believe that I was hesitating? That I was waiting for you?”
“I suppose…”
“Here’s where you are mistaken, my puny thing.” Sukuna trundles, and you don’t have to look behind to know that his sharp fangs were making an appearance. “I am no kindred man.”
A shiver runs down your spine.
And before you can open your mouth to ask what exactly he meant—his rounded tips press against your wettened crevice. Just the sweetest dual pecks, they’re letting out harsh slurps! as he starts to slip around your needy hole. “I wasn’t waiting for your body to get ready, as you so might have believed.”
“Th-then—?” You sob.
“I was waiting…” Your body bucks down into his, your hands reach up to grab at his pinkish locks and-
And your dagger slips out.
His voice grows excited. “I was waiting-” Both of you reach for it at the same time, Sukuna with his four arms and you with your two. Your heart stutters- your hand closes around the thick, metallic hilt—“…for a distraction.”
Several things are happening at once: for one, Sukuna finally forgoes teasin’ at your readied hole to instead scour his cocks inside - fucking in with a long, hard thrust. Deeeeeeeply pressing against your cervix—it feels as though he’s splitting you sensually from the inside out, and you’ve never felt anything better.
And then you’re closing your fingers around the blade - tight - and aiming behind you to press the sharpened edge of it against his throat.
You knew you’d struck your target. Especially when you feel the dagger tremble as he chuckles- chuckles. The King of Curses has the audacity to chuckle.
When you have a weapon to his throat.
You’re unsure whether it was overconfidence or something else entirely- but his hips don’t falter for a single second as he rams his swabbin’ tips thoroughly inwards—thumping away at the back of your pussy. Your ears sizzle with the slamming impact of skin-on-skin, “And so?” He mutters to you, “For what reason do you stall? Do it.”
You grit your teeth, blade pressing against his sunkissed skin until a bead of crimson peppers out. “Do you believe that I am too cowardly to do so?”
“Forbid the thought.” Sukuna hums, “A King assassinated by his favorite concubine? How romantic. I merely implore you to hasten-”
“I shall—”
“So do it.”
“Do not regret-”
“Do it.”
In fact, he leans in even closer as though to help you.
He’s fucking you deep from the rounded orifice of your cunt, to the very depths of your womb. Pulse thundering inside - until it felt like he was taking over every single part of you—until your teeth were set on edge, and the thud-thud-thudding of his matching cocktips was all that you could think of.
Your hand trembles around the hilt.
Your lips wobble with emotion.
Your eyes lock deeply with Sukuna’s own hellishly crimson ones, and-
And the dagger falls gently onto the cotton futon.
Sukuna’s body ripples with a sensation that could’ve been anything from pleasure, to victory, to utter glee—but most of all, his tone just sounded awed.
“I knew there was something special about you, woman.”
And then you’re being crushed in Sukuna’s arms as far back as you would go - as high as your legs could reach above your head, as curvaceously as your spine could bend against his core. He’s manhandling you like nothing but a ragdoll above him—plastered to his muscular back, you’re at the mercy of his vicious thrust after thrust.
The stretch was just incredible.
The stretch was like nothing you’ve ever felt before.
Two thick, loooooooong shafts that were mazin’ between your sopping pussylips- the rounded edges of their cockheads manage to swerve your tight walls apart. Jostling against one another. Throbbing in synchronization inside you - ba-dump! Ba-dump! Ba-dump! Scraping his thumping veins inside and reaching aaaall across every nook, orifice, and cranny. Just so big.
Sukuna himself grunts out in pleasure as his cocks manage to press through the slight resistance you still maintained - his cursed tongue had stretched you out incredibly, and he’s groaning out in pleasure as his cocks manage to slide against one another and then against you- “And now- hah, and now I believe you remember what you promised me?”
“Promised?” Your lashes flutter open, “I-I’m afraid…”
“You promised me an heir.”
Your maw droops open. Your heart starts to race.
Your cunt’s drooling out your arousal at the prospect faster than you could register it- and Sukuna feels the sploshin’ leaks around his thickened bases. His grin stretches as he takes in your unspoken reaction, and before you know it—both sliding cocks are knocking at the door to your very womb-
“And I’m not Ryomen Sukuna if I don’t fuck one into you tonight, brat.”
Rough thrusts. Crushing you in his big, beefy arms.
Closer and closer. Tighter and tighter.
If you thought that you’d been treated like a ragdoll earlier- then you’d been lucky. Because now you’re pressed between his bulging biceps and his pecs, sweat covering both your bodies in a thin sheen as your movements grow more and more fervent—“Fuck a- hah, fuck my heir into you.” Sukuna was barely speaking by now - short, rasping bursts. “Fuck you so big and fuuuuuuuull.”
Running two hands down your front—“Master, I have doubts that it gets much more full than this.”
And he lets out what almost sounds like a guffaw, “It can.”
“Wh-what do you mean- oh.”
And all this time, you’d been damn thankful that Sukuna had chosen to stretch you out on his oversized tongue first—how else would you have fit him so easily? Softenin’ up the snug exterior of your channel. Mapping out your sweetest spots.
Because it just made it even easier to slip inside—it just made it sooooo much more convenient for his dual tips to probe open your wet cunt. Inching and easing.
But then you’re starting to feel a third intrusion.
Then you’re starting to feel his needy tongue once more.
You’re gasping-
The slightest, smallest ticklish sensation of…none other than his cursed mouth dragging down the inner sorts of your thighs. Just teasing. Just the roughened ridges of his tastebuds, long enough that he can snake them down and flatten them over that soft skin beside your cunt.
And in a matter of mere moments, Sukuna’s rugged hands settle deeper against your skin. Tight. Tough. He’s double-checking to make sure that your restless hips couldn’t skin away- before reeling his hips back and penetrating you in longer, harder ruts—each rude slammin’ of his cocks accompanied by the soothing laps of his cursed tongue.
“Y-yet again—?” You’re blabbering out stupidly. Tears falling in big, bulbous beads down either of your cheeks and ending up smeared, “Kuna-”
“Mhmmmm.” He hums out - and you could almost hear the smugness in it. The way his piercing canines make an appearance as he says, “It’s for your own good, brat.” One of his hands lifts off of your sweat-covered body - folded like a lawnchair - and Sukuna runs it down your middle.
He stops right above where both his swabbin’ cocks and his tongue had started to form a tiny bulge at your stomach—“S-sensitive-”
“Exactly.” He sounds so content with himself. So damn content.
Those handsome lips - both pairs of them - quirk further upwards as he’s massaging the front of your stomach—particularly over that one spot where you’re stuffed till you’re bloated. Pressing down-down-dooooown- “And how shall this puny human body handle carrying my heir, hm?” He growls as he accelerates his ruts, “How?”
Mouth sobbing open in answer.
You're gripping onto either side of his muscular body and swervin’ your hips in response- unsure whether you wanted to rut back down for more or just…
“Running away?” Sukuna's dangerous trundle sounds from behind you, and the clasp he has on your shuddering body only grows stronger. Before you know it, you’re being manhandled like nothing but his favorite toy and shoved right back onto his twin erections-
He continues, “If you can’t handle two of my cocks—” They’re emptying out at the bottom of your pussy with two distinct thuds! The top one first, and then the squeezin’ of the latter. “If you can’t even handle my tongue…the babies of my lineage tend to be large.”
Palm pressing down on your stomach.
“Does this pretty womb have enough space?”
And there’s nothing more for you to do but throw your head backwards and buck up into his awaiting arms. He’s only seeming to crush you even deeper against his toned body, “It does-”
“What was that?” One pink brow raises.
“I s-said it does—it does.” You’re blabbering away, thighs attempting to wrangle downwards so that you can steady yourself. But the only thing that’s succeeding in doing is making Sukuna tighten his restraint on you maddeningly - “I can fit even more of you- hngh, I can fit your…”
He grins- and this time it’s his second mouth that hisses demandingly at you. “Say it.”
“Heir in here…” And if this was any other time - if you’d been in any clearer of a state of mind - you wouldn’t have said such embarrassing words in your lifetime. And yet, here you were—bouncin’ down welcomingly into Sukuna’s largely gaped maw. “I want it, Kuna.”
“Heh?” He grins, “Then brace yourself.”
And it’s the only warning you’re getting - honestly, you’re surprised to realize that he’d given you any at all.
Because in the next few seconds- his cursed mouth goes from lappin’ away at the sweet, sweet juices coating the edges of your cunt—to slithering between those puffy pussylips of yours and attempting to devour your pussy whole again.
Two arms laced behind your clammy scalp. Two more arms reaching down to toy with your overstimulated pussy.
“O-oh gods-” Hiccuping through your tears as you start to feel the pleasurable burn of your pussylips stretchin’ once more.
Wider and wider.
Deeper and deeper.
In, in, and in—
Sukuna's second mouth tenderly whips apart your wet walls—with the most lecherous squeeeelch! he's then attempting to stroke his tongue inwards between the thrusts of his dual cocks. Sharp, stabbing thrusts. Just to fit inside.
Three- three of his sinful appendages attempting to stuff you all full - you're losing your mind already with his throbbing cocks, but now Sukuna's tongue was a different sort of texture altogether that was just leaving you on the verge of-
“You can cum.” The King sputters out against your temple, lips moving what seems like a mile a minute. “But you have to remember to reward me with a strong heir after, hm?” Tap-tapping at the tummy bulge he was fucking into you, “Hafta give me one with my powers. Hafta give me one that- hngh, I can train into the strongest. Hafta give me one with- haaaah…” He breathes out laboriously, “-that smile.”
Your eyes shoot open as you’re registering exactly what he’s uttered, “Kuna…fuck, it feels so good.”
“Please…” And it might just be the first time that you’ve witnessed the infamous Ryomen Sukuna utter a word of plea since you’ve met him. That chiselled cheek of his nuzzles down the side of your temple, “-call me your husband.”
Oh.
Oh.
You’re barely even given enough time to let the entire ordeal sink of having him inside you sink in- before the wooden panels beneath the futon creeeeeeak—! And Sukuna’s arching his hips fully off of the dampened mattress, entering his entire greedy lengths into your pussy.
Again and again.
Reeling back until it was only the plump, glossy tips kissin’ at your entrance - before drag-drag-dragging his pulsating length inwards. In-between he just barely manages to squeeze his textured tongue inside.
Repeating once. Twice. Thrice. So many times that you’ve lost count, and you’re barely in control of your own ministrations as a third hand stuffs between your pussylips and squeezes your neglected clit.
And then your overstimulation’s hitting you all at once. All at once.
And Sukuna realizes it before you do- when you’re shivering primally on top of him and cumming once more. Around his cocks. Around his mouth. It’s such a white-hot pleasure that bursts stars behind your eyelids, creating heat at the tips of your toes and then sending it searing through every vessel within you- your body shakes in his hold as the dopamine courses right through you.
His lips crack into a chuckle, and he’s cooing softly down at you as he ruts his hips even harder—fucking you through every peak. “Theeeeeere, there…” Something almost sweet- though you know better than to expect sweet from Ryomen Sukuna. “My poor human couldn’t handle it?”
“I-I can…” You’re arguing back- even though your answer sounds like nothing but a jumbled mess of syllables. The sheer force of the high that wracks through you is enough to make your head spin, thighs shake—fucked up, up, and up by his never-ending hips.
And he can only smile, “Is that so…? Then perhaps my fierce concubine won’t mind if I just—speed up a little bit.”
Even more?
Your mouth drops as you’re perhaps getting ready to beg for mercy- before even the choked-up syllables at your throat start getting fucked back down by his roverin’ tips.
Rubbing their flared ridges across every spot of your insides, dribblin’ out gooey precum into the smallest nooks and crannies. You’re feeling the sultry slickness of it puddling up deep inside you, and it’s almost enough to send you raging right into another high-
“K-Kuna—!” Your voice cracks.
“I know, heh.” He snickers, deep and hoarse. “I can feel this pussy begging even more f’me.” A few more vicious strokes and you’re feeling another faint arc of pleasure that you’re sure must be your nth high of the night.
Hard and fast.
Hitting through every one of your bundled nerves- but especially that g-spot he’d bruised by now. Two large circular marks in the exact shape and circumference of his bludgeoning tips - they were slapping at two separate times—one after the other. Ba-dump! Ba-dump!
Except…this time, Sukuna’s own thickened cocks twitch inside of you as you’re clenchin’ through your high-
“And don’t you worry, brat…” He growls from behind, “This time, your husband’s not too far behind—”
Your eyes flutter open in pure shock- and one of his hands reaches down to tilt your chin to look at him. “Shit-”
“Say it f’me.” Sukuna rasps, “Say it- call me your husband while I cum inside.”
And who were you to deny an order from the King himself?
The words are barely escaping your lips—“C-cum inside me, husband…”
Before the strongest sorcerer in history throws his head back and jerks his hips upwards- letting the pouring wads of his cum plug your pussy up twofold. What’s better than one of his cocks seeping deeply at your innards? Two of them…There are so many gooey wads of it trickling all deeeeep inside- splashin’ against the spongy layer of your cervix. Swashing down your tight channel.
You’re shuddering as you feel the delicious sensation of him sprayin’ inside you - a sheer volume that ends up frothin’ in-between your legs. A circle of white forms around both of Sukuna’s thick bases. “There we go-” He snarls. “There- there, we go…”
“Shit—it feels so, ngh…” You don’t even have the words. Your body quakes as his ridged tastebuds start tickling the outer parts of your pussy. Long, luscious licks - it’s enough to make you cum again.
“And this baby shall become my heir.” Sukuna whispers - mostly to himself than anything. He runs a hand down the sweat front of your body, left ever-so-slightly more inflated with his constantly-pumping cum. “This baby shall be taught to become the strongest. This baby shall be- hah, feared amongst the nation’s lands and beyond…” His fanged smile grows, “Known by my name, I shall teach this baby to protect its mother with their life.”
The fatness of his tongue dips between your swollen pussylips- lapping again and again. He’s torn between drinkin’ up and pushing back the pearly white beads of cum that kept on leaking from you.
And you’re merely draped limply over his front. Crushed to his powerful body.
“And this baby’s gonna become the most precious thing in this- hah, estate…” You feel him press a kiss to your temple, “-alongside you, of course, Your Majesty.”
“Majesty…?”
“The Queen of Curses.”
For who could’ve tamed the infamous Ryomen Sukuna?
In no time, he’s finally fucked himself into your pussy through his high- and it’s a tangled mess of limbs and moans as Sukuna attempts to pull out. Before realizing that his cocks were probed in too deeply, before realizing that that would mean letting his pool of cum spread out of your cunt.
Losing all his hard work.
And so he sniffs haughtily, reaching one pair of his hands up into the air and clicking-
In a split-second, you’re finding your back against the pillows. As if in a dream, you’re blinking up to stare into Sukuna’s handsome face—two hands braced upon either side of your head, both cocks still shovelled deeply inside of you. Throbbing. Did he just…did he just use his powers to change-
“Yes.” He answers your unspoken question- of perhaps it had been spoken, you’re too drunk on his cocks to realize whether or not you’d blabbered it out loud. “I call it…teleporting.”
“Th-that should be outlawed-” You’re gasping. The air around you felt tightened with what you assumed must be his cursed energy - you’d heard the stories about them. Who didn’t?
And he merely hums, “I am the law, woman.”
Without another word, one of his four hands snake between your legs- his cursed second mouth had finished up lappin’ at the coat of cum around your thighs. And he licks his lips and belches almost gluttonously once Sukuna reaches down to cup your pussy and—
“O-oh.” Something buzzes between your overstimulated legs.
Almost as soon as it’d started, it’s over- and Sukuna pulls his hand away—and then his rugged cocks. Letting out the most lecherous sluuuuurp! as he’s reeling his hips away, rounded tips funnel out from between your pussylips and leaving such a-
Wait…your eyes widen. There was no mess - whatever technique that Sukuna had collected between your legs stopped his cum from leaking out.
And the King of Curses wastes no time waiting for your surprise to register- not before letting out a deep snicker. He straightens his bulky body n’ edges himself closer—and before you know it, you’re suddenly finding your head straddled by Sukuna’s meaty thighs.
His dual, furiously-hot erections slapping their shafts down onto your readied face.
Both fanged mouths grin, “Now…open, human.”
And you just knew he was about to make you take both.
Summary: a story in which the demon that gets sent to you ends up being more charming than he is scary, resulting in a strange bond that makes you question your sanity.
Content/Warnings: explicit smut, profanity, porn w/ plot, some angst/comfort, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, aphrodisiacs (sukuna can fill the air w/ it), oddly wholesome
Notes: there was this one scene that ended up being pretty cute, so i just gave them a happy ending LMAO it's more on the fantasy side of things. anyways, enjoy
You never understood the drama between neighbors until you had a horror story of your own.
Quite literally.
Living in the apartment right under Nishimiya’s was hell. The worst being her stomping throughout her apartment. You’ve baked her cookies, you've tried talking to her, you’ve tried yelling at her— just 10 minutes ago you were on a stepping stool, beating on the ceiling with a broom like a psychopath.
And what does the little brat do? She stomps back, which was enough to pause your morning and confront her. Again.
“Nishimiya!” You call out for the second time, incessantly knock on her door. “I can hear you in there, can you just please answer the door. I can’t take this anymore!”
The door eventually swings open and you're met with the little brats usual scowl, acting as if she were the one that has been ripped out of her sleep, consistently, for nearly 2 months now. It smells like she’s been burning herbs or something all morning.
“God– what is it now?” She groans.
“I really need you to quit stomping around so much in the morning– I can’t fucking take it anymore.”
“Seriously?” She scoffs, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. “This is what you came to me for?”
“Yes! This is insane. Not even the last tenant before you made this much noise!”
“Well get over it,” She responds rudely. “You’re not the only one who pays to live here.”
And with that, she slams the door in your face. You can hear her mumbling something on the other side of the door, and you’re pretty sure she called you a bitch.
What you didn’t see was her walking up to the small altar in the corner of her living room, picking up one of the older books that’s been passed down to her. And by old, that thing’s ancient. Pages and pages filled with spells written in latin, along with extra notes scribbled in them that were just as faded and the original print itself.
“I’ll give you something to complain about.”
Except, for as talented as she is, she’s still a baby witch, and the chill that ran down her spine immediately after doing her spell made her realize she had no idea what she had sent you.
—
You’ve been running for hours. Out of breath. Legs heavy. No matter how fast or how far you think you’ve gotten from him, he’s constantly 2 steps behind you.
What's worse is you just know he would’ve caught you already if he wanted. But what he truly wants is this— watching you run.
It’s in that cruel, menacing laugh of his, hearing the pure enjoyment rumbling out of him as he watches you scream and cry for your life— trying so damn hard to lose him. Yet in the end, he always ends up right in your ear.
“Got you.”
It’s been weeks since the night terrors have started. Every morning’s the same, waking up terrified and drenched in your own sweat, accompanied by the irritating noise of Nishimiya’s footsteps. Except now you’re too busy feeling unsettled in the mornings to even care about them.
Life’s been off. The apartment’s been colder. Quieter. Nothing helps. Not even opening all the windows and balcony doors to let some fresh air in gets rid of the dread that manages to cling to each and every corner of your space.
Something watches you.
You’re not the superstitious kind, but you can just feel something’s there. Looming over you. Following you. Messing with you. One minute you're tearing apart your living room, trying to look for the T.V remote, the next you’re opening one of your cabinets to find it placed dead center on a stack of plates.
You walk away from the microwave to go do something, and when you come back, it’s paused, even though you know you hit start. You even watched it the first 30 seconds of warming up.
Ignoring it didn’t work. All that did was escalate things. It went from chasing you in your dreams to pining you to your bed, murmuring the craziest shit in the shell of your ear.
“Did you miss me, Princess?”
“Do you really think pretending I’m not here will make me go away?”
“Come on, just talk to me— I don’t bite.”
“Wow. Not even a ‘leave me alone’ or ‘fuck you’. How about this, give me 5 minutes and I’ll tell you where I hid your favorite panties.”
You’re ashamed to say that last one is what broke your silent streak.
Over the next few weeks, you learn some things about him. He is in fact a demon— something he actually got incredibly offended at, by the way.
He preferred the term incubus.
He also dislikes being called a sex demon, something you called him because you wanted to offend him some more, thinking maybe that would make him leave.
It didn’t. He just gave you another night terror. One that had an extra kick to it— making you swim from him in the murkiest water you’ve ever seen, instead of the usual drill, chasing you through the woods.
He thought it was hilarious.
You never called him that again.
Unfortunately, being a literal demon isn’t the worst part about him. It’s the fact that he never shuts up. He goes back and forth between flirting with you and ragebaiting you, all fucking day. You’ve tried to get rid of him. You’ve even gone back to Nishimiya and begged her to remove whatever she put on you.
At first she denied summoning him, acting like she didn’t know what you were talking about. It wasn’t until a moment of weakness, when you genuinely broke down in front of her, did she attempt to cut whatever string it was that tied him to you.
Except it wasn’t a string that tied him to you, it was more like a chain with how he threatened to curse her entire family for eternity if she went through with it.
Now she won’t even look at you, let alone speak to you. The stomping even came to an end, and you wish you could be happy about it, but that didn’t matter anymore. Not when it traded itself for another problem that was substantially worse..
You never knew what it felt like to feel truly defeated until that day. It wasn’t even Nishimiya who told you that the deal was off. It was him. Laughing in your room at 1:00 am, telling you how you should’ve just made a deal with him.
That was a hard pass. You’ve never even seen him. It didn’t even make sense, you were trying to get rid of him, not get more involved.
It wasn’t just your day that was ruined, it was your entire week. Work did a number on you, which just added to all of the problems you already had from your apartment. The weekend went by way too short, the following Monday went by way too long, and by the time you got home, you wanted to scream out into the world until your lungs ruptured.
Your final straw was finding the remote in the kitchen cabinet.
Again.
“It’s a remote. Why are you so obsessed with it?!” you snapped at literally nobody, because the thing you had a problem with wasn’t even visible.
You didn’t bother putting the remote back where it belonged. You threw it at the couch, and ended up getting mad that it didn’t slip out of your hand mid throw, hit the wall, and break into a million pieces. The deep breath you took before walking back to the kitchen didn’t help your mood at all either.
Had it been a good day, you definitely would’ve been terrified of the reflection you saw on the glassdoor of your microwave.
But on a bad day…
“Oh for fucks sake— what is the point in hiding if you’re just gonna stand there and wait for me to catch you?! You want to be seen so bad!! Just fucking show yourself already!”
The change in the air was instant. You found yourself instantly regretting blowing up on the ominous shadow figure that tormented you for a living. But, you made your bed, so you stayed and faced whatever was lingering in the room.
It wasn’t as startling as you thought it’d be. He slowly materialized into the room until he was solid, like everything else around him. The only thing that was unnerving about it was having a complete stranger in your home.
“Happy?” he asks, as if he were fed up with your shit.
You don’t answer at first. You couldn’t. And it’s not like you’re scared, you’re just… shocked. In your head, he was some disgusting, slimy monster with shark teeth— he’s not. He’s tall and nothing but pure muscle, covered in thick tattoos. Pink hair, striking red eyes, and god, his face. You stared at it for longer than you should have.
“...I didn’t think you’d actually show yourself,” you end up saying, silently kicking yourself for how apologetic you sounded.
“So you just blurt out a bunch of shit when you’re mad without thinking?” he condescendingly asks, before mouthing ‘wow’ to himself.
“I– I’m in my house right now,” you sputter, in complete disbelief over how judgemental he is. “You shouldn’t even be here!”
“Good thing laws don’t apply to me,” he responds arrogantly, then changes the subject. “You should be more careful with what you invite to your space.”
“Last time I checked it was you who chose to start haunting me.”
“Last time I checked, it was blondie who summoned me.” He continued to argue with you as he made himself at home, taking a seat on the couch like he’s done a million times before.
“A fucking demon of all things,” you mumble to yourself, forgetting he didn’t like to be called that in the process.
He gives you the side eye, but you’re too busy being pissed off at Nishimiya all over again to even notice, so he lets it slide. “It’s Sukuna, by the way.”
“What?”
“My name?” he responds as if you're stupid, clearly not too fond of repeating himself even though you don’t remember asking for it in the first place.
“Oh.”
“Mhm. You should say it,” he smirks.
You weren’t sure if it was some form of power play or if he was just some horny freak that loved hearing his own name. Either way, you don’t say his name for him.
“So remind me again why you won’t let Bigfoot undo her little spell,” you cut to chase, not bothering to explain who that is. He should already know who she is by now given how much you’ve complained about her by yourself. “What are you even getting out of this?”
“Entertainment,” he casually says with a shrug.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. I love watching people have breakdowns after work.” The little dig earns him a glare. “Also, Bigfoot’s not strong enough to reverse the spell she did. Only reason she was able to summon me was because I let her,” he mentions, clearly looking to continue the conversation.
You find yourself processing that for longer than you should, wondering if you even heard him correctly. “Can I ask why you let her summon you and then send you to someone else's home?”
“I dunno. Guess I just wanted to see what would happen.”
He talks about it like it’s some experiment and you’re reminded of how unlucky you are to be one of the casualties in it.
“Sounds like you have a lot of power, or whatever,” you murmur, crossing your arms and taking a seat on the couch armrest. “You can’t just go?”
“I can,” he says, as if you were undermining him. All that goes through your head is how messed up his priorities must be if that's something he gets defensive over. “Kinda bound myself to you though, so I’d rather not.”
You felt the blood drain from your face.
Then it got worse.
He wouldn’t even fully explain what a binding was. You only know he did it because he liked how quiet your apartment was. No spouse or children. No pets either. And yes, he does leave to go “feed” and fuck with peoples lives, he just does that while you’re at work.
You suggested he could go do that while you’re home, so he doesn’t bother you, and he refused— without bothering to explain, again.
“I don’t understand why you can’t just go do all that when I’m home,” you continue to argue with him, but no amount of explaining will make him budge— not until you accused him of wanting something from you.
“Well?” you say impatiently, mentally preparing yourself to listen to him list a bunch of things.
He didn’t have to think twice. “We could fuc—“
You hold a hand out, cutting him off before he could finish the sentence. “Something that doesn’t have anything to do with my mind, body, or soul.”
“Fine.” He clicks his tongue, looking at you like you had just ruined all his fun. “I want you to acknowledge me— and not just when you’re running through an imaginary forest, acting like you’re about to die or something. I want it when you’re awake, like right now.”
Your jaw really shouldn’t be on the floor right now. He’s a fucking demon, of course he’d be this insensitive to other peoples struggles.
“Did you really just invalidate weeks worth of nightmares and sleep deprivation?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Did you blatantly ignore me for weeks?” he counters, proving that he really did have an answer for everything.
“I didn’t choose this,” you remind him.
“And that’s no one else's fault but bigfoots,” he redirects the blame, trying to make it seem like you two were on the same team or something, after spending weeks chipping away at your sanity, all in the name of entertainment.
It’s un-fucking-believable. You end up taking a deep breath, trying to remember what you were even talking about in the first place. Not to mention that you needed to calm down. Something about him sent your blood pressure levels skyrocketing.
You guess one good thing about him was that he didn’t rush you or try to fill the silence, something you probably would’ve thanked him for had it been something you noticed way sooner.
“So you want acknowledgement?” you ask in a more relaxed tone, trying to meet the guy half way.
He noticed that, along with how tired you looked, and started to feel a little bad. Enough to try to match your energy at least. “Mhm. In return, no more night terrors.”
You wanted nothing more. But you also weren’t in the mood to get your hopes up with this guy. “...Didn’t you just say that you found stuff like that entertaining?"
“Oh, I do,” he says reassuringly. “You just don’t have the same amount of fear as you used to. You don’t run as fast anymore either. Takes the fun out of it.”
Well. At least he stays true to himself.
“I see.” You nod, acting as if you totally understood where he was coming from.
You were a shitty actress though, and realized he wasn’t going to let you get away with the dry tone when you saw the little smile on his face.
“Don’t act like you didn’t like being chased a little.”
The laugh that came out of you was the kind an overworked employee gives their boss the day after they've started applying for new jobs.
“I really didn’t.”
With how crazy that laugh was, he believed you. He also looked at the clock, hoping it was an appropriate time for someone to sleep. You needed it.
“Nine’s is a good time to go to bed, no?” he casually asks, but you knew what he was doing.
It was a relief, honestly. “It is. I think I might just sleep early.” You probably looked a little rude getting up as fast as you did, but you were starting to feel crazy just talking to him. A full night’s rest might fix that, but if it doesn’t, at least you’ll actually be rested. “So you just… want me to say hi whenever I see you?”
“No.” He doesn’t bother to hide how much he hated the idea. “Just stop acting like I don’t exist.”
“Ok.” Easy enough. He’ll probably be invisible or whatever most of the time anyways, so it wouldn’t be an issue. Right before you walk away, you ask one last question. “You won’t be whispering weird things to me anymore either, right?”
He snorts, “you think that’s as bad as the night terrors?”
There’s a bit of hesitation on your end when you realize he thinks you’re joking. It’s not until you stop and give him a concerned look when he realizes you’re dead serious.
“I do… that’s why I was wondering if those will come to an end, too.” It sounded so awkward coming out of you. You hoped Sukuna would say something in return that would smooth it out, but he made it ten times worse. It was a yes or no question, he didn’t have to drag the time out for as long as he did.
It’s not until you decide to show signs of your growing impatience through an exasperated sigh when he finally says something.
“Only if you say my name.”
“That’s what you want?”
“That’s what I want.” He wasn’t smug about it this time, if anything he sounded awfully sincere. “Let me hear you say it once and I’ll leave your sleep alone.”
Even if he didn’t have the smirk he had on earlier, you were still reluctant to say it. It’s the second time he’s asked in under an hour. “Why do you want me to say it so bad though?”
“You said you’d acknowledge me more, didn’t you?”
“Yeah...”
“Then say it for me.”
—
He drove you insane at first.
That was the goal, to annoy you so much that you’d break and beg him to stop. Seeing people in mental agony was just something he liked. Not that he ever does, he just brings up what you could do to get him to stop.
He pitches it like it’s a sale. From romanticizing what he does, to promising that he’d make you feel really good, he never ran out of reasons as to why you should just give into him. You remember staring at him for a few seconds. Dumbfounded and struggling to wrap your head around what just came out of his mouth.
“I’m not going to let you feed from me.”
His pause was much longer. Not that the rejection left him offended or anything. It was worse, he was confused. Concerned, even— looking at you like there was genuinely something wrong with you.
“You—” He paused again, scratching the back of his head as a little laugh escaped him, “I’m sorry, what?”
“I’m not letting you feed from me,” you repeated yourself, sounding more irritated that time around. “Do you not realize how draining it is to be bound to someone? Let me enjoy what’s left of my sanity.”
All he hears is you complaining about having to be around him and scoffs. He wasn’t that bad to be around.
“It doesn't even work like that.”
“No?” You turn and ask, getting his hopes up for a moment, thinking you’d give him a chance to explain. Then you let out a disappointed sigh. “Actually— don’t even answer that.”
He dropped the subject, but that wasn’t the end of it.
But it didn’t bother you as much as it should’ve. It probably would’ve if he had stayed more mysterious, hiding in the shadows and all. But not now. No longer the unnerving monster in your dream, he was your annoying, unwanted roommate.
And maybe that’s where you fucked up— you stopped seeing him as the boogeyman. Now he’s just… there. He was wanted too. You grew to enjoy having him around.
Even when he’d randomly pop up outside of your apartment.
“Another bag of apples?” He begins to scold you in the middle of the grocery store. Nobody can hear or see him, just you. “Just go grab 2 or 3 of them. You’ve already wasted the last 2 bags.”
An irritated sigh leaves your lips as you set them down. You hated whenever he was right.
“Everyone’s gonna think you’re a brat if you keep pouting like that.”
No, they’re actually gonna think you’re psychotic for the way you’ll sometimes murmur and laugh to yourself. And for all the times you’ve looked over your shoulder and locked eyes with nothing. You could tell them who you were talking to, but the ones who would believe you would be healthcare workers, but they’d probably start asking if you’ve been feeling like someone's been out to get you on most days.
“The coffee you get is on sale by the way,” he mentions, trailing right behind you.
“Thank you,” you whisper, trying to be nice and all, but it never usually gets you anywhere.
“You look like a freak whispering to yourself like that.”
“Fuck off.”
“Arguing with yourself makes you look even worse.” He laughs at his own little joke, his favorite part was that nobody else could hear him except for you.
There were the occasional, and gifted, individuals out there who could see him. It’s usually the ones that look at you like you're walking around with a machete in public. You can’t really blame them, he looks out of place in grocery stores and coffee shops.
It must be odd to see him trail behind you, but it’s mainly you getting judged at that point. I mean, come on. There surely must be something wrong with you if you choose to be around him.
Do you not have any real friends?
The ones that your cashier can see. The ones that you can talk to as you set your produce down on the conveyor belt. The ones you can turn to and ask for spare change if you want to hold on to an extra bill.
“Did you find everything you were looking for today?” the said cashier asks.
You smile and say, “yeah.”
She’ll never know how hard it was for you to keep a straight face when Sukuna started to mess with you, muttering, “she never does,” in your ear, acting as if he was tired of you making people think you had your life together.
Wouldn’t he still count since it was all meant to put a smile on you?
Shouldn’t that be enough?
—
He thought you were dead once.
Between the way he felt about you and the fact that he thought human beings were weak, it could’ve been an overreaction, but that didn’t matter. He still felt it— all of that dread, just tearing through his chest.
It started off as a small cold and falling asleep on the couch. Then the next couple days all morphed into one big, blurry memory. The only things you remembered were that you were cold and tired.
So fucking tired.
Not even falling off the damn couch woke you up. It was Sukuna, who had been shaking you for what felt like forever for him, that finally pulled a mumble out of you. The only reason why you hadn’t woken up sooner was because he wasn’t trying to give you whiplash.
He was getting there though.
“Hey.” His voice faded in and out at first, but you heard the desperation. The anger. “Fucking get up already— Hey!”
You eventually whined. Had the nerve to be all pouty, and that pissed him off, but that was better than whatever he was just a minute ago. He didn’t say anything at first, just tried to catch his breath.
“Scared the shit out of me.” His chest continued to rise and fall, in disbelief over how bad that was. How bad he felt. The way he was starting to fucking lose it.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, eyes not even open.
“You,” he scoffed, still holding on to your upper half. “Thought your dumbass fell and hit your head.”
“M’fine— just cold,” you mumbled, barely registering the ache in your bones. Or how worried he was. “Think I’m sick.”
“No shit,” he snapped, then continued to curse under his breath as he scooped you up into his arms.
You tried arguing something, but the words just came out all groggy and incoherent, and were met with silence as he carried you back into your room. The only time you weren’t was when he heard a little, “so mean,” but it was just to laugh.
There was only one blanket on your bed when he finally set you down. The rest were still in your living room. He was back before you even realized he left and soon had all of them layered on top of you, which wasn’t enough apparently since the shivering didn’t come to a complete stop.
“Still cold?”
“No.”
“You’re still shivering.”
No answer. He didn’t care to pull one out of you either, and decided to just get in bed with you. He thought there’d be some resistance when he pulled you on top of him, but you practically clung to him and tucked your face into the crook of his neck.
“Better?”
You let out a hum, nodding against him. It wasn’t weird. It didn’t feel wrong. Not even when he wrapped his arms around you and slowly rubbed your back. The shivering stopped shortly after, letting you finally relax against him.
“Sukuna?”
His name sounded so sweet coming from you. He almost entertained it, especially when you never ask for him like that. A palm circled over your back to show he was still okay with how you two were laying.
And then he decided he was fine with never knowing what you were going to say, especially with how delirious you were earlier.
“Go to sleep.”
You two don’t talk about that day, even when things between you were normal after.
There wasn’t any change, no weird tension. You were still comfortable around him, he still acted his usual way around you. It’s just not something you two talk about.
That’s just how it went when things that were out of the ordinary happened, which started happening a lot.
Like that one time you learned he can sense when people are “in need”.
It drove him up the wall. He was quick with you at first, harsher than usual, up until he couldn’t take it anymore and through an exhausted sigh, said, “you gotta take care of that.”
You froze and turned to see him running a hand down his face, looking incredibly pained. “Take care of what?”
“You know what I’m talking about,” he groaned, as if he were over you playing dumb.
A conversation that ended with your back hitting your mattress and his head finding itself in between your thighs. You were falling apart just seconds after burying his face in your cunt like he was fucking starving. You were a sobbing mess— knees pinned to your chest, squirming under him as he continued to obscenely eat you out.
“Oh my god–” you whined, feeling the grip on the backs of your thighs grow tighter, “Sukuna— f-fuck–”
“That’s it— keep crying my name like that,” he groaned against you, dragging his tongue through your folds over and over again, making your hips jerk with each harsh flick. “Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”
As if he didn’t already know from the labored breathing or the way your thighs trembled under his hold. Or the way your back arched off the bed whenever he’d suck your clit. He was shameless in the way he just wanted to make you cum over and over again.
You’re still surprised at how things went back to normal after something so intense, but it did. For the most part.
You thought about it more than you should. There were times where you’d even be overcome with guilt— it was something so wrong yet it felt so good.
You never brought it up.
He never tried again.
Sometimes you wonder if it’s because he knew that’s how you felt, and that he didn’t want to be told his existence was wrong again. It was easy for you to tell him that in the beginning, but then you went and wove him into your reality. Now you catch yourself before mentioning him when people ask how your life has been— every single time.
You remind yourself he’s not real.
Then you go home and forget all over again.
—
You stopped remembering your dreams after Sukuna stopped the night terrors. It’s something you don’t bring up, and chalk it up to being some sort of side effect. You don’t even know if you have them anymore, which was fine— can’t be a problem if it didn’t actually exist.
Until it started to seep into reality.
You started to feel off in the mornings. Unusually warm, feeling most of the heat in your cheeks. Your heart would be pounding in your chest, yet not one anxious thought in your head. You felt out of place, disoriented— like someone rearranged your brain in your sleep without telling you.
It went downhill fast.
One morning turned into several, feeling more feverish than the day before. Your breaking point was waking up in a pool of your own slick one morning— feeling so needy that it hurt, but too sensitive to move, leaving you with no other choice but to wait for it to pass.
You wanted to cry, but then Sukuna decided that he was going to appear at the worst time ever, so you sucked it up.
You had a feeling that whatever was happening to you was his fault, you just had no way to prove it. You didn’t want to prove it either. Knowing how smug he’d be from seeing how pathetic you look right now, talking to him at all was the last thing you wanted to do.
Instead of acknowledging him, you turn away— curling up and holding a pillow.
He lets out a laugh, then appears right back in front of you, laying on the empty side of bed while propping himself up with an elbow.
“Rough morning?” he asks rather innocently, pretending to care as he eyes traced over your body.
“Fuck off.”
“Rude,” he clicks his tongue, “that’s no way to talk to a concerned friend.”
“Not when the said friend is at fault,” you murmur back.
“That’s quite an accusation.” He lets out a low laugh, leaving you even more suspicious of him. “And what did I do exactly?”
“You got me sick with something.” The complaint ends up coming out as a whine, muffled by the pillow you pressed your face into, avoiding looking at him completely.
“Did I now?”
“Mhm.”
“We both know you’re not sick, princess. Yeah, your skin’s feeling all hot right now, but let’s not act like you haven’t spent the whole morning squeezing your thighs together,” he smirks at the way your eyes widen, reaching forward to run the back of his finger down your cheek. “Kinda hate to break it to ‘ya, but a lot of this is you.”
“What does that even mean?” As irritated as you are at the moment, you just sound like you want to cry, which was fair with how vague his answer was.
He takes a moment to come up with an explanation, one that would make you less mad at him since he did have part in it. Trying to find another way to say ‘I planted the tiniest idea in your head and you made it so much fucking worse’, but also wanting it to make enough sense so you don’t ask a bunch of questions.
He’s really not in the mood for that right now.
“I got bored and entered one of your dreams— nothing crazy. Just wanted to say hi, fuck with you a little bit,” he starts to admit, and to your surprise, you actually believe him. “But then you went and made it weird after you looked at me like you wanted to fuck me.”
“I did not,” you finally look at him, but it’s a glare.
He looks you dead in the eyes. “You did.”
To his surprise, you didn’t try to argue with him on it. You seemed too worried about your little problem.
Two things come to mind— you must have it really bad right now if you’re too tired to have an attitude, and that there’s probably a lot that he can get away with saying to you right now, so it’s probably best to tell the truth now.
Even though it was really fucking hard.
“Anyways, you were being really sweet. Like really fucking sweet. So I thought, ‘this is new, I’ll stick around for a little longer,’ so I did.”
You don’t react to that much either aside from an eye roll, so he goes on to tell you more.
“You were being all giggly and shit— talking about… whatever you were talking about. I just sat there and listened. You were sitting on my lap by the way,” he casually adds, figuring it wouldn’t be the truth if he left out little details like that. You’re looking at him like he’s a dumbass for letting that happen, and in hindsight, he absolutely was. “You were super touchy too, like rubbing on my chest and kissing on my neck—”
You cut him off, “what the fuck?”
“I thought the same thing,” he says in defense, acting just as apalled as you. It doesn’t do much.
“Why would you let that happen?!”
Did you not just hear him? He was having the time of his fucking life in there. He doesn’t say that though, and instead points at you. “It was your dream. I can’t control what you do in there.”
You're massaging the side of your temple at this point, more disappointed than embarrassed, hoping that's the worst of it.
“Anyways, I ended saying a couple things to you and all hell broke loose from there.”
That immediately makes your stomach drop. Slowly, you turn your head to look at him. He knows he fucked up, it’s practically written all over his face. “...what did you say to me?”
Apparently he wasn’t thinking straight, and ended up out-slutting you by talking about all the things he wanted to do to you. It wouldn’t have been an issue if he stopped at that, but he didn’t, and accidentally sealed the deal by asking, “I bet you’d like that, huh?”
And you said yes, like a dumbass.
It didn’t just plant the idea in your head either. He was so descriptive with his words that it also ended up putting an image of you two fucking in your head, and it’s been playing over and over again in your subconscious ever since.
That really wasn’t his intention. He brushed it off at first, thinking it wasn’t going to do much— he was wrong.
It was so fucking bad.
It wasn’t just you that got affected, it got him too. He has been going through it. There’s a part of you that likes the idea a little too much and it keeps reaching out and pulling at him. You weren’t doing it on purpose, you didn’t even know, so he fights it. Every time you tug at his senses, he ignores it. It’s the worst when you’re asleep, hence the issues you’ve been waking up with.
“What in the actual fuck is wrong with you?” As expected, you were annoyed. Not fuming though, which came as a surprise to him.
“It was a mistake,” he swears, holding off on saying that it was more your fault than his. He did not expect you to think about his dick this much.
“Can you reverse it or something?”
He snorts at the question and it almost sends you spiraling. It wasn’t because he found it funny, but because he’s already tried. It usually works in most cases, just not this one, because whether you want to believe it or not, you really like him.
“You can’t, but it’ll wear off over time.” Not that he’s planning on letting it fully wear off on its own, he’s reversing it the moment it starts to weaken.
“So I just have to suffer through this until then?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” he grumbles, trying to hide the irritation he suddenly felt. It wouldn’t be that bad if there was some part of you that wanted him, yet you continue to ignore it— your thoughts and desires, even your fears.
He knows all about your fears.
He knows how you stay up sometimes, questioning your own sanity, if you’re just crazy and he’s one of the symptoms. That you think of him as the imaginary friend and how you fucking hate that. You hate how you can’t tell others about him too. He sees the way you look at him, he already knows how much you wish he was real. Maybe then you’d stop feeling guilty for choosing him over going out.
He understands and knows he doesn’t have the right to be mad, but he’s getting there from having to fight off the urges you send to him.
“Staying away from each other would probably work.”
It catches you off guard.
You weren’t expecting it to hit you as hard as it did. You find yourself having to pretend like it didn’t after realizing he wasn’t taking it back.
He sees the hesitation in your face. The confusion. The biggest of all was the disappointment— like you’re wondering why did he have to go and say that.
He doesn’t know why, but still, he doesn’t take it back. You never got to have a say when he bound himself to you, maybe one day you’ll realize this was him apologizing in the only way he knew he could by giving you the choice.
“How much would it help?”
“Enough. You wouldn’t be spending your entire morning in bed,” he says, trying to sound optimistic about it. Not that it works. He keeps trying to meet your eyes and there’s a dull look in them telling him that you’ve mostly left by now— an attempt to protect what he hasn’t hurt in the last 5 minutes.
There was a lump in your throat and the only way to get rid of it was to look past him.
The choice was obvious, but you still think about it harder than you should. Trying to find a way to agree with him. Looking for reasons to justify an answer that was already right. It was logical.
You somehow ended up in fantasy land some time ago, you had your fun, now it was time to go home. It’s harder than you think— telling yourself that none of this was actually real, that there’s nothing to be sad about, that you knew this day would eventually come.
It’s okay to not want this to end, but it was going to happen.
Don’t be dumb.
Just do it already.
“We should just do that then,” you quietly say.
“Alright,” he hums, not showing you much aside from the fact that it’s something that he’ll accept.
Making the right choice doesn’t make you feel any better. The ache in your chest continues to build. You hated how you wanted more than just a simple “alright.” You wanted to know what he thought, how he felt. Why was that so easy for him?
He wasn’t supposed to matter this much.
Sukuna wasn’t in a hurry to leave and lays on the bed with you a little longer. You’re still curled up on your side, and he doesn’t think you’re aware of how unhappy you look as you start to zone out, probably beating yourself up over it.
He’s not happy about this either. He wasn’t sure how this conversation would end when he decided he was going to tell you what happened, but he didn’t expect it to be like this. He didn’t think he’d be the one to make the suggestion either, let alone that he’d stick with it. But there ended up being a good reason for it in the end, so maybe that’s why he doesn’t feel very guilty about it.
It’s okay if it ends like this.
He reaches over and gently rests his hand on your head, pulling you out of whatever train of thought you were having. The stoic face he had on before was gone when you finally looked back at him.
He looks satisfied.
“Not a lot of people get to wiggle their way out of bindings, you know?” he says, trying to lighten the mood by poking some fun at you one last time. “Especially mine.”
“What an honor,” you murmur, clearly not in the mood.
“The highest.” His lips twitch into a smile— can’t say he’s mad about someone feeling sad about seeing him leave for once. The cheesy response doesn’t put a smile on you or anything, but it makes you ease up on the sulking. It was enough for him.
He doesn’t say anything else after that. He just keeps his eyes on you, etching all the little details about you into his memory, knowing this will be the last time he’ll get to do it. It’s not just your face and features that he tries to remember, but also how you let him stay around a little longer so he could do this.
There’s certain things that Sukuna just doesn’t do, and he’s accepted that he’s not as fixed as he thinks he is. It was easy for you to move him after making him remember that he was a human at one point too— a fact that he had forgotten long ago until you made him feel like one again.
He has no regrets, despite his time being cut short with you. It was bittersweet, but he was satisfied.
He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on the side of your head as his final goodbye, and when you opened your eyes, he was gone.
—
A month has gone by since you parted ways.
You tried to enjoy it at first— the stillness, the uninterrupted silence. Then after a couple days, you started wondering if the apartment had always felt empty as it did. If it had always felt as cold as it did. You tried to ignore it, and blamed it on your miserable mornings.
A week passed by. The side effects were still there, but they no longer got in the way of your life. You couldn’t place the blame on them anymore when you realized you still didn’t feel any better. Everything was still stale and lifeless.
It didn’t feel like sadness, just exhaustion. You found it hard to bring yourself to do the little things like walking to the store or answering the phone. It felt like everything you came into contact with just took from you, sleep was the only break you had.
If you had to be honest with yourself, there was a part of you that thought he’d come back at first. He was stubborn, never listened. Even if he didn’t have a good reason to come back, he’d make one up.
Then you realized you were waiting for something that was never promised, and wished it didn’t take as long as it did. You needed to get over it and move on, but you had no idea where to start. It wasn’t like you could talk about it.
I miss the ghost that used to haunt my apartment, people would look at you like you were fucking crazy. You doubt a therapist would cut it either. It was hard enough to find one that you clicked with, let alone one that wouldn’t lie about believing you.
Writing in a journal hasn’t worked— you swear it makes it worse. You had a pen in hand, ready to write, only for 30 minutes to go by and realize nothing’s been written down. You just stared at the blank page and started zoning out.
“I can’t fucking believe you,” a familiar voice grumbles.
You turn around and immediately freeze.
It’s Sukuna.
He’s here, standing in your kitchen with a scowl. He’s irritated— rubbing his eyes at first, and when that wasn’t enough, he slid his hands down his face, nearly ripping his skin off in the process.
“You have got to stop thinking about me so much— it’s driving me fucking nuts. How the hell do you get worse after a month?”
“Wait— what?” you breathe, still trying to process that he was here.
“Your thoughts, I can feel them. My fucking head hurts,” he throws his arms out as he continues to complain, as if he never left. “And christ— the fucking daydreams— what the hell does that help, huh?”
You let out a nervous laugh and shake your head. “I don’t—”
“They’re never normal,” he rudely cuts you off. “You made me die in a car crash once and started crying like you didn’t have control over that shit!”
You open your mouth to explain, but you quickly close it after realizing that you look crazy either way.
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” he grumbles out, ending his rant right there since he’s gotten enough off his chest. “You’re life's normal now, you’re supposed to be happy— that’s why I left.”
“...I’m sorry,” you say barely above a whisper, still shocked at his return.
He scoffs as he walks towards you. An apology wasn’t going to fix a headache that lasted for an entire month.
“You’re fucking pathetic,” he mutters, reaching out to you and pulling you into his arms. The hug catches you off guard, yet you still accept it, and wrap your arms around him. Once your head leans against his chest, you practically melt into him and let yourself relax.
“I missed you.” It was more of a complaint coming from you, as if you never wanted to go through the awful experience of missing him again.
“No shit,” he mutters back, resting his head on top of yours.
You stay like that with him for a while, but eventually go back to the room. Neither of you say much for the first hour. After you raged war on Sukuna’s mind for an entire month, he seemed more than fine with laying down in silence, mindlessly tracing your back while you laid your head on his chest.
You talk a little bit about what you’ve been up to, mainly complaints, but he still listened, figuring it was fair since you listened to him earlier. And then it naturally led to the conversation that you should’ve had last month.
“Are you staying?” you're not very shy when you ask, it sounded like you were expecting a yes from him.
“I don’t think I have a choice,” he says, having to hold back a laugh from the look you shot at him for making a joke at the wrong time. You clearly wanted reassurance, which is hilarious given how you're already clinging to him like a koala, but he gives you some more anyways. “I’m not going anywhere.”
You smile at him and he thinks that’s the end of the questions. He was wrong, but they were good ones.
“I still think this is kind of weird though— being with you and all,” you say, not sounding too concerned at the point. It's more just casual talk for now. “Are you just gonna watch me get old?”
“If you want,” he responds, not too concerned either. “You don’t have to grow old though, there’s rituals for that.”
“Really?”
“Mhm.”
“What kind of rituals?” You sit up and rest your chin on your palm, curious to learn more.
“Messy ones,” he grins, wondering if he should even go into detail just yet with how gory some of them are. “Can’t remember any exact ones right now, but there’s always some blood and broken bones involved.”
You point at yourself, “my blood and broken bones?”
“Maybe,” he says casually, running his finger across your jaw. “I doubt you’d have to though, you’ll probably turn into one over time.”
“Wait, so… no gory ritual?”
“No gore,” he lazily says, his mood changes fast from just thinking about it. “This one’s fun. Easy too.”
“Yeah right.” You stifle a laugh, already getting what he means by that— though you still don’t think it’s as easy as he makes it out to be. “Everybody would’ve done it by now it was.”
“It’s the slowest way since you gotta do it a bunch of times, but I swear it’s easy. Especially for you,” he casually says, despite the air starting to thicken between you.
He’s the one who’s doing it.
Your heart starts to pick up, getting louder by the second. You feel his hand sliding down your back until it’s on your ass, then pulls you up closer to him, all while the familiar feeling of heat starts to surge through your veins.
“Let me show you.”
It takes him a few minutes to turn you into a whining mess.
He manipulates the air and floods your senses, bringing you back to that same feverish state you were in over a month ago. It’s just as unbearable as last time, almost making you question why this is something you agreed to.
Then he starts to fill the room with the obscene sounds of him fucking you.
“Look at you— makin’ a mess already.” He’s got your back pressed against his chest, holding you in place as he pounded into you. He’s right next to your ear, being as filthy as ever, as if he didn’t already have you reeling from the way he kept hitting your sweet spot every time he drove his hips forward.
“Feels good, huh?” he taunts you, you can feel him smiling against the shell of your ear. “Told you this was fun”
“So fucking good,” you whine, clinging on to the arm that’s keeping you up while taking every inch he gives you. Your skin’s burning hot, there’s chills running through your body, slick running down your thighs. The stretch is insane, and his cock just slides in and out of you like it’s nothing.
Sukuna nudges your legs further apart so he can fuck deeper into you, soothing that ache you feel in your core. There’s a wet schlik every time he draws his hips back and each thrust grows louder, messier. Your moans start to pick up and he lets out a low, breathy laugh. “Is that where you want me, princess? That makin’ you feel better?”
“Yeah, need you right there.” You’re as desperate as you sound. Everything’s so intense, yet you can never reach full relief, he just keeps you right at the edge of it.
And he loves it, how fucked out and helpless you are, how the only thing you want right now is his cock stuffed inside of you.
He’s still drilling into you when you feel a hand start to snake down your belly. Your breath hitches as it gets lower and lower, until the pads of his fingers find your clit, making you fucking lose it when he starts rubbing.
He lets out a low groan when you start squeezing around him. “Fuck, that’s it, let me hear you scream for me.”
And you do, overwhelmed by the pressure that starts to build up— fast. Your legs tremble and vision starts to blur, nearly going limp from the way he begins to work the orgasm out of you. He’s still in your ear, talking you through it in that rough voice of his. “Can feel how how fuckin’ close you are. Go ahead— let go and cum for me.”
It only takes a few more thrusts for it to hit you so hard that it rips a cry out of you. You start gushing around him, and he continues to ride you through it while his thrusts get sloppier and sloppier, just hammering through your walls as he chases his own release. Guttural groans leaving his lips as he starts filling you up with so much cum that it starts to spill out.
Everything goes quiet after. You’re still trembling, struggling to catch your breath as you slowly start to come back to reality. A small whine leaves your lips when you feel Sukuna lean back and slowly pull out, watching the way his cum drips out of you with a satisfied look on his face.
“You’ll be just like me in no time.”
notes: i know nothing about incubus' and just went off random stuff i found on google
romaincrisis
snowghoul
yousharknotpass
jacobvanloon
andulkaphoto
theartofmadeline
annaxmalina
baratheonpilled
