obsessed with how u write sub!michael especially bc it’s mature michael ugh seeing a grown man so desperate and needy is just so delicious. could u possibly write a fic where you’re upset with him for whatever reason and the entire day he’s so desperate for you he’s rock hard all day following you around begging for your attention but he’s lowkey turned on by the fact that you’re being sassy and ignoring him. and then u finally give him what he wants but you make him begggggg for it OKGKFDIEOEKDKD
Ouuuu the way you think! 😉
𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞| 𝐌.𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧
Summary: During a charity event you attended with your husband, an old fling from years ago just so happens to be at this event after Michael has made it known he’s attending. You become furious watching the two of them communicate from the distance. Now your husband, desperate and willing to do anything to get back in your graces
Warnings: 18+, smut, sub!michael, power play intimacy, jealousy, desperation, oral pleasures, penetration, etc.
Heavy rain began to pour over the city of Los Angeles, dark clouds quickly engulfed the area and casted a gloom over the moon, but to you it was absolutely beautiful. You found beauty in this weather. As soon as you entered your home the rain started falling heavily giving you not a minute to spare
Your husband had been talking your ear off the entire ride home and even now. It seemed like the more you ignored him the more he wanted to be heard. He struggled carrying in your belongings and trying to keep up with you but managed
“Baby you have to believe me— you just have to”
Still ignoring him you walked into the kitchen leaving him with nothing but the sound of your clicking heels growing softer as you walked off. In the kitchen you grabbed a drinking glass with a pretty stem and your favorite bottle of wine, sitting yourself on top of the piano in the dining room just adjacent from the burning fire place
Michael watched you fix yourself a glass of wine before taking a little longer than usual sip & moaning as you enjoyed the fermented flavors
“Mon Chéri” he called out
You hadn’t heard this nickname in ages, this nickname was given to you on your honeymoon night. Michael read it in one of his favorite books and thought it was so poetic that he gave it to you, it translates into my darling
It was hard fighting the urge to not blush hearing this but you’re too stubborn to ever give into Michael that easily
“I know you’re mad at me but please don’t ignore me…you know how that makes me feel especially coming from you—I hate when you’re upset”
Hearing Michael’s voice beginning to crack made your heart want to shatter into a million pieces. Yes you’re upset but you still loved him beyond words could ever describe. Also knowing that he hated being ignored due to his childhood trauma made you think twice and sympathize with him
“Come here baby” you finally gave a response
He pulled his glasses off and stood in between your legs as he wrapped your body around his and buried his face in the crook of your neck, swallowing a hard lump in his throat
Sensing how upset he was you stroked his back a couple times before pulling away and instructing him to sit on the piano seat in front of you. Pouring yourself another glass of wine before turning your attention back to Michael
“Are you ready to talk now?” You ask uncrossing your legs
Reluctantly he nodded his head
“Why was she there Michael?”
“I don’t know what she was doing there but I didn’t invite her, I swear”
“I just find it awfully strange she showed up to an invite only event and you were the only person she had spoken with”
“Baby..I had nothing to do with her showing up tonight. I haven’t spoken to her in years”
Turning your head to the side you still weren’t satisfied. Looking down at your feet you noticed your heels were still on and that’s when you got the bright idea
“Michael could you be a doll and take my heels off please?”
Nodding his head and untying your heels one at a time before kissing them from your ankle and up to your toes. You bit your lip watching before drinking more wine
Scooting in closer you placed your feet in Michael’s lap, allowing the bottom of your feet to gracefully glide across his hard dick
“Michael….do you remember that time you said security was too close to my backside when we were getting loaded up in the truck?”
He clenched his jaw slightly “Yes”
“Hmmm” you dragged out with a snarky smile
“How come I don’t see him anymore?”
“Baby…” he let out desperately
“Answer the question. How come I don’t see him anymore?”
Your feet were now pressed harder against his crotch, by now he had a full erection. You could feel the head of his dick through his pants
He licked his lips before taking a deep breath, staring down at the marbled floor “Because I fired him”
“Why did you fire him baby?”
“……I was jealous of another man being that close on you. It drove me crazy thinking that he could be having fantasies about you”
Satisfied with your answer you smiled sweetly and spread your legs open allowing him to see you weren’t wearing anything underneath your dress, frustrating him. Propping one leg up on the piano you pulled your dress up and licked your fingers before using them to rub in between your lips and pacing yourself in a slow circular motion
“Mmm shit” you moaned
Michael sat in awe watching you touch yourself. He continuously licked his lips to keep from drooling and embarrassing himself
“I wish I was the one making you moan like this”
Being the stubborn lover you are hearing Michael say this only fueled your desire to make him yearn
“Michael oh my god you feel so good!” Fingering yourself while dropping your head back before turning your gaze towards him
Years of studying your body movements Michael knew when you were on the verge of an orgasm. He watched as your hand began to cramp up and the way your pussy was convulsing that you were cumming
“Can I cum on you baby?”
Michael scooted himself closer , head between your legs and watched intently. Watching your creamy fluids come rushing out of you, he looked up at you for approval before he dove his entire face in between your legs, catching every effect of your orgasm that dared to spill out. He grunted and groaned as he sucked on your clitoris like this was his last time ever doing it. His hands pushed your thighs out of his way giving him further access to his treasure
If you didn’t take control now Michael was going to takeover which would defeat everything. He looked up at you through his reading glasses and pressed his tongue deep into the top of your clitoris forcing you to cry out in pure ecstasy, your eyes rolled back and you could feel yourself slipping away
“Stop Michael” you commanded “Take your pants off right now”
Following your commands he stripped his bottom half and watched you lean forward, your lips only inches apart of his but only allowing him to feel your heavy breathing. Instead of kissing him you slid your tongue in his mouth and just before he could trap you in you pulled away and smirked in his face
Kneeling down you spit multiple times on his dick before using both of your hands to stroke him up and down completely coating him in the natural lubricant. His dick was so hard you could see his blood flow being carried through the veins
“You don’t know how much I love you and this dick you have between your legs” you whined
On your knees you continued your two hand twist while watching Michael completely become disheveled. Loosening his tie and having to constantly push his glasses up
“Baby please don’t stop you’re getting me so close right now”
“Tell me this Michael…how the FUCK am I supposed to feel watching another woman flirt with you hmm? I’m a woman with desires also I know that look in her eyes and it wasn’t just a conversation she wanted outta you”
Michael began stumbling over his words unable to catch his breath or think straight. Also hearing you finally open up about your jealousy made him feen for you harder
“It’s all my fault” he finally answered “I should’ve known better”
“Do you wanna fuck her Michael??”
“No”
You grabbed Michael by his face forcing him to look you in the eyes “Do you wanna fuck her Michael!?”
“No” his voice peaking with frustration and agony “The only woman I want is you…only you can get me like this. I crave you all day until it hurts me, baby..you have to believe me when I tell you I love you”
It felt as if a firework was ignited in you, your heart had completely melted away and fused with his sweet words. So much so that tears fell from your eyes, immediately you began to regret your frustrations and hostility towards Michael
“I love you too baby” you sniffed
“Honey I need you so bad tonight…I wanna cum all over your pretty mouth”
“Michael?”
“Yes baby?”
“I want my babies, I want all of them inside of me…I want my family”
You jerked Michael off faster and tightened up your grip around his girthy dick before kissing his tip and watching his nut shoot out onto your lips and tongue. His body recoiled back to back trying to make sense of all the pleasure he just experienced
He began gasping and gripping onto the sides of the wooden seat. Unable to speak or move he watched you in awe suck his remaining nut out, mouthing over and over again “I love you”
You got back on top of the piano and motioned with your pointing finger “come here”
Michael stood so fast from his seat that he flipped it over causing it to fall. He stood in between your legs and crashed his lips into yours keeping an aggressive hold on your throat as he sucked on your tongue while pressing his face into yours
Grabbing you by your hips Michael forced his way in past your entry point, immediately you could feel him hitting your cervix over and over again. All of his gentleness was out the window for the evening
As the rain poured down so did the loud thunder strikes, it felt like the two of you competed for who could be louder
“Oh my god Michael why are you doing this to me??” You whined
He chuckled harshly “You edged me all this evening and you wonder why I’m fucking you like this? You had the audacity to leave this house with no panties on, risking somebody else seeing what belongs to me and you wanna ask that stupid question baby?? Don’t insult me again”
“I’m sorry” your lip quivered as hot tears started to spill again
Pushing himself deeper into you and digging in your insides while feeding you sloppy passionate strokes “Yeah me too”
Michael grabbed you by your hair and forced you to look in his eyes as you came all over him. He watched as your eyes twitched and your lips parted ways only able to produce loud desperate cries and more hot tears
“I love you so much my baby. You’re my everything—oh fuck!” He moaned
Sliding his dick all the way out then ramming it inside of you as he shot his fluids deep inside of you, continuing to thrust forward until he was empty
Both of you completely exhausted and covered in sweat, panting and dehydrated
Tilting your head back you gave Michael open access and watched him gently spit in your mouth before your tongues danced with each other and sealing it with your lips touching
“Michael I’m sorry for getting jealous tonight” your voice now soft and sweet again
“I forgive you” placing a kiss on your forehead before pressing his into yours “But not as sorry as I’m about to be when we get upstairs”
Your eyes enlarged hearing this, you were completely worn out. Michael took a step back revealing his dick was still hard and leaking out fluids
He grabbed you by your throat pulling you closer to him so he could get a grip on your thighs before carrying you upstairs
“Michael, baby I said I was sorry” fear in your voice
“I know baby it’s okay” he chuckled kissing you “it’s okay because I’m ready to be sorry with you”
Slamming the bedroom door shut after carrying you inside
⊱ Mature!michael who puts you before anything. The second he gets a call saying you need or want something, he drops whatever he’s doing and comes straight to you. No hesitation, no excuses—you always come first.
⊱ Mature!michael who doesn’t play games in a relationship. No pettiness, no silent treatment, no going to bed angry, and definitely no playing hard to get. He knows what he wants, and he knows healthy relationships require effort, honesty, and communication.
⊱ Mature!michael who hates arguing over the phone or while you’re apart. If there’s a problem, he wants to talk about it face-to-face. He values communication and prefers getting straight to the point rather than letting issues drag on.
⊱ Mature!michael who believes in giving 100%. He doesn’t think all the responsibility should fall on the woman. He helps around the house, takes care of you when you’re sick, and makes sure you’re never carrying everything on your own.
⊱ Mature!michael who gives you his full attention whenever you’re together. He listens carefully when you talk, remembers the little details, and always pays attention to your needs. Especially in public, he’s constantly checking to make sure you’re comfortable and doing okay.
⊱ Mature!michael who gets a little possessive at times. He’s been in the industry long enough to know exactly how people can be. If you’re wearing a dress that turns heads, he notices every glance sent your way. Not because he’s insecure—he trusts you completely—but because he knows how others think. He’ll casually pull you a little closer, rest a hand on your waist, or lean down to whisper something that leaves you trying not to smile for the rest of the evening.
⊱ Mature!michael who spoils you endlessly. Anything you want, it’s yours. Every time you walk into a store, he’s already asking, “See anything you like?” with his arm wrapped around you. He rarely looks at the price tag; if it makes you happy, that’s enough for him.
⊱ Mature!michael who carries extra things for you without being asked. Your bag starts feeling heavy? Somehow it’s already over his shoulder. Your jacket is bothering you? He’s holding it. You don’t even realize he’s doing it half the time.
⊱ Mature!michael who always keeps a hand on you in public. A hand on your lower back while guiding you through crowds, his fingers intertwined with yours, or an arm draped around your shoulders. It’s never controlling—it just makes him feel better knowing you’re close.
⊱ Mature!michael who always reminds you to take care of yourself. “Did you eat today?” “Did you get enough sleep?” “Did you take your medicine?” It becomes a running joke because he asks so often, but secretly you love knowing someone cares that much.
⊱ if anyone wants a nsfw version, I can definitely do that!
If you’re taking requests, may I request a thriller era Mike x wife reader. Mike and reader have been married for a year and she’s newly pregnant and only they know. He takes her with him to his iconic grammy win night, he’s just doting on her and protective. Also is a horndog the whole night though he’s shy but not for his wife. touching and kissing her. Ends with smut!!! Srry if this is a dumb request.
a/n: thought i got a little carried away but then remembered he broke a bed
t/w: smut, 18+ mdni, p in v, fingering, oral (f! and m! receiving), overstimulation
“Are you sure?”
You rolled your eyes from the bed, “yes, I’m sure. I’m only five weeks. It’ll be perfectly fine.”
Michael bit at the inside of his cheek as he adjusted his belt, looking over at you through the mirror.
Ever since you had told him you were pregnant it was like the entire world was all the sudden out to get you. Everything was dangerous to him. You appreciated his precaution, it was endearing.
“If anyone tries grabbing at you, I’m gonna have bad headlines in the press tomorrow.”
Standing up, you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head against his back to hear his heart beat.
“It’ll be okay.”
You felt him sigh before he turned around in your arms, cupping your face with his hands and not a moment later his mouth was on yours.
Smiling into the kiss, your arms came up and wrapped around his neck. Laughing a bit as his hands danced down and started to lift up your dress.
He was always like this. He could never get enough of you, but ever since you got pregnant his sex drive only seemed to double. If possible.
“Honey, we don’t have time.”
“We’ll make time.” He muttered, fingers already searching for your zipper.
Lights flashed in a blinding crescendo the moment the car door opened. You squinted against the light and suddenly grew envious of your husband's choice to wear sunglasses.
Like always, he got out first and offered his hand. Your heels settled on the ground and not a moment later his arm was around your waist and his lips dipping low towards your ear.
“You okay?”
Patting him on the chest as a yes, the two of you were ushered towards the entrance of the red carpet. Waving and smiling at the cameras and fans as you went and every time someone shouted your name, you felt Michael’s grip tighten around you.
The whole time you walked in increments down the carpet, he wouldn’t take his eyes off you. Ignoring the shouts from the press to look over. His hand reached up to move some hair out of your eyes and he seemed to ask you for the hundredth time if you were doing okay and if you needed to sit down.
As the two of you navigated the crowd to find your seats, he acted like a human shield. His hand holding tightly onto yours as he practically pushed through the crowd, muttering excuse me as he went and shooting daggers at people who didn’t move over enough. Dismissing anyone who tried to stop him for a talk and when someone grabbed your arm he looked like he was about to punch someone.
You couldn’t help it as you laughed behind your hand, finally finding your seats by the stage for the night.
“What?” He asked, oblivious as he knelt to adjust your dress after you sat down.
“You’re absolutely ridiculous.”
He raised a brow at you but didn’t bother to refute that statement as he leant forward and placed a kiss to your exposed knee from where it peeked out from the slit in your dress. Your cheeks immediately heating up at the display of affection.
He sat down next to you, ever so subtly adjusting himself as he did so and he leaned over, voice a whisper. “You look beautiful tonight. You’re glowing.” He kissed your shoulder then, “I wish we were back at the room.”
“Stop it, I probably look like a tomato.” You smacked him lightly but he easily caught your hand and brought it up to his lips.
Quincy finally joined them, sending them a wink as he sat down. “Hey, lovebirds.”
“Hi, Q.” You smiled and leaned over to talk but before you could utter a word, Michael was kissing you. You were expecting a peck at most since you were in public but became acutely aware of his tongue tracing the inside of your mouth.
Like always, you just about melted but also felt on fire with the fact people were around.
He pulled back, his smile devilish and his thumb tugged on your bottom lip. “You need to fix your lipstick.”
With each Grammy he won, he’d squeeze your thigh before getting up, bending down to kiss you before he went up on stage. The lipstick marks building up as the night went on and God, he was glowing up on that stage and your hands itched from all the clapping you had been doing.
“First, I’d like to thank God for all the wonderful gifts He’s given me and of course my beautiful wife, Mrs Jackson.”
Eight Grammy’s later, you could tell he was on an adrenaline high. Holding as many awards in one arm as he could while the other was wrapped around your waist. He had been smiling so hard you were sure his face went numb.
You were so caught up in the rush of it all you barely noticed he was leading you back to the car.
“What about the after party?”
“We’re not going to that.”
“What? Mike, you broke the record. You have to—“
He turned around, tugging you close and it was only then you took note of how blown his pupils were.
“Baby, if we’re not back in that hotel room in the next hour, I’m gonna pop a fuse.”
You bit your lip, enjoying the way his eyes flicked down to your mouth far too much.
“Okay.”
“Good, now get your ass in the car.”
You were giddy and nodded without another thought, on your own high when he slapped your butt as you bent down to get in the car.
The ride there was anything but tame. The second the car started to move, he rolled up the partition and was on you.
His hands were everywhere, immediately messing up the meticulous updo you had going on with your hair and his mouth ruining your makeup for the hundredth time that night.
His tongue was searing as his mouth trailed down from yours to your neck, lower to the exposed cleavage of your chest and you were half expecting him to rip your dress off just to get at more skin.
Your heart caught in your throat as you watched him slide down to the floor of the car, throwing your exposed leg over his shoulder as he kissed up the inside of your thigh.
His eyes caught yours in the low light, the city passing by in a blur and casting shadows across his face. You suppressed a shiver and he pushed your other knee out, exposing your underwear to the air. You were already wet, something you probably would’ve been embarrassed by but maybe it was the pregnancy hormones.
Michael sighed, sounding blissful. “Look at you. Perfect.”
Then his mouth was on you through the thin cotton and you couldn’t help it as your hips bucked up, hand coming down to hold the back of his head as your own was thrown back against the seat.
The sounds leaving your mouth were lewd and filled the air, not caring if the driver heard you and when you felt Michael pull your underwear aside and sink two fingers in you felt delirious.
His mouth was hot and wet against you as he worked you with his fingers, his gloved hand holding your thigh securely over his shoulder as he ate you out. His tongue was like a weapon, drawing circles over your clit before flatting it.
When he added a third finger you were pretty sure you started to cry.
“Michael! I’m… fuck.”
“That’s it,” he whispered against you and once you came he didn’t bother stopping. Apparently in his own frenzy and it was only then you noticed he was gripping himself through his slacks.
The door to the hotel room shut and his hands were back on you, fumbling for the zipper and he just about ripped through the fabric in his haste. His mouth latching onto your neck from behind and hands clawing at your hips to grind into you, guiding you through the room blindly before falling onto the bed.
You watched with a ringing in your ears as his teeth caught on his glove and pulled it off, tossing it carelessly behind him and shrugging off his jacket.
Eyes flicking down, you could see him clearly through his pants and your mouth went a little dry as you watched him undo his belt.
“Do you know how difficult it was trying not to make this obvious the whole night?” He kicked his pants off and was left in his boxers, taking hold of himself through the fabric and he shut his eyes briefly as he squeezed.
You watched the way the veins in his hands popped as he did so in a lust induced haze.
“Sorry,” you muttered. Slowly beginning to lie backward into the bed as he approached, his thumbs hooking onto the band of his boxers as he began to lower them.
“No, you’re not.”
You shook your head and hummed as he crawled over you, his knees pushing your legs open as he did so.
“Not at all.”
His lips crashed down on yours, one hand winding in your hair as the other hiked one of your legs up and you felt him brush against your entrance.
He tugged lightly, still careful with you as your neck bent back and his mouth trailed down, sucking and biting as went and a groan left him when he finally thrusted into you.
“Eight times,” he said between bites and you were sure marks would be littered all over you tomorrow.
“What?” You barely managed to get out, your own hands in his hair and he fucked you with little restraint. The sound of skin slapping against each other was enough to send your nerves tingling but then he took hold of your jaw, making you look at him.
“I’m gonna make you come for each award I won and you’re gonna take it because I know you can.”
Before you could even think to reply to that statement, his hand danced down and started to circle your clit and he looked beyond pleased to see your back arch off the bed.
It was rough and you loved it. He always started off pretty sweet, gentle. But as time ticked away he always got lost in it, his mind slipping somewhere else and you were sure it was heaven.
One hand took hold of your hips as he started to yank you down onto his cock, the pace brutal and your nails sunk into his back as you let out a cry. The way he had one of your legs up and around him made the angle he was hitting feel like you were being struck by a tuning fork hitting a star.
“Michael—“
“Come for me, baby.” His voice was low in your ear and worked like magic as you did as told.
And you started again.
The next was you bent over with your face pressed into the mattress. He made you finish twice that way.
Then with you on top but you were hardly in control of the situation as he thrusted up into you.
You were a complete wreck with no sense of direction when his head was back between your thighs.
“I can’t—“ but then you did and you were crying and he was drinking up the sight.
Barely giving you any grace when he carried you to the shower, though he was slower to give you a little breathing room, his fingers found their way back to fucking you eventually.
Lucky number eight he didn’t even have to touch you.
His hands were wrapped in your hair and he thrusted into your mouth and the sight of him with his head thrown back as he came down your throat was enough to send you over the edge.
The air smelt like sex and sweat and you were half conscious as his hands rubbed circles into your back.
“I think I got a little carried away,” he said up to the ceiling before peeking down at you. “I’m sorry.”
You shook your head, half way into slumber and held onto him tighter.
“I loved it.”
The last thing you remembered before falling asleep was him kissing the top of your head.
being pregnant with toji’s baby made you wetter
cw: nsfw ⸝⸝ pregnant s e x
you were only in your second trimester, but toji insisted that you stayed at home. he didn’t want to impose any risks on your child.
so all you did at home was clean, cook, and watch TV. it was nice for the first week, but after that, you were bored out of your mind.
nights like this where he came home extra late made it even worse. especially when you were needy.
“toji, i missed you.” you buried your head in his chest the second he walked in.
he chuckled. “missed you too baby,” he said. he tried to move to put his stuff down but you wouldn’t let him.
“hmm? someone needy?” he smirked, his lips brushing against yours.
you nodded eagerly, way past the point of words.
he kissed you hungrily like you were his oxygen. his large hands cupped your cheeks and he led you all the way to your shared bedroom.
“jesus christ,” he muttered when he ripped off your panties.
“you’re soaked. is it the hormones?”
you nodded sheepishly, and he grinned at you.
“i don’t even think i need to prep you,” he swiftly pushed two fingers inside you. you whined and he kissed your cheek.
“patience baby.”
he curled his fingers and you moaned, gripping his bicep.
“tojiiii.”
“i got you, don’t worry,” he whispered.
you rocked your hips absentmindedly, fucking yourself with his fingers. he watched you silently, occasionally curling them.
“i think you’re ready.”
you helped him out of his pants and boxers. his cock sprung out: hard, flushed pink, and leaking of precum.
you licked your lips in anticipation and spread your legs a little more.
“someone’s eager,” he teased, pressing his tip at your entrance and spreading your slick everywhere.
“you look so pretty like this,” he muttered, “belly all swollen, glowing, pregnant with my baby. you even got your legs wide open like you want me to breed you all over again.”
“toji, stop being a fucking tea—”
he slammed into you without warning. you were so full. his thick cock bullied your walls as he rocked slowly inside you.
“mmm, being pregnant with my baby has you soaked huh?”
you couldn’t think straight. he stretched you out so good all you could do was nod.
his balls slapped against your ass with each thrust, hitting your g spot. you were close. he was balls deep inside, fucking you without any plans of stopping.
“you’re close sweetheart? let go f’me.” at his command, you gushed all over his cock and he groaned your name.
he was soaked from his abs down. you felt his cock twitch and he followed after you, his seed spilling inside you.
“again,” you begged.
he grabbed you by your thighs and pulled you closer to him. you wrapped your legs around his neck. somehow, at this angle, he was even deeper. your thighs shook and he fucked you hard and fast, chasing the high once again. he teased your nipples with his fingers and whispered filthy things.
“pussy’s s’good, baby”
“greedy girl, just desperate for my cum.”
“need you to cream all over my cock one more time pretty.”
“sooo tight f’me mama.”
by now, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come.
the room was hot and smelled like sex, and the sound of skin slapping were the only things keeping you from tapping you out.
that and toji’s voice lingering in your ear.
“c’mon baby, you’re not giving up now, are you?”
you shook your head.
“i know that’s right. come for daddy, just one more time.”
it was safe to say he didn’t actually mean just one more.
if you think you've seen this before, no you haven't.
꧂warning ノtags:wano!Zoro [ post time skip]◞ mission position into mating press◞ condomless loving [ zont zo it ]◞ alcohol consumption [ causal drinking from zoro ]◞ Zoro and Sanji bickering◞ subspace??◞ a-spot stimulation ◞ implied marathon sex◞ both the reader and Zoro are needy◞ squirting◞ reader has pubic hair because she’s grown◞ reader is flexible.
take a shot everytime Zoro calls reader pretty…
꧂wc:1.9k
꧂an:was literally proofreading my Eren fic and got possessed?!had the share my thoughts. i dedicate this to my bestie, happi late birfday!! the eren fic is still cooking so eat this as an appetizer. love u. as usual, the visual is a p!link, don’t act surprised. bye
꧂visual
Sloppy, hot kisses placed on the underside of your slacked jaw made it hard to concentrate. Your pout deepened each time he bottomed out—your eyebrows could almost replace your eyelids with how low they drifted.
“Oh—oh! You make me feel so so so so good, ‘my gosh, Zoro!” You were starting to lose yourself in pleasure. Second by second your sentences trailed off into mindless babbling that had your boyfriend grinning from ear to ear.
Shared juices pooled between your trembling thighs, dripping slowly towards the creaking springs of the aged mattress. If he wasn’t speaking directly into your ear, muttering sentences that’ll definitely make you heat up in the face when brought up later, then he was moaning aloud, his sounds meshing seamlessly salty sea breeze that swallowed you whole. When he became this needy, his unapologetic ways were the talk of the night.
“Yea? I bet I do. ‘Can barely feel you, this pretty pussy is drownin’ me.”
“Mmm! Mmm! Sorry. M’sorry, Zoro.”
Yeah. You’re gone. “Don’t apologize for missin’ me, Pretty Girl.”
You nodded, your manicured fingers wrapped tight around your ankles, occasionally cradling the soles of your feet, earning praises from above when you pulled them back further. Further. And further. Your flexibility always amazed him; it’s how you were able to bend in the most difficult positions that’ll make him tap out if performed on him.
“You’re so deep!” Your whines curled tightly into his lingering moans—strangling tightly like a starving Boa.
“Mhm. I’m hittin’ that spot, huh?”
His golden earrings rings created a low hum, each sway of his hips creating a custom jingle. The tips of his forest colored hair dripped sluggishly with lukewarm water from his earlier shower, the water ultimately pooling between the weight of your rocking tits. You nodded once more as your face grew warmer from his lingering stares.
“You’re doin’ so good, Pretty Girl. So fuckin’ good,” Oversized canines flashed in darkness as he grinned. You replied in another whiny tone when his hips broke through his previous set rhythm. The obnoxious squish followed by your pussy farting had you looking down in pure horror, only to find Zoro’s entire cock drenched in a milky white trench coat.
“Oh m-my gosh.”
“Told you. Ya’ soakin’ me.”
The lower half of his happy trail mirrored your landing strip: matted with creamy love. A mixture between spit and mixed cum coated you both in a laminated mess, glimmering dimly under the moonlight.
“‘Member when you could only take half? Hah!—Now my Pretty Girl takin’ the whole. Damn. Thing!”
Zoro peppered kisses along the sweaty bridge of your nose, gliding up slowly until he left a trail of love to your furrowed brows.
“Gonna’ get wrinkles if you don’t stop that.”
You think you’re worried about what your face looks like right now? He’s handshaking you from the inside—touching places that you didn’t even know lingered deep beneath the surface—the last thing you were thinking about was your wrinkles.
Deep breaths hesitate from escaping the comfort of your lungs. Tear brimmed eyes shielded by the heaviness of your eyelids and tear filled full lashes. Even though you were incapable of responding with words, Zoro knew exactly what you were trying to convey back to him. Not a single inch of his manhood went untouched by your warm, creamy embrace—somehow digging deeper with every thrust.
“You’re about to cum again, huh? Yea you are, I see written all over that pretty face.”
You were in fact about to cum—soak him, actually. Again.
Your fingers quickly untangle from your ankles and find comfort on his shoulders that tripled in size since his two long years in the shadows. He was hot and heavy against your chest—his breathing erratic just as yours was.
“Love you. Love you somuch!”
Absence definitely makes the heart grow fonder—and your pussy noticeably wetter.
From the moment you stepped from the ship you were on a mission to locate your boyfriend and fuck him silly—sea legs and all. For a split second you didn’t even recognize him, his frame wider—his scowl meaner. He walked with a type of confidence that made everyone stop and stare. His open yukata created a deep V, down his heavy chest, showcasing the discolored scar that decorated his toned torso. A dark green jittoku haori swayed gently in a breeze that carried his scent directly to you.
That can’t be him. Can it?
You had your doubts until you heard how he reacted to seeing Sanji. Their bickering started the second they made eye contact, making the townsfolk glance over in horrified confusion. Their yelling crossed over the rippling sea farther than any ship could travel.
The ship's reunitement was short-lived. The moment you all boarded the Thousand Sunny, Zoro couldn’t keep his hands off of you. He wasn’t one for public affection, but he’s waited two years.
Two years too many.
“I need to feel you,” his words fanned across your ear making you squirm under his embrace. He was moist and warm with his towel hanging on by a thread around his thin waist. Not even in your shared room for more than ten seconds—suitcases still packed to the brim, begging to be unpacked, and you were pinned on the wall like decoration.
“Come take me, please,” you’d be lying if you didn’t pick up on his sudden energy shift. His hunger for you was hard to contain, peeking through when his quick pecks turned into deep makeout sessions. You felt the heaviness of his cock through your his pink towel—you stroked what you could through the rough material, earning deep grunts of appreciation. Zoro humped at your palms while feeling for cavities with his tongue, “Missed you so fuckin’ much.”
“‘Missed you more, Zoro.”
You were breathless—head dizzy, damn near seeing double, while your body moved without control. The soft thud of the towel hitting the wood was ignored by your ringing ears. Your soaked panties were crawling midway down your thighs before Robin’s voice broke through the walls.
“Put a cap on it love birds! Dinner is ready!”
Zoro’s movement stiffened and you couldn’t help but to laugh at the defeat in his face. “‘Hate this place sometimes.”
“Aww don’t be like that, Zo’. They missed us. Don’t be the Grinch.”
“‘Grinch because I want to spend time with my woman?” He muttered to himself as he picked up the towel that was dropped without remorse. You on the other hand rushed to the bathroom, cleaning up any remains of the make out session. He followed behind seconds later—his heavy head tucked between his shoulders.
He was trying to make you feel bad.
“Pick your face up, Baby. We have all night to love each other. I’ll even do that thing you like.”
His dark, thin brows rose to his hairline, “The thing with your tongue?”
“Mhm!”
Dinner was eventful. Everyone had their stories to share, their scars to show off, their battles to brag about and yet, Zoro’s attention was set on you. Sake pooled at his lips with every swig—his heavy, pink tongue chasing after the abandoned alcohol. Even with a single eye, his gaze held the sights of millions.
Overlapping chatter and the scratching of metal against vintage porcelain and still you heard the heavy thud of your heartbeat. You shifted in your seat—your fork poking at some poor sea creature Sanji decided to experiment with.
The soft thud of the glass hitting the table top was the last thing you heard before you were suddenly in the air and balanced on his broad shoulder.
“Dinner’s over. Good night,” your sudden dismissal didn’t shock the crew at all, in fact, Nami was collecting berries around the table from the bet they all placed earlier that day; to see how long you and Zoro could go without having sex.
The moment the door clicked shut he was on you like white on rice—sucking, kissing, biting anything that was in his line of sight.
“‘M not holdin’ back.”
“Don’t.”
Round after round, orgasm after orgasm—his dick stood tall, the only difference is it was getting wetter after every round.
His hands traced invisible lines up your trembling thighs, past the underside of your knees to your ankles—where he pinned them. Suddenly he dropped his hips with so much force the bed started to shift in the direction he was humping.
“O-ooh! Z-Z’ro!”
Your body was angled just right to where he was hitting that spot just inches away from your cervix. Zoro nipped at your throat before quickly chasing it with kisses, almost like he’s remembering he has to be gentle.
“Don’t stop, hhmp! Zoro… right there!”
He hummed, his warm tongue tracing over the bulging veins in your neck, “Wasn’t plannin’ on it, Love.”
You felt the ship sway with the aid of your boyfriend’s strokes—the realization making him grin arrogantly. One thing you did notice is that his stamina definitely increased, usually he’d be approaching his last rounds but with how energetic he felt, he could go for days.
“Give it to me, Baby. You’re goin’ to let me have it?”
You started to reply—only for all of the air to be sucked out of your lungs in a matter of milliseconds. A sudden stream of tears flowed to your ears as orgasm fully took over. Your breathing stopped completely, almost you were frozen in time. The feeling was so intense—your vision blurred into black and white dots while a high pitched ringing noise flossed through your eardrums.
Still, his hips kept moving. Each time he pulled out, a steady stream of your wetness was chasing after him so desperately.
“Yeaaah, there you go. My pretty girl.”
Then—you found your voice—only to let out the loudest moan of the entire night, “Ooo fhuck meee!”
Your fingers raked at his soaked abs, desperately hoping to slow him down so you could properly function. He eventually took the hint—his hips slowing down until he was just sitting inside of you.
“That was a big one. Biggest one you had since… ever.”
He trailed kisses along your calfs that were still shaking by the revolutionary orgasm. Your chest heaved heavily as you tried to catch your breath that was just out of reach.
“I feel so floaty, ‘Noa. Hold me, please.”
The slight wobble in your bottom lip and urgency in your tone had his eyebrows folded in concern. His warm embrace washed over you like the sea you’ve become accustomed to. It wasn’t uncommon for you to cry after sex—hell, Zoro would be concerned if you didn’t. It was the call of his first name that had him hooked. He only heard it from you when you were swimming deep in crashing waves of emotions.
“‘Missed you s’much,,” You whispered in between sobs, “I don’t ever want to be apart from you again. Ever.”
“Hey hey, look at me,” his thumb chased after the hot, heavy tears that were booking it around your face. You leaned into his palm—even peppered kissed across the rough, warm flesh. “If you think you’re leavin’ my line of sight, then you have lost your mind. I’m never leavin’ you and you’re never leavin’ me. I can promise you that.”
You nodded, bottom lip still trembling, “Promise?”
When he kissed you, it's almost like everything else melted—nothing else mattered. Like always, you struggled to keep up with his pace, his tongue even bullying yours into submission. The pleasure began to pool at your abdomen before you felt the subtle rock of his hips. “I fuckin’ swear it. I Love you so much, my Pretty Girl.”
he comes home to a freshly cleaned house, the fresh smell of cleaner and air freshener wafting through the air. He drops his suitcase to the floor, kicking off his shoes and slipping off his jacket. He sees you hurrying around the corner to greet him.
“Well back home, Mr. Gojo,” you smile, taking his jacket from him and picking up his suit case.
He sighs, loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves, a tired and annoyed look written on his face.
“Dinner we’ll be finished in about half an hour—”
“No need. Finish your tasks and meet me upstairs when you’re done.” He stares at as if he’s looking straight through you, his tone deep and words sharp. You can tell he wasn’t in the best of moods…which can only mean one thing.
“Yes, sir.” You nod, thighs squeezing together when you glance down at his pants, noticing his bulge. He walks away as you hang his coat and put his briefcase in the closet.You quickly head to the kitchen, turning the stove off.
The house is silent when you walk up the stairs, heart racing the closer you get to his room. The door is cracked, beckoning you to step inside. Slowly, you push the door open to see Mr. Gojo standing there completely naked. He strokes his cock slow, beads of pre cum dripping from the tip.
“Crawl,” he demands.
You do nothing but obey, dropping to your hands and knees, crawling towards the tall man. You can feel your pussy throb with anticipation, growing wetter when you hear him curse under his breath. Finally, you’re at his feet, looking up at him through your lashes. He reaches a hand down, gently cupping your face before he slips his thumb past your lips, laying it flat on your tongue.
You suck on it, swirling your tongue around the digit while never breaking the contact with the man. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, moving his wrist in circular motions as pumps his cock. Without saying a word, he stops touching himself and immediately you know to take over. Both of your hands wrap around his shaft, thick and veiny, moving up and down.
“Such an obedient girl.” He pets the top of your head, removing his thumb from your mouth. “You like doing what I tell you to?” He hums.
“Yes, sir.” You nod, sticking your tongue out and licking the underside of his head, pressing small kisses to it in the process.
He lets out a throaty groan, tossing his head back when he feels your lips wrap around his cock, pushing him to the back of your warm throat. “Fuck! Atta girl.”
You gag around his cock, feeling his big hand on the back of your head, pushing deeper under your nose is pressed against his abdomen. Tears well up in your eyes as he holds you there for a few seconds. He eventually pulls you off, strings of spit connecting from your lips to his cock. You gasp for air, trying to catch your breath while jerking him off. He pushes your head down towards his balls, your mouth wrapping around them as you suck and lick at the sensitive area.
“Yessss, just like that,” he moans, eyes rolling back. “Get it nice and fucking sloppy.” A lazy smile spreads around his face when spit on his cock, taking him in your mouth again and opening your throat the deeper you go. He grabs either side of your head, holding you still before he starts fucking your throat. “This is just what I needed,” he breathes.
Your nails dig into his muscular thighs, leaving crescent marks in his skin. He can hear you choking on his dick, he can feel each time he hits the back of your throat, and he can see the tears rolling down your cheeks, but knows that you can take it. You enjoy when he treats you like this. Like a toy.
He pulls your head away, giving a brief break. You gasp for air again, coughing as you suck in a breath. “Oh god, look at a what a fucking mess you are. So perfect.” He rubs the head of his cock over your lips and across your face. You smile up at him, purely caught in a moment of ecstasy, a hazy look in your eyes. “Keep looking at me that and I’ll cum all over that pretty face of yours.” He bites down is his lip.
“Please, sir. I want it,” you beg, voice soft. You give kitten licks to the head of his cock, kissing down his shaft. His dick throbs, jumping up when you lick at a prominent vein running along his shaft. “Cum on my face, pretty please.” You blink your lashes up at him, pumping his cock while you suck on one of his balls.
“S-shitttt. Fuck me.” His voice grows shaky, jaw slack as he watches the way you desperately try and milk the cum out of him. “Oh fuck,” he gasps. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum.” His abdomen tenses up, balls tightening up as you stick your tongue out for him and speed up your pace. “Nnnghh! Fuckkkk!” He groans, thick white ropes spurting from his cock, landing all across your face.
Your eyes quickly shut, feeling the warm substance hit your skin, from your forehead, tongue, lips, and so on. His hips quiver, loud moans echoing all throughout the house as finally comes down from his orgasm. You pry open your eyes, that tired look back on his face, trying to catch his breath.
“Mmmm.” You lick the cum off of your lips. “Need anything else from me, Mr. Gojo?” You innocently ask.
“No…no, not at the moment.” He gulps, sitting on the edge of bed. “Thank you, sweetheart. Such a good girl,” he praises.
“Of course. I’ll clean up and get dinner back on as soon as possible.” You sweetly smile at him, standing to your feet to walk out his room and give him his space. “If you need to destress again, please don’t hesitate. It’s what I’m here for.” You shut the door behind you.
summary: When Zoro decides to ask Dracule Mihawk on a dual to dethrone, you think it’s the most stupid idea ever, but who are you to stop him? Though, you can totally remind him that sometimes, he shouldn’t be the one in control.
cw: +18. mdni. live action!zoro. straw hats!reader. praise. petnames (baby, sweet thing, good girl). reader calling zoro “Z” sometimes. unprotected piv. riding position. slightly sub!zoro. teasing. pull out method. mention of feelings / tension. reblog is a creator’s best-friend, thank you!
The smell of sweat and sex flowed inside the small room, moans echoing loud against the wooden walls, mixed with the clicking of earrings. Zoro’s hands tugged on the ropes, burning the skin of his wrists, creating redness there. It wasn’t a punishment per say, but he had been stupid enough to ask Dracule Mihawk for a fight, thinking he’d be strong enough to dethrone him and take the title of world’s greatest swordman. It was his dream and so, you had decided to not try to stop him, but that didn’t mean you liked the idea.
And so, you had decided to make him realize how stupid he was for thinking he could always be in control of things.
You had met Zoro at the same time you met Luffy and Nami at Shells Town, when you had helped the three of them steal a map of the Grand Line, thus becoming a member of Luffy’s crew (even though you were at the marine’s base to steal it for yourself, in the first place).
There has been some immediate tension between you and Zoro from the first second you had met him; glances here and there, shoulders bumping, teasing, sarcasm. The whole bunch.
But it had heated up the moment the crew had stopped at the Baratie, the moment you had sat down at that restaurant table and Zoro’s free hand had rested on your thigh, squeezing the fat there, eyes looking elsewhere like it was the most normal situation ever. You hadn’t said anything about the touch, but thoughts about his hands on your body had run through your mind. Thoughts of his lips on your skin, his fingers curling inside your warmth, his cock nested deep inside you.
And when you thought this could keep going for weeks, he had to be dumb enough to have a death wish with Mihawk. You thought if Zoro was about to die later, he could at least get a sample of what he’ll be missing forever. But there was no way you’d let him be in control after being so dumb—and so, the both of you were locked in his room, his hands tied by thick ropes and up above his hands. Sweat covered his forehead, grunts and groans leaving his mouth as you bounced up and down on his cock.
It had started with a little argument, some sarcasm on his part, as always. Fingers tugging on hair, lips crashing against lips, hands groping your tits, his shirt flying away before you turned the situation to your advantage.
He tugged on his restraint again, like it would suddenly break and let him free. His dark eyes were focused on your face and the expression of pleasure that decorated it. His voice was strained as he finally spoke. “Fuck, come on, I got it. Untie me, yeah?” He groaned as you lowered yourself down on his cock again, the wetness of your cunt coating his shaft, dripping down to his balls, sticking to both your skins.
Your hands pushed on his bare chest, stabilizing yourself as your hips rolled on top of his own. Squelching noises made the movements more perverted and icky, but that didn’t make you stop at all. You shook your head at Zoro, a heat in your lower belly when his tip hit your sweet spot. “No—No, you don’t deserve it. You were stupid.” You voiced at him, before throwing your head up to the ceiling, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted in pleasure.
His hips jerked up when yours lowered, skin slapping skin and his shaft hitting deeper which made you moan out his name. Your nails scratched at his torso, leaving red marks on his tan skin, before one lifted to tug on his short green hair, making him hiss, his throat now bare for your liking. His earrings created little clicking noises that mixed with the whines coming from your throat. Curses escaped his mouth, his thighs shook under the weight of your body as you fastened your riding. “How am I supposed to make you feel good if I can’t touch you?” You heard him say, and you chuckled at his words, shaking your head.
“I can make myself feel good, Z, I just have to use you for that. Besides, it’s your punishment for being stupid and thinking you are stronger than Mihawk.” A strong jerk of his hips up made you gasp, his bulbous tip hitting your cervix which made you moan out his name loudly. Your pussy clenched around his cock, the length dragging in and out of your gummy insides. You could feel the veins twitching, the pre-cum flowing out of his pretty tip to mix with your juices, the way your ass slapped down on his balls when you lowered yourself.
The swordsman tugged on his restrain once more, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he felt you suck his cock inside your tight little cunt, creamy white come around the base of his shaft; so pretty, so dreamy. “Come on baby, let me touch you.” He groaned then, eyes half-lidded from the pleasure but you only chuckled once more and shook your head at him. You bounced faster, feeling his tip rub against your sweet spot so deliciously.
Zoro wasn’t one to beg for anything or to anyone, but at that moment, the pleasure was almost torture. He wanted to touch you, to feel your skin under his fingers, to make you bounce down on his shaft.
You loved the tone of his voice as he did beg to be freed from the ropes, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of touching you. You didn’t want to think about the fact that he could clearly lose his fight with Mihawk and die; no, you wanted to think about him coming back to you and how he could tease you the same way you were teasing him. It would be only fair.
Zoro gasped as you rolled your hips to a new angle, velvety walls sucking him in, your wetness coating all his length and down to his bush. Your hands moved backward, resting on top of his knees as you bounced faster and harder, your ass slapping down on his thighs.
“Fuck, fuck—Come on, good girl, that’s it.” He praised, even if unable to touch you like he wanted to, even if he didn’t have the power. His dark eyes lowered to where his cock met your cunt, his thoughts in shambles at the view of the mess you created there. Your wetness coating his pubic hair, making them glisten with your essence, showing how good you felt.
You rolled your hips, sweating and panting, warmth coursing through your body at the slightly new position. “Z, fuck, it feels so good.” You moaned at him, eyebrows furrowed when your eyes met his own. Zoro couldn’t help himself from jerking his hips up to meet your movements, letting his cock slam inside your insides. Your juices dripped to your inner-thighs, slick and sticky, coating your skin. The green-haired man beneath you nodded, his eyes closing for a second or so just to open again and look at you.
“Feels good like that, uh? You like riding me?” He asked, smirk back on his face.
You almost wanted to stop, remind him that you were the one in control and he didn’t have the power to speak like that; but who were you kidding? So you nodded, biting down on your lips, hips slotted down against his pelvis and his cock nested all the way inside you. Your clit rubbed against his bush, bringing another wave of pleasure inside you, making you moan. His hair tickled against your wet skin. “Yeah, t’feels good…” You only replied, too busy pleasuring yourself at that moment.
“Don’t stop then, let me see how good you can make yourself feel without me touching you.” He added, jerking his hips up against yours once more, his tip hitting that sweet spot at the entrance of your pussy. Your hands were clammy on his knees, your grip tightening as you started to bounce again, rolling your hips forward so your clit would rub and hit against his bush. Moans escaped your mouth, eyes focused on his face as he nodded and praised you quietly. “That’s my girl, come on baby. Bet that feels good, uh?”
For one little second, you swore at yourself: that should have happened way before. If only you both had acted up on those feelings and tension instead of walking around it without saying anything. Zoro could die and he could have left without knowing how you truly felt for him.
A warmth coursed through your lower belly again, your pussy clenching around Zoro’s cock, keeping him there so snuggly. He hissed at the feeling, muscles taunting as he tugged on the ropes again, but never able to break them. His head rolled to look at the wooden ceiling for a moment before his dark eyes met your face. Your thighs burned from the efforts of riding him and he must have realized, his hips now rutting upward to meet yours, his tip rubbing your g-spot continually.
You moaned, hands flying to rest on his chest once more, hips bouncing to write your name onto his cock. Loud noises of skin slapping skin echoed in the room, followed by the squelching of your wet pussy filled by his shaft.
“Zoro, m’bout to come… Fuck!” You whined, and after those words, you fastened your pace on top of him. Zoro groaned, feeling your juices sticking to his balls and dripping all the way down to his length to pool at the base. He just moaned for a beat or two, before speaking. “Come on my cock, come on—show me how good you feel, sweet thing.”
Those words were your undoing, and you gasped loudly when your cunt clenched around him, sucking him dry. Your thighs shook around his hips, your pace uncoordinated, warmth coursing through your entire body. You could hear Zoro praise you, but a buzz in your ears made you unable to understand his words. Your nails scratched the skin of his bare torso, muscles convulsing as you came on his shaft, making a mess with your juices. Your essence leaking down to his base, glistening against his bush—your clit throbbing from the rubbing you had done too.
But your hips kept rutting, searching for more, trying to bring Zoro to his climax too. Your walls squeezed him tighter, and he hissed as you bounced up and down, more lazily. “Move baby, I’m about to—” He groaned and you nodded, sweaty and out-of-it. Your hips lifted up, his cock slipping out of your wet warmth in a loud-pop at the same time he came.
A loud groan left his mouth, thick ropes of creamy and hot white semen flowed to hit his lower belly and chest, his cock hitting back on his belly, twitching.
You sighed, watching his semen decorate his own skin, before gently sitting back on his thighs. Zoro took a deep breath, eyes lifting to look at you. “Fuck. Are you going to untie me now, sweet thing?” He smirked, tugging on his restraints for a last time before you chuckled, nodding your head at him.
You moved, hands carefully undoing the ropes from around his wrists. The swordsman immediately rubbed at the raw skin there, humming quietly at the feeling before his dark eyes met your orbs. He didn’t speak for a second before his strong hands groped at the fat of your hips, bringing you closer as he sat up.
“You know, the floor isn’t very comfortable for that kind of activity.” He joked, rolling his shoulders, the muscles of his biceps bulging. You hummed at him, before replying. “What? You want to try the hammock, next time?” Zoro acted like he was thinking about him for a beat or two before nodding his head, looking away.
“So… You’re saying there will be a next time?”
“If you survive Mihawk, why not?”
“That’s a deal, baby.”
taglist: @ravensreadingrecs @tealee @dreamersentity @amourflores @filthgf ( to be added )
summary: you got a new pair of shorts and luffy likes to look at them
warnings: PDA, Luffy’s obliviousness, a little bit of spice
A/N: Hi everyone! Usually I’m just a regular smut reader but decided to give it a shot myself! This is my first piece ever so open to suggestions but please be kind!! Let me know what you think! Anyways thank you! <3
A warm day on the Thousand Sunny, rare species of bird fly overhead the Straw Hat crew. The blistering heat had the whole group sprawling on the deck.
Sanji’s cold beverages long since depleted with ice melting and the refreshing fruit had been stolen by the captain’s greedy stomach.
The hot sun combined with the little to no wind called for a new pair of shorts to go with your pink tank top. The black short shorts that fit from below your navel to an inch below your hip bone left little to none to the imagination.
But who cares you thought? It was sweltering outside and the crew was family. And the best part? Each cheek was adorned with a pair of rhinestone skull and crossbones.
Sliming the fabric down with your hands as you walk across deck to Nami and Robin, who’re both fanning themselves with some ornate pairs from a recent island you came across.
Zoro was lifting some weights near them as Chopper, Usopp and Franky sat on the railing with fishing poles. Sanji and Brook were somewhere on board.
“Ooh, meow girlfriend” Nami purrs at you. Robin simply observes your outfit and raises a brow with a small smile.
“Oh stop Nami I’m melting out here, no better than Sanji’s refreshments” you laugh deciding to stand beside them as they sit on stools.
“Very nice my dear friend but don’t let our dear cook see you like that I’m afraid we may run out of gauze before Chopper can stop the bleeding” Robin coyly adds in. We all giggle at that with suddenly the air shifted, so slight most wouldn’t have noticed it.
“Y/NNNN! I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU EVERYWHERE!!” A voice calls from above, the three ladies below look up just in time to see their captains extended arm swinging his body down the mast.
Suddenly you were crashed into, Luffy’s arms wrapped tightly around your midsection.
“Hi honey,” you say softly as you pet his head in appreciation. Your captain and lover helps you up off the floor, never once his focus leaving your eyes and he begins to ramble.
“Can you believe this heat? It’s soo hot I feel trapped in 2nd gear. I wish I could go swimming that would cool me down, oh wait there’s the ocean one sec.” And suddenly he’s overboard.
“OMG LUFFY WHAT” you say grabbing his foot just in time, his body bouncing up and down like a yo-yo. “YOU CANT SWIM”
Helping him up you notice his head got dipped, oh well at least he’s cooled down a little. “Oh yeah I forgot, at least I have you!” He smiles that giant smile, the one where his lips reach his ears, so boyish but sure of himself at the same time.
“At least you have me” you repeat looking down at your shorts to assure they didn’t get ruined in your noble save.
“Ooh nice shorts y/n” Luffy says grabbing your hips, “soft” he murmurs lightly.
“Thanks babe they’re new!” You say sweetly turning back to Robin and Nami who’ve been watching the exchange between you and the beloved captain.
Both girls have small smiles looking at you, when out of no where you hear another yell.
“WHOA Y/N” your captain says when his hands suddenly are back on your hips. “What? Baby? Bend over you got something on your butt!” His arm is suddenly pushing you down over the table Robin and Nami are sitting at. “LUFFY!” you scream red in the face but your captain is none the wiser to the kind of position he forced you in. “They’re my shorts! You gum-gum head!”
Your protests do nothing to stop him manipulating your body into a familiar pose.
Luffy’s hand are clasped tightly over your hips, your torso is arched, chest pressed against the table.“Ohhh, oh, ooh baby you have little jolly roger’s on your butt! That’s cute!” Still none the wiser to the kind of situation you both are in, he leaned his face lower and closer to your cheeks. He was now eye level with your junk, you knew you should have put a pair of underwear on but were worried about the lines. Hands still tightly holding onto you and the worst part? Almost the entire crew was watching you.
Nami and Robin being the closest witnesses sit quietly stunned, Robin had her hand over her mouth attempting to not laugh at your and your boyfriend obliviousness to PDA and acceptable behavior. Nami’s eyebrows are still raised and her eyes show amusement at your humiliation.
Zoro paused his set, eyes wide looking at the compromising position Luffy had you in. Your tank top rising, the bend of your torso and both sides of your ass in the captains large hands.
Usopps face was bright red and not because of the heat. Franky pulled his sunglasses lower to get a better look at what was going on while Chopper just looked confused at what everyone was bothered by.
Luffy still mesmerized by the sparkles on your own ‘jolly roger’ hasnt noticed the audience while you attempted to pull away from his steel grip. “Um Lu?”
“Huh” he replied eyes locked on your backside still.
“Everyone’s looking at us” you told him trying to peel his fingers off of you.
“So what? Your shorts are cute, I like them, a lot. Bend over a little more, arch your back,” using one hand to move you how he pleases, “just like that. Yeah that’s my girl, I like the way you sparkle in the sun”. Okay now he’s trying to spread your legs, this is too much.
“LUFFY” you screamed finally getting his paws off of you as he attempting to continue to maneuver you.
“What? What’d I do?” He asks confused, he liked your shorts, liked the way you looked so he wanted to look at you. What was the issue?
His big brown eyes looked at you curiously while you shyly looked around you. “ You cannot touch me like that baby, not around the crew.” You whisper, mortified,
“Ughhhh but why, I like touching you.” He says casually with a pout, not helping your situation at all.
You might faint with the combination of the heat and Luffy’s unabashfulness.
A loud clang hits the deck.
Zoro dropped his weight still staring. “Captain.”
Usopp nearly falls over the railing into the sea below, “LUFFY NOT AGAIN?!” He wails dramatically like he’s been the one assaulted by the straw hat’s clueless leader.
Chopper is still innocently sitting, confused by everyone’s reactions. “Is this normal?”
“Nah this is SUPER weird bruh..” Franky responds, glasses still lowered to get a better look.
Below deck a sudden heartbroken scream erupted, Sanji’s ladies senses had apparently gone off. His echoes come through the hatch.
Nami’s faced twists into annoyance as she pinches her brow, “Luffy, I swear to-”
Robin’s hand still covers her face, “Ah young love.. so.. enthusiastic.” She smiles behind her hand.
Luffy’s still confused looking down at you, hands by his sides. “You’re my girlfriend?” like that explains everything. “I get to touch you all the time? When we sleep I wrap my arms around you, at dinner you feed me and at night you touch me when you-” He’s immediately cut off.
You slap your hands over his mouth, face even redder than before. “Yes, yes but there’s a time and place for everything!” You’re fuming, at this point you’re going to throw the shorts away the next time you can.
Luffy pauses. Actually pauses and stops for a minute.
Gears are turning.. Click!
“Oh.”
“Okay!”
His grin spreads across his face again, bright, with a hint of? Is that pride?
He stretches his arms behind his head like he didn’t just cause a full-deck crisis and starts walking away toward the other side of the ship.
You exhale shakily.
Crisis averted.
Probably.
Then-
His voice carries back over his shoulder, light and teasing.
“Come find me later.”
The words are innocent. The glance he throws you is not. Your stomach flips.
Zoro snorts, picking his weights back up. “Tch. You’re trouble.”
Nami fans herself dramatically. “I’m adding to your debt! You sickos!”
Robin’s smile deepens. “How exciting.”
You glare at all of them, but your pulse is racing, heat pooling low in your stomach despite yourself. Because Luffy might be loud, impulsive, and completely shameless…
Summary: Luffy just wants your attention, and the one thing he might like eating more than food, is you.
CW: 18+, smut, oral (fem reciving), squirting, use of the word babygirl. no use of y/n, use of the word cunt
Word Count: 1.5k
Song: Eat it - Megan Thee Stallion
Authors Note: In honor of season 2 coming out today! I wrote this in like 30 mintues so if there are any major mistakes i'm sorry! Anyways I hope you enjoy this and remember to let me know if you have any requests! xoxo
“Please baby…., pleaseeee, pretty please with a cherry on top!” the curly haired man squeaks.
“Luffy” you gawk out at the man in front of you, practically begging for your attention.
“What can possibly be so important right now that you have to interrupt me while I’m trying to document our last voyage” you scowl at him. You’re not really mad but there are times when Luffy gets so worked up that you need to tell him to dial it down.
You can tell that your tone got to him because he looks a little defeated which, if you knew Luffy, never happens.
“I….I just wanted your attention” he replies back to you and god you feel like an asshole. Your sweet, perfect, golden retriever boyfriend who quite literally looks at you like you’ve hung all the stars in the sky for him just wants your undivided attention.
You let out a sigh “I’m sorry luffy, Nami has been on me for not finishing this sooner and I guess I just got a little stressed. I didn’t mean to snap at you. You have my full attention as of now” you smile at him, hoping he can feel how genuine your words are.
As soon as the words leave your mouth he sports a suspicious looking grin on his face “you know what’s good for stress release?” he asks while moving closer to where you had been standing. Moving a piece of hair behind your ear he whispers “coming on my tongue”.
Your legs practically give out when you hear the dirty words leave his mouth. Despite giving off the innocent energy that he shows the world, Luffy has never been afraid to tell you exactly what he wants, and that includes what he wants in the bedroom.
“We…,we can’t, it’s the middle of the day. Everyone is up, what if they need you? Or worse, they hear us!” You gasp out, trying to hide the way your thighs just squeezed together to fight the urge to jump on him.
“C’mon babygirl, you know you want to. When’s the last time we’ve gotten to do this? I promise I’ll be quiet, and if you get too loud, I’ll cover your mouth. You can’t tell me you don’t want me to eat that pretty pussy. I want to, been craving it all morning” to seal his words, he places a light peck on your lips.
And god how can you say no to that? He’s not lying, you do want him. You always want him. And if he’s offering, you might as well take him up on it.
“Fine, but we have to stay quiet and try and make it quick, I would be mortified if anyone found out we were doing this right now!” you say as you grab his hand and drag him to your shared bed. You don’t even need to look back to see that he has a wicked grin on his face.
“I can make you come in minutes with my tongue, don’t doubt me” he winks as he lays you down and shimmies off your shorts and underwear. Not bothering to take off your top.
You can feel your heart sped up at the thought of your body being the only one exposed. It’s nerve wracking but also extremely hot. The fact that he wants to take care of your pleasure with nothing in return makes you unbelievably wet.
Positioning himself on his knees, hands flat on the bed he places soft kisses on the tops of your thighs, darting his tongue out ever so slightly and licking wet lines across your flesh.
Your breath hitches at the foreplay, Luffy now’s how to work you up. To get you to the point where you are begging for him, and before you practically yell at him for more, you feel his body shift so that he’s on his tummy and kissing the inside of your thighs.
“Luff, baby, please” you rasp out, wanting to feel his tongue on you
“Please, what babygirl?” He smirks up at you
“Please eat me out, want your tongue” you whisper, still aware that anyone could be listening.
He doesn’t respond to your request verbally but he does blow a woosh of cool air directly on your cunt. Then licks a long stripe up your pussy.
The contact makes you gasp, you want to close your thighs but his hand is practically prying them open.
Fuck you wisper and bite your lip, looking down at the messy locks of hair in between your thighs. His tongue is now circulating the bundle of nerves at the top of your cunt. Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head when you feel his lips wrap and your clit and suck.
One hand flies to your mouth to cover the noise that wants to come out and the other tangles in his hair, hoping he gets the hint to keep sucking on your clit.
He does, his sucks powerful and all encompassing. You feel so so good, he eats you out like a man starved. In the back of your head you think the one thing Luffy might like more than food is eating your pussy.
He alternates between sucking your clit and licking all over your cunt, making a mess of himself. You can see his pretty brown eyes looking at you and this makes you moan. The fact that he’s so entranced by you, makes your blood boil in the best way possibles
You feel his tongue enter your opening and you have to bite down on your fist to stop yourself from screaming. He’s practically drowning in your wetness, marveling in, the glimmer in his eyes show how much he likes it.
“Are you going to come for me, baby girl?” He questions, eyes looking up at you. His lips and chin shiny from your juices.
Nodding you tell him “I’m so close baby, just a little more” and it’s true, you are close but you never want this to end.
He smiles at you and dives back in, licking your clit like his life depends on it. You feel the familiar coil in your tummy start to tighten but also an unfamiliar sensation in your pelvis, a sort of pressure that almost feels like you have to pee. Before you can say anything, Luffy is flicking his tongue fast over your clit and you can’t even utter the words that you are going to come before you feel yourself clench down on nothing and a waterfall of liquid squirting out of you.
You have to be screaming, eyes closed shut, toes curled. Waves of intense pleasure coursing through you. Luffy continues to lick you through your intense orgasm.
When you finally come down from your high you look down at your boyfriend mortified, you just fucking squirted all over his face and moaned so loud that the entire ship heard you.
Opening your mouth to apologize, Luffy lunges up and kisses you. Hot, wet, and messy. You can taste yourself on him.
He’s panting when he talks “fuck that was so hot, did you know you could do that?” He questions.
“No I didn’t. I’m so sorry Luffy, that was so embarrassing. You just made me feel so good” your hands are now covering your face.
Prying your hands away Luffy shakes his head “No, no, no, absolutely not, that was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen, do you know how hard I am right now. I’m going to want to make you squirt every time now”
You smile at him, really a man as good as Luffy could never make you feel embarrassed. He moves to grab a towel when there’s a loud knock on the door.
“Yall done in there? Lunch is ready. Seems like you both are going to need some extra energy” Sanji yells out following it up with a laugh.
You let your head hit the backboard with a sigh “we are never going to live this one down are we” you ask
“Nope! But hey, at least they know how good I can make you feel” Luffy says excitedly, not giving a care in the world that all his best friends know what you guys were doing.
Honestly it was only a matter of time before they heard you. Next time you would be more prepared. Maybe it was time to invest in some better sound proofing.
: ̗̀➛ tropes: sukuna x y/n 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 avatar au 𖥔 sukuna is toruk makto of the desert clans 𖥔 na'vi x dreamwalker 𖥔 surprise pregnancy
: ̗̀➛ words: 10k
: ̗̀➛ notes: idk man i just used my knowledge of the movies, reddit, and the video game to write this lol. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.
The desert of Pandora didn’t cater to the weak.
Unlike the lush, bioluminescent rainforests of the Omaticaya, the territories of the Sah’rakaya—the dune people—were a landscape of crimson sands, towering sandstone pillars, and heat that shimmered like a fever dream.
You wiped the sweat from your brow, your blue skin dusted with red silt. Six months ago, you had been a “Dreamwalker” in a lab coat, exiled and left for dead by the RDA after refusing to coordinate an airstrike on a sacred glade. You had wandered the scorched plains in your Avatar body, starving and breathless, until the Great Shadow fell over you.
The first month had been tiring. Sukuna never found you as a saviour. He found a predator’s target. As Toruk Makto, he was the law. The interrogation had taken place in the center of the communal living space, under the judgmental gaze of the clan’s elders known as the Tsu’teya Sahru—“Listeners of the Sun” who interpret dreams and weather patterns.
His massive hands pinned you to the ground as he demanded the secrets of the “Sky People.” His four crimson eyes had bore into yours, searching for a lie. Teeth bared, voice a terrifying growl that promised death. But even amidst the threats, his grip never bruised. He had tested your limits, pushed you to the brink of collapse, but he never let you fall.
When the elders demanded your execution, Sukuna had stood over you, his shadow eclipsing your trembling form. “Stay your hands!” he had declared. “Why destroy a tool that hasn’t been sharpened? This one has a scent that interests me. Let her prove her worth. If she fails, I’ll kill her myself. But until then, no one lays a finger on her.”
Claimed or not, the clan did not want you. You were forced to find your own nectar from the canyon’s ant hive, and sleep at the very edge of the communal fire.
Training with Sukuna was an exercise in survival. He was a master who lacked the luxury of patience. If your stance was too wide, he’d sweep your legs out from under you with a grunt. If your aim with the longbow wavered, you’d feel a sharp smack against the back of your head.
“You aim like a hatchling,” he’d sneer, his secondary eyes tracking your every micro-movement.
“Maybe if my teacher wasn’t a giant grouch, I’d focus better,” you’d quip.
Sukuna would tut his tongue, a sound of pure exasperation. Whenever your mouth got too snarky or your focus drifted to the horizon, he had a habit of reaching out and giving your blue tail a firm, corrective yank.
“Ow! Watch the tail, Sukuna!”
“Watch the target,” he’d growl.
Despite the roughness, there was a hidden drug in his tutelage. Every time you managed to land a hit on his practice staff, or every time you successfully tracked a Sturmbeest through a sandstorm, he would go silent. He’d walk up to you, his massive hand clasping your shoulder, and mutter, “I am proud.”
Those three words were enough to make you work until your muscles screamed. You found yourself chasing that rare, golden approval more than you chased the comfort of the shade.
The fifth month brought the Tì’lan Sahru—The Sun Crossing—celebrating the knighting of two young hunters. The canyon was alive with the thumping of drums and the orange glow of a massive bonfire.
The clan, perhaps emboldened by the spirit of the night, or perhaps playing a prank on the “Sky Person”, kept pressing a carved gourd into your hands. It was filled with a fermented desert nectar that burned like liquid sun.
“Drink,” one young hunter urged with a rare, toothy grin. “It makes the soul light.”
By the time the drums reached a fever pitch, your soul was floating. You looked across the fire to see Sukuna. He sat on a throne of rock, looking every bit the terrifying Toruk Makto, his four arms crossed, gaze icy as he watched the dancers. He looked bored, untouchable, and utterly lonely in his power.
Fuelled by the drink, and a sudden surge of bravado, you stumbled over to him. The music faltered slightly as the clan watched.
“You’re being a buzzkill,” you announced, pointing a finger at his chest.
Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. “You speak with the tongue of a fool, Sawtute. Go rest before I decide your path is over.”
“No. You’re coming with me.” You grabbed his massive wrist, tugging with all your might.
A collective gasp went up from the Sah’rakaya. No one ordered Sukuna. No one touched the Rider of the Last Shadow with such disrespect. Especially not a Sky Person.
Sukuna stared at your hand on his wrist, then up at your flushed, determined face. He tutted his tongue, that familiar sound of “I shouldn’t be doing this,” but to the shock of every warrior present, he stood up.
He allowed you to pull him into the center of the dance floor. You began a clumsy, swaying version of the Sah’rakaya ceremonial dance, laughing as you nearly tripped over your own feet. Sukuna caught you by the waist before you could fall, his hands large enough to span your entire middle.
For a moment, the fearsome warlord of the dune people was just a man, dancing in the firelight with the woman who had dared him. He let you lead, his eyes never leaving yours, a rumble of amusement vibrating in his chest that only you could hear.
Today, the heat was particularly oppressive. You were near the edge of the canyon, sharpening a spear. The shirr-shirr of the stone was interrupted by a sound that made the very air shake.
You looked up, squinting against the twin suns. The massive, orange-and-black wings of the Toruk blotted out the light. It circled once before tucking its wings and diving toward the ledge, landing with a bone-shaking thud, claws furrowing the rock.
Sukuna vaulted off the beast’s back. He was adorned with the dark tribal tattoos of a warrior-king and draped in the cured hides of desert predators.
“You are still out here,” he stated. “The sands are shifting. A storm comes, Sawtute.”
“I’m almost finished,” you said, standing your ground. You had learned early on that Sukuna only respected those who didn’t cower beneath his gazes. “The clan needs the spears for the hunt tomorrow.”
Sukuna stepped closer, his presence invading your space. He reached out, his four-fingered hand gripping your chin. His secondary eyes narrowed, tracking the pulse in your neck.
“The clan has hunters,” he growled. “I did not bring you into my shadow so you could cook your brain under the sun for the sake of others.”
“You brought me in because I knew the RDA’s flight paths,” you reminded him.
Sukuna let out a huff of dark amusement. “I brought you in because I chose to. Because I saw something in your eyes that didn’t belong to the demons of your world.”
He stepped even closer, his chest nearly brushing yours. His hand moved from your chin to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your queue.
“The war is coming to the red sands,” Sukuna whispered. “The machines think they can take this land.” He chuckled. “They have not met me. And they have not seen what I do to those who touch what is mine.”
Mine.
“Sukuna,” you breathed, reaching up to touch the leather strap across his chest. “I am not a prize of your war.”
His hand slid down to catch your waist, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his body. “You are the only thing in this desert that doesn’t wither under my gaze.”
Your eyes widened. “What are you . . .”
He tilted his head, breath hot against your ear. “Tonight, we go to the Spirit Tree of the Sands. We will make the bond, and you will no longer be a wanderer. You will be the Shadow’s heart.” He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. All four of his burning with an intensity that made the sun look dim. His fingers touched his forehead, then pressed it to yours. “Oel ngati kameie.”
I see you.
He turned, whistling to the Toruk, who lowered its head submissively. Sukuna extended a hand to you.
“Come,” he said, his expression softening just a fraction—a look reserved only for you. “The sky is turning purple. It is time to go home.”
We will make the bond.
We will make the bond.
We will make the bond.
The words had chased you back to the edge of the camp, where you found Reya, a young huntress who had become your closest confidante after you saved her brother in the box canyon.
“He wants to go to the Spirit Tree,” you blurted out. “Tonight.”
Reya froze, her ears twitching before a slow, knowing grin spread across her face. She dropped her knife into the sand. “The Great Shadow is finally taking a mate? This is good. The clan has whispered that he was made of stone, but you . . . you have found the heartbeat underneath.”
“I’m freaking out, Reya,” you whispered, pacing the small patch of shade. “I have no idea what ‘making the bond’ actually means. Back home, you go on a few dates, maybe get a coffee, call each other ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’. You don’t just go to a glowing tree and sign your life away!”
Reya tilted her head, looking at you with a mix of pity and amusement. “Dates? Coffee?” She let out a melodic laugh. “Your Sky People ways are like the mist—here for a moment, then gone with the wind. To bond at the Spirit Tree is to link your Tsahaylu to the heartbeat of the world and to each other. It is not a ‘test,’ Sawtute. It is a promise to Eywa. It is for life.”
The air in your lungs suddenly felt lost. “For life?”
“For life,” she repeated, stepping closer and placing her hands on your shoulders. “There is no breaking once the Shadow has seen you. And when your souls touch through the Great Mother, you are one. Forever.” She paused, her eyes searching yours. “Do you like him?”
“Yes,” you said, the answer leaving your lips without a second of hesitation. It was the truest thing you knew. “I like him more than I ever thought I could like anyone. He’s everything. He’s difficult and mean and arrogant, but when he’s with me . . . “
“Then what is the trouble?”
“I just—I wish we could just be, I don’t know, a couple first? See where it goes? I have a massive crush on him, Reya. I’d love for him to be my boyfriend, but ‘forever’ is a long time.”
Reya tutted her tongue, a sound so remarkably like Sukuna’s that it made your heart ache. She reached out and flicked your ear gently. “You must stop thinking as such. This is not the metal city anymore. You are Sah’rakaya. You breathe the red dust, you ride the wind, and you have caught the eye of the Toruk Makto. He does not do things halfway. He is the Shadow—you are either in it or you are lost in the sun.” She leaned in, her voice softening. “He has stood up for you against the elders. He has taught you to survive. He looks at you not as a ‘Sky Person,’ but as his equal. To ask for a ‘boyfriend’ is to ask for a child’s game. Sukuna Ryomen is a king. He is offering you his world.”
You looked out over the shimmering dunes, the realization finally sinking in. There was no “dating” the Rider of the Last Shadow. You either belonged to him, or you were a stranger.
“I’m Na’vi now,” you murmured to yourself.
“Yes,” Reya smiled, picking her knife back up. “Now go. Wash the silt from your skin. If you are to stand before the Great Mother tonight, you should not look like you just crawled out of a sandstorm.”
Reya spent the next hour transforming you. She brought out a ceremonial garment of deep crimson desert silk, draped with intricate bone beads and the iridescent scales of a mountain banshee. Your hair, usually braided tight for combat, was left loose and straight, falling down your back like a curtain of midnight. It felt strange—exposed—but when Reya stepped back, her eyes widened.
“You look like the horizon at dusk,” she whispered.
When you emerged from the tent into the central plaza, the bustle of the clan came to a sudden, grinding halt. Sukuna stood by the massive, shifting form of the Toruk. The great beast let out a huffing sound, its orange wings casting a long shadow over the sandstone floor.
The elders were gathered there, their faces etched with the skepticism of centuries. Sukuna, however, didn’t look at them. All four of his crimson eyes were fixed on you. The lethal tension that usually lived in his shoulders seemed to settle into something possessive.
As you approached, your heart thudded a frantic beat against your ribs. Sukuna stepped forward, his gaze raking over your loose hair and the silk that clung to your frame.
“You do not look exhausted tonight.” It was the closest he had ever come to a public compliment. He turned to the crowd, his voice booming as he addressed the clan. “Behold! Tonight, the Great Shadow takes its heart. We go to the Spirit Tree to make the bond.”
You felt a deep heat rush to your cheeks, an embarrassed blush that made Reya giggle from the sidelines. The bluntness of his declaration was so uniquely Sukuna—no flowery prose, just a claim of ownership that left no room for argument.
“Toruk Makto,” one of the elder warriors cautiously stepped forward. “Are you sure? She is still of the Sky People in soul. The bond is for eternity. Once the Tsaheylu is made, there is no turning back.”
Sukuna’s expression didn’t flicker. He looked at the elder with a cold, terrifying certainty. “My word is written in the stone of this canyon. I have seen her soul, and it is more Na’vi than mine. I am sure.”
The elder bowed his head, silenced by the absolute authority in Sukuna’s tone.
He turned back to you, and reached down, his massive, scarred hand offering yours a lift. He helped you onto the broad, muscular back of the Toruk, his touch lingering on your waist. Vaulted up behind you, his large chest pressing into your back, arms coming around you to take the reins.
“Do you wish for this?” he whispered into your ear. “To be bound to me?”
You looked back at him, seeing the king, the teacher, and the man who had wiped away your tears. You smiled, a genuine, radiating warmth that finally matched the ‘sunshine’ he claimed to see in you.
“Yes,” you whispered back. “I want you, Sukuna.”
With a deafening screech that sent the desert birds scattering, the Toruk beat its massive wings, and you were launched into the purple twilight, soaring toward the glowing heart of the Great Mother.
The flight was a blur of violet skies and whistling wind. You leaned back into Sukuna, feeling the thump of his heart against your spine. You tried to boost yourself, whispering mental mantras to keep your hands from shaking. I am Sah’rakaya. I am not a demon. I belong here.
The Toruk began a steep descent into the desert highlands, banking toward a massive, hidden opening in a sandstone mesa. As you entered the cavern, the temperature dropped instantly, replaced by a humid, electric energy that made the hair on your arms stand up.
“Look,” Sukuna whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft.
In the center of the vast cavern stood the Rey’tanu Spirit Tree.
It was unlike anything you had ever seen. While the trees of the forest were glowing willows, this was a fortress of life. The bark was as white as bone, and its leaves bloomed in shades of sunset orange and deep indigo. A pillar of intense sunlight pierced through a natural skylight at the very top of the cavern, illuminating the tree in a heavenly glow.
The roots were the most striking part—thick cables that looked like muscles, weaving deep into the solid rock of the highlands. You could see where they had pulverized the stone into rich, black soil, giving life to a garden of bioluminescent moss that carpeted the cavern floor.
Sukuna vaulted down first, then reached up to guide you down. He didn’t let go of your hand as he led you toward the white trunk.
“My father brought my mother here,” he said. “And his father before him. For as long as the Sah’rakaya have walked the sands, we have come to the Rey’tanu to remember who we are. Every warrior, every hunter, every child of the desert is woven into these roots.”
He stopped at the base of the tree, where the air droned with a low-frequency vibration. He sat down on the soft moss, his legs crossed, and tugged gently on your hand until you sat facing him. “You are nervous.”
“It’s a lot of pressure, Sukuna,” you admitted. “Forever is a long time.”
“It is the only time that matters,” he countered. Reaching out, his hand cupped your cheek. He looked at the tree, then back to you. “Repeat after me, Sawtute. This is the prayer of the Sah’rakaya.” He began a low chant in Na’vi, his voice resonant in the cavern. “Eywa, Ma Sempul, oel ngati kameie.”
“Eywa, Ma Sempul, oel nati kameie,” you repeated, your voice trembling slightly.
“Ngati,” Sukuna corrected.
“Nahti.”
He smiled helplessly. “I am the sand, and I am the shadow.”
“I am the sand, and I am the shadow.”
“What is mine is hers, and what is hers is the world’s.”
“What is mine is his . . . and what is his is the world’s.”
Sukuna reached behind his head, bringing his long, braided queue forward. He looked at you, a challenge and a promise burning in his gaze. “Take it.”
You reached back for your own queue, your fingers fumbling for a second before you found the nerve. You brought the pink, glowing tendrils of your neural link toward his.
As the ends of your queues met, the world exploded.
The cavern vanished.
The sounds of the desert faded.
Suddenly, you were everywhere. You felt Sukuna’s pulse as if it were your own. You felt his pride, his jagged history, his fierce, terrifying love for you—all of it pouring into your mind like a flood of golden light.
You felt the scorching heat of a smaller sun on the back of a child’s neck. A young Sukuna, with his secondary eyes still wide and curious, played in the shadow of a father who looked like a mountain. You felt the pride of a boy who had just caught his first desert lizard, the warmth of a mother’s hand against his brow.
Then, the sky turned to fire.
The memory shifted to a cacophony of screams. A bone-deep vibration of the RDA “Dragon” gunships thundered down your spine. Through his eyes, you watched as the “Sky People” rained fire onto the Sah’rakaya camps. An agonizing, searing heat when he tried to reach his parents, only to be held back by the elders as the tent collapsed in a bloom of orange death. Half of his family—half of his soul—was taken in a single afternoon of greed.
The years followed in quick flashes of restlessness, back-breaking work of a boy who decided he would never be a victim again. He traveled across the vast oceans of Pandora, finding a wary respect with the Metkayina water clan, learning the patience of the reef. You saw him in the deep jungles with the Omaticaya, the forest people, learning to hunt in the vertical world. He worked ten times harder than any other warrior, driven by a cold, simmering rage, and a desperate need to protect the red sands that remained.
And then, the vision shifted to a more recent memory: the day he found you.
You heard his internal monologue, a low, rasping rumble in his mind. He had seen the “Sky Person” wandering the dunes, and his first instinct was to strike. He expected to see a monster, a soldier, another bringer of fire.
But as he descended on the Toruk, he had seen you.
She is so small, he had thought, a spark of confusion flickering through his hatred. She carries no metal. She has the eyes of one who has seen the Great Mother, yet she is lost.
Through the bond, you felt the exact moment his heart had stalled. It was when you had looked up at him starving, dusty, and terrified, and hadn’t looked away.
If I leave her, she dies, he had realized. If I take her, she may be a spy. But her soul . . . it tastes like the sunrise.
You felt the proprietary heat that had claimed him the second he touched you during that first interrogation. He hadn’t been trying to break you for information; he had been trying to find a reason to let you stay. He had been terrified that the elders would see only a “demon” and take you from him.
The link pulsed with a final, overwhelming wave of emotion: Sukuna’s unwavering gratitude that you had stayed. That you had teased him. Danced with him. Accepted him into your heart, into your soul.
The vision faded, leaving you breathless. The connection was still there, a soft susurrate at the back of your skull. You pulled back, staring into four widened eyes, the pupils dilated from the sharing of souls. For the first time, the Toruk Makto of the sands looked completely, utterly vulnerable.
“You have suffered deeply,” he said at last. “I saw your life. The grief after your mother and father were gone. You learned to be strong as a child. To stand alone. You put your pain into the earth, into seeds and growing things, because the ground listened when no one else did. Still, you did not break. You kept walking. You kept growing. Even when your heart was tired, you stayed.”
Slowly, you reached out. Your hands, smaller and lighter blue against his bronze tattooed skin, framed his face. He leaned into your touch, his secondary eyes closing as he let out a shuddering breath.
You leaned forward.
First, you pressed your lips gently to the skin just below his eyes, over the dark markings that designated his rank. Then, you moved higher, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead.
Finally, your lips found his.
When you pulled back just an inch, Sukuna looked utterly bewildered. His ears flickered back and forth, and he tilted his head like a predator trying to decipher a new scent.
“What was that?” he rasped. “A scenting? A marking of territory?”
You couldn’t help but allow a small, bubbly giggle to escape your lips. “It’s called a kiss, Sukuna.”
“A kiss,” he repeated, the word clumsy on his tongue.
“It’s a Sky Person tradition.” Your thumbs stroke his cheekbones. “I want to use it on you every day. To make you feel appreciated. To let you know that you don’t have to be the Shadow all the time. Not with me.”
Sukuna’s eyes searched yours, the confusion melting into a heat that made your breath hitch. He wasn’t used to “appreciation.” He was used to fear, to obedience, and to duty. The idea of a daily ritual of affection seemed to spark something in his chest.
“Every day?” he asked.
“Every day,” you promised.
“Then do it again,” he commanded, but it sounded like a plea of a man who had been starving for something he couldn’t name.
You smiled and leaned in again, teaching him. You showed him the slow press of lips, the way to let it sit, the way to breathe through the contact. Sukuna was, as always, a fast learner. He began to reciprocate, his movements becoming more confident, more hungry.
He let out a low, guttural growl of approval and reached out, his massive hands catching you by the waist. With a single, fluid motion, he pulled you into his lap, straddling his legs so you were flush against the planes of his chest.
His large hand tangled in your loose hair, tilting your head back. He didn’t go for your lips this time. Instead, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, pressing a firm, scorching kiss against your pulse point. The sensation was a mimicry of the bond you had just shared, but entirely physical.
“My queen,” he murmured over your skin. “If this is your tradition, then the Sah’rakaya will learn it. But only for us. Only here.” He pulled back, eyes burning with a possessiveness that would have terrified you six months ago.
Now, it just felt like home.
“Come,” he said, his hand sliding down to grip yours. “The moons are high. We have stayed in the shadow of the Mother long enough. It is time the clan sees that their King has finally found his sun.”
You hesitated. “So soon?” you whispered. “We haven’t even mated yet.”
Sukuna paused, all four of his eyes blinked in unison. “What are you saying, Sawtute? The Tsaheylu is made. Our queues have touched, and Eywa has seen our souls as one. The bond is complete. We are mated.”
You felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with the desert sun. “No, Sukuna. I mean, I know the soul part is done. And it was beautiful. But for us—for Sky People—mating isn’t just a mental link. It’s physical. Shouldn’t we at least have . . . sex?” This was technically your wedding night, in some sense.
Sukuna went completely still. He looked lost, his massive brow furrowing as he tried to reconcile his ancient traditions with the biological bluntness of your request. To him, the neural bond was marriage; the rest was just life. He had never considered that there was a separate, specific importance to the physical act in your world.
“Sex?” he repeated, the human word sounding strange coming from him. “You wish for the joining of bodies to be its own ceremony?”
You stood up, pulling him with you, and walked directly into his space until your chest was flush against his. You looked up into those yellow eyes, your own gaze dark with a new kind of intent. You didn’t use metaphors. You told him exactly what you were asking for—the absolute physical surrender of one to the other.
As you spoke, you saw the moment the realization hit him. His eyes glinted a crimson flash of hunger that you hadn’t seen since the first day he interrogated you. But this wasn’t for information. It was hunger for you.
“I see,” he said darkly. “Your people wish to feel the fire in the blood as well as the spirit.”
In a quick swoop, he eased you down onto the bed of moss.
His hand brushed your arm, fingers tracing the glowing tattoos, and you shivered, nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of your top.
Your bodies pressed together instinctively, the warmth of his chest against your breasts sparking a rush of arousal that made you throb with need. Sukuna cupped your face, his thumb grazing your lower lip. You parted for him, tasting the salt of his skin mingled with the night’s dew. He leaned in, his rigid cock rubbing against your thigh through his loincloth. Your fingers sought out the ridges of his back, digging into the old scars that charted his history you’d witnessed minutes ago. Each groove was a secret he was finally allowing you to read with your fingertips.
He reached for his neural queue, and let the tendrils brush against yours, the static electricity of the Tsaheylu causing a moan to escape you. A supernatural bond of this magnitude altered the very physical world around it, and time itself seemed to bend mid-arousal as your nervous systems became one.
He didn’t ask for permission as he gripped the hem of your thin top, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin of your ribs. He peeled the fabric away, exposing your chest. One of your hardened nipples met the graze of his thumb, the friction sending a jolt through the neural link that made your back arch and your toes curl.
He pulled down the waistband of your loincloth before tearing it away with a single, violent jerk. Your crotch was exposed for his admiration. “Look at you. Leaking like a wounded animal for me.”
Sukuna was already uncurling his own length, his cock—mesomorphic, bronze, and heavily veined—springing free. A massive, intimidating bulk, at least twelve inches of heat that pulses in time with his erratic heartbeat. He grabbed it, his hand barely able to wrap around the girth, and rubbed the flared, weeping head against your wet slit.
“Are you prepared?” he asked.
You parted your legs wide, catching the twitch of his ears. He was anxious, you could tell. It made him seem even more adorable.
“Small thing of the stars.” Sukuna shoved his knees between yours, forcing your legs wider until your hips ached, his muscular thighs pinning yours to the dirt. “My cock does not seek the heart to kill, but the soft earth to plant the seed of storms.” He aligned himself, the blunt tip of his prick stretching your entrance wide. “Your cunt is a petal, waiting for the rain. I shall make it weep.”
He buried himself in one agonizing, perfect thrust, bottoming out against your cervix with a wet, heavy thud.
He grunted, head snapping back as the muscles in his neck corded like steel cables. He began to move immediately, a brutal, pounding that sent vibrations through the neural link, amplifying every sensation of his thick shaft sliding in and out of your tight cunt. Every inch of you was being filled, his heavy balls slapping against your bottom with every shove.
He lifted you by the waist, his massive bottom hands spanning your entire torso, while the top fondled your breasts. You wrapped your legs around his hips, heels digging into the small of his back. “Great Mother, you are a serene creature.”
Sukuna thrusted upward with the force of a falling tree. He bit into the meat of your shoulder, sharp canines claiming you. The pace picked up, his thrusts becoming short, violent stabs.
The fit was agonizingly compact, your walls stretching to the point of tearing as his girth displaced everything within you. The smell of your arousal, sweet like fermented nectar, mixed with his heavy salt-musk.
His four arms locked you into a cage of muscle. The wet, slapping of his pelvis against your thighs—thwuck, thwuck, thwuck—was the only sound that matters.
You could feel the heat of his seed building deep within him through the link, a mounting pressure that mirrored the compression of your own walls. “I’m close, Sukuna—fuck. God, I’m—ah!”
Sukuna let out a guttural, animalistic roar, his entire body seizing as he delivered one final, soul-crushing thrust, his knot swelling inside you to lock you together as he began to pump his hot load deep into your womb.
You both fell backwards.
His chest collapsed onto yours, heaving against your breasts, the scent of your combined sweat and sex filling the small space. He didn’t pull away. Ragged, hot breaths fanned your ear as the aftershocks of the Tsaheylu continued to ripple through your shared nerves.
Sukuna lifted his head, his crimson eyes blown wide and glassy, and licked the sweat from your temple with a rough, sandpaper tongue. He rolled his hips one last time, a slow, possessive grind that forced a final, weak whimper from your lips.
Long after the sighs of your breaths had faded into the cavern’s enclosure, Sukuna held you. He lay on his side, his arm draped over your waist, his chin resting on the top of your head. He seemed dazed, staring up at the patch of moonlight above the tree.
“Your traditions,” he muttered, sounding satisfied that bordered on exhaustion. “They are interesting.”
You smiled against his chest. “I told you I’d make you feel appreciated.”
Sukuna let out a low laugh. He sat up, muscles rippling in the moonlight, and reached down to help you dress in the crimson silks. He lifted you onto the back of the Toruk, sitting behind you once more. This time, as he wrapped his arms around you to take the reins, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to your ear.
“Now,” he growled softly. “Now we go. Now I will take my Queen home.”
The Toruk took to the skies, a massive shadow against the twin moons, carrying the Rider and his sun back to the red sands where a new era for the Sah’rakaya was about to begin.
Domestic life with Sukuna was a study in contradictions. By day, he was the iron-fisted leader. You watched from the shade of the main plaza as he dealt with squabbling hunters or planned defensive perimeters. He was harsh, scanning the horizon for a peek of metal machines.
But the moment the flap of your private tent closed, the King vanished.
“Come here,” Sukuna ordered, sitting on a pile of cured Sturmbeest hides. He’d look grumpy, his brow furrowed as he looked over tactical maps engraved into clay tablets. But as soon as you moved toward him, his hand would snake out to catch your waist, pulling you into the space between his knees.
He had become addicted to your “kiss” tradition. He’d pull your face down to his, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he guided your lips to his forehead, his cheeks, and then his mouth.
“Again,” he’d whisper.
One evening, you were trying to re-braid his hair, which was thick and difficult to manage. He was sitting on the floor while you worked, his head resting against your thigh.
“You’re being too quiet,” you poked him in the shoulder. “The elders were complaining about the water rations again. You were pretty mean to them.”
Sukuna clicked his tongue. “They are old and forget that the desert gives nothing for free. I have to be mean, or they will stop listening.” He turned his head, looking up at you with all eyes. “Do you think I am a monster today?”
“I think you’re a giant grump,” you smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “But I know you saved the extra water for the nursery tents. I felt it through the bond. You can’t hide your soft spots from me anymore.”
His laugh was half-annoyance, half-amusement. “The bond is beginning to seem like a a curse,” he grumbled, though his hand was currently tracing lazy circles on your calf. “A man cannot even be a tyrant in peace.”
He reached up, pulling you down into his lap. He didn’t say it, but you felt his overwhelming affections. He felt the warmth of your skin, the smell of the vanilla-like desert blossoms in your hair, and the simple, quiet peace of having someone who didn’t fear him.
In the eighth month of your life with the Sah’rakaya, a different kind of project began to consume your time. You had salvaged a small pouch of Earth-variant seeds from your original survival pack—genetically modified “Sky Person” flora meant for extreme environments. But you didn’t have the soil to support them, until you remembered the black, rich earth you had seen pulverized by the roots of the Rey’tanu Spirit Tree.
Under the cover of dusk, you had been making trips to a secluded alcove, carrying small bundles of that fertile earth. You mixed it with the red silt of the desert and used a discarded RDA filtration mesh to capture the morning dew.
For weeks, it looked like nothing more than a pile of dirt. Sukuna had noticed your absences. He’d watch you from the ridges, his arms crossed over his massive chest, his Toruk circling overhead like a watchful gargoyle.
“You waste your time digging in the rocks,” he had grumbled one morning, catching you coming back with mud under your fingernails. “The desert does not grow what is not meant for it.”
“Just wait, Sukuna.” You wiped a smudge of dirt onto his cheek as you walked past. “I’m a scientist, remember? We’re good at making things grow where they shouldn’t.”
He yanked your tail, but let you be.
The morning the first bloom opened, the news spread through the camp faster than a sandstorm. It wasn’t just a plant anymore. It was a miracle of Terran biology.
You had managed to grow a variant of the “Desert Lily”—a plant with succulent leaves that glowed with a soft, pulsing blue light, but at its center was a vibrant, Earth-yellow flower that smelled of honey. Most importantly, the plant acted as a natural desalination, sweating pure, drinkable water from its stems.
Everyone gathered around the alcove, their tails twitching in disbelief. They had lived their entire lives fighting for every drop of moisture, and here was the “Sky Person,” coaxing water from the very stones.
Sukuna arrived last, the crowd parting for him. He looked at the lush, glowing green in the middle of his red-rock kingdom. He reached out a massive finger, touching the yellow petal that silenced the clan’s gossiping.
“It is Sky Person life?” he asked.
“It’s both,” you explained, stepping to his side and taking his hand. “It’s a Terran seed, but it’s feeding on the dust of the Sah’rakaya and the soil of the Spirit Tree. It’s like me, Sukuna. It’s found a way to belong.”
You could feel his thoughts of shock, pride, and a deep, aching relief. He turned to his people. “The Queen has brought fire to the sand,” he announced. “But this fire gives water instead of ash. None shall touch this garden. It is a gift from Eywa through her hands.”
That night, back in your quarters, Sukuna was quiet. He pulled you onto his chest as the two of you watched the distant glow of your garden from the tent flap.
“I thought your world was only dark destruction,” he whispered, his large hand caressing your bare back. “I did not know it held such sunlight.”
“There was a lot of beauty there once,” you said. “I just wanted to show you why I was so stubborn about saving this place. To see that life is worth the struggle.”
Sukuna tightened his grip on you. He didn’t need to say anything else. Through the bond, you saw the image of that yellow flower burned into his mind—a symbol that the Great Shadow no longer had to be a place of only survival, but a place where things could finally, truly bloom.
But the peace of the garden was often interrupted by the reality of the war. As Toruk Makto, Sukuna was the shield of the red sands. He traveled often now, leading war parties to intercept RDA patrols that dared to venture too far into the highlands. His absences stretched for weeks, leaving you alone.
One morning, you woke up and felt different.
It wasn’t the heat, and it wasn’t the exhaustion of the garden work. It was a pulsing energy deep in your core, as if the bioluminescence in your skin were boiling at a new degree. You stumbled out into the main camp, your hand pressed to your stomach, your breath coming in shallow gasps.
Va’leya, the spiritual leader, saw your distress from across the plaza. She didn’t say a word as she approached, her wrinkled hands reaching out to press against your abdomen. Her ears flickered, and a slow, grave smile spread across her face.
“The Shadow has left a seed,” she whispered.
Reya was at your side in a heartbeat, her eyes wide with joy. “You are with child! The King’s lineage continues!”
You were frozen, the news hitting you like a physical blow. You had always wanted a family—had dreamed of it even back in the gray labs of Earth—but the reality of it here, in a body that wasn’t technically your original one, in a world at war, was overwhelming.
Later that afternoon, Reya sat with you in the shade of the canyon wall, giving you the breakdown of what to expect.
“Desert folks carry differently than the forest clans,” Reya explained, her hands busy weaving a small sling from cotton. “Our children are forged in the heat. You must drink twice as much from your lilies, and Va’leya will give you red clay baths to keep your skin from drying as the belly stretches.” She paused, looking at you with a sympathetic wince, “you must be patient. Na’vi pregnancy is long.”
“Long?” You gulped. “How—How long?”
“You will carry this warrior for nearly a full year of the Great Mother’s cycles.”
“A year?” you shrieked, leaning your head back against the cool stone. “Reya, I’m already irritated and I’ve only known for five minutes! You’re telling me I have twelve months of this?”
Reya laughed. “The desert does not rush its treasures. It takes time for the bones to become as strong as the rock. But the child will be worth the wait.”
As the suns began to set, painting the sands in shades of bruised purple and gold, you sat by yourself at the edge of your garden. You rubbed your hand over the still-flat surface of your stomach, a strange mix of emotions swirling in your chest.
You were irritated by the timeline, terrified of the responsibility, and desperately lonely for the man who was currently miles away shedding blood for this land. But as you felt that tiny, ethereal spark through the bond—a life that was half-you and half-Shadow—a protective dome of warmth took hold.
“You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?” you whispered to the silence. “Just like your father.”
You looked out at the horizon, wishing you could send a signal through the bond that would bring Sukuna home tonight. He didn’t know yet. The Great Shadow was out there, fighting for a world he thought was only about survival, unaware that his sun had just grown a little brighter.
Night had fully fallen over the canyon when the siren of the Toruk finally blared through the silence. A jagged, pained sound unlike its usual triumph.
You rushed to the entrance of the camp just as Sukuna vaulted off the great beast’s back. He looked distraught, his brown skin smeared with dark blood that wasn’t his own. He was helping a younger warrior—Reya’s brother—who was clutching a mangled shoulder. Two other warriors carried a stretcher between them, their heads bowed.
“We lost three,” Sukuna growled. “The metal machines were waiting in the pass.”
The camp erupted into a mournful chaos, but Sukuna’s eyes immediately locked onto yours. Even through the blood and the soot, the ferocity of his gaze was staggering.
He didn’t wait for a report. He didn’t wait for the healer. He marched straight to you, grabbed you firmly by the arm, and pulled you toward the private quarters.
He shoved the heavy hide flap shut, the sounds of the camp instantly muffled.
“Sukuna, I have to tell you—”
“Hush, woman.” He didn’t let you finish. He grabbed your shoulders, grip tight enough to be a bruise if you weren’t Na’vi. He leaned down, his crimson quartet eyes wide and searching, before he cupped your face in his hands.
“I felt it,” he said, forehead dropping against yours. “Two sun-cycles ago. In the middle of the canyon. A ripple through the Tsaheylu so strong it nearly paralyzed me. An RDA scout almost took my arm because my mind was suddenly occupied.” He pulled back to look at your stomach, then back to your eyes. “There is a second heartbeat. It echoes through the bond.”
You let out a breath of shock. “You sensed it? Already?”
“I am Toruk Makto,” he said, and for a moment, the grief of the battle was overpowered by sheer pride. He stood straight, his chest expanding as he puffed out with an arrogance that only he could make look attractive. “My blood is strong. Of course I felt the moment my seed took root.” But just as quickly as the pride appeared, it was replaced by a deep, simmering worry. He began to pace the small space, his tail lashing behind him. “But your body is no longer a Sky Person’s. You have never carried a warrior. You do not know the toll the desert takes on a mother.”
He stopped, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you with a guilty suspicion. You remembered the bitter-tasting nectar he made you drink after every night you spent together—a ritual he’d insisted on since the night you returned from the Spirit Tree.
“The drink,” you whispered, your eyes widening as the pieces fell into place. “That bitter tea thing. You forgot the morning before you left, didn’t you?”
Sukuna ears tucked down in shame. “It is an ancient root,” he confessed. “Used by the leaders of the Sah’rakaya to ensure a child is only born when the rains are plenty and the war is distant. I did not want to burden you with this while the machines still fly. I forgot the dose in my haste to reach the pass.”
So, Na’vi have their own contraceptives, huh?
He stepped closer, his hands finding yours, thumb tracing the back of your palm. “That is why mating with the flesh results in this. The soul is one, but the body demands.” He looked at you with what you assumed was a pout. “Are you happy, my heart? Or do you hate the Shadow for his mistake?”
You stepped into his space, reaching up to pull his head down so you could press a loud kiss to his lips. “Mwah! I’m happy, big guy,” you said. “I’m happier you’re home. And I’m happiest knowing our child is going to have a father who’s too stubborn to die.”
Sukuna let out a long, shaky breath, the tension finally leaving his massive frame. He pulled you onto the sleeping hides, harms wrapping around you as if he could hide you from the world.
“He will be the strongest of us,” Sukuna vowed, his hand coming to rest over your stomach. “And woe to any machine that thinks to touch the sun or the seed it carries.”
By the fourth month of your pregnancy, Sukuna’s “training” had undergone a radical, frustrating transformation. Gone were the days of leg sweeps and head smacks. In their place was an iron-clad ban on anything more strenuous than walking to the garden.
“Put the spear down,” Sukuna growled one afternoon as he watched you trying to practice your thrusts against a training post.
“It’s a light spear, Sukuna!” you protested. “I’m pregnant, not incapacitated.”
He was at your side in a blur of movement. Instead of a usual yank to your tail, he simply plucked the spear from your hand and tossed it across the sand. “The sand is uneven. You will trip.”
“I have been ‘straining’ since I landed on this rock! I need to keep my muscles strong for the birth!” You tried to reach for the spear, but he stepped into your path, his massive chest a wall of tan muscle.
“Va’leya says the mother must rest. I am the shield of this clan. I do not need my Queen in the dirt.”
“I am not your ‘Queen’ who sits on a rock and looks pretty, Sukuna.” Your hands landed on your hips. “I’m a Sah’rakaya warrior.”
He gave you a no-nonsense look. Without a word, he reached down, tucked his arm under your knees, and hoisted you over his shoulder like a sack of dust rocks.
“Sukuna! Put me down! You big, overbearing, buffoon—”
“Silence.” He ignored your protests, marching back toward the quarters. To the shock—and secret amusement—of the younger hunters, the terrifying Toruk Makto was currently being pounded on the back by his yelling wife. He only set you down once you were deep inside the tent, on the softest pile of skins.
“Do not move,” he commanded, his large hand cupping your chin, his thumb caressing your cheek to soften the blow. “If you are bored, I will bring you the clay tablets to study. But you do not touch a weapon until the rains come.”
You spent the rest of the day pouting, but you knew his overprotectiveness came from a place of deep-seated trauma. He had lost everyone once; he wouldn’t let even a pebble trip you if he could help it.
The fifth month brought a quiet, cool night. The desert wind was a soft whistle against the sandstone cliffs, and the moss in the tent cast a gentle, pulsing turquoise splendour.
Sukuna was resting behind you, his massive frame curled around yours. His hand splayed flat across the swell of your stomach. Lately, he had developed a habit of falling asleep with his palm right there, as if he were guarding the life inside personally.
Suddenly, you felt it. A sharp, distinct thump against the wall of your womb.
Your eyes flew open. “Sukuna.”
He was awake instantly, his secondary eyes snapping open. “What is it? Are you in pain? Is the child distressed?”
“No, no. Just—stay still. Give me your hand.” You took his large hand and pressed it against the lower right side of your belly. For a few heartbeats, there was nothing—
Thump!
A tiny kick landed right in the center of Sukuna’s palm.
The fearsome leader froze. His ears stood bolt upright, then flickered back and forth in a state of pure shock. He let out a sound of soft, breathless wonder.
“He moved,” he whispered, his voice cracking.
Thump-thump. The baby seemed to sense the warmth of his hand.
Sukuna’s entire demeanor crumbled. His eyes began to shimmer with moisture, and the hand that usually broke spears began to tremble. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against your stomach.
“He is strong,” Sukuna whispered with such tenderness that it would have ended his reputation as a tyrant in a second. “He fights already. My little warrior.”
He stayed like that for an hour, talking to your stomach in low Na’vi, promising the unborn child the suns and the stars, while you ran your fingers through his hair, smiling at the “monster” who had been reduced to a pile of soft, protective mush.
Word of the Toruk Makto’s heir spread through the neural network of the Spirit Trees like a wildfire. A symbol of the desert’s permanence and the union of two worlds was being anticipated.
Soon, envoys began to arrive at the red sands.
From the Metkayina water clan came a group of riders on skimwings, bearing gifts of iridescent sea-glass and woven cloaks made of waterproof reeds that would keep the babe cool in the desert heat. They brought a gift of a rare, glowing pearl for the Queen, a sign of friendship between the reef and the dunes.
From the Omaticaya forest clan, a messenger arrived with a beautiful, hand-carved cradle made of Hometree wood, its surface etched with the history of the Great Mother. They sent bundles of soft, medicinal herbs to help with the birth and seeds for the Garden of the Moon.
The Sah’rakaya plaza was filled with the riches of Pandora, but Sukuna looked at the gifts with wariness. He accepted them on your behalf, standing tall with his arms crossed, his Toruk screeching from the cliffs above.
“They see,” Sukuna said one evening, looking over the piles of silk and bone-carvings. “They see that I am no longer alone. They bring gifts because they fear the father, but they love the mother.” He walked over to you, wrapping a Metkayina cloak around your shoulders. “But the greatest gift is already here.” His hand found your stomach again. “The desert has its future. And I have my sun.”
As the pregnancy entered its final months, the nomadic spirit of the Sah’rakaya began to shift. The physical toll on the Avatar body was strong. Carrying a half-Shadow heir for nearly a year made every step feel like walking through quicksand. Your ankles swelled, and the desert heat felt like a personal affront.
Sukuna, seeing your struggle, made a decision that shocked the elders. He ordered the construction of permanent sandstone structures around the Garden of the Moon.
“We stop running,” he declared to the clan assembly. “The child will not be born in a tent that can be folded by the wind. We will build a fortress. Let us make this canyon a place where the metal machines fear to fly!”
You spent your days sitting in the shade of the rising walls, helping Sukuna map out the irrigation from your lilies. You were the architect of their new home, and he was the muscle. Despite his grumpiness about your “Sky Person ideas,” he followed your designs to the letter, building a nursery that was tucked deep into the coolest part of the cliffside.
In the eleventh month, the peace was shattered.
The RDA had finally pinpointed the Garden of the Moon. From their satellites, the bioluminescent bloom was a beacon they couldn’t ignore—a source of sustainable water and unknown biology that they wanted to catalog and exploit. They launched a multi-pronged assault. A decoy force of Samsons drew Sukuna and the primary war party out toward the highlands. You felt his adrenaline through the bond, the distance making you feel dangerously exposed.
“Oh, shit,” you whispered, looking up as the distant rotors reached the canyon. “They’re here for the nursery.”
With the able-bodied hunters gone, the defense fell to the elders and the mothers. You stood in the center of the plaza, your massive belly straining against your silks, a heavy bone spear in your hand. Sukuna would have killed you if he saw you, but he wasn’t here.
“To the nursery!” you commanded with a cold authority that mimicked Sukuna’s own. “Defend the Garden! If they burn the lilies, we die of thirst before the week is out!”
The RDA gunships descended, raining fire on the outskirts of the camp. But they didn’t expect the mothers of the Sah’rakaya to be waiting in the shadows of the rocks.
You led them, using your knowledge of RDA tactics to predict their landing zones. When a squad of SecOps soldiers tried to breach the nursery, you slipped from behind a pillar, your spear finding its victorious mark that would have made Sukuna weep with pride.
The other mothers fought viciously, protecting their young with a madness that turned the sandstone red. You held the line at the entrance of your garden, refusing to let a single spark touch the lilies.
As the suns began to set, the battle reached a fever pitch. The smell of smoke filled the air. And then, the sky did something it hadn’t done in the dunes.
It darkened.
A rumble of thunder shook the canyon, and the first drops of a rare, miraculous desert rain began to fall. The cooling water hissed against the burning debris.
At the same moment the first drop hit your skin, a sharp, white-hot pain tore through your abdomen.
You collapsed to your knees in the mud of the garden, your breath hitching. “Reya!”
The RDA was retreating, broken by the defense and the sudden, blinding downpour that scrambled their sensors.
The Toruk had returned.
Sukuna leaped from the beast’s back before it even landed, sprinting through the mud toward the nursery. He found you surrounded by the other mothers, leaning against the white trunk of a desert lily as the rain washed the soot from your skin. You were in active labor, your face contorted in pain.
“You fought?” Sukuna gritted out, dropping to his knees beside you, his eyes wide with horror as he saw the fallen soldiers near the entrance. “I told you to stay! Why do you refuse—”
“Shut up, Sukuna!” You gasped, grabbing his hand and squeezing hard enough to make his knuckles pop. “The baby—is coming. Now.”
He didn’t leave your side, shielding you from the wind as Va’leya worked. All he did was bark orders at his warriors to protect the plaza, and discard the human bodies. He controlled his anger towards Va’leya whenever you screamed, tail flicking wildly behind him.
“She’s having trouble,” Va’leya said. “If there is an issue—”
“I choose my wife,” he said. Your eyes glistened with tears. His warm hand brushed your cheek. “You are my mate. My woman. Brave and beautiful. If you cannot push any further—”
“No,” you said breathlessly. “You forgot I’m also stubborn.”
Sukuna, and the others, perhaps even Ewya herself, jolted as a loud cry ripped out of you.
When the final push came, a sharp, healthy cry pierced the sound of the falling rain.
Va’leya lifted the child.
An uneasy silence fell over the clan members who had gathered closer now. You looked around, dazed and exhausted, seeing the way they whispered to one another, the way even Reya looked down at her hands, hesitant to speak. Sukuna simply gazed at the tiny life in Va’leya’s grasp, his four eyes wide and unreadable.
“What is it?” you asked, your voice cracking with sudden fear. “Why is everyone so quiet? Why aren’t you celebrating?”
Va’leya looked at Sukuna, then back to you. “The child . . . is a female, my Queen.”
“So?” you demanded, trying to sit up despite the throbbing in your lower region. You looked at Reya, who was avoiding your gaze. “Hello, what is the issue? Women can be mighty warriors, too. Look at the mothers who just held this line! They just saved the entire clan while the warriors were away. Is that not enough for you?”
Sukuna stepped forward. He wiped his massive, blood-stained hands on his leathers before reaching out for the child. The elders moved back, expecting a roar of disappointment. Instead, he took his daughter and lifted her high into the air, the lightning outside illuminating her pale-purple skin and the four tiny, sharp scarlet eyes that stared back at him.
“BEHOLD!” Sukuna’s voice boomed, shaking the very sandstone walls of the nursery. “The Desert has its pride! She is Nobara, the Strength of the Sands. My blood, my soul, and your future Queen.”
The silence broke instantly.
The Sah’rakaya erupted into a deafening cheer that rivaled the thunder outside. The elders bowed their heads, their whispers replaced by chanting as the fear of a “weak” heir vanished under Sukuna’s absolute decree.
He knelt beside you, carefully bringing Asira to your chest. He looked debilitated, his secondary eyes fluttering with a strange, new emotion.
“I am surprised,” he whispered. He touched your baby’s tiny hand, which immediately curled around his massive thumb. “I expected a son to break spears. But she . . .” He looked at her with a worried gleam in his eyes. “A daughter is a good, but worried surprise, my heart.”
“‘Worried’?” You smiled as you looked down at Nobara.
“Yes,” Sukuna said softly, leaning down to press a rain-chilled kiss to your temple. “Now I must be extra cautious. If the Sky People thought I was a monster before, they have no idea what the Shadow will do now that he has a daughter to guard.” He wrapped his arms around both of you.
The fierce King of the Dunes finally reached an eternal oasis by the two suns that had claimed his heart.
synopsis . In which you get fed up with Sato (fratjo) for playing around with you and unintentionally get involved with his identical twin brother Toru (nerdjo), not knowing they’re simply two sides of the same coin.
content . afab!reader, porn with decent plot, messy relationship(s), fratjo’s an asshole in the beginning, bluntness, pervy!nerdjo, eventual threesome, degrading, oral sex, first time squirting & then doing it multiple times, getting caught, surprising dynamics, praise, pussy slapping, getting put in a headlock, confessions, filthy dirty talk, jealousy, marathon sex (gulp), spit, slightly bimbo!reader, choking, nerdjo is feral, full nelson, edging, getting passed around, frajo’s a voyeur, filth, slight angst, cum eating/swallowing, some cuckholding(?), masturbation, a silly ending, etc.
word count . 11.4k | author's note: this ended up being wayyyy longer than i initially thought it would be and it’s overly freaked the fuck out. hope you enjoy!! banner art by Rororogi Mogera. (not proofread—sorry in advance, truly)
In your defense, you didn't think he would care.
Sato Gojo—esteemed member of Sigma Chi, infamously known for his commitment issues, and noted to be the campus playboy—was the last person you thought would care about you sleeping with his twin brother.
Hell, he's also the last person who expected that same brother to be able to get this far with you. Toru is the shyest, dorkiest, and nerdiest part of the Gojo family, what could he possibly have done to catch your eye?
Sato had done his best to keep you away from and unaware of his six-second-younger brother's existence too. Yet somehow, here he is walking in on the two of you fucking in his bed.
Less upset at the sight and more confused, the only thing he wants to know is... what the fuck led up to this pairing?
——
For months and months prior to that, it'd been the same thing between you and Sato.
“She doesn’t mean anything to me, baby. You know you’re my favorite,” He’d say, cooing you with that manipulatively charming voice of his after you’d asked him about yet another woman he was talking to.
You weren't sure why you kept going back to him. He never told you how he felt about you unless he was inside you—and even then you’re certain those feelings were all sex-based and moderately untrue.
Yet something about him kept drawing you back in.
And if you had to guess what exactly it was...
“Fuuck, y’like that don’t you?” He’d groan, having one big hand clasped around your throat as he plowed you into the mattress. Sato rarely ever took his time during sex, too eager to make sure you cum & keep up his reputation of being a good fuck. “Like the way my cock kisses that sweet spot, huh?”
The rhythmic sound of his pelvis smack smack smacking! against your ass echoes throughout the room at a pitch almost louder than your sapped moans. “Mhmm,” You'd hummed in response, fingernails dug into the bedsheets below.
You couldn't bring yourself to think about all the other women that's been in this same exact position before you when his cock was far too busy gliding in and out of your soaking pussy. The same sheets your fingers are clawing at is also clasped in between your teeth tightly, drool wetting up the fabric pathetically due to how good you felt.
Only to be rudely interrupted by his hand gripping at your neck tighter and then tugging the upper half of your body allll the way up—his chest pressing into your back while his dick massages the gushiest spot inside you. “Don’t do that,” Sato huffs with that shit-eating grin on his face, “Speak up, pretty girl. I couldn't hear you.”
“Uhuhh, yes,” You pant, tongue beginning to dangle out of your mouth all whorishly, “I love it, Sato.”
Cocky like always, he'd let off that amused scoff and then nip at your ear playfully, “Yeahh, I know you do. Jus’ can’t get enough of me.”
Thinking back again, he had the biggest ego you’d ever seen.
Sato was tenderly humping the rest of his thick cock into you while you were nice and close, just to realize after the first few thrusts that you were trying to inch yourself away from him—your moans getting airier by the second.
His smile widened, “Hah, where’re you goin’?” He'd only made you cum three times since the two of you got here. Surely that wasn't enough to have you acting like this already. “Look at you, trying to run from me now," Sato scoffed with faux bitterness.
You barely got a moment to process what he was doing before you choked.
Warm lips pressing against your ear, “C’mon, I jus’ want one more outta’ you,” He purred, his arm slow to wrap around your neck while his bulking muscles pressed into the center of your throat. Whatever oxygen was on its way to your head all but died out as the man put you into a bullying chokehold and then flexed.
Your cunt squeaked juicily around him and his cockhead nudged in deeper because of the hold he had on you, otherwise rendering your body unable to escape.
That was one of many reasons why you always ran back to him. If Sato Gojo didn't know how to do anything else right, he damn sure knew how to fuck.
“Mhmm, that’s it, baby." His voice was huskier against your eardrums now and you felt your body shuddering with a sense of numbness as something slicker oozed around his shaft. "Take that fuckin’ cock—juuust like that.”
His thrust became slower while he held you in place and you'd never felt so full in your life. It wasn't until he suddenly snapped up into you that all air left your lungs and your eyes crossed.
Whatever sound you let out was beyond pathetic and only followed by a desperate, “S’too much,” that he could barely hear.
Rolling his eyes, he repeated the motion a few more times at a steady pace, letting you adjust to being arched and folded up how he wants you. “My dramatic girl, acting like you haven't been taking it just fine," He reminded you.
You almost believed him for a moment there until his free hand came snaking around your torso to press against your lower abdomen—right over the bulge his fat cock had created against your skin—and applying an egregious amount of pressure.
“M’gonna cum, Sato,” You cried out as his fingers slithered down to nudge against your clit. Never a firm rub or anything like that since he felt like his cock alone was enough to work what he wanted out of you.
He’d smile all victoriously and whisper, “That's it? Don't tell me you're still too scared to squirt on me?”
Truth be told, that was the one thing he couldn’t do for some reason.
He never said anything but he thinks maybe you’re just one of those women who need a little more effort put into in order to make you squirt. More effort of which he damn sure doesn’t feel like putting in.
Four orgasms in a row? That’s fine, he can do that no problem. Making you squirt? As badly as he wants to deep down inside, he just can’t.
You ended up leaving a creamy mess around his cock but it's not the spurting stream of wetness he was hoping for. After letting you tremble out of your high, he's slow with the way he unwraps his arms from around you.
You fall forward onto the bed and let out a heavy breath before smiling wearily in relief. No other guy on campus ever managed to make you cum even once so of course you didn't think much of the fact that Sato couldn't make you squirt.
Hell, you were unknowingly on the same page with him—thinking you might've needed extra effort put in for that kinda release. Which was fine, you didn't need that much from him. The fact that he could make you cum back to back was more than enough in your book.
Not his though.
Sato hated it. He hated how he couldn't make you squirt—the fact burned at his ego and wounded his pride greatly. He's made other women do it so he doesn't understand what the problem is. There were some nights where he wondered if maybe he was doing something wrong with you. Or maybe you'd found someone else who could—
He unknowingly scoffs at his thoughts, shuffling out of the bed and swiping up the nearest clean sweats to slip into. Who was he kidding? There isn't one other person on campus you'd go to over him.
And if he couldn't make you squirt, he knows there's no one else that could.
Amid his deep thoughts, you happen to look over and catch the way those white brows of his are neatly knitting together. He didn't even realize how his true feelings on the matter were written all over his face.
Your eyes had ran over him a couple times, pondering on all the scratch marks in various places. Places that your hands haven't touched.
And that's how the routine was with the two of you; high tension all throughout the day, let him fuck you 'til all your senses went numb, and then fade into quietness with little to talk about since Sato doesn't deem it necessary to get close with you in that way.
When you catch the way he's dragging his feet around the room, trying to clean the mess of clothes you two made prior to getting in the bed, your brows lifts with curiosity. Asking gently, "Hey, are you alright?"
Sato hums without turning around to you, running his a hand through his hair as if stressed out. "Yeah, m'fine." He grunts, glancing over at you after and adding a slightly comforting, "Are you?"
You nod in response to him and he stares for a moment longer than necessary, still deep in his thoughts about something he surely wasn't sharing with you anytime soon.
Why would he? You didn’t need to know that he was beating himself up over something so stupid. He’s well aware that he’s the best guy to ever sleep with you so, opening up to you about something so trivial wasn’t in his character.
There’d been jokes and banter between the two of you before—obviously—but it never went any further than that. The moment things threatened to dip into something real, something more tender or honest, Sato would shut it down with quick precision.
Which is exactly why you didn't try pressing for more of this dry conversation. Instead, you silently watched him tug a shirt over his head and then head over to the nightstand for his phone.
He's busy texting someone for a bit before he releases a huff and turns his head to see the way you've been quietly watching him, "Did you want me to run you a bath or—"
"No, no, I told you, I'm fine," You unintentionally cut off.
You weren't sure where the awkwardness had come from but it wasn't completely unwelcome since there was clearly something he wasn't telling you. You saw it in the way he pouted all grumpily just before looking at you.
Whatever was on his mind had to be eating him up on the inside.
Not that the frown pushed you to ask him anything else though. You ended up turning over and rolling off is bed a few minutes later to gather your things and leave, to which he'd peacefully helped you with.
Then Sato escorted you all the way out of his maze-like home and was "kind" enough to give you a kiss on the forehead before sending you off.
Little things like that always caught you off guard. Your heart would do that weird thing in your chest as you wondered if there was a possibility of experiencing more than just hook-ups with the man.
Though, reality is quick to slap you back to your senses when you see him with his arm around some other woman the next day while on your way to class.
You knew better than to get emotionally attached to Sato Gojo. Everyone did.
——
Some days later is when shit decides to hit the fan between you two.
It happens so randomly that you almost feel as though you dreamt the whole thing up. The day starting with him texting you to come over that night and somehow ending with you in thwarted tears.
In all the time you spent with Sato, there'd never been a moment where he was blatantly selfish. Something of which surprised you in the beginning of your relationship since he was known to be a fuckboy.
Yet, ending up in his bedroom for the nth time, as his thumb rubbed at your clit with unsteady, jerky motions, appearing otherwise annoyed about something—Sato had been selfish for the first time with you.
Foreplay was skipped entirely and you should've known something was up from that alone.
The most you got out of him prior to being stripped of your clothing was a messy kiss and a barely audible, "Need somethin' from you, baby," grunted into your mouth.
Then you were being carried all the way up to his bedroom, handled frustratedly down into the mattress, and soon fucked at a rate you weren't used to.
His thrusts were sloppy and needy, voice quiet since he didn't bother talking you through it or saying anything at all, and the only thing with a sense of normalcy to it was the way his thumb nudged over your clit as his cock dove in and out of you.
Midway through, you assumed he just had a bad day or something. Figured he wanted to take some of that stress out on you.
And that wasn't out of the ordinary for him, it's happened more often than not.
But as his thumb drew desperate circles around your twitching bud, Sato's cock twitched and he pulled out the moment you were about to cum. You were too dazed by his abrupt action that you nearly missed the way he stroked himself into finishing on your stomach and then scoffed. Bitterly.
Your eyes were glossed over since the taste of your own orgasm had been right there on the tip of your nerves, stripped away from you faster than you could blink.
Whatever had been bothering him about having sex with you was felt before it was understood.
He was already turning away by the time you pushed yourself to sit up, the sheets gliding down your arms as you watched him with wide, teary eyes. The room felt ten times quieter than it normally did. You saw how he crossed the room as if nothing had happened—as if this was just another unremarkable moment to be shrugged off.
"Sato," You say, his name tripping in your throat on the way out.
Only then did he pause, fingers curled around his drawer handle. Not sparing you a glance back, "What." he breathed out.
It was hardly even a response, more of a wall you'd audibly stumbled into. You'd never heard his voice so dull and flat with you.
Swallowing down whatever confusing emotions were building up in your throat, "Did I, um... did I do something wrong?"
Somehow that gets his attention. He glances back over his shoulder then, expression insipid and eyes casting over you all bored-like. "Don't start that," He said, irritation weaving into his voice, "You're overthinking shit already."
Your mouth opens to say something but it's like you'd been slapped in the face, leading your lips to seal shut for a second. His words were too heavy for you, coming off with weighted dismissiveness.
After a few beats, your words trail out slowly, "Sorry I'm a little confused, Sato. You asked me to come over for that..?"
He exhaled sharply, like the question itself had tired him, "What else do I ever call you over for?"
Something shrewd twisted in your chest, "Certainly not whatever the fuck that was just now."
Sato finally turned more fully and leaned back against his dresser, crossing his arms and letting his eyes meet yours firmly. "You sound upset."
"I feel used," You'd snapped back immediately.
His brow twitched, "'Cause I didn't make you cum?"
Again, the words came off blunt and careless.
Leading you to flinch internally, "I mean—yeah," You said as a humorless breath tiptoed out, "You normally do."
"Well, I didn't feel like it today. M'spent." He scoffed out.
It was almost as if that was supposed to be an explanation for everything.
You stared at him and felt the way your disbelief began to fade into something of anger, "You could've told me that."
"Would that have made you feel any better?" Every response came out of him like he'd rehearsed the entire conversation beforehand.
"We could've done something different," Your hands began to curl into the sheets a little, trying to steady yourself. "I could've-"
"I didn't want anything different." Sato cut off crisply.
You'd never been so utterly confused in your life. Everything was fine before this—for the most part—so what had come over him all of a sudden? Why was he acting like this?
The finality in his statement only made your stomach drop, your head shaking slowly in disbelief, "...So you wanted to use m-"
"No, sweetheart," The pet name sounds empty on his tongue, lacking its usual affection. "I wanted you to see how it feels to get into something thinking things are going to go like they always do, just to feel disappointed by the end."
The next sound that spreads throughout the room is your laughter as it exits you in incredulous fashion, "Sato, what the fuck are you talking about?"
He dragged a hand through the white tuffs of his hair, pacing only once before coming to a stop. "You..." Letting his words trail off, he released a long and stressed-out sigh, "Every woman I've been with has never had the problem you do."
That hits you square in the chest.
Head cocking back as you frown with immediate offense flaring over, "Excuse me? Are you... are you talking about squirting, Sato? You can't be serious."
"I am," He said without hesitation. "If it's just something you can't do, I'd rather you tell me than making me look like an idiot when we fuck."
"What?" Your eyes narrowed as your anger bled into something strictly hurt. "I... I'm sure I can. Maybe we're just doing something wro-"
"We?" Sato cuts you off instantly. Then his tone seemed firmer and you knew he didn't think things through when he said, "No, no, you've got shit backwards here. I can assure you I'm not doing anything wrong, that's all you."
Something inside you finally boiled over.
"All me?" You scoffed, pushing yourself out of the bed. The cold air wrapping itself around you felt like even more of a wake-up call than what he'd just said. "Oh, sorry for not being like all the other twenty girls you sleep with."
Grabbing your clothes with uncoordinated and janky movements after wiping away any lingering trace of what had happened, you subconsciously wished you could've erased the moment entirely from start to finish. Your hands trembled as you got dressed, seemingly more from the heated emotions waving through you than the embarrassment.
Sato stiffened upon hearing your words. For the first time—probably in his life—his confidence had cracked. "Shit—wait," He rushed out, trying to step towards you and stop you from leaving.
It was almost like he himself wasn't aware of how severely fucked up his actions and words were.
His hand reached out for your arm, "I-I didn't mean it like that, c'mon. I just—"
"Save it, asshole." You spat back at him, shoving his hand out the way and storming out his room before giving him a chance to say anything else.
He'd said more than enough to have your vision blurry and heart pounding in your chest as if pained.
The hallway was dim, your footsteps quickened to carry you as far away from him as possible, and your emotions buzzed all too loudly in your ears for you to think straight. You think you hear something clash against the wall back in Sato's room but you ignore it.
You're so wrapped up in your feelings that you're not even paying attention to where you're going. You only made it a few steps down the hall before you collided with something solid.
Someone solid.
Gasping as you stumble back, a pair of hands come up to steady you. "Ah, sorry," a voice hums out to you. The sound is soft as it reverberates throughout the hallway but your chest feels as though it's caving inwards since the guy in front of you sounded exactly like Sato.
There was a pitch of unfamiliarity in it, though. One that made you look up.
For a moment, you thought maybe you'd fallen off the bed earlier and that everything thus far had been some type of hallucination because surely Sato wasn't standing right in front of you right now.
...Except, with glasses? And a dorkier look in his eyes?
With the same snowy white hair, the same perfectly sharp jawline—that's somehow a tad softer—and the same dazzling blue eyes, he stared at you all longingly as if an angel had fallen right into his arms or something. The only difference between him and his brother being the black glasses sitting center on the bridge of his nose.
Despite the hallway's lack of lighting, you swear you see his cheeks flush with red as the moment of exchanged staring passes.
Prior to this, you'd only ever heard rumors of Sato having a twin brother but you never once imagined those would turn out to be true. The man's eyes widen slightly as he really looks at you, confusion flickering across his face whilst he takes in your flushed skin, the way your clothes are hanging off of you as though you'd rushed to put them all, and how your eyes are somberly glossed over.
"I-," You try to blink that wetness out of your gaze and then clear your throat. "Sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going."
"It's fine," He replies as he thoughtlessly continues to hold onto your arms. Then, uncertainly, "You're... Sato's, uh—"
"Sato's what?" You cut off harsher than you meant to.
There was no way he was about to refer to you as that asshole's girlfriend or anything like that, right?
His mouth visibly goes taut, realizing he was about to step into something fragile. Instead of responding, he just stands there awkwardly enough to piss you off even more.
Groaning, you push past him and continue storming down the hall. You didn't have time for whatever that was about to turn into.
Unbeknownst to you, he'd stood there and watched as you walked away—cursing himself out for letting his opportunity to talk to you pass him by like that. He'd known who you were for months prior to this. Out of all the women Sato brought over, you were the only one Toru took a genuine interest in.
It's unfortunate for him that Sato's a stingy asshole who doesn't care to introduce the two of you. Because of that, Toru had to go out of his way just to get glimpses of your personality.
He was always home when Sato brought you over, always in his room that's just one wall over while the two of you fucked—listening and secretly getting off to those gorgeous moans you let off. Toru knew it was perverted of him to do so, but he truly couldn't help himself.
Now here he is with sagging shoulders at the fact that he totally fucked up his first interaction with you.
He heard the whole argument between you and his brother and came out into the hallway hoping to come to your rescue or at least cheer you up, even if only for a second. Yet, all he managed to do was piss you off with his awkwardness and lack of confident social skills.
After a few minutes, Toru straightens up and settles his jaw in a way that says he'd made some type of silent decision. That wasn't going to be the last time he interacted with you—no matter how badly his brother fucked up—he knew you'd be back eventually.
As he turns back to his room, he promises to himself that next time he sees you, he won't hesitate or fumble things with you.
——
A few weeks pass before anything else noteworthy occurs.
In that time, things between you and Sato remain rocky, to say the utmost least. Conversations between the two of you were more careful, apologies came far slower than they should've, and some semblance of trust had been rebuilt in uneven steps.
Sometimes he was sweet and more attentive than he had been before that big argument, kinda like he was afraid it'd happen again. Other times he'd slip up and those old habits would seep through, any excuse he gave you dressed up charmingly enough for you to ultimately end up forgiving him again.
The fact that you both were trying had to be enough to count for something, otherwise the two of you were better off calling it quits months ago.
Somewhere in the middle of that relationship, Toru became familiar to you. You went out of your way to see him whenever you visited the Gojo estate, even if you were only there for Sato.
He was almost always cooped up in his room, drowning himself in his studies—textbooks stacked neatly on his desk, handwritten notes color-coded and meticulously organized.
It wasn't long before you realized he and his brother were complete opposites. Where Sato excelled in partying and socializing, Toru peaked in academics and hobbies that were far more niche.
You remember poking your head into his room one time to say hi and catching him lost in Digimon reruns with strategy guides pulled up on his nearby laptop. He was so engrossed in it that he hadn't even heard you saying something to him.
Situations like that are what got the two of you to be something close to friends.
Though, you still didn't know him any more than you knew Sato. You were still kept at an arm's length from either of their personalities beyond what was noticeable. Sato made sure of that where both he and his twin were concerned.
While he did soften up with you, he still wasn't interested in keeping you that close—not close enough to know him. And he damn sure wouldn't let you go off and try to find that in Toru.
Anytime you and the nerdier Gojo sibling were alone, Sato was intruding minutes later. Always interrupting.
Even when you ran into Toru on campus.
One time when you found him outside the library, standing near a vending machine and ran up to talk to him, Sato seemed to spawn out of thin air with his arm around you is if to silently tell his brother to fuck off.
You weren't sure what had gotten into him as far as that was concerned. He didn't care when you talked to anyone else.
This was but another unfortunate thing for you since you were quite fond of Toru. He remembered little things about you; your major, your favorite cafe, and even your preferred place to sit in lecture halls.
If you asked Sato questions about any of those things, he'd probably shrug and ask you why any of it matters in the first place.
But you bet that dick for brains could tell you which position makes you cum the fastest...
It's regrettably because of that as to why you're currently standing at the large front doors to his home, having rung the bell only a few seconds ago due to an earlier text requesting you come over.
In said text, Sato promised that he only wanted to talk to you and you chose to believe him.
Just for Toru to swing the door open with a surprised look on his face.
"Oh, hey." He began, pushing his glasses further up on his face so that he could get a proper look at you. "If you're looking for Sato, he's not here. I actually think he's been gone for the past three hours or so."
Disappointment settles into you and you roll your eyes, already annoyed. "Of course he has," You sigh.
Toru offers you a half-comforting grin before stepping back a bit and opening the door wider for you, "He'll probably be back soon though, if you wanna come in?"
You debated leaving but the prospect of being able to spend some alone time with Toru is what swayed you into staying.
Which is how you ended up in their living room.
The rest of the house was quieter than Sato ever allowed it to be. There was no music blaring, none of his restless pacing or constant yammering about fuck knows what. The only thing heard was the low hum of the TV ahead of you and Toru.
He'd put on a movie a few minutes ago and although you'd agreed to watch it with him, you kept glancing towards the front door hoping to see Sato walk in any moment now.
It never happens.
Sitting on the opposite ends of the couch, you and Toru are steady to find comfort in one another's presence. You eventually let yourself focus on what he'd put on, snorting whenever he laughed at the unfunniest bits of it and finding yourself mused by the easiness of it all.
You noticed how Toru also tried to sneak his eyes onto you here and there, lacking that smoothness his slightly older brother had and always catching your attention when he did it.
The two of you even shared those warm moments where you'd catch him staring and then whisper, "What, is something on my face?"
To which he'd swallow thickly and shake his head, "No, not at all. Sorry..."
His shyness is probably what drew you in the most about him. You loved how often he avoided eye contact with you, how gentle his voice always came out, and the way he'd begin to adjust himself against the couch due to the smallest of things.
The night was going well enough for you to forget all about—
Your phone rang and Sato's name was lighting up your screen.
At the sight, your shoulders went tense and you were unsure if you should answer it or not. Toru looked over at you but he didn't say anything.
The movie continued to play ahead as you picked up the phone and quietly spoke to Sato, "What?"
Whatever was said to you on the other end made your jaw clench—something of which Toru noted instantly. He didn't mean to be nosy but it was hard not to when minutes passed and you were clearly getting frustrated about your conversation.
"You sound drunk," You're heard muttering, making Toru's ears perk up and then strain to hear more.
Sato is just barely heard grumbling in response, "M'not drunk, baby."
Your shoulders slump, "Did you even mean to text me?"
There's a long pause. Toru tenses up and Sato's heard burping.
"I texted you?" The man on the phone asks, making your entire mood sink. "Hahhh, fuck. I don' remember doing that.. What uh, what'd I say?"
"You said you needed to talk." You reply rigidly.
He nods even though you can't see him, "Ah... I mean, I do need to talk to you but," Pausing to grumble, "Don't see why I didn't jus' call.. Anyway, s-so yesterday I was with this girl 'n she said m'not doin' anything wrong."
His early attempt at trying to convince you he wasn't drunk fell flat in that instant. You stare into space for a moment, "What?"
"Remember how we got into it about your squirting problem?" Sato blurts out in response.
You could feel yourself getting irritated with him all over again. You hated the way he said that like it was truly an issue on your end alone, even though the two of you have talked about it after the argument.
"My squirting problem? You mean the fact that you can't get me there?" You snapped back, matching his energy for just a second and unintentionally gaining the dull attention of his nosy brother.
At this point, you don't think you cared whether or not he overheard.
"No, no, I cannnn..." Sato drags out drunkenly. Then you hear this giggle in the background before he adds, "This girl told me it really is you 'n not me. Because like-"
You hang up the phone before he can continue.
The last thing you wanted to do was entertain whatever the fuck he was about to tell you for any longer than you had to. Your phone falls down into your lap and you feel it buzzing a few seconds later but you only swipe it back up to silence it entirely.
After which, the room falls into a thick quietness that swallows up both you and Toru. Even the movie playing ahead had switched to a soundless scene that only added to the shift in moods.
A few minutes of this stillness pass before you feel the weight on the other side of the couch shifting. Your eyes flick over and you see him readjusting himself in his seat.
You don't question it nor say anything but his sudden movements do manage to pull you out of your funk for a second. Ignoring it, you pick your phone back up to see that Sato had texted you a bunch of gibberish—the only sensible message you can make out being one of him begging you to text or call back.
As soon as you start typing, his twin decides to clear his throat again.
“I mean, it can’t be that hard.” Toru says all timidly, his words catching enough to snag your attention away from your phone.
Your thumb goes idle against the screen and you look up at him to see his cheeks colored over with bright red. He was looking off to his left and you could tell by the rapid rise and fall of his chest that his breathing had gone off-track.
Clearly, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
You chuckle as if intrigued by his words, humming, “Your brother said the same thing."
Toru scoffs and then speaks without thinking again, “He doesn’t care enough.”
Cocking a brow, “Doesn’t care enough to make me squirt?” You ask.
The sound of the man’s breath hitching was clearer than the dense tension between you both. “Obviously not,” Toru continues, lifting two slim fingers up to the center of his glasses to adjust them against his nose. “If he did, he would’ve made sure you… uh, did that.”
Never would you have expected to have this kind of conversation with the same man who can barely look you in the eye. But it was clear something had changed. Even in his body language, you saw how he'd sat up a bit straighter against the couch and let his legs sprawl out wider—almost invitingly so.
He was still avoiding your gaze but the sturdiness in his voice is what intrigued you the most.
“Did what, Toru? Say it,” You pressed, putting your phone down and turning on the couch to face him fully.
You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat with the way he gulped thickly. “He would’ve uhm..." Toru pauses to take a deep breath—mentally reminding himself that he swore not to embarrass himself in front of you again—and then clears his throat one more time, "He would've made sure you squirted.”
Too shy to look at you just yet, he misses how the look in your eyes changes entirely. It was like seeing him in a new light.
Not that you hadn't thought about it before. He does look exactly like Sato and there's been a few times where you've wondered what it'd be like to be the cause of his glasses going crooked 'n foggy.
Biting back a smile, “Well, he makes me cum a lot.” You explain to him casually. Certainly Toru wouldn't have started talking to you about this if he didn't at least have some advice for you, “Like, back to back.”
He nods, nimble fingers fidgeting over one another in his lap, “Then, he just doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
You bat your lashes at him all cluelessly, “But—“
“As I said the first time,” Toru looks at you all of a sudden, his eyes mildly terrified behind his frames despite the attempt of confidence spreading over his face. There was a devilishly sexy blend of sureness and hesitancy plastered all over his features, “It can’t be that hard.”
The direct eye contact and few inches of space between where you two were sitting made everything feel hot all of a sudden. Blush melts itself into his skin again and it was clear that this initiated flirting of his was a first time thing.
You knew Toru found you intimidating and that subconsciously accepted fact only made you want to see more. More of your affect on him.
Sliding closer to him on the couch, your voice slyly dips into something more taunting, “You sound like you wanna try.”
Watching the way his jaw flexes, teeth tightly gritted within his mouth, and throat struggling to conceal the high-pitched sound that threatened to jump out of him—your affect on the man was as clear as day.
Somehow, Toru manages to maintain his confident facade, “Would you let me if I did?”
“Do you?” You ask quicker than he expects you to.
His head felt like it was spinning already. Is this what it's like to do drugs? Does his brother get to experience this all the time?
Toru gulps again, “Do I.. what?”
Now he was playing dumb on purpose, as if he wasn't the one who commenced this whole thing with his earlier statement.
Which makes you giggle, “You’re the smartest guy I know, Toru." Your compliment makes his heart skip a few beats. Then your head tilts and your tone softens, "Don’t start acting dumb just to appeal to me.”
He bats those pretty white lashes at you with his eyes all doe-like on you for a moment before he looks down, “I just… I wanted to hear you say it.”
You stand up from the couch all of a sudden and he freezes up. Then you walk over and stand right in between his legs, moving a hand to his chin and forcing his head up. “Do you wanna try making me squirt?”
Toru shakes his head and your brows furrow. His face nuzzles into your hand, forcing it to spread open as his cheek presses into your palm, “It’s not something to be tried, it’s just something I can do for you.” He explains.
Your thumb brushes against his cheek and his glasses slip down his nose a bit. Smiling, “Someone's confident.”
He merely whispers, “‘Can’t be that hard.”
——
Ten minutes later and you're wondering why he wasn't the first Gojo twin you met.
Loong fingers stretching your pussy out crudely, hot tongue attacking your clit like he wanted to lick you into numbness, and eyes still doe-like as they remain glued up on your face—Toru was nothing like his slightly older brother.
No, no, he aimed not only to please but to learn how you like to be pleased.
Whereas Sato would just sleep with you the same way he did with anyone else—beyond confident in his own abilities to bring a woman pleasure—Toru was the kinda man who took his time to work you up specifically.
“Taste s’good,” He praised in a tone deeper than you knew to be capable from him. You were laying across the couch now and he was stuffed neatly in between your legs. Whining, “More,” as he tugged at your thighs, his jaw going slack, and his mouth smearing against your cunt. “Gimme’ more—mmpfh. Please?"
You weren't sure what more he could be referring to when his fingertips were already twirling something sinful against your g-spot. You had a hand buried into his hair, your other behind you as you held onto the couch to steady yourself with the way he feasted on you as if your pussy was the best thing to wet up his tongue.
“Ah, T-Toru, fuck!” You cried out, unconsciously pulling away from him when his fingers focused in deep against that soppy spot—addicted to the way your slick gushed out around his hand and left a sweet mess against the couch.
His fingers leave your insides for only a second and a half before he's shoving them into his mouth to suck the taste off. Toru's eyes rolled back for a moment before he let both of his hands redirect to your inner thighs and then spread you out wider just so nothing was obstructing your view of the way he sloppily kissed your cunt.
Small strings of aroused filth would hang in between his mouth and your puffy pussylips, all of which would get licked off by his eager tongue before he dove back in for more.
Before you'd let him make his way down there, you recall the way he oh-so-awkwardly kissed you. He hardly had a clue what to do with his tongue when it was against yours but now that he was in between your legs, he became an entirely different person.
Suckling the dewy tastes into his mouth and guzzling it down his throat just to let it linger, Toru was nothing short of desperate to make you feel good. So much so that his brain practically turns off as he moves his hands to grip your hips and then lifts the lower half of your body up against his face.
His mouth nuzzled harder against you and you felt the wiggling tip of his tongue slap against your clenching walls. He softly humped the couch as he ate you out, letting the sounds of your moans coax him into giving you everything he could.
Toru only pulled away from your cunt when his glasses fogged up too much for him to see your face. And before you could offer to wipe them off or anything, you met his gaze with the way his head angled for you to do so.
His voice deep and aching, “Sit on my face,” He requested before whining again. “Pleasepleaseplease,” the man panted almost puppy-like and then seared his next words right into your clit with the edge of his tongue, “Need it s’bad.”
You don't think you had it anywhere in you to deny him when he was asking so nicely like that.
But by the time the two of you had flipped over and you were left hovering over his pleasantly flushed face—his shaky hands tight against your hips—you were a little too nervous to sit down.
Toru had caught his breath by now but nothing about his starved appetite had changed. Those previously soft blue eyes of his seemed to pierce straight through you in a way that Sato's sometimes would. You know they're twins and all but fuck, it was nerve-wracking to experience that hungry look from the alleged "shy" twin.
“Ride it," Toru husked out all of a sudden, giving your body the faintest pull.
Your eyes went all wide, “…Your mouth?”
Instead of clarifying things or being patient with you, he snatches your frame down with a strength you didn't know he possessed. Moaning before your core even reaches his lips again, “Want you to feed your pussy to me.”
Then he was practically suctioned to you again, eyes rolling back far enough for the whites to be visible beneath the foggy frames of his glasses.
“Ohfuck,” You cry out, the upper half of your body slumping forward a bit as your thighs squeeze around his head.
You felt the way Toru smiled at the feeling, almost like he was exactly where he'd wanted to be. His tongue skated up into you with a vigor you'd never felt before.
The man ate pussy like he wanted the results of your release plastered all over those pretty glasses of his, leaving him with sogged vision and a numbed tongue. It was yet another thing that made him so much different than his brother because although that man had stamina like no other and knew how to use his cock, he never once ate you out.
Meanwhile Toru couldn’t seem to get enough.
He even left a needy smack to your ass, encouraging you to do as he initially asked of you and ride his face. It wasn’t until his tongue was constantly plunging past your glissading folds that you unconsciously rolled your hips forward and earned a whimper from him in response.
Then the hands on your hips began to tug at you again, not even begging you for more but demanding it now.
You could no longer focus on the way he looked with splashes of your slick spread out on his glasses in nasty droplets since the tip of his nose had bumped up against your clit, and his jaw went slack just to adhere to your drooling nerves.
The sensation made your entire body flinch, but he wouldn’t let you pull up. For the nth time, you were stunned by Toru’s strength.
His tongue was thick and gathering against your pussy, not letting a singular drop of your taste escape his mouth until something light ghosted out of you.
“S-Something feels-, nngh,” Your struggles were just the cutest thing. “Different.” You tried to warn him.
His head tilted slightly and you felt his lips curve against you again as he smiled knowingly. Plucking his mouth away from you for the first time in forever with a wet pop!, Toru let his warm breath pat your quivering hole as he whispered, “It’s supposed to feel different, sweet girl. That’s what happens when you come to the right twin.”
Cocky. You never knew Toru had that in him—must be a trait that runs into family.
Except, it’s not like he was wrong. Once he lathered his tongue back in and sucked on your cunt like it was the only thing keeping him sane, you felt that coiling burn building up inside you. You knew you were gonna squirt despite never experiencing it before.
But it felt like too much, made you feel dirty as you neared that shattering edge. So much so that you tried so hard to snatch yourself away from Toru, whining excessively only for each sound to fall on completely deaf ears.
Your legs had clamped around his head so tight that he was getting lightheaded from his lack of oxygen—not that he cared. He had one singular goal and nothing was gonna stop him from reaching it.
It wasn’t long before it happened as his complimenting moans turned into graveling groans. The sounds vibrated against your pussy and you were tongue-fucked right into something blissful. Bleary white streaks coated your vision and you think you would’ve fallen over if not for the mean grasp he had on you.
Toru had done it, he managed to make you squirt.
By the time your brain feels like it’s functioning enough to hold a conversation, you let your vision come back to you and look down to see his soaked face.
His eyes are dazed whilst they peer up at you, appreciation swirling through his pupils. Those same glasses you’ve managed to squirt over are now crooked and you wonder if that’s from the way you unconsciously started rutting your hips forward just a few minutes ago.
Toru didn’t do anything but pant heavily—his breath stuttering here and there due to how long he went without breathing properly. When he finds the energy to send you another boyish grin, you feel a wave of embarrassment flutter over.
“Shit,” You huff, slowly moving from over his face and then grabbing his glasses.
With his face revealed, you saw how unfairly pretty he was with content written into his skin.
Then he chuckles softly, “You don’t have t’clean those.” Toru tells you, tone mumbled.
You were trying to wipe his glasses off with your shirt but he’d moved his hand to your wrist to stop you.
“I like the mess,” he added.
After which you’re stuck staring at him while he takes the wet glasses out of your hand and puts them back on his face. Surely there’s some hygienic concerns to take into consideration here but he’s not at all worrying about that right now.
Not with the painfully hard cock he’s got twitching in between his legs.
He wasn’t gonna tell you out of fear you’d assume he was some kinda loser (he is) but, not only did he cum half-way through eating you out, he also got hard again when that messy stream came pouring out of you.
Toru’s never made a woman squirt before but he did study enough videos to—clearly—figure out how it’s done. He didn’t think it would work so easily with you since all he had to use was his tongue but considering the way you just-
“Can you do that again?” Your voice hits his ears all of a sudden and his eyes widen.
“W-What?” Toru chokes, “You uh, you want me to make you squirt again?”
You nod and then move to sit back a little, not exactly in his lap but still close enough for your body heat to mingle. Your finger trails down the center of his torso slowly as you speak, “It felt really good. I wanna do it again,” You requested almost innocently. “But, on your cock this time.”
He doesn’t know how he managed not to cum at the sound of that.
Toru knew you were bold, he knew you could be a bit of a ditz at time, but fuck—did you have any idea of the things you were asking for sometimes?
Mustering up that faux confidence from before, he leans up and hums. “Alright, yeah… I can do that.” He thinks. Not that he’ll admit his lack of assuredness to you though. His hands simply move against your body and you hardly realize what’s going on until he’s swooped you up in his arms. “But not here.”
You blink dumbfoundedly, “Why not?”
“I have a better idea.”
——
When he said that, you didn’t think the better idea in question would be having sex in his brother’s room.
You recognized the path there as Toru carried you, felt the familiarity when he laid you down on the bed, and smelled the same scent of Sato lingering around even as Toru tried to distract you with kisses.
It seemed to be surprise after surprise with this man.
“I think after all the times I’ve had to hear the two of you fuck,” Toru’s hands were running down your body—his touch smoother than his brother’s ever were. “It’s only fair that I make you squirt in the same place he never could, right?”
Too many thoughts of sin swirled in your head for you to answer that properly so all you did was nod your head again. Which was yet another thing he found cute.
It’s no wonder Sato kept you to himself all this time.
That realization becomes even clearer by the time Toru’s got his cock freed from his clothing, his pinkish tip dribbling precum down onto your cunt while he gapes at the sight.
With his clothes all gone, you realized that he’d been hiding a ripped body under all those baggy, nerdy-branded tees he wore. His muscles would flex without him even trying and he didn’t even notice how badly you were drooling over him until he stopped looking at your weeping hole and remembered to redirect his gaze up.
Seeing how you’re staring at his abs like you wanted to take a bite out of him, he leaned all the way up and allowed himself to be on full display for you. His cock bobbed with its hardness due to the way you admired him.
He was only reminded again that his brother got this time and time again and was too selfish to share.
What an asshole.
Toru scoffed and let his head cock to the left, peaking down at his length still hanging over your lower abdomen. “Hm,” His hand moved and he began to measure himself in comparison to how deep inside you he’d be within the next few minutes—hand stopping only a few inches short of your belly button. “Does he reach this far?”
You flinched out of your gawking thoughts and moved your attention to where his hand was, gasping at the debauched sight in between your legs.
Truth be told, the fact that they were twins clearly applied to every inch of their bodies. But if you looked hard enough, you could notice that Sato’s is a bit longer while Toru’s has that veining thickness.
To avoid making the man jealous, you shrug and make eye contact with him again, “Put it in and find out.”
Toru laughs dryly and you throb. Something had changed from before. His shyness seemed like it hid itself away considering there was nothing shy about how he wrapped his hand around his cock and then let it slap slap slap! against your swollen folds.
Your body twitched at each slap but what caught his attention most is how your cunt salivated with each one.
“Huh. I think I figured it out,” Toru breathed, his glasses slipping a bit.
Then he guides his dick up to swab around your clit for a couple seconds just to see the way your hips instantly squirm up for more. The smile that drags out across his face is chillingly close to the one Sato wears while he fucks you.
“There it is,” Toru whispers, hauling his cock down and letting his plump tip poke against your hole to feel you clench, and then slide back. “That’s what you like. You like being teased.”
You were so needy that you felt your slick wetly sliding down your skin to pool beneath you, “N-No, I just—“
“Shhh, focus on how this feels, pretty girl.” He instructs. All the shakiness you normally heard in his speech was gone and replaced with something sinfully commanding—yearning only to teach you true pleasure. “See how my cock keeps slipping out? Mmgh,” He repeated his action from before and your hips bucked for more this time, making him huff. “Don’t you want it inside you sooo badly?”
Your hand reached down for him, trying your damndest to angle him into you, “I do. Toru please,” You pleaded delightfully.
His naturally submissive nature leads him to slip an inch in but the dewy warmth of your pussy makes him let out a stuttered gasp. Then he lets his cock slop right out of you with another ringing sound of filth spurring out into the air. Then his deft cockhead thwacks at your quivering hole again and your eyes roll back.
"Say that again." Toru grunts, slapping your parted folds with his cock again to emphasize his words, "Beg me for it."
Your back arches up off the bed this time and you’ve got the prettiest look of desperation on your face, "Mnh, please?"
Fuck. He was not strong enough to drag this out any longer.
Nor was he reader for how welcoming your cunt is for him. Swallowing him in inch by stretching inch, Toru’s left with a slacked jaw as he finally slides into you. Choking on his own breath, “O-Ohh… Oh fuck.” he pants, “You’re so wet. F-Fuck, were you always this wet? Shit..”
You let off a pleasant string of moans that make his cock twitch wildly inside you before he even makes it halfway in.
Managing a short breath, you smile up at him, “Didn’t know you could curse s’much, Toru.”
He knew right then and there he was fucked.
“G-Gonna cum,” He whimpers as he drops his face down into your neck. The singular utterance of his name is what did it for him.
You thought he was just being dramatic but when you feel velvety ropes of creamy cum flooding into you followed by his throaty grunts against the crook of your neck, you realize he was being everything but.
The man could barely move his hips and all he had to offer you was thick loads in sporadic spurts and whiny groans.
By the time you feel his cum escaping where the two of you are still connected, you’re slow to snort, “…Toru?”
“Shit,” He gasps immediately, “Shitshitshit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t mean to cum,” His head flies up, white hairs sticking to his forehead from sweat and eyes all wide and apologetic on yours, “I just-, you felt so good. I couldn’t-, fuck. I’m—“
“It’s okay,” You giggle, moving your hands to cup his face, “Just keep goin’.”
“But-,” His eyes travel back and forth between your own as he continues to stare. It takes Toru a long moment to realize he’s… still hard.
With a breathless oh tumbling out of his kiss-bitten lips, he rolls his hips forward and pushes his cum deeper into you as a creamy squelch rings out. “O-Ohh, fuck. That sounds s’nasty...” He murmurs, arousal decorating his expression from the sound.
“Mhm,” You whir, tugging him down to kiss you.
If Sato had good stamina then, as twins, Toru should too, right?
A very intimate mess of his hips rocking down into you carries on with your lips sliding over one another. Unlike his older sibling who typically fucked like his every thrust guaranteed pleasure (it did), Toru moved inside you in the same way his mouth moved over yours—awkward but careful.
The streeeetch from his cock definitely made up for his lack of hurried strokes since his steady pace forced you to feel every prodding inch.
He may not have lasted long inside you without cumming but he was able to bring you to an orgasm of your own, whispering things into your mouth about how perfect you were—how his brother never deserved any of this.
It made your heart feel heavy and your cunt sloppily sang around his cock up until the sound of something dropping made you both gasp.
“What the fuck.” Sato’s voice was heard seething, having dropped the bag he had hanging off of his shoulder.
When Toru pulls away from you and glances back, you manage to move your head enough to catch a glimpse of how Sato stuck was staring at the way his twin steadily fucking you to gentle tears.
“S-Sato,” You sputtered out, suddenly feeling Toru’s hand move to press down your lower abdomen—tightening the pressure around his cock and making him feel impossibly bigger inside you. “Ohmygod-,” Both men heard the way you choked, “M’gonna cum.”
Only to be interrupted by Toru scoffing, "Not yet. Someone has to teach this guy how to make you squirt, right?"
“No one has to teach me shit,” Sato argued as he fully entered his bedroom.
What a sight—his own brother fucking his favorite girl. Sato never thought he’d see the day, honestly.
Hell, he didn’t even know what to say. The sight of you two wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Toru had his face so it was like seeing himself fuck you. But, y’know, with glasses…
“Clearly someone does,” Toru’s delayed response came after he’d tugged his cock out of you, watching his cum sap out and soil his brother’s bedsheets. “Especially if I was able to do it.”
Rolling his eyes, “Bullshit.” Sato spat without letting his brother’s words register properly. When they finally do, an appalled expression colors over him, “Wait, what? No way, show me.”
Toru moves a hand to scratch the back of his neck, looking off to the side dorkishly, “Uh, we didn’t record it or anything–”
“No, I mean do it again, four eyes.” His older brother clarifies rudely.
You sit up at that. Glancing back and forth between the two for a moment and then settling your eyes onto Sato, “What?”
“I don’t believe him,” Sato huffs as comes to sit on the edge of his bed. Throwing his eyes onto you, “So, if he really made you squirt then surely he has no issue doing it again.”
You blink. “You want him to do that in front of you?”
“I want to see you squirt, period,” He admits, “I don’t care who gets it outta’ you at this point.”
You and Toru then exchange glances before looking at him.
“Well?” Sato scoffs. “If you’re gonna go out of your way to fuck in my bed, don’t stop now that I’m here. Put on a fuckin’ show for me.”
Ever so demanding he was…
——
Not that you or Toru seemed to care.
The next position you end up in is rather… precarious, to say the least.
You thought you were left stretched before but that feeling was utterly pale in comparison to what you felt now. Toru had you bouncing up and down his heavy cock, letting it talk you through every pummeling thrust by leaving sweltering smooches against the deepest crevices of your cunt.
Your maw was left to dangle open and you looked like a true slut in the eyes of the Gojo twins. As one fucked you beyond dumb, the other was sat in front of you with his hands wrapped around his shaft, his palm running up and down that wildly long cock of his as sticky precum glistened out from his tip.
Drool and spit trickled all down your jaw and fell onto the floor below and you couldn’t move in any way to escape Toru’s desperate thrusts.
The sound of sweaty skin slacking and clashing against one another echoed through Sato’s large bedroom whilst he watched and got off to the sight.
Your arms and legs were locked firmly in Toru’s grip and he was just using your pussy to satisfy that swollen ache he’d been dealing with for fuck knows how long now.
The remnants of his cum sobbed downwards and left a messy ring around his base, the pearly color nearly mocking the white happy trail of hair he had.
"Tighter-, hahh.. squeeze around me tighter, please." Toru muttered into your ear, having found himself pussydrunk and slopped. The walls of your pussy narrowed around him and his hips snapped up a little faster, "Good girl, just like that. F-Fuuck... you're gonna make me c-cum." Toru whimpered.
A singular gasp of, "Inside.” from your horribly sore throat makes both him and his brother groan.
"Again? Shiit," Toru sent a bragging smile ahead before bucking his hips up into you faster as if to prove a point. Still talking into your ear, "Y'want me to breed you in front of Sato? Damn, you're sluttier than I thought you'd be."
You feel his weighty balls pounding up against your skin as his cock bullied in deeper, your pussy stretched into the prettiest shape and molded perfectly around him.
Sato couldn’t take his eyes off the errotic sight and his hand moved faster, his own hips thrusting up as he reminisced on that feeling of positioning into you. The man swears he could feel you wrapped around him just from watching his brother handle you.
It was so different to see things from this perspective but fuck was it sexy. Your tits bounced as Toru dragged you up up upp and then let his hips meet you halfway with a needy thrust as he let your body come back down.
"Mmngh, Toru!" You moaned softly.
To which his teeth nipped at your ear, "It's so cute when you say my name like that," He huffs, "Do you like me that much? Hm? Like the way Toru treats this pussy?"
You weakly moved your head in agreement, tears running down your cheeks, "Uhuhh… f-fuuuck, Toru. M’cummin.”
His movements grew faster then, ruder. The plump crown of his cock mashed into that sweet spot of yours over and over and over as if to make the spot his new home—imprint himself there permanently.
Breathing all heavy against you, “S’okay, let it out, sweetheart. Show him what he should be making you do, yeah?”
Sato cums a split second before it actually happens, based on the fact that it was about to happen. Thank god you were too drunk to see it because he’s watching with teary eyes as you squirt all over Toru—his dick slipping out of you because of it and the mess spraying ahead filthily.
Your pussy quivers from the release and you’re whining all through it, the cooing sound of Toru whispering you through your high prominence in your ear. You could barely think, barely breathe because of the intensity of it all.
When you calm down from it, Toru’s still got you in his arms and all you’re left to focus on is Sato’s pouty face as he continues to stroke himself.
“Well, fuck. Look at you,” He spoke hoarsely the moment he noticed your attention on him, his head resting back against his headboard, “Just a whore for some Gojo cock, huh?”
Your head barely bobs in response—far too dazed to answer that with a properly functioning brain.
Sato’s hand squeezes around his tip and his brows furrow, “Yeahhh? Y’liked watching me jerk off like some pathetic loser while I let my brother fuck you?” He hardly waited for another answer out of you before nodding his chin, “Bet you do. Look at that pussy, so fuckin’ wet from this.”
Toru’s easing you down on the bed in between the both of them, puffing, “Unfair of you to keep her all to yourself, Sato.”
Keeping things simple, “I’m willing to share now.”
…
Things should have ended there. Seriously.
But, allas, the hold these two have over you appeared to be much stronger than you thought.
“Wrap those lips around me, baby.” Sato had requested, watching your shaky limbs move in between his legs.
Toru was somewhere behind you, diving his face back into your cunt to… clean the mess he left in there, apparently.
Out of both of them, Toru was definitely the more perverted one—currently eating his own cum out of your cunt after giving you some bullshit excuse about wanting to keep you clean.
All he wanted was to stick his tongue inside you again. You weren’t that dumb.
While you gathered Sato’s cock into your palm and let your lips press into his tip, he hissed as his face twisted up due to sensitivity. Easing a hand onto your head, “Atta girl. Choke on this dick while he cleans you up. Wanna see every inch down that throat.”
His words never failed to leave your cunt soused, a physical reaction of which met Toru’s compliant tongue.
Sato’s bed was a mess of all sorts of fluids—overly due for a washing after all that had taken place thus far. His cock was somewhere in the back of your throat and he felt your moans tremble against him whenever Toru slurped against you just right.
The three of you were lazy with everything by now and the only thing that made the Gojo siblings perk up was when you ended up gifting Toru’s mouth with another raining mess.
Oh, Sato was in awe at the sight all over again. So much so that it’s what caused his next orgasm. He was so dazed by your squirting that he didn’t even bother to ask you to swallow what he’d just unconsciously thrusted into your throat.
Normally that’s his favorite part; watching or asking you to swallow his seed. Yet, he’d missed all of that because seeing his brother’s face smothered in your wetness left him shocked.
“Ohhh, shit. That was more than the first time.” Toru said as he finally pulled himself from in between your legs.
Sato’s ears twitch and he cocks a brow. Daze broke completely, “First time?” he asked. It was clear he still didn’t believe that his geeky, clumsy, and overall awkward sibling made that happen before he walked in.
Toru looks at his brother, “Yeah… More than the first time she squirted.”
Sato stares. “You… You made her squirt before I got here?” Disbelief was evident in his tone.
He chuckles, “You asked me that like it’s hard or something, of course I did.”
You pull yourself up from Sato’s softening cock just in time and give the two slow blinks while transferring your gaze back and forth. Sleepiness wasn’t slow to overcome you.
Sato met your eyes with his pointed ones and puffed all brat-like, “Soooo… you’re gonna do that for only me next time, right?”
There’s not a singular thought inside your head as you blatantly ignore him. Then, you turn over and plop onto the bed to lay down—back facing the two of them.
“Hello?” Sato taps your shoulder and then jokingly adds a comedic, “Chat, am I muted…?”
Toru snorts with a shake of his head, getting out the bed to start cleaning up the mess you three collectively made within the past few hours.
Then, you’re wondering if the roles had reversed for a second when he grumbles, “Fuckin’ loser…”
"AND IF YA LET EM HIT FOR FREE—U HELLA DUMB-DA-DUMB-DUMB!"
series summary. dank ain't the only thing you suckin' up like a slurpee. but sweet bunny bae—you've been fucking up the money lately. so this year for 420 you're gonna need more cash than '5 on it' from your customers (𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡!𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐛𝐨𝐲!𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚, 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐠!𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧!𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚, 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧!𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 & 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐣𝐨)—or face the consequences from your supplier: 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐝!𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 (main pairing)
cw. 𝓶𝓭𝓷𝓲. college au. jjk men x plug!reader. bimbo!reader. reader is for the ~streets~. drugs. reader pet names: bunny. age gaps. inappropriate relationships. very casual sex and situationships—separate pairings but one cohesive story. an overall crack fic, so enjoy!
an. happy new years babes! this is so late as I meant to release for 420 before my account got nuked temporarily. but its been sitting with 11k and getting pretty long since last 420 so I want to break it up and it's my goal to clear out my drafts this year! i already have the first 4 parts written!
♬.ᐟ luniz - i got 5 on it
𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓰𝓮𝓭 (𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐧. 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐜)
✨PART 1 OUT NOW!✨
✺ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞┆the wager — druglord!suguru
✺ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨┆tba — coach!toji
✺ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞┆tba — fratboy!sukuna
✺ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫┆tba — retired plug!choso
✺ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞┆tba — dean!higuruma
✺ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐱┆tba — librarian!nanami
✺ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧┆tba — nerdjo
✺ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭┆tba — (bonus! surprise)
an. will update this between other works, first 4 chapters are already done though. ;)
now playing spit by show me the body and princess nokia
synoposis do your lousy friends know what you and the freak they torment do behind closed doors?
starring jonathan byers + bully ! reader
word count 759
warnings smut, p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, hate sex, voyeurism if you squint, use of camera, mooooostly degrading, can you tell i have a degrading kink, bully gets bullied #LOL!, choking, cumshot, humiliation, pwp this is FILTH, not beta read
・・・・・
SHARED GLANCES BETWEEN YOU AND JONATHAN are common occurrences-- a daily routine of locking eyes in between classes before you eventually snapped back into your senses.
realistically, you wouldn't be caught dead gracing someone who was the literal definition of "social suicide" with your ever-so-noble presence. he was the kind of boy that kept his head down wherever he went, the kind of boy that let kids pour milk over his head while aggressively scribbling along the pages of his notebook.
so why was it that every time you and your friends would corner him in the back of an alley, it always ended with mascara running down your eyes, legs trembling as he used you as an outlet for his pent-up anger?
"god," jonathan groaned, his pace increasing as the sound of your skin slapping against his echoed through his shithole of a room. "i wonder what your fucking friends would think if they saw you all pathetic and whiny for me."
your carefully styled hair that you'd spent the entire morning hosing down with hairspray was tousled, his grip forming a messy ponytail as he pulled your hair back from the base of your scalp.
your mind a puddle of nothing but pleasure-- all rational thinking, including the social standings that you'd abided by your entire life, were thrown out of the opened window. anyone could've seen you being relentlessly pounded into, anyone could've seen you stoop so low as to willingly let jonathan byers fuck you, but the thrill of it all only amplified the wave of adrenaline you'd been waiting to ride.
"jo- jonathan," you moaned out, words shakier with every stroke in and out of you. your knees bucked in at the rhythm of plopping, streaks of mascara running down the very face that hawkins adored.
his grip on your hair released, only to be shifted onto the base of your neck. his nails dug into your bruised skin, adorned with hickies that marked you as his. droplets of tears ran down the makeup you'd spent an hour slapping on as your vision blurred.
"is the fucking slut crying now?" jonathan forced your head back, your eyes locking in with his. his lips were curled into a grin-- a grin of revenge, a grin of pure pleasure. the sight of you, the princess of hawkins, pathetically melting away at his touch, sent him into an indescribable high.
his strokes stopped for just a second, taking a moment to admire how much of a complete mess you were. to say you were disheveled was an understatement-- you were his little work of art, the little slut that would do anything just for a taste of him.
you let out a whine, thighs shaking as you grinded your hips into him to desperately try and replicate his speed.
"so fucking needy for me, aren't you?" his voice was high pitched, making a mockery out of your torment. "stupid whore."
his cock momentarily entered back into you, a wave of relief washing over the humiliation you'd experienced after he watched you senselessly grind all over the cock you wouldn't have ever dared to admit turned you into the slut you knew you always were.
once he was close, he grabbed onto your arm, swinging you across the bed. your back sunk into the comforters, body trembling at his sudden release. you were in shambles, barely able to form a coherent sentence. all you could do was whine his name, waiting for him to use you all over again.
he brushed his hair back, taking a few steps over to his dresser and grabbing his camera before making his way back to you.
"need you to smile for me. show the camera how much of a slut you are for me."
you gulped, fingers combing through the knots in your hair-- the least you could do was to look good for this photo-op.
his presence loomed over you, a satisfied chuckle huffing from underneath his breath as he watched you try and smooth yourself out. his hand stroked up and down the base of his cock, groans growing louder as he reached his climax.
a sticky white substance released directly onto your face, the smell of pheromones and musk floating through the autumn air. your lipstick-stained lips formed a smile-- as humiliating as it was to let jonathan make a mockery out of you, it was only natural that you were the one to be ruined into bits and pieces by him.
AU where Jim gets to be happy with two kids and reader, but you have no time for sex anymore. 🙃
Cw: edging, breeding kink, mentions of trying to conceive, unprotected p in v sex, mentions of lactation kink-ish if you squint, big daddy Hopper just wants to fuck another baby in you.
It has been so nonstop lately.
Two kids. 25 month age gap was no joke.
You'd tried forever to conceive the first time - took over a year before you'd gotten that positive. Jim felt like he had two jobs; Chief of Police and your constant fuck toy.
If he were being honest, he kind of missed it.
18 month olds trick you, it's what you'd keep telling people. They're slightly more independent, still super cuddly, learning the world...and you forget about the birth trauma - consider trying again.
Jim was on board immediately for your second kid. Rushing through bedtime routines with your son just so he could get you alone, fuck you good and proper.
Your favorite was when he'd cum in you - praise you for taking him so good - and then demand you lay back and get off again. Cumming with his cum inside of you was another level of pleasure - it was the thing you'd done differently the month that got you pregnant.
And Hopper loved watching you get off again; thought you looked so pretty choking back your moans so you didn't wake the baby.
The positive came quicker this time, to your joy, and pregnancy sex was pleasurable until the third trimester for you. It was on.
That'd been another two years ago. Now the cabin was feeling full with joy and laughter and too many toys.
Hopper loved coming home to it.
"Daddy's home!!" He'd hear you tell the kids as he stepped on the porch.
Some days they'd almost hit him with the door, running out to him.
And you'd be there, doing dishes, it always seemed like you were buried in dishes and laundry anymore - but he'd still pull you into him with a deep kiss and an ass grab.
The kids would call out with an "eww!" which would get you to break away.
It was always such a wake up - the amount of laughter the four of you had anymore. He never thought he'd end up happy.
Kids now 2 and 4, you sometimes wondered if a third was really in your future.
Didn't stop you from trying, though.
Your drive was intense - especially with the weight Jim gained. You. Loved. It.
More often than not, you'd gotten interrupted lately.
A deep kiss in the kitchen one Sunday morning led to wandering hands. He'd watched you nurse your youngest again this morning - the weaning process not going as easily as it did with your first - and he'd seen that flannel of his go unbuttoned once more, your tit pulled out, a glance of nipple before she latched for you. You were an amazing mom. And for almost 4 years total now, he'd gotten to see you whip out a tit constantly to feed them between your two breastfeeding journeys.
It was torture seeing you topless and not being able to do anything about it most of the time.
Today, over coffee, you in his oversized shirt and him in his sweatpants, he pressed you to the counter and kissed you hard.
You'd almost spilled your coffee from the surprise.
The kids were still asleep - early morning wakings hard to break the habit of when they started sleeping through the night.
Hopper hoisted you on the counter.
Wrapping your arms around him, you deepened the kiss, trailing your hands over his large build, and quietly moaning at the feeling of him against you again.
"Fuck, I missed you, baby."
He was hard before you expected.
"Touch it, you know you want to."
As soon as you start stroking his cock, you freeze. One of the kids spoke in their room. Jim wanted to groan. Sleep talking, no surprise.
Your hand kept pumping him. If you kept this up, he'd embarrassingly cum in his pants.
His large hands trailed up your thigh, thankful you hated wearing pants to bed. Easy access to your panties.
You almost slide off the counter when he angles a finger inside of you.
"God damn it, so wet..."
"Think I'm ovulating, Jim."
A quiet moan leaves him as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathes you in, kisses you there.
Your grip on his cock intensifies and he swears he's going to cum. It's been too long.
When the youngest cries, "Mama!!"Jim practically sobs.
"To be continued," your promise as you slip off the counter, body against him.
He presses you to the thing, spins you, bends you over, rubs himself against you.
Torture. This is torture.
You both break apart when your 4 year old runs out of his room and to the bathroom.
Mornings start early here.
Throughout the day, you're teasing each other. Any moment alone, or walking by there's a quick grope or kiss or whispered sexual comment.
It's. Torturing. Him.
When the kids' favorite show is on, you both claim to fold clothes in the bedroom, a second alone.
When you request his help, he's instantly there, closing the door and trying to be inconspicuous.
You've shoved him in the corner, kept the lights off, curtains drawn, so they won't see if they come intruding.
He's hooked on you. You're such a fucking dream.
When you take his cock out and fall to your knees, Hopper has to bite his cheek so he doesn't moan aloud.
"Good girl. Fuck. Been waiting all day for this." He cant help but thrust into your mouth, demanding his own speed.
You keep up easily, in tune with his pleasure and habits after all these years together.
"Fuck, are you touching yourself?" He swears he hears your wetness on your fingers.
A quiet, "mhm" vibrates against his cock head and now it's all the can think about.
Swiftly, he's hoisting you up, pulling your panties to the side, and bending you over the dresser.
He slides into you with ease, wraps your hair around his hand and pulls while he thrusts into you.
"Shhh...quiet, honey. Good God if I don't cum inside of this wet cunt right now, I'll have to punish you tonight."
It doesn't take you long. He feels you swelling around his cock and the way you're around him is making it hard to hold back.
"There. Right there, big guy. Please. Play with your tip. Like that, yeah. Fuuuuck..." you're whispering out as you thrust back against him. "I'm there. I'm there, Jim."
As soon as he feels you pulsing around his cock, he chokes on a moan.
His hips stutter as he tries to force his body to trust through your orgasm before he lets himself go. He loves pushing himself deep into you when he cums, but he knows you need stimulation so he's giving these half-hearted tiny thrusts to save himself from overstimulation.
He can't help the soft growl that punctuated every exhale.
His hands linger on your body before he reaches for a washcloth from the laundry basket on the bed.
Slowly easing out of you, he holds the washcloth beneath you so you don't dot the carpet with his cum.
As he wipes you up, you spin to face him, kiss him deeply.
You're groping and fondling - always touching him - he loves the attention.
When you hear the kids fighting, you throw your head back in frustration.
"Tag, you're it," you groan, indicating it's his turn to break it up.
"Babygirl, that wasn't enough..." he's pulling his pants back up, the way he looks on the dim light is so alluring.
"I agree. I need you naked in that bed so I can worship that dad bod of yours."
He heaves a deep breath. "Maybe we can get a sitter this Friday."
"My mom wants them soon. I'll ask."
The yelling has stopped after the commercial break, you're assuming, and Hopper comes over to kiss you again.
"If we can convince them to nap today..." he speaks between kisses.
You hum a moan.
"You. Bed. Naked. Wanna play with those tits," he hums against your mouth. "Then I need you to sit on my face."
You choke a gasp.
Little feet running around the living space distracts you.
your familys not sure how to feel about olderbf!toji (smut) ☆
the air in your aunt’s living room was thick with the smell of pot roast and quiet judgment. toji stood beside you, a mountain of muscle in a simple black button-down that strained across his shoulders, his presence seeming to swallow the polite chatter whole. he’d been perfectly civil—a low grunt of greeting, a firm handshake that made your father blink—but his eyes held a lazy, predatory amusement as he surveyed the room.
you could hear the whispers threading through the clink of china.
“...must be what, forty? easy…”
“...practically robbing the cradle, susan, i mean look at him…”
“...older than mike, i swear…”
toji’s hand, resting possessively on the small of your back, gave a slight, deliberate squeeze. you glanced up and saw the corner of his mouth twitch. he’d heard every word.
dinner was a minefield of pointed questions. your uncle ron, who was indeed two years younger than toji, leaned forward. “so, toji. what is it you do, exactly?”
toji took a slow sip of his drink, his gaze steady. “this and that. security work. freelance.” his voice was a low rumble that somehow silenced the table. “body’s the tool. keeps me fit.”
the way he said it wasn’t a brag. it was a simple, brutal fact. a few aunts fanned themselves. later, as you were clearing dessert plates in the kitchen, you felt him crowd you against the counter, his front to your back, his breath hot on your ear.
“hear ‘em all talkin’, baby?” he murmured, his voice thick with smug satisfaction. “callin’ me old.”
“they don’t know anything,” you whispered, leaning back into his solid heat.
“oh, they know,” he chuckled, a dark, velvety sound. one of his big hands slid around your hip, palming you through your dress.
“they see it. pisses ‘em off ‘cause they know i can do things those soft little uncles of yours only dream about.” his fingers dipped beneath the hem, finding you already wet for him, just from his proximity, from his arrogant, delicious confidence. “gonna show you when we get home just what this old man can do.”
he pressed a single, rough kiss to the side of your neck, a promise that made your knees weak, before sauntering back into the living room, leaving you breathless against the counter. the knowing, triumphant smirk he threw over his shoulder was for you alone.
the drive home was a thick, silent tension. his large hand rested high on your thigh, his thumb stroking idle, possessive circles that burned through the fabric of your dress. he didn’t speak. he just let the promise hang in the air between you, heavy and potent.
“toji…” you breathed out, the word barely a whisper.
“save it,” he rumbled, his eyes on the road but his focus entirely on the heat under his hand. “gonna hear plenty from you soon.”
the moment your apartment door clicked shut, the civility evaporated. he spun you, your back hitting the wall, his body caging you in. the smug amusement from earlier was gone, replaced by a raw, hungry intensity.
“all those whispers,” he growled, his mouth descending to your throat, biting just shy of pain. “all those looks. like i’m some fuckin’ predator who stole their sweet little girl.” his hands shoved the straps of your dress down, baring you to the cool air and his hotter gaze. “maybe they’re right.”
“ah—!” you gasped as his mouth found your breast, his tongue laving over your nipple before sucking hard.
he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom, not bothering with the lights. he tossed you onto the mattress, following you down in a fluid motion, his weight pinning you in the most perfect way.
“or maybe they're wrong. you like this, don’t you?” he rasped, yanking his own shirt open, buttons scattering. his calloused hands were everywhere, pulling, squeezing, claiming. “playin’ the good girl for them all day, lettin’ ‘em think you’re innocent. while you’re sittin’ there, soakin’ wet, thinkin’ about how this old mans gonna ruin you the second we’re alone.”
“y-yes,” you moaned, arching into his touch. “god, yes, please—”
he didn’t wait. he sheathed himself in you with one brutal, perfect thrust, knocking the air from your lungs in a choked cry. “fuhhhck—toji!”
he set a punishing pace immediately, each deep drive punctuated by his filthy, low voice in your ear.
“that’s it. they have no idea, do they?” he grunted, his hips snapping harder. “no idea their precious niece gets off on this. on bein’ fucked by a man who knows exactly how to take what he wants.” he drove into you, hitting a spot that made you see stars. “nngh! say it. tell me you love it.”
“i love it—ah! haah—i love it, i love you—” you babbled, nails scraping down his back.
a dark, satisfied groan ripped from his chest. “you love it. love knowin’ i’ve seen more, done more… that i can make you feel things those boys your age couldn’t even imagine.” his rhythm was relentless, the slap of skin filling the room. “c’mon, baby, sing for me. let me hear how much you love bein’ corrupted.”
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?”
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?”
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.
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
Loser!choso.. who has been trying to find anything- anything to replicate how he would imagine sex to feel.
Loser!choso… who once spent a day hiding in his room, rubbing his cock raw while looking at photos from your Instagram. I mean you put them out there so technically it was fine right? Plus it’s not like he was every going to actually talk to you in person, so it’s like it never happened.
Loser!choso… who fucked into his fleshlight countless times that day, pushing his cum back inside while he whispers your name under his breathe with need.
Loser!choso…who’s heart stopped as soon as he accidentally liked one of your posts while he was jerking off. And who almost combusted when he got a text from you 5 minutes later.
Loser!choso… who tried to act normal when you guys were messaging back and forth, trying to pretend his head wasent just thrown back in pure ecstasy while imagine what you looked like when you cum.
Loser!choso… who started relaxing when you weren’t mad at him, and wanted to actually get to know him more.
See, he always knew jerking off was productive.
You honestly hadn’t even known that choso had Instagram till he liked a post of yours... from 3 years ago. But it’s fine , you thought it was cute!
After that day you started talking more, in school, and out. Planning study dates and walks at the park, and things were going great!
Loser!choso.. who started being pretty fucking weird. Ever since you started dating he’s been so so desperate for you.
Trying to find any reason to rub aginst you, grab your boobs, whisper dirty things in your ear, and what’s worse of all is send photos throughout the day of himself whenever he’s hard.
He also has a bad habit of busting into your dorm just to make out. And even though you wanted to wait a little longer before you were ready for sex, you sure as hell didn’t mind watching him get off infront of you though! I mean you had to let him have something
And today all his dreams came true.
You told him that since you’ve been dating for a few months that you were ready for sex and he practically pounced you… untill he realized he had no clue what to actually do.
“It’s okay choso, I’ll take care of you” you say with a sweet smile and he swears he almost came his pants at that very moment.
Now, you were on your bed, you on top stradaling him, calm. And Choso beneath you, pushing his hips up in yours while sucking hickeys onto your neck, frantic.
“Please- please can’t wait anymore” he whimpers out while trying to push your shirt off of you , and when you finally took it off, he let out a moan, instantly moving his mouth to find your nipples, before you stop him by starting to unbutton his pants.
When both of your clothes were finally off, he started getting nervous. After all this time he’d actually get to feel you. I mean hell, after this he for sure is throwing away his fleshlight .
“Are you sure you want to do this” he asked, half his brain taking a moment to make sure you were okay.
“I’m fine Cho.. your just pretty big” you say with a whisper, and a bite of your lip.
He watches you with hooded eyes as you lift your self above him and finally start sinking down.
“Fuck!” He manages to yell as you slowly sink down onto him. His eyes are closed, head thrown back, and his hands fly to your hips, squeezing them so hard there’s sure to be a bruise.
“Wait wait I-I’m so close” he pants out with a whimper.
His breathe is labored and his hips can’t keep themselves from trying to fuck in you despite his words.
“It’s okay just bretahe” you manage to say between pants yourself. “S-stop fucking moving your hips choso” you close your eyes, trying to get used to the stretch of him. It feels too fucking good. All of him. And you really want to fucking move.
So you do.
You brace your hands on his chest and lift yourself up before slamming back down onto him, making him cry out and tears start to leave his eyes.
“S-so good it’s soo fucking good oh my god didn’t- didn’t think it’d be like this” he slurs, words barley there.
His hips start rising with you, moving faster and faster untill you don’t have to do any of the work. Now your the one begging him to slow, but he won’t- he can’t.
He flips you over and hikes one of your legs over your shoulder, providing a much, much deeper angle, making you see stars.
“F-fuck you feel s’good. I knew it ever since I was jerking off to your photos that this pussy would be Heavenly.” He admits shamelessly
“You use to jerk off to me?” You begin to question before your interuppted by a rude thumb that moves down to rub quick circles on your clit causing you to arch your back into him, only pushing him deeper.
“Shh, shhh it’s okay it’s not important” he pants out before suddenly his hips stutter and his eyes squeeze shut.
“Fuckfuckfuck your gonna make me cum- I’m close” he speeds up his movements on you and move his hand to your throat
“I’m- I’m right there with you, do it Inside, choso do it inside” you manage to let out between gasps, and move your hand to his hair, pulling lightly untill you hear him let out a deep moan and you feel him fill you up with rough movements.
Your legs hook around him and your mouth opens to a silent scream as your sent into your orgasam, Choso’s ministrations on you don’t stop- no. He wants you to fucking feel it.
It’s okay untill your trying to push him off of you dose he stop and move to rest on his knees, looking down at you panting.
