muffinexplorer

[muffinexplorer]

Veiled Secrets

art is by @3-aem they're insanely talented 🥹

pairings- emperor! gojo x arranged empress! reader

summary -you've been set to marry the new emperor Satoru Gojo, but he wants nothing to do with all of that, he doesn't even come to your first meeting - rude! No, he must bathe with his concubines, but when he sees you for the first time and doesn't even know you're his wife? Everything shifts, but it turns out he doesn't know that you're not happy to be here either. Leaving your past love behind and everything you know for a foreign country, just to be unwanted by your new 'husband' is almost enough to break you. You're ready to go through the motions, play your role, but do you really know who Emperor Gojo is?

contents/warnings - heavy angst, depression, enemies to lovers, longing, mutual pining, explicit smut, back and forth games, court tactics, Satoru being a hoe, reader missing her lover Suguru, a fuck ton of drama and games, he falls hard. This chap - oral (m and f receiving), fingering, angst and jealousy, Satoru kinda being a dick but also a consent king, masturbation (m), mentions of sex with others- 11k WC - based on emperor! gojo headcanons

This one the poll as the thank you for 20k followers!! Thank you all sm 💗 If you enjoy, rbs and comments are so appreciated! Taglist closed

playlist - Part Two>>>

Part One

The pretty, intricate tea cup swirls with amber liquid, you’re gently spinning your little gold spoon in it, as you wonder at the time. It’s your second cup of tea, as you wait for him - your husband to be, the Emperor Gojo. You don’t know anything about him aside from tales of his military exploits, and you have heard he’s very young still. Some say he’s handsome, but you can’t say you care.

The memories of the love you left, the family you left behind, to now be surrounded by strangers, was brutal, lingering pain mixing with the terror of being in a new country. You are trying to understand their customs, their cultures, luckily you know their language, but you miss your home terribly. You miss feeling safe in the castle you grew up in.

Mostly, you miss him - your guard, the man you’d just finally started to kiss, he’d started to explore your body when you two had the briefest of moments. You thought you’d run away with him, only to be dragged here, without a chance to do more than leave him a letter of farewell, and now you’re waiting for a man for - it must have been an hour - sipping on your third cup of tea.

Everything is immaculate in this place, your chambers, the pavilion itself, covered in blues and whites, the colors of the Gojo family. You were greeted friendly enough, shown your new ladies in waiting, as yours were not allowed to come, the palace itself was under constant high security. They didn’t welcome outsiders, and you can tell they don’t welcome you.

Having been whispered about, talked about as you walked through the lively pavilions, passing many workers and ladies who bow to you, before whispering behind your back. It’s as if everyone smiles to your face, then starts gossiping - and god do you hear all of it, even now, the three ladies standing behind you murmur to each other behind their fans.

He’s an hour late, he’s not coming!

What an insult… he’s probably with his favorite concubine!

Concubine Lola, it must be.

What if we worked for her - her pavilion-

“Could you all please stop?” Your words have the three girls gasping, you don’t even look back at them, tracing your fingers along the pretty rose patterns of your tea cup, of the little dish under it. You scoop some of the honey in a little dish, watching it roll gently into the tea, still steaming up with puffs of condensation.

They quiet down, or their whispers are quieter you should say, as you sit there in your immaculate gowns, the highest of fashion. You were done up with make up, your hair piled high in the latest fashion with the prettiest blue pin that had been bestowed upon you from him - from Gojo - through a servant of his.

Yet, here you are, alone.

Your mind drifts as you wait, as you eye the elaborate tarts that the cook has whipped up, sitting there untouched, your tummy hurting from the nausea rolling over you in waves. How could you just leave Suguru behind? Did he get your letter? He always knew there wasn’t much hope, but you were the one littered with wild ideas, the hopeful one.

He kissed your neck the last time you saw him, toying with you under your skirts - the style back home was many voluminous ones, and he had no problem finding your clit under them. He’d drank in your quiet little whimpers as his violet eyes looked down at you, his other hand at the nape of your neck when you’d said it - I love you.

He had kissed you quiet, having you cum for the first time, the memories make you heat up and blush. You’d both had to separate, and that’s the night you found out you had to leave your home forever. Not just another territory or land, no - an entire country, a five day trip on ship and two days on land to get here. A man who clearly has no interest to even show up.

Suddenly, a beautiful woman with long white locks comes in, smiling kindly at you, she has brilliant blue eyes - so blue they’re enchanting. You quickly recover your thoughts, standing as well, palms just a little sweaty as you bow your head, and she does as well, decked in the color blue, her hair falling just a bit in front of a beautiful face.

“Former Empress Gojo,” she greets then, she comes over to kindly take your hands, you smile nervously. “I’m so sorry, my son is… occupied… and will not make the meeting.”

“Oh, I see,” you are seething - can he not walk a few steps to greet you after the week it took? But you hold it all in, keeping your composure and smiling, as her ladies whisper behind her to your ladies - god the court is gossipy. “Is he well, your majesty?”

“Don’t be so formal, I’ll be your mother in law soon.” She kindly smiles, but you hear the whispers.

He’s with all of them?

At once? Scandalous!

Do they get along that well?

“Ladies,” his mother chides them, like a sweet mother duck, and they instantly quiet, she looks at you, tilting her head. “You are most beautiful.”

“Oh, thank you Lady Gojo.” You bow your head again.

“And such manners, you’ll do well.” You wish her words made you feel better, but they don’t.

You just want to fucking go home.

But you put on your fake smile, you’ve done it your entire life as a princess, you’re truly just moving from one gilded cage to another, that’s all your home was - despite the love and friends you built. You had no freedom, and you won’t have any here, where at least your parents were doting, they used you as a political pawn, such is what happens to women.

You thought you could really run away, how foolish a thought. It sinks in your mind like a cruel joke, as the former Empress Gojo goes on, she’s so kind, you can feel it’s not fake. It seems genuine, her understanding, like she’s been here before - clearly from some different land judging by her unique looks. You wonder what she thought when she had to go through this.

“I will have our attendant Ijichi show you around, he’s very knowledgeable about everything here, moreso than even my son, don’t tell him I said so.” She laughs a bit at that, you give her a perfunctory smile.

“You are most gracious, Lady Gojo.”

Soon a tired looking man walks in, but he seems sweet and kind, smiling and bowing his head. He wears a little monocle on one eye, wearing the traditional dark blue robes you’ve seen other attendants and guards wear. He takes your hand and bows over it, some inky black locks falling over his brow.

“My lady,” his voice is quiet and calm. Aside from Lady Gojo, this may be the only other person you have had a decent sense of character from. “It’s an honor.”

“Hello, Mr. Ijichi, I’m excited to learn more about the palace.” You smile and he nods his head a bit.

“I’ll show you around so you know where to go, I’m so sorry his majesty… was… occupied.” The snickering of the six girls earns Gojo’s mother’s scowl, and they quickly hush, but you see a blush on Ijichi’s face, a frown.

“It’s quite understandable, he must be busy. I look forward to meeting him,” you’re lying through your teeth, but you know it’s the correct move, as he smiles with an exhale of relief. It wasn’t his fault his Emperor was seemingly a man whore. “I’d love a tour.”

“Then let us go.” You say your farewells, and Ijichi walks you outside, his hands together under his large sleeves, and you notice many onlookers whispering.

She’s so beautiful.

She is, but can she catch his attention?

He’s clearly not interested, despite her beauty.

Emperor Gojo is about more than looks.

He is quite quirky.

“Do they always gossip like this?” Your question earns a surprised laugh from Ijichi, he seems stoic but his smile is sweet.

“They never stop.”

“God!”

He chuckles again, and you find yourself comfortable with him - when you learn he’s twenty seven however, you have to wonder how hard Gojo works this poor man. Five years older than you and he seems much older, perhaps Gojo was every bit the tough ruler he was rumored to be.

“This is the bathhouse, if you wish you can bathe here instead of your chambers, it is renowned to be one of the best.” You look curiously, remembering the last time you bathed was before you came here, you’d die for one right now.

“Are they?”

“Indeed, they are. Here is one of the temples,” he’s pointing as you two walk, you incline your head at passersby, all while walking right next to him. “This one is a sacred temple from many centuries ago.”

“It’s quite beautiful,” you eye it, truly majestic in front of you, with its gorgeous architecture quite different from many. “Can I go there?”

“Unfortunately only men can enter,” he blushes then. “I’m sorry my lady.”

“No, that’s quite alright.”

“This temple,” he points to another distant one, as the sun warms you over the thick silk brocade of your yukata, and a few pretty butterflies flutter by. You focus on where he’s pointing, a large dark green building with curved roofs in the distance. “You could enter with your future husband, however.”

“Ah,” nice, you could enter a temple with the man you don’t know, the one too good to meet you for tea. “And this building?”

“It’s the sapphire pavilion,” he trails off again, clearing his throat. “It’s Concubine Lola’s pavilion.”

“I see.” You remember hearing earlier, she’s his favorite, her pavilion is perhaps more opulent than any of the others you’ve seen, second only to yours.

“Yes, it is quite lovely I suppose.” He seems unimpressed, eyeing you then. “I believe Emperor Gojo will… enjoy your pavilion, if that’s not too bold to say.”

It’s your turn to blush, looking down now, hands in front of you as you two walk along the soft grassy knowl, and he lays one of his outer robes down for you to sit. You smile and thank him. “I don’t know if I agree.”

“I have known Master Gojo my entire life, I do believe it’s true,” his soft words make you relax just a bit. “Master Gojo is young and… difficult at times.”

“Perhaps I wish I’d have you for a fiance.”

“My lady!”

“You’re very sweet.” You’re giggling behind your hand as he blushes.

“I’m no Emperor Gojo, but thank you for the kind words.”

“Ah, well I don’t know him yet. I know no one here,” your words get trapped in your throat, you watch the hustle of the servants as they work, cleaning or gardening, the merchants taking down their carts across the way in a little circular shop, while a butterfly lands on your knee. “Oh look.”

“They say it’s good luck, my lady.” He smiles kindly again, reaching a finger out for the butterfly to go to.

“He likes you.” He laughs a bit, sighing.

“Insects do.”

“They’re good judges of character.”

“He will like you, I know it,” you’re unconvinced, it’s as if Ijichi feels sorry and is trying to cheer you up, but you nod a bit to appease him. He stands and holds out a hand, helping you up. You brush yourself off and hand him his now crumbled robe, which he folds over an arm. “Let us go back.”

You miss him already when he leaves, the kindness of him was so welcome in this place of deceit, of fakeness, of lies. Everyone seemed out for something, you suppose home wasn’t much different, but to the extent the ladies gossiped it was utterly ridiculous.

“I’d like to go to the bathhouse, Miwa would you take me?” You ask one of the girls, she’s a little quieter than the other two, a little more friendly.

“Of course I can, my lady, but also you could have a bath run?”

“I hear they’re very nice, and I’d love a chance to see.” She nods, grabbing a gown for you, as the other two whisper again, earning your eye roll. “I brought some hair soap, let me fetch it.”

“What’s hair soap?” She asks, you show her now and she seems curious. 

“I have several if you’d like to try.”

“If it makes my hair that beautiful, yes!” She’s smiling warmly at you, now you feel just a little more comfortable, as she walks you through the massive doors, it’s dusk now, the sky alit with purples and oranges. “Emperor Gojo is the most handsome man in the land.”

“Is he now,” you really don’t give a fuck, to be quite honest. Suguru was a beautiful man, his violet eyes, his little lazy smile, elegant fingers that would hold your hand in secret any chance he got. Gojo may be gorgeous, but you had him in your head, the man who loved you.

Well, you think he did?

He never got a chance to say if he did back or not, kissing you in that moment, the last moment you had. The nightmares over and over on the trip were enough to make you sick, you kept writing letters and burning them, not knowing how the fuck you’d ever get one to him in secret. Your parents were fond of him but never enough to match your station.

“What’s wrong, my lady?” You realize you’ve quit walking then, just standing there as the pain echoes.

“I’m sorry, I’m a little tired, Miwa.” She nods, and you enter the enormous bathhouse now, fragrant steam already pricking your nose as you two enter a room with several women changing.

You blush just a bit, things were more open here than back home, the girls are more friendly as they smile, and walk off, leaving you to have Miwa start undoing your obi, the delicate bands of silk. She’s slowly untying you until you’re bare, and then steps in front of you, holding the thin white shift out.

“We wear this?” 

“You will, yes, attendants don’t bathe here, we go to a different area of the bathhouse.” She’s slipping it over your head, like a whisper of silk as it dances across your body, while Satoru is on the other side, being fed grapes and lavished on by his favorite girls, in lieu of meeting you.

Satoru Gojo’s kissing his favorite, Lola, her pretty lips dewy from the baths, as his other girls are brushing their hands all across his body. He’s chuckling a bit, trying to kiss every single one of the four girls now, they’re all touching him, massaging him, littering kisses on his body. The warm waters undulate against his skin, lapping around his chest as he sighs, his eyes shutting.

It’s almost good enough to forget the endless responsibilities he never fucking wanted, all the sweet scents and practiced touches of his concubines. If Satoru could say anything was a perk, it was the beautiful, voluptuous fucking concubines, as if they were all tailored to perfection. Their giggles get louder when he sucks one of their tits in his mouth, over the thin white material, the others clamoring over who got it next.

Even for an emperor, Satoru Gojo was bold.

Emperors did not lay with more than one concubine at once, it was not a harem after all, though in his travels he’d seen several of those. Now that seemed the way to do it, have a house full of beautiful girls that only fuck him, only want him. Utterly devoted, though these girls were in their own way, he also knew their power plays.

They all wanted one thing, Satoru to put babies in them, and well… he had not made that happen yet. Just two years into it, and young, it was normal, but Satoru made sure he didn’t have babies, pulling out strategically without them noticing, because he just wasn’t ready yet for more responsibility. Plus, once you had one heir, you needed a spare, and more and more with how fragile that could be.

He wanted to have a little more fun, but also he hates tradition, hates the duty disposed on him. War and battle were something he was inherently good at, but running things politically was outright boring. Much of that fun was coming to an end, with this mysterious fucking wife he was to marry in a few weeks time.

He knows he irritated his mother not showing up, but being fed grapes and having his dick sucked? Much better time spent in his opinion, than some meek little princess from far away. She'd likely be some perfectly trained airhead, all the broken betrothal before were just that, but apparently this one they would have no argument of.

He's not really curious about her, he supposes he'll have to see her soon, perhaps lay with her, then he'll come back to his other girls. Life is mostly good for him when he loses himself in them, in drinks and throwing elaborate parties, in forgetting the overwhelming duties that lie ahead. 

Suddenly, the doors to the baths open, certain high ranking ladies could also come in, so he curiously looks over, to a sight that makes his heart pound in his fucking chest. She's beautiful, surely but he shouldn't be so affected, when her eyes catch his and he's dying to know just what's behind them.

Satoru just doesn't think that way.

You catch sight of him as Miwa undoes your hair fully, letting it fall and brush against bare shoulders, you feel exposed then, to his insanely bright eyes. He is as beautiful as they say, perhaps even moreso, the glimpses of the hard lines of his face, as the soft lanterns cast a glow above.

Surrounded by four beautiful women, but he's staring right at you instead. You figure he's curious who you are, and brush off the feeling. Miwa dampens your hair and proceeds to massage it in your scalp, you sigh at how good it feels, head falling back a bit, eyes fluttering shut.

Satoru can't take not knowing who you are one more moment.

“Who is she?” He asks Lola then, and she blinks a bit, tilting her head, her dark locks falling over a shoulder.

“I’ve never seen her, Gojo,” she looks at her scrutinizingly. “She is… perhaps going to fill Concubine Ana’s place?”

“I heard someone would be soon,” says Concubine Lara now. “She’s very beautiful.”

“She doesn’t look like she’s from here, however,” Lola says curiously. “Her attendant also looks unfamiliar.”

“Hmm.” He’s eyeing you carefully, as you step down into the waters, you dip your head back and then stand up, and that’s when he sees your entire body from that soaked, thin white material. It clings to every delicate line and curve of a body that makes him ache.

You’re so lovely, though you’re not even looking in his direction, leaning back against the wall and sighing, your breasts gently rising and falling, as if begging for his mouth, for his hands. He can’t help but be drawn to you, looking like some beautiful painting, serene and ever so precious, the need to cup your face was as big as his want to cup your tits.

He’s a lover of all beauty, he has four gorgeous concubines kissing all over him right now, but there’s something about you that leaves him breathless. God, he should feel truly sorry for whoever his wife would be with you here as well, another beauty but one that’s so perfect he can’t fucking speak or think.

His wife truly wouldn’t have a chance if he got you.

He steps away then, much to their displeasure, their pretty pouts, he smiles down at them. “Never fear, I want to find out who she is.”

“Of course, your majesty.” They all incline their heads, none of them were really jealous, though they all pouted a bit that he gave Lola some more attention.

It wasn't that Lola was more beautiful, she was very smart and enjoyed playing chess with him. So he tended to just be there more to hang out with her, having the nicest pavilion wasn't really him either, Lola just decorated the shit out of things and had everything immaculate with her staff.

Aside from that they all got along extremely well, and knew he'd marry. They were a little worried he'd spread his time between five of them, but they know he's proficient at managing them all.

Now, eyes locked on your perfect frame, he walks through the warm waters, feeling them softly ripple as he pushes through the water, until you feel his movements, opening your eyes.

Your eyes, the way they look at him, unreadable and so beautiful, he puts on a charm, a smile, but you just blink, water droplets falling from them as you straighten up, running your hands through silken strands. “I’m emperor Gojo.”

You just eye him further, saying nothing, as he blinks in confusion at you. You turn a bit, sighing, the sadness he hadn’t noticed now prevalent on your face, before your eyes return to his. “An honor, your majesty.”

“Please don’t be formal.” Maybe he is like his mother a bit you muse, taking in the beautiful blue eyes even closer, far too blue, like the sky but with a myriad of shades, some you’ve never seen, framed by thick snowy lashes.

He is a beautiful man, by far, but one that has no interest to you. He seems content with his four concubines, who are whispering right now about you behind his back. “Emperor, then?”

“Call me Gojo, are you… here to fill one of the new concubine positions?” You smile a bit at that, a mean quirk of your lips.

Is this what held him up from tea, fucking four women in the baths? Even for royalty this was quite too much. “No, I’m afraid not.”

“God, what a shame,” he steps closer, until his fingers brush against your cheeks, the sensation feels better than you wished it did. You wished it felt horrible, a betrayal of your love, but the touch makes you tremble, and you can’t lie and say its with disgust.

Satoru is enamored when he touches you under the water then, big hand on the small of your back pressing just so, taking it over as he steps closer, so tall and imposing in the water. Your breasts brush against his abdomen, as your breaths quicken, a mix of irritation and something more you don't want to admit, your nipples pressing on his skin as clear arousal happens from his proximity.

You look down shyly, studying his chest, seeing scars scattered across it. You've heard a lot of his military prowess, but didn’t expect him to be that involved. You almost trace a finger across one of them, raised up and pink, before trailing your gaze back to his eyes, so intense to look at it’s difficult, but it’s also impossible to look away once they’ve caught you.

You both stay there for a moment in the quiet, saying nothing and just looking at each other, when he leans down, pressing you along the warmth of the hard wall behind you. One of his long thighs presses against your heat, and you hate how your body reacts, how your cunt pulses around nothing, tummy clenching then, you know the feeling of desire, so you can’t even lie to yourself.

 It feels like such a betrayal of the one you loved, of Suguru, what was he doing now? You cannot be like this, and for a man who doesn't want to even know you, couldn’t even meet you. He made you look so stupid to everyone, and to what, be fed grapes by naked women? An action he can accomplish anytime.

You bite back a sigh, mind swirling, the steam of the water rising and entering your lungs, your heart fucking hammering. Satoru leans down further, too close, far too close, an arm on either side of you, strong arms bulging with muscles, veins raised under his pale white skin, shades of blue and green that you want to trail your fingertips across.

You must remember who you are, where you are.

There are no friends here, there is no love, lest you be so foolish, lest you be so enamored by pretty eyes, as if your love didn’t have those too. It’s one thing to do your duty, but your heart cannot fall prey to such tactics, he clearly is expert at them, every touch and look feels calculated, like a play unfolding, with the prettiest actor.

“Your majesty…” you trail off, this wasn’t appropriate behavior for him, was it? Perhaps it was, the man wants anything but his bride to be.

“Gojo,” he corrects, a soft chuckle then as he assesses your face at this angle, so tall over you. Satoru was taller than anyone, so it’s how he is, bigger, imposing, but it makes you feel even more fragile in his hold, the thoughts making his cock ache. “So fucking pretty, god.” He murmurs then, and earns your blush.

The outward praise and the lewd way he says it is too much, he chuckles as he sees it, flushed color on your cheeks, when his lips hover over yours now. You think for some insane moment he’ll kiss you. Your hands go to his chest, as if to stop him, when you feel his steady heart beat under your palm, his warm skin even hotter than the water.

“Can you at least tell me your name, mysterious girl?” He asks, and that’s when you snap out of it, for just a moment.

When you say it he immediately recognizes the name, faltering and stepping back, eyes wide, his lips parted as if he means to say something, but nothing comes out. You can’t help but smile, it’s a mean little smile, batting your lashes as you tilt your head, as if you’re stating something so casual, not the fact that you’re the very bride he’s avoiding.

“Indeed, it was such a shame you couldn't meet me for tea, your majesty.” His jaw clenches at that, as you watch him try to save face.

You can’t be his bride, you can’t be…

He knows then, the clear hurt on your face, the sound in your voice, that he did indeed say fuck tradition and miss meeting you to fuck his four girls instead. He didn’t think he’d care how you felt, he didn’t think it would affect him until he saw the lip you’re biting, the anger flashing in your eyes.

“I… well, I…” he’s trailing off, him, the emperor of the nation, lost to an angry little brat in the waters, one clearly relishing in this one moment. He glares now, feeling himself harder as you scowl, why are you so pretty like that!? “I was otherwise occupied.”

“Yes, indeed, I see you were otherwise occupied,” you eye the girls behind his shoulders, whispering to each other wildly, when you push him back, hands on his chest. “It's rude not to even meet me after I got dragged on a five day journey by ship, you know.”

He is eyeing your hands on his chest that he now pins there for a moment, gripping your delicate wrist with long fingers. It feels too good then, his hold on you, doing things to your body you don’t want to even try to comprehend. Your eyes lock again, as he speaks. “You're my... you can't be... you…”

A sigh escapes your lips, as you tug your hands back from his firm hold, before your dumb brain thinks about those long fingers one more moment. You lick your lips, feeling your throat has suddenly gone dry, nodding. “Yes, I'm your betrothed, I suppose this is our first meeting.”

“I suppose it is…” He trails off, brushing back strands of that silken white hair, looking down now at your body again, in a way that feels like he’s fucking touching you. Part of you wants to shrink back, but the other makes you stand firm, tilting your chin up and keeping eye contact.

“I'll leave you to your pretty concubines, I'm afraid I don't intend on becoming one.” You turn and climb up those steps, the slip forming to you like a goddess, as you turn him down.

No one has ever turned Emperor Gojo down, and not because of his power, his wealth, no everyone wanted him for so much more. His prowess in bed, his body, his face, his entire aura, yet here you are, turning and giving him a little smile as your attendant hands you a towel.

He repeats your name softly, you look back at him, smiling again, that mean little one he’d love to kiss off you, a thought that makes no fucking sense. He watches as those droplets fall from your curves, the material rippling and clinging to every part of you, fucking him up to distraction.

“Perhaps you'll make it to the wedding, your majesty,” you say, wrapping yourself up with the towel, and bowing - a mocking fucking bow that makes him glare right at you as you walk off.

He doesn’t even go back to the four girls waiting, he is so confused by what just happened, instead drying off and then sitting in the sauna, leaning his head back on one of the wooden benches. As if the steam and heat will just fucking sap whatever the fuck you just did to him away.

*****

It’s the day of your wedding to Emperor Gojo.

You’ve not seen him since that fateful meeting in the baths, and you’ve avoided him actively when you’ve run into him, every time you see him you either duck behind a pillar, a fruit stand, something. Once you couldn’t so you just inclined your head in a bow and continued, infuriating the living fuck out of him. He’s seen you hiding and ducking like a foolish child.

He doesn’t actively seek you out however, he doesn’t make any of the three meetings you’re supposed to have before marriage. So it’s both of you just avoiding each other like a plague, he’s laughing with that booming sound of his, throwing his head back as he walks arm in arm with his girls. You stay alone, just your attendants walking behind you.

People are spreading rumors about his clear lack of interest, and Satoru hears them frequently. When one of his concubines says something to the other about how he must not find you to his liking, he almost wants to laugh, because that sure the fuck wasn’t the case. If it were looks alone, you were the epitome of everything he finds attractive, but it’s more than that.

For the past few days his mind keeps fucking drifting to you, he can’t stand it truly, when he was getting his cock sucked by Lola and had to shut his eyes, wondering what it’d be like between your plush lips. He was so frustrated he couldn’t even keep it hard - and that has never happened to Emperor Gojo, notorious in fact for round after round.

Lola had been as perplexed by him at this development, but now when he walks past you and inhales your sweet scent, his cock is hard from that. Absolutely infuriating, he wonders if your country is one of witches truly, and you’re here to just fuck with him, ignoring him on top of it. Your chin up in the air, stubborn and rude as you walk by in those pretty robes.

It’s an agonizing few days, for Satoru, and a dreadful few days for you. All you can think of is Suguru, you keep writing and writing, knowing he’ll never see it, until your tears soak the ink on the paper. You’d hug your pillow in that huge bed, in that lonely room, hating yourself for even finding Satoru attractive, forcing those thoughts out of your head, so you can remember.

He didn’t want this anymore than you did.

The thoughts of that reign supreme now, that it wasn’t as if Satoru wanted this marriage, and in that way perhaps you two could find some common ground, some agreement that keeps the contact minimal. You’re knowledgeable about what your role is as a wife, how to serve him sexually and domestically, so you hope that will help you separate it all.

The only experience you had was Suguru, his loving kisses and his desperate tugs at your bodice, he’d slip a nipple into his mouth while hidden in the corners, behind the curtains, wherever he could get a moment. Brief, beautiful moments, where you fell deeper each time, that can’t just fade, it can’t just disappear.

To know you’ll watch your husband with several women, that he’ll not just sleep with them, but spend time with them, have babies with them, and you can’t even write the man you love is an even more bitter pill to swallow. You know it’s a man’s world, of course it is, but the cruelty there is a joke, at least back home men tried to keep their mistresses hidden.

You know Suguru would have never been that way.

You try to push past the hurt as you enter the immaculate hall where you are to bind yourself forever to a stranger. You walk quietly, looking at the man who doesn’t want to be here any more than you did, truly, eyeing the tall white haired man wearing his thick dark blue sokutai. It was not a traditional one, the robes altered to reveal far too much of his muscled chest, as Satoru liked to do you noticed.

He seemed to relish in how attractive everyone found him, a trait that just turned you off more truly, but you suppose none of it matters, this is all for political gain, for a show. There will be nothing between you two, even though with each step bringing you closer, you feel the pressure eating at you, you feel the walls closing the fuck in until you almost can’t move.

The eyes on you, the whispers, and now Satoru’s blue eyes drinking you in, you actually for one moment tremble, before putting on your fake fucking smile, the one that you practiced in the mirror. Making gracious head movements as your robes trail, whispers of silk and satin along the laid out rug you’re walking across, meeting his gaze finally.

Satoru’s heart hammers in his fucking chest as you come closer, as all of you enters his field of vision. To say you were beautiful before seems an understatement, now looking at you leaves him speechless, throat dry as you wear that beautiful sky blue ceremonial juunihitoe, layers of blue and white, embossed with silver flowers just flowing from your body. 

His pulse races so badly he can hear the blood flow in his ears, swallowing nervously as you clutch your hands together until you’re in front of him. He tentatively takes your hand, swallowing it in his huge grip, fingers wrapping around your own, not saying anything, but looking at you so intensely. You see none of his concubines attended, perhaps they do not join such festivities.

You wonder if he can’t wait to go back, and you wonder if it bothers you either way, as the ceremony begins. It’s long and tiring, as they say the words that you both scarcely pay attention to, as they bond you together in a contract that is iron clan, that will never be something you can get out of. You feel your freedom - did you ever have it?- slip away with every word.

Satoru is surprisingly quiet, you’re not sure what you expected, something mocking or some sort of boredom, but he’s frowning, eyeing you over and over, as if searching for something. You wonder if he’s trying to find a flaw, or if he’s just trying to find something he might like about you enough to handle the times he would have to spend.

In the first month, he would have to spend all his time in this pavilion, not to say he would not go off and do things, but husbands - even emperors - were supposed to spend some time devoted to their new brides. You imagine he wouldn’t like it anymore than you would.

There is music playing, and beautiful dancers waving their fans, when you both sip on each of the three cups of sake, as is tradition, speaking the words. Satoru places his lips on one end of the little ceramic dish, then hands it to you, eyeing the red painted on your lips.

He notices how it shimmers, that your makeup has been done clearly, there's color under your eyes, a pinkish hue that makes them appear even prettier. He catches sight of the blush along your precious cheeks - precious, why did he think that? The thought irritates him, along with not being able to rip his fucking eyes off you, when you two continue the ceremony. 

Eventually it’s well past night time, and he's prepared in just a thin Kimono from his attendant, loosely tied. “Master Gojo…”

“Yes, Ijichi?” He’s very close with him, Ijichi has been serving Gojo since he was a teen himself, he eyes the tired man, who sighs a bit, tightening the sash.

“I think your new bride is…”

“Speak it, you’re allowed.”

“She’s lovely,” Satoru blinks in surprise then, Ijichi has never said that about a single one of the ladies here, to the point Satoru assumed maybe he didn’t even like women. “It’s bold.”

“You think a lady is pretty? That’s new.” Satoru teases, and Ijichi stands back, serious look as always on his face, but he’s also shifting a bit, nervously.

“I think many women are pretty, I suppose I meant her… not just her outer appearance.” Satoru tilts his head in confusion now.

“Not just appearance?”

“She’s caring, funny, and intelligent. She was very kind to me as well…” Satoru could swear he sees a blush for the first time on Ijichi’s cheeks, is it possible your witchcraft has even affected his butler?

“I see, you like her.”

“Very much so, I just wonder if you might too, I know you’re against this marriage, but you never know.” Satoru looks away then, sighing a bit.

“Not sure she’s fond of me.”

“You did miss tea-”

“Are you on her side!? You serve me.”

“Yes, Master Gojo.” He’s all quiet again, as everyone in the fucking kingdom is offended for you at this point it seemed, from the lowest servant to his attendant, to his damn mother.

“I appreciate your thoughts, I’m sorry. I’m tired.” Satoru explains, and Ijichi nods, clearing his throat now.

“Shall you go to her chambers?”

“That’s what I must do.”

Satoru won’t admit he’s nervous, that his hands are sweating, walking over to your chambers now and entering them. Ijichi bows at you, while you’re sitting in front of the vanity, your attendant brushing out your hair. You look at them both in surprise, as if you didn’t expect him to come, even on your wedding night.

“My lady, congratulations on your wedding.” Ijichi says, and Satoru watches you soften, a sweet little fucking smile that he doesn’t think he’ll ever get from you, one that lights up your beautiful face and stops his heart.

“Thank you so kindly, Mr. Ijichi.” You smile again as he blushes, turning away and disappearing down one of the halls quietly, leaving Satoru with you. He inhales the sweetness of your scent, mixing with the incense you've lit, looking at the attendant then, who is blushing as well.

“You may leave,” Satoru orders Miwa out then, she curtseys and runs off, leaving you alone with a stranger, an emperor. He eyes you curiously, tilting his head as he studies your robes, light blue, your breasts exposed down the center, showcasing much of your skin. “Stand up.”

“Of course, your majesty,” his jaw tenses as you speak, as you stand slowly and his blue eyes drink the sight of you in. “Surprised you weren’t too busy to come.”

“You’re awfully angry about tea, hmm?” He steps closer now, long strides with his impossibly long legs, towering over you when he’s close, so close. You swallow nervously, but put on a brave face, a fake smile.

“Perhaps we should get on with things quickly, so we can have an heir.”

“What now?” His thin brows lower over his eyes, which narrow.

“Indeed, the quicker you put your seed in me, the quicker we can be done, at least one would look good for the kingdom.” Your words fucking baffle him, when you step back, undoing the knot of your robe then.

“What are…” He trails off, blushing when you’re naked, his cheeks burning as he sees your beautiful body, the one he’d jerked off to just the fucking outline of the other day.

He doesn’t jerk off, he has women for that, but he couldn’t stop himself, cumming more in his hand from the looks of you than with any of his women. He can’t help but look at your pretty breasts, they sway just a bit as they’re released, and you shift just a bit, hands knotted together in front of you, as if you’re preparing for an inspection, seemingly calm.

“What are you going on about?” His eyes slip lower, across the soft curve of your hip and stomach, even lower, to your cunt just there tempting him between the plush of your thighs that are pressed together.

“An heir, it’ll make things easier for us both,” he chuckles then, a mean smile on those vermillion lips. “Should I prepare you, your majesty?”

Satoru’s about to fucking lose it, his fists clench at his sides, trying to look in your eyes and not those beautiful fucking tits just begging for his hands. He pulls it together, snorting as if he finds you amusing and not heartbreakingly beautiful. “As if you know what to do.”

You step closer now, hips swaying as if to torture him with each undulation, all bold just like in those baths, you’re not the shy and practiced girl, you’re not the one giggling and teasing. You’re not the girl he expected, not even fucking close, how your fingertips brush the cool silk of his robe over his overheated skin.

Satoru was used to being the one in control, just what the fuck was this, how you’re acting, what you’re doing!? He is furiously blushing now at your proximity, annoyed you have whatever odd effect this is, when you speak - “I can make this at least enjoyable for you.”

“Tch, 'you think you're adequate at it?” You smile just a bit, it’s not that cute one you gave Ijichi, it's evil and making him harder.

“I've had instructions on how to please my future husband, there are many books that show it, I was given them to read.” Satoru laughs, trying to play it off, when he undoes the tie finally, as his robes land on the floor at a pool of his feet. He’s just in a fundoshi, a thin strip of material showcasing a straining erection.

“Let's see it, then.” He says, all cocky, until you're on your fucking knees before him, slipping down his fundoshi ever so carefully like some professional. He’s sputtering, unsure what to think - maybe you've done this before, but why should that bother him!? Why does that thought make him infuriated, as you have him whimpering from your breath on his inner thigh.

You have his cock free, it is so heavy that after slapping his stomach it just hangs there, thick and already hard from just seeing you. You bite your lip as the cool stone floor hurts your knees, just a bit. You take your hand carefully, stroking him slowly, from the base where he has tufts of white hair, to his pink tip leaking milky drops, admiring the veins that wrap it.

You could swear you hear a whimper, but your heart is pounding in your ears so much it’s hard to know. You swallow nervously and put on your act, running your thumb over his tip and smiling up at the man, his entire body carved and chiseled to such perfection.

“I thought I'd have to get you in this state, how curious since I hadn’t even touched you yet? the books didn't mention it being ready…” Satoru glares now, you're insulting him without even knowing it!? You’re casually calling out his desperation for you, that he’s hard when he just sees you.

He struggles to handle your insolence, your question appears innocent but he doesn’t buy it, not with you. He entangles a hand in your hair then, pulling it firmly as you lap at his tip, almost making him cum from that, while he wraps your hair around his fist, the sight of you enough he could bust ropes all over your pretty face.

“All right, let's see what you've learned, hmm?” He taunts, but you just nod a bit, stroking him then, little hand up and down in gentle twists. He’s tense now, as it feels even better, when you suck him into your mouth, just the tip at first, swirling your tongue around it and tonguing out the salty precum. “Fuck…”

He hopes that whisper was quiet enough, as you take more of him, every inch deeper and deeper from each stroke and movement of his cock in your mouth, while you just look at him like that. Like you want to end him with your pretty eyes and demon mouth, it shouldn’t even feel this good, but his eyes roll back in his head as he fucks your hot mouth, faster and faster.

He’s gasping out, he has never felt anything better even from the most practiced girls, no you have the perfect suction, the way your tongue swirls is obscene, as he fucks your throat and feels you taking so much. He almost thinks you could fucking take it all, seeing the slobber glisten on his cock, moaning at the sight of how your eyes flutter shut when he thrusts his hips inside.

God you feel too good, you have him losing his mind with your little gasps and gags on his cock. “Slutty fucking throat,” he whispers, you pull back just a bit, glaring at him, only for him to whimper, and cry out - “You’re doing s'good, sweetheart…”

Sweetheart?

Slut?

What a conundrum of a man you think, you feel him pulsing in your mouth, but also you feel your tummy clenching, something you didn't expect. You didn’t expect to enjoy this part of sex truly, you didn’t expect to enjoy anything without love, but something about his snowy lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, about his sweet cries, it does something to you.

Your nails are pressing on his muscled thighs, leaving marks on that perfect pale skin when he rips you off him then, saliva dripping from your mouth along with his precum. You’re pulling back to sit on your heels, as he lets go of your hair, and you wipe away some of the drool that’s gathered.

“Um… was I not adequate?” You hate that you actually care if you were, but then Satoru Gojo laughs without humor, standing you up now unceremoniously.

“Not adequate?”' He is lifting you like it’s nothing, your feet dangling off the fucking floor then, when Satoru Gojo slams his lips on yours, shocking you as you cling to him tightly, not to hold him but not to fall. He’s got your thighs on his hips, as he kisses you desperately, tongue devouring your mouth, every corner of it.

You’re lost for a moment, feeling your cunt leak arousal on his tummy, as his huge hands are on your ass, squeezing while he’s tasting himself on your lips. You’re kissing him back without fully realizing it, maybe it’s the surprise, maybe it’s something more that you don’t want to think of, and you get no chance to, when he’s carrying you across the room.

You find yourself thrown right on your enormous bed, decorated in more blues, the color of the Gojo clan, the colors of his eyes - some of them at least, for when he’s hovering over you, saliva string dissipating between your mouths, they’re some dark shade you can’t fathom. His pupils are so blown out it seems like they’re black, his breaths heavy and loud in your ears.

You didn’t think he’d kiss you.

Satoru Gojo’s elegant long fingers slip down your body as he feels it tremble, slipping down further, until his fingers find your slick cunt then. You gasp at the sensation of it, the delicious swipe right up and down, as his plump lips kiss down one of the soft globes of your breasts, sucking a nipple in his mouth. You’re biting back your own moan as he toys with your clit, it twitches under his touch.

“Soaking wet, from sucking my cock, slutty.” He taunts, dangerous voice, even while he’s rutting his cock on the silk blankets, sucking on another pretty nipple as you cry out. The sounds of you end him.

“Y-your majesty, you don't need to do all of that,” you tug at his hair, pulling him off, closing your thighs on his hand now, just trapping him as if he won’t keep rolling those circles. “Ah! Just... get it done, okay?”

You can’t like this.

You can’t betray the memory. And for what, a man who’s doing what he must do tonight, then will run to his favorites? You can’t.

Your words make the emperor pause, looking up and seeing you then, your plump lips are swollen from his kisses, your skin flushed, eyes glittering as your breaths come quicker and quicker. He stops his fingers for a moment, god he’s dying to be inside of you, he wants your cunt to know the shape of him, fuck only him, a maddening thought raging with another.

Your words to get it done, they make sense, they were what he was going to do, until you stunned him again. His eyes trail across your face, seeing the apprehension mixed with clear desire, before trailing down your body ever so slowly. All of the concubines wanted Satoru, all of the women he’s ever been with have begged for him, and here you were, 'doing your duty'.

Something gnaws at him, he leans up and pulls his fingers off, as you look at him curiously, blinking rapidly as if to right yourself. “Do I need to suck you more?” You ask softly, and he shakes his head, clearing his throat then, as he sees the confusion making your brows knit together.

“No, you don’t need to suck me more, you sure liked it hmm?”

“Um, I could just touch you?” He grips your wrist as you try to do so, trailing a hand down his hard abdomen, pinning it before it touches his cock, aching to bury itself inside you.

“Tonight, we will not consummate the marriage.”

The words hurt you deeply, the sense of rejection making your throat close up, you have to at least fulfill your duty here, it’s all you’ve ever even been trained for, and he’s shutting it down.

“Oh, um… did I displease you?” Your voice isn’t confident like earlier, no it’s shy and unsure, he frowns a bit, wondering what the layers of you would be like, to peel them off slowly like your robes.

The thought of a woman not wanting him, especially you, infuriates him. “No, you did not displease me, foolish girl.”

You glare at that, how foolish you are he thinks to himself, do you not see how clearly he desires you, how much he was affected by your naked form, what your moth did to him? He picks you up by your hips, and shoves you up the bed then, making you blink in confusion at the change. “Emperor…”

“So formal, naked in front of me, after I fucked your throat?” He taunts in a whisper, kissing down your tummy with hot brushes of his mouth on your skin. He watches it tense as he dreams of making it bulge with his cock, seeing you tremble under his caress. “Answer me.”

“Fine, Gojo then,” you manage, it’s not as if it’s his first name after all. You’re trying not to cry out as his hands press into your hips, but you fail, head sinking back into the soft satin of the sky blue pillows under your head.

“Are you untouched?” His words earn another blush, averting your eyes from the man settling between your thighs now, thighs that tense on either side as he shoves them apart with his shoulders. “Can’t use your words?”

“I have not lain with a man, no, but I am not untouched.” Satoru's furious that anyone saw your pretty body, but he makes no comment at your honest answer.

Truly, he absolutely hates tradition and wouldn't care if you were or were not a virgin, in fact he prefers experience with his women, but for some fucking reason that thought irritates him, to picture you cumming for someone. Did you smile at them pretty and sweet, or the cruel little sexy look you gave him instead?

Did they drink your cunt, like he’s dying to at this moment? When he sees your pretty pussy, glistening and soaked, he moans softly. He parts your puffy lips then, as you bite your lower lip nervously, thighs trembling on either side of his head, while your slick pools from your little hole. He’s marveling at how wet it is, while his breath ghosts over it, making you jerk.

“Y-your majesty, that's not - ah- in the books!? Mnh what are you - oh!” You’re lost for words, when Gojo has his tongue slipping up your slit, hot and wet lapping a stripe right up it. You’ve never felt something like that, fingers felt great but what the fuck was his demonic tongue delving between your folds? “What are you doing!?”

He’s smirking against your cunt at your cute, cut off little question, seeing your mouth is wide in a slutty O, fuck you’re pretty. “Not everything is in your books, sweetheart,” he teases softly, and he laps up your slit again, making you whine out loud this time, your little fingers are gripping his shoulders, your nails pressing in and just making him harder.

“You’re… doing…” You’re done with speech apparently, not when Satoru’s lapping the juices pouring from your hole, his nose bumping your clit, your hands pressing deeper, feeling the muscles of his biceps as your breaths come quicker and quicker, desire washing over you. “You don’t have to do that!?”

“I'll have you cum on my face tonight,” his words are now muffled as he buries his face in your sweetness, letting the juices drown him and the heady desire consume him, pressing his cock on that mattress and almost cumming from it. “Over and over.”

He’s whispered those last words against your cunt, you’re lost in the sensations then, crying out in desperate little sobs as he works your body. He feels you tense, feels your cunt pulsing around his tongue when he fucks into your gummy walls that grip him so fucking good. He shoves your thighs apart further, dragging you impossibly closer to his face.

You're lost in how good it feels, no longer pulling him off, but tugging him closer without realizing it, pleasure overtaking your mind as your cries mix with his filthy suction, drinking all the liquid just fucking pouring. He’s moaning and rutting his cock, blue eyes looking up between the valley of your breasts, and it’s too intimate, it’s too fucking much.

You've cum before with your lover, but never have you done this, this intimacy of his mouth on you. You’ve never felt this, so intense, so much pressure in your tummy just building, the heat spreading throughout your body further with every vibration of his mouth on you, sending you closer to the edge.

You're screaming out, hips arching as he makes filthy sounds with your squelching cunt, he’s so close to cumming from just this, lost in every sensation of your body. Fuck, he's never enjoyed this so much, and he loves to please - but never was he about to bust his seed all over blankets while he fucking did it, and god he can't help but pay attention to every little thing.

Every movement, every twitch, every pretty cry while your hips arch up for more, until you’re using him, until you’re riding his face so sexy, he doesn’t think you know you are, but he’s fucking you deeper with his tongue. You yank on his hair, as if to tug him off, earning his chuckle as he just clamps down then, sucking your twitchy little clit into his mouth.

That’s when it’s too fucking much.

“Ah!” You’re screaming out, shameless now, while he lavishes every part of your cunt with his tongue, you swear nothing is fucking left unexplored, and now your clit, so sensitive, so stimulated. “Sensitive - mnh!”

“Good,” he’s smirking with his chin coated in you, sucking your clit into his mouth again as you’re screaming out for him. God, he wants you to call him Satoru, he can't say it though, that’s madness. Your cunt is madness, in how he wants to drown in it, how he wants your thighs to suffocate him. “Cum. Now.”

He devours devours your pussy after his clear fucking order, Tongue flicking on your clit as he hums on it, teeth just barely grazing it until you shatter for him. There are no words, just filthy, messy sounds, slurping and squishing echoing in your brand new chambers, while you cum all over your new husband's face, and fuck if you’ve never felt anything like it.

Your eyes are rolled back in your skull, shaking violently as the waves just rush through you, brain short circuiting with how much pleasure he’s rushed through you with his wicked mouth. You're shaking as you come down, as the orgasm leaves aftershocks, pulsing around nothing at all, craving things you shouldn’t, wanting impossibly more.

The pleasure is so intense you’re dizzy, barely able to fucking see, as you’re trying to gain your senses, orient yourself, looking down as Satoru presses one more kiss on your pretty cunt. He’s leaning up then, smirking down at you, pressing a kiss to your lips, when you taste yourself you're a blushing mess.

“You’re yummy, aren’t you? Do you like tasting it?” His voice is husky, his heavy cock brushing your thigh, hot and twitchy, leaking that sticky substance as you’re struggling to form a fucking word.

“I… you… we…” He’s chuckling, you’d scowl at his audacity, but your brain is altogether too fucked out.

“All that talk, all those books you read, it’s cute,” he brushes your hair back and smirks. “But I don't think you're ready f'me yet, sweetheart.”

You’re opening your mouth to say anything, trying to catch your breath as he stands up, bending down to snatch up his robe, lazily tying it over his body as if he’s casually chatting, not fucking your brain up. You sit up and look at him then, at the man you barely know, his eyes linger across your body as he swipes his chin, and you see it’s glistening, coated with your slick.

“You’re messy, tsk.” He smirks again, you’d like to smack that smirk off his face if you could form a thought!? You finally tug the blanket over you, he chuckles, murmuring - cute - like you’re amusing to him then.

“So where will you go, Emperor Gojo, will you go to your concubines to cum?' he chuckles then again, fucking infuriating. He leans down low, tilting your chin up as you look at him.

“Maybe I will, would that bother you, sweetheart?” You shake your head, it can't bother you, and you won’t fucking let it. No way, this will be your life now, you can’t let one interaction distract you, make you forget everything.

“Why would I care, you’ll be doing that all of our marriage, won’t you?” Your question makes him tense. “If roles were reversed, would you care?”

“What nonsense is that?” He’s scowling, and your mean little smile is back, he’d have to fuck that look off you one day.

“It would not bother me, it’s expected.”

“Ah,” he shakes his head, caressing your cheek almost tenderly, you feel foolish fucking thinking it. “You're not the best liar, that won't help you play the court, you know, you’ll have to get a better poker face.”

The mother fucker turns and walks away then, leaving you alone after he’d just licked your cunt, every inch to be precise, after he’d kissed you, looked at you in ways that bother you. The guilt sets in, hot and heavy, you’re crying for the first time in so fucking long, remembering your other vows, the ones that you promised to Suguru.

And now these are your fucking vows.

Just who was Satoru Gojo, and did you care more than you’d like to? No way, you shake that off, trying to process just what the fuck happened, as you tug at the pillows and sob into them. You miss home, you miss Suguru, and now instead of consummating it, you could handle that, you did something worse.

You enjoyed it all.

*****

Satoru doesn't go to his concubines that night, sure he let you think that, but how the fuck could he after he'd just tasted the sweetest nectar that exists right from your cunt? When he'd had your throat constricting his cock, those eyes looking up at him under those lashes?

How could he go try and be with one of them when he just wants to go back in there and sink inside your perfect cunt? Wreck your thoughts of him, rearrange your brain and your guts with his cock? Show you things you never did with whoever was on your mind, make sure you'd only think of him.

He held back for two reasons, one, you were fucking him for duty. Something about it just felt wrong, as a man who hates tradition and duty, but also as a man who needs to be desired in all aspects. The slight fear and nerves in your eyes were enough to make him realize he can't do his ‘duty’ like this, not this way.

He's throbbing when he's back in his chambers, staring at the high ceilings and intricate patterns along it, taking several breaths. He shuts his eyes and all he can see is you lying under him, he can still feel your sticky wetness on his fingers, taste you on his tongue.

He quickly stomps in long strides to grab a caffer of wine, pouring it into one of the silver goblets on his elaborately carved wood night stand. He downs it as quick as he can, hoping he can get drunk enough to sleep after that, to not run back in your room and take you for the first time, fuck he'd take you in every way.

He's soon grabbing his cock, he could have let you suck him off, but something about that when you didn't truly want to, just using knowledge from books, also made him feel wrong to do so. Instead, he could have any girl in the fucking palace please him, but he's stroking his cock like a boy in leading strings, not like the Emperor Gojo at all.

He's laying back on his bed, the overhanging curtains around the four posts closed as if he could hide from even himself what he's doing, stroking his sensitive cock and picturing only one person. Maddening, insanity, he doesn't want a wife, you don't want a husband, but all he can see is how your tits jiggle, while you jerked in his hold, while you whined out and gasped.

He can feel the sting of you yanking his locks as his hand strokes his cock up and down, achingly slow, a maddening pace. He's whimpering again, just like you made him do with your damn demon mouth. Maybe you're some witch, to have him stroking his veiny length, spitting on his cock and wishing it was your juices making him slick instead.

As he jerks himself, touching his tip, he leans back against the giant wood headboard, crying out your name before he can stop himself. Cheeks flush, lashes flutter, while his cock is twitching in his hand, the sounds lewd in his empty chambers, just breathy cries, whispers, and the sound of his hand moving up and down his glistening cock.

He finally cums, cursing and moaning - ‘f-fuuckk’ - while his cum pours all over his hand, an embarrassing amount that he'd like to explain away as not having cum today, as being edged by your throat, but the sight of so much milky seed all over his hand says much more than he'll admit. He's never seen so much, still pulsing out of his pretty pink tip.

“Fuck…” he quickly cleans up, stripping down to nothing and staring at the looking glass in his room. He's got a thin sheen of sweat on his skin, shaking his head as he looks at his own dilated eyes, wondering…

Just who is his new bride?

Well this is gonna be longer than I thought lol! Hope you all enjoyed <3

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[muffinexplorer]

Am I, not a good dad? ྀི

“I want mama!” your son screams, tears filling up his eyes—the same color as Nanami’s.

And speaking of Nanami…he feels helpless.

The boy won’t stop crying, won’t stop calling for you. His little face is red and scrunched up, his cheeks wet, chest heaving with each shaky breath. You’d told him you’d be gone for a few hours—explained it gently, with a kiss to his forehead and a promise that Papa would take care of everything. But none of it seemed to matter.

You’re gone and his world feels like it’s ended.

“Please, baby…Mum will be back any time soon.” Nanami spares a glance at the clock, in thirty minutes you’d be here. “Should we finish your meal in the meantime, mh?” He tries, voice tight, panic folding over his usual calm.

But your son only screams louder, fists pounding the highchair tray, tears flowing freely.

It’s been hours, and Nanami has come to the conclusion that : he doesn’t want me.

He stares at his son’s red, tear-slicked face. There’s no hatred in it, just unfiltered, helpless longing.

“I want Mamaaaaaa!!” Nanami flinches. Exactly, the toddler is longing for you.

The little boy’s small chest rises and falls in erratic sobs, hiccupping on the edge of breathlessness.

Nanami exhales slowly through his nose. You can do this, he tells himself. You’re his father. You can do this.

So, he tries.

He pulls out the little wooden train you carved together one weekend. Places it on the floor. “Do you want to show Papa how fast it goes again?” he asks, voice as gentle as possible.

No response.

He tries the animal book—the one with flaps and texture that always make him giggle. “Tell Papa where’s the lion. Can you find the lion for me?”

Nothing.

Just a heartbreaking, hoarse little “Mama…”

Nanami even tries to put on the cartoon with the talking blue bear. The one your son usually dances to.

As nothing seems to work, Kento feels his heart breaking inch by inch. He picks him up despite the flailing little arms, holds him against his chest, firm but not tight, like you’ve teached him.

His son won’t stop. Not even a little. The screams turn into an open-mouthed wail, the kind that turns cheeks purple and voices raw for hours. 

Nanami’s hands tremble slightly. He sits down on the floor with the boy in his lap, gently cradling him, head bowed. He’s never felt this powerless.

Not during cursed missions, not under pressure—but here, in his own home, with his child breaking apart in his arms… He feels not enough.

Not soft enough. Not warm enough. Not you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into the crown of his son’s head. “I’m trying. Papa’s trying so hard.”                 

And that’s when the front door creaks open. “I’m home!”

And just like that, your son’s head snaps up from where he’s been sobbing into Nanami’s lap. Your husband doesn’t even have the time to rise to his feet that the boy is squirming violently in his arms, “mama! Mama! MAMA!!” Nanami lets him go without resistance. He stands slowly as your son flings himself into your arms when you appear in the doorway.

Concern is written all over your face. “I’m here, baby. I’m here…”  you look up and see Nanami standing a few feet away, shoulders sagging, eyes tired behind his glasses.

“he’s been crying for hours,” he says softly. “didn’t want anything from me. Wouldn’t eat. Wouldn’t play.”

You nod as your rubs your son’s back. “I’m sorry. He’s just been going through this clingy phase.” 

“I know.” Nanami offers a tired smile, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “it’s okay.”

Later, after dinner and a bath your son is finally asleep, curled on your side of the shared bed, clutching one of your shirts tightly, your scent comforting him.

Nanami stands in the doorway, arms crosses, watching the soft rise and fall of your kid. You come up behind him, circling his waist with your arms, letting your cheek rest on his strong back.

One of his hands intertwin with yours. “He wouldn’t even let me hold him,” he says, barely above a whisper. “I’ve never felt that…useless before.”

“Kento…”

“I know he’s still small. I know it’s not personal. But…” he pauses, swallowing hard. “I tried everything. Toys, books, food, music. He didn’t want any of it. It felt like…like…I wasn’t enough. I wasn’t…probably am, not a good dad.”

Your heart twists at the words. “Can you please turn to face me, love?”

He lets out a deep exhale, like the breath hurts to let go, and turns. When his eyes meet yours, you feel like the weight of the whole world just collapsed onto your chest. 

Nanami is silently crying.

His eyes are rimmed red, and cheeks drenched wet.

You gently cup his jaw. “You were more than enough Kento. You held him even when he didn’t want to be held. You didn’t get angry. You didn’t walk away. You didn’t even raise your voice once. That’s not just ‘enough’. That’s what a good dad does. That’s love.”

He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch as more tears gather in his long blonde lashes. “I just…” his voice breaks. “I just wanted to be what he needed.”

Nanami wraps his arms around you tighter, letting his forehead drop to your shoulder. He breathes into your neck, letting your scent comforting him­—just like his son does.

“I don’t mind not being the favorite,” he murmurs after a while, his voice quiet and raw. “But I hope, one day, he’ll reach for me too.”

You press a kiss the top of his head, pulling him impossibly closer to you. “He will. And when he does…he won’t want to let go.”

(request)

[muffinexplorer]

The lotus sucks up muddy water and produces beautiful flowers.

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okay you seem nice but do animals trust you?

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🜼 ⋆ just freak choso bouncing his thigh while you’re sat on him, mind you, it’s a friends group car ride. — part 2

you weren’t even supposed to sit on his lap.

but the car’s packed, and your friend shouted “just sit on choso, he’s got space,” like it was no big deal.

and maybe it wasn’t.

until you felt the way his thigh flexed under you.

thick. warm. solid.

and positioned just right between your legs, pressing against the thin fabric of your little skirt, snug right under your clit.

you swallowed hard.

he smirked—barely—and placed a casual hand on your hip to “help you balance.”

but now? ten minutes into the drive?

his leg’s bouncing.

slow. steady. up and down in a rhythm that makes your breath stutter and your lashes flutter.

you shift your weight—innocently, maybe, maybe trying to get some relief—but it just makes it worse. your clit drags across the seam of your panties, the bounce sends a shiver through your spine, and suddenly your hands are gripping his forearm like it’s the only thing keeping you from screaming.

“you good?” one of your friends calls from the front.

you nod quickly, voice tight. “mhmm.”

choso doesn’t even look at you.

he just hums under his breath, hand squeezing your hip once. his thumb brushes low, close to the edge of your waistband.

his thigh bounces again and your jaw tightens as your thighs clamp.

he leans in slightly, mouth brushing your ear. no one else can hear it but you.

“you’re dripping,” he murmurs. “soak through these shorts and i will pull you onto my fingers, right here.”

you squirm, barely moving, hips twitching as another bounce sends a jolt right to your core. you’re biting your lip, eyes wide, pupils blown.

“aw,” he whispers again, lower now, “you can’t even grind properly with people watching?”

you grip his arm harder and feel his smile, his eyes still watching the road, still quiet. and then his thigh bounces harder. that’s when you almost lose it—your legs trembling, clit throbbing, body tensing like a live wire as your orgasm starts to rise. your lashes flutter. a soft gasp escapes.

but then his hand presses down on your thigh, stopping the bounce entirely.

you’re frozen. blinking. your mouth parted in betrayal.

he leans in again.

“you’ll wait,” he whispers. “good girls wait. and you wanna be good, don’t you?”

you have no choice but to nod, choso just left you shaky and ruined.

“then sit still,” he says, voice low and calm. “and if you come without permission, i’ll stuff my fingers in you the second we stop this car. front seat, back seat, doesn’t matter. you’ll cry in front of all of them.”

you don’t move the rest of the ride. not even a little.

part 2

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Choso only lasts two pumps today :(

On a good day, he doesn't last long.

His first round is when he's at his weakest- pussy deprived for more than 24 hours, precum everywhere.. he gets his dick soaked in you for more than a second and he's done. He's a mess.

His second round is always longer.

"it's less sensitive now.." he mumbles and rubs himself, teasing it into you again. Now you can expect him to last as long as you want.. you can tell him exactly when you want him to come and he'll do it on command.

But today is one of his weaker days.

"baby, put it in.." you encourage him, where you're lying below him and looking up at his face.

"mm.." he rubs the head of his dick through your mess, where your legs are spread, knees pinned back to your chest.

He took over in a heated craze and put you in this position, now doesn't seem to have the guts to follow through with his plan.

He knows it's going to be tight.

"mm.." he moans, sliding just the tip of his dick inside.

Your hands are on his hips, pulling him closer, and your pussy is just sucking him in.

"all the way, Cho.."

"ugh.." he slides all the way back with a grunt, his head falling down to yours, lips and tongues connecting with shared moans.

"Choso.." your head is spinning, "it hurts.."

You bite your lip.

You know it only turns him on more.

You can feel him pulsing inside you.

"baby.." he looks at you dangerously, with those needy, deprived, dark eyes of his.

He's ready to bust already.

"please.. Choso.." you encourage him but you know what's going to happen.

"I.. I.." he drags his hips back.. "ugh.." and forth. Once.

Yeah it feels good but you need more.

"baby.. it's really tight today.. I.. I can't.."

His breath is unsteady, eyes unfocused and his head.. oh his sweet head is a mess.

He pulls back again, painfully slowly, then proceeds to babble his way through his orgasm.

Sinking himself inside you, on the second fucking pump, he drives himself all the way back, soaking your walls, making you drip, then falling down into the crook of your neck.

"I couldn't.. couldn't.. last longer.. baby.. I.." he still sounds all shaky from coming, "I wanted.. to.. but....."

"shh.." you tell him and pull him closer, revelling in the warmth of his body.

[muffinexplorer]

When Yuuji drops by Megumi's room, he's in for a surprise.

Part 1 can be found here

Pairing: Megumi x Reader (female) x Yuuji Word Count: 8k Genre: 18+, smut, fluff Warnings: dirty talk, fingering, lots of oral, cum eating, threesome (only kissing and oral so far). It's basically lots of smut and fluff between all three of them! All characters are of age. Minors don't interact! 18+ content!

Another typical Thursday evening in the Jujutsu Academy dormitories: Nobara is painting her nails, Maki is beating up Toge and calling it practice, Gojo is annoying Nanami with his gossip... and you are on your back on Megumi's bed making out with him while he has two long fingers up your throbbing pussy.

You're breathing heavily, grinding down onto your boyfriend's talented fingers, thinking that he's just too good at this, and it's not fair how stupid he can fuck you just with his hands. He's taking his time with you, though, slow pumps and the occasional quick flick of his thumb over your needy clit. He's gonna drive you wild tonight.

Your hand is running through his unruly black hair, tugging on it as you pull his head down for another sensual kiss. You feel Megumi's erection pressing against your thigh, leaving a sticky trail of pre-cum on your skin where he slowly ruts against you.

Another bolt of desire shoots through you at the thought of getting your mouth on his gorgeous dick.

But right when you are about to whisper to him what you want, there's a loud knock on the door.

The two of you jump apart. What the fuck?? Seriously, can't you even have some alone time with your boyfriend? You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from groaning at the loss of Megumi's fingers inside you. He's not happy either about the disturbance, cursing under his breath and glaring at the door.

"What??"

You quickly pull the blanket over the two of you to cover your naked bodies in case the visitor decides to come inside.

But then you hear a very familiar voice answering through the door:

"Hey, Fushiguro! I'm back from training. You wanna grab something to eat?"

Yuuji.

You feel your face get hot. Ever since that night when you made Yuuji cum through the wall while you were getting fucked by Megumi, you get a bit flustered when running into him.

It's not that he's treating you any differently. There are no lewd comments or touches. He's the sweet sunshine-boy, just like before. If it weren't for the deep gazes he sometimes sends your way, you would think the three of you never had some kind of threesome. But that doesn't mean you don't think about it constantly. Or about him in general.

In fact, Yuuji has been on your mind a lot. And on Megumi's too. Your boyfriend keeps on mentioning him while the two of you fuck, asking you if you think about his best friend.

Do you think Yuuji would feel different inside you? Would his cock stretch you open differently? How fast could he make you cum? Would you like to know, baby?

And you can't deny it. You've been craving to repeat that one night. It's only been a week, but you'll lose your mind if you can't hear Yuuji's needy moans again soon. But anytime you were in Megumi's room Yuuji was busy somewhere else.

But now? Now he is right there in front of the door. You bite your lip hard and press your thighs together. You are already so wet from Megumi finger-fucking you, but now there's even more wetness coating your folds.

Megumi's hand lands on your thigh and squeezes it, and then he answers his best friend through the door, voice low and husky:

"Come in! I have something to eat for you."

You draw in a sharp breath, but it turns into a soft moan. Is he really suggesting what you think?? You turn to look at him, blushing furiously now, to see a smirk on his pretty face and that familiar glint in his dark blue eyes that tells you he did indeed mean what you suspect.

The door handle moves, and your heart is beating up to your throat while your pussy is throbbing with desire. And then he walks into the room, wearing light grey sweatpants and a yellow shirt, his pink hair still a bit moist from the shower he just took, a big happy smile on his handsome face.

And you are here on the bed, your naked body barely covered by Megumi's blanket, pussy so wet that it's embarrassing, and you can't help but blush even deeper when Yuuji's surprised gaze lands on you.

His light brown eyes widen.

"Oh... (name)? I didn't know you are here tonight."

But he's not blushing. He's not flustered or shy about this, you realize. There's only curiosity in his gaze as it wanders from you to your boyfriend, who's sitting on the bed next to you.

Yuuji's gaze is lingering on Megumi when he asks:

"You want some alone time? I can go over to my room..." "Why don't you keep us company, Itadori?" As he says that, Megumi's hand twists in the blanket and tugs on it, making it slip out of your fingers and fall down, revealing your bared tits. You don't even have time to react because Yuuji's gaze already snaps back to you, and you see it trail over your full breasts, your hard nipples, and then he makes that noise: One of those sexy little whimpers that drove you crazy when hearing them through the wall. And it has the same effect on you now. You don't recognize your own voice when you croak throatily: "Yes, please stay, Yuuji." You are rewarded by Megumi flashing you one of his rare dazzling smiles, which always make him look so beautiful that it's almost unearthly. And then he leans over to kiss your cheek and whisper to you: "Good girl." The praise makes your eyelids flutter, and a desperate-sounding moan finds its way out of your mouth. You know how much Megumi wanted this: To have you and Yuuji both. The thought alone is enough to make you tremble with pleasure. And after all, it's what you want too. It has been playing over and over in your fantasies since that night. And the third player in this little sexy game you are playing seems to be just as eager as the two of you. Because Yuuji is already yanking off his shirt, ruffling his hair in the process, before throwing it carelessly onto Megumi's desk chair, followed by his sweat pants and socks. And he doesn't stop at that.

You are still busy drooling over his gorgeous lean muscled figure, the toned arms and broad chest, and those damn fine abs which lead to that v-line that looks so lickable! But Yuuji isn't one to waste time when being offered an opportunity like this. Before you can prepare yourself for it, he's already pulling down his red boxers, too, revealing his semi-hard thick cock, which is just as gorgeous and mouth-watering as the rest of him. Your cheeks are burning, and another moan escapes your lips as your fingers dig into the mattress beneath you.

Oh, fuck oh, fuck oh, fuck!! This is really happening!

Yuuji is standing naked in front of you, his cock growing harder every second because he's horny for you and your boyfriend! And he's walking over to the bed now. He's gonna touch you, and you're gonna touch him, and oh god!! You are slightly aware of Megumi moving beside you, and then the blanket that was pooling around your waist gets yanked off you completely, and you hear Megumi's husky voice: "That's what I meant when I promised you something to eat. Want to try her pussy, Yuuji?" The whine that escapes your lips is embarrassingly needy, and the way your hips yerk at Megumi's words makes you feel like a total slut. But who could blame you? It's so fucking hot the way your boyfriend offers you to his best friend. Yuuji is kneeling on the bed now, right in front of you, and his brown eyes are shining with lust as he lets his hungry gaze travel over your naked body.

You feel a bit shy under his intense gaze, keeping your thighs pressed together, but your pussy is throbbing with need. Yuuji's eyes meet yours, burning into them. His voice is sweet like honey, though, so warm and gentle when he asks you: "Would you like that? I really want to. Want to kiss and lick your sweet pussy until you cum on my tongue. Is that ok? Do you want that, sweetheart?" Your heart is hammering in your chest. Yes, yes, yes! You want that more than anything!

But you're also nervous all of a sudden. So far, Megumi is the only one who touched you, the only one who buried his face between your thighs and made you cry out his name as he licked you to completion. And while you know that Yuuji is a sweet boy and that you are in very good hands with him, you can't help but feel a bit insecure. But then Megumi's hand is on your cheek, cupping it gently, and he turns your face towards him, kissing you deeply, anchoring you again with his soft tongue caressing the insides of your mouth and his slender fingers stroking your cheek. Before he pulls away, he whispers against your lips: "Tell him what you want, babe. I know you're craving his mouth on you. You want him to wreck you until you cry. And I would really love to watch." He is right, of course. He knows because you told him! Because he asked you to whisper all those dirty confessions about his best friend to him while he was balls-deep inside you two days ago, fucking you until your legs were shaking and you were telling him every dirty little detail of what you wanted Yuuji to do to you.

Wouldn't it be stupid to waste this chance? So you bite your lip nervously but manage a slight nod while blushing profoundly and looking into Yuuji's pretty brown eyes.

"Yes...yes, please, Yuuji, I want that. Want you." His sweet smile lights up his whole face. "Aww, don't worry cutie, I got you. I love eating pussy. I'll give you anything you need. Why don't you lay down and show me your cute pussy?" His words make you cream even more. You can feel it on your thighs, sticky and wet. He hasn't even touched you yet, and you are already such a mess for him. Before you can get the courage to do as Yuuji says, he reaches out and places a large warm hand on your calf. His voice is so sweet and soothing when he says: "Don't be scared, sweetheart. It's just Megumi and me. We'll take good care of you." He turns his head to look at your boyfriend, and they seem to exchange some wordless communication because a moment later, you feel strong arms wrapping around you. Megumi pulls you into his lap, so you're sitting between his legs, your back leaning against his chest comfortably. And his lips are on your neck, leaving soft open-mouthed kisses there while he murmurs in between kisses: "Be a good girl for us now, ok? Yuuji will be so good to you." Your breath is coming out in short gasps. You are so turned on but also so nervous. It was something different to just hear Yuuji's moans through the wall, imagining him pumping his thick cock, getting off while listening to you and Megumi fuck.

But now Yuuji is here, right in front of you, kneeling on the bed and smiling that sweet sexy smile, looking like he just received his birthday and Christmas gift at the same time. He's licking his lips. And then his big warm hands land on your knees, which are still pressed together tightly, and he rubs his thumbs gently over them before addressing your boyfriend: "Megumi? Will you help her, please? She's a bit shy. Spread her open for me, please Fushiguro-kyun?" He winks at him when using the nickname. He looks so cute and hot at the same time, and it's driving you crazy. Megumi laughs softly, breath ghosting over your neck, giving you goosebumps. "Of course, Yuu-chan. I'll show you how pretty she is." You shiver in anticipation, and then Megumi's hands grab your thighs, and without a warning, he pushes them wide apart, exposing your wet pussy.

You whimper in embarrassment, trying to close your legs again. It makes you feel so vulnerable to be exposed like that. For a moment, your mind screams at you that you can't do this. But before you can say anything, Yuuji is already there. He's lying down on his stomach between your now spread legs, and that sweet smile is still on his face, honey eyes sparkling with nothing but affection when he looks up at you. "Please don't be ashamed. You're so cute, princess. And you have such a pretty pussy. Please let me see more of you." All you can do is nod and sob and then hide your blushing face in Megumi's neck. You are trembling from a mix of desire and shame. Megumi's hands wander to your pussy lips and spread them open gently to reveal your glistening pearl to Yuuji. You whine again as you feel cool air brushing over your silk folds, your swollen needy clit, and your leaking hole. You can only imagine what you must look like. So completely at the mercy of your two boys, spread open, your arousal clearly visible by the wetness between your legs.

You want them to go on, and at the same time, wish to close your legs and hide away forever. A noise pulls you out of your slight panic. Yuuji is moaning. Who gave him the right to sound so sexy? He's just so.... just so Yuuji. He doesn't hold back or try to hide how horny he is. He isn't ashamed at all. And it's so fucking hot! It makes you forget about your own insecurity. You slowly open your eyes and turn your face to look at the pink-haired boy in front of you. His pupils are dilated, and he's looking at you feverishly while licking his lips again. "Fuck! You're so wet! Is that for me, baby? You're so sweet. I want to taste you. Want your sweetness on my tongue." And then the slightly cold sensation of the air caressing over your exposed folds gets replaced by the warmth of Yuuji's soft lips. Your hips buck, and a loud surprised moan escapes your lips. Pleasure shoots through your pussy and into your stomach with the first firm kiss Yuuji places on your swollen clit. He moans against you, and then his lips close around your bundle of nerves, and he sucks on it tenderly. "Yuuji! Oh...oh fuck!" He's so warm and so sweet, and pure bliss is spreading all over you. You can already tell that he really loves eating pussy by the way he's going about it so eagerly, sucking your clit sweetly while making those sexy, needy noises in the back of his throat.

Your hands finally untangle themselves from the bedsheets you had been clutching and instead find Yuuji's soft pink hair and tangle in it, earning you an even louder moan from him against your throbbing pussy. He's working you open now, tongue swiping through your slick folds and teasing your needy hole, sticking his tongue in and flicking it into you before pushing it in deeper. Your legs fall apart even wider as you welcome him in. Your initial shyness is forgotten because Yuuji's mouth feels heavenly.

Megumi's fingers are digging into your thighs. You can feel how hard he is, his erection pressing so deliciously against your back, leaving a wet trail over your skin where he's smearing his pre-cum onto you.

He's enjoying this so much, too, even though he isn't even actively involved. The realization blows your mind, sending more arousal down between your legs. Megumi gets off on this, on watching you with his best friend! He's so into this, and it makes you happy to know that you're fulfilling one of his dirty dreams right now. His elegant fingers trail up your thighs and over your stomach and then cup your tits firmly, eliciting another desperate groan from you. Fingertips tease your nipples, rubbing them and tweaking them in a way that goes straight to your cunt.

Megumi moans into your neck before his lips close around your sensitive skin there and suck on it. He always goes feral on your neck, marking you almost savagely to show who you belong to. But today, his mouth is gentle on you, almost as if he doesn't want to stake his claim. As if saying, You are Yuuji's too, not just mine.

And his next words confirm it: "That's good baby, spread your legs for him. Yuuji is so good, isn't he? I've wanted to see this for a long time… seeing you falling apart on his mouth. Fuck, the two of you are so hot! Make her cum, Itadori." You can only whine in agreement as Yuuji's mouth is working such magic on you that you can already feel the pressure building almost unbearably inside you. Your gaze is fixed on his ruffled pink hair and his face buried between your legs. You can't look away. This is even better than in your fantasies! Yuuji looks up at you from between your thighs. He's gazing at you with the cutest horny fogginess while his soft tongue is slowly licking all the way up from your quivering hole to your swollen clit, making your hips tremble with tingles of pleasure. He looks so gorgeous, so pretty and cute, and the thought of cumming on his pretty face drives you crazy! His voice sounds rough and breathless when he moans against your heat: "You taste..." a kiss on your clit "so sweet" tongue flicking back and forth over your needy bud, making it stiff and puffy, "can't get enough of you. Please give me more." His lips close around your sensitive bud again, sucking it hungrily, teeth gracing the slightest bit over it, and that's it! You cry out desperately, an incoherent mix of Yuuji's name and loud moans. Your body jerks uncontrollably, heat spreading all over you as your orgasm rips through you in hot waves. Yuuji's slurping up all your juices loudly. It sounds so obscene, so sexy. You moan again, desperate and wild, your fingers combing through his soft pink hair lovingly while you grind up against his mouth, riding out the last waves of your orgasm.

You are panting lightly as your vision becomes clearer again slowly. There's still a tightness coiling in your stomach. You know you aren't finished yet. Not with Yuuji joining you and Megumi tonight. The realization that you just orgasmed on Yuuji's tongue blows your mind. It's not a dream! Yuuji is finished licking up the cream that was gushing out of you, and he smiles up at you, looking so cute that it's almost heartbreaking. "You have such a sweet pussy. I could get addicted to it." Your hips buck at his words. You are so pathetic! Yuuji just licked and kissed a mind-blowing orgasm out of you about a minute ago, and here you are already horny again!

Megumi moans softly against your neck, just as affected by this as you are. "Then why don't you eat her pussy a second time? I'm sure she's gonna cum for you again in no time at all. Don't you, princess? You're still so horny for him. Arent you?" Gosh, Megumi really can't get enough of seeing Yuuji and you together! Yuuji's answer is a chuckle which turns into a moan. But he lifts his head a bit and grins at Megumi. "Why don't you help me, Fushiguro? Let's make her cum together. Heard you have talented fingers." You draw in a breath, blushing again. Oh god, a while ago, you and Nobara were exchanging some bedroom stories, and you mentioned how good Megumi was with his fingers. She must have told Yuuji! But Megumi just laughs softly, "Let's see how hard she cums when she gets my fingers and your mouth." Yuuji seems to like that answer because he smiles even brighter and then leans down to trail sweet kisses over your inner thighs, kissing up the wetness you were spreading there earlier when you were pressing your legs together. A few minutes later, you are pretty sure you're going to faint from pleasure. Your boys are working their magic on you, leaving you a whimpering mess between them.

Yuuji is looking up at you while his tongue is fucking you open. He's so deep inside you, licking and flicking over your sweet spot. And Megumi's elegant fingers are playing with your needy clit, rubbing slow wide circles around it while he's kissing your neck and moaning softly. This is pure bliss! The best you can get! You have them both: The boy who is so fucking good with his mouth and the boy who is such a master with his fingers. And they rub you, lick you, suck you and caress you relentlessly. Forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you, leaving you a shaking, crying mess, pussy squirting so much that Yuuji's face is slick with it, and Megumi's fingers on your clit make the filthiest squishy sounds. The heat washes over you a second and a third time. You cry out loudly, hips bucking wildly as you ride out the next orgasm on Yuuji's tongue, while Megumi's middle finger is slowly tapping against your sensitive clit, making tears run down your face. You barely manage to whimper: "Please, I can't take it anymore."

And Megumi kisses your neck again, sounding breathless and horny just like you. "Hmm, yeah, I think you had enough, baby. You were really good for us. I'm proud of you." He presses another kiss to your neck and pulls his fingers away from your clit to caress your waist instead. Finally, you are able to open your eyes again. You are slumped against Megumi's chest, completely wrecked, panting, and face red. You watch through heavy-lidded eyes as Yuuji kneels on the bed in front of you, smiling like the sunshine that he is, his lips glistening wet from your cum. A low moan is heard. Megumi. You can even feel it in his chest from where you're leaning against him. "Itadori… come here." He sounds breathless, but his voice still has that commanding tone. Yuuji does as Megumi tells him and crawls over to him. The muscles in his arms flex, drawing your gaze to them and leaving you marveling at how beautiful and strong he is. He stops next to Megumi's side and leans closer. You turn your head to see what the boys are up to, and your eyes widen when you see it. Yuuji's still smiling as he presses his lips to Megumi's and kisses him. You bite your lip hard as you drink in the sight in front of you. Megumi's hand cups his best friend's chin and kisses him back. You see their mouths opening, tongues meeting and lapping at each other. They are exchanging your cum through that kiss, you realize. You watch them hungrily, another bolt of pleasure coursing through your pussy and up your stomach. God, they look so sexy like that! And they are both making those needy noises, soft whimpers and moans as they taste you in their kiss. They gave you so much pleasure, took such good care of you, but neither of them found release yet. Both are still achingly hard, needing to cum too. You whimper at the thought of being able to see Yuuji cum this time and not just hear him through the wall. Megumi's hands are wandering all over Yuuji's body, tracing strong back muscles with his graceful fingers, caressing toned arms, and then landing on his round ass, kneading the ass cheeks firmly. He must have craved this for a long time. Touching his best friend like this, feeling his warm skin and hard muscles, and hearing his needy moans.

And Yuuji seems to be just as infatuated with Megumi too, judging by the way he's leaning into his touch, moaning loudly into his mouth, one big hand caressing Megumi's pecs and then running lower to brush over his abs greedily.

They want each other. And seeing them together is making you lose your mind. You understand Megumi now. The way he moaned in your ear and his cock-head was creamy with pre-cum when he watched you and Yuuji together.

Desire washes over you, blindingly white, and you know you need more of this, more of your two boys and all three of you together.

You turn around, sliding down on the bed until you're on face level with Megumi's straining hardon. He's such a horny mess. You can tell by the state of his pretty cock. It's flushed pink, straining hard, the head wet and swollen, leaking pre-cum like crazy.

You can't resist the urge to lap up the sticky mess oozing out of his slit in thick pearls. Megumi whines needily into Yuuji's mouth as you do so, and it makes you grin widely.

That's a sound you don't hear from your little control freak of a boyfriend very often. Sure, he is loud in bed, all those pretty moans and the filthy things he tells you. But whines? That's new. Yuuji in your bed seems to make you both discover new things.

You look up and see the boys part, a thin thread of spit still connecting their lips as they both look down at you with the most beautiful dazed horny looks on their faces.

Yuuji is the first to find his voice again:

"You like Megumi's cum hm? You can have mine too. Wanna blow both of us, sweetie? Two dicks are even more fun."

Before you can reply, he smiles at Megumi and strokes a thumb over his cheek.

"Megumi, can I have your girl's mouth on me too, please?"

He has the cutest expression on his face, a cute pout, and big puppy eyes, and you know that Megumi would let Yuuji have anything he asks of him.

"Of course. My girl is your girl too."

You can't help but groan needily when you hear that. The way Megumi, who is usually so possessive, is so willing to share you with Yuuji is driving you crazy in the best way.

It gives you butterflies and makes your pussy cream madly. You are their girl now. And they are yours.

Suddenly you can't wait any longer. A craving so intense grips you. You reach out to put a hand on one of Yuuji's toned thighs and caress it gently. You need him to get here right now, or you will surely lose your sanity.

Luckily Megumi helps you by pulling Yuuji down, making him sit next to him on the bed.

They look right out of a wet dream. Sitting there with their throbbing cocks out. Their backs leaning against the headboard of the bed, each a hand on the other's thigh and both smiling at you. They are so pretty with their lean muscled bodies and gorgeous cocks, which are so hard for you.

You look at them hungrily, a new wave of wetness staining your pussy lips as you take in the sight in front of you, trying to commit it all to memory forever.

Megumi's dick is slightly longer than Yuuji's, so pretty with his light pink mushroom head, long and elegant just like his fingers. You have already committed every detail of this beautiful boy to your memories, and you don't think you'll ever get enough of him.

Yuuji is new, and your curious gaze is drinking him in hungrily. He's so gorgeous. Tan skin, a buffer build than Megumi, a wide sweet smile on his handsome face, his pink hair a stark contrast to Megumi's unruly black hair strands. And his cock... Yuuji's cock is not as long as Megumi's but thicker, with a vein running over the underside of his whole length, his tip big, swollen, wet, and dark pink.

They both are so damn pretty and make you whine with need. Megumi's voice, rough with arousal, pulls you out of your little daze.

"Stop the staring, princess. Come here and give us your pretty mouth."

Yuuji chuckles softly, and his honey gaze meets yours. The lust you see in there makes you shake. His voice too sounds like honey:

"Yes, please come here, cutie. I want to feel your mouth on me. Do you like to swallow? I hope so because I cum a lot."

Oh, fuck! You sob at his words and nod eagerly. Megumi's hand on Yuuji's thigh tightens:

"She'll love your big load, Itadori."

You are lowering yourself, lying down on their thighs, so their hard cocks are right in front of your face. It's Yuuji who reaches out first and tangles his strong fingers in your hair. His voice is sexy and deep when he says:

"Then be our good girl, ok? Your lips are so pretty, baby. I know they'll be so sweet on my cock." He pulls your head closer until his thick tip is prodding at your plush lips. You gulp excitedly and tilt your face to look up at the two horny boys. They are both watching you intently, lips hanging open and breathing heavily. When your gaze meets Megumi's, you see his eyes darken with lust. "Open up for him, baby." Megumi's command is a needy moan. But he wouldn't even have to tell you because your lips are already wrapping around Yuuji's tip, whimpering as you feel his velvety hardness for the first time. His thick head slips inside you, stuffing your mouth as your eyes fall shut in pleasure. You hear a low moan, and you can't even tell whether it's coming from Yuuji or Megumi.

Yuuji's fingers are caressing your hair as he rolls his hips upwards slowly, pushing his gorgeous cock deeper into your wet heat. This time you know that the loud growl is coming from him.

"Fuck! Your mouth feels so good, baby! You're gonna suck us both dry, aren't you!?" And that's exactly what you're planning to do. You are drunk on their dicks. Switching between your two boys, Sucking and kissing and licking their cocks hungrily, eliciting a horny twitch of hips from one of them and then going back to the other, sucking hungrily on his needy tip, flicking your tongue over it until he cries out needily. Only for you to let him slip out of your mouth and sink down on the others full length, letting it hit the back of your throat. They are both at your mercy, so horny and desperate for you. But they are so sweet about it. They let you split your attention between them both. So unselfish. Strong fingers stroking your hair, muttering encouragements to you, sweet nothings, and needy moans. Each of them rolls his hips when your mouth is on him, fucking into your heat needily, but they also let the other have the pleasure. It makes you moan in between switching from one dick to the other: "You are both such good boys. Sharing me so sweetly. You must really love each other, hm? That's so cute. You are both so cute!" Your praise makes them both moan loudly. Especially Yuuji seems to soak it up, and you catch yourself thinking that you have to keep this in mind for the future. You want to praise that boy some more and see what he'll do. You turn your face towards Megumi's cock, groaning as you see another trail of pre-cum trickling down his shaft. He's leaking so much today. You mouth the side of his long dick gently and suck on it, making his hips buck. But right when you are about to take him fully into your mouth, you are stopped by his strong fingers in your hair. "Baby, go back to Yuuji. I think he's close. Finish him first, ok? I want to watch how you make him cum and swallow his load." You can hear the need in Megumi's voice. He's so horny for this. He needs it. He needs to see his best friend bust in your mouth as you struggle to take his big cock and all of his cum. And so you do what your horny boyfriend asks of you and go back to bop your mouth on Yuuji's hard length eagerly, basking in every loud moan you hear. Megumi was right. Yuuji is really close. You can tell by the way he's unable to hold back, and his hips lift, and he's fucking into your mouth. Yuuji cums with a loud cry, hips bucking wildly and cock shuddering inside you, a thick hot load of cum spurting into your mouth and filling it up. You keep on sucking him through it, feel him jerking again and again as he pulses even more waves of cum into you. Fuck! He didn't exaggerate when he said he cums a lot! Both of your boys are moaning at the sight of you trying to keep all of Yuuji's cum in you. "Oh fuck! Yes, princess, take all of him!" "You're doing so great, cutie, ah! Your mouth is so sweet on my dick! Taking my cum so well!" You can only hum in response while swallowing his thick load. You feel light-headed from all the pleasure.

When Yuuji is finally finished, you let him slip out of your mouth, moaning softly at the loss. He filled you up so perfectly. You know you will always keep running back to get more of him after tonight. Hopefully, he will let you. Before you can say anything, you feel Megumi's hand twisting in your hair, and he pulls you up towards him. He crashes his lips against yours almost violently. Prying your mouth open with his tongue, and kisses you deeply.

You know what he's doing, getting his share of Yuuji's cum, too. Drinking it out of your mouth. And you let him have it. You caress his tongue languidly and open your mouth wider to let Megumi take full control of the kiss and get as much of Yuuji's remaining taste as he needs. Once he's gotten enough, he pulls away from the kiss with a groan. His beautiful lashes flutter when he looks at you. He's such a sight! Horny Megumi always makes you lose your mind a little. And he's probably going a bit crazy too right now because he's the only one who hasn't finished yet. But you're going to change that. You crouch down again, caressing Megumi's toned thighs with your hands while smiling up at him. "Can't wait to have your cum too, baby." You are still looking at him as your lips hover over his swollen pink tip, about to take Megumi into your mouth and give him the completion he deserves. But you are stopped by a warm hand on your back.

And then Yuuji is climbing over you before settling on Megumi's other side. He's lying down on his stomach and smiles first at you and then at Megumi as he places a big hand on Megumi's thigh. "Let me help. Can I please Megumi? You want my mouth on you too?" A strangled moan escapes your boyfriend's lips, and he looks at you and then at Yuuji with dilated pupils and flushed cheeks. "Yes, I want you too!" His elegant hands tangle in your hair and in Yuuji's hair and gently push both your heads down to his throbbing cock. He looks mouth-watering. Pre-cum running down his length. Yuuji is staring at Megumi's dick with big eyes, mouth hanging open slightly, looking so fucked out that you want to take a picture and keep it forever to look at this sexy face over and over again. It's so cute and hot the way your two boys aren't just crazy for you but also so crazy for each other. You don't know for sure, but you have a feeling tonight's the first time they are doing something with another guy, and there's something so sweet about this that it's tugging at your heart. You forget to breathe for a moment when Yuuji finally leans down, and his tongue darts out to scoop up the thin trail of pre-cum that's running down Megumi's hard length. Oh god!

Yuuji's looking up at your boyfriend while his velvety pink tongue is slowly licking up all the way from Megumi's base to his swollen wet tip.

And Megumi is staring down at him with flushed cheeks and heavy-lidded eyes, mouth falling open in a low moan. "Fuck, Yuuji!" You see Yuuji smile happily at his best friend's reaction, and then he opens his lips and wraps them around Megumi's tip. You and Megumi both moan at the same time when you see Yuuji's cheeks hollowing when he starts sucking. A needy sob falls from Megumi's lips, and you see him fighting to keep his eyes open so he can watch his dick push in and out of his best friend's mouth. "You're so good, Yuuji... wanted you for so long, baby!" His little horny confession makes your pussy clench. This is so perfect. That you and Megumi both want Yuuji so much, and now you finally have him in your bed, and he seems to love it just as much as you do. You reach out to run a hand through Yuuji's hair again and lean down to kiss his cheek lovingly. "You're making him so happy, Yuu. Look at him. He loves your lips on his cock. He's gonna cum so hard for you. You're such a good boy, making both of us so happy." Oh yes, sweet Yuuji definitely loves getting praised because he moans loudly around Megumi's dick, sounding so cute. Your heart clenches at the sight of Yuuji being such a sweet submissive boy, blowing your boyfriend's cock with so much devotion. Just as sweet as he was when making love to your pussy. Yuuji lets Megumi's cock slip out of his pink mouth and presses a kiss to the puffy tip, a loud, wet smack. And then turns to grin at you. "He feels so good in my mouth. Thank you for sharing him with me. Let's make him nut together, ok? Does that sound good, Gumi? Your two pets kissing and licking it all out of you?" He beams at his best friend while rubbing his cheek affectionately up and down Megumi's hard length. Megumi's answering horny moan is enough confirmation. Yuuji's gonna be the death of him, and it makes you smile brightly. You knead your boyfriend's thigh gently and lean closer to breathe soft little kisses all over the side of his throbbing hard length, which is still slick from Yuuji's spit. His slender fingers are tangling in your and Yuuji's hair, tugging on it more desperately every second as you both lick up and down his hard length, moaning every time your tongues meet around his dick. You are blowing Megumi's cock and french kissing Yuuji at the same time. It's messy and wet and the sexiest thing you've ever done. And Megumi is a moaning mess. He's receiving the sweetest torture from the two of you. Soft kisses and gentle wet flicks of your tongues, up and down his long hard cock, over his dripping wet swollen head, down to his thick base and his full balls. "Fuck, Megumi, your moans are even prettier when I'm in the same room!" And Yuuji is right! The noises the two of you draw from Megumi's mouth are exquisite. He's even louder than usual.

And he's so pretty. Looking down at the two of you with the most beautiful fucked out expression. He is such a sweet mess for you. His lips are hanging open, low needy moans and whines falling from them continuously, his cheeks are flushed a pretty shade of pink, just like Yuuji's hair, and he's struggling to keep his gorgeous blue eyes open. You've never done this to him before. Edging him like this, so tenderly with a thousand soft kisses and licks. He wouldn't let you do it if you were alone with him, you think. He's too strong. He would just push your head down and fuck your mouth when he couldn't take the teasing anymore.

But today, Yuuji is here with you, and Megumi knows full well that he can't do anything against Yuuji's superhuman strength. He can feel it in the way Yuuji's large hands are pushing his hips down right now, fixing Megumi on the bed so the two of you can have your way with him and take your time to show him how much you love his pretty cock. You don't think Yuuji is even aware of what he's doing to Megumi. He isn't purposely edging him. He's just here doing his best to shower his best friend with love and affection. And kissing and licking his cock with such abandon seems to be a very good way to show it. His sweetness is adorable. What takes Megumi over the edge is Yuuji and you looking into each other's eyes while you both slowly lap at Megumi's swollen tip, tongues swirling and meeting over his flushed slit. The only warning you get is strong fingers tightening in your hair and a desperate-sounding cry. And then Megumi cums between you. Cum shooting out of his dick messily. He nuts over your and Yuuji's faces, and some of it lands on his firm abs, painting them in sticky white. Yuuji moans and chuckles at the same time while he's trying to lick up his best friend's seed that's sticking to the side of his face. He looks so sexy. Such a sweet boy with the most innocent smile while cum is dripping down his face. You can't stop yourself, your hands are already grabbing Yuuji's face, and you pull his head closer and lick the cum off his cheeks and nose hungrily. He's stunned for a moment by your little attack, but then another soft laugh escapes his lips, and he tangles his hand in your hair and returns the favor, running his soft tongue over your face until you are clean again too. Yuuji's soft lips find yours, and his big hand cups the back of your head as he kisses you sweetly. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest, and you sigh happily into his mouth. He's a good kisser, gentle but passionate enough to make your head spin. No wonder Megumi got so drunk on his lips. Your boyfriend's currently panting softly as he's coming down from his orgasm, long fingers caressing your hair. The other hand is probably doing the same to Yuuji's pink strands. You hear a soft groan and then Megumi's voice still hoarse from moaning so loudly: "You're so cute together. I like watching you. My sweet girl and my sweet boy." You and Yuuji pull apart with a soft groan and both of you turn to smile at Megumi. He looks completely spent but happy, cheeks still red and his hair sticking up, cum glistening on his abs. He grabs his shirt from the nightstand and wipes himself clean.

Yuuji, cute as ever, smiles softly: "Aww, Fushiguro, you are cute too. And you taste really good!" He licks his lips as if to prove his point before adding: "I'm so glad I could finally get my share of you." You can see how much his words please Megumi, how proud he is, and how happy. Your thoughts get interrupted by Yuuji as he turns to you again, "Let's give him one last thing to watch, huh cutie?" Before you know what's going on, Yuuji's already flipping you onto your back, and his face is buried between your thigs in lightspeed. He's lapping up the creamy wetness that has once again gathered between your legs, sucking on your clit and teasing your hole, fucking into it with his talented tongue.

It only takes a moment, and you're cumming one last time for the night. Your orgasm is washing over you in soft, shuddering waves as Yuuji kisses your clit lovingly. Lewd little mewls come out of your mouth while Megumi's fingers comb gently through your hair and Yuuji's lips give one last kiss to your most sensitive spot. You are so utterly spent, brimming with satisfaction and happiness, unable to move a single limb. But strong arms encircle you. You don't even know if it's Megumi or Yuuji or both of them. But they pull you up until all three of you are huddled together, Megumi in the middle. He sighs softly, making you smile and snuggle into his side with a content hum. It feels nice to lay here with them both. A small voice inside your head demands that you stay like that the whole night. But soon, the comfortable silence gets interrupted by a loud gasp from Yuuji, who suddenly scrambles to sit up, almost falling out of the bed in the process while staring wide-eyed at the clock on Megumi's nightstand. "Shit! It's already so late! I promised Kugisaki to help her take some pictures of her and Maki for her Instagram! I have to go!" He gets up quickly and picks up his clothes, hopping into his boxers and sweatpants hurriedly. You and Megumi are watching with twin amused, affectionate expressions on your faces.

You can't help but regret seeing Yuuji's tan skin and firm muscles getting covered up by clothes again, especially now that you know how his body feels under your fingers and lips. Hopefully, this wasn't the only chance to get your share of Itadori Yuuji! Yuuji's pulling his shirt over his head when a loud knock sounds on the door. "Fushiguro!! Do you know where Itadori is??" Nobara is searching for her photographer, apparently. Yuuji pulls his shirt down quickly and opens the door, pink hair still ruffled. "Heyyy, Kugisaki!" He ushers her away from the door before she can look inside, but you can hear her voice loud and clear, sounding a bit annoyed: "Why are you here? Do you guys have a party or what?! And you didn't invite Maki and me??" "No, it's not like that! We were just.. practicing together." "Practicing?" "Yeah! Curses and stuff... Jujutsu.. you know?!" "No, I don't know. You're talking stupid again, Itadori! I swear you're losing a bit more of your mind every day!" By now, you have to bite your hand to stop yourself from laughing out loud. And judging by the way Megumi buries his face in his hands, he's in a similar state. You see Yuuji's hand appear in the doorway to grab his shoes, and Nobara's voice carries over once again: "Did you at least eat something already so we can start right now?" You almost choke when you hear Yuuji's reply: "Oh, yeah, I had some delicious food! Let's go!" Megumi curses under his breath as Yuuji quickly sticks his head into the room to wave at the two of you with a cheeky smile on his handsome face. He winks before pulling the door shut behind him.

It closes with a soft thud, leaving you and Megumi both staring at it for a whole minute before Megumi turns to you and says in a slightly breathless voice: "Fuck, he's really cute, isn't he?" And all you can do is nod dazedly and whisper just as breathlessly: "Yes, he is." Dark blue eyes look deeply into yours, and then Megumi asks carefully: "Can we keep him? Like this, I mean, as more than friends. Is that ok, baby? Can he be ours? It wouldn't change anything about how we feel about each other. We would just... add some more love." And suddenly, your heart feels so full. Up until now, you couldn't place what you have been feeling during the last hour. Why you feel so happy, so warm and giddy. But now it all makes sense. You smile at your boyfriend and wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. "Yes, I want him to be ours too."

So that was FINALLY part 2! Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and I would really appreciate comments and reblogs. This series is so much fun to write. The characters just take over the story and do what they want, but I'm glad about that! They are so cute! Also, I'm so thrilled to be able to include some Megumi/Yuuji action in this fic. Expect more fluffy threesome fun in part 3!

[muffinexplorer]

THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO GOJO’S D$CK. g.s

feat. gojo satoru

sum. what’s the best sex position ever? loud and clear you said missionary. the result? got called slut by shoko and dared by geto to fuck the stupidest man in the group, gojo satoru. and you, also the stupidest take the bait just to prove a point only to get the best missionary you’ve ever had. which, also got called slut by your friend.

wn. college au, all characters are adults (early 20s), depictions of alcohol and weed consumption, explicit sexual content including graphic foreplay and intercourse, strong language, sexual humor, slut-shaming jokes between friends, emotionally charged intimacy, consensual rough play (e.g. scratching, hickeys), praise-kink, bit dirty talk,

gojo’s basement was a whole ecosystem of indulgence, an architectural fuck-you to minimalism. the moment you stepped off the last step, it was like descending into a pleasure den disguised as a frat boy’s fever dream and a luxury showroom had a threesome with a tokyo nightlife bar and decided to never leave.

soft, dark lighting glowed along the edges of the ceiling, hiding in strips of LED that shifted color every few minutes—right now it was a moody wine red that made everyone look flushed and half-possessed. a speaker system was embedded into the walls, not blasting but thumping low enough to feel in your molars, something beat-heavy and spacey, rhythmic enough to keep your hips rocking even if you were only sitting. the walls were textured concrete, but with art—huge framed prints, some classical, some hentai, because gojo was a pretentious bitch and also a walking disaster.

it was sectioned in loose, chaotic zones. one end had a full bar, real wood counters, glass shelves, and an overhead mirror with LED backlight that made the various alcohol bottles sparkle like gemstones. there were no mixers—just hard liquor and gojo’s “personal stash” of imported shit that tasted like burnt syrup and regret. behind the bar, nanami stood like a reluctant bartender, sleeves rolled up, jaw tight, stirring something too elegant for this crowd. he’d lost rock-paper-scissors and now he was stuck mixing drinks with military precision, ignoring everyone yelling that they just wanted a whiskey coke with extra whiskey and no coke.

a few steps away, there was a billiards table, dark green felt, cue sticks leaned against the wall, and haibara trying to make a shot with his head resting on the cue, eyes squinting like a sniper but swaying like a drunk tree. geto and shoko were stretched on the oversized couch that curved around a low table cluttered with empty shot glasses, an open pizza box with one lonely crust, and the remnants of three joints passed back and forth. gojo had dragged over a bean bag chair and was currently lounging in it like royalty, shirt half unbuttoned, pale collarbones peeking out, sunglasses still on indoors, of course, because he said the lighting was “too aggressive.”

you were on the rug, thighs warm from the alcohol, back against the couch, in the exact perfect spot to feel everyone’s presence all at once—geto’s knee brushing yours every time he shifted, shoko’s lazy hand resting in your hair because she liked to play with it when she was high, gojo’s long leg stretched out so his bare foot kept nudging your ankle. the rug smelled like old perfume and weed and a little bit like someone spilled gin and didn’t clean it up, and honestly? it was perfect.

“i think,” gojo announced, gesturing with his drink, something neon blue in a martini glass, “we should all officially drop out.”

“again?” geto asked, one eyebrow raised as he exhaled smoke and passed you the blunt. “you say that every thursday,” you added, grinning as you took it, the burn sweet and sharp on your tongue.

“yeah but this time i mean it,” gojo said, rolling over onto his stomach like a bored cat, chin resting on his arms. “what’s even the point of college? knowledge? community? shared trauma?”

“you only show up to class to cheat off nanami,” shoko pointed out. “he has such neat handwriting,” gojo said with a dreamy sigh. nanami rolled his eyes. “because i don’t get high the night before a midterm and forget how pens work.”

“that was one time,” you mumbled through a cough, handing the joint off to utahime who looked scandalized but still took it.

“you cried,” geto added helpfully.

“it was a stressful exam,” you defended, but the laughter already drowned you out. even nanami cracked a tired smirk. “okay but like—” haibara missed his shot and collapsed dramatically over the pool table, face pressed into the felt “—real talk. if we all dropped out, what would we do? jobs don’t exist. go.”

“porn,” you said immediately.

gojo made a high-pitched noise like a choking dolphin. “you can’t just say that, baby.”

“i said it,” you grinned, shrugging. “onlyfans. but we make it elite. like art-house, black-and-white stuff.”

“you want to direct?” shoko asked, voice slow, eyes heavy-lidded. “or star?”

“both,” you said. “duh.”

“visionary,” geto murmured, passing you a new joint, already lit. you took it without question. “okay okay okay,” haibara said, still face-down, voice muffled into the table. “but if you had to teach one sex position. like, for beginners. what’s lesson one?”

“doggy,” nanami answered without blinking.

“perv,” gojo coughed.

“efficient,” nanami corrected.

“missionary,” geto said, tapping his ash into a tray. “eye contact, full penetration, kiss access. versatile. emotionally devastating.”

“you’re so romantic,” you teased.

he smirked. “always.”

“cowgirl,” shoko added, licking salt off her hand. “control. visuals. core workout.”

“you’re all cowards,” gojo said, sitting up now, eyes glinting. “nobody said reverse cowgirl.”

“that’s because you’re the only one who wants to get kneed in the stomach,” utahime muttered, taking another sip. “worth it,” gojo sighed, pressing his hand over his chest like he’d been touched by god. and then—he turned, sharp and sudden, and pointed directly at you, mouth curling in a smirk that was all teeth and trouble.

“what about you, pretty girl?”

your throat went dry. his voice was soft now, low, sliding under your skin like warm syrup. everyone else fell quiet. not waiting in judgment—just watching. geto leaned back. shoko raised one eyebrow. even nanami tilted his head like your answer might end a war.

“hmm,” you hummed, tilting your head, pretending to think even as your lips curled. “honestly? missionary. but only if you’re trying to ruin my life,” you add, casually, sipping whatever tragic cocktail you’d ended up with—mostly rum, mostly sugar, entirely chaos—and immediately regretted it, because the second the words left your mouth, the basement erupted. broke in a howl of laughter. shoko nearly dropped her drink. geto choked on his exhale. haibara clapped the table.

“LAME!” haibara shrieked like you’d just confessed to listening to elevator music during sex. “liar,” geto said flatly, but the smile tugging at his mouth made it impossible to take seriously.

“no fucking way,” shoko barked, already leaning over the armrest like she needed to look you directly in the soul. “no. you? miss i make eye contact while ordering food like it’s a come-on?”

you groaned, trying to disappear into your shirt. “shut uuuuup.”

“there is no way your favorite position is missionary,” she said, flicking your forehead with sharp precision. “get the fuck out of here. you’re not fooling anyone.”

“maybe i’m romantic,” you offered weakly, already bracing as the room devolved into shrieks again. gojo wheezed, flopping onto his back and kicking a throw pillow off the couch. “romantic she says. oh my god. oh my fucking god.”

“missionary my ass,” utahime added, kicking your shin lightly with her socked foot. “that’s like saying your favorite food is plain rice.”

“with butter!” you shouted defensively.

“shut the fuck up!” everyone howled in unison.

“full nelson,” shoko said immediately, stabbing her finger at you. “you’re into some demon shit. like tied up, folded in half, legs behind your ears—"

“—that’s not even anatomically possible for most people—” nanami muttered in the background, but no one was listening. “you give power bottom with a penchant for suffering,” geto added smoothly, crossing his legs and resting his chin in his hand like he was about to psychoanalyze your soul.

“stop profiling me,” you groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “what if i just want soft sex? with love? with candles and eye contact and maybe a backhand to the cheek, but mostly like… romance.”

utahime gagged so hard it sounded real. “you’re disgusting.”

“i am romantic,” you insisted, chin raised, eyes defiant. “i want to be held. i want love.” shoko tossed a grape at your head. “you want to be held in a chokehold with your face pressed to the mattress.” you caught it in your mouth and chewed, flipping her off with flair. “maybe. but gently.”

gojo rolled back upright like a cartoon character, elbows resting on his knees, eyes gleaming under the dim lights. “i can do gently,” he said, voice low and syrup-sweet.

“no,” utahime said flatly.

“you don’t get to volunteer,” nanami said, not even looking up from whatever he was mixing now. gojo grinned and tilted his head toward you, his hand slowly sliding into the pocket of your hoodie, the one you were wearing. “but i wanna,” he said, and his voice dipped just enough to warm the pit of your stomach.

you elbowed him. “we’re still talking about metaphors.”

he smiled wider. “are we?”

shoko groaned. “i’m gonna throw something at both of you.”

geto passed her a half-empty beer can like a gentleman. “use this.”

“missionary,” shoko repeated again, like she couldn’t let it go, couldn’t accept it, couldn’t believe it even existed in your vocabulary as anything more than a punchline. she said it like a curse, her voice thick with smoke and judgment. “missionary. you absolute fucking liar.”

“i’m not lying!” you whined, but it came out with a stupid grin stretching your mouth because you knew—you knew—they were right to doubt you. “nah, you’re lying,” geto said, not even looking up from his delicate task of ash-flicking with the grace of a noble concubine. “you’re lying and you know it and we all know it. missionary. yeah right.”

gojo, who had been half-lying across your lap like a loyal, slutty dog, perked up at the confirmation. “she is lying,” he said, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “i’m hurt. betrayed. flabbergasted.”

utahime barked a laugh from the bean bag she’d stolen from nanami when he went to refill his drink. “missionary only if he’s choking you out and whispering dirty things about your future kids.”

“WHICH IS STILL VERY ROMANTIC,” you argued, throwing your hands up in pathetic defense. “not when it includes the words ‘breed you dumb,’” nanami said calmly from the bar. “YOU DON’T KNOW MY LIFE,” you screamed across the basement, as if that would help.

haibara was bent over wheezing, red in the face and tears in his eyes. “you—missionary—you’re the same bitch who moaned watching that fight scene in that one show—”

“he had his veins out and a chain around his neck, i was provoked!”

shoko pointed directly at you like she was driving a stake into your coffin. “you want missionary the same way a raccoon wants tap water. not cause it’s good, cause it’s easy access before you crawl into the sewer.”

“i am not a raccoon!”

“you are the racooniest,” geto said. “fucked-up little hands and all.”

gojo, smug and now fully reclined into your lap with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs kicking up a little in rhythm with the music, looked up at you upside down with that shit-eating grin. “no shame in liking missionary,” he said sweetly. “as long as it’s not the only thing you like.”

“oh no no no,” geto said, sitting up straighter now, attention focused, looking deadly and delighted. “you don’t get to backpedal now. no retreat. you committed.”

“i did not commit—”

“you’re committed. one hundred percent. missionary ride or die. all in.”

“you’re making it sound like a cult.”

“IT IS,” shoko yelled, throwing a handful of popcorn at your head that she’d stolen from god knows where. “missionary only when the moon is waxing, the candles are teal, and your playlist is all sad acoustic covers of 2000s bangers.”

“that sounds fucking dreamy actually,” you said, offended but also taking mental notes.

geto leaned over, narrowing his eyes, voice dipping low and daring, that teasing menace blooming in the corners of his mouth like sin: “then do it. with satoru. go full missionary. full eye contact. no jokes. no choking. no freaky shit. vanilla as fuck. and afterward—then tell us if it’s still your favorite.”

the room fell silent.

gojo sat up.

utahime choked on her drink.

shoko slapped her knee and screamed, “YES. YESSSS. YOU WON’T. DO IT. I DARE YOU. PUT YOUR LOVE WHERE YOUR MOUTH IS.”

“THAT IS NOT THE PHRASE,” you cried.

“IT IS NOW,” haibara shouted, fist in the air.

gojo was looking at you like you just became his favorite episode of a fucked-up reality show. slowly, slowly, he leaned in, blinking those pale lashes in mock innocence, like a predator trying to play sweet. “do you want me to hold your hand, princess?” he cooed, voice dragging over each syllable like it was rolling in honey and filth. “whisper how pretty you look while you say missionary is your favorite?”

you flailed, completely red, pressing your palm to his face and pushing him back with a groan. “shut uuuuuup, i hate you—”

“you love me,” he sang.

“you’ll love him more with his dick in you like an afterschool special,” shoko muttered, and you almost died.

“this is not how peer support groups work,” you whined.

“this is how our support group works,” geto corrected, cool as ice, brushing ash off his sleeve. “we support you… into making the worst decisions imaginable.”

“i hate this friend group.”

“you started it!” utahime yelled. “you could’ve said cowgirl and we would’ve moved on!”

“i wanted to be authentic!”

“authentic my ass,” nanami mumbled. “your idea of authentic includes handcuffs and a soundtrack.”

“THAT WAS ONE TIME.”

gojo grinned wider, tongue tucked behind his teeth, eyes narrow with mischief. “baby, you say one time, but your eyes are saying again.” you groaned, staring up at the string lights twinkling on the ceiling like they were your last remaining allies. “i hope you all choke on your weed.”

“romantic choking,” geto said.

“god is dead,” you muttered.

“he died in missionary,” shoko declared.

and the room screamed again.

the yelling hadn’t died down. it had evolved—evolved into a full-blown, unholy ritual, like you’d summoned something cursed just by saying “missionary” in this den of godless chaos. the music still thumped in the background—some bass-heavy beat vibrating low enough to shake the pool cues on the wall—but it was drowned beneath the choir of filthy voices rallying around your damnation.

“come onnnn,” haibara practically whined, dragging himself across the floor like a tragic little beast of pressure and peer influence. “just do it once. like, clinical trial shit. for science.”

“for data,” geto added solemnly, passing the joint back to you with all the pomp of a ceremonial dagger. “you know he’s down,” utahime said, gesturing lazily with her drink toward gojo. “he’s always down. satoru would do it with a smile on his face and his dick already out.”

“i’d do it with flowers,” gojo offered sweetly, chin in hand, smiling like the most deranged boy in a dating sim. “i’d put a little post-it on her hip that says you’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

“you are a menace,” you groaned, tossing the joint in the ashtray, flopping your head against the back of the couch. “okay, but for real,” shoko cut in, snapping her fingers like a sitcom villain. “we have to settle this. you can’t keep saying that’s your favorite and then not test it with the absolute worst candidate.”

gojo lit up. “i’m honored.”

“he’s dumb as shit,” nanami added, calmly wiping the bar down with a cocktail napkin like he wasn’t verbally assassinating his friend. “there’s no way he can make it romantic. not even ironically.”

“he’d come while trying to say something nice and end up crying,” shoko muttered, lighting a cigarette like the world’s most beautiful disappointment. “he doesn’t even know how to look romantic,” geto chimed in, now entirely leaned back and smoking like he was watching live theater. “that man sends memes after sexting.”

“he once tried to dirty talk me by saying i looked like i had good knees,” utahime added. the room died.

“they were good knees,” gojo whined.

“SEE?” shoko shrieked, pointing wildly. “this is what we’re dealing with! that’s who she wants missionary with! that’s what she calls romance!”

you covered your face, weakly laughing into your hands. “you’re all insane.”

“and yet,” nanami said smoothly, pouring himself another drink, “you’ve fucked most of us.”

your head snapped up. “WHAT—”

“you have,” shoko agreed, nodding casually like she was reading a wine label. “it’s canon now.”

“absolutely,” geto said, exhaling smoke like a sexy devil. “you’ve whored your way through 70% of this friend group. missionary with gojo would be the least slutty thing you’ve done.”

“don’t slut-shame me while calling me a slut,” you groaned, laughing despite yourself. “slut is not derogatory here,” shoko said, patting your thigh. “it’s like saying you’re talented. you’re our slut. community slut. the people’s princess.”

“i’m gonna cry.”

“oh, so now you wanna act innocent?” nanami’s voice was ice in a cocktail glass. “not when you were drunk texting me ‘wanna ruin my future?’ at 2am last weekend.”

“i was having a moment!”

“you were also wearing gojo’s hoodie with no pants and humping a pillow,” geto said, eyes glittering like he kept this memory polished for personal use. you slapped your palms over your face again. “can’t a girl be romantic in peace?”

“not in this house,” utahime deadpanned. “but like,” gojo piped up, head now resting on your thigh again, completely unbothered, probably hard, absolutely thrilled, “they’ve got a point.”

you looked down at him, exhausted. “i swear to god, satoru—”

“no no, hear me out,” he said, holding up both hands like he was offering a legal defense. “i’ve seen you horny for nanami just cause he tied his tie right. i’ve seen you get wet over geto saying the word ‘problematic.’ you let shoko suck a bruise into your thigh because she was bored.”

“and that was her fault,” you pointed to shoko. “i was drunk and passive.”

“uh huh,” she hummed, mouth twitching.

“all i’m saying is,” gojo said, sitting up now, hands on your knees, looking up at you like a dog who just learned to beg, “if you’re gonna be a slut, be an honest slut. missionary with me. prove them wrong. show them you’re a woman of taste and tragedy.”

you stared at him, mouth parted, blinking.

“this is sexual peer pressure,” you mumbled.

“this is justice,” geto corrected.

“this is foreplay,” gojo whispered with a wink.

“i hate you all,” you grumbled, cheeks hot, lips twitching despite yourself.

“but you’ll do it?” haibara asked, eyes wide and dumb and so hopeful.

“maybe.”

“HA!” gojo shouted, launching a throw pillow at shoko. “that’s a yes!”

“that’s not a yes—”

“you heard her!” geto called, standing up to stretch like a smug, half-naked giraffe. “she agreed! and now we shall bear witness to the least romantic, most catastrophic missionary session ever.”

“you’re gonna be pinned to the mattress like a frog in biology class,” shoko said, wheezing. “gojo’s gonna forget to take off his socks,” utahime muttered, disgusted. “you know i have those toe socks,” he said proudly.

you groaned again, but deep down your stomach fluttered with heat and laughter, and your thighs pressed together, and despite the chaos—despite all of it—you were already thinking about how it’d feel to have him above you, stupid, naked, sweet, mean, sloppy, and whispering something that almost sounded like love.

and stupidly, in the end, you look behind you as you walk toward the hallway with gojo—your hand clutched in his like a fucking idiot—with the bedroom door at the end blinking at you like it knew exactly how many sins were about to unfold inside it. he’s practically bouncing beside you, grinning with his arm slung around your waist like he won a prize at a fair and it was you, half-drunk, giggling, humiliated, and undeniably curious about how the stupidest fucking person in your friends group was about to missionary the everloving shit out of you.

you glance back once, just once, and of course—of course—the entire couch crew is watching, each one of them grinning like hyenas on bath salts.

shoko, drink in one hand, tongue out like she’s in a punk band photo shoot, flips you off and mouths, “TAKE THE D.”

nanami lifts his glass, deadpan as ever, and mouths, “condoms are in the drawer.”

haibara is full-on doubled over, clapping like you’re being sent off to war.

geto gives you the filthiest two-thumbs-up you’ve ever seen, followed by a pantomimed gesture that can only be described as “jackhammer pelvic annihilation.”

utahime just shrugs like “you brought this on yourself.”

you don’t know if you want to laugh or scream or combust.

you’re all stupid fucks.

and you’re the stupidest one of all.

gojo drags you through the door with a dramatic flourish, like you’re being ushered into a honeymoon suite, except it’s the spare bedroom in his overdesigned basement—dark walls, plush mattress, fairy lights clinging to the corners, a single massive bed that has held too many sleepovers, too many hangovers, too many half-naked bodies tangled under that navy comforter.

he slams the door shut behind him with an unnecessary thud and then locks it.

locks it with intent.

you look at him, raising an eyebrow.

he grins, all bright eyes and too much teeth, and says, “we don’t want anyone walking in on your emotional awakening.” you shove him in the chest, laughing despite the heat pooling low in your belly, but his arms snake around your waist and he pulls you flush against him, the giddiness gone softer now, warmer.

“you really want this?” he asks, murmuring it against the corner of your mouth, lips ghosting, fingers rubbing slow lazy circles against your spine. “you wanna prove ‘em all wrong?”

you tilt your head back, a little buzzed, a little high, heart thumping in your ears from the absurdity and anticipation and just… him—this dumb beautiful man who you’ve known since freshman year, who once drank a bottle of cooking wine on a dare, who calls you names that make your skin warm, who sends you memes at 2am and confesses his feelings with a smirk like it’s not real.

and now he’s asking like it’s the first time he’s ever taken anything seriously. you hum, smirk lazy, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt. “go on, missionary me, satoru.”

he laughs—not loud, not sharp, just this sweet, stupid, delighted sound that vibrates into your chest before he grabs your jaw, kisses you once, hard and messy and full of promise, and then gently backs you toward the bed like he’s actually going to try to make this romantic.

“i’m gonna missionary you so hard you’ll cry,” he says, completely deadpan.

“you’re such a fucking idiot,” you murmur.

“yours,” he whispers, pushing you down onto the mattress like prayer, like penance, like romance—but only if romance came with a hickey and a headboard slam.

gojo doesn’t even rush you, which is fucking weird. normally he rushes everything—his speeches, his shots, his half-baked plans that end with haibara covered in glitter and someone’s laptop in the bathtub. but now, now that you’ve willingly walked into this basement bedroom with him like some horny lamb in a thrifted hoodie, he moves slow. suspiciously slow. like he’s savoring it. like the thought of doing missionary—actual missionary, not his usual chaotic acrobatic nonsense—has turned into something sacred.

his hands are on your hips first, thumbs dipping just beneath the waistband of your shorts as he leans over you, not yet pushing you down but crowding you close enough that you feel the press of his grin against your skin.

“you sure you don’t want something more… you?” he murmurs, voice like a low vibration against your neck, smug and teasing, but softer than usual.

you blink up at him, lying back slightly on your elbows atop the bed, the fairy lights in the corners of the ceiling casting soft gold against his white hair, making him look like the dumbest, prettiest boy the devil ever handcrafted in a rush. his shirt is wrinkled, half unbuttoned from earlier when he got dramatic during your defense trial in the living room, and you can see the curve of his collarbones, the start of his chest. he’s flushed, high, and still smiling like he’s on a game show and he’s about to spin the wheel of “ruin your life.”

you smirk back. “you saying i’m not a romantic?”

he kisses your shoulder, open-mouthed and slow. “i’m saying you’re a slut with a dream.”

you groan. “fuck off.”

“i will,” he murmurs, mouthing just below your collarbone, “right after i make you fall in love with me like a virgin on prom night.”

you burst out laughing, shoving his shoulder, but your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt and you don’t push him far. his hands slide up your sides, dragging your shirt with them, slow and deliberate, knuckles brushing bare skin. you can feel him watching your face, that infuriating way he always does, like he’s daring you to show how much you want him, how much you feel him even in these dumb, tender moments.

you let your head fall back on the mattress with a sigh, staring at the ceiling, arms up to let him pull your shirt the rest of the way off. the lights glow amber above you. the room smells like weed and gojo and leftover cologne and heat. you’re suddenly aware of how warm you are, how warm he is—kneeling one knee between your thighs now, eyes slow and greedy as they rake over your torso.

he runs his fingers up your stomach, watching the way your skin jumps under the touch. “see?” he says, voice soft but smug. “missionary’s good already. look how romantic this is. i haven’t even said the dumb shit yet.”

“say it,” you challenge, breath catching when he leans down again, kisses trailing over the swell of your breast, hands still warm and splayed along your ribs.

his mouth brushes your sternum. “you feel so pretty under my hands.”

your thighs twitch. “that’s not even a sentence.”

“shh,” he says, nuzzling the underside of your breast. “i’m practicing.”

his tongue flicks out, barely tasting your skin, not even on your nipple, just everywhere else—stupid, teasing little licks and kisses that feel more intimate than any fast-grab hookup ever did. one hand slides down to your hip, the other dragging along your arm, fingers lacing with yours, like he’s doing this half slow to spite everyone outside the door. look at us, he seems to say with every breath. look how fucking tender missionary can be.

“i swear to god if you light a candle—”

“i’m going to whisper how much i admire your work ethic.”

“satoru.”

he kisses the inside of your elbow.

“i’m gonna say i love your playlists.”

“oh my god.”

he climbs up, mouth ghosting over your jaw now, weight sinking into the mattress as he settles between your legs fully, both your hands pinned above your head with his, gaze locking onto yours with that glint—equal parts mockery and reverence. his breath is warm, lips millimeters from yours, teasing.

“i’m gonna make you come while telling you how smart you are.”

you stare, blinking, lips parting like you’re gonna come up with a good retort—and then moan when he shifts his hips, not even grinding, just pressing, enough friction to spark heat through the fabric.

he smirks.

“told you,” he whispers. “romantic’s just foreplay with better lighting.”

you blink up at him, heat crawling up your neck like it’s trying to reach your brain and set fire to what little reason you have left. he’s too close. he’s too warm, too gojo, too smug, and the worst part is—he’s not even being his usual chaotic self. this is worse. this is soft. this is slow, deliberate, dragged-out torture disguised as affection, and it’s working way too fucking well.

your arms are stretched above you, wrists pinned by one of his big, veiny hands—so unnecessarily hot—while his other trails down your side again, fingers curling like he’s mapping you out by touch, like every new inch of bare skin is a piece of his personal love letter.

“you’re so warm,” he says, voice quiet now. a little surprised. “you always run hot?”

you groan, cheeks hot as hell. “satoru.”

“i like it,” he adds, his thumb rubbing slow circles into your wrist. “feels like you’re already worked up for me.”

you glare. “this is supposed to be romantic.”

“it is,” he grins, leaning down just enough to drag his nose along your jaw. “i’m romancing you right now. you’re being romanced. fully seduced. by my incredible personality and outstanding emotional depth.”

you burst out laughing, face turning toward the pillow to muffle the sound, and he takes the opportunity to mouth along your neck, pressing an open kiss just below your ear. not biting, not sucking, just soft and slow, his lips dragging along your pulse point like he’s trying to memorize your heartbeat.

his hand leaves your wrist, and you instinctively move to touch him, fingers threading into his hair as he kisses lower, over your collarbone, across your shoulder, moving down with maddening patience. he pulls at your waistband gently, eyes flicking up to meet yours like he’s asking without words, and you nod, breath catching in your throat.

he slides your shorts down, dragging the fabric slowly past your thighs, kissing his way along your hipbone as he goes. nothing rushed. no bravado. just him and the stupid heat of his mouth on your skin, the gentle press of his hands as he settles between your thighs.

he exhales against your inner thigh like a sigh, like he’s been waiting his whole dumb life for this exact moment, and you shiver. “still think this isn’t romantic?” he asks, glancing up with a crooked smile, his breath ghosting over where you’re already embarrassingly wet.

you tug at his hair lightly. “you’re an idiot.”

“a romantic idiot,” he corrects, pressing a kiss just above your knee. “the best kind.” he kisses higher now, slow and trailing, hands rubbing soft patterns into your thighs as he settles deeper between them, anchoring you there like he’s making himself a new home.

“i’m gonna take my time with you,” he whispers, dragging his lips up toward the place you’re aching for. “gonna make you feel so fucking good… and the whole time, i’ll be looking at you like we’re married and i just made you breakfast.”

you snort. “is that your fantasy? missionary and eggs benedict?”

he hums against your skin, lips curving. “yeah, but you’re the eggs. i’m gonna ruin you.” you squeak, shoving at his head, but your legs don’t move. they can’t, not when he’s got them opened like this, not when his mouth is that close, not when your whole body’s vibrating from anticipation.

he chuckles again, smug and soft, and presses one more kiss just shy of where you want him, before leaning back up and dragging his body over yours, forearm bracing beside your head.

his mouth finds yours again, slow and coaxing, like he’s drinking from you, like every sound you make is holy. he kisses you like he’s got forever. like tonight’s the only night that matters. and even though it’s still teasing, still laced with filth and humor and all the usual gojo mess—you feel the care in it. the attention. the goddamn sweetness.

his nose brushes yours as he pulls back just enough to speak.

“missionary’s lookin’ pretty good right now, huh?”

you can’t speak. you just nod.

“that’s what i fuckin’ thought,” he murmurs, and kisses you again, deeper now, hungrier.

and somehow—stupidly, undeniably—it is romantic.

his kiss deepens and it changes something—slips out of that playful, teasing rhythm and sinks into a weightier kind of heat, slow and intentional. like he’s not just kissing you because he wants to, but because he needs to, like there’s something about your mouth he’s been thinking about every night he lay awake jerking off with his phone on silent and your face stuck in his memory.

gojo presses closer, one arm sliding beneath your back to lift you into him, like even now, he can’t stand a sliver of distance. your thighs fall open around his hips without resistance, your body pliant, high and fuzzy and ready, even as your brain’s still catching up, trying to convince you this is actually happening.

and still—still he doesn’t go for your panties yet. he’s grinding against them through his jeans, slow, careful, more like he’s testing pressure than chasing friction. he doesn’t need to rush, not with you already sighing into his mouth, your nails dragging light patterns over the back of his neck, legs wrapping around him like a question you don’t know how to ask.

he hums against your lips, low and pleased. his voice sounds deeper now, like it’s sitting low in his chest, like lust’s finally dragging it down out of his usual chirpy register and into something that sounds like intent.

“fuck,” he murmurs, breath hot against your cheek, “you feel so fuckin’ good already and i’m not even inside you.” his nose nuzzles yours as his hand ghosts down your side again, over your waist, over the soft of your hip, sliding slow between your thighs—warm and steady, pressing the heel of his palm against your center, not touching anything properly yet, just there, enough to make you buck a little without thinking.

he pulls back to watch you, eyes blown out, grin lazy and eyes focused in a way that’s almost too much—like he’s trying to memorize the way your face changes with each drag of his hand. “don’t hide your face,” he whispers, brushing hair from your forehead. “i wanna see everything. this is the romantic part, remember?”

you glare at him weakly, lip caught between your teeth. “you’re such a dick.”

he beams. “a romantic dick.”

his fingers hook into your waistband slowly, dragging your panties down your thighs, and even then he doesn’t move too fast. he stops just to kiss the crease of your thigh, to mouth the soft skin above your knee like he’s got nowhere else to be. he keeps talking under his breath, too—his filthy little monologue of worship and teasing:

“so pretty. so soft. you always smell this good? i shoulda done this years ago. god, the way you’re lookin’ at me right now—fuck. fuck. this is better than porn.”

you groan, hiding your face again. he just laughs and pulls your hands away, pinning them gently beside your head. “you’re not allowed to be shy now, babe,” he murmurs. “not after all that talk.” then, he grinds again—slow, hips rolling forward against your now-bare heat, his cock thick and hot through his jeans before he slowly push it off his legs, dragging perfectly along your slick folds, not in, not yet, just enough to make you whimper, thighs tightening around his hips.

you say his name and it breaks on your tongue, half a moan, half a warning. his mouth finds yours again, and it’s gentler this time, breathier, softer, like the kind of kiss you give someone after an argument, or a goodbye, or a promise. “this,” he whispers, between slow rolls of his hips, “is what they don’t get about missionary. it’s not boring.”

he kisses your cheek. your jaw. your throat.

“it’s close.”

he cups your breast with one hand, thumb brushing over your nipple until your back arches. “it’s eye contact.” he pushes the tip of his cock just barely against your entrance, just a tease, not even enough to press in, just the heat and pressure and promise, and it’s maddening. “it’s feelin’ every twitch you make.” his other hand cradles your face now, thumb brushing over your cheek, his eyes locked on yours.

“and when i finally fuck you—”

you tremble beneath him, fingers gripping his shoulders like you’re drowning.

“—you’re not gonna be able to look away.”

your breath catches. your lips part. your thighs shake.

and he’s still smiling, so slow, so patient, hips rocking against yours in a way that’s somehow sweeter than anything you’ve done with him before. “see?” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “romance. just with more lube.”

his cockhead slides slick and hot along your folds—slow, teasing passes up and down the length of your pussy like he’s learning you by feel, like he’s savoring every tremble you can’t suppress. he doesn’t push in yet, just drags the tip lazily, catching your clit on the upstroke, smearing your slick over the flushed head with every patient, maddening grind. it’s warm and messy and obscene, his hips rolling slow, the weight of him heavy between your thighs, arms braced on either side of your head, body coiled but unhurried.

you’re breathing through your mouth now, lips parted, chest rising fast. his forehead’s still resting against yours, breath hot, both of you in this sticky, perfect moment suspended just before the fall. you lift one hand, threading your fingers into his hair—so soft, even now—and the other slips to the buttons of his shirt.

“i need—” you start, but don’t finish. he just nods.

you work the buttons open one by one, trembling fingers moving slow at first, then faster, frantic for skin. every button undone reveals more of him—long lines of lean muscle under smooth skin, flushed now, glowing in the golden halo of the fairy lights. his collarbones, his sternum, the subtle dip down the center of his chest, the way he moves above you with every breath—it’s fucking perfect. stupidly, unreasonably perfect.

your palms flatten against his chest, dragging down over the flex of his abs, feeling him shudder under your touch. he’s warm, a little sticky with sweat, skin like silk over steel. your nails graze his ribs and he gasps into your neck.

“fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” he mutters.

“shut up and fuck me,” you breathe back, and it’s not even desperate—it’s reverent. his cock nudges against your entrance, hips rolling forward, and then he pushes. slow. impossibly slow. inch by inch, your pussy stretching around him, swallowing him, your breath caught in your throat as the fullness builds, thick and unbearable and perfect.

his forehead presses back to yours. his mouth drops open, eyes squeezed shut, groaning soft and hoarse like the pleasure hurts. you wrap your legs around his waist, pull him in deeper, your hands sliding up his back. your nails dig in—deep—carving red lines into the flex of his shoulder blades and down along his spine. he hisses against your lips, a sound that’s more pleasure than pain, hips stuttering.

“shit—baby—fuck—”

he bottoms out with a shaky grind of his hips, buried so deep inside you that you feel like you’ve been marked from the inside out. every twitch of him against your walls sends sparks up your spine. and he just stays there for a moment, not moving, breathing you in.

“you feel—” he tries, but then laughs breathlessly, shaking his head. “—i don’t have the words. you feel like heaven and punishment and fucking home.” your hands curl tighter into his back, your lips brushing his cheek as you whisper back, “i told you i was romantic.”

“you’re a fucking dream,” he whispers.

then his hips start to move.

his hips begin to move with the kind of slow, reverent rhythm that makes your throat tighten. like every inch he draws back is a silent apology, and every inch he pushes back in is a promise he’ll never leave. it’s not just sex—it's the ache of something bigger pressing down on both of you, thick in the air like incense, like heat, like the way his mouth brushes yours with every shallow thrust, not always kissing, just there, sharing breath, the smallest space between you charged and crackling.

you’re wrapped around him fully now—legs looped over his waist, hands tangled in the open cotton of his shirt that’s slipped halfway off his shoulders, your nails still painting invisible trails down his back. you can feel the burn where you scratched him raw, and he’s still groaning every time your nails dig a little deeper, like it feeds him, like he likes the proof of you on his body.

but it’s slow. fucking unbearably slow.

he’s not slamming into you like some desperate teenage fantasy. no—gojo is making love to you with the body of a sinner and the mouth of a man who knows every joke will hit harder with your cunt squeezing around his cock.

“you’re so fucking tight,” he murmurs against your lips, grinning through a groan, forehead still pressed to yours. “like—fuck, like you’re trying to keep me forever.” you whimper softly, one hand sliding into his hair, tugging at the roots just to feel him react. and he does, hips hitching slightly deeper, eyes fluttering shut as he pants against your cheek.

“that what this is?” he breathes. “romance as entrapment? mm—baby, if that’s what you’re after, you’ve got me.” he pulls out almost to the tip, dragging the ridge of his cockhead against your soaked entrance, then sinks back in slowly—too slowly—and you arch into him, breath catching with a soft, gasping moan.

“fuck,” he whispers, voice cracked. “listen to you.”

his hand slips between you now, palm flat against your stomach first, then lower, his fingers finding your clit like second nature, rubbing soft circles that match the slow grind of his hips. the pressure makes your thighs tighten around him, your hips canting upward, breath stuttering.

“so good,” you gasp, eyes fluttering. “satoru—fuck—don’t stop.”

“never,” he promises, eyes locked on yours now, wide and bright and open, not cocky this time, not laughing—just full of that stupid, terrifying sincerity he hides under every joke. “fuck, you feel so good. so soft. warm. like your pussy’s in love with me even if your mouth won’t say it yet.”

you let out a broken laugh, hands clutching his shoulders, your body moving with his now, rolling into every thrust, every tender rub of his fingers over your clit. “i hate you,” you whisper, dazed, overwhelmed, completely gone.

he grins, mouth brushing yours again. “no, you don’t.”

“i really do—”

“then why’s your cunt fluttering every time i say something romantic?”

you choke on a laugh that dissolves into a moan, and he kisses it off your lips, his thrusts picking up just barely—still slow, still deep, but with a heat that builds under your skin, spreading outward like a wave you know you won’t survive. “missionary,” he breathes, like he’s blessing you with the word. “best position in the world.”

“fuck you—”

“you are,” he laughs, cock twitching inside you. “you’re so fucking mine right now.”

you grab his face, pull him down into another kiss—sloppy, wet, real, all tongue and teeth and heat. he’s moaning into your mouth now, every roll of his hips drawing a whine out of your throat, every filthy little circle of his fingers making your stomach twist tight. “you’re not allowed to be good at this,” you manage to gasp between kisses. “oh, baby,” he pants, forehead pressed back to yours, cock grinding deeper, his voice dropping low and filthy. “you haven’t even seen me try yet.”

his hips drag deep and slow like he’s sculpting the inside of you with his cock, and you’re shaking beneath him—sweat-damp skin sliding against his, toes curled, fingers sunk into his back so hard you know you’ll leave scratches he’s going to brag about for weeks. gojo’s face is buried against your throat, his breath coming out in broken little groans, every sound pitched high and wrecked like he’s unraveling with you, held together by nothing but the rhythm of his thrusts and the heat blooming in your core.

you’re soaked around him, clenching every time he rolls his hips into you with that slow, relentless grind that drags the thick head of his cock across your sweetest spot just right, again and again. the slick sound of him fucking you fills the room, obscene and wet, echoing off the walls like music behind the ragged whimpering of your breath and his deep, shuddering groans.

your thighs twitch around his waist, your head thrown back against the pillows, mouth open, voice cracking as you moan, “fuck—fuck—satoru—i’m gonna—i can’t—fuck—”

“yes, baby,” he pants, voice completely shot, wrecked and desperate, every word punctuated by a thrust that goes just a little harder, a little deeper. “come on, i feel you—shit, you’re squeezing me so—fuck, come for me, baby, come on me, i wanna feel you break—”

your back arches and you scream—loud, raw, real—hands flying to his hair, tugging hard as your orgasm slams through you like a tidal wave, pussy fluttering around him, tight and hot and soaked. your entire body locks up, toes curling, thighs shaking violently as pleasure rips through you in sharp, electric pulses that have you gasping his name again and again—“satoru—satoru—fuckfuckfuck—oh my god—”

he’s losing it above you, losing his fucking mind, his cock twitching hard inside you as your walls milk him with every spasm. his forehead’s pressed to yours, mouth hanging open, breath coming in short, wrecked little moans—“f-fuck—oh fuck, baby, oh my god—your pussy’s choking me—gonna—gonna—i’m gonna—”

he slams into you one last time, hips jerking as he moans so loud right in your ear, deep and guttural and shaking with how hard he comes, cock throbbing as he spills inside you, filling you up, his whole body shuddering as he gasps, "oh fuck, yes—yesyesyes—oh my fucking god—yes."

you’re both panting, legs wrapped tight around his waist, arms pulling him down, needing him close even as your bodies tremble against each other. his cock is still twitching inside you, your walls still fluttering with aftershocks, and he’s breathing your name like he’s worshipping it, forehead pressed to yours as he whispers, “that was—fuck—baby—i felt everything. you—you killed me.”

you laugh, hoarse and fucked-out, body buzzing like live wire. “missionary?” he pants, lips brushing yours. “best fucking position,” you gasp, still clenching around him, making him groan all over again.

he smiles. “god, i love being right.”

his body is still trembling against yours, muscles twitching under your hands as he slowly, reluctantly, starts to move again—like he’s not ready to let go of the feeling, like being buried in you with your legs locked around his waist is something he’d live inside if the world would just let him.

he’s panting into your neck, soft little exhales against your damp skin, and you can feel the shape of every breath, the way his chest stutters against yours like he’s still trying to come back to earth. and inside you, he’s still thick, still sensitive, every subtle squeeze of your cunt making him whimper.

you grin, dazed, half-dead, fully fucked out, dragging your nails up his back with gentle pressure now, tracing along the red welts you carved earlier like a painter admiring their masterpiece. “you’re leaking inside me,” you murmur, voice rough and slurred, hips shifting just enough to feel the warm, wet spill of him dripping down your thighs.

he groans, long and low, and lifts his head to look at you. his bangs are plastered to his forehead, eyes glassy and blown wide, lips swollen and parted as he breathes. there’s sweat at his temple, a flush high in his cheeks, and the expression on his face is somewhere between holy shit and i could marry you right now and cry doing it.

“you keep squeezing me like that, baby,” he says, voice shredded, “and i’ll give you another load without even moving.”

you laugh breathlessly, biting your lip, and he kisses you—messy, slow, full of tongue and heat and that unbearable sweetness that he only ever shows you in quiet moments like this. his hips roll forward just a little, and even though you’re both sensitive, you both moan, gasping against each other’s mouths.

“fuck,” you breathe, nails digging gently into his shoulder blades again. “you came so much, satoru.”

“‘course i did,” he pants, pulling back just enough to look down at where your bodies are still joined. he moves his hips in the slightest circle, still buried inside you, cock twitching, and watches your cunt flutter around him like it’s still begging for more.

“how could i not?” he continues, eyes wide, voice soft with shock. “you—you milked me. i didn’t even get to fuck you hard. you came and just took it from me. you robbed me. you’re a criminal.” you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him back down into your chest. “you liked it.”

“i loved it,” he groans, pressing kisses to your collarbone, mouthing against your skin like he can’t stop. “missionary’s never gonna be the same. i’m gonna be useless. this pussy’s got emotional consequences.”

you snort, and he keeps talking like he’s possessed, rambling sweet and filthy things against your skin. “gonna write about this in my journal. not even a sex diary. just regular journal. ‘dear diary, the love of my life fucked me dumb in my own basement. i cried a little.’”

“you didn’t cry,” you say, even as you’re laughing again.

“not yet.”

you’re still full of him, and he’s still twitching inside you like he’s thinking about round two, and honestly—you are too. the room’s still glowing soft with the fairy lights. your bodies are stuck together with sweat and come and the kind of heat that doesn’t cool easy. your thighs are sticky around his hips. his fingers haven’t stopped stroking your side. you can hear your friends still laughing distantly from the living room, and none of it matters.

he presses his forehead to yours again, noses brushing. “you wanna go again?” he asks, voice soft now, full of a wicked little smile. “slow this time. slower than this.”

you blink at him.

“that was slow.”

he grins. “i can go slower.”

your breath catches, your body already aching in the best way.

“what, you gonna put on music and cry while you fuck me?”

“only if you want me to,” he whispers, and then kisses you again, tender and deep.

and god help you—you might.

after a few moments of so-called dramatic silence—it’s not, because gojo’s incapable of shutting up even post-orgasm—you finally sigh, drop your head back with a groan, and sit up on the edge of the bed, still dazed, still soaked, still trying to remember how to be a functioning human being. your thighs stick together when you shift. the air is thick with sex and sweat and that particular smugness that only gojo satoru can radiate like body heat.

meanwhile, he’s half-dressed and strutting around like a peacock that just won a dance battle. his jeans are back on—sloppily buttoned, zipper half-down, belt missing—and his shirt is absolutely not on because it’s somewhere across the room where he tossed it like a used napkin. he’s humming to himself as he pokes through the wreckage of the bed’s surroundings, eyes sparkling like he just found religion.

“where the hell did your bra go?” he mutters, pulling a sock off the lampshade and examining it like it might transform. “jesus, did i eat it?—oh, nope. got it. it was under my back.”

you groan again, arms folded across your chest, hair a tangled halo around your face, watching him with your chin tucked against your knees. “can you just—bring me my shirt before you go on another satoru soliloquy?”

“no can do, miss missionary evangelist,” he says, holding your crumpled shirt in one hand and dramatically placing your bra over his shoulder like a sash. “not until you publicly acknowledge that you were wrong and i, gojo satoru, bringer of orgasmic truth, proved—beyond reasonable doubt—that missionary is the best position known to mankind.”

you throw a pillow at him.

it hits his face, bounces off, and he keeps smiling.

“fine,” you mutter, reaching out as he steps in close. “yes. missionary with you, the stupidest man in our group, was good. amazing. disgustingly good.”

“romantic,” he corrects, kneeling in front of you now, the shirt falling from his hand onto your lap, the bra dangling from two fingers as he smirks up at you. “romantically stupid,” you clarify, grinning despite the embarrassment curling under your skin.

“they’re gonna die when they hear you let me make love to you like a Jane Austen adaptation,” he says, gently nudging your thighs apart so he can help you step into your underwear. “haibara’s gonna combust. shoko’s gonna stage an intervention.”

“shoko’s gonna accuse me of spiritual regression,” you say, lifting your hips so he can slide the fabric back over them. “and i’m gonna prove her wrong. i’m gonna look her in the eyes and tell her: ‘even doing missionary with the dumbest man i know, it was still the best.’ and you know what? i’m gonna mean it.”

gojo grins like the devil with a heart of gold.

“now that’s the kinda testimonial i wanna hear in a courtroom,” he says, fingers dragging slowly up your thighs, hooking your shorts next. “tell the jury, sweetheart. tell ‘em what it felt like.” you swat his shoulder, cheeks flushing again. “just help me put my bra on, casanova.”

he does—surprisingly gently, fingers cool against your back, hooking the clasp with practiced ease before pulling your shirt down over your head, smoothing the fabric over your hips like he’s dressing a doll he won in a fucked-up carnival game. and when he stands up again, you reach for his bicep, eyes catching on the faint red lines blooming just under the curve of his muscle.

your fingers trace one—long, angry, scabbed slightly already. the mark from your nails. from when you came so hard you clawed him like you were drowning in him. your breath catches a little.

“does that hurt?” you ask, voice low, thumb brushing it softer now.

he looks down at your hand. then at you.

and grins.

“hurt? no, baby. it’s proof.”

“proof of what? that i mauled you like a cat in heat?”

“proof that missionary ruins lives.” you choke on a laugh, and he throws his arms out dramatically, flexing the arm with the red lines like a trophy. “i’m gonna show everyone,” he says proudly. “i’m gonna walk out there and tell them: this? this was earned through slow, passionate, eye-contact-heavy fucking.”

you blink. “you’re gonna brag about being scratched during tender sex?”

“hell yes i am. this is a scarlet letter and i’m wearing it with pride.”

you bury your face in your hands.

“i’m gonna have to move cities.”

he leans down, kisses your hair, still giddy.

“no you’re not. you’re gonna go out there, sit on that couch, and smile smugly while they cry about how you got the good shit.”

“what, missionary?”

he winks. “romantic missionary.”

you shake your head, grabbing his hand to stand up with a sigh. your legs still tremble slightly, and he catches you with an arm around your waist. “we tell them,” he whispers in your ear, “but we don’t tell them everything.”

“deal.”

you walk out first, mostly because gojo insisted on dramatically opening the door for you like some fucked-up victorian husband escorting his blushing bride after the most sacred consummation of their union—which is rich, considering there was nothing sacred about what just happened unless you count the part where you saw god for a few seconds while pinned beneath the dumbest man in your life.

the moment the door creaks open, the silence is immediate and vicious. like the eye of a hurricane. the group sprawled across the living room snaps their heads toward the hallway in unison like a pack of wild animals smelling the aftermath of debauchery—and the look on their faces?

oh yeah. they know.

you’re glowing. not figuratively. literally. your skin’s flushed and gleaming with sweat, your shirt slightly off the shoulder, your lips swollen, your hair a disaster that no dry shampoo or dignity could save. a fresh constellation of hickeys blooms across your neck like you had a one-night stand with the concept of poor decision-making. you’ve got that post-sex daze in your eyes—the kind that says your soul left your body for twenty-seven minutes and came back softer.

and gojo?

gojo looks worse. or better, depending on how deranged your standards are.

shirtless. completely unbothered. jeans slung low like gravity’s trying to preserve the last shreds of your dignity and failing. his hair’s a wild mess, fluffed and chaotic, the way it always gets when you’ve pulled it hard—and oh, you did. his face is pink and flushed, lips bitten, pupils blown, and he’s got this grin, this absolutely illegal, felony-level smug grin, like he just won a championship no one else knew they were playing.

his back and arms are fucking wrecked. scratch marks everywhere. some long and shallow, others deep and angry, crisscrossing like tally marks on a prison wall. his biceps? ruined. shoulders? decorated. lower back? absolutely mauled. he’s walking like a man who survived the trenches and wants everyone to know it. he’s not even pretending to be humble.

you both step into the room and immediately—

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—” haibara lets out a guttural scream like he’s witnessing a murder. he drops the pool cue he wasn’t even holding right and clutches his face. “you look—he looks—i didn’t even know backs could bruise like that,” utahime says, pointing, voice somewhere between horrified and hysterical.

shoko slowly sits up straighter, blinking at your neck, her eyes narrowing as she catalogues the damage. “that’s… impressive. Disgusting, but impressive.” geto whistles low, lounging on the couch with his legs crossed like he’s the judge in a porno talent show. “is that a bite on your collarbone? did you actually leave teeth marks?”

gojo throws an arm around your shoulder like a victorious war hero returning home, full of glory and sin and not a shred of guilt. “ladies,” he says, voice hoarse and soaked in self-satisfaction, “gentlemen. sluts of all genders. i am here to confirm that romantic missionary is not dead.”

you smack his chest but don’t move away.

you’re already laughing, breathless, flushed, and shameless. “even with him,” you announce to the room, lifting your chin, “missionary is still the best position. maybe the best I’ve ever had.”

dead silence.

and then the couch erupts.

haibara throws a pillow at you so hard it ricochets and hits nanami in the face. utahime screams. shoko collapses backward, legs kicking, full-body laughing like a woman betrayed. geto claps slow and dramatic, head shaking. “you’ve broken her,” shoko howls, “she’s gone, she’s converted. next she’ll say handholding’s hot!”

“it is,” gojo says, absolutely delighted. “you’re a slut,” utahime says, pointing at you, but her voice is grinning. “every position is the best for you. you could get railed in a dentist chair and you’d moan about how it’s your new favorite.”

“i’m versatile,” you say proudly, flicking your hair like it isn’t a crime scene. “you’re deranged,” nanami mutters, finally lifting his head just to sip something dangerously amber. “no, no, wait,” haibara gasps, pointing at gojo. “he still doesn’t have a shirt on. why doesn’t he have a shirt on? is that blood? IS THAT BLOOD?”

“scratches, sweetheart,” gojo coos, turning around like a model showing off his back to the judges. “proof of passion. her nails did all this. i am but a humble canvas.”

“he moaned when i did it,” you add, deadpan.

shoko screams into a cushion.

“i need bleach for my eyes,” utahime mutters. geto nods solemnly. “i knew missionary would be the one to take you down. i didn’t think it would actually work.”

gojo slumps dramatically into the couch, dragging you with him, arms still around your waist like he can’t let go now that he’s ruined you emotionally and spiritually. he kisses your temple with obnoxious affection, legs spread wide like a man proud of the ruin he left behind.

“this,” he says, motioning to his face, “is the face of a man who made love and won.” you lean back against his chest, sighing like a satisfied villain. “and this is the face of a woman who has no regrets.”

utahime flings her slipper across the room.

“take your slutty love story and get the fuck out.” and all you can do is laugh, tangled with the man who made missionary feel like a religious experience, glowing like a filthy miracle, while your friends spiral in the wake of your post-sex enlightenment.

the scene that follows is nothing short of a cinematic meltdown, a group mental collapse broadcast in full color under the low glow of gojo’s cursed mood lighting. the basement already reeked of weed and spilled cheap whiskey, but now it’s thick with the stench of defeat. your victory. his absolute, unapologetic, shirtless triumph.

gojo leans back into the couch like he owns the fucking place—well, he does, technically, but now it’s like he owns the narrative, the mythos. his arms spread over the back of the cushions, one dangling casually behind your shoulders, the other resting across your thigh like a hand claiming territory. he’s not even pretending to put his shirt back on anymore. it lies somewhere in the corner, forgotten, like decency itself. his chest gleams with sweat and scratches. his hair looks like a bird tried nesting in it during the act. and he smiles.

that dumb, cocky, post-sex smile like he just unlocked a new religion and you’re the first disciple.

you’re still glowing. cheeks flushed, lips kiss-bitten, shirt stretched from being pulled halfway over your head at one point and now just barely covering the constellation of hickeys painted from your neck to your collarbone. you look like you just committed a crime and are so proud of the mugshot.

“it wasn’t just good,” you declare, fingers lazily adjusting your hair with all the grace of a slutty war general. “it was enlightenment. i saw god and she winked at me.”

“was she into missionary too?” geto asks, eyes squinting as he exhales smoke through his nose.

“she invented it,” you say solemnly.

shoko’s lost in the corner of the couch, one sock off, one sock on, a throw blanket over her head as she moans, “i am going to exorcise this entire night from my memory. i am going to bleach my soul.” utahime looks at you, then gojo, then you again, pointing a trembling finger as she says, “the worst part is you’re not even ashamed. you’re not even pretending.”

“what is there to be ashamed of?” gojo grins, tilting his head and stretching his legs out like a lounge chair with a heartbeat. “i made her come with eye contact and emotional intimacy. you’re welcome.”

“you did not make me cry,” you say through your teeth, blushing all over again.

he just hums and presses a kiss to your temple.

“you wanted to cry.”

“you literally told me you’d fall in love with me if i kept clenching.”

“and did you?” he raises an eyebrow.

you flick his nipple. he gasps like a scandalized housewife.

“anyway,” you sigh dramatically, like you didn’t just have your soul rearranged missionary style by a man who can’t name five vegetables, “i stand by it. even with gojo. especially with gojo. missionary is the best position ever.”

haibara’s curled up in the fetal position on the beanbag, face buried in a throw pillow, groaning loud enough to qualify as a siren. “i hate this timeline. i hate this dimension.”

“you’re all just mad it wasn’t you,” gojo chirps.

“no one wants to do missionary with you!” utahime shouts.

“she did,” he says smugly, nudging you with his knee.

“she’s a slut!” shoko yells from beneath the blanket. “every position is the best for her! she’d say reverse piledriver is romantic if you called her ‘sweetheart’ while doing it!”

you shrug unapologetically. “what can i say? i value connection.”

“you value getting railed while someone holds your hand,” nanami deadpans, not even looking up from the book he inexplicably pulled out sometime during this hellish conversation.

“yes, and?”

“honestly?” geto exhales smoke, eyes thoughtful. “it’s kind of poetic.”

“oh don’t you start,” utahime groans.

gojo tucks his chin over your shoulder now, holding you close, his voice a warm hum in your ear. “i’m gonna write a manifesto. ‘missionary for the modern man: an erotic treatise.’ subtitle: with love, and balls-deep penetration.”

you start laughing so hard you nearly fall off the couch.

“you’re insane,” you say, wheezing.

“i’m revolutionary,” he murmurs, planting a kiss just behind your ear. “i’m a pioneer. i’m the christopher columbus of tender fucking.”

“he committed genocide,” you say.

“okay,” gojo says, thoughtful, “then i’m the neil armstrong of romantic nut.”

“you didn’t discover the moon, satoru,” nanami says flatly.

“maybe she’s my moon,” gojo murmurs, dramatically clutching his chest, “and i left my footprints all over her surface.”

you grab a throw pillow and smack him in the face.

he catches it, kisses it, throws it back.

your friends are all either screaming, sobbing, or plotting your deaths.

but you?

you’re smiling.

and glowing.

and still a little sore in the best fucking way.

[muffinexplorer]

NUDES

♡. choso unexpectantly sends you nudes, college!au, nudes

Your phone buzzes at exactly 12:47 AM.

Choso: u up?

You smirk.

You: always. why?

Choso: i wanna show u something.. don’t laugh.

You: now i’m definitely laughing

Before you can tease him again, another text comes through.

An image.

You pause.

It’s… his hand. Holding himself. Well, holding himself over his sweats.

No face. No caption. Just him — stretched in a pair of gray sweats, thick and obviously not soft, the outline straining where his hand’s trying to cover it.

And failing.

Because he’s huge. Even when he's covered.

Your jaw drops.

Before you can even react, he sends a message

Choso: fuck. i shouldn’t have.

Choso: sorry if that was weird

Choso: u looked rly good earlier and i couldn’t stop thinking abt it...

Your heart stutters.

That hoodie you wore in lecture today. The one that was a little too off-the-shoulder. He was staring the entire time.

You bite your lip, grinning like a devil.

You: …holy shit, choso

You: you’re seriously holding back on me like that?

Choso: haha

Choso: i thought it’d scare u off ngl

You: scare me off? choso, i’ve been wondering what it looked like for weeks

You: and now that i know? i want more.

There’s a pause.

And then—another pic.

Lower angle. This time without the sweats. His hand’s still there, but it’s not enough. He’s flushed pink at the tip, thick veins running up the side. Big enough that it looks almost unreal in his grip.

Your stomach flips.

Choso: now ur definitely gonna ghost me

You grin.

You: no, baby.

You: i’m gonna ride you.

Seen.

Typing…

Stopped.

Typing again.

Choso: i’m free tmr. just saying.

TL: @samm1e13 @syleepy @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt @snowsilver2000 @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ravenbc @mihyas-dieehefrau

A/N: was too lazy to type this out in the messenger app

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

Masterlist

[muffinexplorer]

Love this omll

♱ FEELZ ft. choso kamo ♱

summary: after months of desperate searching, choso finally finds the perfect roommate! you cook, clean up after yourself, and best of all, you happen to be the prettiest girl he’s ever seen in his life. your only flaw? a gnawing bloodlust that increases tenfold whenever you’re around him because of his rare blood type.

wc: 18k cw include: sfw-roommates to lovers?? kinda??, mentions of reader killing people (she be hungry she’s just a girl!), mentions of blood, side character death, they’re so down bad for each other but for diff reasons, reader has a bit of an oral fixation, nsfw- lots of kissing, switch!choso, fondling, biting, a smidge of blood play, dry humping, oral f&m!receiving, SMIDGE of foot stuff, choso has an abnormally huge dick, riding, backshots, reader drinks choso’s blood during, marathon sex, abrupt ending IM SAWRYYYY I GOT TIRED >:(

‘ they say home is where the heart is, you’re the reason mine is beatin’. ’

“i’m sorry i had to schedule us meeting on such a crappy day, but i’m glad you were able to make it! what did you say your name was again?”

“y/n, my name is y/n. it’s very nice to meet you, choso.” you extended your manicured hand out to his, a small smile lifting at the corners of your lips. choso graciously enveloped your hand in his, giving it three slow shakes before awkwardly clasping his hands together.

he was handsome, intimidatingly handsome. the kind of handsome that would make you do a triple take if you ever saw him walking down the street. he was a big man. no shorter than six feet with broad shoulders to match. his eyelids were smudged with black liner, and right above the medium size scar on his nose was a bridge piercing. he had a few other piercings; a stud in his nose, snake bites, and if you paid close enough attention you could see a tongue ring.

as handsome as he was though, he had a sort of anxious aura surrounding him. he was nervous, but why?

“i don’t mind the rain, even when it gets like this. i like the smell that it leaves afterwards.” your eyes crinkled together in a smile which he returned happily.

it was silent for a few moments before choso finally spoke up. “sorry. i suppose you’re waiting for me to get the conversation going,” he chuckled breathily, resting his hands on the table. you hummed, giving him a curt nod while taking a sip of your tea.

“we’ve already gone over what’s in the apartment and rent, and all that other good stuff. what i really wanted to meet up to talk about was your boundaries, and other things you feel i should know about yourself.”

for such a big man he had the most gentle voice, and the kindest eyes as he spoke to you.

“well, i think we can both mutually agree on staying out of each others rooms, and toiletries. i take pride in being a good cook, so i don’t mind ever whipping you up something if you’re hungry. i’m good at picking up after myself, and you seem like the kinda guy who does the same so i don’t think that’ll be an issue. um, i would say i’m more on the introverted side, so you don’t have to worry about me having guests over.”

the more you spoke the more you could see choso visibly relax. you were saying all the right things, especially the part where you mentioned not having guests over. it’s not like choso didn’t have friends over from time to time, but my mans enjoyed the solitude of a quiet home very much.

“w-well that’s . . . that’s great! i know that’s like the bare minimum a person can ask for, but you have nooo idea what kinda nuts i’ve had to deal with.” he trailed off with a chuckle, and when you joined him in laughter he couldn’t notice how nice your smile was. you had the cutest little canines.

“i cook as well, but i wouldn’t say i’m the best, heh. i mostly work from home, so i’ll be home most of the day. i do have company over sometimes, but it’s just a couple of friends and my brother—if it would make you more comfortable i could try to let you know when they come over?”

sweet and thoughtful.

with a small shake of your head you said, “that won’t be necessary, but it’s very thoughtful that you’d offer. please continue.”

“ah, the only other thing is my gaming habit. i try to be quiet, but if i’m ever too loud please don’t hesitate to say something.” you couldn’t help but giggle. you didn’t take him for much of a gamer.

finally you bit the bullet and asked the question that’s been on your mind since he sat down. “have you ever roomed with a girl before?”

“ . . . ”

you could hear the way his heart picked up at your question. the faint blush on his cheeks was also a dead giveaway that he has, in fact, never shared a living space with a woman. “um, no. no i haven’t, b-but i promise i won’t be weird or anything like that. i’ll always respect you and your privacy, honest!”

the jangling of your gold bracelets caught choso’s attention as you rested your chin on your palm, a playful grin on your lips. “you’re real cute y’know that?”

this had choso smirking, the blush on his cheeks growing deeper. “yeah i’ve heard that once or twice. don’t let the looks fool you, i suck at talking to women no matter who it is,” he chuckled, eyes flitting to the rings on his fingers.

after a little more talk about your living situation, you and choso made some small talk. he told you a little about his job, and some stories about him and his brother when they were kids. you were pretty vague when it came to talking about your life, but choso didn’t seem to notice—mostly because you didn’t give him a chance to think before you were asking him another question about himself.

“it was so nice meeting you, y/n. i really look forward to being roommates. if you have any questions before your move-in day please feel free to reach out.” choso reached his hand out for yours, and to his surprise your hand was ice cold.

when his eyes flicked back up to yours, you had a look on your face he couldn’t quite decipher. you were smiling, but something just felt . . . off.

ah, he was all in his head again. you seemed like a nice girl, a normal girl. you had no criminal background as far as he knew, and after stalking what little socials you had, he didn’t get any kind of serial killer vibe.

you’d be the perfect roommate. you had to be!

“it was nice meeting you as well, choso! i’ll see you on the first.” and with that you parted ways.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

‘ breaking news ! another dead body was found in an alleyway by two citizens early this morning. the couple described the scene as ‘horrific’ and ‘nightmarish’. like the other four corpses previously found, the body was drained of all blood and was missing its head, arms, and its entire lower half. police are encouraging citizens to follow the ten p.m curfew, but there have been talks of enforcing this curfew rather than having it as a suggestion . . . ’

the tv clicked off, leaving nothing but a black screen. nanami let out a long sigh through his nose before slowly turning his head towards you. “are you being sloppy on purpose or are you just that dumb?”

you lips quirked up in a grin, “calm down. it’s not like they’re ever gonna figure it out who’s doing it all, and besides, a ten p.m curfew? in new york city? please. plus, i’ve decided to take a break for a little while, i’ve found a new roommate and i need to settle in.”

if looks could kill your heart would surely have a stake through it by the way nanami was looking at you. his usually handsome face was twisted into a deep frown, and if you weren’t scared of him quite literally breaking every bone in your body, you’d laugh at him.

nanami was an old friend of yours, but not really a friend at all. he was hired to watch over you by a very old, irritating, and invasive counsel that you despise with every fiber of your undead being. he’s simply there to make sure you didn’t draw any unwanted attention to your kind.

it’s not like you pranced around with your eyes crimson red, and fangs bared for all to see—you just had a problem controlling your bloodlust. hence why nanami was there. he’s been following you around the world for almost a century now, and he hasn’t changed the slightest bit. if anything he got more and more grumpy as the years went on. if he was physically able to age he’d be as shriveled as a raisin by now.

“i hope you’re at least being sensible about the lives you’re taking. some of these people have families to get back to,” nanami spoke lowly, taking a long sip of the bourbon in his glass. the comment had you rolling your eyes in annoyance.

“i can assure you no one will miss them. you should know by now i don’t go after innocents,” you all but growled, digging your nails into the leather of the couch you were sitting on.

“not everyone can live off diseased squirrels, and alley cats, or whatever the hell you eat to survive.” you muttered the snarky comment under your breath, but nanami heard every syllable.

he tongued the inside of his cheek, veiny hand coming up to loosen the tie around his neck. “this new roommate of yours . . . is anyone going to miss him when he turns up missing?”

“he won’t turn up missing because i don’t plan on killing him. he’s nice . . has some friends and a little brother. seems a little ditzy too so i don’t think he’ll catch onto anything, but at this point, anywhere is better than sharing a place a with you.”

ever since you settled on staying in new york, nanami took it upon himself to find an apartment for you. it was a beautiful place to say the least, but the catch was he was staying there with you. that was always the catch, but this time around you were fed up with the blondes meddling more than usual. you had to get outta there.

“i hope you know that just because you’re leaving that doesn’t mean i won’t be keeping an even closer eye on you,” he muttered, setting the glass beside him. unfortunately you were already fully aware that no matter where you hid in the ginormous city, or in the world honestly, nanami would always be on your coattails.

the thought of trying to kill him doesn’t even cross your mind anymore. every attempt you’ve ever made on his life ended horribly . . . for you. the last time you tried to kill the blonde he ended up breaking both of your kneecaps with a single, swift kick, and that was the end of that. you couldn’t cause any physical harm so verbal attacks would have to do.

“like i could ever forget. now please be useful for once and help me pack the rest of my things.” you sounded like a spoiled child. it annoyed kento to his core. sixty years of following you around, and you haven’t changed a single bit.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

when you arrived at your new apartment the sun was just about to fully set, the pink and orange swirls in the sky now fading to night. the sun wasn’t your total enemy. it wasn’t like you disintegrated into dust the second a ray of sunshine hit your skin, but it was still rather bothersome and you tried to avoid it if possible.

choso was waiting for you by the entrance of the building with his hand lifted in a wave, and a sweet smile on his lips. sure, he thought it was a little odd you wanted to move the rest of your things in when it was dark out, but he didn’t care to question it.

your headboard and mattress had already been brought earlier in the day along with two of your dressers, and the nicest vanity he’s ever seen. the apartment itself was a slight downgrade from your previous place, but like you had stated before: anywhere is better than sharing a space with kento.

all you had with you were clothes. lots and lots of clothes. so many clothes that it had choso’s eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

“it looks like a lot but i think we can knock this out in a half hour, forty five minutes tops!” you wrapped an arm around his muscly bicep, biting back a giggle as he examined the moving truck full of boxes and racks of clothes. choso let out a low chuckle, hand awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck.

“is there any particular reason why you have so many clothes?” he hummed, tilting his head to you. he couldn’t deny the tingle that shot down his spine when you batted your lashes at him. “ummm, all of this is vintage, designer, or vintage designer. i had to bring all of it with me. now c’mon!”

the entire thing took a little over an hour, and it would’ve gone by faster if you used a little of your inhuman strength and speed, but watching choso’s muscles strain as he carried each box was far more enjoyable. hearing the little grunts and groans he made was even better.

“you barely even broke a sweat! you’re so strong, choso,” you giggled, lazily swinging your legs back and forth as you watched him set the final boxes down. choso preened at the praise, a dopey smile forming on his lips. he wiped a bead of sweat from his temple before speaking, “ah, it’s nothin’. my friends convinced me to start going to the gym with them a couple months ago, and i guess the results have been pretty nice.”

you could’ve rolled your eyes when he said the words ‘pretty nice.’ he was one of the most jacked men you’ve ever seen, yet he was describing the results as decent. why downplay himself?

you couldn’t wait to pick this boys brain apart.

his ears perked up when he heard you pat the soft cushion of the couch. “come sit with me, cho.”

he blinked a few times before slowly making his way over to you. when he sat on the furthest end of the couch your lips lifted into a playful smirk. “you don’t have to sit so far y’know, i don’t bite.” well, at least for now.

“i know, i just—i don’t know,” he chuckled, glancing over at you before flitting his eyes to the chunky rings on his fingers.

‘come onnnn. start some conversation, don’t be weird!’ he screamed at himself in his head, afraid that this comfortable silence will soon turn into an uncomfortable one.

you could see the struggle on the his face, hear the way his heartbeat picked up as he tried to think of something, anything to say.

“did those hurt?” you spoke softly, poking a finger to your lip. his tongue slowly swiped over his snake bites, brows raising in question to see if that’s what were were referring to. you let out a small, barely audible hum and nodded your head.

“eh, kinda. i’d rate if a six and a half on the pain scale. my most painful piercing was definitely my—oh, um, well i don’t know if i should show you—unless you wanna see! t-then i can totally show you—”

everything happened so quick. one minute you were sitting on the opposite end of the couch, then suddenly you were so close to choso that your thighs were smushed together. his mouth dropped open the tiniest bit when you cupped his cheeks, bringing his face close to yours. your hands were cold, but your touch was as delicate as ever.

“calm down. you sound like you’re about to have a stroke,” you giggled, releasing your hold on him. choso let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in and silently nodded. without another word being said he lifted up his t-shirt, revealing a singular piercing on his left nipple.

your eyes widened, a grin forming on your glossy lips. you leant in close, so close it had choso making a noise of surprise. “why just the one?” you giggled, trailing your eyes from his chest to those pretty, doe eyes of his.

“the plan was to get both done, but i pussied out after the guy did this one. the pain was just too much, which is funny considering i’ve had my ribs tatted—now that is real pain right there! see?” two of his fingers slowly trailed down the tattoo on the left side of his ribs. your eyes widened the size of saucers when you realized the tattoo was of icarus.

“are you—do you happen to be into greek mythology?” when you nodded ‘yes’ choso matched your giddy smile, his eyes brightening in a way that was just too cute. “when i was younger i thought it was sooo cool, a-and i still do! hence why i got a tattoo of icarus. i know there’s more interesting stories, but his really stuck with me. i guess i can relate to pushing myself past my limits, physical or mental . . . ”

you came to a conclusion that night that you liked hearing choso talk about literally anything. you liked how soft spoken he was, and how he stumbled over his words. you adored hearing the way his tone changed and the way his eyes lit up when he talked about things he was passionate about or liked.

you told him a little about yourself, and it was nice to see the way he hung onto every word you said. the way his eyes lit up when you delved a little into your personal life. he was a good listener, you liked that.

it was true shame that even after all the great impressions he’s made in only a few hours—you still wanted to yank him back by those pretty, brown locs and sink your teeth into his neck.

his scent was enough to have you drooling, and if you hadn’t of indulged in a man the previous night, you surely would be now. it was a sweet scent, like those expensive chocolates you only bust out for special occasions. you’ve only smelt such a thing one other time, but that would mean . . . oh.

he had a rare blood type; o-negative to be exact. the rarest blood type in the world with only six million people worldwide to have it—and here you were with a walking blood bank of it. now you really had reason not to kill him.

you could end his life, indulge in him now, and get your fill, but then what? this was something you had to nurture, something you had to savor.

“y/n? you alright? i lost ya for a second there,” he grinned, cocking his head slightly to the side like a confused puppy.

“hm? oh yes i’m fine. just thinkin’ about all the unpacking i have to do.”

“w-well i could help you if you want? i’d love to see your clothes if they’re all vintage. that kinda stuff is real neat to me.” your silence to the question worried him, but when he heard you say yes his eyes lit up.

your wardrobe was far more impressive than he could’ve ever imagined. from dresses, to handbags, to jewelry—you had it all, and you took pride in it. happiness isn’t guaranteed for all of eternity, but stylish clothing certainly is.

“isn’t this shawl beautifu? look at the detail on it,” you spoke lowly, holding the article of clothing out for choso to see. with a shaky hand, choso delicately ran two fingers over the lacy material of the shawl. “its from vivienne westwoods nineteen-ninety five spring collection. the naomi campbell wore this same one on the runway.”

now choso didn’t know much about fashion, but by the way your eyes lit up at the article of clothing, it had to have been something real special.

choso plopped down on your freshly made bed and propped himself up on his elbows. “how on earth did you get your hands on that?”

your lips parted in a small laugh. “you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about that. just know i have my ways.”

he didn’t need to know that you were there in person to see naomi campbell walk down the aisle with said shawl, and he certainly didn’t need to know the troublesome lengths you had to go thought to get it.

“oh shit, it’s past midnight. i should probably head to bed,” choso groaned, reaching his arms over his head to stretch. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t ogle his flexing muscles as he did so.

“mm, well goodnight, choso. thank you for helping me unpack my stuff. sweet dreams!”

he gave you a sweet smile and made his way to exit your room. as he passed you got a strong whiff of the sweet, mouthwatering scent that was him. you had to physically restrain yourself by digging your nails into your palm so hard they bled—otherwise you would’ve tackled him like a linebacker just to get a little taste.

not today, y/n. not today.

when choso dozed off he could hear little rustles from your room, and when he woke up the next morning he could hear noises from the kitchen. the sun was barely peeking through, and you were already up? whew, and he thought he was an early bird.

still very much groggy with sleep, choso exited his room and was met with the sight of you in the kitchen, whipping up some kind of breakfast while you hummed a quiet tune.

* yawn* “good morning, y/n.”

“good morning, chos—oh! um . . . cho?”

“hm?”

“any particular reason you only got boxers on right now? not that i’m complaining or nothin’,” you giggled, whipping back around to focus on the breakfast you were making. as you finished your sentence all the sleepiness in choso’s body vanished, and was quickly replaced with embarrassment?? shame?? both??

all you can say is you’ve never heard a grown ass man shriek.

you heard loud footsteps and the sound of a door slam. you perked your ears up a little bit more to hear him and he did not disappoint. little whines and whimpers of embarrassment slipped past his lips left and right.

‘idiot! she probably thinks i’m a huge perv!’ you heard him whine in shame, and sickly enough, it brought a smile to your lips. sure, you felt bad that he was so embarrassed from exposure, but ugh! he was just too cute!

even with the numerous tattoos and piercings, choso gave you severe cuteness aggression, and when you paired it with that marshmallowly, caramel scent he had, it made you wanna kiss his cheeks and rip his throat out with your teeth at the same time.

ugh. you needed to feed, and soon. you could already feel your humanity slipping, and that wasn’t good for anyone.

your thoughts were broken by the smell of burning french toast. “ah, shit.” your nose scrunched in annoyance as you scraped the now burnt french toast off the pan.

“i’m sooo sorry about that. i-it’s been a while since i’ve had another person here, a-and i smelt food—not that that’s an excuse of course. i just—i’m sorry.” he was talking so fast you barely understood a word he said, and you feared if you asked him to repeat himself he’d explode into pieces.

you hummed out a small laugh and set a plate of french toast and eggs on the small glass table in front of him. “it’s okay, cho. we’re both adults, stuff happens. it’s all good, now eat!” he silently stared at you for two beats before slowly pulling out a chair and sitting.

the petrified look on his face was wiped off and replaced with a small smile. “this looks delicious, thank you.” you bowed your head slightly in a silent thank you and took a seat right next to him. human food did little to appease your appetite, but it did curb your cravings a tad, hence why you decided to pick at your own piece of french toast.

“have any dreams?” you asked, licking a dribble of syrup off your fork. choso nearly choked on his eggs at the action, quickly gulping down some juice to ease the burning in his throat. “n-nah, none in particular really stand out. y-you?” you giggled and shook your head. “i don’t dream very much. i guess my thoughts are too loud or something.”

you both maintained small talk while choso demolished his breakfast, and while you talked he only made direct eye contact about a handful of times.

choso was already bad with girls, but you made him completely beside himself. you had him stumbling over damn near every word he said, your precious laugh set the apples of his cheeks ablaze every time he heard it, and worst of all he hasn’t stopped looking at your boobs since you sat at the table!

you were wearing a pink, lacy nightgown with a robe to match, and every time you leant forward even an inch, your breasts were spilling out more.

“you want some more, cho? there’s plenty left.”

choso blinked. hard.

“um, no no that’s okay. i should probably freshen up . . . get ready for work and s-such, but thank you! thank you so much for breakfast, you’re the best!” the sound of his chair scooting back was deafening. he couldn’t believe how fucking awkward he was being right now.

“mm, suit yourself. i’ll be tidying up in here if you need anything!” the smile you gave him was the same one you had given him at the coffee shop where you first met. it looked sincere, yet it sent a shiver up his back. it honestly looked like you wanted to devour him whole.

while you loaded the dishes into the dishwasher you couldn’t help but, once again, let your mind wander to choso’s impressive physique. he was so big. you just wanted to sink your teeth into every muscle on his body. you certainly didn’t miss the massive bulge in boxers either—

“o-oh!”

you nearly dropped the plate you were holding, your brain going into complete overdrive at the smell of blood.

“ah, shit. stupid fuckin’ razor . . . ”

so he cut himself with a razor. that’s unfortunate. maybe you could help him tend to it. maybe he’d even let you smell the blood soaked tissue he dabbed it with. your mouth watered, a thin line of drool dribbling from your lips and onto the porcelain plate you were holding with an iron grip.

“i need—i n-need to get out of here,” you whispered to yourself, damn near tossing the plate in the dishwasher. if you didn’t step out now you would surely hurt choso, and that was last thing you needed to deal with when you’ve only been there one night.

the sound of a door slamming caught choso’s attention, and when he walked out to see what the commotion was, he found nothing. nothing except a little note on the counter.

had to run out and do a few things. i’ll be back soon.

— y/n

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

your fingers twitched around the icy glass in your hands, the feeling of hunger draping over you more and more by the second. he should be here any minute.

your ears perked up at someone entering the bar, and surely enough there he was; toji fushiguro, aka your next target. you’ve done some research on the man, and he was more than perfect for the job.

he killed people for a living. it didn’t matter if it was a man or woman, old or young—if you paid him enough he’d do it. on top of that he also had a reputation as a sleazy pig, someone who thought more with his dick than his brain if it wasn’t work related.

he was big, intimidatingly big, but nothing you couldn’t handle. in fact you were hoping he struggled, you liked a challenge.

“now what’s a pretty thing like you doing a shithole like this?” his voice was like nails on a chalkboard to your ears, but nonetheless, you forced a smile and slowly turned your stool towards him. you almost wanted to roll your eyes when you saw an unlit cigarette dangling from between his smirking lips.

you let out a dramatic sigh and batted your lashes extra hard. “well, i got into a nasty argument with my boyfriend while we were having lunch and i ended up getting so mad i stormed off! i left the restaurant and just kept on walking until i ended up here.”

the reality actually was: you waited in a cafe until this dingy bar opened at ten a.m. and then waited even longer in this uncomfortable ass bar stool until he showed up. he was a regular at this bar. according to other patrons, if he wasn’t there he was either out on a job or dead because he never went home.

as far as you knew, he had no friends, no living relatives, and more reasons to be hated than you could count on your fingers.

“well that’s an awful shame darlin’. how ‘bout you buy us a round of drinks and tell me alllll about it.” before you knew it, his side was pushed up against yours, his large arm now wrapped around your shoulders. the smell of whatever cologne he had on had your nostrils burning.

you let out a small, fake laugh and whipped out a wad of cash. “order whatever you like,” you grinned, slamming the money down so hard you could’ve sworn he flinched.

it wasn’t until four drinks later that toji’s words started to slur, and he was a tad more touchy than when he first approached you. you were feeling borderline feral at this point, the last of your humanity slipping through your fingers due to a fight between two patrons that happened minutes before.

the metallic smell of blood lingered throughout the air. it was so strong you could practically taste it.

“you alright, sweet thing? shakin’ like a leaf over there,” he chuckled, slithering his hand around your waist to give it a squeeze. his eyebrows raised slightly when you turnt your head towards him. “um . . . have your, um, have your eyes always looked like that? maybe i’m a little too tipsy but they look red.”

without saying a word you grasped his bigger hand in your own. “come with me,” you muttered, hopping off the barstool. a wave of shock washed over toji’s face at the amount of strength you used to pull him off his own stool. “heh, you’re pretty strong, cutie.”

when he realized you were taking him into an alleyway, his lips pulled into a sleazy smirk. “what’re you tryna do, little lady?” he chuckled, teeth catching onto his bottom lip when you pushed him into a near brick wall.

“i am just so, so hungry,” your voice was hushed, now two octaves deeper. you pressed your nose against the pulse point in his neck, inhaling until you felt dizzy. your fangs were practically throbbing against your gums. you needed to bite into something, anything!

your tongue lolled out, sloppily rolling itself around the expanse of his neck. you nearly hissed at the man when he cupped your jaw in his hands. “are you—? heh, are you droolin’?”

you let out a small giggle, giving him a toothy grin. you took multiple mental pictures of the look on his face. it wasn’t exactly a face of horror, but you could see the fear in his eyes.

without thinking he pushed you to the ground, his back now firmly pressed against the wall. “the fuck . . . the fuck? is this some kinda prank? the fuck is wrong with your face?”

when you attempted to get up you were met with the sound of a gun clicking. you peered at him over your lashes, your nose crinkling in a laugh.

“i’ve heard of you guys, but i thought it was all just rumors. fuckin’ nightwalkers. tell me why i shouldn’t put a bullet through your head right now.”

it all happened so fast. one minute you were on the ground and the next you were gone. toji’s head whipped left, then right. you completely vanished before his eyes.

“you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me—oof!”

toji had somehow been flipped to his back, his head knocking against the gravel below him. when he tried to get up, he was stopped by a heel pressing snugly against his chest.

“i hope you’re not looking for this,” you dryly chuckled, tucking the weapon in your purse. you made a mental note to dispose of it later—guns were little to no use for someone such as yourself.

“why’re you doing this, hm? the fuck you want from me?” his teeth grit together when you pushed your heel deeper into his chest. toji was fucked. undeniably, incredibly fucked. he could run, but you’d catch him. he could try to take you down at hand-to-hand combat, but he knows you’d break every bone in his body before he even threw a punch.

he knew karma would catch up with his ass one day, but damn! did it have to happen right when he just got done with a job? at least he was decently buzzed.

“you’re a very bad man, mr. fushiguro. you’re wanted for murder, attempted murder, assault with a deadly weapon—gosh, i mean the list goes on! i’m sure the world will be a much better place with you off the streets. not to mention you made me get my skirt dirty. that’s enough reason for me to rip your head off.”

you slowly took your heel off his chest, and to your surprise he stayed put, not daring to move an inch. toji let out a deep sigh through his nose. “well, if i’m gonna die, at least it’s at the hands of a very, very gorgeous lady such as yourself.”

your head tilted to the side, a bashful smile tugging at your lips. “tch, you’re too sweet, honestly.” you knelt down beside him and tilted his chin up. the sound of his heart thumping in his chest had your head pounding.

“i’ll try to make this as painless as possible, mr. fushiguro.”

‘ breaking news ! yet another body his been discovered this evening by patrons leaving a nearby bar. the police have identified the body as toji fushiguro; a known criminal around the city of new york. patrons at the bar say they saw mr. fushiguro leave with a woman, but a description has yet to be released. when police found mr. fushiguro it appeared that he had been attacked by an animal due to the multiple bite wounds around his body, so this mystery woman may not be our suspect, but due to the lack of security cameras inside the bar it is unlikely this woman will be found. ’

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

choso had a problem. a very big problem. after almost six months of living together, he’s developed the corniest, most lovesick puppy crush on you. what could he say? you were perfect in every way imaginable. you were a little bit of a mystery to him, but that only added on to the crush even more!

he loved being in your presence, the floral scent that you left behind every time you crossed paths. he loved your home cooked meals, and the random desserts you’d bake just because you were bored. he loved that you both had so much in common—from tv shows, to movies, to music!

all these amazing things, and more had choso falling head over heels for you, but because of the roommate code he swore upon himself, he never once made a move. the last thing he wanted to do was scare you off, so he kept those feelings bottled up, but as the days went on it became harder and harder to not show his attraction to you. especially during your weekly movie nights.

“sooo what’d you pick for us tonight, cho?” you asked once he took a seat on the couch. you pouted at the distance, wasting no time crawling towards him until there was less than an inch of space between your bodies.

“from dusk till dawn.”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and this caught choso’s attention. “what, you don’t like that movie? it’s a classic!” he chuckled, taking a sip of the juice he was nursing.

you grinned at him, cocking your head to side as you batted your lashes. “i’ve actually never seen it, all i know is that it’s a vampire movie.” choso was absolutely gobsmacked at this information.

“well now we have to watch it!”

even though vampire movies weren’t your favorite, you decided to watch it anyway, but only if choso held you the entire time. that was your one condition.

so that’s how you ended up tucked snugly into his chest while his arms were weakly draped over your lower back. he wanted to be normal about this, but how could he?! especially when you had on the most tempting set of lacy pajamas.

“you’re so warm, choso . . . smell really nice too,” you hummed, nuzzling your nose into his chest to get a stronger whiff of him. he smelt so sweet you could practically feel your tooth aching from it. “t-thanks y/n. you smell nice too, like, like flowers.”

“mhm, it’s peonies. i’ve been using a new body wash, thank you for noticing.” you shuffled the tiniest bit, making your top ride up and expose your lower back.

choso’s hand twitched. god, he wanted to touch you, feel how soft your skin was.

“mm, hold me tighter. you feel so loose,” he heard you whisper below him, and with a deep exhale he pulled your body closer to his, his hand now splayed across your bare, lower back.

fuck, he was right. your skin was in fact as soft as the peonies you smelt of.

he squeezed your side gently, and you hummed, lashes fluttering at the action. “that feels nice . . . rub my back? please?”

“s-sure. let me know if i’m getting too low or far up . . . ‘kay?” you let out a small hum and nodded, fixating your eyes on the movie. you weren’t really paying attention, more so relishing in how soft choso’s hands felt against your cool skin.

it wasn’t even five minutes later when choso really started to notice how close you were to him. your chest was pressed so tightly against his it was driving him mad! your tits felt so soft, even through his shirt and your top. he couldn’t help but wonder if they were as soft as the rest of you—oh god he cannot pop a boner right now, not here!

“um, y/n.”

“mhm?”

“do you—do you want some wine? i could really use some wine, how about you get up for a sec—”

a squeak flew past your lips when choso abruptly sat up, taking you up with him. your hands flew to his shoulders out of instinct, and somehow, this put choso in an even more fucked up situation. you were sitting right on his dick, and if you didn’t notice it was hard then, you definitely did now.

your face was blank for a moment and then you smiled at him. “i’d love some wine, thank you.”

you knew he was sporting a boner before choso himself even knew. you could practically hear the blood rushing to his dick, the way his heart rammed against his ribcage. it brought sense of pride in your chest that you didn’t even know existed.

you slowly maneuvered yourself off his lap, and to choso’s surprise you acted completely normal, reaching over to pause the movie as if either of you were actually paying attention. as if he wasn’t scrambling to get some wine to draw your attention away from his semi.

even after this shameful moment, his dick was still hard and getting harder by the second. so while he shakily poured two glasses of wine, he also made quick work to adjust himself, though it did little to hide anything.

he could call it a night, and hide in his room forever, but that might hurt your feelings. choso would rather get jumped than ever hurt your feelings. he just had to think of something to make it go down, but what? you were the only thing plaguing his mind.

he tried to think of the most disgusting things possible, and even tried coming up with mental pictures that would have him gagging, but nothing worked. caught up in all the commotion in his head, choso hadn’t realized how loose he was holding onto the wine glasses before one of them slipped from his hand and onto the ground.

you jumped, head whipping to the side with furrowed brows. “everything okay in there, cho?”

choso was borderline panicking at this point, not even thinking about the shards of glass slicing at his fingertips as he picked them up.

your nose twitched. there went that smell again.

you should leave. go somewhere far away before you do something you regret . . . but then that would mean leaving choso. what if he was hurt? what he if couldn’t give himself proper care?

despite the numerous voices in your head shouting at you to leave him be, you got up and slowly made your way to the kitchen. choso could hear your sock clad feet padding against the hardwood floor and straightened his posture, his eyes not even daring to look at the mess in his hands.

“your . . . ” you took a final step forward, not daring to move another inch, “your hands. they’re bleeding.”

choso’s eyes flitted to his crimson hands, then back to yours. your hand was covering the entire lower half of your face, almost as if you had smelt something foul. your body was practically vibrating from how much you wanted to pounce on him.

his eyes widened. “i’m—i’m sorry. i was making the drinks and they just—are you okay? do you get queasy around blood? i’m so sorry—”

choso was utterly embarrassed. this was certainly one way to kill a boner.

“it’s okay. it’s okay, let me see.” your words were muffled due to you speaking over your hand. choso took a step forward, and it almost looked like you wanted to take a step back, but you stayed put, slowly moving your hand away from your face as he got closer.

you could feel saliva pooling on your tongue as you took a short inhale. “o-oh, choso. why would you pick up glass with your bare hands?” your tone had sounded more aggressive than you intended, but hey, it was better than the other things you had in mind.

choso gnawed on his bottom lip. “because . . . because you make me nervous. i’m sure you saw my, um, problem, thank you for not saying anything by the way,” while he was explaining himself it was like he was speaking through you, his eyes avoiding yours as much as possible. you nodded slowly, your nostrils flaring as your lungs burned for air.

“i just—i just wanted to get rid of it before i made an even bigger fool of myself, but you see how that went.” before he spoke again you shushed him.

“it’s fine. just follow me to the bathroom so i can pick this glass out. i have a pair of tweezers.” he nodded dumbly like a lost puppy, and silently followed you with a frown etched onto his lips.

“you know you don’t have to help me—”

“please shush. just sit so i can help you, i don’t mind a bit, cho.” you hated that your tone was so snippy with him, but you weren’t sure how much longer your humanity would stay intact.

choso’s frown deepened, but he sat on the toilet seat cover regardless, gently laying his hands on the porcelain sink palms up. “i’m so sorry, y/n. i completely crossed a boundary i shouldn’t have, i mean, we’ve been getting along so well these past five months, and i know we get physical sometimes, but i shouldn’t have . . . gotten an, erm, erection.”

it was silent. not even a breath could be heard from either of you. why were you being so calm? why were you helping him? he figured any other girl would be livid . . . unless you felt the same.

he watched you shuffle around the bathroom as you looked for your tweezers until you finally found them. the sight before you would probably send shivers down anyone’s spine from the amount of blood, but it left you starving. you hesitated twice to grab his hand, and with a shudder you finally grasped it.

“o-okay let’s do this,” you sighed, making quick, but swift work to remove the tiny shards of glass. you were honestly very proud of yourself for making it this far.

choso hissed when you pulled out a particularly long piece, his brows furrowing in discomfort. you could hear his heart thrumming in his chest, it was beginning to hurt your head.

“i’m not upset or creeped out that you got hard, cho. i felt it before you even got up. if i was uncomfortable i would’ve let you know, but i wasn’t, i was just waiting for you to make a move . . . but then you cut your—your hands.” you swallowed thickly, nostrils flaring as you pulled out the final piece of glass.

choso let out a deep sigh, brown locs covering his eyes when his head tilted downward. “i’m at idiot, an injured idiot at that.”

your lips parted in a breathy laugh, “you’re not an idiot, you’re sweet. now sit tight so i can disinfect it.”

it physically pained you to wash his blood off your hands. you wanted to shed a tear watching the crimson liquid swirl down the drain, but you had to be sanitary about this!

you couldn’t help but think of nanami, and how proud he would be if he could see you tending to a humans wounds rather than indulging on them.

“this is probably gonna hurt . . . like a lot.” you warned looking into his eyes for consent to continue. he hesitantly nodded, tongue poking out to toy with his lip piercing.

you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past when your lips when choso cursed rather loudly at the stinging sensation from the alcohol. he was a trooper for sure, hands not moving an inch, even as you dabbed more alcohol on the cuts.

“t-thank you for doing this. fuck, there’s no w-way i could’ve done this myself with somehow getting injured more.” his voice was shaky as he spoke, but there a small smile etched onto his lips.

you breathed out a small laugh, wiping the cuts clean before beginning to bandage them. “i’m glad i was able to help. now please be more careful! next time you drop some glass just sweep it up!”

“y-yes ma’am, i promise.”

when you finished putting the alcohol and bandages away, you were shocked to feel choso pull you close by the backs of your thighs.

“choso! watch your hands, you just got them bandaged up,” you giggled, resting your hands on his shoulders for balance. he smiled at you, pulling you closer until your body was pressed against his chest. you were so close your faces were nearly touching, the scent of your body wash wafting into his nose once more.

kiss her. kiss her. kiss her.

“are you trying to kiss me, cho?”

choso swallowed thickly, adams apple bobbing. “mhm.”

your lips lifted into a toothy grin, and for the first time decades you actually felt butterflies in your tummy. “c’mere then.”

when choso pressed his lips against yours it was soft, so soft you barely felt anything. you kissed him back harder, and that elicited a small sound from the back of his throat.

you knew you shouldn’t be doing this. it was so dangerous for him and he didn’t even know it, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to pull away. you don’t think you could even if you wanted to. each time you moved away, even slightly, choso was chasing your lips eagerly.

“d-don’t pull away. please, jus’ stay right here,” he sighed, gently cupping the back of your neck to keep you in place. your whimpered, lips parting to allow him to him to slip his tongue in your mouth. his hands throbbed in pain, but he knew he’d be the biggest idiot to ever walk the planet if he stopped this.

the kiss was getting more and more heated, and choso was getting touchier by the minute. it sucked he couldn’t feel all of you due to the bandages, but hey, this was better than not being able to feel you up at all.

“we—we should probably stop. you’re probably in—ngh, in pain.” your lashes fluttered shut when choso’s puffy lips began smearing kisses all over your neck and throat, desperation and need laced in each kiss.

he felt a hand wrap around his throat, followed by a small push, but he was resistant. the pulse point in his neck thrummed underneath your finger tips. god, you just wanted a little taste.

“i don’t mind bein’ in a little pain, i just want you.” his arms wrapped possessively around your waist, “you’re always so cold, y/n. lemme warm you up.”

his kisses were addicting. every time you wanted to pull away and put some distance, you found yourself going back in for more. your mind was beginning to fog, and he just kept pulling you further and further in.

“your heartbeat is so loud,” you whimpered into the kiss, manicured fingers tugging at his hair. choso hissed, too drunk on your kisses to even process what you had said.

he noticed your kisses were becoming hungrier, more aggressive. the little nibbles you gave his bottom lip now turning into full on biting. he breathlessly chuckled, “c-careful. you’re gonna—mmph, make my lip bleed.”

“i know.”

and then there it was. it was sweeter than you imagined, gliding onto your tastebuds like the finest honey. choso’s blood tasted divine, just as you thought.

you gasped, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth. choso was caught a little off guard, and he didn’t know if it was because his dick was hard or that fact you made anything attractive, but he was into it. his eyes rolled back, and if you didn’t have such a sturdy grip on his shoulders his head surely would’ve knocked against the wall.

you were entirely too far gone now, so what happened next came as a shock to choso and yourself.

“o-ow . . . y-y/n?”

choso was holding onto your side with an iron grip, paralyzed in fear. your lips were no longer his, now on his neck along with your fangs. you let out an apologetic whine, and slowly removed yourself from the coziness of his neck.

you backed up into the wall, hard. your chest was heaving, the air around you seeming to not get in your lungs fast enough. choso’s lips parted, but before he could even let out a puff of air you were right back in front of him, your hand covering his mouth roughly.

he let out a weak noise, fear pooling in his, usually bright, purple eyes. your eyes softened, but you weren’t sure it was doing you any good.

your teeth were coated in blood, his blood, some dribbling from your wobbling bottom lip and onto your chest.

“that wasn’t supposed to happen. i’m—i’m so sorry, choso. that wasn’t—shit. i-i’m so sorry, oh my gosh, look at your neck.” you hated that you did this to him, and during such an intimate moment.

a beat passed, and then another. choso’s rapid breathing had calmed a bit, but he was still shaking like a leaf.

“if i move my hand will you promise not to freak? we can talk about this, i promise—i swear, i won’t hurt you.”

choso blinked slowly, his eyes trailing to the blood staining your lips, then back to your eyes. he slowly nodded, and with zero hesitation you removed your hand from his mouth.

“i don’t—i don’t even know what to say. you’re not gonna kill me are you? i-i promise i won’t tell anyone.”

“no, no, no! i won’t hurt you, i never wanted to hurt you. it’s just my urges—they get so strong, especially when i’m not in my right mind. even n-now . . . i wanna hurt you, but there’s something inside thats keeping me from doing it, and—and i’m thankful.”

you reached your hands out to him, but he flinched away, cowering like a kitten until you cupped his cheeks. “i wish i could revert to how i looked before, but i’m stuck looking like this until i feed.”

feed.

he was so confused as to why you were speaking about yourself as if you were an animal. what even were you exactly? you couldn’t possible be a fucking vampire—those things didn’t exist! they were a myth!

you were so soft and sweet, there’s no way you could possibly be something murderous as a vampire.

“i know this is crazy, but just breathe and bare with me okay? you’re probably trying to convince yourself this isn’t real, but it is. it’s okay though! i’m not gonna hurt you, i just—ugh, i don’t know what to do! i’ve never bitten someone and let them live before.”

your lips were turned into a pout, but it was quickly wiped away when you saw the horror on choso’s face. a thought crossed his mind, but he didn’t want to believe it. before he knew it words were spilling past his lips, “do you know anything about those murders that have been happening?”

you wanted to shrink into a ball of nothingness. choso’s lips parted, then shut.

“i . . . i have no choice, cho! i need to feed so i can live, a-and the men i did kill were all bad people! i don’t kill innocents—people like you, people who have friends and families waiting for them at home. *sniffle* i-i promise i’m not the cold blooded killer you think i am.”

you were, actually, maybe even worse, but you’ve changed, and it was all thanks to choso! you’ve only met a handful of decent men in your life, and choso put them all to shame. he was so precious . . . so caring, loving, and naturally apologetic. you just wanted to put him in your miniskirt pocket and carry him around the world with you.

he didn’t say anything so you kept speaking, “these urges . . . they—they get so bad. it’s like my entire body is having a migraine. i’m in so much pain when i thirst, and i’ve almost hurt you before but—b-but i always left because i would rather get stabbed through the heart than ever hurt you, cho. i like you so much, i would never let anything bad happen to you.”

you hated that you were crying, showing him a weakness that no one, not even nanami has seen, but you couldn’t help it! if he turned you away, or god forbid told someone about you, that would mean you’d have to do the unthinkable, and that was the last thing wanted to do.

“you . . . you like me?”

you were slightly taken aback by the question, due to the other, more serious things you had said, but nonetheless you shook your head yes.

your brows raised when he stood up, towering over you like he was about to do something. your hands clenched into fists, prepared for whatever was about to happen.

a shaky gasp left your trembling lips when he cupped your face, thumbs brushing along the apples of your cheeks. “i’m so sorry you have to live like this, y/n,” he spoke lowly, a deep frown settling on his kiss bitten lips.

ugh, what an empath he was.

his eyes trailed to the fangs in your mouth. they were . . . cute. his thumb went down to brush over one, but you stopped him. “careful. you might cut yourself, and that’ll lead to more . . . you know.”

choso’s lip poked out, almost in a pout. with caution he swiped his thumb slowly over the sharp canine, and sure enough he felt a dull stinging sensation. you tried to back up, but he kept you in place.

“choso—seriously, you could get hurt, and i wouldn’t forgive myself. just please let me go so i can find someone else to feed on—”

“no.”

your brows furrowed in confusion, “no? what do you mean no? i-i have to or—”

“feed off of me, y/n.”

you scoffed, giving choso’s chest a forceful shove. you were able to put some distance, but he was quick to close it, backing you up into the wall until your bodies were only centimeters apart.

“no. fucking. way. back up right now, i’m not doing that.” choso didn’t move an inch, in fact he got closer, so close his front was now touching yours.

“if you move another inch, i’m gonna push you. hard.”

a shiver ran down his spine at the threat, but it wasn’t a fearful one. fuckin’ perv.

“ . . . well—well, push me then. go ahead, y/n.”

when you didn’t move a muscle he sighed. “why won’t you let me help you? you don’t want to hurt anyone, right?” you let out a small sniffle, your head bowing in a nod.

“then let me help you, please—”

“it’s—it’s more complicated than that! even if you did let me, what next? i can’t do it forever, you and i both know that, so then what? and your blood type, it—it’s the rarest one out there, only a handful of people in the world have it. it’s too risky, i don’t know if i’ll be able to stop myself.”

he didn’t say anything.

“aren’t you scared?”

his eyes flit the ground, tongue poking out to toy with his lip piercing. “yes, a little, maybe a lot, but i wanna help you, y/n. i don’t know what we’ll do after tonight, but—but we’ll figure it out! i-i still like you, fangs and all.”

you let out a small laugh through your nose, your arms crossing over your chest. “no you don’t . . . you’re probably just in shock, and not thinking clearly.”

“i think i’m okay with that.”

you gave him a confused look, and without warning choso pulled you close, tucking your face in his neck rather roughly. his large hand cradled the back of your head, holding you in place.

“i won’t tell anyone your secret, i promise. you’re always doing things for me, let me do something for you.” his tone was gentle, every word being whispered directly into your ear.

your nose twitched, the metallic smell of blood flooding your senses. your lips parted, then shut.

“o-oh!”

choso blinked rapidly, his hands pushing against the porcelain sink you had pushed him into. he let out a small laugh, “damn, you are strong.”

you didn’t bother to acknowledge the comment. “if we’re gonna do this . . . there is a way i can make this easier for you, less painful i guess.”

his eyebrows raised in question.

you let out a puff of air through your cheeks. “my fangs produce a sort of, um, venom? i guess you could call it that. its supposed to numb the bitten area, or something like that. i’ve only done it a few times—it makes my gums hurt afterwards so i don’t do it often.”

a beat of silence passed.

“i guess i’ll, um, do it from your neck since there’s already a mark. again, so sorry about that.”

out of instinct choso’s hand rubbed across the aching area on his neck. it didn’t hurt too bad, it felt like a dull bruise at the most, but even if it was painful, he’d endure it for you.

he sighed when your cold hand cupped his jaw. “the venom will help the healing process as well. m’so sorry, cho. i’ll explain more as best as i can in the morning.”

his hand wrapped around your wrist, thumb tenderly rubbing the soft skin. “i’d appreciate that. we don’t have to go too in detail, but i—i have so many questions.”

“and they will all be answered in due time, i promise . . . i really appreciate you for doing this. your blood will keep my appetite at bay for days, it’s such a relief knowing i won’t have to get my hands dirty.”

choso’s heart skipped a beat when you softly pressed your lips against his, but it didn’t last long, a sharp breath slipping past his lips when you pulled away.

when your smaller hand enveloped his, he followed you like a lost puppy, eyes wide with wonder. his hands felt shaky, clammy, but not from fear, more like excitement.

he couldn’t believe this was real, this was actually happening.

now all the little odd things you did made sense to him. the blacked out curtains in your room that you kept closed twenty-four seven, your peculiar eating habits, the way you’d disappear for hours, sometimes even days, at a time.

“are you alright? you look a little spaced out . . . if you wanna back out that’s okay i don’t mind—”

“i wanna do it. m’just . . . thinking is all.”

“o—okay, well have a seat here,” you mumbled, using your hands to gesture to the couch. with no questions asked, choso sat down, adjusting this thighs in a way that would be comfortable for you to sit on.

the light from the tv illuminated your figure, and when he looked up he couldn’t see your face, only the dull glow of your eyes.

his abdomen clenched when your swung your leg over his thighs, your bottom now pressed against his crotch. choso immediately leant into your touch when you cupped his cheeks, his lips chasing after yours.

your lips met his in a hungry exchange, but you didn’t do it for too long, much to his dismay. “i got blood on my lips, that’s gross,” you whispered, giving the shell of his ear a tiny kiss, and then another on his jaw, and another on his neck.

choso nudged at your cheek with his nose, eyes squeezing shut to prepare himself.

“i’ll try to be gentle, can’t make any promises though,” and with that you sank your teeth into his neck, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the taste of him. it was indescribable. better than the oldest, most expensive wines ever made, and you trust you’ve had your share of them.

choso’s body had gone completely slack, his head tilting back against the couch. “this feels . . . ” his words trailed off, lips parting as an accidental moan leapt up his throat.

he could only describe the feeling of your venom as being heavily wine drunk. he couldn’t feel any pain, only the feeling of your tongue swiping against his neck. he felt hot, too hot for his own liking, and the most annoying part of it all was that he was starting to get hard again.

“a-am i doing okay?” his voice was breathy, and borderline whiny. you made a noise, but he wasn’t sure what to make of it, until you swiftly whipped your face from his neck, your chest heaving from deep breaths.

for once in your entire life you felt like you had finally had your fill. no lingering hunger resided in your belly for blood, only a hunger for choso, and choso only. you couldn’t remember the last time you had felt so at peace.

“you did great. so, so good,” you murmured, nudging your nose against his. “does your neck hurt, you feel funny?”

you smelt like blood, the metallic scent had his insides twisting.

“no it doesn’t hurt, and i guess i feel fine . . . how do you feel?” his thumb hastily brushed against your bottom lip.

“i feel much, much better, but now i’m hungry for somethin’ else.” choso visibly shuddered when he heard the sound of your fangs retracting, your once crimson red eyes now back to their original, soft brown color.

now that you were at no risk of harming choso, you could finally smush your lips against his once more, blood smeared across your lips and all. choso’s lips parted, giving you quick access to slip your tongue inside his mouth.

you tasted like blood. it wasn’t an awful taste, but it was definitely a strange one.

“i-i thought you said kissing with blood on—on your lips is gross,” he panted, eyes squeezing shut when your bottom half brushed against his. your fingers tugged on the hairs at the nape of his neck, tilting his head back to give yourself access to his neck.

choso’s adams apple bobbed, eyes zeroing in on the ceiling. your lips ghosted over the tender beneath his jaw, little spots of blood still speckled around the area. your tongue darted out, gently gliding over the sensitive skin. “that feels n-nice,” he sighed dreamily, fingers digging into your sides.

choso was flushed all over. his clothes felt too tight, almost restrictive, he wanted them off—yours included.

“can i—can i touch you some more? l-like under your clothes?” you let out a small hum, giving him the green light to feel you up as he pleased, and boy did his hands wander. he started off by rubbing the bare skin of your hips, and then they drifted up your back, tracing random lines and shapes.

your lips connected with his once again, and that’s when his hands made a beeline for your behind, squeezing the soft flesh with need. “you’re so soft n’ smell s’good.” his words were slurred, heavy pants slipping past his kiss bitten lips.

you sucked on his bottom lip, and that’s what had him whining into your mouth, his hips bucking up. he was holding back, you could tell, and that just wouldn’t do for you.

“you’ve probably been waiting for this a long time, hm?” you whispered, peppering his flaming cheeks and nose with kisses. choso groaned, his head bowing in a shallow nod. you slowly slipped the straps of your top off, exposing your breasts, and choso wasted no time cupping them, his thumbs running over the petal soft skin.

“you have *kiss* *kiss* no idea,” he murmured into your collarbone. “it’s been so bad these past couple of weeks. couldn’t get you out of my head, y/n, not even video games helped.”

his arms wrapped around your waist, and with a low grunt he stood up, hands slithering down to cup your ass. “is it cool if i take you to my ro—!”

choso was cut off by your lips roughly smushing against his in a clash of tongue and teeth. he’ll take that as a yes.

when choso kicked open the door to his room your scenes were taken over by the overwhelming scent that was him—it was a homey scent, one that had you instantly relaxed.

he set you down gently on the edge of his bed, and knelt between your legs, hands caressing the bare skin of your thighs. “you’re so pretty. wanna kiss you all over—worship you. please let me.” your head tilted back, lips parting in a low moan when he sucked at the spot below your ear.

“s-sure, cho. do whatever you wan’ to me.”

choso whined into your neck, teeth grazing over your collarbone. “don’t say stuff like that, baby, because i will, and then we won’t be getting any sleep tonight.”

baby. that was new.

choso kissed his way down your sternum until he reached your breast, lips immediately latching onto your nipple. the feeling of his tongue piercing swiping against the bud had your teeth clamping onto your bottom lip.

your hand cradled the back of his neck, pushing him more into your chest. “i don’t get tired, like at all, so we can go as long as you need to.” and it was true! not only did you have inhuman stamina, but you quite literally couldn’t get tired, even if you stayed up for days on end. you did enjoy an occasional cat nap during the day though.

choso tried to speak, but his words were muffled by the your chest, and even then he couldn’t find it in himself to move an inch.

his fingers looped onto the waistband of your pajama shorts, giving them an experimental tug. when you looked down, his purple irises were already staring back at you. you let out a small giggle, “ya’ know, i’ve never noticed how much your bags bring out the color of your eyes.”

choso scoffed, his lips cracking into the tiniest smile. “wow, thanks. i gotta say, that blood around your mouth n’ chin really brings out your eyes, erm, well i guess i should say your other eyes.” you both snickered, noses bumping into each other so cutely that if anyone were to see they’d gag from how adorable you two were.

choso’s lips captured yours in a soft kiss, and with one swift tug he pulled your pajama shorts off. you were almost completely bare for him, the only clothing on you being your panties and your top that was sitting underneath your breasts.

“what’re you gonna do now, hm?” you hummed, lips breaking out into a giddy smile.

“eat your pussy if that’s alright with you,” he grinned, looking up at you through his lashes while he pressed tiny kisses over the tops of your thighs.

your body flopped back against the mattress, and shortly after you spread your legs, finally giving choso a salivating view of your center. he was entranced—no, no, he was starstruck. his body count was particularly high, but out of all the girls he’s had the privilege to indulge in, you had the the prettiest pussy by far.

he felt like a dog, drool pooling on the tip of his tongue as he leant forward to get a better view. “can i—may i taste?” you didn’t respond, instead you just blindly reached for his head and pushed him down until you felt the tip of his nose graze over your folds.

choso didn’t know what the next day had in store for him, for all he knew this may be the last he’ll see you because he knows your secret, so for that reason he took his sweet time with you.

with a slow bat of his eyes, he poked the tip of his tongue out, and slowly circled it over your swollen clit. he kept doing then until your hips were weakly thrusting up, and then, and only then, did he finally cup your pussy with his tongue, swiping the muscle swiftly through your folds.

finally being able to get a taste of your essence could only be describe as heaven. seriously. choso wasn’t the type to moan while he ate pussy, only because it felt too embarrassing, but right now? he couldn’t have gave less of a shit about his volume.

“you’re so soft down here,” he muttered, sloppily rubbing his lips against your folds. he couldn’t get enough of the way you felt, the way you stated, your scent. he was addicted.

“h-hah! feels s’good, cho,” you mewled weakly, fingers threading through his brown locs. each time you gave his hair a sharp tug, he’d groan into your cunt. every stinging sensation from your pulling had his dick leaking like a faucet, surely staining the soft cotton of his briefs.

with shaky hands, you hooked them underneath the backs of your knees, and lifted your legs. choso followed your movements, and pushed your legs back even further, his entire mouth cupping your pussy.

his lips puckered, slurping up everything you had to offer him. the noises he was making were downright obscene—not a kiss, slurp, or suck gone unheard.

you could hear the way his heart raced, the way all the blood in his body pumped to his dick. it made your body feel hot all over, which was odd because you couldn’t particularly produce body heat.

“your pussy is so cute,” he breathily chuckled, using both thumbs to spread your lips. his tongue lolled out, a line of spit slowly dripping from the tip of it and onto your clit. “can i put a finger in? please? i’ll be so gentle, i-i promise.”

you pushed yourself up with your elbows, your cheeks puffing up in a deep exhale. “what about your hands? don’t they hurt?”

choso lifted his right hand, his fingers wiggling around freely. “my fingers are good see? s’just my palm, baby, don’t worry. i promise i’ll be gentle,” he murmured, giving the inside of your thigh a wet kiss.

and gentle he was. the second you gave him the green light, his middle finger began to gently prod at your entrance, and to relieve any potential pain he swiped his tongue piercing back and forth on your clit.

choso gnawed on his lip piercing, tugging the metal with his teeth as a form of restraint. “shit, that’s tight.” your walls felt velvet soft against his finger, sucking the digit back in each time he tried to pull it out.

“another one, please,” you whined, cupping your breasts softly. choso hummed, adding his ring finger into the mix ever so slowly. his fingers curled, and this had your eyes rolling back.

a white, translucent cream began to coat his fingers, and with a choked noise he pulled them out, shoving them past his lips seconds later. you whimpered at the loss of contact, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“ith tho gooth,” he said, words coming out muffled due to a mouthful of fingers. he removed them from his mouth, and blindly wiped them on the sheets below you, before maneuvering himself on top of you, the bulge in his sweats now pressing snugly against your cunt.

one of his hands cupped your jaw, and pulled you in for a bruising kiss. his thumb pushed down on your chin, parting your lips just enough for him to slip his tongue in your mouth. he tasted like you; sweet, yet tangy.

you both moaned in unison when choso’s hips started to move. he just couldn’t help it, and it felt soooo good. the way the soft material of his sweats rubbed against your clit had you drooling, and choso shamelessly licked it up, his tongue swiping across the center of yours.

your hands wandered across his back, feeling every ridge and muscle over his shirt. he was so strong, and his skin was piping hot to the touch over over his clothes.

“off,” you whispered, tugging at the thin material, “wan’ it off of you.” choso moaned against your lips, giving them one final peck before sitting back on his knees. he shirt was off instantly, tossed to the side without a care.

choso let out a small noise of surprise when your foot pressed against his pecs, moving lower until you stopped at his lower tummy. “you’re so handsome, cho. ‘could just eat you up,” you giggled, nudging your foot against his bulge. choso groaned, his hand wrapping around your ankle.

“don’t—don’t do that, please. i’m already about to fuckin’ bust over here,” he chuckled breathlessly, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“mm, really?” your lips lifted in a lazy smirk before you nudged his clothed cock again, earning a breathy moan from choso.

“you like that?”

“m-mhmmm,” you weren’t even moving your foot at the point, choso was doing it for you, gently moving it up and down the length of his cock. “f-feels nice. it was starting to—ngh, h-hurt a little,” his lips broke out into a drunk smile and before you knew it choso was using your foot to get himself off.

“if you cum like this i might just have to laugh at you,” you grinned up at him, pressing your foot down harder. choso was squeezing your ankle impossibly tight, so hard that if you weren’t who you were, he’d be worried about leaving bruises.

his lips puffed up in a pout, nose scrunching in pleasure and embarrassment. “m’not gonna cum like this, i just—i just needed a little relief. fuck me.”

there was now a small wet patch on the front of his sweats, growing bigger and bigger as the minutes passed.

“cho?” you murmured, completely in awe of the state he was in. choso hummed, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

“you want me to help you out?”

his nod was eager, and with one harsh tug, he pulled the waistband of his sweats and briefs down, exposing his poor, sensitive dick. hung was an understatement, this man was so big it had you questioning yourself.

“w-what do you want me to do? want me to lay down, stand? just tell me, and i’ll do it.” although choso was towering over you, he had never felt so smell under your intimidating gaze. you looked like you wanted to eat him up, and he was more than willing to allow it.

that’s how he ended up bare, on his back, with you sitting on top of his stomach, a mischievous grin on your lips.

your eyes trailed to his neck, and with a single look from you, he turnt his head to the side giving you a better view. the healing process for the wound on his neck was already starting, now fixing to form into a dull scar.

“this should be fully healed by morning,” you whispered, stroking his collarbone with your knuckle. you fingers danced their way to his jaw, gripping it with little force. his lips parted in a silent plea for a kiss. you happily obliged, leaning down with quickness to suck his tongue into your mouth.

the kiss didn’t last long, unfortunately, but you made it up by tenderly kissing every inch of skin you could reach on your slow decent down his body.

“h-ho, geez,” he gasped, hands clenching into fists when your tongue swirled over his pierced nipple. you giggled between kisses, your tongue poking out to run over the ridges of his abs. “did you like that?” you asked, gently flicking his nipple.

choso brushed his damp hair out of his face, “y-yeah, i did. i liked it a lot.”

noted.

your hands trailed down his muscly thighs as you kissed lower, and lower, until you reached where he needed you most.

his dick was pretty. pale, with a dark pink tip, and a patch of dark hair below the base of it. his was tip was shiny, gleaming from his bedside lamp. “so big . . .” you murmured, wrapping your hand around the thick appendage. the veins wrapped along it thrummed against your fingers, begging to be relieved.

choso was sure he wouldn’t last very long, and unfortunately, he was correct, because the second he felt the warmth of your tongue trace along the thick vein on the underside, he was knew he was a goner.

“oh shitttt.”

your lips wrapped around his swollen tip, tongue grazing over his leaky slit. he tasted sweet, which was expected due to his healthy diet.

your cheeks hollowed, and that’s what had choso’s jaw dropping, tongue damn near falling out of his mouth. his dick twitched in your mouth, and you sucked harder, little dribbles of spit spilling from the corners of your mouth.

“hah—y/n, baby, that feels fuckin’ great,” he all but purred, resting his arms behind his head. when you peered at him through your lashes, your eyes zeroed in on his biceps. they were so big n’ muscly, you just wanted to bite them—but in a loving way!

he followed your gaze, a lazy smirk lifting at the corner of his lips. “heh, you wan’ me to flex for you, or somethin’?”

you pulled off his dick, lips swollen, and nostrils flared as you tried to catch your breath. your hand wrapped around his base, stroking it quickly while your other hand squeezed his balls. “maybe later . . . careful though, i might take a bite out of you.”

choso grinned, a laugh rumbling in his chest, but it was quickly overtaken by a loud moan. did you just—did you just bite him again?

he looked down at you, and sure enough there you were, teeth latched onto his thigh while your hand continued to work his cock. your tongue ran over the mark on his thigh, and with a quiet giggle, you gave the tender, reddened skin a soft kiss.

you were shocked when choso’s hand wrapped around your wrist, halting your movements.

“if you—ngh, stroke it again m’gonna cum. seriously, like i’m—i’m not k-kidding.” his nose and eyebrows were scrunched in pure concentration, balls throbbing for the feeling of release.

“get up here, ride me. you’ve been around a long time right? surely you can show me a few tricks,” his smile looked strained, and it was! he wasn’t doing himself any favors in this moment, imagining you on top of him, riding him like you hated his guts. god this was starting to hurt.

you gave his cock a final sloppy kiss at the base, and slowly crawled your way up the bed until your lower half was hovering over his. his cock twitched, grazing over your cunt for only a millisecond, but it was enough to have choso whimpering.

you balanced yourself on the balls of your feet, hands moving behind you to find purchase on his thighs for stability.

“i do know a thing or two,” you murmured, pressing your pussy against his cock. fuck, he felt so hot. choso’s lashes fluttered, “sit on it. please, please just—just sit on it.”

if choso could describe the feeling of being inside you, he wouldn’t know what to say, because the feeling is indescribable. maybe euphoric would be a good word? you fit together perfectly, like the worlds most fucked up puzzle.

he didn’t feel that warm sensation like he did from other girls, but that was to be expected due to you not radiating any kind of body heat. you were wet though, very wet, and mind numbingly soft.

he was gasping for air, words coming out a garbled, choked up mess, “t-this feels . . .”

“good right?” your words came out as a fluttery sigh, your hips now moving in slow circles. choso’s head fell back into his stack of pillows, hands finding purchase on your thighs.

“so fuckin’ good, babe,” he grunted, eyes zeroing in on the way your pussy gripped him, the way it struggled to take each inch of him. you’re the only girl that’s been able to take more than half of his nine inch length, not the he was bragging of course, in fact he was a little embarrassed about it. not even his pocket pussy that he whipped out for special occasions could fit all of him :(

shlick! shlick! shlick!

the sounds of your pussy sucking choso’s cock in was the only sound that could heard throughout the room, that and choso’s high pitched whimpers.

“you wan’ me to go faster?”

choso nodded, tongue lolling out of his mouth, followed by heavy pants. you giggled, moving your hips in quick figure eights. “you look n’ sound like a fuckin’ dog, cho. are you a dog?”

your hips had unexpectedly dropped, engulfing the entirety of choso’s cock in your cunt. his lips parted, a loud moan echoing throughout the room. “y-yes, yes i am—fuck, mm’a fuckin’ dog,” he uttered through grit teeth. his dick throbbed between your walls, release already just inches away.

“y-yeah, yeah, fuck me like that. just like that, baby, please keep going. c’mere, come closer,” choso panted, using all of his strength to sit up, and pull you closer to him. his arms wrapped around your waist, smushing your bodies together until there was no space to be seen.

your hands wandered across his upper back, eventually finding themselves to the hairs at the nape of his neck. you pulled him in for a heated kiss, and at the same time started to move your hips, the new angle making you see stars.

“ngh—s’real deep,” you were shocked by the shakiness in your voice, but you truly couldn’t help it, not with the way choso’s tip was prodding against that spot that had your toes curling.

he was so rough, yet gentle. quick, yet oh so sensual. you could fell all those weeks of yearning he pushed down with each brush of his hands against your skin. he was feeling you up anywhere he could—from your lower back, to your thighs, to your breasts. he couldn’t get enough.

“mm, shit—you cumming? you feel real—”

choso’s words came out muffled when your hand slapped across his mouth, your head tilting back in a high pitched moan. “yes, y-yes, i’m cumming. hush for a second,” your brows furrowed in concentration as you chased your high, and choso just watched in awe. his eyes were low and lidded, and if it weren’t for your hand being smushed against his lips, he’d be drooling.

god, you were perfect. he liked you so much, maybe a little too much if you really thought about it, but who’s thinking right now?

your cunt convulsed around his cock, white, translucent pearls of cum dripping down the base and onto the bedsheets. your hand had moved from his mouth, and joined your other in clawing at his back, crimson red lines now raising in their wake.

choso could feel the cool air brushing against his new wounds, and his veins ran cold. not out of terror, nor fear, but something else.

the trembles in your body were slowly fading away, and yet, you were still holding choso close to you in an iron grip, your face now buried in his neck. the smell of blood hit you like a semi, of course, but for some reason you didn’t get the overwhelming urge to bite him. it still smelt like heaven though. it had saliva pooling on your tongue, threatening to spill past your lips.

maybe a taste wouldn’t hurt.

“ . . . that smells nice,” you whispered into his skin, middle finger swiping over the scratches on his back. you removed your face from his neck, your eyes finding his. “may i ? . . . wanna do this the right way this time—if there’s even a right way for this,” you both laughed, and with a deep inhale through his nose, choso nodded, uttering out a tiny ‘please.’

with no hesitation your lips wrapped your finger, and fuck, this was some good shit. you still had trouble believing such a delectable thing existed. you moaned around your finger, pulling it from your mouth with a quiet pop!

his eyes lit up, like he was waiting for you to say something. your lips curled into a lazy smirk, “can i have some more?” before you had even finished your sentence, choso dumbly shook his head, chest heaving from pure adrenaline.

he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to seeing you in your true form—eyes deep red, and teeth bared, ready to sink your teeth in his skin. he figured you would go for his neck, and tilted his head to the side to give you better access, but you had other plans.

your manicured fingers gripped his jaw, turning him towards you, “later. i want you to keep fucking me.”

choso truly didn’t need to be told twice.

he lifted you off his cock with ease, teeth clenching together in a hiss at the cool temperature that greeted him. maybe he was too fucked out, but he could’ve sworn you had gotten warmer around him.

he flipped your body over, lifting your hips up to position you on all fours. your body relaxed into the pillow he placed beneath your tummy, and with a dreamy sigh, you began to sway your hips.

“since you think m’such a dog, might as well fuck you like one right?” he chuckled, swiping his tips between your soaked folds. shockingly, his crappy joke made you laugh, and the melodic sound had his heart tightening.

you slowly turned your head back, locking at eyes with him. your lips curled into a smile when you heard him audibly gulp.

“you scared?”

choso slowly shook his head, eyes softening.

“ . . . no. you’re just so fucking pretty. even with . . . you know,” he trailed off, chuckling as he gestured to his eyes and teeth. your stomach twisted, and with a small squeak your whipped your head back around. “thank you,” you muttered into the sheets, biting back a smile.

choso grinned, gently caressing the skin of your ass. had he made you . . . flustered?

he slowly pushed his tip between your folds, groaning at the stretch. “do i got the little murderous vampire all shy now?” he chucked, teeth clamping onto his bottom lip. you whined, wiggling your hips against him. choso gently pushed down on your back, deepening your arch.

“gotta make sure you feel me allll the way,” in one swift movement, he pushed himself in to the hilt, “in here.” his hand swooped underneath you to push against your tummy, earning a loud squeak from you.

“tell me how you feel, now. tell me how it feels.” his eyes were clenched shut, meanwhile his hands were gripping onto your hips for dear life.

your lips parted, but no words were able to come out, only a pathetic wheeze. choso slowly pulled out, then pushed back in, creating a slow, steady rhythm. “c’mon, baby. talk to me,” he grunted.

your arms outstretched, nails clawing at his bedsheets from pleasure. “full . . .” was all you managed to get out between cries and hiccups. your mind was a muddled mess, all of your senses consumed by choso.

his slow pace didn’t last long, and next thing you knew he was pounding you into the mattress. his foot was perched on the bed, meanwhile one of his hands was pushing your face further, and further into the bed.

“this fuckin’ pussy,” he gasped out, eyes flitting to the mess between your bodies. your essence clung to his sweaty skin, creating thin webs with each clap of his hips against your rippling ass.

“faster! f-faster!” you pleaded, throwing your ass back to match his thrusts. the feeling of his cock nudging deep inside was like a high you kept chasing, you just couldn’t get enough!

“mm, baby wants it faster? no problem.” you gasped when you were suddenly yanked up by your hair, your body slotting against choso’s perfectly. his arm wrapped around your neck, keeping you in place as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.

choso couldn’t help but coo at the way you nibbled on his bicep. it hurt so good. so much so that when you actually bit him, and started feeding, all he could do was go cross eyed, his knees nearly buckling.

“jesus christ, a warning would’a been—hah, n-nice,” he whined into your neck, thrusts coming to a halt. shivers ran up his back, that same dizzy feeling from earlier overcoming him once more. you responded with a noise that was a cross between a moan, and a giggle.

“ngh, this—this feels amazing, o-oh my—”

choso’s ears started to ring, his orgasm washing over him in harsh waves. he wanted to hold back, he really did, but you had him completely weakened, mind and body nothing but a pile of mush.

your eyes fluttered shut, a content moan rumbling in your chest at the feeling of warmth that flooded your tummy. you couldn’t even remember the last time a guy fucked you so good that you let him finish inside you.

you retracted your fangs from his arm, tongue lolling out to lick up any excess blood. choso whimpered behind you, and without warning he sunk his teeth into your shoulder. hard.

you yelped, body going completely limp in his strong hold. “how do you like it, hm?” he growled in your ear, poking his tongue out to run over the shell of it. you let out a small, breathless laugh, “heh. i can s-see why people don’t like it too much.”

choso slowly pulled out with a hiss, his eyes flitting to his cock that was a glistening, creamy mess. he wanted you to clean him up, suck him off until you were gagging around his dick, but that would to have wait because unfortunately for you, choso still hasn’t had his fill.

he twisted you around onto your back, roughly pushing your knees to your chest. he pressed a kiss to the center of your food before tapping his fat tip against your clit, relishing in the way your mewled at the contact.

“she’s so fat n’ cute,” he grinned, slipping his cock between your puffy folds. you covered your face in embarrassment, but he was quick to slap them away. he’d be damned if you obstructed the most perfect view a person could have.

“c-cho—”

��shhh, listen.”

your embarrassment increased tenfold, the sound of his cock rubbing in between your folds becoming deafening.

“ugh, just put it in, you big brute,” you sniffled, fangs catching onto your bottom lip. choso noticed this, and leant down, “don’t bite too hard. don’t want ya to hurt yourself.” his voice was sweet and low, sending shivers up your back. he didn’t move until you nodded, and released your lip.

“good girl,” he murmured, letting a glob of spit fall from between his lips and onto your clit. while his thumb roughly rolled over your swollen nub, he slowly began to push his cock inside once more, slipping in with ease.

your back arched, thighs beginning shake from your already nearing orgasm. “fast, cho, faster,” you pleaded, pulling your knees back further. choso groaned, quickening the pace of his hips. he could’ve easily cum once again seeing how flexible you were.

he just wanted to fill you up over, and over again . . . and he did. until you physically had to stop him because the poor boy could barely keep up with himself.

he was on his back once more, chest heaving rapidly while you sat on top on his stomach, pinning his hands above his head. it was nearing four a.m. and for once in your life, you were utterly exhausted. you had never met another human being with stamina like him, it actually frightened you a bit.

“you can barely keep your eyes open, yet you want more . . . what’s up with that?” you asked, cocking your head to the side. all choso could do was shrug and thrust his hips up. you were using quite a bit of strength this time, so he really couldn’t move.

“well i need a break,” you spoke softly, releasing one of his wrists so you could cradle his face, “and you do too. how about you get some sleep, yeah?”

you could’ve melted at the way choso pouted, his brows scrunching up oh so cutely. he didn’t fight you, or protest, instead he just nodded, drowsiness already beginning to overtake him.

“you’re gonna sleep in here, right?”

“if you want me to i will, though i do have to be somewhere at seven,” you whispered, releasing your grip on him entirely. you moved off of his stomach, and got comfy before nuzzling into his side, your hand coming up to tenderly rub on his stomach.

“don’t you—don’t need me to clean you up?” he mumbled, eyes now shut from sleepiness. you made a noise of disapproval, and shook your head, “i’ll be fine, just get some rest. don’t forget you do have work in a few hours.”

choso didn’t need to be told twice and within minutes you began to hear small snores from his parted lips, his racing heartbeat now at a calm, steady rhythm. you were seriously going to have to introduce this boy to some herbal tea with the way he’s constantly worked up.

“mm, this calls a for a little cat nap,” you sighed dreamily, nuzzling more into choso’s side. his arms wrapped around you tighter, chin now resting on the crown of your head. his toned chest was now centimeters away from your face, and unfortunately your intrusive thoughts won, because the last thing you remembered before dozing off was nibbling on his chest to soothe the ache in your gums.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

“thank you for finally gracing me with your presence. following you around has been rather tiresome.”

you rolled your eyes, not even bothering to entertain nanami’s comment as you took a sip of your matcha. it had been five months since you’ve seen him, and they’ve been the most peaceful months of your life. why hadn’t you thought of getting a roommate sooner?

you set your cup down rather obnoxiously, your arms folding together as you leant back in your chair. “is there any particular reason why you called this meeting? the sun is supposed to be at a uv nine today. i’d like to get home soon.”

that was an actual reason, but what you really wanted to do was see choso. you’d been thinking about him, and his lovely scent since you stepped foot out of your apartment.

saying getting out of bed that morning would be an understatement—that shit was one of the hardest trials of your life! choso had refused to let you get out of bed, not even caring that his sore hands were screaming in pain as he held you in place. you had no other choice but to slowly fuck him back to sleep, your leg thrown over his waist while he delivered slow strokes until he was cumming with a loud whine.

after he dozed off you were finally able to slip out of his grasp and leave, but not before internally melting at how cute his cheeks looked when they were puffy from sleep.

nanami took a long, slow sip of his coffee. “how’s your roommate?”

you shuffled in your seat, “he’s fine, nothing new.”

“ah, so he’s still with us?”

you frowned, eyes narrowing at the blonde. “of course he is. i told you i won’t, and still don’t plan on harming him. we’ve formed . . . a sort of bond. we’re friends.”

“yes, yes. i’d be pretty chummy with a human too if i found out their blood type was o-negative. it’s got to rather painful to control the urges though, no?”

you froze, breath getting caught in your throat. now how the hell did he know that?!

he took your silence as an answer and continued to speak, “i could smell it on you the second you walked in here. you fed off of him, but i still can’t decide if you’re telling the truth about him being dead or not. i’m sure you know what’ll happen if the council finds out you’ve exposed yourself to a human, and let them live.”

your lips parted to speak, then shut. you were at a complete loss, mind boggled at how nanami was able to figure it out.

“how—how do you know it’s his and not someone else’s, hm? you have no idea what you’re talking about kenny,” you spoke softly, voice shaking the tiniest bit.

nanami set his mug aside, and leant on the table, his now crimson eyes piercing into yours. “i’ve been following your friend around a little bit, and i’m sure you know a scent like his is hard to miss.”

a beat of silent passed, and then another.

“w-why . . . why’re you following him around?! he’s done nothing wrong!” you could feel your temper rising. the mere thought of nanami stalking him without his knowledge had your blood boiling. “choso is innocent in all this, he doesn’t need to be stalked or harassed by you.”

“who said anything about harassing him? i just wanted to make sure that he was still alive, and not asking too many questions about his roommate . . . but it seems any questions he had about you have been answered. i know you fed off of him y/n. there is no use in lying. my problem is, instead of finishing the job, you let him live. i am sworn by an oath to watch over you, and clean up any messes you make—”

“i was not going to kill an innocent man because of something that was my fault,” you growled, voice lowering two octaves. “you don’t even know the full story of what happened, or what was said, so you are in no position to decide whether choso lives or dies.”

nanami’s expression was bored, and unamused, like he couldn’t be bothered to hear what you had to say.

“he promised to keep my secret, and i believe him. i couldn’t really give less of shit if you believe him or not, all that matters is that i do, and i have a great intuition. besides who would believe him anyway? there’s scarier, more violent things than us on the subways. i think we’ll be okay.”

nanami took another sip of his coffee, “and if he starts spouting nonsense about how vampires are real, then what?”

your head cocked to the side, and you smiled, but it wasn’t a sincere one, it almost looked sinister. “then i’ll kill him where he stands, and flee the city. i already have my next destination in mind if shit goes left.”

your stomach twisted, almost painfully. you didn’t mean anything you said, not a word of it, but you had to play it up for kento. god, even the thought of laying a threatening hand on choso made you nauseous.

“but what about the council? my oath—”

“geeeez, you and this goddamn oath—who cares?! the council is all the way across the sea in europe. what they don’t know won’t kill them, and if they find out about what i did, i will accept any consequences given to me.”

nanami scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “why do you care so much for this human? you’ve never gone out of your way to accept such a fate for anyone, why him?”

you didn’t quite know the answer to that yourself.

“i’ve grown fond of him, like i said before, we’re friends,” you spoke softly, eyes drifting to the couple that was sitting a few tables away from you. they were giggling and laughing together without a care in the world, and it wasn’t until now that you realized how much you missed the simplicity of caring and loving for another being.

your eyes flit back to nanami’s, lowering in a glare. “i mean it, ken. if you, or—or anyone, tries to harm him because of something he didn’t choose to know . . . i’ll—i’ll—”

“you’ll what?”

“i’ll kill you. i don’t know how, but i will. i appreciate you for cleaning up my messes, lord knows i’d probably be dead for real without you, but i don’t think this requires your attention. i hope you can understand that, because as long as i’m around, choso will remain alive and well.”

“hi! can i get you two anything else?”

the stare down that you and kento were having was interrupted by a bubbly waitress. you didn’t say anything, instead you just continued to stare at him, your face expressionless.

nanami blinked once, twice, thrice.

“no, i think we’re done here. thank you for taking such good care of us, dear,” he spoke lowly, offering the waitress a small smile, and a fifty dollar bill. she swooned of course, mentioning something along the lines of hoping to see him again soon, and you all but gagged watching the interaction.

after the waitress walked away, nanami cleared his throat. “i hope you know what you’re doing, y/n. keep in touch,” and with that he was gone, leaving you stunned, and nearly on the verge of tears.

was he convinced? was your choso safe?

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

[muffinexplorer]

Say My Name Louder

✦ mini-series

Reader x Choso Kamo | 18+ MDNI

cw: smut, dominant choso, oral sex, rough sex, voyeurism, dirty talk, possessiveness, jealousy, emotional tension, sibling conflict, hurt/comfort, morning-after fluff, domestic intimacy, suggestive teasing, light angst, found family, blurred emotional lines. Reader is 21, Yuji is 20, Choso 25.

Part 1 < Part 2

⸻

You knew who he was.

Even if you pretended not to look, not to care—not to think about what his hands would feel like if he ever really touched you.

Choso Kamo.

Tall. Quiet. Wears all black even in summer. Always somewhere in the background, always watching, saying very little unless it mattered. The older brother of one of your friends, Yuji. You’d met him more than once at house parties, at school pick-ups, at casual hangouts—but it was never casual with him.

Because Choso stared. Not in a creepy way.

In a “you make it really hard for me to be good” kind of way.

And the worst part? You kind of liked it.

Still—you had a reputation to uphold. You were the flirty one, the fun one, the unbothered one. You flirted with guys, made them fall a little too fast, and then ghosted them when they got too cocky.

And Choso? He looked like the cockiest of them all.

Tattooed, aloof, and constantly leaning in a doorway with a cigarette in hand like he just walked out of a slow-motion music video. He never chased. Never spoke unless spoken to. You always told your friends: He’s hot, yeah—but you just know he’s a lazy lay. The type to lie there and grunt.

You said it once while Yuji was sitting right there. He almost choked on his soda.

“He’s not like that,” he’d said, a little too quickly.

“Oh? Did he tell you that himself?”

“No. I just—he’s… Choso’s not what you think.”

You rolled your eyes. “They never are.”

But you were lying. Because you did think about it. Late at night, scrolling through your own thoughts when his face appeared again. When you’d remember the way he looked at you last time—head tilted, like he could taste your attitude from across the room.

One night, after a drink or three, you even texted Yuji:

“Is your brother single?”

You deleted it a second later.

But the damage was done—because the next time you ran into Choso at a get-together, he walked right up to you. Not smiling. Not smug.

Just calm. Dangerous.

“Why’d you delete your message?”

You blinked. “What?”

He held up his phone. Yuji had shown him, clearly. “You asked if I was single.”

Your stomach flipped. “It was a joke.”

“No it wasn’t.”

The silence stretched.

He stepped closer, just enough that your heart stuttered. “You talk a lot of shit,” he said, voice low, “but you keep looking at me like you want me to ruin you.”

You swallowed.

“You’re a fuckboy,” you said, weakly.

His lips twitched. “Maybe. But I bet I’d fuck you better than anyone else has.”

God.

You hated him. You hated how much that voice made your thighs clench. You hated how good he smelled. You hated that he looked so calm while your pulse screamed.

So you rolled your eyes and walked away.

And he let you.

But that night, lying in bed, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his fingers twitched like he’d wanted to reach for you. Or the way his eyes dropped to your mouth before he spoke.

You knew one day he’d try again.

You just didn’t expect it to be at that club.

The bass was thumping, lights pulsing through the haze of smoke and sweat. Your girls had dragged you out tonight under the guise of “blowing off steam,” and honestly, it was working. You were wearing something short, tight, and sinful—just the way you liked to feel when all eyes were on you.

But it wasn’t just anyone’s eyes you wanted tonight.

You felt it before you saw him.

Choso Kamo—leaning against the VIP booth railing with his brother and some acquaintances, tall and unmistakable even in the dim light. That waterfall of black hair, the tattoos peeking from under his collar, those crimson eyes scanning the dance floor like they were hunting.

And the moment they landed on you… the air snapped.

His head tilted slightly, and you swore you saw his jaw clench. He didn’t say a word to his group. Just sipped his drink slowly and let his eyes drag over every inch of you. His tongue flicked over his lip, slow and deliberate.

You smiled. Hook, line, and sinker.

So you danced.

Like the music was made for you. Like his stare was gasoline and your body was the match. You didn’t even look directly at him—just enough to keep him tethered, needing. And when you dropped low, hand on your thigh, and rolled your hips like you were already in his lap?

He moved.

You barely made it off the floor before a large, warm hand caught your wrist. You turned, pretending to look surprised—but Choso’s face was unreadable, dangerous in that way that made your thighs press together.

“You gonna keep teasing me,” he said lowly, voice rough from disuse and arousal, “or are you gonna be good and come with me?”

“Depends,” you smirked, inching close until your lips brushed his ear. “You gonna do something about it?”

His grip tightened, just enough to remind you he could. His fingers slid down to lace with yours, and before you could throw another line, he was dragging you past the dance floor, past the security curtain, into the back hallway of the club where the walls were darker and the music was muffled.

He shoved you into the single-use bathroom, locked the door behind you, and turned slowly—like a predator. There was a mirror. A sink. And him—towering, flushed, eyes glowing low in the dark.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he said, voice thick. “You walk around like that, knowing I’m watching?”

“I hoped you were watching,” you whispered, backing into the sink counter. “I wanted you to.”

He stalked closer. “You wanna make me lose control in public, is that it?”

You nodded, breath catching. “I wanna feel how bad you want me.”

His lips crashed into yours, a low growl vibrating through his chest. He tasted like whiskey and heat. The kiss was filthy, all tongue and teeth, and when he pulled back, your lipstick smeared across his mouth, he just stared—wild, wrecked.

He spun you around, bending you over the sink, and shoved your skirt up with zero ceremony.

“You’re already wet,” he rasped, running two fingers over your soaked underwear. “Fucking knew it.”

“Choso—”

He didn’t let you finish. He shoved your panties aside and slid two fingers inside you, slow, deep, curling just enough to make you moan. You braced yourself on the sink, back arching as his fingers fucked into you with bruising precision.

“You wanna act like a brat,” he murmured, “but your body’s honest.”

He pulled his fingers out, licked them clean, then unzipped his jeans with one hand.

“I’m not using a condom,” he warned. “You good with that?”

“Yes,” you gasped, already shaking. “Fuck, yes—please.”

That was all he needed.

He sank into you in one long, devastating thrust that knocked the air out of your lungs. You cried out—loudly—and he slapped a hand over your mouth.

“You want them to hear you out there?” he hissed in your ear. “You want my brothers knowing how slutty you sound when I fuck you?”

You moaned against his hand. The stretch burned, but it felt so goddamn good. He fucked into you hard, relentless, the sound of skin against skin echoing off the tiled walls. Your makeup was ruined, your legs trembling, your body flushed.

But he didn’t stop.

One hand on your hip, the other gripping your throat just enough to hold you still, his eyes locked with yours in the mirror. That was what ruined you—the look in them. Like you were the only thing on Earth he saw.

“You’re mine tonight,” he growled. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you choked out.

“Louder.”

“I’m yours, Choso—fuck—please don’t stop, don’t stop—”

You came hard, squeezing around him, crying out his name like a prayer. He followed, hips stuttering, low groan torn from his throat as he spilled into you.

Silence.

Then his arms wrapped around you from behind, his breath hot on your neck.

“You alright?” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

You nodded, dazed. “Yeah… more than alright.”

He smirked, soft and lazy. “You’re not leaving with your girls tonight.”

“Good,” you said, turning in his arms. “Because I’m not done with you either.”

You didn’t even make it halfway to the bedroom.

Choso’s place was dimly lit, smell of clean laundry and incense faint in the air. The moment the front door shut, his hands were on you again—less desperate this time, more reverent. Like he needed to memorize the shape of you now that he finally had you.

He kicked off his boots, dropped his hoodie, and you followed suit, letting your fingers trail under your top and pull it off slow. His eyes followed every inch like he couldn’t blink.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, voice lower, softer.

You stepped closer and tugged at his waistband. “I’m more than okay. But I want to see your face this time.”

Choso blinked. “What do you mean?”

You leaned up, kissed him slow and full, hands slipping under his shirt and dragging it up. “Let me ride you.”

His jaw clenched—but he didn’t say no.

You straddled him on the couch, the city light casting a blue glow through the window behind you. Choso’s eyes never left yours. You rolled your hips over him, dragging your bare heat across his cock, making him twitch against your thigh.

“Fuck,” he whispered, resting his head back. “You’re killing me.”

You lined him up, one hand on his chest as you slowly sank down, letting him stretch you inch by inch. He groaned, hands gripping your waist, head tipping forward to watch you take him.

“So fucking warm,” he muttered, barely holding on.

You started slow—rolling your hips, teasing him with the pace. Choso didn’t beg, didn’t whine, but his eyes gave him away. That soft desperation. That quiet surrender. Like he didn’t know what to do with the amount of want pulsing through him.

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “You like when I take control, huh?”

He swallowed thickly. “Only when it’s you.”

Your name left his mouth like it hurt. Like he needed to say it just to ground himself. His hands slid up your back, his eyes fluttering shut when you clenched around him just right.

But you pushed it further—pressing your forehead to his, picking up the pace, moaning his name as you bounced on his cock until his control snapped.

His fingers tightened on your hips. “That’s it. Lay back.”

You smirked. “Couldn’t help yourself?”

“Not when you ride me like that.”

He shifted you down onto the couch, never pulling out. His hair fell around your face like a curtain, and he kissed you as he started thrusting again—deep, slow, so much more intense with how wrecked he looked above you.

His rhythm built until you were gasping again, legs wrapped around him, fingernails in his back.

“You’re everything,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long.”

Your walls fluttered around him, and that was all it took—he fucked you through your orgasm, jaw tight, body trembling until he buried himself deep and came again, low groans falling against your neck.

You stayed tangled up like that, sweaty and soft in the silence, only the sound of his breathing slowing under you.

“You’re dangerous when you’re quiet like that,” you whispered, fingers brushing through his hair.

He nuzzled your chest. “I warned you.”

You laughed softly. “You gonna let me stay the night?”

He looked up at you, eyes dark but soft. “You’re not leaving.”

The morning light was barely creeping through the blinds when you stirred.

Warm skin, a heavy arm across your waist, and Choso’s breath on the back of your neck. He slept like a furnace—close, tangled, like he needed to feel you every second just to be sure you hadn’t slipped away.

You tried to sit up. His arm flexed tighter.

“Where are you going,” he mumbled, voice thick and scratchy.

“Bathroom.”

“Five more minutes,” he grumbled, nuzzling your shoulder, then groaned. “Fuck. You smell good in the morning.”

You laughed quietly, prying yourself out of his grip. “You said that last night too.”

“I meant it then, and I mean it now.”

You padded into the bathroom in nothing but his big black T-shirt. It swallowed you—warm, soft, and still clinging to his scent. When you came back out, Choso had stretched out on the bed, hair a messy halo around his head, one arm thrown over his eyes.

God. He was unfair.

“I could get used to this,” you said, climbing back on top of the blankets, letting your bare thighs straddle his hips.

He peeked from under his arm and gave you the softest smirk. “You already have.”

You leaned down, kissed the curve of his jaw, slow and sweet. He grabbed your hips, thumbs brushing your skin under the shirt. “Round two?” he offered, voice dropping again.

You were just about to answer when the front door unlocked.

Click. Open.

Footsteps. You froze.

Choso blinked. “No one’s supposed to be—”

“Yo, Choso—did you eat the last soba I left—”

Yuji. He walked into the room.

Choso didn’t move. You were still on top of him. His shirt barely covered your ass. The blankets weren’t even pulled up. Your eyes locked with Yuji’s and his face went redder than his cursed energy.

“Oh my god! WHAT—?! BRO—” Yuji turned around so fast he slammed into the doorframe.

You scrambled off Choso’s lap, face burning, trying to tug the shirt down even though it was way too late for dignity.

“Yuji,” Choso said calmly, like he wasn’t half-hard and freshly fucked, “You were supposed to text first.”

“YOU SAID YOU HAD PLANS, NOT—THAT!” Yuji was shouting from the hallway now, hands over his face.

Choso sat up, lazily brushing his hair back, not even fazed. “I did have plans. They just… worked out.”

You buried your face in your hands. “This is a nightmare.”

Choso chuckled lowly, pulled you back into his lap, and kissed your shoulder. “Nah. This is the best morning I’ve had in years.”

You groaned. “I’m never gonna be able to look him in the eye again.”

“Good,” Choso murmured against your skin. “Means you’re mine now.”

You peeked at him. “You serious?”

He held your face in both hands, that same intense look he’d given you on the dance floor.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Your stomach did a slow, traitorous flip.

Then, from down the hall:

“I’M GOING OUT—DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING, CHOSO!”

“Don’t worry!” Choso called back, smirking. “I already did!”

You smacked his chest, half-laughing, half-mortified.

“Breakfast?” he asked innocently, hands drifting under the shirt again. “Or do I get to work up your appetite first?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re insatiable.”

He leaned in, lips ghosting your throat. “Only with you.”

The kitchen was too bright.

You sat at the table in Choso’s shirt and a pair of borrowed sweatpants, sipping orange juice and trying not to die inside. Choso was cooking. Yuji was across from you—hood up, arms crossed, expression full of betrayal.

“I still can’t believe this.”

You blinked. “…That we’re awake before noon?”

Yuji gave you a look so sharp it could cut glass. “Don’t play innocent. I saw what I saw. I heard what I heard.“

“Yuji,” Choso called from the stove without turning around, “if you bring it up again, I’m gonna describe it in detail.”

Yuji slapped a hand over his face. “OH MY GOD—STOP TALKING!”

You tried so hard not to laugh. But it slipped out anyway, and Choso glanced over his shoulder with a small, proud smirk, like your laugh was a prize he’d earned.

“Look,” Yuji said after a beat, “you could’ve just told me you liked my brother.”

You blinked. “I didn’t.”

Yuji frowned.

Choso shrugged. “I did.”

That made your stomach do an embarrassing little jump. You side-eyed him. He was flipping pancakes like he didn’t just drop that line casually into the morning air.

“I thought you were a fuckboy,” you mumbled into your juice.

Choso raised an eyebrow. “I am a fuckboy. I just fuck you now.”

You choked.

Yuji looked like he wanted to set the entire table on fire.

“Can I eat in the bathroom?” he asked.

“No,” Choso said, plating the food. “You’re gonna sit here, be quiet, and respect the person I like.”

The word hung in the air.

Like.

Not slept with. Not hooked up with. Liked.

Your eyes flicked to him. He didn’t even seem nervous. He just slid a plate in front of you like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“You’re staying for the weekend, right?” Choso asked, sitting beside you, thigh against yours. “Yuji said you were off.”

You paused. “Yeah, I guess. If you want me to.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I do.”

Yuji groaned like he was in pain. “This is my villain origin story.”

Choso leaned over, dropped a kiss to your cheek in front of him, and said with absolutely zero shame:

“You think she’ll let me hit it again after pancakes?”

Yuji stood up and walked out of the apartment.

You and Choso didn’t stop laughing for ten full minutes.

The apartment was finally still.

The dishes were done. The air smelled like that woodsy candle Choso had lit. Yuji was back—muttering something about staying in his room for the rest of the year—but other than that, there was quiet.

You lay beside Choso on his bed, legs tangled, face pressed into the collar of his hoodie, now worn as a shirt. His boxers were loose on your hips, but you liked how they felt—like you didn’t need to pretend anymore.

He was bare-chested, arm behind his head, the soft glow from his nightstand lamp catching the outline of his collarbones and the shadows of the tattoos peeking across his ribs. You were tucked into his side, one hand splayed against his stomach.

Neither of you had said anything for a while.

Not because there wasn’t anything to say.

Because you both felt it—whatever this was—and neither of you wanted to mess it up by naming it too fast.

But Choso, quiet as he was, surprised you first.

“I used to think I wasn’t made for this.”

You blinked, looking up at him. “For what?”

His eyes were fixed on the ceiling. “Someone like you. Or… anyone. I didn’t think I could want something soft without wrecking it.”

You were quiet.

His jaw shifted. “I get protective too fast. Feel too much. I don’t talk a lot because if I say everything I want to say, it scares people off.”

You leaned into him, fingertips dragging absently along his stomach.

“I’m not scared,” you murmured.

He looked down at you slowly. “Even after I railed you against my bathroom sink?”

You smirked. “Especially after that.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” you said, sitting up slightly. The shirt hung off one shoulder. You straddled his thigh, palms braced on either side of his chest. “You think you’re bad at this?”

His hands found your hips, resting there, slow and possessive. “I think I’m not used to feeling like this.”

You tilted your head. “Like what?”

“Like I’d rip apart anything that tried to take you from me.”

Your breath caught. His eyes darkened.

And suddenly your mouths crashed together.

It wasn’t slow, wasn’t gentle. It was heat, teeth, tongue—your hands gripping his shoulders, his fingers pressing bruises into your thighs through the soft cotton. You moved over him, grinding slowly against his thigh, his lips devouring every gasp you tried to muffle.

“Quiet,” he whispered, breath hot against your mouth. “Yuji’s home.”

You bit down on your lower lip to keep from groaning when he pulled you closer, your core dragging against the flex of his leg. His mouth moved to your neck, sucking hard, and you clutched his hair, grinding harder, panting softly into his shoulder.

“Choso—”

“Shh.”

He flipped you under him in one smooth movement, pressing your wrists into the bed with one hand as he kissed you again, messier this time. His free hand slid between your thighs, cupping you over the boxers, thumb rubbing slow, devastating circles.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “You love getting ruined when someone’s in the next room, don’t you?”

You whimpered, nodding against his lips.

“Good girl.”

His teeth grazed your jaw, his hand still moving. “We’ll keep it quiet tonight. But next time Yuji leaves? I won’t hold back.”

You rolled your hips into his hand, biting your fist to keep from moaning.

“Fuck,” he growled. “You’re gonna kill me.”

And still, you pulled him closer—because whatever this was, you weren’t done wanting it.

You tried. You really tried to keep quiet.

But when Choso slid two fingers under the waistband of his own boxers you were wearing—still warm, still wet from earlier—and slowly pushed them inside you with his mouth sealed against your throat?

You lost it.

One hand over your mouth, your back arching, thighs trembling around his hips as he murmured “shh, baby, take it” right into your ear like a fucking curse.

And when he kissed down your chest, dragged his tongue between your breasts under the shirt, and whispered—

“I want you to ride me in silence.”

—you did what he asked.

He lay back, arms behind his head, still flushed from fingering you into the mattress. And you straddled him, slow, aching, quiet—his cock sliding into you in one long, thick stretch. You bit your lip so hard it almost bled.

He groaned through his teeth, hands gripping your hips as you sank down.

Neither of you spoke.

Just breathing.

Flesh. Tension. Heat.

His shirt slid down your shoulder. Your hands on his chest. The boxers hitched just enough for him to fuck up into you as you rolled your hips, wet and deep, the sound of your bodies filling the room louder than you meant.

Choso whispered, “You feel like heaven,” and you clenched around him just to make him hiss.

Your head fell forward onto his shoulder, body shaking, trying not to cry out when you came—tight, hot, pulsing around him—and he let out a low growl against your throat, fucking you through it until he spilled deep inside you, filling you so warm and slow you whimpered again.

You both lay still, gasping, trembling.

Then Choso laughed softly against your jaw.

“I’m gonna pretend that was quiet.”

You slapped his chest weakly, boneless on top of him.

Five minutes later, legs jelly, you stumbled out into the hallway to get water—only to freeze.

Yuji was in the kitchen, sleepy, barefoot, hair a mess.

Holding a glass of orange juice.

He blinked at you. You blinked at him.

You were still in Choso’s boxers and shirt. No bra. Neck full of fresh bruises.

“Seriously?” Yuji croaked. “At two in the morning?”

You opened your mouth.

“Never mind,” he said, holding up a hand and walking past you. “I don’t wanna know. Just—maybe stop rearranging the furniture with your bodies.”

You grabbed your water, face burning, and ran back to Choso’s room like a teenager caught sneaking out.

You crawled back into his lap, straddling him again, still in his shirt and boxers. He was still completely naked, still warm and smug from fucking you senseless, arms lazily wrapping around your waist.

You sat on him like you belonged there now.

He nuzzled your neck. “Where’d you go?“

“To hydrate,” you mumbled. “Met Yuji in the hallway. He’s… alive. I think.”

Choso smirked. “Did he say anything?”

You looked him dead in the eye. “I think we weren’t quiet enough.”

He gave a low chuckle. “Can’t be helped. You ride like you want the neighbors to hear.”

You rolled your eyes. “You were moaning.”

“You bit me,” he grinned, pointing to his shoulder. “I earned it.”

Sunday breakfast had started normal.

Eggs, coffee, toast. You were still in Choso’s boxers and hoodie, sitting on the kitchen counter like the chaos hadn’t already happened. Yuji was across the table, shirtless, sulking behind a mug and making a point not to look directly at either of you.

And then he broke.

“Next time, fuck quieter.”

You choked. Choso? Didn’t even look fazed.

“Aw, c’mon, Yuji,” he said, lazily flipping the toast in the pan. “You’re twenty. Don’t tell me you’ve never fucked anyone.”

Yuji made a strangled noise.

“You act like a virgin,” Choso added, smirking. “A loud, angry virgin.“

“I’m not—” Yuji put his mug down hard. “That’s not—!”

Choso turned, wiping his hands on a towel. “What, then? You jealous?”

Yuji stood.

And when he did, you remembered something you had completely forgotten:

Yuji was tall. Like, eye-to-eye with Choso tall.

Broad. Solid. Fit. Shirtless, standing in nothing but sweatpants, jaw tight and dark circles under his eyes.

He stepped up to Choso, grabbed his face with both hands—and looked absolutely delirious.

“Be careful,” he said, voice low and unhinged, “maybe I’ll fuck her next.”

The room went silent. Your jaw dropped.

Choso blinked.

Yuji didn’t move. Just shook his head like he didn’t even know what he was saying, eyes twitching, still holding Choso’s face like some kind of Greek tragedy.

Choso… just smirked.

“Careful,” he said, voice soft but dangerous. “You might die trying.”

Yuji let go of his brother’s face and turned away dramatically.

He stood in the doorway, completely bare-chested, posture like a war general, eyes dead inside.

Then, with all the grace of a man on the edge:

“I’m going to shower. I don’t want to hear anything. Not a sound. Not a creak. Not a moan.”

He pointed behind him without turning.

“If I hear her whisper your name, I’m putting bleach in your shampoo.”

Then he walked away. Like a soldier returning from war.

Like he hadn’t just made a sexual threat against his own brother.

You sat there in stunned silence.

Choso walked over, handed you a piece of toast, and kissed your temple like nothing had happened.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin, “you only scream for me.”

You and Choso stayed in the kitchen long after breakfast was over. He stood at the sink lazily rinsing plates while you sat back on the counter in nothing but his hoodie and boxers, sipping a fresh cup of coffee.

His hand brushed your thigh in passing.

Your fingers slid into his back pocket when he leaned close.

It was domestic. Intimate. And it felt weirdly good.

Until— the soft creak of the bathroom door.

You looked up.

And Yuji walked back in. Still damp.

Towel slung really low on his hips.

Water dripping from his hair down his chest, over every carved line of his completely unfair body like some kind of modeling ad gone feral.

He didn’t look at you right away.

He just opened the fridge casually, like this wasn’t an attack on the peace.

You swallowed hard.

Choso raised an eyebrow and leaned back on the counter beside you, crossing his arms.

Oh, he saw it. The shift in your breath.

The tiny, involuntary glance down.

The tension.

Yuji side-eyed his brother, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between them.

And then—

With a wicked little grin, Yuji grabbed a bottle of water, walked directly up to Choso, leaned in close—and shook his hair out violently, sending water spraying all over Choso’s face and shirt.

You gasped, eyes wide.

“Good day to you two,” Yuji said, smirking wider, and turned around to walk straight back into his room—still dripping, towel still low, like he wanted to leave a trail of psychological damage in his wake.

The door shut behind him. Silence.

Choso blinked, water running down his temple.

“…Was that supposed to be a dominance display?” he muttered, grabbing a towel off the counter to dry off.

You were still staring at the door, blinking slowly.

“Did you just see—?” you started.

“I saw,” Choso said dryly, rubbing his jaw. “He’s being a brat. He does this.“

You swallowed, cheeks flushed. “I never noticed… that Yuji looks like that.”

Choso gave you a side-glance, smirk creeping up slowly.

“Oh?” he said, voice low. “You staring now, sweetheart?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it again.

“I mean… he was wet.”

“So were you last night,” Choso murmured, stepping between your legs.

You buried your face in your hands.

“Don’t make this weird!”

“You’re making it weird,” he said, kissing your jaw. “You act like I don’t know you think he’s hot.”

You looked up at him. “Are you mad about it or just jealous?”

Choso shrugged, smirk turning darker. “Nah. He might look good, but you’re already mine.”

He kissed you again—slow, possessive—and whispered against your lips:

“Just remember who made you cry into a pillow.”

The rest of the day? Weird.

Like a pressure building in the air.

You were on the couch curled up in Choso’s hoodie, legs over his lap while he absentmindedly stroked your thighs and scrolled on his phone. You should’ve been relaxed. But something about Yuji’s little towel stunt earlier stuck with you.

And apparently—stuck with Choso too.

Every time Yuji walked into the room, Choso’s hand got firmer. More possessive. Slid a little higher up your skin, thumb brushing that soft inside part of your thigh like he was saying:

Mine. Back off.

Yuji, meanwhile? Calm. Way too calm.

He sat across from you with his water bottle, hair still damp, in a tank top that clung a little too well to his torso, scrolling on his phone like he didn’t just threaten to steal you earlier.

But then—

“You want anything to drink?” he asked suddenly, looking straight at you, not his brother.

You blinked. “Uh… I’m good, thanks.”

He smiled. Not goofy like normal. Just… calm. Dangerous.

Too confident.

“You sure? I make a mean iced coffee. Thought you liked that.”

Choso turned his head slowly.

Yuji didn’t look at him.

“I remember you used to order it with cinnamon,” Yuji added, getting up. “Back when you used to tag along when I picked up groceries.”

You laughed nervously. “That was, like, a year ago—”

“I don’t forget shit,” Yuji said, voice low, head tilted. “Especially not when it’s you.”

You swallowed.

Choso? He was still quiet—but the hand on your thigh tensed.

Yuji returned a few minutes later, iced coffee in hand. He didn’t hand it to you. He walked over, leaned on the back of the couch—behind you—and reached around to give it to you, arm brushing your chest, mouth close to your ear.

“You should tell him how you take it,” he murmured. “Just in case I’m not around next time.”

You blinked.

Choso sat up a little straighter. “Yuji—“

Yuji grinned. “What? Just being helpful. She likes it sweet. You should know.”

Choso’s jaw ticked. “Getting real comfortable all of a sudden.”

Yuji shrugged. “Well, I have known her longer. Spent more time with her. Heard her laugh more.” He shot you a glance. “Watched her flirt with a dozen losers before you.”

“You done?” Choso asked flatly.

Yuji leaned in, tilting his head with a smirk that almost looked daring. “I mean, I could keep going. Unless you’re scared I’ll spin her around my finger faster than you did.”

You didn’t breathe. Neither did Choso.

Yuji walked away slowly. Casually. Tossing over his shoulder:

“Don’t let a virgin outplay you, bro.“

That night, when the sun dipped and the air cooled, Choso didn’t speak much.

Until you were brushing your teeth in the bathroom, and he came in behind you.

Hands on your hips.

Eyes heavy in the mirror.

Voice low.

“Wanna remind you exactly who your body belongs to tonight.”

Later that night, Choso didn’t wait.

He watched you walk out of the bathroom in one of his shirts—again—bare legs, bare skin, wearing his scent like a challenge.

And when you smiled at him like everything was fine, like you didn’t spend the whole day with your attention flickering toward Yuji… he snapped.

You barely had time to breathe before he backed you up against the mirror and kissed you filthy.

“You wanna let him touch you too?” he growled into your mouth, hand slipping under the shirt, already gripping your ass, your waist, your throat. “You think he can make you melt like I do?”

You moaned. “Choso—”

He spun you to face the mirror, pulled his boxers down your thighs and bent you forward against the sink, your face flush with the glass.

“Look at yourself,” he ordered. “Look what I do to you.”

And when he pushed inside—hard, hot, already so deep—you gasped loud enough that he slapped a hand over your mouth, grinning darkly into the mirror behind you.

“Wanna scream so he hears you?” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Wanna moan my name with the walls this thin?”

You whimpered.

Thrust.

Thrust.

Thrust.

You gripped the sink. Your knees buckled. And he didn’t stop—not until you were drooling on the glass, twitching around him, body marked up and panting.

He finished deep inside you, pulling your head back by your hair so you had to see your face—flushed, ruined, branded by him.

“Still think about him now?” he murmured.

You shook your head, dazed.

He kissed your shoulder, biting gently. “Good girl.”

໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১ hope you like it!!

be sure to check out my other stuff too <3

[muffinexplorer]

lust, longing, and other things

call me cupid

helpless. hopeless. horny. honestly, you should just stamp never been laid on his forehead, but no, it's up to you to fix him

synopsis: matchmaking was your calling. what wasn't there to love about love? never, in all the couples you created, had you ever failed. choso's about to change that.

pairing: virgin!Choso x cupid!Reader

content: mdni, angst and smut, modern au where cupids work for a matchmaking corporation, fem reader, inexperienced choso, loss of virginity, fingering, piv sex, yearning, jealousy, he wants us BAD, falling in love

choso art by @hunnismokah

Unlike some people, you actually liked your job.

There was a certain magic to it, matching people together and watching them fall for each other, the love lingering in the air thick enough you could practically taste it.

Some clients were harder than others, sure, but they usually just needed a little help. None had ever made you second guess your position in this profession.

Until him.

His pale hands nervously wrapped around a cup of coffee, knee bouncing as he looked everywhere except you.

"Um, Choso, right?" You smiled, sweet and polite as you took a sip of your hot chocolate.

"What?" He grunted. Grunted.

His voice was like gravel, low and rough and rigid. Thick brows scrunched together as he looked out the window. Counting birds or staring at passing strangers. You didn't know.

"I'm just here to help you," You chirped. You'd been through the practiced welcome speech twice already and it still hadn't seemed to set in. He'd barely even cracked his front door open to speak to you, only willing to join you at a nearby coffee shop after you slipped him your business card and told him you spoke with his brother.

"Why?" He grumbled.

You struggled not to sigh, to keep your smile in place as you slid over the form his younger brother had filled out begging you to set his brother up.

"Yuji thinks you could use a girlfriend. Or boyfriend, you know whatever you-"

"Girlfriend," He muttered under his breath.

Well, at least you were getting somewhere.

"Okay, well, your brother requested we help you out. And I was assigned to your case," You explained. He reluctantly picked up the paper, frowning at his sibling's handwriting before sighing himself.

"Fine."

You relaxed, shoulders slumping as your smile turned genuine, relieved you wouldn't have to mark his file as a failure.

"Great," You beamed. "So, I spoke to your brother on the phone, and he said you didn't have a lot of experience, but-"

"None," He interrupted you, the thick tattoo across his nose wrinkling as he scrunched it up.

"Excuse me?" You questioned, tilting your head to the side in confusion.

"I don't have any," He curtly said, meeting your stare for the first time since he sat down. His eyes were dark, and you couldn't tell where the pupils started or the irises ended, but they were still just as sharp as the rest of him, threatening to burn a hole through you.

"Like you've never had a real girlfriend before, or-?" You trailed off this time, blinking at him like it'd make it more believable that the ridiculously hot guy in front of you somehow had no experience with women.

"Like anything," Choso repeated, cheeks heating up before he looked away again.

"Well, I mean, what's the furthest you've gone?" That was probably unprofessional, but the question slipped out before you could stop it, more curious than you should be.

"I held hands with a girl once when I was fourteen," He answered.

"Well, um, let's change that, alright?" You tried to cheer him up, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand to reassure him.

You'd set up virgins before.

But a guy that had never been kissed?

It was painful.

Maybe if you cared less, it'd be easier. Just a matter of pulling out your arrows and picking someone pretty out to complement him.

But this was his life. He'd be living with the decision you made - unless he wanted to pay a premium fee to unmatch him from whoever you paired him with. But so far, none of your couples had done that yet.

You would be damned if he was the first.

Even if it meant you had to be his first.

"Put your other hand on my waist," You instructed him, leaning in closer, your chest pressed against his, a pretty blush dusting his pale cheeks as his palm settled on your side. "Good."

For the past few weeks, you'd been setting him up on date after date, taking notes and offering pointers afterwards, debriefing just for him to nod along and never give a real opinion.

You were trying to gauge his interests, figure out what kind of woman he was looking for.

The problem was glaringly obvious - Choso seemed to not have any preferences.

Unable to tell you what he liked or disliked about each one, only declining second dates. He hadn't even kissed a single one of them.

Choso was a catch. Maybe he was a little scary looking at first, scowling and serious, but he was soft, smart, the kind of considerate most girls would kill for. A family man too.

You cornered him about it back at his apartment after another failed date, asking what his deal with, frowning when he admitted that he was nervous about being a virgin.

So you did what anyone would do in your shoes! Offer your services!

"Like this?" He murmured, craning his neck down so his nose brushed against yours, close enough your lips were almost touching.

"Mhm," You nodded, breath catching in your throat as your eyes drifted down to the soft pink of those lips. "You sure about this?"

You guessed he was judging by how hard his mouth crashed into yours.

A little clumsy, taking a couple seconds to adjust, to copy your movements, but pretty quickly getting the hang of it.

You would have to add fast learner to his resumé.

Especially when two seconds later, his hand was holding you in place, stronger than you expected, palm pressing flat and hard on your spine. His tongue pushing in to trace your teeth, to explore your mouth.

You started to pull away just to breathe, but his lips made their way down to your jaw instead, lingering on your skin.

"Should I stop?" He muttered, and you had no clue if he meant to be seductive, or if it was all natural. The husk in his voice and the heat in his hands.

"U-up to you," You stuttered, surprising yourself.

"And if I want to keep going?" He asked, although it sounded more like a dare when his mouth was ghosting over your throat, pressing a tender peck to your collarbone as the hand on your back drifted lower until he was slipping underneath the hem of your dress.

"We can go as far as you want to," You reassured him, purring into him when his sturdy fingers found the band of your panties, pulling it back just to let it snap against your skin.

There wasn't much you hadn't done truthfully.

All in the name of being the best agent of love you could be, of course.

But this felt different, something you couldn't quite pinpoint when he suddenly picked you up and tossed you onto his partially made bed.

The dark comforter crinkling underneath your body, dress riding up your thighs as his hands tugged your panties down.

"Talk me through it."

For someone who swore he'd never touched a woman, Choso somehow knew exactly what to say to make your stomach flip. Fingers dipping into your skin as he spread your thighs, hesitating at the sight of you glistening for him already.

"If you, um, put your fingers in-"

He laughed, abrupt but soft, the sound strange coming from his mouth, but oddly comforting all the same.

"I meant tell me what you like," Choso chuckled, and you blushed.

"Oh," You breathed.

And then his fingers were slipping in, slow and steady. There was nothing unsure about it, no nerves slipping through. Your lips stayed parted, chest stuck rising as he pushed in deeper, an crooked smile spreading across his own mouth watching you start to squirm around his thick digits.

He took his time, exploring you like you were something special, watching every flicker of your face and change in your expression. A pretty look glinting in his dark eyes when he crooked his fingers and you moaned for him.

"There?" He asked, amusement sneaking into his gravelly voice.

You barely managed a nod, pressure building in your stomach when his fingertips tested the sweet spot, pressing back into it while you sucked in a harsh breath. "Mm, mhm."

He chuckled a little when he slotted another finger in to help stretch you out and you made a strangled noise you didn't even know you were capable of.

"T-there," You stammered, letting your head rest back on the pillow when he pushed back in, sliding in-and-out with a filthy squelch, the metal of his rings just adding to the intensity.

It was only then that you realized there wasn't anything for you to fix.

He'd have been just fucking fine without your help if he could finger you stupid first try.

His clothing rustled, his fingers sliding back out with a lewd pop! before he was peeling his shirt off.

And you rarely thought this about anyone, let alone a human, but he really was beautiful. His skin was smooth, carefully carved muscles tapering down to the sharp v of his hips, his dark happy trail standing out against his pale complexion.

Choso noticed you staring, a low laugh escaping his throat, and you felt that flutter in your stomach again, your body betraying you for him.

You sat up, nimble fingers working to undo his button and tug down his zipper, admiring him more than you should admit when he had to stand and pull his pants and boxers down.

His cock sprang up, longer than you expected, pre-cum leaking and smudged around his top. Hesitantly, you reached out, brushing your thumb over his slit just to watch his jaw clench, muscles going taut at the slightest touch.

"Sensitive?" You teased, lips curling up in a smile as he threw you an annoyed look, unable to answer when you dragged your thumb across the collect the pre-cum there.

Brining it to your mouth to taste, struggling to keep your face smug when the lump in his throat was bobbing so hard while you made a show of licking it clean.

You hadn't even fully pulled it out before you were being pinned to the bed underneath him.

Wrists caught between his heavy grip, pressed into the pillow overhead, his lips suddenly attached to your throat and leaving hickies everywhere he could. Cock grinding against your clit, clumsy and desperate, practically rutting against you before he was even inside you. Making out and jumping like teenagers at a party.

"Ch-Cho-" You gasped, wiggling a wrist free to grab a handful of his hair and tug to get him to look at you.

"Too much?" He breathed, brows furrowed in concern like his cock wasn't still throbbing between your bodies.

"Not enough," You murmured, leaning up to press a kiss against the corner of his lips.

It turned out he was a good listener too.

He only paused to put a condom on, struggling at first to slip it over the tip before he tugged it in the rest of the way.

Your hips hooked over his waist, fingers dimpling your skin as he pounded you into the mattress, murmuring to ask if you wanted more in your ear while he found a steady rhythm.

"That's it," You hummed, fingers combing through his hair as he groaned and sank in deeper.

"You have to tell me if I suck," Choso warned, surprisingly serious as his sharp focus zeroed in on your face.

You giggled, and he throbbed inside you, still buried to the hilt as he grimaced, clearly struggling to stop himself from cumming already.

"You don't suck," You reassured him, reaching up to trace all the sharp lines of his face.

He nodded, barely a short bob of his head, staring at your lips like he wanted to suck on those instead.

"Cho," You murmured his name, enjoying the way it felt like he melted into your body, your touch, your breath. "You can kiss me."

Each one was better than the last.

Longer and rougher, getting more comfortable with every single second he was connected to yours, swallowing your moans with needier ones of his own. Picking up the pace out of need, probably leaving indents of your bodies into his bed, smothering you with more affection than you ever expected.

It'd been a while since you'd slept with someone so concentrated on you. How he watched your body, studied your reactions and responded in kind, even when he was kissing you, even when he was busy burying his cock deep enough his top was grinding into your cervix.

You were close, thighs starting to tremble, breathing getting strained as the pressure mounted higher, burned hotter.

Unsure, one of his hands slipped down, dancing anxiously over your clit and testing how quickly you twitched against his touch.

"Wanna make you cum first," He grunted when he hesitantly pulled away, clearly chewing on the inside of his cheek.

"You don't need my permission," You tried to laugh, but you were pretty sure he could hear your voice shaking a little when the rough pad of his thumb dragged over the bud again.

"I want you to want me to," He frowned, his nose brushing back against yours.

"I want you," You reassured him, the earnestness in it genuine.

Choso was barely holding on to the tethers of his restraint. Hearing the words leave your lips only made him fuck you harder, your nails sinking into his shoulders to hold on while he suddenly started rubbing harsh circles over your clit like he needed this more than you did.

Which might've been true considering he came the second after you did, spurred on by the way your face scrunched up in pleasure, swallowing your moan of his name with another heated kiss.

His head dropping down against your collarbone, sweat sticking his forehead to your skin as he sighed.

You didn't move. Let him lay there, trying not to think about the fact you'd just taken his virginity and he fucked you better than half the guys you'd been with before.

"Is-" He paused, sucking in a sharp breath. "Is it always that good?"

"Sometimes. It's better when you're in love with someone," You murmured, wrapping a loose strand of his dark hair around your fingers, watching the way it soaked up the light through his window.

"Oh," He muttered back, his body settling over yours, heavy as he exhaled.

"Yeah," You swallowed hard.

It was a little awkward. The smell of sex hung in the air, the dull hum of his air conditioning running in the background, the setting sun outside casting long shadows across the room.

"Sleep with me tonight," Choso finally said. Whether it was a request or a demand didn't matter much, you guessed. You knew you were going to comply before your lips even parted.

You still blinked, more flustered than made sense.

Sleeping with him shouldn't feel so intimate, but he readjusted, rolling over and dragging your still pliable body on top of him, running his fingers through your hair with your face pressed against his chest.

"You were great," You admitted, only able to say it when you weren't looking directly at him.

"Promise?" He sighed softly.

"Yeah," You nodded.

It was a weak attempt to remind yourself that this was all apart of your job.

This was supposed to be about teaching him.

But under the weight of his body, with the warm scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a blanket, you couldn't help but indulge yourself.

A few minutes wouldn't hurt.

Or maybe a night.

You just hadn't meant to sleep with him until the morning.

Something was touching your wings when you woke up.

You almost jumped, panicking as you tried to crawl out of bed and a heavy hand held you there, only relaxing when Choso's thick morning voice whispered in your ear, "Where are you going, angel?"

"Sorry, you weren't supposed to, um, see-" You stammered, heat flooding your face as his other hand trailed over the edge of your feathers, sending a shiver down your spine as his fingers ghosted over an embarrassingly sensitive spot.

You preferred to never let your clients see what you actually looked like. It wasn't that you were ashamed. The wings were cute, you guessed, pretty standard for a cupid. But you liked walking with them, blending in with the whole human disguise.

"It's pretty," He muttered sleepily, oblivious to the heat he was stoking back in your stomach. "You're pretty."

His casual sincerity felt more like a stab when he was on a date with another woman the next day. And the one after that.

Sure, you set it up, but still.

Watching him offer small smiles and open doors for gorgeous girls, sipping coffee across the table or going on walks in the park, listening to them with the same attentive ears that had been tuned into your moans not that long ago.

You rejected your jealousy.

But when he returned to you at the end with a shake of his head and an apologetic shrug just to end up pulling you back in his bed for more hands-on experience, you couldn't help but be soothed by his smooth hands and sweet kisses.

Letting the next couple weeks slip by in a haze of failed dates and late-night fucks.

Until her.

A pretty blonde reaching a manicured hand out to push his bangs back and study his face. Stuck at a table across the street when he let her.

You felt a pang inside your chest watching him laugh at something she said, leaning in and brushing a crumb off of her cheek.

There was the kind of crinkle by her eyes you'd seen a thousand times before. A crush turning into a spark, the seed blooming as his thumb dragged over her lip.

He would choose her.

And your job would be done once their date was.

You frowned to yourself, pulling your knees to your chest and ordering a second dessert while you waited, ignoring the voice in your head telling you to look over at them.

This used to be your favorite part.

The moment two people became more. Not strangers or friends, but something exciting and electric.

You should be happy. Attempted to convince yourself that you were. But it was bittersweet to think this would be the last time you saw him.

Sometimes you'd check on other couples you set up, but this wouldn't be one of them. Couldn't be.

"Hey."

You almost fell out of your seat, startled as you glanced over your shoulder behind you.

Choso was awkwardly standing there, hands shoved in his pockets. Staring at you like he had something to say and didn't know how to.

"It's her, isn't it?" You plastered your best smile on, told yourself that he deserved this, dusting your dress off and standing up.

His date was standing outside the restaurant, giggling on the phone with someone, probably calling one of her friends to say she met a guy and blah blah blah.

Choso hesitated, but you were already stepping out into the closest alley, swapping your disguise out, wings fluttering as you picked a pretty pink arrow from your sheath, starting to notch it before he blocked your shot.

"Wait," He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat bobbing.

"What?" You hesitated, relaxing the string.

"I don't want her," Choso spat it out. His face was pale, eyes uncertain as those dark brows met in the middle, a deep crease between them.

You froze.

"But I thought-" You paused, dropping the bow down entirely. "Weren't you having fun?"

"She's not you."

He shouldn't have said it.

You shouldn't want him to.

But you stood still, letting the words sink in and snap the stitches carefully holding your feelings in place.

All the heavy tension shifted between you, all the words still not spoken hanging there. It was wrong. This was wrong.

"I love my job," You murmured, not entirely positive if you were saying it to him or yourself.

"I know," Choso replied, and the warm understanding on his face pierced through you more than an arrow ever could.

"I can't leave it," You added, breath hitching painfully.

"I know," He repeated, stepping closer.

You wished you could bring yourself to step back, to put the distance between you before the two of you could cross the line between client and matchmaker in a way you wouldn't be able to repair.

He read your reluctance the same way he read your soul, with the type of easy acceptance you didn't want to reject anymore.

"I'd choose a couple days with you over a lifetime with someone else," He spoke quietly, but he was sure. Jaw set and lips pressed together in a hard line, those dark eyes begging you to believe him.

"I can't ask you to wait for me," You whispered. Even if you wanted to.

"You don't have to ask," He admitted. "I'll wait anyway."

And wasn't his stubbornness the reason you were even here?

He wasn't the kind of man who'd budge once his mind was made.

"If you find someone else-"

"I won't," He promised before you could even finish. "I'm yours."

You'd never realized how badly you wanted to hear those words before.

HR might have a fit about you using your time off to come visit your human boyfriend but technically, you weren't breaking any rules since you hadn't used any of your arrows on him yet.

The alternative was spending eternity wondering what if you had said yes to Choso. Would search for his face in every crowd and wish you hadn't left him standing here. Regretting loving him would be easier than regretting leaving him.

You swallowed your pride, taking a shaky step forward to caress his cheek, fingertips brushing over the line of his tattoo, the hard ridge of his nose. Leaning in to ghost your lips over his, taste the hint of wine still lingering there, the sweetness he saved just for you.

"I'm yours."

[muffinexplorer]

choso is whimpering and whining like a pathetic loser, little tears brimming in his eyes. his hands are fisting the sheets beneath him, trying his best to thrust his hips up but you stopping him from doing so. he whines, "baby, baby please. i-i wanna cum. i need to cum. please let me cum."

you hum in an almost bored tone, slowly stroking him, soft hands and grip tight around him. "hm i don't think you deserve to though."

he lets out an exasperated whine, throwing his head back in frustration. "baby please i can't hold back anymore. please please please," he whimpers, bucking his hips and body trembling underneath your touch.

before you can cover his shiny pearlescent tip with your thumb, he's spurting out ribbons of cum, splattering onto his lower tummy and some of it leaking onto your hands. his whole body quivers at the sensation, having been denied the sweet release of orgasm for far too long.

"fuck 'm sorry," he mumbles pitifully, bottom lip jutting out as he leans in and tries to give you a kiss. but you swiftly turn away and give his cock a rather harsh 'slap'. he gasps at that, legs jolting slightly at the hit. "such a bad boy," you tut, pinching his nipples.

[muffinexplorer]

꒰ ݁˖ꫂ᭪ ꒱ 𓂃 GUYS MY AGE

˚₊‧꒰ა older boyfriend jjk men ﾉ f. reader ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

guys your age just don't know how to do it, do they? nothing to worry 'bout when he's nearly twice your age hunny. ⌇ based off guys my age - hey violet

starring ᝰ.ᐟ✧ g. satoru, n. kento, g. suguru

broadcast ᝰ.ᐟ✧ minors dni, age gap ꒰ 40s/20s ꒱, semi-public, fingering, brat taming, praise, degradation, overstim, orgasm denial, pussy spanking, thigh riding, spanking, sweetnana, meantoru, meansugu 𓂃 wc ⌇ 2.7k

sweetheart host ᝰ.ᐟ✧ older bf brain go brrr . . . really hope my toru bias ain't obvious. art cred ⌇ yamada_souko, ru_ka_night

˖ 𑣲 Don't know how to treat me ᝰ.ᐟ✧ N. Kento

Silk slipped through your fingers like liquid gold. Velvet kissed your skin in whispers you could barely afford. Each sapphire along the silver bracelet hugging your wrist winked at you. Don't even get started on your heels, your earrings, the fourth shopping bag laid idly beside its friends from three other stores.

The cherry on top? Two large hands scorned from years of work yet ever gentle in their smooth trace down your curves.

"I think this dress suits you well, don't you, darling?" Even Kento's kisses felt expensive. The grandest of jewels laid over your shoulder as if you deserved each one. Hell, as if you deserved every store your pretty little self stepped into it.

"Well . . ." you roved over the mirror's scene. Your beloved was behind you with his hands worshipping every crevice and crook of your body, his lips painting affection across your shoulders and neck. The dress was gorgeous, comfortable, the finest material only for his darling.

Instead of the silk, your eyes drew to the price tag written in invisible ink between the creases.

"It's a bit pricey. I don't think I'm worth all this expense."

His lips paused. Glued to the junction between your shoulder and neck. One comment and suddenly, his gaze flickered to you. As if that alone would reverse time and have you gulping the words down instead.

Kento stilled, then asked — even if it didn't sound like a question. Low, quiet:

"Come again?"

Silk was the least of your concerns. Slick became all you knew. Pooled around his palm and messing up his favourite watch you're sure. Not that you could see with your vision impaired by his chest. Your front flushed into him while his hand worked endlessly behind.

Fingers tremble in his shirt. Each twitch another apology to his digits pumping fluidly into your syrupy slit. They fucked until the knuckle, withdrew every few shallow thrusts, then slammed back in until you were drooling all over his blue fabric.

"K-Kennn - please," you hiccuped, forearms flushed tighter to his chest as you peeked at the mirror behind you. Panties pulled to the side and hanging on a limb while his hand pistoned into your pretty, swollen pussy.

"Sssh darling. You're too pretty to be talking about yourself like that." His drawl rumbled into your ear after a soft kiss pressed against it. His wrist rotated and you choked a moan as he braced speed.

"Too pretty to beg. Don't want to hear that ever again. You hear me?"

Nods were all you could manage. Your thighs squeezed tighter, but it didn't matter to his large hand. His free one caressed your side with his strong arm steeling you against him. Trapping you as he fucked all your insecurities out in splutters and squirts.

Kento crooked into a spot that made you bite down on his shirt, whimpering. Your hips bucked helplessly with your pitiful little — "Ken - Kento 'm gonna - I'm cumming, please? Please can I cum? Pleaseplease?"

He huffed again. This time his thumb joined on you clit. Flicking up to reprimand the nub together with his now ruthlessly pumping fingers. You keened and limped into him. Legs shaky on designer heels surely messed with your cunt gushing juices.

"Come now darling. Ask, don't beg."

You hiccuped and pressed tighter into him. Tears heavy on your lashes as you squeezed your eyes shut and mouthed on his already damp shirt. "Please - please make me cum? Kento - hngh!"

He circled on a bundle of nerves he knew would loosen the knot. Your pussy throbbed and with one final burst of heat, you bubbled cream all over his palm. He eased you into a slower grind, his thumb circling your clit a few more times before finally halting.

Your face is pulled into his free hand. You found comfort in his palm and whimpered as he brushed your tears away.

"Look at me, sweetheart." When you did, a tender kiss met your glossy lips. "Never want to hear that from you again, alright?"

"Mhhm."

"There's my good girl."

˖ 𑣲 Don't know how to touch me ᝰ.ᐟ✧ G. Satoru

You wouldn't consider yourself a shittalker, but when it came to boys, you were never the type to hold your tongue. If you had a dollar for every asshole with a god-complex you encountered and ten for each one you dated, you'd be able to pay off your student loans. But Satoru's got that covered.

Ah yes, Satoru, who sat beside you with an idle scroll of his phone. His long arm draped over your shoulders as he fell into yet another cat video trap. He was freed from his third-going-onto-forth loop when whatever video you stumbled upon caught his ear.

"Ladies, best believe. The second orgasm is a myth."

His pale brow arched and he sneaked a sideways glance to garner your expression. What's with that look? "Kinda bs, huh sweetheart?" He tested the waters and immediately burned when you shrugged your shoulders.

"Dunno. Guys can barely give one, let alone two."

His smile froze and the sideways look turned into a small stare. The thumb that had paused in its lazy circles on your shoulder started up again. As if trying to coax a correct answer out of you.

"Can't disagree with that. But cut us some credit yeah?"

"Nah, boys can't do shit."

His second brow joined as they both raise further. His smile tightened at the little scowl you present him, as if he represented every male on earth. Satoru knew that look well. It's one you've been testing him with for the past couple of weeks. This was aimed.

Yes, Satoru hadn't made you cum more than once, but not due to lack of skill. You were young, sensitive, one was enough for now. He had to ease you into everything he knew — but there goes that brat again thinking she can take it rough.

"But not me though, right sweet girl?" He hoisted you closer, his shades falling down the bridge of his nose. Blue eyes dimmed to a murky ocean and the pattern of his thumb ran firmer. He was giving you an out —

Yet there you were, smiling sarcastically. "Not sure, Satoru. I think you're just like all these other boys in my phone."

And that's how you wound up eating those words in the form of pitched moans and drool. Back to his chest, legs hooked over his knees that locked them open like a clamp. A strong arm flexed around your middle where he bundled you so easily in his lap. Steeling you still and helpless to the mess you're squirting everywhere.

"Toru - toru!" Your voice quaked brokenly as you chased air like a luxury. Head hung back on him as you pitifully bucked into two fingers fucking another slew of slick from your raw pussy. Swollen and stringy, spraying squirts and cream with every deep plunge to the knuckle.

"So it's 'toru' now sweets? That you or your pussy talkin'?" He was relentless. Would his arm ever get tired? It hasn't lost pace since he shoved into you. It's been three orgasms, going onto a devastating fourth.

Squelches poured when he stuffed them to the knuckle and shallowly stroked on your sweetspot. His fingertips expertly circled the bundle of nerves then come-hithered until you were keening. The arm on your middle shifted and he bunched on your shirt, yanking it up over your tits with a grip that showed off every vein on his strong hand.

"Oh, what's that? You cummin' baby?" Satoru grinned against your ear, pace speeding to something blinding. "Yeah? What number's that?"

"Dunno — hngh!"

Your lips formed a pitiful pout that split with drool when his thumb attacked your clit and a third finger shoved in simultaneously. You squirmed, but he yanked you back with a greedy tit grope. "Yeah you do, don't wanna hear it."

His wrist flicked, the new position brought an even more brutal pace. He angled specifically to exaggerate your pussy's lewd sloshes and squelches. Another sweetspot became his target and you spewed slick all over his palm, coating his silver watch in gloss. That's fine, he'd make you lick it off later.

"Gimme the number, brat." His hiss punctuated with added pressure, your clit's trapped once more. "Or is all you're good for creaming my fingers? Messing my watch up baby. Pretty pussy's not caring one bit huh?"

His chuckle bordered something cruel. Cruel like his fingers that crooked and abused whatever spot he could find. Who cared if your messy juices painted the couch, his sleeve, hell — the floor with your last squirt?

All he cared about were your whining sobs, your pitiful grinds into his hand that was wayyy too big for you and the wet throbs of your pussy.

Slams pistoned on your gummy walls. You squirmed to no avail and choked another sob as you shivered back onto him. "Toru! T-Toru please!"

"How. Many?"

Your jaw's snatched next. Face squeezed between his flexing fingers as he wrung your head to face him. Teary eyed, drooling, looking like his sweet girl rather than that smart lil' brat. His glare earned your whimpers, but he was still grinning. Still pumping his fingers endlessly. Sharply. "Tell me how many times I made this pussy cum, huh? Tell me."

"T-Two - no - nooo," you whined as your wrong answer came with his fingers yanked out, sticky strings connecting to his hand that soon slapped back on your raw pussy. You jolted, whimpered — but it's cut off into a keened moan when he shoved them back in. "Three - three 'toru -!"

"Thaaatt's it. What's it gonna be?"

"Four - oh god!"

You clenched on his fingers and throbbed over his knuckles. Mouth falling open as he shot his other hand to grip your thigh and ruthlessly ground your shaking self down onto his relentless thrusts. He knew all your signs. The moans caught in your throat. The crossed eyes and drooling, spluttered, ah ah ah! as he fucked the brat right out of you.

The knot in your tummy tightened one more time. Your head tossed back. Body clenching altogether as he trapped you in an endless, devastating bliss. You splattered all over his hand with a broken gasp of his name. Stuttering your thighs as if you had any control. Squelching, gushing, until trickles of cream oozed around his still pistoning hand.

"There she is. There's my sweet girl." At last his affection laves over your neck in kisses. Not that his hand ever stopped. He only shallowed again and started curling more cruelly. Holding you down as you struggled around in his grasp with pitiful lil' 's too much' and 'toru pleaassee'.

You're hot. Bothered. Sticky and whiney as you choke on heated air. He slipped his other hand down to pinch and play with your clit. Egging on your whimpered sobs.

"Boys can't do anything, huh sweetheart?" Satoru crooned into your neck, grinning like the devil before he whispered low and rough in your ear.

"Good thing I'm a man, yeah?"

˖ 𑣲 Don't know how to tease me ᝰ.ᐟ✧ G. Suguru

Younger guys never put up much of a fight. Too impatient to deal with your bullshit, too many years ahead of them to fight you on it. Frowns, huffs, the occasional smart comment broke them quicker than they could make you cum on fingers or tongue.

But Suguru? Suguru had patience he wielded in weaponised denial and a handful of years dangling over your head. Acting out with someone nearly twice your age should have been easier.

He should be tired, irritable. Too old to deal with your audacious eye rolls and bratty tongue. In seconds he should have you over his lap, or at the very least his desk. Stuffing you with his fingers, mouth, dick, making you beg for it — putting you in your place.

Only one of those came true over the week you put on your spoilt princess persona and donned your petty crown of attitude. Every snide remark only earned a low a hum, your huffs were returned with his smile, and when you attempted to rile him up with a slutty little skirt and three images to his phone; well, throwing you around was an option only in your imagination, it seemed.

He didn't toss you over the sofa, nor threw you over his shoulder. No, Suguru only smiled. Leaned back into his seat and watched with slithered eyes as you flushed down over his knee.

Your cunt thrummed against your damp panties, hovered over his black jeans with your hands trembled around the same skirt you attempted to drive him wild with. Pretty nails that he paid for clung tight on the fabric, tighter than the line your lips pressed into.

"You really haven't been good to me this week." His sigh came with a calloused thumb tracing down your thigh. You tensed and whimpered. If you gaped at him with those pitifully teary eyes, maybe he'd give in?

"Don't give me that look."

Nevermind. Violet solidified into a patient glare, even with the serene smile he displayed. "Where's my good princess gone? She still in there?"

He drummed atop your cunt and you whined. Wishing he'd go lower - wishing he'd touch you. He only instructed that you lifted your skirt higher and you did so with pouting lips.

"Sugu . . . "

Smack! "Don't wanna hear it right now baby." Your thigh heated under the sting and he withdrew his touch altogether. Greedy, infuriatingly calm eyes roved you entirely before he hummed.

"Tell me what you want."

"You . . ."

"Be specific, brat."

You whimpered when his tone dropped and fiddled with the skirt. You couldn't meet his steady stare. "Wanna. . . wanna grind on your knee. Want you to touch me, please Suguru?"

He breathed deep, another sigh before motioning aimlessly with his hand that laid outstretched together with his arm on the back of the sofa. "Go on then. Grind that pretty pussy down on me. Don't deserve it but, you're lucky you're pretty."

The invisible restraints shattered and you flushed into his knee. Whines broke from your throat as you slowly rocked down on the perch. The angle caught you clit just perfectly but you struggled to maintain it.

Still, you wanted to be good for him. Your throbbing, leaking cunt begged you to. So you reached out for his shirt to stabilise yourself and took up a rocking rhythm. The friction was all you could ask for after a week of denial.

"Hngh - Sugu —"

"There we go," he crooned, that gentle smile returning as he set a hand on your hips. He aided you with small glides, but still let you do all the work. Brats don't get what they want, after all. He leaned his head back onto his fist and drawled deeply. A sharp look returned as he glanced up at you beneath his lashes.

"If you want something, you ask for it. I'm not one of your boytoys."

© 𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 . no copying, translation or plagiarism authorised

[muffinexplorer]

۶ৎ kento nanami’s fav positions <33 thick!black!wife!reader. lowkey a self-insert, reader (and i) have glasses. mean!nanami. size kink go brrrrrr. overstimulation. milf!reader & dilf!nanami are whores for each other <33

he doesn’t often speak about it, or even speak at all about it—but nanami has favourite positions.

of course, he won’t speak nothing of it if nobody asks. but when you do…

he’ll have you folded, flipped, and fucked like you his own personal obsession. because you are. and he shows it.

i. cowgirl; his stress reliever.

after work, he lays back in his slacks and a grey long-sleeve shirt (that was always tight because of his massive pecs and muscles), sleeves rolled, hair messy… just to watch you ride.

you were so thick and beautiful it made absolutely no sense. the way your ass moves, the way your face contorts when you drop down on him?

he moans like it hurts.

“you don’t even k-know what you do to me,” he murmurs, voice low, one hand on your ass and the other trailing up your spine.

he lets you bounce a little—just a little. then grabs your hips and fucks up into you so deep you go slack-jawed.

“shh. h-hush, baby—let me watch you fall apart.”

he talks you through every orgasm. and you both always have more than one.

ii. reverse cowgirl; his obsession.

your ass is fat. so round, thick, and plump. and nanami? he’s devoted. he sits back, arms folded behind his head, dick hard and twitching, just watching that ass drop down.

“go on,” he says, licking his lips. “i’ll let you wear yourself out first.”

he loves the ripples. loves the sound. loves the view. and when you look back at him—eyes glazed, tongue out, drool hangin from your lips?

when you talk him through it? “jus’ like th-that, pa. you always know how t’please m-me—hah!”

he loses composure.

nanami grips your waist and slams you down on him, fast and rough, your ass clapping so loud it echoes off the fucking walls.

“you want this dick? then take it. noo lookin back now.”

and he means that.

iii. backshots; his religion.

nanami puts you on your stomach and spreads you like a prayer. face in the sheets, ass up, legs trembling, lips parted—because you’re already so overstimulated.

but he doesn’t care. not one bit.

he loves it. he lives for it.

“what’s wrong?” he mocks, voice soft, dick heavy against your pussy. “can’t take it?”

he drives his thick and almost monstrous dick in and your whole body jumps. he doesn’t stop. slapping your ass, biting your shoulder, holding your hips as he pounds your sappy cunt into next week.

you’re so weak everywhere, but you find yourself trying to match his strokes, earning a rippling slap! to your ass.

your sweet pussy slurrps! him up with every chance, and he swears you could pull orgasm after orgasm from him.

and when you look back over your shoulder? eyes wet, smirking through the tears?

“o-ooh sh-shit—k-keep lookin’ at me like that,” he mutters. “i’m puttin a—hah!—baby in you tonight.”

and he does. every time. it’s how you ended up with three children already, right?

iv. missionary; his heaven incarnate.

nanami loves it rough. but he loves you more.

your legs on his shoulders, his body pressed to yours, dripping cunny stretched around his monstrous cock. he grinds into you like he’s trying to disappear inside.

and he neeeeeds to see you.

every flutter of your thick lashes. every scream. every time your eyes roll and your tits bounce.

he pulls you onto his dick, watches you melt. you’re both five orgasms in and he’s still not done.

he can’t be done when everytime he pulls out, his cum leaks out your sore pussy. it’s like you’re begging for more (and you are, because you find yourself locking your legs around his waist after every round).

“look at me,” he breathes. “look at me while i f-fuckin’ break you.”

you’re sobbing. he’s moaning. and you cum together, every single time.

and no matter the position, his dick is mean. his moans are high and desperate. his thrusts are messy, deep, and borderline criminal.

nanami’s not just your husband. hes not just the father of your children—he’s your slut—your whore.

and you were his.

who should i dew next? laughs ><

all rights reserved. 17+ © solana / wrstbehaavr. don’t copy, translate, or modify without my consent.

[muffinexplorer]

notes, another lovely request, absolutely in lovveeee.

★ Roommate!Sukuna when you leave your niece with him.

“I’ll be gone for a few hours!” you yell as you slip your shoes on. “She’s already eaten. No sweets. No horror movies. Don’t let her climb anything.”

Sukuna appears in the hallway, shirtless, towel slung around his neck, looking wildly unbothered.

“I’m not watching your tiny clone,” he mutters, scrubbing his damp hair.

You give him a wide, forced smile. “You live here. You exist in the same space. Just breathe near her and make sure she doesn’t die.”

“Why the hell is that my job?”

“Because I’m late, and she already likes you more than she likes me—bye!”

You’re out the door before he can argue.

A beat of silence.

Then—

“Hi, Kuuuuna,” says a small voice.

Sukuna turns slowly.

There she is. Your five-year-old niece. Wearing a cape made of your bath towel. Holding a glittery toy wand. Standing in the doorway like she owns the whole apartment.

He stares.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

“It’s my magic cape,” she says solemnly. “I’m a fairy. You’re the ogre.”

Sukuna blinks. “The what now?”

“You live under a bridge and kidnap goats.”

He squints. “You just call me fat and ugly in your little preschool dialect?”

She shrugs. “You just have ogre energy.”

He stares harder. “…You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Two Hours Later

The apartment is a warzone.

There’s glitter on his arms. Stickers on his legs. His hair’s in two half-ass ponytails courtesy of the tiny stylist-in-training who is currently coloring his tattoos with washable marker.

“Stop moving,” she whines, tugging on his arm. “You’re smudging your dragon.”

“It’s a fucking snake.”

“Language!” she says, pointing the glitter wand at him like a weapon.

He blinks. “You’re literally five. How do you know that’s a bad word?”

“Auntie said if you said it, I get a dollar.”

He scowls. “Snitch.”

She leans in, whispering dramatically. “You also say fuck a lot. That’s two dollars.”

He blinks. Then laughs, loud and sharp.

“Blackmail? You’re actually worse than your aunt.”

She beams proudly.

Later

You unlock the door and step inside. Drop your bag.

“Sukuna? We’re back—”

You freeze.

Your niece is passed out, sprawled across the couch in a pile of blankets.

And there, sitting on the floor with a half-eaten bowl of cereal on his knee and rainbow glitter in his hair, is Sukuna.

Holding a stuffed unicorn like it personally betrayed him.

He glances up at you with dead eyes.

“She told me I was her emotional support ogre,” he mutters.

You stifle a snort.

“She tried to sell me fake ‘magic juice’ for five bucks. It was tap water.”

“Oh my god—”

“She made me play tea party. With a Barbie whose head is taped on.”

“Did you give her snacks?”

“She gave me snacks. Handed me a cracker and said, ‘Don’t cry. You look like a sad pit bull.’”

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh.

Sukuna sighs, standing up and ruffling glitter from his hair. “You owe me.”

You grin. “I’ll buy you dinner.”

“I want sushi. And liquor.”

“She’s five.”

“I’m not.”

You walk over and gently take the sleeping girl in your arms. “Thanks for watching her.”

He shrugs, eyes softening despite himself.

“…She’s not bad.”

You pause.

“She called you her favorite.”

He scoffs.

But when you carry her to your room, you catch him tucking the stupid unicorn back under the blanket.

Just in case she wakes up looking for it.

[muffinexplorer]