#choso and you

[kamospeach]

plot: exbf!choso is a simp and is begging for his ex girlfriend's forgiveness.

content warning: heavy cursing, drug use, high sex, public sex, car sex, piv sex, mating press, cowgirl, oral m!recieving, fingering, cum eating, choking, praising, softdom choso, dacryphilia, the whole nine really

peachy's yap: this is my first time writing on tumblr ! if there's any tips you have pls comment them :3

Saturday at 4:42 pm

"mama, I'm sorry," choso pleaded, pushing your door open. this was the fourth time he showed up at your house this week, and you were honestly getting tired of this. coming to beg for forgiveness but never hearing you out.

"choso, please leave before my mom comes back," you say, not even looking at him. he came over to your house dressed in his fucking sunday's best, and that was the worst. he knows you so well and how much you like all the things he's wearing right now. 

hair down, a black tee that never fits right, sweats, the black and white ugg tasmans you got him for his birthday. gold chains around his neck, his usual nose stud changed to a hoop and rings on his fingers. he didn't even try this hard to dress up when you went to kenjaku and geto's birthday party. and was that? is that your pink scrunchie on his wrist? 'he's pushing it,' you thought to yourself.

"come on, don't do this," he says, pushing the door harder. you were now using all your strength to try to close the door.

"you have some nerve coming to my house dressed like a slut." you huff, giving up on pushing the door as he throws his head back in laughter. he knew what he was doing and he thought it was funny you were acting like his attempt was futile. but he noticed the way you looked at him when you opened the door.

"i thought you liked me like this," he asked softly and you sighed knowing it was true, you did like him like that.

"i do." you accept defeat, letting him in the house. "you're only here so we can talk about it. that's it." you pushed open the door and he followed behind you after taking off his shoes. 

"why'd you want me gone before your mom got here?" he asked with furrowed brows since your mom knew of your and choso's relationship. you just didn't want her to think you both were still together, and you couldn't bring yourself to break the news to her.

"i didn't want her to see you here and think we were still together." you say walking into your room and sitting down on your bed. he hummed about to sit on your bed and you stopped him by his chest. "nah strangers don't get to sit on my bed."

"y/n," he said your name in a tone that sounded pathetic, honestly.

"choso," you say, and he rolls his eyes, sitting on the chair in the corner of the room. you crossed your legs as the both of you looked at each other in silence. he looked down at your legs that glistened under the sun, then moved his sight to your freshly done toes. light pink french tip, just how he liked, and you said he had nerve. "since it seems a cat caught your tongue, i'll start the conversation. i don't want to get back together if she's all in our business. done."

"she's my friend y/n you don't like her and don't know why. you know if you had a real reason i'd drop her." he reasoned, getting upset all over again, having pretty much the same reaction when you broke up with him two weeks ago.

"i don't like her because she's always running back to me telling me our business. she might've told someone else. even before then she always seemed messy." you stressed to him and he still couldn't wrap his head around your explanation.

"what does that have to do with me, i didn't tell her to be messy. why does her being messy mean we can't be together?" he questioned raising his voice and you put your hand out telling him to stop.

"i already told you if you're going to yell, we aren't going to speak to each other," you warn him.

"i'm not trying to yell but fuck you gotta be reasonable." desperation was clear in his voice, and you sigh, knowing the way choso was. he didn't get mad often, but he does get frustrated and he's stubborn about what he wants.

"all that i'm saying is going to another woman about our relationship and not me is crazy." you felt the tears sting your eyes. "then she has the nerve to tell me 'choso says he really likes you but... oh i shouldn't say that' and run off with her friends." you ranted as you began to full on cry, he looked at you his heart aching at your pain.

"when you told me she said that i got on her right then and there. you can't punish me for her actions," he argues looking you in your eyes.

"i'm not punishing you; I'm doing what's best for me," you explained trying to help him understand where you were coming from.

"is it what's best? you've been crying before right now, i could tell. i saw you at school, and it looks like you aren't getting any sleep. shoko told me you haven't been out since we broke up. You left without giving me a chance to right my wrongs." he says, and you hum, thinking about it.

"i left because you weren't trying to see my point. you said i was jealous and then dodged me for two weeks." you say making it clear you didn't just leave him because of that. "i tried to meet up and you always claimed you were 'busy' with your band."

"take a ride with me later today? let's talk about it more then." he asked out of nowhere, and you laughed at his abruptness. "i'll take the top off the jeep we can drive around like we used to do. like before we got together, you don't have to immediately take me back. just vibe like when you actually used to fucked with me." you laughed at his lame attempt at a joke.

"okay." you nod as he stands up, holding his hand out for you. you place your hand in his as he helps you stand. 

"i still love you, mama i hope you know what." he says as he wraps his arms around your shoulders and your arms wrap around his torso. "no other girl could change that," he assured you, you nodded sniffling from crying earlier.

"i still love you too, cho," you say, looking up at the man who's been by your side for 4 years. choso was a sweetheart, quiet, and would never intentionally hurt you. it just hurts to know he went to someone else for problems instead of you since you've been together for so long.

"you don't have to say it if you don't mean it." he joked and you rolled your eyes at him.

"m'serious, cho." you stomp your foot, and he nods, still laughing at you a little.

"i know," he kissed your forehead, the only thing you'd allow. "i'll come to get you at six, okay?

"i'll be ready." you nod, and he smiles.

"it's warmer than usual today, you can wear them shorts i like," he smirked referring to some shorts you bought a couple of years ago that fit fine until choso started stuffing you like a pig. now you fill them out better and part of your ass peeks out the bottom. you never wore them outside the house only when you took drives with choso or you both stayed in the house for the day. 

"and risk you thinking you're back in? no," you say shooing him out of your room until the two of you run into your mom. just your luck. she squealed running to hug choso. this was normal when she hadn't seen him for a while. she always claimed choso was her son and even if you didn't bring him around she was asking for him.

you looked between your mom and choso in disbelief. your mom squeezed him so tight rocking him side to side and he smirked at you. this is exactly what you didn't want to happen she would be talking about this meeting for the next month and a half.

"hey mom." he greeted her with a shit-eating grin that had you five and a half seconds away from hitting him square in the back of his head. he knew calling her mom was going to make her love him more than she already did.

"aww hello my baby!" she cooed and you blinked slowly looking between the two of them as they engaged in a conversation that lasted way too long. she asked about his band, his classes, his brothers, and then your relationship. to which he responded with 'we're good y'know we would never leave each other' as he side eyes you with the meanest glare he's probably ever put out.

"okay, cho don't you have to go take the roof off the jeep? that'll take some time won't it?" you frown as you bat your lashes practically begging him to leave. he glances down at you as he holds a cup of tea your mom gave him. 

"i can't finish my tea?" he frowned and your jaw dropped at the audacity of this man.

"no? get out!" you take the cup from his hands and push him towards the door. "i can't believe you." you grunted as he slowly put on his shoes. "you know i didn't want you to see her and you spent 15 minutes talking to her." you huff as he opened the driver's side hopping into the truck.

"then you'll just have to hold out for a while until you tell her." he smiled down at you. "i can't get a kiss?" 

"leave," you said as he laughed at your angry expression. he started the car and drove off as you walked back into the house. you skillfully avoided your mom not trying to hear her gush over how sweet choso was. as you entered your room you decided to take a shower before he returned.

after your shower, it was going on 5:45 meaning choso would be there soon. the sun was setting and you looked out your open window at the pink and purple sunset. you keep your eyes peeled for choso's truck while listening out for your mom. you did not want her to know he was doubling back, if she found out she'd probably end up serving him dinner.

another 10 minutes passed and choso drove up to your house top off like he promised. he had music playing and it sounded like it was a song from his band's more recent album. although you always listened to RnB you knew every song that his band made. you never thought you'd been into hard rock or metal until choso sent you his playlist. 

when he turned in the driveway you quickly grabbed your phone and small purse. you sped down the stairs almost tripping on the last one and letting out a small 'fuck'. your mom watched you run out of the house not even bothering to ask where you were going knowing it was either with shoko or choso. 

as you suspected it was his band's music and he turned it down when you walked out the door. being the gentleman he is got out of the truck to open up the passenger door for you. you looked him up and down seeing he changed specifically his hair that was now back in two buns. not interested in analyzing his fit you hopped into the jeep and didn't even bother to thank him. he just laughed at your sass getting back in the driver seat.

"not talkin' now?" he asked and you huffed loudly crossing your legs and arms. your resolve was wearing thin and you knew going on a drive wasn't going to help. his scattered tattoos on his arm as one hand steered, your nameplate around his neck, and his clenched jaw. that was enough for you to forgive him right there and then. 

"cho." you whispered lowly after you both sat in silence for 15 minutes and he gave you a quick glance. "i hated the break but i think it was good for you," you admitted as choso hummed putting the car in park. he ended your drive at the beach the breeze was a little colder but it still felt good.

"what're you tryin' to say?" he asked leaning the seat back grabbing the half-smoked blunt out of his ashtray. your face dropped not even noticing the blunt when you got in. it made you think to yourself 'Let me check if my chair in the right position'. and you did just that looking around your seat and making sure everything was right. humming in satisfaction when you saw that it was. 

"i'm just saying that the break was needed. you realized you needed to talk to me about our problems. because she can't help you fix us if there is no us." you explain and he nods, you could admit that the reason for your short break was selfish. still, you didn't like what he did and you weren't willing to let it slide. if he had first apologized or even listened to you instead of trying to guilt trip you it wouldn't have got this far.

"i can admit that, yeah, and it won't happen again. i'll do whatever it takes to make you happy and you know that," he says turning his head a little and handing the blunt to you. you grabbed it from him bringing the blunt to your lips, taking a hit letting the smoke fill your lungs. choso put his hand on the top knee of your crossed legs. 

"if you promise to talk to me, i can promise i'll never leave." you bargain passing the blunt back to him. he looked at the blunt seeing your cherry lip gloss all around it. he sent you a pointed glare and you shrugged already knowing what he was thinking. 

"that'll work, so can i get a kiss now?" he asked and you scoffed, that was all this man thought about. Little did you know choso had been thinking about kissing you since you got in. your perfume intoxicating his brain along with the effects of the weed make him extremely horny. he needed his kiss now!

"that's all I'm good for?" you asked playfully and he laughed shaking his head.

"no but it's a plus." he mumbles as you lean over the middle console pecking his lips quickly. as you were moving back he gripped your waist locking you in the position. "what the fuck was that?" he asked and you laughed at his reaction. 

giving in you press your lips against his this time not a peck. your tongues danced with each other and you melted into the kiss. his lips were soft and you both kissed almost as if you were starved. although you were broken up for two weeks you hadn't seen each other in a month. this was what you both needed to be back in each other's embrace.

your hand reached for his face just needing to feel him. your hands grazed his jaw down his neck and to his chest. while his freehand stayed content on your left ass cheek. 

your hands traveled down moving lower and lower feeling on his abs. you were hesitant but you let your urges go against your better judgment. your reached down to palm his hard-on and his hips bucked up as he moaned in your mouth.

"either you do something about it or sit back in your seat." he leaned out of the kiss ashing the blunt. without being told another word you pulled the waistband of his shorts and boxers up grabbing his dick. you took it out of his shorts and looked at it as if you hadn't seen it many times before. this time the tip was a deep angry red like it was begging for a release.

you gave his tip a little kitty lick tasting his precum and he hissed placing his hand on your ass. you slapped him on your tongue before taking him into your mouth. not taking him all the way down your throat and just focusing on his tip. choso began to get impatient, the anticipation making him exasperated. he was trying to be nice and take things your speed but he was seconds from combusting. 

getting fed up he grabs your hair pushing you all the way down until his cock head hit the back of your throat. you gagged on him as spit bubbled around him and he kept you down with your nose pressed against him. 

he gave your throat small thrusts until you tapped his thigh letting him know you needed to come up for air. he pulled you up looking you in your face liking the view of drool dripping down your chin.

"y'know better," he said and you looked him in his eyes seeing the way his pupils dilated. this wasn't soft choso who didn't mind letting you be in control he was feral. what he didn't want you to know was that he held himself back for that month. he hadn't touched himself so he was little, 'backed up' if you will.

not wanting to anger him further you quickly took him in your mouth. tongue out and throat relaxed you began to please him how you know he wanted you to. not once stopping your constant movements as he moaned. head thrown back as his hand stayed in your hair only guiding your movements lightly. 

"i missed that mouth of yours." he groans as you take him out your mouth to spit back on it. you used your hands to stroke him while you looked up at him. "you're doing great." he praised you knowing exactly what you wanted to hear. just like he expected with that statement you went back to work. bobbing your head up and down gagging on him here and there. his moans and groans were exciting you and it started to become more enjoyable for you. 

you felt choso's leg spasm you knew him well enough to know that meant he was close. usually, you'd pull off and whine to him saying 'i want you to cum inside me'. but today you wanted to have the satisfaction of making him cum off head. 

you pulled off him licking up the dribble of spit along the vein of his dick. going to back and deepthroating him as he twitches in the back of his throat.

"fuck 'm cumming." he grunted loudly as he came down your throat. by this time you were absolutely soaked your legs were squeezed together. his sounds, the taste of him on your tongue, and the friction of your thighs rubbing together enough to make you finish. you swallowed but it wasn't enough for you, you continued to suck him off. "fuck... mama wait s...shit" he whimpered trying to get you off of him. once you were finally content you got off looking up at him. 

his eyes were closed and there were bite marks in his lips. his chest heaved up and down rapidly and his hand was on his head. you giggled to yourself reaching to take the tight buns out of his hair. you rake your fingers through his hair and he smashes his lips onto yours. the kiss was rushed and he pushed his tongue into your mouth tasting himself on your tongue. you massaged his scalp and he shuddered as he pulled away from the kiss.

"you'll be the death of me, swear to God." he huffed nodding towards the back seat. "get in the back," he instructed and you nodded climbing over the middle console to get in the back. he smacked your ass before you made it to the back. 

he put himself back into his shorts and got out of the driver's side. he looked around seeing no other cars or people around. which wasn't surprising since you both lived in a small town with a low population. he joined you in the back and you wasted no time climbing onto his lap. 

"i didn't take you for a public sex guy," you said as he scoffed looking down at you.

"says the girl who begged me to take her in the dressing room two months ago and your best friend's birth-" he rambled and you covered his mouth with both hands not wanting him to continue.

"enough." you roll your eyes as he grabs your wrists pulling your hands from his mouth. he licked his lips as he leaned forward making you fall on your back against the seat. the leather was cold and your back arched off the seat. he grabbed the waistband of your shorts sliding them off along with your panties. 

"this wet just from suckin' me off?" he mumbled to himself as he looked at your dripping folds like a starved man. he licked his lips again as he hovered above you reaching down to rub your clit. you let out a soft moan and he kissed down your neck which now doubled your pleasure. he pressed his nose against the curve of your nick taking a deep breath.

"did you just sniff me?" you ask in shock and he doesn't respond instead he pushed his fingers in your wet cunt. "cho..." you gasped at the surprise of his fingers. his fingers were thicker and longer than yours hitting spots you haven't been able to reach this last month.

"yeah?" he asked knowing you would barely be able to form a sentence while his fingers pump in and out of you. you began to talk but he added a third finger as your breath got caught in your throat. the squelching was loud and the feeling was overwhelming as you grabbed at his wrist. 

"just fuck me," you said eyes looking around his face practically begging him to get to it.

"please?" he was still vigorously fucking his fingers into you not too much caring about your request.

"p...please," you repeated and he smiled pulling his fingers out of you. he pulled his shorts and boxers down to his knees and pushed your legs to your chest. he put his three fingers at your lips and you quickly wrapped your lips around his finger tasting yourself.

he smiled at you in adoration loving the way you were splayed out in front of him. he grabbed his dick sliding up and down folds and lightly hitting his tip against your clit.

"ready?" he asked and you nodded and he gave you that same pointed glare. "use your words y/n."

"yes im ready," you reply and he nods nudging your entrance before slipping in halfway. you moaned out as he stretched you out the pain fading away just as quickly as it came. 

to get you adjusted he began to stroke with just half of himself before abruptly pushing himself all the way in. you threw your head back grabbing the headrest with your left hand. your right hand grabbing choso's wrist that was holding your legs to your chest.

choso's eyes were locked on yours as he wasted no time sending steady thrusts. your moans were getting louder by the minute and his grunts became more animalistic. he lowered down so that your foreheads were touching. 

his eyes glanced between you and your lips not sure where to focus. noticing his indecisiveness you leaned up to press your lips on his. the kiss was nasty and sloppy while his thrusts were pointed and relentless. you moaned into each other's mouth as he hit the spot that made your legs shake.

"you feel so good wrapped around me. s...so warm." he whimpered against your lips and your jaw was slack in pure bliss over his sensual strokes. "hold your legs." he tells you and you nod grabbing behind your knees keeping your legs to your chest. 

he places one foot on the floor of the car. he wrapped both of his hands around your neck and your eyes widened in shock. with newfound stability, he began to send longer and faster strokes. the pleasure became overwhelming as tears began to spill from your eyes. 

choso loved it. the way your eyes rolled back and the tears stained your cheeks. you crying from the immense pleasure he gave you boosted his ego. he knew it was pleasure or else you'd be tapping out or yelling out the safe word. 

the roughness of his thrusts and the noises that left his mouth pushed you toward the edge. your walls tightening around him restricting his movement and milking him for everything he had. you couldn't think straight as your climax approached.

"cho...ch..." you mumbled not looking away from his eyes and he nodded moving one of his hands from your neck to your clit. 

"i feel you... 'm right behind you." he moaned out speeding up the rubbing on your clit. all it took was two more strokes before your body shook from the overstimulation. you saw stars as your juice drenched his shorts and leather seats. "yeah, that's it... fuck." he said as he pulled out and fucked his fist a couple times before he came on your pussy. his cum landed on your swollen clit and drenched lips.

"are you...?" you gasped watching his dick get hard again and you looked back up at him. that was his second nut and you were starting to question who this man had become in a month. he'd usually be sensitive after one orgasm but good enough to go for a second round. which never bothered you since you usually could go for just two orgasms before you were ready to tap out. 

"it's been a month." he huffed chest moving fast as he scratched his head. "just help me get another one i should be done after this for real." you nod looking him up and down, he looks bigger too and his jaw is more defined.

"how many times were you going to the gym?" you asked and he rolled his eyes.

"you can ask me that later just ride me," he said clearly not in the mood for your questioning. you rolled your eyes but obliged getting as he sat in the middle seat. you straddled his lap and choso pulled up your crop top letting freeing your boobs from your bra. you grabbed his dick lining him up with your entrance before you lower yourself down onto him. 

"wait cho you're too deep." you whimpered, it felt like he was almost in your chest and you couldn't move. 

"take your time. you're doing so good for me." he praised you rubbing circles on your hip as you took deep breaths. once you felt more comfortable you planted your feet next to him. you began to ride him bouncing with a steady rhythm. 

"mmm..." you hum as choso's mouth latched onto your nipple sucking a biting as you continued bouncing on him. he pulled off your nipple looking at your fucked out face.

"hah... you look so sexy like this love," he said fucking up into you meeting you with half-assed thrust. he was getting sloppy and you knew he was close. his hand slapped your ass and it only encouraged you to ride him faster. his head lolled back enjoying the feeling of you gripping his cock.

"close so so close." you babbled and he gave you a lazy smile. he gripped both of your ass cheeks lifting you and fucking into you. 

"tell me you love me while you cum on this dick," he grunted into your ear.

"shit... i love you baby, love you so fuckin much." you moaned as you came this time not only did you drench his shirt and face you even got it in his hair.

"i love you too mama" he hummed pulling out. "turn around wanna cum on yer ass," he grunts as you turned around and he grunts stroke himself to his finish as his cum spilled all over your ass. you both sat in silence as you both struggled to catch your breath. choso reached into the pocket of the backseat and wiped you off.

"don't ever... tell that bitch nothing else," you said still out of breath watching your now not ex-boyfriend clean you off.

"why are you even thinkin' about her right now." he laughed helping you put back on your shorts. which he now realized were the shorts he advised you to wear earlier

"just thinking we can't ever break up again, i'm not letting you fuck nobody else like that," you said dead serious as he laughed at your comment. he helped you to the front seat and started up the car driving you to his house instead of taking you back home.

-

2 weeks later

"did you hear the band's new song?" shoko asked and you shook your head not even knowing they had put out a new song. 

"no? choso didn't tell me there was a new song," you admitted and she shrugged playing the song for you. from the speaker you heard your boyfriend's sexy silky voice singing falling in love with the song as always. until. you heard something that just didn't sit right with you. "what did he just say?" 

"huh? i don't know." shoko frowned as she re-winded the song. you couldn't believe your ears. you both looked at each other in shock.

choso was singing about fucking you in the back seat. 

[tonycries]

BIIIG STRETCH.

Synopsis. First time fitting all of him = first time losing his mind.

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

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, they’re PACKING, making it fit, cervíx kíssing, p talking, p slápping, use of “my wife”, dúmbifícation, BÚLGES, jealousy (Ino), BRÉEDING, true form Sukuna, dp, Shiu cameo, spítting, GOJO’S POWERS, D analysis, chóking, exhíbitíonism (Higuruma), cúmplay, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Tony Claus is here with a biiiig gift for y’all hehehe <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 8.96 inches

“T-Toooji- why the hell are you s-so big?” And oh, he can’t help but snicker at how you can barely even speak, barely do anything but thrash your quivering legs against the coiling springs of the mattress.

“Yeah yeah, tell me something I don’t know, doll.” Toji’s rolling his half-lidded eyes, swollen hilt plummeting down to French kiss his fat, mushroomy tip with a sappy thwack! at your teary slit. “Besides, m’barely even heh- an inch in.” 

Barely even an inch.

Toji can feel his parched mouth just lather in greedy saliva at the oh-so-cute shock slipping its way onto your pretty features. “An i-inch…Toji will it even-”

“Silly girl, ‘course it will.” You’re gasping when one big, beefy arm claws around your boneless thighs to drag you halfway down the bed. Streaking a wet swab down your achy folds - oh, the sheer size difference was so vulgar. It makes him grin, “Because m’gonna make it fit, duh.” 

Oh. 

That wasn’t a promise - it was uttered like an oh-so-simple fact.

Well, your melty mind supposes, that is what you get for stubbornly claiming that you could “take it all”. Begging. 

Over and over for days until your dear Toji had finally snapped. Had finally manhandled your poor self into the meanest of mating presses, giving your sloppy hole a mere savoring taste of the fat circumference of his syrupy pink tip-

“Oi.” Toji’s planting two swats onto the deliriously lolling side of your face. “Better not be f-fucked stupid already after all that talkin’ outta ya slutty pussy, ma.”

Hypnotized head nuzzling the sweat-slicked crook of his neck, your sloppy tongue garbles out a barely-coherent, “I-I’m not- I swear. It’s j-just…”

“J-j-just what?” Toji’s rumbling baritone hitches up into a dramatic high pitch, rounded curvature of his knees opening your trembly thighs up even further. 

“Just…”

Only to rummage a good few inches of length past your saccharinely glossy hole. Perfectly left-leaning curve of his shaft swiping down your tender spots and fucking you spellbound. Snickering, “Honestly, just loooove complainin’, don’tcha? Why don’t you ah- beg f’me, instead?”

But you can’t - couldn’t even if you wanted to. 

Because Toji was big, to say the least. 

Girthy, merciless near-nine inches of him glazed a dripping gloss of precum. And it looked like it pained him to pull out. It pained him to slip and slide a sandwiching kiss of his soft, coral pink underside between your saturated lips. Back and forth back and forth back and-

“C’mon c’mon–” he’s hissing, dark brows knitting together tight. And the way you’re pushing away his sweat-streaked strands of black makes Toji shudder. “Yer my good girl, right? G-gonna take it all like a fucking champ, aren’tcha?”

“I-I will?” You mewl, eyes nervously straying to the way he looked so comically staggering twitching between your legs. Impatient. Red and angry. It made you starved. “I will.”

And oh, Toji would make sure of that.

Making sheer white cloud your vision when he’s letting go of his hefty crownhead to thud! across your quivering hole. Before his toned hips drivel in tiny little gyrations to pump you so full - Toji’s bloated cockhead spearheading you open so solidly. And the stretch-

The stretch. 

The globular ends of his shaft mazes between your gluey walls to push you tautly to your limits. His sobbing divot buttering up every forbidden nook and cranny inside you with sappy splotches of pre - you felt so heavy with him halfway inside. 

“Ah ahh- Toji– you’re in s-so d-deep-” You’re mindlessly rovering your fingers over to feel for that fattened, cylindrical outline of his nudging further and further up your gummy orifice. Big, pearly tears bead at your eyes and make him grin. “Can feel you right h-here. Dunno if I can take m-”

But in the blink of an eye, your slackened maw is being flooded with such stringy wads of spit. Streaming in a slicked mess from Toji’s curled lips before spattering onto your tastebuds. “If ya can t-take this, then you can take all of me, doll.”

Shrieking at the plummy twitch of his split cockhead swashing another wad of ribbony pre. “R-really?”

“Mhmm, Toji’s always hgh- right.” The fat curves of his fingers smush your mouth closed. To swallow. He swipes away a few speckles at the corner of your pretty mouth, pecking an innocent smooch against your lips to wipe those excess remnants cleanly off. “H…heh- good girl. Now get ready for hah- Toji’s biiig stretch.”

Leisurely swiping down one set of his fingerpads to scissor your puffy pussy lips further and further open. Herculean hips rolling to make you gulp down more more more-

“S-See? Didn’t I hah- say this cute cunt could ngh- take me?” Toji can’t help but crush your pliant body with the weight of his muscular thighs, heaving - practically plastering his sculpted front into yours. “Take this fuckin’ cock- the one you said was too big.”

God, he thinks he could almost laugh - fucking giggle like he was air-headed at how pretty you looked underneath him like this .

Your pupils practically heart-shaped and crossing with every jackhammering roll of his hips, tongue lolling out in a way that makes him spit all over again. 

“Mhm- just one more fuckin’ inch now, ma.” Well, more like three - but Toji had the feeling you were too cockdrunk to tell the difference, anyway. And with a sodden slap! against your perked clit, he’s curling a calloused few digits around your throat. “Better take it all now.”

Dragging you - biceps flexing when he manhandles you from your throat to push you down millimeter by millimeter, suck him snugly down your elastic walls. And you didn’t know whether you were lightheaded because of that choking restraint or because of the stretch-

But then…

“Oh- Oh?” And something in Toji’s tone makes you blink your thoroughly glassy gaze to rationality. “Fuck- wait-” Toji gasps, he heaves. Willowy eyes bulging, snarling when he feels his ears pop! “Wait, don’t tell me- m’really…really…”

He was. 

Now, Toji never claimed to be an optimist - he never said he was a miracle-worker but fuck- was this real? You were really, really milking all of him? This was what it felt like being buried balls-deep inside you? 

God, he could die right now between your legs and still be a happy man.

Because he feels like his entire body has been zapped with a zillion bolts of electricity - like he’s in heaven. Stemming all the way from the lustrous little thwack! of his pulpy tip against your spongy cervix. 

“Are- are you all the way inside?” You’re sobbing out, whines clawing at your throat with every smooth whack of Toji’s fattened cock into your goopy depths. 

“I…” And Toji wants to answer - he wants to not look like a wordless fool in front of you but he can’t right about now. Scarred lips falling parted, he can barely even breathe right about now. Sharp jaw slacking open into a sexily husky laugh, “Yes. Hah! Atta girl, there we g-go. Knew my girl could ngh- do it.”

“Too big” his ass. 

In the lazy blink of your weepy eyes, Toji has the two of your sweat-simmered bodies flipped over. Your own glued to his toned front, nails clawing at his bulging deltoids, head drooping between his cushiony pecs.

Bubbles of spit and pure whines flood your mouth when the massive mountains of Toji’s palms sift underneath your thighs to help you ride. Starting off slow - stumbling - presenting you with languid, tumbling thrusts that shape your fleshy insides to every ridge and curve of his cock. 

Roughened digits pushing you down. Even more. 

“Now…here comes the fun part tha’s gonna end up with you heh- pregnant, ma.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 10.25 inches

“Am I…am I really that big?” 

If this was anyone other than your dear Nanami you’d have huffed at that subtle brag of a question - but Nanami wasn’t bragging. And he wasn’t aware of just how much that simply sopping slide of his blushing shaft into your gooey depths was splitting you apart. 

“Y-yes–” you’re mewling out, tangling your fingers with his thick ones to trek them all over your stuffed lower tummy. And Nanami gasps at the bloated nudge of his fat tip against your buttery walls. The outline. That you can feel from the outside. The curvature of his greedy thumb smearing down the mushy rounded edges tenderly. “S’like m’gonna hngh- break.”

Stern lips puckering up to kiss away the pearly tears that lather your fluttery lashes, he’s rumbling from the back of his throat. “Shhh…if you c-can’t, my love, then we can always-”

“Noooo-” God, Nanami loved to see that smack mouth of yours wobble with a few breaking whines, falling into a soft oh! when your squirmy hips shuffle a ravenous few gulps of more and more of his inches. “Want it- want it all.”

“Are you sure, darling? M’only halfway in right now.”

Nodding - nodding and nodding because you’ve never wanted anything more. A simpering trailway of drool sloshes from the slackened corner of your mouth when he’s slapping his weepy cockhead in two nice slaps into your extra sweet orifices. 

He was long and thick - unfairly so. Equipped with heavy breeder balls that thump! thump! thumped against your thighs in the same needy rhythm as your heartbeat. Messy. The tannish blushing divot on his mushroomy tip barely even having to try to sugarcoat your goopy depths with a sweltering hot few splotches of creamy pre- 

“Then…” Nanami’s wrenching you out of your cockdrunk little daydreams, and you’re faced with his utterly loving gaze. “You can hah- hold my hand- squeeze it if it gets too…much, my love.”

As if you ever would tap out.

Because the stretch was so addictive. 

Every single one of his shuddering drives making your dewy eyes sprint all the way hidden at the back of your lids. The exact degree of his arch having you let off a few keens, legs thrashing with the depraved kiss of his sappy cockhead against your g-spot. 

“Hey hey-” Nanami’s slanting his mouth over the rivulets upon rivulets of cold sweat beading at your forehead. And in turn you desperately crane upwards to kiss his plush pecs. “Remember what we talked about hngh- before?”

“Y-yes. Simple breathing techniques ah-” you’re crying out as he sneaks in a good swab down your slippery walls. “S’best to oh! Take slow, d-deep…long breaths to relax.”

Nanami chuckles out at your whiny little emphasis, every slow breath of yours helping his dexterous fingers guide that hooked bend of his knotted cock to bump into your treasured spots. Deeper.  “Mhmm– good girl, relax. What else?” 

“A-and- focus on one part of your ah- body t-to-” You can feel your weepy cunt pulse – thoroughly full and just about all that you could focus on. Inch by fucking inch disappearing. “-to boost awareness and…relax.”

Yeah, certainly enough for Nanami to tut when your glutinous pussylips tack on even tighter around him to halt his merciless pathway. 

“Hate to see ya strugglin’, darling. Hold on t-tight-” Nanami’s blond brows simmer with a fresh sheen of perspiration at the tiny resistance. Strong arms dredging your useless legs up onto his broad shoulders. Indenting circular bruises with just how hard your heels were digging in. But oh, he doesn’t care. Doesn’t give a shit if it hurt - instead, planting a sweet few pecks at your ankles. “Because s’a bit of a biiiig stretch.” 

He’s hiking one athletic thigh up even higher, adonis-like muscles flexing when Nanami arches his back and bends you easily in half. 

Sweetly toying a few circular brushes of his fat thumb against your neglected clit. You’re at the utter mercy of the deepening angle walloping his crownhead into your spongy cervix. Dragging his wet tip in a saccharine few ribbons of velvety pre, you’re being absolutely flooded with the sheer size of him. With all of him-

“I-is it all in?” You’re sobbing out, only for Nanami to stray his hypnotized eyes accordingly downwards and gasp. 

“S’all in- ohhhh s’all in- my perfect, perfect girl.” Nanami’s regal nose crinkles with sheer bliss, condensely fogged-up glasses leering further and further down his nosebridge. “N’ s’like y-you’re gonna be hngh- split apart, darling.”

And it felt like it.

Like Nanami was trying to mold your rubbery cunt into the exact shape of him, sticky kisses of his tight balls making you shy. To make sure with every bruising circumference of his overfed tip that you won’t forget him. Forget his size.

“G-gonna hafta get this pretty pussy hngh- used ta me.” He’s tilting his head down at that addictive image of your slurping pussy greedily sucking up every drilling jackhammer, every gyration, every grind just to watch the way your eyes bulge when he’s probing deeply into your cervix. “Jus’ hafta hngh- fuck her to the sh-shape of my cock oh!”

Every clingy squeeze of your gluey walls felt like you were doing that exact thing, and Nanami can’t help but let his toned hips poke languidly into your slicked g-spot. Sloshing a few tender dabs when he’s latching his mouth around your ankles to bite. To worship. 

And it makes you sob. It makes you moan. It makes you cum - gasping in surprise at the sudden crash of your high, legs locking around Nanami’s thick neck.

You’re feeling limp - your eyes half-shuttering to a close at the flurries of stars in your vision. Barely even able to breathe let alone register the simpering smile plastering all over Nanami’s face when he locks your ankles behind his head with one ravenous hand. 

Still moving. Still aching. 

“My love…” He’s starting off. Low. Promising. You’re being gifted with a slow, slow filth of a kiss, still having his pretty lips sucking on your tongue when he hums. “Don’t think I’ve molded you ta my ngh- cock jus’ yet.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 9.54 inches

It’s been hours now - hours. 

Hours of Geto cracking open your trembly legs to mouth over that glossy wetness between them, making out with your slobbery pussy for ages until you were still dizzy with the slow tangle of his soft tongue against your treacly clit. 

Still feeling the aftershocks of your nth orgasm when he’s flooding out a few viscous spurts of cum that slop between your pursed pussy lips. Gleaming sultry little lip-stain that he’s oh-so-unashamedly swabbing along a few fingers.

“Hmmm, now this won’t do–” Geto’s popping those slender digits into his mean mouth, snickering at the awe-struck little gasp you’re letting off. “Ain’tcha embarrassed to be th-this fucked n’ I’ve only put the tip in, gorgeous?” 

He was so unfair. 

Dark brows marrying together sexily when he’s spending a sloppy few seconds pretending to think, “Whaddaya think? Can you ah- take me even when you’re being this full?”

And full you were - being teased over and over again. Fucked with only the hefty, globular curve of his pretty, pierced cockhead until your poor pussy was frosted with a thick, creamy lather of Geto’s seed. Trickling between your legs and splotching over where you were hovering over his muscular thighs, bouncing with your precarious seated position. 

Huffing, one hand of yours grapples onto the mountainous terrain of Geto’s sculpted deltoid. The other curling around his pale, sweat-slicked throat in a way that made him drool. “Been w-wantin’ all of ya you, all this ngh time, Sugu–”

SMACK!

“Speakin’ out of turn is rude, y’know?” Geto soothes over the swatted imprints of his fingers on your ass. Before rovering down, down, down, to dredge out the most sinful slurps when he slides one greedy index over your sodden slit. “Right? N’ we were havin’ such a ngh- good conversation.”

That cold studded Prince Albert on Geto’s blushing mushroom tip skims between your pussyflaps, feeding you inch by fucking inch until he stopped just past the tip. As usual. 

“Hmmm, what’s this?” Pointedly ignoring your broken little whines in favor of guiding his trekking fat crown to bump that metallic piercing against your gooey sweet spots. To bruise. “Ya want more? Heh, so filthy how ya think ngh- more with this pussy than that pretty lil’ head of yours, gorgeous.”

“You’re the filthy one, Suguru–” you’re whimpering, fingers digging even tighter around his throat at the rude smirk on his pretty face. And you can’t stop yourself - you can’t help yourself - when your hips shiftily sink deeper. And deeper. 

“W-woah-” Geto’s puffy breaths hiccup, before clearing his throat into one stray hand. “I-I mean- fuck! Can see it from the outside.”

Indeed, he could. 

You were so fucking pretty sat upon him like this, with your slobbery pussy weaving out squelching rivulets of cum. Your chest heaving in a way that makes Geto’s mouth water, his eyes locked on that lecherous little bulge where he was scouring a pathway to your very womb.

He’s giggling - delirious and drunk. “What a cute lil’ pussy- s-sooo fuckin’ tight. Feels like m’gonna break ya…h-heh.”

And it’s only when you stutter, when our drizzling jaw shudders open with a cracking Sugu– that he lets his eyes rip away. His hips jutting upwards with a pressurized push-

“Awww, my gorgeous girl struggling to take this hah- big cock? Wanna take it all but you can’t?” With a rough hand latched onto your waist, Geto fucks up into you so tauntingly, rigorous little pushes and pulls that pump you spellbound. And he’s viciously thumping open your sappy pussylips, mouth drying up at the sight of those silvery sploshes of cum. “Y’know m’not gonna fit if ya don’t relax, girl.”

“I-I am relaxing-” you’re bawling out, head lolling backwards at the utter stretch. It was ridiculous, and your blood curdles with just how good it felt. 

Because Geto was so thick. Girth more intimidating than any toy you’ve ever even seen, such a pretty blushing beige. Pricked with one chilling silvery stud at his tip and then another at his bulky hilt, right after the ends of his neat happy trail - one that you oh-so-desperately wanted to reach.

“Liar.” He’s snapping - snarling. 

Making you flinch at the lurch of something dark and hot swimming in Geto’s half-lidded eyes. Long, dark lashes batting innocently up at you when he’s lacing two sets of readied fingers on top of your sweat-dampened head and pushing. “W-wait, Sugu what are you-”

“This pussy is s-soo much more ah- honest…aren’tcha?” And it takes only one more final rapid swat at your gloopy cunt, one wet strike of Geto’s round-tipped fingers before he’s bulldozing you downwards. “Hm, bite on this.”

He’s presenting you his toned arm - mercy. 

Your teeth mindlessly clamping onto his awaiting forearm, gurgles of moans and screams concocting together as your hips buck- Losing your nervous footing to finally plant a pretty peck of your glossed pussy lips against his toned base, to finally have his orbed piercing nudge your throbbing clit. 

And he was big - so, so big that you couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe at the sodden stripes of his pulpy cockhead etched into what felt like your lungs. 

With a soggy pah! you’re letting his arm go, kissing over the sunken indents of your teeth across his flesh.

“O-oh-” Moans upon moans are tumbling out of your mouth before you even realize, and you can’t help the way that your hips are bustling up and down in a filthy cadence. “I-It feels so…”

Alternating between the sloppiest drags up and down up and down his thickened length and lazy swivels that result in fat drags of Geto’s piercing onto the mushiest parts of your clit. He was so fucking big that your fatigued legs could barely even bounce up to his uprightly curved tip. 

“Yeahhh? F-feels nice havin’ me all ngh- inside ruinin’ your cunt, huh?” Geto’s leaning his body further backwards to take in every single detail of you. One arm bounding behind his head and making his biceps flex, the other helping manhandle your needy hips. And you swear you hear his voice falter, you swear you could hear his teasing baritone crack into a whine. “Look how ah- well she’s takin’ me- don’tcha think I deserve a lil’ r-reward, gorgeous?”

Ah, of course he does.

And as soon as you’re craning your head forwards, you feel the sudden twitch of his swollen tip colliding against your cervix. Gushing in ribbony strings of pre when you pry open Geto’s pretty mouth and spit-

“Messy girl.” He’s swiping away that purposeful little splatter of translucent saliva pooling at the corner of his sappy mouth. Swallowing. “Hope ya know m’gonna be doin’ the ngh- same with my cock riiiiight…” Before trailing that very same finger up, up, up to draw an invisible line at the bullseye of your womb. “-here.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 8.20 inches

“Jus’ need the ah- tip, pretty baby–” Choso’s begging - pleading from his splayed-out position spooning you - and he’s fucking his fat, ruddied cockhead into you desperately. Animalistically. Like it’ll be the last time - when in fact it’s the first. Ever. 

Slurring out a drawling few squelches from your overstuffed pussy, the way you’re glistening all your lustrous volumes of slick down his generous length makes Choso simply keen. Hulking body breaking out with shivers once your nails scrape against his sweat-lathered scalp. 

“But I want more, Cho-” That sullen pout of yours is enough to drive him wild. To bump up at least once more of his inches out of a staggering eight past your gooey ring of muscle, molding your entrance to that girthy bend of him. “Y-you’re so fuckin’ big n’ I want it all.”

Oh. 

Oh.

“Y-you shouldn’t say those ngh- things when s’my first time–” he’s scrunching his brows adorably shyly, one strong palm lifting your trembly thigh even higher to eye the teary trail of cum he’d left off just earlier from simply putting it inside. “Don’ wanna have a ngh- r-repeat of that.” 

How cute.

Choso was so embarrassed that his precious pink blush was reaching all the way from his regal cheeks, down to his bustling tip. Messy and angry. 

You’d heard that it was always the quiet ones - and Choso was hung to a T. The expansive swollen outline of his rock-hard cock smearing against your elastic walls in a way that felt permanent. Your poor pussy was swallowing up so many copious inches again and again and it felt like Choso always had more to give. 

His long length guides a sultry bash against your puffy g-spot, spearheading your gluey walls to mold around his size like butter. Swirling such voluminous heaps of cum that layer him in creamy rings.

“M’being serious, baby-” you’re purring, silken sweet tone of your voice making Choso gasp. Handsome cheeks burning bright red when he’d faced your greedy gaze over one shoulder. “I-it feels so good ngh- you’re in so deep.” 

Choso’s coral pink lip wobbles delicately, face flushing your favorite shade of red. “M-me? Don’t even know how to hngh! use it…r-really? Me? But m’just a virgin-”

“Was a virgin, baby-” You’re correcting him, deft fingers nimbling through his soft locks to pull. And it’s enough to make Choso rut- enough to make his reddening hips shovel even harder. “N’ no need to be so shy. You’re so big you might’ve ngh- jus’ ruined everyone f’me.”

And oh. 

Choso can feel his mind shatter, powerful hips working overtime to plunge another sappy stroke that thuds against your g-spot. Deeper. And deeper. You’re half-wondering whether he even realized that he was way, way past “just the tip” now. 

Nah…definitely too pussydrunk to.

He’s sucking on your kiss-bitten lips like his favorite sugar-coated candy, whimpering out. “G-good. Don’ want you f-for ngh- anyone else.” And you swear you’re catching his doe-eyes dew over with a veil of tears. “Want you to be mine.” 

Grinning - cockdrunk, heart-eyed. “Already am.”

And that extended to that greedy cunt of yours. 

Of course, it did. Why wouldn’t it? 

Choso’s on the very verge of sobbing to himself about why he didn’t do this much, much sooner when his dextrous palms smear open the drool-worthy globes of your ass to sneak a long, mouthwatering eyeful of your stuffed pussy. 

He’s so filthy. So urgent skimming two fat thumbs over to spy the way his fattened cock was disappearing between your soppy pussy lips. Fat and heavy, bullying in solid squeezed into your comparatively tiny opening.

And the sight makes him grunt, “S-such a pretty pussy. Could fuckin’ worship her heheh. I hope you don’t ngh- mind, baby, if I…”

Oh, and you didn’t mind. 

Didn’t have a mind coherent enough to think at all when Choso has to scissor your slick-flooded hole open with his thorough digits to be able to fit in the rest of his raw length. Saturated, solid ruts pushing past your tiny resistance - your poor entrance being stretched further and further with his circumference. 

He has to - he needs to because the stretch was so cozily tight. So sinful. Rubbing his ridged veins down the treacly sides of yours walls, you’re being stuffed to the brim. 

His spattering seed glomping out of you and creating such a fucking mess. Helping Choso slip and slide his thighs to engulf your own.

“Pretty pussy…ohhh what a pretty pussy.” He’s hissing to himself - slurring like an intoxicating mantra. Your honeyed squelches were so loud, answering him practically. “Baby, I want you…need you. Need you to take it allll up inside, m’kay?”

And you can only manage out a stream of dripping wet gasps puffing hotly from between your candied lips, shivering at the honeyed drip of his thick crownhead mussing up the sploshes of cum seated inside you. “G-gonna take it- ah-don’t miss, Choso–”

“I’d never.” But the one thing he might do is be rendered utterly stupid when that cylindrical shaft of his plunges impossibly deep into your gooey orifice. As deep as it would go. As deep as he could give. 

And you swear that Choso stops breathing for a full few seconds once he first bottoms out. Still regaining the blurring vision in your gaze with how you felt fit to burst, you’re opening your mouth with slight concern-

“Th-this…feels so heavenly- fuck! Why does it feel so heavenly?” Choso sounds so genuinely awestruck. Scared. Words dripping with the slight tremble of an exhilarated giggle when his sopping tip curves its way to thud! against your cervix. “I- woah th-this doesn’t feel like my fist at all.”

And every slight bit of recoil makes Choso tut, makes him plant pound after pound onto your battered cunt until you see stars. He was fucking you like he hated you - and babbling pussydrunkenly like he loved you.

You’re mewling through bliss-lathered tears, “D-does it feel good, baby?” 

Oh, Choso really did love you.

“I…I’m fucking you-” he’s breathing out. “I-I’m really fucking you and…”At your encouraging little coos, Choso only swelters with a wafting red blush. Buttony divot at the very ends of his achy cock twitching with a promising squeeze of his hefty, full balls. “...can we hold hands as I cum?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 13.3 inches

Nice - the cursed king of curses said he was going to be nice. But if this was his way of being “nice” then you didn’t-

“Tch, that pretty lil’ head of yours scrambled already, brat?” That gruff, rumbling little scolding from underneath you makes you jolt, winding sparks of electricity sprinting down your perfectly arched spine when Sukuna’s punishing your brimful cunt with a sloppy smack! 

Such a sleazy grin overtaking his sexy features at the stunned expression on your face, he’s bouncing his adonis-like knees to jostle your greedy hips up and down up and down up and-

“Can’t ngh- talk now, huh?” Sukuna’s tittering out, a few more numerous swats upon swats being pounded upon your bulging cunt. And the syrupy squelch! emanating from down below is enough to make him groan. Brows knitting, teeth sharp when he grins. “Honestly, woman- aren’tcha used to that stretch by now?”

Fuck- it would be impossible to get used to such a ridiculous size. 

Sukuna’s towering height of seven feet translating into matching cocks that make you gape, your drunken maw parting stupidly open when his twin swollen lengths plunge up into your goopy depths. Reckless. Rude. Your felt like he was fucking open sweet nooks and crannies that you never even knew existed.

That vulgar size difference was everything.

Because he was so girthy - wisps of precum slathering like torrents against your clingy walls. Tautly pulled over thick thirteen inches - and not just one, two of them - that were making you whine-

“B-but-”

“Ah ah-” Sukuna’s cutting you off, sugary tips pecking a hollowing little smooch of his candy-coated pre against that spot in a way that makes you shut up. “Can’t forget our manners now hngh- can we? Raise yer hand when ya talk to the king.”

And it was a joke…partially. It was something to make your beautiful features scrunch up in that adorable pout of yours - not something to make you wrench one trembly hand upwards and listen to him.

“S-s’not my fault-” you’re huffing out, your wondrous hands roaming all down those sinful curves and dips of Sukuna’s muscles thereafter. Resting on their favorite place at the fleshy mounds of his pecs to squeeze. “You’re just so big.”

Rolling his eyes, you’re being angled so that his oversized second tongue can press a dripping smooch against your plump clit. 

“Compliments aren’t gonna g-get me to be any hngh- nicer, mama- C’mon you know that.” And he’s sure to make it so that you never forget if the merciless few more thwack! of his five fat fingerpads down your teary slit were to say anything. “M’already bein’ nice letting you ride me.”

And ah, he’d never admit how pretty you looked like this.

With your sappy cunt stretched wiiiide open over his bumpy cocks, your entire body lathered in sweat and sheer need when he’s sinking in a few more bulky inches. Puffing your pussy lips up until you were about halfway down his raw, red cocks. 

“But ah…yer right about one thing.” Sukuna titters and the flurries of emotions that overtake your absolutely fucked-out face. Head lolling to the side when you’re trying to remember what you even said. Cute. “Lemme heh- jog that memory o’ yours, brat.”

And it was such a blessing - or a curse - that Sukuna had four arms. Four massive, strong arms that were busying themselves with driving you wild.

Two of them caressing the sultry curve of your hips, manhandling you up and down all his copious inches with all the dignity of a ragdoll. A third clawing on top of your cottony-filled head and forcing you to look- to spy where his fourth hand was. 

Sharp, blackened nail of his burly index tapping those ringed tattoos at his inner thighs. “See these?” Doesn’t matter if you didn’t because Sukuna was making your cockdrunk head motion out a nod for him anyway. “Well- then see these?”

Oh, you had to crane your head - you had to stop your condensed gasp from dripping out of your mouth when he’s swiping his fingers across those matching black rings tattooed around the very hefty hilts of his cocks. 

Neat. Stark against unruly tufts of pink. Lacquered with a glistening layer of your sweet, sweet juices. 

“Gotta take it ah- allll the way until there, got it?” Sukuna muses, plummy split-ends of his shafts pummeling even harder against the gumdrop sponge of your walls. Very same finger drawling lazily up, up, up until he was drawing a smug line across way past the middle of your tummy. “So get r-ready for a biiiig stretch, mama.”

And it wasn’t just the stretch - not even the double stretch - triple. Triple the invasive rummages inside your snug channel when Sukuna’s swirling his large secondary tongue to lap up every sliver and every bead of slick slobbering from your cunt. 

Sloshing a gleaming trailway down the very middle of his rosette tastebuds so lewdly when Sukuna grits against the resistance, hips pushing and pushing-

“Ah- ah!” Your hips are like a pendulum still deciding between swallowing up more more more and running away. “I-I don’t think it’ll ngh- dunno if I can t-take any…”

“Nuh uh, no running away.” Sukuna’s greedy hands devour every naked inch of you to stuff you full, tongue working overtime to push open that elastic entrance to your pretty cunt. He knew you could finally take it all. He knew. And he was going to do it. “Made yer bed- now- lie- in it-”

There’s a deafening pap! of your body glissading into his when with a final, determined thrust, Sukuna’s bottoming out. Your pussy lips smooching both his sexy circular tattoos with their first-ever kiss. For the first time in a thousand years. For the first time in his life-

This is what it feels like - this is what it looks like.

You were so stuffed past the brim that you could feel your pressurized ears pop! White-hot pleasure flashing behind your lids when your mouth opens with a raw shrill. 

“So? S’it feel good bein’ all ruined inside?” He’s tittering - choking on rude little whimpers threatening to spill from his even ruder lips. 

“Yes- please it f-feels so…”

And then you’re cumming.

“Oh? Cummin’ already just from taking that cock you said was hngh- t-toooo fuckin’ big?” He leaves a few ravenous bites over the tender crook of your neck. “What a heh- slutty cunt o’ mine.”

Sukuna’s realizing before you when his hips rut upwards into the tight fit to pound you through your high, over and over slapping his heavy cockheads against every tiny geyser of an orifice. Until you felt like you were about to burst-

“O-ohhh look at that gorgeous ngh- bulge.” Sukuna’s voice bleeds its way into a whimper - whimper. And if any other curse saw that heart-eyed filter in his gaze, the way his smile grows simpering, then they’d faint. “Almost makes me think of something…else.”

You, all round and glowing - and not just from the thorough rummage of his dual shafts messing up your poor insides. Outlined with thick cylindrical bumps forming their way at your precious womb. 

The sight is enough to make Sukuna’s heavy-handed cockheads glaze your mushy cervix with a few ribbony spurts of pre. Flooding. Overspilling. Enough do that he’s digging in a thumb hard to feel for the soppingly wet thwack! of those volumes of velveteen splatters.

Murmuring, “Y’know…how do ya feel about the curses getting an ah- new heir, brat? And their very own queen.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - 7.64 inches

“Shhhh, jus’ an inch more- only an i-inch, pretty.” Ino’s heaving, his plummy, split-ended cockhead gushing out a lazy few rivulets of syrupy pre down your sappy slit. “I know that you can do it…take s’more f’me?”

“I-I want to-” you’re gasping out, legs wrangling an even tighter grip around the slender curve of your beloved boyfriend’s toned hips. Mashing his ridged washboard abs against the sensitive backs of your thighs, “But I don’t know if it’ll fit…”

You say that but you can already feel the way your elastic cunt was constricting and molding to the exact sinful curvature of Ino’s swollen cock. Wanting more more more-

But how could you not?

He was so unfairly pretty - fat, burling inches that rummaged your insides with a sugary layer of sloshing precum. It’s like his plump tip was bawling with every smack! down your puckering pussylips, reddening with an innocent flush that matched his cute cheeks. 

“I want it- no, need it to ah- g-go all the way inside-” Ino’s panting begs stumble into your deliriously open maw, the slick gyrations of his tongue tasting you. Savoring. Ringed fingers splayed out and pressing down hard onto the heaving surface of your tummy. “-need everyone t-to know how I’ve ngh- ruined ya for them.”

It’d only taken one sneaking glance at the way some loser at your work was a little too close, a little too…flirty. Simply one spark of that green-eyed monster inside him for Ino to all but drag you home and bend you into such a mean mating press. 

His pummeling hips even meaner. Babbling with every dousing swab of his fattened cockhead probing into your goopy depths. Pushing and pushing. “W-wanna be good f’you, y’know? Wanna be…yours.”

“Ngh- s-sweet-talker-” You’re spitting out, heart lurching oh-so-traitorously at the little blush dusting its merry way all over Ino’s handsome cheeks. He’s ready to burst into flames when you’re hiccuping, “Fuck me, baby- with all of you.”

Those words are barely out of your mouth - the thought barely even registering in Ino’s fuzzy scribble of a brain right now before he’s tugging his hips back a sodden inch and sinking in.

“Mhmmm- don’t worry, pretty-” Ino’s gruffing, scorching beads of sweat forming a dotty mosaic over his blissed-out features. “-Taku’s gonna make it fit- h-heh, yeahhhh m’gonna make it ngh- fit-” So snug that he can’t pound into the way he wants you. Huffing at the resistance, he’s latching onto your peaked clit with a pointed pinch. “-or m’gonna die trying hah.”

A promise - well and fully intended to be made true. 

Abs flexing with every tight little grind that whacks against your sweetened spots, short. Punctuating. Harder and harder until you’re hearing a watery pap! and Ino’s finally - finally - driving you overwhelmingly full with the ruthless dab of his angry, peach-pink shaft impaling open your deepest insides. 

“O-oh.” Ino’s breathing out, chestnut eyes bulging out almost comically at the sloppy trawl of his rock-hard cock in and out. “It fit- it…it actually fit. Mhm- s’that too big for ya, pretty?”

And Ino loved your smart mouth - he loved whatever honeyed syllable would drivel from your pretty lips. But seeing you like this - gasping, and fucked oh-so-dumb on his cock - Ino thinks that he could cum right here and now.

“R-right now?” Your breath hitches, chest heaving to steady your gulping inhales. Impossible with the way that his girthy, rotund cockhead was skimming against what felt like your lungs. 

But oh, you weren’t the only one with your sanity dancing away from you with every plunging jackhammer. Ino looked so ruined - his pretty eyes doeing down till they were almost closed, drizzles upon drizzles of drool flooding out and slicking down his mouth, hanging pathetically open when he’s realizing-

Shit, did he say that out loud?

Oh, well. 

“And so wh-what?” Ino’s huffing out - meant to be much more smug than the pouty whine it actually came out as. Lower lip wobbling out in a watery way, “Wanna fill ya u-up until yer overspilling, sweetness- until I can’t hahah- fit again.”

He’s making such a sappy mess down there as if already fulfilling those promises. One clammily prespired hand latching around your throat to crane your neck into a tender kiss. 

“Wanna fuck a b-baby into ya- ngh- fuck ya until they know I did it-” He’s snarling - alabaster canines beared in a giggle. “Till they s-see you all ah- round and glowing and see me me me me- that coworker’s gonna know that I-I did that. That I fucked you s-so full.” 

Heavy thighs planting flat onto the cushiony mattress, and from the woozy corner of your eye you’re spotting a few bedcoils spring brokenly upwards. “Gonna gimme that, aren’tcha?” He’s breathing. Begging. Eyes fuzzy with a heavy clingfilm of utter loving that he was bestowing upon you with every pap! pap! pap! “Make me a dad, mama?”

Shrilling out hoarsely, “Yes- yes yes yes- I- fuck! M’close, Taku…m’gonna cum-”

Ah, just as you do - Ino plants a gliding thwack! against your g-spot so hard that it makes your eyes criss-cross with utter pleasure. Tumbling into your orgasm headfirst and dragging your dear Ino with it, too. 

Each peaked crevice of your high being followed by the wettest slap of his lathering cum into your most tenderized spots, fucking his seed into you so viciously that you feel bloated. Eyes drooping fatiguely, your nails dragging red, red patterns down his rigorously flexing back. 

It was heaven. 

You can’t think of anything but the slow puddle of viscous seed dribbling from between your slippery slit, nothing but how full you felt. Barely even noticing the creaking protests of the bedframe that was suspiciously sagging from one end.

Broken. 

And when Ino’s blinking his vision back - letting his mouth drool at the sloppy slosh of his ribbony sap clinging around him like a second skin - the only thing he can utter is a low, “S-so…I don’t think we’ve ngh- made our son just yet.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - 11.01 inches

“Aw c’mooon, my girl. Too big- s’too big, riiight?” Fuck- it was. And Gojo already knew with every cocky snicker that wafted over the back of your neck like an oven. He’s plumping his lips down your spine in a sleazy kiss. “Jus’ admit it n’ I might play…nice.”

As if. 

The strongest would never play nice when he had you like this.

When he had his fat, strawberry pink tip French kissing your gluey walls so open. Bumping up against your precious insides to indent every ridge and curvaceous vein against your overstuffed pussy - so staggeringly full. But he still wasn’t done. Barely. 

So ridiculously long and pretty - a size to match up that mean ego of his. Eleven inches? He didn’t even have to try to drive you insane. 

Gojo was flushed the most candied palettes of pink and red, all the way up to his thickened base. Slender fingers curling dexterously around the white tufted hilt to slowly empty out thick drags of buttery pre just past your throbbing g-spot. “Unless ya want-” Inching ever-so-sinfully closer. “-more?”

It was just a little tease - really, it was. Something to make your cute pout jut out, and your gooey insides clench.

But what Gojo didn’t expect was for thick, viscous droplets of saliva to splatter from between your lips at the sheer mind-numbing stretch. Babbling out into the spit-lathered mess of a pillow. “I- I want- ngh- Toru…”

“Yes yes, your dear Toru is hah- here.” And shit, he can’t help but saddle a strong forearm around your neck to hoist your lolling head upwards in a rude headlock. Making such a mess of glimmering dribble seep into the bulging bicep around your neck. You’re feeling the sappy drag of his long tongue down those puddled splatters of spittle, “Talk to me…tell me…complain about how big I am- I know you want to.”

You’re gasping when he’s leaving a pretty stinging smack! against your treacly cunt, muscular thighs shuffling against your own like a second skin. “I want…”

Every garbling syllable of your pretty voice making him twitch. Depraved. “Mhm—?”

“All of it- More.”

More?

CRASH!

Shit- maybe if you were in any better state of mind you’d have noticed how the flickering yellow lamp at your bedside shatters into a zillion pieces. And how Gojo was much the same. 

Slamming one dexterous free palm down onto the already-splintered headboard, you’re catching it crack underneath his vice-like clasp when Gojo hitches his breath and pushes. Wordless. Keening. Mean maw slacking parted with a low ah! ah! ah! at the sweltering hot pulse of his ever-hardening cock.

“S-Satoru did you just get-” bigger. It’s the word you can’t bring yourself to utter even if you wanted to - because Gojo’s swatting his doughy palm to entrap your whiny words. 

Hiding your watery sobs when his engorged dick ravines past the adhesive-like grip of your slick-flooded entrance to perk up even harder. 

Rasping, “Shhhh sh sh- Another word outta you n’ m’gonna cum.” Entire herculean body hitching - shuddering - to pin you to the velvety sheets like he was practically melting into you. You’re sandwiched into the sweaty glissade of his rugged washboard abs. Jolting at the miniscule lightnings of blue that bolt from his lazily lidded eyes, “Tell me how badly ya want the hngh- biiiig stretch, sweetheart.”

So embarrassing, “I-I want the…biiig stretch, Satoru.”

He’s humming with utter delight, “Louder- more.”

“Please.” Legs kicking in impatience, “I want it- w-want your hck! biiig stretch, Toru. Want it so bad-”

“Then, b-brace yourself…heh.”

Something’s cracking - breaking - only hours and hours later do you realize that it’s your poor mahogany bedframe underneath Gojo’s utter strength. 

Knuckles whitening when one sickly sweet rut has his toned abs careening into your mounds of flesh. And that tight little bout of resistance makes him stutter out a hiss, teeth clenching. “Christ, s’fuckin’ tight- n-need more.”

You words had done such a number on him. 

And Gojo wanted more - needed it. More more more-

With a sopping pap! Gojo’s sludging his hefty length out from your elastic hole, purposefully peaking his inflated veins against those treasure troves of your tender spots. Emanating out such a sinful squelch! of wiry slick-filled slurps the moment his globular crownhead is popping out of your gooey cunt. 

“L-look downwards, my girl-” he’s mumbling, tongue slurring those pesky little whines into his words. And oh, Gojo himself can’t bear to spy his ravenous gaze down below because of that dangerous little high building up at his tight, nudging balls. Can’t bear to do anything but let his sapphire gaze droop half shut. 

Tumbling your head down, “Toru what do you- oh!”

Gojo was so fucking needy. That mouthwateringly sculptured arm around your neck taking its second favorite position to warp around his sweltering hot cock and squeeze. 

You can only watch when he’s beading out wispy little ropes of precum that gloss your pussy lips a creamy white. Connecting delicate little ropes of your sweet, sweet juices to his bawling cockhead.

It was soiling his hand ivory, his wrist, his cloudy happy trail - he was being so messy. 

“Yeah- see this? Take a loooong hah- hard look, sweetheart. Yer gonna take this entire c-cock, m’kay–?” Gojo’s nuzzling his sweat-glimmered cheek down your down, stray strands of white sticking to your skin. Pumping his fist harder - harder. He’s scooping up a syrupy few dredges of sap to poke into your awe-struck mouth, “Gonna take i-it all. No matter how big- mhm?”

You’re whining when his intimidating length nestles between your thighs and pulses, the very brim of his curved tip swiping a sweltering hot drag of pre about half-way down your tummy. The size difference looked so sinful.

And you’re barely nodding - barely whimpering out a polite yes, please - before your mind shatters with the feeling of being split-apart. With every hidden nook and cranny caverning your sloppy pussy being stretched to the max.

“Yeah- yeah yeah c’mon-” Gojo’s begging. Pearly white teeth digging into his pulpy lower lip when his blushing shaft fringes down your clingy walls. “Go inside- fit- please- need ta give m-my girl everythin’.”

Needed - not wanted. 

Gojo doesn’t even have to try for his left-leaning curve to locate your most coveted spots, spurting out waterfalling little geysers of slick from between your thighs with every gulping inch.

“Oh- oh mmpf!” You’re mewling when his furious divot mashes into your nearby g-spot. Easily. Too easily that you’re half-wondering whether he’s using his Six Eyes. “It’s s-shoo deep.”

You’re being jostled in a sultry dance back and forth when Gojo’s planting rummaging pound after pound just to fit inside. The slamming smack! smack! smack! of his muscular thighs imprinting against the backs of yours fucking out each and every coherent thought out of your mind. 

And with absolutely no hesitation, he’s skimming numerous buzzing fingertips from one hand over to toy around your clit and pinch. Barely even realizing the startling spark of jujutsu that makes you yelp-

“Toru- wh-what did we say about…” Shrilling shrieks withering away on your tongue when- what were you complaining about again? Gojo’s incredible inches sheath their cozy way into your gummy cunt - fully. “O-oh.”

Oh was right. 

Because he had finally bottomed-out. Finally. Gasping at the sudden thud! of those ladder-like abs smooching the pretty curve of your ass. The bouncing recoil of his swollen cockhead against your pulpy cervix. Gojo can’t help but run his hands over your jiggling flesh to make sure - to register that this was real. 

Having your slobbery pussy wrapped around every needy inch of him? This must be a dream.

He’s struggling to catch his breath, gulps sounding high. Thumbing apart your sodden pussyflaps, Gojo’s rich baritone hitches adorably. “You- yer really m-milkin’ my entire fuckin’ cock…” 

Bleary eyes snapping open and veering pathetically cross-eyed, Gojo’s snowy brows scrunch achingly together when both stumbling hands latch onto your waist and pounces a harsh thrust. Thickened, hefty balls swatting your clit heavily. Once. Twice. 

And the third - barely even a swirling gyration of his slicked-up cock drilling into the spongy flesh of your cervix before he cums. Cums and cums so hard that it feels like copious orgasms upon orgasms piling all into one.

Feeling like he was bursting - just like the wreckage of generators across all twenty-three special wards in Tokyo this very second. Electricity flickering, Gojo’s eyes glowing, and you two don’t even notice the way the bed crashes! down onto the carpeted floors as if it had been hovering a slight inch.

“W-wait tha’s cheating-” he’s puffing out furiously, but he can’t stop. Luscious ounces of seed gumdropping out from his divot to laminate your poor cervix - no doubt battered and bruised at this point. A fat thumb of his caps your leaky slit with the voluminous dredges of splattering cum gushing haplessly out of you. “This is s’pposed to s-stay inside, sweetheart.”

It was too much - you were overfilled to the very brim of your glistening pussy folds. 

But Gojo didn’t sound upset - not in the slightest.

No, in fact, he was smiling. 

Cerulean pupils molding practically heart-eyed, a burning blush washes over those handsome cheeks and all the way down to his still-twitching, still-hard cock- “Sooooo…marry me?”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - 8.89 inches

“S’for your own good, angel.”

“B-but, Hiromi–” Oh, you were already winning - and you knew it - you’re feeling that perky little dab of syrupy pre that butters up your insides. Just the mere sound of your voice enough to make Higuruma twitch, “I want you now.”

To make him jolt, to make him sigh. 

Long, dextrous fingers of his tightening around that vice-like little restraint of his tie shackled around your neck - just the scratchy dig of that velvety fabric into your tender flesh makes you lightheaded. 

“I already told ya.” Higuruma’s sighing, sleepy eyes peaking up at where your trembly figure was riding the fucking soul out of him. Or, at least, was supposed to. “Don’t want ya hah- hurtin’ yerself the first time ya take me, don’t want my girl’s pussy sore.”

But what you were aching for right now was him. 

Bucking your hips in a stubborn little up and down that makes his thin lips curl, canines bared. Feral. “Fine- slutty angel.”

And you barely have the time to process his words - to process the stinging sensation of his formal office tie constricting around your throat. Before Higuruma’s dragging you down with a thorough flick of his wrist, leveraging the merciless tightrope of his tie to feed your needy cunt inch by fucking inch. 

He’s not stopping when you gasp, not even when big, globular bouts of tears lather your lashes dripping wet. Only pulling you to him like some glorified sex toy- 

“H-Hiromi-” your clammy palms clasp around his pale, bulging biceps to squeeze. Spine arching at the way his staggering size was opening you so deliciously.

“Mhmmm, m’here m’here. Biiig stretch, isn’t it?” Bouncing those bulky, muscular hips of his with years upon years of practice in battle. And right now you were on the receiving end of his ruthlessness, your pussy lips being smeared agape at the hefty cylindrical shaft being bullied into you. “Easy there, girl. Easy. You can take m-my ngh- big cock.”

And Higuruma barely even had to try to get you all shattered on his cock like this was. Because his cock? The absolute prize of your wettest dreams. 

He was so thick and long, nearing nine inches that bumped his throbbing walls in a lewd little massage down your precious treasure trove of sweet spots. That left-leaning angle of his curvature was so droolworthy, meshing a sodden French kiss easily against the bullseye of your g-spot.

But what had you spellbound - what had you so dizzy - right now wasn’t just the stretch. No, it was that tiny, orbing little piercing studded right underneath Higuruma’s deeply indented slit. 

“Hey, doin’ ah- good, angel?” The chilling patch of his metal stud wrenching out the cutest little whimpers from your heated mouth, falling further and further slack with every pretty peck. Every tiny swab of his length being overstuffed into you. “Only an inch more- juuust an i-inch more n’ I want ngh- you to milk it for me.”

“M-me?” You’re pointing at yourself, as if there was anyone else here in this heady bedroom.

“Tha’s right-” Blinking away the clingy film of lust surrounding your eyes, you’re finally noticing the air of something instinctually primal in your dear Higuruma’s ravenous gaze. So at odds with the gentle kiss placed onto your prespired forehead. “While I get some hah- work done, angel.”

Your hips tense when he’s reaching out to grab the phone that had been buzzing on the bedside drawer for quite a while now. Only to get jostled into motion once more with a soft swat! planted onto your jiggling ass. 

Turning the flashing screen to emblazon your vision with the name, Shiu Kong (Work) 

Oh?

Oh.

At your filthy nod, Higuruma’s puffing out a shuddered bout of laughter. Before sliding one fat thumb across the screen and answering, “Hello? Shiu?” Head tilting to the side, another manhandling haul of Higuruma’s massive palm keeps you riding him. “Yeah, I can heh- talk right now.”

“S-so mean–” you’re mumbling, thoroughly not expecting for him to hear and punish another smack! against your ass. 

You couldn’t hear the response - you didn’t even realize that the audio could even hear you before he’s babbling on. 

“The meeting- Oh, that? Ah, jus’ my lovely wife.” Gasping, because Higuruma hadn’t proposed…yet. And the way he was sidling your gummy cunt with hefty, vicious pound after pound to lose himself - to melt into your unsteady arms - made you think he just might. Soon. “She’s uh…strugglin’ with somethin’ ya see.”

Fuck- he knew exactly how to make you work. 

But you knew exactly how to work. 

One hand splaying out between the sweaty valley of Higuruma’s plush chest, you’re eyeing with satisfaction as his dark brows raise. Squeezing that overpriced fabric wrapped around his thick fingers to muffled your leaking whimpers - to choke-

Only for his sharp jaw to fall parted, breath hitching when you jerk your fatigued thighs and ride. Deeper. Sloppier. Further and further until with a heaving shudder your ass smacks against his with a ringing pap!

Loud. 

Undeniable. 

His hefty breeder balls colliding into the jiggling curve of your ass, Higuruma’s massive cock embedding a few perfectly rounded bruises into the back of your pulpy cervix. Streaking a lazy line drawn by his bulbed piercing across each and every sweeping fissure inside you. Once. Twice. 

Again and again-

“A-ah, what?” He’s bumbling absent-mindedly into the speaker, and you’ve never seen him sound so shaky before. Deep baritone cracking into a few whimpering cracks towards the end when one of his thumbs swipe your puffed-up pussylips to take a long look at that heavenly sight. “Oh…oh yeah. My wife- sh-she got it…finally.”

And it’s only when you’re drawing out the most whipped splatters of slicked pre, when you’re steadying your precarious hands onto his sculptured biceps and slamming a sloppy cadence. Humming, “Y-yeah. Real cute, isn’t she?”

Only when Higuruma looks like he’s on the very verge of ending the call that you’re musing how Shiu must know already.

That blasphemous question on the very tip of your tongue before Higuruma’s attractive eyes widen, chuckling out at words exchanged over the phone that you couldn’t make out. Yet. 

“Oh?” Yeah, Shiu totally knew. Dark eyes boring right into your heart-eyed depths, and when you nod he’s cracking a smile. Pussydrunk. “Mhm, sure, we can videocall.”

A/N. HIGURUMA NATION HOW ARE WE FEELING???

Plagiarism not authorized.

[flowerymenendez]

Your boyfriend loved playing with your pussy. And, no, not in a sexual way.

You were cuddling, your back resting against his chest while his tired eyes were fixed on the TV after a long day. Your legs were spread and his big hands were subconsciously roaming lazily over your relaxed body, down, down until he reached the waistband of your pretty panties. You glanced down at his hand when he slid it under your underwear, meeting your soft pussy lips.

You looked up at him when he started rubbing and pinching your folds only to see your almost sleepy boyfriend staring at the TV, very drawn into the show. He didn't even look at you, not even a slight flinch. Because, well, he was too damn relaxed, watching TV while playing with your pussy because he loved how soft and puffy it was.

You whimpered lowly, turning your attention back to the TV while he kept molding your pretty pussy.

A few minutes later, you started squirming when he accidentally rubbed your little bud, making you leak.

And, without noticing, he slid his thick fingers down to your sappy cunt, rubbing small circles over it before moving them back to your clit, making it throb.

You bit your lip, lifting your hips against his hand, meanwhile he chuckled softly at the forgotten TV show in the background.

He kept playing with your clit and cunt until you were all soaked, holding back your moans when your clit started throbbing deliciously against his fingers while you orgasmed.

Finally, he looked down at you, noticing his very flushed and lustful little girlfriend. Then, his eyes moved down to his hand, sliding it out of your panties. His fingers were sticky, soaked with your arousal.

[holeforzenin]

You were just standing there next to him, minding your own business and clinging to his arm while he tries to pick between two different brands of instant ramen like it was a life-or-death decision—when suddenly, they appeared.

A small group of girls, giggling too loudly with each other and having absolutely no shame as if they weren’t in a public space. They stepped way too close and crowded Choso, brushing his arm, and leaning into his space.

“Hey, you’re really tall—do you model?”

“Your eyelashes are so long, that’s not fair!”

“Aww, Is that your little sister?” one of them snorted as she looked you up and down, not even bothering to lower her voice.

Choso blinked confusedly, lips parting slightly but no words came out, totally frozen in place. He wasn’t used to this. Flirting? With strangers? In public? His brain short-circuited. He clutched the ramen in his hand like it might save him.

You just raised your eyebrows, trying not to laugh at his reaction. You could feel the heat and nervousness radiating off of him—your poor shy boyfriend, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

Then he just snapped.

His hand suddenly slid around your jaw and grabbed it—squishing your cheeks together and tilting your face up to meet his and before you could even gasp, his mouth was on yours.

It wasn’t a soft kiss or a polite peck.

No, this was messy and heated—teeth clashing together, spit and tongues tangling, his lips moving desperately and hungrily against yours while his other big hand found your waist and yanked you flushed against him like he was staking a claim.

You squeaked into his mouth with wide eyes, completely shocked—your fingers gripping his shirt for balance because fuck he was holding you so tightly.

One of the girls stammered something like “oh!” and another let out a nervous laugh, but Choso didn’t stop. He kissed you like he forgot where you were, like he didn’t care that you were standing in the middle of the aisle right between chips and cup noodles with wide-eyed strangers watching.

When he finally broke the kiss, your lips were shiny, your eyes dazed and your breath came out in tiny pants.

He turned to the girls—flushed pink and slightly panting with a hardened cock and muttered, “She’s my girlfriend”.

Silence.

Then, with the confidence of a man who just devoured his girl in front of God and everyone else, he decided to grab both of the ramen packs he was having problems deciding from and mumbled, “Let’s go, baby,” tugging you away with a death grip on your hand.

(You didn’t stop smiling the entire walk to the register).

[fawniette]

ᰔ  .  jujutsu kaisen twitter links !  ୧

⟢ 18 + content ꒱ ˎˊ˗ minors do not interact

꒰ satoru gojo ꒱ ୧

⟡ giving him a handjob while he sucks your tits

⟡ fingering you with suguru

⟡ he loves teasing your pussy before fucking you

⟡ titty fucking with satoru

꒰ suguru geto ꒱ ୧

⟡ eating you out while you jerk him off

⟡ fucking you in the backseat of his car

⟡ playing with your pussy

⟡ touching all over each other after a long day

꒰ kento nanami ꒱ ୧

⟡ fucking you on the edge of the bed

⟡ letting you grind on his cock

⟡ nanami fingering you on his lap

⟡ holding your hands while he fucks you from behind

꒰ toji fushiguro ꒱ ୧

⟡ big beefy toji fucking you from behind

⟡ playing with your ass while you fuck yourself on his cock

⟡ eating you out like a starved man

⟡ making you squirt all over the bed

꒰ ryomen sukuna ꒱ ୧

⟡ sitting on sukuna’s face

⟡ how sukuna fucks the attitude out of you

⟡ forcing you to get off without him

⟡ sukuna loves stretching you out

꒰ choso kamo ꒱ ୧

⟡ choso loves your tits

⟡ teasing him with your clothed pussy

⟡ bondage with choso

⟡ fucking you into the mattress after teasing him all day

[screampied]

34+35 𝜗𝜚

❤︎ sum. can you stay up all night? fuck him ‘till the daylight, 34 + 35? nanami kento, ijichi kiyotaka, geto suguru, choso kamo, gojo satoru, sukuna ryomen, toji fushiguro

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, 69, manhandling, ass-obsessed men, true form! sukuna, fíngering, mirror séx, squírting, riding ijichi’s glasses, cunnīlingus, bjs, spanks, riding their tongues, praise, implied marathons, sukuna’s stomach tongue, overstim, pússydrunk men, messy eating, milking them, breedīng mentions, dirty talk, petnames.

✩ ˛˚ . IJICHI KIYOTAKA

“oh,” ijichi would gulp, basking in your slick glory that’s located between your cracked thighs. you’re arched over, holding your hips up while he laid flat on his back against the bed. as a mere taunt, you wriggle your ass against his face and you hear a small gasp depart from his thinly-parted lips. “ ‘s this position comfortable for you, m’ love?”

“mhmhm,” you’d hum, wrapping a hand around his vein-covered cock. from all girthy sides and angles, its decorated with prominent veins that prodded solely at the way your thumb rubbed against his tender foreskin. it even had a cute ‘lil curve on the side. “don’t be shy, ‘jichi. i’ll just be down here.”

with a teasing, sweet shimmy of your hips, your sloppy cunt ends up imprinting against ijichi’s squared glasses lenses. beforehand, he asked if he should take them off but oh, you insisted for him to keep them on.

right then, you moaned, feeling his tongue give your dripping folds a few flicks before he pushed the metal bridge back up his nose. “s- so pretty,” he’d murmur huskily, groaning mellowly once he felt the tip of your tongue slither around his ruby-colored tip. he’s still so sensitive, and ijichi squeezed the left cheek of your ass before giving it a soft sharp smack. “mngh- keep . . keep doin’ that, m’love. use your tongue like that ‘n ride against my- hah- face, fuck-”

it’s barely been a few seconds and ijichi’s already rendered completely speechless. as you arched your back over the top of his chest, he had a clear 20/20 vision of your dripping, glistening pussy steamily clouding his eyesight. with your panties lazily shoved to the side, he slides a thumb down your already pulsating clit that’s thump thump thumping.

“o… oh, wow,” he breathes shakily, guiding his thumb more up toward your sticky, dripping cunt. as ijichi was buried between your thighs, he was already feeling his mouth starting to water like a dog. it takes him a bit to actually find your clit, but when he does - you let off a sweet mewling sound that could easily pass for a harmony.

up close, your pussy was just so so pretty. in an erotic, carnal way - it even resembled a flower. his thumb softly pulled at the flap of your folds and you moaned, feeling his lukewarm tongue slickly dip its way inside. “am i doing this right?”

“you’re doin’ perfect, ijichi,” you moaned, making sure to lather your dripping tongue all over his darkly-red tip. he sucked in a short-winded breath beneath you, using his other hand to tug on his unkempt tie. his breathy, shallow pants aired against your cunt and you bit your lip, wriggling your slick core more swiftly against his face. “use your tongue a little more and- and, don’t be shy to be a little nasty.”

nasty.

ijichi’s ears perked, and he felt his dick twitch instantly in the palm of your hand. as you started to gradually fit his length inside of the cozy warmth of your mouth, he sighs deeply.

“okay-” he grunts, dragging your hips back just a bit more. your pussy wetly slides over the bridge of his nose before landing back on his compressed lips. he’s already starting to spasm with you on top of him, and ijichi’s now slurping your pussy. every few seconds, you’d feel the cold square lenses of his glasses tickle against your folds. “mngh-” he moans, feeling you cup a hand over his swollen base. they felt so full, and you hummed with a slight smile, just imagining how much of a load he was probably hiding.

you covered your teeth with your lips as you continued to go down - lapping up any glittery drop of saliva that spewed down the sides of his heavy cock. “mhm,” you muffled a sweet moan, hollowing your cheeks while feeling his tongue hungrily strum its way back ‘n forth against your g-spot.

it makes you shudder for a second, and you almost slip off another moan. ijichi was loudly moaning the entire time though, and he couldn’t help it.

it was just the way your tongue steadily glided its way down one of his veins before you popped your mouth back up to his tip was an echoing pop. while you continued, you brought your hands down toward your bare breasts before giving them a soft squeeze.

instantaneously, ijichi’s dark hooded eyes trailed down just for a quick peek and he murmured out a shaky, ‘oh f- fuck,’ once he saw you cupping your pretty tits whilst bobbing your head up and down on his curved shaft. “y- you’re so hot,” he huffed, dragging a hand through his neatly-gelled hair. “i’m not gonna… last m’love, not when you’re moving your pretty ass against my glasses like t- this.”

“didn’t say you could stop eating, ‘jichi.” you briefly popped his crowned tip from your slick-coated lips, steadying your rocky hips against his face. behind you, you heard him let off a throaty groan before his tongue tenderly flicked at your clit thrice. the gluey sap that dripped from your folds perfectly decorated a good portion of his lips, and that’s when ijichi started to pant even more.

“ ‘m sorry, f- fuck,” he whines between your legs, feeling your lips wrap back ‘round his aching length. taut gripping fingers tug at your perk ass before he’s rolling his tongue everywhere, feeling the sticky fog of your pussy cling against the lens of his prescription glasses. “ ‘m gonna cum. can’t hold-”

with a small smile, you whispered out a small, “go ahead,” before teasingly guiding the tip of your lukewarm tongue down his veiny cock. pants of pleasure surged through every part of ijichi’s body, and while his tongue was still buried inside of your clit, he finally releases. his wet lips were all glossy and raw-bitten as he pursed them, letting off a hoarse moan before his neck fell limp against his pillow. “t- that’s it, let go for me, baby.”

when ijichi came - he came hard.

his tip erupted like a volcano, remnants of his creamy mess spouting down your hand so warmly like hot magma. within an instance, you slowly traced your tongue around his leaking tip whilst letting off a content hum at his tangy taste. “ugh-” he swallows, feeling his limp body beneath you stiffen. ijichi was shaking while you continued to slither your wet tongue over his sensitive frenulum. “your tongue alone might just hah- make me propose, sweetheart.”

as your brows came together, you brought his leaking tip back away from your lips before turning around, and facing him. “oh?” you sweetly quipped, pressing both palms on his wrinkled business shirt. “well, are you?”

“maybe,” he breathes roughly, and you slip off a gasp once he suddenly spins you around, making you fall flat back against your chest. ijichi stares at your backside before pouting, re-adjusting his glasses whilst pressing his face close to your dripping pussy. “ahem, but first-” he clears his throat, and you moaned once he languidly slipped his thick ring finger inside of your folds, watching it disappear.

“l- let me practice my proposal, m’love.”

✩ ˛˚ . TOJI FUSHIGURO

“ah, c’mere,” toji grunts, dragging your hips back. callused, stubby fingertips softly pierce into the plush flesh of your hips before he positions you. instinctively, you raise your hips while getting a straight view of toji’s hard bulge poking through his denim-blue boxers. “park that pretty pussy, atta girl.” and you moaned, feeling the flatness of toji’s smooth tongue greet your drooling cunt with a starving wet lick.

as you looked in front of you - oh, he’s fucking hard.

your hand wrapped around his thick cock before you shyly flicked your tongue over his slit. gruffly, toji grumbles lowly beneath you before he uses two big hands to spread your cute squirming ass apart.

at the sound of a slick wet ‘pft’ - you gasped, feeling toji’s saliva abruptly trickle down. as you choked back whimpers, you delicately rubbed a thumb down his veiny shaft before gingerly sinking him into your mouth.

“fuuuck, that’s it, baby girl,” toji groans against your dripping heat, playfully capturing your clit with his teeth for a split second before releasing. toji was always nasty and he had no shame at all. he was always an eater and you and him both knew that.

slimy, glittery spit cascades down your puffed slit the more he continued to devour you. “work that fuckin’ throat like you always know how to do, mhm,” and you’re already drooling from the corners of your mouth as both of your cheeked puffed out from how full it was.

his cock’s just stupidly fat - it’s got a hanging curve of its own as it leaned, and his thick girth that prodded against the inside of your cheeks had you short-circuiting within seconds. every time you felt toji’s tongue sloppily zigzag its way through your cunt like a maze, your back arched further.

“ngh-” you’d let off a muffled mewl, trying to keep your focus in front of you. as your left palm continued to twist around toji’s hardened cock, your head finally started to bobble after a while. he’s underneath you the entire time, sliding his burly arms toward your thighs before teasingly pulling you closer to his starving mouth.

“awh, wish you could see how much of a crybaby you are right here between yer legs, sweet girl,” toji rasps, dragging his tongue across his lips before feeling you already starting to dampen his patchy stubble. “sooo damn wet for me that she’s cryin’ little crocodile tears,” he snickers, dipping his long tongue inside of your cunt only to snatch it right back out. your legs trembled over toji’s face and he lowly laughed against your pussy, giving it a cocky pat. “so cute.”

“s- shiiit, toji,” you drawled out a sobbing whine, wetly popping his reddish-shaded tip out of your mouth. it’s loud, reverbing briefly through the four walls of your shared apartment before your toes promptly clenched. “ ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum, your t- tongue’s so d-”

as toji grabbed your hips, making you sit flat on his face, he grumbled against your soddened pussy. “not deep enough? yeah, i agree. hold still,” and you audibly gasped - much louder this time once his tongue expanded further inside you.

strands of his matted black hair tickled against you as he lolled his tongue against your salivating heat again and again ‘till you could practically taste your candied release. you’re rocking against his mouth as you still face the other way, moaning once his fingerprints harshly dug into the fat of your tender flesh. “ride it.”

“ride wh-”

“girl you heard me,” toji smacks his lips, hoarsely swatting a palm against your ass before taking a second to collect air in his raspy lungs. “ride it.”

you knew what he meant the second you heard him slip off a lewd ‘ah.’ toji’s tongue laid flat, and he held up your rickety hips from his face for just a moment before you prepared a sharp breath.

“o- okay,” you pressed your glossed lips together, slowly lowering your ass back down against his mouth. from nose to chin - oh, toji’s face was just smeared with your glimmering slick. it adds a sort of lewd shine to his face, and you caught a slight peek of it from craning your head back.

the creaking bed beneath you both seismically shook, its impact almost equivalent to an earthquake with the way your aching hips rocked and rocked over toji’s mouth. he’s got his pink tongue rolled out flat whilst he’s baring his verdant-green eyes into the rotating flesh of your ass. “mhm,” he gifts the right cheek of your ass a stinging mean slap, dragging out a sweet pitiful whimper from your lips.

a wave of rapture cascades down your veins as you twirl your hips ‘round, already spasming from his sloppy elongated slurps. you slid the tip of your tongue down his length whilst your free hand started to reverse its wet twists around his cock. “yeaaah, girl. use that.. hah- tongue.”

as a bit of your saliva poured from your droopy lips, you whimpered - feeling toji’s teeth softly nibble at your clit. he’s ruthless, using both hands to sprawl your ass apart wider before trailing his tongue up to lap near your neglected hole. your back remained arched as he slurped you clean, making sure the tip of his salivating tongue prodded through every wet part of your convulsing pussy. but after a few seconds, your body had about just enough.

you squealed, feeling yourself writhe on his flicking tongue while your vision temporarily turned into nothing but splotches of white. “f- fuuuck,” you’d drag out, gasping once your release finally came. it slams into you at full force, and your jaw tensed. you could still hear toji’s slick hungry slurps from behind you, and that’s when your legs cutely collapsed. “tojiiiii, toji-” and all you could babble out with his name as your weak hand still wrapped around his hardened cock.

“tsk,” he clicks his tongue, sliding a fat thumb down your pulsating clit before darting his tongue down your weeping opening. you moaned, feeling the edge of his scarred lips smear itself against your pussy and you could also feel the stretching grin growing across his lips as he stayed beneath your numbed legs. “poor thing. my girl’s just about had it, hm?”

and once he heard you cutely flop on the cushioned mattress, toji sits up, licking your slick clean from his now sheeny lips. “aw, my tongue too much for you?” he huskily utters, leaning his head down, kissing near the top part of your slobbering cunt. even still - you were shaking, fluttering from the after effects of his maddened tongue, and yet, you only wanted more.

toji raised a brow, seeing you suddenly arch your back again before using two fingers to spread your wet folds apart in front of him. while were still silently whimpering out cute ‘lil pleads of his name, you did a cute shimmy of your ass as if you were saying, ‘more.’ “dirty girl. teasing me with my favorite meal’s only gonna do so much.”

toji then rubs the entirety of his palm against your tepidly-hot pussy before softly pushing your head back into your fluffed pillow. “but fine, just keep that pretty ass up for me while i fuckin’ eat.”

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU

satoru drinks it just like water, saying it tastes just like candy.

if it was anything about him though, it was that he’s almost always had a sweet tooth all his life - but he had to admit, there wasn’t anything sweeter than his pretty ‘lil wife who gets a little too handsy when the little ones are spending the weekends at their grandparents.

with his blindfold still on, he’s got you frantically squirming over his naturally-smirking mouth while both hands deeply gripped onto the jiggling flesh of your ass. “s- satoru,” you’d sob out a sweet gasping whimper, feeling his wry tongue crawl its way through every nook and cranny of your dripping cunt. on your own, you’re effortlessly making the bed shake with your quaky tremors and it was just so cute. “sato- fuuck.”

“you’re slidin’ again, angel,” he murmurs against your pussy, and he’s just nose-deep. the tip of satoru’s nose was wet, as well as his chiseled chin that was just prettily shining all thanks to your slick. you leaned forward, glancing down at his flushed tip that was still spilling tiny droplets of pre from all plump sides. “mngh- don’t just stare, silly girl. you can hah- give it a little kiss while i eat-”

as you’re still allowing harmonic whines to pour from the cracks of your lips, you brought your glossed lips up to the head of his cock. satoru’s happily buried between your thighs, hungrily delving his tongue in ‘n out of your cunt with such bestial haste.

“oh, my goddd,” you bit your lip, bringing a hand to wrap around his length. slipping out your tongue, you slowly rolled it around his tip in hypnotizing circles, feeling him shiver beneath you. he gives your ass a playful smack, the visible recoil of your skin causing him to groan against your pussy. “m- mhm, don’t stop, ‘toru.”

the bed beneath you both shook so much that it was easy for one to mistake it for an earthquake. with the way you fiercely rocked your hips against his mouth in such an addicting motion, satoru’s starting to moan right with you.

“good girl, use those pretty hips uh huh,” and you felt his lips suddenly depart for a second before feeling something else. as satoru’s recollected shallow airy breaths, he prods the tip of his lanky middle finger against your sobbing pussy. “real question is, is she gonna be a good wet girl ‘n open up a liiiittle more for me?”

as your lips wrapped around satoru’s cock, you let off a muffled moan once his digit started to vanish inside of your squeezing cunt. your tummy heaved, gasping silently at the tender feeling while barreling such a looong finger inside. your tongue swiped its way across his sweet-tasting tip before you started to quicken your pants.

“phew,” satoru ogles intently, staring as you kept your sprawled legs apart. he watched closely as you instantly clenched around his finger, dampening his digit within minutes. your pussy even squelched out wet little sounds of its own, and he can’t help but softly rub his thumb down your puffed clit. “guess she can. my wet wifey can just about do anything when she’s soaking for me, hmm.”

“mmngh-” you moaned, both of your legs shaking once he dipped his same finger right back out. satoru licks it clean before lolling his desirable pink tongue right back out. your mouth’s full, and you’re trying to maintain focus but failing every passing second.

satoru spreads your ass apart, shamelessly slurping your pussy as he felt the cute ‘lil pulses tickle his tongue. whilst he’s shamelessly devouring you whole, his pretty white lashes remain closed for the time being. you were spasming on his mouth as you continued to take him in your mouth.

but right then, satoru flutters his eyes open, pulling his blindfold up from his face like they another pair of your lacey panties. he snickers, using his technique to know you were just about there. “uh oh,” he murmurs, staring at the slick that’s just mindlessly dripping down your pussy. “something’s tellin’ me that my wife’s about to make a little mess.”

with a ‘pop’ - his dick departs from your lips and you inhale a breath, whimpering at the sudden pressure threatening to finally reach its peak. “satoru, something’s coming-” you mewled pathetically, reaching a hand back to grab at his unkempt white tresses. instinctively, his head leans further against your cunt and he huskily chuckles. “ ‘m gonna cum.”

“oh, i know,” he mumbles, luminous cerulean eyes fixating its gaze between your quaking thighs directly above him. satoru grabs at your doughy ass before sliding a finger back inside of your cunt again.

“go ‘head then,” and his voice was so deep - a lot silkier this time. you moaned, feeling another finger curl its way inside and he’s just slowly scissoring both digits inside of your soddened pussy. “c’mon angel, give it to me. you got it girl, riiide it all out on my tongue, mhm-”

at the low, husky cooing of his words - your pretty pitching orgasm rings through his ears.

right as you ended up squirting, you couldn’t stop the sweet little squeal that ran away from your trembling lips.

your teeth-shattering release loosens your shoulders before you whimpered, choking on your whimpers whilst you still felt him darting his tongue down your sappy entrance. “satoru, f- fuck, fuckk,” you’d trill whimperingly, continuing to feel him sloppily scrape his hot tongue through the outskirts of your pussy. “thankyouthankyou-”

“aw, you’re welcome,” satoru mumbles, noticing the slick moisture that was starting to stick down against your legs. your body still shook over him violently, and as you’re trying to recover from your recent finish, satoru gives your drooling cunt a kiss.

he even pats your wet folds with the back of his blindfold before giving your pretty pussy its last and final sloppy kiss.

“nice to hear my pretty girl’s still got manners at least heh.”

✩ ˛˚ . CHOSO KAMO

“princess,” choso sat up from between the sprawled heat of your thighs. as he licked his upper lip, from top to bottom, it was practically smeared with your shimmery essence. he’s been eating you out for hours probably, and with a glance out the window, it was already turning daylight. you looked down at him, still struggling to catch ragged, deep breaths before meeting his lust-filled gaze. choso gives your clit a single wet kiss before sheepishly grinning. “i wanna try 96. i saw it online and-”

“96?” you smiled, giving his head a soft pat. “don’t you mean 69?”

choso huffs, sitting up to lean into you. “yeah yeah, same thing,” and he brings his needy, hungry lips to yours. you returned the kiss, curling your tongue ‘round his while his cherry-mint taste exploded against your buds. “can we try?”

“okay-” you smiled against his lips. choso moaned once you playfully flicked his chest, making him flop back against the satiny-black sheets. he pulled your hips back toward his face while you wrapped a hand around his thick cock. it’s tip had a nice dark red shade, and he was still oozing a bit of pre-cum from just tasting you.

you arched your back at the most perfect angle, letting off an airy, mewl gasp once you felt his shallow breath of air against your cunt. already, choso felt himself salivating at the mouth once he single-handedly spreads your pussy with his thumb.

“oh… oh,” his expression goes slyly timid, and he even leans in to give your pussy a wet kiss. “you’re so pretty over me like this.” he whispers, watching the strings of slick messily stick onto its lips.

lazily, choso slouched back against the tottering bed frame before he wrapped an arm around your torso. he’s tenderly soft, aligning his parched mouth with your cunt as his tongue swiped its way against your clit. “m- mhm, just like that,” your voice shook, feeling his smoky breath glue against your skin.

choso was still in his boxers, and your brows curiously knit together - noticing his visible bulge that was damn near painfully poking through the cottony fabric. you arched your back just a little more, leaning in close before licking around the fat print of his bulge.

you could’ve sworn his dick twitched the second your tongue trailed itself over the fly part of his boxers. “p- princessss,” he hisses, reluctantly breaking away from your cunt to glance down at you. since you were turned the other way, he couldn’t really see much of you like he initially wanted and it made him pout. “don’t be a tease.”

“ask nicely then, baby.” you softly uttered, sliding a thumb down toward the gusset part, guiding it slightly up near the upper middle. it’s just poking out, and you could see a bit of a dampening dark-grey spot where his tip prodded at behind the fabric. choso grunts, feeling you cutely wriggle your ass against his face before he deeply sighs.

“f… fine,” he grits his teeth, dragging poised fingers down each of your wobbly thighs. “please just-” he swallows, feeling his boxers grow tighter after each nanosecond that passed. the air around him felt so hot, and he already knew he was leaking a bit of pre-cum just by your intimidating proximity.

fuck.

“please, pretty please,” choso goes back to lapping his tongue against your slick cunt, eating a sweet gasp from you. “pull my boxers down ‘n… do whatever, please, just make me mmh- feel good, princess.”

“good boy,” you mumbled, using a hand to spring out his thick cock. choso whined from your feverishly hot touch as he felt the edge of your dripping tongue skim its way around the crowned head. his tip’s a fiery blushing red, and as he presents a single kiss to your clit — he shudders underneath you. you use a thumb to rub over his slit before using a palm to wrap over his veiny cock. “mhm, how’s it feel?”

with both bodies against each other rhythmically moving in delayed sync, choso slipped off a strained whimper. “so good, s- so good, princess,” and his blurbs of whines get caught in between your cunt once he purses his swollen lips together. you moaned once choso latched his lips against your sticky pussy, giving your honeyed folds a needy, long slurp.

you brought your same thumb behind the head of his cock, slowly massaging it before lapping your tongue around a bit of his foreskin. underneath you, you heard choso’s breath get caught in his throat and it was quite cute how he forgot to breathe for a second. “more, more-”

“more please.”

“more… please.” choso repeats after you, damn near falling in love once he feels the sloppy reverse of your hand that’s softly twisting at his cock. you rocked your hips over his face as you continued, allowing a bit of shimmery spit to fall from your lips and dribble onto the crown of his plump shaft.

“m- mistress,” he hiccuped, feeling your hot mouth vacuum each side of his cock before giving his tip a slurping wet suck. “i mean mommy,” he moans again, feeling his lips quiver once he feels you licking near his tender frenulum. “i- fuck.”

you giggle at his stammering, dragging your tongue down a prominent vein that runs down the left side of his dick. choso’s running a hand through his matted black strands before he digs the top row of his teeth in his bottom lip. “you gonna cum for me, ‘cho?”

“yeah, ‘m gonna fuckin’ cummm,” he nods, staring down at the slick sides of your thighs that were just dripping with your wet mess.

choso couldn’t help but run his tongue down at the trail he created, happily relishing in your flavor before he felt himself about to burst - literally.

choso swirled his tongue inside of your pussy in exaggerated, tight circles ‘till you started to feel your legs trembling. he moans at the sight of you wriggling your ass against his face, and he even prods a thumb against your twitching clit that continuously pulsed from the numbing stimulation. “make me cum, yeah- make me f- feel good, pleaseplease-”

he continued to babble against your slick folds until he eventually came, shooting milky-white stripes of cum that messily sprayed against your hand. he’s shaking underneath you, moaning out your name in his raw hoarse voice before you started to lap the mess up.

“good hah- boy,” you breathed dryly, kissing all sides of his hooked cock. it just about fits in your palm perfectly, and he shuddered each time you toyed with his tender glands with the tip of your tongue. “did so good.”

“can you..” choso huffed weakly, a sheepish grin forming on his lips. you watched as his chest went up ‘n back down again while he was pawing clingy hands at both of your hips. you were about to turn around but he stops you, making you continue to face forward. “can you do t- that with your mouth again?” and choso aligns himself against your weeping pussy once more, coating your folds with a multitude of wet kisses.

“i think i like 96 now, h- heh.”

✩ ˛˚ . SUGURU GETO

geto’s a wild, untamed animal…

with him, he’ll leave you feeling sore for hours with all of your limbs feeling like they’re on the verge of falling right off. as he talked you through probably your third orgasm of the night, your knees buckled.

there was a long rectangular mirror that was propped up in front of you both too, mirroring every single coarse and filthy position he introduced your body to.

“f- fuuuck,” you whimpered, bringing your hips to a slowing halt as he was still buried deep inside of you. geto’s laid beneath you, staring at the ridden bouncy flesh of your ass grinding against his sharpened pelvis. his cock deeply dragged its way through your cunt, sloppily massaging your walls before you bit your lip. “fuck, sugu- ‘m still c- cumming-”

“i know,” he huffs, watching your limp body shake as your back turns the opposite way of him. your hands rested on his knees, and he couldn’t help but steal glimpses at your ass that swayed itself against him. “and i want a taste.” swiftly, he lifts you, spinning you around before pulling your legs back. you moaned, feeling his spit-glossed lips decorate a path of kisses down your tepid thighs.

dark, lust-filled eyes studied your jerking movements before he positioned you to align your ass to hover over his face.

you sucked in a windy breath, feeling geto’s tongue wetly flicks its way against your pussy and you quickly craned your head to look at him, only to feel his palm whack against your ass.

“ah, ahhh- eyes on the pretty girl up front,” geto gruffly reminds you, slightly turning your head to stare at the reflection of yourself in his propped up mirror. “all you need to worry about is keepin’ this pretty ass up for me.”

“but-”

“but-” he mocks your tone, surprising your cunt with a wet kiss, causing you to whimper. geto unapologetically spits against your glistening heat before lapping it right back up again, circling the pad of this thumb ‘round your pulsating clit. “but nothing, have some manners, sweetheart. you’ve done enough talking for the night,” and geto hums, dipping his thumb inside of your cunt with ease before gluing his lips against your core once more. instantly, slippery squelches wetly sing from between your legs and you whine, glancing at yourself in the mirror. “but she’s always got something to add, cute.”

while geto’s occupied by being between your thighs, your eyes land down at his cock. and oh, was it always so, so pretty.

his tip had a bit of a tan, and before you knew it, your spit-dribbling lips were already wrapping ‘round his fat length. “mmhhm-” you moaned, swirling your tongue over one of the many veins that prodded down his cock. he’s still got his lips latched to your pussy, rummaging the pointed tip of his tongue through every convulsing orifice ‘till you damn near screamed all three pretty syllables of his name.

in his mind, you looked ethereal like this - bent over and arched on all fours.

every time you squirmed, he sucked harder against your cunt and you were at a loss for words every time. “my tongue, pretty girl,” geto grumbles, clawing a hand at your right ass cheek. he sharply spanks it twice, hearing your sweet mewling sobs in front of him before he hoarsely groans. “fuckin’ ride on it for me, ‘m so thirsty.” and you let off muffled noises of your own, rolling your hips back. as geto’s tongue stayed lolled out, your pussy ferociously dragged itself against the flatness of his tongue.

his tastebuds never felt so hot. you moaned, feeling the middle of his tongue curls itself back before laying flat again.

you whimpered, using a hand to stroke his veiny cock while you continued to messily bob yourself up ‘n down. you’re even sloppy yourself, feeling the slippery beads of saliva pour from the corners of your lips.

after each slurp, his cock moderately grows in your mouth. “mmngh-” you moaned with your lashes momentarily shut, feeling his tip abruptly slap its way against the roof of your mouth. within minutes, your chin was starting to shine with your saliva and you only wanted more.

“that’s my girl, fuck,” geto groans against your pussy that drenched him from his nose to his pointed chin. with two clammy hands, geto pulls your hips back a bit once he watches you squirm. immediately, your hips buckled and flopped against his chest with his dick still keeping the left inside of your cheek company. “mmgh-”

minutes pass with you still taking geto’s hefty cock in your mouth with his lips still greedily attached to your cunt. the both of you came at an overwhelming high so fast that you could almost taste your orgasmic finish on the tip of your tongue. as geto continued to lap at the remnants of dripping saliva that tried to pour down your slit, he’s feeling his shaft tighten by the second. not even a nanosecond passed before a raw, throaty groan leaves from him.

“oh, f- fuck,” he stammers, and he’s cumming - hard, aiming straight at the back of your throat. his hips fiercely piston along with your own hips madly shaking over his laid-out tongue.

it’s got a bitterly sweet tang that makes you hum, feeling geto moderately pour his mess inside your mouth. you softly twisted his veiny length with one hand before lewdly popping his dick from between your slickly-wet lips.

“mhm,” you hummed, still panting as you took a second to swallow. geto was literally melting underneath you, and he had to keep pushing away the sticky black strands that glued to his forehead. “suguru-”

“damn,” he mumbles, a sleazy pussy-drunk grin plastered on his face. through the reflection of the mirror, you saw geto lay down, buried between your legs with both hands grabbing at each part of your ass. he laps his tongue up your glossed slit before giving your cunt a few open-mouthed kisses. “mhm, thank you.”

“for wh-”

“quiet, baby,” he hoarsely whispers, taking a few thick fingers down your puffy entrance. your back remained arched as you moaned, feeling the warmth of his breath tickle against your dewy core.

geto then sat up, reeling your hips back toward his face before spanking your ass for probably the nth time.

“give me just one more, ‘m still so hungry..”

✩ ˛˚ . SUKUNA RYŌMEN

continuously - sukuna’s snatched out multiple orgasms from you ‘till you could barely even mutter out audible, coherent words. he’s just so big, especially in his true form where the word 'stamina' was practically non-existent to him.

“you, get up here,” he slouched back against his throne as you were still heavily panting. you were sitting on his lap, still feeling that quavering shake between your legs after you finished riding him. “i wanna try somethin'.”

“okay-” you’d breathlessly sigh with droopy eyes. sukuna snickers behind you, and he eventually helps you up. brawny, beefy arms wrap ‘round you securely before suddenly, you find yourself upside down on his king-sized bed. your eyes enlarged to the size of saucers, and upon instinct, your hands grab onto his sprawled-out knees. “ ‘kuna, don’t drop me!”

“ ‘m not,” he rasps with an eye roll, spreading your feeble legs apart. a gust of balmy wind sets against your sloppy cunt and you whimpered. you could just feel the cold, sinister yet silent state of sukuna’s eyes focusing primarily between your legs. you’re still so wet, and he gives your drooling entrance a single kiss. “sit on my stomach, trust me.”

time stands still as you’re propped up just below sukuna’s chest with your body facing the opposite way. you tried to sit up, only for him to crisply slap a palm against your left ass cheek. “down, girl,” he snarled, and you gasped once you suddenly felt something appear and rub underneath your thighs — his stomach mouth - oh, you sometimes literally forgot he could create extra mouths on his body.

sukuna hums in carnal virility, bringing his forked stomach tongue towards your dripping opening before sloppily stealing the first wet lick.

you were oh-so-sweet, sweet as honey as he relished your glacé-tasting flavor. the moment sukuna used two hands to steady your hips, you moaned. the other two unoccupied hands went down, stretching the mouth on his stomach apart much wider while you took your seat on his ‘throne’ - his tongue.

the tongue wetly rolled itself out, delving inside of your pussy and it was just so careless. “f- fuuuck-” you whined, already bucking your hips against his ripped abdomen.

it was just so risqué.

sukuna was no stranger to eating you out but it was a lot different with his stomach tongue.

from the very pink tip, it’s drooling from your sweetened taste alone, and you’re already spasming. it’s so long too, and your eyes widened once you started to feel the delicious stretch of his tongue within no time.

“arch more for me, bend,” he gruffly murmured, trailing his crimson-red eyes down toward your squirming waist. you arch forward, staring at his dick in front of you and noticing how each prodding vein twitched through his skin. he sighed deeply, feeling your tongue lap its way against each prominent vein before he spanked your ass. “dirty girl, can’t help but get a taste too, hm?”

“suku-”

slap.

another loud spank interrupts you, and your trembly incoming words transform into a full-throated moan. you whimpered, still hearing the sloppy sloshes of your cunt as his stomach tongue continued. after another slap comes, the skin of your ass ricochet against his palm and you heard him groan from behind you. “fuck,” sukuna grumbles, compressing his pink brows together. your jolting body above him continued to writhe as the slimy tongue on his stomach continued to slide itself near your tender clit.

drops of shimmery dew pooled down your slit as you aligned your lips around his fat hefty cock. a glossy tear of pre-cum dribbles its way from his tip and you licked it instantly, humming at the bittersweet taste that clashes against your buds.

“mmgh, ‘kuna,” you moaned between greedy slurps, using a hand to grab near his full base. he groaned, feeling the tip of your thumb stroke down a prodding vein. his entire body from top to bottom was primarily decorated with his ancient markings and was now covered in glistening sweat.

“ ‘m not gonna hah- last,” you whimpered, gasping once you felt the forked tip of his lower stomach tongue repeatedly flicks its way at your sensitive nub. every languid pant you puffed out felt like it was going to be your last, and you were counting the seconds ‘till your sweet reverie would finally come.

“well yeah, you never do,” he grunts, feeling the wetness of your mouth linger over his plump cockhead.

sukuna’s domain was eerily quiet - except, the only sounds that could be heard were his extra tongue and your slick, sloppy squelches that reverbed through his royal chambers. he felt you cutely scooting yourself back ‘n forth against his stomach while you were partially taking him in his mouth. you tried, and you batted your lashes before moaning once you felt his dick twitch again against your wet tongue.

eagerly, your frantic hips buckled before you removed your naturally-glossed lips from his shaft, cutely craning your head back for a quick peek. “nosy little girl,” he reaches forward, slightly making you face forward. “nothing for you to see.”

you pout, facing the same way you were before as his tongue continued. quickly, your little pout turned into a more lewd look as your jaw started to drop. in milliseconds, your poor, empty brain was turning into mush as you felt all types of elation spike through your veins. “sukunaaa-” you whined, biting your lip once his stomach tongue ruthlessly stretched itself even more inside of you. you were grinding against his chiseled abdomen, feeling the sticky sap of your mess glue down your sprawled legs before you let off a yelping clamor. “i’m gonna-”

your sweet, belting words were interrupted by a gasp that ripped from your near-sounding hoarse windpipe. you slouched forward, feeling your poor legs grow limp as the tongue sloppily dragged a path near your hole before trailing back down towards your sopping pussy. you were speechless with half-open eyelids draping, barely holding themselves open.

“s- shit,” you whimpered through shaky lips, feeling your entire body reaching near its end. sukuna grabbed your hips, making you swirl your ass around his stomach one more time. “oh, my g- god.”

“hmph,” the demon grumbled, glancing down at his extra tongue that even licked the wet crevices of its mouth clean. you had a good portion of his stomach covered wholly with your lustrous slick, and within a second, the tongue retreated, flopping itself back into its mouth. “you could use a bit more training.”

“training?” you breathed, still feeling your legs tremble as a wind of fresh air forced its way out of your lungs. you slumped forward in defeat, whimpering silently as a prurient wave of static shock surged through your limp body.

sukuna snickers, lifting you before pulling you back up on his lap. “yeah, training,” he repeats roughly, and he suddenly sits himself up on his bed.

as he takes a three-second glance at your body with his rouge-colored eyes, sukuna spins you around. you slipped off a gasp, moaning once he started to bring your legs up. he brought one of his hands down toward your dripping pussy before giving it a soft pat. “we can start by working on your flexibility,” and you moaned, feeling sukuna’s lower arms lift you with his other set of arms squeezing at your bare breasts.

he’s aligning you over his cream-covered tip before you feel another tip poke its way against your inner thighs. you almost forgot how he could just duplicate any part of his body, and you already could just taste how stretched you were about to get.

“upsie-daisy,” he grunts, pulling you up with such strength before he gifts your wet pussy its second slap. you whimpered, babbling faint whines of his name before sukuna lightly nipped his fangs into the left side of your neck.

“mhm, fuck- now open up for your king like a good obedient girl.”

✩ ˛˚ . NANAMI KENTO

nanami groaned, intently eyeing the creamy-white mess that dribbled down the left side of his cock. “mmgh- sweetheart,” he swallows, dragging a hand through his neatly-parted blond hair. you moaned as you straddled him in his home office chair that squeaked each second you put your thighs to work. “wait a minute, bend over the desk for me, sweetheart.”

“okay.” humming sweetly, you removed yourself from his lap before leaning over his worn-down, groaning desk. nanami gnawed on his bottom lip as he slouched at his desk, bringing a thumb towards your stuffed cunt.

“now, look at thaaat,” he huskily utters, gradually trailing the tip of his pointer finger down your drooling slit. it’s probably been about the third time of the night that he’s stuffed you, and he grunts once he sees the cute ‘lil wriggle of your impatient hips. instantly, your ass jiggles and nanami brings a soft kiss to the right cheek of your ass. “get on the desk, my love. ‘m still a little thirsty.”

he helped position you on the desk with him laying flat back against the worn-out wooden furniture. you slumped over him, poking your ass just above his face with you facing the other direction.

“k- kentooo-” you whimpered, gasping once you felt his tongue already lapping at your glistening slick cunt. piles of nanami’s documents packets that scattered everywhere fell to the floor once you aligned yourself. you held back a whimper, feeling his tongue sloppily flick itself down your slick opening.

you moaned, feeling the cold band of his watch tickles its way against your skin. as you leaned forward, your spit-drooling lips wrapped their way around his scarlet red tip. “my, look at how it all just spills out,” murmured, feeling his dick twitch at the milky masses of cum that oozed down your sopping entrance.

once nanami brought his lips back toward your cunt, he wetly dips it inside before dragging it down to flick itself against each sensitive nerve stored inside you. “mhm, my pretty girl can’t help but taste so sweet when she’s filled to the brim.”

“f- fuck, ‘ken,” you’d dig the top row of your teeth down on your bottom lip, feeling and hearing him slurp up every ounce of molten pools of his cum drizzling down your clit. as you faced forward, you looked down at his veiny cock that stood tall.

nanami’s business slacks were pulled down, and your eyes couldn’t help but linger at his blond happy trail that decorated a good portion of his abdomen. “don’t s… stop-” you mewled, bringing your quivering lips toward his strawberry-colored tip.

with a single wet lick, you swirled the tip of your tongue ‘round the crown of his leaking head before pressing sloppy kisses near the bulky, veiny sides. nanami lets off a heady groan, slipping thick raw moans between your legs, and his lips were starting to glue against your wet pussy. as you started to take him into your mouth, nanami slips a thick middle finger in between your weeping folds.

“move yourself against my tongue, sweetheart, mhm.” he throatily whispers, using his other hand to bring a soft, teasing smack toward the left cheek of your ass. you leaned forward, whimpering once you felt your feverish cunt drag itself back and forth against the flatness of his salivating tongue.

nanami was a starved man, and he loved more than anything for you to quench his thirst with your sweet, honeyed taste.

like most times, he could barely fit inside, and once his bulbous-shaped tip hit against the roof of your mouth, you let off a muffled moan. your eyes prettily rolled way back at the feeling of both his thumb and tongue prodding inside of you.

“ ‘m s- so close, kento,” you whined, occasionally popping his tip from between your swollen lips every few seconds to speak. your hips cutely threw themselves back against his face, and nanami’s just effortlessly lapping up every glittery drop that trickled from your slit. “right there, fuck, fuck, please-”

“c’mon, sweetheart, be a good girl ‘n give it to me,” nanami airily gruffs, staring at his stringy webby globs of saliva that stuck against your cunt. he’s diving in face first, hungrily jackhammering his tongue in between your puffed folds continuously non-stop.

you couldn’t help but grind yourself back against his tongue while you kept bobbing your head.

the position alone was so crude, not to mention over his home desk - but nanami couldn't care less. he felt you starting to spasm and he hummed, bringing three wet kisses against your pulsing clit. once you loudly ‘popped’ his tip from your lips yet again, you started to whine out cooing little babbles and nanami sweetly cut you off, “shh, i know. where’s my wet girl? it’s okay, you got it, just let go for me. i’ll clean my messy girl riiight up, promise.”

callused, big hands tenderly spread your ass apart as you trembled above his body. the poor wooden desk the both of you laid on was creaking noisily. the old furniture sounded like it was pushing its limit as your thighs were tensing after each unpredictable swirl of his tongue.

a hot, pooling sensation curled its way inside of the lower pit of your stomach ‘till your eyes eventually crossed inward. “oh, f… fuuckk,” you whimpered sweetly, shuddering once you started to feel yourself violently convulsing on nanami’s flat tongue.

your euphorically elated release hits you roughly, slamming into your face first like a truck - and he’s still slowly guiding his tongue up ‘n down your glistening slick while you spasmed.

your senses were fully heightened as pretty inaudible whines drew from your lips. nanami’s blond brows knit together as he licked you clean, even grabbing his handkerchief from the small pocket of his casual dress shirt to wipe against his mouth.

“good girl…. my hah-good girl,” he purrs lowly, briefly sitting up to see you still perfectly arched over him. “heh, you know how to make a mess out of me,” and nanami gives your clit its final departing kiss before softly rubbing the silver band of his ring down your slippery folds.

for a split second, nanami’s browned eyes avert down towards your twitching pussy before he sees it still dripping with sap right before his eyes. he hums before playfully dragging your hips back toward his face, propping you right back on his mouth.

“but ah, don’t run now, silly girl. ‘m not done with you yet. work can wait, my wet wife can’t. now sit.”

[sixxels]

sex with a stoner

fratboy!choso x bestfriend!reader

wc: 16k

smut with so, so much plot.

choso kamo is the kind of boy people notice without realizing they’re staring. he’s not loud, never one to demand a room’s attention, but something about him pulls you in, the lazy grace of someone who’s always just a little bit stoned and completely at peace with himself.

he throws the best parties on campus, the kind that aren’t just about getting drunk or high, but about the vibe. incense burning in the corner, led lights set to red or purple, trap playing softly over speakers. and yet, you’re the only one who really knows him.

you, the sweet girl who never misses a single one of his parties. the one always curled up next to him on the couch with a red solo cup of something you can barely taste, your legs draped over his lap, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. it’s always been like this. ever since freshman year, when you met him during that stupid icebreaker event on campus that neither of you wanted to go to.

somehow, you’d ended up next to him. not even talking at first. just being. and then he’d pulled one earbud out and offered it to you without saying anything, and you’d heard frank ocean’s “ivy” playing soft and crackly from his phone. you’d smiled at him, and he’d smiled back. just a little.

after that, it was like something clicked. you didn’t have to try with choso. you just existed in each other’s space like you were meant to.

you’re sweet, outgoing, a little flirty, always the first one to compliment someone’s outfit or remember their birthday. people love you for your light, your laughter, the way you make everyone feel seen.

but when it comes to closeness, to real comfort? that’s reserved for choso.

it’s a mystery to most people. you, the glittering, glowing party girl, and choso, the stoner boy who doesn’t even have social media. but it makes perfect sense to anyone who’s seen the two of you together.

you show up to his parties before anyone else does. you help him string the lights, pick the playlist, bring snacks no one asked for but everyone eats. you’re the one sitting on the counter while he rolls, sipping from a straw and babbling about your week while he nods, smiling faintly, muttering things like “that’s wild, ma,” or “yo, you’re too nice for them.”

and during the parties, you’re never far. you gravitate toward each other like magnets, slipping into place the way you always do. choso’s usually on the couch, arms stretched over the backrest, and you’re tucked under his arm without even thinking. you lean into him when you laugh. he rests his chin on your shoulder. he passes you drinks and you take tiny sips before handing them back to him with a wrinkle of your nose.

and it’s so easy. dangerously easy.

choso’s never been one to push. he’s got feelings, real ones, deeper than he’ll ever admit out loud, but he keeps them buried. not because he doesn’t want you. he wants you in a way that scares him sometimes. in quiet moments, when he’s too high and you’re asleep on his chest, he thinks about what it would feel like to kiss you. to be yours for real. but he’s content, at least for now. content to have you like this.

you give choso a kind of peace he didn’t know he was missing. before you, things were kind of blurry. background noise. but with you, it’s all color. you laugh and the whole room tilts toward you. you touch his hand and it’s like static electricity under his skin. he pretends he doesn’t notice. he jokes, he teases, he lets it pass.

because he thinks he’d rather have you like this, close and real and warm, than risk losing you completely.

and you? you love him. maybe too much.

you’ve never said it out loud, not even to maki or shoko, but you know it. you feel it every time you see him laugh at something you said, every time he lifts your chin to tuck your hair behind your ear, every time he waits for you outside class just because he felt like it. choso is yours, in a way no one else is. and you don’t know what to do with that.

maybe you’re scared to ruin it too.

it’s not just the friendship, it’s the rhythm. the quiet glances, the shared playlists, the way you always, always end up in his bed after parties, clothes still on, hearts too full.

you’ll lay there in the dark, both of you wide awake, and you’ll wonder if he feels it too. if he notices the way your breath hitches when his fingers brush your waist. if he hears the way your voice gets softer when you say his name.

but neither of you ever says anything. not really. not yet.

there’s something unsaid between you, always has been, something glowing and soft and maybe a little fragile. like the chords of “ivy” hanging in the air, too tender to touch. it’s in the way he looks at you when you’re not watching. in the way you linger at his door after a party, lip gloss smudged and heart aching. in the way he lets his hand rest on the small of your back just a little too long.

it’s a love that’s still blooming. hesitant. deep-rooted. and for now, maybe that’s enough.

maybe not forever.

~

the party’s already full by the time you get there, but you know exactly where to find him.

bass thumps through the floor like a second pulse, red lights spilling down the hallway, laughter echoing from the kitchen where someone’s poured jungle juice into a mixing bowl. bodies press close in the living room, the air thick with smoke, perfume, sweat, but none of it touches you. not really. not when you know where you’re going.

you slip past people who call your name, who compliment your outfit, who try to keep you still, but you’re already moving, already smiling like you’ve got a secret. because you do.

he’s on the couch. he always is.

slouched like he was poured there, long legs spread, a blunt pinched between his fingers. there’s a few people around him, suguru’s sitting on the floor, half-asleep against his knee, gojo’s perched on the armrest talking to some girl, but he doesn’t really look at anyone. just stares at the smoke curling above him, the red light making shadows under his eyes.

until he sees you.

choso’s head tilts slightly. his gaze sharpens, just barely. his mouth softens, corners curling up into something small, lazy, private.

“yo,” he says, voice low and smooth like honeyed smoke. “there you are.”

and just like that, you’re home.

you drop down next to him without a word, tucking your legs up on the couch, leaning into his side like you were made to fit there. his arm lifts automatically to rest behind you, and your bare shoulder brushes against his chest, skin to skin. he smells like weed and citrus and something warm, like sunbaked cotton. familiar. dangerous.

“i brought you chips,” you say, holding up a bag. “because you never remember to feed people when you throw these things.”

he laughs, soft and breathy, and takes the bag, tossing it onto the table without looking.

“you’re the only one who eats at my parties,” he murmurs, dragging the blunt to his lips. “they’re lucky you show up.”

he inhales, slow and deep. lets it sit in his chest for a moment. then he turns his head toward you and exhales, deliberately, slow, a trail of smoke that ghosts over your collarbone. it’s not on purpose, but it is. everything choso does is like that. unbothered. intimate. effortless.

your heart stutters.

“you look good,” he adds, like it just occurred to him. his eyes dip, trace your legs, the cut of your dress, the gloss on your lips. “real good.”

you smile, sweet and slow, like you’re soaking it in.

“you’re stoned.”

he shrugs. “yeah. still true, though.”

you nudge his thigh with your knee, and he smirks that lazy, barely-there grin that never quite reaches his eyes unless it’s you.

the party swells around you. bodies dance in the center of the room, the music gets louder, someone’s yelling in the kitchen about the beer pong table. but in your little corner of the couch, everything is slowed down. hazy. sacred.

he keeps passing the blunt, and you keep refusing with that little scrunch of your nose he always teases you about.

“don’t know how you come to my house every week and still don’t smoke,” he says, flicking ash into a red solo cup.

“don’t know how you survive without eating dinner like an adult,” you shoot back.

he chuckles, tipping his head back. his throat stretches long, his hoodie slipping off one shoulder to reveal the black ink of a tattoo just under his collarbone. you don’t even pretend not to look. choso doesn’t pretend not to notice.

“you missed me?” he asks after a beat, quieter now. the smoke’s made him slow, softer around the edges. more honest.

you glance up at him, lips parted. “i was here last weekend.”

“yeah, and then the whole week happened.” he shrugs, lazily. “i got bored.”

you nudge your way closer. your knee slides between his. “you say that like you don’t have other friends.”

he hums. “don’t hit the same.”

you’re both quiet for a second. it’s a thick, heady silence, not awkward, not tense. just full. full of everything that’s been building since freshman year. everything you don’t say. everything you both feel in moments like this, when you’re a little too close and he’s looking at your mouth and his hand is resting just a little too low on your waist.

you want to kiss him. god, you do. but not yet. not here.

so instead you lean forward, just enough to rest your head on his shoulder. you feel him go still for a second, then relax, melting back into you.

you stay like that. for a long time

later, when the house gets louder and hotter and someone pulls you up to dance, you feel his eyes on you.

you’re not a wild dancer, you move like you’re in your own little world, fluid and soft and smiling. some guy tries to grind up behind you and you immediately peel away, laughing as you shake your head. but when you look over, just once, you see choso watching from the couch.

his eyes are darker now. still lazy, still half-lidded, but focused. pinned on you like he’s memorizing the way your dress moves, the way your hair sticks to the sweat on your collarbone. one hand resting on his knee. the blunt long gone.

you move back to him eventually, of course you do, and he opens the space beside him again like he knew you would.

“have fun out there, superstar?” he asks, gaze flicking over you.

you shrug, settling back into him. “missed my favorite dance partner.”

he raises a brow. “you don’t dance with me.”

you grin. “exactly.”

he snorts, shaking his head. you rest your hand on his thigh, fingers splayed over ripped denim, and he doesn’t flinch. doesn’t move. just lets you stay there. touching him. like you always do.

like you always will.

when the party starts dying down and the lights dim even lower, when suguru’s asleep and gojo’s disappeared and the couch is just the two of you again, you curl into him like you belong there.

he yawns, one arm around your shoulders, hand playing lazily with the strap of your dress.

“you crashing here?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

you nod, cheek pressed to his chest. “if that’s cool.”

he makes a soft sound, something between a hum and a laugh, and dips his chin to brush his mouth against your temple. not a kiss, exactly. just a press. warm, soft. barely there.

“always.”

you smile, closing your eyes for a second. his hand is still resting on your waist, fingers tracing absent little shapes into your skin like he’s not even thinking about it.

you could fall asleep like this. you’ve done it before.

but he shifts a little, murmurs, “come on, ma. let’s get off this fuckin’ couch. my back’s killin’ me.”

you whine quietly as he moves, and he laughs again, a lazy rumble in his chest and slides an arm around your waist to help you up.

“drama queen,” he says, tugging you to your feet with effortless strength.

he doesn’t let go.

you move through the sea of red cups and leftover smoke, past the people half-passed out in the hallway, with his hand still slung around your waist. like it’s normal. like it’s instinct. your arm hooks around his middle, and you lean into his side as you walk, slow and steady, like you’ve done this a hundred times. because you have.

choso’s room is down the hall. it’s the only one with a broken doorknob and a blacklight taped above the bed, buzzing faintly. it smells like weed and clean laundry and him.

you kick off your shoes the second you walk in and collapse face-first into the unmade bed, limbs spread.

he laughs, low and indulgent, then flops down beside you.

“yo, scoot over,” he mumbles, nudgin your hip with his.

“you scoot,” you shoot back, voice muffled by the blanket.

he doesn’t argue. just lets his body melt sideways until your shoulders touch again. you shift your head onto his chest without thinking, cheek to the soft fabric of his hoodie.

and there it is again. home.

“this party was kinda ass,” you say.

“nah,” he says softly. “you were here.”

your stomach flips.

but you don’t say anything. don’t need to. you just lie there, breathing in sync, your hands curled in the hem of his hoodie while his fingers play with your hair, slow, lazy twirls that make your eyelids flutter.

“remember the first one?” you ask, voice hushed now. “the freshman-year party where we met?”

choso smiles at the ceiling. “fuck yeah. you were wearing that little white dress and yellin’ at some guy who spilled beer on your shoes.”

“he ruined them,” you murmur indignantly.

“and i was just sittin’ on the porch, watchin’ the whole thing,” he grins. “high as shit. thought you were hot as hell.”

you lift your head to look at him, one brow raised. “you still say you don’t remember how we ended up talking.”

“i don’t. swear to god.” he shrugs. “one second i’m finishing a blunt, next thing i know you’re sitting next to me like you’d been there forever.”

“i probably just decided you looked safe,” you say, settling back down. “and hot. but, like, quiet hot.”

he chuckles, slow and low. “quiet hot?”

you nod. “like… hot in a way that doesn’t try. like you didn’t even know it.”

“damn,” he mutters. “flirting with me now?”

“always.”

his hand slides down from your hair to your shoulder, warm and broad and steady.

“that’s why i fuck with you,” he says after a moment. “you’re real.”

you blink.

“like, people show up to my parties for the vibes or whatever. you show up to make sure i eat dinner.”

you laugh. “well someone has to.”

“nah, but for real,” he says. “you’ve been showin’ up since day one. always got my back. always know what i need before i even do. shit’s crazy.”

your throat goes tight. but he doesn’t sound emotional. he sounds calm. sure. like it’s just a fact of life, gravity, weed, you.

he doesn’t say it like it’s a confession.

he says it like it’s just the truth.

“you do the same for me,” you murmur, voice small.

his thumb strokes your arm, slow.

“yeah,” he says. “i know.”

the room hums with silence after that. not heavy. not awkward. just real.

he lets you lie there on his chest, the beat of his heart under your ear, the rise and fall of his breathing making you feel safe in a way nothing else does.

you shift after a few minutes, and his hand moves automatically , tugs the blanket up over you both, settles you closer, fingers smoothing over your arm like it’s second nature.

he doesn’t flirt with anyone the way he does with you. doesn’t touch anyone like this. people know you’re close, but they don’t get it.

they don’t know how choso listens to you rant for hours about your classes even when he’s half-asleep. how he always keeps snacks in his room he doesn’t like, just because you do. how he’s seen you cry at 3am and didn’t say a word, just pulled you onto his chest and played with your hair until you calmed down.

how you’ve cleaned up after every party. how you always know when he needs water. how you never smoke but you always light his blunts for him.

they don’t know that you’ve been doing this, just like this, since freshman year.

you’re not together.

but this? this is something else.

“you good?” he mumbles, his voice starting to get gravelly with sleep.

you nod, curled into his side.

“you?”

“mhmm.” he exhales through his nose, deep and slow. “don’t leave before i wake up.”

“i never do.”

he hums, already drifting.

you close your eyes.

"night, cho."

"night, babe."

and in the dark, in his bed, wrapped in the quiet warmth of choso’s heartbeat and the hush of something unspoken between you, you fall asleep.

right where you’re supposed to be.

~

the sun’s too fucking bright.

choso’s got his hood pulled low, hands stuffed in the front pocket of his faded sweatshirt, hoodie sleeves bunched at his wrists like armor against the cold. his airpods are in, but he’s not playing anything. just using them to avoid eye contact. to avoid people.

his chem lecture starts in twelve minutes. he’s not rushing.

he’s never rushing.

the quad’s half-full with undergrads moving in packs, laughing too loud for this hour. he weaves through them like a shadow, dark-eyed and slow-moving, sleep still clinging to his bones.

he hasn’t showered. hasn’t brushed his hair. smells faintly like weed and sleep and your lotion, the floral kind you always keep in your bag.

he’s halfway across the quad when he hears it.

“yo.”

he looks up.

toji.

posted up on a low wall near the main staircase, nursing a large iced coffee and wearing the same zip-up he’s worn every morning since choso met him. he looks good, like he always does, jaw sharp, eyes tired, posture loose in that older-guy way that makes people think twice about messing with him.

choso pulls out one airpod. “yo.”

“you look like shit,” toji says, amused.

choso shrugs. “feel fine.”

“late night?”

“always.”

toji grins. “bet.”

choso wanders over, boots crunching gravel, and leans against the wall next to him. toji’s got that lazy menace vibe, like he could break someone’s nose or fall asleep in the sun, it could go either way. choso respects it.

they’re not close, but they’re good.

“you throw last night?” toji asks.

“yeah. packed out.”

“heard. saw some dude getting dragged out by the neck around one.”

choso huffs a little. “sukuna. again.”

“no shit?” toji laughs. “that guy’s a walking lawsuit.”

“got blood on my stairs,” choso mutters. “ruined the rug.”

“tragic.”

they’re quiet for a second. choso watches a squirrel dart across the walkway. toji sips his coffee.

“how much you make off the door?”

“couple hundred. enough for groceries. gas. weed.”

toji nods like that’s the natural order of things. “you ever think about pledging?”

choso snorts. “nah.”

“you’d run that shit,” toji says. “turn those little rich boys inside out.”

“i’m not good with rules.”

“fuck rules.”

choso grins a little. “you sound like yuki.”

“i taught yuki,” toji says, deadpan.

that gets a real laugh out of choso, low and amused, breath curling in the cold air.

“you got chem?” toji asks after a moment.

“yeah. lab.”

“tough.”

“i'm so fucking hungover.”

toji smirks. “so. last night. you go home alone?”

choso shrugs. “nah. crashed with her.”

toji looks at him. not surprised. not shocked. just curious.

“y/n?”

“yeah.”

a beat.

“you guys together now or what?”

choso looks up, brows drawn. “nah.”

toji raises an eyebrow. “huh. figured that would’ve happened by now.”

“why?”

“you’re always with her.”

“yeah.”

“you sleep in the same bed?”

choso shrugs again, easy and lowkey like it doesn’t mean anything. like it’s normal. “all the time.”

toji whistles under his breath, grinning. “you’re a better man than me.”

“not like that,” choso mutters, looking away.

“right,” toji says, smirking. “not like that.”

choso stays quiet. doesn’t explain. doesn’t elaborate. he just lets it sit in the air between them like secondhand smoke, warm, familiar, a little dangerous.

because it isn’t like that.

not yet.

but toji doesn’t push. just nods, takes another slow sip of his coffee, and claps choso on the shoulder with a rough hand.

“you’re cool,” he says. “but if you ever fuck that up, someone else won’t be.”

choso just exhales through his nose. shrugs.

he knows.

he knows.

~

choso slouches in his stool at station 4B, safety goggles pushed up into his messy hair, long fingers lazily rotating a test tube over the bunsen flame. he’s supposed to be running a titration, but he’s running on three hours of sleep and an edible that hasn’t stopped hitting since breakfast.

there’s a small chemical fire happening at the next table over. he doesn’t care.

his partner, some girl from his gen chem section who only speaks in whispers and perfume, scribbles answers onto their worksheet like her life depends on it. she’s never once asked him to help. choso’s fine with that.

his phone buzzes in his hoodie pocket. he pulls it out without looking, thumb unlocking the screen by feel. it’s instinct. the way he always knows when it’s you.

[10:37am] you: what class r u in rn

[10:38am] choso: chem

[10:38am] you: ew

[10:38am] choso: yea

[10:39am] you: wanna meet up after?? i’m bored

[10:39am] choso: wya

the response comes fast.

[10:40am] you: bleachers behind the field. bring snacks or i’ll cry.

choso smiles.

it’s the kind of smile he never shows anyone but you. lazy. lowkey. like a secret he doesn’t need to say out loud.

he texts back a thumbs up emoji. tucks his phone away. watches the blue flame flicker under the test tube like it’s trying to tell him something.

~

the bleachers behind the athletic field are barely standing. rusted metal, cracked paint, half the steps warped from years of cleat-stomped abuse. it’s one of the only spots on campus that still feels untouched, still feels yours. people don’t hang out here. it’s too open, too weird, too quiet.

perfect.

you’re already there when he shows up, sprawled across the middle row like it’s a chaise lounge, sunglasses perched low on your nose and a bag of kettle chips open in your lap.

you perk up when you see him. smile wide and lazy. “you brought me snacks?”

he lifts a 7/11 bag in greeting.

“you’re an angel,” you say, and you sound like you mean it. choso climbs up beside you, drops the bag between you, and sits with a long sigh like the weight of the whole morning finally got the memo that it can fuck off.

he lets himself lean back on his elbows, head tipped toward the sky. hoodie sleeves pushed up to the elbow. hands ringed in silver, knuckles faintly bruised from last night. jaw sharp, neck tattoo peeking just above his collar.

you glance over at him, bottom lip tucked between your teeth for a second too long.

he doesn’t notice.

or maybe he does.

but he doesn’t say anything.

“what happened in chem?” you ask, voice slow with sunlight.

“almost set the bench on fire,” he says. “again."

you laugh, and it’s the good kind, low and warm and familiar, like something soft you wrap yourself in. “you’re gonna fail.”

“nah,” he murmurs. “i got you. you’ll cry to shoko for me.”

you shrug. “probably.”

he grins.

you eat chips together for a while in comfortable silence. people jog past on the track below, but it’s like the two of you exist in another timeline, quieter, slower, deeper. every time your shoulders bump, he doesn’t move away. every time your fingers brush in the snack bag, he lets it linger.

you pull out a cherry lollipop from your tote. unwrap it with delicate, distracted fingers. stick it between your lips and suck thoughtfully.

choso looks over. blinks once.

his throat bobs. “you eat candy like you’re in a music video.”

“duh,” you say. “gotta stay on brand.”

“your brand is slutty candy princess?”

you flash him a wink. “you know it.”

he groans into his hands. “you’re gonna kill me.”

“you’d like it.”

“maybe.”

you both laugh.

but underneath it, there’s a tension you don’t touch. not yet. not today. not when the sun is this warm and the wind is this soft and the space between you feels like a bubble no one else can pop.

“so what’d you tell toji?” you ask suddenly, pulling your legs up under you. “he asked about us, right?”

choso blinks. shifts.

“how’d you know that?”

“i just saw him talking to you this morning and you rushed of before i could catch up.”

he sighs. rubs a hand over his face. “just asked about some dumb shit, was surprised we aren't fucking.”

“oh yeah?”

“yeah.”

you hum. “what’d you say?”

he shrugs. “told him we’re just friends.”

you nod.

but your fingers are tight around your lollipop stick. “did he buy it?”

choso looks over at you. eyes half-lidded, lazy. “dunno. didn’t really care.”

you don’t speak for a second.

then—

“you know,” you say lightly, “if we were dating, people wouldn’t question it.”

he raises a brow. “you wanna date me?”

you laugh like it’s a joke. like the idea’s crazy. “obviously not. i’d ruin your whole vibe.”

“nah,” he says, quiet and cool. “you are my vibe.”

it knocks the air out of you a little.

you don’t reply.

he doesn’t push.

instead, he pulls a lighter from his pocket. a faded red bic with a sticker of a cartoon frog on the side.

“you mind?” he asks.

you shake your head. “go for it.”

he lights the joint behind the bleachers, careful to block the wind, and takes a slow hit like he’s been doing it his whole life. like breathing.

you watch the way his lips part. the way the smoke curls from his mouth. the way he blinks up at the sky, exhaling slow, like there’s nothing in the world that could ruin this moment.

he passes it to you.

you hold it between two fingers. bring it to your lips, but don’t inhale. you just like the closeness. the ritual. the rhythm of it.

“you always smell like weed and coconuts,” you say absently.

“you always smell like sleep and candy.”

“that a compliment?”

“you know it is.”

you smile.

and then, like always, you shift until your head is in his lap, knees bent, lollipop back between your lips.

he threads his fingers into your hair like it’s automatic. like muscle memory.

you don’t say anything.

you don’t have to.

“there’s a party saturday,” choso says, like it’s just a passing thought. his voice is mellow, dragged slow with smoke and sun.

you squint up at him from his lap, one leg kicking idly off the edge of the bleachers. “yours?”

he shakes his head, dragging another pull from the joint before it sizzles low. “nah. kappa’s.”

“toji’s place?”

“mhm. sukuna’s throwin’ it.”

you make a face. “ew.”

he laughs, lazy and low. “yeah, i know.”

“what kinda party is it?”

he shrugs, flicking ash off to the side. “dunno. probly loud. messy. overrun with freshmen.”

“my favorite,” you say sarcastically.

“come anyway.”

you raise a brow. “you want me to go?”

he nods, eyes still soft from the joint. “yeah. all our people are gonna be there. gojo’s bringing that speaker he stole from the rec center. suguru’s bringing weed from the plug that scares everyone but him. shoko said she’s pre-gaming at yours.”

“she didn’t tell me that,” you mutter, amused.

“she said quote, ‘i’m getting blackout on your floor so you better have mixers.’”

“classic.”

“maki’s going too,” he adds. “and yuuji. megumi. nobara. y’all can take over the kitchen or whatever.”

you snort. “we always end up doing that. turning some random frat kitchen into our private lounge.”

“better lighting.”

“less vomit.”

he taps his knuckle to your forehead. “so?”

you blink at him. “so what?”

“you comin’?”

you stretch your arms over your head, lollipop tucked in your cheek like a secret. “mmm, depends. who’s walking me home if i black out?”

he gives you a look. “me."

“who’s holding my hair if i puke?”

“me.”

“who’s dancing with me when they put on early 2000s throwbacks?”

he smirks. “you already know.”

you grin and nuzzle into his thigh dramatically. “ugh, fine. i guess i’ll go.”

“what an honor.”

“you’re welcome.”

he flicks the roach away and leans back again, hood falling down to rest at the nape of his neck. you stare up at him for a second, at the sharp angle of his jaw, the lashes curled against his cheeks, the faint bruises of exhaustion under his eyes.

there’s something warm in your chest.

like always.

“what time’s it at?” you ask.

“late.”

“when are we getting there?”

“later.”

you smile. “as always.”

“as always,” he echoes.

you reach over, fingers brushing the side of his hoodie pocket where his lighter peeks out, red and fading, sticker peeling at the edges.

he doesn’t notice.

but you do.

you always do.

~

the sun has long since set when you’re back in your dorm.

shoko’s stuff is already half-scattered across your bed, a tote bag overflowing with lip gloss and tequila, her ripped denim skirt folded beside your pillow like it lives here. your bluetooth speaker is charging in the corner. your fairy lights are glowing dim, and the whole room smells like something between vanilla lotion and sharpie markers.

because you’re painting.

your desk is a mess of scattered brushes, scratched acrylics, and an empty matcha can you’ve been using as a water cup. right in the center sits the new bic lighter you picked up after social, jet black, perfectly smooth, untouched.

you’re painting red spider lilies across the front, his favourite.

the petals curl across the plastic like veins, wet with gloss and attention. you’re careful with the details. you’ve looked up references. you’ve done this before.

but this time’s different.

this one’s for him.

you don’t know why, exactly. maybe it’s because his old one’s going dead.

maybe it’s because you love him.

not like that.

not yet.

but in the way you know exactly how he likes his ramen. in the way he texts you “home?” when it’s late and doesn’t sleep until you answer. in the way he rolls his blunts left-handed and always lights yours first. in the way he remembers your mom’s birthday even though he’s never met her.

in the way he makes you feel safe in a room full of noise.

in the way he never tries to make you anything other than yourself.

you lean over the lighter, the brush held steady between your fingers, and add the final line of gold detailing around the petals. your breath fogs the surface. you wait for it to dry.

outside, someone blasts a bad edm remix. the party’s already pulsing down the block.

you aren’t ready yet.

but you will be.

because he asked.

because you always go when he asks.

by the time you and shoko step into the kappa house, it’s already hell in there.

there’s music vibrating the walls, some mashup of jersey club and distorted britney spears, smoke curling from doorways, the reek of beer and weed and something you hope is a vape cloud drifting from the stairs. someone’s already swinging a half-finished bottle of patrón in the foyer, and a guy in a spiked collar is passed out half-naked on the pool table. red LEDs paint the room like a warning.

“jesus,” shoko mutters, pushing through a knot of people. “it’s worse than last time.”

“that’s saying a lot,” you reply, laughing.

you pass a makeshift tattoo station set up in the kitchen, a foldable table, three guys with gloves and prison-grade guns, girls taking shots with their shirts off, someone yelling about cross-contamination. someone else is already screaming into a paper towel, gripping their friend’s thigh as ink bleeds into skin.

“how much you wanna bet that guy’s not even licensed?” shoko asks, pointing with her cup.

a few feet away, a couple is practically devouring each other on the couch, hands in places that definitely shouldn’t be public, their moans barely muffled over the bassline. you and shoko share a glance.

“ten bucks says they’ll be upstairs in five,” she says.

“two,” you shoot back.

you find the rest of your girls near the island, maki’s drinking straight from a bottle of dark rum, nobara’s yelling at some guy for calling her “sweetheart,” and miwa looks like she’s trying to spiritually leave her body.

“there you bitches are,” nobara says, throwing an arm over your shoulders. “i was gonna beat some freshman’s ass for trying to say you weren’t on the guest list.”

“please tell me you’re drinking tonight,” maki says, eyes already glossy.

“i just got here!” you laugh, letting shoko pull you in tighter. “i haven’t even taken my jacket off!"

“well hurry up,” nobara insists, pouring something violently pink into a solo cup and handing it to you. “this night’s cursed already.”

you take a cautious sip, bubblegum and battery acid. “what the hell is this?”

“it’s called the thong dropper,” shoko says helpfully.

“girl.”

you let the chaos swirl around you for a bit, settling into the rhythm of things, catching up on nonsense, swapping wild stories, dodging spilled drinks and clumsy hands. nobara starts talking about some guy she hooked up with last week, rolling her eyes and groaning dramatically.

“his stroke game was so weak,” she says, slamming her cup down. “he kept asking me ‘is that good?’ like—cmon. do you not hear me faking it?”

maki snorts. “you faked it?”

“of course i did. i had to get it over with.”

shoko leans in. “rookie mistake. just tell ‘em straight up.”

“i can’t crush a man’s ego like that,” nobara defends.

“they’ll live,” maki says.

you giggle into your drink, letting the warmth buzz up your spine.

“what about you?” shoko nudges. “you getting any lately?”

you shrug, trying to hide your smirk. “define ‘getting.’”

they all ooh at that, but you wave them off.

“nah,” you add quickly. “just been… chillin’.”

nobara raises a brow. “chillin’ with who?”

you don’t answer.

you don’t have to.

because you just spotted him.

across the room, slouched low on the ratty couch like a king on a broken throne, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, blunt glowing between his fingers, is choso.

he’s got his head tipped back, laughing at something gojo just said, eyes heavy-lidded and hazy, lips pink and glossy from smoke. his legs are spread wide, rings catching the LED lights, and there’s a plastic crown crooked on his head like someone dared him to wear it and he just went along with it.

you hand your cup to shoko. “back in a sec.”

you beeline straight to him.

he sees you coming, of course. always does.

“yo,” he says, voice syrup-thick, laced in that lazy drawl you know too well. “there she is.”

you plop onto the couch next to him, thigh pressed to his instantly, as natural as breathing.

“hey, babe.”

he pulls the blunt from his lips and passes it to gojo. “you look hot,” he murmurs, eyes scanning over you. “like… stupid hot.”

you grin. “you’re high.”

“and you’re hot.”

“so high.”

gojo chuckles. “he’s been saying that about everyone for the last twenty minutes. told sukuna his chains looked ‘shiny as fuck’ and that he was proud of him.”

“and i meant it,” choso says, nodding solemnly.

“sukunas a menace,” you laugh.

“a sweet menace,” choso adds.

gojo tosses the blunt into an ashtray and stretches. “aight. i’m gonna go find the aux before someone puts on country again.”

“godspeed,” you tell him.

choso watches him disappear into the crowd before turning back to you. “you good?”

you nod. “girls are wild tonight.”

“when aren’t they?”

you smile. “party’s kinda gross, though.”

he grins. “yeah. it’s ass.”

“i missed your parties.”

he hums, dragging a slow breath through his nose. “next week. tuesday.”

“a tuesday party?”

“hell yeah.”

you laugh softly, eyes dropping to the front pocket of his hoodie. his lighter’s there again, the red one. the same one from earlier, edges worn down like it’s been used a thousand times.

without saying anything, you reach into your jacket pocket.

he watches you curiously as you pull out the lighter you painted, black and glossy, the spider lilies blooming across the surface in blood-red ink and gold veins.

you hand it to him wordlessly.

his fingers brush yours as he takes it, and something in his face shifts, softens, quiets.

he turns it over slowly in his palm, eyes scanning every detail like he’s memorizing it.

“you painted this?”

you nod.

“ma…” he says under his breath, almost like it’s too much. “yo. this is… this is fucking beautiful.”

“your other one’s dying,” you say, a little shy now. “figured you needed a new one.”

he’s quiet for a second, blinking slowly.

then—

“you’re such a fuckin’ angel.”

you laugh. “it’s literally just a lighter.”

he doesn’t let his gaze leave it. “nah. it’s you.”

you blink.

he says it so casually. so high. so him.

like it’s just a fact.

you don’t say anything, and neither does he. the music swells. the lights flicker. people scream and laugh and break things somewhere in the background.

but right now, it’s just the two of you, and a lighter between your palms.

“you’re gonna make me cry,” you joke, even though the way he keeps looking at the lighter makes your chest feel a little too full.

choso doesn’t answer, just keeps running his thumb over the curves of it like it’s some delicate artifact, black with the glossy gleam of fresh paint, those red lilies blooming across the surface like blood in water.

he flicks it once. flame bursts up.

“perfect,” he mumbles.

“it works?”

“better than my soul, babe.”

you laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder, and for a few seconds everything around you falls away, just the throb of the music, the warm press of him, and the soft flicker of that tiny orange flame between his fingers.

you sit like that for a little while, talking about nothing. him complaining about a group project he hasn’t started. you teasing him for skipping chem lab again. him promising you some “next-level weed” for tuesday’s party that “tastes like peaches and existential dread.”

his voice is slow, syrup-thick, a little slurred at the ends. he’s stoned, clearly, but you’re used to this. used to the way he leans into you when he’s like this, heavy and unguarded, every thought coming out a little slower and more unfiltered. it’s a version of him that doesn’t get tired of looking at you.

he tugs at the hem of your jacket playfully. “you gonna stay with me tonight?”

you raise a brow. “didn’t plan on going anywhere else.”

he grins, that sleepy smile that makes your heart tick funny.

then your name cuts through the room, pitched over the music.

“oh shit,” you say, glancing over your shoulder. “they’re calling me.”

choso hums, not looking away. “tell ‘em i said hi.”

you hesitate for a second, not wanting to leave the warm bubble you’ve curled into. but shoko’s waving you over, and maki’s already halfway across the room with a bottle in her hand and trouble in her eyes.

“i’ll be back,” you say, giving his knee a squeeze as you get up.

he watches you go, eyes dragging over your silhouette, that sway in your hips, the flash of your smile as nobara yells something at you that makes you laugh and flip her off in the same breath.

then he’s alone.

not really, the house is packed, pulsing with bodies and music and smoke, but alone in the way that matters.

the lighter’s still in his hand.

and it won’t stop looking like you.

'she fuckin’ made this.'

that thought loops through his head in lazy spirals. he stares down at it like he’s still not fully processing that it’s his now, the way it fits so perfect in his palm, like you painted it with him in mind, like you know his hands that well.

(which you do.)

'what an angel', he thinks again, your face still ghosted in his mind.

he’s high. so high. his body feels like a heartbeat, slow and deep and pulsing warm. and the lighter, it keeps dragging him back to that moment on the couch, your thigh against his, your fingers brushing his, your quiet little smile when he lit it up for the first time.

'she always does shit like this. just makes stuff better. without even tryin’.'

it hits him all at once, sudden and full-body.

he needs to mark this. this moment. this feeling.

he’s already pulling out his phone before the thought’s even fully formed, scrolling through the camera roll he swore he didn’t care about but secretly checks too often. blurry candids, selfies with you curled against his chest, that pic from two weeks ago when you were looking up at him from the floor of his room with a red gummy in your mouth and sleep in your eyes.

he pauses there.

your eyes in that picture. big, soft, glassy, sexy.

his thumb hovers over the screen.

“yo,” a familiar voice calls, sauntering through the haze. “you look fried.”

sukuna.

choso glances up. “am fried.”

sukuna grins. “figured. that couch is cursed, by the way. guy got a blowie on it last week during pong night.”

choso shrugs. “adds flavor.”

they lean on the wall together, easy silence for a second.

“you see the tat guys?” sukuna asks, chin-jerking toward the kitchen. “someone just got a fucking worm on their calf. like a literal earthworm. said it was ‘symbolic.’”

choso laughs, low and thick. “symbolic of what?”

“dunno. being dirt, i guess.”

he doesn’t respond. just looks back at his phone.

sukuna raises a brow. “you good, dude?”

“yeah.”

“you look like you just had a vision.”

choso finally meets his eye.

“yo,” he says slowly. “you ever just feel something and know you gotta do somethin’ about it right now or you’ll bitch out?”

sukuna squints. “uh. like what?”

choso doesn’t answer.

instead, he pushes off the wall, hoodie slipping off one shoulder again, lighter still clutched in one hand, phone in the other, and starts walking.

sukuna watches him go, a little amused. “damn. alright.”

the air is thick with smoke and bass as he weaves through the crowd, bumping shoulders, dodging a girl dancing with her heels off and her hair in her face.

he reaches the makeshift tattoo stand.

it smells like rubbing alcohol and regret.

“yo,” he says, voice smooth as silk and twice as slow.

the guy behind the table, ink sleeves up to the neck, black gloves, sunglasses indoors, glances up.

“what’s up, man?”

choso leans down slightly, eyes low-lidded and unreadable, body loose and stoned and sexy in that careless way he always carries.

he holds out his phone.

“can you do this,” he asks, “on my arm?”

the artist blinks, then looks at the screen.

it’s a close-up of a girl’s eyes, wide, seductive, yet still glowing with laughter. looking up at the camera like whoever took the photo was the only thing in the world.

looking up at him.

choso taps the screen once. “those are hers.”

the guy raises a brow. “like… your girl?”

choso shrugs one shoulder. his eyes never leave the photo.

the buzz of the needle starts soft, a low, persistent hum, and choso doesn’t even flinch. he just leans back, one arm draped lazily across the armrest, hoodie shoved halfway up his bicep where the artist wiped him down with alcohol. his eyes are half-lidded, bloodshot from whatever gojo rolled earlier, but locked on the phone he’s holding out in his opposite hand.

the picture’s still up. her eyes, warm and wide, lashes curled, looking up at him like she trusts him with her whole heart.

“pretty,” the tattoo guy mutters, angling a small light to get a better look as he sketches the stencil. “yours?”

choso’s mouth curves slow. doesn’t answer right away. just flicks his lighter open and closed, click, click, click, the red spider lilies catching the light each time.

then finally:

“nah.”

the guy hums. “girlfriend?”

he huffs a little, amused. “not that either.”

he sets the lighter down on the table beside him, keeps his eyes on the screen.

“she’s just,” he pauses, then shrugs, soft and slow, “her. y’know?”

the artist side-eyes him. “deep.”

choso smiles again, eyes unfocused. “nah, i’m just fuckin’ high.” the guy presses the warm stencil into choso’s arm, smooths it into place.

“you sure you wanna do this while you’re, uh,” he glances at choso’s glassy expression, the faint grin still tugging at his mouth, “clearly not sober?”

“i’m not wasted,” choso says lazily. “and i’m not dumb. it’s not a mistake.” the artist nods once, respects it. “alright, man.” he flips on the machine again, lines it up.

“you done this before?” choso grunts a laugh. “y’think i got these in my sleep?” he gestures vaguely at the black ink already crawling across both arms, jagged, abstract lines, constellations and waves, some faded with age. some done in basements like this one. “first time sober was the weirdest one.”

the guy snorts. “fair.”

the needle hits skin.

choso exhales slow. doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shift, doesn’t even blink hard. just stares at the wall across the room, jaw slack, hoodie sliding off his shoulder, the buzz settling into the meat of his arm like a low hum of intention. “you ever tattoo someone like this before?” he murmurs after a beat.

“like what?”

he shrugs again. “someone who’s… y’know.” the guy doesn’t answer right away.

choso elaborates, voice softer this time. “she’s not mine. i don’t want her to be. not right now. it’s not like that. it’s just…” he trails off, brows furrowing a little, tongue tucked against the inside of his cheek.

“she just means somethin’. don’t got a word for it.”

the artist doesn’t look up from his work, but his tone’s gentler when he speaks again. “yeah. i’ve seen that before.” choso sinks deeper into the chair, breathing even. the pain’s dull and constant, but it grounds him. keeps his thoughts from spiraling too far out, keeps his high in this exact moment.

“you think she’d be mad?” he asks, voice airy. “if she saw it?”

“dunno,” the guy says. “you gonna tell her?” he blinks slow, head rolling back against the headrest.

“nah.”

another pause.

“not now. it’s just for me.” the tattooer gives a small nod. “that’s real.”

a silence settles between them, the steady hum of the needle, the sound of someone vomiting into a bush outside the window, a muffled scream from the beer pong table two rooms over.

“looks good,” the artist murmurs, wiping excess ink from the forming lines of the eyes. “she’s got crazy lashes.”

choso huffs out a small laugh. “she’d fuckin’ love that you noticed that.”

“yeah?”

he smiles again, softer now. “talked about lash serum for like a week. gave me a whole presentation.”

the guy chuckles under his breath. “sounds like she talks a lot.”

choso closes his eyes.

“she talks just enough.” the buzz continues. the lines take shape. her eyes, right there, etched into his skin. not to claim. not to confess. just to remember.

just for him.

~

the buzz dies down gradually, tapering into a low hum before the artist finally flicks the switch and pulls back. the sudden quiet settles like a heavy blanket over the both of them, just the soft thud of bass from the next room and the subtle scrape of latex gloves against skin.

“alright, man,” the artist says, leaning back with a stretch. “done.”

choso blinks slow, still slouched deep in the chair like he’s been there for hours, like the cushion molded around his bones. he lifts his head, eyes hazy but laser-locked on the strip of bandage being pressed to his upper arm.

“yo, hold up, lemme see it before you cover it,” he says, voice low and hoarse from either weed or reverence, maybe both.

the guy lifts a brow, but obliges. carefully wipes the skin one last time, blood and excess ink coming away in soft red-black smears. the room’s fluorescent lights hit the raw lines at an angle, shining off the freshly tattooed skin like it’s something holy.

and fuck.

there it is.

your eyes.

wide and soft and open, curved lashes sweeping upward in a way no stencil should’ve captured but somehow did. that quiet way you look at him, like he hung the stars, like he’s yours even if the two of you never say it out loud. inked permanent on the soft part of his bicep, nestled between a set of waves and the jagged edge of a half-finished constellation.

for a second, he doesn’t speak. doesn’t move.

he just stares.

it hits him slow, like a good edible, starts behind his eyes, low and warm in his chest, then spreads.

yo.

he’s obsessed.

like fully, all the way, brain-meltingly obsessed.

he turns his arm slightly under the light, eyes tracing the lines, the slight curve of your upper lid, the detail around the corners like you're mid-laugh or mid-thought or both. it looks exactly like you, his favorite version of you. the version that looks up at him like nothing else exists in the room.

god.

you look good on him. not in the possessive way. not even close. it’s not that.

it’s something else. something way quieter. something he can’t even name when he’s sober, and definitely not now, baked out of his skull with his arm still tingling and his hoodie falling half off.

but still, he’s wearing you now. and it feels like something that’s always been true, just waiting for the ink to make it real.

“you good?” the artist asks, half amused, already reaching for the plastic wrap again. “yeah,” choso says, slow, mouth crooked into a lazy grin. “looks fuckin’ sick, dude.” the guy chuckles under his breath. “kinda figured you’d say that.”

“you killed it,” choso adds, finally dragging his eyes off the tattoo. “like, actually.”

the artist nods, pleased. “appreciate it. was fun as hell to do, honestly. you sure you don’t want her name or somethin’? under it?” choso snorts. “nah. that’d make it weird.”

“fair.”

he watches the guy gently press a clean dressing over the fresh ink, tape it up. the sensation’s a dull sting under his skin, not quite pain, just awareness. a reminder that it’s real now. that it’s his, for good.

she doesn’t know. you might never know. and that’s kinda the whole point. he’s not gonna flash it at you mid-party or say anything slick when you sit beside him later like you always do, throwing your legs over his lap and stealing his drink.

nah.

this one’s just for him. a secret under his sleeve, tucked into the curve of his body like a memory.

“you gonna keep it under wraps?” the guy asks, like he can read choso’s whole plan off his face.

“yeah,” choso mutters, grabbing his hoodie and tugging the sleeve back down with a practiced flick. “at least for now. don’t need her freakin’ out or nothing.”

“bet,” the guy says with a short laugh. “i get it.”

choso stands slow, body still heavy from sitting too long and smoking too much. he sways a bit but rights himself, shaking out his arms like he’s just come up from underwater. the whole basement smells like blood and rubbing alcohol and resin, but it’s warm, and the energy buzzes low and steady around him.

he digs in his pocket for a few bills, slaps them into the artist’s open palm.

“appreciate you, man.”

“anytime, bro. take care of that, don’t go dunkin’ it in a keg or anything.” choso grins. “no promises.”

he walks out with his hoodie draped low, sleeve tugged all the way to his wrist despite the heat and the crowd and the chaotic press of bodies funneling in from the hallway. music floods back in slow, a pulse of bass syncing up with his own heartbeat.

but he can’t stop thinking about it. every step he takes, every time the sleeve brushes against the fresh ink, it reminds him.

not of what they are.

but of what you mean.

upu didn’t need to give him that lighter. you didn’t have to think about him in that little quiet way you always did, like he’s more than just a weed plug or the guy you party with every weekend. that little moment, just you in your dorm, painting red spider lilies on a bic you knew he’d never throw away? that shit went straight to his chest. and now you're on his skin. maybe you'd freak out if you saw it. maybe you'd cry. maybe you'd laugh.

maybe you'd get real quiet and never say anything again. or maybe you'd look at him the way you did in that photo. maybe you'd look at him like you knew.

but all that’s for later. for now, he’s just stoned as hell, arm warm and throbbing, and so unbelievably content that it’s almost embarrassing.

he spots gojo again across the room, already perched on the arm of someone else’s couch with a red solo cup and a grin like he owns the house. choso veers toward him, slips back into the noise like he never left.

sleeve tugged down.

lighter in his pocket.

eyes on his arm, just for him.

~

later that night you navigate yourself back to choso after your banter with the girls.

you spot him sunk deep into the cushions, hood half up, curls falling into his face, a bottle of water in one hand and his eyes half-lidded and sleepy with that lazy high he wears better than anyone. he’s surrounded, gojo splayed on one armrest like he owns the place, sukuna lounged sideways with his feet on the table, and suguru perched on the edge, nursing a half-finished blunt.

“yo, look who it is,” gojo grins as you walk up, already clocking the way you move like you’re headed home, not just to a guy. “princess finally found her prince.”

you don’t say anything, just slide right into the little space at choso’s side like it was made for you. his arm shifts automatically, pulling you in like it’s instinct, and you tuck your face into his shoulder, letting out the softest exhale. you can feel the thrum of his voice in your cheek when he speaks.

“hey, ma.”

his hand’s warm against your hip, steady, grounding. he smells like weed and cedar and the faintest trace of paint from the lighter you gave him. it’s in his pocket now, safe like something sacred.

“so anyway,” suguru picks back up like you didn’t just crash-land in choso’s lap, “i’m telling you, the guy had no idea what he was doing. tried to roll with a swisher, no guts, just dumped the weed in and twisted the end like a fuckin’ lollipop.”

“god, not the lollipop roll,” sukuna groans, dragging a hand over his face. “freshman?”

“of course it was a freshman,” gojo says, grinning. “those little guys think watching one youtube tutorial makes them bob marley.”

“yo, remember that one dude at the delta party?” choso says, head tilting back slightly. “rolled a joint with a bible page.”

“amen,” sukuna snorts.

“nah, for real,” choso laughs, hand tightening just slightly where it rests on your side. “he said it made the high holier.” you huff against his hoodie, and his fingers flex like he felt it, like it was the best sound he’d heard all night.

they keep going, weed stories, party war stories, the dumbest shit they’ve ever seen in a frat house at 3am. it’s relentless, loud, chaotic, but you stay quiet, tucked against choso’s side like he’s the only still thing in the room. his thumb runs in slow circles against your waist through the fabric of your top, and you feel the way he laughs before you hear it.

“yo,” gojo says, leaning across suguru to point at choso. “what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done at a party?”

“besides adopt a girlfriend he doesn’t kiss?” sukuna adds. choso blinks slow. doesn’t rise to the bait, doesn’t even twitch.

“probably that time at theta when i fell asleep in the bathtub and woke up with a raccoon in my lap.” suguru chokes. “you serious?”

“deadass.”

“was it… alive?”

“bro. it was chillin’. just vibin’ with me.”

“you probably hotboxed the tub,” gojo says, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “raccoon was just tryna get high.”

choso grins, soft and slow, and you nudge your nose into his hoodie like you’re hiding your own smile. “what about women?” sukuna says suddenly, eyes glinting like he’s fishing. “y’all ever hook up at your own party?”

“you’re disgusting, that's against reg” gojo tells him cheerfully.

“don’t lie,” sukuna drawls. “you know you have.”

“alright, once,” gojo admits. “but i kicked her out after because she tried to name my bongs.” “you’re heartless,” suguru says, deadpan.

“you don’t name the bongs,” gojo insists. “they earn names. it’s sacred.”

“what about you, choso?” sukuna’s gaze cuts sideways. “you got bodies stacked in your stoner dungeon?” choso hums, slow and easy. you feel the low sound in his chest, pressed flush to your cheek.

“nah,” he says. “i don’t hook up with girls who don’t know how to roll.” the boys howl, gojo nearly falling off the couch.

“that’s so on brand,” suguru laughs. “you need standards,” choso mumbles, amused, and leans his cheek briefly against the top of your head.

the lighter’s still in his pocket. his arm’s still over your shoulders. and beneath the sleeve of his hoodie, hidden from the world, your eyes are inked into his skin.

you shift a little, just enough to tuck your legs under yourself, settling more fully into him, and he adjusts without thinking — arm around you tighter now, palm spread warm across your ribs, thumb grazing your side through the fabric. he’s careful. doesn’t let the hoodie ride up. doesn’t let anyone see. the tattoo’s still fresh, still tender, and it’s just for him.

“yo, you good?” suguru asks, nodding at him. choso blinks slow. “yeah man’.”

“that weed hit hard,” gojo says. “i feel like i’m seein’ sounds.”

“you ever tried dabs?” sukuna asks. “that’s when shit gets spiritual.”

“you tryna kill someone?” suguru laughs. “every time i hit one, i feel like my soul’s leaving my body.”

“shit’s a rite of passage,” sukuna shrugs.

“nah, a rite of passage is hosting a rager with a cop at your door and acting like you live there,” gojo grins. “have you?” choso asks, amused.

“bro, i’ve answered the door in a bathrobe before,” gojo says proudly. they all crack up again. you don’t say anything, but your smile’s pressed right into choso’s chest, and he dips his head for a second to nuzzle his nose into your hair.

“she’s real quiet tonight,” suguru says, noticing. “nah, she’s just comfy,” choso says easily. “she don’t need to talk when she’s like this.”

you don’t. not when you’ve got his warmth, his arm around you, his voice rumbling low in your ear with every lazy joke. it’s always like this, like no one else in the room really matters, like you could fall asleep right here and he’d keep the world spinning while you did.

“that’s love,” gojo says mock-serious.

“shut up,” choso mutters. but he doesn’t stop smiling. and the lighter’s still warm in his pocket.

and your eyes are still inked into his arm, safe and secret beneath layers of cotton and smoke.

~

the house is still going when you two finally get up. it’s past 2am, maybe closer to 3, but the music hasn’t let up and there’s still people on the floor, drinks in hand, voices loud and slurred over each other. someone’s passed out with a sharpie mustache, another guy’s making out with a pillow. classic kappa chaos.

choso’s the one who moves first. you feel it in the way his arm shifts, in the soft brush of his thumb against your side like a nudge. he leans in close, voice barely above a murmur.

“you good to dip?”

you nod into his hoodie, eyes half-lidded, heart heavy with warmth and weed.

he helps you up slow, palm steady at your back. when you stand, the cold air from the open back door hits your legs and you shiver a little, instinctively leaning back into his side. he shrugs his hoodie higher and throws an arm around your shoulders like he already knew it’d happen.

“yo,” choso calls out over the couch, voice scratchy and low. “we out.”

gojo perks up from where he’s still posted with a half-spilled drink, eyes bright. “tell your girlfriend goodnight for us.”

you don’t say anything, just press your face into choso’s shoulder again, and he laughs under his breath.

“night, man,” suguru says with a nod, already halfway into rolling another blunt.

sukuna lifts a hand lazily. “text if you end up in a ditch.”

“if i do, i’m takin’ you with me,” choso mutters.

they all laugh again, and it follows you both out the front door, the porch light buzzing weak and yellow above you. the night’s cooler now, quiet in a way that makes everything feel soft around the edges. your heels click against the pavement as you walk, but only for a second, choso notices and without a word, crouches down in front of you, glancing back over his shoulder.

“get on.”

you blink, amused. “seriously?”

“c’mon, ma,” he mumbles, tugging at your wrist. “your feet hurt.”

you climb onto his back with a little laugh, arms wrapped loose around his shoulders, and he stands like it’s nothing, steady under your weight. his steps are slow and sure down the sidewalk, the frat house lights shrinking behind you, the sounds of the party fading with every step.

“you always take care of me,” you mumble against his neck.

he hums low. “’course i do. you're my.. best friend.”

you walk like that for a while, his hoodie soft against your cheek, his hair brushing your face every time the wind shifts. he doesn’t say much, just hums sometimes or comments on dumb shit you pass, a traffic cone in a bush, a raccoon on the curb that freezes when it sees you, like it knows choso somehow.

he sets you down once you’re close, only when his own building’s steps are in sight. his hand stays in yours as he leads you inside, up the stairs, past the other bedrooms where people are either passed out or definitely not sleeping. his door clicks shut behind you with a soft thud, and everything goes quiet.

his room’s the same as always, warm, dim, the faint smell of weed and whatever incense he burned earlier in the week still lingering in the corners. one sock on the floor, a hoodie thrown over the back of his chair. you’ve been here a hundred times, maybe more.

but tonight feels different. softer. warmer.

he pulls his hoodie off slow, careful of the sleeve, and tosses it toward the desk chair. the bandage underneath catches the light for a second, but he turns before you see too much.

you toe your shoes off and crawl onto the bed without thinking. he follows, slower, body still heavy with high and heat and something else he can’t name.

you’re both under the blanket when he finally speaks.

“hey.”

you look over, curled on your side facing him.

his eyes are half-lidded, soft. one arm tucked behind his head, the other stretched toward you, palm open on the comforter like he’s offering it.

“i really fuckin’ love that lighter.”

your heart stutters a little. “yeah?”

he nods, slow. “like… a lot. been using it all night. even switched pockets for it, kept checking to make sure it didn’t fall out or get swiped.”

you smile, something small and full blooming in your chest. “good. it’s supposed to be yours.”

“feels like it.”

he looks at you for a long second. the space between you shrinks until his arm slides around your waist and pulls you in close.

you go easy, always do, settling into him like he’s your own bed, your own pillow, the place you always end up no matter how far you drift.

he breathes in slow, his nose brushing your hair.

“the flowers… why’d you paint those?”

you press your face into his chest.

“they reminded me of you,” you say quietly. “red spider lilies. they’re kind of… complicated. people think they’re about death or goodbye, but they also mean memory. rebirth. starting over. they grow in all the places nothing else does.”

choso’s quiet for a second.

then, soft, “you think i’m like that?”

you shrug against him, voice even softer. “i think you’re the kind of person who sticks. who stays even when shit gets hard. and you don’t always say how you feel but… you’re steady. like those flowers. like fire.”

he exhales slow.

“fuck, ma.”

“what?”

“you’re gonna make me cry or some shit.”

you laugh, a quiet huff against his chest. he wraps both arms around you now, tucking you into the space beneath his chin, his hand sliding up into your hair.

his fingers stroke slow, gentle. again and again.

“you can cry,” you mumble. “i won’t tell.”

he chuckles low, the sound vibrating through you.

“nah, i’m good. just… i dunno. not used to someone thinkin’ about me like that.”

you don’t say anything. just curl closer, your fingers fisting lightly in the fabric of his shirt.

the room settles into silence. soft and slow. your breaths even out together.

his hand keeps stroking through your hair, steady and grounding. like he could do it forever. like maybe he will.

his voice comes again, quieter this time.

“gonna keep that lighter forever.”

you smile, eyes fluttering shut. “good.”

“not even gonna let gojo touch it."

“definitely good.”

his lips brush your hair, a ghost of a kiss.

you feel it all, the warmth, the safety, the way his body curls slightly to fit around yours like a shield, like a home.

his heartbeat’s slow against your cheek.

“night, ma,” he whispers, already half-asleep.

you murmur it back, voice slurred with sleep, breath syncing with his.

his fingers keep moving, slow circles through your hair.

and in the soft dark, beneath the blanket, beneath the silence, his arm curls around you just enough to press the fresh ink on his bicep to your side, a quiet secret. a permanent truth.

just for him.

just for tonight.

just for you.

~

~

it’s been a chill afternoon, sun’s out, classes dragging, brain fried. choso’s walking out of the lab building with his earbuds in, hoodie half-zipped, replaying your last message in his head. a pic of your shoes kicked off under a library table, captioned come save me, three broken hearts. made him smile. still does.

he’s almost past the quad when a shadow cuts across the sidewalk.

“yo, choso.”

doesn’t need to look up to know who it is.

that voice, too smooth. familiar in the kind of way that feels like smoke curling up your back.

he pulls one earbud out and slows.

toji’s leaned against the trunk of an oak tree like he’s been waiting. sunglasses on, black tee snug across his chest, arms crossed like he’s got all day. his smirk’s already half-there.

“what’s up?” choso mutters.

“you got a sec?”

choso gives him a long look. he knows toji. knows the kind of calm that means something’s coming.

“…yeah,” he says anyway.

they walk.

they’ve done this before, that time a few weeks ago before his lab, once or twice after parties, when everyone else was loud and drunk and messy. toji’s always been different. sharper. like he watches the room just to see where it bleeds.

“how’s life at delta mu?” toji asks after a few steps. casual. fake.

“same shit.”

“yeah?” he smirks. “you still throwing those weed parties with your little mascot?”

choso’s jaw ticks. “you mean y/n?”

toji chuckles. “yeah. her.”

he tosses a glance sideways. too casual.

“she’s got some energy, huh? always bouncing around, arms all over you. she like that with everybody or just you?”

choso doesn’t answer. toji doesn’t need one.

“nah, i’ve seen it,” he continues. “always tucked up next to you. on your lap. wrapped around your arm. clinging to your hoodie like it’s the last blunt in the world.”

he laughs under his breath. “kinda cute.”

choso’s fists go deep in his pockets.

“she’s just like that,” he says flatly.

toji hums. “you sure?”

choso looks over.

“what’s your point?”

“just wondering,” toji shrugs, still smiling like it’s harmless. “you’ve told me before, you two aren’t dating.”

“we’re not.”

“but you hang out every day.”

“yeah.”

“sleep in the same bed sometimes, right?”

choso’s mouth tightens.

toji grins like he caught something.

“so she’s single?”

choso stares straight ahead.

“…yeah.”

“good to know.”

silence.

the wind brushes through the quad. students chatter behind them. someone’s playing music from a bluetooth speaker in the grass, something smooth, almost romantic. it doesn’t help.

“she’s just real… open, you know?” toji says. “like, warm. sweet as hell. makes you feel like you’ve known her forever.” choso stays quiet.

“i ran into her the other day,” toji adds like it’s nothing. “outside the gym. we talked for a sec.” his tone is lighter now. teasing. like he’s digging.

“she remembered my name. smiled real nice, too. said she was headed to meet you.”

no surprise there. you always say where you're going. always talking about choso like he’s the center of your world. and maybe that’s why this stings. and toji knows it.

“you ever wonder if she does that for you?” he asks. “tells other guys she’s headed to see you. uses your name like a shield.”

he doesn’t wait for a reply.

“or maybe it’s just habit. maybe she’s comfortable. you ever think about that?”

“don’t do this.”

choso’s voice is low now. warning. toji just smirks.

“look, man. i’m not trying to piss you off. just… trying to understand. ‘cause you act like you’re her boyfriend, but then you say you’re not.”

he tilts his head.

“so which is it?”

choso breathes slow through his nose.

“we’re close. we’ve always been close. that’s it.” toji nods. like he buys it.

but he doesn’t.

“damn,” he says. “you got more patience than me.”

“what’s that mean?”

“means if a girl like that was pressed up on me every night, i wouldn’t be wasting time calling her my friend.” he says it with a grin, but there’s something sharp underneath.

“you really never tried?” toji asks. “never kissed her? not once?” choso doesn’t respond. he can’t. he kisses you all the time, on the head, bebe ron the lips.

because the truth’s stuck in his throat, the way you fall asleep in his arms, the way you hold his lighter like it means something, the way you always come back to him like he’s home. and he’s the dumbass who never claimed you.

“so she’s single, then?” toji repeats.

“yeah,” choso says, barely above a whisper.

toji gives him one last nod.

“cool,” he says. “just wanted to be sure.” and then he walks away. choso doesn’t move. not for a long time.

just stands there, fists clenched, teeth gritted, watching toji’s silhouette disappear down the path like it’s a threat, because it is. he knew.

he knew before he asked.

and now he’s coming.

because choso left the door wide open.

and you?

you’re free to walk through it.

~

choso’s room, late afternoon

your legs are curled under you on choso’s bed, hoodie three sizes too big hanging off your shoulder, his, of course. the windows are cracked open, letting in the soft hum of birds and the echo of some guys yelling down at the basketball court. his room smells like incense, sage and something deeper, something him, warm, sleepy. you’ve been here a hundred times like this. maybe more.

his hoodie sleeves keep sliding past your wrists as you text, thumbs quick, quiet smile pulling at your lips. he’s across the room, digging through a drawer for his rolling tray. you can feel his presence without even looking. always do.

“yo, did you move my grinder?” he calls, glancing over his shoulder.

“nope,” you answer, distracted, fingers still flying over your screen. your phone lights again.

toji [3:04pm]: you looked cute at that mixer last night.

you bite your lip. thumbs hover.

then you type:

you [3:07pm]: oh you're stalking me noww?

you don’t see choso pause. you don’t see how long his eyes linger on your phone. you don’t realize he saw the name, until he speaks.

“who you texting?”

you blink up, tone of his voice unfamiliar.

“hm? oh—” you shift your phone in your hand, instinctive. “just… someone.”

he tilts his head.

“someone, huh.”

you laugh a little. “why do you sound like that?”

he doesn’t answer. he crosses the room instead, slow steps. plants himself at the edge of the bed, arms folded. you look up at him and that warm energy’s gone. replaced with something colder. sharp.

“that toji?”

your breath stalls.

“…yeah.”

choso stares at you. unreadable.

“why?”

“what do you mean why?” you ask, eyebrows tugging. “he messaged me. we were just talking.”

he hums. low. not buying it.

“just talking,” he echoes. “what about?” you sit up straighter. “what’s going on?”

“what’d he say?”

“choso—”

“lemme see.”

he gestures at your phone. you clutch it instinctively. like muscle memory. like guilt? “are you serious right now?” he doesn’t answer. jaw’s tight. eyes dark.

“what’d he say?” he asks again. your fingers squeeze your phone. you feel a flush crawl up your neck. not from embarrassment, but shock.

“you’re not serious,” you say again, this time quieter. he just looks at you. so you speak.

“he said i was cute when i was bored. and i said maybe. that’s it.”

his jaw ticks.

“you flirting with him?”

“what?”

“you heard me.”

you scoff. “no. i wasn’t. it wasn’t even- i didn’t mean it like that.” choso steps back, runs a hand through his hair. pacing now.

“you texting him while you’re in my bed?”

“what does that matter?”

“it matters.”

his voice is sharper now. rough around the edges. not loud, but tight, like it’s fighting to stay inside his chest. “you know how i feel about that guy.”

“choso, he’s been nothing but nice lately—”

“he’s not nice. he’s not interested in being friends. he’s waiting. he’s circling. you don’t see it?” you blink.

“so what, you’re mad ‘cause i texted him back?” he looks at you like you just spit on the floor. “i’m mad ‘cause you’re in my fucking hoodie, in my bed, telling some other guy he’s got a shot.”

you freeze.

the silence that falls is loud.

so loud.

your eyes widen. you stare at him, lips parted. unsure if you heard that right. unsure if he meant to say it.

“a shot?” you echo. he looks away. exhales hard.

“never mind.”

“no,” you say, voice firm now. “say it again.”

he doesn’t. but you both feel the truth echoing off the walls.

you look down. suddenly too warm. like the hoodie’s burning your skin. “…i didn’t know you’d care,” you say, almost to yourself.

choso swallows. “i do.” you glance back up.

“why?”

he doesn’t answer. but you already know. and now the air is thick with it. the unspoken thing. and for the first time, it’s not sweet. not warm. it hurts.

because it means everything he’s never said, everything he’s been, came with conditions you never agreed to. came with borders he never drew, but expected you not to cross.

you breathe slow. he watches you. you speak first.

“if you wanted to be the only one texting me like that, you should’ve said something.” choso’s face shifts. his mouth opens like he’s going to say something, defend himself, maybe, argue the way he always stays quiet because he doesn’t want to lose you,but nothing comes out.

instead, his brows knit together, lips pressed in a tight line. his fingers curl at his sides.

“you really think i don’t wanna be that?” he says, voice rough. “you think this shit’s been casual for me?” you blink at him. your breath catches.

“you’ve never said it was anything else, choso. what was i supposed to think?”

“fuck,” he growls, pacing again. “you were supposed to know. i thought you knew.”

his voice rises, not yelling, but loud with frustration. he’s unraveling in real time, and it’s shaking something loose in you, too. “how was i supposed to know?” you shoot back. “you flirt but you never say anything. you touch me like i’m yours but act like i’m just your best friend—”

“you are mine.” your voice dies in your throat.

he stares at you. and when he speaks again, it’s quieter, but no less intense.

“you’re mine,” he says again, like a confession. like a curse. “always been mine.” your stomach flips.

“then why—” your voice cracks — “why didn’t you ever tell me?”

choso runs a hand through his hair again, like he’s trying to physically hold himself together. like it hurts.

“’cause i was scared,” he snaps. “scared that if i said it out loud, it’d fuck everything up. that you’d look at me different. that you’d leave.” you stare.

“so you’d rather let someone else have me?”

he stiffens. you rise onto your knees on the bed, fire lighting behind your ribs now. “you’d rather let toji of all people try it?”

his jaw clenches. “he’s not gonna have you.” your heartbeat skids.

he moves in fast, faster than he ever has, and grabs your wrist, firm but not rough, like he can’t bear to let the distance exist any longer.

“i’m not letting him have you,” he mutters.

you’re still frozen, looking up at him. something between fear and thrill curling in your gut.

“choso,” you whisper. he doesn’t stop. he pushes you back gently onto the bed, one hand catching your waist, the other bracing against the mattress. he hovers over you, breath heavy, eyes searching your face like he’s begging you to see it, really see it this time.

“i’m fucking in love with you.”

your heart punches into your throat. his forehead dips, pressing against yours, voice hoarse.

“i’ve been in love with you since you showed up to my first party and we listened to that dumb song together.”

you let out a shaky laugh, but your eyes are wet his thumb brushes your cheek.

“i never said it ‘cause i thought this was enough. thought just having you close was better than risking it all. but i can’t—” he pulls in a breath, voice shaking now too — “i can’t sit quiet while other people try to take you from me.”

you’re blinking fast now. breath catching. every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire beneath his touch.

“you’re my girl,” he says again, softer this time. “you’ve always been mine.”

you don’t answer right away. your chest rises and falls beneath his, shallow and unsteady. your palm is still on his cheek, but your eyes have shifted, staring past him now. unfocused. wet.

“you’re only saying that,” you murmur, “because someone else finally had the balls to go after me.”

his breath catches. your voice is quieter, but sharp now, like you’re trying to convince yourself. like you want to believe it, but the cracks are there, and they’re splitting open.

“you didn’t say anything until he got involved. until he started asking about me. texting me. seeing me.” your hand falls away from his face. “and now suddenly, i’m yours?”

his eyes widen. “no—”

“you had so long to tell me, choso. so many chances.”

“y/n, it’s not like that—”

“then what is it like?” you breathe. “’cause i don’t get to be the girl you only want when someone else does.”

choso stares at you, heart hammering. like you just ripped something raw and bloody straight out of his chest.

he swallows.

and then, slowly, he pushes back, just far enough to sit up on his knees beside you. the mattress dips with the weight shift. his hands fumble for the hem of his hoodie.

he pulls it up and over his head in one quick move. your breath stutters.

there, inked into the inside of his upper arm, where he’d hidden it every time you curled up against him, is a tattoo.

of your eyes.

staring straight back at you.

your real breath, the one stuck in your throat, finally punches out of you.

choso watches your expression shift, eyes flicking from the ink to his face and back. he swallows once, hard, and says:

“got it the night of the party. when you gave me the lighter.” you blink.

“you were curled up on me. whole time i was talking with the boys, i couldn’t stop thinking about you. how close you were. how you looked at me like that was your home.” he swipes a thumb under his nose, like he doesn’t know what else to do with his hands. “so i got up, high as fuck, to the guy tatting people in the corner. told him to ink your eyes on me.”

your lips part, but nothing comes out. his voice softens.

“i didn’t say anything ‘cause i thought it was enough. just having you near. but it’s not. not anymore.”

your heart pounds so hard you feel it in your ears.

he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the room. like he needs you to believe it. really believe it.

“this isn’t about toji. it’s never been about him. i wanted you long before he ever said your name.”

you’re still staring at the tattoo.

he moves closer again. his hand brushes your knee, gentle.

“you think i’d get your fucking eyes on me just ‘cause i’m jealous?” you blink fast.

his hand finds your face again. tender. grounding “you’re it for me.”

his voice is low, raspy. not just from the emotion, but from how hard he’s holding it in, like if he lets go, everything he’s ever felt for you will come spilling out and drown him.

but he lets it go anyway.

“you’re all i think about,” choso says, brushing his thumb over your cheek again. “when i’m high, when i’m sober, when you’re across the room and laughing at someone’s stupid joke, when you’re asleep in my bed, wearing my shirt, you’re in my head all the time, ma.”your breath catches.

“every song reminds me of you. every little thing you do drives me crazy. you don’t even know how much of me you’ve got.”

he leans closer, forehead nearly touching yours.

“you gave me that lighter and i wanted to kiss you right there in the middle of the street. when you paint your nails i stare at your hands for hours. when you fall asleep on me at parties, i sit still like a statue so you don’t move. i’m always lookin’ at you like i already lost you. and it kills me.”

his hand finds your jaw, warm and steady, fingers curling behind your ear. your breath hitches, and he’s close enough to feel it.

“you’ve had my heart since freshman year. and i didn’t say anything ‘cause i thought maybe you didn’t want it. or maybe you already had it and didn’t need to hear it out loud.”

you swallow, shaky. lips parted. cheeks flushed.

and choso looks down at them, your lips, like he’s been holding himself back from kissing you for a lifetime.

and then he doesn’t anymore.

he crashes into you like he’s starving.

the kind of kiss that drags a sound out of your throat before you even realize it, all heat and pressure and ache, all the months and years and everything he’s shoved down, poured out into the way his lips mold against yours. he kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll pull away, and like he knows you won’t.

your hands claw at his shoulders, winding into the mess of his hair, tugging him in even closer. and choso groans, deep in his throat, pressing you down into the bed, slotting his hips against yours.

his mouth moves fast, desperate, lips, tongue, teeth, like he can’t get enough. like the taste of you is something he needs in his lungs.

“fuck,” he breathes against your mouth, dragging his lips down your jaw, “you don’t get it, do you?”

your back arches, lips parting when he sucks lightly under your ear.

“how bad i’ve wanted this. you.”

his hands roam, over your waist, under your shirt, up your sides like he’s trying to memorize all of you at once. and every place he touches leaves a trail of fire.

you moan his name, soft and shaky, and he loses it a little more, bites your bottom lip as he grinds his hips down into yours, heavy and hot and so there.

“say it again,” he mutters, eyes half-lidded, forehead pressed to yours. “say my name.”

“choso.”

he shudders.

“again.”

“cho!.”

he kisses you so deep it knocks the breath out of your lungs. kisses you like he owns you, like you’ve always belonged to him, and like he’s finally letting himself claim what’s already his.

and fuck, you let him.

you’ve wanted this just as long. needed him just as bad.

and now, with your limbs tangled, your body burning under his, your heart thudding like a war drum in your chest, there’s no more pretending.

you’re his. he’s yours. and it’s written all over his face.

choso looks at you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted, like he’s starved for you, but still savoring the moment. his eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, but soft. reverent. he cups your cheek with a hand that’s just slightly trembling, brushing his thumb along your skin like he can’t believe you’re real.

he kisses your forehead, slow and grounding, like a promise. then your nose. then your lips, and that one lingers. warm, aching, deep enough that it steals the air from your lungs. it’s not just desire. it’s everything he’s never said until now.

“please let me see you, ma." he whispers, voice hoarse, like he’s been holding back forever.

you nod, lips parted, eyes locked with his. your breath stutters as his fingers ghost over the hem of your shirt, lifting it inch by inch like he’s unwrapping something precious. he tosses it aside, only to pull you in again. his palms spread wide across your ribs, thumbs brushing just beneath your chest.

“fuck,” he breathes, low and to himself. “so fucking beautiful.”

he leans in, mouth dragging hot and open along your neck, kissing and breathing you in, his lips trembling against your pulse like he’s drunk off you. he murmurs something there, a soft, almost desperate, “mine,” before he undoes your bra with one practiced flick.

and when it falls away, he doesn’t touch you right away. he just stares, like the sight of you has knocked the wind out of him.

his hands come up slow, palms warm as they cup you like he’s afraid to break something delicate. “been dreaming about this,” he says. “about you. here. like this. in my bed. lookin’ up at me like you already know i’d give you everything.”

you shiver under the weight of it all, his voice, his gaze, his touch. and then his mouth is on your chest, lips sealing around your nipple, tongue flicking before he sucks — slow, deep, just enough to make you arch into him with a needy whimper.

“choso…”

he groans, hand sliding lower, fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts. he pulls them down with your panties in one motion, dragging his palms down your thighs on the way. and when he sits back, just to take you in, bare, breathless, flushed, his eyes go wide, like he’s trying to commit you to memory. “look at you,” he murmurs, chest rising with each ragged breath. “you don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”

you reach for him, tugging his shirt up and over his head, palms skating down the strong lines of his chest, stopping only when your fingers find his arm. your breath catches.

your eyes. inked in black and red over his skin, etched like a confession. you won't ever get sick of seeing it.

he watches you take it in, sees the exact moment you understand, and he doesn’t say anything. not at first. he just leans in, takes your hand in his, and presses it over his heart.

“see?” he whispers. “been yours. always.”

your eyes brim, chest tight with something that has no name. and then he kisses you again, slow and deep, tongue stroking yours, hand sliding between your thighs. he groans into your mouth when he feels you, warm, wet, already trembling.

“so wet for me,” he mutters, lips brushing yours. “all this for me, huh?”

his fingers dip into you, one at first, then two, slow and deep, curling just right. your back arches, mouth falling open with a gasp as he starts to move them, watching every twitch and shiver you give him like he’s memorizing the way you come apart. “fuck, baby,” he breathes. “you feel so good, been wantin’ this for so long. just wanted to take care of you. make you feel good.”

his lips trail back down, mouth closing around your nipple again as his fingers keep working you open, the room echoing with your broken gasps and soft moans. he kisses your sternum, your ribs, every inch of you he can reach like he’s trying to make up for every second he didn’t have you.

and when your legs start to tremble, when your thighs squeeze around his hand and you whimper his name into the crook of his neck, he groans, low and sexy, and pulls back just enough to strip the last of his clothes.

his cock is flushed, hard, already leaking, and still, he pauses.

he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, breathing hard. “you sure you wanna do this hun?”

“i want you,” you whisper, voice cracking. “i want all of you.”

and when he slides in, slow, deliberate, it’s overwhelming. your nails dig into his shoulders, mouth open in a silent gasp, and he just groans, long and low, burying his face in your neck.

“fuck, baby… you feel so fuckin’ good, made for me, huh?”

his hips rock into you, slow and deep, dragging along every sensitive inch inside you until you’re trembling again, mouth parted in helpless moans. he kisses you through it, messy and uncoordinated, full of teeth and tongue and need.

he doesn’t hold back anymore. not his body, not his voice. he’s everywhere, his hands, his mouth, his words, and every thrust is rougher, deeper, hotter than the last.

“been yours since the day i met you,” he breathes against your skin. “you’re mine, baby. mine. no one else gets to have you like this. no one else even fuckin’ compares.”

you believe him. how could you not, when he’s saying it like he’s been waiting years to let it out?

you fall apart first, clenching around him with a strangled moan, whole body trembling as your orgasm crashes through you, and choso follows, grinding into you with a low growl, holding you close as he spills into you.

he doesn’t let go. not even after. he stays buried deep, forehead to yours, one hand cradling your jaw like it’s fragile.

“not lettin’ you go,” he whispers. “not now. not ever.”

~

the party’s already in full swing when you two walk in. the bass thrums under your feet, bodies packed tight in the kappa house. familiar faces flash by in strobes of color and sound, solo cups raised, someone laughing too loud, gojo shouting across the room with a bottle in each hand.

and then you and choso step into the chaos like it’s nothing. except tonight, it’s not nothing. it’s everything. your hand is in his. his thumb strokes over your knuckles like it’s second nature, and you’re tucked into his side like you’ve always belonged there. he’s wearing that hoodie you love, and you’ve got it slung off your shoulder like it’s yours now. he hasn’t let go of you since you walked through the door, and he doesn’t plan to. people notice.

gojo sees first. his mouth falls open around the mouth of a beer can, and he drops it on the counter with a dramatic gasp. “oh my god.” choso raises an eyebrow, smirking. “no fuckin way,” sukuna mutters, eyes narrowing. “this for real?” you don’t say anything. just smile, nuzzling into choso’s chest. and choso, god, he melts. his arm tightens around you like instinct, like he’s not even thinking about it. “you’re kidding,” maki blurts from across the room. she’s half-drunk and squinting, pointing her beer bottle at you two like she’s trying to make sense of a mirage. “you finally fucked?”

“maki,” shoko hisses, slapping her arm, but she’s already grinning. “i knew it. i knew it.” suguru lifts his drink with a slow, knowing smile. “took you long enough.” gojo, meanwhile, is spinning in a circle like he just witnessed a miracle. “wait wait wait,” he says, pointing between the two of you. “you’re telling me this entire time, we’ve been watching you two eye-fuck each other across every frat house on campus, and now you’re just casually showing up like this?”

“what can i say,” choso murmurs, pulling you even closer, “i figured it was time.” “look at his hand placement,” shoko says, leaning into maki. “that’s not friends. that’s boyfriend hand placement.”

“yeah and look at her,” maki laughs. “she looks like she just got dicked down and praised like a goddess.” you duck your head a little, embarrassed, but choso leans in and kisses your cheek, then your temple. it’s so soft, so easy, and when he pulls back, he looks straight at toji who’s staring wide eyed, steady, calm, but with a flicker of challenge in his eyes.

“don’t look at her like that,” he says, voice low. “not tonight. not ever.” toji scoffs, raising his hands in mock surrender, but his grin is sharp. “damn. someone’s possessive now.”

“been possessive,” choso mutters, like it’s not even up for debate. he turns his attention back to you instantly, brushing your hair behind your ear.

“you okay?” you nod. “i’m perfect.” and then he kisses you. not a peck. not for show. it’s slow, unhurried, with his hand cupping your jaw and his lips moving with the kind of tenderness that makes your knees weak. the room could be burning down and he wouldn’t stop. you don’t even hear gojo’s dramatic screech until you break apart.

“yo this is crazy,” he says, spinning around and yelling to no one in particular. “choso is off the market. choso kamo, resident stoner-lover of no one but his weed and his hoodie collection, is now cuffed.”

“what’s it feel like,” suguru asks with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at choso, “to be someone’s boyfriend?”

“feels like i shoulda done it years ago,” choso says. you blink up at him, heart catching in your throat. “yo,” yuuji calls from the other side of the room. “does this mean we’re finally allowed to say you two have been in love since freshman year?” “i always said it,” nobara yells, shoving through the crowd with a drink. “don’t act like y’all didn’t see them cuddled up at every party like an old married couple.”

“wait does this mean she’s moving into his room?” gojo asks, visibly spiraling. “what’s gonna happen to the guest bed? who’s gonna roll for me when choso’s too busy being in love?”

“die mad,” choso says flatly, and everyone laughs. but even through all the noise and teasing and attention, his focus never strays from you. his hand stays on your waist. his eyes keep dropping to your mouth like he’s remembering exactly what it feels like.

“you good?” he murmurs again, like he just wants to hear you say it.

you press your nose to his chest and nod, smiling. “more than good.”

he kisses you again, slower this time, like it’s just for you. like no one else is in the room. like he’s exactly where he’s always wanted to be.

and the thing is — he is.

he’s yours. fully, finally, publicly.

more choso for you >~< 'sticky situation' 'you,always.'

awe wasn't that sweet 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨 masterlist !!

guys look at this beautiful art @ryololart did inspired by this fic i love her go like it rn omg this is the perfect visual.

[iwaaizoomies]

choso's breeding tendencies... (unprotected sex, breeding duhhh, overstimulation)

choso feels that he's about to die in your pussy. "baby," he twitches against your cervix, black locks messy and unruly down his back. your cunt spasms around his cock and "baby, baby, stop clenching... i'm not gonna last..." he whispers, balls pressed up into your ass.

gosh he's dying. your pussy is so tight, and warm. now that he's truly felt you from the inside, raw, he can't even fathom ever wearing a condom again. "cho... move" your plead snaps him back, "hold on baby... i don't wanna cum yet," he clenches his eyes shut, wishing hard to stop his dick from twitching inside you.

"mmm, why not?" your ankle that wrapped around his neck slowly traces downwards, his obliques, his hip, then his ass. you lock your ankles around him, "don't you wanna fill me up?"

choso is going to die and it's your fault. he hasn't realised it yet but his hips already began snapping against yours, sounds of skin slapping echo the room: plap plap plap. hoarse moans rumble from your throat from his sudden movements, his tip kissing your g-spot over and over again. choso pulls his entire cock out until just the tip is left inside, before slamming back inside you, "doll, didn't i tell you to stop talking out of your pussy?" he kisses your neck, sucking bruises into your skin that your co-workers will no doubt see tomorrow, "you're gonna regret it."

the way his hip snaps against your ass becomes more sporadic, chaotic. until he just shoves and shoves his dick deeper without pulling out at all. "i'm gonna cum so deep inside you until you're leaking out of every hole." his fingers shift towards your clit, rubbing small circles until you vibrate with overstimulation, "you're gonna be a good cum dump who's gonna take everything i give you," he whispers, your eyes are rolling back, the inevitable umpteenth orgasm creeping up your spine, he bites your lip, "i'm gonna breed you until it takes. until my seed makes you a mother."

at his word, your hips gyrate upwards, shaking as your body is sent into overdrive, while he sprays his white warmth inside you, filling up every crevice. nothing leaks out as choso pushes you upwards, into a mating press. he laughs.

"so... how many kids do you want?"

[lokissweater]

you noticed me ⚾︎

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: megumi fushiguro is one of the best players on the major league baseball team, and when you finally spot him on the big screen after practically dozing off at every game you went to with your girl friend? you were absolutely IN LOVE, but IN DENIAL that he could ever like you back… but he does, and bad.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, NASTY NASTY MEGUMI, oral sex, SMUT, pussy eating in locker rooms HEH, mentions of drinking but like tiny just once, reader is oblivious to the way megumi wants her, DOMINANT AF MEGUMI PHEWW, cursing, flufffff!!, barely any angst, DIRTY TALK, pet names, aged up characters.

word count: 12.1k (IK IM SORRY ITS A CUTE ONE THO)

authors note: you GUYSSSS i love megumi fushiguro i want him so bad and i LOOVEEE this fic!! i worked like a little worker bee for days and i really hope it makes you guys happy :] MWAH!!

want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

megumi fushiguro was the hottest baseball player you had ever seen in your life.

and you didn’t even like baseball to begin with, dozing off at every game your girl friend dragged you to because her boyfriend was on the major league team— but the one time you decided to open your eyes and pay attention to the big giant screen in front of you?

there he was in all of his emo glory.

number eighteen.

focused, half lidded eyes resembling borderline boredom as he waited for the pitcher to throw, his forehead glistening with sweat, flushed red cheeks, and his jet black hair slightly peeking over his forehead from underneath his baseball cap.

“my god—” your hand flew and you gripped your girl friends arm tightly, your jaw to the fucking floor as your eyes were gorilla glued to the screen, her quirking a curious eyebrow at you as she matched your frantic nature.

“what? what is it? who did you see? whats happ—”

you pointed your finger up at the screen, him swinging and hitting a fucking grand slam as he proceeded to get four runs with one hit, the one thing you knew about baseball besides a home run.

“that’s a— that’s a grand slam!” you pointed frantically, probably looking absolutely insane as you stood and screamed your fucking head off.

your girl friend laughed loudly, “you like fushiguro? megumi fushiguro?”

you jumped up and down, your girlfriend astonished and laughing as this was the first time she’d ever seen you energetic at a baseball game.

“he’s friends with yuji!” she yelled over the hollering of the crowd. “we can go to their locker room after and you can say hi! i heard he’s kind of mean though—”

“no!” you spun around, eyes wide and terrified. “i already know he’ll eat me alive then! i’m a loser, i can’t talk to him i don’t have game i—”

she rolled her eyes. “you’ll be fine—”

“no i can’t!” you shook your head frantically. “please he looks like the type to love bomb me and then leave me i don’t think i can handle that—”

she snorted. “are you sure?!”

you hesitated for a moment, biting your bottom lip as your eyes trailed back over to the screen, seeing megumi breathing a little heavy from running the field, his hands on his hips as he scanned the arena.

you sighed through your nose. “yeah i’m sure!”

“suit yourself!”

a year. a year you spent continuing to tag along with your girl friend to their games, staring lovesick and sad at the big screen over megumi, and standing outside far far away from the locker room once they scored another big win and not going in like you used to, waiting for your girl friend to finish up speaking to her boyfriend as you tried your best to avoid the chance of running into megumi.

she finally emerged from the locker rooms one day, a knowing smirk on her face.

“i told yuji.”

you blinked. “told him what?”

“that you like fushiguro.”

“no!” you gasped, a hand flying and smacking over your mouth. “please no im about to experience the biggest heartbreak of my life—”

“oh relax!” she grabbed your arm and practically dragged you towards the locker room doors. “he’s not even here megumi already left, but yuji wants to talk to you.”

“why?!” you exclaimed. “to let me down easy? to tell me he’s sorry on his behalf—”

your girl friend just about threw you in and went in after you as you stumbled, eyes blown wide as the air became humid and heavy, several of the players lounging about and refreshing themselves as the sound of lockers slamming shut echoed through the space— deep, broad voices laughing filling the room as yuji spotted you, his eyes friendly and polite. “y/n!”

you relaxed and smiled, “hi! you guys played really well today!”

“megumi also played really well today.”

“oh my god—” you groaned, throwing your head back as you spun around, heading straight for the exit.

“wait wait!” he laughed loudly, jogging up to you. “sorry sorry.”

“what do you want with me..” you mumbled.

he gave you a half smile. “i wanted to tell you that megumi’s weird.”

you snorted, “elaborate please.”

yuji threw an arm around your girl friend before continuing.

“you know we support your feelings and what you want…” he began.

your eyes narrowed. “why are you guys talking to me like you’re my parents—”

“but—” yuji cut you off. “i’m just gonna be straight with you. i’ve never ever seen megumi interact with anyone, let alone another woman, besides the team.”

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen him have a proper conversation with anyone on the team besides you actually…” your girl friend muttered to yuji.

yuji winced. “yeah…” he turned back to you. “back when megumi and i first got signed, he was really popular and a lot of girls would come up to him after games for his number or just to talk to him.”

“well obviously he’s a greek god,” you grumbled. “this is hurting me man get to the point.”

he sighed. “he basically scared all of them off. didn’t give a single one a chance and was kinda mean... he would either ignore them or straight up just tell them he wasn’t interested without them even being able to get a word in.”

you stared blankly.

“i tried to tell him that he needs to be nicer but he’s just not interested.”

you kept staring.

“that’s why i’m telling you this because we don’t want you to get hurt and i feel like if you try and talk to him he’s gonna be a dick and it might…” yuji looked at you sadly. “it might be a lost cause.”

you blinked.

“y/n?”

“that’s fine!” you squeaked, hands tight at your sides. “a part of me already knew. i read about it in an article, and i’ve seen his interviews.”

your girl friend looked at you with concern filled eyes. “are you okay?”

“yeah!” you waved them off. “why wouldn’t i be?”

“because your eyes are red.”

“ppffttt!” you blew out. “i’m fine! seriously. i never intended to talk to him anyways, i’m too much of a scaredy cat.”

you extended your arms out and engulfed the both of them, squeezing tight. “thank you guys for telling me though, i appreciate it.”

“y/n…” yuji trailed off.

“i’m gonna take off though, i’ll see you guys later, okay?” you waved and opened the door. “love you!”

and you scrammed, your heart in a million pieces.

it’s not like you didn’t already know. you knew, so why were you sad? why did you feel like you just got ran over by a double decker bus? why did you pathetically feel so sad?

this was the reality. you never stood a chance.

so why were you crying?

you continued walking down the hall and towards the main exit, utterly embarrassed at your sobbing and trying your best to hide it as you navigated through several groups of people, your vision entirely blurry as you were basically drowning in your tears.

you had barely escaped the crowd when you spotted a little secluded area in the lobby, trudging over pathetically and plopping down on the coushy seat as you wiped your cheeks, staring at the wall in front of you— a huge glass casing proudly decorated with the teams trophies and awards, gigantic portraits of the players on the team adorning the walls with megumi’s serious beautiful framed face right in front of you just making you feel worse.

you already knew, but regardless of megumi’s stand off ish personality, you liked it. you had curiously browsed his interviews and quotes in articles, and you always laughed at his responses, him almost every time offending the staff without even trying or knowing, and you found it so so funny, it only making you admire him and want to get to know him even more, even if it was just a friendship.

megumi fushiguro was one of the best players on the team in history, and as you closed your eyes, silent pathetic tears still slipping down your cheeks?

he never felt so out of reach.

“here.”

your eyes opened, but you literally could not see jack shit as your tears were still blurring your line of sight, you completely and utterly mortified that a stranger caught you sobbing as you wiped your face quickly in response.

“put on my sunglasses if you don’t want people to see you crying.”

the voice was gruff and lazy, but you could not care less as you took the sunglasses and settled them over your eyes, the lenses so freaking dark that you couldn’t see a single thing— your sight worse than before.

but it relieved you, as you figured no one could see your bloodshot eyes and therefore thankfully not notice you losing your mind over something so stupid.

“thank you,” you mumbled. “sorry.”

“for what.”

you felt the plush of the bench shift next to you, figuring that the stranger man sat beside you as you refused to look in their direction out of embarrassment.

not that you could even see in the first place.

“for looking like a loser.”

the stranger man snorted. “s’fine.”

you wiped your nose with your sleeve, sniffling.

“how do you see in these?” you muttered softly. “they’re making me claustrophobic i can’t see a thing.”

“that’s the point,” he hums.

“how come?”

“i get migraines everyday. they help.”

“oh i see.” you responded softly. “have you ever run into a wall because of them?”

you hear him huff out through his nose. “i did once, when i first got them.”

you giggled gently. “did you bleed?”

“no,” he spoke calmly. “i got a bump on my forehead.”

you snickered, “what? loserrr.”

you stood up and carefully tried to walk around a little, testing out how to guide yourself through the dark lenses and trying to be careful and not bump into a wall (which was literally impossible), your hands out, feeling around.

“jesus christ i’m just kidding now i feel bad. i think im gonna bump myself into a wall too so we can call it even.”

you couldn’t see, but the stranger man’s lips twitched at your comment.

“don’t do that.” he murmured. “sit back down.”

you listened and started making your way over, feeling him reach out and wrap his fingers around your wrist carefully and guide you to the bench, you plopping down on it once you felt it.

“thank you!” you responded sweetly. “…i’m actually glad i can’t see a thing right now.” you perked up, pushing the sunglasses back up over the bridge of your nose.

“why is that.”

“so i don’t have to look at megumi fushiguro’s big portrait in front of my face.”

the stranger man stopped.

“…why?”

“because he indirectly broke my heart.”

you heard a little audible laugh, and you smiled to yourself.

at least someone is having fun right now.

“how did he indirectly break your heart?”

“my girl friend’s boyfriend is yuji itadori. she spilled the beans against my will about how i have a crush on him, and yuji told me that he’s mean and he’ll basically bite my head off and tell me to scram.”

“did he?”

“uh huh,” you nodded. “they were trying to let me down easy, but it’s not like i was gonna try and talk to him anyways. i’ve gone a year without saying anything i can go on and on and on.”

the stranger man hummed.

“he’s so cool though…” you murmured, dazed. “he’s gonna be a hard one to forget about.”

“why do you like him?”

“i feel like im being interrogated,” you giggled.

you felt the stranger man lean back against the wall. “sorry, just curious.”

you copied him and crossed your arms, “mmm… because he’s really good at what he does. i admire that most of all.”

you tilted your head. “everyone berates him for being mean but i like that he’s supposedly mean for some reason…. he’s just serious about his profession and he doesn’t want to waste time. he’s also the hottest man i’ve ever seen so that definitely helps.”

the stranger man laughed a little.

“i don’t know,” you sighed sadly. “maybe i’m just demented. i am demented.”

“if yuji itadori told you the exact opposite about him, would that have encouraged you to go up to him?”

you sat in thought for a moment, but ultimately shook your head. “no. it’s too embarrassing for me and i’m also a big fat wuss so…”

you slid your fingers underneath the lenses and rubbed your stinging sore eyes. “maybe in the next life if i’m lucky, ill be reincarnated as a cool baseball man too and i won’t have to deal with this shit.”

“cool baseball man.” he repeated, tone seemingly amused.

“yup.”

the stranger man sighed. “is this why i found you crying?”

“maayybeee?” you dragged out shyly, your cheeks flushing.

it was silent for a moment, your vision completely black but his on your rosy cheeks, oddly staring that if you could see right now, you’d probably call him a creep.

“i’m sorry i made you cry.”

you jumped back.

“no not you!” you huffed. “have you not been paying attention? catch up man—”

you felt a shadow reach up and tug the sunglasses slightly away from your face, your eyes constricting against the bright lights of the hall as they tried to adjust.

and when they did?

megumi fushiguro was sitting right next to you, a tiny smile on his face dressed in all black with his teams baseball cap on.

your eyes widened dramatically and you slapped both hands over your mouth, beyond horrified as everything you had thought you were telling a stranger about him, you were telling him directly, your brain short circuiting and your body heating up like a fucking hot flash.

“oh my god i’m so sorry!” your voice was muffled, you shaking your head in absolute denial.

you immediately sprung up and grabbed your purse, slowly backing up further and further away from him.

his smile widened.

oh my god.

megumi fushiguro was smiling, a sight you’ve never ever seen during his games, practices, interviews, articles, or magazines as your cheeks increased in shade— wanting to mentally take a picture and remember forever as you knew you’d probably never see him smile like that again.

but he was smiling.

“pretend i don’t exist!” you stammered, “pretend this never happened i’m sorry this is so embarrassing keep winning your games okay and i’ll keep being an idiot far far away from you—”

“where are you going?” he chuckled lowly.

“—you’ll never see me again i’m going home and i’m going on lockdown—”

he laughed through his nose, his lips in an amused smile.

“you don’t have to do that.”

“yes i do—”

“you don’t have to forget me either.”

“that i definitely do—”

you were halfway out of the main entrance doors.

“hold on y/n—”

megumi stood, his long legs walking over to you and you froze.

y/n?

you slowly turned around, your face pale and afraid.

“how do you know my name?” you asked softly.

“your best friend is dating yuji, is she not.”

you nodded, eyes blank.

“i’ve been seeing you inside the locker room after our games for like… two years.” megumi mumbled.

oh.

oh that’s right.

you didn’t actually notice megumi until last year, when you decided to finally open your eyes for once during a game and that’s how you spotted him for the first time on the big screen in front of you, in all of his gorgeous handsome entity.

“oh.”

he raised a hand and pressed his index finger to your forehead, nudging you softly.

“dummy.”

“s-sorry..” you gave him a wobbly bashful smile, your cheeks pinky as you rubbed your red eyes.

his eyes slightly softened and he shook his head. “s’fine.”

megumi continued to stare at you, a stone cold face that always seemed to scare off the teams entire fan base, but only made you feel numb and giddy all over every single time.

you smiled wider then, and megumi’s lips twitched.

cute.

“i’m— i’m gonna go now.”

“do you have a ride home?”

you stopped. “no i was just gonna call an uber—”

he shook his head and walked past you, his shoulder brushing gently with yours with his hands stuffed in his pockets as you turned and stared at him.

he paused and looked over his shoulder.

“you coming?”

your eyes widened. “coming? w—where?”

he rolled his eyes. “i’m taking you home.”

“no!” you shot your hands out. “it’s okay! really! thank you thank you i appreciate it but—”

he stared lazily.

“come.”

you pressed your lips into a thin line and tipped your head down, taking tiny painful steps as you followed after him to the parking lot.

megumi led you from the public parking area to a secluded section around the back of the arena, one you assumed was for players and crew members only as you nervously gnawed on your bottom lip, feeling absolutely sick.

you both continued to walk down until you arrived to a private parking garage, megumi slipping out his keys from the pocket of his hoodie as you approached a shiny black luxurious car sitting neatly in a spot.

his car was really fucking nice, and you figured so being as he was one of the most popular players and probably had more than enough money in the bank— your fingers trembling as you gripped the passenger side door, settling yourself inside his plush cool leather seats and all black interior.

megumi pressed the ‘start’ button and his engine roared to life, the motor echoing through the structure as you clumsily tried to put on your seatbelt, your cheeks growing pinker with each passing second that you just couldn’t get the stupid damn thing to— click—

he reached over across the console and took the seatbelt from you, pulling it over your body and clicking it secure without a word.

“thank you.” you said softly, eyes trained to your lap.

megumi gave you a small nod and backed out of his parking space, driving around a couple of rows before making his way out with the night air softly breezing through your hair as he drove, his dash illuminated with blue lines that ran smoothly across.

“can you put your address in—”

“oh yeah!” you jumped. “sorry—”

you reached over and tapped in your address on his big touch screen, watching the way the gps registered the location and gave him the estimated time of arrival.

forty fucking minutes.

“megumi..”

his eyes looked over at you for a second before turning back to the road.

“hm?”

“i live kinda far from here and i don’t want you to drive the opposite way from where you live.”

you leaned a little, eyebrows pinched. “i can take an uber seriously, this is too much trouble i—”

“you’re already in my car.” he deadpanned.

“i’ll jump out.”

he pursed his lips, trying to suppress a smile.

“i have child lock on.”

“child lock?!” you gawked. “is this what you think of me?”

“you’re a little helpless… and you’re a crybaby.” he mumbled. “child lock stays on.”

you giggled after, your eyes shining and filled with mushy feelings for him as you nodded. “you’re probably right.”

he looked over at you then, and he smiled, softly.

“what do you do?”

you fidgeted. “h—huh?”

“do you um…” he ran his thumb over the top of his gear shift. “do you work? do you go to school?”

he’s asking you?

“i go to school!” you responded shyly but kind. “i go to a college that’s about fifteen minutes from your stadium. i usually go and meet up with my best friend after class if there’s a game.”

he hummed. “are you a big baseball person?”

you grimaced.

do you lie? do you tell the truth? do you roll down his window and attempt to jump out of the car that way?

you played with a strand of your hair. “i— i um—”

he raised an eyebrow.

“i— don’t?”

he cocked his head. “you don’t?”

you shook your head no, completely ashamed of who you are as a person as you covered your eyes.

“i knoww i suuucckkk,” you whined. “the only things i know about baseball are home runs and grand slams— which you did!”

you pointed at him excitedly. “last year! i remember you hit a grand slam! i got so excited that for once i knew what the fuck was going on and why everyone was going crazy…”

you fiddled with your fingers nervously, your eyes trained to the road. “i felt so included.”

he chuckled, and unexpectedly, reached over and gently ruffled your hair.

you then stared at him as he did so, doe eyes wide and cheeks pink.

megumi was truly just beautiful— his smooth face that didn’t have a single blemish on his skin shining under the moonlight, his black spiky hair peeking from under his cap that you had no doubt in your mind was soft and velvety.

you hated that you’d probably do anything for that man.

“i’m sorry i made you cry,” he repeated, you recognizing his words from before.

your eyebrows furrowed.

he was still thinking about that?

you shook your head furiously, “you didn’t! i swear it’s okay. i’m just crazy.”

he huffed out a laugh.

megumi thought you were odd, but in a good way. he thought everything you did was a little funny, as you were jumpy and clumsy and a crybaby and helpless, but he also took note of how polite you were. he noticed how considerate you were of him even though you were really upset, and you were kind of sweet… really sweet actually, your personality something that was totally different from the usual girls that came up to him.

well, the usual girls that used to come up to him back when he first started.

megumi pulled into your driveway and shifted the gear into park, the doors automatically unlocking.

you opened the door and stepped out before leaning down and peeking your head in.

“thank you for the ride!” you said sweetly, a cute smile on your face. “i’m sorry you had to listen to my confession against your will.”

he shook his head. “it’s alright.”

you went in to close the door.

“y/n.”

you leaned back down, “yeah?”

“are you gonna stop coming to our games?”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, your eyes darting around the interior of his car nervously.

“i— i don’t think so.”

“good.”

megumi watched you close his door and walk back a bit, him shifting his gear into reverse as the corners of his lips turned a tiny bit upwards.

“i’ll see you then.”

as you watched him pull out and drive away, his engine roaring down the street, you could not stop or simmer down the way your heart raced against your chest, so much so that you were afraid it was going to burst through your chest and literally kill you.

the next time you went to a game, you hadn’t told your close girl friend yet as she led you through the crowd and down to the v.i.p. lower level seats like always, a kind courtesy of yuji’s that he did whenever he could.

as you watched, you embarrassingly spotted megumi almost the minute you arrived, stars and hearts in your eyes as you watched him do his thing and work magic through the field with his absolutely insane batting, strong and purposeful as he barked orders or observed the opposing team for leads.

once his and the opposing team switched sides, megumi looked up as he jogged, his eyes seemingly scanning the v.i.p. front sections until he spotted you.

he raised a hand and gave you a little wave, and your eyes widened as you timidly, hesitantly, gave him one in return— your cheeks turning pink.

“who are you waving at?”

your girl friend pressed a cheek against yours and looked.

“who is- fushiguro?!”

you looked at her sheepishly.

as you recounted the story to her, her eyes bulging out of her sockets and screaming her head off every two seconds, her head snapped to the field.

“i have to tell yuji—”

“no!” you gripped her shoulders. “it’s literally nothing! he drove me home and he probably just feels bad for me.”

“megumi isn’t the type to make a crying girl feel better or drive her home.”

“it’s because he knows that we know yuji.”

“mm i don’t think so..” she scowled, crossing her arms in eventual defeat as she stared straight ahead.

that’s how it went for about a month.

you would come to their games, megumi would wave at you from the field or you would catch his attention and wave at him, and you would briefly speak to him casually just after his games, your conversations with him usually lasting no more than three minutes as he was often pulled by his coach or a crew member.

but even though the conversations were short, they were really nice, and the both of you never seemed to notice the people around you wanting his attention until he physically had to get pulled away.

but you still refused to go inside the locker room, knowing that was surely the place where you had to talk to him for longer than three minutes. you were too scared, embarrassingly so as you bid your girl friend and yuji goodbye from just outside the door before leaving every time, completely unaware of the way megumi would stare expressionless at you from inside.

when your girl friend invited you to the team’s yearly banquet, you flat out said no, decision firm and unmoving as she begged you over and over and over again.

“please please you have to go! you can’t avoid megumi forever!”

“what is the purpose of me going though?” you sighed, shaking your head with a smile at the sight of her dramatically on her knees over you. “for you it makes sense because you’re with yuji but what’s the excuse for me? i’m not anybody’s plus one.”

“yes you are,” she got back up on her feet and wiggled her eyebrows, “you’re megumi’s plus one.”

“bye i wish,” you mumbled, plopping down on your bed.

“okay you’re my plus one, or yuji’s! so he has two plus ones!”

she walked over and sat down next to you, resting her head against your shoulder as she sighed. “please come. you don’t have to talk to megumi okay? fine. but just come with me, i’ll have a better time if you do.”

you gave her a silly smile and thought for a moment, her sad tone swaying you as you finally gave in.

“only if you swear you won’t force me to talk to him.”

she nodded eagerly.

“i swear!”

so you stood there, nervous and biting your thumb as you frantically looked around, dressed in a pretty black off the shoulder mermaid style gown with a high slit exposing your leg— fiddling with your styled hair as you waited and waited and waited for your girl friend to come back from the dessert table with yuji.

you hadn’t seen megumi yet as you were trying to keep on a look out, because the moment you did see him all dressed up? you were sure you were going to start pathetically bowing for him on your knees in front of all these people and end your social life forever.

finally, she came back and handed you a little pastry, you thanking her kindly and taking a small bite.

“wait no!” she gasped, turning her pastry around. “fuck, i got the wrong one. i meant to get the vanilla one this is coconut.”

“i can get it for you this time.” you smiled kindly, her looking at you gratefully as you patted her shoulder, making your way over to the dessert table.

your eyes lit up like stars at the sight of it, grand and luxurious as any kind of pastry you could ever possibly think of was present— neat and gourmet-like, each adorned with elegant toppings as multiple huge chocolate fountain stations ran from the sides.

“hi.”

you jumped and looked to your right, megumi standing there beside you with a bored expression, clad in a polished black button up and slacks, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

you gulped.

“h—hi.”

“i didn’t think you’d come.”

he lazily picked up a tiny slice of chocolate mousse cake and looked at it.

“i was dragged by my best friend,” you puffed out a laugh. “she said i was her and yuji’s plus one or something like that.”

he nodded, biting his cake slice and swallowing.

“you stopped coming inside the locker rooms.”

you faltered.

he noticed that?

“oh yeah! i just—” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “i’ve been really busy with school so i study right after…”

for some reason megumi eyed you carefully, and your cheeks grew pinker the more he blatantly stared at you as you fidgeted.

“are you—”

“fushiguro!”

you both turned your heads to the source, and you spotted an unfamiliar guy, one who you assumed was on the team with them, smiling enthusiastically and throwing a heavy arm around megumi’s shoulder.

“who’s this? i’ve never seen you talk to anyone besides us!”

megumi only spared him a nonchalant glance before he looked back over at the dessert table.

the unknown man extended a hand out to you, and megumi’s eyes snapped to it.

“hi! i’m takuma!”

you cheerfully took his hand. “y/n!”

“are you megumi’s girlfriend?”

you gawked, guilt and embarrassment already filling your body at the thought of megumi finding that comment uncomfortable and being uncomfortable because of you.

at his own banquet.

“n—no!” you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “i came with my best friend and yuji.”

takuma unhooked his arm and let it rest beside him. “oh nice! you know yuji as well?”

you nodded, “mhm!”

the rest of the crowd began to take their seats for the awards ceremony segment, and the three of you walked over to your designated table by yuji and your best friend, who’s eyes widened at the sight of you next to megumi.

you all sat, and takuma pointed to the empty seat next to you.

“is anyone sitting here?”

“oh no!” you smiled politely. “it’s empty you can—”

“take mine ino.”

megumi pulled out the chair next to you and plopped down on it, scooting up. “it’s closer to the front.”

huh?

“o—oh!” takuma scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “okay! thanks fushiguro.”

he only nodded in response and stuck his face in his champagne glass, sipping.

and he was right. you watched as takuma navigated through the circular tables before sitting in a seat that was right smack dab in the front.

“that’s really nice of you megumi!” you chirped. “he has such a good view now!”

“mhm.”

your best friend smacked a hand to her forehead with a shake of her head, and you looked at her quizzically.

the awards ceremony was the most fun you’ve ever had, as you were over the moon for all of the players that were awarded prestigious titles and recognitions, and even more excited for yuji and megumi, the both of them combined taking award after award that by the time the event was done, your table was filled to the brim with frames, medals, and trophies.

your doe eyes glowed over megumi’s earnings, pride and admiration bubbling in your chest as you took in the result of his hard work, feeling like he was the most talented person you ever had the privilege of knowing.

he stared at your enamored look.

“you’re so cool, gumi..” you gushed, not even noticing the little nickname you gave him.

but he did.

“cool baseball man?” he responded softly, referencing your words from when you first met.

your eyes snapped to his and you gave him the shiniest smile, nodding quickly. “yeah! cool baseball man.”

megumi looked down at his awards, and after a couple of seconds, picked up a shiny gold medal hung on a baby blue striped lanyard, holding it out for you.

“here.”

your eyes traveled down.

“what?”

“for you.” he pushed the medal forward.

shock crossed your face, and you frantically shook your head, pushing the medal back to him. “no! no megumi that’s yours you earned it—”

megumi rolled his eyes and held on to the edges of the lanyard, effortlessly setting it over your head and around your neck, the medal clinking and twinkling against your chest.

“i have four others. it’s fine.”

“no but—”

he carded his thumbs underneath your hair and gently slid your hair out from beneath the lanyard, setting it delicately over your bare shoulders.

yuji and your best friends jaws were on the floor, but you didn’t notice, too busy ogling over the fact that megumi fushiguro was the kindest person you had ever met, utterly amazed that he selflessly gave you something so precious. you.

your gaze trailed down to the medal, and you softly touched it with the pads of your fingers.

“t—thank you gumi…”

his lips twitched.

you realized then that the music had started and the crowd had already dispersed to celebrate, some dancing in the center while others mingled on the sidelines or hogged the dessert table.

and you spotted your best friend with yuji, the both of them smiling adoringly at each other, laughing and dancing— something bashfully wished for yourself as you grinned softly at them.

megumi followed your gaze, and he huffed an amused small laugh through his nose.

“they met at a party didn’t they?”

you looked to him and nodded, “uh huh! i was with her. she was so scared to talk to him and i literally had to throw her in.”

he scratched his cheek. “i remember. i was there.”

your jaw dropped. “you were?!”

he nodded. “and i remember you too.”

you sat there in silence.

how long had megumi been around in your life without you knowing? how didn’t you ever freaking notice?

before you could press any further, megumi squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to his forehead in pain, groaning softly.

you jumped, “are you okay? what’s wrong?”

he shook his head. “migraine. the lights are fucking with me a little.”

“oh!” you frantically looked around the table and around him. “where are your sunglasses? the dark ones the ones you ran into a wall with!”

megumi snorted and shook his head again, eyes peeking at you a bit. “it’s fine. i left them at home.”

your eyebrows rose, “you left them?”

he nodded and dropped his hand, sitting up straight and trying to open his eyes fully to seem normal, but his lids only dropped again and his forehead fell to rest against the table.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled. “just give me a minute.”

“don’t be sorry gumi…”

you figured the rest of the night was going to be like this, and if megumi stayed, he was going to end up dealing with the dull ache in his head for hours on end and not enjoy his banquet.

but you wanted him to enjoy it. this was his night, and you didn’t want him to spend it pissed off and writhing in pain.

“do you want to leave?”

he turned his head to the side and looked at you.

“we can um—” you fiddled with the medal around your neck. “we can go outside? or we can go for ice cream…”

you tilted your head to the side cutely, and you were oblivious to the way megumi’s cheeks went a little pink at the sight.

“ill pay though!” you smiled sweetly. “it’s the least i can do for the medal you gave me.”

he gave you an endearing half smile and nodded.

your eyes lit up. “really?! okay!— wait let me just say bye to my best friend and let her know—”

you quickly stood and walked over to the dance floor, megumi watching after you before picking up his black blazer and holding it underneath an arm, wondering how the fuck he was gonna pick up all of his awards himself.

“y/n!” your best friend gushed. “you’ve been talking to megumi for hours what the fuck is going on—”

you laughed. “nothing! it was nothing but i’m gonna go get ice cream with him!”

“what?!” her and yuji said in unison.

“did he ask you?” yuji pushed.

“no!” your eyes narrowed. “of course not i’m a big fat loser why would he? i invited him because he has a migraine so—”

your best friend hummed, a smirk on her face. “oh i see... use protection.”

“huh?!” your jaw dropped. “no! that’s not—”

“y/n!”

you turned and saw takuma walk over to you, a big smile on his face. “you enjoying the banquet?”

“oh yes! it’s really great!” you smiled kindly. “the dessert table is absolutely insane.”

“right?!” takuma stepped closer to you. “they go all out every year, it’s what everyone looks forward to.”

“i can definitely see why!”

he chuckled and nodded but then turned to you, speaking quieter. “listen um… i was wondering if you were uh— well if you wanted to dance? with me? y’know… maybe get to know each other better and then—”

yuji shoved his lips to your best friends ear.

“he’s stealing megumi’s girl.”

“i know!” she whispered harshly. “what the fuck do we do—”

“i don’t know!”

“well call megumi over—”

suddenly, a tall broad figure walked in between you and takuma, your vision blocked by his back.

“sorry ino,” megumi stepped to the side a little and placed a hand on the small of your back, ushering you towards the exit. “we were just leaving.”

yuji and your best friend gave each other a low high five before their eyes darted around, putting on false ignorance.

“sorry!— it was nice meeting you takuma!” you called from over your shoulder before the both of you stepped out of the venue and into the cool night air.

megumi’s car was parked right out front, him unlocking the doors with a button just like he had done the last time, you noticing how all of his awards were set neatly in the back seat.

“oh i’m sorry gumi! did you carry these over by yourself? i was gonna help you—”

you sat yourself on his passenger side seat, the leather creaking with every movement you made.

he shook his head. “i had my publicist team do it. it’s fine.”

“oh okay…” you mumbled, still feeling a little guilty that you didn’t help him.

you went to reach for your seatbelt when megumi’s arm flew in front of you and grabbed the strap, pulling it over your frame and clicking it securely before his hands wrapped back around the steering wheel, just like he had done a month prior.

you couldn’t make out his expression, as it was blank and stone-like and not a word was coming out of his mouth as he backed out from the parking space, but you smiled at him cutely nonetheless and thanked him.

the nearest ice cream shop was literally down the road from the venue, and the drive took less than three minutes before megumi pulled in and parallel parked on the side of the street.

you both stepped out and walked inside, the shop colorful and vibrant as what looked like twenty different assortments of ice cream were on display, your eyes launching across each flavor excitedly.

“i haven’t had ice cream in a fat minute…” you murmured as you pressed your hands against the glass.

“me neither.”

“which flavor do you want megumi?” you asked him sweetly, your eyes still glued to the flavors that it made him chuckle.

“um…” he stepped forward and scanned the different colors. “i’ll take whatever you get.”

you looked at him and your eyebrows softened, “are you sure? what if you don’t like it?”

the corner’s of his lips turned upward, the sight making your heart skip a beat.

“it’s okay. i trust you.”

you ended up getting your all time favorite flavor that you never skip— cake batter, one that tastes different depending on who’s palette it is, and something you anxiously thought over as you gnawed on your bottom lip and stared, waiting for him to try it as you both sat on a park bench not too far from the shop.

“why do you look like you’re about to cry.” he snickered lowly.

your eyes snapped to his and you giggled. “i might if you don’t like what i picked out.” you plopped a little spoonful in your mouth, the cold ice cream melting and spreading over your tongue as you swallowed. “cake batter is a hit or miss for different people…”

he hummed, “how come?”

“it’s either too sweet or just nasty.”

“i have a sweet tooth.”

your eyes lit up, “so do i! i’m a big sweets person. i love love desserts and chocolate and ice cream… but i’m not the biggest fan of candy.”

“you’re not?”

“i love candy but not how i love sweets… and i wouldn’t randomly pick it out like at the store because i wanted to. most likely i would get a cookie.”

megumi liked how much you talked.

“have you always had a sweet tooth?” he pressed on, looking at his ice cream cup.

you nodded. “have you?”

“not really,” he shook his head. “i didn’t pick it up until i met—” he stopped. “…my dad.”

met his dad?

megumi spotted your confusion and continued.

“my actual dad disappeared. dunno where he’s at. all i’ve heard is that he had a bad gambling addiction so i’m guessing it had something to do with that.”

your eyes softened.

“gojo is kind of like my dad…” he mumbled. “he’s supported my sister and i financially ever since i was maybe five or six.”

“you have a sister?” you murmured, eyes big.

he nodded. “i do.”

he scooped a bit of cake batter ice cream up with his spoon and plopped it into his mouth, smiling softly. “gojo gave me a sweet tooth. he can’t go a day without it.”

you’d never heard megumi open up so much before, and you felt incredibly lucky and special to be the one to hear about his family and share a precious moment with him over eating ice cream, something you wanted to treat delicately and remember for as long as you lived.

“do you like it?” you asked softly, gesturing to his cup.

“i love it.”

you beamed, and he took in your cute smile for a minute as you ate some more on your end.

“i’m sorry about your actual dad… but i’m glad you and your sister got the support you needed when you were young.”

he nodded.

“did he encourage you to do baseball? or was it you?”

“he did initially.” he shook his head. “he was annoying at first, was a cheerleader at every game and was so loud.”

you giggled.

“but i grew to like it… and that’s what i wanted to do for a career. if it wasn’t for gojo’s funding i wouldn’t have been able to.”

you hummed, savoring the ice cream a bit before swallowing. “that’s really nice, gumi. i’m really happy you got the opportunity to grow your skill out like that…” you swirled the ice cream around your cup with your spoon. “what you have is a solid gift, and i would hate to see it not get the recognition it deserves when you’ve worked so hard to make it what it is now.”

you looked at him. “so i’m really, really glad that it does get it.”

megumi stared at you, face blank and a scoop of yet to be eaten ice cream on his spoon, his cheeks growing hot.

“i don’t know why you think so highly of me.” he murmured.

everyone thinks he’s rude.

your eyebrows furrowed. “i don’t think megumi, i know. you’re not a mean person, you’re honest and serious about the important things in your life. and if the medal around my neck that you gave me selflessly doesn’t tell you otherwise? i might have to kill you.”

he laughed, loud, his eyes sparkling. “you might?”

you bit your lip to refrain yourself from freaking out over his smooth laughter. “i might.”

you subconsciously rubbed your hands over your chilling arms then and megumi eyed it before he put his cup down, reaching next to him for his blazer and opening it up as he gently placed it over your shoulders.

you looked at him like he was the world then, doe eyes big and round and shimmering, and megumi felt like he could do anything with that look as long as it came from you— a permanent red tint on his cheeks that was entirely your doing.

“thank you..” you mumbled shyly, your eyes glued to your now empty cup of ice cream on the bench as you clutched the sides of his blazer, the smell of him wafting in your nose that made you absolutely weak.

megumi timidly, slowly, reached up and moved a strand of hair from your eyes then, and you looked up.

“pretty…” he murmured, dazed even.

his hand fell and landed gently on your exposed thigh from the slit of your dress, but instead of moving it, he let it stay there, his hand smoothing over your plush soft skin as he was completely entranced by your heavenly face, his body pulling his lips closer to yours as megumi’s breath quickened with absolute need the higher up his hand trailed up your yummy thigh.

you couldn’t say a word, he practically didn’t let you as his lips pressed delicately and timidly against your plush ones, his mouth moving so slowly and his tongue parting your wet lips for the purpose of devouring more of you, all while his fingertips reached and felt the side straps of your panties— the material alone making him erratic and desperate while his other hand gripped your waist tightly.

your mouths moved faster now, the sounds of wet smacking and lips separating to reconnect with more greed than before muffling your ears as he breathed heavily through his nose, his eyebrows pinched together in pent up everything as he finally had you with him after months of you avoiding him.

and then you pulled away with a wet pop.

“i—i’m sorry!” you covered your mouth. “i didn’t mean to kiss you!—”

what?

megumi’s eyebrows furrowed, both of your chests heaving as his cheeks and lips were blushed red.

he shook his head, “no i kissed you—”

“don’t cover for me gumiii,” your shoulders slumped, your brain so in denial that he could ever like you back that it tricked you into thinking you were the one kissing and all over him. “fuck i’m sorry… that was so disrespectful and— and weird of me and i—”

megumi’s hands slipped away from your body and he shook his head, his eyes dead locked on yours with his eyebrows pinched together. “y/n no you’re not understanding—”

“i’m the biggest creep on the planet man i understand if you don’t ever want to speak to me again—” you covered your face and leaned forward.

megumi stared at you astonishingly as he listened to you ramble apologies and dramatic insults for yourself continuously, his shoulders slowly relaxing and his lips turning into a soft knowing smile, your random speech starting to make absolutely no sense at all and his heart aching at the fact of how naive you were.

“y/n.”

you stopped. “what.”

he reached over and pulled your hands away from your face. “you’re helpless, you know that?”

“helpless and a creep.”

he laughed and shook his head. “stop it.”

he stood and offered his hand out for you.

“it’s getting late, i’m driving you home.”

megumi decided he would properly speak to you about it the next time he saw you… except he didn’t.

you started avoiding him like the plague again, horrendously horrified about what you believed you had done, thinking that it was better if you stayed away from him and fulfilled your initial task of forgetting him, no matter how much it hurt you.

you didn’t want megumi to ever be uncomfortable or experience what you believed he experienced with you. he didn’t deserve that. he didn’t deserve a pathetic little fan girl that never left him alone and hindered his work on the field, even though you wished so badly you could see him again, as the taste of his lips and mouth never left your fuzzy mind.

you kissed megumi fushiguro.

“oh my god y/n, you’re so stupid.”

“no i’m not! do you really believe megumi could ever like me back? no! absolutely not. i kissed him and i fucked up and that’s it. i’m staying away from him.”

your best friend ran her fingers through her hair and almost tore a chunk out in frustration. “it sounds like he kissed you! he had his hand on your thigh—”

“that was for stability! he—”

“no it was to feel you up!”

you shook your head side to side with your arms crossed. “nope nope nope nope—”

“y/nnnn!”

as for megumi, the next game he had he looked for you while on the field like he always did, looking forward to seeing your precious face and giving you a little wave… except he couldn’t find you. after the game, he went around the stadium and towards the locker room, inside and back out, the parking lot, his parking lot—

and he couldn’t find you.

this went on for a full three weeks of game after game nearly every day him doing the same exact thing— him getting increasingly more confused and a bit upset at your disappearance, going as far as to staying hours after his games still in his sweaty baseball uniform and cap with hopes that you’ll turn up.

except you never did.

and at the end of the third week, he had had enough.

“oh hey megumi!” your best friend greeted him, her hand fixing around yuji’s hair in the locker room after a game.

“hi.”

he stood there and said nothing, and your best friend eyed him skeptically. “…yes?”

megumi shifted awkwardly. “have you um… have you seen y/n?”

she sucked in a breath. “uh yeah. i saw her this morning.”

“this morning?” his eyes narrowed. “is she okay? why hasn’t she been coming to our games with you?”

“because—” she stammered. “well because—”

“is it our place to say?” yuji muttered.

“is it our place to know?” she whispered back harshly.

“i don’t know!”

“let’s just tell him!”

“but what if!—”

megumi rolled his eyes and huffed. “nevermind. please tell her to come tomorrow, i need to talk to her.”

your best friend gulped and nodded, both her and yuji watching the way he walked away and snatched his cap off, throwing it inside his locker and slamming it shut with his foot before picking up his duffel bag and leaving, not even bothering to change out of his dirt covered uniform.

“i’ve never seen him so stressed,” yuji commented.

“it’s because he likes her and she’s being an idiot…” your best friend sighed sadly.

so when she came to you the next day and told you megumi needed to speak to you, she amplified how upset he was to get you to feel bad and feel the urgent need to come to the game tonight, which you of course did.

and you were worried. so so worried and scared that he was finally going to tell you off for kissing him, to tell you that you sucked and that he never ever wanted to see you again in his life and that you were a disgusting human being—

but the roar of the crowd pulled you from your thoughts, the team winning once again as many began to pack their things and take their leave. you were completely and utterly shitting yourself, petrified and already heartbroken over the fact that megumi was officially going to cut you off as a friend when you hadn’t even had the chance to try and win him over yet.

and the way he played on the field tonight was way more aggressive than normal. he was louder, meaner, and didn’t take his eyes away from the ball or his opponents as he nearly got into a fight with another player, yuji and a few others needing to pull megumi apart and set him aside to cool off— the cameras and reporters having a field day in regards to him.

and that bothered you like nothing else. why the hell were they so excited over him getting angry? to amplify the brand that he upholds as the teams meanest player? as if they’ve never had a bad day a day in their lives? what was the point?

and it was all because of you, you realized.

you made him upset.

you covered your face with your hands and groaned, feeling like you wanted to cry.

“y/n…” your best friend patted your back. “it’ll be fine… he just needs to talk to you! you don’t even know what it’s about.”

“i can take a wild guess.”

she looked at you worriedly before picking up her things. “whenever you’re ready babe… i think he’s in the locker rooms by now.”

she left you there to gather yourself, and you sat there for a couple of more minutes before finally getting up and making your way to the locker rooms.

most of the fans had cleared out by now, and the sun was beginning to set as you passed and squeezed through crew members and news reporters, gnawing at your bottom lip as you turned a corner and spotted the locker room, many of the players already leaving.

just as you had reached your hand up to open the door, a firm voice called out to you.

“y/n.”

you froze, retracting your hand as you turned to look.

megumi stood there at the end of the hall, his baseball uniform still on and his cap dangling from his belt loop, hands in tight fists with his chest rising and falling, an agitated look on his face that you had never seen before.

“h—hi-”

“are you trying to forget me? is that what’s going on?”

your eyebrows furrowed.

“what?”

megumi took stride full steps towards you. “you finally talk to me, you confess to me, you disappear for a month, i wait for you, you finally show up at the banquet looking like the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen in my fucking life—”

he stopped in front of you. “takuma tries to steal you from me, i get pissed off, i fall for you at the park, i kiss you—“ he threw his arms up. “and you disappear again!”

your eyes bulge out of their sockets.

fall?

“you what?—”

“so i’m asking you again,” megumi bent his knees to look at you at eye level, his hands coming up to cup your pink cheeks and his face so close to yours you can make out the exact color of his eyes.

“are you trying to forget me? like you said you would?”

you fidgeted.

“i— i was doing it for you—”

“why for me? i never said—”

the feeling of his big hands on your cheeks was making your heart do backflips and trick shots as your wide doe eyes looked at him.

“because when i kissed you i made you uncomfortable and i don’t ever want you to be so i thought it’d be best if i left you alone—”

“okay let’s fix that right now,” his hands tightened slightly around your cheeks and he readjusted his footing, knees still bent. “i kissed you. if anything i should be the one worried if i made you uncomfortable because i put my hand on your thigh like that and for that i’m sorry.”

“no but—”

“yes y/n. i kissed you because you’re polite and you’re sweet and you’re funny, and you don’t see me as rude like everybody else does. and even though you’re naive and helpless sometimes, i like that you are. i like you.”

“but you’re megumi fushiguro…” you squeaked.

“so?”

“and i’m a loser.”

he laughed so cutely and shook his head, his pearly whites fully shining at you so big that it took you back to the first time he smiled in front of you.

“no you’re not you big dummy.”

he let go of your cheeks and placed his palms flat against the brick wall behind you, cornering you in as he let his head hang low, the top of his spiky black hair the only thing in your line of vision.

“i don’t know how else i can make you see…”

he sounded so exhausted, and your heart clenched.

“was it—” you timidly placed your hands on his shoulders. “was it actually you that kissed me?”

he nodded, head still hung.

“and do you actually like me? like— like more than a friend…”

“way fucking more,” he mumbled.

you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to contain yourself from screaming.

you couldn’t believe it. the megumi fushiguro, number eighteen, the most handsome man you’ve ever seen and the kindest one you’ve ever met… liked you.

“i could’ve sworn i kissed you..” you spoke softly, trailing off.

“you didn’t.” his voice was firm. “i kissed you and i put my hand up your thigh…” his forehead lifted to rest on the crook of your neck as he sighed a deep breath.

“i told— i told takuma to scram at the banquet because i got jealous that you were talking to him more than me. i saw you crying in the hall that first time we spoke and i recognized you and i went up to you because finally—”

he picked his head up slowly, eyes serious. “finally, you noticed me.”

he was so close that your nose brushed gently with his.

“you’re so dense y/n…”

megumi’s eyes flickered to your lips, “i’ve wanted you since the party.”

“the party?” you murmured.

he nodded. “the party where your friend first met yuji.”

your breath hitched as you felt his hands slide down the wall and snake over your hips, holding you tightly against him as the shock of his words made your body numb and tingly.

since the party?

it all seemed to click into place then, every single moment megumi tried to get you to look at him, to talk to him, in his own discreet way that you were completely oblivious to. and you were so fucking caught up in this fog of denial, that a person like megumi could never be interested in a person like you, that it made you push him away for the longest time without even giving yourself a chance.

you were so fucking stupid.

your arms slowly wrapped around his broad shoulders, the rough feeling of his baseball uniform underneath your fingertips and arms as you pressed your nose up against his shoulder shyly, feeling so incredibly bad for avoiding megumi for so long.

“i’m sorry…” you mumbled. “i’m sorry i was so oblivious gumi.”

you felt him shake his head from the crook of your neck silently, the vibration of his heart beating rapidly against you making you sweat and melt at the same time.

“don’t be.”

“i just—” you struggled. “i just thought you didn’t like me like i liked you and i wanted to respect your space…”

“i understand,” he muttered. “but i don’t want you to respect my space anymore.”

you held him tighter.

“and—” your voice was slightly muffled by his shoulder.

“hm?”

“i liked it when you put your hand on my thigh…”

megumi stilled, you playing the night he kissed you over and over in your head again like you’ve done since it happened— the thought making you nervous and timid.

he gripped you tighter.

“did you?”

you nodded, “mhm.”

megumi without parting from you, slipped a hand under your shirt and soothed his fingers over the bare skin of your torso, your breathing stuttering, his rough hand radiating warmth.

“what else do you like.”

you gripped the fabric of his uniform.

“i like… i like the way you kissed me. and how you touch me… like right now.”

your voice was so so soft, practically a whisper as he seemed to shiver under your words, wanting more.

“what else.”

“you,” you mumbled. “your body… your hair… your face… your hands… the way you talk to people.”

“you want me?” he murmured breathlessly.

“more than anything.”

“what else do you like?”

you leaned your head back a little and pressed your lips to his ear. “the way you play ball.”

he hummed, “you like the way i play baby?”

you nodded, your heart hammering.

he lifted his face from the crook of your neck and shamelessly pressed his lips to your cheek, murmuring.

“you wanna see what else i can do?”

“what— what else?”

megumi’s face remained pressed against your cheek as he let both of his hands now snake underneath your shirt and upwards, slowly but roughly groping the cup of your tits over your bra, feeling you up as you gasped.

“uh huh..” he pressed an open mouthed wet kiss to your pink fuzzy cheek. “‘cause i can do a lot more than just be your cool baseball man.”

he roughly spun you around and pushed you up against the wall, his hands coming back up to your breasts to grope you as he shoved and rubbed his hardened clothed dick against your perky ass, your tiny skirt riding up and revealing your pretty pink panties that made him absolutely feral.

“gumi!” you gasped. “s—someone could see—”

“i don’t fucking care.”

megumi buried his nose further into the back of your neck and your hair, him being a little pervert in the most delicious and intoxicating way possible.

he dragged his mouth up against your skin and latched on to the nape of your neck, sucking and biting sloppily against it as he marked you aggressively, no doubt in your mind that a purple bruise would follow soon after as his hands slipped under your bra now, pinching your hard nipples meanly and laughing when you jumped.

you moaned and whined against the wall, your body trembling as you felt your slick arousal slip from your hole and dampen your panties, choked up embarrassment coating your face as he shoved his fingers down your skirt without warning.

“you’re soaked baby…” he whispered. “and all because i grabbed your tits?”

“megumiii…” you whined, and you squeaked as he quickly slipped his fingers in between your pussy lips and pinched your clit.

“gumi,” he corrected. “fix it.”

“g—gumi—”

“good, pretty baby...” he praised, his dick rock fucking solid against your ass at the way his fingers slipped and slid in between your lower lips without much effort, both of your chests heaving and panting as your brains frazzled erotically.

the sounds of footsteps echoed from the end of the hall and you both immediately froze, a gasp slipping past your lips before megumi quickly covered your mouth with the same hand that was just fingering you.

“shh.” he kissed the back of your head.

if anyone were to walk in and see the sight before them— megumi with his crotch pressed up against your ass, a hand pushing your top and bra up, squeezing your bare puffy tit and the other covering your mouth?

they’d drop dead.

without another moment wasted, megumi uncovered your mouth and turned you around, his tongue darting out and licking the patch of wet on your cheek from his fingers before shoving them in his mouth, sucking up your left over juice as he bent down and wrapped his arms around your legs, lifting and throwing you over his shoulder.

megumi was freaky.

your eyes widened as he walked to the double doors of the locker room and kicked it open with his foot, turning around to lock them shut before walking to a corner and setting you down gently on a bench, his palms flat beside you on the smooth wood as he towered over you.

“is— is everybody gone?”

“long gone.” he nibbled at your cheek.

“but— but what if someone wants to come in?—”

he pulled away and got down on his knees. “i’ll tell them to fuck off.”

you panted as he pressed his hands against your thighs and squeezed, spreading them apart slowly with his eyes trained to your drenched cute pink panties.

he slid his hands underneath your thighs and lifted, bending you and pressing your knees closer to you as your back hit the lockers behind you, your hands gripping the bench for dear life.

“has anyone ever seen your pussy?” he gruffed, licking his lips.

you shook your head, embarrassed. “n—no.”

“has any other man touched you the way i’ve touched you?”

“m—maybe in high school?—”

megumi sunk his teeth into your inner thigh and bit you as you yelped.

“thought you liked me.”

“i do!” you sputtered.

“clearly not if you’re being a little whore and letting other filthy men on you.”

your hole clenched.

“that— that was before you!”

he stuck his tongue out and pressed it flat against your pussy covered panties, dragging it slowly and agonizingly up until the tip of his tongue passed and flicked up against your clit, the tip moving around and around your little nub as your thighs shook.

“doesn’t matter.” he let a string of drool fall from the corner of his lips and over your ruined underwear, your eyes fluttering as you felt his warm saliva ooze in between your lips.

“and what about takuma, hm?”

you tried to open your eyes. “ta—takuma?”

“mhm. he was all over you.”

you hiccuped as he wrapped his fingers around the straps of your panties and pulled them down.

“i—”

“bet he wanted to do to you what i’m doing right now…” he hummed. “would you have let him?”

he stuffed his nose into your bare pussy and inhaled deeply, your jaw dropping as you squeezed your eyes shut.

your lack of response caused him to pull away and bite your thigh again, harder.

“would you?”

“n—no!” you shook your head quickly, strands of your hair lightly grazing your face. “i wouldn’t—”

“so who then?” he licked over his bite mark. “who would you spread your legs open for like this and let them see what a nasty fucking girl you are…”

“you gumi!” you hiccuped. “just you—”

“just me?”

megumi finally let his tongue slither itself in between your folds, slowly running over your flaps and clit as your hole continued to squelch out your arousal, pooling on the bench beneath you.

“y—yes!”

he slobbered and spit over your pussy like a starved dog, his face glistening like sugary glazed sweets.

“that’s what i fucking thought,” he hummed. “you gonna try and forget me again?”

“no!” you shook your head. “never! i can’t!”

he gripped your thighs tighter as he absolutely violated your folds then, wet sloshing and slurpings filling the air as he spat and shook his head side to side rapidly on your clit, you squealing and attempting to snap your thighs shut in response, his strong grip not letting you even if you tried.

“i—i can’t!” you cried. “gumi slow please it’s too much—”

“be a pretty baby and stop complaining.” he ran his slimy tongue over your pussy entirely before shoving it inside your hole.

you choked and clasped a trembling hand over your mouth, tears of ecstasy spilling from the corners of your eyes as you squeezed them shut.

you whimpered and moaned and cried so pathetically, so cutely in his ears that he grinned as he pumped his tongue in and out of you filthily.

“you’re so fucking sweet—” he slapped your cunt and you jumped. “good thing i have a sweet tooth.”

your legs shook violently as you began to see stars, your tight hole clenching and sputtering around nothing as you felt your release approaching.

“gumi—” your hand flew back to the bench and you gripped it. “m’gonna cum! i’m— i’m gonna make a mess—”

megumi’s hand shot up and wrapped around one of your thighs so the tips of his fingers met your clit, his digits proceeding to rub and flick it as you climbed and reached your high, a high pitched scream echoing through the steamy locker room as your pussy leaked your sweet cum on his tongue.

you shuddered and jumped at the way he cleaned up your release and swallowed it, running his tongue soothingly over the bite marks on your thighs before coming back up and wiping his glistening face with his sleeve.

megumi leaned in and pressed a gentle loving kiss to your lips, a complete turn around from the feral beast you had in between your legs— you kissing him back with just as much feel and affection.

he pulled back and got back up on his feet, you watching him ditzy as he jogged over to his locker and turned the lock until it clicked open, him rummaging inside for a little before he shut it and came back with a fresh pair of gray sweatpants.

“put these on baby,” he murmured.

you nodded sweetly and took them from him, you slipping off your skirt and pulling his sweatpants over as you watched him bend and look over corners.

“what are you looking for?” you asked softly.

he perked up then and stuck his hand under a bench, pulling out your wet ruined pink panties and holding them up high like a trophy.

“oh my god—” you covered your mouth in embarrassment. “give me those!”

“nope.” he shook his head and walked over to his duffel bag on the floor, unzipping it before stuffing your panties inside. “these are mine now.”

megumi came back up and wrapped his palm underneath your chin, tilting your face up softly before planting a sweet kiss to your swollen lips.

“and so are you.”

and that you were.

you went on many many dates with megumi after that, each and every single one so incredibly lovely and fun, a genuine connection you felt with him and each other that you had never ever felt before in your life, absolutely enamored by the way he gently treated you and made you feel like the only one that mattered in his life.

your best friend was obviously over the moon for you, squealing like a maniac at everything you told her, and always teased megumi about his lovesick face whenever you came to his games or appeared in the locker room to help him change, sort his clothes, or fix his hair.

“megumi…” she snickered. “your cheeks are a little red! are you like— sick?”

he scowled at her and turned the other way, wiping his sweaty forehead as he watched you bounce down the steps cutely and onto the field after one of his practices, a huge smile on your face that replicated on his.

the minute you jumped into his arms, he peppered your little cheeks with kisses as you giggled and ruffled his spiky hair, asking him how he felt about practice and other things after he set you down.

without anyone noticing, a journalist was on the field, and at the sight of megumi fushiguro’s beaming toothy smile as he watched you run to him, they quickly snapped a photo and published it.

one was a perfect portrait photo of his shining white smile (that later became his signature picture) and the other was a photo of his arms out for you as you ran, the both of them causing an absolute uproar that altered megumi’s image from that day forward.

megumi fushiguro was thought to be the meanest player on the team since the day he got signed.

but when he started taking more pictures with fans, kind of stopped offending the people around him, signed more autographs, and smiled occasionally at the paparazzi— all while your pretty self stood right next to him?

megumi fushiguro was sometimes the meanest player on the team.

————————————————————————

want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

[lacyblades]

౨ৎ choso's a sweetheart. he really is. when you're out, with him, in public, girls will fawn over him — much to your dismay. but, you don't blame them. your boyfriend has a certain look in those big, brown eyes, and paired with those messy pigtails, he's adorable.

naïve, too, to a certain point. half the time, he doesn't even realize he's being flirted with. some woman could be practically drooling on him, complementing his big, strong arms, and he still wouldn't realize. sure, he doesn't like the way she's touching him (mostly because she isn't you), but he's too nice to push her away.

in public, that is. in private, not quite. not quite the guy, who just months ago, was a raging virgin — peering up at you with the question of how babies were made.

in private, some flip must've been switched. he wasn't anything like that innocent, pure little guy. nope.

"look at you, fucking slut. taking my cock — shit — like that." you're folded into a cruel mating-press, choso's hands digging into your sides, sure to leave bruises in the morning. his pace is relentless, as he fucks you deeper and harder.

his cock stretches your tight, little pussy hole, knees hooked around his waist. your eyes hit the back of your head, in pure ecstasy. you can't fathom ever being able to respond with anything other than pathetic moans.

"sooo tight f'me," he groans, sweaty bangs plastered to his forehead. choso clicks his teeth, eyes dropping to your lips, swollen from kisses. "open."

all you can do is comply, tongue lolling out. he sharply spits in your mouth, and on instict, you swallow. "ha— whore," he chuckles. "dirty fuckin' cum-rag."

you whine, tears streaming down your face. "looking pretty like that, y'know. you're so much better when you aren't talking," he teases, "jus' making t- those lil' noises."

"chooo— 's too much. no- no more," you beg, wanting to pull away from him, though you can't bring forth the strength to.

"shut the fuck up," he mutters, lips coming to crash down onto yours. your noises are muffled, swallowed by his mouth. "you're not going anywhere."

he sinks his teeth into your calf, and you hiss in pain. "pleasepleaseplease— can't!"

choso grunts, bucking his hips into you. "yes, you can. you can, and you will."

the second he was cumming hot ropes into you, dick going soft in your snug cunt, he was back to being doe-eyed. panting heavy, he presses a sloppy kiss to your forehead.

and, as if he hadn't just rendered you practically immobile for the next two days, he tilted his head, his voice soft and innocent.

"can we order takeout, baby?"

[strawb3rryhachi]

JJK MEN LINKS

TOJI FUSHIGURO

He couldn’t help himself after the shop clerk flirted with you

So deep!

p*ssydrunk

he’s so mean ):

finally giving you that baby you’ve been begging for

NANAMI KENTO

he’s so fucking huge

office pet

what was he supposed to be doing again?

brat taming

helping nanami stay in shape (:

GOJO SATORU

you were a brat so gojo’s making you do all the work ):

“just sit back and let me take care of you”

naughty girls get punished

time to make an heir!

first time seeing each other after a long mission

GETO SUGURU

before the cult meeting

his favorite way to relax after a long day

in front of all his followers

his only exception to hating non-sorcerers <3

first time without a condom ):

SUKUNA RYOMEN

Punishment

training

sukuna’s favorite pet

open wide!

2 hours in…

CHOSO KAMO

choso’s punishment):

he loves to please you

he just wants to feel you as close as possible

he’s desperate for you ):

choso’s payback

Pt. 2 here

enjoy (: remember you have to be logged into twitter (:

[tonycries]

FAST N' FURIOUS!

Synopsis. When he’s furious, he’s fast. And rough.

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

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, angry s, manhandIing, they’re FÉRAL, full neIsons, headIocks, creampíes, cúmplay, GOJO’S POWERS, fíngering, chokíng, spítting, p talking, true form Sukuna, dp, p sIapping, breaking the bed, ratio technique, exhíbitionísm (Geto), rough s, they’re big, dumbíficatíon, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Heheh hope you have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - BACK-BREAKER.

CRACK!

It takes a second for Toji to even register the splintering noise let alone realize that he’d just shattered your bed into almost a thousand pieces. Darkened eyes narrowing- a bad gig today and now this?

“Mmm, Toji–” You’re turning your dazed head back to whimper oh-so-cutely. Lips wobbling as you take in the state of your poor bedsprings, “You broke the- oh!”

And Toji Fushiguro didn’t care.

He didn’t care if your bed was in one piece let alone sagging on one side. And before you can even flutter your teary lashes, you’re finding yourself flatly sprawled on your bedroom floor. Spine arched into a curve, legs smeared open by his strong knee.

“Be good for me, girl.” One of his rough, scarred hands creeps up on your neck to manhandle you still. He spanks his puffy n’ red tip down your core with a dampened pap! Voice fuming, “Your husband’s had a baaad day.”

Wait…husband?

Your poor mouth dangles open to ask what he meant by that- but the only thing sneaking out is a shrill whimper. “Fuh-fuck! Oh my god, why are you so big-”

Because Toji’s sheathing in a few of his hard, solid inches in a single thrust. Barely giving you time to adjust, barely letting you even breathe prior to holding onto your rapidly pulsating throat n’ dragging your body up and down in harsh jerks to meet his. 

“Fuck. Shut up.” He’s channeling out a seething hiss, every one of your sweet sounds made his large, weeping tip twitch. Achingly. “Shut up and take- it-”

It’d been nearly hours now since he’d come back from some mission gone awry n’ taken it out on your poor, sensitive cunt. Now tenderly weeping out every time he furiously pours out another batch of wadded pre. 

Toji’s barely even moving in his usually looong, teasing strikes that have you squirming endlessly. Right now he’s fucking you through the frigidly polished hardwood with rough, pummeling half-thrusts that have his own pelvis burning bright red at the slamming impact. 

And you’re so sensitive from it. 

Sobbing, “B-but it’s so much.”

“Shit- if this pretty pussy can’t take it then no one can, doll.” Toji has the audacity to tilt his head sexily and whistle. The wet underside of his shaft rawly inching deeper to stretch your hole wiiidely. “What is it- want me to beg? S’that it? You want me to beg, mama?”

Whining, his rude restraint on your windpipe grows stronger - and so does his cadence. 

With a grunt he swats his plush balls against your cunt and watches as the contact makes your eyes stupidly whirl. “N-ngh- Toji–!”

“Heh- alright then…please.” Grinning, he’s so mean in the way he’s leaning his muscular body down so that you’re dealing with the brunt of his weight. “Please. Hold those legs up f’me and ngh- let your husband blow off a lil’ steam.” Mockingly, annoyed - but not at you, never at you. “Please.” 

Leisurely, you’re only half-way registering what you’re doing once your hands instinctively dive down to perk the inner part of your thighs up. “Like this?”

“More.”

Struggling. “This?” 

He snickers, “Difficult? Need me to fuck ya into the hah– floor instead?” He already was. Letting him throw your jittery legs onto his shoulders and bending–“Not enough, my wife.”

“Wh-what?!”

“I said…” It’s such a primal mating press right then n’ there on the ground. Your thighs on his deltoids, your ass against his washboard abs. 

Toji pliably uses his inhuman strength to roughen you up all he wanted, the fleshy curves of his muscles flexing as he did. It was so mouth-watering to ogle him - all veins of his neck popping out, pecs tense, temple glittered with a thin line of sweat. Easing inside. Groaning, “-not enough.”

“O-oh mmm–” You’re steadily melting as his rugged length angles a straight whack! against the cute target of cute g-spot. Still so delicately bruised from all those rounds prior. “There! Right- ngh- there, baby–”

So deep and big inside of you now that his cocktip was stretchin’ the areas of your walls until you’re damn near seeing stars. 

Swabbing every slick orifice with his reddened, blushing crown, he’s so far gone that the way you twist your hands into his beefy forearms and claaaw your way down only makes him let off a dopey smile. “Tch- like kitten scratches, mmmm- yeah yeah, try harder, doll.”

Harder. Faster. And it was all because of that damn gig- what that damn Shiu had said…

It feels so raw having him inside you, spank after spank you’re reeling from- easily making a complete mess of you. 

Hiking his naturally sculptured thighs further upwards to press a deep snog against your cervix, you’re feeling the spheroid of his mushroomy tip surface the spongy layer of your womb and you sob. 

“Harder. C’mon now- harder.” Toji bites out at you, the honed points of his canines gleaming with a layer of slobber. He was drooling at the repeatedly squelching music of your hot, dripping pussy now. “Oh, the lil’ kitty’s purring for me now…h-heh. Is she gonna cum—?”

He knew the state of your sweet, syrupy cunt more than you did. 

Because just then you’re feeling the white-hot sparks swimming near your navel, thighs shaking ‘round Toji’s gyration hips. You can only nod and nod and nod, “C-close! Not gonna last…”

“There there, mama.” He flicks the pinkish edge of his tongue over his scarred lips, just the sight of you all wet and leaking over him maddening. Flopping his tastebuds out to taste your salty tear-tracks, “Cum for me.” Before you can utter a word, his free hand spanks down on your weepy cunt and dips a thumb past your slit. Treating your quivering clit like a button- one strike on your pretty nub, one strike to your g-spot. “Cum. Harder now.”

You don’t even realize you do until Toji’s gasping. 

Until he’s grinning, until his painfully rock-hard cock bulges just a few centimeters even bigger at the sight of your mouth gaping in awe. 

Toes curled, mouth flapping, overstimulated to tears. “T-Toji–! Cum…ing…”

Your slick-sprayed thighs plaster to the side of his obliques, front glued to his ladder-like abs as he sliiides down between vicious thrusts. Leaving no room for you to collect your breath. Leaving no room for you to even start thinking again—

“We haven’t broken the floor yet, doll.” Toji rustles his heady breath over your features, feral. “And Shiu’s gonna see what happens when he tries ta flirt with my wife.”

Oh. 

♡ NANAMI KENTO - A reeeal man

You had your mouth gagged with Nanami’s silky yellow tie, your eyes curling to the back of your head. Jittery hands struggling to find purchase anywhere for dear life—“Mmpf, Ken—!”

And you were just so cute with your wet, puffy folds squeezin’ down on him that Nanami has to force himself to tear his hazy irises away from your cunt. “S’alright, my love.” Cooing, one of his fat thumbs darts up to swipe away the line of sparkly drool seeping from your lips. “Don’t wanna be mean. And I- ngh- don’t wanna be too rough, but…”

But he couldn’t help it.

Oh, ever since the moment he woke up in this very hospital bed after fighting that damned curse Mahito- Nanami Kento couldn’t help himself. 

Parched for his dear wife’s pretty pussy when he thought he’d never see you again, he’s just slightly roughened up after Shoko had mended him, as good as new. Able to fuck you as good as new in this sloppy full nelson.

Chiseled pecs heaving, groans claggy. 

“Fuck, darling, you’d be lucky if I don’t eat you alive.”

Whining, your back arches as his rugged hands come sliding underneath your knees to tug them all the way up to your tits. Tight. Rude.

His scorching hot breath hits the side of ear in gusts, “I’m- I’m gonna break you, my wife.” Uttering this just as Nanami’s feet plant firmly flat on the creaky bedsprings to shovel his cock deeper. The utter fuckin’ stress of everything that’d happened during battle only making his reddened, ravaged cock oh-so-merciless. “I’m gonna fuck you so had that m’gonna hafta apologize.”

You swear the round, curving edge of his cocktip only grows harder every time he’s remembering - getting angrier. Furiously pumping between your pussylips, it just feels so good to have your calm, sensible husband take it out on your pussy until the toned area of his pelvis is stinging red. 

“Ngh– mmm- there.” 

And Nanami didn’t know whether he should be proud or shocked at the way that geysering hole of yours only grows wetter. A sticky lather of syrup trickling down his veiny shaft- “You…you like that?”

All you can do is nod- your head falling slightly backwards to hit his strong collarbone, where he takes the opportunity to sweetly kiss the side of your cheek. 

Murmuring - more to himself this time than you. “You want it- rough.”

It all happens at once- in one blink of your dewy eyes. 

Nanami has your whiny throat caught in one of his big, beefy biceps in a headlock. His ankles looped over yours to smear them even further apart, n’ his large, bulbous cock swinging inside so deep.

And you suddenly have your teary cunt stinging with impact, your tastebuds sizzling at the stretch. “I’m r-really gonna break you, my love.” And yet, he just couldn’t stop himself. He’s rovering his hungry shaft with hard, slamming thrusts. “Really, really…”

Slap after slap.

Even though Nanami’s voice was so very gentle with you, his hips were anything but.

As if he’s slowly regaining his cursed strength and ramming every shred of it into swabbing your sloppy orifice. Letting his hip bones dig deeply into the cheeks of your ass, you’re whining. “M-more!”

“More…?”

“More.” Cheeks still stuffed with the length of his tie, you’re hastily trying to spit it out- just to have him push one of his ringed hands over and squeeze your cheeks. Pushing. Holding you still. And Nanami’s sheer cadence is so hard n’ fast that your legs fall further open like they’re completely boneless. “Want you in like mmm- this.”

Like this?

The metallic clinic bedframe creaks as he only picks up his pace, grunting. “Being all- hah-disrespected like this?” Drilling into you like he was crazed- he’s never been so sloppy, so disoriented, so messy with a pool of precum laying over your folds. He spanks his wedding band on your swollen clit and watches as you squirm. “How does it feel like this, huh?” Tugging rudely on that sensitive nub, “Lettin’ me treat that pussy like a little slut?”

It’s like he’s tightening his restraint on your windpipe and asking you into making your shrilling wails. Goading you to.

“P-please-”

“How does it feel? Goood?”

Your maw splashes a polish of drool down his veiny forearm, your head pathetically airy with bloodrush. All you can whimper are tiny ‘yesses’ and ‘please!’

Voice higher-pitched, breaking. “Don’t say things like that.” Cutting off your rapid breaths as he raises his toned spine to rut n’ rut- “Gonna hafta draw you a long-” His thick veins were throbbing at this point, patterning across every inch inside of you. The towering curves of his body frame twitch as he’s feeling the stress seep away from him. “-loooong bath after this- and the deepest- massage.”

You’re so wet that you’re squirting off a few dribbles of syrupy sap and his precum, shiny in the overhead lights. And he breathes, “And another ring- fuck!”

Oh, with his blond brows furrowed and his glassy gaze blurred at the feeling of your sweet, sweet cunt- Nanami doesn’t waste a single second before striking your sensitive g-spot with a slick thwack!

Repeatedly. Accurately, oh-so-hard with his strength that your teeth are on edge. “F-fuck! There-” Your poor hips are starting to run away from the raw impact, but Nanami can’t bear that-

“Come- come back.” Headlock still in place, you’re being hauled back down until the line of his tawny happy trail nuzzles your back. One more thrash of his weepy divot into your g-spot. Two more. Three more. Four- 

And it’s only later that your mind registers the pricking sensation of the charged air around you two. Almost as if your pussydrunk husband was leaking…electricity? No, that couldn’t be. It was more like…

Oh, fuck…your eyes widen. His ratio technique. 

He was out of control- and it seems like Nanami is hit with the very same realization. Gasping sharply, “Oh, darling, you are not going to be walking out of this.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Jury Duty

“Now…I don’t get mad, gorgeous.” Oh, but Geto Suguru was fuming - not because you’d messed up your sneaky lil’ mission to collect data from the sorcerers- no. 

The very memory makes him slide his glistening fingertips down your raw, leaking slit. Letting off the loudest ringing sluuuurp–! once he’s digging between your puffy folds to squeeze your clit. Humming, “But was it quite so necessary to be that…close?”

He was mad because of just how sweetly you were talking to that nameless assistant that’d tried his best to get your number. Oh, if only Geto could’ve taken care of him right then and there. 

“B-but-”

“Was it?” Raising his head, his darkened eyes face your little audience of the rest of his cult members, surrounding the two of you on the tatami mats. “Did you think you could pull a fast one on me?”

Heads bowed, reverent of their leader. Each n’ every one there shivers at his attention- and you don’t even get to hear their answer before he’s kissing his plush lips down the line of your back- holding you firmly still with a hand at your throat once the curve of his cock slips just between your legs. 

You’re whining, “No it wasn’t- please!” 

“Stay.” Voice deep, tone guttural. He’s clinging on with a clawed hand onto the side of your hips, no matter how much you wrestle and thrash and ache for more- you couldn’t move because of his carnal, strong hold. Not a single inch.

“He was just hck! being nice.”

“And now you can’t stop talking about him, gorgeous?” And Geto knows he’s being unfair. He knows he’s being mean. But the way you just turned so slippery n’ wet once he’s spanking the entrance to your cunt with his reddened, blushing tip makes him only grin. “Guess you’ll just get to talk out of her.”

Geto was silently seething, watching the way your spit-stuck mouth hangs faaaar ajar with every solid inch he slips inside. Sensually, slow enough that your thighs twitch and you can’t do anything but whine once he’s holding you still to rub the fat of his veins against your sweetest spots. Over and over.

“H-heh-” Something in his voice cracks. “Don’t think she even deserves this. Now, do we think she deserves my entire fucking cock, hm—?”

Oh, the low purr in his voice makes both you and the cult shiver- and your popped ears catch a few stray agreements. Geto’s answering tone low in your ear, “You’re lucky they’re being nice~”

But he wasn’t - and before you know it, your boyfriend has one thigh hiked to help take you from behind. The spheroid of his mushroomed tip flared and red-hot lodging straight into your cervix as he sinks in, pushing and pushing and pushing.

He gasps at the slight resistance of your tight hole, “Take it.” Honed fangs snarling, partially-closed eyes locked onto the way slick was gluing your pussylips all sweet n’ together. Your mouth drops as you stare over your shoulder and wonder whether he was even talking to you. 

Because his low, breathy tone made it sound like Geto was babbling like never before. 

Spitting straight down the glittery slope of your slit so that you whimper. “Can’t hear you, pretty baby. Speak up.”

“Suguru–” Your mouth huffs out, lower lip pushing into a pout. Your eyes criss-cross stupidly once he flinches at the sound of his name on your tastebuds and strikes the spongy layer of your g-spot dead-on- as if it’d just electrocuted him. Slapping down two hands on the side of your hips to haul you deeper down his bludgeoning, split-ended crown. He probes a circular bruise into you, “O-ohhh mmm- s’in so deep-”

“And who said you could speak, gorgeous?”

You’re letting off a whiny shrill, questions building up on your tastebuds. Only for Geto to beat you to it and thwack! his meaty cockhead repeatedly against the splotch of your g-spot until you can’t speak.

Tilting his head towards your spectators with a grin, “Right~? I didn’t say hah- she couldn’t speak, right?” Seemingly nodding, you could feel him lean his weight further down into the base of your spine, pinning you down. “So shut up and take- it-” Punctuating his words with stiff jackhammers that blow your mind. “Let this filthy hole be the one ngh- talking t’me- she’s muuuuch sweeter than you.”

As if he’d just planned it, his flared slit snags on the quivering entrance to your pussy and makes such a saccharine squelch! 

“Heh…when she’s not swallowing my fat fucking cock, that is.”

So vulgar. 

You’ve never seen him like this- you’ve never had him like this. 

Fucking you so deeply into the futon that you’re half-sure the pattern of the tatami below would still be on your front by tomorrow. He wasn’t just pounding away, though-  it was hard, precise mazings of his slimy shaft that drove you the most mad. Geto spanks his hips down until it gives a good pummel against your g-spot and wonders whether it might’ve bruised. 

“B-but-” Just barely managing to get out of your drivelling mouth before two of his arms loop underneath your own and hoist you halfway upwards. Held up only by his big, beefy biceps, splayed out like such a slut. 

He sags his pretty face into the crook of your neck, still driving his hips until the fuzz of his happy trail was scratching you raw. “Still talking, gorgeous?”

“But- wanna-”

“Wanna? Hmmmm…” For a second, Geto looks as if he might just as the rest of his association whether or not you deserved to. And for a second, you expect him to.

But it happens all at once- his wrist reaching out to tilt back your woozy head, his rosy lips puckering, spitting a wadded stream of saliva straight into your half-open mouth. 

He’s wrenching shut your jaw and making you swallow—“Clean that mouth out. Talking to hah- bastards.” Absolutely no shame, absolutely no disgust in the way he plants a lecherous slide of his tongue down in a French kiss. Fuck. “Mmm- now you’re mine. Say ‘thank you’, my girl.”

The sheer girth of his length already has you blubbering, mouth moving before your mind. He’s stirring up your insides n’ every ridge until you mewl, “Th-thank you.”

“Good—” The very same hand that was latched onto your jaw now moves to your cheeks, squishin’ them into an embarrassing pout as Geto makes you stare straight at the sprawling audience you two have. Heady. “Now…ask them if you deserve to cum.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Fuck.”

It’s just about the only thing that your poor, twitching boyfriend can say right now.

And as he bruises a roughened hold upon each side of your bouncing hips, echoing in a pant. “F-fuck!” Baritone cracking into something high, he throws his head back into the cushy pillows and ruts just as far as his spine could curvaceously arch. 

Mahogany eyes fluttering shut, teary lashes touching his cheek.

It takes the soft, fleeting caress of your fingers gliding across his bangs for Choso to even register that he should open his eyes. And you coo out in a gentle voice, “Is everything alright, baby–?”

“Yes-” Breath hitching, he’s almost immediately back-tracking his answer when your dewy wet folds try to clench ‘round his girth. And the very feeling makes him once more sloppily thrust- “No.” You smile as Choso’s plush lower lips fall into a pout, “N-no teasing, baby.”

Oh, there was something so primal about the way that Choso’s saying it. 

Like he’s burning up with red, hot power sizzling underneath his skin. You’re pulling on his hair when he whacks your cervix once and the only thing he can keen is a low–“Harder.” Harder. “No- harder.”

It just isn’t enough, some carnal part of him thinks it might never be enough.

And the only thing that the half-curse can do is channel out a few harder hits, feeling his heart race at how that constant ramming of skin on your skin makes his v-line sting. 

“Fuck- nghh-” Your eyes scrunch shut with a few pearly tears at the sultry sensation. Never ever has your boyfriend pounded into you like this, never has he held your drooling cunt hostage while he shoveled his length from the very tip-top of his strawberry divot, bottoming out until he physically can’t anymore. “So good mmm, feels so good, Cho.”

“Yeah? Yeah?” Watching as your puffy core starts squirtin’ out a few sleek ribbons of slick, Choso crinkles his nose and all but begs. “Can- can I go harder then, baby? Please?”

Oh?

He’s never the first to ask to go harder- usually, you are. 

And that itself is enough to get you nodding stupidly, your glassy peripherals swirling in unison with his veiny shaft. Stirring in a slight curving gyration inside of your gummy walls before he pulls out and slams all the way back in. Methodical and mean.

“Fuck-” His flared mushroom tip hits the side of your g-spot and Choso drools. “M’not gonna hck! make it out of this alive. What…what is this feeling-”

Before you can even think of answering, he plants his feet firmly flat on the floor and uses the sinful leverage to slide you upwards on his hips. The feeling of your perky clit gliding down his happy trail making the man hiss—Reaching upwards, eyes dilated. “Feels like m’gonna eat you alive.”

Oh…you had an idea what it was.

Something about putting his cursed energy into overdrive during a mission today. And you’re sure that your dear, inexperienced boyfriend was simply stressed from the day.

Unsure how to take it out. Unsure how to do anything but flinch once you’re opening your sweet maw to shrill a few teasing words. “Awww– seemed like you’re under some ngh- stress, baby. Want me to take care of that for you?”

“I said no fucking- teasing-” 

Choso looks as shocked as you at those words - apologies ripe on his tongue, cherry-pink lips wobbling adorably as he tries to reel it back in- Only for the weepy hole on top of his swollen crown to pour out a generous load of wadded pre, striking right into the very back of your pussy.

Going harder. Sloppier. And he’s so big that every second has your chin glitter with bubbles of spit.

“O-oh.” And he’s sucking in a shallow breath as if he’d just had an epiphany. Dark brows knitting together, the crevice of his damp mouth opens up to let his pinkish tongue peek through. Carefully grazing his thumb down that lil’ tummy bulge he was fucking into you, “You’re gonna take me like- like a good girl.”

Fuck- you’re so wet by now that the bottom half of his abs were polished with a glittery sheen. Making it sooo much easier for him to slip n’ slide you with his manhandling arms. “A good- ngh-” 

“Yeeeeah, exactly that.” And he looks so drunk on that little sentence, a dopey smile playing along his mouth once he presses down on that bumpy, cylindrical outline. Giggling, “H-heh, my good girl. You’re gonna take me, aren’t you, my baby?”

Hands clawing onto the plush curves of his deltoids, you can only throw your head back and let yourself be moved. “Yeah- go on. Have your fun, Cho—”

“My fun. My fun.” Almost as if he couldn’t believe it. The buzz of his powers going into overdrive makes his long, sensitive shaft even more sensitive, rovering down your ridged walls so fast that his delicate veins start throbbing. “That means…I can bend you like this-”

His right hand, so loving n’ soft on your hips- starts arching you back, back, back back- until every ramming kiss of his glazed tip stirs your insides fully.

Until he’s staring at that tummy bulge and watching with such heart eyes, “And- and I can fuck you like this-” Not only were his hips rutting up animalistically, his strong, beefy arms were flexing upon your sides and making you bounce. Milking him. Slouching his toned upper body over to bite on the crook of your neck, “And I can bite-”

With his honed canines nibbling down on your heated skin, Choso’s mouth departs with cracked whimpers every time his tender slit was rubbin’ up on the side of your cervix. 

“Please- ngh- please please please-” You’re throwing your head back as his ruby-red tip starts to twitch. Ferally. Every time he slides his velvety length through your walls, he’s striking hard enough that both of you see stars. 

And Choso grins–“Can be all r-rough- and this pussy’s still mine.”

So it only made sense that he was going to cream himself inside like it. Like you owned him, he’s circling your hips in a wide semi-circle that makes his veins snag all over the insides of your cunt. Lecherous. Loud. 

Choso just can’t stop whining with every splat! of salty white cum that sprays out into your pussy, “Gonna do this again.” Not even slowing. Not even faltering. His pulsating cock is just so big that you can’t even spill all over, just sheathing him in a layer of syrupy white. “Gotta- have to.”

Mewling, “Yes— please- make me cum, baby.”

“Hmm—” And fuck- you’d nearly forgotten just how strong he was. Because in a matter of mere sultry moments, you’re being bent forwards with a powerful hand at your throat. “Only if you spit in my mouth.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - TRUE true form!

Ryomen Sukuna was big - so big that every smash of his dual, blushing tips made you throw your head back and see stars. 

And his arms weren’t letting you off easy, either. All four of his bulbous, beefy biceps flexed once he kept his hold on either side of your body- damn near holding you off of the bed in midair as he fucked you like he hated you. 

“P-please, how are you so hck! big, Kuna?” You’re whining, your chin splashing with a syrupy bout of saliva. And every tiny twitch of your boneless hips left his bludgeoning shafts travelling straight to the bottom of your pussy. 

“P-P-please-” He’s mocking, gruff voice clinging onto the back of your neck like adhesive. You’re just on all fours and shaking like a leaf- “S’that any way to talk to your hah- king, little human?”

“Nooo- but…” 

“Shut up and take it then- heh.” Legs boneless, every ricket! of the mattress leaves you wincing at the recoil of his hips. Ramming into yours so hard that you’re sure you have bruises now- his thighs on your own, his abs on your spine, his twin cockheads on the entrance to your womb.

And you have nothing more to say, every other end of your sentence smashed up every time he’d wetly plastering your cervix with a layer of pre. It was so hot n’ hard having him filling up your every tender orifice. “It’s so rough.”

And what else did you even expect?

Cutely asking him not to destroy a few souls- tch, of course he was pent up. Of course, he was seething and taking out every shred of it by clawing down the base of your spine and pushing n’ pushing. 

Bottomed out but still half-rutting like it would kill him if you didn’t take any more. 

Each lil’ clench of your bubblegum pussy making his black, clawing nails only surge, his muscles ripple even bigger, fangs growing-

“Haaa? What? You want me ta be gentle?” Sukuna purrs, low. And you’re whimpering once you feel the slimy tip of what felt like his second tongue sliiiide down your stuffed slit. “Your king will show you ‘gentle’, brat.”

Mewling, each spank of the velvety underside of his cursed tongue leaves you jolting. Purposefully dragging over his textured tastebuds just so that he could taste every syrupy ounce of you. 

And not even clinging onto the aged headboard of the bed and squirming could get him to let up. 

Could get him to move even a single inch when he’s alternating between rude bangs of his matching plump crowns into your cervix, and then a glutinous flick of his tongue. Again and again, he was letting it alllll out on you until you’re all bruised and battered on the gooey ends of your pussy.

Sukuna’s only holding you to his broad pecs with two of his hands, the other two drifting down to smear your sheeny thighs open. So, so wide but his toned hips were so bulky that stretchin’ round him made your hamstrings ache.

“You won’t let me fuuuck- consume humans and now you won’t let me consume this?” Both mouths drooling, he greedily gazes at the way each single whack! of his breeder balls leaves your cunt hole trembling n’ geysering. He spits, molten hot irritation. “Spoiled brat…I’m starved.”

“Can’t- hck! can’t help it- it’s so much-”

Spank after spank, he slots his second mouth in a steamy French kiss just where your cunt was quivering with delight. Every geysering slosh of sap streaming down to his greedy throat- “Yeah? Sayin’ that when yer making such a ngh- mess?”

And you were just slobbering everywhere, painting a translucent little puddle underneath you that he’s eagerly lapping up. Probin’ oh-so-stupidly deep that you can only babble, “Y-yes?”

“Tch.”

Oh. Oh. 

That sinful little answer of yours makes the King’s tattooed body erupt in goosebumps. And you swear you’re feeling the weight of him press you into the bedsprings even deeper. So feverish, so hot that you blearily snap your head around and drink in the sight of Ryomen Sukuna with horns.

Red, jagged and long. 

His true form.

And it was so unfairly sexy, glinting canines snapping at the tendons of your throat. “And ya think you deserve to be messy, hm?” Grinning in such a gone way, he tilts his head as he presses down on the edge of your spine with one knee. Drilling into you like he’s crazed. Out of control. “Think you deserve more?”

“Mmm- can feel you both inside- ngh, both-”

Something in his glowing, crimson eyes was dark- primal. And it was boring at you dead-on once Sukuna splays an open palm of his in front of your face and croons—“Prove it t’me. Spit.”

Your glossy, puckered lips curve into a pout, starin’ at that opened palm of his straight ahead underneath you. Saliva already dribbling down each side of your twitching lips, like he was spearheading you from the other side and pushing it out. You spit-

Only for Sukuna’s second mouth to manifest right at that very split-second on his palm, so that you’re spitting in there instead. “Filthy thing.” And as that great glittery glob disappears between his cursed lips, you don’t know whether he’s talking to you or his mouth. “Want more then, huh?”

And, truthfully, he doesn’t even know if you can handle it.

Doesn’t know if your stretched-out cunt can take any more with his mushy tongue trying to pry apart your core even further. But he wasn’t feeling any ounce of mercy.

Trying to fill you up so much that you’ll be able to feel it even weeks from now, Sukuna’s lengthy nails leave marks all over your waist as he hoists you up even more. Hissing at the way your fingers reach up to graze just the base of his draconic horns.

And the King blushes, he gasps. 

“You- you vicious fuckin’ woman.”

You’d just made Ryomen Sukuna stutter. 

The roughened thrust that comes next so hard that your eyes are swirling cartoonishly, arms aching where you yearn to touch that part of his true true form. 

Holding on while he pounds you like he’s pressing you in to the royal silk sheets, the flatness of his tongue smacks down on the crevice of your pussy. Slipping inside- a third intrusion—“Now you’re really in for it, lil’ human.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - Got milk(ed)?

“This is what you make me, pretty.” And Ino’s tugging whatever’s left of his damn ski mask, he’s bending your legs firmly into a mating press with natural toned strength you didn’t even know he had. “And this is how you’re going to get hah! fucked.” 

And just one swipe of his cute, pre-glazed tip would be enough for your boyfriend to be salivating at the mouth. Lips twitching with eagerness as he sinks his heavy shaft inside.

But right now?

Oh, right now he wasn’t even sensually slowing down to listen to your pretty trilling moans. He’s not going easy on you, he’s doing nothing but sheathing his prolonged length whole in a way that makes your woozy eyes tear up.

Lips speckling with drivelling spit as you whine, “Shit-” The doughy heels of your feet find purchase on his slender shoulders, unsure whether you wanted to push or have him stretch you out more more more- “Shit- you’re so big.”

“Gonna cry about it?” He smirks- meanly. And where the hell was your sweet, innocent boyfriend? 

The Ino right now was just spanking down a few of his thoroughly ringed digits on your soppy slit, leaving you n’ your quivering cunt seeing stars at the sensation. Stirrin’ around the rotund, bawling edge of his pink crown until he manages to bully all the way into the back of your pussy. 

Just barely managing to open your mouth, “O-oh my god- Taku, it feels so- oh!”

“Whaaat–?” And shit- the way his straight nosebridge was crinkling was sexy, looking at you through hazily half-lidded eyes that told you he wanted to devour you whole. “Look at her- just look.”

Ino lets his knobbly fingertips glissade down your folds and latches onto the button of your clit just enough to pull-pull-puuull. Low, gentle voice tinged with something so raspy as he groans, “M’being so meeean to her, making her cry n’ she’ll still mmm- sucking me in, sweetness.”

Truly, you were just so wet that your oversaturated walls were gulping down his every solid inch like you were starved. Filling up every orifice and cranny with his hot, heavy length- “B-because it’s just so good.”

“Is it—?” Ino sighs out, airy and flushed. For merely a split-second before he’s snapping out of it and promptly kneeing apart the insides of your thighs. 

Bed creaking in protest when he reels his lean hips back to bring them down with a ringing smack! It’s so loud that it makes Ino’s pelvis sting, his chestnut lashes wring with tears, and he has to gnaw down on his lush lower lip to bite back a few broken whimpers. “Fuck- fuck, don’t you dare make me all pathetic, pretty.”

Mewling, one of his slender hands comes to push your cheeks together in a pathetic lil’ pout. The edges of his frigid rings lacquering with your spit- and the other keeps slithering right between your legs. 

Not only was he toying with your clit now - he was circlin’ your cute, rubbery hole. Long middle finger scratching your outer entrance with his bands of metal before shoving its way inside-

“S-still taking me.” And for a lecherous moment there it almost sounds as if he’s just lost himself, it almost sounds like he’s breaking. Before shaking the tawny bangs out of his eyes and snarling down a feral grin. “Pretty hole’s takin’ all of me- wonder if you can take ngh- more, sweetness.”

“Sh-shiiiit–!” Your hands claw red, red lines all down Ino’s sculptured back when you feel the probing push of yet another one of his fingers.

Already stuffed to the brim with his sleek, pummeling cock - and now here he was thrusting in a sloppy cadence of whack-whacking your cervix with his bulbously swabbing tip and tormenting your g-spot with the glides of his digits. 

They’re agonizing when they’re stimulating you at the same time, and the only thing you can do is throw your head back and listen to the noisy squelches and slurps. Moaning, you claw at his dextrous wrist as he spanks a third fingerpad on your slope. “Another- oh, fuck!”

Pushing and pushing

Ino groans huskily at the snug resistance when all three of his fingers can’t poke around- brows scrunching, tongue sticking out.

He looked drunk and gone by the time he’s hissing out a sharp breath and flipping the two of you over. And oh- oh, this position was ideal.

Because not only did it give him the heavenly view of your thighs spread all open n’ straddling his hips to ride him- but it also let him dip his creamy fingers down and rub them all over your geysering cunt. Bullying them the entire way inside up to his mountainous knuckles because enough is never enough.

“Fuck- oh.” Ino tumbles his head back once he’s hearing the sappy plop! of your dripping pussy gobbling up his second finger. Entire body twitching at the feeling of his chilly ring digging in- “Pretty, pretty- I can’t do this anymore I hck! need it—”

Your lips quirk up into a smug smile, hips hitting down with a slam of clammy skin sticking onto skin. And he can only half-rut, savage and angrily pumping his cock. “Aww, already, Taku?”

“Yes. Yes.” He’s begging by now. Pleading. This little roleplay you’d begun, now starting to completely switch when he had you on top like this ready to milk his swollen, reddened cock dry. 

Such a pretty coral pink at his tip, and it matches the innocent blush on Ino’s hollow cheeks once he’s guiding one of your hands up to choke him. Gurgling out, “I want you to be angry at me now, sweetness.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Mercy.

“Th-this is where you’re weak, right?”

And the strongest’s voice cracks. 

Gojo utters out a rough breath as he catches his thumb on that designer blindfold of his dangling ‘round your neck and plasters you against his tensely glissading abs. The tip of his cock driving between your wet, aching folds, he’s jerking you up just enough to push his reddish crown into your g-spot with a splat!

“O-oh please mmmm–” Your mouth parts with a ribbon of sleek spit, tumbling out in a heap into the pillow lodged underneath your face. “There- right there, Satoru!”

“There- there.” You’re hearing him raspily utter from behind, each pant higher and more broken than the last. With your back arched oh-so-deliciously, he’s hiking up one of his meaty thighs to pin to the side of your hips and pump even deeper- “There?”

Oh, he knew it was there.

He’s rubbin’ his swollen, veiny shaft all over your sweetest areas like a massage. He was mean. And you’re crying out the cutest lil’ whines that only make him bite back a sleazy grin. “Such a good, tight pussy takin’ me- h-heh, so good taking me, sweetheart. So good…”

“S-so rough.” Your hazy peripherals whirl in circles ‘round the whites of your eyes, brows scrunching with every thwack! of his honed, chiseled v-line striking the cheeks of your ass. “It’s so much- ngh.”

And the only response that Gojo’s overheated body can think of is to twist his large fingers into the jostling fabric at your neck to pull you further backwards. Your breath stutters damply, chest heaving. 

He didn’t care. He was going hard. Hissing swiftly in your ear, “If you think this is too much maybe I should knock you up then, my wife.” Something in the cloyingly sticky air crackles - power, raw need - as he snickers to himself. “Should I—? Should I knock you up like they say?”

They: those damn elders.

He wasn’t just irritated after that ambushed meeting on damn Gojo heirs - he was furious. 

The very reason that Gojo hadn’t made two steps past the door to your shared penthouse before he’s practically dragging you to the bedroom. Shoving his heavy, aching cock inside until you were full, full, full-

“M-maybe you should.” You’re blubbering out through the primal mewls ripping through your throat, just another one of his jackhammers rendering you stupid. Almost instant the way he slimily grazes his bulbous tip down to whack the entrance of your cunt.

And Gojo seethes— cheeks angrily ruddied, spit flying in glittery flecks. “I should?” 

“Yes mmm- please.”

“I…should?”

It’s not a question - it’s a realization.

The clammy pads of his fingers shake unstably, his touch zaps you with cursed energy, movements sensually languid- almost like Gojo doesn’t even register what his hefty body is doing right now. Almost like he doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s toeing his left foot upwards to plant it down on the crown of your scalp until he’s looking down at his pretty, pathetically drooling wife and gasping.

“Oh. Oh.” The red n’ full cock speared inside of you twitches, so big that he swabs all your each sultry, shrouded nook and cranny . “You don’t know how haaah- badly it pissed me off, my girl. Wanted to purple hollow all those fuckers.” 

Your hands fist the silk of the pillowcase now sticking to you like adhesive, hips squirming restlessly- he was so fast that the back of your ass was raw with the texture of his pale happy trail. “Wh-what did?”

“Hearin’ them talk about an heir. Hearin’ them talk about you ngh- pregnant.” He snarls, heel pressing down with slight force that makes all the blood rush from your melty mind straight down to your dripping pussy. He’s fucking you like he hates you. “When really I’m your husband-”

As he speaks, the slick curve of his cockhead snags on your bundle of nerves. Your husband’s Six Eyes working overtime when he’s watching - mouth ajar, gaze half-lidded - as his lengthy shaft impales your gummy walls and drives riiiight into your womb. Precisely.

Gojo blushes at the x-ray vision, “-and I get to make my wife pregnant when she wants.”

They wanted a Gojo heir, they’re going to get one.

With your thighs shaking, breaths heaving- before you know it, he’s timing a direct three hits from your cute lil’ g-spot n’ barreling straight into your womb. And it makes you cum. 

Long, vein-covered length barely even pulling out - Gojo feels your walls clench around his thick girth and he’s only half-rutting.

“That’s it- that’s it that’s it that’s it-” You can hear the pure crazed smile in his husked tone, the edges of his rosy lips twisting with every adorably pulsing ba-thump! of your cunt. Faster. Harder. He was wincing with each recoil of his sloppy strokes, unable to even bear being separated from the syrupy depths of your pussy. “Take it- take it like good girl-”

“I-it’s shoooo—” Left so helpless by the merciless way he was pounding you through your high, your mouth was slurring out bubbles of spittle after each second strike. “-so much- hck! So much.”

“More. Yeah, you’re gonna take more, my girl.” He can’t help but memorize the shocked lines of your face and giggle. Octaves higher. Movements filthier. Running a hand down to toy with your clit, “You’re gonna be filled up to the briiim.”

And usually Gojo would’ve rubbed the soft, velvety tips of his fingers on your sensitive nub in hearts. Maybe even his name, teasingly. Usually. 

But he didn’t have the patience for that right now.

Right now, he was twisting his touch onto where you were most swollen and pinching your clit. Hard. Power sparking like some lewd bullet vibrator. 

All that it takes for him to throw his head back and finish off in such a raw, primal way all up inside of your cunt. And you’re not even sure if Gojo registers it - whether he even feels himself cum, because he’s still drilling away like he’s addicted. 

Bed dipping at the force of his blows, sheets staining pure white with the slippery sheen of seed that glues down your thighs. Toes curling, it’s only when you’re sniffling back a tear of overstimulation that Gojo snaps his head down to catch the pearly ribbon of cum escaping your geysering folds—“Need to get you pregnant. Need to- more.”

“What?”

You’re so wet that it feels like a damn waterfall down there, and your husband only glides his knobbly thumb down to plug every sappy, ivory ounce back into your hole. “More, my girl.” 

The air bristles with charged atoms as he swerves his slender hips just right to push the knotted cobwebs of cum accurately against your womb. Every part of him charged, every part of him still powerful and fuming. 

Whining, your knees buckle as if you were unsure whether you wanted to run or hit your hips back. Again and again.

And Gojo’s voice still shakes as he clings a hand onto the side of your birthing hips to manhandle you further down to him. Unable to escape. “You didn’t think you’re h-heh- getting off easy…mama?”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Mrs. CEO

“I have never seen a CEO this clumsy-” Higuruma’s deep, drawling voice speaks over the haze of your nth high of the night. Thin lips twitching as he takes in the sight of you sprawled on top of your own office desk, shuffling over so many important documents. “-ma’am.”

But oh, he couldn’t go easy on you just yet. Not when you had so much work to do.

And it’s why he’s shuffling his polished shoes further in a step backwards, tongue flicking out to lick his lips as he smeeears the layer of his cum sticking to your cunt like glue. 

Grumbling, “Forgetting the most important hah- meeting of the day. I should report you.” Formal office pants still on, the dangling metal piece of his belt kisses the right cheek of your ass and makes you hiss. Rubbing your gummy walls raw on the slick, winding patterns of his veins. 

And it’s just so wet with all your sappy syrupy and his, travelling down to where you’re rubbing your thighs together. “Are you complaining, hm?” 

Spank! Spank! Spank! 

Three exact swats of his rude hands slamming down on the teary crevice of your slit, Higuruma makes sure to angle his strikes just right so that he can feel the way your clit just quivers. “Watch that pretty mouth, angel.”

And he’s moving so agonizingly, just torturing you with the curve of his mushroomy tip bulldozing straight near your g-spot. 

Never quite hitting it, never quite missing. 

Right up until you throw your head back with a wail and keen–“Please.” Swervin’ your hips back in lecherous figure eights that damn near gets the man above you hypnotized. “M’sorry, Hiromi.”

Spank! 

A hand on your throat- “No, you’re not.” One more to pinch n’ tug on your oversensitive clit until you feel all raw, you’re seeing stars every time he rolls his hips to play with your dripping pussy just right. 

“You n’ this filthy hole need me to ngh- finally fuck some sense into you, riiight–? Finally stop that pretty lil’ head from being filled with just cock?”

You don’t know if you’re nodding, you don’t know if you’re sobbing- but before you can register it, Higuruma’s hiking his capped knee up onto the desk so hard that it rattles. Nearly stepping on the base of your spine just to arch you perfectly.

Whining, “O-ohhh mm- jus’ that deep.” The new angle makes him stretch you open so wide that every splash of buttery white cum slips out of your entrance like a waterfall. Your pussy struggling to suck in his sheer size into your hot insides, “Fuck me- oh, yes, fuck me.”

“S’what I’m doing, silly angel.” The vice-like restraint on your throat is mean, and Higuruma’s tone is even meaner. Cooing- but he’s dragging you by the neck upwards to look directly into his eyes as he sliiiides his lengthy, scorching cock inside and out. “Or are you already that ngh- stupid on my cock, hm?”

So deep, so fat that he can’t even help if the vein-covered sides of his shaft brush up against your sweetest spots by mistake. 

Hips papping back into his, “More.” Cloying layers of seed saturate your innards so much, and you’re so sensitive that every honed thrust makes your knees weaken. “S’more, Hiro, c’mon.”

And the worst part was that your personal assistant’s pinning you with his weight and holding you there to watch you struggling and squirm. Slimy, erect cockhead driving right into the target of your lil’ nerves like he’s addicted to that very spot, “You’ll take what you’re given.” He tilts his head with a smile, “Why don’tcha get some work done, sugar?”

Oh.

You could barely even pick up the pen let alone sign off on important contracts like you were supposed to be doing right now.  

And yet, every time your poor, boneless wrist showed signs of faltering, Higuruma would grit his teeth and painfully slow down his cadence. Each time he lazily rubs just the large, rotund curve of his cocktip on your g-spot, watching as you jerk your hips back for more-

Spank! Spank! 

Massaging two direct swats on the flooded slope of your pussy, “Fuck! This tight little hole really can’t stay that hck! long without me?” Loosening his tie still on him, “She’s even worse than you, angel.”

And he’s milking himself on you- punishing your cunt with the most lecherous drags of his sloppy shaft. Each time you feel him enter past the door to your womb, you can only throw your head back and bite down on the velvety fabric of his damn office tie. 

“H-hck! Please- gonna—” Muffled, your handwriting’s gone astray on whatever document it is by now. “So close-”

Tapping his chin as he pretends to think, “Hm, I’ll let you cum-” And before a gorgeous smile could even start to light up your face, before you can even breathe, Higuruma’s crowning your sweaty scalp with one hand and pushing you to further lay on the mahogany desk. Drooling in such a heaping puddle right then n’ there, “If you can use those fuck! awful manners n’ say ‘please’...”

“Please.”

“Louder.”

“Please-”

Purring, “Can’t hear you, ma’am—”

And you were so far gone that your irises are turning clockwise in circles inside of your eyes, mouth overspilling with a glittered polish of drool and whimpers. 

You thrash your hips up higher on the table, “Please-” Batting your lashes just how you knew he was weak for. “Pretty please, baby.”

Oh- that did it.

That did it.

Because with a final one-two-three more vulgar strokes pumped into your puffy, sopping wet pussy, it isn’t just you hitting your high - it’s Higuruma, too. 

Your stern, sensible personal assistant who slams the chiseled upper half of his body the minute he feels your melty walls clenching and heaves. Meaty quads shaking with every wiry ribbon of cum he departs, letting the goopy mess fill up your cunt to the maximum.

Gasping- “Fuck, look what you did. L-look.”

And for a second you’re so disoriented by your own white-hot flashes of bliss that you barely even hear what he’s saying. In your own little reverie until you’re hit with a spraying splat! of something near your shoulder. 

Blinking, you’re turning behind you and noticing that Higuruma Hiromi was crying tears of overstimulation. 

Crying. 

“S’all your fault, angel.” Your thighs quake with each bout of your high, and just that tiny squeezing motion was enough for him to bead out another thin trail of tears. Milking himself. Your pussy’s holding him hostage until he’s nearly dry, only wrenchin’ out a few pearly knots of seed. Emptied out. 

So lazy and feverishly drunk that he reaches over to softly kiss the matching wedding ring on your hand, “Next time you’re not missing another meeting with me, my wife.”

A/N. OO I NEEDA WRITE HIGURUMA’S ONE LONGER

Plagiarism not authorized.

[kitteninabunker]

i had a dream about this so i'm too far gone

giving nerdyclassmate!choso head for the first time ^^

"you're doing so good," you praise him, voice muffled as you bob your head steadily on his fat cock. spit strings from your lips, eyes watering as your throat strains around him, but fuck, it's worth it. he's huge. stretching your mouth to the limit, making your jaw ache in the best way. you’re honestly pissed at yourself for not getting in his pants earlier, who knew the quiet dork in the back of the class was hiding this?

"y/n i-i'm gonna cum..." he quietly huffs, running his fingers through your hair as he adjusts his hips in the chair. unlike the other guys you’ve been with—cocky, loud, full of bravado—he’s shy, shaky, almost scared of how good it feels, and his submissiveness stirs something deep in your core. you pull your head up, his cock slipping out of your mouth with a wet pop as you slap his tip on your tongue, looking up at him. "wait!" he jerks his hips up as his cock throbs in your hand. "don't stop, i-it feels good..."

total virgin.

"why should i?" you tease, dipping your mouth lower to trail kisses along his balls, tongue flicking playfully while your hand keeps pumping his soaked shaft. "beg for it."

his jaw clenches as he fights the urge to thrust. he’s flushed deep pink, glasses sliding down his nose, hair sticking to his forehead. you can tell he's close by the way he keeps twitching and you're about to ruin his orgasm, but that’s part of the fun!

"y/n, pleaseee." he whines, breath hitching. this time he yanks your hair, grabbing his own dick as he presses it against your lips. you give in, sucking his cock some more as he throws his head back.

you grin against him, giving in and sucking him down again, tongue dragging along the underside as you take him deeper, wetter, messier than before. he throws his head back with a choked moan, hands trembling, thighs clenching under your palms.

“shit—s-s’too much,” he whines, but his hips are still twitching, still trying to fuck into your mouth like he can’t help himself. poor thing doesn’t even know how to handle getting head.

you pull back again, licking up the length of his cock slow like you’re savoring it. “thought you wanted to cum,” you murmur, breath warm and filthy against his tip. “what, too much for you, pretty boy?”

his whole face is red, glasses slipping down his nose, lips parted and panting. “n-no, i want it—please keep going, i’ll cum, i swear—!”

you press a kiss to his slit, watching his whole body jerk. “then be a good boy and let me taste it.”

his hips stutter as he cums hard, moaning through gritted teeth as thick spurts paint your tongue, your lips, your cheeks. he tries to cover his mouth with one hand, but he’s shaking too bad, moaning your name like it’s the only word he knows. you milk him through it with slow strokes, licking him clean as he falls back against the chair like you just ruined him.

you crawl up into his lap, lips and chin still messy, and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “not bad for your first time,” you purr. “next time, i’ll let you finish inside.”

[manmuncher777]

Imagine Virgin!Choso who is just unaware how good his dick is.

He’s inexperienced obviously, and is getting lost in the pleasure you’re giving him.

“Fuck fuck fuck” you squeal out, each swear punctuated by the swift thrust of choso’s hips. You couldn’t stop the moans even if you tried. He was fucking you with such hunger it was a surprise you could still speak. His pace was incredible, so brutal yet he hardly seemed tired. His hips never faltering as he fucked himself deeper and deeper Choso lost it from the second he sunk inside you, watching in awe as your pussy greedily sucked in every single inch he gave. His jaw dropping open as he bottomed out. Listening to the sweet melody of your mewls from beneath him. As soon as he moved, there was nothing that would have been able to stop him, his hips snapping into you so fast, over and over again. His eyes eagerly trained on watching himself enter you. So focused that you were sure he had no idea that he was already about to make you cum a mere few minutes in. All he was processing was the noises of your slick cunt with each move he made His thick cock stretching you to so perfectly you couldn’t stop the rambling moans. With your legs chucked over his shoulders, it just meant he could reach even deeper inside you. “Fuck Cho~ so fucking good” that caused his eyes to snap up to you. First trailing over your tits that were bouncing with every thrust, and then landing on your fucked out face, screwed up in pleasure. He pretty red tip was bullying that soft spot inside of you, pushing deeper and deeper that you were sure you could feel him in your lungs. His eager strokes never ceasing. “Fuckin’ love your cock baby” praise was the only thing you could give the man as he fucked you into the mattress. That look on his face, a look or hunger, of need. It was like he was running on pure adrenaline, that would be the only thing to explain his feral pace. His almost crazed behaviour, the way he never once stuttered in his movements, those moans he let out. It was unlike anything you had ever seen, but you certainly weren’t complaining. There was no way he could be a virgin “R-Really?” His deep voice questioned, coming out as a strain. You would have answered him if something hadn’t cut you off “Holy Fuck- m’cumming!” You cried out, soaking his lower abdomen as you did. Your body squirmed as the pleasure wracked over you, his merciless thrusts still not stopping even as you began to squeal and whine with overstimulation Yes you really did love his cock

[shokocide]

HEY, EMO BOY! - CHOSO KAMO

summary. Choso doesn’t do distractions. But then you walk into his show and ruin his focus with one look. And now, he’s handing you his guitar, his heart, maybe more. And baby, you haven’t even seen what those fingers can really do.

word count. 10.5k (i got a lil carried away)

content. mdni fem! reader, bassist! choso, mutual pining, heavy tension, choso is a tease (and so down bad), really lovey-dovey shi like bro's not even emo, pet names, smut, fingering, oral (fem rec.), p in v, mating press, praise, creampie, slight overstim, aftercare

author's note. saw this fanart and started ovulating on demand.

"Come on, it'll be fun," Shoko says, tugging on your sleeve with the persistence of a woman who knows you have no other plans. "You like music. You like hot guys. This is both."

You squint at her, unconvinced. "You said that last time and we ended up at some dude’s garage while he rapped about capitalism."

She grins. “And it was unforgettable.”

“You spilled beer on my shoes.”

“And I’ve had character development after that.”

You roll your eyes, but she already knows she's won. She’s practically vibrating with excitement as she drags you through the dimly lit alley that opens into an even dimmer basement venue—graffiti-tagged walls, sticker-covered speakers, the scent of cigarettes and something vaguely fruity in the air.

The lights are low, the crowd humming with quiet energy, and the stage is set but empty—just a drum kit, a couple mics, and a bass propped against its amp like it’s waiting for someone.

“You’re gonna love them,” Shoko whispers, already pulling out her phone to snap photos. “The music’s sick. And the bassist—”

You blink at her.

“The bassist,” she repeats, dramatically placing a hand over her heart. “Tall, broody, pretty eyes. Never says a damn word on stage but plays like he’s in pain.”

You scoff. “You’ve got issues.”

“Just wait,” she says. “You’re not ready.”

And you’re not.

Because when the band finally comes on stage and the lights cut through the haze, your eyes lock onto him—tall, dark, dressed in all black with his bass slung low, rings glinting on his fingers, and a half-lidded stare like he’s seeing ghosts.

And when he starts playing? Oh. Yeah. You’re done for.

The lights dim, bathing the room in moody blue and red hues. The crowd hushes—just for a moment—then the first chord explodes through the speakers. It’s loud, raw, electric, vibrating through the floor and straight up your spine.

You don’t flinch.

You should. The guy next to you does. Shoko’s already swaying to the beat like she’s been here a thousand times. But you? You’re frozen—entranced.

Not by the music. Not really.

By him.

The bassist, standing off to the left like he doesn’t crave the spotlight, like he’s content letting the others take the lead. But he’s the one you see. The one who owns the stage.

He’s tall and he’s wearing a loose black button-up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the top few buttons left undone to tease just enough of his pale, sculpted chest. The stage lights catch on the gleam of sweat on his collarbones, highlighting every sharp angle and subtle flex of muscle as he moves with the rhythm. His fingers dance over the bass strings with practiced ease, and that’s when you notice it—apart from the black nail polish, each one is tattooed with a letter: C-H-O-S-O.

His long, dark hair is loose, falling in waves to the base of his neck, the ends brushing over his collar. The soft purple eyeshadow dusting his eyelids makes his deep-set eyes pop, casting shadows that only add to his sharp features. A bold tattoo cuts across the bridge of his nose, stark against his pale skin.

His brows are furrowed, mouth set in a hard, concentrated line, and his fingers—god, his fingers—they dance over the strings like he was born with a bass in his hands. There’s something hypnotic about the way he plays. Focused. Intense. Like the world doesn’t exist outside of this moment.

You don’t even realize you’re staring until Shoko elbows you lightly. “Told you,” she shouts in your ear, grinning like the smug little shit she is.

You nod, but your eyes don’t move. You can’t look away. It’s like you’ve been put under some kind of spell.

And then—then—mid-song, his head lifts just slightly. His gaze cuts through the haze and crowd and colored lights, and lands right on you. You swear it. A spark of something sharp and electric zips down your spine.

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t nod. Just holds your gaze for a breath longer than necessary before he looks away, like he felt it too.

Like he knew.

Like the music wasn’t the only thing pulling strings tonight.

The band keeps playing, song after song bleeding into one another, but you barely register any of it.

Your eyes keep straying to him. Choso—at least, you think that’s his name, judging by the ink on his fingers. Fitting, really. It lingers in your head like a low bassline: heavy, addictive.

At one point, you swear he looks at you again.

Really looks.

And even if it’s just for a second, it feels like a live wire pressed to your skin.

You down the rest of your drink to keep yourself from combusting.

Shoko leans in and shouts something in your ear over the music—probably the band’s name or some fun fact about the drummer—but your eyes are locked on him. You nod absently, your smile weak, dazed, because how the hell are you supposed to listen to anyone else when he’s up there, commanding your every thought?

By the time the band wraps up their final song, you’re already craning your neck for a better look. You don't even realize you're moving toward the stage until Shoko’s hand snags your wrist.

"Where are you going?"

You blink, startled like you’ve been caught red-handed. "I—I don’t know."

But you do.

You’re hoping to get closer. Maybe he’ll notice you again.

Maybe he already has.

-

You find yourself outside the venue before you even realize what you’re doing—leaning against the brick wall, half hidden in the shadows, heart hammering like you’d just finished a set yourself. The crisp night air cools your skin, but it does nothing to quiet the heat bubbling beneath it.

You tell yourself you just needed some air.

That’s all.

Totally not waiting around like some groupie for a guy you don’t even know.

The door creaks open behind you, and a familiar pair of boots crunches against gravel. Shoko squints at you suspiciously.

“You good?” she asks, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick. “You just disappeared.”

You shrug, too casual. “Yeah. Just needed a breather.”

She takes a drag, exhales slow. “Right. A breather. After not dancing and not drinking that much.”

You shoot her a side-eye. “Do you always interrogate people for wanting fresh air?”

“Only when they’ve been acting weird since the bassist took the stage.” She raises an eyebrow. “You’re not slick, y’know.”

You scoff, glancing away before she can catch the way your face warms. "I don't know what you’re talking about."

Shoko chuckles like she definitely knows what she’s talking about, but bless her, she doesn’t press it. Just smirks, gives your arm a little nudge. “He was hot, though.”

You give a noncommittal hum, eyes scanning every shadowed corner, every rusted doorway, hoping—just hoping—you might catch another glimpse of him. Choso. You’re almost certain that’s his name. It suits him. Dark. Sharp.

You won’t tell her, of course, but—yes.

Yes, this was fun.

Yes, she was absolutely right to drag you here.

Yes, the bassist was fine as hell and maybe, just maybe, you’ve developed the tiniest, stupidest little crush on a guy whose voice you haven’t even heard yet.

But god, you want to.

Even just once.

A glimpse. A moment. Anything.

And just when you think it’s time to give up, to stop being delusional and head home—

The door swings open again.

And this time, it’s him.

Panic.

Real, irrational, full-body panic.

Because there he is. Standing a few feet away. In the flesh. The bassist.

Loose black button-up clinging to his frame, sleeves still rolled up from the show, revealing forearms that shouldn’t be legal. The glint of his rings catching the light. A faint sheen of sweat still clinging to his collarbone—god, you can see it because the top few buttons are still undone, teasing just enough pale skin to keep you up at night.

And his eyes—

His eyes are rimmed with that soft, dusty lavender, and they’re looking straight at you.

You glance side to side like you might Houdini yourself out of this moment. Maybe if you ran fast enough, you could avoid embarrassing yourself beyond repair. Maybe if you—

Shoko bumps your shoulder, casual and smug. “Now’s your chance.”

“Chance for what?” you hiss, heart thudding in your ears. “To spontaneously combust? To make an idiot out of myself?”

But it’s too late.

Because before you can overthink your next twelve moves or plan a strategic escape—

He’s walking toward you.

Slow, calm, confident.

Like he knows what he’s doing to you.

Before you can say something completely unhinged, like “your bass playing did something weird to my hormones”, you feel Shoko shift beside you.

You whip your head toward her, silently begging for assistance, for backup, for escape. But she just smirks, looking between the two of you like she already knows exactly how this night’s gonna go.

“Well,” she says with a wink, already turning on her heel. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull. “Shoko. No. Shoko, wait—SHOKO.”

But she’s already walking away like she didn’t just abandon you to the mercy of the hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

And now—

Now he’s standing right in front of you.

He smells like sweat and incense and something dark—something addictive.

“You waited,” he says, voice lower than expected, rich. His lips curl, just barely. “Were you hoping for an autograph… or something else?”

You blink.

He knows.

Your mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again.

An autograph? Something else? What the hell does something else even mean—wait, you know what it means, OH GOD—

“I—I wasn’t waiting— I mean, I was, but not like—like in a weird way or anything!” you blurt, the words tumbling out like a panicked avalanche. “Not that liking your music is weird. I mean, it was good! Really good. You were good. Not in that way, I mean—not that you wouldn’t be—oh my God—”

You slap a hand over your face.

Abort mission. Let the ground open up. End scene.

When you peek through your fingers, he’s just watching you, amused, head tilted slightly to the side.

Then—he chuckles. Actually chuckles.

It’s low and quiet and kind of devastating.

“I was right,” he murmurs, voice all honeyed steel. “Cute.”

You make a high-pitched noise that cannot be classified as human.

And Choso—Choso just leans in slightly, lowering his voice like he’s offering a secret.

“Relax. I don’t bite.” A beat. “Unless you want me to.”

You definitely stop breathing.

Your brain is just a dial-up tone as you stare at him, stunned into silence, because did he actually just say that? He did. He really did. And he’s still looking at you like he’s waiting for your answer.

But when you open your mouth, what comes out is: “I—uh—yeah. I mean no. I mean—I don’t know what I mean.”

He grins. Not a smirk. A real, soft little grin, like he likes the mess you’ve become.

“Wanna get some air?” he asks, jerking his chin toward the alleyway beside the venue, quieter now that the band’s done and the crowd’s thinned.

You nod way too fast.

So you end up outside, standing under the faded neon of the venue sign, arms crossed to hide how jittery you are. Choso leans against the wall beside you, lighting a cigarette. The glow flares against his sharp cheekbones, his lashes casting shadows on his skin.

“So,” he says, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “You liked the set?”

“Yeah,” you say, trying not to look at his hands. His tattooed fingers. “You were… really good.”

He hums, clearly amused. “Still not in that way?”

You bury your face in your hands again.

He laughs under his breath, then nudges your shoulder with his. “You got a name, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. 

Oh, how you were so very fucked.

You tell him your name. And when he repeats it softly, your knees almost give out.

Then he offers, “I’m Choso, by the way.”

Like it’s a gift.

And before the night ends, he asks if you’re coming to the next gig.

“Only if you’re playing,” you manage to say.

To which he replies, “I’ll be there if you are.”

-

shoko: hello?? where are you???

shoko: ANSWER ME

shoko: sigh

shoko: i didn’t want it to come to this but you leave me no choice

shoko: i’m checking your location.

shoko: GIRL WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING THERE

shoko: 2 missed calls

shoko: you better give me answers the second you're online...or else.

you: dot dot dot

shoko: WHAT. HAPPENED.

you: emergency phone call

shoko: 🧍‍♀️

shoko: you’re a terrible liar

you: ok but like. 

you: it wasn’t a lie. it was an emergency. a hot boy emergency

shoko: OH MY GOD. 

shoko: OH MY GOD. 

shoko: OH MY GODDDDD.

you: he talked to me

you: HE TALKED TO ME SHOKO

shoko: AND???

you: and i said dumb shit

you: and he still talked to me

you: and i think i blacked out at one point??

you: but like. the good kind

shoko:YOU’RE TELLING ME MYSTERIOUS HOT BASSIST MAN TALKED TO YOU AND YOU LIVED???

you: barely

you: i think i ascended actually

shoko: you’re telling me you were about to dip and then HE approached YOU????

you: he remembered me from the front row 😭

you: called me cute 😭😭

you: asked for my name 😭😭😭

you: CALLED ME SWEETHEART 😭😭😭😭

shoko: …girl.

shoko: i don’t wanna be dramatic

shoko: but i might start planning your wedding

you: pls help i’m still outside the venue trying not to combust

you: he said he’d see me again if i came to the next gig

you: SHOKO WHAT IF I GO TO EVERY GIG UNTIL I DIE

shoko: yeah bestie we’re in our groupie era now

-

You show up a whole forty minutes before the doors even open—Shoko said she’d meet you later, but you’re already leaning against the building like a total loser. Or an over zealous fan. Same thing, really.

You're debating if you should take a walk to kill time when the door swings open, and out steps him. Black button-up, sleeves rolled up again, a few buttons undone, and that familiar purple eyeshadow hugging his tired eyes. His lip quirks up the second he sees you.

“Excited to see me?” he asks, cocking his head as he strolls over. His voice is low, teasing—but not unkind.

Your face goes up in flames. “What—n-no. I mean yes. I mean—Shoko said she’d meet me later and I didn’t wanna be late, obviously.”

He hums, clearly amused. “Mhm. Obnoxiously early, huh?”

“Fashionably early,” you grumble, and he laughs, like you’re the most entertaining thing he’s heard all day.

Then he nods his head toward the door. “C’mon. I’ll introduce you to the guys.”

You blink. Wait. Right now??

You glance down at your outfit—cute enough for the gig, maybe not cute enough to meet him again, let alone his entire band. But he’s already walking, and you’re a fool if you don’t follow.

The door creaks open, and you’re hit with the low hum of conversation, faint music playing from someone’s phone, and the scent of sweat and cologne. Your heart’s going a mile a minute.

“Yo,” Choso calls, and two heads turn.

The tall white-haired man draped across the couch offers a lazy grin. “Oh? Who’s this?”

Choso leans against the doorframe and jerks a thumb toward you. “She’s the one I was talking about.”

Your eyes widen. Talking about?? Since when???

“Ooooh,” the other guy drawls from where he’s fiddling with a drumstick, hair tied back and gaze sharp as ever. “So this is her.”

“Shut up,” Choso mutters, but there’s a hint of pink dusting his ears. He looks back at you, eyes soft. “That’s Satoru—he never shuts up. And that’s Suguru. Don’t let him fool you—he’s worse.”

“Lies and slander,” Satoru says with a wink.

You’re frozen. Do you wave? Speak? Die on the spot?

“Hi,” you say, awkwardly.

Suguru offers a small nod. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Finally???

Satoru leans forward with a devilish grin. “Choso wouldn’t shut up about you, y’know?”

Choso visibly tenses. “Go bother someone else.”

But it’s too late—you’re already flushed to your ears, and Satoru’s howling with laughter.

“You’re cute,” he tells you. “You can stick around.”

You glance at Choso, and he gives you the smallest smile. Like you belong here.

And for the first time—you think maybe you do.

He walks ahead a bit, glancing over his shoulder as he gestures toward the sound booth. “That’s Nao, our sound tech. She’s the only reason we don’t sound like trash onstage.”

Nao waves without looking up from her monitor, and you awkwardly lift a hand back. Choso chuckles under his breath.

He keeps going, showing you the light setup, where they stash backup guitars, even the vending machine he’s pretty sure is haunted. Every person you pass gives you that look—oh, so this is the girl.

Your fingers twist nervously around the strap of your bag. It’s not like they’re being unfriendly. If anything, everyone’s nice. Welcoming, even. But still—you can’t shake the nerves bubbling in your chest.

You feel his gaze before you hear his voice.

“Nervous?” he asks, quiet and low.

You blink up at him. He’s standing close now, one hand tucked into the pocket of his jacket, watching you like he’s not sure if he’s scaring you or if you’re just shy.

You swallow. “A little.”

His mouth twitches—almost a smile. “You don’t have to be. Everyone’s chill.”

You nod, but you know the tension is still written all over your face.

And then—he reaches out. Just a light touch to your wrist. “Hey. I asked you here ‘cause I wanted you to come. Not to freak you out.”

His voice is soft now, just for you.

You manage a sheepish smile. “Sorry. It’s just… new.”

He shrugs, lips curling slightly. “Yeah. But I’m not that scary, right?”

You meet his eyes, and the look he gives you—teasing but warm—makes your stomach flip.

“…Not yet,” you murmur.

And he laughs, head tilted back like you just said the funniest thing all night. “You’re cute.”

Great. Now you’re even more nervous.

He walks you over to the stage setup, lights dim and moody, the buzz of crew members in the background. The instruments are neatly arranged—drum kits, amps, tangled cords, and at the center, his guitar resting on its stand.

He picks it up effortlessly, letting the strap fall over his shoulder. His fingers settle over the strings, and he begins to strum, absentmindedly. It’s not even a real song, just soft notes—but it’s hypnotizing.

Especially the way his fingers move. Long, slender, practiced.

You're staring. Absolutely entranced.

“Wanna try playing?” he asks suddenly.

You snap out of it so fast it’s embarrassing. “H-huh?”

He chuckles, soft and low. “Bit distracted there, sweetheart. You okay?”

“I’m good. Mhm.” You nod a little too quickly, plastering on a tight smile as your face warms. You hope he doesn’t notice, but that knowing glint in his eyes tells you otherwise.

He steps toward you with the guitar, offering it out with a slight tilt of his head. “Here.”

Your hands hover uncertainly. “O-oh… I don’t know how to play.”

He just smiles. “It’s alright, I’ll help you.”

He walks behind you, close enough that you feel the warmth of him at your back. You swear your heart skips a beat when his arms slip around you, guiding yours. He’s gentle as he places your left hand along the neck of the guitar, adjusting your fingers over the frets, his hand covering yours.

“Just relax,” he murmurs, voice right by your ear.

Your breath hitches.

“Shit—sorry, too close?” he asks quickly, voice laced with concern.

“N-no! It’s fine! Totally fine.” You somehow manage to stand upright.

He smiles again, that soft kind of amused. “Alright, just press here... yeah, that’s it.” He places your fingers on the strings. “Now, strum with this hand—lightly. Let the strings breathe.”

You try, hesitantly dragging your fingers down the strings. A clumsy note sounds out.

Choso hums. “Not bad. Now, try a G chord—here, like this.” His fingers mold yours again, warm and careful.

You nod, barely able to think with him this close, and repeat the motion. It sounds... slightly better.

“See?” he says, praising you with a smile in his voice. “Fast learner.”

You glance up at him over your shoulder, heart fluttering. “Maybe I just have a good teacher.”

His lips quirk, and he looks at you like you’ve just made his night.

“Well,” he says, “I am good with my hands.”

Your brain short-circuits.

He grins when he hears that soft, breathy little sound escape your lips.

“O-oh,” you stammer, eyes wide as you blink up at him.

His smile deepens, all teasing and low charm. “Didn’t mean to make you nervous,” he says, though he definitely did. 

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but your brain’s gone completely blank. The only thing in your head is him. His voice, his scent, the low buzz of his guitar still humming in your hands.

“I—uh, yeah. No. You’re doing great. I mean—I’m doing great. I mean—thank you.”

He laughs. Not mockingly—it's soft, sweet, like he finds you genuinely adorable.

“You’re cute when you get flustered,” he says, voice quiet.

You look down at the guitar in your hands, pretending very hard to be focused on the strings.

“Maybe we’ll get you to play a whole song next time.”

You blink. “Next time?”

He shrugs casually, stepping back just enough to make you miss his warmth. “If you’re coming to the next gig, I figured I’d see you again.”

And then, with the most casual confidence, he adds, “You wanna?”

You blink up at him, heart still pounding from the way he practically wrapped himself around you moments ago. But then—somehow—you find your footing, just enough to muster a sliver of confidence.

You clear your throat, giving him a lopsided little smile. “Let’s see how this one goes first.”

His brows shoot up, clearly amused. “Is that a challenge?”

You shrug, trying not to melt under his gaze. “Depends. You think you can handle it?”

Choso laughs—a low, warm sound that vibrates in your chest more than your ears. He leans in again, just a little, his face dangerously close to yours. “Sweetheart,” he says, voice like silk, “I know I can.”

-

The crowd is thicker than last time. Hazy neon lights wash the walls in streaks of violet and red, and the room thrums with anticipation. You can feel the energy buzzing through your fingertips, your legs bouncing where you sit off to the side of the stage.

Choso catches your eye just before stepping on. He’s dressed in that same loose black button-up—top few buttons undone, sleeves rolled to the elbows, tattoos stark against his pale skin. His eyes are lined in that soft purple hue again, hair falling wild to his neck, and yet he somehow looks composed. Grounded. Like he was born to be here.

He doesn’t say anything, just gives you a look—half smirk, half something softer—and it sends butterflies flurrying in your chest.

And then: the lights dim. The crowd erupts. The band takes the stage.

Suguru on drums, flashing a grin at the front row before twirling his sticks and slamming into the first beat like a force of nature. Satoru struts forward, mic in hand, already oozing charisma, and Choso—Choso slides into position with his bass like it’s a part of him. One hand gripping the neck, the other plucking strings with a lazy, practiced ease.

The sound hits you like a wave. Loud. Gritty. Addictive.

But even as the music drowns everything out, your eyes stay locked on him.

Choso doesn’t look at the crowd. Doesn’t need to. He’s in his own world—eyes half-lidded, lips parted, swaying with the rhythm like the bass is leading him. And yet, somehow, he still finds a way to glance at you.

Just for a second. A flicker of a smirk.

And that’s when you realize it.

He’s playing for them—but looking at you.

And that smolder in his gaze? That spark that coils low in your belly?

It’s all for you.

-

The crowd’s roars have faded, the lights are dimming, and you’re still standing there, heart racing. Choso’s walking off stage, sweat-slick and glowing, bass still strapped to his back, and the second his eyes find you he smiles. Soft. Lopsided. Like it’s just for you.

He weaves through the staff with ease, and before you can fully brace yourself, he’s in front of you, that same lazy smirk playing on his lips. “Didn’t think you’d actually stick around,” he teases, voice low, raspy from the set.

You roll your eyes, a little bashful. “Had to see if your fingers really lived up to the hype.”

His brows shoot up, surprised—and then he laughs. It’s deep and warm and it makes your stomach do flips. “Oh? And?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “I’m not sure yet. Might need a private performance to decide.”

And damn, now he’s the one blushing.

He blinks. Once. Twice. And then that lazy grin deepens into something more—something that makes your throat dry.

“A private performance, huh?” he echoes, slinging the bass off his shoulder, setting it down like he’s done this a thousand times before—cool, collected, practiced. “You planning to book me?”

You cross your arms, trying to look unbothered despite the heat crawling up your neck. “Maybe. Depends on your rates.”

He steps closer, just a little, enough to tilt his head down to look at you properly. His voice drops lower. “I charge in coffee. Late-night conversations. And the occasional secret.”

“Oh?” you arch a brow. “That’s expensive.”

He chuckles, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “You’re worth it.”

Pause.

Your heart skips. Literally skips.

And suddenly it’s too quiet. The post-show noise is just background hum now—muffled cheers, clinks of beer bottles, bandmates laughing somewhere behind you. But he’s looking at you like you’re the only person who matters in this moment. Like he wants to learn you.

So you try to deflect, half-teasing, “You say that to all the girls who hang around after shows?”

He hums, like he’s pretending to think. “No,” he says finally. “You’re the only one who stayed quiet the whole time. Just… watched.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Was it creepy?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. It was nice. Felt like you were listening to more than just the music.”

You weren’t. You were listening to him.

But you don’t say that. Instead, you glance away, pretending not to be swooning.

And then—

“Hey,” he says softly, nudging your chin with two fingers to bring your gaze back to his. “Wanna get outta here?”

Your breath hitches. “Huh?”

He smiles, easy and relaxed, eyes scanning your face like he’s memorizing it. “There’s this spot a few blocks from here—low lights, decent drinks, great fries. Thought maybe I could buy you one. A drink, not a fry,” he adds with a little chuckle.

Your heart is thudding so loudly you're sure he can hear it. “Are you… asking me out?”

He shrugs, casual but undeniably charming. “If I said yes, would you say no?”

You try to play it cool, crossing your arms even though your insides are a whole storm. “You planning to pull that whole mysterious musician act the whole time?”

He leans in just a bit, close enough for your noses to nearly brush. “Only if it gets me a second date.”

And just like that, you’re done for.

“...I guess I could go for a drink.”

His grin widens. “Good. I’ll grab my jacket.”

-

The bar he takes you to is tucked away on a quiet street, the kind of place you wouldn’t find unless someone told you about it. There’s warm yellow lighting, a soft hum of old-school music playing on the speakers, and barely anyone around. It’s intimate in a way that makes your skin feel warm before you’ve even taken a sip of your drink.

He lets you slide into the booth first, then settles in across from you. His hands rest on the table, rings catching the light, and you find your gaze drawn to them—again. Damn those fingers.

“I’m not used to people sticking around after shows,” he says, eyes not leaving yours.

“I’m not used to chasing after bassists,” you shoot back, lips twitching.

He smirks. “So I’m special, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but the smile you’re fighting wins. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

Your drinks come. He lets you steal a sip of his. You let him steal two of yours.

“What got you into music?” you ask after a while, resting your chin on your hand.

He leans back, gaze flickering up like he’s searching the ceiling for the answer. “My dad, actually. He taught me how to play. He was obsessed with rhythm—said it was the heart of everything.”

You nod slowly. “He still around?”

Choso shakes his head. “Nah. Been a while. But I think he’d get a kick out of seeing me like this.”

There’s a quiet between you, not awkward, just full. You sip your drink.

“What about you?” he asks. “What do you do when you’re not falling for mysterious musicians at dive bars?”

You raise a brow. “Who said I was falling?”

His lips curve. “Touché.”

You end up telling him more than you thought you would. About your work, your favorite food, even boring little details. But he listens like every word matters. Laughs when you least expect it. His foot nudges yours under the table halfway through the night, and it stays there.

Eventually, the lights get lower, and the bar empties out.

“Guess we closed the place down,” you say, glancing around.

Choso’s watching you with a soft look. “Wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

Your heart flutters. “Same place?”

He smiles, gaze never leaving yours. “Sure.”

The night doesn’t end there.

He insists on walking you home—no arguments, no jokes, just slips his hand into yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And you let him, fingers intertwining with his, warmth blooming in your chest. It’s a quiet walk, but not the awkward kind. It’s that gentle, late-night calm. Like the whole world slowed down just for the two of you.

And for once, he’s not the brooding bassist with sharp eyeliner and calloused fingers. He’s just Choso. A guy who likes the way your hand fits in his. A guy who lets out a soft chuckle when you shiver and instinctively step closer.

You reach your place too soon.

You stop at the doorstep, neither of you making a move. No one says anything. You should probably say something. Goodnight. Thanks. This was fun. But the words get caught somewhere in your throat.

He steps closer instead.

There’s a breath between you. Just one.

And then his lips are on yours—soft, almost hesitant, like he’s asking if this is okay. And you answer him by fisting the fabric of his shirt and pulling him in. His hand comes up to your cheek, holding you steady as he kisses you again. Still gentle. Still quiet. But it makes your head spin all the same.

When he finally pulls back, he stays close, forehead pressed lightly to yours.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your heart might’ve actually stopped.

You slam the door shut behind you, back pressed against it, heart pounding so hard you swear it echoes in your ribcage. You stare at your phone, wide-eyed, thumbs flying:

you: SHOKO

you: SHOKO I NEED YOU TO WAKE UP

you: THIS IS AN EMERGENCY 

shoko: it’s literally 1am

shoko: you better be on fire 

you: I KISSED HIM

shoko: what

shoko: WHO

shoko: WAIT

shoko: WAIT.

you: YES. HIM.

shoko: THE HOT GUITAR PLAYER???

you: CHOSO. YES. YES. YES

shoko: oh my god you’re so gone

you: HE WALKED ME HOME. HELD MY HAND. KISSED ME. I AM GONE GONE.

shoko: AAAAAAAAAAA

you: HE SAID ‘GOODNIGHT SWEETHEART’

shoko: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

you: I KNOW

You toss your phone onto the bed, face planting right after it, squealing into your pillow like a teenager all over again.

Because you kissed him. And he kissed you back. And you’re never sleeping tonight.

-

You’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The room is quiet—too quiet. You’ve already scrolled through your entire feed twice, tried reading, even got up to make tea you didn’t drink.

Then your phone lights up.

Incoming call: Choso.

Your heart stutters.

You take a breath and answer. “…Hey.”

His voice is warm on the other end. “Hey. Did I wake you?”

You shake your head even though he can’t see. “No. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Same,” he says. “Kept thinking about you.”

Your breath catches. You pull the blanket tighter around yourself, like it might calm your racing heart.

There’s a small silence, but it’s not awkward. It’s soft. Comfortable. Like neither of you really wants to hang up.

He speaks again, voice a little lower. “You looked beautiful tonight.”

You try to play it off. “I put in effort. Didn’t want to show up looking like I did last time.”

“I liked that too,” he says. “But tonight you walked in and I forgot what the hell I was doing.”

You laugh, hiding your face in your pillow.

“I wish I could see you again right now,” he says.

“Me too.”

“Would it be too much if I said I kinda wanna fall asleep listening to you?”

Your stomach flips.

You whisper, “Then stay on the line.”

And you do—both of you quiet, just breathing, letting the silence say everything.

-

You're standing outside the bar, shifting on your feet, trying to act like you haven’t been checking your reflection in every window on the walk here.

This time, your outfit isn’t casual by accident. You planned it. Styled your hair just right. Even put on that gloss you save for special occasions.

You step inside and immediately spot him, leaning back against a booth like he owns the place, one arm slung lazily over the seat. His eyes lift—

—and damn.

They rake down your figure slowly, like he’s drinking you in. And when they return to your face, there’s the smallest upward curve to his lips.

“Someone dressed to impress,” he says, standing as you approach.

“Maybe,” you reply, coy. “You are the star of the show, after all.”

He laughs low in his throat, hand brushing the small of your back as he leans in close. “Nah,” he murmurs. “Tonight, it’s all about you.”

You sit together in the same booth. This time, there’s no ice to break. The tension simmers warm between you—his knee bumps yours under the table and doesn’t move away. His eyes flicker to your lips more than once.

“So,” you say, swirling your drink. “What happens after drinks, guitar boy?”

He smirks, elbow resting on the table as he leans closer. “Depends. You thinking of letting me kiss you again?”

You raise your brows. “You planning on asking?”

He tilts his head. “I could. But you didn’t seem to need much prompting last time.”

That earns him a playful nudge. And a flustered laugh.

He grins. "Take your time, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere."

The jukebox crackles as the next track begins—slow, dreamy, sweet.

Like falling asleep in warm hands. Like the part in a romance film where everything softens.

Before you can even comment on the vibe shift, Choso is rising from the booth, hand extended toward you, palm up.

Your brows lift. “You serious?”

He just smiles. “C’mon. Dance with me.”

You hesitate—because, what? In a bar? With him?? But his fingers flex, waiting, and the way he’s looking at you makes it impossible to say no.

You slip your hand into his.

He pulls you gently to the dance floor. There’s no one else there—just you, him, and the slow rhythm bleeding from the speakers. His hands settle on your waist. Yours hover awkwardly before curling behind his neck.

You sway.

“I didn’t take you for a dancer,” you mumble, heart skipping when he twirls you suddenly.

He smirks. “I’m not.”

You laugh—loud and sweet and so damn happy. And when he catches you again, you don’t pull away. Instead, you melt into him, resting your head against his chest, feeling the soft thud of his heartbeat under the fabric of his shirt.

His hand traces slow circles on your back.

“This okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, nuzzling in closer. “Yeah… It’s perfect.”

He rests his chin lightly atop your head. And neither of you says another word.

Not when the song ends.

Not when the next one starts.

Because for that moment—it’s just the two of you, swaying under dim lights, held together by the sound of a love song.

-

You step outside into the night, your breath curling in pale puffs. The air is colder than before, wrapping around your bare arms like a whispered warning. You shiver.

Without a word, Choso shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, tugging you into his side. His hand rests at your waist, warm and firm, grounding you.

For a while, you just stand there—side by side, quiet. The city buzzes in the distance, cars passing, streetlights humming.

You glance up at him, and he’s already looking at you. Hard.

Like he’s trying to memorize the slope of your jaw. The way the wind lifts your hair. The way your lips part just slightly when you breathe.

“What?” you ask, a soft laugh in your voice, raising an eyebrow.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Just wets his lips. His fingers flex against your hip.

“I just…” he starts, voice rough with restraint. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

You blink, heart thudding once. Twice.

The pause stretches.

“Yeah?” you murmur, leaning in a fraction. Teasing.

He nods once. Barely.

You smile—heart pounding in your throat. “So why don’t you?”

And that’s all it takes.

He cups your face with both hands, thumbs brushing the apples of your cheeks like you’re made of porcelain. And when his lips finally meet yours—it’s soft. Slow. Full of the tension he’s been carrying all night, unspooling between you in breathless silence.

His nose bumps yours. Your hands fist the front of his shirt again. Just like last time.

Only this time, you don’t stop at one kiss.

And when you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, his voice low:

“You’re gonna ruin me, y’know that?”

You laugh, barely a whisper against his lips, breath mingling with his. “Then I guess I better make it worth your while.”

That gets a reaction.

His gaze darkens just slightly, lips twitching into the faintest smirk as his hands slide down from your cheeks, one settling at the nape of your neck while the other pulls you flush against him. “You trying to kill me, sweetheart?”

You don’t answer.

Because you’re already kissing him again.

This time it’s different.

Less hesitant.

More hungry.

Your fingers find his hair, tangling in the dark strands that fall just past his neck, tugging gently until he groans into your mouth. He kisses you deeper, like he’s starved, like he hasn’t been thinking about this since the first night he met you in the crowd, eyes wide and awe-struck.

His hand grips your waist, fingers digging in—not too hard, but enough to make your breath hitch.

You gasp, and he takes the opportunity to nip at your bottom lip, tongue flicking against it before pulling back just enough to breathe:

“You’re trouble.”

You blink up at him, dazed, lips kiss-swollen and heart racing. “You’re one to talk.”

And he laughs—low and breathy, pressing another quick kiss to your mouth like he can’t help himself.

“C’mon,” he murmurs. “Let me walk you home before I get any worse ideas.”

The walk back is quiet—but not the awkward kind. It’s heavy with something, charged with unspoken words and lingering touches. His fingers brush yours with every step, and each time it happens, your breath catches.

You swear he’s doing it on purpose.

But you don’t stop him.

The streetlights cast a soft glow on him, turning his features golden for a moment, then shadowed the next. He looks… different like this. Softer. Less like the untouchable bassist who had you practically drooling the first night, and more like someone you could fall for if you’re not careful.

You sneak a glance at him.

He’s already looking at you.

You look away fast, heart leaping, and he chuckles under his breath.

"Cold?" he asks, tugging you gently closer.

You nod, even though that’s not why you’re shaking.

His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Your head fits against him perfectly, and his hand rubs slow circles against your arm, warm and grounding.

“Still nervous?” he murmurs.

You laugh quietly. “Little bit.”

“Me too.”

You tilt your head to look at him, surprised. “Really?”

He nods. “You make me nervous.”

You’re about to say something—anything—but then you’ve reached your place.

And suddenly, you don’t want to go inside.

He stops in front of your door, letting you go with a reluctant sigh. His hand lingers on your arm for a second longer before falling away.

There’s a beat of silence.

Then he shoves his hands into his pockets and asks, “You gonna call me?”

You nod. “If you answer.”

He grins. “Always.”

You hesitate—just for a second—and then press a soft kiss to his cheek. It’s quick, but the way his breath hitches tells you it did the trick.

“Goodnight, Choso.”

And before he can pull you in again, before you can throw all common sense out the window and kiss him properly, you slip inside.

Heart pounding. Lips tingling.

-

You wake up with your heart still pounding.

And not because of a nightmare.

Nope. This was worse.

Because it was real.

You kissed Choso.

Again.

And not in a dreamlike, floaty, “this could be a maybe” kind of way. You kissed him after swaying in his arms like some romcom protagonist. You kissed him, and he kissed you back, and you felt your knees give just a little, and you definitely whimpered against his mouth like a fool.

You groan and roll onto your side, burying your face in your pillow.

You’re so doomed.

Your phone vibrates.

You blink and grab it, squinting at the screen.

choso: didn’t want to wake you but i just wanted to say

choso: thank you for last night

You freeze.

Sit up slowly.

Your heartbeat? Violent.

You tap out a reply, delete it, rewrite it, delete again. Finally, you just go with:

you: it was nothing :)

Immediately after sending it:

you: i’m being weird aren’t i ignore me please

And then:

you: but also don’t ignore me because i liked it and i like you and i’m going to stop talking now before i make it worse

Your phone is dangerously quiet for thirty seconds.

Then it buzzes again.

choso: you’re not being weird.

choso: you’re being adorable

choso: i like you too

choso: also… can i see you again tonight?

You shriek into your pillow.

And then type:

you: you better

-

You weren’t expecting it when he texted you earlier that day.

come to the studio. i want you to hear something.

Now here you are, walking through a narrow hallway that smells like cigarettes and worn leather, Choso’s voice telling the receptionist to let you in. He meets you at the door, hoodie on, hair loosely tied back, a pair of headphones slung around his neck.

“Hey,” he murmurs, eyes raking over you with a small smile tugging at his lips.

You smile back, brushing past him as he closes the door behind you. The studio is dimly lit, a warm orange hue cast by the LED strips lining the edges of the ceiling. There’s a worn-out couch in the corner, an empty coffee cup on the desk, and wires everywhere.

He leads you to a chair beside him. “Wrote something last night. Thought you might want to hear it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Inspired by anything?”

He doesn’t say anything. Just gives you a look.

He clicks a few keys on his laptop, and music starts playing—slow, rich bass, soft drums, a melody that feels like it’s watching you breathe. Then lyrics—his voice, lower and raspier than usual.

And the words? They burn.

It’s about being unable to get someone off your mind. About how they haunt your quiet moments. About wanting something that feels dangerous and delicate at the same time.

When it ends, there’s a beat of silence.

“…You wrote that?” you ask.

Choso nods, slow. “All of it.”

“It’s…” Your voice catches. “It’s beautiful.”

He leans back, watching you carefully. “It’s about you. In case that wasn’t obvious.”

The room feels smaller. Hotter. You swallow.

You murmur, “I didn’t know I had that kind of effect on you.”

“You don’t,” he says, stepping closer. “You have more.”

He’s standing between your knees now. One hand on the armrest beside you. The other gently tilts your chin up.

“Can I kiss you again?”

You nod before your brain even catches up.

And then he does—slower this time. Like he’s savoring it. His lips slot against yours and the world blurs. His hand slips to your waist, drawing you closer, and you wrap your arms around his neck without thinking.

The music plays on in the background. But neither of you hears it.

His lips are warm against yours, stealing every thought from your head. One kiss turns into two, then three—deeper, slower, more intense. His hands settle on your waist, firm, grounding. You melt into him without thinking.

But then—between kisses, you manage a breathless whisper, lips brushing his as you speak.

“Choso, not here—there’s people around.”

His eyes open slowly, pupils blown wide. He glances around, then back at you, and that look in his eyes? It's trouble.

Without saying a word, he grabs your hand. “Come on.”

You barely catch your breath before he’s pulling you along, weaving past people, straight toward the exit. His grip doesn’t loosen, even when he’s fumbling for his keys. He unlocks his car in a rush and opens the passenger door for you before sliding into the driver’s seat himself.

The whole ride is charged—silent, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional stolen glance. He taps the steering wheel with his fingers, the ones that had just been ghosting over your skin minutes ago.

When he pulls into the parking lot of his building, he doesn’t waste time. Hands still locked with yours, he leads you upstairs, heart pounding just as fast as yours.

The second the door shuts behind you, he turns around—and everything finally snaps.

Choso doesn’t pounce. He doesn’t rush.

He leans against the door, just watching you. Taking you in like it’s the first time. His eyes roam your face, your lips—your heaving chest. There’s a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth, like he’s trying not to smile.

“You sure?” he asks, voice low, husky.

You nod, breathless. “Yeah.”

That’s all it takes.

He pushes off the door slowly, strides over like a man with nowhere else to be. His hands find your waist, gentle at first, then firm. His head dips down, lips ghosting over your jaw, your cheek, your mouth—but he doesn’t kiss you yet.

“You look so pretty tonight,” he murmurs, voice thick with restraint.

His nose grazes your neck, and you shudder. Every place his breath touches feels like it’s burning.

“You always look pretty,” he adds, kissing just below your ear now. “But tonight?”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth, lips brushing lower.

“You’re killing me.”

Your hands find the hem of his hoodie, fingers twitching as you lift it up slowly—exposing the pale skin of his stomach inch by inch. He lets you, arms raised, letting the fabric slide off and onto the floor. The tattoos swirl over his chest, catching the soft glow of the apartment lights, and your fingers can’t help but trace them.

“Still nervous?” he asks, voice rougher now.

You shake your head. “No. Just… can’t believe this is real.”

Choso tilts your chin up, makes you look at him. His gaze is so intense it steals the breath from your lungs.

“It is,” he says. “And we’ve got all night.”

He kisses you again, this time softer, slower. No rush. Just lips moving against yours with quiet reverence, like he’s memorizing the shape of your mouth.

His hands stay on your waist, warm and steady, but you feel the way his thumbs are drawing lazy circles on your skin—like he’s trying to ground himself. Like he’s savoring the moment as much as you are.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He hums into the kiss, one hand sliding up your back, fingers curling into your hair.

The path to the bedroom is a blur.

You’re not sure how you get there—if he carries you, or if you walk, tangled up in each other, lips never parting for more than a breath.

The room is dim, lit only by the city lights bleeding through the blinds. It paints both of you in silver and shadow. Choso backs you toward the bed, and when your knees hit the edge, he pauses. Looks down at you like you’re something sacred.

You swallow, heart thundering. “Are you gonna keep staring or—”

“Shh.” He dips his head, kisses your neck, just under your jaw. “Let me take my time with you.”

You shiver. God, his voice—low, velvet, dangerous.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

He pushes you onto the bed and you bounce slightly on it. He’s crawling up your body, hands trailing along your sides, slipping beneath your shirt—fingertips so gentle it sends goosebumps across your skin. You raise your arms, let him take it off. He discards it carefully, almost reverently, and then he’s touching you again.

It’s not frantic. It’s worship.

The way he kisses down your chest, murmuring things you can’t even process. The way he handles you like he’s scared you’ll break. His mouth is everywhere—leaving warmth and wetness and little marks that’ll be there tomorrow. Proof that this happened. That he happened.

When his hands slip lower, and he finally asks, “Can I?”—you nod, breathless, and he grins, slow and sinful.

“Good,” he whispers. “Because I’m not stopping tonight.”

His touch starts soft. Teasing.

His fingers graze along your thigh, slipping under your skirt. Just the pad of one finger tracing your inner thigh, slow and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world to unravel you. He watches your reactions closely—every breath, every twitch, every clench of your thighs like it’s his favorite show.

“Already shaking,” he murmurs with a smirk, fingers drifting up higher, stopping just at the edge of your underwear. “And I’ve barely touched you.”

When he finally slips his hand beneath the fabric of your panties, his fingers are warm, his touch confident. He finds you wet—soaked—and he groans low in his throat.

“Fuck... all this for me?”

His middle finger drags through your folds, slow and deliberate, gathering everything, spreading it around before circling your clit—just barely touching it. It’s maddening.

“You’re already this worked up,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss your jaw. “What happens when I really start?”

He’s rushing to take your underwear off, almost ripping them in the process. Then—finally—he eases a finger inside.

It’s slow at first. Just one finger, shallow thrusts, curling up and stroking that spot inside you until your hips start chasing him, greedy for more. He watches your face the whole time, eats up every whimper.

“Choso… more,” you whisper, barely able to speak.

His eyes flick up, dark and hungry. “Yeah?” he murmurs. “You can take another?”

You nod, breathless.

He slides a second finger in—thicker, deeper. His palm presses against your clit as his fingers work inside you, curling just right, just enough pressure to make your back arch. His other hand grabs your thigh, keeps you open and steady as he builds a rhythm.

It’s obscene—the wet, messy sounds of his fingers fucking into you—but it only makes him grin.

“You hear that, sweetheart?” he says lowly. 

You’re gasping now, clutching the sheets, legs shaking. He really is good with his hands.

“C’mon,” he whispers against your neck, tongue darting out to taste you. “Let go for me.”

And with one more curl, one more stroke—you do.

You come around his fingers, back arching, a moan ripped from your chest as he keeps moving through it, working you until you’re twitching, thighs trembling against him.

When he finally pulls his fingers out, he brings them to his lips.

“Tastes even better than I imagined,” he says, voice low and ruined.

He doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath.

The second those words leave his mouth, his gaze drops—hungry, wicked—and before you can ask what he’s doing, he’s already moving.

He’s moving down your body, settling between your legs, hands parting your thighs, spreading you wide open for him. You barely manage a gasp before his mouth is on you.

And fuck.

He licks a slow stripe from your entrance to your clit—moaning against you like he’s tasting something divine. His tongue is hot, wet, firm—flicking against your clit before flattening and dragging against it again. He’s not shy. He devours.

You twitch under him, gasping, and his grip on your thighs tightens.

“Stay still for me,” he murmurs against you, breath fanning over your soaked heat. “Let me eat, baby.”

And oh, does he eat.

He buries his face between your legs like he’s starved—lips and tongue and heat and mess, sucking your clit into his mouth, groaning when your fingers grab his hair and pull. His nose nudges your clit, the piercings in his ears cold against your thigh.

His hands slide under your ass, lifting your hips just right so he can get even deeper. His tongue fucks into you, messy and wet, before he pulls back to mouth at your clit again.

You’re a wreck—panting, eyes rolling back, legs trembling on either side of his head. He loves it. You can tell by the way he hums into you, nose buried in your folds, like every whimper out of you is a personal victory.

Your thighs start to close around his head—he lets them. Arms locking around your legs, holding you there like he wants to be suffocated. And with one more flick of his tongue—one more swirl, one more perfect pressure—

You cry out, hips jerking, thighs clenching, and he doesn’t stop. He works you through it, licking, kissing, groaning against your cunt like he’s drunk off you.

When your body finally slumps back against the mattress, dazed and spent, he pulls back just enough to look up at you.

His mouth glistens. His eyes are wrecked.

And he licks his lips.

“Sweetest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Choso’s mouth is still hot against yours, the kiss messy and hungry, his tongue sliding over yours like he can’t get enough of the taste of you. 

He unbuckles his belt, pushing his pants down along with his boxers, his girthy length slapping against his abdomen. Your mouth parts in a soft gasp at the sight of it. But you don't have time to marvel at it. His hands are already on your thighs, pushing them up—higher, higher—until you're folded in half in a mean mating press.

“Gonna keep you like this,” he murmurs, voice rough, chest heaving. “Wanna see your face while I fuck you.”

Your breath catches.

His hands hook behind your knees, holding them open as he shifts forward. The position has you completely laid out for him, helpless beneath the weight of his body. You feel his cock, thick and hard, dragging over your slick entrance—and then he pushes in, slow and deep.

You whimper—a sound torn from your throat, soft and wrecked, your back arching as he presses deeper.

Choso groans, low and guttural, head falling forward to rest against yours. His breath fans hot across your cheek, and you swear you can feel the tremble in his arms as he holds himself still—just for a second.

“F-fuck…” he breathes, voice rough with restraint. “You’re so fucking tight like this…”

His hips roll forward again, slower this time, the movement deliberate—like he wants you to feel every inch. “Feels like you’re made for me,” he murmurs, his voice barely more than a rasp.

Your fingers scramble across the expanse of his back, nails dragging, searching for something to ground you. His shoulders, his arms, anything—because the way he’s filling you, stretching you, it’s too much and not enough at the same time.

Then he starts to move. Deep. Steady. And the new angle is devastating.

He hits every spot just right, his cock dragging along your walls, slow and purposeful, grinding into the deepest parts of you with every thrust. Your legs tremble in his hold, pinned back and open for him, the pressure building with each stroke. Your jaw falls open, a moan slipping free—high-pitched and desperate.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

But it’s not pain. No—never that.

It’s overwhelming. It’s perfect. It’s him.

“You’re taking it so well,” he grits out, eyes burning into yours as his pace deepens. “Fuck—just like that, baby. Taking all of me.”

You blink up at him, dazed, lips parted as your moans spill freely. He leans down—closer, closer—until your thighs are nearly flush to your chest and his weight settles on top of you, heavy and grounding.

And he fucks you.

Not rough, but intentional—each stroke slow and deep, hips rolling so he never leaves you empty. He watches your face, watches every twitch of your brows, every flutter of your lashes. Like he’s trying to memorize it. All of it.

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling when his thrusts grind just right. His name escapes you in a whimper—over and over, his name like a mantra.

“Choso—” you gasp. “Oh my God—Choso, I-I…”

“I know,” he whispers, forehead pressed to yours. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.”

You’re soaked—messy, slick dripping down your thighs, pooling where your bodies meet. The wet slap of skin on skin is loud in the room, underscored by the soft creak of the mattress and your broken cries.

He shifts, angling just so, and you shatter.

Your body seizes, nails digging into his back as your orgasm rips through you, sudden and all-consuming. A sob leaves your throat, your back arching as your walls flutter and clamp down around him.

With a low groan, he shifts—gently, carefully—his hands sliding beneath your thighs to lower them. You gasp softly when he wraps your legs around his waist, keeping you close, keeping you full, as his hips press flush to yours.

He groans—a raw, broken sound—his hips stuttering. “Shit—fuck, I’m close—where do you want it, sweetheart?”

You barely think. You just nod, desperate. “Inside—please—inside.”

That’s all he needs.

He presses in deep, body trembling, a shudder running through him as he spills into you, cock twitching with every pulse of his release. You feel the heat of it—so much, thick and warm as it fills you up. And still, he doesn’t stop.

He keeps moving—soft, shallow thrusts that drag it out, that make your body twitch and whimper, overstimulated and glowing.

His name slips from your lips again, quieter this time, your fingers trailing down his back, soothing over sweat-slick skin.

And then—finally—he stills.

Buried to the hilt. Breathing hard. Forehead pressed to your shoulder, lips ghosting over your collarbone.

“I’ve got you,” he says again, voice low and reverent.

His hands settle on your waist, thumbs stroking your skin like he’s grounding himself.

"Don’t want to let go just yet," he murmurs, voice rough with emotion and aftermath. He leans down, kissing your shoulder, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. “Feels too good like this.”

You hum, dazed and pliant, arms winding around his neck as your forehead rests against his. His weight, his warmth—it’s comforting. Heavy in the best way.

Every small shift makes you gasp—too sensitive, too raw—but you don’t ask him to move.

You don’t want him to either.

And neither does he.

So he stays there—buried deep, your legs locked around his waist, your bodies tangled as if they were always meant to be like this.

After, when the haze finally starts to fade, Choso is the first to move—but only just.

He brushes your hair from your face with slow fingers, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “You okay?” he murmurs, voice low and full of concern. Gentle. So gentle. “Was that… too much?”

You shake your head, barely able to speak as you whisper, “No. It was perfect.”

He exhales, and the breath sounds like relief. Like he needed to hear that.

Without a word, he slips out of bed, grabbing a warm cloth and returning to you. He moves with such care—his hands slow, wiping between your thighs with reverence, like you’re something precious. You flinch a little at the sensitivity, and he mumbles a soft “Sorry” as he presses a kiss to your knee, his gaze flickering up to check on you again.

Once you’re clean, he tosses the cloth aside and crawls back under the covers. You instinctively curl into him, and he opens his arms wide, pulling you in, tucking your head beneath his chin.

His fingers trace slow, lazy circles along your spine. Your legs are tangled with his, your body warm and sore and safe. He smells like sweat and sex and his cologne, and you want to fall asleep in this exact moment, forever.

“You’re amazing,” he murmurs against your hair.

You blink up at him. “That’s my line.”

He smiles, barely-there but so real. “Guess we’ll take turns.”

You laugh—quiet, muffled against his chest—and he hums along with it, fingers still moving along your back.

A silence settles between you, but it isn’t awkward. It’s peaceful. The kind that only comes after letting someone see you bare in every way.

He breaks it eventually, voice thick with sleep. “You staying over?”

“Mhm.”

“You sure?”

You nod, eyes fluttering closed. “Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.”

And neither would he.

So he kisses the top of your head one more time, murmurs something soft and unintelligible against your skin, and lets himself fall asleep with you in his arms.

Exactly where you both want to be.

author's note. this is just pure choso brainrot because i could not get that fanart out of my head so ofc i had to write something about it. (choso girlies, i'm borrowing your man for a while, thank you)

please do not steal, modify or translate my work.

[fushiguho]

choso kamo getting so handsy and greedy with you that he makes you squirt for himmmm ;)

based on this ask.

“come onnn,” he drawls, something sinister dropping his tone. “give me another one.” two fingers are circling over your clit, nursing you through your third orgasm of the hour. “i know you can give me more than that, pretty girl. wan’ you to make a mess all over my fuckin’ hand.”

a big, warm palm is splaying over your tummy, applying enough pressure to make you cry out deliriously, head lolling back and sinking into disheveled sheets. you’re writhing, rutting your cunt against the hand that paws at you, bated breaths catching in your throat.

choso follows the cant of your hips, long fingers sinking deeper and deeper, fucking to the very back of your poor, drooling pussy. he smiles when you tighten around him, sucking him in harder, wordlessly begging for more.

“god, i just know you wanna make a mess,” his pretty lips are ghosting yours, voice hushed as he whispers into your gaped mouth. “give me one more, baby.” he kisses you sloppily, furling his fingers upward to press against the spot that makes you wince.

“cho,” you’re choking out, interrupting yourself with a helpless whimper.

his fingers are relentless, mindlessly fucking you open and stretching that pretty pussy out as he swallows your cries, embodying your pleasure. choso follows the depraved arch of your back, poor cock aching at the sight of you so… gone.

“f— fuck it feels different,” you gasp, core tightening in a horrendous need to release. “oh, god… f-feels like something is different this time.”

“yeah? y’gonna squirt for me? is that it, pretty?” choso smiles something wicked. the hand that lays over your abdomen presses harder, his fingers plunging deeper. “fuck, give it to me. i need that… wanna taste that. i’ll clean you up, yeah?”

his fingers slip out briefly, but only for them to hungrily delve between your glistening lips. they trail over your slick, twitching clit, tracing tight, purposeful circles over and over and over. it’s not long before he’s sinking them back inside of you, ruining that slutty little pussy yet again.

he leers over your body, gaping as you fuck his hand, desperately chasing your looming orgasm. the rhythmic pulse of your cunt serves as a warning of the incoming downpour that slowly begins to trickle around his fingers.

a loud and nasty sound leaves you as the dribbling liquid morphs into a steady stream of arousal that gushes from your cunt. choso fucks you through it all, sloshes and splatters of your essence staining his wrinkled shirt and face. part of him can’t help but to loll out his tongue, the greedy muscle sweeping over his lips to collect your sweet juices.

“yeaaaah, fuck that’s it,” choso coos, slipping his fingers out of your sloppy hole to fully palm your cunt. “that’s a good fuckin’ girl, huuhhh?”

serval tender slaps land against your poor, swollen clit as he forces any remaining liquid of out of you. you curse him, legs snapping closed before hugging you knees to your chest. you’re a wreck, whining and gasping for him to get a fucking grip.

“you’re insane.” you mumble.

choso shrugs, smiling crookedly. “i always knew you could do that.”

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