it’s huge, first of all. fat and heavy, fills out his boxers with little room to spare, balls heavy and coated in thick, dark curls.
and secondly…it gives him hell for everything.
you smile at him too brightly, all cute and crooked the way that makes his heart flutter? boner. you wave shyly at him from across the room? boner. you ask him to help you with something, anything?
you guessed it. boner.
you only lean across him to grab something from the table. it’s innocent— domestic, even.
choso scrambles for a cushion as soon as you pull back. heat creeps along his cheeks, a lovely hue of pink smearing across soft freckles. you only peer up at him with those soft, worried eyes, and he’s biting back a moan.
“honey, are you okay?”
he nods, but it’s stilted. too robotic. you try not to laugh.
smoothing a gentle hand over his temple, you push up onto your knees, lips pushed out into a pout.
fuck, why do you have to give him blowjob eyes?
“choso, are you hard right now?”
he mumbles something mostly unintelligible, and your brow pinches in that adorable little frown. you only pull back an inch, and he’s grabbing for you like a man starved.
“yes, i-“ he whines, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. “i’m hard.”
you grin like christmas has come early. “do you want me to help you?”
his eyes gloss over, wet and wide and wanting— hungry in a way you’ve never seen before.
you inch your hand lower, testing the waters. his hips stutter, already reaching, already wanting more contact. “relax,” you huff softly. “i’ve got you, honey.”
choso tips his head back and whines.
you slip your hand just beneath the waistband of his shorts. he pouts up at you with the wettest eyes you’ve ever seen as you graze the base of his cock with manicured fingers. you wrap a hand around the base and your fingers barely touch around the width of him.
choso’s already bucking his hips frantically.
“oh, f-fuck-“
leaning close, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. he can smell the mint on your breath from that gum you’re always chewing, the vanilla body lotion that clings to your skin, and something vaguely smoky. you stroke the length of him once, twice.
a guttural moan rips from his chest. beads of sweat are forming at the crown of his skull, and you coo softly, smoothing them away. he juts his chin out, searching for a kiss. you indulge him.
the second his tongue swipes the inside of your mouth, you feel it.
his balls draw up tight, and you feel thick, seemingly endless ropes of cum coat your hand, soaking through his shorts, soaking through everything.
you hum softly into his mouth as he shudders, turning his face against the hollow of your throat.
“you get wet like a girl, baby.”
his mouth opens, but no words form. eyes rolled back, pretty pink lips parted in absolute, fucked out bliss. he’s already half-hard again.
“shut up,” he breathes, but he’s dragging you closer for another wet kiss.
choso knows you love the way he wears his hair. he catches you staring more often than not—he can almost see the dirty thoughts running through your mind.
he doesn’t broach the subject softly, doesn’t ease you in.
he has you spread open on the bed like a man starved, nose bumping your poor, swollen clit with every tilt of his head, deeper, until his tongue is inside your pretty pussy.
he just pushes closer between your legs, those hulking fingers pulling your petal soft lips apart like his favourite treat. he watches reverently with those big, soft eyes, tugs you towards him, and forcibly curls your fingers around each pigtail.
“hold onto them,” he rasps; you think it was supposed to be a command, but the way he says it…
oh, he’s begging.
you give an experimental tug, and he almost folds in half, hips jerking wildly against the mattress. his eyes go soft and half lidded, glossy almost.
“i won’t break.” his eyes roll back. “hurt me, baby.”
you tip your head back, scooting further back onto the bed. and you drag him with you.
“o-oh, f-fuuck,” he gasps. you see the wet spot where the head of his cock rests against his boxers, and if the tent is anything to go by,
he’s harder than you’ve ever seen him in your life.
you pull again, harder. he pushes his face to the crease of your thigh, mouth agape, lashes fluttering.
“ah, ah,” you scold softly, tapping his flushed cheek. his head lolls. “put that face to good use, baby.”
he’s under you in seconds, biceps bulging as he wraps his arms around your thighs and makes you sit.
and you’d best believe he makes you keep a hold of those perfect pigtails, now lopsided and mussed but working handles all the same. he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks.
your hands tighten in his hair as you drag yourself back and forth over his lips and nose.
he could die right here, he thinks. he’d be happy with that.
he cums in his pants after ten minutes, but not until you do thrice over.
he drags you up, flushed, lips swollen, chin glistening with slick.
and he notches the head of his cock into your swollen hole. he smears his previous release over your clit, enamoured at the way your pussy stretches to make room for him— stiff as a board and then pliable as honey. you go limp— a surrender if he’s ever seen one.
“t-there y’are,” he whispers. “just one more. one more, baby. wanna make sure it sticks this time.”
you make this soft, broken sound against his chest as he rolls his hips up and into you. slow, achingly so. the bed creaks.
“cho-“
“i know.” he pets your hair with all the reverence of a disciple kneeling at an altar. “just one more.”
you lose count after the fifth. it was never just one more— choso’s always been greedy with you like that.
the sheets are soaked through by the time he’s finished. you screamed so loud you’re fairly certain one of the neighbours called the cops. you tug his hair teasingly once more, fingers trembling.
his eyes still roll back despite his balls being empty.
⋆˚꩜｡ you fall victim to an unfortunate case of mistaken identity
at a first glance, yuji’s older brother, sukuna, could pass as his twin.
there’s differences once you look closer— an eyebrow ring, black painted nails, and god, don’t get started on those tattoos.
it’s unfair, really, for your best friend’s brother to be so fucking hot.
you assume it’s yuji who lifts your head to settle onto the couch under your half asleep form. pressing your head into his lap, scrubbing your hair back from your face with just a little too much force.
you whine in that plaintive way that you do, every syllable drawn out high and petulant. and then his painted nails catch the light.
black, fingers dark, stained with ink. you freeze like a prey animal.
and then you look up.
sukuna’s smile is all teeth, all lazy confidence. he nudges your cheek with a knuckle. his piercing glints as he raises an idle brow at you.
“go back to sleep, little bird.”
that nickname— mildly affectionate, always mocking. you lift your head, blinking the sleep from your eyes. he dips his head, nose pressed to your temple.
“you smell sweeter when you’re asleep.”
“what-“
he smears his thumb over the corner of your lip. it comes away moist. “drooling,” he croons. “cute.”
you’re still mildly soft with sleep, pliant and malleable the way you only are when you’re on the cusp like this. sukuna scrubs a hand over your face once more, biceps flexing beneath his t-shirt. you almost start drooling all over again.
yuji saunters through the doorway with all the ease of someone who hasn’t yet witnessed his brother manhandling his best friend. you scramble. sukuna keeps you in place with a firm hand.
he screams. you scream. sukuna just stretches with all the enthusiasm of a house cat. he pats your head once - like you’re a pet that needs domesticating - before standing lazily.
he crooks a finger under your chin. “go back to sleep. i’ll be back when you do.”
you stare at yuji, mouth agape as sukuna walks out of the door like this is the most normal thing that’s ever happened.
“that sounded like a threat, right?” you squeak. yuji crumples in the doorway.
