Viva La Revolution!

She/Her or They/Them. I love animals and writing and music. Humans annoy me, but I care about the ones I do like a little too much. 18.

[princess-vibes25]

Whenever someone tries to say something about how the body positivity movement is all about telling people being fat is a healthy lifestyle, I tell them about how I, at the ripe old age of 9 years old, wanted an eating disorder because I knew it could cause irreparable damage to your body so that you would have problems gaining weight even if you managed to recover. That’s right, I would rather having a potentially fatal mental and physical illness than live my life with the baby fat that I naturally had.

My first memory of hating my body was when I was either 4 or 5 and my mom got me one of those cute little kid bikinis for the Fourth of July with little Stars and Stripes all over it so that I could have fun in the blow-up pool in our backyard. However, looking at myself in the Disney princess vanity mirror, I wanted to cry. And even though I was so young and obviously I wasn’t going to look like a skinny model, I still immediately panicked and changed into a one-piece before hiding that kid bikini in the bottom of my drawer.

Today I am a mid-size young woman that still sometimes goes into a depression about my body, but I know that in the big picture, I have recovered greatly from those years of looking at myself in the mirror and telling myself that no one would ever love me (though sometimes that particular thought worms it’s way into my brain).

That is what the body positivity movement is. A way to tell little kids that hey, looking different than the starving models on the runways and in movies isn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, even just having bigger girls on the screen and not as jokes or awful caricatures would have made me feel so much better about myself.

[tonycries]

Super(girl) Trouper - N.K.

Synopsis. It’s a bird! It’s a plane! Look up out—it’s Supergirl. The villains fear you. The headlines hate you. The Justice League doesn’t understand you. And no one cares except for perhaps…Nanami Kento from the investigative journalism department. Tall. Blond. And sweeter than the world’s most potent aphrodisiac. But he doesn’t know that. The problem is that the villains now do.

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!Supergirl!reader, journalist!Nanami, DC AU, Supergirl AU, he’s Iowk like genderbent Lois Lane, nerdy Nanami, journaIism, headIines, inhibitions, you’re hated by the pubIic, but he Ioves you, saving people, saving the worId, more about finding yourself acc, miId vioIence, feeIings, aphrodisíacs, Nanami is PÚSSYDRUNK, hand j’s, oraI (fem rec.), fíngering, spítting, x-ray vision, heat vision, YOUR powers, manhandIing, matíng presses, he’s FÉRAL, he’s big, making it fit, tummy buIges, pressing down on it, cervíx smooches, struggling to take it, making HIM break, creampíes, s with feeIings, confessions, getting together, happy ending, Kenjaku mentions, Nanami with glasses, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 13.7k

A/N. Haven’t watched the new Supergirl movie yetttt but I just KNEW I had to do an AU.

MEET THE NEW GIRL IN SPACE!

SUPERGIRL: THREE A-LIST VILLAINS AND THEIR HENCHMEN DOWN IN SHINJUKU TRAIN FIGHT. DESTRUCTION PRICELESS—!

SUPERGIRL FLIPS OFF THE JUSTICE LEAGUE MID-AIR?! TAKES DOWN THEIR VILLAIN FIRST. ACCUSED OF STEALING THE SPOTLIGHT?

SUPERGIRL HANGS ZENIN CONGLOMERATE HEIR—ZENIN NAOYA—BY HIS SHOELACES FROM TOKYO TOWER! CITES ‘CHAUVINISM’ (EXCLUSIVE)

SUPERGIRL—THE NEW FACE OF HEROES OR A DARK TURN FOR JUSTICE?

That last particular headline makes you scoff.

Your eyes are darting to the byline; and immediately afterwards they’re on the verge of rolling. Who else would write such a rag of an article but Usami from the sports journalism department? And it’s not like Supergirl even had anything to do with the latest football scores or which manager had been sacked recently.

But you suppose everybody wanted a piece of you now.

“It’s rotten, isn’t it?” A voice trundles behind you—low and lightly husked. “They beg for a saviour, but in the face of one it’s revealed that what they really want is perfection. But with everyone’s definition of perfection being different…”

Nanami Kento.

“-isn’t what they really want just conforming to their mold?”

You’re turning around. 

A faint smile on your lips. “Then what can we do about all the different molds?”

Nanami nods. “No one person is correct. It’ll never be good enough.” He lets out a soft sigh before pushing up his gold-rimmed glasses; they were a delicate kind that seemed to have a faint glow whenever they caught the light filtering in from Tokyo’s busy morning. Perfectly paired against Nanami’s handsome face—in the sort of classical, movie-star manner that might have caused him to be hung up on posters in teenage bedrooms or emblazoned outside of theatres.

Or so you’ve heard human customs tend to do so.

And yet, here Nanami Kento was: standing in a cream-colored suit with ink smudges on his fingertips. It often surprised you how a perfect Earthling like this was simply tucked-away in a little cubicle at Daily Planet Newspaper.

You certainly have never seen another like so.

But you got to see his face everyday—so you weren’t exactly complaining.

Nanami’s eyes drop at the growing smile on your face, and he pushes up a strand of golden-blond hair. That was just about as mussed-up as that perfectly slicked hairstyle of his would ever become. “Apologies. It’s just- it really bothers me to see the shit being written about Supergirl with no basis. Especially in respectable newspapers.”

“Well, it is the gossip column.”

“The sports section?”

“Same thing.” It was all human mish-mash to you either way. Beside him, the corner of Nanami’s lips give the faintest twitch. You’re flipping through the latest print of Daily Planet to another page; this time one with your (Supergirl’s) face plastered centrespread. Mid-air and your red cape flying behind you. It’s been only a few years since you’d landed on Earth after the destruction of Krypton. Then only a few weeks since you’d debuted as a superhero: stealing the spotlight from Green Lantern and the rest of the Justice League as you swooped in and defeated Metallo. 

Ever since then it’d been an explosion of newspaper headlines and television shows and even sketches; both good and bad. Mostly bad. You weren’t sure what got you off to the wrong foot. Maybe it was the uniform that too-closely resembled Superman’s? Maybe it was the crude words you’d spit out at villains mid-fight? Maybe it was that one time you flipped off the Justice League for being too late to the fight? 

In your defense, you thought Earthlings said something about early birds getting the villains?

And maybe all those were correct.

But whatever it was—they would tear you apart. Then piece you back. Then tear you apart again. You weren’t the family-friendly image of a superhero that most were; and it made something at the pit of your stomach feel saturated and dark and useless to have to edit such articles time and time again. To have to write them yourself, if you wanted to get approved by your higher-ups.

Perhaps that was a part of human culture?

Fuck those windbags either way.

You didn’t understand how any other hero did it - then again it wasn’t as if you could easily ask them. You weren’t an official part of the Justice League—and you didn’t see yourself getting welcomed with open arms anytime soon. So you hid yourself away and semi-hypnotized those at your workplace to see a forgettable face whenever they looked at you - not Supergirl—even so, it was brittle at best. 

Kryptonian hypnosis wasn’t as powerful as Martians. What you could merely do was suggest. “So- you don’t think Supergirl’s too crass?”

Nanami looks up, brows somewhat furrowed. “I quite frankly don’t think it matters. Who am I to judge?”

“Oh yeah? What about too destructive? Too disrespectful of the Justice League?”

“Again, who am I to judge?” Now, Nanami’s taking a seat—his desk was opposite yours, your backs to one another as you tap-tap-tapped away at new articles everyday. “Maybe she could do with a little less destruction of public infrastructure and that’s fine, but if she’s too crass then she’s too crass. That’s just her. Just as I’m not forced to like it—it’s silly to expect every superhero to conform to the ideal. Not one person nor mold is completely correct.”

From his seat, he tips his head up and looks at your standing self.

“But, personally, I wasn’t the biggest fan of Green Lantern in the first place.”

This time, it’s your turn to attempt to keep a too-big smile off your face. 

You give him a pointed look. “I dunno. I heard she steals candy from babies—says so on Page 9.”

“Ridiculous.” Nanami cocks his head and beckons for the newspaper from you; after you hand it to him he flips through to that very page and scans it. “And precisely without proof. This is why I’ve been investigating Supergirl, beyond what these pages or secret sources say—”

From where you were, you could hear Usami loudly bragging to his colleagues a few desks over about the ‘exclusive source’ that gave him that little tidbit of information. You wanted to roll your eyes again.

“-and I’ve been working on something.”

“What is it?” You lean over to look as Nanami unlocks one of his desk drawers and pulls out a thick file. Unmarked. Your heart leaps to your throat as he sweeps it open to reveal pages upon pages of…pictures of you.

Not you—

—but you as Supergirl.

You mid-flight amongst thunderclouds. You amongst rubble. You pushing a kid behind you in order to shield him from a villain. You with your face twisted in fury as you’re pummeling that very same villain with a ferociousness that scared most - even civilians.

Which explained the headlines.

You skulking off into an alleyway before the medics and police could arrive, as you always did.

You. You. You. You. You.

And around them were notes scribbled in Nanami’s own neat hand.

Hero analysis:

Best skills: Superhuman strength, superhuman speed (comparable to that of the Flash), heat vision, physiological control, martial arts (see more on…)

Costume is that of similar style of Superman however with the added adaptabilities of…(sketch on back)

—one of the strongest debuts of any superhero in history. The supervillain Metallo has been terrorizing—

—though at odd relations with the Justice League, it seems that clashes over justice enactment—

—train—

—the greatest—

Female. 20’s to 30’s. Features may be changeable with Kryptonian powers (follow up with…). Suspected resident in Tokyo—concentration of fights here; in close contact with the Justice League who has headquarters here in Tokyo. Furthermore, seems familiar with the alleyways for her ‘disappearing act’ (for more thorough analysis see more on…) and mapping (more on…) has revealed that Supergirl tends to head in the wider direction of—Kabukicho. 

(Follow up).

Your eyes widen.

Fuck.

You have to change up the bars you hit after fights.

And just when you think your heart can’t leap any higher; he flips through a few more pages and stops on one particular piece of evidence - the biggest of them all - a frontpage newspaper clipping of you…and him. Nanami all dust-covered and dishevelled, bleeding from a cut on his forehead, as you threw his arm over your shoulders and helped him out of Tokyo Downtown Bakery. You had your face twisted in fury, and Nanami…you never noticed it before, but Nanami was looking at you like you were the Sun.

The fight had happened just last week: you’d been heading home after work when your superhearing told you something was off. An explosion downtown. 

Tokyo Downtown Bakery was a favorite of gods, mutants, aliens, and other non-humans alike. Known for it, in fact. And there was only one villain you could think of that wanted to take down such non-humans—Kenjaku.

You’d zipped there as fast as your flight could take you, and only once you were there had you heard a familiar heartbeat. More frantic now, of course. But familiar.

Nanami was trapped underneath the rubble.

Kenjaku saw your momentary distraction - the realization that made your blood grow cold - and had taken the chance to disappear into the shadows. 

After making sure that every other customer and employee didn’t have to be flown to the hospital urgently, you dropped onto your knees in front of the mountain of rubble and dug and dug. And dug. And dug. You dug until you felt the control over your physiology slipping, and small cuts started to apply at your fingertips—healing over instantly. Then getting ripped open all over as you just kept- on- digging.

In reality it must have been less than five or ten minutes, but it felt like months, before you finally flung away the last block of debris from a soft body. And Nanami Kento stirred.

That was what had resulted in the photograph, and the headlines that followed.

SUPERGIRL A WEEK INTO SUPERHEROISM AND ALREADY LETTING VILLAINS ESCAPE?

SUPERGIRL PAUSES FIGHT FOR BREAK?! MORE LIKE LAZYGIRL (Exclusive)

SUPERGIRL SAVES THE DAY AGAIN—BUT WHAT ABOUT THE INFRASTRUCTURE?

SUPERGIRL SAVES RUBBLE-TRAPPED CIVILIANS: “I owe her my life.” 

That last one boasted the picture. And the byline of Nanami Kento. 

You try to control your breathing.

“Ever since she saved me, I’ve been trying to understand Supergirl better. That fury on her face…I’ve been trying to figure out who she is-”

“To…expose her?”

“No.” Nanami shakes his head. The both of you were breathless - though for very different reasons. Excitement practically makes him glow, “To maybe try and interview her- personally. I want to see what she’s like beyond all those cashgrab headlines and the rumors. And…” 

You’re silent as he pauses.

“-and I want to thank her personally.” So soft.

“Oh.” Your voice sounds small. Smaller than you’ve ever heard it. 

 He’s then closing his file and looking up at you so sweetly—“And if you’re interested, then maybe we could work together on it? I actually got a tip that I’m about to go do some field work on right now.” A sudden burst of shyness makes Nanami’s cheekbones burn a pretty rouge as you stare at him intensely. That was one thing you loved about humans - immense control over your physiology meant Kryptonians couldn’t blush unless you made yourselves. Humans couldn’t control when they blushed and it was just the sweetest thing to you. Was Nanami’s heartbeat picking up? “That is…if you would like to? I know you likely have better articles to work on, but just in case…”

He trails off and you’re trailing behind your head and your heart.

Your heart that wanted you to say yes.

Your head that made you say—

“I’m sorry.” You feel your heart fall. There’s a simmering of anger at yourself; soothed partially by the understanding that the more time you spent with Nanami…the higher the chance was of him finding out who you were. There were countless people out to get you: villains, henchmen, reporters. And the second-best thing to getting you was getting someone you cared for that knew you. About you. 

The only powerless humans that knew about you were Clark’s- Superman’s adoptive parents. 

And whatever misery that might put you in - you’d take it twofold if it meant keeping one more normal Earthling like Nanami safe. You’re taking a step back and giving him a sheepish smile. “It’s just I have this really ah- riveting story to write about the erm- tax refunds and the economic implications of Supergirl’s last fight and…”

“Oh!” Nanami nods fervently, pushing his glasses up. Embarrassment radiated off of him like a miniature Sun, and you wanted nothing more than to reach out and tell him this was on you. But alas. “Oh, right, of course- I wish you luck with that.”

“Thank you.” You smile, lips pressed together to prevent a sigh. “I’m going to need it.”

“A journalist like you? Not in the least.”

With a nod of graciousness, you’re just about to leave Nanami’s table and pretend that the latter half of this interaction perhaps never happened. You almost wished Kryptonians had the ability to hypnotize themselves as they could to others. And you’re considering a much more interesting article about that before you’re stopping in your tracks and half-glancing at Nanami over your shoulder. 

He was hard at work gathering his things for what you assume to be the extra field work regarding his Supergirl article.

You feel your heart clench.

“Nanami?”

He looks up eagerly. “Yes?”

Your words are slightly less than steady once you speak again. “If- when you discover Supergirl’s identity…you might be…disappointed. They say she’s nothing like Superman.”

“She doesn’t have to be.”

As Nanami throws his messenger bag over his shoulder and stands to leave—“I’ll see you tomorrow, my darling.” But he calls everyone that, doesn’t he?

“And I’ll…be working late.”

“Be careful not to miss your train.”

You don’t look at him until the very last second. When his tall frame is ducking beneath the doorway to the Daily Planet journalism department; cream-colored suit and golden glasses; old movie star looks drawing eyes, but not too close so he’ll never know that you stared at him from afar. Never.

You sink into your chair.

“What was that about?”

Had your superhuman senses not told you about Shoko’s nearing presence, you would have been startled. But you’re throwing in a slight jump just for the sake of it.

“Oh- come on.” Shoko says with a roguish grin. There was a slender cigarette tucked between her index and her middle finger; as was wont to have if one was Ieiri Shoko. You honestly don’t think you’ve ever seen her without one. “Not dramatic enough. Next time try throwing in a little gasp there.”

It seems that you still had work to do on your human reactions…“What have I told you about the cigarette smell getting on the papers?” You grimace at her - this particular human pleasure was especially sensitive to your nose.

“Can’t remember.” She replies, blowing out her last puff of smoke.

Shoko was perhaps your one exception to humans not knowing about your true identity—for the sole fact that she wasn’t your average human. Smooth. Silent. And stupidly intelligent - Shoko was perhaps the best investigative journalist Tokyo had to offer.

Which was to be expected, of course, given that she was the protégé of The Question.

A normal human journalist—just with enough combat skill and power to get him inducted into the Justice League. The Question had been a master in hand-to-hand combat even amongst the most trained superheroes; which paired well with the depth of investigative journalism that he would do. He exposed criminal underworlds that led to likely half the lodgers at Tokyo Island Penitentiary. 

When you’d been reading up on the superheroes of Earth - both current and inactive - it was his sheer heroism as a mere human that’d inspired you to become a journalist as well.

The Question had hand-picked Shoko as his successor—and for good reason. After his passing due to old age, Shoko quickly proved herself to be a master with the pen; she cracked her ink like a whip. Just last week, she’d exposed that damned Lex Luthor’s embezzling which at least got him out of Superman’s hair for some time. And despite the publicity of the event, the covert nature of her heroism meant she didn’t have to deal with the constant headlines.

Shoko was no different than those at the Justice League. Than you.

But she was an enigma.

So you couldn’t have asked for anyone better to have walked in on you hurriedly changing into your supersuit in the cramped cubicle bathrooms at the Daily Planet - there was a train about to go off-course a few thousand kilometers away - than Shoko.

“Oh.” You remember it like it was yesterday. The door had swung open as you had one foot into the suit. “The lock’s broken.” She’d said.

“Uh…occupied?” You’d murmured then, in a voice higher-pitched than usual. You considered hypnotizing her twofold- no wait, there was some power to do with amnesia even though you weren’t sure whether it would be—

“I know what you’re thinking.” Shoko had smiled then. “And don’t you dare try - not because I’d say anything, but because the Justice League’s paperwork is a pain in the ass when you try to fight another superhero.”

Your jaw had dropped. “Another…?” You’d shove that paperwork up their asses- but another superhero?

“Haven’t guessed it already?” Shoko shoved a hand into her long jacket, pulling out a square piece of what almost looked like rubber. It was in the exact shade as her skin tone, and when she placed it over her face—

“Featureless.” You’d gasped. Pseudoderm. “Just like The Question.”

“Flattered you know us, Supergirl.”

But there was no more time for chit-chat—that train you’d been hearing was dangerously close to going off-tracks now, and you’d hastily begun stuffing yourself into your supersuit. To which Shoko hadn’t flinched - instead appraising you curiously. “Why don’t you just wear that underneath your suit?”

“Because…” Because you were too afraid of someone sneaking a peak at the suit underneath. Because you were too afraid of being Supergirl when you were your ‘human’ self—hated. At least as a human you weren’t hated. Because you were too afraid of walking around as two halves making up one whole, when one half was all you needed at a time to feel content.

Ultimately you settled for not saying anything at all. “Listen- please don’t-”

“Yeah, yeah- I’ve already been through this song and dance.” She waved you off absent-mindedly. “Don’t reveal your secret identity to anyone. Don’t make it obvious when you’re off saving the world.”

You felt a smile come to your face at those last few words.

“You don’t think I’m…ruining justice instead?” A rush of embarrassment ran through you for even asking.

But Shoko merely cocked her silky head. “Hah, no? And who cares what the Justice League thinks? Now go do superhero things, superhero.”

The train and its passengers were saved in record time that day. And just like she’d said, Shoko hadn’t spilled a word.

Though for all the secrets she kept- she did love hearing them.

“So…” She relights her cigarette. “Did Nanami finally ask you out and you rejected him?”

“What-” You’re turning to her with a yelp. “He did not—” She takes the moment to blow a cloud of smoke at your papers, and you’re snatching the cigarette from between her lips and snuffing it out on one of your ceramic desk decorations. 

“Hey…” Shoko whines.

Finally you’re whispering to her in a low tone - “He did not ask me out. And I did not reject him.”

“Then why’d he leave all sad and puppy-eyed?”

You’re turning around—almost as if expecting Nanami there still. “He didn’t…did he?”

“Maybe. I didn’t see. But you looked, didn’t you?” Chuckling. The Question takes the cigarette back from you, and holds it out of your reach.

“That was only because you-” You find that you don’t quite have much to say - at least not something that Shoko would pay heed to. And so you’re settling for a few grumbled curses—“No. He just asked me to be part of one of his articles.”

Shoko looks up in interest. “Oh? About what?”

“Supergirl.” You cross your arms. “He said he wanted to figure out who she was so he could interview her- I said no, of course.”

Shoko - who’d now newly relit her cigarette - takes a long drag and lets it free into the air. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why’d you say no?”

You take her cigarette and put it out again. “Because the more time I spend with him, the more likely he is to…find out. And with everything going on, I can’t risk putting him in danger.”

“Hm…” Shoko thinks for some time. “Putting him in danger? Or putting his image of you in danger?” She stares at you intently. “Are you really afraid that he’s going to be captured by villains you’ve been defeating time and time again these past few weeks? Maybe.” Then she’s gently tugging the cigarette from between your fingertips - to light it again. A final time. “Or are you more afraid that once he finds out who you truly are- he’s going to be just like the rest of them?”

You don’t bother reaching for the cigarette anymore. “I…”

But Shoko wasn’t done just yet. She blows her smoke into the air and lets it linger. “It’s just like these papers and this smoke. When the nicotine sticks to them, it’s invisible but it’s there—even if you don’t like it. But that doesn’t change its contents. Nor does that make it any less worthy than any other article here.”

You crinkle your nose. “But others won’t like it either.”

“So fuck them.” She stands. “It’s gonna be printed into a damn article, it doesn’t need to smell like rainbows and roses. No two newspapers are printed the same.”

And with that said, Shoko striding off. Cigarette and all.

And you’re left staring at a blank paper—ready for typing.

.

.

.

Nanami Kento had never quite been to this area of Tokyo.

It was one of the seedier places; an amalgamation of everything your mother advises you against. Past the bars and the spas, past the graffiti-tattooed walls and the alleyways that seemed to stretch into darkness endlessly. Past men slouched on roads - drunk or dead. Past the rattle of trains in the distance and rats who chittered at the only abode they truly ruled. Where even those cowered standing next to—and one goes to share the same fear doused upon this neighborhood, doled, perhaps to replace that of their own.

Then again, there was a strange beauty in it itself - like a giant wound mending itself.

There was a stun gun in his pocket. He wondered what this place would look like in daylight. 

He ignored the knot in his throat as he kept on walking.

It wasn’t the place you’d expect to find a superhero - then again, Supergirl didn’t listen to anyone’s expectations of her. 

Often after fights, he’d see you disappearing into the shadows of a building or a lone alleyway such as these. As if never there. You didn’t wait around for any authorities or paparazzi. And it was only after weeks of investigation that he’d managed to narrow it down to one district that you were frequenting: Kabukicho. 

Even afterwards, he’d quickly learned that it wasn’t simply the entertainment district that you were fond of.

You were fond of hiding.

Asking around for sightings of a person of your description took Nanami meters away from actual Kabukicho, and down narrow alleys and underground streets. Into clubs and behind hotels. Into the seediest, smallest establishments hadn’t even the faintest waft of a main street. Currently he was heading towards a bar he was directed towards by an anonymous tip; the tip had said that you came here at least once a week or so. Sometimes not even to drink - just to people-watch.

And if Nanami Kento knew anything about you: it was that you found humans fascinating.

He’d seen it after fights, when you’d watch families rush to one another and embrace. He’d seen it even during fights, as you analyzed villains that were easy prey.

And he wondered…did you find humans interesting as much as they found you? Or at least, he did. 

It’s after a few minutes of walking down this small street, lit only by the angry neon signs of underground clubs, that he stops before a squat bat. THE CHAMELEON—the sign said.

He pats the stun gun in his pocket. 

And with a deep breath, he’s walking in.

The stench of liquor dances a frenzied waltz with cigarettes; it reaches his nose though he doesn’t cringe as he weaves between closely-pressed tables. Patrons hunched over nursing their columns of glasses look up at him suspiciously as he walks past them. He knew he should have changed out of his cream-colored suit. 

It was barely visible in the bar, due to the faint light buzzing solely from a few spots on the ceiling, surrounded by wine-drunk flies, but Nanami managed to sit himself down at the counter. A bartender with long greyish-blue hair wiping greasy glasses with an even greasier rag looks up at him.

“Ah…” Nanami’s eyes fall to the glass and the rag - he himself was a good drinker, though the establishments he frequented were nothing of this sort. “Just a beer, please.”

The bartender asks, “Mmm, tap?”

“Do you have bottles-”

“No bottles.”

“Then ah- just a water, please.”

“No water either.” He says in a strangely melodic voice, “Just cider. Just cider. Apple, peach, and pear~!”

Nanami looks at the man warily, “Then…a peach cider please.”

The bartender shrugs then takes the rag—blowing his nose into it- before he throws it somewhere over his shoulder and fetches a peach cider for Nanami. It pools condensation onto the counter as it’s set in front of him, but he doesn’t reach for it even a single millimeter.

“What are you trying to find, young man?”

Nanami almost flinches. 

The voice comes from the seat next to him; gruff and gravelly like when one has smoked far too many cigarettes for far too long. As he turns—the man next to him laughs. He had a white, wide-rimmed hat tipped low over his face, and was wearing an equally stark white suit. It was just about the only things he could make of him - nothing of his actual features.

And though Nanami didn’t know the man, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of kinship as the two patrons of the bar that didn’t seem like they belonged there.

Despite this, however, this other man’s fingers found a chip in his cider glass with familiarity. 

“There are only two reasons that folks come down to a bar like this: either to lose something—pain, memories, fatigue; or to find something.” He nods his head over at the younger man, but still doesn’t reveal a sliver of a face. “And since you haven’t touched that cider of yours, young man, I’m assuming…”

“Finding something, I suppose.” Almost robotic, Nanami grasps his glass. 

He thinks he sees a flash of a smile from the other man.

Nanami continues, “Maybe you can help me? Would you happen to have seen someone come in tonight-” His heart thunders as he lists off the features written down in that file of his—and the man keeps nodding with each one. “-perhaps around my age, though-”

“So it’s love problems.”

He stops short. “What?”

“Love problems.” That man clucks out a wet laugh, then takes a swig of his cider.

Nanami responds hesitantly. “I’m…afraid you misunderstand. I’m just trying to find-”

“I know perfectly what you mean.” He displays a set of paper-white teeth, gleaming. Reaching into his coat pocket, he slaps something down on the marble counter. “Her, right?”

Nanami peers in and finds it to be a blurry polaroid of you at this very bar, taken like you hadn’t known it was happening. And you weren’t revelling like one would have expected you to after a constant winning streak against villains. You weren’t even lamenting your woes with your fellow bar patrons.

You were just…watching. 

Alone at a booth. Nothing in front of you but a water- perhaps that bartender had lied to him. 

It was a night livelier than this one, evidently, as bachelor celebrations and 21st birthday parties and seemingly drunken singing surrounded you from all angles. But you simply watched. Waited. There was something so sorrowfully beautiful about you that it made Nanami’s heart ache. 

“It’d been my buddy’s divorce party and someone had pulled out the polaroid. He snapped a picture and somehow I just couldn’t find it in myself to part with it…there’s something so haunting about it.”

Nanami merely stares speechlessly, running his finger down the edge of the picture.

“Trying to understand someone is, too, an act of love isn’t it?” The other man says. Before Nanami could respond, he’s polishing off the last few drops of his cider and getting off the chair—he seemed much taller when he was standing. “Come now. This Supergirl of yours is quite the party- after draining The Chameleon she tends to head East towards the Golden Gai. Finish up your cider and then we can go.”

“R-right.” Nanami’s hand almost falls to pat his stun gun reassuringly- but under the man’s scrutiny he reaches for the cider instead. “And sorry- what was your name again Mr…?”

“Come now, come now. We can save the pleasantries for when we walk there, young man.”

“Right.” 

Bringing it up to his lips. 

Almost. “But how did you know I was searching for Super-”

He sighs. “You journalists ask too many questions.”

And with a forceful shove, he’s making Nanami chug down the cider - blood and peaches coating his tongue. And the sharp shot of something else he couldn’t place. 

“And you can call me Kenjaku, young man.”

And then it’s black.

“I saw the way Supergirl—” Spit. “—looked at you. And I must thank you for leading her to me.”

Kilometers away, you’re in the middle of heading to the train station with Shoko. You’d both gotten off work late and were lamenting what a pain it’d be to get up tomorrow morning—

Your head snaps up.

You’re immediately looking behind you.

“What is it?” Shoko asks with no small sense of emergency.

That gasp. That thud. 

You’ve never heard it; yet you’d recognize it anywhere.

“Something bad has happened.”

.

.

.

Alleyways. Bar. Rats. Love Hotel. Alleyways. Bar. Bar. Alleyways. Alleyways. Alleyways.

Why did you have to go down so many alleyways?

It was a bar that you’d only been to once; the shadows were long and the cider was sweet—but ultimately you’d decided that you didn’t want to return. It was the day after you’d saved Nanami Kento. 

And now you were doing the very same thing.

THE CHAMALEON had wound down for the night by the time that you skidded to a halt before it - with the tar road cratering beneath you as you stopped. There’s a thundering noise that echoes down the gloomy streets of this forgotten part of Kabukicho. You don’t waste a single second longer before kicking the door open and storming inside—

“Ah~ my lovely Supergirl.”

“Kenjaku.” You spit. The bar was empty save for the man seated at the counter - a dark waterfall of hair, darker eyes - and in his hand he held a single glass of what you assumed to be cider. “Where is he-”

“Slow down, my dear.” He croons. “Why don’t you sit back? Have a drink or two? And then maybe we can-”

“Where the fuck is he.”

It happens instantaneously—in a jerky movement you’re picking up an entire table by its leg. Using a mere fraction of your strength, you chuck it at the man - not quite to hit just yet - and it flies past him with naught a hair’s breadth of space between the side of his head and the table. Crashing against the wall of alcohol bottles in the back; liquor and shards of glass explode behind Kenjaku, yet he doesn’t move a single muscle. Not a single muscle.

Not even his lips to speak. 

It infuriates you that he can remain sitting and sipping his cider without a care in the world- and so you’re striding towards him. Though striding was perhaps a kinder word.

Grabbing a bottle off the counter, he breaks its end and attempts to stab you.

You dodge.

He stabs.

You dodge.

He swipes your cheek—

“Motherfucker you better know that I don’t care what you do to me-” Each word leaves you like a dagger. “I don’t care how you hurt me-” And within a few seconds, you’ve closed the gap completely to grip him by the collar and raise Kenjaku a foot off his chair. “But what the fuck have these innocent people ever done to you?”

Suddenly, his eyes go wide and he starts laughing.

And you’re only watching in stunned silence.

You only can watch—Kenjaku laughs long and unabashed, with a strange hitch like a crow’s call - he laughs so hard that he has to wipe away a tear. It sends red-hot fury curdling in your veins.

You reel your fist back.

Tightly-coiled. Trembling with anger.

And you’re just about to swing—

When Kenjaku raises a single finger - the gesture humans often do when asking for a moment of your time - that makes you halt in your tracks. Whatever tricks he had up his sleeve, you didn’t want to risk anything that might put Nanami in danger.

And so you wait.

And you watch.

As Kenjaku’s eyes fall to the glass of cider that had been kept on the counter. He takes it in his hand. He clears his throat, “You should have been here earlier, oh- your little boyfriend was just drinking away his woes. Something about his love being a filthy alien, you see?” Those deep amethyst eyes—they were so dark that they seemed to leave a stain where they then turned to look at you.

You can’t take your eyes off of him - even as you bring your raised punch back and instead grasp Kenjaku’s neck with both hands. If you can’t pummel him to death, you were ready to strangle him.

Your hands tighten.

“O-oh.” Kenjaku’s hands claw down your forearms, but he’s powerless against you. “The truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

They tighten.

“And you already know it’s true, don’t you? You know that deep down—you’re everything they say you are- you’re everything and worse-” They tighten. His skin starts turning blue then purple. “Why else would they hate you so? They know- they know it and you do, too.”

They tighten.

And even though you had the upperhand, seemingly, Kenjaku seems to crane his head down to whisper to you.

“You were nothing. You are nothing. You will always and forevermore be nothing.”

Your breath hitches- and Kenjaku knows he’s got you.

Unbidden from your senses, you’re letting go of him - he stumbles to the ground but manages to catch himself on the bar counter. Throwing an arm over it to steady himself, Kenjaku looks down at his cider glass once more, with only a few drops at the bottom of it.

He throws back those last few ounces and holds the glass out to you- “Be a dear for me, and help your little boyfriend get me another glass, will you? It seems he’s gotten his…hands full.”

Shit.

Shit.

You’re forgetting to even fly down to the bar—you’re breaking off a leg of a nearby stool then bending the metal into something that resembles a handcuff, quickly restraining Kenjaku for the time being before darting downstairs. There was a dingy staircase in the corner of the room, of which the rusty handrailing bends and warps as you grip it with your superhuman strength.

As you do, Kenjaku calls after you…“But do be careful not to miss your train~!”

It doesn’t take long before you find yourself at the bottom of a damp cellar- running to a Nanami Kento who’d been hopelessly bound and gagged. His golden hair falls in front of his face. His skin glistens with sweat.

And as soon as you reach him, you’re noticing the sheer heat that radiates off of him.

It was as if he was on fire—

Was this…?

“Nanami- Kento.” You’re hissing - you don’t need to untie those cloth restraints, you’re tearing straight through them. Removing the fabric gag and cupping his face, you look deep into his eyes. “Kento- oh, are you alright? Speak to me-”

“Go.”

“What-”

“The train.” Tears fell down his handsome cheeks. His bottom lip was trembling as though he was cold - even though he felt like an inferno to the touch. “My darling, don’t worry about me worry about the train-”

You insist. “What about the train, Kento?”

“Kenjaku- fuck, I overheard him telling his henchmen to destruct the Yurikamome line on the Rainbow Bridge- the train is going to go over it any second now—”

Brows furrowing, you focus your supersenses. Hearing. “But that can’t be, I should hear…”

The zooming of a train. The distant rattling of train tracks that sounded different than usual - too different, too distant. 

Then it hits you.

“Kento, while you were here, did you encounter anything…strange?”

He strangles out. “The peach cider he gave me- a-after that I just…”

“I understand.” Your mind was racing a mile a minute—Kento. The train. Kento. The train. Kento. “Kenjaku probably laced it with something to weaken you, and amongst that he must have added…”

Your blood goes cold.

“Hold on tight.” And without another word, you’re scooping the man into your arms - a princess carry. You hold him to you like the most precious thing on Earth and Krypton as you crash! through the top of the cellar—past several stories without a single scratch nor ache. Past bottles of liquor and ceramic tiles. Past layers of concrete and your fear.

Once you’re out into the wild night, you’re taking in incredible lungfuls of crisp air, soothing the burning sensation in your lungs.

You could almost ignore the gasps around you- as people whip out their cameras. This time, you don’t shy from them.

Gently; you’re hovering down to the street below and setting Nanami down. “Are you okay, Kento?”

“Yes- yes.” He’s gasping as he struggles to stand- you’re attempting to help him, only for Nanami to back away as though afraid. Something painful twinges inside you.

And he must see the breaking of your expression - because he’s immediately rushing to answer. “The thing that was in that cider…it was Kryptonite, wasn’t it?” Your silence is enough of an answer. “You have to go.”

You step towards him. “We have to get you to a hospital. The Kryptonite-”

“The train-”

“Just let me-”

“The Kryptonite will poison you before it ever even thinks of poisoning me. Do you really think I’d ever- fucking ever put my life above yours?” Nanami Kento doesn’t exactly yell—but his voice carries to your superhuman senses above anything else. Anything else. “Save the people on the train. Save the world. Save yourself- for everything I love, please please leave me- save them, Supergirl.”

You’re straightening.

“I’ll be back for you, Kento.”

Stumbling back a few steps; you have to shake your head to do away with the fogginess of the Kryptonite.

And then you’re in the air once more.

Wind whipping your face. Cape thrashing behind you.

The clouds stick to your features and form condensation with how fast you’re flying to the train- fuck.

Once you get there, you’re seeing exactly what Nanami had been talking about.

The train track where the Yurikamome Line was going on top of - the lower deck of Rainbow Bridge - was completely obliterated in the middle. Throngs of metal sticking upwards. Train track rattling like a wounded snake. The train was charging full speed ahead, the driverless transit unaware of any anomaly in the track. 

Just enough of a gap that it would prove fatal to the 160,000 passengers aboard. 

Just enough of a gap that you could zip down—as fast as you could go. As low as you could afford. And as fearful as any human would have been in that moment - and just as foolhardy. 

And as the Yurikamome Line heads towards the broken railroad, you’re lifting the train once it passes. The dip in the train track; you’re making up for it with your hands and your shoulders—never letting the Line falter even a single decree—it stretches and stretches and sinks its heavy metal body down onto yours. Rolling over your shoulders. Like nothing you’ve ever felt before- you have to keep your shoulders up. You have to keep your shoulders up. You have to keep your shoulders up. 

Your body was indestructible. But you’re feeling cuts on your palms. But you’re feeling the strain on your core and your deltoids.

Every single axiom in your body was screaming—

Towards the middle mark of the Yurikamome Line, you feel a dip- fuck.

Gritting your teeth, you let out a clenched groan as you push the train up. From inside you can hear passengers scream. And from the horizon, you can hear news helicopters thundering.

Please.

A tear runs down your cheek. You struggle to move. 

Please. Please. Please.

You’re pushing the train upwards with all your might. 

Humanity above, only you know how strong you can be. 

Be strong.

.

.

.

Birds are twittering.

You would have assumed that the afterlife had no shortage of birds, too; but it’s a bit odd to you that they’re singing a tune so jolly.

Personally, since you were dead, you’d like to sing something more lamentable.

“My darling?”

It’s so quiet that you almost don’t hear it - but of course, you do. You’re Supergirl—and you hear everything everyone says to you whether you want to or not. But this one in particular sounds quite pretty in your ears - even prettier than the spring melodies of birds - and it makes you realize ah- angels…

But at the same time you’re realizing that angels didn’t exist on Krypton.

And then you’re shooting awake.

“Fucking fuck!”

Your graceful resurrection is marked by knocking your head with none other than Nanami Kento - whom you found quite understandable to mistake for an angel. As you’re clutching your forehead and letting out a few swears, he lets out nothing but the sweetest, soft chuckle—and as your vision slowly grows used to the light and unblurs, you’re seeing the most beautiful smile on his face. 

His eyes crinkled at the edges, framed by golden glasses. His cheeks had one faint dimple each. And he was looking at you with something humans had never looked at you with - love.

It couldn’t…

Was that your heart thundering or his?

“You don’t know how happy I am that you’re awake.” Nanami whispers, as if afraid to break this fragile piece. This suspension in a place that didn’t quite seem to be Earth nor Krypton. He presses his forehead to yours—“I wanted to thank you first, my darling.”

“Thank me…for what?” You ask- your voice is incredibly hoarse. How long have you been out for? 

Once you clutch your throat, Nanami hastens to pluck a glass of water off the bedside cabinet. And as you drink- you’re looking around the room. The next time you speak, it’s with a slightly steadier tone. “And where are we?”

“Ah- I guess I should apologize first.” Nanami says, sheepishly rubbing the blushing back of his neck. “We’re at my apartment. You’ve been asleep for about sixteen hours now.”

Your lips part.

He hurries to explain. “Chief Yaga from the police station wanted to keep you under their protection at the hospital, the Justice League insisted on keeping you at one of their quarters- your fan club wanted you all to themselves but…I…insisted you wake up in a place that’s somewhat of a home.” Eyes darting shyly downwards. “Just until you wake up- I asked Shoko and she wasn’t sure where you lived, either. You’re a very private person, Supergirl. And Superman is in outer space right now so…”

“Oh…I…I see.” You hold the glass limply in your hand. “And ah- fan club, you said?”

Nanami nods - you don’t see any humor in his eyes. “Your rescue of the train was shown on every channel and program- every breaking news. The Daily Planet won’t stop printing, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“That…” You feel strangely numb. “I don’t even know what to say. And the casualties-”

“Zero.”

“How did you get to the hospital?”

“Just after you left, Shoko arrived with the police to save me and arrest Kenjaku. Did you know that she’s a vigilante?”

You bite back a smile. “I did.”

He unabashedly smiles, as if meeting you for the first time. “And did you know that I know?”

“I figured by now.” Cocking your head.

“I always had a suspicion but…I don’t know what hypnosis you did but it just wouldn’t make sense in my mind. But when you came down to save me at the cellar, when you were affected by that Kryptonite it just…clicked.”

He’s reaching a hand up to softly cup your right cheek.

“It wouldn’t have made sense to be anyone else.”

It’s warm in Nanami’s bedroom. And it’s even warmer underneath the thin nightdress you’re wearing- you wonder where he got such a thing? And when you’d been put into it? It seems that he catches the questions in your gaze as it dawns upon you what you’re wearing—“I bought it for you after you got discharged at the hospital.” Nanami says. “Shoko helped you into it- althought…I did help.” With a shy blush, he’s looking away.

And you’re closing your eyes and leaning into the touch of his hand. “Thank you.” 

You don’t need to specify for what.

“And then there’s that.” Nanami surprises you as he says, reinvigorated. And how completely correct you were in him having those old movie star looks - that smile of his, with the soft little dimple on each cheek, should be on the big screen. He has a knowing glint in his eyes. “Thank you for saving me- that time at the bakery.”

You feel a little breathless. “It’s no problem.”

“No but it was- it’s how Kenjaku managed to escape. And I know how much you got torn apart in the papers for it—” His jaw clenches. “I saw it everyday.”

You look down at your hands, clasped on top of Nanami’s sweet cream-white sheets. “It’s nothing.”

And slowly - but surely - at a pace that matches the hesitant staccato of your heartbeat, Nanami’s own larger, roughened hands are sliding across the sheets. Intertwining with yours. “It’s not.” 

Your gaze was now flickering between your tangled hands and his unyielding gaze—you didn’t know which was more beautiful.

He continues, “And I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done. I know you don’t feel as if you’ve done enough to be thanked, but I can assure you- w-well, I don’t know how much my word will mean to you if anything at all, but just-”

“Kento.” You cut him off. “Kiss me.”

His lips meet yours and you never wish for them to leave; he tastes like coffee with a hint of honey and everything you’ve ever wanted. You feel as though you can finally breathe.

And he feels as though he can’t—and he’s searching for his first breath between your lips. Nanami gasps as you clutch his baby-blue button-up. 

Nanami’s hand caresses the back of your neck, and he’s cockin’ your head to the side so he can deepen the kiss. Eventually you’re feeling that initial sweetness of first contact melt into somthing…more…something that makes your skin simmer, as he’s letting his pinkish tongue brush your lower lip.

With a gasp you’re welcoming him inside.

And before you know it, you’re being laid flat on your back with Nanami hovering on top of you. With a tap at his broad shoulders, you signal him to get up—and when Nanami’s on his knees before you you’re letting your hands…wander.

“O-oh.” His breath hitches. His Adam’s apple bobs. And a sizzling heat takes over the man’s body as your fingers trace the line of this throat- the valley of his pecs- the bumps of his abs. 

All your knowledge of human anatomy led you to believe that he must be hiding immense strength beneath suits too-big for him, but even this was a surprise.

And then lower, lower, lower—until you’re reaching his rock-hard erection. 

“Shit…” The soft grunt escapes the back of Nanami’s throat—unbidden. He immediately brings one roughened hand up to his mouth, chewin’ on the insides of his cheek as he watches your workings down below. Watches through half-lidded eyes as your palm’s meeting the bulge of his perfectly plaid pants. Cupping. Caressing.

Nanami’s breath grows more n’ more ragged as you keep palming- fuck, he was so big.

You don’t even have to use your x-ray vision to figure that out - but you’re doing so anyway. And what you’re seeing are about seven- eight? Inches of his swollen cock, all throbbing and pulsating underneath your touch. And beads—no, puddles of precum were constantly tearing out from the top of his shaft, creating a mess underneath that made Nanami feel shy.

You swear he’s growing even bigger once he feels the staring.

“A-are you using your…?” Nanami asks, pushing his thick glasses up.

“Mmm, maybe.” You’re cheekily replying. And in mere split-seconds you’ve used your heat vision to incinerate Nanami’s fabrics without actually hurting him.

He gasps and instinctively goes up to cover his aching erection-

But you’re stopping him with a hand of your own. Those fingers of yours wrapping around Nanami’s pale pink cock—he’s oh-so-thick at the base of it, surrounded by a scattering of golden tresses that graze the bottom of your hand.

You’re squeezing the hilt of Nanami’s shaft and he lets his head drop backwards with a moan- “Fuh-fuck. I could cum right here and right now, you know….”

“So do it.” You’re tugging his cock- until you’re reaching the mushroomy top of it and wipin’ away a speckle of precum. It feels so warm underneath your touch—he was just melting for you. “But just know that this is going to be a looooong night, Nanami Kento.”

He gulps.

Meanwhilst you’re pressing your lips to Nanami’s while you keep a constant pace fisting his length. Breaking off from the heated kiss only to lean down and spit-

A direct glob of your saliva gluing to Nanami’s puckered tip.

He’s shivering as it gleamingly trickles down his length—then reeling you into a kiss once more. “Mmm- I can hear your heartbeat, Kento.” You smile into the kiss. “Any reason why it increases when you’re around me?”

“I’m in love with you and I cannot lie about it.” And you don’t know what you expected - banter? Denial? But it certainly wasn’t outright confession, and it certainly wasn’t for Nanami to pant against your lips—to push you back onto the coiled mattress, and shuffle his body down until he’s between your legs. 

With languid movements, he’s pressing your legs to the side until each one is pinned to the soft cotton sheets. And you let him.

Your peripherals locked with his. Nanami’s gold-rimmed glasses tracing your skin. You’re running a hand through Nanami’s blond mane as he presses a line of kisses up your right thigh, up your left thigh, before finally…“May I?”

“Please.”

The next sound escaping you is a deafening trill—as in that very moment Nanami pushes his face nose-deep between those legs. And his tongue’s darting outwards and swabbin’ up - eating you out as though he was starving.

Almost wolfish.

Mouth gaped wide open. Honed canines stickin’ against the opened sides of your folds. 

Your eyes dart to the back of your head- as you’re feeling the dots of his tastebuds push through your nightgown. He was eating you out through your nightgown—

“Kento, take a breather.” You’re whispering down at him, peeping at the ravenous man through struggling lids. The pleasure was consuming every inch of you rapidly; and before long you snake a hand to lift up the nightgown. “Let me just take this off-”

“No.” Nanami’s warm hand comes gripping yours - with surprising strength for a human. “Please- please keep it on.” He struggles.

To even speak.

To even keep his breathing even.

To even unlatch himself from your pussy for the mere moments he has to speak- he didn’t want to waste a single second. And it’s with carnal ferocity that he’s stuffin’ himself back between your legs, flattening his tongue and pressing it against your hot folds. “A-at this point, it might just be the only thing keeping me sane, my darling…if I feel you in all your entirety then I might just-” Nanami’s voice cracks. “-break.”

“What do you mean, Kento…?” You’re breathing. 

There was something…off about the handsome man. Sure, it could’ve just been the heated proximity that was warping your perception of him; but—

But that couldn’t explain the nearly-frenzied pace of his heartbeat - 112 BPM to be exact - or the furious red flush creeping down his neck, or the way he was plastered in a cold sweat. Golden tresses gluing to his forehead and the forefront of your pelvis. One of those beads of perspiration runs down his attractive nosebridge n’ ends up positioning where he was pushing and pushing his sensual face into your puffy folds. Cheeks hollowing as he’s sucklin’ on them through the barely-there barrier of your nightgown.

And you’re swiping your thumb across it - feeling the slightly-sticker consistency of his sweat. 

More so than normal.

And somehow…sweeter?

It doesn’t take your heightened senses to realize—you start to tug on Nanami’s sweaty scalp- but he’s hesitant to remove himself. Merely parting an inch or so with the most agonized groan. “Kento- Kento, don’t you feel a little different right now?”

“Hmmmgh?” He asks with his bleary eyes struggling to focus on you.

“A little different? Maybe a little…warmer?” You watch as he has to think a little bit before nodding. “Don’t you feel like you’re going to- hah, shatter on my pussy?”

“I do.” Nanami spits a glob of spittle down on your cunt, kissing it away before it trickles. “Fuck, I do.”

“Mmm—” Your back arches as his tongue straightens then starts dragging up and down your sopping slit languidly. “And aren’t you wondering h-how exactly I know?”

“How do you know, my darling…?” Sounding barely awake as he questions so.

“It’s because…” And then you’re sitting up and starin’ down at his movie-star face, eyes half-lidded and his blond hair a mess. A few strands of it were falling in front of his gorgeous eyes—so you’re pushing them away with your hand- and Nanami shivers as though just splashed with cold water. “-I’m feeling the same way.” A shiver runs down Nanami’s spine. “That aphrodisiac seems to be contagious.”

“A-aphrodisiac?” Nanami’s eyes widen behind his spectacles.

And you’re giving him a soothing nod. “Mhm. Back at the bar, it seems that what Kenjaku spiked you with was a Kryptonite solution. But what he hadn’t accounted for was the fact that sometimes…Kryptonite can have a bit of an…aphrodisical effect on humans.”

You’re leaning down and kissing his pussy-drenched lips. “Mmm, yeah, I can taste it on you still.”

Nanami’s immediately lurching back- but this time, it’s your turn to be reeling him back in. 

Keeping him delightfully hostage between your legs. “And where do you think you’re going, Earthling?”

“But the Kryptonite-” Nanami pants. Even though his eyes kept constantly flickering down to your cunt as if his favorite baked good set out right in front of him. Syrupy-filled. “It can’t be good for you-”

“At the weakened state it’s in now, it’s not bad for me either.” You smile. “The aphrodisiac shouldn’t impair you, either. But if you do not wish to fully continue-”

“I do.” The words can’t leave Nanami’s lips faster. He’s shoving your legs further apart and whispering. “I do I do I do—”

Then pressing such a harsh open-mouthed kiss against your swollen folds - so hard that it honestly felt as though he was trying to permanently imprint its outline against your pussy. And then when he’s pressed hard enough and long enough and deeeep enough—Nanami jerks away with a wrangled moan.

“But then since I’m already broken…”

And in robotic movements- he pushes your nightgown up until your tits- and he’s plastering his hot lips aaaaall over your cunt. Tongue swiping urgently between your folds and fuckin’ inside like a damn animal.

“Shit—” Moans bubble to your throat- seeping out with bubbles of spit. You’re clawing through his sweaty locks, holding onto him for dear life. “Shit, shit, shit- I didn’t expect humans to be so…”

“S’this your first time on Earth?” He peeks up at you through his long lashes.

“It is.” You’re nodding. Biting onto your lower lip.

And something seems to shift behind Nanami’s darkened eyes; he fixates them on you and doesn’t waver a single second as he lets his tongue fully out. Lavishes the tender in-betweens of your pussylips with all his sensual kisses- “Then I better give you a proper welcome to Earth.”

And it’s with absolutely no warning that he’s increasing the speed of his thrusts.

Flarin’ that sopping wet muscle out so that it stretches out your first ring of muscle- you can feel the sides of Nanami’s tongue slide-slide-sliding all down your channel. He was just so thick- you were feeling him so perfectly like this- and you can’t help yourself…you’re activating your x-ray vision to see how deep Nanami’s really going.

“A-a bit more to the left, Kento…” You murmur. “And a little deeper- ngh.”

He looks up at you in slight surprise. “Oh? You can see where I’m going, my darling?” Experimentally, Nanami stabs a few more thorough probes- deep.

“X-ray vision, remember?” You gasp. Buckin’ up in a sloppy staccato every time Nanami’s nearing with his tongue and his prominent nose- fuck, you loved how the tip of his nose pressed into your clit every time he surged forwards. “Just a bit deeper- oh, your fingers?”

With two of his calloused fingertips slidin’ up and down your vertical slit - accumulating the dewy droplets of slick you were letting out - he smiles. “I may not have superpowers, but something tells me you’re going to like this, Supergirl.”

“Oh- shiiiiiit.” It’s letting out the sloppiest squelch to have Nanami’s fingers easing inside. 

They’re so large- oh, your mouth drops as he’s burgeoning inside. Through your x-ray vision you could see that he’s scissoring inside- stretching aside that velvety channel- letting the doughy tips of his fingers probe inside like two searchlights attempting to pinpoint your most treasured spots. He’s rovering in deeeeeep- and you’re letting your face press into the damp mattress. “You’re enjoying this, Supergirl?”

“I-I am.” You huff. You’re humpin’ up into his pretty face so hard that the bedframe was creaking and moaning. Just as you must have been.

“And is your- hah, favorite Earthling making you feel good—?”

You’re levelling a half-hearted glare at him. “Bold of you to assume- but yes.” His fingers are just so close- “To the right…”

And he’s immediately heeding your every word- meanwhile, his mouth seemed to have felt a little lonely. Because Nanami hastens to latch his kiss-bitten lips around your throbbing clit. “Good. Because I’m just made to make you feel good, my darling. I need this. I need this. M’made for this.” Huffing. “Don’t be afraid to fuck my tongue as hard as you want- don’t be afraid to s-suffocate me, because m’here just to make you—ngh, feel good—”

Pushing up into you.

Pressing himself between your legs even harder.

“I don’t need to breathe- I need you to tell me where that g-spot is.”

Your head’s throwing backwards, thighs trembling around him- you’re soon wrapping your legs around Nanami’s perspired head and locking your ankles around him. Digging his tongue even deeper- he crashes and crashes them against your clit in time with his probin’ fingers. “A little more-”

“How much more?”

“Just about an inch- oh.” You’re squawking out in a way that’d be so embarrassing if it was anytime but now. “And to the left…upwards.”

He notices that you’re almost shying away from his touch with every plap! of his palm hitting the forefront of your cunt. Harder. Faster—even though he may have been a gentleman, Nanami’s fingers were decidedly not. They’re ravenous; managing to curl against the side of your walls, with your direction perfectly locating that one spot you’ve been aching to be touched this entire time. And the human wastes no time pushing against it- you think you’re seeing stars—hey, was that Krypton?

Too occupied to come up with a concrete answer, however, you’re simply basking in the pleasure that Nanami was pouring through your veins.

And he only seems too happy to have your hips hikin’ higher and your pussy pushing up all the way until his nose- with every single thrust he was battering. Your gooey insides are shuddering at the sheer force, you’re feeling a tightness start to formulate at the pit of your stomach. 

Something sore - blissfully so.

“I think…” You gasp. “No I know—” And the thing about being Kryptonian was that it came with immense control over your physiology- which also meant that you could cum on demand. But oh, how much better it felt when it was being drawn out of you by Nanami’s sweet sweet fingers.

Plunging - each time from the rounded tips of his digits and down until those knuckles, reddening at the persistent skin-to-skin contact - towards your g-spot every time. Multiple times a second.

“-Kento, I’m going to cum—”

“So cum f’me, Supergirl-” Nanami spits against your cunt. He sounds ragged- he sounds gone. His tone was a barely-there husk of what it had once been, and his eyes seemed unable to focus on anything but the pretty soakin’ pussy right in front of him. He kept his mouth so fucking full of your throbbing clit as he continued speaking. “Cum f’me…my girl.”

Shit—he’s blushing just saying it. But the effect on you is undeniable - you’re throwing your head into the fluffy pillows and finally letting loose. 

Wrenching on Nanami’s hair. Squeezing his head till he almost suffocates- you’ve got the feeling that he gladly would. Dragging your slick-glazed folds against his face and cumming and cumming.

As your euphoria rips straight through you - Nanami leaves his mouth further ajar and swivels his tongue inside as well. In addition to his fingers, he’s now attempting to squeeze his tongue inside to fuck you silly- to make your dazed peripherals roll to the back of your scalp. “This is what I’m made for.” And you’re unsure whether that was him or the aphrodisiac talking. “This is all I ever wanna do now—mmm—” He moans as syrupy juices stream down either side of his mouth and he’s sucking in your pussy. “My darling, you don’t know how badly I mean it when I say m’made for you. For this pussy.”

You whimper as he perfects his tonguing thrusts to the rhythm of your orgasm. Hitting every single peak. “Sh-shit…it’s becoming sensitive…”

“My darling, I’d rather die than leave this pussy from now onwards.”

“Never expected a gentleman like you to be so filthy.” You huff- rather difficult, considering how much he managed to take your breath away. As he prolongs your high until you’re dizzy—

And then some.

“Mmmm, I’m sensitive.” Fondly; you tug on his golden strands. Nanami lets out a rumble of acknowledgement, but he doesn’t move a single inch - merely grazing- not even properly eating you out anymore, he’s just sloppy grazing his hungry mouth against your sensitive cunt. 

Lapping up the last few dredges of your slick.

Occasionally wishing to feel the clench of your hole- and letting it dip inside—

“Hck!” Tears start to well up behind your eyes. And you have to speak to something deep and carnal within Nanami - otherwise you’re getting the feeling that he’s never going to part his lips from your own drenched ones. “Kento, you can stay here if you want…”

“Mmm-” He eagerly runs his tongue between your velvety folds again.

“-but I was really thinking that we could use my x-ray vision…” That seems to finally pique his interest, and he’s looking up at you. “-for something else. Something bigger, hm?” Pointedly, your eyes dip down.

He knows exactly what you’re talking about.

And in no time, Nanami Kento’s shuffling up your twitching body - still oh-so-sensitive from your previous high. And his hips are closing towards yours, his ruby-red tip is slipping between your legs and sandwiching between your pussylips for a few thrust-thrust-thrusts—“A-are you sure, my darl- oh.”

Before you claw at Nanami’s muscular back and crush him against your body.

Against your hips- your readily awaiting cunt.

Just that sopping, sap-covered tip of his manages to fit inside in that moment - and you’re feeling it throb like he’s always wanted to be here. Filling up the cavern of your cunt and making your toes curl- such a delicious streeeetch—! you’ve never felt before. And Nanami watches as you’re on the verge of shattering just as he already has—and he leans down to press a quick press on the edge of your chin. “M-mmmm.” 

But it’s hard even think let alone fucking speak with your soaking wet cunt wrapped around him like this. His very own taste of heaven.

Nanami’s letting escape a few botched moans- before he decides to preserve whatever is left of his dignity, and bites down on his pathetically wobbling lip. Trying his very best to keep any noise from leaving him as he experimentally moves his hips behind and probes back inwards with his plump, puckered tip. Just the round girth of it openin’ you up even more. “Sh-shiiiiiiit—my darling, am I even…”

You’re looping your arms around him and dragging him even closer. But Nanami’s too far gone to even kiss you properly- and his lips end up sliding around your jawline. “Even what, Kento?”

Bleary eyes damn-near popping out of his skull. Skin flushed ever-redder due to the aphrodisiac or simply just…you. Cock spurting out wad after wad of eager precum—he just couldn’t stop himself.

“Alive…” Nanami rasps out.

And your jaw drops at the question. “Is that…is that a joke, baby?” Although you already knew the answer- Nanami Kento was never the type to just joke.

And just as you’d expected, he’s furiously shaking his head and pumping out a few more overeager semi-thrusts. So overeager, in fact, that he’s ending up plopped out of your wettened cavern- and Nanami almost blows a fuse trying to get himself back in.

“Let me help you with that, Kento.” You giggle. Pushing aside his fumbling fingers, you’re wrapping your own around his incredibly thickened base - enough to make your mouth water.

Pointing the globular top of his shaft towards your cunt, you allow him to push inside once more. Breath hitching. Thighs shaking. Pants erratic as he does so- “Are you alright, baby?” You ask him—this time opening your legs wider to let his furious inches shovel in. “D’you think you can handle it if I use my powers to bring all of you inside?”

“Yes but…no.” Nanami admits. He wears a sheepish smile on his face - almost shy. Which was in direct contrast with the way he’s scrapin’ his right hand down your core and resting it atop your womb. He looks at you with raised brows. “Here?”

You nod. “Right there.” Then you’re wiggling your hips down in order to take him deeper—

But Nanami’s stopping you with a hand at your waist- practically glued onto your skin. He’s firm in his touch though not unkind. And Nanami’s boring deeeeply into your eyes - your very soul - as he’s giving you light, shallow thrusts. Poking himself past that ruthless squeeze of your entrance. “I…hah, I’ll need your superpowers to tell me where I am, my darling. And exactly where you want me.” 

Then Nanami plants you with a particularly hard strike that sends his long cock digging. His sides were decorated with a zig-zagging pattern of veins that massages your delicate insides.

“But as for fitting inside…” His mouth fucking waters at the prospect - and you already know with your senses. The gentleman leans down and spits in your mouth. “-we’re gonna do it the human way, okay?”

“Please-” Your nails start to dig into the shifting muscles of his back. “Please-”

And he’s not doing it the human way—not instantly. Before that; Nanami removes your palms from his shoulders and pins them above your head. Using but a single hand of his.

And you know you could easily overpower him - you just know it - but in this instance it makes something carnal twitch inside you to have the calm, soft-spoken gentleman shatter in this way on your pussy. It wasn’t just the aphrodisiac: he was using one hand to restraint yours- so hard that you feel his nail marks, he was using the other to push your knees up until they hit your tits, he was pulling his cock out until it was juuuust the pretty, pinkish top of his shaft.

And then plunging back in.

As deep as he could go - until he’s feeling the little tightness of your entrance. Then reeling back out to repeat. And repeat.

And repeat.

And repeat.

Nanami Kento was stabbing you with his cock nearly a dozen times a second—and he wasn’t sweet with it- he wasn’t fucking gentle. 

He was utterly pussydrunk and fucking you just like it. “Please, please, please—” Nanami’s attractive baritone hitches at the very end of his sentence, breaking into a million pieces just as he was. “Sh-shit, it’s like the deeper I go…the more I can’t- hngh.”

“Think?” You flutter your lashes up at him.

“Yeah.” He breathes. “That.”

And you can’t help but let out a little giggle—the way his flared tip rubbed your insides was addictive. He was so wiiiiide above his sensitive slit, and that was pushing forcefully into every one of your hidden spots. “You’re so close to my- hck! favorite spot, Kento. Do you remember where that was?” 

“Mmm, my darling- remember?” Nanami looks down at you with crazed eyes. “I can’t even remember my own name right now.”

“Then I’ll guide you.”

Though your arms were pinned to the bed, you’re able to careen your hips up into his. And that ruggedly handsome v-line of his was slowly growing redder at the repeated contact- to which you’re only pushing up even harder. “Just a little deeper- two inches?” You’re using your x-ray vision to map out the perfect route to your g-spot. “And then a little more- fuck, angle your hips a little more to the left.”

“Like this?” He asks. Beautiful hazel eyes almost fluttering shut at the onslaught of sudden squeezes that your cunt was blessing him with. “Fuck, how are you squeezing me even- deeper?”

“My superhuman powers?” You’re joking- joking.

But that doesn’t stop Nanami from asking- “Then does that mean you can…snap my dick off with that pussy, my darling?”

At first you’re in disbelief that such words could have possibly left Nanami Kento’s - the Nanami Kento’s - mouth. And then when it’s finally sunken in, you’re debating whether he was actually serious about it—he looked serious enough. “Ah…” Your lips part. “Kiss me.”

He does.

And as he does, that winding restraint of your legs tugs n’ tugs him ever-closer. Ever-deeper.

That bulbous tip of his was openin’ you up so fucking well—hidden nooks you hadn’t even known existed. And after a few more jerky thrusts, Nanami breaks the kiss with a rather lecherous slurp! and moves to huff against your ear. “I-is it all the way in, my dearest?”

“Shouldn’t you be the one to know that?” You’re chuckling before looking down using your x-ray vision once more.

“Tell me, my darling- tell me.” And Nanami Kento was always rather the stoic man—never combusting, never overreacting. But at this moment, it feels as though the longer he’s not fully stuffed in your cunt, the more and more he’s fucking losing it-

“Well…just a few inches longer until you’re gonna be- hah-” Untangling one of your hands from his, you’re running it down your core. Your womb. “-here.”

And Nanami can’t hurry up enough to pin your hands back on the mattress, replacing it with his own. He fucking moans when he realizes that - if he presses down hard enough, perhaps through your superhuman powers - you can make him feel himself bumpin’ thrusts from the outside. You continue. “But you’re actually pretty close to- ah.”

Just then your words are taking on a trilling tone.

Almost matching his in terms of neediness.

Nanami’s running his lengthy cock so deeeeep inside that he ends up rubbin’ his flared tip along either side of your channel—perfectly massaging that one spot you’ve been yearning for this entire time. It’s like a pretty target then that he’s never failing to hit over and over and over again- until you’re throbbing and raw inside.

And every one of his thrusts end up puncturing that spot. That sweet bundle of nerves that makes his mouth water- you’re shattering around his shaft every time he repeats the motion. “Deeper.” Nanami chokes out. “Deeper- now I just need you to take me even deeper. I don’t just want it- I need it.”

And pressing your legs apart with his strong pelvis- he’s murmuring as he hones in.

That target at the back of your pussy.

That gummy surface that just seemed to be calling to him.

That area at the very bottom that just seemed soaked in his never-ending precum—“I need it. I need it. I need it so fuckin’ badly.” He was slurring on his words by this point, and Nanami noses down the column of your throat. “It’s like every atom inside me is burning up. Not just because of the fuck- aphrodisiac.”

“Not just…?” You ask with widened eyes.

And he’s grinding down on the heavenly spot between your legs - so hard that the scruff of his happy trail massages your clit. And it’s such a primal sensation that you don’t think you’d ever be able to replicate—not even with your hypercontrol. “Not just.” He dips his face into the crook of your neck, hair sticking to your clammy skin. “My darling, your body’s liquor.”

Harder and harder. 

With a few more thorough strokes, Nanami’s finally - finally - bottoming out. 

You feel the moment he empties out those thick, throbbing inches with a rough bang! The velvety end of his tip swipes across your cervix- and you’re shivering at the rope of goey precum he’s leaving behind. “Sh-shiiiiiit.”

“Have I…?” Nanami’s pupils dilate. “Have I…” And he keeps fucking you in merciless thrusts.

You smile, “Why don’t you see for yourself, Kento?” He seriously didn’t realize, yet?

Nanami blinks dazedly a few times- before he’s slowly ducking his head downwards and staring at the place where you two were connected. Where your puffy pussylips were struggling to swallow down his red cock—and his heavy balls were thwack-thwack-thwacking away. And it’s enough to make his mouth water.

“Oh.”

His breath hitches as he sees that lil’ tummy bulge he was fucking into you.

And Nanami falters his hips - for just a split-second - so that he could reach down and give that tummy bulge a kiss—a fucking kiss. Coming back up with the most accomplished smile- “I-I think m’close, my darling.”

“So then cum, Kento.” You’re breaking free of his restraint to throw your arms around him again. “And I’ll-”

“No.” The blond man already knew what you were going to say. Shaking his sweaty head, “I won’t let you make yourself cum using your powers, my dear—this Earthling is going to do it himself.”

So you’re keeping your mouth shut and giving into the pleasure - and on Krypton you may have had to use your physiological control to get yourself off most of the time- but Nanami was hellbent on making you feel better than he already was. He’s slammin’ away into your g-spot. He’s using his now-free hand to roll over your clit.

Again and again and again—

As many times as he needed to in order to push you towards your high - even if it meant rubbin’ his reddened cock raw against the sopping hot insides of your cunt. In next to no time; Nanami has your toes curling at the sheer amount of pleasure shooting up from them.

And you’re babbling away into the grove of his neck, “K-Kento, I’m close…”

“Please-” He sounds very much ruined by how he’s had to push his own orgasm for yours- gladly, at that. “P-please…” A ribbon of spit glides from the corner of his mouth, and Nanami pushes down on your tummy bulge using his chiselled abs. “Cum on my cock, my girl.”

You’re both reaching your highs at the same time - Nanami’s with a few more choked-up groans and the sloppiest thrusts you’ve ever had the pleasure of receiving, and you with a few more replays of his name and the bed frame shattering underneath you. It’s solely from using your super strength to fuck back into Nanami’s cock - something you hadn’t even realized you’d been doing.

Your brain feels completely fried by the crescendo of your high- getting every peak of it smacked! by Nanami’s ruthless hips.

Again and again—he’s pumping out scalding white globs of cum.

It empties out midway down your walls and smears once he’s hittin’ your cervix. “Cum on my- cum on my…oh, fuck.” Nanami’s pupils tremble- “Don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before…”

“Mmm, me neither.” You coo up at him. Your own orgasm was taking over you nerve by nerve—flooding it with white-hot pleasure. Back arching. Knees trembling. It thrums inside of you - and you’re wondering just how potent that aphrodisiac is, because your heartbeat’s almost concerningly fast—

“S’that so?” Nanami slurs. Pressing a chaste peck to your lips as he fucks his cum inside you. “Because I’m not just talking about the sex.”

Oh.

The realization hits you like a freight truck - or maybe a block of Kryptonite. Your heartbeat wasn’t increasing just because of the aphrodisiac. Not at all.

You’re pressing your lips to Nanami’s once more, and you can see yourself doing it over and over and over again.

“Me too.”

And then after a moment, you laugh.

“Kento, we broke the bed.”

.

.

.

SUPERGIRL SAVES 160,000 AT RAINBOW BRIDGE—A TIMELINE OF THE JUSTICE LEAGUE’S NEWEST ADDITION.

EXCLUSIVE: LOCAL JOURNALIST SAVED BY SUPERGIRL (THE COVERPAGE OF THE YEAR?)

SUPERVILLAIN KENJAKU FINALLY ARRESTED! REVEALED TO BE BEHIND RAINBOW BRIDGE SITUATION AND SLANDER CAMPAIGN AGAINST SUPERGIRL…

“I spy with my little eye…” Shoko’s knowing gaze flickers between you and Nanami. “-a smile. Two smiles.”

Nanami’s warm gaze turns to you. “Ah, what’s there not to smile about?”

“Considering I’ve finally cleared up my name.” You respond. And it was true; ever since the highly-publicized double heroism in which you saved both Nanami and managed to prevent the Yurikamome Line accident, the headlines couldn’t get enough of your name. Except this time…it wasn’t a bitter taste on their tongues. 

Were we wrong about Supergirl? Was Kenjaku behind the hate campaign?

(Partially. You don’t doubt that that man had his fingers in every pot and scheme possible, but you don’t doubt that most of it was pure human vitriol. And you hoped Kenjaku continued seething…from Tokyo Island Penitentiary.)

It was sweet.

And you weren’t naive enough to believe that the criticism would stop immediately - or in fact ever - but that was alright now. That was fine. 

When you were you.

And you had Nanami beside you—

He intertwines his hand with yours- and Shoko pretends to gag at the sweet, sweet act. The both of you are shaking your heads at her dramatics; which you know she didn’t mean considering the cover page that she’d been staring at at that very moment.

That second headline.

EXCLUSIVE: LOCAL JOURNALIST SAVED BY SUPERGIRL (THE COVERPAGE OF THE YEAR?)

By Nanami Kento.

Underneath those words were a picture snapped from the night you’d save Nanami for the second time. 

You’re crashing through the ceiling of Kenjaku’s bar. You’re carrying Nanami Kento in a princess carry. You. You. You. Powerful and precise. And the way that Nanami was staring at you- oh, he had stars in his eyes brighter than the night sky in the background. His arms were holding onto you like a lifeline, and you were unfettered as you held him close like a star himself.

It was the very picture of heroism.

But to you, it was also…

“Love.” Shoko whispers. “You’re in love.”

And you’re opening your mouth in response - but you’re spared from answering, as you hear something in the distance—a scream. Downtown Shibuya. There was a mugging in occurrence and the perpetrator seemed to have a weapon.

You’re looking at Nanami and Shoko, and both nod as they recognize the hardened glint in your eye.

They’d come up with some believable excuse for your absence, surely. And if they didn’t…

You’re sweeping a glance at the mundane cubicles to make sure no one was watching- then ducking out of the nearest open window as fast as light. On strong summer winds, you’re flying off to save someone—and underneath that grey coat of yours flapped your iconic suit. You tear it open at the chest to reveal the ‘S’ underneath.

-it didn’t matter, anyway.

You were Supergirl.

A/N. Hehehehehe-

Hope you have a lovely week <3

[tonycries]

No Mercy

Synopsis. Hot nerds.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, nerd!JJK men, college AU, pIot, TA!Nanami, Iessons, slight exhíbitionísm, chokíng, spítting, running from it, scientific Ianguage, manhandIing, matíng presses, rough s, first times (theirs), academic rivaI!Geto, Peter Parker!Ino, REACTIONS, p talking, p sIapping, JACOB’S LÁDDER PlERCING, góoner!Gojo, surprise in Choso’s, needy JJK men, glasses, DÚMBlFICATlON, overstím, sIight bréeding, creampíes, cúmpIay, slight cúmfIation, Iaw professor!Higuruma, getting together, someone save Yaga, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. YOU SHOULD’VE BEEN MERCYYYYYY-

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Better man.

“—and not only did he cheat on me-” You’re whispering to the black-haired man, glare flashing behind his rectangular glasses. Fixated on none other than the faux-blond on the dance floor. “-but he has the audacity to go around telling everyone that I’m the reason we broke up.”

He snorts unkindly- though not directed at you.

Crossing his arms, broad chest straining against the flannel. “The box-dye has clearly seeped into his cerebral cortex- perhaps even the P-FIT Network.”

You’re nodding in agreement - it wasn’t quite in your plans to unload all your relationship drama to the nearest hot stranger at the party tonight. But you’d seen Toji around—who hasn’t? He was the brightest and best in the Veterinary Science department. Always on top of class, always the example your professor used, always with his head ducked into his textbooks.

Though now he held his head high. Pushing his glasses up, “Statistically and personally- I’d be much better for you than him.”

Oh.

You’re jerking your head up to meet his eyes, clearing not expecting of the man you knew not to be a social butterfly. And he’s looking away from you just as quickly—“I-I mean-” There was the socially awkward mess you’d forcefully introduced yourself to tonight. “Forget I said anything- there must have been a miscalculation on my part, I didn’t…”

Though you can’t help but notice that Toji’s ears were…bright red. Redder than even his flannel jacket. 

Oh. 

You knew he wasn’t the type to flirt around.

You knew he wasn’t the type to even get approached- though not for a lack of anything, Toji Fushiguro was hot. To say the least.

Shaggy black bangs that covered part of his glasses. Large hands made to carry numerous books (and perhaps something else…should you let your mind wander).

He towered above most of the campus, with shoulders for daaaaays—no matter how much he hunched them, Toji couldn’t hide just how sculpted they were. And not to mention, the way his biceps would flex any time he raised his hand to answer a question (which was…for every question) made it such a treat to sit behind him during Professor Yaga’s lectures. Beauty and brains?

Somehow, it seems that half the campus had decided that that was a deadly combination, and they could only admire from so close before they suffered from heart palpitations. And the other half had decided that perhaps such a combination really was fatal- and were much too intimidated to try and talk to the man.

And so he waded through the throngs of people, unknowing or perhaps uncaring of their silent admiration. 

Not that his quietly intense demeanor gave off many welcoming vibes, either way.

Toji Fushiguro had one love, and one love only: his books.

Ultimately, it meant that the three seats upon the left and right of Toji were consistently empty for whichever class he sat in.

And you felt for him - you really did. So you tried to sit next to him in whichever classes you shared, though you were yet to have the man make any attempts at friendship. 

And neither had you.

So you’d been content.

Until tonight, that is.

When you’re finding yourself dragging this tall, buff nerd into the frathouse bathroom - it was your luck that there wasn’t a line. Because you don’t think either one of you could wait. Pushing him inside-

Right before the door slams shut and you’re finding the roles fucking reversed.

And you’re finding yourself manhandled in the direction of the sink - front shoved against the porcelain surface, Toji’s weight pinning you down from behind. Panting. Ravenous. He steadies himself with a hand on your hips. 

His other hand reaching in front of you and stuffin’ into your panties. His raging erection pressing against your ass cheeks.

Toji’s calloused finger swipe up your glossy slit and he moans- “A-are you this fuckin’ wet for me—?” Voice breathy as though he couldn’t believe it himself.

And you can only nod. “Who else would it be for, Toji?”

“Well…” He doesn’t answer - he can’t. Because at that very moment, Toji Fushiguro is given the privilege to feel just how sinfully your cunt can clench ‘round his thick fingertips—and his brain goes into overdrive wondering just how cutely you’d squeeze his aching cock.

Before long, he’s hooking a hand underneath your left knee and guiding it up onto the sink. Letting you perch there- “Now—easy f’me, girl.” Toji’s rasps ruffle the sequins on your dress- one that you’re finding hitched up from your lower half. In fact—he’s baring you all the way until your panties. Moving them aside with a finger just the barest inch-

Enough for the bespectacled man to catch side of your glistening wet pussy and groan-

“Neither of us are making it out of this alive.”

And it doesn’t take long before you’re feeling Toji’s long, luuuscious shaft start to sandwich between your pussylips. Honed tip. Bawling divot. They were just so puckered and sensitive- even the barest lines of his veins leaving you gasping. “Fuck-”

“Easy there-” That familiar tone of his echoes, sounding even more out-of-breath inside this bathroom. Toji hooks his chin into the crook of your neck, “Easy—” His swollen, reddened tip starts circling your entrance- and your head spins at how he probes into you. “Easy there- now- breathe-”

“What do you…oh, fuck.” Mewls shattering in your throat- you feel the sheer streeeeetch of Toji’s incredible length.

Just so thick. Just so heated.

You knew that it was always the quiet ones…but fuck.

It felt as though he was melting your walls around him - feeling every throb he was letting out at the top of your head. Your teeth were on edge, and your body was torn between wanting to take him even deeper and bouncing away into safety. For your mere sanity—could he even fit?

“O-of course, I can.” Toji’s guttural answer comes - and it’s only then that you’re truly realizing that you’d said that out loud. Fuck- had you been so dumbified by his mere size? That you were now babbling away as Toji sunk inside—

And he’s ruthless in his swipes- hard, technical. “It’s gonna fit.” It felt as though Toji Fushiguro had already studied every single inch of you, and he was now hurtlin’ away his rock-hard tip straight into where you needed him the most. “It will fit.”

He sounded so sure of himself - as easy as passing every finals exam with flying colors.

Toji pushes his glasses up his nosebridge and angles his cock even more viciously. He rubs that bawling divot of his against the roof of your cunt- messing around some of those tender sweet spots that you’d always kept hidden. And then glide-glide-gliiiiding down to purposefully massaging every nook n’ cranny of your walls against those prominent veins of his-

“Fuck—” In absolutely no time- he’s managed to locate your pulsing g-spot. As though drawn in by a magnet, Toji’s then following the shivers of your body to target that exact spot. Ramming and ramming his heavy cockhead between your pussylips. “H-how are you even-”

“Hmmm?” Nearly purring, Toji grazes his cheek down the column of your throat. “Speak up, doll.”

“How-”

“Actually…” You could hear the smile in his tone. “-raise your hand to speak.”

You gape. And that rebellious streak within you makes you open your mouth with a protest- but soon enough Toji’s darting his tip away from your g-spot to start thumpin’ at your cervix.

Lengthy glides that end up swabbing your sweetest spots, before thrashing straight to your womb.

It was as if he was teaching you exactly what you’d be missing if it weren’t for him and fuck- if that wasn’t a compelling argument…

Belatedly, you raise your hand. “How are you even this good, Toji?”

And that makes him raise a dark brow- “This good?” He asks - mostly to himself - and the utter botched breath in his tone makes shivers sprint down your spine. Toji watches his plump tip disappear in and out of your cunt a few times- before suddenly he’s letting out a startled laugh. “This good?”

Before you can do anything about it, Toji lifts his hand off of your waist and ends up smushing your cheeks together. There was nothing gentle about it - Toji was mean. Toji was trying to leave marks.

So that everyone who sees the two of you walk out of the bathroom together can look at your pretty face and know that that was him. That pretty set of lips- both ones.

He’s holding your face up to the sink mirror, his eyes meeting yours through the reflective surface. You’re realizing with a jolt that Toji’s eyes were the most intense shade of emerald green - and they were currently narrowing down at you—“Who’s fucking you right now, girl?”

“Wh-what?” You’re managing to sputter out.

His grip slightly tightens- and his cock starts hitting you twofold. “See it?” Those handsome features of his are just irresistible, making it so difficult for you to tear your eyes away from him. “Feel it?” And his other hand loosens from your clit to glide down your tummy - where you felt utterly bloated with all his bulging, massive inches. Throbbing. “Feel it?”

And you can only nod and nod-

“Who’s fucking you right now, girl?”

“Y-you—”

And in that very moment, his fat cock bottoms out with a lecherous slurp!

“That’s what I thought.” Toji sounds so content with himself- slightly slurring at the ends of his sentence. “And what’s my name?”

“Toji-” You’re gasping out. Your cries were echoing so loud inside the bathroom that you’re sure some of the bystanders outside were hearing - but you didn’t care. Not when Toji was reeling his sloppy hips back and stutterin’ a few direct hits to your bruised g-spot—“Toji Fushiguro—!”

“And who said a nerd can’t fuck?”

He snickers to himself.

Right before he’s starting to fuck into you like a damn animal- spotting every ounce of space inside you with his dribbling pre. The length of his cock was nearly a blur between your legs, and Toji was just drunk on the thought of having you. 

On the thought of wanting to have you for so long now-

“I studied, y’know?” Toji whispers against the shell of your ear, words clammy. “I studied every inch of the human anatomy-” He presses a kiss—then a bite. “I studied eeeeevery nook and cranny-” Swirlin’ his rude cockhead around just in time, “Every nerve in the clitorourethrovaginal complex and every crevice-”

“F-fuuuuck-”

“Every statistic for the Gräfenberg spot, and every spot where it couldn’t be-” He pinches your clit. He’s thrashin’ his hips against yours so hard that it sends your heels flying off of the cool tile. “Every stretch of your rugae and every little clench-”

As if on cue, you’re clenching around him. Embracing him with your puckered pussylips until Toji himself sees white- “Toji, it feels so-”

“Good.” He’s furiously pushing his glasses up, not daring to miss a single second or squeeze of your cunt. “Because I know this pussy in and out—” The nerdy man lands a few more sloppy strokes, and he has to bite down on his lower lip to hold back a whimper. Locking eyes with you through the mirror- “And who’s fucking you?”

“You, Toji—” Your eyes scrunch shut as you’re crashing into a sudden high- taking your entire body by surprise. Those white-hot bolts of pleasure start up where he was plunging into you, before building up through the rest of your body.

Your toes curl. You’re seeing white.

So strong that it leaves you nearly numb.

Nearly stupid- unable to do anything but grip onto the sink and bounce your hips back down. Right as Toji was fucking you through peak after peak- “Toji—fuck, Toji-”

And your ears are still ringing by the time the bathroom door clicks open.

Too late, you’re sloppily swivelling around to face the faux-blond man standing at the doorway. Not that you had anything against people that dyed their hair - but you did have something against Naoya Zenin.

Your jaw drops, “You-”

His furious eyes dart between you and Toji. “You two-”

“Take a hike, fucker.” Toji’s gruff tone echoes from behind, and you’re noticing that he doesn’t slow down for a single second as he talks to Naoya. In fact, the bespectacled man plants a sudden spank on the side of your ass and speeds up—“You’ll see enough of her soon at family functions- as my girlfriend, of course.”

Fuming, Naoya doesn’t speak a word before the door slams shut.

And it takes the tremble inside the bathroom for you to speak- “Wait…family functions? Do you know him or something?”

And Toji looks at you squarely. “We’re related.”

Oh.

“And don’t think that I was b-bluffing about the girlfriend part.”

Oh.

He stutters at that?

.

.

.

After a considerable few years of teaching, Masamichi Yaga has learned not to be surprised. 

It was inevitable, of course—the same old campus, the same old syllables, the same old faces that inevitably get replaced by those rather similar. All bored and slightly hungover.

Though that’s not to say that Yaga doesn’t love teaching or his students - in fact, he can empathize with those that aren’t exactly the keenest on learning Veterinary Science at 8AM. He empathizes - really - and he does his best to keep the process as pain-free as possible until they’ve earned their credits for the semester. 

And then again, that’s also not to say that there aren’t a few students who always…stand out. Not in terms of looks or aesthetic, but rather in the work they do.

In the questions they answer- and the questions they ask.

In the hours they put in.

In the textbooks they keep as close as their hearts.

And who better to illustrate this point than Toji Fushiguro? Though it was such a shame that he wasn’t the social types - these stand-out students often didn’t tend to be - in fact, there was only ever one student that dared sit next to him—ah! There you were.

Yaga admits he takes no small pleasure in watching this small interaction everyday.

Namely how Toji would duck his head and pretend he didn’t see you- except…except today, Toji wasn’t ducking his head at all. Not at all.

Instead, the black-haired man looks straight at you and whispers something in your ear.

Something that…that - judging by the gaping expression on your face, and the smug one on his - was a sentence not meant for Yaga’s ears. Something dirty.

And oh goodness…

He doesn’t know what happened since last class, but if he has to watch the two of you flirt everyday from hereon after then…

He might just have to request a course change.

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Lesson #1

“So like—” It doesn’t surprise Nanami Kento - TA to Professor Yaga’s History class, the star student in the entire department, the man infamous for having even his dorm walls covered in academic accolades and awards - when you lean over his desk.

Palms planted almost on his side. The neckline of your loose satin blouse dipping.

Dipping.

Enough to give him a gooood look at what was underneath- he catches just the slightest glimpse of baby pink before he has enough sense to look away. Lingerie? You’d worn fucking lingerie to come get tutored by him?

But alright—say that was understandable. Say that Nanami has enough experience as a TA by now to know that certain students might attempt to gain favors through…non-academic means. 

Perhaps one could chalk that up to human sensibilities (or lack thereof) - Nanami Kento was never that type of man. In fact, most of the department would harp on ballads about what a romantic the blond-haired TA is- much to his obliviousness.

However, what actually stuns him is the way you’re tucking a finger into your blouse’s neckline- and how you have the audacity to actually tug down on it.

You’re humming, “What do I have to do to get an A in this class?”

Nanami balks. Mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

He knows your type- more accurately, he knows you. He knows you’re the type of student surrounded by others, always invited to the most exclusive parties, always with a phone blowing up, always at the center of attention—always in his line of sight. Though that’s because he knows you’re not above cheating to pass this class…of course. That’s the only reason.

Short skirt. Seemingly getting shorter everyday- sat front and center whenever he assisted with class.

Legs slightly ajar.

It made him lose track of his thoughts whenever he happened to glance your way. Happened to. 

To Nanami Kento, history is what he lives and breathes- but to you, he knows it’s nothing but a credit you need to get your degree. And though he wouldn’t necessarily fault anyone for that, he can’t deny that it’d sent a thrill up his spine once you’d cornered him yesterday asking for tutoring.

He’d said yes faster than he would’ve liked.

And thus, here he was.

Nanami Kento tries to keep his composure by reminding himself of your absolutely abysmal naming of Japanese shoguns from the 14th century, but just when he thinks he’s getting a grip on himself—

He darts a look down your blouse and his voice cracks.

You smile as though you’ve got him already - you’ve seen the way he looks at you during lectures.

“I-I think that would be highly inappropriate-” Pushing his gold-rimmed glasses up frantically.

To which you’re only leaning closer- “Oh? What would be inappropriate? I was asking about what extra assignments I could take to make up for my last test score…” 

You cock your head in the picture of perfect innocence.

But he knows your games- he fucking knows it. And almost as much as his ears were burning, his cock does the same between his legs, too. “Perhaps re-taking that test- and the last five.” Nanami grits out. “And perhaps a long reading list—”

“You say that as if you’re disappointed.” Smiling - a snare.

“You say that as if you didn’t plan to re-take any tests at all.” Nanami counters. Somehow, his perfectly slicked-back hair was mussed up - he doesn’t know how, but he always did seem to lose his cool when it came to you. Every part of him.

“What can I say?” You’re shrugging, “I love a hot fuckin’ nerd.”

Nanami gulps. Tightening his tie- before he thinks better of it and all but rips it off of his neck.

Perfectly pressed pants. Perfectly buttoned-up shirt. Sleeves sometimes pushed up to his elbows. Golden cufflinks. Tie. 

Everyone who has seen Nanami Kento striding about campus, has commented on his formal clothes in one way or the other - but mostly about how there was not a single crease in them, not even at the end of the day. And it really was true. You’re feeling them pressed up against your front right now—

With Nanami taking only a few split-seconds to tug you from the other side of the table - easily, as you were all but on top of it by now. He’s grabbing ahold of your wrist and easily manhandling you to his side.

Splaying you back out on the table. Back against the cool surface.

His muscular core weighing you down- and fuck, your mouth waters as you feel all the chiselled abs he was hiding away beneath his button-ups.

The calm, collected nerd had somehow snapped-

Nanami’s intense brown eyes peek up at you as he nears- and you can only nod.

It’s the only confirmation you need before that infamously handsome tie of his ends up ‘round your wrists—tied together. You’re delighting at just how rough he was being with you thereafter- flipping up your slutty skirt, barely pushing aside your panties.

Nanami’s all the way through taking out his heated, ravaging cock - so thick - and tappin’ his blushin’ red tip between your pussylips—before he takes a look at your heaving just and gapes.

“Oh.”

And before you know it, your blouse is being ripped straight down- buttons flying to the floor.

“Sh-shit-” You’re gasping at the shockwave of cool air that greets you. Your body arches up into his touch as Nanami leans down and draaaags his face across your tits, lapping his tongue all over the swell of your breasts and smelling you. So sweet. “Shit- just fuck me already, Kento-”

And the first thing you’re registering is the sound—thwack!

Before you’re registering the actual understanding that Nanami Gentleman Kento had just rovered his right hand down and spanked your puckered pussylips.

Hard. 

You’re so sensitive that the action sends you seeing stars, and you buck up into his touch-

Thwack!

“The first lesson we’re going to learn tonight-” He twiddles his thumb between your folds, smearin’ them open and taking a nice look at your cute hole. Wet. No matter how much self control the man might have, he can’t stop himself from leaning down and spitting—

A gentle wad of spit that falls vertically between your legs.

The TA hums at the splatter, running his thumb purposefully down your clit. “-patience.”

You begin to whine. “Now that’s just unfair-”

Thwack!

He looks up at you with heavy, half-lidded eyes. “What was that, darling?”

“N-nothing…” You’re forced to admit. And it takes every shred of willpower in you to stop from humping up into his touch so needily—and Nanami doesn’t utter a word as you take control over yourself. He merely leans back and enjoys the show.

Let you be the one to dictate how far he teaches tonight. He’s a patient man.

“Good.” Nanami announces once you’re finally stock-still, having contained your desperation. It was cute how you think you could mask those tiny squirms of your hips, but he lets it go as your first lesson…“Second lesson-”

You’re shivering at the thought.

And he spits between your pussylips once more.

“If you aren’t wet enough to fucking drench me- then I fear you won’t get me, my love.”

“P-please—” And you really were wet enough to drench him- you’re perking your hips up slightly so that he can see. Leaving a sheen of gleaming sap down the front of Nanami’s crotch, “I am I am-”

“Then…” His lips quirk up meanly. He’s sandwiching his ruddied cockhead between your pussylips and fucking- just between your pussylips. “Show your working.”

Show your working?

Show your working?!

It seems you have no choice but to spreeeead apart your legs even further- letting your gooey cunt gush out a few sploshes of slick. Nanami cocks his head down and takes you in, “Hm…good, good.”

And you’ve never felt more shy in your life. “A-and the third lesson, Kento?”

He fits his pointed cockhead between your ready folds.

“Good girls take it all.” 

Did that mean—

Soon enough, you’re throwing your head back- voicebox shattering with a spiel of moans. Mewls. Whines. Any and every noise that possibly couldn’t describe the sheer raw sensation of Nanami’s hot, giiiirthy cock entering your cunt.

He was stretching you out so wide.

Wider than you ever thought possible.

He’s placing a hand down on your front and press-press-preeeeessing down on your stomach as his cock sinks in- fat cockhead opening up your channel. Fucking you like an utter madman. It didn’t matter how composed his reputation stated him to be- because right now Nanami had his blond bangs falling across his forehead, his jaw clenched at the sensations, and his glasses nearly slipping off his face as he tuuuugs you down his cock.

His reddened divot weeping into even the tiniest of nooks and crannies inside you, his cock so large that it could almost be felt from the outside—

“Feel me right in there?” Nanami’s deep baritone echoes out into the room, echoing against all four corners. Five thick fingers of his splay out across your core- “Right there-”

You shiver as he locates the exact spot where he was easing in - another few inches pushed inside. His swollen tip was swirling about your insides and push-push-puuuushing inside, past those restraints and that tight muscle of your hole. “Yes.”

“Feel me openin’ that pussy of yours up?” He grumbles out in a gravelly tone. And it makes the hair on your body stand at attention to realize that this was him speaking like this. This was him pushing his glasses further up his perspired nose, this was him pounding his heated cock into you in short, jerky thrusts. “Feel me teaching her the shape of my hah- cock? Feel me teaching her to take me—”

“Y-yes—” To be quite honest, it felt as though you could feel him in your very throat. “But are you really…”

“Hm?”

And you’re trailing off simply because you’re so awestruck - Nanami’s cock was looooong and bloated. Decorated in a few veins down his sides—they were red and irritated. Thick. Throbbing so much that you swear you could count them from where you were spread apart on his table-

His cock is enough to render you so honest. “Are you sure it even can fit in?” 

And that makes Nanami pause.

“Can it fit?” He breathes out - his voice taking on an airy tone that you’ve never heard before. It’s startling enough to make you look right into his eyes, and the inkling of something…dark in them is enough for you to jolt. “Can it fit?” 

And before you can repeat - before you can even ask him what’s wrong…Nanami reaches up to grab the tied restraints around your wrists.

And don’t mistake him- he isn’t about to set you free.

He’s using that tie as leverage to haul your body down—“You’re asking if it can fit?” Your blond-haired TA grunts out hoarsely, breaths coming out ragged. He hisses when you clench your sopping wet walls around him- “Good girls take it all.”

“Y-yes, fuck-”

“And you’re my good girl, right?” Staring passionately into your eyes whilst he hits every hidden spot inside you in long, lecherous strikes.

His sheer expression - the way you had the Nanami Kento - so ruffled is so compelling that you can’t help but nod your head. “Of course.” And your legs are tightening evermore against his toned waist, interrupted only by Nanami himself.

He uses one hand to throw both of your legs over his shoulders- one each. And before you know it, the big, buff nerd is bending down to fold you in half.

His fat cock reaching the end of your pussy.

“Fourth lesson-” And you’re barely even hearing it above the constant thrashes and thuds at your cervix, the stars you’re seeing. “-repeat all those back to me…”

And just then, the round edge of his tip was grazing right across your g-spot.

“-or you don’t get to cum.”

.

.

.

“How odd…” Professor Yaga’s bushy brows furrow above his shades - it might not be quite professional for a professor to wear such a thing to campus, but to be fair, students showed up in their pajamas half the time. Besides, they helped mask his expressions rather well.

Like right now.

Though Nanami Kento - his ever-loyal TA - could sense that what was upon Professor Yaga’s face was nothing but pure, unabashed surprise. He says your name—“I don’t remember her getting A++’s a single time this semester- and now you’re telling me it’s all that she’s been getting?” The professor squints at his screen, in the middle of doing his customary check-ins before a lecture.

Nanami coughs, “I-I’ve been tutoring her lately…”

Professor Yaga looks to Nanami in surprise - he knew that his blond-haired student would much rather hug a porcupine than a person. Let alone spend his precious hours tutoring one. “Is…is that so?”

Nanami nods silently.

The older man clears his throat - if there was anyone capable enough to bring your History grades up to such an extent, then it could only be Nanami Kento. At this rate, you might be giving his star student a run for his money- “And how has that been?”

“Well it’s been quite- ah, illuminating, sir.”

Professor Yaga raises a brow in question- but before he can ask anything further—the students start trickling in.

Class has started.

To everyone including Professor Yaga, Nanami Kento- and you. 

Winking blatantly at his TA as you waltz up to your chair, skirt shorter than ever, hips swaying…

The professor just barely manages to catch the way Nanami’s eyes…follow you.

And it dawns upon him.

The slight wobble in your saunter.

The strange bruises peeking out above Nanami’s collar.

The traitorous blush upon his face.

Professor Yaga has never searched up course change forms faster.

♡ GETO SUGURU - “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

And that…is precisely what makes you pause.

It’s what makes you s-sputter. It’s what makes you shoot a glare at perhaps the most infuriating man you’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting- and that’s saying a lot. 

Though, he always did manage to surprise you—ever since Professor Yaga’s Philosophy Class 101, you’d been haunted by the thorn that was Geto Suguru.

You recall that first meeting like it was yesterday.

The nervous shuffling of seats. Professor Yaga was notorious for hand-picking only the best of the best for his classes, and you remember the glee that’d shot up your spine at the email of confirmation. You’d been picked. Similarly, adrenaline wafted off the other students in waves around you, burning its sour aftertaste into the atmosphere. Though at that moment, nothing had been sweeter.

Especially once the professor had finally - finally - asked a broad question about the theory of knowledge—

And your hand had shot up.

Right along with the boy’s beside you.

Long black hair. Longer limbs.

Draped across the chair so carelessly, his grey turtleneck hugged him in a way that made your eyes dart away.

Gold-rimmed glasses.

He had the most feline smirk across his face as his eyes met yours- smug. He raised his hand higher. 

And from that day onwards, you knew that Geto Suguru was your sworn enemy.

Rival, more like.

Throughout the semester, you’d answer one of Professor Yaga’s questions, and Geto would be sure to disagree. You’d top the grades in class, and Geto would break your streak on the next one. You’d try not to bash his head in, and Geto would only urge you to more.

He infuriated you. If not by whatever sharp quip comes to his tongue - seemingly always in competition with yours - then by whatever sly wink or smirk he’d throw your way. He was shameless. 

And you were sure Professor Yaga wasn’t paid enough for this.

So being paired together for the biggest project of the semester certainly hadn’t been on your radar. No matter how much predictivism you’d been taught.

And it was by sheer miracle that you two hadn’t strangled each other already-

“M-make you?” You ask. Geto adjusts his glasses and leans back in his chair, arms crossing.

“Make me.” He repeats, and you’re sure by now that you weren’t mishearing things. “You’ve spent this whole semester running that mouth- I’m starting to wonder whether that’s all it does.”

The slight arch of his brow makes you bristle. “You fucker-”

“No need to lower yourself to insults, gorgeous, I’m just stating the facts. Diogenes always did seek an honest man.” He hums, all faux innocence. “Philosophy isn’t just about theorizing, it’s about application. Besides…” Geto shrugs those broad shoulders of his, snug in yet another too-expensive turtleneck. Cashmere, you bet. He looks straight at you as he speaks—“-there’s nothing little about me, either.”

And then you pause.

And then you’re standing in the middle of Geto Suguru’s bedroom- because of course the bastard had suggested his dorm room for your project meeting.

“Prove it then.”

His pink lips part. “What?”

“Prove it.” You repeat. “Philosophy isn’t just about theorizing, it’s about application.”

“Maybe I will. Socrates said to be is to do.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe I—” And of course, you have to be the one to make the first move. You have to be the one to drag Geto Suguru in by his stupid turtleneck, pressing your lips to his. Stupidly sweet.

He’s lapping at you like a man in the depths of hunger, licking his tongue between your gloss-covered lips and moaning- “Fuck.” He rasps out through honed canines. “Fuck.” Dragging himself off of the floor where your poster boards were spread out-

“Sit.” And without a single warning, you’re pressing the heel of your foot between Geto’s meaty thighs. You’re locating where his rock-hard cock is and puuuuuush-

“N-ngh…” He shivers. He blushes at the broken noise that escapes him. “Tha’s all you got?”

You raise a brow and crush his thickening length harder. 

Geto bucks- but he pulls himself together. “Still all you got?”

And so you’re narrowing your eyes n’ grabbing onto him- tearing through Geto Suguru’s stupid, pretentious layers like you’ve always wanted to.

Tugging off his neat pants. Pulling on his tight Aristotle-patterned boxers.

Spitting straight between his lips once he opens his mouth-

And Geto’s bulbous red tip twitches at the sensation of your wet dollop of saliva. He nods with a blush as you’re lowering your naked cunt down on him—“Yes.” Breathing out. Feeling a little dizzy at the sudden warmth of your swollen pussylips, swallowing him up- “Yes- fuuuuck-”

Before he knows it, your hand is around him. “Shut up.” 

“Fuck, that’s makin’ me even harder-” As if to prove his point, his flared tip throbs inside of you.

“I said shut up.” Those pretty fingers of yours claim his pale neck- digging the curves of your nails into his skin. It makes him gulp. “If someone walks in or if the dorm RA catches us, then my reputation will be affected-”

“You mean my reputation- fuh-fuck.” He can barely even get the sentence out before you’re tightening your grip. Perkin’ your pretty hips up juuuust a little before gulping down his thick length.

Inch after inch.

Fat and pulsing inside of you with need.

He was so veiny that each tiny slip n’ slide caressed Geto’s prominent veins against your sweet insides. And he’s throwing his head back at the sensation as though he’s seeing the pearly gates themselves.

Letting out such a guttural groan- “Oh fuck.” Choked-up at the back of his throat. Those milky thighs of his shake as he reaches them upwards to chase your wettened cunt, bashin’ in the roundness of his cockhead. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuuuck-”

“What was that about running one’s mouth?” You scoff. “Seems like you’re all talk- what? Can’t even handle a little pussy?”

“Maybe I just can’t handle your pussy.” He bites back. With yet another soft sound leaving him once your fingers dig against his throat.

“I doubt you’ve ever seen a real pussy in your life.” And when he opens his mouth, you’re quick to interrupt. “Don’t lie.”

Geto’s mouth shuts again. Having you be so stern with him like this…fuck. It makes some strangely carnal part of himself that he didn’t even know he had awakened- and the black-haired man merely ruts up into you a few times. A line of drool dragging down the side of his lips the more n’ more he’s feeling your soft clenches. Just one hard cleeeench.

He was gone for.

His cadence grows stuttered. His glasses slip down his face. And he finally nods in admittance—a virgin. And, listen, you didn’t have anything against virgins- but the fact that he could talk so big and yet get driven so wild by a mere drag of your sloppy walls down his cock- and still not admit to it?

“Pathetic.”

The dribblin’ and irritated crown of his shaft grows even bigger inside of you. Geto’s head plummets forwards, and he’s whispering something inaudible.

“What was that?” You raise a brow- an expression that he raises his eyes to meet and jolts. As if electrocuted. 

“I-I said I didn’t hear you.” He counters. Bucking into you like an animal. “Pythagoras said-”

And you don’t hesitate to emphasize every single syllable. “Pa-the-tic.” 

“What was that?” 

“I said you’re path—oh.”

Rutting into you even harder—fuck. It didn’t even matter that his massive, inexperienced cock wasn’t fitting all the way- because Geto was digging his rounded crown around your most delicate insides.

He somehow locates your g-spot in a few swipes, brows furrowed as though he’d memorized this particular spot through years of reading (he has, all for this very moment…) 

Such a delicious curve that you feel in your very throat, tastebuds sizzlin’ with a lacquer of saliva the moment his cockhead strikes your sweet spot. Your favorite. And more than your low profanities, the way you’re tilting your head down and glaring at him makes Geto Suguru splosh out in more lewd slick. “Watch it, Suguru.”

“Mmm—” He shivers. Hands coming up ‘round your back and tugging you further against his toned front- you never realized that the nerd you sat next to was so ripped. “S-say that again.”

And you swear now you’re beginning to grow a little concerned- he surely couldn’t be that pussydrunk, could he? “I said watch it-”

“No-” Geto cuts you off. “In that tone.”

That tone? And it dawns upon you slow and sensual—like the toyin’ rubs that he was granting on your g-spot now. Though you were the one most in control, letting his swollen cock stir up your insides at a thorough pace - now all the way from the tufts of black at his base to his puckered, drooling tip. “Suguru…” And your hand locks around his neck even tighter- and just as you’d suspected, he’s drenchin’ out even more syrupy sap that leaks out of your hole. Gets fucked back in. “You fucking like being degraded, don’t you?”

A blush rises to his face. His glare targets you even through his foggy glasses, “Th-that’s prepost-”

“You like me yelling at you.” And this time, it’s not a question. You already know—and you’re grinding your hips down onto his toned v-line at a frenzied pace, wrenching those words away from his husky throat before they can even formulate. “You like me calling you pathetic.” This time reaching up and tugging on a stray lock of his hair- “You like me fucking you like a little bitch.”

And his rude, reddened cock - ever the culprit - fills out your insides so much it’s as if you were fit to burst. He empties out his wadded webs inside you- 

“Isn’t that true?” You coo down at him. Poor Geto Suguru, spit-glossed lips and quivering at the feeling of your pussy- “You’ve always wanted to be fucked by me like this, huh?”

And he nods.

He fucking nods.

Eyes glazed. Brows furrowed.

Hips shivering every time they rammed into yours.

And that’s right before one of his tremblin’ hands reaches up to grab your own dominant set - lifting them off of his sweaty scalp. For a second there, you think that perhaps Geto is particularly cagey over his pretty hair- but then he’s opening up your palm and smacking the side of his even prettier face with your hand.

Not hard enough to harm. Not soft enough to not leave a print of your digits across his blushing cheeks.

You’re surging up with questions when-

“Ahhh…” He exhales, eyes fluttering shut at the sting. Once Geto opens them again, you’re noticing that they look clearer than ever now. “That’s better.” He pushes up his drifted glasses.

Rapidly and ravenously, he’s back in control with his sloppy cadence. Globular edge of his cockhead swervin’ apart your folds to tickle your g-spot—then reaching all the way towards the back of your womb-

Again and again.

“D-don’t think m’never gonna catch up, gorgeous.” Geto gnaws down on his lower lip as if to hold back a moan. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since the start of semester- you didn’t think m’just gonna let you win, huh? Plato said that the first and greatest victory is to conquer yourself.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t just—oh.” You’re out of breath from his sheer thrashes, the ridges of his veins massaging spots you didn’t even know you had. “-weren’t just putty in my hands.”

“Ah- and about hands…” Like he’d just remembered- like he’d been so gone on the feeling of your sopping wet walls that he didn’t even realize what had just transpired, Geto shoots a look down at your hand. Still in his grip. Still prickling with the slap from earlier.

He bites his lip and blushes.

“Slap me again.”

You fucking knew it.

.

.

.

The next time you’re attending Professor Yaga’s class, you have a lot of explaining to do - first of all about why you’d sent him an urgent email in the middle of the night, requesting an extension for the project.

And second of all, why you and Geto Suguru walked into the next class holding hands.

“So that’s what happened.” He doesn’t even need to hear your excuses to know. From here he can already see the bite marks on your neck, the limp in your walk, the way that Geto looked much too happy with himself.

The older man pushes up his shades and sighs-

“Professor-”

“I really don’t get paid enough for this.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - XXXreads.

“I r-really can’t thank you enough for helping me.” Choso’s sweet, sweet voice flutters out at you—almost inaudible past the mountain of books in his hands. They were as tall as him when set down on the floor, and being held up they nearly grazed the arch of the doorway. “Really. I didn’t know how many trips I’d have to take otherwise.”

You giggle, “Don’t worry about it, Choso.”

“No but- really.” And somehow - perhaps through years of practice, perhaps because of those muscles you always suspected he hid underneath soft fluffy sweaters - Choso’s letting go of his towering pile to push his glasses up. “N-no one really offered…no one talks to me anyways but-” 

He looks at you in slight panic, as though fearful he’s scared you off.

“But really, thank you.”

And you feel your heart clench for the poor boy—it was true, after all. No one in class ever quite spoke to the nerdy Choso Kamo, always with his face close against the pages, always with his hand raised in the air.

He lived more in the world of books than he did with people.

Which was no surprise- not when the people in most of your lectures weren’t exactly the nicest. Despite it being university, it seems people still did pick on him for being a little…bookish. Tittering to themselves as he passed. Throwing scrunched up paper balls at his head. Speaking to him just for the laughs.

And that’s where you came in- there was absolutely nothing wrong with being bookish, or studious, or smart.

In fact, out of everyone in Professor Yaga’s English Lit lectures, you think that Choso was the best one there. The most…handsome, too. But that was neither here nor there!

And so you did your best to divert their attention, to prevent your classmates from taking out their slouched midterm grades and bad hangovers on the nerdy boy. Which included spotting his form (or at least the little you could make out of him) in the corridor, struggling to balance countless books, and stopping to help him.

And you’re nodding at the librarian as you enter- slipping in Choso’s multiple borrowed books through the book drop slot. Soon enough, you’re finding yourself free of all the weight of his books and Choso—holding onto merely one.

“What’s that one, Choso?” You ask in curiosity. 

His voice cracks. Holding the book against his chest, Choso’s handsome face tints red as he looks at you. “Th-this one? Nothing-”

And as you attempt to take a peek at it, he swerves away slightly. Hm… 

Pushing his glasses up his clammy face, “N-nothing at all. This is just one that I have to…to return personally.”

“Personally?” You squint. “Like put on the shelf yourself? I’ve never heard of that.”

“Yes—” With a final squeak, he’s darting into the depths of the library as though his feet were on fire. As though, perhaps, you yourself were fire - and he hunches away from you slightly when you’re following him. 

All the way past the science section.

“A-and thank you so much for your help- again. I wouldn’t want to bother you any longer.” He pants.

All the way past the literary fiction section.

“Really- I wouldn’t want to bother you. I promise you can leave.”

All the way into a darkened corner of the library that you don’t think you’ve ever been in before- where the tables were sparse and the students were even more sparse. In fact, there wasn’t a single soul in sight there.

“Please.”

And Choso ducks into a barren corner of an aisle.

One that you look up at—

And right there on the shelf marker atop the shelf. Right there in laminated plastic. Right there in printed script that could not be erased.

Erotica.

He’d borrowed an erotica book.

And judging by Choso’s familiarity with the section, this wasn’t the first time. Nor would it be the last.

In just a few seconds- you’re walking up to him. And knowing that he was cornered, Choso Kamo can do nothing but bow his head in shame when you reach out for the book—something by some author named Tony with a glitzy, glossy x-rated cover. You’re glancing at the brief summary on the back. 

You catch a few key words.

Nerd.

Bullied.

Class. 

The hot girl who’s the only one to treat him with kindess—and the one to take his virginity. 

.

.

.

“Fuck.” And Choso Kamo’s tone comes out hurried- it comes out harrowed. It comes out hushed—nothing but a low, trembling tone against the shell of your ears. It shakes, just like the rest of his half-naked body as he tucks his fat tip between your pussylips.

Pants pulled down just enough to free his raging erection. 

His plump, reddish crown swipes down your crevice and straight inside your hole. Jerking his hips sloppily back and forth a few times-

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck—” Choso’s voice cracks in your eardrums, entire body feverish as he glues himself to your behind. Your front against the ridged bookshelf, his toned body against yours. 

“Shhhhh, baby.”

He nods, “Shhhh.”

The towering man fucks you like an utter animal- hips pinned to yours and making the wooden furniture underneath creak. It’s as if he doesn’t even realize his own strength, his own girth - how could he? When he hasn’t had the experience to before…

And just the act of putting it in is enough to leave Choso a stuttering, strangled mess. A single tear tracks down his cheek, “Fuh-fuck, it feels even b-better than in the books, baby-”

“Thought about me a lot while reading, hm?” Turning your face around- you meet his flushed one with a grin.

“Well…”

You clench and his breath hitches- “Did you touch yourself to those thinking about me?”

It’s a tone that’s making him shiver - the tips of Choso’s ears burn bright red, and his lips wobble cutely. He nods—he fucking nods away drunkenly before he’s registering it. The look of glee on your face is enough to make the nerdy man choke. “D-don’t tease me, baby.” He quietly whispers out, hand dragging down the side of your upright body. He’s managing to slip his slender fingertips between your legs n’ massage those treacly pussylips of yours—just like his books had taught him. “Though you- I mean- the character in the books did, too.”

“Oh?” One of your brows raises interest. “And what else did this character do, baby?”

Choso whines, his flushed cockhead emptying out the most adorable lines of slick into your deepest depths. He pulls out a little just to watch those ribbons of sap cling onto your cunt- “F-fuck back into me…”

“Hm?”

“The character- I mean.” He gasps out. And a line of sweat glides down the side of his temple as he starts ruttin’ into you even harder, the round edge of his cock opening up spots you didn’t even know you had—Choso was fucking massive. “Would fuck back into me- the nerd.”

And so you’re gripping onto the firm wooden planks of the book shelf, using it as leverage to raise your hips. Up and down. Up and down. “Shit—” Your walls glide down his swollen cock, the patterns of his veins just so prominent. “And what else, baby?”

He’s whimpering at the sound of that pretty pet name on your tongue- so much so that Choso leans over to suck on your tongue. “And then- and then-”

“This is how you kiss, Cho…” You angle your head to kiss him back - so sloppy. Who’d have thought that the lovely, quiet nerd in your lectures was just so…

“And then she’d start t-to clench.” He admits, oglin’ down with big brown eyes at the glistening circle of your cunt. “I don’t really know what that means, baby, or what you have to do to cl—fuck.”

And you’re hearing the exact moment it hits him- the exact moment that the cute hug of your walls leaves him a broken man. Choso shudders upwards as though he’s just been jolted by electricity, and he probes his red, round tip against your spongy cervix- bottoming-out. Barely even starting to pull away from your sultry womb as he fucks inwards.

Held hostage by your cunt—he pants. He shakes. “And then-” Spittle dribbling down the sides of his lips, they twitch with delight. “Just like that—j-just like that…harder.”

And so you do. Fluttering your lashes, “Like this?”

“Harder.”

“Like this-”

“Hard-” Cutting his own words off, the nerdy man reaches his quiverin’ fingers from your slit—and before you know it, he’s pinching your puffy pussylips together. Tight. Ruthless. Making you see stars behind your shuttered lids at the sheer pressure- “Like this. And then in the end she’d beg-”

“Beg for what, Cho?” You ask.

“She’d beg…” The raw draaaags of his flared mushroom tip leave your knees weak. And Choso has to keep a hand constantly looped around your right thigh to keep you from collapsing. Perking your ass up against his ramming v-line, he utters—“You’d beg for my cum…”

Your mouth drops into a pretty circle. “Oh.”

And almost instantly, he seems to regret the filthy words spewing out of his mouth. “B-but that’s just a fantasy and-”

“Well…” This time, you’re the one interrupting him. And it’s done so with the realization that- hey, he was fucking you raw anyways. “Why don’t you go ahead then?”

And he doesn’t even need to hear that entire sentence- he doesn’t even need to hear the middle of it. He merely slaps a hand on top of your gaped maw - effectively shutting you up in such a mean way - and rams his slam-reddened hips against yours. Choso all but fucking collapses his muscular body against your back as he scours his tip into your deepest spot.

The circumference of his girth ending off at your womb.

Before you’re feeling the slow, sensual trickle of his cum filling you up from the inside. It starts off with a few shy dribbles- before soon, the bespectacled man has to gnaw his canines down on your neck to stop himself from making too much noise.

Chasing your hips as you don’t know whether to fuck back or lean against the library- shoving and smearin’ his leaky tip into every orifice. Every nook. Every cranny.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the feeling of his slick glaaaaaazing you from the inside, frothing out near your entrance. “Sh-shit there’s so much, Cho.” You murmur out. “You’ve never cum inside anything but your fist, huh? Shit- been savin’ this all up, hm?”

Biting back a groan as your words make his seed shoot just a few more spurts—“Yes.” To your absolute surprise. “Been saving it up for you, baby.”

And a shiver runs down your spine.

Both at Choso’s words-

And at the sudden knocking upon one of the bookshelves- almost as though someone was making their entrance known upon a front door.

Both of you whip your heads up in a panic - with Choso still not moving away from your cunt. All honeyed and driiiipping with his ivory sap. 

And the sight before you two makes the nerdy man wrap his arms around you possessively.

Because standing there—tall, tattooed, dark hair that reached his shoulders. A bright blue jersey with the infamous emblem of Delta Jujutsu Pi - it was none other than Chisato Kamo. 

His twin brother.

A man that shared the same face as the one fucking you, but just about none of his interests.

Well, none of his interests other than you that is…and perhaps that’s why in a few minutes the older brother of the two is being pushed aside so that Chisato can ram his rugged, red tip into you rudely. Scoffing at the way your pussy quivered and clenched around him—

“Cheh…shut up, girlie.” He plasters a palm over your mouth, just as Choso had done so earlier. “Honestly, are ya even my brother? Look at her poor hole- she isn’t fucked even half as good as she should’ve been-”

Choso pipes up from where he’d been banished away from your pussy. “If you just gave me her again-”

“To cum in two pumps again?”

“She said I could- she’s mine.”

“She’s mine.”

.

.

.

“I’m not even going to ask.” Professor Yaga rubs at his throbbing temples—it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary to see his star student, Choso Kamo, walk into the lecture hall with his head bowed low. Unspeaking even with him.

It wasn’t even anything out of the ordinary to see you clinging onto aforementioned Choso Kamo, talking his ear off about your day. And Choso would let you.

What was absolutely astounding was the way in which the aforementioned Choso Kamo’s younger brother - Chisato Kamo, member of Delta Jujutsu Pi, attended more ragers than study sessions, never attended this English Literature class a day in his entire life - was following behind…

Sauntering in as if he owned the place.

He throws an arm around you- and Choso immediately jerks up to smack it off of you.

He sees the two brothers glare at one another.

And Yaga decides that he definitely wasn’t paid enough to intervene with that…

He sighs and starts off attendance, and for the first time has the privilege of hearing. “Mister Chisato Kamo?”

“Here.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 2-IN-1

“Isn’t she just…”

“Out of your league?”

“-gorgeous.”

Uraume can’t help but roll their eyes- well, mentally. They knew that their (unfortunate) best friend’s (unfortunate) resolve wasn’t nearly as strong to withstand such a thing, and so they have to settle for letting out a long sigh.

Bringing that red Solo cup to their lips, they hum. “Then why don’t you go there and talk to her-”

“Talk to her- ya must be fuckin’ joking.” Sukuna scoffs, staring down at his white-haired friend. Uraume had been attached to his side ever since their freshmen year rush for Jujutsu Delta Pi, and they’ve seen him through thick and thin. Through his wrestling lows and his professional contract. Through his best moments and…whatever this was.

His embarrassingly big crush on you. Ever since he’d seen you at one of his wrestling games, cheering him on- Uraume has heard far too much about you from him ever since.

He sighs at the sight of you dancing in the middle of the dance floor.

Before narrowing his eyes down at Uraume’s cup. “Seriously…has your fruity lil’ punch - and I know you don’t drink anything hard - been spiked with something? Talk to her- cheh, just imagine-”

“Ryomen Sukuna.” Cut off by the stern, supremely exhausted voice of his best friend. “If you don’t ask her to dance right now—” The smaller person looks up from their far shorter height, dead-set into Sukuna’s crimson eyes. “-then I’m telling the entire party about what a nerd you are.” A pause. “And showing them your Grimmjow figurine collection.”

“On it-”

And it was a dance- just a dance, right?

It’s not like Sukuna was going to ask you to marry him or- or to come up to his (geeky) bedroom or anything. It’s not like one dance would have him embarrassing himself. It’s not like one dance would have you finding out his true identity as a…nerd.

Right?

He was a Health Science major, for crying out loud!

Uraume drinks a shot of straight vodka.

.

.

.

“Fuck, I need ya.” Sukuna breathes out against your throat—one hand tilting your neck to the side for more access, the other gripped onto your hips. He kisses you maddeningly. 

Blindly, the two of you had made your way through the throng of meshed, musical madness and climbed those fraternity stairs up to Sukuna’s bedroom. Where he had your back pressed against- his mouth attacking you wildly—he groans. Licking a stripe up your sweet skin, “I need ya so badly—”

“All talk.” You tut. And before he can stop you - before his rational mind can get the better of him - you let your hand slip to the door handle.

Flinging it open and letting the two of you stumble inside. Door slamming shut.

You’re making it all the way to splay out on Sukuna’s massive king-sized bed before you turn on the lights and-

“Woah.” And your jaw drops at the vision before you. Surrounding you. Someplace you’d never thought to be…Ryomen Sukuna’s bedroom- anime posters, figurines, books upon books upon books, academic trophies as well as wrestling ones. 

And he panics- “This is-”

“You’re a-”

“A little fuckin’-”

“Nerd.”

“Nerdy.”

The both of you pause—before the clear urgency and embarrassment on Ryomen Sukuna’s face makes you smile. He looks away with a huff-

“Do you have glasses?”

Reluctantly - still staring off intensely into a poster of Ouran High School Host Club - he nods.

“Can you wear them while you fuck me?”

He looks back down with heated eyes.

And so he does.

Sukuna keeps his thin-rimmed, tortoiseshell glasses on as he tears through your glittery dress. Sukuna keeps his glasses on as he tugs down his ripped jeans n’ swipes his thickened tip between your pussylips. Sukuna keeps his glasses on still as he fucks you in long, sloooooppy strokes through and through your multiple orgasms.

Once just from fingerin’ over your clit - with his fraternity ring still on. Once more just from eating you out. Two more times just from fucking deeeeep into the sponged softness of your cervix- feeling him fill you out like never before was maddening.

Just about tunneling you through your fifth- meanwhile he hasn’t even cum for the first time yet.

He leans his sweaty head down in a mating press - close enough that the thundering slams of his hips send little flecks of slick flying up to his glasses. Roverin’ reddened cockhead plunging between your pussylips and hitting dead-set on the back of your cunt—splattering both your slick and his own upwards.

Coating the frame and all the way down to the lens, Sukuna snickers as he fucks you even harder—“Better know that yer gonna pay for dirtying these glasses-” He pants between clenched canines. “Yer not getting off that easy, girlie.”

“A-and it’s my fault?” You’re squealing out in indignation. “I’m not the one that—fuck.”

“Fuck?” Sukuna hums. Expression turning into one of mocking thoughtfulness, “Why, yes, according to my calculations I am fucking you.” With that said, he’s dragging his veined cock all over your walls and pulling out—just to tap the swollen curve of his cockhead on top of your cut. Splashin’ away your slick, “Quite the astute observation, brat.”

Gurgling out between the force of his thrusts, “Th-thank you?”

“I was talking to this pussy.”

Your maw drops at his sheer audacity. “Y-you’re not even that kind of nerd-”

He cocks his head, soft pink curls following him. “And what fuckin’ kind of nerd am I, hm?”

“You’re not even the…” In punishment, his length drills into you even harder - as if he was trying to pound those insolent words back into your throat. Making you feel the lump of his girth there where your voicebox crackled- “-the scientific kind.”

Sukuna shoots a glance at the numerous academic accolades atop his shelves. “Right…”

“Because if you were then you’d have found my g-spot already!”

Right now you were blundering out whatever it was that you could say- which wasn’t much at all. Sukuna’s ravenous cock had left your mind nothing but mush, pounding and pounding and it felt as though your cunt was molded to his exact shade and size by now—making you arch up into him. He glides a hand underneath your spine to help you.

It was true, however.

Ryomen Sukuna had made you reach your sultry orgasm five times without even caressing your g-spot. And you weren’t sure whether it was inexperience, or ignorance, or whether he just didn’t care for it but-

But he lets out a deep, dark burst of laughter at your sentence.

The last thing he does before reelin’ his thickened cock back and hitting your womb in a hard slam- “Not the scientific kind?” Sukuna’s repeating to himself, through a slight chuckle. And there was something ragged in his tone that made you shiver—“Not the scientific kind?”

And if his first repetition sounded as though he was in disbelief, that last one sounded as though his brain just refused to fucking register this shit - couldn’t possibly. It’s almost enough to make you take back your statement, but thank goodness that you don’t.

Because within the next split-seconds, Sukuna has his middle finger pushing up his glasses- his eyes locking down above your front. His gaze then calculates the distance between where your swollen pussylips were gobbling him up, and where he could feel his rounded tip scrape your spongy depths. Your womb.

It takes him only mere moments- “The Gräfenberg spot is said to be on the anterior wall…” Accordingly, he stirs his erection deep inside of you. “About 1-3 inches deep as per average statistics…”

And you’re suddenly feeling his bawling divot trace that exact distance down your walls. Up and down. Up and dooooown—“Sh-shit, Kuna-”

“Directly behind the pubic bone- the inferior pubic ramus could…”

“Shit, Kuna- almost-”

“Considered part of the clitorourethrovaginal complex so-” And before you know it, his finger swipes down your pretty clit. Your body trembles, expectedly, and Sukuna’s bespectacled eyes follow that shiver riiiight up your cunt.

“P-please-” You cry out.

And he’s cracking a small snicker. “Tell me if the trials are successful, my lil’ lab helper.”

“Trials?” Climbing up onto your elbows in confusion—what trials? And you’re regretting the action almost as soon as it happens, because just then Sukuna lurches his hips back n’ gives a thorough smooch near your g-spot. 

Near it.

“Trial one…” That little lilt in his pitch lets you know that he’s waiting for your answer.

“F-failed.” Blubbering.

He pushes his glasses upwards and tries again- harder this time. “Trial two-”

“Failed-”

Even harder. 

Mercilessly bashing in the top of your cervix, so smooth and slick you were - he’s sure his rude tip has formed a bruise there. Round and ravenous. 

“And trial number…” Sukuna trails off. Dragging his swollen cock back aaaaaall the way until his tip was just chastely pecking your pussylips, and you could feel every single throb - and then dooooown until those scuffs of pink scrape your pussy. A carnal itch. “-three?”

“F—fuck.” You can’t answer.

Because with that final thrust, Sukuna’s swipin’ down your g-spot perfectly. Making you go numb with the pleasure of him poking that tight orifice- right before you’re bursting into your nth high of the night.

Stars behind your lids. Toes curling until it hurts.

You can’t stop your hips from thrashing upon the squeaky mattress—and Sukuna can’t stop from shovelling his throbbing inches just a little deeper. He grips onto your hips from one side. He locates the exact spot that made you shatter, and digs his rotund tip into even even further - not pulling away even if you were sobbing at the sheer overstimulation.

Just slow, staccato-ed pushes inside.

It made a small primitive part of Sukuna break to pull away- he just wanted to keep on kissin’ your cervix. And he grunts at the back of his throat, the nerd’s own high washing over him in waves.

Silky droplets of cum that end up pouring deeeeep into the back of your pussy—it’s such a goopy mess there. Splashin’ around every time that Sukuna fucked his hips inside, collecting where he kept on pressing at a constant pace - like a button - on your g-spot.

Being fucked through peak after peak.

Thrust after thrust that aaaaaall end up targeting your g-spot. He was proving to you that he knew where it was, that he was that type of scientific nerd. 

And the corners of his lips twitch in delight, “I take that as a success?” Though he wasn’t asking you - not at all - he leans his head down to peer at your pussy. Lens coating in spraying droplets of sap, “Why thank you for the help, my best assistant.”

“Y-you’re so…” Your legs tremble weakly.

And Sukuna pushes those tortoiseshell glasses up his nosebridge- you’re noticing just now that they have small horns in the corners. How fitting. 

He didn’t even bother wiping away the thick layers of your slick. Stuck onto him like a medal - the best, the shiniest out of all those upon the shelves.

“Now, have you ever heard about the A-spot?”

.

.

.

“Mister Ryomen Sukuna.” The man’s stern voice calls out - it was 8AM but Professor Yaga could make a sloth jump onto a racetrack with his tone. Not that it does that much to the star of the wrestling team, the notorious pink-haired member of Delta Jitsu Pi, and Yaga’s very own star student of Health Science.

Sukuna merely looks at him boredly. Lounging an arm around the back of your seat- right beside him.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact that he was (secretly) topping all the exams, then Yaga wouldn’t even put up with all this.

“Please pay attention to the lecture.” Professor Yaga straightens out his papers, “If you have any personal conversation to be had, then please take it out of my classroom.”

“Aye aye, teach.” Sukuna sleazes out a grin. “I was just helping my girl here with the lesson, y’know.”

A chuckle spreads throughout class, little did they know that they were laughing at the smartest student between all of them - perhaps even between the whole year. 

“Then I suppose you don’t mind giving the entire class a briefing-” The professor starts boredly, before he catches the smug look on Sukuna’s face- and Yaga has to look behind himself. The PowerPoint slide he didn’t realize he was on—fuck, it makes him swear internally.

Erogenous zones: The Gräfenberg spot.

“I would be more than happy to give the class a briefing, teach.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - Got webs?

With great power came great…responsibility. Sure. 

That was what Tony had briefed Ino Takuma on—meeting the Avengers and getting to speak with Iron Woman? Absolutely awesome. Meeting the Avengers and saving the world? No biggie. Fighting crime and putting his life on the line everyday? Pssssht-

Getting fucked by you?

Shit, he was about to cream his pants.

Ino Takuma was fucking terrified.

Not because of you, of course, because you were just as beautiful as all his dreams and even more so—but rather he was caught up in the fact that this…well, wasn’t a dream. Exactly that.

It’d all come not too long after he’d confessed to you that he was Spider-Man. Taking you on a romantic dinner at some fancy restaurant he’d had to beg his uncle to make a reservation for, followed by a moonlit walk downtown- and a little breaking into campus to watch the stars from the rooftop. It was perfect.

And the way you’d taken him being Spider-Man? Perfect. 

You were so sweet and loving- punching him in the shoulder (deserved) before taking him into your arms (Ino doesn’t know if he’d ever be deserving of being in the arms of an angel…but…he sure wasn’t complaining).

And afterwards, he’d taken you into his arms and used his webs to swing you all the way back to his apartment. It really was perfect.

And now he can’t lie, he’d taken you back to his apartment - landing neatly on his lil’ balcony ledge - without any ulterior motives. He promises! Ino Takuma is as pure as snow!

Ignore the fact that snow contains atmospheric pollutants and vehicle emissions…but other than that he swears he’s pure! He’d merely wanted to show you his vast Lego collection, perhaps his camera and all those pictures he’d taken recently (maybe not the ones he’d taken of you from afar, however…), and a few more of his nerdy Spider-Man gadgets!

So he swears that the little peck he’d placed upon you was innocent. And when that peck turned into something more…he swears that was innocent, too.

And when that turned into sprawling him out on his chemistry bedsheets, straddling his erect cock n’ sliding your soft pussy down it—fuck, he doesn’t know what’s innocent or not. Right now your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man was trying not to pass out.

Pretty brown eyes scrunching closed at the cleeeench of your soft, sensual pussy- you were so sweet around him that it felt as if you were about to melt. Velvety and slippery. 

The winding zig-zags of his veins rubbin’ against your sides.

You’re letting off a sudden squelch! as you swallow up yet another inch of him - and Ino has to bite down on his lips to keep himself from whimpering. Fucking whimpering—“E-easy there, sweetness.” He’s grabbing onto either side of your waist, with the brilliant idea to control those sloppy bounces of yours- but instead he’s ending up merely…holding onto you for dear life. 

His limbs were weak n’ boneless.

His body was putty in your hands.

He was arching his hips ooooooff of the rickety single-bed- and he doesn’t have to even think before doing it. Body moving on pure instinct. Bulging tip yearning to hit your cervix—“Keep going like this n’ m’gonna cum already…”

“Awww, you poor boy.” You’re tittering- and shit, he knows it might be a little lecherously amusing to you. But does it really warrant enough for you to lean over and push his thick-framed glasses up his nosebridge? He swears he sees heaven itself. “Spider-Man can fight crime- but can’t handle a pussy?”

“I can’t handle your pussy.” Ino bites back, a blush upon his cheeks. “N-not that I ever have before…”

“Then maybe I should be deemed the strongest in the neighborhood, huh?” You hum.

“Y-you wish…” He’s bucking up into you at a frenzied pace- not even full thrusts. Mere, milking half-thrusts that have his precum pouring out in bucketloads—his balls were so heavy that they almost hurt.

“Oh yeah?” And you could feel the twitchin’ of his scouring tip with each one of your sentences - your syllables. Ino was growing only harder and harder at your egging on- “You’re stronger than me, baby?”

He stammers, “W-well…”

“Think you can take me down like you take down all those bad guys, baby?” Cooing- and that tone. Fuck, that tone…it left his flared, reddened tip scraping your insides at an even faster pace. “Think Spider-Man’s gonna win again?”

Ino shivers as you lean down to press your naked chest against his toned one, “Yes…I can—” And then you’re gripping at once of his biceps for balance, “I can-”

All for you to press a pretty peck on the side of his face- and then drag your tongue across where the attractive man was tearing up at the mere feeling of your pussy. So soft and hot. Sucking him up until he was seeing stars- “Then prove it, Taku—”

And it all happens in a split-second.

You don’t even realize it.

One second, you’re staring down at your boyfriend - with his chestnut hair splayed out upon the pillow like a halo, with a faint blush breezing across every inch of him (yes, every inch), with his entire body shaking n’ shivering underneath you. He seemed just so delicate.

Gone on your pussy.

Except…except for that little fire in his eyes that clued you in on something dark.

And the next second- you’re the one staring up at the ceiling. And right into Ino Takuma’s glazed, glittering peripherals. 

He was stimulated on your pussy until tears.

There was something stoic in him, however, as he reaches his right hand up somewhere above you. And you hear it before you see it- the splat! of something wet and clingy sticking onto your wrists. They’re both pushed against the headboard by the sheer force of…whatever that was.

And only when you go to pull away do you realize—oh fuck.

You were stuck.

You’re jerking your head up to glimpse at the pattern of white webs that restrain either hand against the sides of your headboard. Trapped.

And you’re peering up at Ino with a sheepish smile- “Baby?”

He pushes up his thick glasses, “Don’t ‘baby’ me—” And his ruddied tip finds its way between your pussylips in a split-second, jerkin’ in and out at a dizzying rate. Until his furious length was nearly nothing but a blur between your legs. “You wanted this- fuck, you’re gonna get it.”

“Yes-” You’re being manhandled back and forth- unable to do anything. Unable to even hold onto Ino’s locks of sweaty hair for balance, “Yes, yes, yes—please.”

“And you’re gonna fucking- hah, take as much as you’re given.” Ino emphasizes his point by slowing down, giving you loooong and luxurious licks of his puckered crown. “Only as much as you’re given- any complaint for more n’ I’m webbing that pretty mouth up, sweetness.”

“Oh, anything for you.” Fluttering your lashes up at him. It was just so cute how that made Ino immediately break out into a smile, “But what if I want you to cum inside m-”

“God- fuck.” And his wrist twitches as though he’s just about to make good on his promise. “Don’t even fucking…”

That aching cock of his just can’t stop pumping in and out, in and out, in and ouuuuuut.

And before he even knows it, he’s plunging straight into his high- deep and hot inside of you. “Thermodynamics—” And you’re almost sure you didn’t hear him right - spit-slicked lips repeating away as he pumped his hot wads into you - “Polarization functions.” His sweat-matted head dips into the crook of your neck, and he’s pinpointing each single orifice inside you with a dollop of his seed. “Orbitals- fuck, I love orbitals.”

Pouring and pouring out so much of his voluminous cum that it practically overflows.

“W-wait, why are you reciting formulae now, Taku?” You’re breathing out with the last inkling of your rationality, “You’ve already cum-”

“To stop me from losing my fucking mind, pretty.”

And he sounded damn serious.

Damn ruined.

Eyes wide. Voice pitched.

There’s nothing more for him to do but ruggedly hit his cock into every one of your delicate spots now- feeling those tender bundles of nerves with his tip. He slide-slide-sliiiiides down those particular areas—fucking and fucking and fucking you until you’re bursting into your wave of bliss.

“And don’t think we’re done yet, sweetness- maybe next we could get some use out of my camera…”

You’re not making it out of this alive.

Because it turns out that not only does Ino gain superpowers as Spider-Man, but he’s also earning extra…stamina. And he lasts until dawn breaks, he lasts until his fucking bed breaks- you have to tap out before you think he might just break you, too.

Wobbling your way downstairs- you can only clamor onto the walls and furniture for help. “I’m banning you from sex for a month-”

“A month?” Ino gasps, “I only just had my first time-”

“Two months.”

“Sweetness, just let me help you walk-”

You grumble, “Forever.”

And as Ino howls about how utterly unfair it was- and how you had actually been the one to start him up on his superpowers—you’re stumbling across…a figure in the kitchen. Hunched over the island. Coffee in hand.

It’s just then that you remember that Ino Takuma didn’t live alone- no. He lived with his uncle who was supposed to be away on a professor’s retreat tonight.

But it seems…

“Taku-” You elbow your ranting boyfriend, who still hadn’t looked up from his hands. He continues. “Taku-”

“I can handle a villain, but I can’t handle a damn se-”

“Taku.”

It’s only then that Ino looks up from his tear-stained (honestly, he’s so dramatic for the hell of it) palms and sees his uncle. Masamichi Yaga looked as though he was about to burst a blood vessel.

Honestly, in all the semesters that you’ve seen the deadpan professor- you don’t think you remember a time when he didn’t look as though his students were bringing him to the precipice of an aneurysm. 

“H-hello, sir.” You’re the first one to speak, after far too long a silence from your boyfriend - guess Spider-Man has two weaknesses, huh? Yaga nods graciously at you in response, before fixating his eyes on his nephew once more.

“Uncle Yaga—” Ino jolts with yet another elbow at his side. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”

Yaga’s ‘World’s #1 Uncle’ cup chips in his hand.

♡ GOJO SATORU - Goonology.

“—and in this one he’s Frankenstein with a huuuuuge dick- heh.” Gojo titters as he pushes his glasses up, having slid down his face in excitement. He gestures to another file on-screen, “And in this one, they’re clan leaders that have to fuck for an heir. And in this one, he’s a rose toy that turns into a real man and she reeeeally likes that. And in this one, it’s an omegaverse- do you know what an omegaverse is? So basically it’s like those alpha wolf memes but with-”

“Uh-huh.” Nodding absent-mindedly - honestly, you’ve been doing it for so long by this point that it’s likely become a permanent fixture of your demeanour.

Perhaps you’ll go nodding away for the rest of your life.

Perhaps you’ll only nod when you think of Gojo Satoru, and the absolutely massive (concerning) hentai collection he was showing you. Files upon files all meticulously organized and named, with a spreadsheet to follow rating them on the basis of goon-ability.

You’re not sure how you got here, to be honest.

You’d become friends with the nerdy boy at the start of Professor Yaga’s physics course, assuming him to be one of your fellow intellectuals. And what you’d found out was that…Gojo Satoru is an intellectual (there was no denying that, he was the brightest amongst the department with a suspected job offer from JAXA straight out of university—even Yaga himself couldn’t deny it no matter how much the white-haired boy got on his nerves), but that he was also the ultimate…gooner.

The realization didn’t come instantly, of course.

It’d started off with long study nights and mornings spent early in the library, poring over thick physics books with Gojo. Then that acquaintanceship had turned into a friendship. Which resulted in nights dragging Gojo to bars and parties, and helping the nerdy boy cut loose.

And then an even deeper friendship—

After which a few too many Jägerbombs (one, actually, he was a lightweight) ended up with Gojo confessing to you that he was a virgin. You’d guessed as much, to be quite honest.

But then he’d confessed to you that he’d never even had his first kiss before- hell, he’d never even held hands with an in-real-life woman before. And it’s that last comment that got you—what the hell did he mean by an ‘in-real-life’ woman? 

And Gojo Satoru had been more than happy to confess to you that although he might’ve never had contact with a woman in real life - you yourself were a miracle, and the first friend he’d had in…forever - he’d gotten into far too many bases in his virtual world. 

His video games. His manga. His body pillows. His hentai.

Anything and everything that had your jaw dropped in this cozy bar the two of you were at. Eventually, you’d both ended up getting kicked out once Gojo had (far too loudly) talked to you about his collection of personalized ahegao hoodies. And ‘would you like any recs?’

What the fuck…?

You’d gone home to sleep it off that night- but you couldn’t help yourself. Call it morbid curiosity, call it some part of you being a masochist—but you just had to call Gojo up the next day and tell him-

Yes, I would like some…recs. To know what he was into, if anything.

Totally nothing to do with the fact that you were maybe-kinda-sorta nursing a massive crush on the pretty, perfect (other than…perhaps this) white-haired nerd. His blue eyes. His shyness. Those dimples at the edge of his smile. Oh…and perhaps you had to know whether he was actually crazy or not, alright?!

And thus, here you were.

Doing your very best to ignore the body pillow that was splayed out upon his bed, with an original character of his own that looked suspiciously like…

“Me?” You’re blurting out without meaning to.

And Gojo glances over at you in response- fixing those cutely thick glasses of his. “Yes?”

“Why do they all…” Come to think of it…you’re taking a closer look at his glaring computer screen. And the expression of glee upon Gojo’s face at your sudden interest quickly morphs into one of absolute horror at the analytical look in your eyes.

He darts forward to cover his screen. “Wait-”

“They all look like me.” Snatching the computer mouse from his hand, you’re scrolling through the numerous MP4 files. Rows upon rows. Thumbnail upon thumbnail. Each one gave you a brief flash of an animated woman that looked like you, coupled up and being absolutely pummeled by a man with…blue eyes. Rows upon rows. “Satoru…”

And you’re looking at him in silence. He’s silent back.

“Do you like-”

“Yes.” Adrenaline runs through your body. 

And now he looked a bit more like the shy, bookish man that he usually was. Fiddling with the hem of his Digimon t-shirt, that aroused blush upon his face getting replaced by something a bit more innocent.

And by looking at his slender, pretty hands- you’re accidentally sneaking a look at the bulge in his pants. “And do you…” At his questioning gaze, you gesture at his crotch.

“Y-yes.” He admits.

Your eyes widen, “Even—” Looking at the body pillow on the bed.

He huffs and tugs down the hemline of his t-shirt to cover his erection. “Yes.”

And as the silence grows longer, Gojo fidgets more upon his squeaky chair. Restless. Ravenous but…he couldn’t quite browse through his collection with you in here, could he?

Before finally you say-

“And what about the real one?”

.

.

.

“Oh fuck—ngh~” Gojo’s gaze was wide and dilated- the blackness of his pupils almost entirely engulfing his irises. There was a slight glowing glaze on top of his eyes, as though he was drunk - and the way he’s babblin’ away certainly didn’t help his case. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—”

The very crown of his tip was tremblin’ nearly as much as his tone was- and the nerdy man pushes his hips up into yours like an animal.

Claiming the tiniest of orifices inside you as though he’s running out of time.

Splashing around his glittery white cum- because of course he’d ended up cumming just as soon as he’d put it in. 

Stirring around his thiiiick cock until a ring of white forms at your entrance. “Oh fuck, it fuh-feels—” Cute pink lips tremoring. He’s fluttering those long lashes up at you, from where you were straddling his cushioned chair. “It feels so- ngh- much better than it looked in the hentai, sweetheart.”

“Oh yeah?” You titter to yourself. And it’s an action that makes the nerdy man pout, “That good?”

“Yes—” Gojo’s mouth drops, as though he genuinely couldn’t believe that you were asking him this - as though he genuinely couldn’t believe that such a question like this existed. And with his back arching off of the chair slightly, he ruts up into you- again and again. With no rhythm nor rhyme other than the urge to absolutely pound-pound-pound his hot, needy cock into your perfect pussy. “Yes- why the fuck wouldn’t it feel good? Do you know how fucking good you feel?”

And then you clench and it’s enough to send him throwing his back through tears-

“It should be fucking illegal for your pussy to feel this good.”

He sounded dead-serious - and you almost found it cute just how pussydrunk Gojo had gotten after only a few vicious strokes. “I dunno…you had ah- omegaverse and all in your hentai, Toru.”

“My hentai had omegaverse, but I have you…” He’s blubbering out. And it would’ve been the most romantic things he’s said…perhaps, had it not been for what he says next. “And y-you even feel better than my PocketPussy3000…”

Arching one of your brows, “I don’t think I want to know what that is—oh, fuck.”

He gives a sudden swipe, dragging that metallic sensation across every one of your hidden sweet spots.

Oh, how could you have forgotten to mention?

Gojo Satoru - nerd galore, the most inexperienced man you’ve ever met - has a fucking Jacob’s Ladder piercing. A line of ruthless metal barbells that pierced his lengthy shaft, that stuck out lewdly - creating a texture that made your eyes absolutely roooooll to the back of your skull.

Their delicate orbs were rubbin’ coldly against your walls, were molding his interesting shape against your channel. And you find yourself speeding up your bounces just to feel his sensual piercings. 

Just to feel the rub-a-dub of them pushing apart your snug cunt- clinging onto any tiny crevice.

Gojo’s giving an inexperienced slam against the back of your womb and you cry out—“Shit, how can it feel so good-” Holding onto his broad shoulders to keep yourself from falling off of his lap, “You’re really a virgin, aren’t you?”

He pushes his glasses up smugly. “That, I am.” Feeling more confident now, he’s grabbing onto either side of your hips- if this was one of his hentai, then he’d probably use his alpha powers to induce you into heat. Then probably pound you with his cum until you’re bloated…that last one, he could still do. He gives you a few rough thrusts, “And because I’ve got the power of gooning and hentai on my side-”

“Okay, I wouldn’t go that far-”

“Why not?” There was that smug bastard you knew and loved in class- so sure he was right. Gojo cocks his head defiantly to the side, sure he had you wrapped around his finger. Cock, more like.

But just then you’re clenchin’ your fluttering cunt around his cock—making the overconfident nerd stutter, making him blush, making him jerk his hips up into yours and splat! out another wad of cum. Adding onto the puddled mess upon your cervix, slick and heavy with syrup. “What was that, Toru?”

You’re keeping him absolutely hostage.

And it felt so good for you, too, with the nooks and ridges of his Jacob’s Ladder driving you absolutely wiiiiiild. Especially the orbs at the end of his barbells that slipped easily into your walls.

Again.

And again.

And again-

He’s staring up at you through his lashes, words sputtering. “I-I meant-”

“Hm?” Yet another clench- a mere clench. And that round, reddened tip of Gojo’s ends up swervin’ straight against the door to your womb—the nerd’s mouth waters as he thinks of all the possibilities…

“I just meant that m’thankful, sweetheart.” Gojo’s crooning up at you. He loops his arms around your papping! waist and brings you deeper against his toned chest, probin’ your spots even deeper. “I’m so thankful to get to- hck! fuck a pussy like this- so, so thankful…”

“Mhmmm?”

“There’s a reason I cried a little when I first put it in, y’know? A loser like me could never have even imagined- fuck.” Answering, he keeps on drilling his hips up into you - sloppily. Semi-thrusts that leave your entire body on edge from how fast n’ frenzied they were becoming. “And no hentai nor manga nor bodypillow in the world could ever compare to you—” 

“Fuck-” You whisper. It was only making his mazing tip, his massaging piercings, do their magic even harder inside your slippery channel.

And Gojo whispers - mostly to himself. “I got those just because they looked like you, anyways…”

But you’re hearing him perfectly.

And it takes only a few more swerves n’ grinds of your hips to draaaaag yet another orgasm out of Gojo Satoru—you’ve lost count which one it was for the night. But it’s enough that your walls feel slightly inflated with the sheer volume of seed pumped into you, the clingy wads n’ webs stuffing you so full.

Part of it sprays between your legs and glues the backs of your thighs to his waistline. 

And you’re only tightening them ‘round him deeper- ready to ride him maddeningly through another burst of euphoria.

But the surprise comes when Gojo pushes his foggy glasses up in determination - it comes when he peeks down at your pussy through his sweaty bangs. Pinkish tongue sticking between his teeth, the nerdy man locates your neglected clit in a few seconds and starts rollin’ over it with his thumb like a machine. 

He wasn’t quite sure what to do - but he knew from those sultry mewls leaving you that it felt good. And so he’s alternating between slow hearts n’ rapid stripes drawn down your puffy nub.

Every drag of his digit sending sparks to your brain. Overheated.

“Shit-” You’re somehow managing to choke out. And it takes only one-two-three more twists n’ turns of his wrist to get you to start trembling. “Shit, shit—Toru. That feels so-”

To get you to cum.

And so you do-except…you weren’t just cumming.

You were squirting—glittering, hot splashes of sap escaping between your pussylips. They splatter all over Gojo’s slender waist, drenching him all the way down to his chair- and he doesn’t care. 

Fuck, he’s having the girl of his dreams soak his cock with her pussy—and you think he’d care about something like that?

Barely paying attention to his own orgasm, Gojo balances you on top of him n’ drags you through your high. Such strong, sudden zaps of bliss going from his roverin’ tip and straight up to your muddled mind—just a few hungry hammers, and you’re already babbling with pleasure. The knobs of his Jacob’s Ladder massaging your sweetest spots, only elongating that wave of euphoria even further.

It shatters through your body until you’re a mess.

You’re dripping between your legs- and from your eyes. Sobbing into Gojo’s shoulder, “Sa-Satoru, that feels so good—fuck, that felt so good.” Perking your hips up n’ down his swollen shaft—even the area ‘round his pelvis was reddening with impact. “You did good, baby.”

“I d-did?” Gojo asks.

And you can only nod. “You have to delete that insane collection of yours, though.”

“W-well of course, I will…” He smugly pushes his glasses further up his nosebridge- and the sudden improved vision lets him see the dark patch you’d squirted all over his favorite Digimon t-shirt. 

And Gojo can’t help himself from tugging up that hemline and fucking sniffing your sweet, sweet juices-

“Now how about I introduce you to my PocketPussy3000…that I named after you?”

.

.

.

Professor Yaga is just about reconsidering his resignation plans- it’s been a while without any…incident involving his students pushing him to the verge of an aneurysm, he hasn’t had any problems with grading, he hasn’t had any problems with the other staff.

Overall, life has been good.

The problem comes when Gojo Satoru comes to class looking as though he’d come to the very same conclusion.

That morning, he decides that the bespectacled man - his star student in Physics class - looks blissed out…too blissed out. His skin was glowing. His eyes seemed sparklier than ever. He was practically hovering into class.

And Yaga’s eternal conundrum is put to rest when you walk in right after, looking (perhaps not as dramatic) equally happy.

Ah…he connects the dots. And he catches the way the two of you look at each other as though you wished the rest of the class didn’t exist-

Yaga shudders. He reconsiders reconsidering his resignation plans.

He splits the two of you up during seating.

Gojo’s loud cries sound like music to his ears.

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Mr. Mr.

“Fuck…” Higuruma Hiromi finds his head pressed against the polished mahogany of his desk yet again, breathing out his woes into it as though it could hear him.

It always was his most avid listener, these days.

He ignores the newest paper that’d landed on his desk - Higuruma wasn’t above taking cases that interested him anymore. But then again, most cases required attention—and that was exactly what he was lacking right now. These days.

And who else was to blame for such a transgression by Tokyo’s best law professor but you? 

You. You. You. You.

Ever since you’d walked into his lecture hall at the start of semester- your pencil skirt sharp, your mouth even sharper. Higuruma would be lying if he said he wasn’t drawn in by the sheer breadth of your knowledge—even to a man like him who lived and breathed law itself.

He was stunned.

And you were stunning.

Both in your beauty and your brains- and everything else in-between that Higuruma Hiromi just couldn’t stop fucking thinking about-

It was driving him crazy.

He thinks he might be going crazy.

He can’t spend a single class without his eyes drifting towards you—as though drawn in by magnets, even though he didn’t really have a point to emphasize nor any question to ask. He can’t grade your papers without fearing that he might just subconsciously slip in an extra point or two - not because you need it, but because he’s a weak man. He’s a weak, weak man. 

And Higuruma always ends up loaning off your papers to some other attorney friend of his - it always does make him breathe easier when he finds out that you’re always given top marks regardless.

Even the clock has found itself inutile ever since your entrance into his life—no longer is it a device to display time, but rather a countdown for when he might see you next.

The next class. The next orchestrated bump in the hallways. 

The next time he sees your beautiful, beautiful smile.

If Higuruma isn’t in class with you, he’s spending his time counting down the hours until he does. And that’s what he was doing at this very moment—that’s what he was attempting to stop right now.

“I must have gone mad.” He runs a hand through his thick, black hair - usually parted to perfection, but it usually seems to unravel whenever he thinks of you. As does every other part of him. And Higuruma whispers his confession into the late hours- with no one in the vicinity right now.

Class had just ended, and he was still reeling from the vision of you in that short, short skirt. So short…

Higuruma’s breath hitches at the mere memory of it, like a dying man. He’s always been the type of man to prioritize his career - and that means he’s never quite…felt anything like this before. He’s never quite looked out of his books long enough to take interest. Perhaps he’s been in a maddened haze—“That must be it.” He declares, “I really must have gone mad-”

He stands abruptly. Slightly teetering.

“Because I can’t—” You were a university student. You were a decade his junior. You were the beautiful face he got to see everyday- and yet, he wasn’t supposed to notice just how beautiful you were. “It’s not right. It shouldn’t be done. I really can’t-”

“Professor?”

“My law student of all things-”

“Professor?”

“And yet- fuck, I’ve never wanted anyone so desperately-”

“Professor.”

Higuruma feels his blood grow cold. Without a speck of sense in him, still, he’s whirling around to face you - he’d recognize your voice above thousands.

You were standing at the edge of the doorway, tip-toeing slightly inside as though unsure whether you should interrupt. One of your hands rest at your chest to feel your beating heart—and the other one slowly but surely closes the lecture hall door behind you.

“I came here to get a bag I’d left behind…” You’re starting off- and to Higuruma this doesn’t feel real. He’s falling into his chair—“But maybe I’ve left something a little more ah- important.”

And that smile of yours definitely doesn’t feel real.

“I-I beg of you to reconsider.” He starts off, nervously fiddling with his glasses frames.

“Motion denied.” You smile, stepping closer. And the way you’re looking at him—fuck, he feels his cock start to throb already.

“I’m much older than you, my angel.” Higuruma attempts to reason - but the thing is, he isn’t sure whether he’s attempting to reason with you or himself. Because you certainly had an air of finality about you- “And I’m your professor.”  He gulps. He has his books in his office- so, so many books. And yet, none that would help him find the words for right now. “Not to mention, there are so many other eligible bachelors who would be a better f-”

“Dismissal with prejudice.” You hum. Examining the older professor before you—dark circles, beautifully tragic, such a bookish air about him. “Anything else?”

He pushes his stern glasses up his nosebridge. “No…sentence accepted, Your Honor.”

.

.

.

And it’s not too long before you’re finding yourself spread flat across Higuruma’s desk - all polished, poised, formal. Not a speck of dirt or document out of line—except for the fact that you had your back against it and was currently being fucked dizzy on Higuruma’s fat, throbbing cock.

Throwing both legs on top of his shoulders. Pinning you down with a hand at your throat. 

He was giving you all that you were going to get- and all that you were getting were looooong swipes of his bulging tip. In and out. In and out.

Plummeting between your pussylips n’ tickling the deepest spots in the back of your pussy. The deepest—Higuruma makes you taste his rotund circumference at your throat, before he’s dragging his sloppy cock back out and repeating it all over again.

Reddened tip to the tiny curls at the base of his cock- and luckily for you, this was everything you’d been wanting since the second you walked through those hall doors.

Ever since you’d seen your hot, nerdy law professor. 

Higuruma pushes his thin-rimmed glasses up his nose, and you’re gulping at just how handsome he looks. A thin line of sweat tricklin’ down the side of his temple- “Shit-” He’s hissing between clenched teeth, voice higher as though he still couldn’t believe that this was real life. “Shit, you’re taking me so well.”

“A-anything for you—” You’re gasping out. His thrusts are hard enough that you swear you could feel him empty out his pre all the way in the back of your throat- and you swear you could taste it, too. That salted caramel flavor that clogged up your tastebuds—

“For me, huh?” Higuruma’s handsome nose crinkles, and he slams a set of his fingers down upon your clit. “Teacher’s pet.”

You’re whining at the stars that makes you see. “You have no idea.” It was only in the slight reprieves between his thrusts - when he’d pull back from your cervix and relieve the pressure on your womb - that you could manage to even speak. “You have no idea how fuck- how long I’ve wanted to fuck you.”

“That long, huh?” His dark eyes widen.

“So long.” And you’re not even sure why you’re being so honest - but you suspect it has something to do with just how stupid he’s making you with his textured length. Those zig-zagging veins and ridges upon his swollen cock—fuck. “You have no idea how many nights I spent- ngh, poring over textbooks. Just to memorize things n’ impress you.”

His achingly-hard cock grows even plumper inside of you. “You d-did that for me?”

“I wanted you to be proud of me—” You’re almost sheepishly admitting to him. You dare to hide your face behind your hands- but Higuruma stops you then and there to take in your full expression. “-sir.”

And that almost makes the stoic man…pause.

It almost makes his lungs heave out.

It almost makes his glasses slide completely off of his nose-

Something in him just snaps - perhaps his sanity, his restraint, his hips slamming into yours until your very mind jolts. Fuck…

And Higuruma has to stare at you - whilst his cock still shovels in at a rapid pace - for a few seconds just to register. He has to throw his head back—“Fuck. Substantive and procedural law, right and duties- liabilities.” Such an odd slew of words and concepts from your syllabus leave him, growing even more feverish the more fervent hush hips become. “Theory of legal positivism—”

“What are you…” You don’t even have the words to describe it.

But Higuruma looks down at you with such dark, depraved eyes - a slight glaze atop them that made you realize he was completely and utterly pussydrunk. “That’s to distract myself, angel.”

“Oh—fuck.”

And before you know it, he’s scooping your lower half even further into his body and bending deeper down. Deeper. Deeper. Deeper. Higuruma folds you until the cheeks of your ass aren’t even touching the polished wood of his desk, and his cock reaches in so deep that it makes your pupils cross-

“And that’s to remind you that big girls never hafta bow down- not to anyone.” A line of drool travels slowly down the side of his mouth - he kisses you. “So how about it—”

“You want me to call you-”

“I’ll be calling you-” He starts off. “-something very fitting, Your Honor.”

You shiver.

And he basks in his own glee - what else for his star student?

Higuruma’s poundin’ away at the gooey back of your pussy- all the way until it feels as though he wants to fuck you through his damn office desk. 

And you’re sure by now that a print in the shape of your two bodies has formulated on top of the varnished mahogany—and knowing Higuruma, he’d likely just admire it all day. And as if he was trying to make this dream a reality, his bludgeoning pace increases until that gluttonous cock of his was nothing more than a dark pinkish blur between your pussylips.

Thrashing and swiping.

Locating your sweetest spots.

Higuruma draws a particularly good stripe down your puckered g-spot and you moan- “Please- m’so close, s—”

“What was that?” He cuts through. Stern. 

You didn’t think you’d get anything past him, did you? There was a reason he was so damn famed in the courts of Tokyo.

Higuruma’s sharp eyes glint. Through slower, sensual draaaaags of his cock he asks- “What- was- that—”

“Nothing-”

“I believe there may be inaccuracies in that statement.” He hums. Thickened shaft plummeting once more to your womb—thud-thud-thudding. “Try again.”

“You must’ve heard me-”

“Hearsay.”

“I called you-” Ultimately, you’re left to cry out. Nothing left but to have Higuruma’s hazy peripherals staring intensely down at you, and his cock twitchin’ as he pumps you through your orgasm. “…sir.”

And he reels back in delight at having won.

Your body trembling. Your eyes welling up with tears.

It was such a startling wave of bliss- one that almost made it hard for his fattened cock to fuck deep into you - not with your walls clinging onto him like that. And he has to fight to keep himself from cumming right now, just wanting to let you bask in the simmering pleasure first.

Just rammin’ a bruise of his cockhead against your cervix. Again. And again.

Though his steamrollin’ cock fucks you through peak after peak, Higuruma’s smile stays as mean and merciless as ever. Tutting, “Someone deserves some punishment, sugar.”

You’re still shivering from the force of your euphoria- “R-request for a fast trial?”

Wordlessly, Higuruma then reaches somewhere behind you—and you don’t have to turn your head to know what it is. Because soon enough, he’s bringing his shiny gavel to your line of vision- and dragging the honed tip of it straight between your legs.

“My conditions are that you cum with just this-”

“And my punishment if I can’t?” You breathe.

That perfectly poised wooden tip is just starting to inch inside and graaaaaze down your tight walls.

Higuruma gruffs, “Then I sentence you to ride my face until you squirt.” 

He smiles.

.

.

.

“Hiromi—” Masamichi Yaga’s drawling tone echoes down the empty corridor- it’s been just a few hours since he’d last been in the Law Department. Not one of his usual haunts (and he was almost glad for it, law students just seemed so much more…intense), he felt awkward waddling down the barren place.

It was long after classes had ended, though it was a sure shot that Higuruma would be in his office.

If not for the little…task he’d sent his friend—then because of his workaholic nature. Yaga was sure that his friend would have that little letter typed out for him by now, Yaga was sure that by tomorrow he could walk up to the Dean and let them know that he was resigning. Officially.

And with such a formal letter to boot- his pension was going to be luxury!

He was sure of it…

So tell him why he’s wandering right up to Higuruma’s door and hearing the strangest…groaning noises from inside. Worried that perhaps his friend might have gotten into some trouble with his health, Yaga’s hands twist upon the door handle- one that would’ve been less easy to open than a safe.

It was firmly locked.

“What the…” His brows raise well above his shades, and Yaga can’t help himself- he really can’t. He was acting under the presumption that his close friend might have been hurt—alright! The older man leans down to the keyhole on the door and…peers inwards.

He knew that Higuruma was never the type to keep a key in a door- he preferred deadbolts and such. But oh, how Yaga was wishing it was the opposite as he snatches a glimpse.

And what he sees is his best friend- not suffering from any health complications or injuries as he could see. Instead, Higuruma seemed as healthy as ever as he arched you deeper into his front and fucked you - you - in a way that made Yaga blush.

He’s shooting upright as if burned.

Speedwalking down the corridor—fuck the letter, fuck the Law Department, fuck everyone around him.

Yaga was never resigning.

A/N. Got a little…carried away with this one whoops-

Plagiarism not authorized.

[getorade-deactivated20260729]

the nerd and the shy girl

synopsis: he shows up in spider-man pajamas and a box of chocolates, and suddenly your first date with satoru gojo is anything but innocent on valentines day. between teasing touches, awkward confessions, and nerves that won’t quit, the night becomes a lesson in temptation, discovery, and how dangerously good firsts can feel. pairing(s): nerdjo x shy fem!reader c.w. & w.c.: 7.1k :: inexperienced/virgin reader & nerdjo :: smut with plot :: oral (f receiving) :: p in v :: fluff :: anxiety :: happy ending - valentines event collab w/ @sixxels !

it was a week before valentines or maybe it was tomorrow, you couldn't remember.

nor did you really care, at least that's what you kept telling yourself- to make yourself feel better? likely.

you're already running behind- taking too long to do your hair and the light makeup you always brushed onto your cheeks.

you don't know why you did that. wearing makeup, nobody paid you a second glance, you were the quiet college student rushing to each class before the professors made it into the classroom.

maybe, it was because that white haired boy and wanting to catch his eye- perhaps you did care just slightly about valentines day.

you quickly find your seat in the classroom, running just a few seconds late and set your bag down beside you before pulling out your notebook and pencil.

"hey, you find a date for v-day yet?" a low whisper hits the back of your ear.

shoko.

your best friend, really the only friend you've made.

your shoulders stiffen, just barely but noticeable to her before you answer.

"no," you say softly, trying to mask the disappointment in your tone and the heat crawling up your neck. "it's okay. have you?"

"geto asked me a few days ago," her words hesitate for just a second seeing the flicker in your eyes. "i said yes. i can ask if you can join us."

shoko was never as shy as you were and you always envied that part about her- always making friends and putting herself out there to make new connections with others while you on the other hand, never did.

your skin crawls at the thought of joining her and geto on the date.

third wheeling? absolutely not.

before you can answer her, your attention is pulled back towards the front of the room where the squeaky door is swinging open again-

your breath catches in your throat before you're able to control it when you see that fluffy white hair and those framed ocean blue eyes- gojo, he's always had that effect on you.

shoko catches your reaction and the way your eyes follow him to his seat- she's always known you liked him, you never shut up about him. his glasses, his eyes, his hair, the times you've caught the faintest whiff of the cologne he was wearing.

"you could always ask him out." shoko whispers, those brown eyes gleaming with mischief.

you'd rather die.

your thoughts haven't slowed once since he walked in and your eyes haven't wavered once- you've never been more thankful that he sits towards the front of the room with his back towards you.

though, you always did feel like he could sense something, or someone staring into his soul with how often he would turn around only to immediately lock eyes with you before quickly turning to face the board again.

but never without offering you one of his tight lipped smiles.

"no, i'm good- and don't ask geto if i can join the two of you. . .that's weird."

shoko sighs before leaning back in her seat. "suit yourself, loner."

maybe she'll bring you a slice of cake back that you can eat while watching some sappy rom-com movie about love and dreaming about gojo and those electric blue eyes.

should you listen to shoko's advice and ask him out? from what you know about him, he was just as shy as you were.

the worst he could possibly say is no, or he'd laugh right in your face. no, he wouldn't do that.

before your thoughts can drag you any further into the abyss, the professor is walking in. you blink, trying to reassign your focus on the front of classroom and away from-

gojo's eyes staring right back into yours- those blue eyes are gazing into yours like he's reading every thought flying through your mind.

you know your face must be as bright as ripe cherries, your cheeks feel like they're on fire and you still haven't pried your eyes away from his, yet.

the history professor clears his throat, the rasp of his voice slicing your thoughts like a blade. "alright, settle down. today we're going over-"

you finally tear your eyes away from gojo's piercing gaze, letting them fall back to your notebook, your mind isn't picking up any of the words. instead, your mind drifts. again.

back to the fleeting moments of the interactions the two of you have had- the accidental touches in the library when you would exchange notes, the soft laughs when you'd crack a small joke that only you felt like you could hear or the ridiculous way you'd both spot each other in any room.

a smile tugs at the corner of your lips at the memories and you quickly hide it, eyes gliding to gojo for just a brief second. good. he's paying attention to the professor.

the professors words drone on- sounding more like a distant background noise instead of someone actively speaking loudly just steps away. something about dates, wars, revolutionary- it all floats in one ear and out the other.

you eventually put your pencil to your notebook, so you can at least look like you're paying attention while your mind is looped with thoughts of him.

you force yourself to jot down notes but your handwriting is sloppy, nothing like your neat and pristine handwriting you use when you're typically in class.

time looms on for the next hour, trying your hardest to avoid staring at him even when you'd catch him turning his head to steal a glance at you before averting his eyes like he wasn't supposed to be watching.

when you finally did decide to look again is exactly when you caught the tail end of your professors words. "—and that's all for today. you can leave now."

you blink and let out a sigh of relief. finally, you can get out of this class and away from your humiliation of staring at gojo and the defeat that lingered from shoko's words.

you're shoving your notebook and pencil back into your bag, bending your cover in the midst of it when shoko's voice pricks your ears again.

"do you want to come over tonight? we can order chinese, watch a dumb movie and i'll let you help me pick what to wear."

you hold back another sigh. she's just trying to be supportive, that's what you tell yourself- if for anything, your sanity.

"uh, sure- i'll come by. what time?" you ask her, mental exhaustion already creeping in with the linger of dread of what you'll have to listen to tonight.

you don't really want to go over to her dorm and listen to her ramble on about her date with geto, the boy who she's been crushing on a shorter period of time than you've liked gojo. you know it's the jealousy creeping its way in; it always does.

"mmm. whenever, we have four hours left of hell-" she says, already moving towards the door to head to the next class. "just text me."

maybe you can say you toppled down the stairs and broke your leg, that could get you out of it. no- she would just bring her wardrobe to you and torture you in your own peaceful corner.

you bend over to grab your bag when a shadow looms over you- not dangerously, not too close but a comfortable distance, reflected on the ground below the classrooms fluorescent lighting.

your nerves are already bundling in the pit of your stomach when your eyes catch the shoes- those squeaky clean and checkered vans. the shoes that have probably never stepped a single toe into mud or a dust particle. gojo's

your breath hitches when the realization finally slams in. your back straightens out before you can talk yourself back from it or just bolt from the room. your eyes immediately meet his.

gojo is standing awkwardly- one hand on the shoulder strap of his book bag while his other arm hangs loosely and fidgeting his fingers like a nervous tic.

you clear your throat softly. "hi gojo, everything okay?"

his blue eyes widen like he wasnt expecting you to say something first, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows before his hand is tightening on the strap of his bag.

“yeah! i mean, yeah. everything’s fine.” he pauses with a wince like he already hates how that sounded. “i just. . .uh.”

the silence stretches with your nerves when he pauses- it's thick, unbearable and only broken by the scrape of the chair and the scruff of shoes as other students leave the room. you're becoming more aware of just how close the two of you are standing, too close to breathe normally.

“i was wondering,” he starts again, voice quieter now, almost hesitant and shy. his eyes flickering anywhere but yours- the floor, the whiteboard, the door- before finally landing back on yours. “if you were busy on valentine’s day?"

your breath stutters, right along with your heart. you blink, still staring directly into his eyes, not being able to pull them away but not being able to move your mouth to even answer him.

gojo notices your hesitation, eyes widening just a fraction larger. “i mean,” he rushes on, words tripping over each other, “if you are, that’s totally fine. like, completely fine. i just thought-” another pause, fingers fidgeting harder now. “i thought maybe we could hang out. watch a movie or something. order pizza.”

he offers you a small, tight lipped and no doubt nervous smile as your mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish.

"it can be just us-"

"-yes" your words cutting through gojo's rambles, it slips out before you can second guess yourself. "i- i mean, i'm not busy on valentines day. sorry."

your cheeks heat up at your mishap, fingers curling into the strap of your bag like it might anchor you in place.

gojo freezes.

and for a split second he just stares at you, blue eyes wide and unblinking like his brain is desperately trying to catch up with what you just said. then- and slowly- his shoulders drop, tension melting out of him in a way that makes your chest ache.

“oh,” he says, dumbly. then, quieter, softer, “oh.”

a smile starts to tug at his lips before he can stop it. it’s small at first, hesitant, like he’s afraid it might disappear if he acknowledges it too much. his fingers still fidget, but not as frantic now.

“you’re not. . .busy?” he asks, just to be sure, confirming after your little moment.

you shake your head, a little too eagerly. “no. i’m not.”

the grin that spreads across his face this time is real- warm, a little crooked. the kind that makes your heart do flips in your chest.

“okay,” he breathes out, almost like a laugh. “okay, good. i mean- not good that you didn’t have plans. just- good. for me. for us. i think.”

you let out a tiny, nervous huff of a laugh before you can stop yourself.

“pizza and a movie sounds. . .nice,” you add, quieter now- nerves slowly fraying away.

gojo’s ears turn pink at the tips, noticeably so.

“yeah?” he asks. “i mean- yeah. cool. nice is good.”

the classroom is almost empty now, the last of the noise fading as the door swings shut behind the final student. suddenly it feels like it’s just the two of you, standing in the quiet aftermath of something that feels important.

“i can- uh,” he adjusts the strap of his bag again. “i can text you? about when and stuff?”

“yeah,” you nod. “yeah, that works.”

you and gojo quickly swap phones to put each other's number in before another small pause settles between the two of you- not bad. lighter and more charged.

“happy early valentine’s day,” he says softly as he turns to leave the classroom.

your heart melts a little.

“happy early valentine’s day, gojo” you echo.

you stand there watching him leave the classroom before another voice is shattering your stunned silence.

"i knew it, i knew it and i couldn't tell you- oh my god!" shoko excited voice comes from behind, clamping her hand down onto your shoulder. "geto told me that gojo was planning to ask you, made me swear i wouldn't spill a bean."

your heart is thundering in your chest, loud enough you're sure shoko can hear it before you turn to face her, cheeks still flaming like a bonfire.

"he asked me out-" your eyes are set on gojo's number on your screen, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "well, in but- i have a date. for valentines."

shoko's hand shakes your shoulder slightly, averting your attention from the number and to her face. "i know, i know- geto helped him so much, it was so sappy and a little pathetic."

"valentines is still a few days away, i have time to process this-"

"valentines is tomorrow. get it together, sweets."

"tomorrow?" your mouth runs dry when you look back to your phone.

the date, february 13th is staring right back at you. valentines is tomorrow.

"you two are staying in, right?" shoko asks, gently pulling you into the hall to move to the next class.

"yeah, pizza and a movie."

"and sex." shoko whispers right into your ear, careful to avoid others students in the hall hearing.

you nearly trip over your own feet at her words, the squeak coming from your shoe causing a few students to look your way like you inconvenienced their important conversations. you freeze, neck snapping over to look at her gleaming eyes.

"w-what did you just say?"

"sex. happens like every valentines, even for the shys and the nerds, trust me."

if your heart speeds up anymore, you're sure it's gonna run flat out of your chest.

"i can't, i can't have sex-"

"why not? are you a virgin? it's college, loosen up." shoko says, like it's easy- you wouldn't even know what to expect.

you hesitate at her question and she catches it before covering her mouth with her hand that's fallen open.

"you are a virgin, aren't you?"

"yeah. ." you whisper, you didn't even want to answer but you know shoko, she wouldn't have dropped the topic until you did. "i am."

she pats you on the back before you walk into your next lecture. "don't worry, he probably is too."

that's something you could believe, as rude as it sounds. you haven't known him super long but while you have, you've never once seen him with a woman, let alone even looking at one until you'd catch his eye's on you in class.

"be gentle with each other, first times are special." shoko whispers before finally disappearing into the wave of students.

the nerves that had faded came back ten fold in your stomach as you found your seat in your next class, churning and pulling at every nerve in your body like a live wire touching water.

- you had never been more thankful to step back outside and into the warm air than you were today. you barely had any focus in any of your classes, thinking of gojo, tomorrow, the movie, what to wear and the heavy topic shoko left you spiraling with.

losing your virginity? this was your first date, he wasn't even your boyfriend, yet. would it hurt? would the both of you look like fools, if it was indeed his first time too?

your thoughts are broken by the short vibration in your pocket, you quickly pull out your phone when you see gojo's name in your notification bar.

satoru gojo: hey. is 6pm a good time for you tomorrow night? we can do earlier or later, entirely up to you.

before you can type a message back, another one is pinging through.

satoru gojo: and would you like to come to my dorm? or i can come to yours. i want you to be where you feel comfortable. pajamas or are we dressing up for pizza and a movie?

your heart swells at his thoughtfulness before typing a quick text back to him-

6pm is perfect, can we do my dorm? i have a comfortable bed, dont worry and pajamas work- haha, no need for dresses and suits over some greasy pizza and a movie.

gojo's text comes through seconds after you hit send.

satoru gojo: perfect. your dorm it is. i'll wear my fanciest pajamas, i wont disappoint ;)

you can't stop the dorky grin pulling at your mouth before you pocket your phone and start your short trek back to your dorm room- you need to clean up, get rid of that mountain of clothes on your chair that haunts you in the middle of the night.

you quickly bob and weave between all of the students trying to make it to their cars or to their own dorms, offering short "sorrys" and "excuse me's" when sliding in between bodies or bumping into someone.

the disbelief still sat heavy in your chest, the feeling mixing with the excitement and the nerves still twisting deep in your gut.

you reach your dorm before you realize how fast your feet were carrying you. the familiar brick exterior looms in front of you, students drift in and out of the building- laughing, talking, living completely normal lives like something monumental didn't just happen.

like you didn't just agree to a valentines date with satoru gojo.

your hand hesitates on the door handle before pushing the door open to walk down another long hall to your room.

your roommate isn't there when you open the door and it's exactly how you left it. chaotic- clothes draped over your chair, textbooks stacked unevenly and threatening to topple over, empty water bottles strewn across the floor. it's hell.

your heart drops straight to your feet when the realization hits you- you told gojo the date would be here. your dorm.

"oh my god." you mutter, your hands fly into your hair as you stare longer at the mess- having some inner hope that it would mysteriously clean itself up if you stare hard enough.

you walk further into the room before spinning in a slow circle, more and more thoughts looping through your mind. this is unacceptable, what if he thinks your room smells weird or that your bed is too small?

sighing, you drop your bag onto your bed and start moving to clean, as if you don't have an entire day left to still do it.

you start grabbing all the clothes before shoving them into a laundry basket hidden away in your closet, wiping down your desk that's dust covered with your makeup and really, who knows what else before opening your window to air out your dorm.

it didn't have a smell, quite the opposite actually- you always made it a habit to use room freshener daily, if not multiple times a day causing your room to smell like flowers.

the rest of your afternoon blurs into you moving like a maniac in a montage to finish your room, by the end of it- you found the library book you could've sworn your roommate stole, a moldy granola bar and mismatched socks.

you rearranged your pillows a for the last time, for tonight before collapsing onto your bed.

what kind of pajamas do you wear? silky? cotton? shorts and a tank top or your typical go-to of sweatpants and whichever shirt you grabbed first that somehow always had a stain on it.

before your thoughts could take you any further, your phone buzzed on your nightstand. your heart sped up at the thought of it being gojo again, just to see shoko's name lighting up on your screen.

you swipe to answer, masking your sigh as a pathetic cough. "hello?"

"are you spiral cleaning yet?" there's a laugh in the background, probably geto.

"mm- no, i've kept my dorm clean all week-" you lie smoothly, you weren't about to admit that you spiraled the second you walked in. "have you found a dress?"

"no, i'll send you some pictures later. help me choose one, i only have a few options."

you can hear her whispering something to geto before you hear movement and a door shut-

her voice cuts through the line again in a hushed whisper. "have you shaved? i can come wax you."

the nerves you had managed to ignore long enough with your cleaning jump into your throat again. her words from earlier replaying in your mind like a broken mixtape- "sex. happens like every valentines, even for the shys and the nerds, trust me."

"are you there?"

"yeah, yeah, im here but- no, i haven't. later, probably." you huff out, you didn't want to think about it, - about sex, about shaving, any of it.

you weren't opposed to having sex with gojo. you just didn't know what you were doing, truth be told. the most you've ever had was a man go down on you at the beginning of the year after you were dragged to a party by shoko to try and get you out of your shell.

clearly, that didn't work. and neither did the man on giving you an orgasm.

"well, i know geto gave him some pointers tonight-" shoko whispers, sounding excited for you.

the blush, unseen resting on your cheeks had to be the color of a firetruck by now.

"what?" you sit up in bed, suddenly laser focused in on the phone call.

your heart was pounding in your chest. was gojo going through the same humiliating ritual with geto that shoko was putting you through?

you squeeze your eyes shut, you're about to ask again- or for further information when you could hear geto in the background calling for shoko to come back out and finish whatever they were doing.

you didn't want to know, either.

shoko sighs, defeated on the fact that she was cock blocked from giving you anymore information. "i gotta go, let me know how tomorrow goes. get dick."

there's a click before the line goes silent and reverts back to your home screen.

"story of my life." you whisper to yourself, you place your phone back on the nightstand before plopping back into your pillows and rolling onto your side.

you were too exhausted from the events of the day to move from your bed, too riddled with nerves- your first date. with your crush. in your dorm.

it was all too much to process, at least for tonight.

- valentines morning came quick, too quick.

the light pouring in from the window you never shut was the first thing you noticed before you heard your phone buzz once with a notification.

you blink the sleep away from your eyes before grabbing it, still lazily in bed-

satoru gojo: good morning and happy valentines. i hope you had a good rest. are you still okay for the movie night?

a sleepy smile tugs at your lips before you type back- happy valentines. movie is still great!

there were no classes today, you had hours to get ready. though, the room was done, so all you needed was to pick out a decent pair of pajamas that didn't have the latest pizza nights stain on them and shower.

perfect.

you slowly climb out of bed and walk to your dresser before sliding open the drawers- spider man pants? no. though, a nerd would probably like those.

you keep shoveling through your drawer when you come across your sleep shorts, the ones you always manage to lose. the ones that actually make your ass look good.

would that be too much? would he think you're begging to sleep with him from a pair of pajama bottoms?

you toss the shorts onto your shoulder before you can overthink yourself out of it. that would be the story of your life. you're able to find a shirt without a stain or tear with quickness.

maybe, this is a sign of good luck.

you're about to move to the shower when another buzz comes from your phone.

a text from shoko.

shoko: don't wear granny panties. wear that nice pair you got from vs.

she would think so little of you, wouldn't she? but when you pulled down the clothes from your shoulder, pulling the underwear from the stack. . .maybe she had a point.

you don't bother texting her back. you need to find that black lace set you got months ago and never had the opportunity to wear yet.

thankfully, you don't have to rustle too far or deep into your closet to find it. the bag, crisp and pristine, tissue paper untouched was exactly where you left it on the top shelf of your closet.

you quickly move into the bathroom to undress and get into the shower- washing your hair twice, scrubbing you body with a body sugar that your mom got you last christmas before drenching your body in soap and shaving cream.

stepping out to dry off, you felt like a new woman. not really, but your entire body smelled like coconut and was as soft as silk. so, same difference.

sliding on the lace bra and underwear felt foreign on your skin- on your entire body. the set fit like a glove, making you feel confident before sliding your legs into the sleep shorts and shirt.

the rest of the day passed in a blur- triple checking your room for any crumbs that would've magically appeared, texting gojo the directions to your dorm, ignoring shoko's helpful tips and watching a comedy show to help ignore the nerves pulling at every inch of your soul.

it worked. probably a little too well when it lured you into a sleep-induced coma.

you were confident the universe was looking out for you when you pried your eyeballs back open to see the sun was thankfully up and you didn't unintentionally ghost gojo.

5:56pm.

he'd be here any minute, he was always on time. calculated to perfection, probably standing outside your dorm room waiting to knock. not that you were going to check.

the minutes ticked by agonizingly slow as you watched the time on your phone- if you didn't know any better, you would've thought an elephant was on your shoulders with the stress you were suffocating yourself with right now.

5:59pm.

one minute left.

you stand up from your bed and tidy the sheets and blanket before bolting softly over to your mirror to get one last fit check in. it looks good. so good.

you turn, just barely to get a side profile of your outfit

"get it together. you've liked him since the beginning of the year, c'mon." you whisper to yourself, your hands are trembling- it's the nerves, your anxiety. you can feel your heart hammering against your ribs as the seconds tick by.

the lump in your throat grows thicker when your mind flickers to him. you could only imagine the nerves he must be feeling right now. actually, was this even his first date?

maybe. just maybe, this wasn't his first date-

you're violently shaken from your thoughts when 3 reps of knocks hit your door.

he's here.

"open the door, you can't leave him out there." you mutter, forcing your feet to move before you decide to dive under your covers and fake your death.

you make it to the door, slowly. your hand hesitates on the door handle, still trembling, you grab the door handle harder before twisting it- it's cold under your fingertips, grounding you in the moment and greeting him.

your heart swells at the sight in front of you. gojo in all his glory, blacked rimmed glasses, those electric blue eyes and that white hair you wish you could run your fingers through.

yeah, you should've worn the spider-man pajama bottoms. gojo is in baggy spider-man pajama bottoms with the matching shirt to go along with it. you never noticed how thick his arms were before, he was always in that hoodie. were you checking him out right now?

gojo clears his throat softly. "happy valentines day."

you blink. you already feel the heat fighting its way into your cheeks.

"happy valentines day," you say with a soft smile, you step back to open the door further. "you can come in. welcome to my humble abode."

gojo lets out a sigh that sounded more like a disguised laugh before walking into your room. his cologne hits your nose before anything- the smell is intoxicating when you breathe it in. something woodsy and earthy.

he's here. standing in your room.

you quickly shut the door before turning back around to face him.

"here. uh-" gojo starts, handing you a heart shaped box of mixed chocolates. "i wasn't sure.. which chocolate you liked, so i got a variety."

you stare down at the heart-shaped box, heat crawling up your neck. “oh. . .uhm-” your words stumble out. “i-i’m allergic to cocoa beans, actually.”

gojo freezes in his stance, the box of chocolates getting squeezed under his fingers. his eyes go wide, then a small, nervous laugh escapes him. “wha- wait, really?”

you nod, cheeks flaming hotter than before. “y-yeah. . .i should’ve told you.”

for a second, there’s a pause- awkward, tense, and weirdly sweet. then, gojo’s grin returns, sheepish but genuine. “well. . .guess i’m officially the worst valentine’s gift-giver ever.”

you can’t help it- a small, nervous giggle escapes your lips. “not the worst. . .maybe just the most… thoughtful?”

he shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “thoughtful? yeah, i’ll take that. but next year. . .i’m doing research on your allergies first.”

next year? was he wanting to be with you again next valentines too?

before you let the thought take you under, your arm is shooting out. "we can sit on the bed, i'll pull out the movies i have. if none look interesting, we can stream one."

"do you have any marvel movies?" gojo starts moving to the bed, but not without placing the box of chocolates by the door. "you can never go wrong with marvel."

you heart picks up speed again as you crouch to look through your movie bin. "i have the spider-man movie," you hear the bed creak under his weight. "based on the pajama pants, i think you'd like it."

"spider-man is great," you can hear the smile in gojo's voice while you place the dvd into the disc player, double checking it for any scratches. "is spider-man okay with you?"

you nod quickly, a little too eagerly, as you grab the remote and hit play on the dvd player. "yeah, spider-man's perfect. i haven't watched it in forever." your voice comes out steadier than you feel, but your hands are still shaky as you climb onto the bed beside him, careful to leave a polite gap between your bodies.

the mattress dips under your weight, and you tuck your legs under you, pretending to focus on the opening credits rolling across the tv screen mounted on your wall.

gojo shifts a bit, stretching his long legs out in front of him, his spider-man pants riding up just enough to show a sliver of ankle. he's leaning back against the headboard, arms crossed casually over his chest, but you notice the way his fingers tap rhythmically against his bicep- like he's nervous too.

"cool. I mean, it's a classic. peter parker's basically the king of awkward, so. . .fitting for us, right?"

you let out a soft laugh, glancing at him sideways. his blue eyes flicker to yours behind those glasses, and there's that tight-lipped smile again, the one that makes your stomach flip. "yeah, awkward solidarity."

the movie starts, filling the room with the familiar sounds of new york city chaos and web-slinging action. you try to relax, sinking back into the pillows, but every sense is hyper-aware of him.

the faint scent of his cologne mixes with the floral room freshener, and the bed feels smaller than it ever has. about ten minutes in, your phone buzzes on the nightstand-probably the pizza delivery app reminding you to order.

"oh, right. pizza," you say, reaching for it. "what do you like on yours? i'm good with anything, as long as it's not too spicy."

gojo tilts his head, thinking. "pepperoni and extra cheese? classic, like the movie." he grins, and you feel a spark of warmth at how easy this feels, despite the butterflies rioting in your gut.

you place the order- two mediums, just in case- and set a timer for delivery. as the movie plays on, you both comment here and there: him geeking out over the fight scenes, you laughing at peter's fumbling attempts at flirting.

it's comfortable, almost too comfortable, until about halfway through when a particularly intense scene has you both leaning forward. your hand brushes his accidentally as you reach for a pillow to hug against your chest.

"sorry," you murmur, pulling back quickly, but he doesn't move away. instead, his pinky finger hooks lightly around yours, tentative, like he's testing the waters.

"it's okay," he says softly, his voice lower than before. his eyes aren't on the screen anymore- they're on you. the room feels warmer, the movie fading into background noise as your heart hammers. "hey. . .can I ask something?"

you swallow, nodding. "yeah?"

he hesitates, his adam's apple bobbing. "this is. . .kinda my first date. like, ever. is it lame if i say i'm nervous?"

your breath catches. shoko was right- he's just as inexperienced as you. it eases something in your chest, knowing you weren't alone in your bundle of nerves- making the confession tumble out. "no, not lame. it's my first too. and. . .yeah, i'm nervous, too."

his eyes soften, that crooked smile returning. "good. i mean- not good you're nervous, but. . .makes me feel less like an idiot." he shifts closer, the gap between you closing until your thighs touch.

his hand fully entwines with yours now, warm and a little clammy. "you look really nice, by the way. in your pajamas. i mean, not that you don't always, but.."

you feel the heat rush to your face, but you manage a shy smile. "thanks. you do too. the spider-man look suits you."

he chuckles, but it's breathy, charged. the movie's forgotten now as he leans in, his free hand coming up to gently push a strand of hair behind your ear. his touch lingers, thumb brushing your cheek. "can i. . .kiss you?"

your nod is immediate, whisper-soft. "y-yeah."

he closes the distance slowly, like he's afraid you'll vanish, his lips meeting yours in a tentative press. it's soft at first- awkward angles and hesitant pressure, but when you tilt your head, and it clicks.

his mouth moves against yours, warm and sweet, tasting faintly of mint. your hand finds its way to his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart mirroring yours. he deepens the kiss, a small sigh escaping him as his fingers thread into your hair.

when you pull back for air, his glasses are slightly fogged, and you both laugh nervously. "that was. . .wow," he mutters, forehead resting against yours.

"yeah," you agree, breathless. the pizza delivery knocks at the door then, interrupting the moment before you can say anything else, jolting you both apart.

you scramble up to grab it, paying quickly before setting the boxes on your desk and grabbing your disposable plates, but food suddenly seems secondary as you return to the bed, the tension thicker now.

you eat propped up against the pillows, the movie still playing, but your eyes keep drifting to each other. halfway through your slices, he sets his down and turns to you fully. "i. . .don't want to rush anything, but being here with you. . .it feels right. right?"

your pulse races, shoko's words echoing in your mind, but this feels natural, not forced. "it is. i-i'm not opposed to anything." you whisper.

he kisses you again, more confident this time, guiding you back against the pillows. his hands roam tentatively- over your arms, your sides, down your thigh- until one slips under your shirt, fingers splaying across your bare stomach.

you gasp into his mouth, and he pulls back, eyes searching yours. "is this alright?"

"yeah," you whisper, arching further into his touch. "it's okay"

he explores slowly, pushing your shirt up inch by inch, exposing skin to cool air and his warm gaze. when the fabric bunches under your arms, he pauses, waiting silently for your okay.

you nod, and he helps you tug it off completely, then your bra, his breath catching audibly as your breasts are bared.

"you're. . .beautiful," he breathes, almost reverent.

his hands hover for a second before he cups one gently, thumb brushing over the nipple. it pebbles instantly under his touch, and you bite your lip to stifle a whimper.

he leans down, kissing along your collarbone, then lower, until his lips close around the sensitive peak. his tongue flicks experimentally, and when you moan softly, threading fingers into his fluffy white hair, he grows bolder- sucking lightly, rolling the bud between his lips, switching to the other side with the same careful attention.

your back arches off the bed, hips shifting restlessly. heat pools low in your belly, slickness gathering between your thighs.

he notices, pulling back with flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips. "can i. . .go lower?" his voice is husky, unsure but eager.

"please," you breathe, your nerves suddenly not even a thought in your mind.

he kisses a slow trail down your stomach, pausing to dip his tongue into your navel, making you giggle despite the tension. his fingers hook into the waistband of your sleep shorts and lace underwear, tugging them down together when you lift your hips to help.

he settles between your spread thighs, eyes wide as he takes you in.

"i've... never done this," he admits quietly, almost embarrassed. "but I want to make you feel good. tell me what you like."

"it's okay," you assure him, though your own nerves are buzzing. "just. . .go slow. and maybe start with kissing there first?"

he nods, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, working his mouth inward. his breath ghosts over your cunt making you shiver. then his tongue darts out- tentative, flat, licking a broad stripe from entrance to your clit.

you jolt at the sensation, a sharp gasp escaping making him freeze.

"too much?" he asks, voice muffled against your skin.

"no no- good. really good. just. . .focus on the top part. the little- " your words cut off into a whine as he obeys, tongue circling your clit experimentally.

he finds a rhythm quickly, lapping in soft, steady strokes, then sucking gently when your hips buck. one hand grips your thigh to hold you open, the other slides up to lace fingers with yours, squeezing when you moan his name.

"satoru-" you gasp, free hand tugging his hair harder. he hums in response, the vibration sending sparks up your spine.

he experiments- flicking his tongue faster, then slow drags, pressing the flat of his tongue and letting you grind against it. your thighs start to tremble, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter.

"i- i'm close-" you manage, voice breaking.

he doesn't stop, doesn't pull away. instead he sucks harder, tongue working relentless circles until the coil snaps.

you come with a choked cry, back bowing off the bed, thighs clamping around his head as waves crash through you. he works you through it, gentling his touch only when you start to whimper from overstimulation, kissing softly up your mound, your stomach, until he's hovering over you again.

"that was. . .incredible," you pant, pulling him down for a messy, desperate kiss. you can taste yourself on his tongue, and it only makes you want him more.

he groans into your mouth, hips rocking instinctively against your thigh. you feel how hard he is through his pants- thick, insistent. your hand slides down, palming him through the fabric. He hisses, hips jerking.

"your turn?" you whisper against his lips.

he shakes his head, breathless. "only if you want. i don't have. . .protection, though."

you bite your lip, reaching over to the nightstand drawer. "shoko. . .insisted i keep some." you pull out a condom, tearing the packet with slightly trembling fingers. "she told me even the nerds and the shys have sex.. so"

his eyes widen, then soften with something like awe. "you're sure?"

"positive."

you help him out of his pants and boxers, breath catching at the sight- long and thick, flushed like dark cherries at the tip, already leaking. he watches you with wide eyes as you roll the condom down his length, your touch making him twitch and bite his lip hard.

he positions himself between your legs again, one hand braced beside your head, the other guiding himself to your entrance. he rubs the head along your folds, coating himself in your slick, both of you gasping at the contact.

"tell me to stop if it hurts," he murmurs, forehead pressed to yours.

you nod, hands on his shoulders. he pushes in slowly- inch by careful inch. the stretch burns at first, a deep pressure that makes you tense. he freezes immediately.

"you okay?" his voice is strained, every muscle locked to hold still.

"yeah- just. . .give me a second." you breathe through it, relaxing second by second. when the sting fades to a dull ache, you nod. "okay. move."

he exhales shakily and rocks forward, shallow thrusts at first, letting you adjust. it's clumsy- his rhythm uneven, hips stuttering when you clench around him- but the friction builds heat quickly.

you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he groans, low and wrecked.

"fuck- you feel. . .so good," he rasps, burying his face in your neck. his thrusts grow steadier, harder, the bed creaking under the motion. you meet him halfway, rolling your hips, nails dragging down his back.

"satoru- harder," you plead through moans and he obeys, snapping his hips with more force. "please"

the angle shifts, hitting that spongy spot inside that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. you cry out, and he angles there again, again, chasing the sound.

one hand slips between you, fingers finding your clit, rubbing messy circles. the dual sensation is overwhelming- fullness, pressure, slick friction.

pleasure coiling tight again in your belly.

"i'm- gonna-" you gasp, walls fluttering around him and begging for release.

"come for me," he pleads, voice breaking. "please- i want to feel it."

you shatter again, harder this time, clenching rhythmically around him as you cry his name. He follows almost immediately- hips stuttering, a choked groan tearing from his throat as he spills into the condom, body trembling above you.

he collapses forward, careful not to crush you, both of you panting, sweat-slick and boneless.

after a long moment he pulls out gently, tying off the condom and tossing it into your mini can before gathering you against his chest.

"that was. . ." he starts, then laughs softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "perfect. you're perfect."

you smile, curling into him, heart still racing. "happy valentine's, satoru."

"happy valentine's, pretty girl." he echoes, arms tightening around you like he never wants to let go.

the movie credits roll unnoticed in the background, the night stretching warm and quiet ahead of you both.

© dollhousesinner - please do not copy or feed to ai. ꒰taglist - or comment to be added꒱ nerd art by @/nekozuu_

first & only a/n: i adored doing this collab sm !- such a huge thank you to sixxels for asking me to join her & other amazing writers, i love you sm sweet girl ! and the connections i made throughout this have me smiling so big- always.

[princess-vibes25]

LEWIS PULLMAN IN A SUPER BOWL COMMERCIAL?! Oh, I’m eating good tonight

[redstonedust]

gameshow voice: is it gay subtext or are the writers just so catastrophically bad at writing female characters that the only relationships in the entire story that feel human are the ones between the men.

[princess-vibes25]

No exactly, like in some of the proclaimed ‘gayest’ shows, you mention of a female character and suddenly the fandom goes quiet or starts talking about how they hate her 😒

[decamarks]

AFTER NEARLY 19 YEARS OF THIS STUPID WEBSITE

[blowery]

also, on web, we just launched an advanced search dialog that should help folks use all the new operators we added.

[sybilius]

So true....

[ayl1nsmv]

CAN A KIND SOUL PLEASE SEND ME AN ALTERNATIVE TO THE BATO WEBSITE PLEASE IM GOING TO DIE PLEASE I CANT DO THIS ANYMORE

[princess-vibes25]

PLEASE

[tonycries]

Golden Brown - C.K.

Synopsis. Dearest gentle reader, it’s a royal affair! This social season we answer the age-long question: can a knight truly love a princess? For amidst the celebrations and pomp of your royal betrothal, rumors circulate that a certain handsome knight, Choso Kamo, already has his eyes (and hands) on you. Is forbidden romance in the air?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, knight!Choso, Bridgerton AU, princess x knight, best-friends-to-Iovers, regency AU, YEARNING, letters, secret admirers, betrothals, poIiticaI alliances, unrequited Iove (or is it?), the Ton, Lady Whistledown’s, papers, scandaIs, balls, pússydrúnk Choso, oraI (fem rec.), fíngering, spítting, he’s a MUNCH, face-ríding, sneaking off, service d, he’s FÉRAL, ríding him, using him, fírst times, manhandIing, making it fit, cervíx smooches, begging to be yours, rough s babbIing, DÚMBlFICATlON, making you work for it, creampíes, pushing it back in, cúmpIay, slight overstím, confessions, HAPPY ENDING, coronations, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 12.9k

A/N. Heard there was a new Bridgerton season so I just had to <33

The letter is short.

“It’s you.

My dearest princess, surely, you must know that it can only ever be you.

I have battled fruitlessly this greatest conflict of my life—those of the soul—and I cannot bear it any longer. I have fraught, and choked, and swallowed my words in the hope that, perhaps, one day they shall cessate along with this traitorous heart of mine. It is what it deserves. Diverted from its duties to the body, my heart exists solely to count the beats of time that I am beside you.

It aches the greatest ache, as my affection remains unchanged. And the words yest escape me onto this page, my dearest princess.

Thus, I beg that you forgive this lowly admirer for his treason.

For, it’s you. It’s you. It’s you.

It shall at last and forevermore be you.”

Unsigned and unclaimed. Left on the gilded surface of your nightstand, as it had been every morning for the past four years.

Your bashful secret admirer.

Now, the first time had been rather a shock—to both you and the flutter of attendants who’d happened upon the parchment. You certainly didn’t have any close acquaintances nor prospects entertained whom were so dedicated to deliver a letter at the splinter of daybreak (and a brief interrogation of your personal ladies-in-waiting showed that they’d seen nothing of who’d been slipping you notes at night). 

It had to be someone from the palace, however - if they managed to deliver these letters so frequently and so easily.

Though most nobles sent their correspondences upon dishes of pure silver, with an attendant from their court that would recount every detail of your reaction to them later. But this one had no staff attached to it, no emblem, no name. No identity in the very least.

Nothing but slanted, slightly trembling words as if the writer’s hand had been caught in an inescapable tremor the entire time. And the flower.

Every morning, once you excitedly unfurled the little pink ribbon that tied the letter up, a small yellow daffodil would fall from inside. As if a piece of the early morning sunlight, plucked from the skies, placed in your hands, you’d roll the stem between your fingers as you read through the letter.

Each word more tantalizing than the last.

You’d tried to spend the night awake on several occasions, of course, to catch this romantic culprit in the act. But the only thing that served you was a few hours of sleep, and a thoroughly cranky elocution teacher once you kept nodding off during class - and no admirer, evidently. And yet you’d still awoken to the neatly tied-up parchment in the morning. 

Like a phantom in the night.

The letter was the first sign of daybreak itself.

When that scheme had found itself utterly useless, you’d taken to warning your personal knights stationed outside your royal chamber - certainly not to get your admirer caught, rather to find out just a morsel of information about them. A morsel.

Yuji and Nobara had been rightfully horrified, though you’d insisted that whoever this was meant no harm! 

You suspected that your admirer snuck into your room in the few minutes between the knights changing their stations: Yuji and Nobara would be set firmly outside until midnight, and any dark hours past that would have your doorstep occupied by knights Choso and Yaga. Two of the most trusted knights in all the kingdom, with all the accolades to prove it.

And it certainly helped that Choso had been your personal knight for the past two years - though you’d been friends for far longer than that. Always at your side, always staring down nobles that overstepped, always offering his hand out to you when a step was too steep.

He was your rock. He is.

He’d been one of the court advisor’s sons, your age. You remember being a young royal unaware (or perhaps uncaring) of the duties that loomed for you in the horizon; spending summer mornings playing tag with Choso and a few of the other children in the palace, and winter nights breezing through books and time like sand—just the two of you in that grandiose library. His father resided in a modest estate not too far off from the palace, and Choso cried every time he had to say goodbye to you. Every single day.

You grew the most close with Choso.

And once he had come of age, he’d promptly signed up to become a knight. 

Through training and nutrition plans, and battles and scars, Choso had climbed up the ranks faster than any other you’ve ever seen. Though he was still as tender-hearted as you remembered him - he’d shed a few tears the day he was assigned to a brief battle on the outskirts of the kingdom. Away from you.

But you’d simply wiped away his tears and cooed in a low voice that your elocution lessons hadn’t taught you to—come back to me soon, Cho.

And he had.

The battle with the Zenins had ended, and Choso Kamo had returned as the kingdom’s most celebrated warrior. It’s whispered to this day amongst the palace staff how he’d kicked off his saddle in town, run past all the bubbling celebrations- straight to the royal palace where he’d waded past the congratulating courts and straight to you—

All in platonic friendship, of course.

Of course.

But you suppose it didn’t help quell the rumors when Choso rejected your father, the King’s, offers of estates and riches. Of lifetimes of luxury. He’d stood before the royal court and bowed his head, having only one request of the monarch: to be your personal knight. Forevermore until he breathes.

And how could one say no to the turning point of the battle?

And thus, he’d become your knight. Yours.

You suppose it was around this time that the letters had started, too…

You clutch this morning’s letter to your chest and breathe in the smell of fresh ink, leather, and the faintest hint of summer vanilla that dripped off of the page. It was always this scent that followed your admirer’s ardent declarations, and soon enough every time you passed the gardens or poked at a vanilla dessert, you couldn’t help but think of him. 

A knock interrupts your thoughts and you startle.

Pushing the letter carefully underneath your pillow, “Come in.”

The towering double doors of your bedroom had small gilded swirls on it, which, if you stepped back, melded together to form an image that looked like the clouds above. Frothing and tumbling and swirling. Heaven itself. How oddly poetic that through these gates of heaven would walk in Choso Kamo, his knight’s armor catching the rays of morning sunlight.

His visor was pushed up to reveal his face.

His features were sharp and handsome.

His doe-like brown eyes were the envy of the courts.

He looks at you in your thin nightgown and flushes- “Y-your Highness—!”

Choso’s armor clanks and clutters as he hurries to turn away from you, and soon enough you find yourself staring at the knight’s broad back. Chiselled after so many years of training. Bringing a hand up to your lips you have to stifle a giggle at the sheer contrast- “My dearest knight, does it disgust you to gaze upon me like so?”

“Th-the furthest thing from it, Your Highness.” He sputters, and you swear you catch the back of his neck - just the slightest slit you could see between his armor plates - burning bright red. Blushing.

“Do you believe me of unsound character, then?” You challenge, “Do you believe me a harl-”

“Bear not the thought!”

“Then turn.”

He does—barely. Just enough degrees that you can see his handsome side profile, and he can stare at you through his peripheral vision- though that, too, is largely obscured by his helmet. “Forgive me…” Choso gulps. “-but the mere sight of you is not suited to be gazed upon by this lowly knight, my princess.”

“You have been within ames-ace of Yaga for far too long.” You tut.

But you’re still reaching for the gold-laced robe draped over the edge of your bed - your attendants had placed it there last night. Choso was always the first to greet you in the morning.

And it’s only once he’s completely sure that the robe now covered the beautiful angles and curves of your body, that is obscured from him what is Eve’s most beautiful apple, does he turn to face you. Only to find that he had spent so long mustering up the courage, that you’d already dipped underneath your pillow and pulled out-

“Yet another letter, Your Highness?” Choso queries, and you nod. 

It was requisite that such an occurrence must be shared with your personal knight - most of all, your friend. And you didn’t feel the need to hide it from Choso as you did with your parents—perhaps because you knew his duty was to you, above all. You above the crown. “Oh, you shan’t believe it- today they wrote the most romantic line about how their heart beats simply to count their time beside me—”

Choso gives a jerky nod, “And the flower?”

“As always.” You’re pinching the little flower where it had been laid safely on top of your decadent pillow, showing it to him.

Your best friend takes one look at it and breaks out into an almost…relieved smile. “I see- he really is a stubborn old fool, isn’t he?”

“Oh, don’t call him a fool.” You huff. Turning away with your flower, “I think he’s just lovely.”

“Suppose he is a fool?” Choso probes, “Suppose he isn’t of great wits- would you still think he’s lovely?”

You furrow your brows at him, “But, of course. Intelligence cannot be measured by how many dusty books you read. Despite that, I believe that one would be of rather sound wits should they wish to compose letters this beautiful.”

There’s a pause. “Then suppose he isn’t rather pleasant to look at?”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” You counter stubbornly. “I think that I should find them quite beautiful either way.”

“Then suppose he’s a commoner?”

“That is the last thing I would fuss about-”

“But what if he’s a…” Choso starts- and as you wait for him to finish—he shakes his head. Giving you a light bow, “I apologize for getting carried by the conversation, Your Highness. I have just been reminded of my orders to urge you into prompt preparation to receive some very special guests today. I have summoned your ladies-in-waiting, they are stationed at the third royal baths.”

“Guests?” You ask. The palace always did have a constant flow of royals and nobles and merchants and people of the public going in and out, and rarely did you have to make a personal accompaniment with them. “What special guests may we—”

It’s then that you look at your calendar of quarter days: social days and tutoring days, and a day circled in rouge.

Today.

“Ah…”

.

.

.

Dearest gentle reader, 

Royal gossip has always been the lifeblood of the Ton—particularly this year, with the debut of our Royal Highness, the princess, this social season. Rumors have been a-swirling for quite some time now, speculation about just which eligible gentleman will be lucky enough to win over the beautiful royal’s hand in marriage: perhaps a fair noble, perhaps the richest merchant of the land, perhaps a prince from a far-away land. The possibilities are endless!

Our dignified royal family has always been rather private about such matters regarding their princess, but today this humble writer is here to put these whispers to rest, my dear reader.

My most trust-worthy sources inform me of a royal fleet that has docked in our harbor early in the morrow—a fleet with none other than the Zenin family insignia upon its flag!

Now, before you fear another military skirmish with the ever-ruthless Zenin family, gentle reader, let me assure you that my insiders state this royal visitation to not be an act of warfare. Rather…of romance.

Some claim an age-long betrothal, some claim a political marriage in the works.

The cauldron of curiosity bubbles even further once you learn that the Zenin family, including His Highness Naoya Zenin, shall be paying a royal visit to the palace today! And some members of the royal knights claim they shall take extra precaution, and that Her Highness’s personal guard - a handsome young knight by the name of Choso Kamo - is to be with her at all times. Ooo la la!

It will certainly make it difficult for either Prince Naoya nor any other…admirer to get close to the princess (the palace walls talk, gentle reader, and some of my sources claim the presence of a second interest in Her Highness’s life—secret letters being hand-delivered every single night!) 

But that is neither here nor there, and your writer is certainly not planning a visit to the royal dungeons in the near future!

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown.

.

.

.

“—such a beautiful garden-” Naoya’s lip curls as he looks out of the tall, sun-lit window at the rolling field below. Your parents barely have enough time to open their mouths in response before he continues, “-but of course, ours is much larger. Second only to our stables and the incredible militia grounds that we have-”

Everyone in the meeting hall closes their mouth, quenches their hope for speaking at least for the next twenty-five minutes.

You learn within the first few moments of meeting him that Naoya Zenin liked hearing his own voice, and any time he wasn’t, he was replaying his own voice over and over inside his head. You also learn that you don’t like him in the slightest.

Which makes being betrothed to him all the more difficult.

It had been a political alliance- or so your father had briefed you one night several months ago. Calling you into his office, holding your hand, he had let you cry on his shoulder for the first time in years that night.

To unite two people who had been locked in a bloody border war for far too long - that was your duty.

And this marriage was the key.

It had been long enough to let the finality of it sink in, and not nearly as long enough for it not to sting. Still. It hurt like a hot iron embedded in your heart once you had to curtsey for the prince. 

He had barely bowed back.

And now the two royal families - as well as several esteemed members of your council - were spread out in the grand meeting hall. Watching as the blond-haired royal turned his nose up at the plate of intricate desserts offered to him by a male attendant—he flicks his hand at the boy and orders the woman standing beside him to do it.

The woman being no one else but the most talented healer in all the land. 

Shoko Ieri looks ready to stab him with her scalpel.

“Compensating.” A low whisper sounds from behind you.

You don’t have to turn to know that it’s Choso- but you do anyway. And your heart flutters just a little as you spy his warm brown eyes through the gaps of his visor, “Pardon?”

He repeats, “Compensating.” Nodding towards Naoya who had now roped your mother into a spiel about his armory.

“—we boast the largest swords in the entire world, you see.” Naoya was bragging in his grating tone, and your poor mother could only nod. “The best- the biggest. Any old cod can claim that size doesn’t matter and yet our biggest swords are-”

You can’t help it - you catch Choso’s eye and you both have to force yourselves from bursting into a fit of chuckles.

Both turning into each other.

Your hand clutching Choso’s arm for support.

Choso’s gentle hum of laughter breezing the top of your head.

Only too late do you realize that everyone in the room had their eyes turned to you - each in varying degrees of horror at the proximity between a princess and her knight. Except for Shoko who had gone from glowering at the prince to looking somewhat…knowing.

Damn you, Shoko—you’re half-heartedly cursing her out in your head as you straighten up. Trying not to flinch as Choso follows and takes a step backwards to stand behind you.

As a knight is told to be.

You can’t see the expression on Choso’s face nor his demeanour, but what you do know is the familiar creaking of metal as your best friend sags in on himself. Almost shielding himself from the world underneath all that armor. 

Perhaps from it.

You notice that he always did so whenever someone in court made his place known: whenever they flickered their eyes between the two of you, whenever they pushed their noble sons to greet you, whenever they questioned just why a knight was allowed to even look at the princess like so.

He took it all to heart. Crumpled it up inside, and in doing so he crumpled that beating thing as well.

You wanted to say something—but you knew you couldn’t.

And, of course, it’s Naoya who speaks first. “Hmm, once we are wed then I shall have to make sure that such a thing is not repeated.”

“There is no such thing to speak of.” You speak through a grit smile.

“So you say—” He takes a bite of a puff pastry and places it back on the golden plating, “-but as your husband, it is I who shall have the final say.”

Yell strangled in your throat, you take a step forward-

Only for your father to sense the growing tension and ease his way in, “So is that to say a royal wedding might be on the horizon?”

Naoya takes his sweet time answering, “Well…” Looking straight at you as he contemplates, he wipes off a bit of leftover vanilla cream from the edge of his lip and flicks it. “That is what I’m saying, Your Majesty.”

Your father claps his hands heartily, “Send for the wedding preparations right away—! Oh, and draft the announcement for the-”

But you don’t hear a single word.

It feels numb.

It feels like something’s buzzing inside of your head.

You’re unsteady on your feet until a cold metallic hand reaches out and clasps hold of you.

You know it’s Choso and you do not let go.

.

.

.

Your heart aches at the letter you receive on the morning afterwards: the morning of the official announcement.

“My dearest princess, cry not.

Cry not—for a single drop of your tears is worth more than all the raindrops in heaven, all the rays of sunlight kissing the Earth, and all the beats of my heart. 

It has been running rattle-brained, foolishly wild, these past few hours as I stagger upon the thought that I may lose you. Not that this lowly admirer had you in the first place, my dearest princess, you must forgive me for my presumption. But in every little way in which you are mine, I gain to lose you still.

Cry not for a man that should not cry for you, my dearest princess. Cry not for a man that cries for you still.

And I…above all I am a selfish man. I am a selfish man—utterly selfish—and should all the world’s laws be up to me, then you and I, should you wish it, would have been married four summers past.

Alas, I am overruled.”

You’re dressed for the public.

And once you’re escorted to the royal balcony where all palace announcements are conducted, you look up from the ground just in time to see Yuji catch Choso’s eye. The long-haired man behind you shakes his head.

Though you’re not quite sure what it means, it somehow makes you feel all the more worse.

.

.

.

Dearest gentle reader, 

Though it is not in good manners for a lady to gasconade, allow this writer here to tell you that I had proclaimed so—a royal wedding is forthcoming!

You have read that right, dear reader!

Don your best silks and gather your best florals, for soon her Royal Highness, the princess, shall be wed to Prince Naoya Zenin. According to what was proclaimed at the most recent palace announcement, a grand wedding is to take place in a week’s time, immediate after the Royal Diamond Ball, to celebrate the union. Though experts speculate that this marriage is likely of political origins rather than the heart-fluttering romance that some think, one thing is for certan—His Highness, Naoya Zenin, certainly seemed to take the affair in stride.

Witnesses to the official announcement claim that the prince simply couldn’t keep the smile off of his face at the thought of his beautiful new bride (though others claim that it’s due to his imminent rise to the throne thereafter, as he isn’t the first heir to the Zenin Family—however, you didn’t hear that from me, dear reader!)

Others at the site were more entranced by none other than the princess’s trusty personal knight - Choso Kamo was expectedly standing guard beside Her Highness. But what caught the attention of eagle-eyed onlookers was rather the…expression upon his handsome face.

You could not pay me to name a more heart-broken man, dear reader! You could not!

Perhaps this is an omen of how the wedding preparations are being handled behind the curtains? Perhaps this is an omen of…something more?

This writer has a personal inkling about the reasons as to why knight Choso might have looked at Her Highness with nothing less than sorrow (did somebody say tears in his eyes?) 

And amongst this roulette of wishful men I know you’re asking me—but Lady Whistledown, what of the princess’s secret admirer? 

Well—you’ll be happy to know that I come with reliable insight that the secret delivery of love letters has yet to cease! Yes, gentle reader, this particular admirer seems quite passionate in their affections. Even going so far as to send one just after the announcement. Should the letters have yet to halt now, one can only imagine whether they shall stop even after the royal wedding.

The prince. The admirer. The knight (perhaps?) How can one choose?!

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown.

.

.

.

“Big brother-”

“No-”

“Big brother, I simply state that-”

“Quiet, Yuji.” 

Choso’s tone comes out harder than he’d intended, and his chest clenches at the wounded look in the younger boy’s eyes. Without wasting a single second, and without looking to see if anyone was nearby, he’s lunging forwards and embracing the boy into his arms.

Holding him just as he had when they were children and the pink-haired one would fall and bruise himself- though the only one that feels bruised right now is Choso.

It had been a week since the wedding announcement.

And all preparations had been in full swing: enough so that between all the dress-fittings, and the flower-pickings, and the guest-greetings, Choso hadn’t even had the time to exchange a proper conversation with you. Not that he was in the place to - especially not anymore.

Tonight was the Royal Diamond Ball of the season, where one Diamond shall be picked, always taking place inside the palace.

Except, this time, it had doubled in both extravagance and guest-list due to the simple fact that tonight was also the grand ball before your wedding. Tomorrow morning you would walk down the aisle in a dress of white.

Tomorrow morning you will be another’s wife.

He hugs his younger brother tight, “Yuji, I apologize for my brash words-”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Yuji finally breaks the hug, “I was simply careless with my own words.”

“You were not-”

“I just don’t understand why you can’t be happy- why both of you can’t be happy. Together.” He looks away, eyes filling with tears he knows wouldn’t encompass even the tiniest fraction of what his brother has shed over this very reason. “It’s just not fair.”

“Some things…some things are meant to be the way they are.” Choso stares ahead at the gilded hallway spread out before him, “We must simply persist.”

Yuji looks as though he wants to say something more- but at that very moment, the doors to your royal chamber are opening. The two knights had been stationed there until you were fussed-over and all dolled-up for the Royal Diamond Ball tonight - the last as an unwed princess. The last before you were bound to Naoya Zenin.

And looking at you now, Choso thinks that it would’ve been worth it to cut down the wedding and all its procession for you.

Because there wasn’t a word to describe you.

The soft champagne of the taffeta draped over your shoulders and puffed up fashionably at your arms, cascading down in a waterfall of expensive silks up to your ankles. Following were glistening pearls that only brought out the beauty of the dress - your beauty - wrung at the edges of your hem and necklines. Delicate bracelets where your hands were gloved. A singular diamond hanging from your neck. And of course—your tiara.

It weighed heavily on your head.

Your ladies-in-waiting had dabbed on a bit of glittering rouge on your lips.

It was all that Choso could stare at.

You weren’t just bound to be the Diamond of the season, you were a diamond from the night sky. And he’s still trying to find a word to describe you that he knows wouldn’t come close, not even in a hundred of his l—

“Choso?” You cock your head gently at him. Trying not to bite down on your lower lip in nervousness and smear your attendants’ hard work, “Is something the matter-”

“Enchanting.” He blurts out- but that wasn’t enough. Would never be enough.

You look at him with slightly widened eyes, and he wouldn’t take the word back anyway. He looks at you and says in a more firm tone, “You look enchanting, my princess.”

You try - and fail - to bite back a smile—and ultimately end up swatting him on his armored chest. “Enchanting? Do not think that flattery shall stop me from forcing you into a dance tonight.”

“Ah—foiled again!” He dramatically looks to the skies.

“Fool.” You joking strike him again - Choso had dressed up for the occasion as well. His armor had been polished until it shined like a mirror, reflecting your own two ogling eyes back at you. Even the hilt of his blade looked deathly sharp.

He’d pushed his visor up and that gave you a glimpse of those two doe-like eyes, chestnut brown and warm. He was staring at you in a way that made you squirm.

Though Lady Whistledown’s society papers tended to use pretty prose, what they hadn’t lied about was this. Just how handsome he was.

“P-perhaps we ought to make our entrance.” You say.

And he nods in understanding, “We ought to—” But, what Choso realizes, is that he doesn’t understand at all.

And his breath hitches as you clutch onto his right arm with both hands. Attaching yourself against his side- how he wished he could feel the warmth of your body through his armor-

“These shoes are far too tall.” You fail to meet his eyes, “Forgive me, but if I could use a bit of support until-”

“Anything you want, my princess.” He breathes.

Your actual entrance into the grand ball is a blur - you’ve attended far too many of these in far too short a time before. It’s the crunch of velvet carpet underneath your too-tall shoes, and the strangely burning sensation of all eyes being directed at you. 

At the way you were still holding onto Choso.

You distance yourself from him silently, and he falls in step behind you. The master of ceremonies announces your name even though everyone here already knows it. The staircase is never-ending and unrelenting, each step louder than the thundering of your heartbeat, a staccato of what feels like your own unravelling.

You’re slightly off-kilter as you reach the end- before a hand shoots out to help you.

You grasp onto the man’s calloused hand gratefully, looking up to realize that it was Yaga. 

“Watch your step, Your Highness.” He helps you stand and wade through the crowd. As the head knight, Yaga had the freedom to forgo the armor tonight. It was a strong navy blue, nearly the entire chest of it covered in numerous medals and colors - warning off keen-eyed nobles from nearing. 

You catch sight of Naoya surrounded by ladies-in-wait by the feast-

Yaga’s voice breaks through, “What is it that’s on your mind, Your Highness?”

“Nothing.” You answer instantly, “It’s just- it must be pre-wedding jitters.”

“I see…” He looks at you intensely, and you feel as though he can see right through you. Know right through what you’re really feeling. “Then in that case, all is well, correct?”

“Correct.”

He almost smiles, “And you are ready to be wed to His Highness Naoya, correct?”

“C-correct.”

“And you shall be thinking of a certain knight- or a certain admirer on the altar, correct?”

“Correct-” You falter, “Excuse me?”

“Ah—it seems the orchestra is commencing.” Yaga looks into the distance where the violin players had started easing in soft trills, as if music itself had waited for your arrival. “Now, my back is certainly too weathered for such dances- but I shall hold you with me no longer, Your Highness.” He turns to you and gives you a gentle smile, “Go—have your first dance.”

You almost plead, “But with who?” Naoya was still…occupied with all the court ladies- not that you would ever in a million years want to dance with Naoya Zenin in the first place-

“Whoever your heart may desire.” Yaga interrupts your thoughts, letting go of your hand- though not before pressing in something delicate and flat into it. He looks somewhere behind you—“A letter, asked of me to hand to you. I only implore that you stay as true to your heart, as he is to you.”

As Yaga disappears into the crowd starting to twirl in their tulle skirts—you open that little piece of paper up.

A short message.

“My dearest princess,

Steps behind you, a vision I do not deserve to see. 

The most enchanting girl in the world to me.”

Enchanting.

The paper nearly falls out of your hand, and you can only look behind you - to where Choso Kamo was refusing to meet your eyes. His metallic visor was down and you couldn’t help but step closer.

Uncaring what they say as you’re reaching out and fastening it upwards- “Is this your penmanship, my dearest knight?”

He does not answer.

“Do you think I look enchanting, my dearest knight?”

He does not answer.

“Does your heart beat solely for me, my dearest knight?”

He does not answer.

“Do you not wish for me to be married—” At that, he flinches like a wounded animal. And you already know that he most certainly won’t be answering that question. Which is why you’re answering instead, “For I feel much the same towards you.”

He snaps his head up, glittering brown eyes pleading down at you. He breathes…“Of which sentiment?”

You smile, “All of it.”

“A-and the marriage-” Choso takes a jerky step towards you, his armor creaking like the weight of dungeon chains. “The alliance-”

“May I have this first dance?” You simply reach your hand out.

And as the music crescendos, he takes your hand and presses a kiss to the back of your head. Letting you lead into a golden floor.

Gasps deafen the ballroom music.

.

.

.

The Ton was a-flutter and a-ripe with scandal as you spent your first dance at the Royal Diamond ball with your knight instead of your betrothed. At least, that’s what you imagine - the truth is that you’d been too entranced with Choso Kamo to even pay attention.

He’d held you gently - so gently - as though his large hands could break you at any given moment. 

And Choso had never let his eyes stray from your figure as he twirled you around the ballroom. He would have cared about the whispered- he should have…but how could he when he had the most enchanting girl in the world in his arms?

Too soon- your dance was cut short by an arm on Choso’s shoulder. Stopping him.

You’d both turned to face Naoya Zenin, furious spit lining the edges of his lips. He had barked out a formal order for the knight to step aside and hand him your dance- and though Choso’s hand had gone to his sword…

You’d shaken your head at him.

It was a half-dance with Naoya (of which you’d excused yourself feigning networking duties) and a hastened walk to the edge of the ballroom. Right where Choso Kamo was attempting to blend into the gilded ballroom.

You’d nodded discreetly at him and he already knew—

With Yaga suddenly causing a commotion- accidentally spilling his red wine on Lady Mei Mei’s dress, no one had noticed the two of you slipping out after the second dance. Before the Diamond was announced.

He followed you silently, two steps behind as a knight should, all the way up to your royal bedroom.

It was only once you’d reached your towering double doors that you took Choso by hand- all but dragging the handsome knight inside. And though he’d squawked in surprise, you’d merely looked at your best friend with determined eyes.

“Take me, Choso.”

He gasps. His shudders.

He was going to ruin the princess.

CLANK!

CLANK!

CLANK!

CLANK!

Choso’s heavy armor fell to the ground—

CLANK!

The last of it before the knight scoops his strong arms underneath your legs and hoists you up into that princess carry you’ve read about in every fairy tale. Choso walks you gently over to the expansive bed, before setting you down and laying you all flat—

“Why’re you by the foot of the bed, Cho?” You’re huffing down at the man who was now pressed against the mahogany bedframe. He had his knees down on the soft carpet, kneeled at your feet. Grabbing onto one of Choso’s toned arms - still in a gauzy white poet’s shirt that had been worn underneath his armor - you attempt futilely to pull him upwards. “Come lay with me.”

Looking away with a blush. “Why…have you really not the faintest idea, my dearest princess?” Hearing those words from his mouth sends shivers down your spine. 

He looks at you with dark, half-lidded eyes. Hands spreading your thighs apart and sliding down the sides of your legs. Beneath those customary layers of silk. Choso’s hands keep roaming, and there’s a sudden rush of heat pulsing down to your core once you register his fingertips scraping the edge of your undergarments. 

Mouth falling slightly agape.

“I-It’s only customary to give the lady a kiss before the dance—”

You’re gasping as your brain registers the innuendo- but not before Choso dips his mouth down and gives your cunt a looooong kiss through your sodden panties. Open-mouthed and hot.

He draaaaags the tip of his tongue down your slit n’ tastes you for the first time. Letting a single droplet of your syrupy slick end up splashin’ on his tongue- and he fucking moans. Loud.

Just so husky and attractive that it makes your body buck up into him without even realizing.

And it’s all that Choso needs to let go of his inhibitions. It’s all that he needs to hold both your wrangling thighs down and press himself even deeper against your aroused cunt. Nose-deep. Chest heaving in such guttural puffs.

It’s as if the knight didn’t even need to breathe as long as he could reach deeper against your sopping slit. So wet that he’s feeling your puffy pussylips through the fabric of your underwear- he slashes his tongue between your folds and makes you rut-

“Wh-what is this feeling…ngh.” Unable to help but pipe up in a shrill tone, you struggle to keep your hand pressed against your noisy mouth.

And he doesn’t even answer.

He can’t.

He’s lurching his mouth back and forth at a frenzied pace—crazed. Licking his tongue all over the inches of your cunt he could reach, rubbin’ his ridged tastebuds up and down the swollen outer part of your pussy. 

You were just so damn soaked that it almost felt as if there was no barrier between your pussy and his ravenous mouth at all. Gaping even wider open and heavily kissing your pussy, he was almost thrusting his face against your sensitive cunt-

“Choso-” You gasp, your breaths all dampened. Hands weaving through his long brown hair for dear life. “Choso oh heavens—”

It was just too enchanting how your voice broke on the very last syllable of your sentence. And Choso can’t deny that it makes something carnal deep inside him twitch- “My dearest princess.”

“O-oh…” And you certainly didn’t expect his murmuring tone to send vibrations running up your spine like that.

Breathy. “Is that good, my dearest princess?” Choso’s mouth waters at the way his words only seem to make you splosh out in even more slick—gushing. It trickles greedily down either side of his mouth like two slick rivulates. And you can’t help but snap your head down and think that he looked utterly drunk - gaze half-lidded, lips puffy and red, forehead beading with sweat from his movements. Kissing. “My dearest princess.” Heaving. “My dearest princess.”

“P—please—” You’re trilling out, your head falling into the pillows behind you. “Choso, heavens, I beg of you to c-catch your breath-”

“And yet does it feel good, princess?”

That broken lil’ sentence of his punctuated by the most sloppy slash between your pussylips- smearin’ them apart and accurately pinpointing your clit. With the flexible tip of his tongue he presses inwards against that soft spot and makes you see stars.

Sends your hips rutting furiously against his pretty face, and your moans roaring. “Damn—fuck.” His cock throbs at the way he’d made such a poised, perfect princess break her demeanor. Swear- shit, he really was ruining you. “Fuck, yes- mmm, it feels so good.”

“Feels so good…what?” He’s rasping out.

And you have to blink through your film of tears down at him- “What?” He was now creating a rhythmic mwah of his lips down upon your clit - just lick upon lingering liiiiiick to drive you absolutely wild. 

“It feels so good—” He’s groaning out straight into your cunt, already knowing that you’d be left all tender with his voice And just then you feel two pointed canines snag against your throbbing nub and almost…bite. “-who?”

“Choso—” So that was what he wanted all along? To have you hiccup and squeal his name as he draaaagged his lips from corner to corner of your leaky crevice and lapped up every ounce you gave? To have you absolutely shattered- “Choso-”

“Yeeees?” Alternating between snagging his honed canines down your clit n’ suckling on it.

Like his most favorite candy from the feast downstairs- and yet, you’d be the sweetest dessert out of them all. He was making out with your pussy just like it, too. “Choso- fuck, Choso I didn’t have the daftest idea that you could ever—mmm, it just feels too good.”

“Feels good?” He’s gutturally gasping, teeth scraping through your panties and creating little tears. Wrapping his pink lips ‘round your clit and hollowing his cheeks out of sheer force- “This feels good?”

“Yes-”

Nibblin’ his pearly whites down on your undergarments and tearing it down your slit. Swipin’ his tongue back and forth- “This feels—good-”

“Yes.” You gurgle out. It’s more and more. 

It’s just the pinkish tip of his tongue that was proddin’ at your bundle of nerves. He slips it into a tiny hole town through your silken undergarments- and it’s enough to make your hips cleanly arch off the mattress. “Ch-Chosoooo—” 

Choso’s darkened eyes flap wider open- “Suppose that feels even better, my dearest princess?”

And all he really wanted to do was make you numb with pleasure.

All he really wanted to do was slobber his mouth across that sweetened cunt of yours until he couldn’t even breathe- he’d be satisfied by the fact.

And Choso isn’t even thinking twice before he’s weighing down on one of the tears in your panties - something that he’d done with his very own mouth. Now his crowned fingertips were pushing against the delicate fabric and making it rip-rip-riiiiiiiiiip—!

Not even all the way through.

Just enough for two of Choso’s rightly thick fingers to seep through your undergarments and kiss your hole dead-on.

You flinch as he’s spreading your entrance with the most lecherous slurp! The knobbled ends of his digits pushing aside both your pussylips and simply aiming for that cutely leaking hole- how in heavens were you this wet? This tantalizing?

Tasty.

Choso reaches his slick-gazed fingers out of your cunt and raises it up to his vision - glimmering in the pale moonlight with all your candied liquids - he doesn’t hesitate before plopping them straight into his mouth. His eyes roll to the back of his skull and Choso moans as he tastes you- 

“S-shoooo good—” 

Fuck, was he slurring his words?

You’re raising up onto your elbows to question him, “Choso, did you just-”

But Choso doesn’t seem to hear- Choso doesn’t even seem to have anything running through his mind right now except for you and your pretty pussy. You and your pretty pussy.

You and your pretty pussy that gapes just as he pumps a few inches of his fingers inside - cunt getting glossed in your clingy slick once he squeezes his way inside. He’s feeling for the way your sopping wet walls glue to him like adhesive- stopping him briefly in his tracks before Choso’s stickin’ a thumb on top of your clit and making you take him.

“C’mon-” He hisses between clenched canines, brows furrowing down in concentration. “C’mon c’mon—it feels good. Doesn’t it, princess?”

“It does-” Hiccuping - trying and failing to buck your hips up for more. But the only thing you’re doing is succeeding in having Choso slip a hand up to grab your waist, pinning your body down to the squeaky mattress with such ease.

Your knight’s keeping your body on a damn leash while he fucks out a slooooow and sensual tempo between your legs. Just the fatness of each finger roverin’ deeper spots inside your walls, you swear you can feel out every single stretch. “Easy there, princess.” He knew his princess’s body better, it seems. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“It does but—fuck.” And just then Choso’s hooking his fingers in an incredible way that leaves your legs weak. Plumply pushing against one bunch of your nerves and sending shockwaves up to your brain. “Fuck, I want more, Choso.”

“Patience, Your Highness.” Choso spits out- literally. A dangling ribbon of saliva that clings onto your pussylips n’ makes it easier for the first inch or two of his digits to slip inside.

“But Choso—”

“Patience.” He hums, low vibrations. The space between your legs lets out the most lecherous loud squelches as he’s probin’ in and out. Watching as your swollen pussylips stretch out aaaaaaaall wide open- 

He curls his lengthy digits against the velvety roof of your cunt. Making you just twitch, he’s grinning his slick-lipped grin. “I know you’re all needy right now, princess. But you need to learn to take it loooong and slow—” Emphasizing it by dragging his puffy digits along your walls and scissoring them multiple times. “-like that, see? That feels good, hm?”

“It does, but…” You pout.

Choso’s long lashes quiver, eyes widening slightly. “But?” Slightly crazed.

“But I want- hck!” Further pushing your slobberin’ cunt against his features, you’re dragging your most sensitive bits along his faces and shivering as it grazes his prominent nose. Desperately yowling, “But I want more-”

“Then command it.”

You snap your eyes open, “P-pardon?”

“Then command it.” But it still doesn’t sound real in your ears- ringing with pressure from his fingers slipping in and out. Hitting almost every spot you wanted him to—almost. He latches his mouth ‘round your clit once more and- he doesn’t suck. No.

Choso’s sinking his teeth into that perfect lil’ nub and draaaaagging it right out a centimeter or two until you scream. Fluttering his pretty lashes, “Aren’t you the princess, my dear?” Barely even waiting for your answer before your cunt squelches with a third one of his fingers- “Aren’t I your knight? Go on—command me.”

“P-please-” And Choso gnaws his teeth down even more meanly to stop you from using your royal manners. Until all you can do is bend your spine into the perfect curvature and puuush- grabbing onto his sweaty locks with absolutely no mercy. “Choso, I order you to go harder.”

His cock has never been harder. 

He’s not even giving you a warning before thwacking! a strike with three globular fingertips, all the way at the very gooey bottom of your pussy. Rasping. “Harder?”

“Faster.” You barely gasp. “Choso, I-I order you-”

“Faster?” As if the only thing he can do when he’s so focused on fucking your pussy in harsh, thumpin’ hammers is that mantra of your words. “What else? What else, my liege?”

“Leige…” Bouncing your hips up, up, up—you might be too gone on his perfectly girthy fingers to realize the way you were swervin’ your waist to and fro. Just letting his lengthy fingers navigate the slick maze inside of you, plump fingertips spearheading inside like a spotlight and curving against every spot. 

But Choso notices.

Of course, he notices.

He’s noticed every single thing about you, silent and stoic at your footsteps, for years. Always looking. Always admiring from afar—and he knows when you want something. “What else do you wish for, my princess? What else makes your pussy- hngh, feel good?” 

“I want you to h-hit that one spot-” You’re blubbering through your constant tears. Moving your hips just to the side so that his curvaceous fingers were nearing where you wanted him the most. “So close—oh.”

“Never tell me to do anything twice, Your Highness.” He mutters, tone shot. “I’m always at your service.”

And he was.

And he was shovin’ his fingers - almost thickened with how long they’d been inside you - straight against that bundle of your nerves. Against that crevice you’d heard dubbed as your g-spot from that scandalous literature hidden away at the back of the library…

And when Choso had found that particular spot, he was hitting it like a madman—

Once. Twice. Thrice.

The way he’d memorized just where it was and mapped out every single inch of space inside you was dizzying. The way he’d leave a few sultry split-seconds to twirl his bulbous fingertips against your g-spot before reeling back and thud-thud-thudding. “It feels good, right?”

He was back to that familiar mantra and it was sending zaps of power down your spine to realize just how breathy he sounded. Just how smoky. Just how shattered.

Choso was eating you out like he was going crazy with every lick up your weepin’ pussy crevice. Uuuuup and down and fightin’ against his very own fingers to stick the edge of his tongue inside your quivering hole. “It feels so-” You’re gripping onto the strands of his hair stupidly, “So good-” Tears freely flowing down your cheek with just how many times he was mercilessly forcing his way against your sweetest spots. Your most favorite. “So good- so good- sooo good—”

You smack your hips up in a sloppy drag down Choso’s face and he moans. 

“Choso, you’re just the best—”

And that? Those particular words are just about enough to make his red-hot, achingly hard erection pulse once. Twice.

Beading out a silky trickle of cum that darkens his thick pants.

Before he’s frankly quite sure that he might be on the verge of cumming- and such a valiant knight could never cum before his lovely princess, now, could he? Not daring to be so selfish, Choso heightens the pleasure and pressure until his tongue looked like nothing but a strawberry-pink blur lickin’ into every nook and cranny of yours. Slap-slap-slapping down on your clit.

And his fingers were fucking into you so hard- so ruthlessly. Viciously banging your g-spot like a constant bullseye and Choso was an expert at archery. Didn’t you know?

He doesn’t slow down - doesn’t dare to - even once your drenched walls start convulsing around him in a staccato. Even once you open your mouth in a soundless scream.

Even once you start to cum—

And Choso had never smiled wider in his entire life than he does right now with his lips glued to your pussy. Salivating. Tongue strokin’ your clit through every peak of your high- “C-cumming, Choso.” You pant out tearily. “And I can’t seem to stop…”

“You don’t have to.” Right on cue he bangs a roughened thrust just against your g-spot. Leaving you throbbing and aching for more.

And everything ‘more’ that you want - Choso’s more than happy to give.

Your loyal knight elongating your wave of bliss with his slick fingers. The perfect amount of thickness to stretch your walls but also leave you keening at his rapid pace- he pinpoints each tender point of your orgasm and thrashes against your nerves right at that exact moment.

Again.

And again and again.

And again—until your high makes you see white-hot stars behind your closed eyelids. Planting sloppy drags down his face right in synchronization, “Any longer and I don’t believe I shall cum any more, Choso.”

“As long as it feels goooood, princess.” He gurgles out, “Heh, so good that your body can’t cum anymore.”

“I-I don’t believe it works like- fuck.” Lips soiled with tears and saliva. Glazed. Doesn’t matter how much you’re running your voicebox ragged, because Choso doesn’t even slow down- not even when he’s fucked you through your orgasm and letting it taper out into mere tingles.

Shots of power. Vulgar strokes barely even starting to falter as you begin to feel so utterly raw n’ overstimulated. “But Choso, I want…”

“Hmmmm?”

He sounds so gone on your pussy that you know merely asking nicely won’t make Choso latch off. Experimentally, you’re tugging on his sweat-drenched bangs and he doesn’t even budge-

“Choso Kamo.” You’re starting out, struggling to keep your voice steady. And yet at the tone of your voice, Choso flinches as though he already knows- “As your princess, I order you to just fuck me already.”

He takes a few seconds to detach from your pussy.

Pulling away his sticky slick-glazed lips with a superior squeeelch! And Choso stares up at you with dark, half-lidded eyes. “As you wish, Your Highness.” 

His ruined voice sends shivers across every inch of your body.

A body that he’s now plastering his hands onto and all but tearing through your soft layers- like butter underneath his strong hands. He’s ripping your silken gown straight through the middle, “I shall summon the tailor first thing tomorrow morning.” Choso grunts, already reading that expression on your face. “Worry not- your next dress shall be white, my princess.”

“Wh-white…” You breathe out, feeling light-headed at the implication.

Before you know it, all Choso has unhooked your half-corset and left you all exposed for him. For him to ravenously sweep his eyes down. For him to gaze upon every inch of you and gulp- was his mouth watering just at the sight of you naked?

But you’re not left too long to ponder upon the thought before Choso starts shrugging off his gauzy shirt and trousers. He’s letting the buttons pop open—pop! pop! pop! And displaying such a firm chest chiselled with prominent pecs, further down along were naturally ripped abs and the most sensual happy trail.

All dark and slightly unruly where it dips juuuust below his pants hemline.

Choso flattens his thumb against those golden buttons and lets himself spring free- and oh. 

Oh.

You have to bite back a gasp out of sheer manners, though it should be rather obvious that you were ogling him. All about seven or eight inches of him- maybe more. Definitely more.

The cutest blushin’ pink at his tip, growing slightly more pale towards the base.

Glistening shaft. Heavy balls. He’s decorated with more veins than you might’ve imagined from him, and he’s so hard that each time they twitch his erection flinches in mid air. Fuck…Choso’s just so long and rock-hard that his puckered pink tip jumps upwards and smears a swipe of glistening sap across his abs. It glares at you like a smirk, and Choso sleazes out a smile right back. 

Letting his head fall backwards once he gives his long cock a good pump.

“Oh…” He’s swearing underneath his breath, edging in closer on two capped knees. Those meaty thighs of his were just irresistible - all meaty and milky and flexing.

The slight muscles in his legs twitch as he inches closer to you on the bed. Cornering you against the headboard, Chose wields his swollen tip cloooose between your legs- kissin’ your puffy pussylips. Just a single swipe. “Fuck.”

And that’s all it takes for Choso Kamo to break on your pussy.

Head hanging downwards. Long locks covering his face. The entirety of his body fucking lurching- he’s messily creaming down your slit with copious amounts of cum.

Scorchin’ hot and sticking to you like adhesive.

It dribbless between your folds and enters your hole just the sliiiightest bit - already enough to start sploshin’ inside you and make you feel stuffed to the brim. You’re squirming at the unfamiliar sensation—and what does Choso do?

He’s reeling his hips back and rutting against you like a damn animal.

Unable to control himself. Merely pushing his fat cockhead between your pussylips and shoving- he groans at the way he couldn’t even fit the honed point of his very honed tip inside. 

Just sliding lecherously past your pussylips and rubbin’ his veiny shaft down your front. 

The only thing that that’s doing is grazing your clit and driving the man on top of you absolutely wild. He’s huffing through a pout as he looks down, “I want- ngh, I want to make it feel good for you, my princess. But it just won’t seem to fit.” Without much warning, he’s slithering his right hand down and scissoring open your snug hole. “Does this pretty pussy need me to s-stretch her out even more?”

“Oh—maybe.” You blubber out, looking at him through a heady gaze. “Choso…it’s my first time.”

And he knows he should expect it- fuck, he’s been at your side through every second of every day after you’ve come of age. He should already know by now. 

His lips part, “Oh.”

“And I suspect it’s your first time, too?”

“It is…” Choso looks away bashfully, “My apologies, Your Highness, that I’m not experienced enough to perhaps give you the pleasure that you deserve-”

“Cho?”

He immediately shuts himself up, “Mhm?”

But instead of answering- you’re grabbing ahold of one of Choso’s muscular deltoids. It was just so plush and flexed as you moved him beneath you - flipping your positions over until his back hit the decadent mattress. And you’re clamoring on top of his slender hips, only slightly wobbly with the aftermath of your previous high.

All of Choso’s ivory sap dripped down your inner thighs and tried to glue them together. It was a treacly sheen that slid down his rock-hard abs.

And you’re gliding on top of him- draaaagging your swollen pussylips down his veiny shaft. A whimper lets out of your lips as his flared silt catches on your folds, “F-fuck—Cho, the court ladies told me about this particular position called, ahem- riding.”

He’s looking up at you with wide, heart-shaped eyes. 

And your veins bubbled with molten embarrassment and need, “I’m going to ride you now, alright?”

“Yes-”

“Yes…what?”

Choso breaks out into the most sinful grin you think you’ve ever seen on him- “Yes, my liege.”

And that’s all it takes for you to perk your hips up just a lil’ bit and let Choso’s round orifice trace the outer rim of your hole. Just getting your body trained to the size - and even that is enough to make the man beneath you squirm.

To make him blush. To make him gasp.

To make him reach both quivering hands up and dig them into the globes of your ass- he’s jolting as though fighting with himself over letting you take your agonizing pace or humpin’ up into you like an animal.

Crying out—“Please. I need you so f-fucking bad.” 

And you can pinpoint the exact moment that Choso’s husky voice breaks - all because you’re swerving your hips down and taking a gooood three or so inches of his fattened cock. Red-hot. Throbbing all the way deep inside of you.

The stretch was just so incredible that you’re seeing pure white- a primal moan ripping from your throat at the way he molded to your walls. Almost as if he was made for you.

He’s giving his first spurt of milky precum against your velvety channel, it drips down to your entrance and makes you twitch at the sensation.

Choso Kamo was ruining you from the inside and he wasn’t even trying yet.

Yet you’re still gasping- clawing onto his shoulders and then eventually down to his cushion-like pecs. Providing a firm hold for you as you’re trying to keep yourself balanced. Your mind muddled-

“Does- does it feel good yet, my princess?” Almost in the distance, you can hear Choso’s words echoing. They seem to rattle inside your emptied brain right now. “Does- does it- fuuuck—because it feels like heaven to me.”

“Shit, it feels so…” Your jaw drops agape, running out of words. Having him intruding at your innards like this wasn’t necessarily unpleasant- in fact, when he slightly rutted and rubbed against a few particular spots it almost felt unreal…

You’re keeping a firm grip on him and lightly bouncing your hips down - short, sloppy thrusts that give off a slurp! every time.

And Choso was giving off the prettiest little whimper every time you swallowed his solid tip. Just about two or three inches. “F-feels good?” He’s begging. Tears crinkle on the edges of his eyelids, and his lips wobble ever-so-slightly. “Feels good, right? Am I making my princess feel good?”

“So good.” You manage to gasp out. “Shit, I have yet to feel such pleasure with my fingers…”

“Being held at a degree higher than the fingers of my princess—?” He couldn’t believe it himself. And almost as though to confirm, Choso’s reaching over and lifting your dominant hand off of his pectoral. He brings it up to his mouth and gives it a long kiss, “Y-you cannot be serious.” Breathing in, as if to breathe in your essence. “The hands of my princess…”

Your jaw drops as his own does - opening wide enough to slip as few of your fingers inside and suck. “You’re more of a lecher than your innocent demeanour- ngh, lets on.”

“Only for you, Your Highness.”

And with your never-ending vulgar strokes, you’d managed to bully about half of Choso’s erection inside of you. It was a girth thick enough to stretch out hidden nooks n’ crannies inside you that you didn’t even know you had, and the perfect length to already be throbbin’ away by your g-spot…

You swivel your hips lightly enough to let his tip graze your most favorite spot- and you can’t help but fucking shake at the burst of sensations.

He’s hissing at the way you clench, “Oh, please-” Head falling backwards into the pillow in a dizzy haze. “D-does that little…squeeze mean it feels good?”

“Yes-” You gasp, “And it also means I ache for you more.”

Your best friend gulps, “Where?”

And it doesn’t take long for you to maneuver one of his calloused palms off of your hips and down to your stomach. Where it felt like he was so big that you could feel him from the outside—Choso presses down as he sinks in. “Here.” 

That was almost enough to make him cum.

But Choso had already cum earlier - and it wasn’t a matter of not being able to stuff your pussy full all over again. He’s sure he could cream himself dry on your pussy. It was more so the fact that, in order to make up for it, he needed to make you cum at least twice more before finally finishing off himself.

One taste of your cunt clenchin’ around him and he’s feeling a tear slip down his cheek.

Almost subconsciously - body moving before mind - Choso arches off the comforter to probe his blushin’ tip deep inside you. “Shit- you just reached so deep, Cho.”

“Would you like me to take over, Your Highness?” Oh—how he loved the way that title rolled off of his tongue when he fucked you. His lowly body marking out your insides-

And he’d known you for so long by now.

He knew everything about you: every like, every dislike, every tell about your body. And he already knows from the hazy look in your peripherals that you’d been growing tired, thighs twitching any time you tried to messily bounce down on his cock.

Which is why one of Choso’s large hands cup your ass and start to help you fuck back into him- his muscules flexing mouth-wateringly every time he did so. Deeper and deeper. “Come on, my princess.” The hand on your stomach lifts off and glides down your pussy’s slit. Perfectly finding and pressing down on your knobbly clit - so sensitive. “Come on- fuck, let this loyal knight of yours make you feel good.”

“But the thing is…” You whimper out, head dropping down to look at the space between your legs. Like this, the size difference between your puckered hole and Choso’s thick cock. Growing even thicker before your very eyes. “-you’re just so damn big, Choso. Will it even fit?”

“I can make it fit.” He answers readily, as though the answer had already been on the tip of his tongue. For years, actually - all those long nights since becoming your personal knight. With only his hand and the image of you. He knows he’s fucking pathetic. 

But he can’t bring himself to regret a single moment anyway. Because it’s only with that imaginary practice that he’s swervin’ his hips up to yours in slightly circular motions. “I can do anything for you.” 

“Anything?”

He gasps out, “Anything for you, Your Highness.”

With his tongue stuck between his teeth, he’s crossing his brows and focusing on simply sensually fitting his cock inside. Uuuup with that big stretch.

Your head knocks backwards, “Ch-Choso—” Never been stretched like this before. 

And then again with those rovering pushes.

“Choso.”

And again.

“Fuck-”

Choso wasn’t even answering any more - just couldn’t. He had his mind focused solely on one thing, and that was to pump all his generous inches inside you, which might be easier said than done considering how the longer he spent in contact with your pussy…the more pussydrunk he seemed to be becoming.

Until he was all but babbling—gasping, tearing up, fighting against the carnal resistance, holding onto you hard enough to leave nail marks all down your body. He was shovelling his ruddied cockhead with a thwack! against the very bottom of your pussy. 

Bottomed-out. 

You collapse down onto his chiselled chest with a strangled scream, feeling the metaphorical pop! of both your cherries. As well as the squirt of precum emptied out against your cervix-

The last thing you’re feeling before Choso’s leaving your entrance all sore.

Before he’s drilling up into you like a crazed man.

Fucking up into you with honed, deep thrusts - all the way from the globular edge of his shaft and then doooown until your clit scratches on the tufts of black hair at his base. He’s whacking your g-spot and then skidding right down until his puckered tip meets your womb. Rapid. Ravenous.

The bed creaks from the sheer pace of his movements, mingling with the shrill noises that you were letting out yourself. “So this is what it feels like- oh.”

Choso drags his right thumb down your pussy’s slit- that dewy spot of your clit being the perfect target for him to press down on. “This is what it feels like—” There’s such a dreamy quality to his words, languid and slightly slurred. “It feels like absolute heaven j-just-”

“Just?” You look up at your knight when he trails off.

Not expecting him to break out into the most sleazy smile. “Just having my innocence taken by the princess.” He says it in a way that sends shives down your spine - firm and possessive.

And even more possessive was the way that Choso thereafter clings a hold onto your waist and pulls you down to him. His abs shifting underneath you as he presses a kiss to your bitten lips—as he spits a wad of his saliva between them. “Taking the princess’s innocence- the whole kingdom should know that I r-ruined their perfectly innocent princess.” He’s gasping out, lost in the feeling of his entire engorged inches being suctioned by your walls. “That I made her- hah, pussy mine.”

“Choso—” Your eyes blow wide in shock and pleasure.

Because just then the hand teasin’ at your clit decides to jump straight to pinching right there. 

It makes you twitch on top of him.

The pit of your stomach fizzling with something that feels good-

“Oh, but fear not, Your Highness.” He continues as if he isn’t just driving you wild. Ruining your insides with the constant, rhythmic squelching of his large cockhed—pushing and pushing. And pushing. 

Choso stares up at you with a half-lidded gaze - direct eye contact even when he’s craning upwards to bite down on your left nipple. Dark lashes fluttering, “For every part of me is likewise yours.”

“Every part?” You shudder.

“Every part.” In emphasis, his cock throbs furiously inside you. 

Succeeding in swervin’ in each glittering droplet of precum and slick and seed back in. He groans, “And you know you can ride this lowly knight as much as you want- as hard as you want.”

“I…” Your mouth feels as parched as a desert, “I would like that, my knight.”

Leaning slightly back on the bed, he’s letting you take more control. “Ride me- ride me dry, princess.” Just so achingly needy for you that you could almost taste it.

His salted-caramel taste sizzling at the back of your throat- his vanilla scent filling up your every other sense. You could now fit the pace to whatever you liked, “Sh-shit-” To whatever massaging rubs against your bundled nerves. “Shit—it’s almost t-too much. Impossible to believe.”

“Yeah? Feels good, doesn’t it?” Choso’s on board with his hand planted underneath your ass. Using a singular hand, he’s manhandling your hips up and down—up and down. Jerking you almost like a ragdoll down his incredible size, he lets every drop of his drivelling precum get sucked dry by your cute cunt. “Feels good riding your m-most loyal knight? Feels good making such a mess of me—oh?”

“It does.” You’re so stupid on his cock by now that you simply have to confess. “I—fuck, I must be true- it does.”

“Good.” Spittle drools down one edge of his lips. Choso Kamo wanted to be used. 

He wasn’t letting you even bounce your hips away for a mere millisecond- always chasing the back of your pussy with his cockhead. He hisses, “Feels good just- fuck, being fucked by the very man sworn to protect you, hm? Feels good knowing that all those years I’ve wanted this- all this time, I’ve imagined it like some pervert—” Choso casts a glance around the grand room, “All the nights I was here. All the days I spent watching you. Feels good knowing that I would’ve died just for a taste of your sweet cunt, huh?”

Thumb faster n’ faster on your clit.

“Feels good knowing that I shan’t ever in this life, nor any others, even so much as look at another?”

And another one of his rugged hands lifts up from your thighs to cup your cheek - he lets you hold your own chasing your high. Slurping and swallowing his fat cock between your legs intensely, as Choso wipes away a stray tear cascading down your cheek.

“Feels good knowing that you have bewitched me—you and this damn- pretty pussy.”

“Yes-” You’re whimpering out loud enough for it to echo across these four gilded walls. Your mind being a complete mess. “Yes, yes, yes—and I’m gonna…”

“Fuck.”

He’s feeling it before you do once you finally crash into your high.

It’s your second of the night, and just because you’re slightly overstimulated from it doesn’t mean that Choso’s about to slow down. Instead, he’s drilling into you with achingly needy strikes - all vicious pumps against the spot of your nerves, and then nicely sliding down the back of your cervix. Over and over.

A long overarching wave of your orgasm- “Ch-Choso.” One that leaves your body limp and helpless to the way he crushes you against his beating chest. “Need you to cum inside, Choso.”

You’re pleasing up at him in a way that’s irresistible.

“Let your climax at least settle, impatient princess.” He’s lightly chuckling. Increasing his ministrations on your poor clit - only elongating your zaps of pleasure.

Until he seemed to be numbing your body completely with so many sensations, all bubbling through your veins and pouring out in the form of your sweetened slick. “But I want it.” You huff. “What if that was an order?”

“Oh, you really are my spoiled princess. Even after I’ve already given you m-my cock and two orgasms…and my heart.” He’s echoing out in a parched tone. Increasing and increasing the sheer amount of pleasure he was giving you - until it you’re been fucked considerably past the twinges of your high.

Straight into another.

And it seemed to be exactly what Choso was waiting for- before he’s throwing his head back and cumming right in unison with you. “Fuuuuck- take it all.” Words trembling. “Take it all, my dearest princess, take it all from your knight.”

And you can feel him empty it out inside you.

His heavy balls twitching with the looong stripes of sap he was flooding out, they splosh against each of your crevices. Pumped deeper inside with every thrust. The smell of his arousal just twitches something dark and carnal within you- and you’re pushing your face into the crook of his neck. Inhaling that soft vanilla accent.

So in contrast with the pelvis slamming against yours, hard enough that his skin starts to redden. The sheer force of it is enough to make you flinch back - and enough for him to hold onto your body in any way he can and pin you down to his front.

Unable to escape, you can only whine at the way he fucks you through his high. “Oh my…” Your mouth starts to water. No novel or scandal sheet had ever described this before. “Ch-Choso you’re the best.”

And you swear that only makes him cum harder.

So much of it that it begins to trickle out of your hole almost immediately- something that Choso certainly couldn’t have. 

So he swipes his thumb down from your clit and starts swabbin’ those wads back inside.

“I ache for you.” He’s whimpering out, big bulbous tears glimmering on the edges of his lashes. His pink lips jut out into what almost looks like a pout, “My dearest princess, I ache for you-” Followed by the sharp inhale of breath once he grazes over your clit once more. “-so much so that it’s leaking out.”

“I ache for you, too, Choso. So much.” 

“Hah…not as much as I do for you.” As if the petering out of his ribbony white cum had ultimately brought back an inkling of his rationality again. “Though for a lowly knight to be so forward-”

You’re leaning down and wiping away the tears from his handsome cheeks. “Choso…you would never be undeserving of me.” It’s the firm tone that makes him freeze, snapping his head to you with sheeny eyes. “In fact, I could argue that it is I who does not deserve y-”

Choso doesn’t let you finish that sentence.

He’s kissing you long and sound.

And as he smiles against your lips, you decide that you have a long conversation to be had with your father at daybreak.

As heir to the throne.

.

.

.

There is a celebration in the bejeweled chapel that morning.

Though not of a wedding, rather…a coronation.

With the promise of a wedding.

And as you sit upon your velvet throne, the crown jewels balanced heavily on your head and your hands, you feel the folded-up piece of paper tucked away in your locket. Humming.

You catch Choso’s eye, closest amongst the row of knights at attention.

You wink.

He smiles.

Yuji shoots you a thumbs up.

Yaga watches the scene and smiles a slight smile.

Shoko could not have looked more smug.

And Naoya? Though the Zenin family was happy to attend, one such prince was pointedly not invited. Nor would he be claiming any thrones any time soon.

As the ceremony continues, the letter pulses with delight-

“My dearest princess,

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Your dearest knight.”

.

.

.

Dearest gentle reader,

Church bells are a-toll—though not for a royal wedding (though be patient, and we shall see the very same soon)—for it’s a royal coronation!

Her Highness, the princess, both shocked and scandalized the Ton at the Royal Diamond Ball last night by attending to her first dance with none other than…her personal knight. Yes, Sir Choso Kamo was chosen personally by the daring royal to be the gentleman that sweeps her off of her feet (on the dance floor). 

And query any ogling noble at the ball that night, and should they find the time between plucking the flies out of their mouth, then all shall confirm that the young couple was rather…scandalously close. Though keeping to his hands confined to places the Ton would approve of, it was rather evident that the way the princess and her knight looked at each other was ripped straight from a fairy tale. The romance!

And just as any good fairy tale should have an obvious villain, this writer’s insiders claim that Prince Naoya Zenin was certainly not happy with the incident. 

Though you must forgive this dear writer if my memory of such dudgeon royal guests is far from perfect. For I was far too occupied with the later…disappearance of Her Highness.

And most conveniently, her knight, as well.

The princess was most certainly not present as she was dubbed the Diamond of the season, nor would she have been able to keep her eyes (or hand) away from Sir Choso long enough to notice. You read that right, dear reader, the Ton has positively been fanning themselves all morning at the juicy details being whispered down palace halls.

My trusted sources claim that the princess and her knight had been locked up in her royal bed chambers…all night. And though the contents of what they may have gotten up to inside this chamber is all speculation, late-night patrol down the palace halls claim they heard the most…peculiar noises emanating from the princess’s bedroom.

All. Night. Long.

Though, of course, Her Highness’s ultimate return to the ball long past the Diamond announcement is a source of many rumors—this eagle-eyed writer would like to point out something else entirely.

Bite marks. Unsteady gait.

Glowing.

Perhaps all coincidence, of course, that Sir Choso Kamo had donned his knight’s armor and hidden any of his own marks from view. It is undeniable that the princess had been carrying evidence of a knight—my apologies, I meant night well-spent!

And perhaps most damning of all might be the fact that - after a terse discussion with His Majesty, the King, as my sources say - an announcement was made at the very cusp end of the ball.

Of the princess’s coronation as Queen tomorrow, and of Sir Choso Kamo’s induction as King Consort. He shall henceforth and forevermore be known as King Consort Choso Kamo, Duke of Kamo Estate. 

And lastly, of a summer wedding, due on the horizon. (Sources also claim something else due…a bundle of joy perhaps between the young couple.)

But that is enough of speculation—oh, what was that? 

I can hear your cries, gentle reader, I can hear them! Worry not, this writer is yet to forget a single detail of the most succulent gossip from the Ton - I already foresee your queries about what happened to Her Majesty’s secret admirer then.

I believe you shall be delighted to know that my insider tells me that…the very secret admirer you speak of is now King Consort. What a romantic twist to the tale!

Now as Prince Naoya fumes and my readers rejoice, excuse me while I dry my tears and pick out my best summer arrangements for this royal wedding—for you know that this writer must always be on the scene!

We wish the happy royal couple all the best with their preparations!

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown.

A/N. Any guesses on who Lady Whistledown might just be??

Plagiarism not authorized.

[princess-vibes25]

For later

[reignpage]

Synopsis: In which you join Perverted roommate!Toji in masturbating in the living room

Warnings: smut, minors/ageless blogs will be blocked, no p in v, masturbation (Toji and reader), f!reader, cursing, overuse of pet names (ma, doll, princess, kiddo once, woman), a little coercive? (I don't think so but just in case, he basically eggs her on, asking her to join the dark side), Toji's an exhibitionist, lotta spit involved here (kinda the main theme/kink), not proofread — some parts might be repetitive cause I added things in at different parts of the week Word Count: 3.1k

Perverted roommate!Toji is disgustingly unashamed about his dick. 

It’s common to catch him walking in and out of his room bare butt naked — broad shoulders and sculpted back littered with scars tapering down to a slutty waist and ample cheeks. Most times he isn’t even hard; he’s just too lazy to put underwear on when he needs to grab some water from the kitchen. 

Other times, however, his cock stands like the stiffest pole known to man, threatening to poke your eye out from across the room.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer, doll,” he drawls. You avert your eyes, flustered but hiding it with a scoff. 

“I was just thinking it’s the ugliest dick I’ve ever seen, actually.”

Perverted roommate!Toji chuckles, scarred lips stretching. “If you weren’t drooling and pressing your thighs together, I might have believed that,” he says before disappearing back into this room.

The sudden nudity you could take, albeit begrudgingly. Jerking off in the living room on the other hand?

Absolutely not. 

He grips his cock from the base, slowly ascending to his flushed cockhead, running a thumb over the shiny slit. At least he never leaves a mess; he always cums in a wad of tissues, which he sometimes likes to leave in your bedroom bin because it’s funny to him, probably.

Oh, and the man uses nothing but spit for lubrication during his ‘self-care’ sessions. You know that how?

Well, because he had the gall, a while back, to beckon you over once he noticed you were standing there — gobsmacked at his audacity and obviously not turned on— and ordered, “Do me a favour, ma? Spit on it, and make it messy, will ya?”

You spluttered, “Excuse me? I absolutely will not be doing that! Get out of here with your stupid dick and perverted hobbies.”

Perverted roommate!Toji raises a brow. “If you want me out, y’r gonna have to lend a hand,” he smirks, “figuratively speaking, of course. Unless you wanna stroke it for me, doll.”

“In your dreams, old man.”

“Yeah, that’s usually how that goes. You got me.”

It was clear though that he wasn’t joking. 

He was sitting there, casually stroking his dick, showing no intention of finishing up, and waiting for you to make up your mind.

The nerve!

On any other day, you would have smacked him, or stomped away.

But your friends were coming soon — so, yes maybe you did drop a dollop of spit into the palm of his hand. Only to get him out of there ASAP though! 

And yeah, maybe his sharp teeth came into view with his wolfish grin. Maybe it made you gulp, and maybe, just maybe, he said, “Good girl,” in a way that kept you up all night after. 

That eventually became a routine between you. 

All it takes is a cock of a brow and you’re sighing, spitting into his palm and pretending you’re not observing what he does with it.

Now, he's grown so comfortable he just jerks off right next to you as you watch a movie. As soon as you sit down and he’s already got his cock whipped out, you bend over and let a fat glob land on his leaking tip. 

“Thanks, doll,” he mutters, hand spreading the wetness all over his generous length. “How was work? Everything alright?”

“Hmm. I’m exhausted.”

Perverted roommate!Toji pats your head with his spare hand, and you’re so tired you don’t even care if it’s dirty. It comforts you and that’s all that matters. “After I squeeze a load out, I can massage your feet. Consider us even after you did my laundry yesterday.”

“Least you could do for me,” you retorted. “I walk on your back all the time, but do I ever get that in return?”

He grunts, rough hand rolling his heavy balls. “If I walked on your back, I’d break it. Trust me, you’re better off with the occasional shoulder rubs, princess.”

Absentmindedly, his words enter one ear and exit the other. 

Shirtless, pyjama pants tucked under his balls, no signs of underwear, he seems to have just woken up from a nap (he likes to sleep naked — a fact you learned the hard way the first couple days of living with him, when you walked in without knocking to ask for your charger back).

A question you’ve been meaning to ask slips out: “Why do you jerk off in the living room?”

Perverted roommate!Toji glances down at you, then looks back at the TV, unsurprised by your question. “To get off — ain’t that clear enough?”

You roll your eyes. “Obviously. I just mean, why in the living room? Is it better for you, or do you do it to bother me?”

“Ah, who knows. Could be both. Could be neither.” Then, one corner of his lips quirk up. He nudges you with his elbow, halting his casual tugging of his cock and fires back a question at you. “You ever try?”

Heat rises to your cheeks at the inquisition. Truthfully, you answer, “No…I’ve always lived with other people, and something about being caught puts me off. I really don’t think I’m an exhibitionist.”

“Getting caught huh.” He thinks about it for a second. “Just you and me here, doll. No one’s gonna catch you. Wanna give it a try? You never know, it might become your thing.”

Aghast, you shake your head. “No, no, definitely not. You’re not gonna drag me down with you.”

Perverted roommate!Toji chuckles, resuming his jerking off without further interruption. “Suit yourself.”

And that’s that. 

You both return to watching the movie. Nothing about what’s going on in the scene registers in your mind. If you had to be honest, you’re far too distracted by the suggestion. In a way, he was right; it wouldn’t be the same as being caught, since he’s already here, consenting, and he’s doing the same thing. 

Your roommate would be the last person to judge you. 

But it’s weird. 

Normal roommates don’t do this kind of thing together. Normal roommates shouldn’t know how long the other’s cock is, or see the exact shade of their angry cockhead everywhere they go. Normal roommates shouldn’t be so open with each other.

Except, you are. 

Way too open, actually.

You know he likes his balls massaged as he goes, that he trims his hairs there once in a while but doesn’t care enough to shave it off altogether, that he doesn’t whine and whimper when he cums, only groans and grunts and curses under his breath.

You know he’s heard you cum through the thin wall separating your room from his, you know he’s seen you completely naked because he walks into the bathroom as he pleases and you often forget to lock the door, and that he’s seen the kind of porn you like after having to unfreeze your computer on an embarrassing website.

The two of you aren’t normal roommates; you’re way past that.

So maybe…

Biting your lip, you creep a tentative hand down your shorts, teasing a finger down the seam of your clothed pussy lips over your panties. It tickles. 

He always seemed to get hard at the drop of a hat; one or two rubs and he’s fully erect. Women, meanwhile, usually need a lot more than that. But, as you press your fingers down harder and you feel the telltale patch of wetness seeping through, you realise that all you need now is the visual stimulation of a big, burly man squeezing his base to keep from cumming too soon. 

Your hand ventures inside your panties. You look up at him. He’s staring straight ahead. Of course he can tell what you’re doing — you’re not exactly hiding it. The man’s simply showing it’s not a big deal, and it’s actually kind of helpful. 

When your fingers make contact with your bare skin, you release a breath. You’re not wet enough to start having a go at your clit. You frown.

“Need some help?”

You hate that you know exactly what he means, though not as much as you hate how needy you’ve grown.

A little shy, you bring your hand back out and hold it in front of him. Eyes never leaving yours, he grips your wrist and holds it still. Scarred lips part, and his tongue licks across your fingers. 

Perverted roommate!Toji chuckles to himself. “Ain’t showered yet, have you?”

You try to snatch your hand back, to no avail. “Shut up!”

“Relax, kiddo. Wasn’t complaining. Already know all the different ways you smell from the panties you leave in the bathroom,” he confesses with no abashment. “The smell of your pussy when you’re turned on is my favourite, a close tie to when you’re ovulating and you’ve been on your feet all day.”

“Don’t tell me things like that,” you breathe out.

He meets your eye. “Why? Scared you like it?”

“I know I like it.”

Your honesty makes his lips twitch. He rubs his thumb over your pulse. Finally, he collects his saliva and spits out a warm dollop. Careful not to spill it, you hastily spread it on your pussy, circling your clit with ease. You sigh, leaning back into the sofa.

Around and around, you rub your clit under your shorts, getting more and more wet and turned on. Your juices are oozing out freely now, lips growing more and more swollen. Pressing a little firmly on the bundle of nerves, your back arches. Hardened nipples poke through your thin tank top. 

“Don’t rush it, doll,” he advises. “We still got an hour left of this thing.”

“Mind your own business.”

You grope a tit with your spare hand at the same time he massages his throbbing balls. It’s funny how quickly you’ve grown accustomed to the weirdness of the situation, almost as if you’ve been doing this the entire time you’ve lived with him. 

What does that say about you?

“Don’t be shy,” he mutters, “flick your little nipple. Know you like that shit.” 

His voice is raspy, all low and deep. It sends shivers down your spine. There’s no hint of amusement in his words. He’s merely talking you through it. You flick a nipple, moaning when it hits just right. God, you hate how well he knows your body without having touched it. “Atta girl. Go on, put those fingers inside your messy cunt.”

Is it the arrogant rasp of his voice, the way your pussy’s pulsing, or the fact that his fist’s tugging on his flushed cock harder and faster at the growing squeelch! of your cunt that urges your fingers inside?

Whatever the case may be, your fingers find their way inside comfortably, curling past the textured pleats, stretching the tight ring of muscle at the entrance, and pushing against the gummy spot that has your toes curling and a whine seeping through your lips.

Perverted roommate!Toji growls, “Bet those little fingers of yours ain’t long, or thick, enough huh. Bet I’d play with your pussy so much better. Wanna let me try? Come on, ma. Give in to me, yeah? We know it’s gonna happen sooner or later.”

“Fuck off.”

Knowing that your wetness was mixed up with his spit, with his essence, is driving you wild. 

It’s no wonder you cum so fast, shuddering with a whimper. That hit you out of nowhere. The orgasm’s so strong you almost fall off the sofa. “Oh, fuck.”

Perverted roommate!Toji laughs. “Pent up little thing, aren’t ya?”

“Shut up.”

It’s never felt that good before. He’d only talked you through it; how would it feel if he actually touched you?

Still hungry, your gaze darts over to your roommate. He’s still jerking himself off, running a thumb over a prominent vein. His hand’s picked up speed. He’s so aggressive with his own cock, treating it like he owes it money, like pain doesn’t matter when pleasure’s on the line. 

“Might wanna -mm- take back that thing you said -hah- about not being an exhibitionist.”

It’s obvious he’s finding a lot of humour in thinking he’s better than you simply because he can last longer. The bastard…

Aggrieved, you pull your dirtied hand out from your shorts and grip his cock with no warning. He grunts.

“Wha– fuck!” He tries to yank you off — a reflex. But he’s powerless over the desire of his cock to be pleasured by soft, gentle hands. “You’re crossing a line, kid. Hell of a lot braver than me -hah fuck.”

“I know, but you were taking so long, Toji,” you say as innocently as you can, “thought I should…lend a hand, like you’re always asking me to.”

Using your juices, you jerk him off. The slide is so much easier now than he was making it look. You’re almost distracted by your own boldness. 

Almost.

There’s no hiding from how big his cock is — it’s huge, you can barely wrap your entire hand around it. It’s also so, so hot. Practically scalding. And the weight. Oh god, you’re still soaked and flushed. 

Perverted roommate!Toji huffs, unable to tear his eyes off the sight of your much daintier hands trying to tame his ridiculously sized cock. “S-shit, can barely hold it, can ya? Don’t be scared; not gonna break me.”

He leans back into the sofa, retired hand massaging his balls as you get to work on his cock. You’re covering the entire length with your juices. It’s messy, sticky, and so lewd, but he doesn’t care. On the contrary, you swear he’s getting even bigger in your hand.

Tightening your grasp, you jerk him faster and harder, wanting to hear him make stupid noises too. 

And he’s actually groaning, barely audible over the sound of the dull thrum of the TV but it’s plenty though. He sounds so manly, so big and strong. Everything about him emanates strength. It’s impossible not to be attracted to him. It really was inevitable that you’d end up like this, and more. 

More’s definitely coming.

Tonight, however…

Tonight, you’d rejoice in the sight of his whole body tensing and flexing at your touch.

“Mm, that’s it, baby. Such a good girl. Keep going. Fuck, that’s good.”

His other arm is bent behind his head, bicep bulging and bigger than your damn head. Unable to help yourself, you press a kiss there. 

Perverted roommate!Toji’s brow lifts up. He looks down at you with humour twinkling in his dark eyes. “Go on, take a bite. I know you wanna — always looking at my arms like you’re hungry.”

That’s the only invitation you need. Your teeth scrape his skin, it sinks into the hardness there. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t wince, doesn’t do anything but smile wider. You moan, biting down harder. Who knows where the fetish for biceps came from? 

Probably from him, with the way he’s always flaunting his perfect body.

He’s really ruined you.

“Next time you feel the -hah- urge to eat me up, just –harder, baby, yeah that’s it– j-just ask, yeah? I don’t work out for nothing.”

The noises your hand is making are too filthy. Too much sloppiness, too much fwop fwop and squelch! squeeelch!

Pearlescent beads are dripping out of his piss slit, sliding down the ridges of his cock. You thumb them into his skin, dragging his foreskin down ever so slightly. Breathily, you plead, “Cum, Toji. My wrist is getting tired.”

“Alright, whatever you say, pillow princess. God forbid you have to put in some work.” He unfolds his arm. Hand threading through your hair, he hauls your face to his. Half-lidded, his eyes linger on your lips. His scar twitches. “Wanna make me cum? Then give me a kiss.”

“A kiss?”

He nods, nose grazing yours. “A nice, long one. Kiss me like you mean it. I’m feeling romantic.”

The scruff of his shadow tickles your skin as your lips meet his. He groans before deepening the kiss, parting your lips with his tongue. He tastes you, every part he can reach. His hand won’t let you pull away, won’t let you surface for air — he keeps you there, unable to run from his desires. 

“Hah, T-toji, can’t breathe–”

“Through your nose, baby,” he advises, practically begs. “Not had my fill yet.”

Breasts squished against his chest, you taste him too. The slight tang of beer, the mint of his toothpaste, the power he radiates but won’t ever use on you. 

Kissing has never felt so fucking good. 

Dazed and not thinking straight, you suggest, “We should -mm- kiss more, Toji.”

Perverted roommate!Toji cums. Hard. 

“Fuck!” he groans. “S-shit.” 

You feel the rapid pulsing of his throbbing cock first, then the spurting of his cum landing on your hand and on the couch. Only then is his sudden grunting swallowed down your throat. 

“J-jesus.”

Mercilessly, you continue jerking him off, up and down, up and down, watching him throw his head back, Adam’s apple bobbing. 

His thighs shake, tense beyond measure. His balls are constricted so tight you worry they might burst. And the veins running up his arms and neck pop like he’s been taken by surprise at the intensity of his own orgasm. 

He smacks your hand away, panting and slowly coming down from his high. “Quit it, woman.”

You laugh, playing with the translucent webs that form between your fingers when you stretch them. “I see now why you’re so obsessed with masturbating in the living room.”

Perverted roommate!Toji glances down at you. He watches you for a second, then he snorts, tucking his softening cock back inside his pants. “It ain’t the living room I’m obsessed with, doll.”

“Huh?”

“Forget it.” Standing, he stretches, back muscles looking biteable. “Gonna shower. You coming?”

Feeling a little shy now that post-nut clarity’s sinking in, you shake your head. “I’ll wait.”

“Alright, but just know I’m probably gonna rub another one out in there to your panty.”

And as he walks away, he doesn’t miss the opportunity to smear the wetness on his hand all over your face, laughing when you make a noise of utter disgust. 

Perverted roommate!Toji strolls leisurely into the bathroom, expertly avoiding the pillows you throw at him like he has eyes at the back of his head. “You’re probably gonna wanna wash that off immediately.”

“Ugh! You just wanted me to shower with you.”

Perverted roommate!Toji stops at the doorway, looking back with a mischievous glint in his sharp teeth, scar especially delicious. 

“Now you’re catching on.”

[princess-vibes25]

😍

[redstonedust]

you'll spend so long in deep discussions of gender online and then go talk to someone in your real life family and find out they still havent gotten past "women can be good at things" and its like oh okay jesus christ i forgot some people are still on the baby steps huh

[twylyn]

Some Waterboy art. I spelt like two seconds on the goggles, lol.

[lewmagoo]

➻ NOW LOADING...BOB FLOYD MASTERLIST

✩ standalone fics ✩

loving him [smut]

of angels and darlings (ft. rooster) [smut]

return to me [angst]

of admirals and paperweights [smut]

swathed in the purple glow [smut]

the ties that bind [smut]

bite the hand [angst, smut, werewolf au]

✩ multi-part fics ✩

secret service agent floyd:

someone to watch over me [angst, smut]

to my heart, he carries the key [angst, smut]

✩ drabbles ✩

mine [smut]

close to you [smut]

✩ ask tag ✩

answered asks

↳ return to main masterlist

[tonycries]

Sweet Creature - G.S.

Synopsis. To Geto Suguru it’s the Creature, The Strongest being in existence, his masterpiece of science. To you he’s Gojo Satoru, the poor experiment you found chained up in the scientist’s dungeon, the creation that taught himself how to love. To him he doesn’t know who he is, but he knows where he belongs - with you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, Creature!Gojo, Frankenstein!Geto, based on Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein, PLOT, 1800’s, worldbuilding, love triangles (Gojo x reader x Geto), angst, vioIence, bIood, backstories, accidentally falling in Iove, oraI (fem rec.), PÚSSYDRÚNK Gojo, spítting, face-ríding, fíngering, teaching him, first times (Gojo), he’s BIG, tummy buIges, cervíx kíssin’, making it fit, BRÉEDING, matíng presses, raw, FÉRAL GOJO, manhandIing, dúmbifícation, rough s, creampíes, cúmpIay, overstím, implied marathon, time skips, Nanami cameo, HAPPY ENDING, pet name, swéaring.

Word count. 16.8k

A/N. I’ve been wanting to do this AU for SOOOO LONG-

1857.

Reds of the Royal Danish Navy shed against bone-white ice; the Horisont has found itself trapped in ice amidst the expedition to the North Pole.

It was a coldness beyond cold, a glaucoma of the world. Only in such a place does the belligerence of humanity dim before a ceaseless peripheral of something much greater. Something much older. Something soul-cold.

Here, one cannot see.

One cannot swallow. One cannot hear.

And it is why Captain Nanami Kento pauses between scratching at his parchment. He works stiffly and slowly beneath the damp glow of the lantern, with an ear craned in the direction of the deck outside: the heaving of ropes being put to work, the chants between cold coughs, the sudden slamming of produce.

“Captain!” One of the newer crew members, still sun-tanned and youth-freckled, barges in through the door. From the doorway he pants out urgently, “Captain, an explosion- oh, you simply must see this.”

Nanami rises cautiously, “See what, boy?”

“A- a monster.”

A coldness creeps into his heart. “Get the men.”

In almost no time, there’s a group of about ten crew members racing down the frost-bitten landscape. They held their lit torches high, trembling flames that were snapped and slobbered in all directions by the wind, as if lambs being hauled to slaughter.

A few of the lookouts had already set a bonfire in the distance to mark their finding, and as Nanami leads the group closer, he can feel his pulse jump to his throat. He can taste the blood. He can smell it.

He brings a gloved hand up to cover his nostrils as he looks on at the reddened snow, “This…this blood- where does it hail from? Has one of ours been injured?”

“Not ours, Captain!” One of the seamen hasten to explain, he jogs past the bonfire. “A wounded man, he has suffered a great loss of blood!” And where the man motions them, Nanami could see two writhing lumps in the darkness - about as large as a young Grey Seal, though perhaps not made of as much pure muscle. 

They follow the man—a corpse.

At least, well on his way to become one.

Dressed much like them in protective coats, there was no telling just how long the man had been laying there in the snow. In a slowly-growing pool of his wine-blood. His fingers were blue, mouth trembling, eyes frosted shut. Though, perhaps out of some sick sense of mercy. Because even from here Nanami could see the garish slashes on the man’s neck and shoulders.

His pale face grimaces at the torrent of light that signals the crew’s entrance, muttering something that they could not discern.

Nanami’s the first to crouch beside him and take the man into his arms, “Bear attack?”

“I do not believe so, Captain.” The same young crew member from before urgently speaks, “Our early lookouts- they claim they saw something in the shadows…something otherworldly!” Nanami looks into the boy’s ghost-white face, “Something demonic!”

The blond man nods, “Itadori, help me with his boot.”

Together, they manage to knife between the coagulation of frost and blood that composed of the man’s boot. Like much of his body. It was a tough leather fighting against a dull blade, enough to make one sweat even in the bitter landscape. And Nanami almost thinks better of his decision before-

“A prosthetic leg.” Itadori breathes. He holds up the metal limb for the rest of the crew to peer at, fashioned from some sort of metal, it was attached to the man with a series of buckles and belts. So intricate, in fact, that had it not been for the discoloration then one might have thought that it was his natural outgrowing limb.

Nanami’s brows furrow at the device, “This must be…and what about the other one?” 

“The what?” Itadori asks.

“The other one.” Nanami’s the one to make his way onto the other ‘lump’ he’d made out, much more frozen stiff than the other one. He kneels down to gently wipe off the clumps of snow on the grooves of your face, your beautiful, beautiful face. You didn’t seem to be at all hurt, unlike the man. “A woman…”

“Found with the older man, Captain.” One of the crew answers, “Both frozen, almost to death.”

“Almost to death…”

And that’s when they hear it.

It.

That ghastly, guttural roar that came from no place but hell.

If the darkness could speak, this could be its voice. Hear its nightmare, its pain, its humanity. It makes the crew members break out in a cold sweat.

In the three seconds that it rips through the wind, Nanami’s running his mind through every page of every zoological textbook he’s ever read - and coming up blank after each one. Blank. Blank. Blank. Blank. Blank—no living creature should ever be able to make a sound like this.

Just what in hell was that?

“C-Captain!”

It’s Itadori’s trembling tone that snaps Nanami out of his frozen state. He looks to the boy—fuck, he looks down and realizes that his hands were shaking.

“Put- put him…” Lips parched, he clears his throat and doesn’t care if it’s unsteady. “Put him onboard! Now!” Nanami yells at the crew, who instantly move to action as he keeps an eye in the dark direction of where the noise had originated from.

Beyond their circle of torches, something shifts in the shadows.

Something tall.

Tall.

Tall.

Another roar—“Hurry!” The Captain cries, helping his crew lift the injured man. “To the ship! Now—”

Perhaps because of the blood loss, their straggler is nothing more than a slight burden in their trembling arms, though with that- that thing in the darkness beyond them, he just might as well have weighed a hundred tonnes.

It’s with such dreadful relief that they manage to reach the Horisont and lever the body up the port side of the ship. As it’s carted off like a still-trembling corpse, Nanami calls out to the seamen that work the base. “Itadori, that thing is coming.”

“C-Captain?” The boy asks, nervously.

And the older man only silently hands him a gun, “We have to be ready.” Holding one himself, he raises the nozzle of the pistol in the air and fires, man-made thunder in response to the voice of something beyond. “Ready the rifles!”

Rows upon rows, guns upon guns, human beside human.

Lining the berth of the ship with their weapons raised, they clutched those polished wooden handles. Death at their fingertips. A third roar punctuates the night, and had it not been for their Captain’s presence right beside them, those men might just have been running for their life. 

“On my command…” Nanami calls out. 

Something bludgeons through the wintry landscape. As tall as even the tallest hanging icicles, with a coat that flaps around it like bat wings. 

“Aim…”

Inhuman.

“Fire!”

Gunshots ring out like applause, ah, the only invention of humanity that may cut through the cold. That may slice it. Two of the bullets hit the creature in what looked to be its shoulders, and it collapses to the ground with a pained cry. Pained? Could it really feel such a thing?

Most monsters didn’t. And this one raises its hooded head and roars.

Oh—Nanami’s stepping backwards before he can stop himself. 

“Next group, next group!” Itadori’s juvenile voice takes command in place of his Captain, though he was shaking even more so. Crew members with their guns cocked kneel down in the exact positions of the previous line.

Their nozzles smoke, hungry for blood.

With an arm stretched outwards, Nanami’s directing them. “On my command…aim…fire-”

Gunshot after gunshot after gunshot.

A second round of applause. A standing ovation. Almost with more fervour than before, those bullets reach towards the limelight where their lanterns were fixated on this hulking, inhuman figure. A hard target to miss.

Hit after hit after hit.

And yet…it does not stop. It does not slow down. It does not even shed blood - this thing takes their most fierce protection, lets it sink into its body as if not the worst thing it’s ever experienced. The bullets embed deep into its clamoring limbs, only increasing the fury in its pace.

Step after step after step.

Until finally- they’re catching a glimpse of blood-shot eyes.

“Re-retreat! To the ship.” Nanami yells, grabbing some of his crew members and pulling them to stand. He’s shoving them in the direction of the ramp that led up the side of the ship, not looking backwards until Itadori was already aboard. “To the ship! Retreat to the ship! Ret- no.”

He’s whipping his head behind as one of the foolhardy men rush in the direction of the monster with his gun. Raised as if to bash it with it—

“Retreat!”

In just one sweeping motion the creature throws the crew member aside. Hard enough that he bangs against the side of the ship, hard enough to break bone. 

Nanami pales as he hears the crunching of ligaments and skeleton, screaming out at his crew to board the ship once more. “Retreat- retreat, I say! This is an order from your Captain!” He’s stomping through the bustling deck, weaving through the men that feared for their life as much as they feared the life now rattling the ladder of the ship. “Where is that man we brought aboard? Where?”

“St-starboard, Captain.” Itadori replies.

And Nanami wastes no time before going up to the man - laid out amongst some blankets on the side of the ship - and grabbing him by the lapels of his frost-crusted coat, “What does that thing want?” He barks out at the groaning man, he assumes that you’d been taken inside. “Tell me! What does it want-”

Another young member, Ino, quivers out. “Captain, he’s almost—”

Roaring.

Gone and guttural.

It had reached the deck by now, standing tall amidst the crew that raced like ants. That looked just as helpless. In one hand it crushes a human skull as if nothing, and with the other he points straight at the shivering corpse.

“Bring- her- to me-”

A voice that sends their hearts beating out of their chests, so that they felt less-than human. Just as it sounded.

Her…?

From behind, one of the crew members stabs at the creature with the edge of his gun. Nanami doesn’t wait to watch him get flung off the edge of the ship- “The Blunderbuss.” He’s turning to the crew with widened eyes, breathless. “Ino, get the Blunderbuss!”

“Y-yes, Captain!”

In no time, a heavy metal firearm is being pressed into Nanami’s hands. He doesn’t wait to take aim and—shoot!

It strikes the monster right in the middle of his chest, and it stumbles. Hands but a blur on the greed-cold nozzle, sweat sticking his skin to metal, one eye closing in concentration- the Captain shoots again.

And again.

And again.

Each one finds its target with deathly precision. But a monster never truly dies, does it? Not until they can spike fear into the hearts of those mortal? It turns out, they merely fell.

As if a great oak befalling, it almost hurt to watch it descend. They all rush over to the other side of the deck as the monster plummets; the ice below craters once it rests, erupting a halo of dark blue lightning bolts brought out of the frozen water. Nanami wastes no time lugging the prolonged length of the Blunderbuss over the deck and shooting it a few more times - this time, however, not quite at their untimely visitor.

He aims for the thinning ice that cracks off with the blows, segregating the creature from the rest of them. And not one member of the crew releases a relieved breath until after the chunk of ice breaks off. Floats off.

It opens its eyes.

Snaking his body upright, “Give her…” Charging back towards the ship. A voice that thunders up to where they are, and makes everyone take a step back. “Give her to me-” All but Nanami, of course, who aims a single shot at the monster—and lets his hand fly off the trigger.

BANG—!

CRASH.

Thrown off his feet, it seems that the taller they are the harder they fall indeed. That…thing ends up with its back against the slab of ice once more, which gives way beneath its weight as if made out of nothing but paper. Opening up a gaping mouth. Ice-water sloshing at its feet. Crumbling into the tiniest pieces, the monster sinks…

The Captain doesn’t lower his gun or his caution until he can’t see its flailing arms any longer. Until the sea swallows up their woes with a gurgle, and with it, a creature more monster than man. Nanami peers down as its blood-black cloak dissipates into nothingness.

Then - and only then - does he turn to face the rest of the stunned crew.

“Take me to her.”

Less than an hour later, the man was up and talking—you, however, weren’t quite as lucky. According to the ship’s doctor you were alive, it seems, but just barely.

Itadori frowns at your shiver and rubs on your hands even harder. Entire body tinged ever-so-slightly with a pallor of blue - it didn’t matter what your original shade was, you looked plain sickly. And so tiny in Nanami’s bed, his heart aches as he lifts his bedcovers up to your chin, wishing that he had more than some ol’ Captain’s drudgery. You looked like a lady.

“Where am I…?” The black-haired man’s voice creaks out, his long locks sweeping the ship’s floor. He seemed to be the Captain’s own age. Despite being in the warmth now, he still quivered - whether out of the frigid outside, or the memory, Nanami wasn’t quite sure. “Who-”

“You’re aboard the Royal Danish ship, Horisont.” Nanami answers, watching as the doctor hands him a vial of something that the man downs with a wince. “I’m Captain Nanami, this is Dr. Shoko.”

“How many of your men did it kill?”

The blond man shivers, momentarily speechless. 

He looks at the man intensely, his teeth were drenched in red. “…Six.”

“It will come back and kill many more.” He begs, tone trembling until it was almost indiscernible. He sweeps a hand around the room, flickering in and out of existence in the dim lantern. “All of you, if necessary, unless you deliver me to it.”

Nanami bends down until he’s eye-level with the other man, almost condescending. “It’s gone. It sank in the freezing waters, it’s dead-”

“No, it is not!”

There’s a bang and a clutter- suddenly the long-haired man is upon him, grabbing Nanami by the coat and shaking him. His eyes held a madness to them that shook the taller man to his very core, and he found his own scared face staring back at him through those irises. “It cannot be killed! It- it…”  As if the weight of his own words were hitting him, he’s sinking back onto the couch that made his impromptu clinical bed. “It c-cannot die…I’ve tried.”

“You’ve tried?” Itadori pipes up.

Nanami looks at the madman wearily, “And you have most certainly been…unsuccessful.”

“Whether you believe me or not…” Sinking his head into his hands, throat shattering in tears. “-it will come back…for me.” He breathes heavily, “And when it does, you must promise that you will put me out on the ice and let it take me.” Looking up into Nanami’s molten eyes, “Please.”

“What sort of creature is that?” Shoko asks, taking off her medical gloves. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Or more pertinent a question—” Nanami looks behind at your shivering figure, still, and then at the man before him. “What manner of devil made him?”

The man gulps, “I did.” As if the weight of a thousand years was rushing out of him at once, “I, Geto Suguru, made him.”

.

.

.

PART I: Geto’s Story.

His name was Geto. Geto Suguru.

It was his father that gave him that name, Suguru (杉る) meaning excellent, superior, surpass. One could claim that it all started with him, his father. And his mother.

For there are some parents that bear no merit to become parents in anything other than name.

The world changes once you bear life, you know, in the way that they look at you, in the way that they speak to you, in the way that they know you. They don’t know you as anything otherwise. And unless you can change with the world, then the world will change you. For love is a melding of souls that leaves one’s tempered. 

And one has to be strong to accept change, to be changed. Both physically and mentally. Fear it, of course - the presence of strength does not equate to an absence of fear - but be strong. Change.

The strength of one’s love is equivalent to the strength of one’s self. Why shouldn’t you change?

And so—to recap, the world shall change, you shall change - so who does that leave amongst the conflict?

Why, the child, of course.

To his mother, he was strong: her first-born. And this woman amongst women, this flurry of passion and decadence, the only person to ever beat him in cards, the sole empress of their mansion to brave his father for all those years; to him, she was far stronger than he.

Far stronger.

And yet, his mother died at the hands of the nation’s best doctor.

His father.

Geto Suguru’s mother died giving birth to his younger brother. Though she didn’t die with regrets- at least, their father didn’t believe so.

The youngest child was the apple of their father’s eye, the one that couldn’t grow up, the one that was worth a life. He was the breeze, Geto was the storm cloud.

Where he was locked in the library and taught the ways of the human tissue, it was his brother that was boasted at every social function. What had taken him years of reciting the complexities of anatomy to learn from his father, his brother could earn a smile with but a single look. When he had never heard a syllable of love from his father, he could hear through his bedroom—a wall shared with his younger brother’s, sweet goodnights.

There was something more- or rather, there was something missing.

“Father?” He remembers asking one morning after their early anatomy lesson. Geto must have been barely fourteen by this point, though his father acted around him like nothing more than if he were dealing with a poisonous viper. 

The elderly man pauses, and turns stiffly towards his first-born. “Yes?”

“You let her die, did you not?”

“I did everything in my power to save her. You must know that.” His father answered, grimly. He clutched his textbooks tighter as his son got up and rounded the table slowly.

Geto looks at him, “So you failed.”

The patriarch looks at him dismissively, “No one can conquer death.” And it has the tone of the final say, to which the man turns his back and leaves.

“I will.” Geto calls out after him. And there was no way that the baron didn’t hear him, no way that he didn’t know the boy had just picked up his own cane. A thin bristling woodwork singed with years of hitting onto the very flesh that held it now. 

Geto whips it through the air, “I will conquer it.” He wasn’t speaking at a particularly high volume, and yet it cracks through the halls of the library- making his father stop in his tracks and turn. “Everything you know, I will know too.”

The man looks at him with intense eyes, so similar to his younger brother’s. “I think we’ve done quite enough for today.”

Ultimately, he was not strong enough.

The Geto fortune’s downfall was swift; two revolts and a fire across their fields left them bereft. They kept the estate, but lost everything else.

Including his father.

Geto was accepted into the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh, where he attempted to…widen the narrow vision of academia. It is here that he held his own at a tribunal hearing, before an audience of a hundred he demonstrated his earliest experiment mending the arm of a dead man, and the head of another. By running an electric current through this specimen, he made it move—life!

“This is a hearing, Doctor, not a carnival act!” Another powder-wigged, bespectacled, puff-pastried member of the board cried out from his raised podium. 

It was exactly because of bigwigs like him that Geto had to attend such a hearing in the first place. Some of the higher-ups had caught a whiff of his experiments on corpses, and thus they’d demanded a proper investigation before the entire association, to determine whether such acts were in line with the ‘morals and scientific integrity of’ the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh.

The other surgeons around him leaned in on the edge of their seats as the elderly board member stabbed a finger in the direction of the moving corpse. He seethes, as if he found the mere display of it offensive to his eyes. “You’re not helping your cause, this galvanic trickery will simply not do!”

“Trickery.” Geto repeats, reaching deep into his pockets. “Trickery?”

Before everyone, he pulls out a red apple, ripe to the touch. Throwing it in the air a few times—before throwing it to the corpse.

Who reaches out and catches it.

“That is not trickery- that is a decision!” He cries out at the display. The single arm twists and turns, letting the deceased head inspect the apple. And above the applause, Geto yells in elation. “Motor coordination between the eye of one dead man, and the arm of another! Infused with new will and the rudiments of understanding-” 

A board member cuts him off, “Understanding in a brain that has already died-”

“This is the future! It is strength-”

“It is an abomination!”

It is only after Geto was formally expelled for his ‘blasphemous’ research by the Royal College of Surgeons of Edinburgh did he meet Kenjaku. It was with a tip of his hat and a bow so low that the tips of his nose nearly touched the blood-stained pavement, and then Kenjaku was led inside his laboratory.

He had strange stitches on his forehead, and Geto thought of him as almost a kindred spirit. A face to which he couldn’t put an age. He claimed to be an acquaintance of his brother’s and inquired into the other man’s work.

It was also the first time that Geto Suguru heard your name, his brother’s fiancée. 

It was also the first time that his heart had undergone the strangest palpitations that were not in line with any medical textbook he’d devoured before.

“So you claim you can do it-” Kenjaku had peered down at the man, dark eyes twinkling in interest. “-bring a man to life from the dead? Create a man that is so strong that he may not die?”

“I know I can.”

And it seemed to have been exactly the answer that he’d been looking for. 

Kenjaku reached into his long coat, and pulled out a flat white card with swooping cursive. “I have a proposal for you, Doctor.” At the surgeon’s raising eyebrows, his feline grin only grows. “I will endow your pursuit with unlimited resources. In exchange, I may in time ask you for a favor in return- but mostly, it would be my utmost honor to record your process for posterity.”

Geto looks at his outstretched hand. He hesitates. “I will…consider-”

“Don’t pretend to be reasonable now, Doctor.” Forcefully, the card with details is being pushed into his hand. “It would be such a shame.”

Geto never did find out his first name.

In the coming weeks Geto also grew to meet you, and he grew to be hated by you.

Or so you claimed. It was the interference of the natural cycle between life and death that made you instantly dislike him, you’d heard enough about his work from Kenjaku, a close family acquaintance. So to see this pompous, stubborn, (beautiful) scientist in the flesh was not too different from meeting the devil himself.

And the devil always was quite tempting.

“You laugh at my ideas?” He’d asked on your first meeting with him. It had been a lunch with none other than Kenjaku, his younger brother, and you.

And while the former two had disappeared for ‘brandy and cigars’ at a moment’s notice of one of your brewing debates, Geto had been the only one to stay. To sit opposite you on the long table. To look you straight in the eyes as you scoffed at his claims to bring a dead man back to life. “Idea are not worthwhile by themselves now, are they?” 

He crosses his arms, “Explain.”

“Think of the war, for example.” Your steely gaze watches as Geto’s dark brows raise, “Honor. Country. Valor. These surely are worthwhile elevated ideas by themselves, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Mhm.”

“And nevertheless, men are dying for them, in a decidedly less elevated way.” You continue, “Face down in the mud, choking on blood, screaming in pain. Fathers, brothers, sons. Men that were nursed into this world by their mothers, only to fall on a battlefield far from those that provoke these tragedies.” You’re looking straight at him, “Those men remain at home, untouched by blood or bayonet.”

Geto tugs on his coats, skin hot for the first time in…ever. “I-I see-”

“That is what happens when ideas are pursued by fools.”

His head snaps up, “And you think me a fool? Hm?”

To which you lean close enough that your breath wafts his face, warm and only warmer. Just the slightest smile on your face, “Run to your brandy and cigars~”

He’d never been harder.

A few weeks after that meeting, Geto rode down in a carriage with Kenjaku to a lake near Vaduz across the channel. A tower built as a water filtration plant and abandoned at the start of the war; the moment he laid eyes on it, the tower, he could feel destiny calling.

He could feel it.

The months slurred into one, and so did his experiments.

He stitched together the corpses of prisoners and men recently hanged, until he’d grown quite expert in making seamless threads on skin, until even various shades of skins could be melded into one. Trial after trial after trial.

The floor of his once-new laboratory ran red. 

And with every step closer he got to creating life, it felt like Geto lost a bit of his own. 

The first time that Geto bedded you, that was the night that he finalized the creation that would come to be his greatest downfall. He’d finally found the pressure points he needed to intrude in order to keep the lymphatic system intact. 

And he worked like a dog.

Night after night after nightmarish night. Those bad dreams melded into reality, and Geto could differentiate which was which.

Until one night, a strom was a-brewing above his spiral tower, and Geto stepped back to admire his creation. Upon a cross-like platform hoisted a pale body much larger than the largest man, much less human. He’d chosen each body part himself, of course: that toned torso, that handsome face, that small waist, those sea-blue eyes, hair of holy white. 

The perfect creation. 

As flares of lightning outreached across the sky, Geto connected the body to various cables and bolts aiming to extract the energy of the storm. Climbing to the top of the tallest tower, he’d enabled a massive ray that acted as a lightning catcher aimed straight at the lifeless body upon the cross. Like the hand of the heavens above, it was to give life.

“By God, it’s perfect.” Kenjaku whispers, coming up to the surgeon’s side in the laboratory. Kenjaku had taken residence in this very tower until Geto was to complete his experiment, and he frantically stopped Geto in his ministrations- “Quick! Quick, you have to do it now-”

“Pardon-” Geto’s brows furrowed, “Do what?”

“My brain.”

He pales, “P-pard-”

“My brain- inside that body.” He shakes the younger man, “Did I not say that the time would come when I ask you for a favor, boy? Well this is that time- quick, before the storm reaches its peak! Extract my brain and place it into the perfect body of our new Adam-”

Geto smacks his hand away, voice heightening. “That’s madness! I work with corpses, I will not kill just to put your-”

“Is it the money?”

He rounds the scientist now, hands throwing up in the air. And Geto can only step backwards—

“Because I can give you all the money you want- ohoho! You only need to say yes-” 

“But-”

He swipes a hand out once more to grab the other man, though Geto dodges it this time. “-no more, and no less!” Closing in on the man, “Just think about it, my boy, for me- youth! And for you, eternal wealth! No money in the world would be enough for this, and I can give it all to you if you just say the-”

“No.”

Kenjaku charges.

And at that exact moment, lightning clashes.

CLAP—!

It erupts from the needle-like end of the ray, making every piece of metal in the laboratory glow molten red with heatwaves. The diagonal and vertical lines of lightning crackling through the air, powerful enough that one could almost feel the atoms around it sizzling. Making the energy spark against metal as it conducts, making a stray beam hit Kenjaku and make him drop to the floor with a cold shiver. Dead. 

Geto himself can just barely manage to throw himself underneath one of his desks and take cover. His head in his hands, his heart in his throat.

And in the distance, something seems to ba-dump—!

When Geto Suguru opens his eyes again, he isn’t the only thing alive in that laboratory.

.

.

.

“And it was a monster.” In the present day, a Geto Suguru that was not much older - though he felt as such, he sighed as such - finishes off his story by spitting. It was as if speaking the very tale into memory left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, “With the average body and mind of a twenty-eight-year-old, and yet I discovered soon that it had super strength, healing like never seen in a natural organism before- and as his strength increased, mine waned. I did not sleep, I did not eat, I did not live- and more than that, I could not make it speak. I created The Strongest, and in doing so I created a monster.”

Nanami Kento runs a hand down his face silently, “You played God and now…”

“And now you reap the consequences.” Itadori is the one to finish off.

And the tired surgeon can only nod, placing his aching head in his hands once more. “I am its creator, and I have created a monster. It is something that should never have been done- never! I should have listened to her-”

“I did tell you so.”

A soft voice speaks up, and the fatigued crew almost believes it to be nothing but a hallucination- till they’re hearing the rustle of coarse bedsheets, and they instantly snap their heads towards the Captain’s bed. 

It was you.

At some point during Geto’s story, you’d managed to seat yourself up on the bed without any of them knowing. Keeping a keen ear on what was being said. Like Geto, you had that same air of faint fatigue about you- but you still held your head high, your poise that of high aristocracy.

Tired, but still as beautiful as ever. And Nanami swears he catches the surgeon’s gaze glimmer ever-so-slightly as they drift over to you.

By the determined glint in your pupils, he guessed you were none other than Geto’s brother’s (former, likely) fiancée.

Itadori jumps away from his seat on the bed with a squawk, blushing to the roots of his rosy hair. With a slightly stifled giggle, you’re patting the mattress beside you and getting him to sit once more. Once that was over, you cross your palms atop one another and introduce yourself.

“Captain Nanami Kento.” Nanami’s respectfully removing the cap of his uniform and bowing, hoping that you didn’t catch the exact shade of rouge that his ears were.

“Dr. Ieri Shoko.”

“Itadori Yuji.”

You’re nodding as they introduce each other, the rest of the crew, one after the other. Before ultimately settling on Geto, “And I know you too well.”

“Too well.” He chuckles.

“You have all heard my acquaintance’s story here.” You do not wait for the next invitation, gesturing at the man that was still sitting upon the couch. The rest of the room leans in with a nod, “So I believe it should only be fair that I share mine, too.”

.

.

.

PART II: Your Story.

You knew that Geto Suguru was trouble - you knew it.

In addition to unapologetically luring you away from your fiancé (his very brother, at that! That most certainly should’ve been enough to tell you all needed to know about the man), he was steeped in work of such nature that it should never even be spoken into existence. Such blasphemous ideologies, you had never heard of in your entire life. 

And you didn’t want to.

At least, that’s what you had assumed. But Geto just had a way about him that was so…irresistable. 

And even these past few weeks where he’d been holed up within his laboratory had a part of you missing him. Not necessarily out of any romantic obligation- though, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him in your bed. But mostly, you simply wanted to know whether he’d finally completed his life-death mission and left the rest of humanity to bear its consequences.

Unholy, unholy consequences.

“Oh, Suguru…” Your voice comes out breathless, murky in the stagnated air of the dungeon. It had been weeks since either Geto nor Kenjaku had responded to a letter from you, and without further ado - what next was there to do but barge into the very laboratory?

It wasn’t a difficult task you had to admit. The massive mill had been deemed empty after a few of your knocks went unanswered, and the door was unlocked - what have you told Geto about prioritizing his safety!

Nonetheless, it had worked in your favor this time. And while your fiancé had gone in search of his brother, you’d wandered throughout the entire barren, dilapidated mansion until you’d heard a few rustles from…the floor below the ground.

The dungeons.

Wondering that perhaps something unseemly had happened to one of the residents here, you’d quickly made your way down. And the sight that met you—oh, it had your vision blurring with- tears? You weren’t quite sure what was even real by this point.

It was a massive underground cavern, tiled clinically with white stone on every wall. Great pillars. Glistening streams of water. It wafted out slightly damp particles into the air, and made your breath take formulation in front of you. Tall concave arches curved their backs like portals into other worlds, and beyond the largest one- you could see a figure.

So pale that it almost melded into the walls it was chained to, almost wanted to.

But nothing could hinder the sight of the long-limbed, otherwordly…human before you. Less than human, more than not. He had the brightest blue eyes. Pale hair. Wearing nothing but a robe- more like a blanket, around his lower half. Stepping closer, you could see scar-like stitches around most of his joints: his neck, his legs, the most prominent one in the middle of his toned torso. You bring your hand up to your mouth and whisper, “Oh, Suguru, what have you done?”

The figure stirs at your voice, and stands.

“I…” You don’t know what to say, instinctually taking a step back behind a pillar as he stands to his full, towering height. Nearly eight feet tall, perhaps more. The strands of his ivory hair brushed the very ceiling, and you had to crane your head up to take a look at his handsome face.

The way he moves- jerky, to try and crane his head to see you. As if eager.

You notice that he couldn’t move much with the multiple chains around his wrists, and so you step into the light. Breathing out, “H-Hello.”

And then he smiles.

The most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen.

As you get closer, he silently cocks his head to look down at you.

“Hello.” You say, with more conviction this time. You’re raising your head up fully into the white overhead light, looking right into those beautiful blue eyes—and you think you hear him take in a slight hitched breath. You introduce yourself. “Have you been here long?”

As expected, he doesn’t answer once more. Simply blinking down dreamily at you, slow and steady like he was memorizing your face.

And yet you continue anyways- “It must be cold in here- here.” You’re shrugging off your coat immediately, and though it might be quite small for the giant, you stand on your tip-toes to help him wrap it over his naked shoulders. “I’m sorry, it’s not much- oh.” Mouth slightly dropping as he cups his hand over yours, just as you were straightening out the fabric over his pale skin. You feel the coldness of his body and gasp.

His large body somewhat startles at the noise, and you’re immediately feeling empathetic.

“Oh! Oh, I do apologize for scaring you.” In a slightly more hushed tone, you’re smiling up at him - hoping that perhaps it would disarm him, make him take a step closer. “That was not very lady-like of me, was it? Do forgive me.”

And you didn’t quite give a damn about customs, if you do say so yourself. But before this man you’re placing your hands upon either side of your skirt and curtseying- distinctly sure that you were making a fool of yourself before—

Rattle—!

You’re whipping your head up to realize that this giant was mimicking you - with his head bowed, and his lithe hands pinching the air of an invisible skirt.

You can’t help but giggle, and that draws a soft grunt from the creation, as if imitating that, too. 

Or at least wishing to. 

After a few seconds of drinking him in, you notice that he was looking rather intently at your hands. The very same part of you that he’d touched earlier.

His touch had been gentle, parched. 

And in almost slow-motion, you’re tugging off the silken gloves that encased your hands. The expensive fabric was  stuck to your fingertips like a second skin, and the giant’s eyes widen as if he was looking at you peeling a layer of your own. Reaching your exposed palm out—he grips your hand in his cold, cold ones and drags you closer.

He exhales as he brings it up to his face, as he feels you- as he presses your fingertips to his mouth and kisses. The man (or perhaps something else entirely?) lets out a soft chuckle as he feels you.

“Mm-” He grunts out, pressing a tender kiss on your hand before letting it free. Those overlarge palms of his move onto your other, and you’re almost about to repeat the movements of removing your glove on that one - before he tugs on the material at your ring finger. Pinching it delicately between his own digits, and tugging it down off.

Undressing you.

He grunts once more, “Mngh-” Something indiscernible, but to him it makes perfect sense.

In motions that feel like eons, he guides your hands - as light as feathers - to place them upon his own chest. Where you could feel a beating heart.

Ba-dump—!

Ba-dump—!

Ba-dump—!

Racing. 

Heaving chest. Bleeding stitches.

And you didn’t realize until then that you’d been shaking.

Eyes widened, you whisper. “Who hurt you?”

A few minutes later and you were barging into Geto Suguru’s decadent bedroom, where you found him deep in conversation with his brother - something or the other about the Royal Medical Society, not that you could give a damn right about now.

“The man!” You’re calling out, uncaring whether you interrupt. You feel so faint that you have to lean against the doorway to fully speak, “The man-”

Geto’s mouth parts, “You saw him…”

And that’s what keeps you walking forwards, until you’re almost nose-to-nose with Geto- and his brother is the one that has to tug you back by your elbows. “The man- is he patient? A victim?” Tone reaching something shrill that neither man has ever heard from you before, “His wounds- you wounded him like that-”

“No, no, no—” Geto’s clapping both hands on your shoulders and attempting to get you to look at him straight. But you almost couldn’t - his amethyst eyes weren’t how you remembered them, and his hair was askew. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have almost said that he looked crazed- “It was the world that hurt him, my dear, not I- I—” Pointing at himself now, “-merely gave him life.”

As you take a few steps backwards in shock, he’s looking at you fully.

“I gave him life.”

Later, Geto gave you a showcase of the ‘creature’ as he’d called it. He’d explained to you his rapid healing, the immense strength that seemed to have been an aftereffect of the storm. And when you’d pointedly asked him why he was chained was here-

“It doesn’t know any better-” Geto had off-handedly replied.

“But, Suguru…” You bore no mind to the hardening expression on his face, crouching down to clasp the giant’s hand. Your heart flutters as he presses your silken gloves back into your hands from where he’d removed them earlier. Caressing you, “-you know better.”

“Suguru, is he intelligent?” His brother asks, warily watching the interaction between you and…this beast. His brother had mentioned it had the mind of a twenty-eight-year-old, so did that mean he could also feel…

To which the surgeon doesn’t reply.

“Suguru, is he intelligent?”

That very night, you snuck out to meet him.

You found the giant glumly hunched over the streams that ran through the dungeon, his long fingers toying with the crisp autumn leaves that had fluttered from the surface above. You watch as he plucks them delicately by the step, chains rattling as he kisses them down onto the water below. Like a little boat that tips and rows right up to you.

He’d flinched as he saw you, you remember now.

Before you’d cast him a gentle smile, and the creation had nervously returned it.

Once you got closer, he’d reached his hand up to - trembling. Shaking at the very thought of human contact, and yet, he’d handed you—

“A leaf?” You’re breathing out in excitement,  and the man looks down when you take it. “For me?”

He’d grunted in affirmation.

“Thank you.”

After a few seconds of admiring the leaf by your lantern, you’d taken it up and pressed it to your lips. Humming ever-so-slightly.

“And what can I give back to you, hm?” You’d wondered out loud, “Oh! I know—”

That night, you’d introduced yourself.

Ultimately, Geto’s brother had decided to stay and monitor the situation - and with it, you did, too. Not quite to ‘monitor the situation’ as he had put it, but rather to keep an eye on…him. 

You didn’t know when ‘him’ had turned from Geto to the monster within Geto’s basement. 

And yet, here you were.

It was you who visited the creation every night, sneaking out when all the lanterns had been dimmed and sleep had befallen the mansion as your only cover. You’d grip a torch of your own in one hand, and in the other would be a cup of ointment. 

“Why hello—” You’d croon out, as soon as you caught sight of his hunched figure on the ground. Still chained - you were working on finding the key to it one of these days. And if worse comes to worse, you’d gnaw through those damned shackles if you had to.

You were on the verge to-

“And how have you been today?” You’d beam up at the pale figure, and he’d beam right back - all thirty-two pearly white teeth on full display. With your hands gentle on his limbs, you’re soothing your fingers underneath the unyielding gaps in the circular restraints around his wrist. Dabbing a bit of ointment on so that it would get all the purpleish skin, “Oh, that awful awful man!”

“Awful-” He’d nod, voice scratchy as it pronounced this new word. “Awful awful.”

It would make you chuckle, “And I’m just as awful, aren’t I? Only teaching you awful words?”

The creation’s eyebrows were pale, but you could still make out the way they knit together underneath the medical light. Fervently shaking his head from side to side, “Awful-” He shakes his head even harder, “Awful- not.”

“You say that I’m not awful, hm?” You bring a hand up to your mouth and titter, “Oh my, you’re quite the flatterer, aren’t you?”

And you’re not quite sure whether the giant understood what exactly that word meant, but he blushes all the way down the back of his neck like he does. Such a pretty pink. Rose pink.

Seeing it, you raise an amused brow. “Oh? Quite shy for a flatterer, hm?” Without thinking much of it - and oh, you really should think more when it comes to him - you reach out and glide the softness of your fingertips down his smooth neck. “No, it’s more like you’re just…sweet?”

With a shiver, he’s leaning up to your touch. “Sweet- sweet. My love- sweet.”

And there was that.

You’re not quite sure where he’d learned that particular pet name - my love - or whether it was a creation of his own beautiful mind. But he’d started to refer to you by it a few days ago, and had preferred it to your name ever since.

You’re reaching your hand back- only for him to clasp your fingers once more with his. Only to put them on his body once more.

With a kindly smile, you repeat your name.

“My love.” His gruff voice answers.

And you repeat it.

“My love.”

And you repeat it.

“My love.”

With such a fond sigh, you try to take a different route. “Geto Suguru.”

“Awful, awful man.”

“Hah! Well, at least you have the merit to get that one correct, hm?” You’re humming at him, and removing your hands from his neck to play with his massive fingers instead. The both of you were sitting facing each other, upon the cold marble ledge that Geto had intended to serve as his creation’s bed, you suppose. A sudden idea pops into your mind, “And what about your name?”

He cocks his head, “My love?”

“That’s my name, isn’t it?” You shake your head, tracing out the letters of both your actual name and his lil’ nickname on the surface of his palm. Once you’re done, you close his palm. “What about your name?”

“My…” He starts, and something seems to strangle at the back of his throat. It must be difficult, you guess, to speak out of a voicebox that was not your own. “Sa—weet.”

“Sweet?” You ask.

The giant lightly grunts, “Sa…sweet- Sat—weet.” He shakes his head, and you could practically feel the frustration that radiated off of him. 

“Hey hey—” You thumb down his palm once more, and he’s looking up at you with such depth. Such raw emotion in those summer-blue eyes; still unprotected from the roughness of a world that has been nothing but cruel to him. Cooing, “It’s alright—you can take your time.”

“Sa-weet.” He’s croaking out once more, one hand coming up to his throat- and the other hand pressing into your open palm. He draws out the letters that he was aiming to speak into existence. “Sa…to—ru.”

Your eyes widen in shock at his decision, and he looks at you intently.

“Sa—to—ru.” Patterning out two more syllables, “Go—jo.”

“Gojo Satoru?” You ask the man who has picked his own name.

“Gojo Satoru.” He repeats, still slightly rough around the edges. And the giant- Gojo, breaks out into a smile that feels like sunlight against your skin. And his hand- it ends up cupping your cheek, he presses his cold forehead to yours. Breathing you in. “Gojo Satoru, my love.”

You swear you’ve never felt your heart race faster.

After that particular night, you’d taken it upon yourself to teach Gojo as much of the language as you could. 

Night after night, you lugged down - not just ointment and your lamp now - books as well. If there was one blessing in this entire laboratory, then it was the fact that its libraries were generous with their bounty for you to raid. And for Gojo, as well.

Gojo—you supposed there were two blessings in this laboratory, after all.

It was tragedy after romance novel after historical novel that the two of you swept through.

You’d read in your lilting voice, and Gojo would listen - sometimes with his eyes peacefully shut, and his breath evening out so that you weren’t sure whether he was asleep or not. And whenever you stopped to check- he never was. 

He’d peer at you with wide blue eyes and query, “My love?” And that was all it took to get you reading again, no matter how scratchy your voicebox felt. 

You’d found that Gojo was partial to romance novels the most (yes, even the somewhat…steamier ones), and he vengefully loved a good tragedy, too (though you’d have to let him hold you afterwards, face pushed into the crook of your neck, and his large tears wetting your thin night gown). “You would never-” He’d gasp out through powerful sobs, always feeling pain so deep. “You will always stay by my side, my love?”

“Always.”

He’d lace his dominant hand with yours, “Always- always.” Pressing his forehead to yours once more, lips mere centimeters away. You could taste his icy breath, “I belong with you.”

Times like this you almost remembered why Geto kept calling Gojo ‘The Strongest’, because even his slightest hold would be enough to make your joints pop!

But then his teary eyes would take in the split-second wince on your face, and he’d immediately be loosening his grip once more.

He was never just The Strongest to you.

He picked up on language quickly, given that he had the mind of a twenty-eight-year-old. It was as if he’d just been borne into existence as such, merely manifested. 

A man in every way except how his creator treated him.

You admit that you didn’t get much sleep during those golden weeks- hell, your fiancé had started questioning whether you were ill after overseeing your bouts of sleepiness during the morning. And you had an inkling that Geto had already guessed, by the way that he’d been staring at you from afar…but he hadn’t caused trouble for you.

Just yet.

You remember that night as if it was just yesterday - it was your last night with Gojo Satoru, of course.

You’d spent particularly long in the dungeon with him that night, even after reading your book you’d stayed behind to simply converse with the gentle giant, all the while tugging and fidgeting with his shackles in an attempt to somehow break them free.

Break him free.

“My love?” Gojo’s asking in his husky voice, ragged. He peers down through his long lashes at what exactly you were doing with his hands - and he lets you do whatever you want. It was you, you could do anything to him. Anything.

You’re looking up at his coos, “Oh- my apologies, Gojo-”

“Satoru.”

“Satoru.” You manage a smile at his tenacity, “Was I hurting you?”

“No.” 

“And you’re not lying.”

“No.”

“And you would tell me if I was the one hurting you?”

“…No.”

He grins at your exasperation - it’s true, the way you rolled your eyes with a groan was highly unlady-like, but you didn’t quite care when you were with him. When you were with him, you didn’t quite care about anything else, to be honest. “Oh, Satoru—” You’re cupping his gorgeous face, finally letting go of those restraints that bothered you so much. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Mn.” He grunts, leaning his head in real close so that he could sniff at the flowery scent of your hair. “My love—” Hushly whispering out, “My love, my love, my love.”

“Satoru.” You’re breathing out, equally as quiet.

And then he’s tugging on his restraints, letting some of the screws fall off - easily, considering your tampering all these past few weeks - only to loop his strong arms as much as he could around you. You’re being pulled to his firm chest, feeling each rippling muscle through your thin nightgown. “My love—my love.” It’s like gospel to him.

Your mouth parts ever-so-slightly, something heating up within you. And looking deep into his dilated eyes, you attempt to say something. “Satoru, I…”

He presses his lips to yours in an instant.

In that gaze of his, you saw a need that matched yours.

In that distance of his, you heard the tearing of restraints.

.

.

.

“O-oh—” You’re cupping a hand over your gaping mouth, voice heightening the very second that Gojo’s able to get his ravenous hands on you.

The very second that he’s shoving your nightgown further up your body, bearing your body exposed.

For him…he’s running his jittering palms down both of your breasts. For him for—where your stomach was, down both sides of your hips. For him for him for him. Down to your legs where he’d missed a key part of you.

But before you can huff out in need, Gojo’s scooping you up in his arms and gently splaying you out on his marble bed. The surface is quite frigid against your back, and it makes you inadvertently smear your legs all open. 

Oh-so-lecherously open.

All Gojo needs it so take a mere whiff before he’s salivating down his chin at the smell of your sweet, sweet pussy. You’re watching him wipe away the burnished lacquer of spittle with the back of his hand-

“I never…” He’s gasping out, each word guttural and chopped as if being wrenched from the very back of his throat. Gojo hoists himself onto the bed, and towers above you casually. “In all my time here, I’ve yet to feel real h-hunger, my love.”

You supposed that was because of his superhuman body, and you’re wondering why he’s telling you this right now. “I’m…glad, Satoru. Would you like me to perhaps bring you something different next ti-”

“But now, I’ve never felt more starved in my life.”

Oh—

And before you know it, he’s moving. He’s moving his head down until it was nothing but a blur of white and pure carnal need. 

Darting straight towards the target of your pretty pussy-

You were just drippin’ wet by this point, and Gojo doesn’t even warn you before he’s surging his nose deep between your pussy and aiming to lick away every single sopping ounce. 

“O-oh—fuck!” You’re squealing out, the moment you feel his wet tastebuds sizzle against your core. Gojo was just swiping the pinkish tip of his crown between your pussylips and lavishing it all over in precisely the way he’d eat his favorite dessert. His favorite strawberry. His favorite cream pie. “I s-swear I got you enough of those sweets you love tonight-”

“But not this one.”

And you don’t know exactly what parts Geto had fitted onto his body- but Gojo’s savoring tongue just felt so looooong. Famished. Ramming it into every tiny nook n’ cranny of your outer pussy, forcing his face even deeper between your pretty legs. “Oh, I’ve yet to taste something so sweet.”

Those wads of your slick clung onto the lower half of Gojo’s handsome face, making it look as though he’d just dunked his head into a pool. And the more you’re attempting to push away his sweaty bangs and take a good look at him, the further he’s rovering. “Fuh-fuck, Satoru- oh my god, Satoru, slow down.” You’re panting, “You need to breathe-”

“Is it entirely necessary?”

And yet, it still wasn’t enough for him.

You don’t even know how but he was so dexterous opening you up.

Swirlin’ aside your puffy folds so that he could get to your hole - start filling up your hole.

Pushing and pushing and pushing—

Gojo huffs through his nostrils - right up against your swollen clit - when your snug channel naturally resists the intrusion. He couldn’t fit in more than an inch of his prolonged tongue, and the challenge makes him furrow his snowy brows. “Why isn’t it…” Almost muttering to himself, before he’s spitting a slick wad of saliva straight down onto your core. Splat! “Is this it—? Will this work-”

And then with both knobbly edges of his thumbs pryin’ aside your pussylips, he’s attempting to shovel even more of his tongue inside. “Oh heavens- Satoru, what did I tell you about breathing-”

“But s’just not fitting, my love.” Ah- at this point, his words were just slurred. And you swear his kiss-bitten lip pops out in what looked like a pout. “I don’t care if I don’t breathe if it just- hah, doesn’t go in-”

As if to prove his point, Gojo’s staring straight into your dazed eyes whilst he fucks your pussy with his tongue. Sharp jawline hanging wide open, slithering the pinkish edge of his tongue ‘round and ‘rooooound your hole a few times.

Before he hiccups, “S-see?” Just so sloppily, the giant is attempting to flop his thick muscle inside your leaky entrance. “S’not going in s’not going in- and fuck! how badly I want it to go in…”

“Oh, fuck…” You breathe, “I really am a bad influence- now I have you cussing from that pretty mouth.”

He was also whining into your cunt from that pretty mouth, begging you to take him more seriously. With both of his overlarge palms flattened on your thighs, Gojo’s just slightly slipping on the sheen of slick plastered to your skin as he spreads you all the more open for him. Like a feast-

“Well, if you really want to- hngh!” Just as you begin to speak, he’s funneling his tongue an inch or two deeper. The most sleazy expression upon Gojo’s face as his wet muscle reels back- only to do it all over again. “How cheeky, Satoru- if you really want to fit it a-all in, then you have to stretch me, y’know?”

“Streeetch?” Gojo blubbers out between your pussylips, his maw practically glued to your core by now. It was just too cute the way you’d splash all over him whenever he sent those vibrations right up your cunt, and he looked down at your entrance in interest. “So like- thiiiiiiis?”

“Oh fuuuuuck—” With your voice crackling as you keen, you’re immediately letting your body arch into the most perfect curvature.

Because Gojo Satoru had his rough index and thumb pinched over your puffy clit and drag-drag-draaaaagging that nub. Zaps of pleasure make you see white as he rolls it between both digits, “Like this, my love?” Gojo’s whispering, “Or—more-”

“Yes- no- yes.” By now, you can’t do anything but buck- oh, how did it get to this? He’s been the one that was easily pussydrunk with only a few laps, but now you were the one reaping its consequences.

Purely speechless on the way he was teasin’ your pretty clit, you’re reaching your dominant hand down and gripping onto Gojo’s white locks. Roughly - but if the way he purely moaned when he felt the sensation was anything to go by, then he loved it. “Yes, like that- ngh. But that’s not exactly what I meant, Satoru.”

“What did you mean then, my love?” He’s asking, eagerly.

And a faint satisfaction washes over you at the fact that you’re going to be the one to teach Gojo Satoru how to play with your pussy.

You flutter your lashes down at him, “First lesson is- you have to get me wet enough.” Not that he quite needed that lesson, for you were wet enough that your sap was oozing out of you and sticking onto his face in oodles by now.

But it just feels so good having him purse his rosy lips and splattering a straight ribbon down onto your cunt, smearing it with none other than his lips. “And then?”

“S-second lesson-” Shivering, you’re tugging his face closer - and The Strongest lets you. “Take it sloooow and easy with that tongue, Satoru. Just like- mmm, fuck!” But just a singular lap at your treacly pussy, and Gojo was all but plastered to it.

Lavishing your front with licks. Swiping and snapping his tongue allllll over every crevice.

He was letting his tastebuds enter wherever you’d let him, blue peripherals rolling right to the back of his skull at the candied taste that was filling his throat. And Gojo has the audacity to fight against it and whine when you’re briefly attempting to tug him off, “Just one more-” He pants out, with a wettened plop! when he attaches his maw to your cunt once more. “One more lick-” And once more. “Just one more taste-” And once more. “One more sweet kiss-”

And once more.

Eventually you can’t do anything but throw your head back and shrill—“Not adequately following the lessons will result in- in barring you from my pussy-”

And then he’s removing himself with a gasp! “No- no no no no-” Grabbing onto either side of your waist - and you’re unsure whether that’s to keep himself at bay, or to keep you from running away. “Please don’t- I beg of you, please don’t. I need this pretty pussy, my love…”

“Then you’ll listen, hm?” You ask, to which the powerful being doggedly nods. “Alright then, commencing- he second lesson is to take it slow with your tongue. Just stretch out my entrance—oh.”

And this time his tastebuds were sizzling against yours in slow, sensual motions. In circles and cute hearts- you swear your pupils were dazedly following along with the movements within the whites of your eyes. 

“Like- like this, my love?” He eagerly pants out, scorching breath hitting you from all angles. Luxuriously salivating into every tiny crevice within your channel- not just impatiently trying to fit in. Slick and satisfying with his plump tip squeezin’ inside. “Is this, mmmm, adequate enough for you?”

“Yes- yes yes yes.” You’re moaning with your head thrown back, “And now ngh, if you could just put your fingers on my clit now…”

“Is that a lesson?” Genuinely asking - he’s raising a pale brow, wafting his hand closer and closer to where you wanted him the most. Genuinely letting his mouth water at the notion - “Oh, please let that be a lesson- please. I love this cute lil’ clit.”

You’re nodding your head along with just as much desperation, “Yes- fuck yes, it’s a lesson.”

And the words have barely even left your mouth, you’ve barely even thought to close your gaping mouth - before Gojo’s cupping your cunt with highly-trained reflexes and teasin’ your clit. His lengthy fingers roll over that knobbly nub, in circular motions that make you buck atop him-

“Oh- oh look—” He’s marveling out at something, awe-struck. It takes you every shred of will in your body to actually tilt your head downwards and see what he was talking about. And Gojo? Gojo was just fixated on the sultry way that his tongue was shovelling even deeper between your pussylips, the friction letting his tastebuds massage your velvety walls. “Look it actually works- ngh, your lessons are benefiting me- ngh, quite greatly, my love.”

“Happy to help…” Blearily, you’re rutting your hips up in a sloppy staccato to chase that white-hot pleasure thrumming in your veins.

Something that Gojo happily welcomes, if the way he was roverin’ his sweaty head even closer told you anything. “And then?” He pants out, his nose rubbin’ all over the leaky slit of your cunt. “And then what- what next, my love, what next? Anything to do with this sweet pussy drives me wild.”

You take one look into his darkened eyes - blue irises damn near black by now - and shiver. “And lesson number…”

“Four.”

“Four is that you can t-try to use your fingers to help fit inside.” One more look- though, this time it’s at Gojo’s incredibly-sized fingertips. Far larger than any other human man, and the way they just curved dexterously inwards made you want to gulp. “Slowly, however.”

He purrs, “Slowly it is, my love.”

And you might have made Gojo Satoru agree to slowly—but you didn’t speak a word of him being nice, did you?

Within mere sultry seconds, he has the tip of his middle hooked ‘round the rim of your entrance. Using slight strength, Gojo’s stretching you wiiiide open- “Oh.” Gasping straight into the quivering orifice of your hole. “Oh, my love, you’re right.”

He’s then jutting his pointed chin straight between your puffy pussylips, letting his long tongue splosh! inside. “You’re right- it really does go even deeper. Oh, I wonder what it should be like if I put two fingers in-”

“T-two of your fingers?” You’re snapping your head up to gawp.

“Oh, but don’t worry.” Gojo shoots you a dazzling smile - literally, he was drenched in so many candied layers of your slick. Intently, “I’ll be reeeeeal slow.”

“O-oh, fuck.”

He’s swabbin’ away two of his doughy fingertips- right along with his tongue now. Again. And again. And again and again. Pressing into every speck and spot inside of you, Gojo’s digits manage to scissor your channel wide open, whilst the texture of his tastebuds were creating a feral sort of texture that drove you wild.

Spittle dangles down the side of your maw, “Oh- oh my god.” Babbling away almost nonsensically, just the most sinful noises leave you any time that Gojo was thrusting his thick digits in and out. In and out. In and out. “Oh heavens, I’ve never felt something so gooood, Toru.”

“Mmm, and that sounds good.” The tips of his ears blush a cute crimson shyly at the nickname - all the while he had his face nose-deep into your cunt and lapping you like a madman.

Sticking his fat tongue in every time he fingered open your cunt, hooking his muscle up to your gooey roof. Shoving. Shoving. So hard that glittery speckles of your slick escape and strike the tops of his cheekbones. And he just couldn’t get enough- with a growl he’s dragging you back mercilessly in for even more.

Adding in a third finger—

“Sh-shiiiit, Satoru-” You’re all but bawling, “I don’t think m’gonna last too long-”

“And the fifth lesson?” He’s hissing out in response, just as urgent as you. With his honed senses, he could practically smell the pure carnal need in your pheromones, “What should be the fifth lesson, my love? Please, I must hear it with my own two ears- I must-”

“The f-fifth lesson…” Head dizzy. Pupils whirling. “The fifth lesson s’to make me cum, Satoru.”

And he doesn’t think he’s heard sweeter words.

With a particularly haaaaard push of his fingers, all the way down to his bases, Gojo’s sticking his rounded fingertips straight against your throbbing g-spot. Where you’d been waiting for him for so long. Where he barely even has to graze that awaiting spot before you’re bursting into your sudden high.

“C-cumming—” Your shrill voice echoes out in the dungeon - not that you cared at this point. And your body unlatches from the now-warm bed to riiiide all of Gojo’s pretty face through your high, “M’cumming m’cumming m’cumming, Toru.”

“And s’all because of me-”

Proudly, Gojo’s letting himself be used to cover your sweet, sweet sensations of bliss. Any time he could feel your geysering orifice clench ‘round him- he’s only thrusting his fingers in harder.

Only licking over your bundle of nerves even more.

Slurp-slurp-slurp—you’re barely even midway through your wave of euphoria before Gojo finds himself already finished licking up your beaded ounces of slick. And without a second thought, he’s shoving himself back in between your legs with his tongue mazin’ inside. “Should be able to fit myself in- hah- now, huh?” He murmurs to himself, through just the slightest muffled gaps between his maw and his cunt. “Go inside- go inside go inside go inside-”

You’re strangling out a squeal as he ends up bottoming out his lengthy tongue, “So much of you…ngh, Toru, you fill me up like nothing else-” Thrust after thrust after thrust.

“And it’s the only thing I want to do.” Hammering away where you were the most sensitive. “To bring your pretty pussy so much loving.”

Before Gojo finds himself stuffing your cunt to the brim with his fingers and his tongue- and you’re barely through with your first high before already bursting into your second.

This one was unexpected, and it explodes through your body from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Your entire body heating up about several more degrees, just like putty ‘round his constantly hitting digits - with such precision whenever he’s striking your g-spot.

It passes through in synchronization with your initial orgasm, a brief flash behind your eyelids- before it’s petering out to nothing but a few overstimulated zings!

“P-please-” You sob out, clawing at his perspired scalp. “I don’t think I can cum again, Satoru- fuck, I don’t possess the stamina for that-”

“You do not?” Genuinely in disbelief.

“You’re just much more- ngh, enduring than me.” Blurting out, and it takes you both of your hands to even nudge Gojo away from where he was wetting your orifice with his tongue. All over again, as though he was still set on the idea of tugging out a third orgasm from you. “But if we do it now, then I’ll let you put something else in my-”

He unglues from your pussy with a loud, lecherous mwah!

“As you wish, my love.”

Oh—and then you’re being manhandled. You thought that Gojo Satoru was being feral with you before?

Not at all, you’re actually realizing that he’d been going easy on you. He’d been holding himself back. So fast that you barely even register what’s happening, Gojo’s rip-rip-riiiiipping your poor nightgown straight down the middle, throwing it somewhere behind him.

Raising himself up on his haunches. And then a hand falls to the robe around his pelvis-

“Oh my…” You’re squeaking out in surprise, eyes widening as the white fabric unravels for Gojo to reveal himself completely. Even when he had that on, you’d assumed that he was quite…sizeable - it was only pertinent, after all, the rest of him was quite exceptional in size as well - height, weight, power. 

But this?

This just made your jaw drop, and your mind immediately goes to curse at the man that had created him. Eyes greedily following the stitches that held together his muscular torso and v-line, you can’t help but let them dip lower…and lower…and lower.

The prominent stitches between his lower and upper halves.

Those ladder-like abs that decorated his core.

The trail of his white happy trail.

The base where they ended in a thick cock.

Long.

With a handful of veins starting out from his pelvis, and snaking all the way down his nine - perhaps even ten - inches. They loop all over his shaft, so hard that you could visibly count every throb. As if all the blood had left his man-made body and ended up in his cock.

Ended up in his blushin’ red tip that glazed with a fresh lacquer of precum. Twitching at the intensity of your stare-

“I-is something the matter, my love?” Gojo interrupts your ogling, “Is something not to your liking- oh, is it because eating you out made me cum just a lil’ bit?”

Your mouth opens, but you don’t know what to say.

And Gojo’s swipin’ his thumb down his mushroomy tip, smearing away a few remnant beads of white. “Because I apologize that I’m so weak for-”

“No!” You’re interrupting his apology instantly - he had absolutely nothing to apologize for. In fact…you rather found it pleasurable that making out with your pussy made him cream right in his pants. Clearing your throat, “No- you don’t have to apologize for anything, Satoru. It’s just…”

“Yes?”

“You’re so big.”

“Oh.” He looks down at himself as if he never realized- and when he looks up, you’re jolted to your very core to realize that Gojo Satoru was smiling. “As long as we have the five rules, right?”

“R-right- oh.”

The confirmation is barely letting off from your lips before Gojo’s hulking figure grabs at your squirmy body and slap-slap-slaps! his creamy tip between your folds. Just nudgin’ away the curvature of his tip between them, he gets a taste of your heated cunt and all but breaks.

Shivers. Shatters.

He unfastens his mouth as if he was about to say something- before immediately gnawing down on his lower lip and rutting. Like an animal.

Like he was in fucking heat—Gojo’s attempting to swirl his strawberry divot inside. “Oh—oh…” He grunts out something primal from the back of his throat, every slight buck between your legs making Gojo let off a pained noise - he needed to be inside you right now. “Oh- so this is what a pretty pussy feels like. This is what your pretty pussy feels like-”

“Aaaand?” You’re cooing out, wrangling onto his sculptured deltoids. “How does it f-”

“Like heaven.”

He’s managing to bully in a single inch inside your tight cunt- completely forgetting whatever sinful ‘lessons’ you’d just taught him moments prior. Just that pussydrunk. 

And just the first measurement of his swollen, fattened cock inside your pussy - just the first sensation of your walls all wrapped around his cock…

And you think you might just have broken The Strongest.

Because Gojo’s then throwing his head back and cumming- dolloping out a thick layer of his sap deeeep inside where you could feel it move about. His honed tip enters your hole perfectly, layering out his slick.

“C-cum—ngh.” Just the cutest noises leave him, and you swear you’re catching his face stain with a single tear or two just at the sensation of putting it inside. “M’cumming.”

“I- hah- know, Toru.” Fuck…you shouldn’t have said that. Because that only makes his twitchy tip flinch just a bit more inside your walls before beading out his hot pearly cum, the slickness of it already overspilling from your entrance.

That cascade of liquid echoes out just the slightest sultry noise - the slightest.

And yet Gojo’s snapping a single look down your glistening cunt and giggling—“S-so that’s what it is.” He’s rasping out- goosebumps skitter all across your body as you register the way his tone sounded…octaves higher. Sounded as if he was almost crazed. 

Without any warning, he’s then lightly easing his shivering hips back and shoving- “So tha’s what it is. So tha’s what it is. Why h-has it never occurred to me prior?” Fucking his gooey wads back in. You weren’t sure whether he was talking to you or himself, before he’s plunging out a few more vulgar strikes with just his dribblin’ rose-colored tip. “That’s what it is, my love.”

“What is- hngh, what-” That final sentence of his was punctuated by the sloppiest stripes of pre, taken inside your channel with slurping noises.

He’s boring straight into your eyes with his dilated pupils. Almost glowing. Almost animalistic. Before you’re able to repeat your question once more- Gojo’s clogging up your throat with his hammerin’ away. Nothing more than three inches inside of you (for now) and still rendering you stupid. “It’s that… One of his hands claws down your front, feeling for himself as he sinks in. “I don’t know if I believe in any h-higher power, but if I did—then it’d be you, my love.”

“Oh my- fuck!” Both that hand on your stomach and his free one then grope onto your hips and slam you down to meet his greedy hips.

“It would be you-” He’s panting out, his own personal chant. Through half-lidded eyes, Gojo watches the way his thickened cock slips n’ slides into your tight orifice. Cum and slick pouring out like madness, “It would be this pretty pussy- oh, the way she’s taking me- I could worship your cunt every single day of my life and die with no regrets.”

Panting out, “D-don’t say that-”

You could feel him enveloping every single hidden sweet spot inside of your walls, Gojo didn’t even have to try to get his flared ridge to open you up juuust right. “I will.” He seethes, something absolutely ruined in his tone- you might just be right in thinking that you’ve broken him. “I will- unless you command it, my goddess.”

“O-oh my—fuck.” With your back arching into Gojo’s sculpted front - all toned abs and rippling obliques - you felt as though you were at his complete mercy. “Do you- do you even remember the lessons, Satoru-”

“Of course, I remember the lessons.”

His tone was one that was offended you should even ask.

And with his nose crinkled handsomely in slight concentration, Gojo’s then rattling off those very lessons - while doing his very best to disregard them. “First- hah, first lesson is to get your pussy wet enough.”

“And?” You’re raising a brow, just to see what he would do.

“And…” Gojo lays his eyes down on the vision of your glistening cunt and almost snickers - you were just so aroused that your pussylips were shimmering with your sweet, sweet sap. He then proceeds to crane his neck down and still spit a great glob of saliva down onto your cunt. “-completed.”

“Oh—” He was checking those lessons off like boxes. You just wondered what would be there for you by the very end.

“Second lesson-” Gojo continues, “-take it sloooooow and easy.”

You nod, “S-slow and easy.”

“Oh, but how m’I expected to when your pussy fuh-feels like ngh- this, my love?” He’s genuinely pondering, with his brows knitted and his tongue darting out in thought. “It just feels so good that- hck! slowing down should be punishable by the law. I would rather be chained and whipped than slow do-”

“Satoru!”

And you can only watch as Gojo’s eyes brighten up, “Oh! I know-”

That’s when he’s easing the sinking of his cock—eeeeeasing, ever-so-slightly. Just for a laaaaanguid stroke, two, three, four-

Before you’re once more being pounded silly by his massive intrusion, “There- there.” Gojo babbles out with a pussydrunken smile, all dopey and blushing. “I took it slow and easy- fuck, it even had me fitting in an inch more, my love, did your pussy notice?”

“Fuck yes, I did.” You’re whining, arching your hips up into his. “And now you’re going- fuck, you’re going so f-fast again-”

“Well, you never proclaimed that I must go slowly the entire time.” Basking in his own personal victory, the loophole he’d discovered, he accelerates his hips even more. The rotund crown of his tip poking into you viciously, “Rather an oversight on your hngh- part, don’t you think, my love?”

“Rather, yes.”

“But it’s alright-” He nuzzles you with his attractive nose, “-I should do well to excel in the third lesson. The ah-”

“F-fingers on my clit.”

But of course, Gojo Satoru didn’t forget. Of course he merely wanted to hear you say it in that pretty, whiny voice of yours whilst you were being fucked by him- “What was that?” Gojo cranes his head down, the tips of his bangs tickling your face. “I’m afraid I cannot hear you clearly over your cunt-”

“Fingers on my, mmm, clit!” You’re yelping out, “I want your fingers on my-”

“Oh, you never need to beg with me, my love.”

Such a tease- when did your sweet Gojo become such a tease? Become so damn mean? Snickering at the look on your face, he reaches down and gently pinches your clit.

Moaning at the lewd way you buck, “Ah- is that not adequate enough? Do you wish for mooooore?”

“Yes, more-” You’re gasping, “More more more more-”

“Oh.” And it makes a part of his over-hard cock jolt right against your walls, burying himself just a few more inches down your walls. “As you wish, my love.”

The flatness of Gojo’s thumb was now glued to your nub, and you’re seeing white at the sheer amount of pressure being put on your lower half. He runs a hand across your drivelling wet cunt, right atop your folds, in-between your slit, snaggin’ apart your cute clit and pressing down-down-down.

“Reminds me of your other lesson.” He coos out, shivering at the lecherous way your expression twists every time his bulbous tip entered you. “Reminds me to- hah, to use my—fingers.”

“Toru, for this I don’t believe you need to—mmmpf, fuck.”

You’re biting back your words- in fact, your words are being fucked right back into you. “The fourth- hah, fourth lesson.” Gojo’s whispering as his thumb darts down in rubbing motions from your clit and to your hole. “The fourth lesson the- ngh, the fourth.” Almost reminding himself, almost holding himself back whenever his fingertip was getting a taste of your sweetened cunt- 

And he’s reeling that hand upwards to lick off the polished wet excess. 

With those tips of his now coated in a gleaming layer of saliva, Gojo manages to curl his thumb inside and pry apart your entrance a lil’ further. Just a lil’ more.

Just enough for him to give you another hard push and finally bottom-out.

His tufts of pearly white curls scritch-scratch against your cunt, and you’re driven absolutely crazy by the carnal feeling of having all of Gojo Satoru deep and throbbing inside of you. He’s managing to fill out every single crevice like never before, a loooooong length that ends with his reddish tip kissin’ at your spongy cervix.

“O-oh my fuck-” Even as you breathe, you can feel him stuffed inside of you. You try to run your palm down your front, and you swear you can almost feel him from the outside.

The giant sploshes out a hefty wad of pre that adds to the mess already leaking out of you - and you might have thought that Gojo would feel awe-struck at the filthy sight below you, you might have thought that Gojo would babble away at it.

But instead he’s just so…quiet.

Gojo Satoru has his head hunched, his ivory bangs covering his eyes, his biceps quivering as if they were on the verge of collapsing—

You take in the sheer amount of his ragged breaths, as if he’d just run across town five hundred times. “Satoru-” You tug on his shoulders- and when that doesn’t rouse him, you’re moving onto shifting apart his bangs to take a good look at his flushed face. “Satoru, are you okay- oh, shit.”

One look into his eyes.

One look into his drunken, predatory eyes-

And that’s all it takes for Gojo Satoru’s entire body to jolt- for Gojo Satoru’s entire body to be electrified as if he’d just been brought to life a thousand times over. Startled into motion. Breaths catching. 

He’s moving mechanically, robotically, to throw both your legs over his broad shoulders and suddenly bend, bend, bend, bend—

“I don’t even know what I’m doing.” He utters out into the saturated air, words nothing but a whisper. Eyes wide. Mouth gaped. A slow dribble of saliva down the side of his mouth gives you the urge to lick it off- but before you can do anything about that temptation, Gojo’s rutting—using that kinetic force to push you even deeper in half. “I don’t even know what I’m doing-”

Till your knees hit your tits, and your chin hits your collarbones.

And you can only cry out as Gojo fucks you at a constant rhythm, feral. “You- you don’t realize that you’ve just folded me into the hck! meanest mating press, Toru?”

“No.”

He’s bullying his hot girth into you- thump-thump-thumping away directly near the back of your womb. And if that wasn’t enough, his split-ended tip found itself grazing your favorite g-spot as well, again. And again. And again and again and again.

“I don’t even know why- ngh.” He’s choking up at the feeling of your walls closing in on him, your sopping pussy holding him completely hostage by this point. One hand of his was rolling his fingers over your clit, and the other glides down your core. “I don’t know why it’s just…”

You’re gulping once his hand comes to a stop right above where his bulbous tip was ending out at your cervix. Thudding away-

“-m’getting this sudden urge to breed you, my love.”

Oh.

And perhaps it was the feeling of his perfectly vein-decorated cock getting to you, perhaps it was the way his probin’ eyes felt almost hypnotic. And yet you can’t help but open your mouth with a whiny- “Yes.” Locking your ankles firmly ‘round his neck, he’s ramming and ramming his hips into yours with a groan. “Breed me then, Satoru. Give me your- hck! child.”

“Oh, my love…” Gojo’s spit-slicked maw drops. “Oh, my heaven- oh, my life—” His forehead plasters against yours, scalding breath fanning your face. “You’d be lucky if I gave you just one.”

“I p-presume I won’t be making it out of this alive-”

Gojo doesn’t confirm nor deny, only drilling into you like such a madman. 

It was in his natural instinct to breed you until his silvery tip felt all red and raw. The only thing he had to do was bottom-out at the spongy layer of your womb to activate that carnal part of him that wanted to see you all round n’ glowing with his child. 

With his strings of precum splashing out at the bottom of your cunt as if a premonition of something much stronger. And Gojo can only plant smack after smack of his rounded, ruby-red tip at the base of your pussy. Those goopy layers suckin’ him in- “Haaaah, m’not even completely certain that it can be done.” He admits, thoroughly pressuring his hips against yours. “And yet- I hope you know that I won’t be letting you go until we make it happen…?”

“Make it happen?” You gulp.

“Mhmmm—I’ll stay here and pound you against this marble as long as I need to. Won’t stop even when your gorgeous shape’s dug into the stone, if by then you’re still not p-pregnant.” Such filthy words, and after each syllable he places a solid sultry flick upon your clit. 

It makes you dribble out your sap like a faucet, “If I can’t sense your pretty cunt taking my seed. If I can feel the space inside of you. If you aren’t all full and choking on my cum-” Free hand coming up to draw a line across your airway, “-right up to here. If you don’t have trouble speaking—then we’re repeating it all over again.”

You shiver at his words, “Oh fuh-fuck, Toru, I don’t think m’gonna last very long.”

“Oh yeah?” He’s tittering, “Tha’s not gonna make me stop, my love- I apologize- it just feels too good. Just gets me too addicted that I—ngh.” His brows furrow, head throwing back- “Don’t even think about trying to get me to pull out before I’ve done all I’ve promised-”

“Sa-toru!” You’re dragging out your words, feeling lightheaded with the constant thumping of pleasure taking over your fuzzy brain.

“Oh but- but don’t think that doesn’t mean m’that gone on this cunt…well, I do confess that I am.” He’s gently tugging on your clit, and breaking out into an accomplished smile. “But worry not, I still r-remember your lessons—”

You’re cracking your eyes open, almost delirious. “You…do?”

“Mhm—” He leans down, and plants a gentle peck on your lips. “Fifth lesson.”

And it’s exactly then that Gojo Satoru fucks you straight into your high- stark against your tizzy pleasure, scorching hot. The electricity of your orgasm rips right through your body, frying your veins with the sheer bliss-

“Fifth lesson, always make you cum.” He’s repeating as if a mantra, and you’re clutching his scarred back for dear life as Gojo’s lengthy shaft digs against your every tiny orifice inside. Somehow, he’s mapped out your g-spot perfectly - swabbin’ that exact spot in the same sloppy tandem as his fingers on your clit. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump! “Always make you cum- hah, always- always-”

“W-want you to cum, too, Satoru.” You blink up tearily at him, wriggling your hips. You moan at the feeling of his flared ridge stirrin’ your tender insides, “Inside- please?”

He breathes out, “Has…has anyone ever cum in-”

“No.” You’re tugging him into a kiss, and it somehow seems to heat your body up even further. “Just you.”

And it’s all that needs to be said for Gojo to finally finish out.

Pouring out long clingy streaks of his cum, that ivory sap sticks against your walls and sensually slides down to your womb- hot and sticky. Balls clenching. Heavy. So much of it- the sheer volume is a sensation that only adds onto the shakes of your own orgasm. 

Your toes curl, and you swear you could almost taste the sticky sweetness of the puddle he was swirlin’ out at your very base. With all his throbbing inches shoved in tight—and your teeth set on edge after each ba-thump! of hot sap.

He’s riding both yours and his on your pretty lil’ cunt, “Just me-” Parched lips whispering. With brazen eyes, Gojo looks down at your core and pat-pat-pats above where he was spurting out his sap. “Just me, just me- just me—”

As Gojo’s voice breaks out, you’re peering up at him. “Satoru-”

“And is it…” He’s finishing off his train of thought from earlier, still muddled by the feeling of your sopping wet cunt- the crackles of his high. They make every hair on his body stand on end, spine arching into your body. “-is it just me that belongs to you, my love?”

You whine when his slightly-changing position makes his globular tip swab even further inwards to mess up your insides. “Oh, Toru, you don’t belong to me.” You tell him, and the corners of his lips almost downturn in sadness. “You’re mine, if you hah- want to be-”

“I do.” Gojo answers, immediately.“Oh, how I do, my life.”

Beaming.

You just didn’t know that, outside, Geto had been there to hear it all.

.

.

.

In the end, it was only with the promise of bringing him more romance novels, and perhaps a few sweet treats from the kitchen, that you’d managed to detangle yourself from Gojo Satoru’s long limbs. You crept upstairs with the morning light.

Clutching onto the staircase banister with all your might, absolutely ruined.

And you were well and fully intentioned to return with the spoils of your brief respite - to be quite honest with yourself, it ached somewhere deep inside when you weren’t near him. And you’d just been running your mind through a few potential titles that he might like when you heard his voice.

Not Gojo’s, no. 

Geto’s.

“You should not go near it.”

You whirl around to find him standing at the foot of the stairway, hidden in the shadows, so that you had not even noticed him with your mind full of Gojo.

Geto takes a step closer towards you, and you could feel his eyes sweep down the tattered nightgown that you help to your body, to your glistening eyes, your kissed lips. His lip curls in distaste, “You should not go near it.”

“It?” You ask, not masking your dislike.

“It, yes.” He spits, “It is dangerous-”

“He is a human being-”

“He is a monster.” And Geto Suguru has never raised his voice with you - not with you. But he can’t help but let that scratchy pitch out now, getting closer towards you with that utterly manic look in his eyes. “The Strongest- yes. I have not completely failed, but something must have gone wrong somewhere. A suture? A valve? Because he is a monster-”

“You do not know him!” Waving your lantern in his direction, he darts backwards with his eyes narrowed. 

“Good God, my dear…” He starts out, slow. “If I could force myself to believe it, it would be in my inclination to see attraction in you for that thing-”

“And if so, then what?” You’re raising your head high in challenge, meeting his steely gaze dead-on. “Understanding. Pain. Intelligence. In him, I see all of those things-” The flames lick away from him, “-and I am not quite sure I see them in you, anymore.”

Geto turns his head away from you, jaw clenched. “What about what you have denied me?” And you’re not quite sure what he means in that moment, not until he spits out the very two words that haunted you for nights. “Your heart.”

“My heart.” You can’t help but laugh to yourself, fists tightening on your lamp. “Of all human anatomy, that is the organ furthest from your understanding.”

And that is where your conversation had ended.

For the night, that is.

Turning your back to Geto, you’d made your way up that grandiose staircase- towards the library, as you were intended to. You took your time perusing the titles, both in wonderment as to what Gojo might like as a pastime to forget the conversation with Geto before you met your lover. And by the time that you’d picked up a tattered old copy of Beauty and the Beast…the tower was on fire.

What happened next you remember in snapshots and screams.

Running into Geto and your fiancé in the corridor, being bodily dragged out of the burning mansion by them both, fighting your way in an attempt to get into the dungeons- and yet, you were no match for both.

You’d flung and clawed at them both.

And yet…they still let the dungeons burn.

You knew that Geto had something to do with the fire, he seemed none too miserable about losing his greatest creation. None too sorry about hearing it scream—your name, from the depths of his wounded chest, it echoed above the flames,

That, however—that made you run to the house despite the flames- it’s only with your fiancé’s help that you narrowly missed a plume of flame and heat that had been headed straight at you. And when you opened your eyes, stuck together with tears, you’d found…

Geto attempting to go inside, as well.

Frantic. 

Fervent.

Flapping his coat and attempting to wade through, a single tear racing down his cheek.

What has he done?

“It’s too late now, Suguru.” You’re throwing off the other man’s arms, your cries aimed at Geto who looked on hopelessly at the maze of fire that he simply could not penetrate. “It’s too late now!”

Inevitably, you’d broken off your engagement and wished to flee the country, perhaps flee your life entirely - only, you didn’t realize that a certain scientist had much the same idea. Geto had joined you on an expedition to the North Pole a few months later, one that you’d signed up for in the hopes that the cold would perhaps numb your mind.

But when your Navy Vessel had been attacked by a hooded, inhuman figure- it was the two of you that had been left out for dead, the harbingers of such disaster. And you could only realize that Gojo was far far from numb in your mind. He was closing in on it. Just as he was closing in on you.

He was alive.

He was alive.

And you won’t let Geto prevent you from seeing him now.

.

.

.

“So that is why the mons…Gojo calls for ‘her’.” Nanami breathes into the ringing silence after your side of the story. He looks over at Geto, who hangs his head low, and then straight into your eyes. “He was asking for you- he was calling for you-”

“Oh-” Your hands fly up to your chest, “Surely you didn’t hurt him too badly?”

“We did not, my lady.” Nanami lies - and even if it had been false, it was only true that this creation had rapid healing. The Strongest, huh? Imagine such a thing. He takes his hat off and slightly bows before you, “We apologize that we were not there to speak with him before attacking, human to human.”

You’re managing out a slight smile, before you turn your gaze towards the haggard Geto Suguru. Who mutters to himself, “Her…so- so he really doesn’t want…”

“It’s not you he wants, Suguru. He doesn’t want revenge, he doesn’t want blood, he just wants-”

“Love.” He says the word like it pains him, looking up at you with those soft amethyst eyes for the first time in what feels like…forever. “He wants love.”

And you wanted your love, too.

The crew outside had been doing a valiant job at attempting to ignore the cracking of the frozen sea beneath them, the almost turgid shape of something attempting to claw at them from beneath the icy surface. Banging at the frost. Creating currents that sway and tip the Horisont from side to side. But once the group filters out of Nanami’s bedroom, multiple officers run up to their Captain with their worries.

“Captain, that- that thing seems to be coming back up again-”

“Our onlookers have spotted it swimming back near the ship-”

“It’s almost here!”

“Calm yourselves, calm yourselves.” The blond-haired man raises his palms to signal for silence, announcing to the entire crew. They look at you curiously, so out-of-place amongst their frantic faces, in fact- you seemed ready to leap off the side of the ship for a better look. “I am aware of the problem, and I am aware that he will be returning soon.”

“He?” Repeats Ino.

“He.” Nanami affirms, a twinkle in his eye. “And we have been quite the inhospitable hosts towards each of our guests here, and as your Captain I apologize for not correcting our behavior sooner.” And above the gasps, he continues. “Gojo Satoru is not dead. Gojo Satoru will return. And when he does-” He gestures behind at you, “-we will be letting this lovely lady off the side of the ship.”

“A sacrifice, Captain?!”

“That’s murder!”

“How could we ever possibly-”

“He’s coming.” His stern voice cuts through all, and it didn’t matter what they all had to say at this very moment. It only mattered what you had to do. “He’s coming- man the ladder.”

The crew works quickly and efficiently, and as they let that water-logged wooden ladder hit the ice below- Geto claps at your elbow with one of his shaking hands. “Are you perfectly sure-”

“Suguru.” You’re interrupting him, and it makes the taller man flinch. You smile, “I’ve never had a more foolhardy idea in my entire life.”

Somehow, somewhere, he manages to crack a smile, too.

The thunder of fists against frozen water grows louder, synchronizing with the stomp of your heartbeat as you make your way down that ladder. Biting your lips against the cold, your eyes trained on the dark mass of cloth that waded beneath the snow like a blood-thirsty shark. Ready to break free. 

The moment your shoes hit the crunching snow—

CRASH!

Gasping, the ship leans over on its side as they look over the edge.

The Strongest.

All eight, loving feet of him towering before you.

Shoulders stooped. Cloak drenched. Hood obscuring. His breaths come out in uncontrolled gusts after so long beneath the water, and the breeze tickles your face as he just can’t help but bow himself closer to you.

“Let me see you.” You’re humming, reaching over with absolutely no hesitation to pull the flap of his hood off. Ice-blue eyes meet yours. Rosy pink lips wobble with emotion. And suddenly you’re looking into the very face that has haunted your daydreams for so long now, your love. Your Gojo Satoru. “Satoru.” Taking one of his overlarge hands in yours, you’re placing them to your core - beyond those extra layers of coats, the swell of your belly. The life growing within. “We’re sorry we took so long.”

His scarred body embraces you then and there, “My loves.”

A/N. Think this might be the longest fic I’ve ever written? Mayhaps??

Plagiarism not authorized.

[princess-vibes25]

saving

[princess-vibes25]

New addition to my decor, my mom got me this for Christmas because I wanted to have a poster of him but couldn’t find one unless it was a movie poster. She gets me ❤️

[indiewritesxoxo]

freak on a leash!

toji's one dirty dog (...literally)

synopsis: after a curse accidentally turns the most feared sorcerer killer into a stray dog, it looks like toji is taking shelter with the first sorry person that takes him in...which happens to be a completely clueless you!

pairing: dog!toji x f!reader

wc: 11.1k

content: mdni, fluff + angst, smut, unprotected piv sex (after he's human again okay lmfao), lots of pining and yearning, toji is literally a dog for a while lol + so pathetic about it, deep in denial of feelings, toji being a dick until he realizes he likes being taken care of, pet care, oblivious reader, nanami cameo, jealous toji, protective toji, okay he's actual just feral, collars and leashes, kissing, fingering, doggy style, pulling out, toji falling in love

a/n: toji art by @to00fu ! this was a commission for the extraordinarily lovely @chewiebee !!

Toji was having the worst fucking week of his life. 

He had no interest in fighting curses. Why would he? He wasn’t getting paid to play sorcerer. All he cared about was taking out his current target, hungover as he squinted through bloodshot eyes at the scene of yet another pathetic fight unfolding in front of him. 

So how the fuck had putting a bullet in some moron’s head ended in him getting caught off-gaurd by the thing he’d been chasing? 

He didn’t know what it was classified as, what it was even supposed to be, but that was the definition of crossfire. Wrong place, wrong time, and now he was a mutt. 

Truthfully, Toji had been called that (and worse) a time or two. Treated like a dirty dog with fleas. 

He never realized how fucking itchy actually having fleas was. 

Maybe this was karma. Retribution for all the awful deeds he'd done and justified over the years. 

A pathetic curse had transformed him from a force to be reckoned with to a filthy stray. Trading in scarred skin for shaggy fur, calloused hands for paws, even growing a goddamn tail. 

He’d gone a day or two without eating before, sustaining on ramen or whatever else he could scrounge up – but now he knew what starvation was like when he was faced with the realization he’d be eating out of fucking trash cans for the time being. Clumsily swiping at the metal lids or sticking his wet nose up as he sniffed around back alleys for scraps. Getting shooed away from restaurants, ignored by pedestrians, narrowly avoiding nosey people who’d probably take him to some animal shelter while he waited for this stupid curse to wear off. 

Except, it didn’t. 

Each day, he woke up with his slobbery head resting on his furry limbs. 

The second week somehow managed to be worse. 

Hunger gnawing at him, desperation and starving twisting together until he felt feral. Shiu was probably pissed off and pacing somewhere, surely thinking Toji was off on some bender instead of bent forward on his haunches, attempting to take a nap outside of some nice office building – the kind with the type of employees who’d toss him leftovers if they saw him sitting there sadly. 

There weren’t many things Toji was good at that weren't phsyical. 

But knowing what kind of woman would take him in was one of them. It wasn’t just about a pretty face or an expensive purse. It was that little gleam in their eyes, the faint hint of pity that undercut their attraction. Whether or not they had a wedding band, or wore designer brands, if they were searching for salvation in sex with some scumbag or just the thrill of doing someone they shouldn’t, those all came second. 

There had to be sympathy, even if it was misplaced – the sort that made them feel like they had to offer him a bed and blankets to bury himself in, hot meals and clean clothes. A place to shower and scrape his life together between contracts. 

Toji was trying for a few days – attempting to snag the attention from a do-gooder or divorcee to get himself somewhere to sleep. 

He almost gave up. Until you came along. 

And in an instant, he had you pegged. Planned out his play as you looked past him. Or, over him. 

You were someone he might’ve slept with. Heels clicking as you walked up to the main entrance, pausing to give someone who was playing guitar on the sidewalk some cash between buildings, smiling all pretty before you shrugged your purse over your shoulder and hurried inside. 

Sure, he couldn’t pull his usual tricks on you. Slide up to you or slip you his number, call you doll or pretty, until you were giggling and grinning up at him. 

But who said he couldn’t find another way to win you over? And win himself somewhere warm to sleep while he was at it? He perked up, an idea brewing in his lemon-sized brain. 

He supposed he’d find out pretty soon if you were a dog person. 

ᴥ

You heard of the cat distribution service before. Giggled at the idea of the universe hanging you a pet on a silver platter like that. But the green-eyed shaggy beast barking in front of you felt a little more like a cosmic joke. 

Did the dog distribution service exist? And if it did, why the hell had it decided you were capable of taking care of this? 

All you were attempting to do was go back down the street after a particularly grueling shift, but this…stray was prowling around as if it were waiting for you. Padding back-and-forth on dirty paws, leaving muddy prints on the concrete as you glanced around for an owner you already knew didn’t exist. 

He wasn’t wearing a collar – and judging by the fact you could see a couple ribs poking out, you doubted he’d been fed anything outside of scraps for a while. 

“Hi, puppy,” you tried to greet him, holding your hand out for him to sniff. Tilting your head to the side while you cringed at the idea this hulking thing could possibly be a puppy. He was too big, dark scraggly fur sticking up, his coat dirty from living on the street for however long he’d been living out here. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d even seen a stray dog around here. Let alone one this large. 

Was he someone’s pet they tossed out when he grew past puppy size? One that escaped and scrounged to survive? 

He curiously came up, his long tongue sticking out and dragging over your fingers. It was kinda gross, struggling not to cringe outwardly this time before you wiped his slobber off on your pencil skirt. Glancing around as if someone else wearing an ‘I LOVE DOGS’ shirt would waltz up and take him in so you didn't have to.

“I don’t have any food for you,” you apologetically murmured, ignoring the snickering of another one of your coworkers brushing past you and the mutt rubbing his nose against your skirt. 

He let out a low ruff, and you couldn’t tell what he was trying to communicate. 

Still, you were convinced he would lose interest after a block. Or two. But he was still trailing after you by the time you finally reached your apartment. 

“You can’t come in,” you protested at first, frowning at him yipping and pawing at your heels. You bit your lap, looking around to see if anyone else was around before almost immediately caving in and opening the door to the lobby for him. He rubbed his head against your legs, but followed your lead up to the back stairwell, keeping up with you until you reached your front door. 

Were you a fool for letting some mangy thing inside your place? 

Probably, yeah. 

But you told yourself this was a temporary thing. God knows you couldn’t afford the additional pet deposit you’d need to pay to keep him. Or the dog toys and food required to keep an animal this big well-fed. And honestly? 

You were too lazy to find the time to walk him every day. 

He’d need what? At least an hour? A few miles? 

You’d give him a few days, a week maybe. You’d have to take him to a vet too, get him checked out to see if he had a chip or anything. Afterwards, you could look up animal shelters nearby, but if those were full, you could try posting online to see if he was anyone’s missing pet. 

A lot of work for…what? 

Some stray? 

He looked up at you with those dark green eyes, and you noticed a strange scar stretching over his lip, still visible through his fur, all jagged and rough. It was enough to tug on your heartstrings, squeezing it just hard enough that you only sighed as you unlocked your front door, barely beginning to push it open before he was barralling his way in. 

Most of the mud on his paws had come off on the walk here at least, only leaving little marks of dirt as he padded into your living room, looking around almost critically. Eyes shifting from your couch to the tv hanging a little lopsided on your wall, quickly locating the adjoining kitchen and heading in the direction of your fridge.

Greedy thing, wasn’t he? 

He barked, trying to get your attention. 

Surely, if he knew what a fridge was, knew where to go, he had to belong to somebody, right? Maybe you would only have to play dogsitter for a day or two if someone was out there missing him. You’d have to keep an eye out tomorrow for posters on lampposts, fingers crossed that you’d get a reward for being a good samaritan.

You kicked off your heels, following your new friend over to your fridge. 

He was pawing at it, practically whining, and another prick of guilt got you. Pierced into your soul, disappointed in yourself for already thinking about how fast you could get rid of him while the poor thing was staring. 

“Do you like steak?” You asked, not sure what else you could feed him that you already had on hand. The steak was supposed to be for a date later this week, a guy you had sorta been seeing for the past few weeks. 

You offered to cook for him, already got the ingredients, but you supposed you would just have to go to the store for another one – and pick up some actual dog food there too. 

The dog was nodding, head moving up-and-down, as it was actually answering, and you giggled a little. 

He was kinda cute. In a scraggly way. 

Like the type of guy you swore you could fix. On the bright side, you could fix him. Fatten him up with some real food. Get him some proper exercise. Maybe a dog bed for him to stay comfy until you found him a new (or old) home. 

“Suppose I should name you for now,” you murmured, getting down on his level. Not quite nose-to-nose, his surprisingly intelligent stare locking onto you.

He barked, and if you could almost believe he was trying to tell you a name when he was making eye contact like this. 

But dogs couldn’t talk. And unfortunately for him, you weren’t all that creative. You went with the first (and not very fitting) name your brain came up with as you reached out to pet his scraggly fur. 

“What about Fluffy?” 

ᴥ

“Good boy.” 

How fucking frustrating. 

Toji was not a good boy. The number of bounties on his human body could probably vouch for that. Actually, anyone who ever met him would fucking agree that he was about as far as he could get from the definition of good. 

He was a bad, bad man. One who would most certainly be much happier out there murdering people than having his paws shoved inside a fucking pet sweater before having a goddamn green collar fastened around his neck, a leash attached.

If he could scowl, he would be right now, regretting every bad decision that led him here. 

(Although as much as he hated to admit it, the sweater was kinda comfy.) 

“C’mon, Fluffy,” you purred, scratching behind his ear in a way that reflexively had him leaning into your hand, unable to control the canine whimper that came from his throat as you managed to make that infuriating itch that had been bothering him disappear. 

Perhaps he picked the wrong woman. 

You let him in. Fed him. But it was like you were trying to irritate him, piss him off with your cutesy nickname and condescending baby talk. Completely clueless, convinced you were doing a good deed by taking care of him. 

“We’re going on a walk,” you spoke softly, pulling lightly on his leash to get him to follow you. 

He barked back, trying to communicate that he didn’t fucking feel like it, that it was far too early in the morning to make him get up, the sun barely up before you were attempting to force him off of your couch. 

Wasn’t it bad enough that he was collared and leashed? Contained in the body of a canine? 

Toji didn’t know how long he could take it. 

Sure, the steak you fed him was great. The warmth of your apartment, the coziness of your couch, that was all fine.

But putting up with you? And this? 

He whined, resisting as you exhaled hard, rolling your eyes at him. 

“You’re going to be stuck here all day,” you huffed. “Don’t you need to like, piss?”

Toji grimaced, his grumbling only coming out in low barks as he begrudgingly let you lead him to the front door. Your purse was tucked over your shoulder, plastic shopping bags sticking out of it as you plucked your keys free. 

He had learned a few things about you over the past fourteen hours. 

You were smart, sharp enough to look a little suspicious at his human-ish behavior. He had to do a few circles, sniff around the furniture to shake your stare after he scarfed down the steak and wiped his mouth on one of your hand towels before getting shocked by his own reflection looking back at him in the oven. 

Growling a little, disturbed at the thought he made an ugly mutt. 

Affectionate too, in an easy way. Rubbing his head and scratching underneath his chin every time you so much as brushed against him. 

But you were still a fool. 

Just stupid enough to see a stray and let it sleep with you. 

Well, adjacent to you. 

Shutting him out of your bedroom, leaving him to crash on your couch, curled up in the corner, eyes shutting from exhaustion before he could stop himself. He didn’t mean to doze off – but he couldn’t control it. After so long scrounging for survival, his body refused to stay awake any longer, bones worn, limbs terribly tired as dreams washed over him. 

In them, he was human again, but still here. 

Staring down at a sleeping dog in front of him, paws hanging off the couch and snoring while he scoffed. 

What the fuck was he doing? 

How the hell was he supposed to get back to his own body? 

There were still things he had to do. Debt to be paid and bets to be made. 

His life wasn’t good. Had never really been. But it was still his to live. 

Toji flexed his fingers, trying to hold onto the feeling of having them before he found himself snapping back into his dog form – like some rubber band snapping and rebounding him back into the proper place. 

He didn’t get the chance to protest. 

Why did he expect anything different? 

The world wasn’t kind to him. Why would it cut him a break now? 

This was as good as it was going to get. 

Maybe the universe was telling him to be grateful or some stupid bullshit like that – reminding him that even his strength could be humbled and stolen from him. Reduced down to a dog wearing a sweater, stuck on the leash of a woman who would go on to marry some small-dicked loser and have a picket fence life without half the worries he had. 

Who would never know blood and death the way he did. Protected by the sorcerers he was contracted to kill.  

“Are you really gonna fight me on this?” You pouted, stomping one of your heels as you gave another small tug at his leash. 

He shook his head, and you blinked back surprise again, eyes narrowing before you swallowed hard. Accepted it as a little quirk, or whatever you had to tell yourself before letting it go at that. Leading him back down the hall, down the stairs, taking him back to the sidewalk and the streets he’d been prowling for the past couple weeks. 

“See,” you murmured softly. “It’s not that bad.” 

Yeah, it was, but he couldn’t argue with you the way he wanted to. 

It was cold on his paws, the wind nipping at his nose, and you were barely hiding your shiver under your coat in the early morning air. 

You had the decency to turn your back when he did his, uh, business. 

The whole thing felt intimate – in a way he despised. How you would bend down to speak quietly to him, how your fingers felt running through his scruff. The way the tips of them would skim over his jaw as your eyes locked onto his. 

If he was better, less self-centered, perhaps he’d stop to appreciate the fact you still spoke to him, even when he was only a dog. But you didn’t know he was really a human like you. 

Actually, not really like you. 

You were supposed to be nothing. You weren’t a sorcerer. Didn’t belong to a clan. There wasn’t even enough money in your purse to really have a place in his normal life. 

The paths you were both on should have stayed separate. Never crossing, never intertwining. You were weak. 

And you were still the one person who stopped for him. 

“Guess I need to get you to a vet tomorrow,” you sighed, standing up straight and looking left back towards your apartment. “I’ll take you out for another walk after work.” 

And you did. 

The whole day by himself, padding around an empty apartment of a stranger, dozing off on the floor and fighting his animal impulses to find out how chewable your shoes and furniture were, it was kind of lonely. 

Toji thought he knew what loneliness was. How it felt to be by himself, to not have anyone to talk to or turn to. But it wasn’t like this. Nowhere to go and nothing to do, nothing but his own morbid thoughts. 

He was almost relieved to hear your key turn in the door. Showing up with a big bag of food, arms full with a comfy cushion big enough for him to sleep on and a bag of dog toys, setting up his bed next to your own and patting it softly before you peeled off your clothes to put on pajamas. 

He was sleazy, sure. 

But this time, he turned around, paws sinking into the soft cushion instead of staring at the bare expanse of your skin when your top came off. Didn’t watch you change or take the easy opportunity to see a pretty girl strip right in front of him. 

It didn’t feel right. 

He slept on the floor, shoving down the depressingly long day before you were walking over to him. Getting down on your knees, rubbing his back and resting your head on top of his. 

“Good night.” 

When was the last time someone had actually wished him that? 

He was struck by the strange sensation pricking underneath his fur and skin that it felt nice to hear. 

Truly, Toji loathed how easy it was to get used to this.

How long did it take? 

Not nearly enough for him to find justification. 

Even if his days stretched out far longer lately. 

When did it happen exactly? How did getting his head scratched go from irritating to intoxicating? When did he start catching his tail wagging waiting for you to get back home? Or listening on the rare occasions where you patted for him to jump up and join you in bed at night? How he couldn’t control his impulses when it came to sniffing and licking your face the next morning? 

Looking forward to the way you would sleepily stroke his fur, yawning and snuggling him close. 

“Sweet boy,” you murmured, lazily throwing an arm around his torso. 

He’d been called a lot of things. 

Evil. Broke. Awful. 

Never sweet. Never anything carrying an even remotely positive connotation before you unless it was just about his looks. 

You took him to the vet, but he saw the way your brows knitted together when they scanned him for a chip and couldn’t find one. They offered to vaccinate him, but all it took was a few barks, whining and resisting for you to quickly decline and take him back home. Grumbling on the way back about needing to put up posters or make found dog posts online, but you didn’t do either. 

Just turned the tv on and gestured for him to join you yet again, letting him get up on the couch as you sighed and scrolled through shows, glancing over at him every so often, tilting your head to the side in a way that was almost annoyingly cute. 

He wanted to know what you were thinking. 

What was going on in your head when you looked at him like that. 

But the days ended how they usually did, with you returning back to your own bed, leaving him to his dreams. 

Ones where he was human again – where he wasn’t stuck being your pet and eating fucking kibble and taking pisses in the street. Where he would actually be able to hold someone again. 

Toji just didn’t realize he had started to think about holding you until the world reminded him that he couldn’t. 

Watching you hurry around your apartment after work the next day, shutting him out of your bedroom just to step back out in a ridiculously tiny dress five minutes later. One that clung to your chest, stuck to your skin and rode up your thighs. 

“I’m gonna be home late tonight, Fluffy,” you sighed, pulling at the hem of it as you slipped into your heels. You were even wearing more makeup than usual, the gloss on your lips catching the light as they parted apologetically. 

He barked, and if he could, he’d tell you not to fucking think about it. 

That you should really just stay here with him.

It was absurd. Simply absurd that he was attached to you like that. 

He wasn’t supposed to be attached to anyone. To need somebody other than himself. To count on your company like that. 

“I know,” you sympathetically sighed, bending down to cup his face. 

When you touched him like that, he almost felt human again. Almost felt like you were actually seeing him. 

But he was just a fucking dog to you. 

ᴥ

“Do you like dogs?” 

Your date coughed a little, wine dribbling down down his lips as he cleared his throat and used his napkin to wipe it off. 

“Do you have one?” He asked, forcing a smile that made you feel awkward as you took the last bite of the dessert he insisted on ordering. 

You postponed your date from before, but he suggested making a dinner reservation at some upscale restaurant that made you feel shy, a little guilty about ordering off the pricey menu when you had originally wanted to cook for him before. 

The discomfort only grew at how incompatible you were slowly starting to think you might be. 

“I sorta took in a stray,” you shrugged, dropping the fork down on the plate. He nodded along, placing a credit card over the receipt as you tried to judge where the rest of tonight was headed. If you should offer for him to come back to yours. 

Honestly, despite the not-so-great date, you were dying to get laid. 

To feel the warmth of something that wasn’t furry or inanimate. To be touched and adored, even if it was only for a few moments. Just a night where you were taken care of, treasured. 

Although, the barking beast probably snoozing on his bed back home might pose a problem judging by the way your date was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

He was a coworker, professional enough that you had never thought he was remotely interested in you until he politely declared that he'd like to go on a date with you a month ago, formally admitting his feelings for you had grown through break room chats and meetings. 

Nanami was cute. All serious and steady. The sort of guy it would be easy to picture a future with. He definitely did his taxes – probably had his retirement half paid for already, a future mapped in five-year plans. 

“Oh?” He asked, with just enough curiosity to help you work up the courage to ask your next question, thick fingers somehow still managing to hold a wine glass delicately. 

“You could come meet him?” 

How terribly could it go? 

Fluffy was a little feral. But he didn’t bark or try to bite the people you passed by when you took him on walks. 

So you hadn’t exactly anticipated how territorial he’d act after only living with you for a couple weeks. 

Silence greeted you back in your apartment, pushing the door opening and calling out to him. Laughing a little at Nanami’s wry comment about your naming abilities and letting your hands skim over his broad chest, the button-up clinging to it as the sound of paws padding towards you made you turn. 

Your dog started growling the second he saw Nanami next to you. 

A low sound, from the deepest part of his throat, rolling as you protectively stepped in front of him and scoffed. 

“Don’t be like that,” you scolded your pet, sighing and shaking your head with disapproval. “C’mon, Nanami.” 

“Kento,” he corrected you, but when you glanced back, his focus was on Fluffy. Amber eyes narrowed, lines forming between his brows as he watched your dog get low to the ground and continue howling with his own disgust. 

“We can go back to my bedroom,” you murmured, interlacing your fingers with him and leading him past your pet, keeping yourself between the two of them before you shut the door behind you. 

Neither of you even got past taking your shoes off, or even peeling a single article of clothing off, only your purse getting the chance to hit the floor. His hand had just cupped your face, the sharp slope of his nose nudging against yours as he leaned in for a kiss when a loud thump interrupted. 

Fluffy was throwing the whole fucking weight of his body against the door, barking and whining at being shut out. 

“He’s not usually like this,” you muttered, embarrassment edging in at how much you sounded like one of those dog owners who swore their dogs never bit when they definitely did. 

“Maybe next time we could go back to my place,” he lightly said, even when he was actively grimacing and glancing back to where the whole frame was shaking from the force of your dog acting like a dick.

Crack. 

Wood splintered. The frame gave out, hinges creaking as a large hole suddenly burst through the center. 

You stared at your now utterly destroyed door. 

“What the hell?” You hissed, glancing down at your dog on the other side through the dog-shaped crater, wood chips in his fur and scattered on the floor. He was baring his sharp teeth, growling at the man behind you. 

“I don't think he likes me very much,” Nanami dryly commented, and you couldn't even protest. 

Just blinking at the huge mess you'd have to clean up as you numbly attempted to collect a shred of composure and higher reasoning not to completely lose it at the dog still trying to break into your bedroom to what? 

Attack your date? 

“Perhaps it would be better if I left,” Nanami muttered, right as Fluffy started barking even louder through the broken and splintered wood. 

“You don’t have to-” You weakly protested, but he had made up his mind. 

And you had sealed your fate of not getting fucked tonight the second you suggested coming back here. 

You had to slip out of the door first, hardly managing to hold Fluffy back by his collar as your date hurried back out. Except, at the last second, he slipped from your grip, bounding across the living room in large strides and half-launching himself off the couch just for his canines to sink into the calf of your blond coworker. Ripping a hole in the tan fabric but thankfully not actually breaking his skin, only stopped by Nanami grabbing him by the collar and prying him off before he could. 

“Holy shit, I'm so sorry,” you started frantically apologizing, rushing to grab him and hold him back, rambling that you'd buy him a new pair of pants.

Nanami politely muttered something about seeing you in the office again on Monday, dusting off his now ripped pants with more professionalism than you think you could ever fucking muster as you contemplated finding a new job so you wouldn't have to face a break room conversation apologizing for your dog assaulting his slacks. 

The door shut too hard behind him, and you were left alone with your still-growling stray. 

“I swear to fucking God, if you try to break the front door, I'll drop you back off where I found you,” you threatened, only letting go of the collar when he stopped. But then he was pacing, making unhappy circles and looking at you like you were the one that had committed some grave sin. 

What the fuck were you supposed to do now? 

Buy a dog crate? A new door? Try to call around shelters again to see if any of them had suddenly become available to take him? 

Despite how pissed you were, how the disappointment and anger felt like it was boiling and bubbling underneath your skin, the thought of dropping him off somewhere and condemning him to being put to sleep or stuck somewhere for months without anyone to take him in kinda scared you.

You didn't want that to happen to him. 

Even if part of you hated him right now for this. 

Silently fuming when you stomped back into your bedroom, stripping down and huffing to yourself as you yanked pajamas from your dresser. Tossing them on and snatching your purse back up, rummaging through it for your phone to send an obligatory apology text before scanning through your contacts for someone to complain to. 

Calling one of your friends as you sat on the edge of your bed, listening to the phone ring and the sound of paw pads pacing in the living room drifted through the gaping hole in your door. 

“I thought you were on a date right-”

“My dog tried to fucking bite him,” you groaned into the phone, putting her on speaker before pulling up your browser to start searching for solutions for your current dog problem. 

What would a responsible adult do? 

You regretted not going along with your first plan, for putting your search for a proper place for him to stay on pause is it because you'd grown a little fond of the feral thing, procrastinating doing all those things you swore you'd take care of after they couldn't find a chip. 

“That sucks,” your friend sighed with you, and the sound of a loud thud forced you to push off the bed and venture back into your living room, carefully stepping over the remains of your door as you peered at the lamp he knocked over. 

At least Fluffy had the decency to look semi-guilty this time, attempting to nudge it back into place with his nose as you felt some invisible vein throb across your forehead. 

You tucked your phone between your ear and your shoulder, squatting down to pick it up and fix it without looking at him. 

“You still there?” 

“Yeah, he's just making another mess,” you muttered, feeling defeated at the thought this was nothing compared to the other big repair this place would need. Worn by the past few weeks. Maybe you just weren't cut out for pet ownership. “I just wanted to get laid tonight.” 

“God, I feel you there,” she giggled back, but your mood felt stuck in the gutter. “What are you gonna do about the dog?” 

The dog. Maybe that was how you should start thinking about him instead of your dog.

“I don’t know,” you drawled into the phone as you stepped into your kitchen, elbows on the counter as you watched him prowl back-and-forth in your living room. Hopping up on your couch and slobbering a little on your throw pillow before jumping back down. “Do you think it could be like testosterone making him more aggressive? Or like, his breed or-” 

“Does he still have his balls?” 

You looked back at him, catching a glimpse of the subjects of your conversation before sighing. 

“Yeah,” you exhaled. “You think I should go ahead and get him neutered?” 

His ears perked up almost instantly, head snapping towards you. 

It was a little funny, like he could somehow understand you, green eyes burning into yours with an expression that almost resembled betrayal. 

“I mean, if you take him to the shelter, they'd do it anyway,” she replied, and you shrugged. 

“Yeah, that's true,” you mumbled, considering it as your dog sorta stared at you like he was wishing you death for thinking about getting his balls cut off for the crime of preventing you from having some in your mouth tonight. 

Well, it wasn't like he could actually understand you. 

ᴥ

His balls?

You wanted to fucking neuter him? 

What new indignity was this? How fucking cruel was fate for this to be his life? 

First, you bring home a goddamn sorcerer. Act like you were going to fuck him, your hands on his chest while you giggled at what that fucking sap said as if it was even remotely funny or interesting. Looking up at him with a glint in your eyes and a smile you never gave Toji. All bright and grateful and giddy. 

Disgusting. 

The whole thing, really. 

Like he'd actually let that stuck-up prick parading around like he was better than everyone get to fuck you. Even as a dog, he could feel his cursed energy. Sense it the same way he did as a human. 

And even though that guy had no way to know it was Toji, he still caught the suspicious glances cast towards him, the flare of energy before Nanami or whatever the hell you called him had abruptly stopped after he tried to bite him. Like for a split second, he briefly considered using his technique. Like he thought Toji was a curse. 

He supposed he was pretty close. 

You were pretty when you were pissed. Pouting at him and grumbling to one of your friends on the phone, whining about wanting to have sex with someone – and it only irritated Toji more. 

God, if he could, he'd fuck you hard enough you forgot about Fluffy or Nanami or the hole in your door. 

But he couldn't. 

And if you had your way, apparently he wouldn't be able to fuck anyone even if he got transformed back into a human if he didn't have his damn balls. 

Toji refused to just lay there and take it. If he was anything, he was still a fighter, even in this form. 

Listening to you weigh the options, grabbing a trash bag and bending down to pick up all the broken pieces of wood and shove them inside. 

Maybe he wouldn't admit it even if he could, but he felt bad watching you clean up, a disturbing concoction of guilt and anger (and jealousy) brewing in the pit of his stomach as he laid his head down on his paws, stuck staring at you biting your lip and griping about what a dick he was, grumbling about all the overtime you’d have to work to cover the cost. 

You were both probably better off without each other. 

For once, Toji waited for the right moment, for you to be preoccupied tying up the trash bag while you pulled open the front door for him to make another impulsive decision. He ran. Nearly knocking you over, sprinting past you out into the hall and towards the stairs leading down to the lobby, ignoring your cries for him to stop. 

He could hear your footsteps, the panic in your voice, the way your breath hitched as you hurried to catch up. And for some stupid reason, it made his heart stall. Made him hesitate, pausing for a few painful seconds before he forced himself to keep going. 

Keep moving. 

One foot paw in front of the other.

The last step almost tripped him up, but he didn’t stop, skittering across the lobby and almost slamming into someone shaking off an umbrella before he beelined for the closing front door. Toji barely made it through, the concrete cold and freezing on his paws as rain started to pelt his fur. 

Of course, it would start to fucking pour when he was leaving you behind. On the bright side, you’d probably wouldn’t search for him when it was raining hard enough it was a struggle to see more than a couple feet in front of him. Racing down the sidewalk and slipping between people passing by, panting as he put distance between himself and a life of being a pet. 

A life of being yours. 

Telling himself he was scrambling from the possibility of being neutered so he didn’t have to think about what else he was running from. So he could ignore this frustrating tightness in his heart, the way his chest strained with every breath, his lungs constricted as he shut down the image that kept popping up behind his eyes of that irritatingly cute smile of yours. 

He was doing you a favor. 

You didn’t have the fucking guts to just toss him out like you should’ve done. 

The rain was starting to soak him entirely, his attempts to shake it off pointless when two seconds later, more water droplets would be clinging back to his fur as his pace slowed. 

He glanced back, trying to judge how far he made it, how much longer he’d have to keep going before he found some alley or discarded box discarded to take shelter in through the storm. 

But all he saw was you. 

Pajamas sticking to your skin, wisps of your hair clinging to your wet forehead as your voice was drowned out in the downpour. You were shivering, hand trembling as you held it up to shield your face from the rain and scan for him. 

The second you saw him, you were running to reach him. 

Toji knew he should run too. That this might be his only chance. He could try again with some other woman. Wait and hope and hold out faith that this curse would still wear off and he’d return to normal. 

But he stayed. 

Let himself be caught. 

Why? 

He couldn't comprehend it, couldn't understand the concern in your wide eyes either when you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his drenched fur. 

“Don’t do that again,” you murmured, breath catching in your throat as you hugged him tighter. “You scared me.” 

Maybe he’d lost brain cells. 

But he knew that wasn’t it, not when he heard the soft whine of his next bark as he relaxed into you. Licked some of the water off your skin like it would do anything to help. Nuzzled back into you as you laughed even after he ruined your night. 

Ruined your date and your door. 

You deserved better than him. 

Better than a loser like Toji could properly give you even if he was back in his own body. 

He wanted to tell you sorry. To apologize for the first time in his miserable life to the only person who’d put any effort into him. 

So he allowed you to grab ahold of his collar and lead him home, obediently walking back to your apartment, both of you absolutely drenched by the time you made it back to the lobby. He shook it out more effectively this time, water droplets flung all over the linoleum floor while your clothes dripped in a steady pitter-patter. 

“You can keep your balls if you don’t do that again,” you muttered under your breath, too tired to be mad at him anymore. “And if you leave my doors alone.” 

He barked, a short yip and a begrudging nod in agreement wishing he could ask you not to see that stupid guy anymore too if you were in the mood for making deals. 

The only thing he could do as a dog was try to scare away any of your…suitors.

Especially snotty blond sorcerers. 

The walk back up the stairs felt twice as long, the shame slowing him down, he supposed. Condemning himself to a future of being dragged around on the street if it meant sleeping in your room and biting any guy’s dick off that came around and tried to stick it in you. 

It was embarrassing to pad around, rubbing against your legs while you grabbed a towel from the bathroom and rubbed him until he was close to dry. 

Fuck, you even combed his hair out and brushed his goddamn teeth. 

He felt like a creep when he glanced up to catch a glimpse of your midriff when you went to change for the third time tonight, a single strip of your skin as you pulled your soaked shirt off before he turned away. Tail tucked between his legs as he walked back to his bed. 

His. 

Walking around in a circle before laying down to get comfortable. It wasn’t resignation, not exactly, but as close to contentment that someone like him could get to. 

Despite his fuck ups, you were still here. And so was he. 

Tomorrow, he’d try to make it up to you. Lick your face and snuggle with you on the couch, on top of your chest with his paws on your collarbones, let you call him Fluffy or whatever the fuck you felt like, as long as you scratched under his chin and looked in his eyes like he meant something more. 

Toji was still cold, involuntarily shaking, but there was a strange warmth in his chest. A fuzzy feeling in his chest he was unaccustomed to. 

Footsteps approached, and his head instinctively snapped up to see you drying your hair with a towel, dropping it by your feet with a sigh. He could smell you on it even from here – the familiar scent surging that same protectiveness he felt taking over him earlier. He was already getting back up off his hindlegs, searching for forgiveness with your hand stroking his fur. 

You leaned down to meet him halfway, and left a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. 

Of all the kisses he had before, however hot and hungry they were, none of them compared to that single tender press of your lips. The cute sigh, the small exhale dusting over him, smelling faintly like your mint toothpaste. 

And then you were standing up, switching off your light before getting in your bed and pulling back to the covers. It took a second for his eyes to adjust, but honestly, he could see better in the dark than he could when he was a human. You had paused, still staring at his shape before he noted the movement of your hands. Softly patting the spot next to you in your bed, sheets crinkling as you waited for him. 

He listened to you. 

You threw your arms around him like you did earlier, squeezing softly before mumbling something that he couldn’t fully hear, muffled into the pillow when you turned your face. Either you were calling yourself or him an idiot. 

He was an idiot for sticking around. And you were one for letting him. 

But this was the bed you both made to sleep in. 

You rolled over a little, your cheek exposed – and Toji couldn’t stop himself from moving up to lick it. Drag his tongue over it while you huffed and rubbed the skin to get his saliva off. 

“Gross,” you giggled, nudging his nose back down. 

You got back up, navigating through the dark back to your bathroom to re-wash your face before you came back to him. Offering one last pat to the top of his head before you rolled away from him. 

“Good night, Fluffy.”

ᴥ

There was a man in your bed.

A big, beefy, naked man. 

You screamed. Or, well, you were pretty sure you did. 

It was a big blur of movement, slipping out from underneath his heavy limbs and smacking him as hard as you could with the closest object – a hardback book by your bed, screaming for Fluffy, cold fear seeping in as the man groaned your name. 

You stared, and you realized with horror that he wasn’t totally naked. He was wearing your dog’s collar. It was too tight, the skin bulging a little over the green edges, and he was moaning again, waking up and slipping his fingers underneath it in an attempt to loosen it some before he rubbed the red mark on his forehead where the book connected. 

Honestly, if he wasn’t a stranger, an intruder, you would’ve thought he was hot. 

The dark hair, the toned chest, the thick ridges and cords of well-toned muscles, looking like he just leaned after a bulk, he was insanely attractive. You just had no choice but to believe he was fucking derranged considering he ended up nude in your bed at nine in the morning. 

You called out for Fluffy again, breathing hard, barely able to break your gaze to scan the room for him only to come up empty.

Did you forget to lock your door last night? 

Had your dog ran away again, slipped out when this guy snuck in? 

No, he wouldn’t. He might just be a mutt, an animal with all the instincts of one, but you felt like you made up. Fluffy wouldn’t leave you. 

“My dog could literally rip your throat out,” you threatened anyway, pointing your finger as you pressed your back against the wall, slowly stepping towards your still-demolished door. Where the fuck was he? 

If you screamed, would a neighbor call the cops?

“I am your dog,” the man in your bed grunted, sitting up and lifting his leg before pausing, like he wasn’t sure what he was about to do with it. Stopping completely, staring down at his hands in sudden shock, eyes stuck on his calloused palms before he slowly turned them around. Flexing his fingers before closing them into a fist, somehow managing to be more stunned as you inched closer to your exit. “Well, I was.” 

Great, so he was fucking crazy too. 

Even if it was eerie that he did sorta resemble Fluffy. 

The green eyes, that familiar glint in them as they narrowed on your trembling form. The scar that stretched over the corner of his mouth. The way he tilted his head just slightly as his stare dragged over you, like he was trying to see what he could get from you. 

“And my name’s Toji,” he gruffly informed you, swinging his long legs off your bed, the blanket barely keeping his crotch covered as you panicked and made a break for it, yanking open the door to slip out while he was still talking. “So you can stop calling me Fluffy, doll.”

Your dog wouldn’t call you doll. 

But he wasn’t waiting for you with a wagging tail in the living room either. Not sitting in front of your fridge or by the pantry where you kept his food. 

“Where ya’ goin’?” He called out, and you couldn’t get yourself to move. 

Staring at your locked front door, everything exactly as you left it the night before. 

Your wet shoes. The forgotten trash bag. Your phone on the connected kitchen counter. 

This guy, Toji, his footsteps creaked across your floor, following the same rhythm of your dogs, even if it was strange to hear, a little stilted like he was getting used to walking on two feet again. 

It didn’t make sense.

He came through your broken door, taking the space by your side as if it was the most natural thing in the world to him. 

Watching you, observing you, and you had to force yourself to look up at him so your gaze didn't drift too low. 

“I don’t understand,” you blinked, barely comprehending the facts seemingly in front of your face.  

Your dog was missing. A stranger with the same eyes, the same jagged scar had taken his place.

“It’s complicated,” he grumbled, growling a little like he was still half-dog. 

“You can’t really expect me to believe-” It was so absurd you couldn’t even finish your sentence. Couldn’t say it. 

“What? Want me to bark for you?” He sarcastically offered, his voice hoarse, rough. He was rolling his shoulders back, really selling the whole visual, but your brain was still stuck on the sheer absurdity of the situation. 

And then he was stepping closer, hovering over you with an intensity that warped your fractured thoughts even more, shattering your common sense with just a casual smirk. 

“Woof.”

“You’re not-” You numbly protested, your stare drifting down from those damning eyes to those pretty lips. His huge shoulders, the biceps bulging as one of his hands landed on the wall behind your head. 

A treacherous jolt ran through you, straight to the center of your stomach, some intangible thing twisting inside you at his proximity. 

“I am,” he insisted again. 

You couldn’t even give a real reason for believing him. Explain it in any rational way. But when he was looking at you like this, when his fingers reached out to cup your face. They were rough. The pads slowly dragging over your cheekbone until he was tangled in his hair. 

“But you were a dog,” you uselessly said. Breathing harder, throat going dry as you stared at him, trying to find any evidence to argue with. But you didn’t know if you were trying to prove or disprove it.

What you even wanted the truth to be. 

“And you let me lick you right here,” he murmured, rubbing his thumb over the spot Fluffy had slobbered on last night. 

Your heart skipped. 

Stalled or stopped or seized, completely halting as Toji confirmed what you already instinctively felt. Skin or fur, he was familiar. 

And you guessed the collar wasn’t a lie.

He reached up to scratch at it again with his free hand, but you didn’t miss how he once again lifted his left foot before remembering it wouldn’t reach anymore. 

“I literally picked up your-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, disgust making your nose scrunch up as you smacked his chest. 

Once, and then again, all sorts of funny feelings fluttering and fluctuating in your chest as you struggled to sort through all of it. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, but it was obvious he was the kind of guy who never said sorry for anything ever. He hesitated, like he didn’t know what to do or really what to even say. Toji dryly swallowed, clearing his throat before speaking up again, “Sorry.”

Taking his hand from the wall to run his fingers through his short black hair, feeling his scalp, the individual strands, before his massive palm found your waist instead, just above your hip. Seeking reassurance in a subtle squeeze, wrinkling the little shorts you were wearing.

“What are you doing?” You asked, like you didn’t know. 

As if you were too stupid to see what was swirling behind his starving stare. 

This time though, you didn’t think a steak would satisfy him. 

Was this morally wrong? 

Inappropriate to share the hunger heating up the air between you when you’d been treating him like a pet for weeks? Seeing him as your dog? 

“Don’t play dumb,” he muttered, but that was really because he didn’t want to say it either. 

“I’ve taken care of you,” you started, forcing yourself to look away to break the tension. “You know, fed you and-” 

“I want to fuck you,” he grumbled, and you flinched. 

Froze as his heavy words sank in, instantly replaying them. Blunt, without beating around the bush, making sure couldn’t misunderstand it. 

“You say that to all your owners?” You mumbled, eyeing the door. “Or break their doors?” 

“I was doing you a favor then,” he argued, tilting your head back towards him. “Besides, you could do better than that guy.” 

“Yeah?” You exhaled hard, and his grip tightened. “Like my dog?” 

He laughed, but it came out more like a sharp bark. 

And then he was suddenly scooping you up, both hands grabbing your ass and abruptly lifting, carrying you back through your bedroom after kicking in the door the rest of the way. 

Returning you to your bed, his frame encompassing yours as he climbed on top of you fully. Hooking both your thighs around his thick waist, and you found yourself automatically wrapping your wrists over his neck, entranced by his face. 

“How am I supposed to know this isn’t a really weird dream?” You hesitantly asked. 

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” he grunted, burying his head into your neck and taking a big whiff. Groaning at the scent alone, grinding his hips down before he even kissed you properly. 

“That’s really helpful,” you sarcastically muttered back, but you found yourself scratching his head too, testing how it felt to sift through his hair, pulling it back so you could look at him again. 

He whined like your dog did at the separation. 

Although, you liked how it sounded better coming from an actual man. 

“Toji,” you said his name slowly, unsure of how it sounded on your tongue. 

He faltered too, and you watched his jaw lock up before he released it. 

“What?” He answered, and you felt a surge of courage. 

“Go get your leash.” 

Toji’s lips pressed in a thin line, his scar twitched, but he reluctantly got off of you, grumbling under his breath but still obeying. Still being your good pup. 

He yanked open the drawer of your dresser, pulling it out and tossing it to you. 

“C’mere,” you murmured softly, and he was back on top. But it was you fastening the leash to his collar, attaching it on and tugging him close enough his nose grazed yours. 

“Happy?” He snarkily asked, but he didn’t take it off. 

“Happier,” you admitted, and you did something as stupid as taking him in to start with.

You kissed him.  

Hard enough your teeth almost clashed, his lips opening enough to let you in as he returned it with the same fever. He kissed with enough experience that it sort of annoyed you, imagining some other girl getting to know what it felt like to have his tongue in their mouth once he was actually exploring yours. 

Tempted to bite his lip to get some petty revenge, but you didn’t even know for what. 

You guessed him fucking up your evening with Nanami made more sense now – added up with the realization he wasn’t just being territorial, but totally, completely, pathetically jealous. Snapping and barring his teeth to stop anyone else from sleeping with you because he wanted to. 

What kind of petty creature had you invited into your apartment?

Was it a full moon? Some kind of reverse werewolf that only turned back into a human once a month? 

God, you fucking hoped not.

One of his greedy hands snuck under your top, not subtle at all as he groped at your breast, taking advantage of the fact you slept without a bra to squeeze your tit. Toying with it and dragging his fingers over your nipple with a low chuckle, breaking the kiss to murmur next to your mouth that he couldn’t believe he’d been deprived of this for so long. 

“You’re feral,” you wryly replied, out-of-breath as his other hand slipped inside your shorts, teasing the band of your panties. 

“Can you blame me?” He licked his lips, and you nearly laughed. Alarmed at how charmed you were, how attractive he managed to be even this depraved. “Been fuckin’ dreaming about you.” 

“Doing what?” You teased, tilting your head as he breached past your underwear, feeling what was already damp and waiting for him. 

Teasing you right back, sliding two intimidatingly long fingers inside you with embarrassingly little resistance. You were already wet. Why wouldn’t you be?

A ridiculously hot man without any clothes had been flirting with you since you woke up this morning. 

So what if all the other details were just, uh, strange? 

He was staring at you like a piece of meat. Literally? Figuratively? You didn’t know anymore, but your train of thought derailed the second those sturdy digits of his curled. The stretch was delicious, dragging you down into the pit of lust you’d been attempting to claw yourself away from. 

Scissoring you open slowly, taking his time to feel you clench down, his eyes narrowing as he lasered in on your open-mouthed reaction. Rushing to swallow up the needy sounds he drew from your mouth, his tongue sloppy and messy, running over the ridges of your teeth. Your knuckles tight around his leash, lost in the pleasure of his fingers splitting your open and making you see stars before he’d even put his dick in you. 

Which you could already feel pressing firmly into your soft thigh, persistently throbbing in time with your own pussy squeezing down on his knuckles. Shapes and colors blossomed behind your eyes as he found that one special spot in the back, all spongy and sensitive, basically begging for him to poke and prod at it until you were begging him.

Eyes clamping shut, hips arching off as his rough fingertips pinched at your nipple right as he felt around, treating your body like a treasure map, exploring it with desperation to unearth your deepest secrets. Or maybe, just the darkest parts of you. 

What you sounded like when you fell apart. How hard it would be to stitch you back together. 

“T-Toji,” you gasped, struggling to hold it all in. To hide your pleasure when your sanity felt so splintered, but he just chuckled. 

“What? Not Fluffy?” He grunted, and you gritted your teeth.

“You’re the worst,” you groaned, your other hand scrambling to grip the sheets. 

His hair tickled your face, short strands as his mouth made his way south down your throat. Teeth scraping the tendons, doing his best to leave bite marks, canines on your collarbone while his rough voice was etched in your head. 

“Yeah,” Toji grunted. “I am.” 

You almost rebutted with another snide comment, but he hadn’t finished.

“But I’m your problem.” 

Before you could reply, his fingers were pulling back out, still slick and damp as he suddenly flipped you over. 

Onto your hands and knees. Shorts and panties shoved down your thighs. Shirt ripped in his rush to strip you down. 

Still, you refused to drop his leash. 

Holding onto it with an iron grip, even if he groaned, readjusting behind you, the weight of him heavy on your back as his mouth returned to your neck like it belonged there. 

His cock swinging and hitting your ass before he readjusted, positioning himself at your entrance, slipping it in-and-out through your folds before edging it in. Making you whine first, throwing a long look over your shoulder at him. 

Toji’s scar was taut, almost white as his eyes lazily looked over you. Appreciating every line and curve, the lump in his throat bobbing before he locked eyes with you. 

“Well?” You challenged. 

His dick was inside you before you could even arch your brow. 

It was thicker than you expected, felt much fucking bigger when it was actually dragging across your walls, his tip grinding its way in deeper. Making sure you didn't miss even an inch, burying himself to the hilt as his sweaty chest pressed flat against your back. 

Your knees nearly buckled, only supported by his arm snaking around your waist to hold you up. 

He pulled back out slowly, if only to remind you of what it felt like to be empty before driving his dick back in one brutal thrust, your moans mixing together as your body reflexively jolted away from him. 

Toji clicked his tongue to chide you, all deep and taunting, dragging you right back – determined to keep you stuffed full. “Not goin’ anywhere.”

“Says the guy that ran away,” you reminded him, wiggling your hips just enough he had to feel it too. Thighs squeezing as a guttural grunt escaped him. 

“You wanted to cut my balls off,” he scoffed, and just to make a point, his next thrust left you feeling them smacking against you. 

“It's not like I did it.” 

He fucked you like his masculinity had still been wounded. Nursing it better with sex and sweat, inhaling your scent in between his hungry hickies while he shaped you out around him. 

You wrapped the leash around your hand, pulling him closer, arms giving out so your cheek squished against the blankets as he groaned in your ear. Toji was ruthlessly slamming his hips back down, cock splintering you just for his huge hands to hold you together, his forearm still supporting your hips hovering up in the air while his fingers tugged on your hair. 

Hadn't you said you wanted to get laid anyway? 

Wasn't this probably better than whatever Nanami would've offered? Soft, slow sex was nice sometimes. 

But everything about this was heightened, animalistic. Raw. 

Every ridge of him etching itself in you, every moan you earned from him memorized as you held his leash. 

He might've been the one fucking you, the one imprinting your shape into the mattress below, but the power was yours. 

If you asked, you were pretty sure he'd flip you back around and eat you out until your throat was too sore to speak from screaming his name. 

“Toji,” you purred his name, deciding you liked it. Liked him too. Even if he was a freeloader. 

“Yeah?” He grunted, not even pausing his sloppy strokes, pounding into you as your back arched up higher, hips teasingly shifting and squirming in his hold. His next thrust was even harder actually, the force of it making something underneath you crack. 

The bed frame? 

You were too drunk on him to care. Fuzzy with the warmth he provided and still aching for it to burn hotter. 

“Make me cum.”

You thought you heard his breath hitch, but then the arm that was around you moved, his fingers finding your clit faster than you could blink, rubbing mind blowing patterns around it. 

It was impressive, really, on top of irritating that the knowledge it had to be practiced. Not sure if you were fighting a smile or a frown as his damp fingers tantalizingly danced across that sensitive bundle of nerves. 

Not delicate, no, you didn't think a beast like him could ever manage that. 

But it was desperate, following your command and seeking approval in every swirl and circle he drew. 

Pressure building and threatening to crest every time, surging through you like a storm. Matching his intensity, pulling you in with a magnetism you only recognized when it was too late. 

You were wrapped around his finger the same way he was wrapped around yours. 

And when he made you cum, you didn't think any other orgasm you ever had could measure up. All the tides receding for one massive wave of pleasure, your whine of his name muffled into the comforter as you hid your face. Pulling down on his leash so you could feel as much of him on you as possible, his hips, his muscles, his chest. Craving the contact as you climaxed, sucking in mangled inhales that didn't seem to reach your lungs. 

Barely able to lift your head enough to speak, vaguely aware through blurry vision that the whole world was slightly crooked while you started to come down. 

“Good boy.” 

You didn't think a man had ever pulled out of you so fast – but then he was letting out the lewdest moan you ever heard and something wet was splattering across your back. Warm ropes of cum dripping down your skin while he sounded like some B-tier porn star, all gravelly and gruff, stroking his cock as the last of it leaked out. You watched him over your shoulder, holding your breath at the sight of him like this. 

His dark happy trail, the ‘V’ of his hips, how slutty he looked on his knees with nothing but a leash on. 

Could you really keep him?

As a boyfriend, of course? 

You blinked, and then he was getting up. Cock swinging in the air as he walked to your bathroom, snagging a washcloth from under the sink and running water over it before returning to clean you. 

Wiping you down and huffing at where some of his cum had landed on the blankets, making a half-assed attempt at cleaning it up before tossing it on top of the towel you left on the floor last night. 

And then he was just casually plopping back down on your bed, propping his head up with pillows and closing his eyes as you sat up. 

“Come here,” he muttered, patting the spot next to him like you usually did. Holding his arm out to let you know you had a spot there. 

You crawled over to him, tucking yourself against him and staring up at him, still entranced by his features. 

He stroked your hair softly, keeping you cradled there. You reached up and unhooked his leash from the collar. Toji scratched at it, beefy fingers pulling at the leather with another low grunt. 

“You’re paying me back for the pet deposit,” you huffed, glancing around your room. “And a new bed.” 

“Don’t forget about the door,” he grumbled, growling at the memory of the man he almost had to bite last night. 

You let yourself laugh, rolling on top of his chest and propping yourself up on your elbows. Squinting at him and sighing, tracing over his nipple to watch him flinch, his dark brows furrowing. 

“An actual date too,” you added. 

Toji rolled his eyes, but he tugged you up higher, letting out a little sarcastic scoff when you nestled into his neck, his collar pressing against your skin. You’d readjust it for him in a minute, loosen it more, but it was silly to see someone so stocky in it. 

Made him feel like he was still yours. 

“Whatever my master wants.” 

[naomiiocha]

Got a few requests to draw nanami please keep giving me more reason to draw tired fatherly salarymen