stranger on a bus

‘B’ is for Body part ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ his favorite body part on you and himself

There's no denying that Sanji takes care of his hands. They're his most precious limb, he's very particular about what he uses them for. Preferring not to sully them with fighting, instead only using them to help those who need it and ensuring the people he cares about are fed well.

But something changed when he met you.

He still uses his hands in the same ways he always has, but he finds himself able to add a number of movements to the list of things his hands are capable of...

There's just something about the way you shudder when he draws your chin towards him with the tip of a finger, or how a single touch of his hand to your thigh has you shifting in your seat, silently begging for more. His touch is so often your undoing, he works skillfully with his fingers between your legs until you're clutching at his back and crying out his name.

When it comes to you Sanji finds it almost impossible to say that just one part of you is his favourite. He loves your hands, how they scratch at his back and wrap around his cock when he asks politely. He loves your back, when he sees you lounging on the deck, sun lotion making your skin glisten beautifully, he swears he can feel his blood rush south.

But... there's just something about your thighs that makes him weak at the knees more than any other part of you. They're his favourite pillow, the stress toy that he knows he can squeeze until he's feeling better. They're the reason he has such trouble falling asleep next to you, just one touch and he's half hard already, nudging your shoulder and pouting expectantly.

And when he gets the opportunity to push his aching cock between the soft, warm, plushness of your thighs... his leaky tip making a mess of your skin, something he'll apologise for profusely before the pleasure overtakes his brain completely. He'll hold you so close that you can feel the heat radiating off of his skin. The feel of his cock dragging through the gap he created for himself is like heaven on earth.

With a single cry of your name he'll cum, barely able to rub against your skin for more than a minute when he's feeling particularly needy.

‘C’ is for Cum ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ anything to do with cum

The taste of your cum on his tongue is Sanji's favourite way to begin each day. It wakes him up better than coffee ever could, and tastes even sweeter.

He usually wakes before you, half hard and leaking before he's even gotten out of bed. Most days he can subdue his desires, pushing them down until the evening, when all meals are over and he gets to have you all to himself. But some days… some days he has to nudge against your thigh until you stir, he'll whine and plead, repeating the questions of "may I? can I? will you let me?" over and over until he hears you hum softly.

He'll lap at your clit, sucking it into his mouth and rolling his tongue over the sensitive bud until he knows you're ready for more. When he pushes his tongue between your folds he moans so loudly you swear the whole ship should be able to hear him. He's eager to taste every drop you give him, good food should never go to waste and Sanji is certain to make sure he drinks every last bit of juice you give him.

He'll go to breakfast with the scent of your cum still lingering in his nose. He'll run his tongue over his lips more than usual on these mornings, soaking up as much of you as he can until he can be back between your legs once more…

‘D’ is for Dirty secret ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ a dirty secret of his

On more than one occasion the matching bikini sets that you left out to dry have gone missing, you know all your bikini tops have matching bottoms, you're certain of it. Sometimes it's the top that goes missing, other times it's the bottoms that seem to mysteriously vanish. Either way the result is the same and you end up wearing a mismatch of the remaining parts.

Sanji is the one to blame for this. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes he just can't help himself. He'll walk past the line you've hung your damp suit on and without a second thought he'll grab whatever piece is closest and stuff it deep into his pocket.

He saves it for late at night, when he's alone in the kitchen or hiding in the bathroom. He has to bite his fist to stop himself from moaning as he wraps the fabric around his cock. He'll pump as slow as he can stand to, relishing in the sweet friction that your bikini provides.

He'll make sure it's washed and dried before giving it back to you, leaving it folded neatly on your bed for you to find.

‘E’ is for Experience ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ how experienced is he

Sanji is well experienced in the art of wooing. He can flirt easily, his silver tongue is rarely outmatched and he's a force to be reckoned with when it comes to inventive compliments.

He has some dating experience, there have been times when the people he flirts with at the baratie have taken him up on his offers, but nothing beyond a casual first date and the goodnight kiss that comes along with it.

You are the only one he's ever fallen into bed with. You are the only one that's ever gotten past the walls he's built up and seen into his truest heart. You are the blueprint of all his desires.

‘F’ is for Favorite position ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ his favourite position

Sanji's hand gently grips your chin, pulling your focus back towards him until you're gazing into his eyes once again. His arms cage your head, his body weight presses down onto you, every fibre of your being is alight with electricity with each slow roll of his hips.

The rhythm he sets is languid and easy, lazy in a way that has your back arching and your nails scratching at his back for more. It's agonising for the both of you, but he can't bear to move any faster right now. Soon, he whispers, just let me get settled first, my angel.

He needs the slow build up, any faster and he'll cum before you've even had the chance to beg for more.

He's open to any position, but his favourites are always the ones where he's still able to kiss you. He needs to see your face, to hold you in his palms and kiss you softly before beginning to snap his hips more roughly.

There's just something about having you underneath him that makes Sanji feel complete. Knowing your focus is all on him and knowing that each wave of pleasure that rolls across your face is because of what he's doing. He's obsessed with feeling your body beneath his hands, he'll dance his fingers across your side, down your thigh and across your stomach before reaching between your bodies and rolling your clit between his fingers.

Your moans and whines of pleasure are all he cares about and he'll whisper into your ear about how much he loves you, how beautiful you look and how he can't wait to feel you like this again and again and again...

‘G’ is for Goofy ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ is he serious in the moment? or humorous?

His serious side usually appears after a particularly horrendous or strenuous battle. One in which one of you had a bad injury, something almost too close for comfort, something that puts you out of commission for a good few weeks afterwards. He's even more intense than usual, his eyes will bore through you and his hands will never leave your body. He'll hold your face, cradling your cheek and squeezing your hand like he's trying to convince himself you're real. These are also the times that he's not loud with his moans, he'll whisper sweet nothings into your ear instead, voice so low you almost miss the devastating way your name falls from his lips—repeated over and over like you're the only holy thing he's ever prayed to.

Sex with Sanji will always be intense—he's obsessed with you. This man doesn't have a single nonchalant bone in his entire body when it comes to you. He melts under your touch, preening and moaning and whimpering every time the two of you fall into bed together. He flirts with you even as he curls a hand between your legs, teasing you for how needy you are for him.

It's easy to laugh with him during though, to point out how red the tips of his ears are and feel him huff a response against your neck as he causes your breath to hitch in your throat.

‘H’ is for Hair ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ how well groomed is he?

Sanji likes to keep himself groomed. Even before he met you he was always trimmed neatly, only ever letting it grow wildly very occasionally. He used to enjoy the way it felt against his skin when his hand was the only touch his cock felt.

And he still likes it, of course, he likes how it looks, he thinks it gives his cock more definition. But more than anything else he likes seeing your reaction to how trimmed he is. When he watches you from above, your head bobbing up and down as you take him in your mouth he can see the hairs just about tickling your nose and it draws such a primal groan from his throat. One that you swear you never hear in any other situation. It's the way your eyes widen even as he holds your head, like you're surprised you reached the base of his cock. It sends a shiver over Sanji's body every single time.

He prefers to keep his chest hairless, although the times he's let his chest hair grow he's seen the way your eyes would glow darkly and he would watch as you idly run your hand across his collar bone, following the outline of his ribs and tracing the pattern of his hair.

He's very keen to have your input, he usually won't ask directly but he can see when your eyes linger on the slivers of hair that peak out of the top of his shirt. He takes note of how you rub your cheek against his stomach after he shaves. He remembers.

He always keeps a delicious line of hair trailing from his belly button to his crotch. Even when his chest is shaved his snail trail acts as a guide for your eyes to follow, pulling your gaze further and further until it lands right where he needs it.

‘I’ is for Intimacy ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ how is he during the moment?

Sanji lives to romance you—flowers just because, a kiss to the cheek every time he sees you, holding doors open and surprising you with fully planned dates out of nowhere. He loves you too much to give you anything less than what he deems perfect. He's a romantic and it pours out of every fibre of his being when he's around you.

And it's no different in the bedroom. He's unable to stop his worship of you for even a second, he'll brush his lips over your temple as you fall apart on his cock. Scattered rose petals will lie underneath you while his mouth latches onto your nipple, rolling over the bud as a hand dips below the band of your underwear. He'll whine against your skin and the vibration will tickle you, causing you to arch your back further towards him, the unmistakable hardness between his legs only furthering your bliss. He puts your pleasure above his, always. Pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you with his tongue or his fingers before finally sinking his aching cock into your cunt.

Even your rougher sessions are littered with romance. Lingering touches down your spine before he presses all his weight onto your back, pushing your head down into the pillow and complaining about how you've been ignoring him all day. When his thrusts are fast and hard he'll still take time to press a delicate kiss to your hair, a soft whisper of I love you falling from his lips before resuming his onslaught of teasing quips.

‘J’ is for Jack off ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ masturbation headcanon

Sanji touches himself almost every day. When he can't have you the next best thing is his own hand wrapped around his cock, pumping himself to thoughts of you—your chest heaving, your arms wrapping around his waist when he's standing in the kitchen, the way your eyes squeeze shut when he slips his tip between your folds, each time as mesmerising as the first.

He can go without, he's more than capable of squashing down his desires when necessary. Sometimes he'll set himself small challenges, go X number of days without touching, and he'll reward himself with an extra special prize. He'll surround himself with smells that remind him of you—the soap you use in the shower, that body lotion you use everyday—and edge himself until he's red in the face and leaking all over himself as he buries his head in whatever piece of clothing he managed to sneak from you and huffs it like it's his lifeline.

‘K’ is for Kink ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ one or more of his kinks

Sanji doesn't know when the sight of you wandering around the kitchen wearing nothing but small, white socks on your feet began to get him so breathless. Nor does he know when you first started noticing how deep his obsession ran. But, god, he's thankful you did. It's sinful the way his eyes follow the curve of your ankle, lingering on the soft, lacy frill of the sock adorning your feet. It distracts him from what he knows he should be focusing on, there's food laid out in front of him, there's plenty of things he should be doing. But when you take a seat opposite him and kick your feet up onto the chair next to you... perhaps lunch will just have to be a tiny bit delayed.

He also loves the size difference between the two of you, even if it's small he'll focus and obsess over it until he's red in the face. He'll bring your hand into his when you're distracted and casually rest his palm against yours. Idly twisting his fingers around yours as he compares the length of your fingers to his. He'll stand a little closer to you than he does with anyone else, nothing too noticeable but just close enough that he can see how high your shoulder sits against his arm.

‘L’ is for Location ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ favorite places to do the do

Since then the two of you have spent many late nights together in the kitchen, against the wall, on the bench, even over the counter. (Don't worry, Sanji is very thorough with how he cleans every surface afterwards.)

He'll have you whenever and wherever you'll let him. A dark corner of the ship has been subject to your quickies more times than you can count. Even the counter in the kitchen isn't sacred enough to go untouched by your sin.

In fact, something awakens in Sanji the first time you go down on him while he's standing in the kitchen. If he were able to without fear of someone hearing he would've sung your name loudly, moans of bliss would have filled the kitchen proudly as you bobbed your head along his length.

He likes to have you all to himself. Although the idea of someone catching the two of you together makes his dick twitch—his hand under your shirt, your leg hoisted up onto his hip, eyes blown out and a hickey or two littering his neck... Most of the time he likes privacy. He likes knowing you won't be disturbed, that he can spend hours devouring you without so much as a single soul interrupting.

When possible he likes taking you to hotels or private lodgings, laying you down on the extravagant bedding and fluffy pillows and showing you just how obsessed he is with you. But your bed on the ship will always be his favourite place to fuck you, surrounded by your clothes, your things, your scent, everything you.

‘M’ is for Motivation ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ what turns him on, gets him going

There's not a lot that you could do that wouldn't get him going, it would faster to list the things that don't. (And even then, it would be a very, very short list.)

But nothing turns Sanji's brain to mush faster than you flirting with him. Even when you've been together for years, even when you compliment him every day and praise him between breathless moans and cries of his name. When you're forward, when you're direct and purposeful with your teasing comments it sends a shiver up his spine like nothing else can. You can practically see the blood rush from his head when you lean close to him, flutter your eyes sweetly and say "hi, handsome" in that low, drawling voice.

‘N’ is for No ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ something he wouldn’t do, turn offs

He doesn't enjoy degradation. There are times when the teasing between the two of you will tip toe towards the line and he's more than willing to provide a gruff word or a harsher taunt, especially when he's bouncing you off the bed, all rough thrusts and sloppy kisses, but he doesn't like receiving it. And he would never want to humiliate you.

‘O’ is for Oral ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc

If you were to ask him, Sanji would say there's nothing he loves more than feeling you under his tongue. Each squirm and wriggle, every cry of his name and weak moan that falls from your lips makes him feel like the luckiest guy in the world. He lives to make you feel good. Knowing his mouth is all you need to get your toes curling and your mouth hanging open is an ego boost like no other.

He can stay buried between your thighs for hours, the taste of you is addictive for the chef. You're his favourite indulgence. His favourite treat at the end of a long day.

He loves to start the day with your essence dripping from lips. It's hard for him to stop once he starts, you'll have to nudge his head away, sweet whimpers falling from your lips and begging for relief before he finally, reluctantly, pulls away. He'll always press a soft kiss to the inside of each thigh as he relinquishies his place between them. That knowing smile spreading across his face when he sees how wet the spot beneath you is.

But, of course, he's equally as keen to receive.

Your pussy on his lips is a delicacy he can't live without, it's true. And every time you fall into bed together he will always make sure to give her some attention before sliding his cock between her lips.

But when you press a hand to his thigh, your eyes dark and your gaze flicking from his mouth to the growing hardness between his thighs—something that happens when he gets even the smallest amount of attention from you—he's weak to your advances. He can't even pretend to object, even when he knows he should.

You're his best, and biggest, distraction.

He cums quickly when you wrap your lips around his cock, a single drag of your tongue from base to tip has him jerking his hips towards you, begging for more. He tries so hard to hold out, tries to distract himself from how good it feels. But your mouth is an expert at making him come undone.

You can tell when he's about to cum because his hands will fall away from you, it's like all his strength gets drawn away from his fingers because his grip will go limp. He'll cry out for you, calling your name weakly as he spills into your mouth.

‘P’ is for Pace ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ is he fast and rough? or slow and sensual?

His favourite way to have you is slow and sensual. Love seeping from every kiss, every touch to your skin hot like fire, his eyes almost burning you with how intensely they're looking at you. He's controlled only by the sounds you make, each thrust is long and slow. He draws them out so he can hear your voice hitch when he hits that spot that makes you tremble.

When he has the time he lives to make the occasion as special as possible. He spends all day riling you up, a hand to your lower back, a kiss to your pulse point, his tongue pushing past your lips when he pulls you in for "a quick" kiss. He lays petals down, he serves you your favourite drink. He wines and dines you before serving you up as his favourite dessert.

But, unfortunately, he's far too desperate to take you this way every time.

So, typically, the way he fucks you is fast. His thrusts are needy, desperate, each snap of his hips sends a jolt through your body, shifting you like you weigh nothing. When he's been suffering without your touch for any longer than a few days he can get... enthusiastic. He still kisses you deeply, holds you close and pours affection onto your skin through his honeyed words. But he can't be slow, not even when you feel like heaven to his cock, pulsing around him and whimpering sweet words of adoration through slightly gritted teeth.

Luckily he has a rather great refractory period.

‘Q’ is for Quickie ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ his opinions on quickies, how often, etc.

He loves them. He needs them. He has a high sex drive and he's unable to hide it when he sees you lounging in your swimsuit or training on the deck, sweat dripping down your chest. He lives to pull you away from the crowded deck or a conversation that you weren't particularly interested in under the guise of needing your help. (Which is not a total lie, he does need your help, just... not the kind of help he can have people interrupting.)

A secluded corner of the ship, far away from the noise of your friends, becomes your sanctuary. He stifles his moans by pressing a hard kiss to your lips, hands gripping your thighs tightly as he pushes you against the wall.

It's about the connection for the cook. He needs to see that look in your eyes, to feel you come apart beneath his fingers, to hold you close and hear how good he can make you feel. The sex is just the vessel, the way he can reassure himself that you're here, you're safe and you're his.

‘R’ is for Risk ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ is he game to experiment? does he take risks?

Fairly soon after your first time together Sanji opens up to you about things he'd like to try. He's spent a long time thinking about it, he's been pining after you for months and he's not about to (nor is he able to) wait any longer. He likes the risk of public sex, the thrill of being caught in such a compromising position sends a rush of excitement down his spine. He enjoys the risk, he likes experimenting with your pleasure and pushing himself past his limits.

If there's something new you want to try he'll be down, there's very little he'll say no to when it comes to you. He wants to give you everything. So, even though he likes to tease you, to kiss your neck as he listens to you explain what you want to try, your voice low like you're afraid of his answer, you never need to worry about outdoing him when it comes to experimenting. Whatever you say you can guarantee he's already pictured it enough times to know the exact position, timing and snacks he'll need to prep for you both to rebuild your energy afterwards.

‘S’ is for Stamina ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?

However, when you both have the time, and the space, to spend time together freely he can easily go for 3 or 4 rounds. He loves to endulge in your pleasure, to feel you flutter around his cock over and over as you milk him for all he's worth.

His stamina is strong, both mentally and physically. His refractory period is almost nonexistent, give him a few minutes between rounds, enough time to hydrate and refuel and then the second your lips touch his neck he's ready to go again.

A lot of his stamina comes from how often he touches himself, even once you get together he's still jerking off multiple times a week because he gets turned on by something as little as a smile from you and a lot of the time you're not free to help him.

‘T’ is for Toys ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ does he own toys? does he use them on a partner or himself?

Yes, he loves to use them on you. Not all the time of course, he still loves to feel you beneath his tongue or his fingers, and there's nothing in the world that makes him feel as good as when his cock nudges past your entrance and you both gasp at the feeling of him being inside you.

But he likes that they make you loud. And he likes that they make it easier for him to watch you fall apart. Whenever the toys make an appearance you know neither of you are leaving the room for many, many hours.

He overstims you, rolling your nipple between his lips while keeping the vibrator pressed firmly to your clit. He even enjoys using a dildo on you, providing it's the same size as him, because he likes watching it disappear between your thighs. Often he will ask you to use them on yourself and he'll lie beside you, sometimes using his own toy, and pump his cock until you're both coming at the same time.

‘U’ is for Unfair ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ how much he likes to tease

Sanji lives to tease you. When he sees how easily he can make you flustered it becomes a sort of game to him—how far can he tease you until you're pulling him to a secluded location and pushing him against the wall.

It's payback really, for how easily you seem to be able to tease him. You do it so well, without even realising what you're doing and it drives him crazy.

He's not subtle about it. He'll put an arm around your waist when he's moving past you on the deck. He'll ask you to taste test lunch and then he'll pull you closer than he needs to, his hand resting firm on your jaw as he lowers the spoon into you mouth.

He'll be brazen with his compliments, more so than usual. They'll roll of his tongue like butter every time you enter the room.

And he'll flash a smirk your way as he leans towards you, tongue darting over your neck before whispering something in your ear that he knows will have your cheeks heating up.

‘V’ is for Volume ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ how loud is he? what sounds does he make

He's loud, he can't help it. He makes every noise imaginable. He moans and whines and whimpers and curses under his breath when you squeeze around him. Even when he needs to be quiet and you're shushing him and pressing a hand to his mouth there's still noises slipping past your defense.

At the beginning of your relationship he tries to hide it, he tries to stifle his moans and hide his whimpers from you. He thinks it's embarrassing how vocal he is, he thinks you'll hate the noises he makes.

It doesn't take long for him to figure out just how wrong he is. The first time he screws his eyes shut and tilts his back in ecstasy as you squeeze around his cock he's ready to apologise. He's ready to look at you and see disgust written plainly on your face. What he was not expecting to see was the dark look in your eyes and to feel your hands clawing at his back as you try to pull him in for a kiss.

And if you think he's loud normally, just wait until the first time you have sex after a few drinks...

‘W’ is for Wild card ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ a random headcanon

Sanji likes when you mark him. He's a possessive man, an obsessive man, he likes leaving his mark on you and making sure that other people know you're his.

But when you show the same ferocity back? It makes him weak at the knees.

When you leave a trail of hickeys along his chest don't be surprised if he suddenly wants to spend the afternoon sunbathing. If you scratch his back, raking lines along the tender flesh because of how deeply he fucks you, it's probably safe to assume he'll want to train with you on the deck some point soon. Working himself hard until he's so hot that he simply has to take his shirt off.

‘X’ is for X-ray ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ let’s see what’s going on under his clothes

The weight of it is dizzying, it sits heavy in your mouth when you get down on your knees for him. And you can certainly feel the burn when he pushes past your entrance. Sanji has lost count of the number of times you've blinked up at him to ask if he's bottomed out yet, only for him to smirk wickedly and show you with his fingers just how many inches he has left to sink into your heat.

Sanji's a good size. And you can tell. Most days if you look carefully—and you do, you look very carefully—you can see the outline of his cock straining against the material of his trousers.

He's not wide but his length is almost eye watering the first time you see it. When he pushes his underwear down and let's his cock spring free it hits his lower stomach with a thundering smack.

‘Y’ is for Yearning ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ how high is his sex drive?

High. It was high before he met you and it gets even worse once the two of you get together. He's practically insatiable. The epitome of desperation and unwavering want. He's eager to hunt you down when he wants you, he'll pull you away from a conversation or stand in your peripheral until you notice him. His lust is unmistakably, it rolls off of his body in waves.

Although you are his favourite way to satiate his hunger, he knows that sometimes you won't he available to him and he's more than happy to touch himself to thoughts of you. More often than not he's burying his nose in a piece of your clothing or holding something that reminds him of you.

‘Z’ is for Zzz ˑ ִֶָ ⌇ how quickly he falls asleep afterwards

Not quickly. He prefers to hold you tight, pressing fleeting kisses to your tired body and making sure you feel okay before slipping out of bed and running to the kitchen to collect your favourite snacks and drinks to replenish your energy.

However, on nights that come after long days apart and sex that has spanned hours, filled with soft confessions and perhaps some tears too, he won't want to leave your side. Not even for a moment. He'll curl up beside you, breathing in your scent, and fall asleep happily.

Criminal!Sukuna who lights up in the most feral way whenever your name comes up. Won’t admit it, of course. But it’s obvious how he stops pacing when the mail comes. He snatches your envelopes out of the stack like a territorial dog, scowling at anyone who looks over.

Criminal!Sukuna who sits in his cell reading pages upon pages of you calling him a brain-dead brute with no sense of decorum. Threats piling up saying you’ll break things off completely if he doesn’t clean up his act when he gets out.

He smiles anyway. Because the letters smell like your perfume. Lips splitting wide in that creepy, clinically unwell way that has Gojo surmising Sukuna must have stockholm-syndromed his way into his relationship somehow.

Criminal!Sukuna who writes back instantaneously. Pencil scritching against paper like he’s got a vendetta – and perhaps he does, because he writes venomous, downright heinous shit. All watch your tone and you won’t find a better fuck, signed with a little sketch of his dick. For good measure, of course.

𓀐𓂺 𓀐𓂸

Criminal!Sukuna who spends half his sentence arguing with you through busted-up phone receivers and glass partitions. Sometimes you’ll be face to face at the visitation area, nary a word spoken. Once, you threaten to “start seeing someone normal”, and he slams the counter so hard the whole thing jostles.

There’s something special in the way you speak to him. Like he’s an exceptionally stupid man, and not a dangerous bastard with an egregiously extensive crime record.

“Do you want to get out of prison,” you hiss, enunciating each syllable with a finger jabbed hard at the glass, “or do you want to buttfuck your cellmate?”

Sukuna’s sprawled in his chair, massive arms folded with a sleazy grin, eyes glimmering with mirth. He leans closer.

“Depends. You gonna dump me if I do?”

“Maybe.”

The phone receiver slams against the cradle on his side so hard the inmate six seats down flinches. Sukuna stands to full height, chair scraping back loud across the floor. Hunched over the counter.

“You try it,” he sneers. “See what happens.”

A normal person would back down right about now. Think: hey, this probably isn’t a healthy or sustainable relationship! I should end things right here!

You do not. Instead, you stand and collect your things, a vein pulsing at your forehead as you muster a sweet smile. “Maybe I will.”

He stares ahead three long seconds after you leave, then drops back into his chair, muttering curses beneath his breath as a reprimanding guard draws near.

Criminal!Sukuna who finally gets that long-awaited conjugal visit slot after years of good behavior (read: not slamming anyone’s head into a wall for about a week and a half). And lucky him, you’ve requested special accommodations! – a little trailer just off prison grounds. 

He would’ve been fine fucking you for all to hear, too, but he digresses.

He’s half-hard just from the walk out the confine, veins prominent as his cuff-clad hands twist together. Too busy thinking to bother snarking at the guards who trail behind him.

He wonders what he’ll do when he sees you first. Maybe he’ll smirk, make a snide comment. Or maybe instinct’ll take over, and he’ll bury his face in your hair and his dick in your pussy. Who’s to say?

He’s excited. Very. In many ways.

Criminal!Sukuna who’s one foot into the trailer when he freezes up. The guards have to push him through, slamming the door behind him as his system reboots.

Something tambourines across his ribcage as his eyes meet yours, pounding, pounding– fuck. There you are.

God, he’s missed you.

“You’re staring.”

“..you’re breathing.”

“Yes, that tends to happen.”

His fingers twitch, a soft exhale escaping.

He can’t even find it in himself to be pissed. You’re so pretty. Especially when you’re mad. The angrier you get and the sharper you snap back, the brighter that little gleam in your eyes burns.

Sukuna likes it. He likes it a lot.

He likes you a lot.

The sole reason he even bothered to behave long enough to earn this visit was so he could see that exact frown on your lips once more.

Criminal!Sukuna who’s snapped out of his reverie with the telltale warning of your fingers threading through his hair.

Then those exact lips slam against his with a hiss, your teeth clashing, biting and pulling at his bottom lip as if punishing him for all the time you’ve lost.

His hands – still restrained – press into your waist.

He can’t be bothered to care.

He’s on a sugar high for the first time in months, swallowing down your sativa taste until he’s lightheaded and preening, the outline of kuna junior™ peeking out his orange garb to wave hello.

Your grip on his hair tightens, tugging when his metal cuffs digs into you. In the way. You shoot him a glare, and he snarls beneath his breath.

“Hold still, woman.”

“I am holding still, you dolt–”

There’s a sharp crack!

All you see is the flex of his forearms before the cuffs give way, steel snapping like cheap jewelry and skewing across the trailer floor.

Criminal!Sukuna who hauls you up by your thighs, slamming your back against the flimsy trailer wall so hard a framed motivational poster clatters to the floor. His mouth’s on your throat, kissing tattoos into your skin while he grinds his aching length against the warmth of your clothed cunt.

Criminal!Sukuna who swipes your panties to the side instead of bothering to take them off. There’s a wet spot where he’s been grinding that has his smile spreading mean, two fingers rubbing at your clit before dipping in and crooking up.

“No one’s been spreading you right, huh? Miss me that bad?”

“Missed the dick. Didn’t miss the mouth.”

He snorts at that. Mutters “brat” beneath his breath as he drags his fingers out, slow and glistening, smearing slick along your folds before pushing them back in deep. “Lucky the mouth missed you.”

Criminal!Sukuna who drops to his knees. More collapse than kneel, weight falling hard as he plants himself to the floor, thighs spread wide, hands gripping at your ass to pull you closer. Then he smiles up, tongue running along his molars in anticipation.

Criminal!Sukuna who eats you out like he’s starved. Who dives in with no preamble, mouth sealing over your cunt, tongue flat and broad and greedy as he drags it from your entrance up in one long, lewd-sounding swipe. He takes a moment to grin against your clit, tongue swirling messy circles as his nose presses to the warmth of your skin. Then he’s enveloping the puffy nub between his lips and sucking hard enough to make your hips jerk, humming low when his fingers swipe through your folds and meet a gush of arousal. You buck into the feeling with a whine his name, nails scraping through his scalp, and he practically groans, a hand dropping down to unzip and jerk himself off.

Criminal!Sukuna who gets slower when he’s about to insert himself. Who brushes his tip through your folds, kissing gently at your clit before going back down to gather slick. Then he notches himself at your entrance and thrusts in, agonizingly unrushed, grunting as he sinks into your warmth.

It’s been a while, but his dick still recognizes the feeling like a soldier coming home from war. The fluttering, the way you suck him in like you never forgot him at all – like you waited for him just like he waited for you and worried for him wholly more.

The stretch aches. Your nails rake bloody reality down his back. A groan escapes unbidden – guttural and painstricken and all the more relieved that he’s here, and you’re here, and you’re his.

Criminal!Sukuna who fucks you mean. At first. Sharp and punishing, hips snapping like he’s trying to escape by rocking the trailer to nirvana. Each thrust has a gasp slipping out of your pretty lips, of which he drinks down with fervor, tongue swirling and coaxing yours to muffle the sounds so the guards outside don’t get a free audio show. His balls slap wet against your skin, swollen from months of nothing but his own fist and your perfume-stained letters.

Criminal!Sukuna who slows down when your legs lock tighter around him and your teeth find the side of his neck. He’s still buried to the hilt. His hips rolling in filthy circles, grinding his length against that sweet spot that makes your toes curl and your vision go blurry.

His forehead drops to yours, sweat-slick hair sticking to skin as his voice lowers.

“..say you love me.”

Criminal!Sukuna who lets out a tch when you don’t answer fast enough. Who pulls almost all the way out, letting you feel the drag of every veiny inch, then slams back in so deep your mouth opens in a silent cry.

“Say it. Tell me you’re mine, tell me you– fuuuuuck. Been thinking ‘bout you. Dreaming ‘bout you, every night. Jerked off so much I thought my dick would fall off.. c’mon, baby. Say it. C’mon.”

Criminal!Sukuna who starts begging when your walls pulse around him. Not pretty begging, either – pissed-off. Hoarse.

“Don’t do this to me, please– fuck– just say it. Say you love your piece-of-shit boyfriend. Say you’ll wait. I’ll be good, I swear– only you, just for you, I’ll get out– so say it. Say it. I need you.”

His thrusts turn erratic. Sloppy. He’s close, and he’s trying not to be, trying to drag it out as long as possible before the moment fades into steel bars and white walls of nothing.

Criminal!Sukuna who shivers when you finally card your fingers through his hair, yanking his head back so you can look him in the eye.

You’re pretty. Always pretty, but especially pretty like this, lips swollen and tears pooling at your eyes out of overstimulation.

“I love you, you stupid, stupid man.”

Criminal!Sukuna whose whole body locks up. Whose cock pulses violently inside you – once, twice – and then he’s cumming with a strangled groan, doubling over to hold you tight as he fills you up. He keeps grinding, encouraged by the way your walls milk his length, cum leaking out in a frothy little ring that has his chest preening.

Criminal!Sukuna who doesn’t pull out after. Just stays seated inside, trembling, face buried in the crook of your neck and arms wrapped around you like you might disappear. Who mumbles against your skin, barely audible –

“..missed this pussy.”

He’s still half-hard, twitching every time your walls clench around his oversensitive length. Already thinking about round two.

But despite his perverted words, and his overeager dick, you know exactly what he’s trying to say.

Criminal!Sukuna who spends the rest of your visit inside you in some capacity – fucking, eating you out with your thighs locked around his head, making you ride him on the tiny bed ‘til the frame creaks dangerously. Every time he cums, he begs to hear you say you love him again, hissing it back at you like a promise.

When the guards finally bang on the door to collect him, he snarls “five more minutes” and shoves his tongue back in your mouth. Trying to swallow you whole and take you with him.

Criminal!Sukuna who leaves the trailer with his shoulders loosened, lips swollen, fresh bite marks ringed around his throat and oh-so visible with his head held high. The dopiest, most lovesick grin painted fond across his lips.

He’s gonna get out of here. And when he does, his girl’s gonna be waiting.

––––

Criminal!Sukuna who gets released on parole after god knows how long. The guards walk him out, and the world feels a little different. The air is clearer. And his woman–

.

Where the hell are you?

Criminal!Sukuna who’s a little disappointed when his parole officer is the one to escort him home. But he can’t be too upset about it. You must’ve had it hard, too. He’ll make it up to you.

Criminal!Sukuna who almost breaks down the door on his way in.

DAAAARLING. GUESS WHO’S BACK FROM JAIIIIIIL–

You’re sitting on the couch, legs tucked beneath you, remote in one hand. Unimpressed.

“Hi,” you sniff.

His eye twitches.

“Woman.”

“Yes?”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Sitting.”

He drops his duffel bag with a heavy thud. “Yeah. I can see that.”

Criminal!Sukuna who starts prowling around the apartment like a bloodhound. He checks the kitchen and the hallway and the bathroom and the bedroom – including the closet, the door to which he swings open so hard it bangs against the wall.

Bathtub. Bed. Under the bed. Back out again.

He stands silent for a long moment before storming back into the living room, planting himself in front of the couch and looming over you with a scowl.

“You told me you were seeing someone.”

You lean a little to the left so he doesn’t block your view of the TV, ignoring the freshly released menace like you haven’t been yearning for his presence for the past four years. Serves him right. “I told you maybe.”

“Maybe means yes.”

“No,” you reply, calm, “Maybe means maybe.”

“Maybe means there could be some guy sitting in my apartment right now.”

“Our apartment.”

“Same difference.”

You don’t respond, and he feels the panic set in.

Sukuna trusts you. He knows you waited, and he knows you didn’t have to.

What he’s more uncomfortable with is the memory of all those nights in his cell staring at the ceiling wondering if he would come back changed.

It’s not like he’d know if or when that would happen. It’s not like you’re blind to that possibility. You’ve probably spent just as much time wondering the same thing – if the man who came home would still be the one you loved, or just some asshole you’d have to learn to live with until your lease was up.

And if you did anticipate that, and you did move on, and there is some other guy? What then? What useless method of intimidation or blackmail or torture could possibly earn back your heart if he had already lost it somewhere along the way?

You glance up after a bit. A wry smile blooms across your lips when you see the worried set of his brow.

“There is no guy,” you snort.

“You sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you pick me up?”

“You know where the apartment is.”

“..would’ve liked balloons, at least.”

You register the little quiver in his voice with a hum.

It’s kind of funny, because when he first got into prison four years ago, he was the one who tried to cut things off. Said he didn’t know you at first – assumed you wouldn’t want to associate with a convict. And now here he is, asking for welcome-home balloons.

“Wow,” you muse, pausing your show, “prison really softened you.”

He glares down at you. You smile back.

And then he lets out a long, aggravated exhale, drags a hand down his face, and plops down onto the couch. The whole thing dips under his weight.

“Missed you,” he murmurs.

You laugh and let him pull you into his arms.

“You big baby.”

Criminal!Sukuna who’s “reformed”. On paper. Ankle monitor long gone and patrol officer off his case. He’s even scored a legitimate (albeit mundane) part-time mechanic gig, which you’re 90% sure he got solely because the owner of the shop used to joyride with him. Some big burly guy named Toji who overcharges his clients and busts all his earnings in a casino at 4am, no doubt.

Still, the itch never leaves.

Criminal!Sukuna who can’t quite give up that pesky little habit of his. He’ll steal anything he can. Snatching your lacey panties right out the hamper just to shove them in the washer four hours later after jerking off until the fabric is soaked. And if ever you ask, he’ll just shrug and feign innocence.

“Dunno. Maybe they ran away from your stank ass pu–”

You don’t let him fuck you for the next two weeks, and from the desperate look on his face when you pass by, it isn’t difficult to assume he’s in just as much agony as he was when he was behind bars.

Criminal!Sukuna who “borrows” your car keys and drives off. He doesn’t have anywhere particularly important to be, but the jingle in his palm and the roar of the engine give him that good ol’ dopamine hit. He goes down three blocks to the gas station just to buy the same energy drink you already have three packs of in the fridge, then comes back home and acts like he wasn’t just driving on a suspended license.

Criminal!Sukuna who’s reintegrated into society. And yet he’ll never truly get rid of the urge – the whisper that he could do something, and he could probably get away with it, too.

But he won’t. He’d kill himself before getting locked up again.

Scratch that – his girl would, first.

When you confront him about it, he merely looks at you over his glasses, placing his book down on the wooden table with a sigh. “Yes, I charge your toys. I began noticing that you oft forget, and your mood’ll sour for the rest of the day. To avoid conflict, I’ve decided to take on the responsibility of ensuring they do not die on you when you’re at your most vulnerable.” 

Then, as though it’s an afterthought, he adds, “I am more than happy to stop, if that’s what you’d like.”

His dull eyes hold nothing but the truth. No shame, no creepiness, no hint of danger. Just fact.

Frowning, you retort, “I don’t get grumpy.”

“You called me a boomer who doesn’t deserve the right to vote simply because I said good morning the first time it happened,” he deadpans, already lifting his book up. 

“Fine,” you say, glaring at him to send your message across. “But don’t be sniffing around. Literally.”

Perverted roommate!Nanami dryly replies, “There goes my evening plans.”

Another thing you’ve noticed is that you have a habit of forgetting to bring your towel in the bathroom with you when you shower. Despite that, there’s always a fresh one waiting for you on the rack. You’ve never noticed the door opening or a presence watching, perhaps running his eyes over your wet, soapy body, maybe even touching himself through his slacks. So it took you a while to consider it a problem; your first thought was that there’s a ghost that doubles as a fairy godmother always looking out for you before your mind jumps to your salaryman roommate, who’s law abiding and has a strong moral compass.

Again, when you confront him, he flips the pancakes he’s making for breakfast and utters no defence. 

Instead, he says, “Yes, I enter the bathroom as you use it to place a towel on the rack — you never lock the door and I’d prefer to inconvenience myself for a couple seconds than to spend minutes mopping the floor after you make a run for your room naked and sopping wet.”

You take the plate he’s readied for you, noticing he’s prepared yours before his own, and wonders cautiously aloud, “Okay, but you’ve never lingered, have you?”

Perverted roommate!Nanami says, “I linger only as much as is necessary to note that you do not wash your scalp long enough and cannot reach a particular spot on your back. Though I suppose I’m simply grateful I have a roommate that practices personal hygiene. The last one wasn’t quite as clean.”

“Well, if it bothers you so much,” you begin, scowling at the subtext of insult, “then you should wash me yourself, since I’m clearly not doing it to your standards.”

“Perhaps I will,” he says. He takes a sip of his coffee and adjusts his glasses. “Expect me later. I shall teach you how to do it right.”

You huff. “Fine!”

“Great.”

That later rolls around soon enough. 

Of course, you didn’t actually mean for him to wash you himself; you’re a grown woman!

But you’ve really done it now. 

You’re on edge, standing under the shower, not reaching for your shampoo bottle or washcloth. You stand there, back turned to the door, nervous, and wondering if he would really do it. He’s so prim and proper — would he actually do something so inappropriate, so ill-advised, and scandalous?

The answer comes in the form of doors opening and a heavy presence filling the space. You stiffen, holding your breath. 

It’s just a little nudity, you tell yourself. He’s seen naked women before. Hell, he’s seen you naked before. And he’s never done anything…but do you want him to?

Perverted roommate!Nanami mutters right by your ear, “Do let me know if I’m too rough.”

Shampoo is lathered on your head, rubbed firmly in your scalp by his strong hands. It’s good. Like getting massaged at the salon. Releasing a low moan, you find yourself leaning back onto him, only for your eyes to open at the realisation that he’s fully clothed. 

Your hands feel behind you, touching his thick thighs through the material of his pants clinging to the muscles. “Kento?” you ask, voice hushed, though still audible over the sound of running water, “why’re you wearing clothes?”

“You wanted me to be naked?” he asks back. His voice is raspy with amusement. “Filthy girl…did you expect this to turn into something more? I said I would wash you, properly and thoroughly. I never said I’d fuck you against the tiles. Though,” he adds, “if you were to ask nicely, like a good girl, perhaps I’d consider it.”

Oh, you’re not going to give in first. 

Never. 

So, as he adjusts you to rinse your hair out, you say, “No. The one with a raging boner in their pants should be the one to ask first. Throw in a please and a ‘mommy’ in there, and I’ll consider it.”

Perverted roommate!Nanami coats your hair with your conditioner, clipping it expertly in the exact position you always do to leave it for a couple minutes. He huskily retorts, “I’ll be sure to remember those conditions when I’m at my most desperate.”

“Which is usually when?”

His hands covered in soap begin venturing down, cupping the mounds of your breasts, feeling the weight and flicking the hardened buds of your nipples. Your back arches. 

Lips graze the shell of your ear. “When I hear you moan my name at night with your fingers buried knuckle deep in your cunt, or when you’re riding that flimsy dildo of yours, imagining it’s my cock, all while knowing it’s not anywhere near as big as I am.”

A gasp escapes you. He knows. He knows and he listens and he absorbs every moan, every confession, every orgasm you rub out of yourself that he doesn’t get to taste himself. 

Fingers part your puffy pussy lips. They don’t touch the inside, only slowly rubbing the outside, leaving you panting and throwing your head back on his broad shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind that you’re leaving conditioner and soap all over him. 

No, he’s probably much more preoccupied with the sight of your heaving breasts, glistening for his pleasure. His spare hand can’t get enough of them. He alternates in squeezing them both, rolling and pinching the nipple to tug breathy moans from you.

“Ken…”

“Do you clean well enough between your legs? Should I show you how to do it, hmm sweetheart?” Without waiting for a reply, he dips his fingers where your juices are readily flowing. He makes a tortured noise behind you. “Filthy. Downright filthy.”

You shake your head, pulling his hand away. 

Spinning to face him, you see how he hasn’t even gotten out of his work clothes, how the water has made his shirt transparent, how he’s unbuttoned the first two buttons revealing the smooth plane of his chest, how locks of hair are stuck to his forehead, how he’s licking the droplets off his lips as his eyes come to life with hunger, and you can certainly see the thick, undeniable outline of a rock hard cock caged down his left thigh. 

Weakly, you force a brave tone as you say, “That’s not how you clean a pussy, is it, Kento?”

Recognition flickers in those eyes. 

Perverted roommate!Nanami nods, lips twitching. “You’re right. Forgive me.” 

Hands clutching your waist, he gets down to his knees, pushing you onto the cold tiles. The water pummels his back, soaking him beyond comfort, yet he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t bat an eye, doesn’t give a single fuck as he throws one of your legs over his shoulder and dives right in. 

You cry out at the tongue that flicks your clit with no hesitation.

His rough hands are keeping you steady, preventing you from slipping and sliding, or maybe keeping you pinned so you won’t be able to squirm away from him.

Perverted roommate!Nanami groans. “So this is how you taste, fresh from the source. So fucking sweet. It doesn’t compare to my imagination — not even a little bit.”

You ride his face, grinding your clit against his nose. He laps at your sopping slit, suckling on every errant drop, worming his way through every crevice, leaving nothing untouched or untasted. 

“Is this how you grind your cunt on your little toys?” he questions, demanding and staring intently up at you. “Do you imagine it’s me? Do you wish I’d walk in and replace your toy with something real?”

“Yes! Yes, Ken!”

Fingers thicker and longer than yours, undeniably masculine, push in. They stretch your soft walls, curling against that spot inside you right under your cervix that has more juices seeping out. 

“Then you must only ask,” he growls. “I’ll gladly wring out as many orgasms as you want. And I won’t run out of charge, no matter how long you use me. I’ll make you feel good until you’re satisfied, until you’ve had your fill of me, until you decide to throw me aside.”

It’s hard to fathom why you’d ever discard him when he’s so damn good at eating you out, but that’s hardly what’s on your mind now that he’s thrusting his fingers relentlessly against your g-spot and flicking the tip of his hot tongue on your clit. 

When you cum mere minutes later, he doesn’t stop. 

Your roommate drinks up the juices oozing out of you, the wetness you’re leaking on his tongue, and sucking hard at your clit as though it’s a dispenser that’ll keep it flowing out and out so he won’t have a reason to part sooner than he’d like. 

But you paw at his head, mewling, “No more, Ken. Ngh, it’s too much!”

Blinking, glasses misty, and practically drowning, he pulls away. He’s dazed, lips swollen, cheeks flushed. He stands up, pushing his hair back and shielding you from the water. You’re shuddering, shivering, shaking. 

He angles the small shower head over your hair, rinsing out the conditioner with one hand as the other keeps you upright. Perhaps you hear or feel him smell your hair and the crook where your neck and shoulder meets here and there. Perhaps he brings that shower head down to between your legs and lets the water pressure bring you to another orgasm. 

Perhaps he pulls his cock out and jerks himself off, staring at your body as he does. 

It’s huge. 

Naturally. 

The mere sight of it has you growing dizzy under the hot water. You know he’s dizzy too with the way he’s throwing his head back and gasping for breath. He’s tugging on his cock furiously. So fast that water is splashing everywhere. Beads of precum slide out, falling to the ceramic basin, and you can only think about what a waste it is. 

His clothes still cling to him, all wrinkled and leaving nothing to the imagination. Gone is the controlled, refined salaryman you admire. In his place is a beast of a man drinking up your body, mulling the remnants of your taste on his tongue, and bringing himself to completion.

A hand pushes you down by the shoulder. He tuts. “T-there are -hah fuck- rare occasions I’d ever want to see you on your knees, sweetheart — waiting for my cum is one of them.”

Thumb hooking your jaw down, his flushed cockhead looms above you. You stick your tongue out, practically panting in anticipation for the taste of it exploding all over your face.

“Such a good girl,” he growls, rubbing your cheek. 

“Hurry, Ken,” you whine. “I’m getting all prune-y.”

Perverted roommate!Nanami’s gaze softens, pace hastening. “Forgive me, darling. For-hah-give me.”

Ropes of pearlescent cum spurts all over you, some landing on your forehead, hair, cheeks, and most on your tongue. You greedily swallow, and then kitten-lick at his tip when most of it’s gone. He groans, cock bobbing and cheeks tinted with pink. 

Some time later, when he’s cleaned you and himself up, he says, “I’ll get started on dinner. Take your time.”

Perverted roommate!Nanami disappears, leaving you cold despite the scalding heat of the water. 

From then on, it becomes an unspoken routine between you, one that expects him to saunter in the bathroom as you use it to aid you in washing up, except he mostly focuses on cleaning up the pussy he makes a mess out of in the first place. 

You soon stop using your toys as frequently as you did before. 

Besides that, it’s also normal to expect him to help you stretch out in the mornings, on the weekends when you’re both free. You roll out your yoga mat, put on your leggings and sports bra, and bend in positions you really shouldn’t in the company of a hot-blooded male. 

It never used to be a problem; you could put yourself in downwards doggy all you want without wondering if his eyes are on you. Now, you feel their weight on every part of your body, marking you through the thin material of your clothes. 

And yeah, maybe you do purposefully jut your ass out in his direction. In your defence, however, you didn’t think he’d one day step up and press a thumb right up against your pussy lips. 

“Kento!”

“I don’t see panty lines through your leggings,” he notes, matter-of-factly. His large hands cover the globes of your ass, feeling for what he expected there to be. It’s almost impossible to tell if he’s happy or unhappy by what he’s discovered.  

You arch your back, stretching your torso, pretending to not care about how he’s kneeling behind you, nor about how when you push your ass back his boner presses right up against your crotch. With a shrug, you say, “I can’t stand getting wedgies, so I’m not wearing any.”

Perverted roommate!Nanami hums, hand venturing down your back, finger slightly tucking itself under your sports bra, and pushes your upper half down into a lewd version of child’s pose. He’s helping you really stretch out, and you moan with the ache. 

Still pressing a thumb to your clothed cunt, he muses, “Yoga helps with stretching your muscles, but I do think it’s a shame it doesn’t help in stretching you out here, where you’re most needy.”

Without needing to look back, you know his eyes are fixed on the print of your pussy visible through the thin material. He can see how it opens up for him the further you stretch out. And you’re sure he can feel the growing warmth and wetness where he’s pressing down with his thumb.

“W-what’re you doing?”

That thumb starts rubbing your clit. You jolt. He holds you down. 

“Don’t mind me, sweetheart. Do what you must. I’m simply helping out.”

There’s nothing simple about any of this, and yet the way he’s talking, so calm, so cool, so damn collected, makes you think you’re the pervert for getting wet. 

With him right there, very few positions are possible. But you’re not interested in yoga anymore. Maybe you never were to begin with.

You arch even more, shoving your ass to his bulge. Through his sweatpants, his cock bumps your throbbing clit. His hands grip your ass, tightening. They pull you back, harder, bumping again and again till you’re moaning into the mat. 

Perverted roommate!Nanami grunts. “You’ve certainly gotten more flexible since you started — what a pleasure to test it out for myself.”

“Right, testing it out,” you say, chuckling breathlessly. “That’s all you’re doing, I’m sure.”

He thrusts his hips forward, thick cock slotting perfectly between your legs and kissing your clit through the layers. Your nails dig into the mat. “Yes, of course,” he says. “Are you suggesting I’m doing something inappropriate?”

“No, Ken. You’re just being a good roommate. The greatest roommate ever, r-rubbing your dick against my pussy so -hah- early in the morning.”

The girthy thing is so warm, and if you focus, really focus, you can almost feel the veins and the cockhead. Or maybe you’re imagining it. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he drawls. “I’m only helping you stretch.”

Despite being unconvinced by his words, you say, “Well, thank you very much, Kento.”

“Thank me when you cum,” he replies, amused.

“So confide—HNGH!” 

Strong hands lifted you up by hips, angling you so that your pussy is flushed with his groin. In this new position, he can press all of him to you, can reach your clit even better. And it’s so fucking good your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He grinds his cock onto you as though you’re a pillow or a fleshlight, just a mere toy to rub one out too. But he’s not moaning and whining like you are. Apart from occasional shaky exhales or low grunts, he’s quiet, sounding like he really is focused on aiding your morning yoga routine. 

That’s why after you cum — voice muffled by the mat and hips rocking back, riding out your orgasm — you lay limp in his hands, too embarrassed to face him.

Perverted roommate!Nanami brings you up, cool air brushing over your hardened nipples and lips skimming the length of your neck. He asks, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No.”

“Then why are you hiding your pretty face from me?” he asks, this time tone colder, almost scolding. 

Mumbling, you answer, “Because I came like some bitch in heat.”

“And you think I didn’t?”

Before you can give a response, he’s standing up. Your face is smushed to his groin, where an addictive length lies heavy, and where a wet spot meets your lips. The hand he has threaded through your hair angles your head back. You peer up at him, wide eyed and forced to mouth at his softening cock. 

“Never doubt the effect you have on me,” your roommate huskily warns. “Any time you start to worry about anything concerning me, you should confront me. Tell me off for being tactless, for being rude, or hurtful; the last thing I’d ever want is for you to think less of yourself. And I’ll apologise for my mistakes.”

Oh god, he’s so hot, so tall, so domineering.

The cock you’ve been thinking about since you saw it face-to-face is hidden behind one or two layers, and it’s taking everything in you not to rip through them, to taste him, to have him fill your throat up.

He doesn’t let you lick at the spot, although you’re already tasting his salty spend on your lips. Instead, he brushes your hair back and mutters an apology for disrupting your solo-yoga session.

Rather cheekily, you admit, you say, “If you’re really sorry, then you’d clean up the mess between my legs.”

Perverted roommate!Nanami’s lips twitch. “I always clean up everything around here, don’t I?”

Though, as he says that, he’s already kneeling down, pulling at your leggings. He lets you lie back down, bare except for your sports bra. Your hips are carried up so that your lower half is lifted up to his face.

“No rest for the wicked,” you say, feeling his breath fanning over your swollen folds, stubble scratching your inner thighs deliciously. 

A full blown smile brightens his face, and you’d think you two were talking about the weather, and not about eating you out. 

“No,” he agrees, “we’re wholly undeserving.”

Then his mouth consumes you whole.

Perverted roommate!Nanami has no qualms with pulling your dresses or skirts down. He never minds how much or how little you wear around the apartment, but as soon as it’s time to step out, he’ll furrow his brows and look you over, either ending his appraisal with an approving nod, or with a disapproving purse of his lips.

“Isn’t this a little short for grocery shopping?” he asks, pinching the hem and tugging. His fingers graze your thighs, skimming the curve of your ass or brushing against your panties. 

You roll your eyes. “Don’t be such a grandpa. This is fine, Ken.”

He shakes his head, flicking the dress up. With one light movement, it reveals your entire crotch to his eyes. In a flash, your pussy’s cupped by his large hand. You gasp.

“If I can easily do this, then someone else can,” he informs you, increasing the force in which he’s gripping you, forcing you onto your tiptoes to avoid the pressure on your clit. 

Clutching his muscular arm, you argue, blinking in bewilderment, “No one’s going to do this.”

“They’ll be thinking about it,” he mutters, jaw tensing till a muscle ticks. “No one should know what colour panties you’re wearing or how warm your pussy feels.”

“Except my roommate,” you finish the sentence off for him, intending for it to be a scathing indictment of his wholly hypocritical actions as you glare up at him.

But he only nods.

“Except for your roommate.” He releases you. “Go change, please — I can’t focus on getting the best deals on the produce if I’m constantly worrying about whether you’re flashing anyone every time you bend down.”

Since he’s paying, you think it best to stomp back to your room and put on pants, though not without missing the way he brings his hand to his nose and inhales deeply. 

It’s not normal to police the way your roommate dresses, you know, but since he’s doing it for your own safety, you don’t really think much about it. Plus, he always treats you to whatever sweet treats you want, on him so quid pro quo, or whatever. 

Perverted roommate!Nanami’s room is always open to you. 

A lot of the time you just walk in, barging inside at whatever time you want. Say, 3am, when he’s sleeping on his stomach, shirtless and with his glasses neatly folded on his bedside table. You almost feel bad for what you’re about to do. 

Bleary eyes open as you open on his bed, shaking him awake. “Kento!”

“Sweetheart?” he croaks. He’s forcing himself to sit up, running a hand down his face to wake himself. “What’s wrong?”

A little embarrassed, like reason has taken over you, you shake your head though he probably can’t see that movement. “Actually, forget it. It’s stupid.”

Resting a hand on your thigh, he squeezes. “It’s alright. You can always talk to me, you know that.”

You play with his fingers, admiring their length, and whisper, “I’m horny, Ken. Like, really horny. I was using my toys for a while but it’s not enough.”

With a sigh, he falls back to bed, unable to decide whether he’s more relieved that you’re fine or amazed by your mind in an inconvenienced way. “I see. So you strolled in here, jumped on my bed, and woke me for…”

Cheeks flushed, you answer, “I don’t know. Advice? You always know what to do.”

“Advice on how to…”

“Ugh, get me off, Ken! God, you’re slow when you’re half-asleep.”

If he takes offence to that, he doesn’t say. Perhaps he knows you lash out when vulnerable.

Perverted roommate!Nanami huffs, adjusting on the bed. Maybe you made the wrong decision, maybe you overestimated how close you two are despite all the very wrong things you’ve done together, maybe he’s disgusted by how eager you are. But as you consider leaving, he nudges you onto him.

“Forgive me — the only thing I can think of right now is to offer myself up. Take your pick. Whatever means you’d like to get yourself off, you may choose. I’m all yours.”

Excitedly, you straddle his hips, resting your entire weight on his clothed cock, which is already hard and hot beneath you. You moan, leaning on his abdomen. “Ahhh. That’s fucking good.”

“Seems like you were already thinking of this before you came in,” he notes, amused and not sounding the least bit mad. Both of his heavy hands rest on your thighs, they radiate warmth, rubbing away the chill of the night. 

His chuckle goes over your head now that you’re grinding on him wantonly, just happy to be able to scratch your itch. Fuck, he feels even better than any of your toys. It’s magical how instantly soothed your hungry cunt is. “Mm, Ken! You’re so hard.”

“The better for you to grind on,” he replies, pleased with himself.

“You have an old man’s sense of humour,” you tell him, smiling.

Hands pull you down, shushing you. He brings the fallen covers up over the both of you. Now, you’re laying on top of him, feeling the hardness of his muscular chest, cocooned by the blankets and hips moved by his own hands. 

Perverted roommate!Nanami moves you up and down his cock, grunting when your clit catches onto his cockhead. “Fuck, I can feel how soaked you are. You really were playing with yourself for a while, weren’t you?”

“Hmm. I’m sorry, Ken. This is so wrong of me, I know, but I just needed you.”

He coos, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s alright. I’m happy to help, always.” Then, to himself, he mutters, “Better you turn to me than some other man.”

“What was that?” you ask, distracted by how fucking amazing it is to be using his cock for your own pleasure.

Shaking his head, he aids your movement himself, holding your ass down so you’ll really feel every inch of him. “Nothing, sweetheart. Let’s just get you to cum like this, I’ll clean you up with my mouth, then we can sleep, yes?”

“I can sleep here?”

Perverted roommate!Nanami says, “Of course. You’re always welcome in my bed. Next time you need to cum, you needn’t wake me — just rub yourself on any part of my body. I won’t be mad, unless you leave without giving me a thank you.”

Not much later after he says that, you finally orgasm, mewling onto his chest where you drool. He doesn’t complain, only coos and continues moving you up and down to help you through the waves of pleasure. 

“There there, sweet thing. It’s alright.”

Satisfied, you press a kiss to his chin. “Thank you, Ken.”

Those hands urge you up and up till you’re straddling his face and clutching the headboards. He pulls your panties to the side and says, “I don’t want to hear a thank you from those lips.”

“Oh.”

Three orgasms later, he holds you to him after you’ve made a mess all over his face, uncaring of how sticky and sweaty you both are. 

Perverted roommate!Nanami doesn’t use this moment of intimacy against you in any arguments, which are far and few between, doesn’t set expectations of a committed relationship, and doesn’t mock you for needing him. 

He’s only grateful for any moments you spare him. 

And sure, it’s not like you’re a saint either. 

It’s clear, as you wake up with him between your legs smiling when he mumbles a good morning to your clit, that you’re right where you want to be.

You don’t need saving.

and he is.

fuck, he is.

“you’re killin’ me,” he rasps against your mouth, voice hoarse and low, breath hot where it fans across your cheek. “can’t even look at you without gettin’ hard.”

you giggle, barely, and he swallows it down with another kiss, wetter this time, messier, dragging the slick from your bottom lip all the way to your chin with his tongue.

“slow down,” you pant, trying to pull back, voice airy and breathless. “i can’t even breathe, toji—”

“don’t need to,” he grunts, hand sliding up to cup the back of your head. “just stay right here, baby. let me kiss you.”

your lips are already swollen, spit-slick and puffy, smeared at the edges from how long he’s been mouthing at them like he’s trying to imprint himself. your thighs twitch where they’re pressed tight around his waist, and he can feel the heat of your cunt through the flimsy cotton shorts you’re wearing. it’s driving him insane.

he wants to ruin you. wants to drag this out until you’re trembling on top of him, crying from how good it feels, from how much you want more.

but he also just wants to kiss you.

and kiss you.

and kiss you again.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he groans, lips dragging down to your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, mouthing open-mouthed kisses into every inch of your skin. “my girl. my fuckin’ girl.”

his voice sounds wrecked, like he’s been holding this in for hours, maybe days. truth is, he has.

you grind down slightly and his hips jerk up on instinct, cock thick and heavy beneath you, the fabric of his sweats doing nothing to hide how hard he’s been from the second you sat on him. and even now, he doesn’t move to fuck you. doesn’t slip his hand into your shorts. just keeps kissing you as if it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

your eyes are glossy now.

barely focused, blinking dreamily as your body melts further into his lap, every breath puffing out in soft little huffs. your thighs quiver where they’re straddling his hips, your cunt’s soaked through your shorts and pressed flush to the thick line of his cock. it’s so obvious, the heat of it, the wetness— he could swear he feels you pulse when he shifts beneath you.

your forehead’s damp, strands of hair starting to cling to your skin from how warm it’s gotten in the room, or maybe from how long he’s been touching you, mouthing at your jaw, your throat, your cheek, your lips like he’s addicted.

and god, your fucking lips.

toji’s staring again, totally fixated— he can’t help it. they’re so red. so wet. raw at the edges, shiny with both your spit and his, like they’ve been fucked just as thoroughly as your cunt is about to be. and they tremble when you breathe. twitch when you shift. part just barely when you try to speak.

“open your mouth for me,” he instructs, voice rough. “and keep your eyes on mine.”

you do it without thinking, flattening your tongue as your lips parted. and toji lets out the filthiest fucking sound, low in his throat, gaze dark, almost fevered when he leans in and drags his tongue across yours.

your whole body jumps.

he licks slow. deliberate. tongue thick and heavy as he presses it flat and smooth over yours, tracing the underside, dragging it back and forth with obscenely wet sounds filling the air between you. your lashes flutter. your hips buck once, a small gasp leaving you, and toji growls.

“fuck- look at you,” he breathes, eyes flicking up to your face. “so fuckin’ sweet, baby. you gonna cum just from this?”

you don’t answer. can’t. you’re shaking now, thighs clamped tight around his waist as your cunt pulses and clenches over nothing. it’s too much— too filthy, too intimate, too messy.

spit drips from your tongue down your chin, pooling at the corners of your mouth, and toji watches it fall like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. he shifts his hand to your jaw, thumbing at the stretch of your lips, smearing it a little more.

you try to pull back— but he holds you still.

his other hand is splayed over your thigh, squeezing, thumb pressing into the soft inside near your hip. he knows what he’s doing. knows exactly what kind of mess you’re turning into.

“you’re shakin’, baby,” he murmurs, licking into your mouth again. “too much?”

“no—” your voice is barely a whisper, breath stuttering out as he nudges your tongue with his, slower this time, sloppier. “toji, please…”

“please what?” he croons, trailing his mouth along your cheek, all the way up to your ear. “you want more? want me to fuck you right here, just like this? haven’t even touched you yet, and you’re already so wet for me.”

his voice is so proud. too proud. and your face burns, heat creeping up your neck as he grinds his hips up against your core, just enough to make you choke on a moan.

his lips find yours again. hungry. greedy. suckling on your bottom lip like it’s his last meal. he shifts under you, pushing his thigh between yours so your soaked cunt has something to rut against, and god— you do.

you start rocking desperately. humping the muscle of his leg like you can’t help it.

and he watches you.

dark, hooded gaze burning into you as he whispers, “that’s it. fuck yourself on me. juuust like that.”

his hand drags up, fingers catching on the hem of your shirt before palming over your tits. your nipple’s already hard, poking through the thin fabric— and he rolls it between his fingers lazily, pinching just enough to make you gasp.

“y’know,” he says between kisses, “you talk like you’re innocent, but look at you now…”

he pauses to kiss you again— long, slow, tongue pushing deep.

“makin’ a mess on my fuckin’ thigh. grindin’ on me like a needy little bitch in heat.”

you whimper. he grins. and then he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip again, tugging, soothing the bite with his tongue.

“you love it when i talk to you like this, don’t you.”

he doesn’t wait for an answer.

because he already knows.

your breathing starts to hitch.

you try to roll your hips harder, grind down and get something, but toji doesn’t let you. his hands clasp firmly around your waist, fingers digging in with bruising force, keeping your pace slow and steady, borderline torturous. his leg still flexed between yours, cock still hard under your soaked core, but he won’t move.

just watches you unravel.

he shifts a little— subtle. enough for the outline of his erection to nudge against the curve of your ass, but not enough to give you the pressure you need. it’s cruel. calculated. every tiny movement he makes is designed to keep you needy. teetering.

“you wanna go faster?” he murmurs, low and smug against your jaw. “too bad, baby. you’re gonna stay just like this.”

you whimper in frustration.

the ache is unbearable now, all heat and no friction. your pussy throbs with every shift of his thigh, your shorts utterly ruined by how wet you are. toji grins against your skin when he feels it— the sticky drag of your cunt trying to hump him through your clothes, and the tremble in your thighs when he doesn’t let you.

you snap.

fingers tangle in his hair and you yank hard.

his head tilts back, throat exposed, and the growl he lets out is guttural— feral. it rumbles from his chest like it’s been clawing to get out, and it only makes your cunt clench tighter. you don’t even think, you just lean in and bite.

his bottom lip, swollen and raw, caught between your teeth. you suck, then bite again, leaving it slick and puffy before switching to the top. you mouth at it, nip and tug, until toji’s breath catches and his tongue pushes against your lips, desperate to be let in.

you smirk.

and let him.

only to suck on it the second it slips past your teeth.

toji shudders. literally. his arms jerk around you, dragging your body flush against his like he can’t bear another second of distance. you’re both pressed together now— chests heaving, thighs locked, mouths devouring, his cock twitching beneath you with zero friction and way too much tension.

“fuck,” he pants into your mouth, voice wrecked. “fuckin’ knew you were nasty.”

you moan in response, tongue swirling around his just like you do when you’re going down on him— when you lick around the head of his cock, slow and teasing, eyes up, lips stretched wide. and from the way toji’s hips jerk up this time, you know he’s thinking about it too.

he leans back, dragging you with him until he’s slouched deep into the couch, your chest pressed against his, thighs spread wide, and your entire weight pushing down onto him.

the second your hips are free. your pace no longer restrained, you start moving again.

grinding. humping. rubbing your soaked pussy up and down the firm swell of his abs, catching on the ridges of his stomach and letting out a moan so obscene toji actually curses.

“jesus christ—” he mutters, watching you rock against him like you don’t care about anything else.

his hands trail down your back, then up under your shirt, dragging the fabric up until his fingers find your tits, already bare, already sensitive. he palms one, kneading the soft flesh lazily before flicking his thumb over your nipple.

you arch into him with a high, broken sound.

but he’s not done.

he pulls back from the kiss, eyes locked on your face, and brings one hand to your cheek— then slips his thumb between your lips.

you don’t hesitate.

you take it. suck it deep, tongue dragging along the pad as you whimper, lashes fluttering, completely gone.

“open wider,” he says quietly.

you do.

his thumb presses deeper, back along your tongue, until your throat tightens and your eyes well with tears. you gag around it, drool slipping past your lips in endless, sticky streams, and toji watches like he’s watching the sun rise.

“fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, “you don’t even know how good you look like this.”

he pulls his thumb out slowly, coating the saliva all over your lips, across your cheeks, your chin— messy and unbothered.

you rut against him harder.

“that feel good?” he teases, dragging the wet thumb down to your throat. “you like when i get you all messy, baby? don’t even know where you’re lookin’. you’re so far gone already.”

you really are.

your fingers are clawing at his shoulders, thighs trembling, face dazed and soaked, cunt throbbing where it presses down again and again, leaving a wet patch on his abs. toji swears he could cum just from watching you do this.

toji should take a picture. he wants to. wants to save this exact image of you— mouth open, tongue flicking out on instinct, lips shiny and swollen, face flushed and slack, like you’ve officially stopped functioning. but he knows if he moves right now, even a little, you’ll whine. complain. maybe even cry.

and god help him, he can’t handle that.

not when you’re riding the edge, writhing on his lap with your cunt absolutely drenched through your shorts. he kisses you again instead— slow and wet, spit getting everywhere. occasionally he switches it out for his thumb, pushing it past your lips, watching you suck it with shaky little moans like your brain’s running on autopilot now.

you feel as if you’re floating.

your pussy aches, hot and puffy and overstimulated from how long he’s been teasing you. the lack of underwear only makes it worse— makes every movement drag raw over the ridges of his abs, every grind smear more slick against him. you try to kiss back, but you’re gone. breath too short, limbs too loose. so you just keep your mouth open, let him do what he wants— licking, biting, spitting, owning every inch of you with his mouth.

your hips stutter, rhythm breaking. your moans are airy, high-pitched, on the verge of breaking into sobs, and that’s how toji knows—

you’re close.

real close.

and he wants it.

he suddenly straightens his back, dragging you up by the hair, angling your face so your hazy eyes meet his. his pupils are blown wide, lips wet and agape, and the look on his face is pure hunger.

“baby,” you gasp, barely able to speak, “i’m- i think—”

“yeah,” he whispers, nodding. “i know. cum for me.”

that’s all it takes.

your body locks up. your mouth drops open on a cry you barely register, and you cum so hard your thighs tremble, your arms give out, your whole body shudders with it. your hips are still moving, but only because toji won’t let you stop, guiding them with his hands in slow, deep grinds that keep the aftershocks rolling.

your brain is static. your limbs jelly. your mouth hangs open again, breathing ragged—

and toji leans in.

lets a fat string of spit fall from his mouth straight into yours.

you gasp, loud and sharp, and he smirks when your thighs twitch violently, body jolting from the oversensitivity. he presses two fingers under your chin and closes your mouth gently, coaxing you to swallow, watching your throat bob with pride practically dripping from his expression.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, voice thick. “good girl. swallow it all.”

he doesn’t stop touching you. doesn’t stop whispering things you can barely hear as he lays you gently against his chest, massive arms wrapped around you, thumb stroking up and down your spine. you’re limp, almost dazed out, but you feel safe. floaty. warm.

his dick is throbbing in his sweats— aching, hard as stone— but he ignores it for now. more than content knowing he made you fall apart just from this.

solely just from kissing you.

minutes pass. your breathing steadies. you shift a little, lifting your head off his shoulder and blinking at him, your eyes glassy but clear again.

toji raises a brow.

you pout.

he smirks.

“what?” he says, all fake innocence.

you scowl, slap his chest lightly, then trail your fingers up to your face— poking at your lips with a frown. “you’re a freak,” you mumble, voice hoarse. “my mouth is so fucking sore. i can’t even talk properly.”

“hmm.” toji clears his throat, smug as ever. “well, this freak just made you cum so hard you forgot your own name, so maybe say thank you next time.”

you roll your eyes so hard it hurts. but you don’t deny it.

he grins wider, shifting under you— pressing his cock against your bare pussy once more. “plus,” he drawls, “i think i deserve a little extra for bein’ such a good boy, no?”

you snort. “you’re lucky i’m even still conscious.”

his hips flex on purpose again, and you glare at him, but the twitch between your legs betrays you.

“you’re getting a handjob,” you mutter. “maybe.”

toji’s already nodding. “i’ll take it. gladly.”

your hand slips under the waistband of his sweats.

he groans.

and by the time you’ve got him moaning under your touch, his head thrown back and his voice breaking with every pump of your fist, you’re whispering a promise against his ear—

“shower tomorrow. my turn to ruin you.”

Choso Kamo’s voice cracks on the mere words, at the mere notion—and Yuji can only ogle him in utter bewilderment. Oh…my god…?

Alright so not calm or cool or collected.

Fuck, he was so far gone that it almost looked painful.

He’s never seen his big brother’s eyes shine like that before - whether in excitement (at the delusion) or in panic (at the reality) he couldn’t quite tell. He’s never seen his big brother’s face burst into a blush so strong that it makes him wince. He’s never seen his big brother turn his toned frame away and start muttering - more to himself than anything.

“Why would you even suggest that? Why would you want me to- heheh…ask her out? Why did you know that’s been my biggest dream since freshman year? Why did you think that I could ever possibly manage to-” And then he’s gasping in realization.

And in a split-second - so fast that the poor pink-haired boy could never have seen it coming - Choso’s whirling around to grab him from either side of his shoulders. “Unless- unless you saw something between us that I didn’t!” He exclaims, shaking Yuji with every word. “Unless you believe that I actually have a chance and you want me to go for it before it’s too late?!”

Yuji’s jaw drops, “I uh…huh?”

“But of course!” Choso was on a roll now, jostling the boy back and forth even harder. “In dad’s nighttime k-dramas the two romantic leads never really know when they like each other—but of course!” People in the cafeteria were starting to stare now. “I’m the male lead and you saw something in her eyes that made you want me to confess! Before either I get hit by a truck and get amnesia or she gets married off to some faraway 6’7 CEO-”

“CEO? What the f-”

“So what was it you saw?” Abruptly stopping his shaking now, Choso leans in with widened eyes. He probes at his younger brother with eager questions, “What was it you saw in her eyes? Hidden longing? Desire? Betrayal? Lu-”

“M-maybe?” God, he was feeling dizzy now and those peas weren’t helping…“Webster’s Dictionary did say that betrayal could be a synonym for disgust. I think.”

To which Choso pauses - still with that same insanely hopeful expression stiff on his face. And Yuji thinks that he might just’ve have broken him when-

“Oh, it’s no use—” He almost thinks he prefers the ramblings of a madman, rather than the dramatic way that Choso’s throwing himself over his space on the cafeteria table. Head in his hands. Shoulders shaking with a sigh.

The metal trays they’d been provided with rattle ever-so-slightly at his ministrations, and Yuji has to be the one to nudge them to the side. Mouthing out apologies to the students around them that throw them dirty looks—honestly, this was supposed to be his tour of his older brother’s college campus before he attended. He was supposed to be the one being taken care of during this pivotal time of his life.

Which (to Choso’s credit) had been what ended up happening for most of the day: through all those labs and lecture halls and facilities he’d been led to by him, through all those professors that Choso made him speak about his future major with, through most of lunch where his brother kept on insisting that he take more until…you came along.

Almost as if thinking of the very same thing (you), Choso’s sniffling even louder. And Yuji’s gingerly patting at the AC/DC t-shirt on his back, “There there…it’ll be alright, bubba. Wait- if you’re the male lead then who am I?”

Choso sputters out, “I don’t know? Homosexual supporting cast? I don’t know anything-” Pathetically bemoaning, “I can’t even do anything-”

Yuji insists gingerly, “I’m sure if you just asked her-”

“No you don’t get it, Yuji.” He finally raises his head from his hands, silver lip ring twinklin’ in the light. His older brother brings a ringed hand up to twist at it - in just the way he did whenever he got nervous about something. “She’s part of The Plastics- the leader, actually. And those other two? Utahime and Shoko.”

It seems that you and your duo of friends had been stopped by a few more of your acquaintances just outside the cafeteria. And as you laughed and talked amongst yourselves, Yuji and Choso leaned over in their seats to catch more glimpses of you.

He points subtly at the brown-haired girl with eyebags and a…scalpel close by you. “Ieri Shoko’s one of the smartest girls you will ever meet. Eso sat next to her in Anatomy 101 last semester, and he said she cheated so well that the professor changed their marking scheme.” Then as Choso moves the tip of his digit, so do Yuji’s eyes onto another girl with a scar across her face and an arm thrown over your shoulder. “That one with the traditional dress? That’s Iori Utahime, she’s totally rich because her dad invented the Toaster Strudel. Utahime knows everybody’s business, everything about everyone- that’s why her hair is so big…it’s full of secrets.”

Yuji stifles a giggle, “And ah- the one you’re obsessed with?”

“Shhhh- not so loud!” As if he hadn’t just been causing a scene earlier. Choso just has to take one look at you before he’s repeating your name in the most dreamy manner, “-perfection takes human form in her.”

“Perfection?”

“Don’t be fooled. Because she may seem like your typical selfless, smart, gorgeous sweetheart but in reality…she’s so much more than that.” Choso sighs, “How do I even begin to describe her?”

“I don’t get it, we have popular kids in our high school too?” Yuji asks. Hell, if they were counting like that then he wasn’t doing too bad socially himself.

But Choso’s fervently shaking his head. In an instant, he’s getting up and dragging Yuji away from his mushy peas. Ignoring his whines- “Come with me.”

They all said your name.

“She’s flawless.”

“She has two Fendi purses and a silver Lexus.”

“I hear her hair’s insured for ten thousand dollars.”

“I hear she does car commercials in Shibuya.”

“One time, she met Jacob Elordi on a plane. And he told her she was pretty.”

“One time she punched me in the face. I liked it.”

And by the end of his (second) tour around campus (and his first tour around the gossip mill), Itadori Yuji could…somewhat understand where his older brother was coming from. In addition to being liked so much, you were somewhat…scary.

He feels himself shiver involuntarily as you pass him by, not seeing the two tall boys hidden beneath a large oak tree on campus. Watching you. Though, Shoko does- and glints her scalpel threateningly at them until they duck back behind the scraggly trunk.

“But still-” Yuji hisses at Choso, crouched against the flares of green grass. “-I don’t see why you can’t at least give it one try to ask her out? I thought you weren’t scared of anything, bubba.”

“And then there’s that problem-” Handsome face suddenly hardening, Choso checks whether the coast is clear for Shoko and her scalpel before gesturing at his younger brother to follow. Popping their heads from the side of the oak trunk once more, he’s pointing an index at the other man you’d walked up to. 

The tip of his finger - all chipped with black nail polish - honed in like an arrow at the silver haired man. Yuji watched as he grabbed you to his side with a guffaw, where you wrinkled your nose at the way he crinkled your blouse- but let him do as he pleased anyway. “That two-toned, two-inch bastard- Naoya Zenin.”

“From the Zenin Corporations?” Yuji gawked.

“The Zenin Corporations, and he goes ‘round acting like it too.” Choso grumbles, lightly thumping his fist against the tree. “His family’s old old money, but word is they’re gonna be charged with embezzlement soon, heh. He started dating her at the start of freshman year- no idea how that happened, some say he bribed her with a GMC Hummer and they’ve been on and off ever since.”

“Wild.” The pink-haired boy whistles- inadvertently catching the attention of you. Turning away boredly from a lecture on Naoya’s latest business ventures to catch the two tufts of hair peaking through the oak trunk. You have to stifle a laugh as they duck out of sight with matching yelps.

“Something amusing about wining and dining the CEO of the World Bank, honey?” Naoya leers out, and you know he doesn’t mean that pet name he uses.

“Nothing amusing at all, actually.” You’re plastering a painful plastic smile, and he doesn’t catch the snipe. You’re angling your head to try and catch a glimpse ‘round the trunk, at those doey brown eyes that caught yours. “Tell me all about your ah- glorious old money again.”

“Why most certainly.”

You’re rolling your eyes, and you don’t catch the way that Shoko threatens her scalpel in the direction of the oak once more.

Yuji - who’d been craning upwards to take another look - hastily sits back down on the ground with a thump. “Bubba, we’ve got to do something about her though. The Itadori men don’t just sit around doing nothing in a time of crises-”

“Do what though?” Choso puts his face in his hands, long chestnut hair falling around his face. Obscuring his pout from view, though one could hear it. “It’s hopeless-”

“No.”

Choso looks up in surprise.

At Yuji’s determined face, that smile. Brighter than the sun. 

He pulls a handheld camera from Choso’s backpack and takes a picture of them both, you in the background. Blissfully unaware. “I’ve got a plan.”

.

.

.

PHASE ONE OF WIMP: Everybody needs to know.

“There are four phases, the first is-” Yuji whispers, face pressed against the cold library shelf. Textbooks the size of his head. Names of authors that blurred into one. A wall of words that he’d shuffled aside to spy on the other side of it, “-we first have to get the word out about our WIMP.”

“WIMP?” Choso hisses back in confusion. He was standing right beside his younger brother, stooped down to look through their little crack.

A nearly-empty table.

A column of books.

A certain purple-haired girl rarely seen without leaving your side.

“Yeah?” Itadori answers, “Wingmanning Itadori’s Mythical Party- or WIMP for short.”

Choso can only look at him in pure aghast.

“Anyways, going back to our WIMP-”

“Yuji, stop trying to make WIMP happen. It’s not going to happen.”

“About our party then.” To which the pink-haired boy waves off easily, “Don’t sweat it- dad is out on some bonding trip with Uncle Kuna and grandpa, so they won’t be back until tomorrow so we have the house alllll to ourselves.”

It was true that their home actually sat on the outskirts of campus, right alongside the other dorms and residential buildings for the students. It was actually one of the reasons that Choso had chosen this particular university in the first place, because of its proximity (and it led him to you so, good thinking on his part, hm?) And so he still resided there with his family, but as for throwing a party…“Yuji, parties really aren’t a big deal in college. I don’t know if it’s even a good-”

“Do you wanna do this or not?” He pulls away to give Choso a deadpan look, the sharp edges of the books embedding vertical lines on his face. 

The other man stammers, “W-well…”

“Let me rephrase-” Yuji says, “-do you want her in your house-”

“Yes.”

“And there you go.”

Choso sputters, face flushing at the fact that he’d been caught out so easily. He scratches behind his neck and looks anywhere but into his brother’s mischievous eyes, “W-well! You’ve clearly been spending too much time with Sukuna…and what about the fact that we have a house and apparently the word- but still no actual- party-”

“Semantics, semantics.” And to Choso Kamo’s complete and utter horror- he’s pulling out his camera to take a picture of their stakeout. He’s starting to push off the bookshelf and walk away.

Reaching out a hand, “Wait- wait, Yuji!”

Right up to the corner of the shelf, he grins. “First we’ve got to get the word out.” 

And before Choso can do anything about it, Yuji’s pranced right up to the long student desk. Making a few of them look up at his sudden, yellow-hoodied intrusion- he’s clapping a hand over his forehead and bemoaning. “Oh, woe is me! Woe is me!” Choso’s clapping a hand over his forehead, too, though for a much different reason. He thinks he’s having an aneurysm. “Oh, I seem to have gotten myself a little lost…”

Trailing off, he peeks at Utahime out of the corner of his eye - and finds her completely unphased. 

It was as if she didn’t even hear his display, and flicked casually through a glossy athletics magazine that’d been stuffed between the pages of her textbook.

Choso watches as he starts up again, slightly louder this time- “My poor, innocent high school self- all alone in this big, bad campus. All abandoned. If only I had a good samaritan to guide me back…” He peeks at Utahime again and she doesn’t even flinch—and what the- was that a textbook on children’s education she was reading?!

“Oh, how I wish a future teacher—” Yuji lets the words ring in the air, shooing away another student that’d come over to help him. “-could maybe get some practical work in and help me…a poor, poor high school student who doesn’t know of the big world…” 

Utahime looks up at him—this was his chance!

And Yuji’s brightening up- before he registers she was looking right past him and at the clock that’d been ticking away on the wall behind him. The two brothers come to the realization at the same time and they bite back groans.

Goddammit! “How I wish I had someone to help me lest they wanted me to miss my brother’s party- tonight. Yes, a party tonight. A partyyyyy—” Emphasizing his words; his initial idea had been to strike up a conversation with Utahime as she (with her heart of gold) helped his poor lost self, and to naturally weave in the idea of the party and perhaps invite her and her friends as a thank you. 

But now, Utahime (with her heart of thorns) was pleasantly ignoring him to pack her bag and leave. 

Though, he was catching the attention of almost everyone else in this part of the library. Wondering just who the kid was and why the hell he couldn’t shut up—“He doesn’t even go here!”

Yuji sighs, “Free beer.”

“Oh, are you lost?” Utahime asks with a warm smile.

“What the-” Choso squawks, but ultimately gnaws down on the inside of his cheek to shut himself up before she hears. He watches Utahime get up from her seat and sling her back over her shoulder, leading an allegedly lost Itadori Yuji out of the library (the exit was two shelves away but she didn’t seem to question it).

From here, he can hear snatches of their fading conversation - Utahime inquiring about this party, Yuji responding in kind. He rattles off their address that she makes him text her, along with an invite extended to her friends. She says she has two best friends who would just love to come. “You’re Choso’s brother, aren’t you? I saw you two in the cafeteria today, yeah, my friend would tooootally love to come- just don’t tell her boyfriend.”

Yuji tilts his head in slight confusion.

Choso notices that his brother also greatly exaggerates about the beer (which, obviously, the high-schooler wouldn’t be able to drink) and some DJ they’re flying in, but he doesn’t quite have it in himself to feel anything but cautious excitement right now.

You.

You, you, you.

Yuji throws a thumbs up behind his back.

Pulling out his camera and starting to coax Utahime into a selfie picture or two.

Choso’s lifting off of the shelf with a chuckle - he can’t believe it worked. He can’t believe it actually worked! In both shock and slight relief, he’s taking a few steps back—now that he thinks about it, how did it even work-

Before he’s crashing into someone.

“Oh, fuck- I’m so sor-”

“You’re alright, baby.”

That voice.

Choso whirls around so fast that he feels the world tilt. Choso whirls around so fast that he feels his tall figure sway. That he’s chasing the sound of your voice- and he doesn’t even care if he looks a fool doing it.

Though he’s sure it shows, if the way you’re giggling at his action is anything to go by.

Slightly fluttering your lashes, “Something the matter?” You ask, with a smile.

“N-no…”

“Mhm.” And then you lean in—so close that he could kiss you. 

One of your hands reaches past him, almost caging him against the book shelf. And Choso’s plastering his back against their hair columns- face burning, hands pressing to his toned sides, pink lips quivering with greed. His eyes dip down to those lips of yours that just kept on getting closer…“Wh-what you are-”

“I got what I need.” In the corner of his peripheral vision, he sees you lift off a hefty textbook from the shelf. Past his figure. 

Where your hand had actually been reaching - and Choso feels his heart drop down to his stomach when you neatly distance yourself with the book. That very same slightly-dangerous smile still on your face, “As for you, have fun with your…” Your eyes drift to the gap between two books he’d created, a peephole. Narrowing, though your smile only widens. “-spying. Bye now!”

“W-wait-” Choso’s voice only comes out once you’d left, “Wait I wasn’t-”

.

.

.

PHASE TWO OF WIMP: Break her up with her boyfriend—yeah yeah, Choso’s bored!

Nobody in the lecture hall seemed to question why a high-schooler was sitting and swinging his feet happily amongst them. Nobody in the lecture hall seemed to question why there was a sudden flurry of texts and whispers more prominent than usual, either.

A palpable excitement in the air.

And Choso doesn’t think that Professor Yaga was paid enough to notice nor care.

It seems that telling Utahime first about the party was the smart move. Because before Choso had even stepped foot outside the library (moving on autopilot after that lil’ encounter from you), the news had trickled down from her and to almost the entire department. He was immediately being thrown looks left and right- hell, even a clap on his shoulder by some frat dude he didn’t know congratulating him on ‘finally throwing a rager’. 

He didn’t say he was throwing a rager…nor that he was inviting them…but alright…

Even now, a few of the students around him would nudge each other and not-so-subtly point. Giving him a few glances. Dropping each other the pin of his address. Whispering about how ‘that quiet punk’ kid was throwing a party. Which honestly would’ve been completely tolerable had it not been for the fact that he was drawing attention from the row before him. Think that’s not too bad? Think again-

Choso takes just one glance at the row below—and feels his heart jump to his throat as he recognizes the beautiful back of your head.

He’s spent so many long hours studying it, you couldn’t fault him for immediately knowing…

But it didn’t matter if he knew or not.

It didn’t matter how close he was.

It was you, along with a few of your friends that’d managed to register to the class in time (though, it’s not like you were lacking for willing volunteers). Along with your boyfriend beside you. 

Choso’s only able to look from behind.

Always an invisible wall between you two, invisible galaxies in every inch. Even that conversation he had with you in the library had ended in misunderstandings and distance. Oh…his heart ached, he hung his head low.

Your worlds would simply never cross—

“Haibara Yu, an invite for you.”

“Ah! Why thank you, Itadori-kun.”

“Anytime, my dude.” Yuji replies, eyes glimmering with stars. 

Choso snaps his head to Yuji in utter astonishment as he leans down and prods the man with the bowl cut in front of him - one of your closest friends, Haibara. And here Itadori Yuji was - speaking to him as if it was absolutely nothing—doesn’t he know that you! Were! Right! There! The pink-haired boy seated next to him hands Haibara an impromptu invitation (really, a scrap of paper ripped off of…Choso’s lyrics book with their address written down). 

Chuckling at the cutely childish action, Haibara fist bumps Yuji. “I’ll be there, and say thank you to your brother for me.”

“Oh- he’s right here.” Yuji stabs a thumb to the seat beside him, which Choso looked as if he was trying to sink into. And when Haibara gives him a friendly smile and wave, Choso can only reciprocate with a jerky nod of his own.

And then Choso’s attention gets caught by the way that Yuji reaches deep into his hoodie pocket. Pulling out several more crumpled scraps of paper- how the hell did he have so many? And what the hell was Choso supposed to write songs on now?!

He places his head in his hands and grumbles, “Yuji…”

But Yuji simply continues, “Nanami Kento two for you-” His brother was now throwing the invitations at their unsuspecting recipients, the blond man catches it with a disgruntled scoff. “Ijichi Kiyotaka—four for you Ijichi Kiyotaka, you go Ijichi Kiyotaka!” A bespectacled man catches it with a yelp that catches Yaga’s attention (and his disregard). And then Choso’s heart catches in his throat as Yuji sing-songs out your name, gently handing you your own scrap of paper.

His scrap of written-over…lyrical…paper.

The scrap of paper that Choso had written songs about you on-

“Aw, you wrote my name on it and everything?” You’re cooing at the boy, beginning to unfold the invitation. It was a palimpsest of words, and your eyes go down the slightly-blurred lines of faint writing beneath Yuji’s blocky letters. It was cursive, slanted, with a sweetly messy impression so that you couldn’t make out half the words on it. Just your name. Over and over. “That’s so sweet! Um, you wrote my name…like…a lot-”

“No!”

Before you can read any further, the pierced man behind you reaches over and snatches the paper out of your hands. In a split-second, he has it crumpled up and stuffed deeeep into his bag where no mortal soul would see it ever again.

What follows next might be the most awkward few seconds of silence in his entire life.

Yuji looks at him. Yaga looks at him. Your friends look at him. You look at him-

“Um, why are you so obsessed with me?”

And he can’t even say anything in response because it’s fucking true—!

Yuji takes a picture of the scene.

It’s only Naoya who - seeming to not have noticed a single thing amiss - raises his index in the air and punctuates it with his annoying, grating voice. “Um-”

“And none for Naoya Zenin, bye!” Yuji stuffs the rest of the scraps inside his hoodie.

“Excuuuuuuse me-”

Choso blocks out the tirade of threats that Naoya then proceeds to spit their way, his black-tipped hair flying askew in all angles as he starts arguing with the younger boy. The previous tension between you and Choso left unsettled (not good tension, certainly, no matter what Yuji may think), you’re resigning yourself to lean back in your seat and let Naoya throw his arm over your. Jostled by him. Sighing at the fact that you were jostled by him. “Naoya, let it go-”

And oh—it makes Choso fucking angry to see you still with this asswipe. 

But fuck—does it almost make him smile seeing that look on your face. 

Only getting more bored with every word falling from Naoya’s lips. Only barely putting up with him. A fleck of angry spittle falls from your (hopefully soon-to-be-ex) boyfriend’s mouth, and you’re meeting Choso’s eyes in the middle as you follow it. 

Both of you grimace in disgust.

Next to him, Yuji nudges at his ribs- a victory for Phase Two! He almost wants to laugh.

Yaga drones, “Mister Kamo, would you mind letting the class hear your thoughts on the subject of Caesar and Brutus at hand?” It seems he’d gotten enough of the ruckus in the back rows.

Choso stands, clearing his throat. “What’s so great about Caesar? Hm? Brutus is just as cute as Caesar. Brutus is just as smart as Caesar. People totally like Brutus just as much as they like Caesar. And when did it become okay for one person to try and claim everything, huh? Because that’s not what Rome is about.” He looks straight at Naoya, “We should totally just stab Caesar!”

.

.

.

PHASE THREE OF WIMP: Ask her (to the party, if not out)!

“Bubba-”

“No-”

“C’mon bubba-”

“No-”

Yuji’s throwing his hands up in defeat, letting Choso’s own fall from his grasp. His wrists were all red n’ raw from all the pulling- even after the younger of the two brothers had seemingly given up on bodily draaagging Choso halfway down the campus gardens.

Right to you.

And honestly, Choso should be thankful that his brother’s such a fervent advocate for him getting his shit together and actually talking to the girl of his dreams.

But you’re just meters away, so beautifully oblivious.

And he can’t help but feel his knees weaken—“B-but what am I even going to say to her-”

“For starters, you can apologize for the way you snatched her invitation out of her hand.” Yuji’s saying - so very practically that it almost hurt. Was this really the same kid who’d run after him crying when he first left for college? “And then you can invite her to the WIMP-”

“I said stop trying to-”

“I got it, I got it!” Yuji puffs out his cheeks in a pout, “Man, you really know how to squirm your way out of important conversations- but you won’t be squirming your way out of this!”

Before he knows it, Choso’s being rounded by his younger brother- who then slams both palms against the others shoulders and starts shoving him in your direction. You were talking to someone, with your back turned to him and your air one of complete ease.

And here two Itadori brothers came to shatter it.

“You- won’t- be- getting out of this one, bubba-” Yuji forces out between pushes, and with every time Choso struggled against it, his throws only got even harder. “Talk- to- her-”

“And- and say what-”

“I don’t know- I’ve never asked anyone out before?”

“Fuck!”

With a final profane exclamation, Choso’s shoved right at your footsteps- and you’re turning around at the commotion. Raising your brows at the man that was bent so low before you, that he could practically look up your skirt if he wanted to.

You take a step back, “Um…”

“F-fuck-” He seemed to be saying that a lot today, and he stands upright instantly. Rubbing at the back of his flushed neck, Choso tries looking anywhere but in your eyes—where the fuck did Yuji disappear to?! “Anyways um…nice weather we’re having, huh?”

“Right…” You look up, there was a rain cloud formulating above you. There was a 30% chance that it’s already raining.

Your company - some business major by the name of Mei Mei, he believes, throws her single long braid over her shoulder - “Ooo la la~ Guess I should leave you two alone then, hm?” Waving just the tips of her fingers at you, “Toodles~!”

“Buh-byeee, again- I love your hair!” You’re calling out with the sweetest smile.

“Thank you~!”

And only once Mei Mei was well and fully not in earshot do you turn back to Choso and deadpan, “That is the ugliest fucking hairstyle I’ve ever seen.” 

He hides a laugh behind his fist, “I-it certainly is eccentric…” Well, he’d be lying if he said he never secretly thought the same.

You tilt your head, his contagious smile making your own lips slightly quirk. In this dimming light, you could see the dimples by the corners of his lips- “And so? I don’t suppose you’re here to hear my tastes in hairstyles, are you?”

“I-I wouldn’t mind.” He coughs underneath his breath, self-consciously thinking to his own cutesy space-buns. He’s seen you staring at them a few times before…at least his imagination liked to think you did. He’s almost glad he wore them down today, “But ah- but no, you’re right. First of all, I came to apologize.” 

Before you can say anything else, he’s bowing before you.

Sharp and sincere.

He couldn’t see the expression on your face like this- and so Choso scrunches his eyes and spits out the words. “I apologize for how rude I was during the lecture earlier, it- it’s completely my fault and I shouldn’t have snatched the invitation out of your hands. It was just…”

“Personal?” You ask, and he’s whipping his head up to catch your warm smile. “I get it. Your secret’s safe with me.” Before thinking about it a little more, “And Utahime…and Shoko. Maybe Ijichi-”

His pinkish mouth gapes, “A-and the…”

“My name?” Teasingly, you pretend to think. “I didn’t see a thing. My name? What name?”

Beside himself, he begins to laugh- “And I uh- there’s also…” He’s only slightly leaning up from his bow now, fists clenching upon either side as if tries not to lose his nerve. And Choso might just have- had it not been for the flailing body of his brother.

Just a little distance away, Yuji dances about and gestures at Choso to keep talking. Shaping out hearts with his arms. Mouthing a little ‘go on’. Puckering his lips and making kissy faces—

You notice the way his gaze strays past you and start to turn-

But Choso’s grabbing your hand in a panic- stopping you from moving- making you turn around in slight surprise. “I uh!” And he feels…he feels so much. The heat of your hand thrumming in his own. The zaps of electricity as your eyes meet his. The adoration at just how beautiful you were in this light. Somehow, some way, the shy man manages out. “I wanted to…to invite you personally to the WI- I mean, the party.” 

He winces, waiting for your rejection.

Only-

“I’d love to!”

In the distance Yuji’s camera runs out of battery with how many times he’s flashing away pictures.

Choso’s on cloud nine all the way back home, he doesn’t think his feet even touch the pavement. Yuji gives him a good, hard smack on the back in congratulations as they get on Choso’s bike—“Wow, maybe you’re not a hopeless case after all, bubba!” 

Choso rides a little faster that day.

.

.

.

PHASE FOUR OF WIMP: DON’T BE A WIMP!

It honestly hadn’t taken them too long to turn Itadori Jin’s home into the habitat of a college party. It was already big enough, and it had a pool out in the back and a rooftop to climb. All they needed to add were a few key components: booze, beats, onion rings.

Most of it was ordered with their uncle’s credit card…

He’d asked his Löded Diper members to join him for a gig later in the night. And Yuji had begged his friends to help them with the decorating and set-up on account that they could join the (alcohol-free, to them) party afterwards.

Meanwhile Choso had paced their living room so many times that he thinks his footsteps were seared into the carpet - some excuse of a cool big brother he was. He’d damn near twisted off his lip piercing with the way he’d been nervously toying with it- it’d taken Yuji and Nobara dragging him off to get a bit more dolled-up for him to stop.

And so here he was.

Dressed in his best ripped jeans, chains glinting, biceps flexing through his short sleeves, nails painted and re-painted. 

He throws his silky bangs out of his eyes and watches as the students trickle in- he didn’t even know half the people that dapped him up before treading inside the Itadori family home. And through each smile and greeting, Choso’s eyes flickered over the blur of faces for only one.

Yours.

The slosh of beer. The splash of ping-pong balls inside cups.

It was nearing midnight and Choso still couldn’t find you. Fuck, he almost considers letting the party rage on and leaving to find you himself-

“Bubba!” Yuji calls out over the thumping bass, and the dark-haired man is whipping around to find his brother surfing over the sea of people. “Bubba- bubba!” Hand cupped over his mouth to let his voice project, the other gripping his camera. “I saw Utahime and Shoko by the food table, no sign of her though.”

“Yuji-” Choso’s yanking on his brother’s arm, tugging his brother to him. His eyes probe down in concern, “What do you mean no sign of her? You’re sure?”

“Positive.” Yuji nods, “I asked them, too- they said she’d be coming separately but still no sign of her.” 

“I hope she’s okay…” Choso worries on his lip ring, he looks over the perspired heads of party-goers. The party was in full swing by midnight, and it showed no sign of stopping. He’s sure he saw at least one antique vase smashed, and one drunk couple making out in Sukuna’s room…“Maybe I should go check on her?”

Yuji tilts his head in confusion, “How?”

“I’ll just wait by the door maybe…”

“All night?”

“All morning if I have to.” 

Waving off his concerns, he tells his brother to order some more food and leaves for the front door.

Ignoring the calls of his name and the compliments. Trying to squeeze past the slightest gaps between bodies, “Excuse me-” He’s whispering, wincing as he forces his way through them. “Excuse me- coming through. Excuse me.” Seeing the widely gaped door as a few more people shove themselves inside the party, the door starts to close. “Wait wait don’t close, I just want to get to-”

You.

A hand stops the front door from closing, and he’s instantly putting a name to face. A name to body. A name to each fingertip by fingertip.

The party hushes just a little when you enter. The music slows. The chatter dies down. The eyes of everyone present snaps to you- holy shit, it was you. It was really, really you. 

Dressed in your prettiest slip dress. Hugging every inch of you so perfectly in the way he wanted to. Your eyes shimmering with a bit of glitter on the edges. Your lips resembling a candy he couldn’t wait to suck on right now. Immediately, it’s as if his world was bending to your will, your intrusion - as it always did.

Holding the door open, “Oh!” You’re clearly startled to come face-to-face with Choso Kamo so soon - and especially so close. Your eyes widen as they flit up his sculptured body, that t-shirt that clung to him attractively. “Ditching your own party so soon?”

“I was about to until you came along.”

Fuck—why did he say that?

In the distance, he can hear three irritating (strangely familiar) squeals. And he’s bringing a hand up to fiddle with his lip piercing, apology on his tongue when-

“Well, then I sure am glad I came along.” You’re smiling in that way that feels like you’re analyzing every inch of him, “This party wouldn’t have been much fun without you, Cho.” You push his shoulder with yours, and he thinks he might just melt.

He thinks he does.

There’s a flash of a camera that jolts him into action once more.

“Can I uh- get you uh—a beer? Or something?” Grimacing at his own choked-up hosting, he ushers you in and closes the door. Your shoulder brushes against his, and he thinks he might just cream his pants. “Or a shot? Ah- onion rings?”

“I think I’m good on the alcohol…for now.” You hum, and there’s something in your tone that he can’t quite pinpoint. The party parts ways for you, and he’s leading you inside. 

Choso raises a brow, curious. “How come for now?”

“Ah- because I know if I want to drink I’ll drink until I drop out of anger.” You huff, looking up at him meaningfully. You’d reached the dance floor by now- or at least, the living room that had found itself being turned into a dance floor. The music was much louder here, and you beckon Choso in close to whisper in his ear—your breath brushing his sensitive earlobes. “Break-ups tend to do that to you.”

Choso shivers at the proximity, before registering what you’d just said. “Wait- break-up-”

“It was a long time coming anyway.” You’re sighing, a slight smile on your face. “And this time it’s done for good- don’t worry, it’s not like I’m upset or anything…” Huffing out contemplatively, “Well, maybe a little- but not over him, rather the time I wasted.”

“I-I see…” Choso swallows, his throat was parched as if he’d just run a marathon. He clenches his fists, and then he wipes those sweaty palms down his sides—before bringing them up to hold yours. In just a little, his band would be playing (he’d been holding them off for you), but until then…

You look up at him in slight surprise, slight warmth.

“Then…” He tugs you down to the dance floor, “-shall we dance?”

.

.

.

“Fuh-fuck…” Choso can’t help but let his slick tongue flop out- as if he wanted to surge his head between those pretty legs of yours, as if he wanted to chase that sweetly honeyed cunt you’d plopped right on top of him.

It didn’t take long after dancing together - so close, you’re sure the rumor mill was working overtime by now - and listening to Choso’s rock set before you’d all but dragged him upstairs. Blindly, he’s the one that’d led your impatient self to his bedroom and locked the door.

And you’d barely had the time to admire those rock posters along his walls, his practice drum kit, before he’d laid you out on his jet-black sheets.

Before you’d flipped him over and set your thighs upon either side of his pretty, pretty face.

With your hips hoverin’ over Choso’s face, you’re letting your mouth upturn into a smirk as his gluttonous tongue lavishes out. The ridges of his tastebuds already watery with how badly he wanted you, he’s groaning from underneath. “S-sit on my face.” 

“What was that?” You’re leaning in with your ear cupped, pretending not to hear. Not close enough for him to actually get what he wants, but enough to have him lunging forwards with a whine. “The music’s really loud, Cho.”

“Sit on my- face.” Such a pretty hot blush spreads all over his cheeks, as if Choso couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his own mouth. With both hands gripped upon both your thighs, he’s pulling you in. “Please sit on my face, ngh- what do I hafta do to have you fuck my mouth properly?”

“How about you beg-”

“Please—”

“Call me ma’am?”

Tears start twinkling at the edge of Choso’s eyes at how badly he wanted you, how ravenous he was. “Please…” Mumbling out in such a pouty way, his lip ring glimmers. “Please, ma’am.”

You shiver, zaps of arousal running down your spine and straight to your core- you couldn’t believe that it was so damn easy to get him to bend to your will like this. And Choso’s noticing your slight shakes with a whine of concern, batting up his lashes-

“Something the matter, baby?”

“Oh, nothing—” You hum, and the bed creaks as you inch just a lil’ forward. “It’s just, you’re already so tempting as is- just one question, have you ever done this before?”

You didn’t know it was even possible for his furious flush to grow even stronger, “N-no…”

“Mmm, thought so.”

To which his brown brows furrow in a plea- “But I promise I’ll be so good for you- mmpf!”

Immediately shutting him up with the front of your pussy- your bloated lips end up glued against his mouth. His greedy maw. His agape cavern. His lip piercing was cold against your outer cunt. His tongue sticks directly out to swipe at your sultry pussy, and you watch in real time as Choso’s doe-like eyes widen, entire body jolting as if he’d just been struck by a million volts of electricity.

And he takes one lick, he takes one slurp.

That’s all it takes for Choso Kamo to get fucking addicted.

“O-oh my god…” Slurring out right between your pussylips, you’re being dragged forwards as if you were nothing but a ragdoll atop him. Nudged right until the tip of his straight nosebridge ends up shoved between your folds, “Mmm, oh my god-” He breathes out—that’s until he realizes that he has to remove himself from your pussy to actually breathe.

And it’s with great pain that and multiple seconds that Choso actually unlatches himself from your cunt to intake a few gasps. Before plunging straight back in with a wet sluuuuurp—“Oh my god- are all pussies this sweet- or is it just yours, ngh! I think it’s just yours, baby…”

Oh, it’s going to be really fun to control him to your lecherous whims.

“I didn’t realize you’d be a fuckin’...oh, fuck.” You’re throwing your head back with a slight yelp. Because without any warning, Choso’s smearing aside your folds with his nose to find your sensitive nub.

Instantly letting his mouth fall open, he’s latching at your clit and drag-drag-draaaagging. And especially with his frigid lip ring, it’s making you feel sensations you didn’t even know were possible. “Mmm, and then there’s this clit of yours—fuck!” As if that wasn’t enough, he’s reaching up a hand to hold your pussylips wiiiide open. Sucklin’ away even deeper, “Just the gift that keeps on givin’, baby, mmm- this pussy is just such a treat. I think I could have her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner-” 

He just starts babbling - so drunk on your pussy already that the only thing you can do is grab onto a lock of Choso’s dark hair and pull him off. “Ch-Choso, oh my god.” Wait- did you think you could control him?

He’s blinking his long lashes at you blearily, lips all glossed with your sweetened slick. “What were you saying again?”

“Munch.” You’re spitting out, almost accusing- and a drivel of your spit dangles out of your mouth, ready for Choso to open his mouth and let it splatter onto his mouth. You’re looking down at the display and letting out a shiver, “I didn’t think you’d be such a munch, Choso- you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“P-pussy…” He’s prattling out, hypnotized. Before shaking his head out of that daze, slightly giggling. “I mean- positive.”

Your peripherals widen in disbelief—did he seriously just mix that word up with your pussy? “You can’t be serious…” Deciding to take things into your own hands, you’re tightening your fist ‘round his sweat-drenched bangs a bit more. “Unless you want to- hah, suffocate then you might wanna take it slow, baby.”

“B-but…”

“But what, Cho—?” And oh, he could see that mean glint in your eyes as you tugged his head to the side and made him groan. The sudden movement made Choso’s lips break off with a dampened mwah! and the poor boy is reaching upwards with a few pleas.

“Please-” This eyeliner smearing ‘round the edges as he all but cries at the very thought of your pussy being taken away from him. “Please- no! Don’t take her away from me m’begging- you can take it slow, you can take it slow.” Choso shakes his head fervently, “You can take it slow just…”

And you catch his dilated pupils darting somewhere towards the edge of his bedside cabinet, curiosity growing. “Just what, hm?”

“I just want to have one condition of my own.”

You let him trail off of your pussy- and it takes him a few more open-mouthed kisses before he can even bear to remove himself from your cunt. Without delay, he reaches to open up the drawer beside him. “What are you…”

And you can only watch - slack-jawed and speechless - as Choso fits a silver orb of a tongue piercing right in the middle of his tastebuds.

Right smack-dab in the middle.

You take back what you thought about control.

And you’re barely allowed the time to register just how attractive he looks this way, before Choso’s back plastering his flattened muscle over your pussy. “S-slow, I said, Cho. Slow.”

“Sorry, baby, sorry.” Brows knitting together, he tries to concentrate. “Slow…m’gonna take it…slow.”

You’re gyrating your hips backwards in such a sensual pace - it was almost agonizing the round-a-bout way you’d move your hips back against his face. Keeping him wrapped around your lil’ pinkie, “Mmm, yeah- just like that, Choso.” 

Holding onto his scalp, your channel constricts at the way he just kept on cracking out tiny whimpers every time you tugged a bit too harshly at him.

Humming, “Just like thaaaaat-” Feeling his overeager mouth surge faster upwards at the compliment, “Ah ah- slow down, baby. Mmm, just like that.”

Because at least this tempo let you keep your wits about you. 

Somewhat…

But then something happens.

But then he’s sensing your deviating hips angle themselves- he’s sensing you crave the cold drag of his piercing. And Choso Kamo just can’t stop his body being sent into a state of frenzy—where it doesn’t matter how much you’re holding yourself back, he’s pulling you in, he’s squelching his tongue upwards, he’s kissing away. “This—” Lapping and lapping up the crevice of your cunt with his lengthy tongue. “Does it feel good on your pussy, baby? Please- please tell me you can feel it.”

“I can feel it.” Breathily, you have to fight to keep your tone under control as he slips n’ slides his textured tastebuds all over your outer pussy. Alternating between those ravenous kisses and lil’ tugs on your clit. “F-feels so cold on my clit- hah.” Fuck slow, he was going wild.

“Good.” And you swear you can feel Choso’s smile spreading across your folds, oh-so-sensitive with his sheer friction. The longer he was kissin’ away at your cunt, the more honest he got. “I got it just for you, y’know?”

And no matter how tightly you’re trying to grab onto his sweaty scalp, Choso was just so feral with his movements. Uncontrollable. You try to haul him backwards to slow him down, but he was only manhandling you further onto his face. “Wh-what do you mean you got it just for me?”

“Exactly what I said, baby—” He’s batting his teary lashes, “That I was thinkin’ of you when I- ngh, got it. That all I could fucking think of when I got my tongue pierced was havin’ your sweet pussy on me like this, and my piercing rubbin’ up against you like- that-”

Lurching on top of him when he stretches your tight hole out with just the crown edge of his tongue. Choso’s circular piercing knocks up against the sides of your walls and leaves you feeling mad, “Oh my god—” Saliva splattering down your front.

Then Choso’s feeling the way you clench, feeling the way your entrance quivers around nothing.

And it was just such a shame to leave your pretty cunt waiting, wasn’t it? So like the good boy he was, he’s slipping an inch of his wet muscle inside and making you gasp at the stretch. His orbed piercing marking his pathway perfectly, “Shit! At least give a girl a warning-”

“M’sorry, baby.” Choso whines, “Y-you won’t take my pretty pussy away from me for that, will you?”

“Well…” At least dragging out your answer let you see him all hopeless and needy like this. But honestly, looking at him - all starry-eyed, blushing-cheeked, half his face slicked in your sap - how could you ever say no to him?

Shit, he might just have you drunk on his tongue.

And your body starts to quake with tiny shivers, with both your hands woven into his hair for stability. You feel the desperate slashes of his tongue increase, and realize that he wasn’t edging any closer to your hole without your permission. How cute…“Nope- but s’gonna be on my terms, baby- oh.”

No sooner are the words panted out of your mouth that Choso’s mazing his prolonged tastebuds straight through your entrance.

A direct pap! to the gooey roof of your cunt- and you gasp at the contact, slightly pulling back. Before Choso holds one side of your hips and makes you sit properly down on his face to slash and slash and slash at your innards. Fucking you with his mouth like such an animal- “Y-yes, anything you say…”

“Fuck- fuck- then-” You’re tugging back with his hair, almost simply to watch the way that Choso’s chasing your cunt afterwards.

“T-tell me m’doing a good job, baby- tell me-”

Hiccuping out, “You’d be a much better boy f’me if you were a little more in control.” His lip piercing was practically glued to your outer cunt, and Choso simply couldn’t decide between sucking on your slit and spreadin’ open your hole with his very lips.

Maddened.

You’re struggling to even think beyond the primal stretch at your hole, and as you tug on Choso’s hair yet another time- he’s moving back in with a growl. “C-can you even think, baby?” Asking, whining through the great dollops of saliva clogging up your throat. He shakes his head and you continue, “Do you even know what you’re doing? Can you even breathe?”

“How can I?”

Drippin’ straight down his pointed chin, droplets of your slick wobble across his skin as he mumbles. “Like I said- m’taking it sloooow—” Stroking your glistening walls multiple times a second, his tongue piercing zig-zagging rapid lines. “M’taking it- hah, just the pace you want it.” His brown eyes glinting with something that looked almost predatory. “M’giving you m-mercy.”

“F-fuck…” A breathless gasp leaves you, eyes widening at the sinful epiphany you’d just come across. “I really…can’t control you.”

Shoving himself a few inches deeper inside your wet pussy, “But she certainly can.”

And then it’s not just Choso’s tongue that’s muddlin’ up your mind (and your cunt), but his fingers decide to join in on the fun, too.

Not only were they unfairly long, but they were so flexible. 

Curving juuust the right way to make those chunky metal rings on his fingers dig against your softened walls, “J-just can’t control myself when it comes to this pussy, baby.” He’s whining out between your slick-sheened thighs, splatter after splatter of syrup letting out of you. Choso thrusts his digits in until they’re knuckle-deep, and his skin ‘round that area stings bright red. “Just drives me…wild. Just makes me wanna make her mine and- fuck, fuck everyone that th-thinks otherwise.”

“Oh, please—” Throwing your head back, your thighs start to shiver - and you’re not quite sure whether that’s because of the exertion or the sheer amount of pleasure he was pumping into you. “Please, you’re just so close-”

“No, you’re just so close.” He’s giggling out, taking a lavish lick inside your hole. “I can taste it on her.”

“You- you can…” You breathe out in disbelief. 

He locks his lips ‘round your clit now, permanently back to sucking on that cute nub. Drawing out the most adorable whines from your mouth, Choso’s swervin’ his ringed fingers inside of you. Looooog zig-zags, “I can.” Poking his textured tips into any crevice he can find, any orifice. “You’re startin’ to taste so much sweeter, baby- fuh-feels like you’re gonna cum on my tongue.”

Bucking, “I am I am- ngh, I’m so fucking close.”

“Mmmm—just need to hit that p-pretty lil’ g-spot, don’t I?” At that surprised look you’re throwing down at him, “What? Just because m’a virgin doesn’t mean that I’m- ngh, unknowledgeable. I read up on it y’know…”

“And what exactly did you read up on it, Choso?” You can’t help but ask.

“That I need to find that spot and you’ll feel—” The circle of his tongue piercing draaaags so lecherously, right on time with one of his silver rings inside of you. The cold material makes your pupils swirl inside the whites of your eyes, and you almost don’t hear his next words. “-like c-cumming on my face-”

Jostled up by him-

“Please tell me where it is, baby.” He begs, words nearly drowned out by the squelches! of him hammerin’ two fingers away inside of you. “Please- please I want you to cum on my face. I promise I’ll be good…after, just let me know where-”

“Fuh-fuuuuck, Choso.” You’re bawling out, that fire starting out at the pit of your stomach. “You’re just too much- think m’gonna cum soon n’- hck! my g-spot should be…”

He moves, fingers twitching excitedly inside of you.

“-right- up.”

And he’s probin’ into your sweetest spot perfectly—just perfectly. 

The roughened knobs of his fingers stick against your bundle of nerves, and you’re feeling a sudden surge of pleasure that makes you see pure white- before you’re throwing your head back and announcing your high. “C-cumming-” You gurgle out, “Oh my god- m’cumming, Choso.”

“H-heh…all on my tongue.” The dark-haired man declares smugly - just as he’d expected, you’d toppled over the edge. He told you he could taste it. “More, baby- more. Ride your orgasm out on my tongue, will you?”

“Doing so…”

Fucking you with his hands.

Not only were you gripping Choso’s long locks in two places and using him to bounce your hips backwards, but he was elongating your high with not two- not three- but four ringed fingers bullied between your tender pussylips.

Just plain mean. The sheer stretch of it was just incredible, and he was openin’ you up like never before. 

Eating you out like never before.

You’re feeling wet tears roll down your cheeks at the feeling of his tastebuds rolling over your throbbing clit—slurp-slurp-slurp! Precisely whenever it felt like a peak of your bliss was coming onwards, and that only left you more gone on his tongue. “Feels good like this, doesn’t it, baby?” With a sloppy noise, he then continues to suck on your clit. “Mmmm- not bad for a first timer.”

“P-perhaps.” You didn’t even know what else to say. You’re shivering throughout your entire body when he slobbers his tongue over from your clit to start pricking n’ prodding at your hole. “Shit- y’know my high’s almost over, right, Choso?”

“I know.”

And yet he still doesn’t stop.

Not until you’re left fucked utterly dumb on his mouth, not until he’s letting you ride through your entire orgasm and then some, not until he has you in actual tears of overstimulation-

“P-please-” You couldn’t believe how you sounded at this point - you. Queen Bee. Things always went your way- but now you were at Choso’s complete and utter mercy. “Give your mouth a little rest, Cho-”

He seethes, as if offended. “I don’t even need to breathe when I have your pussy on me, you think I’d stop because m’jaws fuckin’ tired, baby?”

Blubbering, “Maybe not- but hck! if you slow down now then I’ll have more stamina for ah- something else…” For him? You’d have stamina regardless, but the lil’ warning worked in getting Choso to unglue his pierced lips from your pussy with a final mwah!

And it was the loudest, most sinful noise you’ve heard in your entire life.

Enough to get you to shake with arousal, and for Choso to use his strong arms n’ seat you down on his lap. With your legs straddling his slender waist now, he’s sitting up. 

Staring down at you through heavy half-lidded eyes, “You were saying…?”

“I was saying.”

He just looked too sexy like this.

Long hair all rumpled with you running your fingers through them. His eyes faintly misty and sex-crazed. More than half his face was gleaming with your syrupy slick. Lips puffy. Eyeliner smeared. Rings all stained with a few layers of your sap that he licks right off- all while looking straight into your dilated pupils.

Your cunt throbs.

Eager to get him back for this, you’re tearing off Choso’s t-shirt of some punk-rock band. And beneath—oh, were you pleasantly surprised.

You’d somewhat expected Choso to be one of those types that were silently muscular, silently toned, silently so strong. 

Your eyes greedily followed the curves and dips of his sculpted front, and realize that he was blushed all the way down to his prominent pecs. You reach out and touch the spattering of star-like freckles across them, and then so on forth to his…nipple piercings.

Your thumb snags on the glinting bar that pierced his left pec- and he hisses.

“Oh my-” You’re cooing, “S’this for me, too?”

“Y-yes.”

You push him down flatly onto the bed, making his pillows puff up with the pressure. Your hands then sensually caress the ladder-like ridges of his abs - all smoooooth and rippling at your touch. 

Down, down, dooooown to ultimately end up buried in his slightly unruly happy trail. “It’s always the quiet ones, huh?” His breath hitches once you start fiddling with his jeans, tugging—pulling. “Who would’ve thought that cute lil’ Choso Kamo, always so quiet and shy, would be like this.” Your mouth waters as his pants start loosening, “That he’d be so, so…”

Big.

There was no other adjective for it.

Choso Kamo was simply so big - just the prettiest rose-red at his tip, all engorged that it was as if every ounce of blood in his body had ended up at his cock instead. A few puffy veins. Just the barest curls of brown at his base. His erection stood looooong and upright, dribblin’ out a few lines of precum at the intensity of your stare. 

And there- right in the middle of his shaft was a circular piercing that sat snugly underneath a particularly prominent vein. Winking up at you like it couldn’t wait to feel you.

And even from here, you could tell that Choso was already the type to be so sensitive-

“D-don’t-” To your surprise, his right hand snakes down and ends up at your throat. Gently holding you back from getting any nearer to his raging hot cock.

You’re mentally counting about ten of his inches- maybe eleven?! And you look up at him in slight confusion.

He clears his throat, “I mean- it’s just that I know what you’re thinking. But the thing is, if you put your lips on me now then m’just gonna…cum…instantly.”

Your brows raise damn near to your hairline, “What if I want that then?”

“I’ll beg you not to.”

“Beg.”

“Please, ma’am- fuck-” You’ve just made that punk-rock boy beg—and not only that, whilst he was midway through his pleading, you’d made him throw his head back with the cutest whine.

How?

Simply swervin’ your hips over his aching hot length, and whilst Choso had been talking- you’d just runnnnn your glossy pussylips down the thickness of his length. Simply sandwiched between your folds, he’d felt so thick and solid against your entrance.

Throb-throb-throbbing away.

It’d only left you…ravenous for more-

“Need you to fuck me now, Cho.” You lean in to tell him, your breath scorching against his face. And Choso had the urge to lean up and lick those dried tears off your cheeks. “Want you inside me so fucking bad-”

“Fuh-fuck- don’t talk like that.” He’s urgently saying, head snapping downwards.

And you’re following his gaze just to find that Choso’s bawling divot had started pouring out bead after bead of gooey white sap at your words. Simply your words. He was almost on the verge of cumming at your words.

And oh- how he both loves and hates that mischievous smile that spreads across your pretty face. “But it’s just the truth, Cho.” Batting your lashes up at him, “I just really want you inside-”

“Please-”

“Always wanted you inside-”

“I w-won’t go easy-”

“Always dreamt of you inside- oh, fuck.”

It’s the last thing your nasty mouth can get out before Choso’s grabbing onto either side of your shoulders and shoving his thick, aching cock inside of you.

Just a single inch, perhaps not even that.

Just the slightest intrusion.

And it’s so sexy that you almost wished you recorded the way he’s letting his toned chest heave with a gasp, the way he’s flushing all the way down to his roots, the way that Choso’s entire body seems to zap with sultry lightning—a mere pause.

You could almost feel the question that hangs in the air - so this is what you feel like?

Before then he’s shoving and shoving.

Like he’s gone absolutely wild- “Fuck-” Choso spits between his honed teeth, “Fuck- hold still.” Grabbing onto you anywhere, everywhere—just anything that would keep you there while he tried to fuck his cock inside you until your sweetened sap is overspilling. “Hold still, hold still, hold—” You weren’t even prepared to accommodate him, and yet you can feel an inch or so more of his thickness funnel inside. “—still.”

“Oh my- oh my god!” You’re thrashing at the sudden pressure being put on your lower half, but Choso’s keeping his hold firm. He’s pinning you down. He’s not letting you move a single inch. He’s not even giving you a mere warning before reeling his puffy inches back-

Your eyes snap open, and you’re just about to ask whether he was pulling back.

-before Choso’s snapping his hips to yours and only tunneling that globular tip of his even deeper. “Hold still.” He spits down a splat! accurately onto your cunt, “You- you just need to hold still.”

It was like a mantra. You’re shivering at the tone of his voice. 

There was a certain roughness to his words, a certain primal want in them that you’ve never heard from Choso before. Or anyone, ever, really. 

It made your heard damn near beat out of your chest, and your fingers tremor as you reach up to him. Gliding away the sweaty bangs that obscure Choso’s gaze, “What did you say now, baby?”

“I said-” And you can only gasp as he lunges his hips back a few more inches, barely even letting your cunt constrict around nothing before he’s pushing in with a deep thwack! It’s enough to make your body lurch at the sudden intrusion- to which Choso’s tightening his grip on you until he was white-knuckled. “-hold. Still.”

But how could you possibly hold still when you were stuffed in so tight that you barely felt like you could even breathe. Could barely even keep it together. Could barely do anything but arch your back and-

“Didn’t I fuckin’ tell you to hold still?”

Your jaw drops, turning your head down to look at him—weren’t you supposed to be the mean one out of you two? “You did, but-”

“Then hold—” Clearly feeling that he needed to up the ante, both his hands detach from your sides. You could already feel the steam wafting out from where his touch had once been, and those very same rude palms waste no time ending up…laced on top of your crowned scalp. “-fucking-” Using the leverage to push you down onto his drilling hips, “-still.”

He finally looks up at you then - finally.

And what you see shakes you to your very core.

Because Choso Kamo’s pupils were dilated until it looked almost animalistic, in a way you didn’t even know was possible for a human. He looked crazed. He looked hungry. He looked as if he was on the verge of devouring you whole right then and there.

And then he’s fucking you like it, too.

Rough, rapid half-thrusts just to fit inside.

Fuck—Choso’s throbbing circumference was just too fucking big to bottom out immediately. But he’s sloppily dragging down your channel until he was just about halfway inside, with the knob of his silver piercing tickling your entrance.

With a gruff groan, he swipes that frigid metal ‘round your hole as if claiming you. The shy man hisses at the resistance of your cunt before holding you down and pushing- “Hold still before I fucking c-cum.”

“Oh-” You’re gasping, “So that’s why-”

“Fuck- actually, don’t even speak.” And you’re quickly understanding why when even the mere sound of your whiny voice leaves Choso’s bludgeoning tip twitching.

Hard and fast.

Desperate and needy.

Like he was trying to claim even the slightest ounce of space inside you, Choso bucks his hips and lets his dewy eyes flutter shut. Mouth falling agape, “Shut up and take it. D-don’t test me, baby.” With the hand plastered on top of your scalp, he’s ramming you right back down to meet his hips. “Not unless you want me to cum i-inside right this very second.”

“But what if I do?”

“Fuck…fucking- shut—” Shutting you up by a ringed thumb pushed into your mouth, it was just so easy for him to reach down from your crown. Preventing you from talking back, preventing you from running, preventing you from doing any fucking thing but taking his thickly massive cock.

Ignoring those words of yours that were definitely riling him up, Choso instead focuses on letting his blushin’ tip scrape at your g-spot.

It leaves you absolutely incoherent, squealing ‘round the intrusion of his thumb. “Please-” You’re somehow managing out, “Please I- hck! love it like that- would love it even more if you would cum in-”

“Fucking- I can’t even—” And he just sounds so agonized as he drills up into you like a madman - Choso’s oversensitive cock wasn’t even ready to, didn’t even think he could handle it. And yet he’s doing so to prevent you from yammering on with those filthy words of yours. Choso’s crying out. “Is that you or her talking- you or her—stop talkin’ outta your pussy, baby, s’gonna drive me w-wild.”

Blinking away your tears, the edge of his thumb had slipped out of your mouth by now. Drawing a splattering smear of saliva, “And here I thought you said you were g-going to let me have my way-”

“Did I say that?” As he pauses to think, you could see the brief glimmer of human recognition spark in Choso’s deep irises. “Can’t remember, heh.”

“You little-”

You’re cut off by your own surprised yelp, because in absolutely no time- Choso has your positions flipped over. It was you that had your back against the mattress now, being pushed further and further in the direction of the headboard any time he moved.

And Choso was just lurking above you, was just pinning you down with his mere muscular weight.

He didn’t even have to try to halt your restless hips in their pursuit, and throws your legs over his shoulders easily to fuck you in the meanest mating press possible.

Your ass against his thighs, his forehead bending down to press against yours.

This angle was just perfect. 

In absolutely no time, his rounded cockhead was bludgeoning against every sweet orifice on your walls. Before he’s ultimately slide-slide-sliiiiding down to dig his circular girth against your cervix- with a great thud! that sets your teeth on edge.

His pale hips slam into yours again and again and again- “H-hold still.” Just about the only thing that he could get out now, right between those clenched canines of his. It was more on autopilot than anything, because you weren’t moving a single inch- and yet Choso was already so gone on your cunt that he couldn’t stop babbling. “Didn’t I tell you to stop moving- oh, this sweet pussy…she’s just being so filthy f’me.”

“And you’re just being so pussydrunk, Cho.” You’re somehow giggling out, though he’s slowly fucking that laughter out with a rough few slams at your deepest depths.

Not slowing down until you couldn’t help but feel his bruisin’ tip even after he’s pulled out, just to sink all the way back in again. “Hold- fucking- still—”

“I am.”

“Wh-what do you even mean?” Sounding genuinely confused, genuinely so dazed. You’re sure that if you squeezed your soft, velvety walls this very second then Choso would completely forget the last few seconds of your conversation.

Almost to test it - you do.

And you watch as the dark-haired man immediately drops his head to the crook of your neck, clammy skin-against-skin. You watch as he shivers, you watch as he only raises his face to stare at you with bleary eyes. “Wh-what were we talking about again, baby…?” And even more so- you’re raising both your hands up to toy with the glinting silver of Choso’s nipple piercings, rolling your fingers over his rosy buds. And you watch as an even more dopey expression overcomes his features, “We were nght—talking?”

Even his syllables were slurring together. You had to bite back a giggle, “Just talking about how much I wanted you to fill me- ngh- up.” You’re tugging and teasing his cute nipples, he lets off the prettiest short gasps any time you’re pressing down on the pierced nubs of his nipples like a button. “You can cum inside right now if you wanted, Cho.”

“R-right…” And his eyes grow just a bit clearer, he’s nodding as if he remembered exactly what you meant. Scouring one hand off your head and down the middle of your core, “Right- was talking about how I wanted to fill this ngh- cute womb up like craaaaazy- weren’t we?”

“Yes- fuck yes.” You’re moaning as his speed suddenly grows even faster.

“And we were talking about how m’gonna cum any second now?” He presses down on the top of your stomach as he pounds past your geysering orifice, creating the perfect pressure that makes the both of you whimper. “And how m’gonna be the one to cuh-cum first?”

“Yes- yes-”

“Because m’so patheeeeetic on this pussy, aren’t I?” An almost crazed tone in his voice, something that sends zaps of electricity thrumming through your every vein. “I’d die for her- I’d ngh- do anything for her.”

You throw your head back, body arching against his glissading abs. “You…are…oh.” And you didn’t know who was more shattered at this point - you or—

“But you’re not pathetic for wanting this touch-starved loser virgin to fill your cunt up with my cum?”

You.

It was absolutely you.

At least, it was you in this very moment. 

Because somewhere in the middle of his vulgar strokes, Choso had somewhat regained his senses. At least enough to make you end up with heart-eyes on his cock, your cunt slobberin’ out any time he’s pulling his hips back.

A great splosh! of sap pathetically spilling out from between your legs leaves him crinkling his nose with a shy chuckle. “Cute.” Before you know it, his hands lift off of your scalp to wrap one at your throat. The other drifts down somewhere between your legs…“You- ngh, reeeeally want me to fill this pretty pussy up, baby?”

And you can’t help but become so-very-honest on his rovering cock, knockin’ against your every sweet spot and aching to knock you up! “Yes-” You blurt through tears, “Yes, I really- ngh, really want you to.”

“Sh-shit, you don’t know how many times I’ve dreamt of you saying that.” 

You might have been opening your drooling mouth to respond with something, but Choso’s cutting you off by slithering his slender index and thumb between your pussylips and pinching your cute clit. You’re moaning loud enough that you’re sure the party downstairs must have heard- “J-just like that-” Letting your limp limbs twitch with the crackles of pleasure. “Just inside, baby.”

“Mhmmm- inside inside- inside.” Choso’s grunting out after each ravenous roll of his thumb atop your nub. He’s hitting your pelvis a few more times with his, making the slamming of skin echo out into the room. “But you better cum f’me first, baby.”

Your eyes snap wide open, “Why me first-” Speeding up, your g-spot was practically getting bruised by this point.

“Can’t you indulge this loser a little and let me make you cummmm again-” He coos, fingers so fast on your clit that they look like nothing but a blur. “S’all I’ve ever wanted ever since I first- ngh, saw you, y’know? To give this pussy a gooood proper fuckin’ that I knew she wasn’t getting- I might’ve been a virgin but I could learn.”

“And you’d be the- hah, one to do that?”

He’s slamming his globular length into your so hard that your tastebuds sizzle, and you swear you can taste his salty pre at your throat. Choso’s starin’ you deeply into your eyes whilst he fucks you maddeningly, deeply into your eyes whilst he says. “Baby, I already am.”

 As he finishes his filthy sentence, Choso purposefully shortens some of his furious thrusts. Because he didn’t even want to wait for the recoil of your spongy womb before he’s pumping in one more, because he wanted to assault your poor throbbing g-spot with his orb piercing. Rubbing and rubbing—

Until you’re finally crashing into your second high of the night.

Such an incredible sensation that you can’t decide which one was better - both of them were the two best in your entire life, however. 

“Hold still-” Choso unplasters his hand from your neck, which then moves down to grip at your waist. To keep your waist pinned down to the creaky mattress, “Hold still while I fuh-fuck you like you deserve.” And above all - to let the fat, drivellin’ tip of his cock glide down your g-spot and alllll the way to your womb with absolutely no problem. Again and again. Every peak upon peak being draaaaagged out—“Hold still while- ngh, oh…fuck, I can barely even speak because of her.”

It takes over your body in waves - first your toes that curl, then your thighs that just won’t stop twitching, your heaving chest your muddled mind.

And then finally that mouth of yours that keeps on begging- “Now- now your turn.” Stubbornly, you lock your ankles around the back of Choso’s neck. Not even halfway through your own orgasm before you’re begging for his, “Gonna hold still- so you h-have to do it inside, m’kay, Cho?”

He’s staring at you with such dazed eyes, “Y-yes, ma’am.”

Because you always did get what you wanted.

And the tingles of your high have just barely begun to peter out, before they’re being replaced by the sheer sultry warmth of Choso’s ivory syrup.

The volume.

The way he was flooding you up with only a few vicious strokes.

It oozes out like a never-ending fountain by his strawberry divot, ending up emptied allllll the way near the back of your womb. “Y-yes—” You whine. You pinch Choso’s nipple and he spurts out just a few more pearly beads of cum, “Right there, Cho, want it all deep inside.”

“F-fuck—ngh—” Red-hot. Splashing. Entire body bowing into yours, sweat breaking out across his skin. He scrunches his eyes shut and lets the powerful bliss overtake him, “Oh my god it just feels so- hck! S’even better than I imagined cumming inside you- oh.”

You follow the line of his bleary sight- only to find that Choso was staring where you both were connected.

Your swollen folds. The ring of white ‘round his base.

The fatness of his thumb hovers right down to smear away that cute gloss of white, slurp! “Except in my, mmm, dreams, it was more like—” Though it was for no use, because Choso’s free hand only presses down on your stomach anyway. Until his creamy white cum oozes out of you in slick layers, “-this.”

You’re gaping at the mess he’s made, “And you were telling me to h-hold on-”

“I still am.”

Body moved around by him like a ragdoll, he’s using the hand on your stomach to pin you down. Shoving every solid inch of his cock back and forth—Choso thud-thud-thuds at the goopy wetness of your womb with each of his wads. 

Fucking each one inside you.

Webbing up your insides until your toes curl-

His second hand tilts open your jaw and spits- before kissing you, tongue piercing and all. “Wanna take my virginity a second time?”

.

.

.

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK—!

“Rise and shine—! The sun is shining! The grass is green! Your father is back from his trip-”

Now, Choso Kamo will say that he isn’t exactly sure what it is that woke him up that morning. Perhaps it was his father’s usual morning call, as one of those people that were much too happy in the early hours. Perhaps it was the warmth at this side, the way he doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know who it is. Perhaps it’s the way he presses a soft morning kiss on the side of your neck, how it all felt like a dream.

Perhaps it’s the girlish scream.

Two of them. One from his father and one from him.

Sitting up in alarm, Choso’s dragging his blanket further up your partially-covered bodies. Trying (quite futilely) to perhaps cover the nail marks down his back and shoulders, the hickies all over your body, the way both your mouths were still swollen. 

Face heating up at Itadori Jin’s wide, gawking eyes from the doorway, “D-dad!” And you start to stir at Choso’s yelp, “Dad, get out-”

“R-right away!”

BANG!

As the thunderous sound of the door closing, you’re lurching up in his bed. Now fully awake, you pull the sheets to your chest. Words nothing but a whisper- sore with all the overuse from last night, “Tell me what I think just happened didn’t just happen…”

Choso opens his mouth to answer (maybe lie and forget this ever happened)-

Before there’s a rapid knock and the door swings wide open once more.

Jin’s pinkish hair makes an appearance, and he keeps his eyes trained shamefully on the floor. Choso starts to protest. You yelp- “Breakfast is downstairs and I’ve made enough for everyone so please stay, okay bye!” He announces over your two voices, and promptly slams the door shut once again.

And you’re left in the silent wake of it—floor rumbling with the vibrations of the door, loud enough that you think you could hear your two thumping heartbeats. Oh my god….

Choso’s the one to break the silence - he kisses you chastely on the lips. “I uh- first day as a couple is going smoothly?”

Sitting up in alarm, Choso’s dragging his blanket further up your partially-clothed bodies. At some point in the night you’d gotten up to make yourselves somewhat presentable and help Yuji clean up after the party. And at some point in the night you’d also kept getting handsy in his room…

It doesn’t take you too long to throw on whatever t-shirt and pyjama pants that Choso hands your way, before admiring just how cute you looked in his clothes…alright maybe it did take long before the two of you were finally ready to make an appearance downstairs. But only because he kept insisting on kisses!

The kitchen quietens down at your entrance, and you’re setting sights on a man that must be no other than Choso’s grandpa- right along with another, younger, one who was the spitting image of Jin. Just slightly rougher around the edges. Tattoos. Piercings- ah, you understood where Choso must’ve gotten his style influenced from.

You’re at their round breakfast table, with his uncle (Sukuna, you hear) on your right, and Choso on your left. The dark-haired man reaches over and runs a hand down your thigh soothingly once conversation starts back up-

“How do you like your eggs, my dear?” Jin asks you, and when you answer he instantly gets to work - waving off your urgent requests to help. “No no- sit, sit! You’re the guest! I always have told Cho here to treat his guests- not that he ever brought anyone over, you’re the first!”

“Certainly- treated her well-” Sukuna coughs out the words only to get elbowed by Wasuke and flicked with egg by Jin. Batting away the concoction, he looks at you by way of explanation. “I’m not a regular uncle, I’m a cool uncle.”

Jin starts up another batch for you, “But anyways- I know we’re just getting to know each other now, my dear, but I do want to thank you for taking care of him.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.” You meet Choso’s eyes, and he blushes.

“Awwwww—” Jin, who’d been there to witness the entire thing, starts to flutter about in excitement. He didn’t even care that the eggs were starting to burn- “You two are just dears! Oh, is it too late to show you the baby photographs- tell me it’s not too late!”

Not sure what to say, “I uh…”

“Oh, it’s alright- I’ll just show you the middle school pictures for today and we can save the baby pictures for…also today.” Without waiting for your response, Jin’s disappearing somewhere into the living. Spatula and all. “Yuji, where’s your camera again, my dear?”

Yuji, who’d been shooting smug looks at you two ever since you’d entered calls out- “Should be uh- on the couch?”

And for a second, there’s a moment of peace.

Only for a second, however, you have to remember that this is the Itadori household that you’re in. 

And Itadori Jin’s voice thunders from outside the kitchen—“Choso Kamo. Itadori Yuji. Get to the TV room this- instant!” A shiver goes down your own spine despite not being called out, and you wondered just what made the sweet man sound this way.

As a group, everyone in the kitchen rushes along with the boys.

Only to find Jin standing with the camera, plugged into the television, and its screen displaying—

Choso pouring a mountain of shots on their very kitchen table.

Jin deadpans, “Choso…can you explain to me what you are doing in this photo?”

Choso squints at the screen, “That’s not me.”

“That’s not you?”

“…Nope.”

“Okay.” Jin replies easily, “How about these?”

Shuffling through the pictures on the camera - and you have to hold in a nervous laugh at the shots upon shots of shots, of Choso’s band playing at the party last night, of all the rambunctious students dancing, of a few smashed vases that was likely no one but Jin’s - and then, finally, he’s stopping on one.

One of you and Choso—dancing.

So close.

Your foreheads pressed together

Smiles only for one another.

In the peripherals of the shot, you could see people starting to whisper and hoot at the two of you, you could see your own friends squealing excitedly at the fact that it’d finally happened. But there seemed to be a strange world of your own there that no one else could quite penetrate. Choso’s eyes were just sparkling.

He giggles, “Heheh, that’s me…”

A/N. Oh this was so funnnn- thought of Yuji as Greg and was like WAIT-