The quiet forest clearing felt even more private now, the soft afternoon light filtering through the leaves as Aang knelt between your spread legs. He looked up at you with those warm gray eyes, full of quiet focus and genuine want, his hands resting lightly on your thighs. He liked this part — pleasing you completely, reading every twitch of your body like it was the only thing that mattered.
He leaned in and took your cock into his mouth without hesitation, lips stretching around the head as he started bobbing slowly. His tongue swirled in lazy circles at first, tasting the salt and heat of you on every pass, savoring it like he couldn’t get enough. The wet heat of his mouth enveloped you deeper with each downward motion, his cheeks hollowing as he worked you with steady, devoted rhythm. Aang’s eyes stayed locked on yours the whole time, watching your face for every reaction, adjusting the speed and pressure instantly whenever your breath hitched.
He bobbed his head further, taking you deeper until only the sensitive head remained between his lips. Then he worked his tongue masterfully — flicking and pressing along the underside, circling the slit, lapping up every drop that leaked out while his hand stroked the base in perfect time. The familiar heat began to coil tight in your lower abdomen, building fast under the relentless attention.
Aang felt it too. He took you back in all the way to his throat in one smooth glide, the tight, wet heat squeezing around you as he swallowed. His nose pressed against your stomach, throat fluttering around your length while he held there for a moment, eyes still fixed upward. You twitched hard against his tongue, and then you were pulsing, coming down his throat in thick, steady spurts. Aang swallowed every drop without pulling away, his throat working around you until you were spent.
He cleaned you thoroughly with his mouth afterward, tongue gliding slow and gentle along your softening cock, licking up any remaining traces until you were completely clean. Only then did he pull off with a wet pop, thin strings of saliva still connecting his swollen lips to the head of your cock for a brief second before they broke.
Aang rose from his knees in one fluid motion, climbing into your lap and straddling your thighs. He cupped your face with both hands and kissed you deeply, tongue slipping into your mouth so you could taste yourself on him — the faint salt and musk mixing with the familiar warmth of his kiss. He hummed softly against your lips, the sound content and satisfied, his body pressing close as if he still wanted to give you more.
“You always taste so good,” he murmured between slow, lazy kisses, voice a little rough from the stretch but warm with that eager, pleaser tone. “I could do that for hours if you let me.”
He stayed in your lap, forehead resting against yours, hands stroking gently down your chest while the forest stayed quiet around you both. The air between you felt easy and close, the kind of moment Aang lived for — making sure you felt completely taken care of.
synopsis. when choso dresses up as little red riding hood for a halloween party, what he doesn’t expect is his campus crush, you, to show up as the big bad wolf. “so, which one is it, little red? trick? or dick?” wc. 3.1k
tags. top! reader, bottom! choso. reader has a cock. little red riding hood!choso, big bad wolf!reader. roleplay sex, anal sex, predator/prey dynamics, pet names (mr wolf, little red, pup), crossdressing, exhibitionism, belly bulge, rimming, slut-shaming, dry humping, creampie, male squirting. sex, tension and fluff at a 50/40/10 ratio
a/n. had sooo much fun writing this. happy late halloween & enjoy <3
Choso hadn’t even considered the possibility of you attending the same Halloween party. That meant that him dressing up as Little Red Riding Hood—and you showing up as the Big Bad Wolf—was pure coincidence.
Or fate, as Yuki had phrased, wearing an annoying smirk.
He hadn’t wanted to dress up, much less go to a party. Staying at home, curled up on the couch with salted popcorn and a marathon of slasher films, sounded infinitely more appearling. But according to the forces of the universe, being a college student meant that socializing was inevitable. Before he could protest, he’d been shoved into a room with a short red dress, thigh-highs, and a handful of accessories, then manhandled into the back of a car.
And now here he was—dressed as Little Red Riding Hood.
Or rather, an alternate version of the tale where she had gotten lost on the way to her grandmother’s house and joined an emo rock band instead. The fit was complete with a basket of candy he held in one arm, watching as the love of his life paraded his Big Bad Wolf costume across the room. Okay. Maybe that wasn’t part of the story.
He sighed defeatedly, leaning back against the wall.
You were enjoying yourself, of course. That charming wolfish grin, paired with twin sharp canines flashing whenever you laughed a little too hard. Choso wondered if they were prosthetics or if they were always that sharp. He wondered what it felt like to have them sink into his shoulder. Would you bite him gently? Or tear him apart, like the wolf in the original tale?
“Hey.”
Choso blinked.
And promptly started sputtering. “What,” he managed, brilliantly. “Hello?”
You chuckled at his flustered state. His big, tired eyes—outlined with pretty purple—stared up at you like he couldn’t believe you were talking to him.
“Hello,” you greeted him back, sweetly. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. It’s just that I couldn’t help but notice… we kind of match?”
Choso’s ears burned red. “Ah. I—I noticed that, too.” If he didn’t know any better, he would think you were flirting with him. Suggesting the two of you matched, like you weren’t talking about costumes but something deeper. Bad for his heart.
“Heard from your friends that you hate parties,” you continued with a smile, oblivious to his inner turmoil. “So I was surprised to see you here—as Little Red Riding Hood, no less.”
Choso swallowed. You’d asked about him? Why had no one told him about this?
“I was forced to come,” he admitted. “I wasn’t really planning on showing up. But now that I’m here, it’s not too bad.” He glanced at you shyly, and you swore you could feel your heart flutter.
You nodded. “Wasn’t really much of a party person either, but after the first few ones, you just get used to the noise and crowd. Best part, though?” You let your gaze trail over him——the red lace corset cinched his waist perfectly, the petticoat beneath that little red dress, the skin-tight thigh highs and black heeled boots. Definitely not a biblically accurate Little Red Riding Hood. “You get to stare at a pretty guy all night.”
Choso was certain he looked like a blushing mess by now. Were you flirting? Or was this just how you talked to everyone? It wouldn’t stray too far from his perception of you—you were objectively gorgeous, charismatic, a social butterfly.
He found himself pouting a little at the thought.
But then, a warm palm gently cupped the side of his face, and Choso let out a small sound of surprise as you brushed a tender thumb over his cheek.
“Sorry,” you murmured sheepishly. “Just… wanted to let you know, in case you still didn’t get it. I wanted to come over here and talk to you the moment you got here.”
Choso covered your clawed hand with his own, lips still pursed in that maddening pout. It drove you crazy with desire. “Just another ‘pretty guy’ you stare at during parties?” he whispered.
“No,” you choked out. “I… I don’t know why I said it like that. Was trying to tell you that you looked pretty. I don’t really stare at people. Not unless they’re you.”
Choso tried not to crack a smile at your flustered rambling. Somehow, it made you all the more endearing—like a wolf with the mannerisms of a puppy.
“Not unless they’re me,” he echoed, teasing. “Mr Wolf… have you been stalking me?”
You visibly swallowed. Mr Wolf. That was… fine. Great, even. You could handle that.
“Not stalking,” you denied with a shaky laugh. Sure, you’d asked around about him. Tried to find out more about ‘the brooding guy with the permanent bored expression and signature purple eyeshadow’. Maybe you’d looked him up online, but everyone did that. “All I’m saying is, you’ve had my attention for a long time.”
“Since the moment I walked into those woods?”
For a swift second, you were taken aback. His eyes were wide. Hopeful. Like a little lamb begging to be devoured. And who were you to refuse?
“Can you blame me?” you countered. “I was hungry, and you were the prettiest thing I’d ever seen.”
Choso flushed. “S-sorry. You don’t have to play along—”
“I want to,” you blurted, almost desperate. “Please.”
“Okay,” Choso whispered. He could feel his heart running a marathon in his chest, the blood hot in his ears. It felt like delirium—like prey sprinting through the forest with a bloodthirsty wolf hot on its heels. And the worst part was, he wanted to be caught.
“I need to know your boundaries,” you murmured. “What I can do… and what I can’t.”
“Touch me,” Choso gasped, voice wrecked. “You can do anything—anything—as long as it feels nice.”
You wasted no time in getting your hands on him. A knee slid between his thighs, pinning him to the wall as your hands claimed his waist. “I can do that,” you promised, grinning when he choked back a whine, struggling not to rut down against your leg. “Fuck, Little Red. You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me.”
He looped his arms around your neck, pulling you closer with hazy eyes. “Tell me, please? I want to know.”
Your grip tightened, thumbs digging into the softness of his hips, the swell of his thighs. “The second I saw you skipping through the woods in that little red dress of yours, I wanted to devour you. Chase you until you lost your breath, a pliant mess under me. Wanted to see what you were hiding under that skirt.
Choso’s breath hitched—almost a whimper. “I wouldn’t let you catch me so easily, Mr Wolf.”
“And yet here you are, in my arms,” you taunted, adjusting your leg so that it was pressed up against the hard heat of his cock. “Doesn’t look like you’re running away from me, does it?”
A gasp of pleasure tore from him as his forehead tipped forward to rest on your shoulder. The weight of gravity was a cruel thing—every squirm for relief only resulted in him rutting harder against you instead of relieving the pressure on his crotch.
“You tricked me,” he accused, voice trembling. “Told me you knew the way to Granny’s. Liar.”
“Why would a wolf do favours,” you chuckled, squeezing his hips, “when he could have a feast instead, silly?”
Choso whined, lips curving into an unhappy pout at being called silly. He wasn’t silly. You just had that effect on him, Big Bad Wolf or not. “I could bring you food,” he offered weakly, despite the hungry gaze telling him it was futile. “I could share with you some of my lunch.” He gestured to the abandoned candy basket.
“I don’t want your lunch, Little Red.” Your teeth scraped his earlobe. “I want you. Don’t you get it?”
Tears welled in his eyes as he shook his head, and you wanted to coo at the sight, nearly breaking character. You watched as he writhed against you, biting his lip to stifle the noises bubbling up. He was so close, and you knew it.
“I’ll let you eat me,” Choso panted, “on one condition, Mr Wolf.”
That intrigued you. “Name it.”
Trembling fingers dragged you down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Make me come.”
Your breath stuttered—but there was no time to think, only to obey.
You took a firm grip on his hair, wrenching his head to the side to expose his neck—as though you were going to sink your teeth there, claim him as yours. Choso whimpered in surprise but bared his neck further, a silent plea of want.
“Needy little slut,” you snarled, teeth grazing his pulse. “Rutting against me like this. Bet you’d love it if I bent you over right here—fucked you open in the dirt.”
His climax crashed into him like a storm. He collapsed forward into your arms, a choked cry muffled into your shoulder as you held him throughout the aftershocks. You didn’t even bother to retract your knee, letting it stay pressed against his twitching, oversensitive cock, right where it belonged.
“Choso?” you whispered.
A whimper.
“I can’t hear you, baby.”
He burrowed into your chest, petulant. “‘M not repeating it.”
“Say something else?”
A beat. Then, muffled but unmistakable: “You’re mean.”
Your eyes widened in panic. Was that too much? “I’m sorry, I know we didn’t—”
“No.” He placed a gentle palm on your chest, halting your words. Right over where your beating heart was. “I meant, you’re mean, and I loved it.”
When he looked up, his eyes were glassy, wrecked—hungry with lust.
You hadn’t expected the intensity of it.
“Take me upstairs,” he almost begged. “Please, please…”
Fuck. “Alright.”
You hauled him through the crowd, ignoring the wolf-whistles in your wake as you made your way up the stairs, barging into the first empty room with only one thing on your mind. You were going to fuck him so good he would be trembling with pleasure by the time you were done with him.
Choso was sprawled on the bed, a panting, pliant mess as he patiently waited for you to return to him after locking the door.
“Kiss me,” he whined once you got close enough, and he had every right to—because how dare you not kiss him? He wrapped his arms around your neck and pulled you on top of him, whining as you mouthed messily at his neck before finally crashing your lips against his—all teeth and tongue, the filthy kiss he’d been aching for all night.
You kissed him like you were sin, and he was absolution. Like the last mercy before the devouring.
When you pulled back, a string of saliva connecting your lips, he chased it blindly, pouting when you held him back with a gentle hand to his chest. “Turn around,” you ordered, voice rough. “Gonna eat you out.”
There was no hesitation. Choso nodded, scrambling onto all fours with his chest pressed to the pattress, ass raised just for you. He should feel filthy, exposed, vulnerable. But strangely, he felt nothing of the sort. Only want, as you pressed even closer, your hot breath ghosting over the sensitive back of his thighs as you flipped up his skirt.
A shiver wracked him you slowly pried his cum-stained panties to the side, baring him to the cold air. “Pretty,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his twitching hole.
Choso whined.
You licked a broad stripe all the way perineum to his needy hole, before lightly dipping your tongue inside, just to watch him squirm. “Stay still,” you muttered. “Are you going to be a good boy and let me play with you?”
“Yes,” he gasped. “Please, pup. I’ll be so good for you.”
Pup.
He knew exactly how to drive you crazy. And he was going to use that to his every advantage, wasn’t he?
You growled, nuzzling into his cheeks before finally burrowing your way inside, eating him out with vigour. Beneath you, he was a writhing mess, panting and whining as you devoured him from behind like a wolf digging into the tender belly of its prey.
“Please, please, please,” he sobbed, “W-want your fingers in me, pup.”
“Thought you were gonna be good for me, baby.”
He nodded tearfully. “I’ve been good. Just… want you.”
You sighed in feigned exasperation, your fingers digging into his hips as you pulled away. “Little Red wants to play?”
“Yes,” Choso whined. “Want you to play with me so bad, Mr Wolf.”
“You sure you can take me?” You opened up the bedside drawer, taking out a bottle of lube, before pouring a generous amount on your fingers. “Aren’t you too arrogant?”
“I can!” he protested, pushing his ass towards you in desperation. “You can p… punish me if I can’t. I won’t mind.”
“No,” you agreed with a chuckle. “Of course you won’t mind. A slut like you would probably enjoy it.”
Choso’s eyes widened, but before he could say anything, deny it—you pushed a finger inside his hole, admiring the way it clenched around you needily.
“I’m not a slut,” he whispered.
“No?” you goaded him on, pushing another finger inside. “You think I didn’t notice, Little Red? You strutting around in the woods in this little dress of yours. You were trying to seduce me into fucking you, weren’t you?”
He whined, shaking his head. “No,” he gasped as you curled them—barely grazing the spot that would make him see stars. “I’m n-not, would never!”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” you continued, adding a third one to the stretch once you deemed him loose enough. “You know the way to your Granny’s place perfectly. You weren’t lost. You didn’t need directions. You were just hungry for cock.”
“Please,” Choso cried, as you pressed the pads of your fingers against his prostate, making him shudder with pleasure. “Fuck me a-already…”
“Admit that you’re a slut,” you sneered, mean. “Admit that you walk around the woods pretending to be lost in this slutty little dress of yours, looking for wolves to fuck.”
“Not just any wolf,” he gasped. “Only you. ‘M a slut for you.”
You pulled out your fingers, barely giving him a second of reprieve before you unzipped your pants, lined yourself up and pushed your cock into his spasming hole—all in one smooth thrust.
Choso sobbed with pleasure as you bottomed out, rough hands massaging the fat of his hips. You pulled out until only the tip was inside before brutally thrusting into him again, the slap of your hips against his loud, filthy and wet.
He should’ve known that he was no match for you from the moment he caught your eye.
How would prey like him ever escape a virile predator like you?
“S-so good,” he choked out, whimpering as you leaned back to spit at his hole, the sticky glob intermixing with the lube, creating a messy slop inside his tummy. “‘S wet and m-messy.”
“Yeah?” you panted. Your hips felt like they were moving of their own accord—blindly thrusting into the wet, warm heat of his cavern, carving out a place for your cock, pound by pound. “That good, baby?”
“Yeah,” he huffed out. “Wanna s-see your face, please…”
You paused, pulling out before you flipped him over, settling between his eagerly splayed-out thighs. His dress was crumpled and racked up to his waist, his eyes glazed over with tears of pleasure. You wasted no time in pushing in again, this time paying extra attention to every detail in his expression—the scrunching up of his eyebrows as he struggled to take the stretch, the way his lips fell open in a lewd moan as you thrusted forward.
Choso was beautiful.
“Pretty,” he whimpered, tears spilling down his cheeks. “You’re so p-pretty.”
You leaned down to smother his lips with yours, drinking in his noises. You couldn’t get enough of him. He was too good for you, in a way that was bad for your heart.
“Gonna fuck you full,” you muttered breathlessly into his ear. “Fuck a knot into you, if I could.”
“Please,” he sobbed. “Wanna feel you here, pup.” He grasped your wrist with a trembling hand before pressing your warm palm against his naked stomach. You could feel yourself moving inside him—every push and pull of heat and slop, burrowing your way into his insides.
He shuddered and cried out as you wrapped a hand around his cock, thumbing messily at the slit. “No,” he protested, “‘m too close, no, no—”
“Come for me,” you whispered, more of a plea than anything. “Want you to let go of yourself and come, pretty thing.”
Choso shook his head, gasping for air. “I can’t, pup, feels w-weird—”
“Want you to be dirty,” you growled, every pound and thrust aimed at his sweet spot as he cried and writhed in your arms. You squeezed his cock. “Make as much of a mess as you want.”
Choso nearly jackknifed off the bed as he came with a shout—ropes of cum squirting from his cock, painting your chest and his stomach with white.
“Fuck, baby, you squirted—” you gasped out as his hole gripped you like a vice, your orgasm hitting you like a hurricane, black spots flooding your vision as you groaned in pleasure. “Choso!”
He whimpered as you filled his hole with cum, the sticky slop combined with the girth of your soft cock making him dizzy with fullness. He whined as you collapsed on top of him, blanketing him with warmth.
You nuzzled into the crook of his neck.
“Pup?” he asked sleepily.
You blinked an eye open. “Mm? Want me to pull out?”
Choso shook his head. “No, I just…” he trailed off, before whispering, “I want you.”
Your heart skipped a beat.
“Don’t think I can get it up to another round right now, baby,” you joked weakly.
“‘M not talking about that,” he mumbled. “Want you, want all of you.” He trailed his fingers up the skin of your back, before settling into your messy hair, gently sifting through the strands.
“Want you too,” you whispered back. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’ve wanted you for a long time. Want to be The Wolf to your Little Red. Or just us. Anything is okay.”
Choso smiled at that, warmth blossoming in his chest. He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Happy Halloween, pup.”
“And you, too,” you chuckled. “Oh, and before I forget. Trick? Or dick?”
The royal hot springs nestled in the shadowed foothills beyond the Fire Nation capital, far enough from the palace that the weight of the throne and its endless demands felt like something left behind on another continent. You and Zuko had slipped away under the cover of dusk, the two of you stealing the rare night alone after weeks that had stretched into months of separation. Court sessions had swallowed him whole—long hours mediating between restless nobles, smoothing over old grudges that refused to die with the war. Your own days had been claimed by the delicate negotiations with the Water Tribe delegations, forging new trade routes and alliances that kept you away from the palace more often than not. Letters and brief, exhausted kisses in passing corridors had been all you managed for far too long. The yearning had built like steam under pressure, mutual and aching, until neither of you could stand another night apart.
The carved stone path to the largest pool glowed faintly under low torchlight as you arrived. Zuko shed his formal robes first, letting the heavy layers fall away until he stood bare in the cool night air. You followed, stepping down into the steaming water behind him. The heat rose around your bodies, enveloping you both as you sank in together. Zuko settled against your chest without hesitation, his back to your front, head resting back on your shoulder. The water lapped gently at your collarbones, and for the first time in weeks the rigid line of his shoulders softened.
Your arms circled him, one hand resting low on his stomach while the other traced slow, idle paths along his arm. “I’ve missed this,” you murmured against the side of his head, voice low in the quiet. “Missed you. The way you feel right here.”
Zuko exhaled, long and slow, his fingers threading through yours underwater. “Every damn meeting I sat through, all I could think about was getting back to you. The court feels like it’s designed to keep us apart these days.” His voice carried that familiar edge of frustration, but it melted into something quieter, more vulnerable. “I hate how little time we’ve had. You with the Water Tribe talks, me buried in scrolls and arguments… I need this. Need you.”
You pressed a kiss to his temple, then another to the corner of his jaw, lingering there. The steam curled around you both, making the air thick and intimate. “We’re here now. No councils. No delegations. Just us.” Your hand slid up his chest, palm flat over his heart, feeling the steady beat that had become the rhythm you measured your own life by. He turned his head enough to catch your mouth in a kiss—slow at first, then deeper, tongues sliding together with the kind of unhurried hunger that came from too many nights spent apart. When you broke apart, his breathing had already changed, a little quicker, a little warmer against your lips.
You stayed like that for a long while, trading soft kisses and quiet words between them. He told you about the latest pointless debate in court, how he’d wished you were there to steady him with a single look across the room. You shared stories from the Water Tribe negotiations, the way the southern delegates had finally started to trust the Fire Nation again because of the work you’d put in. Each shared detail drew you closer, bodies shifting in the water until he was straddling your lap, knees braced on the submerged stone ledge on either side of your hips.The water made everything slick and weightless, his cock brushing against your stomach as he rocked once, experimental.
The kiss deepened again, mutual and yearning, hands roaming with the kind of familiarity that came from years of marriage. Your palms mapped the planes of his back, the dip of his spine, pulling him flush so there was no space left between you. Zuko’s fingers dug into your shoulders, hips rolling again, slower this time, deliberate. “I’ve wanted you like this for weeks,” he breathed against your mouth, the words rough but honest. “Just you. No interruptions.”
You answered by gripping his hips, guiding the next roll so your cock slid against the cleft of his ass, hot and insistent in the water. The oil you’d brought from the palace sat on the stone edge; you reached for it, slicking your fingers and then yourself while he watched, eyes dark with the same need that had kept you both awake on too many separate nights. When you pressed two fingers to his entrance, he sank down onto them without hesitation, a low sound escaping him as the water rippled around your wrist. You worked him open carefully, curling and stretching until he was rocking back onto your hand, chasing the feeling.
The transition into more came naturally, the way it always did when the yearning finally broke. You withdrew your fingers and guided your cock to his hole, the thick head breaching him slow and steady as he lowered himself. The water helped, making the slide smoother, but the heat of him was still overwhelming—tight, velvet, clenching around every inch as he took you deeper. Zuko’s head tipped back, lips parted, a quiet groan slipping free when he bottomed out, ass flush against your thighs. You were buried to the hilt inside him, the water lapping at your joined bodies.
He started riding you then, slow rolls of his hips at first, hands braced on your chest for balance. Each downward motion dragged your cock along his inner walls, the angle perfect in the buoyant water. You met him with upward thrusts, gentle but deep, hands steady on his waist to keep him grounded. Kisses came between the movements—messy and open-mouthed, tongues sliding together as the pace built. Steam rose thicker around you, the torches casting flickering light across his flushed skin and the way his chest rose and fell faster with every grind.
“Feels so good,” Zuko muttered against your lips, voice wrecked but steady, the words pulled from somewhere deep. “Missed having you inside me like this. Missed feeling full.” He rolled his hips harder, taking you deeper, the water splashing softly with the motion. You answered by pulling him down into another kiss, tongues curling together while one of your hands slid between you to stroke his cock in time with his riding. The mutual need poured out in every touch—his desperation to be close after so many weeks apart matching your own ache to have him like this, connected and yours.
The rhythm quickened naturally, his ass bouncing in the water with each drop and rise, the wet sounds mixing with the soft lap of the spring. You thrust up harder, hitting that spot inside him that made his breath hitch and his fingers tighten on your shoulders. Kisses broke only for air, then returned, deeper and more urgent. Zuko’s moans spilled into your mouth, low and raw, his body moving with the kind of focused hunger that came from too much time spent wanting.
You felt him start to tremble, muscles tightening around your cock as pleasure coiled tight. His cock pulsed in your fist, leaking steadily into the water. “Close,” he gasped against your lips, hips grinding down in short, desperate circles. You kept stroking him, kept thrusting up to meet every roll, until he came with a shuddering breath—thick pulses spilling over your fingers and into the spring while his hole clenched rhythmically around you, milking your length.
The squeeze dragged you over the edge right after. You buried yourself deep and came inside him, pulsing hot and heavy, filling him until it leaked out around your cock into the water. Zuko kept riding you through it, slow and languid now, drawing out every last tremor until you both stilled, chests pressed together, breathing hard in the steam-filled air.
He stayed in your lap for a long time after, forehead resting against yours, the water still warm around you. Your hands stroked up and down his back in lazy passes, and he pressed soft kisses to your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—small, lingering things that spoke of the same deep relief you felt. “We should do this more,” he said quietly, voice still a little rough. “Steal nights like this. The court and the delegations can wait a few hours. I need you more than any of it.”
You kissed him again, slow and sure, arms tightening around him. “We will. Every chance we get. You’re my husband. That comes first.” The words settled between you, simple and true, the same promise you’d made on your wedding day years ago. The hot spring kept you wrapped in its warmth long into the night, the two of you trading quiet touches and softer kisses while the steam continued to rise, the rest of the world held at bay for just a little longer.
So how Gojo's powers work, (from my understanding) is with anything that would cause him harm would freeze in place.
So just imagine how confused/concerned Gojo would be if a curse patted him on the head, after eating another cruse. (The curse they originally came there to get rid of)
Like Gojo goes into an abandoned building to get rid of a cruse with the attitude of 'Same shit, different', finds the curse, about to do job. And a another cruse just fucking cucks him, by skittering across the ceiling teeth frist, consuming the much smaller curse, not really being bothered by the humans presence in its building.
And while leaving the room, one of its hands pats Gojo's head or shoulder in a 'hello human, I friend' tone
*Gojo looking at the other person that came with him*
Gojo: *looking like that meme of a rattlesnake being licked by a dog* ... it touched me..
-Crow
that would honestly be funny as fuck i'd pay to see that. i'd pay to beat him to a pulp i hate him
The idea of Gojo Feral Mode while he's in a game seemed hot to me and I finished with these sketches + Suguru Figure Skater and that's it.
It's still funny because a few years ago I went to a hockey game with my uncle 😭😭😭😭 the only thing I learned is that it is somewhat legal for players to fight
The idea of Gojo Feral Mode while he's in a game seemed hot to me and I finished with these sketches + Suguru Figure Skater and that's it.
It's still funny because a few years ago I went to a hockey game with my uncle 😭😭😭😭 the only thing I learned is that it is somewhat legal for players to fight
so you're telling me I'm supposed to acknowledge Geto thought he was hard to love and Gojo loved Geto like it was breathing and I'll be okay with it????
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