Rhin

yes i am a girl I’m 22 btw

[ode-on-a-grecian-butt]

art by @niochemblyat

[ode-on-a-grecian-butt]

I always know its getting toasty out in the world because girls start reblogging this post like crazy

[heartlikerrr]

[arimari81-70]

How it feels logging onto Tumblr to read fics after joining a new fandom

[reignpage]

Taking cuffed to a whole different meaning...

Synopsis: the party was supposed to be wild and crazy, so you could let loose and have fun, but it wasn't supposed to be so wild and crazy that you don't even remember what happened last Friday night. and definitely not so wild and crazy that you wake up a) with a killer headache, b) in someone else's bed, and c) cuffed to twins?!

now the three of you have to go on a wild goose chase for the person who did this, whilst fighting the insane sexual chemistry vibrating between you and the twins.

what could go wrong?

Warnings: porn with a side of plot, nerdjo and fratjo twins au - twincest (I don't view it as such and that's certainly not what this contains in my opinion but just as a warning so the puritans can back off), threesome/sharing reader, exhibitionism, voyeurism, hidden sex, the twins are annoying af and have asshole tendencies, both are pierced in different ways, college au/non curse au, too much dirty talk, unprotected sex because it's fiction and it's hot, spit roasting, thigh humping, zipper humping, thigh job, spitting, brief rimming, deepthroating, cunnilingus, pervy behaviour, a little masochism and sadism, choking?/asphyxiation, fanart by @smokeigheh on Insta, not proofread - please let me know if you spot typos or inconsistencies (this is too long for me to care about proofreading) Word Count: 14k

“Hey, Sato?”

“Hmm?”

“Am I still dreaming or is there a girl’s ass pressed to my woody?”

“Unless we’re sharing the same dream, I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s not one — she’s drooling on my chest.”

“Is she hot?”

“Don’t be a creep…”

A pregnant pause passes, then he adds, “Yeah.”

“Nice.”

Groaning, your bleary eyes open. Your head is swimming. The pain is dull but powerful, as though hidden behind a layer, angry and wanting to be let out. Bright light through a window almost blinds you. You groan again, burying your head in a hard wall. 

Huh?

Your eyes shoot open. You’re laying on someone’s chest. You look up. Dazzling blue eyes stare down at you through a pair of glasses, a brow cocked up. Then you feel it — something hot and heavy slotted between your asscheeks, and a hand gripping your hip. 

With a scream, you jolt up, scrambling to get off the bed, only to fall right back onto the mattress when resistance meets your arms. 

Two faces fill your vision from above. 

Same dazzling blue eyes. 

One smirking.

One not. 

Both near-mirror copies of the other. 

You scream again.

They wince. 

“C-clones! You’re clones! Oh my god, please don’t probe me.”

The one on your left laughs so loudly it becomes your turn to wince. “Dude! She thinks we’re aliens!”

The other sighs and adjusts his glasses. “We’re not aliens. We’re twins. Monozygotic. Monoamniotic-Monoamniotic, to be exact.”

Lightly shoving the other by the shoulder, one of them says, “Jeez, don’t get all sciency around a chick. Just say ‘MoMo’, like I’ve been saying.” He turns to you, smiling. “We’re identical twins — I’m Toru, a Marketing student, and this ugly freak is Sato. Engineering. We’re both third years. And you are?”

Why are they acting so casual?

They’re in bed with a complete stranger, who could be a serial killer, and yet they’re introducing themselves to you like nothing’s remotely odd about the situation. Or maybe you’re in bed with serial killers. Hot serial killers, but that’s how they get you.

Unnerved by their matching stares, you stammer out your name, followed by a, “I’m an Anthropology student. Second year. It’s a pleasure to meet you?”

The sentence comes out less a statement and more a question, and you grimace at your unsocial self.

Toru leans forward, grinning. “You’re so polite. How adorable. Makes me wanna just gobble you up.” He mimics the actions of munching on your face, nom noming. 

His twin sighs again and lifts his hand up. Yours is brought up with it. All of you eye the thing that clanks and jingles with the movement. Sato drawls, “Instead of flirting with her, why don’t we address the elephant in the room — why the hell are we cuffed together and in his bed?”

That’s when you finally realise you’re not in your own dorm. The room’s much bigger, much more lived in and homely. Heck, the bed itself is bigger than the stiff single that the school provides everyone. Comfier, too. And with someone’s abs plastered all over the covers.

Posters of sporting legends litter the walls, as do posters of rock bands and carelessly stuck on polaroids of one of the twins, or both of them, or people you can only assume to be their friends. 

It even smells differently here than in your room; whilst yours smells of academic pressures and manically drunk coffee, this one smells of leftover thrill and aftershave. Clothes litter the floor, bordered by empty beer cans, and a pair of red lacey panties in the corner. 

Toru follows your eyes to it, and then hastily clarifies, “It’s not mine — I don’t crossdress or anything.”

Sato rolls his eyes, and snarks, “She knows that, idiot. She’s thinking what a pigsty your room is.” Glancing at you, he adds, “My dumbass brother’s incapable of cleaning up after himself. Judge him freely, he deserves it.”

Ignoring both of them, you lift your arms up, struggling with the new weight and gawk at the pink fuzzy cuffs adorning your wrists. Slowly, you say, “What…the…actual…fuck?”

You’re handcuffed to two strangers. 

Two hot strangers who keep women’s underwear in their rooms.

Frantically, you glance down at yourself and release a relieved breath when you confirm that you’re fully dressed in what you remember coming to the party in the first place: a short skirt you borrowed from a friend, a nice top, and beat up Converse that you wouldn’t mind getting beer spilled on. Your phone’s in your skirt pocket, along with your keycard. So all the valuables you brought to your friend’s apartment are still with you. Nothing feels out of place, which you thank god profusely for. 

But what happened after the round of pres at your friend? 

“I don’t remember a single thing that happened last night,” you voice aloud, frowning. “I don’t remember why we’re cuffed together, or who you two are to me.”

Not a single thing comes to mind — what you drank, who you spoke to, how much you drank, if you did anything crazy, if you lost some kind of dare and had to face punishment by being bound to two guys, and where your friends are.

Sato knits his brows together. “Neither. I only remember helping set up.”

“I don’t remember anything either,” his brother says, attempting to scratch the back of his head with the hand that’s connected to yours, laughing at himself, then finally using his free hand. He shrugs. “But then again, that’s not unusual for me. The best parties are the ones you don’t remember.”

You want to question how that could be possible, but you keep your mouth shut. 

“Anyone feel a key on them?” one of the twins asks, inspecting the holes of the cuffs that bind you to him. He looks displeased at the fuzziness of the thing. Your hand hangs limply in the air.

All three of you look, lifting covers, checking inside your clothes, on the desk, under pillows, and nothing. 

“Nope!”

“No.”

“I don’t see anything.”

Your heart begins to race, reality sinking in hard and fast and intensifying your headache. “We’re done for. We’re stuck like this forever. We’re going to die like this!”

“Calm down,” Sato deadpans, totally judging you based on how he fights the urge to look you over the rim of his glasses. “We’re not going to die. We just need to figure out who did it to us, where they are, and if they have the key — worse comes to worse, we don’t find them or they don’t have the key, we can just go to the fire station and ask them to cut us out.”

Toru whoops in the hair and ruffles his brother’s hair. The brother in question scowls and shoves the hand away. “Nice one, big bro. Didn’t even think of that; I was on the ‘we’re doomed’ boat.”

That makes sense. 

Yeah, there’s no need to panic. 

Except, there’s a major issue.

“Guys,” you start, lip trembling, “...I really need to pee.”

The two of them look at each other, then at you, then at the door, then back at each other. 

“C-can you hold it?” Toru asks, sounding more frightened about the idea than you.

You shake your head, legs crossed.

And that’s how you find yourself sitting on the toilet in his en-suite bathroom, flanked by two guys, who at least have the decency to look away. One of them whistles awkwardly, and the other taps on his phone. 

This is a nightmare. You don’t want to be pissing with an audience, especially not this close. It’s way too embarrassing. 

Sato clicks his tongue, pink tinting the tips of his ears. “Why aren’t you going?”

“‘cause it’s weird,” you mutter, shuffling on the seat. The toilet’s kept pretty clean. It looks practically unused, which just makes you feel worse about defiling it.

“You having performance anxiety, Second year?” Toru teases, rocking on the balls of his feet.

He doesn’t need to sound so amused by the idea, you dryly think. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you grumble, “Anyone would if they were in my position.”

“I wouldn’t,” Toru chirps, swinging the hands you two are joint at back and forth absentmindedly. “Hell, I’ll pee between your legs right now to prove it. I’ve got pretty good aim.”

“Please don’t.”

God, this is the most shameful thing that’s ever happened to you. What did you do to deserve this?

Left with no choice, you let the stream go and grit your teeth. 

One of them hums approvingly. “Solid stream — bitches with good pussy piss loud as fuck, and it do be sounding like you’re frying chicken.”

Your jaw drops. Aghast, you shake your wrist and smack his own hand against his leg. “Can you not comment on my pee, Toru?”

His twin smacks him upside the head. “Don’t call women bitches.”

He groans. “Does no one get the reference? Ugh, whatever. Just hurry up and wipe. I need to pee too.”

“Oh no.”

Both of your hands are connected to theirs… One of them’s going to have to get between your legs. When you look up at their suddenly stiff backs, you know they realised it too. 

Toru whistles low. “Who’s it gonna be, Second Year?”

“Why do I have to choose?” you ask, though you already know the answer. They’re basically asking you who you’re more comfortable with, and oddly, you don’t want to offend either of them. Is this your Sophie’s Choice?

Sato continues tapping away on his phone one-handedly. “Either one of us is fine to do it. It all depends on who you’d prefer — it’s not like we’re actually wiping for you.”

If you really had to choose, then…

Wriggling a specific hand, you shamefully mutter, “Can you do it with me?”

He sighs, and slacks his arm so you can pull your hand towards yourself. The twin has to bend down at the knee slightly, still looking away. He adjusts his glasses and clears his throat. 

Through the whole thing, you’re cringing, cheeks flushed, and wanting the world to open up and consume you whole. Can this morning get worse? 

“Done,” you mumble, making sure no one’s looking at you. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sato mutters. 

On the other side, Toru grumbles so depressedly you can practically see a raincloud storming over his head, “Why didn’t you choose me? I’d be a good pussy wiper.”

More rises to your cheeks. You hurriedly pull your pants back up and flush. “No one was asking to wipe anyone’s…ahem. And the fact that you’re so eager is kinda the reason why I didn’t choose you.”

Toru raises his hands, and one of yours, in surrender. 

After you, they both take turns peeing. You look away, shutting your eyes tight for good measure. You even hum under your breath to distract from the sounds. Sato, you notice, clears his throat before he goes, whereas Toru mumbles some song lyrics. It sounds like Up by Cardi B. 

You hate that you’re hyper aware of every shuffle, every brush against you, every time their knuckles graze yours, and each breath they take.

The twins are hot.

Have you said that already?

Because they are. 

Maybe if they were uglier, more normal looking, you wouldn’t be so on edge.

And you know it’s wrong to think like that about strangers, but they are hot. Stupidly so. 

They’re the same height, with sharp jawlines and identical signet rings glinting on their pinkies. They’re definitely identical twins, but they look so different from each other, that with or without the glasses, you’d know who was who. Anyone would. 

Toru wears a white T-shirt with an arrow pointing upward and downwards ,and the words “Best Seats in the House” printed beneath it, whilst Sato has on glasses and a blue T-shirt layered over a grey long-sleeve, the front patterned with chemical symbols spelling out MoAN.

Toru is broader, his biceps visibly defined beneath the cotton, muscle pressing against the sleeves. The underside of his hair at the back is buzzed. He has a brow piercing. Sato, by contrast, is leaner, his frame slimmer and his hair longer and more shaggy. He’s still quite muscular in comparison to the Engineering students you’ve seen, which isn’t a fair comparison because most of the STEM guys you’ve met look like the stereotype. No offence to them.

Toru wears ripped light wash jeans that hang low on his hips, revealing a Calvin Klein band, and Sato’s the same except his are darker blue. Both jeans hug their asses perf—

No, bad.

Stop noticing things about them. 

After you get out of the cuffs, you’re never going to see them again, and it’ll be like this never happened. Don’t get attached. Don’t get too involved. Find the keys and skedaddle! 

The three of you wash your hands, taking turns to brush your teeth and wash your face, all awkwardly trying to shuffle with each other. It’s clumsy at first but you do eventually get a rhythm going. 

Eventually, you walk back out into the messy room, fresher and cleaner.

“We need to figure out what happened,” Sato states, brows furrowed. “If we got cuffed together during last night’s party, there’s a chance the key’s hanging around the frat house. We should look for it, jog our memories and retrace our steps.”

Toru scratches his stomach, revealing a flash of a white happy trail. His brother catches you looking. He cocks a brow. You snatch your gaze away. Toru says, “We won’t need to do all that — I think I know who did this to us.”

“Who?” you ask, louder than you intended.

He answers, grimacing, “A friend of ours. Sukuna. Well, friend’s a loose term. We’re frenemies, I guess. He’s funny, but he’s not the nicest guy around.” 

It’s a vaguely familiar name, but you know you’ve never met a Sukuna before. By the sound of Sato cursing, you get the impression that it’s not the name of a man who you’d be happy to find out has cuffed you to a stranger. And that makes you all the more desperate to get out of the way of whatever rivalry they have going on. 

“It’s a prank he likes to pull. He did it to Choso and a lamppost because the guy was giving family weed away for free to some girl, and that’s his literal cousin,” Toru explains. “If we gotta look anywhere, I think we should look at him.”

Smiling, you say, “That’s great! We have a solid plan.”

Sato glances down at you, not looking anywhere near as happy. Adjusting his glasses, he warns, “Sukuna’s an asshole. He’s not gonna be easy to get a hold of. Not to mention, if he did this to us, he must think we’ve done something wrong in his eyes, so he’ll be extra annoying.”

Much more cheerful in comparison, Toru throws an arm around his twin. “Now now, big bro. That’s not the spirit.”

They both look at you; one with a wide grin and the other with a deadpan expression. 

“We’ve got an adventure to go on — let’s have some fun.”

.

.

.

“Wait, you’re members of a frat?” you ask, marvelling at the two of them. 

What they’d said earlier only registered now, as you’re walking through campus, and now that you think about it, it explains why Toru has a room in the frat house in the first place.

Campus isn’t as busy as it usually is on the weekdays, which is good because it minimises the number of gawking you’re getting. Guess seeing three people cuffed together isn’t a very common occurrence, even in university. 

The three of you had decided to track down this Sukuna. Sato looked up something online and informed you that the wanted man’s a hockey player, and the team has practice right now, in preparation for tonight’s game. So you raced out of the thoroughly trashed frat house as soon as you could, wanting to make sure you could catch him, corner him, shake the key out of him all before noon. And before his whereabouts become unknown.

Toru shakes his head, and ruffles your hair. He’s quickly gotten quite familiar with you, not that you mind. “Nah, little lady. Only I am. Frat prez, actually,” he says, nodding proudly. “My brother here just comes along ‘cause he’s a party animal.”

Sato fixes him with a blank look. “I’m not a party animal. I attend these things because someone has to keep you out of trouble.”

Mischievously, Toru leans down to whisper in your ear, “He’s lying; he’s worse than me.” Then, he thinks for a second. “You’re not a frequent party goer, are you? I would have definitely seen you around before if you were.”

“No,” you admit. “I’m not a party person. I just went last night because my friends insisted I go to at least one party this year, and after this, I don’t think I’ll be going to another one any time soon.”

Cuffs aside, the hangover you have is no joke and it’s enough to put you off partying forever. 

Toru petulantly whines. “No way! Don’t let this one weird experience give you a bad impression — my parties are legendary. You have to come again. I insist; I want to see you all drunk and stupid, and remember it.”

“Don’t peer pressure her,” Sato scolds before addressing you. “You should come over though. Party or no party. We’d definitely like to see you more. We can show you a good time.”

Their joint invite has your cheeks heating up. They just met you and they’ve already decided you were someone they’d want to hang out with again, and yeah, maybe they were just being nice, but it still had you all flustered. Especially because there seemed to be some hidden layer to the words ‘good time’; both of their eyes twinkled. 

Or maybe you imagined it.

On the way, about a thousand people stop to say hi to both Toru and Sato. The twins are clearly popular. 

It isn’t subtle, either. It’s not the polite nod-in-passing kind of recognition. People actually light up when they see them. Hands clap shoulders. Someone daps Toru up mid-stride. A girl across the quad calls Sato’s name flirtatiously. One even flashes both twins. Toru laughs. Even professors in suits, holding briefcases pause to exchange some words and inside jokes.

Toru grins wide and effortless, tossing out nicknames, bumping fists, slinging an arm around whoever gets close enough. Sato is smoother about it — a smaller smile, a tilt of his head, a few clever words that make people laugh just a second longer than necessary. 

No one even does more than glance at you. To their friends, you’re just another girl they’re in some dramatic predicament with. 

Between them, overshadowed by their popularity and fame, you feel out of your element. They’re definitely not the kind of people you could just casually befriend, not the kind of guys you would have ever spoken to, could have joined them casually for lunch, or schedule hang outs and know they’ll be there.

They’re just being polite to you, wanting to ease the discomfort of being cuffed to a complete stranger. 

Eventually, you reach the rink. You follow them inside, down hallways, past the people working there. You peek through the double doors and see a bunch of guys skating in full gear. It’s loud in the rink, the shape and emptiness of the stands reverberating the shouts and scrapes of skates on ice.

“Let’s go to the locker room whilst they’re there; we can go through his locker and his bag,” Sato suggests. 

The locker room?

Where men get changed and swing their dicks around?

Oh hell no.

“Wait— hold on.” You stop short so abruptly they nearly walk into you. Both of them turn, brows lifting in sync. You scramble for composure, heat creeping up your neck. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Toru squints. “Why not?”

Because I value my eyesight. Because I don’t need trauma today. Because I enjoy not being arrested.

You cross your arms, attempting dignity. “I can’t just walk into the men’s locker room.” They stare. You gesture vaguely, mortified. “I’m a girl?”

It comes out half question, half plea, like perhaps they’ve temporarily forgotten this extremely relevant detail.

Sato blinks. Toru looks down at you, then back at Sato.

“Oh,” Toru says slowly.

“Yes, oh,” you mutter.

The twins share a look.

Hands grip your wrists, dragging you inside despite your protests. They snicker together. You’re powerless against their strength, and you can’t even grip the doorway to pull yourself away because they’ve got control of your hands. Eyes shut tightly, you fumble in the dark, unable to resist their heavy, six foot tall bodies. 

Mustiness hits you as soon as the doors open, and you find your nose scrunching in disgust.  

One of them laughs. “No one’s here, Second Year. You’re good to open those pretty eyes.”

You swallow the nervous giggle down. Focus!

Eyes hesitantly open. 

Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, harsh and unforgiving, illuminating long wooden benches scarred with skate marks and initials carved onto the surface. Open cubbies gape, stuffed to the brim with shoulder pads the size of riot shields, sweat-darkened jerseys, laces tangled in knots, and rolls of white athletic tape unraveling on the floor.

The place’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.

The air is thick — damp cotton, metal, cheap body spray failing miserably to mask the sour, unmistakable musk of hours spent skating in full gear. You’re careful not to touch anything unnecessary, lest you catch something.

“I’ll call his phone,” one of the twins says.

Ringing echoes through the empty locker room, bouncing against the metal benches and cubbies, and dirty towels and clothes haphazardly strewn around. God, men are disgusting. 

“Third row down,” the other twin mutters, following the sound.

Your Converse nearly land on a discarded compression shirt, and you jerk back like it might bite. You pass a rack of hockey sticks propped in the corner, tape chewed to shreds at the blades. A laundry bin overflows with damp towels. Someone’s half-empty protein shaker sits uncapped, abandoned, something beige and unidentifiable clinging to the sides.

“Found it,” the other twin says.

The phone vibrates inside an open locker wedged between a pair of shin guards and a crumpled practice jersey. His name is stitched above the number hanging on the hook — red fabric, white lettering, unmistakable.

You hover stiffly behind them, crossing your arms as though that will somehow shield you from the environment.

“See? No naked men swinging anything around,” Toru teases, swaying his hips at you.

“Shut up,” you groan, cheeks hot despite yourself. “This still feels wrong.”

Sato says, “You overthink too much.”

It’s not overthinking, you want to tell him. It’s the plain truth. The girls’ lockers are clean, tidy, and smell much nicer. Here, it feels humid, like you’ve strolled into Satan’s asshole. It’s fine for twins because they probably don’t know how good they could have it on the other side of things, and it’s not like anyone would bat an eye if the hockey team came back and they found them here.

Toru picks up a pair of boxers, making his brows dance at you, then throws it at his brother’s face.

He releases a disgusted sound, swiping it away. “Hilarious.”

They’re both looking. One in the locker, and the other in the bag he pulled out. As they do that, you ask Sato, “So you’re older?”

The twin with glasses nods. “By two minutes — best two minutes of my life.”

Toru says, “Ha. Ha. We both know the best two minutes of your life are when some poor girl lets you hit.”

“Better than your thirty second record.”

You laugh at their petty sibling rivalry. You admire how easily they could talk to each other, and to you, in spite of your situation, of how absurd this all is. It’s a thing to envy, you think. 

Pulling his head out of the musty locker, Toru looks down at you with a challenging smile. “You laughing at me, gorgeous? You think I can’t last longer than thirty seconds?”

Emboldened by the friendly atmosphere, you reply, “Proof’s in the pudding, isn’t it? If that’s your reputation, I’m sure there’s some truth to it.”

“Oh yeah?” He tugs, yanking you to his chest suddenly with the arm connected to yours. Hands steady your hips. Forcing your head to crane back to peer up at him, Toru grins down at you wolfishly, using his height advantage to intimidate you. “Care to let me prove you wrong?”

“I-I was just kidding,” you stammer out. “We need to focus and find the key.”

“I looked; couldn’t find it. Knowing how dedicated Sukuna is, he’s probably got it on him,” he responds, much more interested in something else now.

You gulp.

Heat covers your back. When fingers pinch your chin, keeping you from looking back, you realise the hands on your hips aren’t Toru’s. They’re Sato’s. 

They’ve got you sandwiched between them, leaving you with nowhere to go. Out of nowhere, the air has turned even more heated, almost suffocating. It renders you dizzy.

Sato whispers in your ear, lips grazing your ear, “Don’t be rude, Anthro. You told him ‘proof’s in the pudding,’ no? You gonna upset my baby brother by turning back on your words?”

The brother in question’s bending down slowly, teasing you by not quite touching your lips. Meanwhile, someone’s nose is running down the length of your neck, sending your hairs standing on edge. 

What the hell is happening?

Why are firm hands gripping you, lips brushing your skin, eyes watching your every move, hard bodies squeezing you till you’re panting? And why are you not stopping them? Why are you tingling between your legs?

Noises come from outside.

You all still.

They curse under their breath, scrambling off into the showers. 

At the furthest stall, you hide, eyes wide and a hand pressing down on your own over your mouth. Thunderous feet march in. A ruckus enters. The hockey team’s finished with their practice, and you could be caught at any second. Imagine the scandal if they found you between two guys.

Voices bounce off tile and metal lockers, loud and unfiltered.

“Bro, you call that a shot? My grandma could block that.”

“Shut up, you whiffed the puck twice.”

“Suck my balls, Rogers.”

“Gladly, Barnes.”

A bag hits the floor with a heavy thud. Lockers clang open in sharp succession. The sharp scent of sweat and ice drifts through the humid air.

“Who forgot to wash their jersey? It smells like death in here.”

“Pretty sure that’s just you.”

Laughter erupts — loud, careless, echoing. Someone yelps when a towel snaps against skin.

You squeeze your eyes shut as sneakers squeak across tile, as jerseys are peeled off and tossed aside, as the easy, post-practice chaos unfolds only a few feet away. They’re too close. Way too close.

Oh god, they’re all probably butt naked just metres away from you. 

How did things manage to go from bad to worse?

“Don’t make a sound,” Toru whispers, panicked. “The hockey guys cannot catch us here; they’re still mad from the time when we filled up their lockers with shaving cream and glitter, which they need to get over. It’s been days.”

“Pretty sure it’s because we’ve taken quite a few of their girlfriends,” Sato says under his breath. 

“It’s not even ‘taking’ when they seek us out. Like anyone would say no to puck bunny pussy.”

“You’re both fucking disgusting,” you hiss. They’re just as sleazy as any guy on campus, it’d seem. The only difference is that they hide behind their handsome faces. 

You’re leaning on Toru  as he presses himself tightly against the tiles, ducking down so they won’t spot his white hair from above the stall, all while Sato’s leaning on you, pushing in so his back won’t protrude. 

Packed like sardines, you’re aware of their hard muscles, of their much bigger sizes, and the ridges of their abs. The frat president can probably feel your tits on him, whilst the Engineering student can feel your ass on his crotch. Something hard pokes your stomach at the same time as something equally hard and hot slot right in between your ass cheeks again.

Lord, take me now, you pray, desperate for relief from the humiliation.

A leg slots between yours. You gasp. It’s Toru’s, but one look at his face and anyone would think you’re just imagining it. Don’t move, you tell yourself. Do not start riding his thigh even if you want to.

Sato pushes his hips forward, and consequently yours. You gasp. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice husky in your ear. “Got an itch you wanna scratch?”

Toru flexes his thigh, bumping hard against your clothed slit. You bite back your moan, wholly aware of the boyish laughter and shouting on the other side. He says, “If you gotta scratch, you gotta scratch, right?” 

They definitely know what they’re doing. Manwhores like them always know.

Laying it on thicker, the frat president whispers, “Don’t hesitate; use me. Go on, Second year. Make my day.”

The twins are urging you to ride his thigh, pushing and pulling. Neither of them care about getting caught, not really. You had initially thought Toru would be the biggest danger, what with his outgoing and flirtatious personality, but Sato’s just as bad as him; he’s guiding your hips with his own, hand sliding up your leg to creep under your skirt.

They’re twins from hell. 

Someone flicks your nipples through your shirt. You slump back onto Sato’s chest, breathing heavily as your hips grind on a muscular thigh. 

How did things come to this?

And why are you getting swept up in all of it?

“She’s so pretty, isn’t she, Sato?” 

“Stunning,” he replies. His hand tugs you down, making sure you’re grinding real good on his brother’s thigh. “How does her pussy feel?”

“Warm, and getting wetter. Fuck, it’d be so much better if she wasn’t wearing panties.” He directs his words to you, muttering, “How about it, angel? Gonna let me feel your pussy?”

“There’s people,” you gasp out, growing closer and closer to your end. This is so degrading — they’re watching you ride his thigh all on your own, watching you thrust your chest out, and squirm between them like some whore.

One of them smirks. “So if there weren’t people, you’d readily give me access? Dirty girl. Isn’t she dirty, Sato?”

“Downright filthy.”

When you shudder, someone slaps a hand over your mouth just in time to muffle your moan. Oh fuck you’re cumming on Toru’s thigh, a man you only met this morning, riding the muscle like it’s your pillow. Tomorrow, when you’re hopefully free and no longer attached to them, you’re totally going to want to never see them again.

Finally, you flop, twitching with the final waves of your orgasm. 

Your head’s patted. “Well done. You were very brave.”

You smack it away, and grouch, “That was underhanded, you guys.”

“You enjoyed it, Anthro,” Sato points out, and steps back, steadying you. He peers over, and nods. “Coast’s clear. But that means Sukuna’s gone.”

Simultaneously, your eyes land on the wet spot you left behind on Toru’s jeans. He presses down on it, then sucks the pads of his fingers, winking at you. You look away immediately, wanting to cringe at yourself. Voice shaky, whether from stress or from your orgasm, you wonder, “So what are we gonna do now?”

“We’ll have to ask around for where he’ll be,” Sato replies. “Lay it on him good and intimidate him into giving up this stupid prank of his.”

Frowning, you follow them out of the locker room, adjusting your skirt. “Can’t we just go straight to the fire station? Do we have to go on this wild goose chase?”

Toru fake pouts, and puts a hand over his heart. “You tired of us, little lady? Hate us already? Oh, we’re just terrible, aren’t we, Sato?”

“The worst.”

“No, no,” you hurriedly deny. “It’s not that. You guys are great.”

He beams, stringing his arm over yours and forcing yours to hang loosely from your shoulder.

“Then it’s decided — we’re chasing after our Sukuna goose!”

And once again, you’re left with no choice but to do as they say.

.

.

.

After texting some mutual friends for where Sukuna might be, the three of you wind up at his apartment building. The twins have been trying to get ahold of the man, to no avail. It seems he’s intent on forcing all of you to ride out his cruel prank. 

You texted your friends, trying to find out what exactly happened last night that might make this Sukuna person hate you enough to do this. You’re just some random girl, why would you be involved in the beef of some pretty well known guys?

They told you that they didn’t see you much at all during the party, that some time after arriving together, you disappeared and was only seen here and there, dancing and having a pretty good time with — and this is the really surprising part — both the twins, at different times. 

Videos and pictures were shared to you: you’d be in the background, always with a drink in your hand, smiling like you’ve never smiled before, and flanked by one of the twins almost all the time. The videos seem to be earlier in the night. No cuffs in sight. There’s definitely videos from later in the night, but the people who took them haven’t woken up yet.

“So we were hanging out a lot last night, huh?”

Sato makes a face that says, guess so, whilst Toru whistles an impressed tune. The latter jokingly says, “We’re meant to be, Second year.”

“Seven of the eleven pictures were of me and her,” his twin points out. 

“So? That’s just a one picture difference!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Her ass on my dick helped me sleep last night,” Toru fires back, clutching your hand and bringing it up to his face so he can lay a kiss on your knuckles with a wink. 

Sato yanks you towards him, and you stumble his way in the narrow hallway. He licks the palm of your hand, one upping his brother. 

Face burning, you shove both of them back. “Can you guys stop? We need to work out what happened last night — how did we all get so drunk that we don’t remember how we ended up cuffed and in bed together?” Then, you frown. “We…we didn’t sleep together, did we?”

That was actually a question you’ve had since this morning, but you’d shrugged it off as being an impossibility. There’s no way two hot twins would want you, nevermind share a woman. However, after that little stunt in the locker room, you’re starting to wonder.

The frat twin laughs. “That’s cute. Isn’t she cute, Sato?”

“Adorable.”

They’re both laughing at you, and it’s irritating. Aggrieved, you ask, “What’s so funny? I don’t think it’s a ridiculous question to ask considering we woke up in the same bed with no memory of last night.”

Toru lifts his arm, and yours, rustling your hair with your own hand. “Babe, if you slept with me, you’d never forget. Trust.”

“Your mind could forget, sure, but your pussy wouldn’t; she’d still be feeling with me,” Sato says, matter-of-factly. His bright, all-seeing eyes flit down to the apex of your thighs as you walk, and you have to resist the urge to squeeze them together. 

Damn.

“Hey, we’re here — 666.” He snickers to himself, thoroughly amused. Toru nudges you. “Fitting, amirite?”

Before he could knock on, you stop him. “What are we gonna do if he’s in? Are you guys going to fight him?”

Sato drawls, “You watch too many movies, Anthro; we’re just going to ask him to give us the key. Sukuna’s an asshole but he’s not the kind to drag a joke on.”

“Yeah, he probably just forgot in the first place,” his twin added. 

“Oh.”

That makes sense. There’s no need to get violent. The prank’s not that harmful, you suppose.

They knock. You wait. No one answers.

“Is he not in?”

Toru tries the doorknob. The door opens. You all share a look. That feels pretty fucking ominous, like a trap laid out for you. “We’re not going in, are we?” you ask, looking up and down the hallway in case someone catches you three trespassing, or is it breaking and entering?

Whatever it is, it’s going to end you up in prison.

Lips graze the shell of your ear as someone whispers, “Scared of entering the devil’s domain with us? Think we’re going to eat you up? Hmm?”

“If you behave, we will,” someone else rasps at the back of your neck. 

“Stop fucking around,” you reply, flustered by the tingles erupting where they touched you. 

A hand presses in at the small of your back, and as the door’s opened, one of them chirps, “In you go, angel!”

You stumble inside, held up from falling only by the dense weight of two men chuckling at the little yelp you release. 

The door clicks shut behind you.

For a second, you all just stand there.

Sukuna’s apartment is…exactly what you’d expect, and simultaneously worse — just aggressively, unapologetically male.

A pair of hockey skates sits abandoned by the entrance, laces trailing like shed snakeskin. A duffel bag, half unzipped, spills tape rolls, spare socks, and a mouthguard case onto the hardwood floor. The faint smell of detergent battles unsuccessfully with sweat and something woodsy, his cologne, probably, clinging to the air.

The living room is small but decent — a worn leather couch with a throw blanket tossed carelessly over one arm, a low coffee table cluttered with protein bars, a TV remote, a half-empty Gatorade bottle, and a stack of lecture notes weighed down by a puck. His backpack is slumped against the couch, as though it gave up halfway through being put away.

On one wall: framed team photos. A hockey stick mounted horizontally. A couple of medals draped over the corner of the frame, like it hardly matters to him.

The kitchen is visible from where you stand. Open plan. Dishes in the sink. Not stacked to the ceiling, but definitely past ‘I’ll wash them later’ territory. A frying pan left out on the stove. A carton of eggs on the counter. A magnetic whiteboard on the fridge with scribbled practice times and what looks like a grocery list that just says: milk, rice, jerk off 3:37pm.

Weirdly specific, but okay.

You all step further in, handcuffs clinking obnoxiously between you. The fuzz tinkles your wrist every time one of them moves too abruptly, and it’s soothed by the brushing of knuckles and the rubbing of shapes by thumbs.

“Maybe he left the key here,” one twin says, scanning. “Let’s have a look around.”

As a unit, the three of you shuffle around. Drawers are opened. Closed. A quick glance under couch cushions. You check the kitchen counter with your free hand, careful not to knock over the precarious tower of mail.

The apartment is messy but lived-in. No mysterious stains. No broken furniture. Just a college athlete who does not evidently prioritise tidiness. 

Then—

Voices. From the hallway. Muffled at first: “…you said you were done with her—”

The three of you freeze.

“And I am,” comes the unmistakable low, irritated drawl.

“Oh really? Explain to me why I found her panties in your car!”

“They’re yours.”

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t wear blue thongs. I only wear white.”

“Ain’t nothing white and pure about you.”

“Fuck you!”

Your stomach drops.

It sounds like a lovers’ quarrel. You don’t know this Sukuna very well, or at all, but you’re one hundred percent sure he would not be fine seeing you guys in his place when he’s fighting with his girlfriend. 

Keys jangle outside.

“Oh my God,” you whisper.

“Closet,” Sato hisses.

You don’t argue.

They yank you down the short hallway toward what you assume is the bedroom. The space is larger than you expect — unmade bed, sheets twisted, a jersey tossed over the desk chair. His cologne bottle sits uncapped near the nightstand. A lamp. A stack of textbooks. A charging cable trailing off the mattress like something that gave up halfway. But there’s no time to be psychoanalysing this man’s bedroom.

The front door opens.

“You said that last time!” the woman snaps, her heels clicking sharply against the floor.

You’re shoved toward the sliding closet door. It opens with a soft scrape. Inside: hanging shirts, mostly dark. Hoodies. A winter coat. Shoe boxes stacked on one side. A laundry basket half-full.

“All of us?” you hiss.

“Got a better idea?”

The door slides shut just as footsteps enter the bedroom.

You’re crushed instantly. Back against the wall. Toru in front of you. Sato practically plastered behind. The handcuffs force you closer than is remotely comfortable. Someone’s arm is wedged between your ribs and a stack of shoeboxes. A coat hanger digs into your shoulder. How are you back in this position again? 

Outside, the argument spills into the room.

“I’m not doing this,” Sukuna says flatly.

“You never do anything! You just— god, you’re impossible!”

A thud. Maybe something dropped on the bed. You hold your breath. Another thud. The mattress creaks. No, please don’t, you beg. 

“You knew what this was,” he says, voice colder now.

“And what is it?” she demands.

Silence stretches. You can feel Toru’s heartbeat through his chest where you’re practically pressed against him. Or maybe it’s yours. The handcuffs shift as someone adjusts their balance. The metal clinks. Loud.

All four of you freeze again.

“…what was that?” the woman asks.

You don’t breathe. Not a single one of you moves.

Sukuna’s footsteps approach. The closet door handle rattles lightly as if tested. Your heart actually stops. Like medically dead stops. Then—

A scoff.

“Probably the pipes,” he mutters dismissively. Footsteps retreat. The argument resumes, lower now. Tense. 

Inside the closet, you’re still crammed together like contraband. One twin’s breath ghosts across your temple. “If you make another sound,” he whispers so quietly it barely exists, “I’m framing you as the girl with the blue thong.”

You would elbow him if you had the space. It wasn’t even you!

Instead, you stay very, very still.

Their masculine scents engulf you. One of them smells like tacky aftershave done right, somehow, and the other is clean laundry. Both are intoxicating, as is the heat they exude which has you flushing in the cramped space. 

It’s tight and cramped here. You barely have room to breathe, barely have room for your lungs to expand. And you’re pretty sure you’re standing on someone’s foot, though no one complains. As slowly and carefully as you can, you adjust yourself, grimacing at the tightness and darkness in the closet.

“Stop squirming,” Toru pleads. When you glance at him, he’s staring up, Adam’s apple bobbing. 

“What?” 

Sato whispers in your ear, “You’re making him pop a boner. Me too. Nobody tell you it’s rude to get a guy hard and not do something about it?”

“They’re right outside,” you whisper back. “Even if I wanted to, we couldn’t do anything.”

A thumb flicks your nipple. Your moan is stifled by a hand to your mouth. Toru says, and in the darkness of the closet you can hear his grin, “Oh, but you want to, don’t you. You want to so bad. I bet feeling us up like this, knowing you can get caught, is making your little kitty purr.”

“Little kitty? Seriously?”

“Shut up, Sato. Maybe if you said it more, you’d get laid as often as I do.”

“I get laid plenty, asshole.”

“Shut up both of you,” you fire back at the two of them, ear craning to hear what’s happening outside.  There’s no more arguing, which is a good sign, but there’s definitely signs of life, which isn’t a good sign; they’re still here. You can hear talking, hushed and intimate, as well as rhythmic creaking. 

Oh no. 

“Damn,” Toru says under his breath. “Ryomen’s fucking his girl. Guess I’ll finally be able to settle my bed with Fushiguro — does the psycho last longer than thirty seconds? Any takers?”

No one replies to him.

Through your breathing, you can’t help but listen to the sounds of moaning and groaning. There’s even some slapping involved, and a couple, ‘you like that?’, ‘you’re making a mess all over my cock, you little slut,’ and ‘picking a fight just to cum, you ain’t slick.’

That Sukuna guy is an aggressive one. 

“Is it weird to say, given our situation, that I think it’s nice that they’re so in love and can easily resolve their problems?” you say, as quietly as you can.

Both twins snort.

“They ain’t in love, Second year. They’re just horny and toxic, which makes for a great combo. And if I recognise the voice right, then that’s Cassie. She’s a mess, no offence to her. She likes stealing her friend’s man. Great tits though.”

“She’s just another girl in his roster; Sukuna doesn’t date. Not unless pigs are airborn.”

“Oh.”

The three of you are breathing heavily, constantly brushing up against each other. Toru’s shirt is scraping your hardened nipples through your shirt. Your ass is grinding behind you. Hands are gripping your hips under your skirt as another set sneaks under your top, clutching your waist and climbing higher and higher till it’s just about grazing the underside of your tits.

Is it the uninhibited moaning outside?

Or the masculine scent you’re enveloped in?

What’s got you so hot and bothered, squirming between them, whining to be touched?

A hand grips your hip, pulling you back. A hot thing hangs heavy behind you. Your breath hitches. Meanwhile, lips press to your temple, then to your cheek, and finally your lips. 

Toru doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. He first whispers, “Been wanting to do this since this morning.” Then he kisses you. It’s sweet, soft, and gentle. It gives you butterflies. A metallic thing scrapes your bottom lip, and when you gasp, he’s quick to explain, “Just my tongue piercing, babe. You’ll get used to it. Soon’ll be getting to feel it against your clit, trust.”

Something long and hard slides itself between your thighs. You stiffen. 

“What? Did you think I was gonna let my brother have all the fun?” Sato’s hands are gripping your bare hips, pulling you back and forth on his cock, which he ruts right up against your panties, cockhead prodding your clothed clit.

Panicking a little, you voice out, “What if they hear us?”

“You don’t want to be caught, Anthro? You better keep quiet then.”

One of them grope your tits, tweaking the hardened buds through your shirt, carrying your hand with his. You twitch with every flick, every scratch of a nail, and every pinch. Toru swallows your moans, greedily gulping them down. You really are getting used to the tongue piercing; it’s an addictive sensation against your own tongue. 

The heat between your legs is almost scalding, and the way it separates your pussy lips, greeting your throbbing clit on its way forward, has your hips working back in tandem. 

“Good girl,” one of them mutters.

The veins on the cock are felt by your sensitive skin. God, he’s big. Like really big. Would Toru be big too? Could you take any of their cocks? Both of them? Is that too filthy to think about?

Outside, a feminine voice calls out, “Ngh! Sukuna, right there! Harder, baby, please!”

“Don’t call me baby, you whore. Just take my cock and be quiet.”

You won’t admit it to anyone, but the sounds of skin slapping, headboard banging, and wanton screaming are getting to you. They’re setting the mood, and you’re growing less and less ashamed of the fact that you’re being thighfucked by one of the Gojo twins as the other shoves his tongue down your throat and squeezes your tits. 

This is even filthier than in the locker room. More lewd. Obscene. 

You’re rubbing yourself all over twins in a closet, hiding, and trespassing whilst the owner of the place is fucking his girl, and they don’t have a clue. If this is how parties end, then you might be inclined to attend another one of theirs.

“S-sato,” you whimper to his brother’s lips, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Fuck, me too.”

“What am I, chopped liver?”

Full body shudders wrack you. You clutch Toru’s stupid t-shirt, hips stuttering, and juices soaking your panties. Thighs tightening in pulses with the strain of your muscles, you wring groans from Sato right into your ear. 

“Shit, don’t cum all over me,” Toru hastily says, before picking up a random shirt off the hanger and shoving it between your legs just in time as Sato’s cock pulses in waves. “Ugh, that’s disgusting.”

“Thanks,” his twin mumbles, lifting your hand to his face. You fix his glasses for him, pushing it back up his nose bridge. 

“Where are you going now?” the girl asks, voice slightly muted by the barriers between you and her.

Bed creaking before feet pad on the floor, Sukuna answers, “Gotta stop by the ADP.” Silence. “Alpha Delta Phi? Gojo’s frat? Jesus, do you know anything other than how to bounce on cock? Forget it. I just need to go pick something up. Let yourself out whenever, but don’t be back here tonight. I’m having the boys over.”

“Oh, please, we both know that’s just code for having your other girl over.”

“Well if you know, then why bother playing coy about it. Yeah, I’m fucking other women, just like you’re fucking other guys. I don’t care and neither should you. Take a shower, nap, or whatever the fuck you want. Just don’t be here when I get back.”

“Fuck you.”

“You just did, sweetheart.”

Feet pad away and full silence returns to the room. In the distance, a door shuts. You all breathe out a sigh of relief, shoulders dropping. 

“What an asshole,” you say, pushing the closet door open for fresh air. 

“Told you,” the twins say in unison. 

The bed’s been left a mess, with a huge wet patch at the centre that you don’t want to focus too much on. Sato’s tucked himself back in his jeans expertly, and you’d think he’d never taken anything out in the first place. 

“Oi, Sato, lift her up for me.”

Sighing, the guy grumbles before lifting you by the back of your thighs. You fall back on his chest, head resting on his shoulder. Legs wide open, Toru kneels between them, grinning up at you. He winks, poking the wet spot you’ve made in your panties. 

“What’re you doing?” you ask, startled.

Toru shrugs, pulling your panties aside. He takes a deep inhale, nose skimming and coming back all glossy. “Just wondering what you taste like that. You both got to cum, so it’s only fair I get a little something too, no?”

“It’s logical. Practically a faultless argument,” Sato concurs, leaving a kiss on your heated cheeks to reassure you. “Don’t worry; he won’t bite.” A little hushed and more mischievous, he adds, “Not like me.”

Naturally, that does nothing to wash away the embarrassment of his twin being face to face with your puffy pussy. 

His smooth hands soothe the tremor in your thighs. “Just a taste, gorgeous. To tide me over till we make it back to the frat house to catch Sukuna. Besides, I want you to get comfortable with my tongue piercing.” 

He pecks your clit, then takes a longer lick of your pussy. You gasp, hands kept down by your sides by their own and unable to push him away. Toru is as unashamed as ever, shoving his whole face in your cunt and forcing squelches out when he tongues your entrance. 

“W-we’re going back to the -ngh!- frat house?”

Sato hums, seemingly unbothered by any of what’s going on. It might as well be any other Saturday. “We have to catch him there; I don’t want to spend the rest of my day chasing after him, when I could be buried inside your pussy.”

SLURRRRRP!

You cry out, toes curling. 

“So sweet,” the twin down there moans. “You gotta taste her, Sato.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, idiot,” he scolds. “And hurry up.”

“Quit telling me what to do — I like taking my time with good pussy, sorry.”

“Toru!”

Cooing, he mutters an apology to your cunt. “Aw, sorry, babe. Don’t mean to neglect you. Don’t worry, Toru’s here. Toru’s gonna make you feel so good, better than my brother’s tiny ass dick, I promise.”

Said brother scoffs. 

But you don’t care about their unnecessary competition. You can only focus on the jolts of electricity zooming from your pussy and exploding in your belly. You’ve never been eaten out so good, and not with a piercing you’re painfully aware rubbing just right through your puffy folds. It rolls against your clit. You moan.

“Feel good?” Toru asks, all smug. “Got the idea from our piercer friend. It’s a real hit with the ladies.”

You frown. “It’s impolite to talk about -hah fuck that’s good- o-other women when you’re between someone’s legs.”

Sato kisses your cheek again, and approvingly inserts, “Put him in his place, baby. Been trying to teach him manners since we were born and he never listens to me. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

“Quit talking about me like I’m some kind of dog,” Toru grumbles.

“Then quit acting like it,” you bravely snap, possessed by the desperate need to chase another high. “Make me cum already, before I ask your brother to do it instead.”

Another kiss, this time punctuated by a chuckle. “

“Kitty’s got claws. That’s fucking hot.”

Lips wrap around your clit, which is still sensitive from the incessant rubbing of Sato’s cock. That’s why when he finally sucks hard on the little thing, you cum again way too quickly. “Fuck, Toru!”

“Mm, that’s right, baby, ride my face and my tongue.”

Through your writhing and squirming, Sato holds you up, bearing your weight with ease, all while Toru laps up the juices oozing out of your pussy, like a puppy, like a man in a dessert. 

That’s three orgasms all in less than an hour. It’s a new record for you, which means your body isn’t used to it. On shaky legs, you’re set down. They hold you up, preventing you from collapsing on the floor. 

One of them ruffles your hair. “You did such a great job, Second year. We’re almost at the finish line, think you can manage a slight jog back to the frat house?”

How are they so chill? How can they act like nothing happened? There’s not even a single wrinkle on their shirts, whereas you look and feel like a mess. 

“Y-yeah,” you mumble, dazed and still experiencing waves of an orgasm that wasn’t supposed to happen so suddenly. 

Sato nods, pulling your panties back into place and patting your pussy. “We know a shortcut — it’ll give us at least fifteen minutes ahead of Sukuna. More if he gets distracted and walks slowly.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

.

.

.

“Oh my god…” you breathe out, staring at your phone. “I was dancing on a table?”

More videos and pictures are surfacing online now that the partygoers are waking up and getting over their splitting headache. And damn it, you wish they hadn’t.

Leaning over, Toru whistles. “That’s fucking hot. It reminds me of when my frat brothers hired strippers for my birthday, except your dancing is so much better.”

You elbow the little kiss up. “We both know that’s a lie. I’m dancing like a drugged up chimpanzee.”

“Like an unstable gas, just shaking about the place,” Sato adds. When Toru and you give him a look, a blush graces his cheeks. He adjusts his glasses and clears his throat. “So he can talk about strippers but I can’t mention anything related to the periodic table?”

That was a slip of his cocky façade, and it brings a smile to your lips.

He rolls his eyes at your look of adoration. Glancing at the screen, he says, “We didn’t have the cuffs then, and that was probably about midnight. Our parties typically end at 3 am, with some people lingering even later. So between then and 3am, Sukuna had slipped cuffs on us.”

“Do you think he drugged us too?” you wonder, speedwalking along the back of a building you’ve never visited on campus. “I mean, I’m just not the type to get black out drunk.”

It’s awful to suggest Sukuna, a man you’ve never met before, would be the type to spike peoples’ drinks, but it would certainly explain things. 

Toru shakes his head, running a hand through his messy hair. “I wouldn’t put it past him to slip us something that makes us more susceptible to doing stupid shit. Though, honestly, looking at how I’m twerking on my pledge, Itadori, I don’t think I needed anything more to get black out.”

“That’s just how you are naturally,” his twin snarks. 

To that, the frat guy laughs in disbelief. “You’re one to talk considering we have five videos of you writing equations on the entirety of the basketball team’s backs and yapping their ears off about Digimon, which you only do after the eleventh shot. Shots, mind you, you hate but never pass down.”

“Only ‘cause I need alcohol to survive your stupid parties,” Sato fires back. 

“Parties you enjoy!”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough, boys. Let’s just agree we all got messy on our own,” you establish, feeling like the two are way too close to tearing each other apart.

When you reach the frat house, Sato opens the door for you. Does no one lock their doors on campus?

You didn’t notice it in your rush to get out of the house earlier, how big and beautiful the house is. It’s old, ornately decorated with impeccable wooden floors and portraits hanging on walls. Of course, there are thongs, bras, streamers, limp balloons, used condoms strung all over the place, and there’s empty cans of beer and bottles of alcohol just lying about. But beneath all of the grime of a party done well lies a gorgeous home. 

Cleaners flit about the place, collecting trash and mopping floors. 

“Perk of living in a frat,” Toru proudly declares, “we never have to clean up after ourselves.”

“That is pretty cool,” you agree. 

Sato huffs. “It’s insanely privileged. And intrusive. I much prefer not having strangers constantly leaving their traces in my home.”

The three of you gracefully ascend the stairs, avoiding mysterious wet puddles and stains you didn’t want to think too much about. Sukuna doesn’t seem to be here, so they were right about the shortcut.

“So you live on your own?” you ask him, nodding a thank you to Toru who carries you over a stack of bottles. 

“Yeah, but we’re over at each other’s places so often we might as well not be.”

You giggle. “That’s so cute. You two just need to be together all the time, huh?”

Toru punches his brother’s arm over your head. “She’s laughing at us, Sato. She thinks we’re pathetic and psychotically close.”

“I promise, it’s only circumstance that keeps bringing us together,” Sato dryly says. “If I had it my way, I’d have said good riddance to him a long time ago.”

“My sentiment exactly — pretty sure I tried to eat you in the womb and that’s why you’re so ugly.”

A laugh escapes you.

Eventually, you reach their bedroom. 

Right back where you started.

Smiling, you say, “It’s funny that we did all that work just to end up back here because Sukuna was always coming by, isn’t it? Quite ironic actually.”

The door shuts behind you. 

“Look, Toru,” a dark voice coos, “she doesn’t know she’s about to be fucked an inch of her life.”

“I know,” an equally dark voice agrees. “I can’t get over how stinkin’ cute she is. Makes me wanna just eat her out till she faints. Think she’ll let me?”

“I think she’s been soaked the whole day and at this point she’ll let us do anything we want…isn’t that right, Anthro?”

The hairs on your arms stand on edge. Two foreboding presences flank you, reminding you that there’s no where you can go that they won’t follow, that you’re stuck with them for good, and that you couldn’t hope to fight them off even if you wanted to. Your panties might as well not be there by how your wetness is trickling down your thighs.

They drag you down onto the bed with them. 

Hands make quick work of your clothes: they pull down your skirt, taking your panties with them, they yank your shoes and socks off, and one of them even grabs scissors to cut right through the shirt before you can say anything. The metal grazes your skin, slicing right between your tits. 

“Wait, wait,” you yell, overwhelmed by the suddenness of their actions. “Sukuna! Sukuna’s coming.”

Sato says, “Not for twenty minutes — one of my friends said they saw him stop by the Student Council office.”

“Probably going to bother the Prez,” Toru snickers, pressing your panties to his nose and moaning. “Fuck, I love the way your pussy smells. The dirtier the better.”

Heat rises to your cheeks immediately, and you fall back onto Sato’s lap. He licks a stripe up your neck. “My brother’s got weird tastes. Forgive him, angel. He’s just born weird. I like to say I took all the brains in the womb.”

Toru snorts, throwing aside all your shredded clothes. “Sure, let’s pretend I haven’t had chicks crying to me about how you’re so mean to them, asking for me to be the nice twin.” 

The three of you kneel on the bed together, cuffs clinking when they clash, the pink fluff tickling skin. They’re both still dressed. You feel Sato’s jeans scratching your skin, the metal zip rubbing right up against your pussy, and Toru’s silly ‘Best Seats’ shirt grazing your nose as he towers over you. 

He brings up the hem, biting it, revealing washboard abs. You blink at it.

He says, “Lick it, Second year. Go on.” Hesitating, you run your tongue over his torso, starting from the white treasure trail, over his outie belly button, then his abs, and his chest. Of course he knows he has an impressive body. It’s important he knows you know that too; it’s an ego boost for him. “Such a good girl,” he coos. “I’ll be sure to fuck you real good as a reward.”

“Not until I’m done,” Sato argues. “I’m older so I get first dibs.”

His long fingers are parting your pussy lips, grinding his zipper up and bumping it against your clit. The texture’s weird, and wild, and it has you heaving, no doubt leaving behind your slick all over the metal teeth. 

Gripping your face with his free hand, Sato kisses you for the first time. He’s got your neck twisted back, the wetness of your pussy smearing on your skin. There’s no piercing, only a minty taste that you’re obsessed with. It’s messier, filthier, all tongue and spit, so different from how his brother kisses. 

You’re dragged back, and lips quickly replace Sato’s. That familiar piercing returns. You’re stolen back again. Then again. And again. They’re fighting over who gets to kiss you. You’re dizzy, breathless, creaming for more.

“Quit taking her,” Toru growls. 

“Fuck off,” Sato snarls. “Just sit there and look away. Three’s a crowd.”

“It’s not fair. You’re already getting to fuck her pussy first.”

“Oh? You’re so easy to give up?” He whispers in your ear, all smug, “My brother’s a pushover. Bet it turns you way off, doesn’t it? It’s alright, angel, you can tell him to back off. It’ll just be you and me, won’t that be nice?”

Fingers coat themselves in your pussy juice, rubbing your clit nice and good before pushing inside your pulsing hole. “No, babe, tell the nerd he can fuck off and go research where the clit even is. I’ll fuck you so good you won’t be able to walk away from my bed even when the cuffs are off.”

Neither of them will actually give up, no matter what you say, you know that. So you say, “Both of you. I want to be fucked by both of you. Please!”

“She’s so polite. Isn’t she polite, Sato?”

“Perfectly so.”

If someone had told you you’d be shared by twins in a frat house, you’d have called the police for harassment. Now, as you’ve said those words and they sigh and begrudgingly agree to allow the other to be here, you think this was inevitable.

Toru creeps back, working on his zip and freeing his hard cock. A hand shoves your face forward. If it isn’t for Sato holding you up, you’d be face planting into the sheets. 

“A-are you sure Sukuna won’t catch us?”

Fingers push in, scissoring your cunt and prepping your walls. They cruelly curl up against your g-spot. “You think she’s trying to piss us off by mentioning another man’s name, Toru?”

“I think it doesn’t matter — she’s gonna forget there’s anyone else outside these walls when I’m through with her.”

Right in front of you, Toru strokes his dick. It’s pale, flushed red at the tip and already leaking. He’s trimmed neatly. There’s even a tattoo on his hip that says ‘Lucky You ;)’

Your mouth waters. 

The salty pre is smeared on your lips. He taps it, once, then twice. “Say ahh, babe.”

Behind you, something pokes your pussy. It slides between your thighs again, spreading your juices on your skin. It enters you, inch by inch, slowly, making you feel every bit of him.

At the same time, Toru’s cock pushes through, filling your mouth. Both ends have to stretch wide to accommodate them. Already, you’re overwhelmed, overstimulated, over the fucking moon at being used so lewdly. Your friends are never going to believe how you spent your Saturday, and your future kids will never know just how wild their mother got back in college.

Soon, they bottom out, and it’s a miracle you’ve been able to take both of them at the same time. 

“Damn, what a talented fucking mouth,” Toru breathes out, head thrown back. “A star for you, Second year.”

“You should feel her pussy,” Sato grits out, fingers digging into the plush of your ass with the strain of resisting the urge to thrust over and over again in your cunt. “It’s the tightest thing ever.”

His brother groans. “Shut the fuck up, dude. I can’t stand hearing your voice. Respectfully. You’re ruining this for me.”

“Grow up.”

In tandem, they rut back and forth, starting off in small bursts first to let you get used to it, then steadily growing faster and faster. You’re basically being used as as fleshlight, fucked in the way they want, with little regard for how uncomfortably stretched out and twisted you are. And it feels amazing.

But…

Why does Sato’s cock feel so different?

Your cunt clenches down on it. He grunts, then chuckles. “You’re wondering what’s on my dick, aren’t you? It’s a piercing baby. Thought only Toru has one? Didn’t expect it from me, did you? You feel it scraping your walls? Feel me deep inside your perfect pussy?” 

And you can. You can feel exactly where he is, how deep he’s in, how satisfied your gummy walls are to feel something so big stretching you out, like a feeding a sacrifice to a hungry god.

You moan around Toru’s dick. He grunts. “Fuck, babe! You’re gonna make me cum early.”

“Pathetic,” Sato mutters.  A cold wetness lands with a thwack right on your puckering hole. You jerk. “Relax. Just trust me.” A thumb circles the hole, pushing in only knuckle deep yet it’s more than enough to have you feeling insanely full. “If we had more time, then I’d prep this tight hole to take me. This’ll have to do.”

Sato’s an ass guy?

Are you?

It’s never occurred to you to play in that other hole, though as he hooks his thumb in, you start to think you’ve been missing out this entire time. Toru, on the other hand, is obsessed with your tits. He keeps groping them, flicking the buds so you’ll moan even more around his cock.

Balls are swinging, bumping against your chin and on your clit. The bed squeaks and creaks with the force of their ploughing, headboard slamming against the wall. You wonder if the other frat guys can hear, if they know you’re a slut squirting around a cock as you get rammed by their frat president and his twin brother. It must be a normal occurrence with how whorish they both are.

Your tongue swirls around the unpierced cockhead in your mouth, licking the salty slit. The guy in front of you curses, still biting the hem of his shirt. You can see his abs constricting, the muscles under his tattoo twitching. . 

Sato breathily chuckles. “My little brother’s gonna tap out soon, and I’ll have you all to myself.”

Toru pushes back in immediately, not wasting even a single second. You have to breathe through your nose, the walls of your throat squeezing around the hefty intrusion. Whereas Sato’s long, Toru’s thicker — the difference is minute, yet you can tell. 

Feeling challenged, Toru scoffs. He taps your cheek. “Tell him he can spank you. Go on.” He pulls out.

You cough, throat hoarse already. “Spank me, Sato. It’s okay, I can take it.”

SMACK!

You scream around Toru’s dick. His hips jerk forward with a groan. The fucker didn’t waste a single second!

“So fucking tight!” He slaps your cheek again, hitting exactly where he had the first time. You moan, pussy pulsing. “You like that? Well, aren’t you a dirty thing.”

It’s a turn-on for Sato, you understand now. It flipped a switch in him, seeing the mark of his hand blooming on your ass; his hips are thrusting harder, hitting that gummy spot inside you that has you seeing stars and flooding down his cock, which practically rams you mercilessly.

The strength of his thrusting forces your throat to take Toru even deeper, a fact that the frat guy rejoices in as he holds you up by a hand on your tit, groping like he had before. The cockhead’s bumping the back of your throat, no doubt bruising you.

You cum, shuddering, but neither of them seem to care. They only notice the throbbing and rhythmic squeezing of your cunt and throat, groaning and grunting above you. 

“Poor nerd,” Toru snickers. “He’s gonna cum so quickly. It’s sad, isn’t it? It’s nice that you’re so charitable, babe.”

“Big talk for a masochist.” The older twin rubs your clit, occasionally pinching the thing just to feel you tighten around him. Darkly, he orders, “Dig your nails into his thigh. All the girls know he’s weak for pain. He even calls the older ones mommy. Sad, isn’t it? Disturbed, even.”

Panicked, he tries to grab your hand before it can grip his thigh through his jeans. But it’s too late. You’re faster. You dig your nails in as hard as you can so he’ll feel it through the material. He whimpers, hips stuttering. “Jesus FUCK!”

Hot cum spurts in your throat. You gag on the salty taste. Tears spring to your eyes.

Sato laughs, yanking you up by the air. Toru’s cock slides out with a pop!

Back flat on his chest, he holds you up with a hand around your throat. It presses in slightly, slowly stopping airflow to your head in intervals, holding enough to make you delirious. 

Aggrieved and peeved off for being forced to cum early by a cheap trick, Toru poutily kisses your lips, running that tongue piercing over the seam. He pushes a hand against your belly. You whine, feeling even more of Sato this way. “Let’s see how long either of you lasts like this, cheaters.”

“Fuck off—Christ! Shit!”

It only takes a mere second. It’s more embarrassing than Toru’s premature ejaculation.

At the sudden and impossible tightness, the older twin curses under his breath. White paints your walls. The heat is searing and it pushes you over the edge too. 

Quickly, you’re pulled off his dick, which is still spurting. Some cum gets on your face when you’re brought to your back on the bed. They’re manhanding you, positioning you like you’re a ragdoll, like you’re a mere toy for their pleasure. It’s hard to tell where up and down are, left and right, if it’s even the same day.

A cock pushes in, bullying its fat length with no hesitation. The aftershocks wrings out a deeply satisfied moan from Toru, who sinks in balls deep easily. He mutters petulantly, “If her pussy didn’t feel so good, I’d be too disgusted by your spunk all over her to get hard again.”

“Be grateful I’m letting you fuck her at all,” Sato retorts. He removes his glasses, squinting and finding the fogging of the lenses a pain in the ass. As he clears it out with the bottom of his shirt, he adjusts himself over you, obscuring your view of Toru. His heavy cock hasn’t lessened in density. It rests between your tits, soaked and sticky. “Stick your tongue out.”

You do. He makes a noise of approval. 

His hands push your tits together, sandwiching his dick. Sato’s shaven. He likes things nice and clean, it’d seem. The metal bars under his cockhead are hot against your skin. You can see them. They look painful. 

In between moans, you ask him, “Did the -hngh- piercings hurt?”

He shakes his head, lazily thrusting on your skin. His cock bumps onto your tongue, leaving drops of salty cum. You can taste yourself and him, and it oddly doesn’t disgust you.

Behind his brother, Toru pushes your thighs up, hooking them over his arms. Amused, he says, “He’s lying. He cried after, telling me he regrets it and he wants the piercings taken off. What a little bitch boy.”

“He exaggerates.” But the pink tinting Sato’s cheeks tells a different story. 

“Whatever you say, big bro,” Toru muses.

He yanks you back and forth on his cock, not exactly thrusting anymore. You’re back to being used a fleshlight, as a pocket pussy, dragged up and down the veiny length of him. He’s reaching deep, stretching you out even more than his brother did, though he doesn’t reach your cervix as nicely as Sato had. It hardly matters to you. The pleasure’s all the same. 

Thumbs brush over your nipples, flicking and rubbing, all while Sato squeezes your breasts tightly around his cock. His veins are prominent too, and they tickle your skin with every thrust. You swirl your tongue around his cockhead, teasing the underside where his piercings are every time he reaches your mouth. He throws his hair back, Adam’s apple bobbing. 

“Fuck, that mouth. Real fucking sinful,” he mutters. 

Rocked back and forth, bruised and bullied from top to bottom, fingers digging into sensitive flesh, marking and claiming, with sticky juices drying on your skin and tears dripping down your cheeks from the overstimulation — it’s one orgasm after the other.

“Aw, are you crying?” Sato asks, smirking and not looking the least bit apologetic.

Toru chuckles. “For something so tight and greedy, her pussy’s real weak, don’t you think?”

“The weakest.”

Skin smacks against skin. Juices splash. Puddles grow beneath you. You can taste their cum, feel them and hear and see them everywhere. Even when you close your eyes, the shapes of their cocks are imprinted, practically burnt on your retina. They won’t stop talking, won’t stop commenting on how you tremble and tense around them. 

One of them moans pornographically. They both laugh.

“Hear how she moans? You’d think she’s on OnlyFans and she’s trying to rack in the subs. Dirty, dirty girl.”

“She does moan pretty loudly. Squeals like a pig too.”

Toru adds, “Oh and her pussy won’t stop talking back to me. Maybe she wants to debate the collegiate system with me, or give me a glowing review on my dick game.”

“Only you’d lose to a debate with a literal cunt,” Sato says, snorting.

“Oh because you’d win one? That’s what you wanna brag about?”

“I won one when I made her cum like three times on my dick today.”

“Pssh, you’re deluded.”

None of what they say gets to you. You’re too deep in the pleasure, in the euphoric bliss, to properly register what they’re saying. You just want them to keep fucking you, to keep stimulating your entire body. You want this to never stop.

Ankles locked around Toru’s hips, you yank him back, wanting more and more of him. It’s never enough. The hairs at his base tickle your clit before he grinds his pelvis against it. Your eyes roll back. 

Sato spits a fat dollop on your tit, barely assisting the glide of his cock, which easily slides between your tits — he just wanted to do that. The sight of you all messy, lips glossy, eyes dazed, causes the corners of his mouth to twitch. 

Spitting’s his thing. Panty sniffing is Toru’s.

The more you learn about them, the more your invite to Hell solidifies. They really are twins from the Underworld, just so filthy, so lewd, so damned.

“Fucking tight, squeezing me so good,” one of them groans, barely understandable.

“Pretty fucking tits, prettier fucking mouth,” the other says, eyes flitting between your face and your breasts, undecided where it wants to stay.

All three of you moan at the same time, bodies spasming, and clit and cocks throbbing. Everyone gasps for breath, the air humid and tangy. 

Finally…

“Ngh! Sato! Toru!”

Cum spurts on your face, and you have to shut your eyes to avoid getting some in there. They land on your cheeks and nose and tongue. More cum fills up your cunt. All of your juices mix together in a warm concoction. 

You’ve never been more full and deeply satisfied. You feel it in your bones, in your souls. 

The fluff of the cuffs are soaked with your sweat and cum, the metal clammy. There are marks on your wrists from where they’ve pulled too much or too harshly, and the sting only adds to the pleasure. 

Best.

Sex.

Of.

Your.

Life.

Probably best threesome too. Not that you’re planning on having any more.

“Fuck that was good,” Toru says, hands rubbing your thigh and your stomach. He pulls out, and you wince. The emptiness is upsetting, although it doesn’t last very long; his long, slender fingers push the cum leaking out back in, keeping you plugged for a little longer. 

“Mm,” Sato agrees, wiping cum from your face only to shove it in your mouth for you to suck off. 

“What kind of freaky circus act am I looking at right now?”

Heads flip to the door. You almost get whiplash from how fast you turned. 

In the doorway, a pink-haired, heavily tattooed man stands. He doesn’t look disturbed, just amused. His eyes drink in your form, from your face to your tits to your pussy, or as much of your body he can see from where he’s standing anyway.

“Oh hey, Ryomen,” Toru says, not making a move to cover himself or you up. He just stands there between your legs, absentmindedly rubbing your clit. “How you doing?”

“Toru!” you scold, still dazed but thinking more clearly than the other two, that’s for sure. “Ask him about the cuffs.”

Does no one care about your dignity?

Nudity between men might be normal, but it’s certainly not between men and women. Despite that, they’re acting like he just caught you hanging out. No one covers you up. The newcomer doesn't look away. They’re all acting like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Who you presume is Sukuna finally spots the pink cuffs. He groans. “You got it all dirty. God, I fucking hate you dumbass twins. Came back to pick it up, and this is how you repay the favour? You better get me new ones, Gojos.”

You blink.

Static rings in your ears.

“They…borrowed it from you?”

Sukuna quirks a brow, like he’s surprised you’re daring to speak to him. “Yeah, twin fucker. In exchange for the keys to their garage and whatever car I wanted to drive around for the weekend.” Then he seems to piece something together and laughs mockingly. “Jesus, did they sell you some story about how I cuffed you three together in punishment or something? How dumb can you be?”

Sato huffs. “Watch it, Ryomen.”

“Yeah, another insult from your lips and I’m decking you right across the cheek.”

“Whatever you freaks.” A ping goes off on his phone. Sukuna reads the notification. “Alright, I gotta get going. Get me new cuffs and keep me out of your shit. Don’t even know why you didn’t just get your own.”

Toru chuckles, tension disappearing as though it was never there to begin with, and his fingers still fucking inside you. “Lies sell better when mixed with a little truth.”

Disgusted, Sukuna scowls. “You sound like your nerdy brother. Don’t try to sound smart, Idiot Gojo. It don’t fucking suit you.” His eyes fall back to you. He smirks. “If you get tired of their pasty asses, I’m more than happy to fuck you right. You know where I live.”

He knew you were there?

Seeing the bewildered look on your face, he scoffs. “You all breathe so fucking heavily. You think I wouldn’t sense your stupidity radiating from my closet? I mean, I always knew the two of you were in the closet, but I never knew you’d be in there with a girl. Guess sexuality really is a spectrum.”

“Fuck off, Sukuna,” Sato growls, cock soft now and being tucked right back into his pants.

He waves a hand lazily. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going. Unlike her, I’m not interested in doing it with twins. I’ll see you weirdos around.”

“Wait!” you call out before he can leave. “The key! We need the key!”

Sukuna rolls his eyes at you. 

“You’re slower than you look,” he mutters, exasperated beyond measure. Louder, he says, enunciating hard so you’ll get it, “I. Don’t. Have. It. The twins. Are. Sexual deviants. Who lie. To get pussy. They have the key. They always had it. You think only with your clit or something?”

A pillow gets thrown at him, followed by, “Fuck off, Ryomen.”

With a middle finger aimed at all three of you, he goes back the way he came, leaving you with guilty looking twins who each fish out a small key from their pockets. 

“Oh look,” Toru weakly cheers, “we found it. Yay!”

One winces. “Guess we won’t need to go to the fire station.”

“What the actual fuck.”

[iheartyuyu]

twenty years.

you stared blankly at the party going on in front of you, pressed between choso and the couch arm, the wrapped paper between your glossed lips as you took in a drag, then breathed out. you could feel choso’s eyes on you, eyebrows furrowed in slight concern, before your best friend —and plug— nudged you gently. “are you okay?”

you blinked, throat suddenly feeling too dry to breathe, but nodded, gaze set ahead. “…yeah.”

he frowned, but nodded back, fortunately too high himself to pull answers out of you. you kept your gaze ahead, eyes on the people making out, people grinding, and worst of all— people flirting with a soft look on their face.

twenty years of your life, and no one had ever had a crush on you.

twenty years of your life, and no one had ever even flirted.

fuck, were you really that unappealing? you weren’t a bad person, right? you had lots of friends— enough to know you were pleasant to be around.

another drag.

your friends always called you pretty, but maybe they were just being flattering. they had to be, right? fuck, what if they were lying all this time? that had to be the reason. but even then, were you so ugly that you weren’t worth anyone approaching you in twenty fucking years?

another drag.

it wasn’t like you could even confide in someone about it. you hated the pity looks, their stubborn little scowls at they insisted you were pretty— just too pretty that it was intimidating. you hated how they insisted people flirted with you and how you just missed it—

because you fucking knew the truth. you knew no one flirted with you, and you knew that if you were ‘intimidatingly pretty’, you would at least get hit on a few times to at least know.

your vision was briefly blurry, just enough for choso to blink slowly, breathing the smoke out from his blunt. “you’re not even getting high too. you only smoke cigarettes when something is wrong. spit it out.”

“i wish someone had a crush on me.” you mumbled, sighing, eyes shutting briefly. you excepted instant comfort, the small pitiful look, the empty promise you hated that some day, someone will—

you expected anything other than the quiet snort beside you. when you pushed your eyes open again, choso looked smug, like he knew something you didn’t.

your eyes narrowed, having known him too well to immediately figure it out. “do you know something?”

“in my defense, i thought you knew.” he mused. “he has been obsessed with you since like, first year. everyone knows.”

your mind blanked. what? your dazed mind was too, well, unfocused to actually register his words. you had to blink once, twice, before you finally blurted out, “what the fuck are you talking about?”

choso shamelessly pointed across the room, and your eyes trailed over, only for you to freeze when your eyes met sharp, vaguely familiar pretty red ones.

holy fuck.

“choso.” you breathed out, not daring to pull your eyes away from his— not when he was staring at you so intensely, like you would disappear if he did.

“yes?” choso yawned— too nonchalantly, enough to make you tempted to smack him on the back of his head with enough force to knock him off the fucking couch.

“…why the fuck is sukuna staring at me?” you mumbled, a hand going through your hair, halting at the roots with a slow blink. “i am too fucking high for this.”

“one, you’re sober. two, he always stares at you,” choso scoffed. “he’s fucking obsessed. everyone knows about his little crush on you. we all thought you knew.”

“he never stares at me—“ you muttered, before shaking your head. “is this a prank? ‘cause it really isn’t funny.”

choso scoffed, before glancing up just as a familiar white-haired boy was passing by. “yo, gojo. who has a crush on her?”

gojo glanced down, and immediately gasped, blue eyes bright and excited, managing to yell an “sukuna confessed?!” just before he was being pulled away. choso grinned at your flabbergasted stare, shrugging.

“he thinks you’re pretty. have wanted you for years.”

“…this has to be a joke.” you mumbled, eyes flickering back at where he stood again, face flushing just the slightest when his bright eyes met yours again, turning back to choso. “is this a joke?”

“no— ow.” choso’s red tinted eyes narrowed briefly at the way you smacked the back of his head. “what the hell?”

“what the hell is wrong with you?” you muttered back. “you knew he had a tiny crush—“

“—not tiny. it’s huge.”

“—on me and you never said something?” you hissed,. you purposefully ignored the mumble he let out for your own sanity, and he had the audacity to pout. “what is wrong with you?”

“i thought you knew.” he grunted. “and before you overthink and say he would have definitely done something if he has a crush on you— he said you’re too good for him, or something.”

you blinked. “he said what?”

“he said you’re too cute and pretty to be ruined by him, whatever that means.” choso drawled out, between drags. “but, he said if you were to ever approach him, he would never reject you— or something. i don’t remember, i was high.”

“you’re always high.”

“‘cause he’s always asking me about you. i would not handle that sober.”

you shook your head, pushing yourself up. “‘m choosing to believe that you’re a filthy liar.” you muttered, walking away before he could answer. you slid into the kitchen quietly, grabbing a drink before you were trying to slide back out between the drunken bodies— only to bump into someone. you glanced up, and froze. “fuck, sorry.”

sukuna only stared blankly at you, before he gave you a nod, walking past you.

“‘has a crush on you’ my ass. sukuna probably hates me.” you mumbled to yourself, tilting your head back to drown your drink down.

“…excuse me?” an unamused voice deadpanned just right beside you, and you let out a startled squeak, jumping. you glanced to your side, and froze at the sight of sukuna staring down at you, a small scowl on his lips. you swallowed harshly, taking a step back while mentally considering how lame you would be if you just turned around and sprinted away.

he leaned closer, scowl widening, an arm landing beside you, trapping you between him and the wall had you blinking out of your thoughts. you cleared your throat awkwardly, glancing anywhere but him. “uh…hi. sorry. i was thinking out loud.”

“why were you thinking about me?”

please, floor, split open and swallow me. in fact, please, ceiling, drop on me instead—

calloused, warm fingers gently grabbed your jaw, tilting your head so your eyes meet his.

what. the. fuck.

he leaned in closer, eyes narrowing. “talk.”

“i heard a very silly rumor you have a tiny little crush on me.” you blurted out. he scoffed loudly, and you ignored the way your heart dropped to your stomach, your brain repeating ‘i knew it, i knew it’ over and over till you felt nauseous. yet, you forced a small smile. “stupid, i know.”

he let go of your jaw, leaning closer so his lips were mere millimeters away from your ear. you could smell his perfume, the heat of his body haunting yours as his other hand met the wall, successfully trapping you inside.

“very stupid,” he whispered. “it isn’t a ‘tiny, little’ crush. i fucking like you.”

“exactly, i was just saying you would never—“ your words halted once his words registered, mind going blank, jaw going slack. he pulled away, moving so he was back to staring at you, intense eyes holding eye contact while he leaned closer. how the fuck were you supposed to talk with someone who looked like he was carved instead of born staring at you? his tattooed arms flexed as he leaned closer, eyes almost softening. you finally remembered how to breathe. “you…”

“i like you,” he repeated. “have liked you for your years. you’re an oblivious pretty little thing, huh?”

you stared at him, flabbergasted and utterly confused, cheeks hot and eyes wide, and his smirk widened in a way that didn’t help your hammering heart. then, his warm fingers were reaching over, pushing a strand of your hand behind your ear with gentleness you didn’t think any man was capable of.

you swallowed, then. “i… don’t get it.”

“then let me take you out,” he murmured, voice low and almost hoarse, almost as if he was holding himself back from being too much. “and ‘ll make you understand.”

(a/n: i really haven’t written in so long lol this is still weird to me. just kinda writing to remember how to go back to this is kinda ass. and yes, my bio is true lol. that explains why he’s probs so ooc.)

[widowrelic]

riding frat kuna while you tutor him

HE’S NASTY 18+ smut with no plot, tutor!reader x frat! kuna, mean kuna, p in v, mentions of frotting, riding, inexperienced reader, vulgar words, sukuna makes reader tutor him whilst he’s fucking her.

─ ✧ “it’s called calculus — ngh — early transcendentals” you sob. shakey hands gripping the book that laid flat against sukuna’s chest, you squeeze your eyes shut, thighs aching around his veiny waist before a hand reaches out to tap meanly against your cheek.

“cmon — ‘posed t’be tutorin’ me” his face was etched into a sly grin, lidded eyes gazing at you through his dark pink lashes.

“s-starts — ah” you mewl. the broken sound cutting off your next sentence, head falling flat against his shoulder. his rough palms squeezed the two globes of your ass that rested against his thighs, lifting them up before slamming them down onto his cock.

“hurry up, don’t got all day” he huffed out boredly, a small sigh falling from his spittle glossed lips.

“starts..with limits — kuna~” your mind can’t seem to focus when the only thing you can really think of is the way he’s stretching your syrupy cunt out around his length. squelching around him, lathering his veiny cock in your slick - frothy juices.

“y' can do it, cmon, don’t get dumb on me” his hips snapped up into you harder. one of his hands coasted up that dip in your spine until he reached the back of your neck, he pulled your head back, and forced you to stare down at the textbook infront of you.

“c-can’t — s’to much~” teary eyes glanced into his, mouth jutted out in a small pouty cry as you kept your fingers tightened around the book. with a scoff, he landed a harsh blow to your ass, groaning when you clenched around him oh so tighly

“hurry up or I’ll stop..brat”

“i-it’s about — ah! — change” your own hips start to move slowly, trying to match his harsh rhythm. “of — motion an’ growth —s-slow” each little sob that fell from your lips only made him want to fuck up into you harder... just to hear them over an’ over.

so that’s what he did, he planted his feet flat on the ground, hips drilling at an angle that allows the curve of his flush tip to rub against that plush little sweet spot inside you, cock kissing your cervix in sloppy little smooches.

“shhh..takin’ it s’well — fuck…keep readin’” he rasped out, finger coming up to push your glasses back up your nose, before his lips find their way toward your strained neck.

“o-of — how things shift..p-please” he lets out a rough breath, the sound hitched and shakey as his thick but stiff an’ lengthy cock plunges in an’ out of your sopping hole.

“built on — two main ideas — ngh — the derivative an’ — godddd” your head tips back, unable to hold its self up anymore. your brows furrow as you let your body be taken completely by the pleasure of him, you bounce along with his mean ruts, tits slapping back down against your sweaty chest with each plop.

“can’t read no more? — mm — sucha’ smart girl yet you’re so out of it right now hmm?” his head tilts as he mocks you, arms tightening around your waist, pulling you flush against him, he lifts you up jus’ a tad bit, his own hips lifting off of the chair to fuck up into you at an animalistic pace.

“yesyesyesyes” you chant, hands dangling around his shoulders, weakly gripping onto the back of the chair, the textbook now leaving dents against your chest, stuck between the two of you.

he buries himself to the hilt with a groan, pressing a sweet honeyed kiss to your cervix.

“can’t — fuck — believe you jus’ stopped like that” he chuckled. lips finding their way toward your neck, brushing against your goosebump riddled skin. “wanted ta’ learn—s’bad” he pouted teasingly. hips moving again.

you keened back, unable to speak anymore, body completely limp against his, the mean slap of his hips left you hazy. your walls clamp around him, sucking him in, clit dusting over that pretty trail of pink hairs that laid just beneath his slick covered base.

he pulls you in for a sloppy kiss, all tongue and spit, he moans into your mouth, tongue gliding against yours, your mouth parts open, panting softly as he sucks on your tongue, taking advantage of your parted mouth. he pulls away, a slick string of spit connecting your lips together.

“s’good — ngh~”

“yeah?…tell me how good”

“s’good..kuna — feels s’deep” Another throaty sob leaves you. ass plopping down onto his lap with every lift of your hips.

“s’deep? Yeah?…poor baby” he frowns mockingly.

your head nods up an’ down, unable to comprehend anything anymore. he lifts your hips alll the way up, dragging his tip against your gummy walls, tip stretching you out. before he slams you back down against, inflicting a loud scream to leave your trembling lips.

“look at us — fuckin’ look at it — shiiittt” he lets out a low groan, hand finding its way toward the back of your neck yet again, shoving your face down until your chin meets your chest, you see it then, the way his cock bullies the inside of your sopping cunt, the slow drag of your honeyed walls wrapping around him had you both in a trance, drool dribbling messily down your chin as you let your tongue fall freely against your bottom lip.

“kuna — m’scloseeee — nnghh”

“cmon — soak my cock” he grunts harshly, rutting up harder, deft fingers reach down toward your throbbing clit, lazily tracing circles on it, applying a small amount of pressure, just enough to tip you over the edge.

“ohgodohgodohgod — fuck~” you babble, arms tightening around his neck, hips moving on their own accord in sloppy weak little bounces, sukuna lets out a guttural groan, head falling back against the chair.

“c-cummmin — kuna —“

with a few final little bounces, your body stills as a harsh wave of pleasure rips through you, you let out a whimper, shoving your face into his neck, hips twitching as you feel yourself gush out around him.

your thighs tremble as he continues to pummel his cock into you, chasing his own high whilst simultaneously riding you out through yours.

“fuuucccckkk — hck — this nerdy — cunt is s’good”

before you know it, he’s right there with you, arms tightening around your waist, teeth sinking into the skin of your shoulder. his legs shake before he pulls out, cock twitching, frotting against his stomach as well as yours as he continues to rut his hips up, thick ropes of white cum land onto your favorite textbook, painting it in gooey ropes, the ink mixing in with his cum, ruining it.

oh no:(

@killakuna — do not plagiarize and or feed my work into artificial intelligence

🏷️list: @sytorusdoll @carienations @cupidstrace @heaveninruins @sukunathispussy @motel6killer @sukusdoll

luci’s thoughts: this is a repost but also just posting this so I could put something out there while I’m on a writing break.

[sixxels-deactivated20260420-dea]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 ~ 𝐤.𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨

𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐠!𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐟𝐭. 𝐟𝐰𝐛 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐛𝐨𝐲!𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨)

𝐰𝐜: 𝟏𝟗𝐤 || artcreds: @/einruji || 18+ || PORN WITH PLOT

summary! you've been fucking your fratboy-friend suguru for ages. you've always wanted your relationship to be more than casual sex, but he always shuts that down. then, like a god with a really nice cock, choso, the schools most reliable plug, tries to swoop you out of that assholes grip. you finally have a man who's willing to give you the world, but will suguru fuck that up for you? (SMUTTTT, p in v, oral: f receiving, fingering.) a lil angst, mostly sexy choso tho 🤞🏼

"f-fuck! sugu, oh god, i can't!"

your cries only fuel the cocky man to thrust harder, deeper as he grunted like an animal in your ear from behind.

"c'monnn, be a good girl and fucking take it, i know you can, baby." he teased, slapping in and out in long strokes, hitting your womb over and over with each tantalising push.

this arrangement blossomed some time after highschool.

both you and suguru always had a thing for each other, even then. you'd share headphones in class, study late at night until the sun came up, and took on projects together as an excuse to be in one another's presence. gojo and shoko always made fun of you both, calling you love struck idiots with no sense of self respect to just admit you liked eachother.

now, in collage, that wishy washy bond seemed to amplify ten fold, with nothing relationship wise being set in stone but the actions always there. right now, in the form of his relentless pounding.

you were an art major at the university of jujutsu, scraping by on your salary from your dive bar job as you navigated the occasional ragers on weekends at suguru and satorus frat, sigma chi, along with the stress of creating.

your dream is to become a free lancer, taking commissions from big names and spending the rest of your life as a dignified artist. but, like all good careers, study and your minimum wage job came first.

the job you were working only an hour ago before suguru waltzed in and whispered lowly in your ear, "been thinking bout' you all day, baby. what time d'you get off?"

now, he's got your hair in a messy bunch as he hits it from behind, moaning and groaning like a fucking porn star. his cocks pushing the nastiest whines from your throat, but his pace never settles.

"fuckkk— you're a pro at takin' this dick, keep fluttering around me sweetheart, just like that." he pounds into you extra hard that time, letting you know exactly who has you wrapped around his finger.

he hovers over your body reeling with that hot afterglow, panting. the room now smells like his strong cologne and sex. he doesn’t rush to pull off of you, suguru never does that. instead, he stays there breathing steadily, his head dipped toward your shoulder.

“you good?” he asks, looking through your eyes deep into your head in that penetrating suguru way.

“yeah,” you say too breathless. you clear your throat and try again. “yeah– yeah. i’m good.”

he smiles contently and rolls off to the side, tugging you with him until you’re half draped over his big, bare, muscular chest. the bed creaks under the movement. his hand comes up to your back, the pad of his thumb pushing slow lines into the muscles.

it's moments like these when your mind starts to wonder why you feel so attached to this guy when all he really takes from you is sex, and all you get in return is an unstable sense of stability and a few party invites.

suguru lets out a stretch and a long groan, resting his chin in the top of your head as your tucked into his chest. “do you work tomorrow?”

“mhm, a morning shift,” you answer. “then gotta finish a com.”

“mm. that's rough, honey.”

honey..

you smile a little at that, even though he can’t see it. he always says that, like it’s a given that your life is busy and hard and worth acknowledging in his eyes. it’s stupid, but it matters to you and he knows that.

he gets a call from the bedside table, but hangs up the line immediately. that small gesture makes your brain go numb.

you hesitate, then speak before you can talk yourself out of having this conversation.

“hey, suguru?"

"hm?"

"you ever think about… i dunno. doing things differently?”

“different how?” he asks carefully, his massaging hand slowing down a tad.

you gulp. this is the line you've never crossed. the one you circle and circle and never, ever step over. “like… i don’t know. not sneaking around. not pretending this is just–"

“hey,” he cuts in gently, lifting your chin so you have to look at him. his expression isn’t unkind. if anything, that makes it worse. “you know where i’m at.”

you nod, even though your chest feels constricted. “i know.”

“i’m not looking for anything serious right now,” he says. it’s not mean. it’s not supposed to be dismissive in any way, shape or form, it’s just true. “i don’t want to give you the wrong idea, love."

then stop calling me that...

“i know,” you say instead, “i’m not asking for anything. i was just... thinking about it, i guess."

he watches you for a second, eyes searching your face like he’s checking for any excess damage. then he moves in and leaves a brief kiss on your forehead.

“you’re important to me,” he says. “you know that?"

you do, and you don’t. both at the same time somehow.

eventually, he falls asleep. you stay awake a little longer, staring at the ceiling, thinking about all the things you could never ask for from a man you'd been so indulged in.

~

monday's on campus were hot, long, and so, so boring.

you had a lecture on influences on modern art this morning, eugh.

you had your lecture materials and laptop tucked into your bag as you dragged your feet to the art block. the path curves around the science block, concrete stained and cracked from years of foot traffic. you slow your pace a little as you round the corner, adjusting your grip on your bag.

that’s when your wandering eyes land on a guy you'd never seen before.

he’s leaning against the wall just out of sight from the main path. his long brown hair shoved up into a messy man bun as the tattooed line across his nose stuck out starkly against his fair skin. he's toweringly tall, with baggy dark jeans held up with a leather diesel belt, campus 00's that'd seen better days, and a white beater adorning his muscular body. on his meaty arms, various detailed tattoos snake up and down in twisted patterns, with thick chained bracelets and leather studded cuffs wrapping around his wrists.

holy shit, this guy was your ever wet dream re-imagined.

his various face piercings and thing chain around his neck caught the morning sun as lyour steps slow down without you noticing.

this mysterious man isn’t alone. a guy you vaguely recognise from around campus stands off to the side yet still close, talking quickly with his eyes darting around. you look away instinctively, staring at your shoes, pretending you’re just another student late for class.

voices drift through the air, shoes scuff, then the other guy leaves in a hurry with his head head down.

when you glance back, the tall, grungey one is counting bills. a lot of them. he folds them without any sort of panic, then tucks them into his pocket like it’s nothing.

oh.

you look away again, heart jumping, suddenly very aware of how obvious you must seem. you tell yourself to keep walking. mind your business, you didn't see anything.

but when you pass the corner, you feel it. his eyes, all over you.

you risk a small glance over, and he’s looking at you openly, those brown irises almost choking you up. when your eyes meet, he smiles softly.

that was a surprise.

it isn’t suggestive in the gross way guys usually looked at you, it isn’t cocky or smug either. it’s warm and a little boyish like he’s amused yet slightly embarrassed by being caught, still, it's like he doesn’t mind it at all. like he thinks you’re cute for staring.

you rip your eyes away from the majestic looking boy and grab your bag tight.

you don’t look back at him, because you know you don't need to.

a guy like that stays engraved in your head for at least a week.

~

a few hours later, beta theta phi.

the house is weirdly quiet, everyone’s either in class, at the gym, or passed out somewhere upstairs.

the sun still burns hot as it squeezes its way through the blinds onto the leather couch choso's lounging in.

he’s got his legs spread and his boots planted flat on the floor, a thick stack of bills resting on his thigh. he counts slowly, he likes the feel of the paper, the weight of it, the reassurance that it’s all still there.

a cigarette sits loosely between his two fingers with white smoke floating upward as he exhales through his nose.

beta theta phi isn’t flashy by any means. the house isn’t huge or pristine, and to be honest, no one’s tryna pretend it is. it’s solid, very old money mixed with modern features. heavy, trusty furniture, scuffed floors, various trophies shoved onto wooden shelves without much care. it was a spot where loyalty mattered much more than appearance.

choso slots perfectly into this frat, like it was built from the ground up just for him.

he flicks through the last of the bills, taps the stack against his leg to even it out, then slips the money into a thick envelope. it joins two others already sitting on the coffee table. today was good. but when it came to choso, today was always good.

his brain start to wander, his mind flashing images of you this morning, your face all blushy and shy. he knows he only saw you for a few seconds, but he thought you were really cute.

he's knocked out of the day dream when the front door swings open and two rowdy brothers pour inside.

toji’s big booming voice wafts through the halls first, talking shit about something dumb with sukuna, who follows close behind. they've both got a towel draped over their shoulder, hair damp from the gym. they smell like sweat and cheap soap, muscles still tight from whatever they’d just put themselves through.

“yo,” toji says, spotting choso. “look at this guy. always sittin’ here so pretty.”

choso glances up, a corner of his mouth lifting. “yeah? ladies like pretty boys, js' look at gojo.”

"ain't that the truth, that guys drownin' in pussy." sukuna laughs.

they drop onto the couch beside him, the cushions dipping under their massive weight. sukuna reaches out, clasping choso’s hand in a quick dap. toji copies.

sukuna leans back, stretching his arms over the back of the couch. “you look relaxed.”

“that’s because i am,” choso replies, taking another drag before tapping ash into an empty can. “money’s good today.”

toji snorts. “when's it not?”

choso’s smile deepens, “that's true.”

toji eyes the envelopes on the table. “what’d you clear?”

“enough,” choso says easily. he doesn’t give numbers unless he feels like it. most of the time, he doesn’t.

sukuna whistles low anyway. “campus still eatin’ outta your hand, huh?” that gets a quiet chuckle out of him. “pretty much.”

it isn’t bragging, of course. choso was humble like that, it’s just fact.

everyone knows him. not in that loud, showy, gojo way, but in the way that keeps his name out of problems and his product moving cleanly throughout everyone's pockets. he doesn’t advertise his stuff, and he definitely doesn’t chase clients. people come to him because they trust him, because he never cuts corners, never shorts anyone, never brings problems back to his frat, to his brothers.

most of the frats on campus run through him. beta theta phi, obviously. but sigma chi too. alpha delta, kappa nu, even a few of the smaller houses that pretend they don’t need a plug until friday hits and everyone’s scrambling for grass no one bothered to get.

he keeps it all so organised and respectful, that’s why no one fucks with him.

he’s made more money than most people their age could even imagine. stacks on stacks tucked away, accounts spread out across multiple banks, investments already working for him while he lounges on a couch counting cash. he could’ve left school ages ago, perhaps disappeared to some holiday country and never looked back,

but he didn’t.

college is just so easy. it's nice and predictable, a cover as much as it is a choice. and beta theta phi gave him brothers who don’t ask questions they don’t need the answers to. he really liked that.

sukuna shifts, rolling his shoulders. “oh, speaking of sigma chi.”

choso glances at him. “hm?”

“they’re throwin’ some function this weekend,” sukuna says. “gojo was runnin’ his mouth in the locker room earlier. said we could all get free entry if you supply some dope.”

toji laughs. “classic.”

choso exhales smoke, considering it for half a second. “yeah. that’s fine.”

sukuna raises a brow. “that easy?”

“why not,” choso shrugs. “i can afford to lose a little.”

sukuna smiles. "it's a glow party, that rave kinda thing we never do because it gets too messy. so, gojo also wanted some molly, said he'd pay for that tho."

"done."

toji grins and leans over, clapping him on the back hard enough to jostle the envelopes. “fuckin’ legend.”

“seriously,” sukuna adds, nodding. “you’re so good to us.”

choso waves it off, already flicking ash again. “what can i say? i love you guys.”

toji lets out a loud laugh, leaning back so far the couch creaks under him. “listen to this guy.” he mocks, throwing his head back.

sukuna snorts, shaking his head. “shut up, toji. y' just mad he's not as emotionally immature as you are. love you too, cho."

choso rolls his eyes.

toji stretches, arms over his head, muscles pulling tight beneath his skin. “anyways, we’re grabbing food. you wanna tag along? i'll pay.”

choso opens his mouth to answer, then pauses. somethings been nagging at him, hell, might as well pick at these meat heads brains.

“hey,” he says instead.

they both look at him.

“you guys ever hear of a girl,” he starts to explain as his eyes float towards the window, “she's an art major, i think. always got a bag full of paints or something. looks like she wandered onto campus by accident.”

toji squints. “that’s… vague.”

sukuna tilts his head, thinking. “art major, huh?”

“yeah,” choso says. “real pretty, doesn’t look like she knows how hot she is.”

there’s a hum that comes from sukuna, then he snaps his fingers. “oh. her.”

choso’s attention sharpens up. “yeah?”

“[name],” sukuna says. “she’s always around sigma chi stuff. parties, events, whatever. went to high school with gojo and his friends, i’m pretty sure.”

toji nods. “yeah, i know who you mean. really nice girl.”

choso hums quietly, absorbing it. “friends with gojo,” he repeats.

“yeah, pretty much family, from what i hear,” sukuna shrugs. “why?”

“no reason,” choso says easily, already waving them off. “just curious.”

toji eyes him for a second longer, like he wants to push, then grins instead. “sure you are.”

they head for the door, laughter trailing behind them as it swings shut.

the house falls quiet again.

choso leans back into the couch, staring at the dangling light, the name turning over in his head.

“[name], huh?”

~

sigma chi looks like a cyberpunk futuristic fantasy with the amount of glowing neon paint smeared across everyone's bodies.

big blacklights are bolted into every corner of the room, splashing the walls and dancing bodies in radioactive colours.

paint splatters glow like constellations across bare arms and collarbones and the heavy hitting music penetrates every ear drum.

you’re stationed in the kitchen wearing a pretty, tight dress you almost didn't wear. it hugs you perfectly, so short gojo whistled when he saw you earlier. small lines of neon paint streak horizontally across your cheeks, you hadn’t planned on doing your makeup like this but of course, shoko insisted. her steady hand painted you up while you both giggled and tried to stay still.

right now, you’re posted up in the kitchen with her and that white haired idiot, plastic cups full of jungle juice sweating in your hands. it looks scarily neon aswell, which sorta freaks you out.

“this shit is gonna kill me,” shoko mutters, taking another sip anyway.

gojo laughs, throwing an arm over your shoulders and leaning his weight into you like he always does. “you say that every time.”

“because every time i’m right.”

you smile leaning into gojo. he trys to whisper something flirty in your ear but you shove his face away with a scoff and he fake pouts.

shoko nudges aaid with her elbow. “you got any molly?”

he grimaces. “not on me.”

you glance at him, curious. “but you said-”

“relax,” he grins. “choso’s bringing some.”

you blink. “who?”

they both look at eachother, then at you. "you don't know choso?" they say jointly.

before either of them can answer any further, scuffling near the doorway catches your eye.

your breath gets all hault up in your lungs, because its him.

the guy from earlier this week. he's tall even among the crowd of athletes, his black clothes look beautifully fitting for his vibe. neon paint traces a line across his nose, glowing exactly where that tattoo you'd seen had been. his eyebrow and nose piercings have been swapped out for neon pink rings that glow vibrantly in the backlight.

he looks so perfect it's almost nauseating.

he stalks straight up to gojo, and without a proper greeting, he throws an arm around his neck, pulling him in close like they’ve done this a bajillion times.

“took you long enough,” gojo laughs, slapping a hand against choso's chest.

the guy grins nice and wide, then shoves a bag full of weed into gojo’s arms like it’s nothing more than candy. “don’t get greedy.”

“you’re actually the best,” gojo beams.

shoko leans in close to you, whispering, “that’s choso.”

oh.

choso laughs with gojo shaking his pretty head, then reaches into his pocket again. this time, he pulls out a small baggie with five pink pills gleaming.

from beside you, shoko makes a tiny, triumphant sound. “yes!"

gojo fishes out cash and hands over four fifty dollar notes without counting. choso takes them, counts them, then stops for a sec. he plucks one back and presses it into gojo’s chest with a wink.

“hundred fifty,” he says. “consider it a favor.”

gojo looks like christmas came early. “i fucking love you.”

“yeah, yeah,” choso laughs.

they bump shoulders, laugh together for a few minutes, then step apart. gojo claps him on the arm. “enjoy the party, man.”

“always do.”

choso turns to leave, but then he stops.

because his dark, now completely blown out eyes catch on you.

you're fully exposed in your staring. for a small moment of time, he freezes still. like he didn’t expect to see you here, like the room had dropped out from under him.

then he laughs. awkward and quiet, scratching at the back of his neck.

you smile back shyly, it’s adorably small, but hell, it wacks him in the head like a brick.

he straightens a little, smile turning nervous in a way that doesn’t match his size or his nonchalant reputation. he looks like he’s about to say something. like he’s weighing his options, deciding if he should come over, if this is his moment.

you tilt your head, waiting for something to come of this, then,

“choso!” someone yells from across the room.

a guy with short dark hair and a pedo stache named shiu, a man you'd seen before hanging around toji.

choso glances back at you. then at shiu.

“c'mon, kamo!” shiu calls again, much louder this time.

choso exhales, running a hand through his hair. he gives you one last look and it's apologetic, almost regretful.

then he turns and disappears into the crowd.

you're a little confused, and sigh.

gojo sidles back up beside you, following your gaze. “damn.”

“what?” you ask.

he grins. “if i was gay, choso’s the first guy i'd crack.”

shoko rolls her eyes "if?"

~

some old zara larsson song keeps bumping over the speakers whether you’re into it or not, so you decide you might as well be in it.

you drain the rest of your cup and let shoko drag you back toward the living room where everyone's bodies are slotted together, neon paint streaking across skin every time someone brushes past. someone hands you another drink without asking and you take it, laughing when shoko raises her brows at you.

“c'mon girl, pace yourself,” she says.

“i amm,” you lie, sipping away.

you try to dance like usual, your hips moving with the beat, shoulders loose, smiling at people you barely know. a few guys spin you as some freshman's yelling over a group of girls, and someone else bumps into you and apologises with a drunken smile. it’s fun. it’s loud. it’s everything a party should be.

and still, your head just won't stop obsessive over that guy, over 'choso'.

you begrudgingly catch yourself scanning the room between songs, between laughs, between drinks.

it’s stupid! you don’t know him. you don’t know his major, his year, his anything.

you shake your head and take another drink.

then, just as you're about to flop into whatever leather couch is closest and contemplate your enter existence, big, firm hands snake around your waist.

you lean back into the man you know is behind you without second guessing yourself.

“there you are,” he murmurs near your ear.

you turn your head just enough to catch his pretty grin. “i've been here for ages, suguru.”

“yeah?” he says. “could’ve fooled me.”

his body pressed up against you flush as he grinds his hips into yours, his mouth kissing at your neck.

he wraps his forearms around your chest as you sway with the music. "you look so fucking good,” he adds, eyes dragging over you. “that dress is just... wow.” he grabs your ass briefly before laughing as you smack his hand away.

you laugh, tipping your head back against his shoulder. “you’re drunk.”

“a little,” he admits, then dips his head to your neck again.

you dance together, two bodies screaming sex appeal as others point and grin at your fluidity.

he murmurs your name into your neck, his perfectly straight teeth nipping at your skin again, and you forget about the neon paint and the blacklight, along with the mysterious man that had that soft smile.

you’re here now, with suguru.

after awhile of sex heavy music, it changes over to something geto doesn't like, so with one kiss to the bottom of your ear, he whispers, "come on, let’s go mingle a bit.” then pulls you over to your friends with an arm

“oh look, they're not upstairs yet,” gojo calls when he sees you. “thought you ditched us.”

geto just smirks, squeezing your side. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

yuki raises a brow, eyes flicking between the two of you. “you guys look cozy.”

“don’t we always?” you say lightly.

sukuna watches the two of you draw closer, and his mind drifts off to what choso had asked him the other day. he studies you for a second longer than necessary, his eyes sharp even through the fog of the party. then he straightens, arms crossing over his chest.

“so,” he says, blunt as ever. “are you two dating or what?”

oh, okay.

you feel choked up at his bluntness, caught off guard. before you can answer, you feel geto’s arm drop from around your waist.

he steps half a foot away.

“nah,” he says quickly, waving a hand like it’s nothing. “we’re just hooking up right now.”

just..

there’s a weird, awkward silence. gojo clears his throat. yuki looks away and sukuna sucks his lips in trying not to laugh, like he's noticed how bad that question was.

“right,” you say, forcing a smile. “yeah.”

geto doesn’t even spare you a glance.

yeah, this is too much. you were never good in awkward situations.

“i’m gonna go see what shoko's up to.”

you weren't going to see shoko, but you still step away, desperately needing some fresh air.

you push through the back door and onto the porch, whatever screeching drill music you'd assumed yuji put on fading behind you.

as you clicked the door shut, you swivel around and notice that you're not the only one on this porch.

the guy you'd learnt to be choso, leans against the metal railing just a few feet away, a burning blunt between his ringed fingers.

the glow from inside spills across his back, outlining him in soft purple light.

crap.

he hasn’t noticed you yet, you consider retreating, stepping back inside and pretending you didn’t see him. but, as you step back, your heel clips a large pot plant.

it rattles in its plant tray creating a ruckus.

“shit,” you hiss.

choso looks over his shoulder.

for a second, he seems surprised. then his mouth curves into a small, crooked smile.

“stalkin’ me now, hm?” he says teasingly.

gosh, how utterly pathetic could this night get.

"no- no! i was just- getting some air and i didn't know you were-"

you're cut off by his fond laugh, he's staring at your with half squinted eyes.

"don't worry, it's all good. m' only teasing."

his voice...

you hesitate, then breathe out a relived laugh with him. "i'll leave you to it then, m' sorry."

but before you can step back again, he chokes out a, "no, no. you should stay." it comes out louder than he'd planned, and you can tell by the way his next sentence comes much softer. "i don't mind company, y'know?" he rubs at his neck almost shyly.

laughing lightly at that, you slide into the spot next to him and grip the railing, your shoulder brushing against his.

he turns his body so he's facing you, then, holds out his veiny hand for you to grab. "choso, it's nice to finally meet you." he waits.

you humor him and let your smaller hand slip into his. "[name], it's nice to meet you too."

unexpectedly, he brings your hand up to his lips, looking you in the eye as he presses his lips to your delicate knuckles.

"pretty name for a pretty girl."

then he reaches up and brushes a loose strand of hair away from your cheek with the back of his fingers.

he's intoxicating. he's somehow so flirty while looking so shy. you wanna dissapear with him, something about the man was screaming at you to take him by the belt and let him take care of the rest.

but you know better. you really do.

this is choso. and sure, you'd only really become aware of him this past week, but he couldn't be good news. he was the campus plug, a guy with a reputation that trails behind him like smoke wherever he went. bad news wrapped in real good looks and his adorably shy chivalry. you shouldn’t barter into this, you really shouldn’t smile like you were as he smiled back, shouldn’t feel this pull towards him.

and yet, you let him wrap his pointer finger around yours as he stood leaning against the rail, keeping it there as he blew smoke into the sky.

"already so touchy? we just met, y'know." you quiz with a blushed out smile, wriggling the finger he has trapped on his own like a link.

"yeah," he turns to face you again, "but i already know i fuck with you. i like moving at a pace that feels right."

"and this 'feels right?'" you laugh.

"the right-est."

"huh." you reply, like it was a small yet significant revelation. you wriggle your finger again, but this time it's to hold his tighter, earning a smile from him.

"hope you don't have a boyfriend." he asks, looking down at you slyly.

"it's... complicated."

"so no, sweet."

"i-" he taps a finger to your lip.

"if you had a good man taking care of you, that answer wouldn't have any of that wishy washy bullshit. you don’t have a boyfriend, let's leave it at that."

"yes sir." you joke, and his pants tighten a lil.

somehow, you feel like you'd known this guy you only properly met ten minutes ago since freshman year, no, screw that, since grade school. he was conversing with you like how one might talk to their long term on again off again. it was captivating yet also terrifying.

he inches closer to you, "i wanna get to know you, [name], should stay out here for a while, hm?"

you nod, and that was that, you end up talking to him for hours.

“i’m kinda surprised i haven’t seen you around more. you’d think i would’ve noticed a guy like you.” you say halfway through your little moment. he lets out a soft laugh, glancing back toward the party through the glass door. “a guy like my? huh? yeah, nah. i don’t come to these much.”

“really?” you tilt your head. “but you and gojo seem close.”

“we hang out heaps,” he nods. “just not here. sigma chi gets too messy n' it's not really my scene.”

you hum in agreement. “fair.”

“what about you?” he asks. “you always here?”

“more than i should be,” you admit. “occupational hazard.”

that gets a grin out of him. “oh, so you work?”

"yeah, i work at a-" you're cut off,

"a bar?"

you blink. “how’d you know?”

he shrugs. “you’ve got the look.”

you laugh. “and what look is that?”

“like you can handle drunk guys without losing your mind.”

“barely,” you whisper under your breath. “i work at the sway bar, it's just off campus.”

“hm,” his brows lift. “might have to stop by sometime.”

you look up at him smiling. “i’d really like that.”

“what frat are you in?” you ask him next, and you grin at the way his face lights up.

"beta theta phi, with sukuna and toji, y'know them?"

“ahhh i see,” you smile. “yeah, i know them. i can totally see that.”

“see what?” he asks amused.

“you sorta just, match their vibe? i guess?”

he leans over to you, then, in a smooth motion he's bracing one arm on the railing behind you so your back would touch his chest if you leaned back. “and what vibe’s that exactly?”

you get choked up for a sec before grinning. “like, dark. kinda edgy.”

he lets go of a breathy laugh. “yeah? you into that? dark n’ edgy?”

your face blushes pink as you nod. “yeah, kinda.”

that seems to please him, because his smile is satisfied and content.

as you're talking about everything and nothing simultaneously, you slowly start to realise you haven’t thought about suguru once. not about how shitty he'd made you feel or the way he would probably be expecting you back inside and in his bed right about now.

your world has narrowed completely, honing in on the man beside you.

"i think you're really cool, [name]." he says from his spot behind you, his chest now fully hugging into your back as his arms have migrated from the pole to your waist. for some reason, where this would usually feel weird, too fast or sexual with most other men, it felt causal with him. like, instead of a rapey gesture meant to swoon you into bed, it was an action that felt so natural and grounding. you were definitely leaning into him.

"i'd hope so, you're kinda hugging me like we're a thing right now."

"would you be into that?" he speaks into your ear, his chin now pushing into the crook of your neck from behind.

"into what? us being a thing?"

"lowkey."

wow, you went from chasing a guy who would turn down being 'a thing' at every turn, to a man far more endearing suggesting it like it was an obvious want.

still, you had to be at least half cautious. "maybe."

he laughs at that, then lets his arms turn you around to face him.

"i'd love to take you out, ma. you're real funny, real sweet. my kinda girl, i can't lie to you."

this almost seems too good to be true. sure, a lotta guys ask you out, but none of them give off the same kinda vibe as choso. "y'sure you're not just saying that to sleep with me? you don’t have to go through all that hassle, you know, we can just-"

"no." he cuts you off, looking you deep in your eye. "i don't want that. i really do wanna see where this goes, okay? have ever since i saw you walking t' class on monday."

that makes you still, because he'd been thinking about you as much as you'd been thinking about him, from one little smile. if this wasn't some fated lovers arrangement then you didn't know what was.

you took in a soft breath before smiling, "sure, you can take me out."

you feel him smile against your skin, then he pulls away and you mourn the loss of body heat.

"perfect." he says, pulling out his phone, giving it to you gently. "if you really want this, put in your number. if you don’t , just spam the keypad and i'll figure it out later that you're not into me. no awkward shit."

he was perfect, god, he was perfect.

you grin and take it from him, putting your phone number in instantly under the name, [name] 💘.

~

he'd kept his promise.

around two days later, you'd had a shift at the bar from afternoon til late. you'd been working for around three hours when the door to the small, yet cozy establishment swings open, revealing a very well dressed choso.

he had a nice shirt and jeans that looked classier than the one he wore to the party, and fitting jewellery littering his every body part. he was a little overdressed for this dingy dive bar setting, but the low lighting complimented his aesthetic perfectly.

he greets the girl at the door kindly, before stalking up to the bar in which you stood behind. he smiles gently as he spots you.

"you really came, that's cute." you smile, wiping up a wet glass with a tea towel.

he takes a once over of your attire and smirks to himself before sliding into the stool, still somehow towering over you despite being sat. "i keep my promises, sweetheart. couldn't turn down seeing you looking this fine in you're little uniform."

that makes you blush a pretty pink, earning a soft chuckle from him as he scans the rack of bottles behind you. choso rarely drank heavy, but when he was in the mood, he'd always preferred the more expensive liquor.

"you guys have any jonny walker? the blue label?" he asks, trying his own hand at spotting the scotch on the rack.

"just ran out, the next one up from that would be some pappy bourbon, but you're looking at $120 a pour." you don't expect him to chose your most expensive bottle, the one only really old timers reach for, so you're preparing to grab for a bottle of beer in the fridge behind you.

"cool, i'll have that then." you almost choke.

"you uhm.. you sure?" you ask, incase this was some joke and you were gonna make a fool of yourself reaching for the top shelf for nothing.

"positive, hun." he smiles back.

you nod, then grab the step stool and reach for the golden liquor.

you pour it up and slide it over. he thanks you sweetly and takes a sip, nodding to himself like this was a good investment. as he drinks, you notice a silver ball of metal shooting through his tongue, a piercing there as well? imagine all the things he could do with that...

unaware of your less than appropriate internal thoughts, he folds a few fifties up and slips it into the chest pocket of your apron. "good recommendation, honey." these pet names were getting more and more bold, not that you minded.

"you're so welcome." you wink, earning an upwards twitch of his eyebrow in appreciation.

he's sitting in the spot many a men had before, all flirting and trying their luck with you. but with choso there, you felt engaged, you actually wanted to talk to him not just laugh and nod along like you cared for his useless conversation.

you quickly cashed in his money, he'd given you $200 so you pulled out his change, handing it out for him to take.

"no, no. that's your tip, pretty girl." he smiles, imitating your wink.

you're dumbfounded. "an $80 tip? we don’t- you don’t- tipping isn't even a thing here! please, take this back, i seriously can't take it, i-" he cuts you off with a wave of his hand.

"shh, you're such a sweet tender, you deserve a little get back."

he watches you fluster and fumble with the change like it’s the best thing he’s seen all night.

“hey,” choso says easily, leaning his forearms on the bar. “i promise i won’t miss it.”

you glance up at him, brows pinched. “that’s still a lot of money.”

“it’s not,” he replies, gentle yet firm. “and even if it was, i wanted to.”

you hesitate, then sigh, slipping the bills back into your apron like you’re conceding a battle you were never gonna win anyways. he smiles at that, pleased, like he enjoys when you finally let him do things for you.

“thank you,” you say quietly.

“anytime,” he answers. “that’s what i’m here for.”

he stays right there for the rest of the night,

he doesn’t drift off and he doesn’t get pulled into a loud conversation with anyone else.

he orders a few non alcoholic drink because he needs to drive. but the thing captivating his attention the most is you. his body stays angled toward you like it’s the most natural place for him to be.

you keep working, of course. wiping down glasses, taking orders, sliding beers down the bar. but every time you glance back at him, he’s already looking at you.

you’re aware of him the whole time. the way his eyes follow your body everywhere, the way he straightens when you come back, like he can’t help it.

he pulls out every conversational skill he'd ever learnt from collage and puts them all to work, trying his hardest to swoon you as best he can. he compliments you over and over, tells you you're such a good worker, slips tenners in your left pocket when you're distracted. he watches you exist like you were the most incredible, hard working being on earth, because to him? you were.

he talks to you when it gets quiet, he has you toppled over belly laughing at one point from across the bar as he tells you stories of his geeky high school days, or ones where his runs didn't go exactly as planned.

god, you’re hot.

that’s the thought looping in his head, over and over again until his cock feels a little too snug in his pants.

the apron. the way it sits so tightly around your waist. the way you lean forward when you laugh and the neckline of your top dips down to reveal your pretty cleavage. the way your hands move with such confidence even when the bar’s loud and messy. he’s seen a lot of girls. slept with some on occasion, none of them felt or looked like this. like you.

it’s annoying, honestly. quite distracting. he finds himself wondering what you smell like up close. would you smell differently to what you smelt like at the party? if it was just the two of you at the bar, would you speak to him soft and sultry like he'd imagined in his recent day dreams? everything about you allured him to such an agonising standard, he felt like grabbing you from behind the bar and driving you back to his off campus place, wrapping you up in his sheets and keeping you to himself, forever.

so we're weird stalkers now choso? perfect. he shook his head at the intrusive thought.

"you okay, choso?" you ask, suddenly right infront of him, pulling him from his you obsessed thoughts. "ah, yeah, y'know. just day dreaming' about my pretty little bar tender friend."

"oh, we're friends now?" you quiz, smirking at him, he laughs and rests his cheek in his palm. "oh, i wanna be much more than that, baby."

you know he said he wanted to see where this went, but fuck, you wanted him all up in you right now..

hours pass by quickly, just like that.

the flirty conversation flows so easily. you talk about different music, about how shit the school's schedule is. about dumb campus drama (mostly revolving around gojo, surprise surprise.) he tells you stories about sukuna and toji without saying too much, painting them as loud but loyal, which you can picture.

you catch yourself laughing more than usual. leaning close to him when he talks. forgetting to check the time.

once, though fleetingly, suguru crosses your mind. he’d texted earlier asking what time you finished, he’d probably expect you to come over after. you hadn't replied yet, wanting to make the decision of whether or not he deserved you later on. choso's little visit was really letting you know you made the right decision, because right now, there’s only him. his sexy, deep voice, his expression that never diped into that bored look you'd sometimes see on suguru, the way he was talking to you like anything you said was worth acutely listening to.

“you ever think about gettin’ outta here?” he asks eventually, gesturing vaguely around the bar.

“all the time,” you admit. “but it’s temporary. just until i finish my degree.”

“oh, shit yeah. you do art, right?”

“yes sir.”

his eyes light up. “that's sick, y'should show me.”

you breath out a laugh. “show you what?"

“your art,” he says. “you talk about it like it’s your whole world.”

it kind of is.

you’re about to answer when you both glance up at the clock mounted above the liquor shelf.

12:18.

you groan softly. “shit.”

he checks his phone. “damn. i’ve been here f' ages.”

“same,” you laugh. “i gotta close up soon.”

he stays and helps you clean up as best he can, then walks you out if the bar like the gentleman he is. you both begin your walk down the street where his car’s parked right by the curb, and your bus stop sits a little further down.

“you bussin’ it home?” he asks, surprised.

“yeah,” you shrug. “car’s not really in the budget.”

he nods, like he has to remind himself of that reality. not everyone lives lavishly off of drug money like he does.

you pull out your phone, opening the travel app, but choso notices how your pretty face falls.

“what's the matter?” he asks.

“all the buses are delayed,” you sigh. “road closures.”

you start to type something out, probably to see how long the delay is, when his hand grabs around your wrist.

it's not demanding or tight, no, it's like he's softly taking control.

“i’ll drive you,” he says.

“oh, wow, no! you've already done so much for me tonight, choso. you don’t have to,” you start. “i can walk, it’s not that far.”

he shakes his head. “no. get in the car.”

and you did, you let him open the door and usher you in, then say through his admittedly good playlist as the gps told him where to go. he was really pulling out all the cards, and it was making you hotter and hotter with each passing moment.

as you approached your apartment, you began getting antsy. you didn't want him to just drop you off and leave. you wanted him inside, both you and your apartment.

"here you go, sweets. safe and sound." he smiles, the door open as he stands outside his car letting you out.

“hey,” you say, looking up at him now that you're standing.

he looks at you attentively, like he too is expecting you to say something.

“do you wanna…” you trail off, letting your eyes do the rest of the sentence, falling over his chest, his arms, his hips.. “come inside for a bit?”

it's so utterly suggestive without you saying 'i wanna fuck' outright, and he seems to click on pretty fast.

he knows he told you at that party he wanted to see how things played out, preferably take you on a date before he even thought about fucking you, but shit, if you weren't looking at him with the widest, most eager eyes.

“yeah,” he says after copying you, looking at your body up and down. “i’d like that.”

he grins at the way you look away shyly.

he follows you up the steep steps, trying while heartedly not to stare straight at your ass. your apartment door clicks open, and you step aside to let him in.

the space is dark except for a lamp you flick on near the window.

choso stops dead in his tracks.

your apartments like an art critics wet dream. his eyes move rapidly over the hundreds of different works, some unfinished and some looking old. theres large canvases leaning up against every wall, pottery and clay dust on the coffee table, sketches and watercolored studies taped up wherever there was free space. the place feels so lived in, messy in a beautifully creative way, so full of you.

“holy shit,” he murmurs.

you smile, suddenly very shy at the fact you should've cleaned up abit. “it’s... uh, a lot."

“nah,” he says, stepping further in. “it’s sick."

he walks around carefully, he’s afraid to bump into something important to you. leans in close to a large canvas, squinting a little as he studies it.

“you like, actually made this?” he asks.

“sure did.”

he lets out a quiet incredulous laugh. “why the hell are you not, like, famous or some shit.”

you feel your tummy grow hotter at his praise. “i wish that was how it worked.”

“i’m serious,” he insists. “this is crazy good. like gallery typa shit.”

the way he says it, so sure, so utterly unfiltered, makes your legs feel weak and nimble, suguru rarely commented this much on your work. you hadn’t realised how much you wanted to hear that from someone until now.

he keeps going, pointing things out, asking questions, swearing under his breath when something 'really epic and cool' as he likes to put it, catches his eye.

“this one’s my favorite,” he says, gesturing to a piece tucked half behind the couch, it was a distorted portrait reminiscent of francis bacon. “it’s got an allure.”

you laugh. “you should have it.”

he whips his head over to you in the dim light, and raises his eyes like he's surprised. "really? you'd just give it away? it's so good, i mean-"

"not without compensation, of course." you tease, and you have to quickly grab his hand as he reaches into his pocket to grab for the wad of cash you know is in there.

"what are you-"

"not with money, choso..." you blink up at him feigning innocence, and the switch up from surprise to want is unfathomably quick.

you take his hand from its place in his pocket, and bring it up to cup your face, he follows suit and uses the other to pull your hips against his own.

"well, aren't you a little tease. i wanted to take you out first, y'know?"

"yeah? gonna deny me?" you poke, and the look of pure lust in his eyes tells you before he does,

"wouldn't dream of it." and he's on you, pulling you so close as his mouth works against yours feverishly, pulling surprised moans from your throat at how thorough he's being.

with a breathy sigh into the heated kiss, choso's hands pat their way down to the flesh of your ass, and knead at the fat in such an intoxicating way, it makes your skin bloom with goose bumps.

he's pushing his tongue into your mouth, the ball of metal pierced through his muscle clinking against your teeth as he explores you, your own tongue fighting back and forth for dominance.

you get the cue, the demand in his body language, the way he's growing desperate with each flick of tongue and grab of your ass.

you pull away with a click and push your forehead against his. "w-we should go to my room. now."

he smiles, his flushed cheeks turning upwards. you grab for his hand and guide him to your bedroom, pushing the door open quickly and pulling him inside.

he reconnects his lips to yours instantly, you reply by pulling at his fancy shirt, pawing at the collar until the first few buttons are loose.

he too starts tearing at your clothes, pulling the string of your apron loose, letting it fall to the floor, he makes sure the cash he'd slipped in earlier was still safe in the pockets before nudging it away to the side.

you wrangle is shirt off through messy kisses, and he's got yours unbuttoned to the hem.

"fuck, you're pretty." he sighs, pulling away to take in every inch of exposed abdomen and cleavage.

you smirk, then sit back slowly on the bed. he watches keenly, his pants becoming unbearably uncomfortable as you look at him with that lustful gaze.

you un-clip your bra letting it fall to the side to reveal your tits, and he drops to his knees at the foot of the bed in awe.

"jesus..." he almost chokes, his hands grabbing for the button of your work pants. he slips them off, eyes still fixated on the way you grab and knead at your boobs, the urge to wrestle you back onto the bed and fuck you stupid was becoming all but too much, but he had to restrain, opting to sweet talk you a bit before diving in.

"such pretty tits, baby. y'mind if i touch?" he borderline whines.

your wicked smile eggs him on, and he leans forward, taking the soft flesh into his hands.

you smile as he groans, then dip your hand down to his own belt buckle to help his cock spring free.

moaning as you do so, choso flushes a pretty red as his member slaps his lower abs, becoming shy at the fact you were staring so wide eyed at it.

did it look weird? was he not hard enough? fuck, he felt it. then again, he didn't have sex as often as anyone would assume.

his worries are stomped out when you cover your mouth with your hand, "that... that's fucking massive." you breath airily.

okay, good. that was good.

he smirks and stand up, shoving his pants the rest of the way down. in one smooth motion, he has you pushed down against the bed, your legs spread wide open, you let go of a trapped moan at the sudden manoeuvre.

he's inbetween your thighs in seconds, his face inches away from your pantie clad pussy.

"wanna taste you, baby, s' that okay?" he asks, panting heavily like this was the single most important question he'd ever ask. he takes note of how you nod so eagerly, hooking a finger into the waist band of your panties and pulling them off.

"all yours." you slur, and he wastes no time pressing that beautiful ball of pierced metal right up against your clit. all your fantasies were coming true, it seemed.

he laps at your folds, his mouth working magic on your needy hole. every moan that falls from your plush lips has him hitting that pleasure spot with a faster, more precise motion, trying his best to draw out those sexy little whimpers.

"good fucking girl, you're doing so well." he mumbles into the wetness, the vibration from his tone racking through your core.

"f-fuck! choso— i— i can't!" tears are welling up in your eyes at his unforgiving pace, his eyes clouding over with pleasure as he looks at you from down below.

"just focus, baby, come f'me, yeah? can you do that?" you reply with broken whines and choked up moans, your hands fisting into his hair as your hips grind up against his mouth.

you feel your peak building, growing and tightening so fast you clamp your thighs shut around his head.

he doesn't care that he can't breath, doesn't mind that his only purpose to you right now is to feel good, he want that, needs that.

he flicks at your clit in agonising little circles until you finally come undone all over his pretty, fucked out face.

he moans with you, kissing at your clit as you come down, slowing his pace as your breaths ease from rapid to regular.

"jesus, you uhm.. you really know how to eat a girl out." you breath shyly, hiding your face in the crook of your elbow as he moves up onto the bed, laying down next you with one arm propping up his head.

"you come so prettily, sweet thing. want me t' make you feel like that again?" he smiles, and that coil in your tummy you swear was gone had suddenly re-knotted.

"i- uh..." you're too shy to ask, but it's all you want, and he can tell.

"can i fuck you silly, pretty thing? would you like that?" he asks softly, his hands running up and down your naked, sweaty body.

he takes your arm away from your arms, then rolls over so he's pinning them down as his body hovers above yours.

"you like being told what to do, don't you? prefer being spoilt rather than taking the lead, hm?" he asks in a low tone. your eyes dart all around his face, a guilty sign that told him he was right on the money.

"perfect. just sit there and take me, honey. tell me if it's too much and i'll stop, moan loud if you want me to fuck you harder, m'kay?" he quizzes, your shyer eyes find his as you nod gently, "yes, please." you breath, and he goes right ahead.

his fingers slip into your sopping wet cunt and start to scissor you open, kissing the small gasps straight from your throat.

he rubs at your clit with his thumb, preparing you to take him in.

"y'think you can handle it, baby?" he pants, jerking at the base while his hands work you from the inside. you're bobbing your head up and down unevenly, a strangled yes juttering part your lips through noises of pleasure.

he removes his fingers with a wet pop, and lines himself up missionary with your dripping entrance, ready to slowly sink in until you're twitching with anticipation.

"relax honey, you can take it." and take it you did.

as his tip pushes past your hole with a deep groan from choso's lips, you bite down on your own at the sheer diameter. this was gonna be a stretch.

inch by tantalising inch, he's got you choking out jumbled praise and encouragement as your walls flutter deliciously around him.

"fuck, you're so tight, holy fuck–" he stammers as his tip finally presses against what he can assume is your cervix, based on how you're writhing beneath him.

"okay, baby. m' gonna —oh fuck— move."

you nod with your eyes squeezed shut and your hands gripping his biceps. "o-okay, cho."

that nickname makes him ten times harder, now he's bucking his hips deeper and deeper into your pussy with strangled groans. "keep callin' me that and i'll come right now—" he jokes through pants.

he continues abusing your puffy little hole, using you all up until you're a blabbering mess under this thumb.

"g'na— ohmygosh— i'm gonna come!" you cry, a tear slipping from your eye at the pleasure, choso leans down and kissses it away.

"c'mon honey, gimme one more, good girl, you can do it." he moans, picking up his

pumping pace.

you can't handel this any longer, he's dicking you down you so good, better than you'd ever felt before, you can't help but tighten up on his cock and spasm around it until he too is cumming straight into your cervix. bullseye.

you both go limp, your bones turning to mush after such intense sex.

yet, the second choso registers the way your body tenses, the way your breath sounds a little uneven from the discomfort of the sweat and other bodily fluid, he’s stood. he presses a little kiss to your shoulder first, then mutters something soft you barely catch before he slips out of bed.

“stay right there, baby,” he says, low and reassuring. “i got you.”

you hear drawers opening, the ensuite sink running. the quiet domestic sounds feel surreal after everything you'd just done with a guy you'd known for a week that somehow felt like years. when he comes back, he’s holding a damp cloth, warm from the tap. his expression has shifted completely, all that intensity replaced by a loving look of focus and care.

“okay,” he murmurs, sitting beside you. “gonna clean you up a bit, yeah?”

you nod, too loose to do much else.

he starts slowly with your legs, your stomach, your sides. he’s so incredibly careful, thorough without being clinical, like feeling clean and comfortable was his god given mission in this point in time. when he moves between your thighs, softly wiping through your sticky folds, you make a small whiney sound before you can stop yourself.

“hey,” he coos immediately, pausing. “s’okay. i know it’s sensitive.”

his voice is so gentle it almost hurts.

he keeps going, so much softer now while talking to you the whole time.

“you’re okay,” he murmurs. “i got you. just breathe for me.”

you whine quietly at the sensation, fingers curling into the sheets. he soothes you with words, with touch, like he knows exactly how close to the edge you still are.

“that’s it,” he says. “you’re doin’ so good. i know, i know. almost done.”

when he finishes up, he sets the cloth aside and immediately pulls you into him. you hadn’t actually realised how cold you felt until you’re pressed against his big chest, his massive arms wrapping around you without hesitation.

you tuck yourself into him snugly, like your body already knows where it belongs.

here, with him.

he rubs your back in slow passes, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head. your cheek rests against his dipping collarbone, his heartbeat steady under your ear.

“there you go,” he murmurs. “isn't that better.”

you let out a long breath.

he keeps talking, his calming post-sex voice like a lullaby.

“you were incredible tonight,” he says. “so fuckin’ good. y'hear me?”

you hum softly, too warm and pliant to argue.

“nah,” he continues, brushing your hair back with his fingers. “i mean it. you made me feel real good. i'm real lucky.”

your heart squishes together fondly. you think, distantly, about how no one’s ever done this before. not like this. not with this much loving intention.

you'd thought that was the perfect word to describe this situation; loving.

hell, you weren't really used to living. geto never stayed like this. he never once touched you like you were something to be taken care of after sex. moreso like his friend who happened to be in his bed (which was what it was.)

the thought flickers, brings with it a small pinch of guilt that you don't notice choso clocking. you and geto had agreed to only sleep with eachother, that it would be good to only sleep with a single person... you push away the thought.

after all, right now, choso’s here. his warmth, his voice, his hands. you don't see how he scans over your guilty expression like a lost kid.

“hey,” he murmurs when you look up at him. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you whisper. “just… really comfy.”

he smiles against your hair. “good. that’s the goal.”

he's brushing his long fingers through your hair, tapping his knuckles to a beat against your back, anything to try and keep you fully here with him. he didn't like that look of guilt in your face from before.

“i hope this didn’t mess anything up,” he adds quietly. “with that date i was talkin’ about.”

you move your head just enough to look up at him. his eyes are searching your face for any sign of regret.

“it didn’t,” you say. “not even a little.”

relief flickers across his beautiful features. “good,” he says. “’cause i really wanna take you out. do it right.”

you smile, nose brushing his chest. “i’d like that.”

he exhales, long and content, then pulls you closer.

“get some sleep,” he smiles. “i’ll be right here.”

your eyelids grow heavy faster than you expect. the steady motions of his hand through your hair, the sound of his breathing, the way he holds you like this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

just before you drift off, you feel his lips press softly to the top of your head.

you fall asleep like that, wrapped up in all of him, all of choso.

~

a few days later, beta theta phi.

choso's sitting in the kitchen, picking at a plate of food with a small smile on his usually calm, bare face.

you were a constant in his brain ever since he'd gone home from your apartment with that painting he 'earned' after the best sex of his life. (said painting is now strung up on his wall.) he'd never stopped thinking about you since that night.

your adorable little moans, the way you melted into him as he fucked you so deep, the way your pretty fucked out body moulded against his afterwards.

you were like crack and he was a hardcore crack head, feining for more of your attention.

as he thinks about stalking your instagram for the fourth time that day to see what you're up to, footsteps stomp down the hallway, heavy ones.

toji accends the stairs shirtless with his hair still damp like he’s just come out of the shower. sukuna follows behind like always, a towel draped over his shoulder, rummaging through a bag of chips before he even hits the kitchen proper. showering at the same time? gay ass guys, choso thought to himself.

“what the fuck,” toji says, stopping just short of the island. "why you look like that.”

choso looks up, brow lifting. “like what?”

“happy,” sukuna answers around a mouthful of chips. “it's weird."

toji snorts. “yeah, that’s new.”

choso rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t fight the smile this time. he grabs his plate, forks a big bite then shrugs it off like it’s nothing. “can’t a guy enjoy his food?”

“nah,” toji says, pulling out a chair and sitting backwards on it. “not you.”

sukuna leans against the counter opposite him with his arms crossed. “what’d you do. make bank today?”

choso shakes his head, chewing. “nah.”

“big sale?”

“nope.”

toji squints. “you finally get your dick wet again or something?”

that does it, choso coughs, nearly choking, then glares at him. “the fuck is wrong with you.”

sukuna laughs. “so that’s a yes.”

“shut up,” choso says quickly, pointing his fork at toji. “and don’t start.”

toji grins wider. “that's gotta be it. you’ve been walking around like you won the lottery all day.”

choso sighs. "yes, i'm seeing a girl.”

toji stops and sukuna freezes in the middle of a reach for another chip.

“…wait, actually,” sukuna says flatly.

choso smiles at the two boys and continues. “met her at that blacklight party. she’s really cute. we talked for hours, i visited her work, and i drover her home. you don't get the rest, but i’m taking her out this weekend.”

toji stares at him like he’s grown another head. “you?”

“yes,” choso says. “me.”

“you don’t talk to women,” sukuna says slowly.

choso scowls. “i talk to women.”

“no you don’t,” toji cuts in. “business doesn’t count.”

choso opens his mouth, then closes it. fine. maybe that’s fair.

toji leans back, eyes narrowing in thought. then something clicks. his expression shifts. “wait.”

choso looks at him.

“is this,” toji says, pointing vaguely, “the art girl you were askin’ about the other week?”

choso’s heart jumps. “yea-"

“nah,” sukuna interrupts, brows lifting. “can’t be.”

both of them turn to him.

sukuna tilts his head, casual. “she’s hookin’ up with geto right now.”

...wait... what?

choso goes dead still.

geto.

like, his friend geto?

the one who's always hanging around with him and gojo on tursdays? that geto?

the one he always calls when he needs help at the gym, that geto?

the guy who's one of his most regular buyers, that geto?

his mind latches onto the man instantly, and starts unraveling his entire being piece by agonising piece. he's tall, jacked as fuck, his hair's always smoothed and shiny to perfection, always tied back just right with no knots or bumps, he's got that sexy confident smile and endearing laugh that reels women in.

he's the kind of man who attracts literally anybody, hell, he'd heard even gojo had a thing for him in high school, gojo!

shit.

he thinks back to the porch. to the way you hesitated when he asked about a boyfriend. the way you said it was 'complicated' and how he’d brushed it off, convinced himself it was nothing serious. how he saw that flash of guilt spread across your face after you two had finished. how you’d smiled when he touched you, how easily you’d leaned into him like there wasn’t anyone else in your head at all.

geto.

holy fuck.

choso doesn’t say anything although the muscles in his neck were contracting with each clench of his teeth, eyes dropping to his plate like the answer’s written there. his appetite’s gone.

a week.

he’s been thinking about you for a week straight.

asking gojo questions about you when they hung out in class, 'm' just curious, man, she's a pretty girl.' leaving out the part where he was eight inches deep inside you just the other night. stalking every single one of your socials to the point he had your first few posts and username memorised.

and now this?

maybe that’s why gojo had looked at him funny. why he’d laughed a little too hard when choso asked if you were seeing anyone. maybe it wasn’t shock, god, maybe it was disbelief.

choso gulps.

toji watches him closely now. “that true?”

sukuna shrugs. “mhm, he told me at that same party you were talkin' bout'.”

...

“you good?” sukuna asks looking a little worried at the man's switch uo.

choso lifts his head up and that bare look finds its way back onto his face and sticks like a face hugger. “mhm.”

toji frowns. “you sure.”

“i’m sure,” choso says, setting his fork down. “it’s whatever.”

it isn’t. but he’s not about to unpack the, 'just found out the girl i'm lowkey falling head over heels in love with is also hooking up with my good friend,' pill right now.

he grabs his keys off the counter and reaches for his leather jacket. “got a few deliveries to run, see y'later."

sukuna opens his mouth because he really wants to say something else, then thinks better of it. toji just watches him go with sympathy laced through the coloured bands of his irises.

choso slips pre roll out of his pocket and lights it up, trying to rationalise all of this. he'd only met you around a week ago, it's not like you guys were a thing. sure, he'd fucked you better than he'd ever fucked anyone in his life, but he shouldn't be weird and insecure about this, he knows that. it's just, he's never really gone for this before. usually it was girls asking him out, of which he'd reject kindly because he was too busy doing anything else.

but with you, that random night out on the porch, it felt like there was a pull he couldn't just toss aside, he wanted you... and he thought he had you, especially after that intimate night.

geto’s on a come-when-you-can basis, might as well take care of that now and try ease up his racing thoughts. nothing like a good interrogation.

he flops down into his M2, engine turning over as his thoughts narrow to one thing, one task, he leaves suguru a voice message.

"yo, suguru, m' coming over."

~

choso kills the engine and sits there for a minute, his fingers resting on the steering wheel like grounding himself before stepping into situation he already knows he won’t enjoy.

he sighs, then steps outta the car, he’s halfway across the driveway when a happy, familiar voice cuts through the noise of the active fraternity, “yo.”

gojo’s jogging down the steps two at a time with his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his hair pushed back. he grins when he sees choso, big arms opening on instinct.

before choso can dodge it, gojo’s got him in a quick, bone-crushing hug.

“what’s up, man,” gojo says all smiley, pulling back. “you look busy.”

“yeah,” choso replies, already angling toward the door. “just droppin’ somethin’ off.”

gojo’s brows lift. “now?”

“mhm.”

gojo squints at him, like he’s clocking something off but hasn’t put his finger on it yet. “you headin’ to suguru’s?”

choso doesn’t slow down. “yeah.”

“uh,” gojo starts, glancing back at the stairs like he’s weighing whether to say something. “hey, maybe not the best time, think he's in the shower.”

but choso doesn't listen,

“cho,” gojo calls after him, louder now. “seriously, man, let's hang out first!"

choso doesn’t turn around. he takes the stairs with his heart climbing up into his throat with each step. by the time gojo gives up, he’s already at the top landing, moving down the hallway.

he stops in front of suguru’s door and knocks.

theres movement inside, the sound of water shutting off, then a drawer opening.

the door swings open.

suguru stands there in nothing but a towel hanging around his hips, his hair damp and loose around his shoulders, his skin still flushed from the heat of a shower. water beads along his collarbone and trails down the center of his chest. choso hated how good he looked.

his eyes fall all over sugurus body before he could stop it.

it’s dumb, after all, he’s seen suguru shirtless a hundred times. in locker rooms, during pool parties, it never mattered before, but now it does, because you’ve seen him like this. because you’ve touched this, because you've liked his annoyingly perfect body.

suguru notices choso's ogling and smirks, leaning one arm against the doorframe. “what,” he says lightly. “y’want a workout routine or somethin’?” choso forces a short laugh, “shut up.”

“mm,” suguru hums confused. he steps aside anyway, letting choso in.

suguru’s place is always so precise and neat. his beds always made, desk cleared, shoes lined up like they belong in a sneaker catalogue. it’s never bothered choso one way or another.

but today, he isn’t looking at any of that. his eyes move fast scanning without meaning to. the desk. the floor. the chair by the window. the bathroom door still cracked open, steam drifting out.

then the bedpost.

he spots a pop of pink fabric slung around the wood.. a pair of panties hangs loose around the corner of the frame, looking forgotten. they're pretty, they look your size, and they're unmistakably not suguru’s.

fuck.

suguru follows his line of sight, then sighs softly. “ah, ignore that. keep forgetting to deal with those.”

he reaches out and turns choso by the shoulder, forcing him to face him. suguru’s expression shifts, teasing gone, replaced with something more intent.

“what’s up with you,” he asks. “you’ve been actin’ weird as fuck, cho.”

choso gulps. for a second, he considers lying. saying nothin then walking out.

but he can't, so instead, he digs into his jacket and pulls out a small bag. he presses it into sugurus chest.

“four grams,” he says flatly.

suguru nods slowly, then looks down. “hm,” he mutters. “okay.”

he crosses the room, opens his dresser, and pulls out a few bills. counts them once, then twice, before handing them over.

“seventy-five,” he says. “we’re good?” choso takes it, nodding. “yeah.”

suguru studies him now, really studies him. “you didn’t come all the way over here just for that, normally we meet in the middle."

choso exhales through his nose. “i know.”

“so,” suguru prompts. “talk.” choso hesitates, he's not sure if he sounds insane or not, or if this is totally overstepping some unspoken boundaries, but he can't keep it in.

“are you sleepin’ with [name]?”

suguru coughs out in surprise, “…uh.” he leans back against his dresser, arms folding loosely. “yeah,” he says after a sec. “i am.”

choso nods once, like he'd expected it, “m'kay, are you dating her?"

suguru frowns. “what? no.”

“planning to?"

“no,” suguru repeats. “it’s just sex.” he tilts his head, curiosity creeping in. “why?" choso doesn’t answer right away. suguru narrows his eyes at him. “what, you into her or somethin’?”

“no,” choso says too quickly.

suguru huffs a laugh. “c’mon, man.”

choso’s voice edges colder. “i said no.”

“okay,” suguru says, hands lifting. “just askin’. ‘cause if you are, you should probably drop it.”

choso’s eyes snap up.

suguru keeps going, unaware of the turmoil writhing his friend. “just lookin' out for you, man. she’s really into me. like, a lot. wouldn’t be fair to either of you.”

the strong inside choso's heart break at the sound of that.

he scoffs. “you think so, huh?"

suguru blinks. “what’s that supposed to mean?"

“nothing,” choso mutters, already turning away. “was just curious.”

“cho—”

choso waves him off without looking back. “don’t worry about it.”

he opens the door, pauses just long enough to throw something over his shoulder, his voice very uncharacteristically cruel. “try not to confuse sex with somethin’ you don’t actually want.”

then he’s gone.

the door shuts with a dull thud.

suguru stands there, staring at the wood long after choso’s footsteps fade down the long hall.

his whole body feel shaky, like he'd just been stepped on. suguru did not like to be crossed like that.

he glances back at the bedpost. at the pink panties hanging there, the ones he teared off before fucking you dumb into his mattress... at the faint imprint you left on his space.

he frowns.

why does that bother him? he’s never cared before. he's told himself he couldn't commit to a relationship right now, that you being there for him was always just a mutual sex agreements. a good friends with benefits sitch. so why does the idea of someone else wanting you feel so incredibly wrong?

why does it feel like a rugs being pulled out from under him?

he exhales, runs a hand through his damp hair, then grabs his phone. you name pops up on his caller app and he hesitates only a second before calling.

“hey,” you answer, your voice isn't as excited to hear from him as it usually is... weird.

suguru smiles automatically. “hey, pretty.”

you don't giggle at that, or tease him back, you just hum through the receiver.

he frowns slightly. “what’re you up to?"

“just… home,” you say. “what’s up?"

“i was thinkin’,” he starts, leaning back on the bed. “maybe you come over tonight.” there’s a moment of silence and uncertainty that almost never came when it came to you.

“i dunno,” you say. “i’m kinda tired.”

that’s new.

suguru chuckles then lowers his voice. “c’mon, hun. i really need you.”

you sigh. “need me how?"

“badly,” he says, letting warmth creep in. “been thinkin’ about you all day.”

you dint reply instantly and he rushes in before you can pull away and reject him further. “i miss you,” he adds. “miss the way you feel. the way you look at me.”

“sugu—”

“baby,” he cuts in gently, “come over. yeah?”

he strings the pet names together, calls you sweet. calls you pretty. tells you he’s lonely. tells you he’s been wanting you.

he hears the shift in your breath before you speak again.

“…okay,” you say quietly.

his smile returns, very, very satisfied. “good girl.”

he hangs up, feeling way too good about the skill he has to persuade you. he thinks back on choso, how he'd learn a thing or two about threatening his arrangements.

~

you’re on your back in the long haired man's room before you can really register how you got there...

you feel so, so guilty. you didn't want to be here, but you felt awful for suguru, for fucking someone else when the agreement was to only fuck eachother, and talk about it if you were to screw someone else.

maybe that's why you caved into his pleas, you wanted to make it up to yourself, trying fix what felt like a horrible betrayal in your eyes.

sheets cold against your hot skin, suguru hovering over you, naked and sweaty like he belongs there, him, not choso.

"sugu, i— i wanna talk... there's something i should tell you," but you're cut off by his lips, his demanding, intoxicating lips... the ones working magic on helping you forget about your new friend.

you told yourself you weren't going to melt so easily into him when you got here, that you'd at least try your best to tell him about choso, how you're seriously reconsidering your little arrangement. but it seems he's got other plans, because his lounge is already halfway down your throat ripping lewd moans from your mouth.

he kisses you like he’s reminding himself that you're his. his girl to fuck, to claim without an actual title, not choso's.

his hands frame your face, pads of his thumbs brushing along your jawline as if he’s taking you back, he settles his weight between your legs, torso grinding up against your clothed pussy.

his lips kiss and suck against yours in a careful rhythm, coaxing rather than just taking. it isn’t frantic like he's panicked, no, it’s got a beautiful sense of reverence that drives you crazy and lulls away any former thought of taking accountability from your pretty little head. it's clear, even through your cloudy suguru filled haze, that he’s trying to prove a point to himself with every pass of his mouth on yours.

“fuck,” he murmurs softly into your mouth then your name.

his fingers dip down to your soaked panties, he presses his thumb harsh against your clit, pulling that one moan he knew meant he hit the perfect spot.

he shifts them to the side, then slams them deep into your gaping hole.

with every curl he's pulling such pretty groans from your throat, he doesn't care if his tendons begin to ache from how relentlessly he's bullying his thick fingers into your soft cunt, no, he's running you like this over and over if it meant hearing these addictive whimpers, ones he was causing, not choso.

he pumps them against your fluttering, gummy walls so tantalisingly slowly but so precise, it makes your eyes roll into the back of your head with pleasure. he wasn't as sweet as choso had been, he was rough and chasing that high with expert precision.

"such a pretty fucking girl. you're all mine, okay? you're all mine —shit—." his circles are relentless and binding, but that little monolog seemed to suddenly snap you out of whatever this was.

"suguru— fuck— please, stop it. we need to talk." he breaks away from latching onto your neck, then his thumb retracts as he sits up to look at you. this was what he didn't wanna do. talk about it.

he wanted you to get fucked, realise how good you had it with him, and forget about choso...

"what is it? hm?" he try's his best to stay calm but his distain slowly creeps up on him. "s' this about choso?" he quips.

what the fuck? how did he know?

suguru’s sitting up now, and you're pulling your skirt down over your lower half.

this wasn’t how you wanted him finding out but, “i don’t think i can keep doing this,” you say quietly.

his brows knit. “doing what.”

“this,” you gesture vaguely between you. “us. like this.”

...

he exhales through his nose. “you're serious?”

“yeah.”

his mouth tightens. “let me guess what.” he spits, and you tell him before he can further his sarcastic venture, “because i think wanna see choso.” suguru scoffs bitterly, he knew that was coming but he decides to pry further, “oh yeah? see him how?”

“like.. properly,” you say. “he asked me out. on like… a date. an actual one.”

his face contorts and stirs into disgust, then irritation. “you’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

he scoffs, pushing off the bed and pacing, still half naked. “you barely know him, [name]!”

“i know,” you retort. “but he’s been so good to me, sugu, really good.”

“he’s bad news,” suguru seers. “you don’t need a no good loser like him. he has no prospects, no plan for the future, he's bad!"

your stomach sinks at the quips. “don't say that.”

“say what?" he bites, and you grow redder with anger, “talk about him like i'm so naive kid who doesn't know what i’m doing!"

he turns back to you, frustration spilling over now. “he’s a dealer. he sells drugs for a fucking living, that’s it! no goals, no future, he's sketchy as fuck.”

you shake your head. “that’s not fair.”

“it’s true.”

“you'd have no clue! you don't know anything about him.” you spit back, and he laughs meanly. “oh please. know him? he’s got the personality of a brick wall. what, he buy you drinks and suddenly he’s prince charming?"

your chest tightens. “he listens to me.”

that shuts him up for half a second.

you keep going, voice steadier now that you’ve started. “he shows up. he actually cares about what i have to say. he doesn’t treat me like something he picks up when he’s bored.”

his eyes flash. “that’s not what this is.”

“then what is it?" you ask. “because you’re the one who said it was just sex. over and over again.”

he runs a hand through his hair, agitation spilling from every pore on his smug face. inside his brain, it's a mix of conflicting feelings. suguru likes you, for real, he has ever since high school. not once had he ever thought he'd be with any other girl, just you. but college was for fun, for hookups and parties and no real commitments, so why would he pour more effort into you than he needed? why couldn't you just be his with no strings attached? he wanted you, he loved you, some might say. suguru was not ready to give you up this easily, you were his first.

the thought of you choosing someone else makes his lungs constrict and his brain fizzle and crack until his heart breaks apart at the valves.

“you don’t need choso,” he says again, trying to regain any sort of resemblance of control. “you’ve got me.”

you let out a bitter laugh. “no. i don’t.”

his gaze snaps to you. “what’s that supposed to mean?"

“you don’t get to say that,” you reply. “not when you won’t even call this what it is, you're a pathetic excuse for a man. if you're gonna tie me up like a dog and use me for sex, at least have the balls to let me know that's all i am to you."

he looks away as the veins in his neck pulsate and grow, part of him knows you’re right, but to be honest? part of him really just doesn’t care. he knows deep down he wants you more than that, why couldn't you understand?

“you’re just being weird because for once someone’s actually into me and you can scare them off.” you add, the words tumbling out now.

he wants to spill his guts, tell you all he really wants is you, that he's been enthralled with you ever since high school he's always just been far too immature to really commit, but instead, his eyes narrow. “that’s bullshit.”

“is it?" you challenge.

he opens his mouth, then closes it.

you sit straighter with your heart hammering. “i really like him, suguru. he treats me well. he’s a good person.”

something ugly flickers across his face. that hurt. you were supposed to be his, now you were telling him you really like another guy? you're his girl! you're his girl.

he laughs, low and cruel. “so that’s all it takes, huh? a promise of a date and suddenly you’re spreadin’ your legs like a whore?"

what the fuck? that's not what he wanted to say! he cringes at himself but it's too far gone, he can't put a lid on the rage that's bubbling over the edges of the pot that is his heart.

your breath leaves you in a hurried rush. “what— what did you just say.”

he doesn’t take it back immediately or rephrase, that's the worst part. “you heard me.”

your eyes sting but you try your best not to cry. “how do you even know about choso?” you bite.

his face goes all rigid. “i could tell.”

“tell what?"

“by the way you weren't keen." he says, then adds, "and he came by earlier.”

your stomach drops. “he came here?.”

“yeah,” suguru says. “asking about you.”

the petty realisation floods over you in a wave of rage. “so that’s why you called me." you laugh, gutted. “you didn’t want me. you wanted to get your get back, right?”

his temper flares. “don’t fucking twist this.” geto was usually level headed, even in the most heated of arguments, so you knew his anger was real here.

“you invited me over because your ego got bruised,” you say, voice rising. “not because you care about me or what i want."

“that’s not true.”

“then why did you just say that to me?"

he looks at you with eyes full of distain, “because i shouldn’t have ever let this get this far. you’re just someone i fuck sometimes. that’s it.”

oh.

you don’t cry at that nor do you yell. you just nod softly, like your body's finally understanding what your heart’s been screaming at you for so long.

“m'kay,” you say softly.

you stand, smoothing your skirt down and reaching for your shirt with hands that feel so far away. he watches intently, fuming, not realising the gravity of the bum ass, idiotic move he'd just pulled.

you grab your things without sparing him a single glance.

“wait,” he says, finally hearing the finality in your movement.

you pause at the door, then you step out and shut the it behind you with a soft click.

inside, suguru stands there for around a minute in silence. then, his legs give out and he drops onto the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

“fuck,” he whispers.

he stares at the floor, replaying every word he knew he should of never said. every look he flashed you when all he wanted to do was tell you how he actually felt, that he was wrong and he knew that, but he needed you all to himself. the way the pretty voice he'd always adored sounded when it broke.

he realises, too late, that he really does love you.

he was just too immature to keep you.

~

you needed to call choso.

sugurus number was blocked the second you got home to your apartment, an act you clearly should've done ages ago.

though, your minds not caught up on him anymore, no. it's running miles around choso.

two things were clear right now,

1. he knew about you and suguru.

2. he probably wasn't too happy about that.

and now suguru was out of the picture, you had to tell him the whole entire truth. that you'd gotten rid of him, that you were willing to put every ounce of yourself back into choso, if he'd let you.

you bite at your lip, contemplating if he'd even pick up if you were to dial. you had no way of knowing if he was turned off by all of this or if he'd still wanna give this whole thing a try.

one way to find out, you thought.

you scroll through your contacts until you find his name and hit call before you can overthink it. it rings far longer than you expect, and when he answers, his voice sounds tired, much quieter than usual. “hey.”

“hey,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “um. i know it’s late.”

“you’re fine,” he says. there’s a pause. “what’s up." it's not much of a question rather a statement he has to say to be polite.

you gulp nervously. “there’s something i really need to talk to you about. like, in person.”

another moment of silence that stretches abit longer this time round.

“okay,” he says softly. “i’m in the middle of a run right now.” your heart dips, then lifts when he continues. “i can come by after. if that’s alright.”

relief spreads through you, “yeah. that’s perfect. thank you.”

“i’ll be there as soon as i’m done,” he adds.

“drive safe,” you say.

.

on his end, choso leans back against the seat of his car, his phone still in hand. he sighs to himself, he already knows how this goes.

he’s had around a day to imagine it. an entire day of replaying everything in his mind, of telling himself not to get too attached to this amazing girl he'd sworn on.

in his head, you’re going to sit him down and say you had fun while it lasted, but you’re choosing to fuck with suguru. you’re going to say you’re sorry. you’re going to say it was complicated and now it’s clearer.

he grips the steering wheel and exhales slowly. he finishes the delivery on autopilot, exchanges empty words he barely hears, his mind is clearly somewhere else.

by the time he pulls up outside your building, his chest feels so incredibly heavy.

he sits there for a while, staring at the entrance, telling himself to keep it together, telling himself he’ll be fine no matter what you say.

he steps out of the car and walks up to your door, he lifts his hand to knock, and the door opens before his knuckles touch the wood.

you’re standing there with damp hair from a shower and a serious look on your otherwise adorable face.

you just look at each other, and no one talks.

he doesn't expect you to, but you step forward softly, then gently wrap your arms around his torso.

it’s sort of on instinct, it’s need, and it’s a big relief. he too wraps his arms around your back, pulling you closer to try ease the tension in his soul.

“hey,” he murmurs.

“hi,” you say back into his shoulder.

you pull away and move aside, he walks in, glancing around with widened eyes, your apartment still pulls at his attention even now. it all feels so clearly you. he forces himself to focus when you gesture to the couch.

he sits, hands resting on his knees. shoulders squared. ready for this horrible rejection..

you sit beside him, not too close, not far either, you take a moment before you speak.

“i’m really sorry,” you say softly. “about suguru. about him getting involved with us at all.”

his eyes are darting around nervously but he's still honed in on what you have to say.

“i didn’t mean for him to make you feel weird or uncomfortable,” you continue. “and i didn’t mean to keep things from you.”

you look forlornly down at your hands. “i blocked him today.”

he shoots his head up in surprise, cute.

“i should’ve been honest from the start,” you say. “we had this on and off thing. nothing serious. but meeting you changed that for me.”

you look up at hum, “i like you. a lot. and if you’re still into me, i’d really like to start clean with you. no stupid secrets.”

he looks at you back tenderly, watching over your every feature.

“you’re the coolest guy i’ve ever met,” you add with a small laugh. “and i don’t wanna mess this up.”

for a second he just stares at you. then he smiles, it's big and goofy, and so so bright.

“yeah,” he says, sort of laughing. “yeah. i’m really happy you picked me.”

your heart jumps.

before you can reply, his metal clad hand comes up to your cheek pulling you in closer to his lips, he then kisses you softly.

it’s beautifully gentle and ever so slightly desperate. he's leaving small open pecks like each one's it's own form of praise and forgiveness.

your hands curl into his shirt, grounding yourself in the feeling of him here. choosing you, and staying.

when you pull back, your forehead rests against his. you smile wide, you’re glad you closed one door to open this one.

"so, about that date."

~

the two weeks you'd spent dating choso kamo was seriously the best time of you life.

you wake up in choso’s apartment much more than your own now. his place is fancy, it sits high up in one of those off campus complexes that cost more than they look like they should.

he's got the nice polished concrete floors, floor to ceiling windows with automatic blinds, furniture that fits his dark yet aesthetic so well.

right now you’re tucked into his side on the couch with your legs all tangled together, your heads resting against his chest while the city glows outside the window and he sifts his fingers through your hair. you'd both just come down from a night full of intense loving, choso eating you out for a good hour before completely ruining you just as he had the previous night. now, there was food on the way as he massaged your lowkey back lovingly.

"you okay, honey?"

"more than okay. cho,"

"god, keep calling me that and i'll take you for round three."

this is how it’s been, consistently.he takes you in the most lovely dates, expensive dinners where he never lets you see the bill. not once. you did try at first, bless your soul, fumbling for your wallet, making jokes about splitting it, insisting you could handle yourself. and every time, he shut it down with the same calm tone.

"i got it, sweetheart."

no argument or anything, no crazy big ego. just a nice fact that he could take care of you without blinking.

he takes you to places you’d never, ever pick on your own. spots where the menus only have triple digest beside each item. he watches your face when the food comes out, in awe watching your beautiful eyes light up. he always asks if you like it with a big smile, and he always remembers what you order. when you say you like a certain dessert, what do you know? it shows up again on your door step a few nights later after you tell him you had a rough shift at work.

he never makes you feel small about your money, or lack there of. that’s the part that gets you the most. when you joke about being broke, he doesn’t laugh at you. he just nods like it’s another bit of information about you, not a flaw. when you mention rent stress or art supplies you still need for class, (never with the intention of milking him for money) he listens very intently. a few days later, those things stop being problems. there's an envelope left on your kitchen counter, a new set of brushes delivered to your door. him shrugging it off when you ask.

"you don’t have to worry about that, honey. that’s my job now."

"but i— it's to much money, cho, i shouldn't—" he always shuts you up with a deep kiss.

he comes to the sway bar a lot now, too. he slides onto a stool and waits for you to notice him with a small smile. he's always dressed well and never sloppy. he orders one drink, sometimes only non alcoholic, and stays for hours on end. at the end he tips you like a rich man, which is what he was.

he laughed when you'd try and shove it back at him. he'd lean down and tell you to stop being stubborn.

"i like taking care of you."

it’s not just a suave line, you can tell. he looks so pleased every time you finally accept it.

he drives you straight home after shifts even when it’s late, he says the bus is no place for a girl as cute as you to be that late at night, hell, he even contemplates buying you your own car just to put his mind at ease, then decides it might be just a bit too early in the relationship for that..

every night you don’t have work, he's either taken you out or you're crashing at his place, tonight's no different. you're dressed in one of his oversized paris texas shirts after a few hours of sex, and he's got you sat up in his lap caressing your hips.

dating him feels nice and calm. there's no guessing, absolutely no waiting for texts that never come. he checks in with you without hovering and always tells you where he is. he plans things, actual plans. a museum date because you mentioned a new exhibit in passing, a drive out of the city just to watch the sun drop behind the hills and star gaze without the suffocating light pollution. late night food runs where he lets you talk about nothing and everything while he listens to your every word.

he treats you like you’re worth effort, every single day.

on the couch, he moves around then reaches for the fluffy throw blanket draped over the armrest, pulling it over both of you. he smiles down at you fondly.

"you're so fucking pretty, y'know that?"

"mhm, you only tell me that every day." you smile back, and he laughs, tickling your ribs for the attitude.

you giggle into his chest as you smack the muscle, begging him to stop.

after he's teased you enough, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and smiles into your skin.

"baby." he pulls away and looks you in the eye waiting for you to reply.

"yesss?"

"sukuna's having a birthday party at our frat. i think sigma chi's invited aswell. can you come?" he asks kindly, stroking your head lightly. you nod as soon as he says it, happy to tag along to any function he was going to.

"good. i wanna show you off a little." he announces, slapping your ass half heartedly.

you roll your eyes, but your face is flushed a pretty pink. he laughs, squeezes you once more, then leans back into the couch.

choso has never felt more content than he did right now. he never thought he'd be one for sappy relationships, but for you? god, he'd do this in every lifetime, you were utterly perfect for him.

only thing left is to show everyone else that, too.

~

sukuna’s birthday is exactly what you expect and still somehow more? there's like, literally five beer pong tables lined up in the back yard alone like this was some sorta tournament rather than a birthday bash.

"yeah, he's really into beer pong. it's fitting, i guess." choso laughs

the house infront of you is loud before you can even step inside. sukuna's favourite music flows out the open door, cups are raised and swaying or abandoned on any flat surface. there are, inexplicably, five more beer pong tables set up in different corners of the main living room.

choso’s hand stays firm at your lower back as he guides you inside, the pretty little dress he'd bought you fit exactly how he said it would. it's nice and snug around your ass, and it's short enough to make his eyes widen when you walked out of the bedroom earlier. the expensive designer shoes he'd gotten you still feel new under your feet. you’d protested, of course, told him he didn’t have to do all this, but he told you he wanted to. just like with any other thing he'd gotten you in the past three weeks.

you clock the way a few heads turn as you pass by, and smile to yourself at how good it feels to be on his arm. little did you know, this was his plan all along, to have you looking all sexy and all his as a final fuck you to the guy he knew would be here tonight. choso didn't fight with losers like him, but he could definitely put his money where his mouth was (literally) and show off a little.

“there they are,” gojo’s voice cuts through choso's slightly possessive thoughts.

he’s smiling so wide as he steps up to you two, his freakishly long arms opening wide preparing for your poor boyfriend. choso barely has time to brace before gojo crashes into him, hugging him hard enough to rock them both back a step.

“happy birthday to sukuna, i guess,” gojo says, then pulls back, eyes sliding straight to you.

he looks you over once, it's quick but not rude, then he smiles softly. proud, almost.

“you look really good,” he says, leaning down like he’s about to tell you a secret. his voice gets slightly bashful. “and i’m really glad you finally ended up with someone who treats you right. even if it meant dropping my best friend.”

there’s no judgment in it or awkwardness, just pure honesty.

you laugh quietly and hug him, arms wrapping around his middle. gojo squeezes you back solidly, you're content with his nothing about this changed how much he cares about you.

toji is right behind him with his meaty arms crossed and his eyes observing. he looks choso up and down first, then his sues land on you.

“damn,” he says flatly. “she's a looker.”

choso exhales through his nose a little irritated.

toji smirks, clearly pleased with himself.

“that’s my girlfriend,” choso says calmly. he's good at keeping his emotions in check. plus, it was toji, this idiot wouldn't know any better.

toji pauses, then nods once. “shit, i forget [name]'s the chick you were getting all giddy over. good job." he says, and claps choso on the shoulder before offering his hand. they dap each other up and choso smirks triumphantly.

“c’mon,” choso says, fingers curling around your wrist. “gotta see the birthday boy.”

he guides you through the littered bodies as gojo and toji trail behind you, the beer pong table nearest the back is surrounded by people yelling over a close game. sukuna is there, his pink spiky hair all wet and damp with sweat, roaring with laughter as he cooks shiu and sinks the final cup. (no one thought he was gonna loose, but they all cheer regardless)

you spot suguru at the same time he spots you.

he’s standing just off to the side with nanami and shiu, he spots your arm wrapped around choso's and you swear to god you see his eye physically twitch in distain.

you giggle softly at the sight, and choso pulls you into him tighter, staring the man dead in the eye as he squeezes your waist. what a sexy asshole.

sukuna turns when he hears choso’s coming over, his already large grin spreading wider. “there he i!" he bellows. he always got overly cheery when he was inebriated.

sukuna swallows choso in a big hug and the dark haired boy claps him twice on the back. "god, haven't seen you in ages man! where y'been?" sukuna questions, choso just rubs his neck bashfully and cocks his thumb to point at you. "keeping the missus looked after, y'know how it is."

sukuna's eyes fall onto you and he's surprised. he thinks back to when choso was asking about you that first time and then to when he'd stormed off when he'd told him you were sleeping with suguru. a small proud smile falls over his lips. he always disliked geto anyway, the righteous asshole.

“happy birthday,” choso says. “you're old as hell now.”

“shut up,” sukuna laughs. then drags his attention back to you as you step in for a side hug, very quick and polite. “happy birthday, ryomen." you smile, and he scruffels up your hair fondly.

he glances back at choso, then leans in and mutters, "good pull,” he says quietly. “glad you could wrangle her away.”

choso chuckles, pleased.

you can feel suguru’s stare as shiu and nanami fall back into another game of beer pong without even looking back at the guy. although, it doesn't matter. choso's still making a show of pulling you into him every chance he gets, which you can tell is really ticking suguru off.

sukuna wipes his hands on his jeans as he pulls his attention away from shiu and nanami and back to choso. “you better not of gotten me anything, cho.”

choso just smiles and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small credit card shaped gift wrapped in neat paper. he hands it over casually.

sukuna sighs with half a smile. “you didn’t have get me shit, man.”

“js' open it.”

toji and gojo lean in from their spots either side of you and choso. sukuna peels it open, eyes scanning the card once, then his mouth drops open.

“no fucking way.”

he looks up, stunned. “this is real?”

“mhm. two years,” choso says. “a membership for that fancy gym yer' always whining about.”

sukuna lets out a sound that’s between a laugh and disbelief. “what the actual fuck.”

he pulls choso into another, much tighter hug. “thank you, brother, seriously.”

choso pats his back. “no problem, i love you, remember?” he says, the inside joke making both sukuna and toji chuckle.

then, like it’s nothing, choso reaches back into his pocket and pulls out another card. hands it to toji.

toji freezes. “what’s this.”

“part of his gift,” choso says. “don’t want him training alone.”

toji stares at the card. then at sukuna. then back at choso.

“you’re fucking insane,” gojo says, laughing.

toji exhales a sharp laugh and grips choso’s shoulder. “i appreciate it, man, seriously. holy shit.”

sukuna looks between them, clearly overwhelmed, then clears his throat and tries to play it off. “alright, alright. enough with the heartfelt shit.”

but his grin doesn’t drop one bit.

you watch it all from choso’s side, chest warm in a way that has nothing to do with the noise or the crowd. this is him, he's so generous without making it a big show. loyal without asking for any kind of back credit. he's a solid man in a way that makes everyone around him relax and naturally lean into him.

choso glances down at you and catches you looking.

“you good, honey?" he asks quietly.

you nod, smiling up at him. “yeah. i’m really good.”

his lips curve into the kindest of smiles as he kisses your tenderly on your head, careful to not mess up your makeup.

off to the side, suguru looks away in disgust having witnessed that little interaction.

'read it and weep.' choso thinks to himself.

but he was far from done, one more little display and he'd be satisfied.

so, later on when everyone was a little drinker on the punch shoko had 'accidentally' poured four bottles of vodka in, he has you pressed up against a wall away from the main hustle and bustle, yet up close to where he knew suguru was lounging around.

"cho, people are gonna see!" you squeal, but his hands don’t stop grabbing at the curve of your ass and pushing you harder against the wall.

"good, want them to see." he coos, latching onto your throat and sucking at it softly.

despite your pleas, you were very into this. your boyfriend wasn't always this needy so this show was really doing it for you. you let him claim your throat in bright, blooming hickeys and groaned as he hooked his lips onto yours, shoving his tongue down your throat.

the exchange is heated and passionate, any on looker could tell this was a moment shared between two people who loved eachother deeply, exactly what he was going for.

from behind him, sukuna and toji catch wind of you two and let go of broken cheers, making choso smile into your lips. they both joke about 'not knowing choso has this in him,' which made a few of his other friends add onto the mantra of playful encouragement.

he's living for the way your cheeks heat, the way the attentions making you all hot and bothered. but most of all, he's high off the fact that when he peeks behind him through an open eye, he sees suguru angrily stand from his spot on the couch, and storm outta the house.

mission accomplished.

A/N this is sloppy and not proofread at all, i can't say i liked this but yk 💔 going back to my roots and writing choso look at me go 🙂‍↕️ i hope you guys enjoy the lil smau yayy

[bluukive-deactivated20260523]

🌵 (mdni) CactusKuna x reader

"Ryo . . . you've turned into a cactus."

"How observant of you," he said dryly, brown pot clinking from side to side as Sukuna turned to face you. "This is all your fault, by the way. Fix it immediately if you know what's good for you."

You rubbed your arm sheepishly, wanting to be anywhere but there. Sukuna wasn't wrong. It was your fault — but how would you have known that calling him a prick one too many times would turn him into a cactus?

"C'mon. Aren't you meant to be the king of curses?" You reminded, tapping at finger at his pot. You withdrew your hand as quickly as you approached, sensing a foul energy from the plant. "Surely this is within your abilities to correct, no?"

"It is not," Sukuna snapped, spines bristling as you attempted to come closer. There was a bright red fruit on his crown, and it looked delicious.

"W-wait, do not dare to even think about coming this close—"

"Just a little taste, Ryo," you huffed, "I'm curious."

"You can shove me up that tight little posterior of yours if you think you can take my fruit."

Tch. Rude.

You sat back down, muttering to yourself about how you weren't that tight. "Whatever. What do you propose we do? I can't exactly fuck you when you're a cactus."

"You can at least once," Sukuna pointed out, his singular cactus arm twitching in agitation. "But that should not be your main concern. How am I meant to slay my foes when I have been reduced to a mere houseplant?"

You hummed, (barely) thinking for a second. "I could throw you at them—"

"Ridiculous. Fetch me Uraume immediately. I have had enough of your mindless chatter."

"Prick."

This was so unserious im sorry LMAO

[blkkizzat]

cbahsjdbchjcadsb y'all be FRYIIIIING me turning sukuna into literally every object under the sun 😭😭.

my coochie after i try to ride cactuskuna:

[venusins-deactivated20260422]

himbo dealer!sukuna’s crazy ex-gf receives a 'hey girly' text

you can find part 1 of these two here!

A lumpy pillow is stuffed between your lower back and the wall as you sit up on Sukuna's bed. If it can really be called that. It's his second year living in the same house and he still hasn't gotten a real mattress or a bed frame. Instead, he's perfectly content with the air mattress he's got laid directly on the stained carpet floor.

A carpet that has long been infused with the scent of weed— the result of two years of selling out of this very room.

You have tried too many times to get him to invest in a more comfortable situation, but apparently you're the only one inconvenienced by his set up. So here you are, propped up against his childhood flat, yellow pillow as you scroll patiently on your phone while he showers.

And then it pops up. The notification at the top of your screen with that little rainbow icon in the corner and a preview of the dm you just received on Instagram.

"Hey girly…" That opener is enough to tell you what you need to know.

He cannot be serious. Always texting you about how he misses you, how he loves you, how he'll never be able to find anyone like you— and then he goes and cheats on you.

To make matters worse, not only does your chest hurt now, but your back hurts too because you've been sleeping on his shitty air mattress for two years (on and off, but that's beside the point).

The muffled sound of the shower running in the room next door is grating, like nails on a chalkboard it gives you a headache just knowing that Sukuna's a few feet away, completely relaxed— he could literally be texting someone else right now for all you know.

You're tired of him. Tired of his dry weed and smelly room, tired of hearing from all the girls he hooks up with, and tired of this sorry excuse for a bed.

It takes less than thirty seconds for you to grab your phone charger from your purse and plunge the prongs straight into the mattress, puncturing the side.

You can hear the soft wisp of air starting to seep out just as the hinges on the door creak, Sukuna's tall figure stepping through the doorway.

"What the fuck?" Sukuna's voice is loud, scandalized as he looks on at the sight of you yanking your charger out from the air mattress.

A single towel wrapped low on his hips is the only thing covering his body, and damn him because he looks good. Glistening droplets of water from his shower run over his tanned skin, the smell of his body wash still lingering in the air.

"Did you just pop my bed?" Sukuna questions, eyes flitting now between you and the rapidly deflating mattress that you're sitting on.

And now you remember why you're mad, no longer distracted by the view of him before you.

"Who the hell is this?" you fire back, holding the screen out toward him. You sigh as his eyes narrow, lips muttering silently as he slowly reads the text on your phone.

""S just some girl— none of your business."

"None of my business?" Your voice is getting louder now, the words spilling out more quickly as a new level of irritation starts to set in. "You cheated on me, I think that sounds a lot like my business."

"Cheated? We weren't even together!" The desperation is evident in Sukuna's tone as he tries to argue back, "and the only reason that girl fuckin' texted you is because you were going around telling people we have a god damn kid together."

Now you pause. A stiff silence settles between the two of you as you hold up your phone one more time and actually look at the text you received— and he's right. You weren't together at the time that the two of them hooked up. And she really did only text you because she heard that you and Sukuna had a kid, and she wanted to let you know that she wasn't trying to get in the middle of anything.

"Well?" Sukuna pipes up, bare chest still heaving with frustration as crimson irises look down at you through narrowed lids.

"Shouldn't have hooked up with her anyways," you mumble, head turning to look away from his burning stare as he scoffs in your direction.

"We were broken up."

"So?"

Sukuna sighs, long and exasperated as he steps past you to get a better look at the damage you caused (around $30 worth). "Still can't believe you fuckin' popped my bed."

You can't help but laugh at the situation now despite the lingering ire that's still surrounding Sukuna, short wheezes coming out between your words as you look on at the now flat mattress on the floor. "I can't believe you had a bed that I could pop in the first place."

likes, comments, reblogs always appreciated ! i have more works here ♡

a/n: this is just crack but it was helping me get back into my writing a little more so i hope yall enjoyed it bc i love these two

perm sukuna tags pt1: @heaveninruins @whimsic @cupidstrace @killakuna @kamoswrld @sukubusss @cosmosalight @onlykuna @amooorette @luvleixo @mmari-07 @nishinoya-senpaai @gabrielliyy @myselkie @ita606 @babbiez @stnpidboi @buttrsc0tch @sugrfairie @officiallydrunk @kalihrts @fawnsfantasy @iridescentshine @anubisvoid2 @k1yomee @kunababy @sttvr @a-court-of-smut-and-sluts @junofern @volleyballgirl2022 @trsh-kitty @littlemisssatorugirl @skinstickets @burpzz @tocinoandkamatis @fairyof553 @grignardsreagent @nicerthanu @seellove @haazelnuutloover @arigato-rei @paintedperidot @angeleclair @astridgraves @24Klolchar @cliffaria @winkii @kittykatz777 @imwjon @hazedrat ⤷ to join any of my permanent taglists click here -> X

[riiinnniiieeee]

BRO IM SHITTING WHATT AHAHAHHA

[rederiswrites]

Yes, yes, we all have a crush on Robert Robertson. He was basically written for Tumblr; it's really not our fault.

[drikariu]

Respeita a mãe

Guache e nanquim sobre papel / Gouache and Nankin on paper

35 cm x 30,5 cm

2015

[justhereforsubsevika]

I love pussy art no matter how overdone it is

[valleyofwater]

Oh, how I love a smart man

[nxctern]

Tax

[noodles-and-tea]

See, it’s funny because they’re voiced by those YouTuber guys

[cherrybeachbum]

( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ

[mottesk]

falling asleep on the couch // falling asleep at the desk

big brother chase will always be a big brother

[lasciviousliii]

Track Star & his #1 fan (2003)