fantasizing as escapism

you’re completely caught off guard, surprise evidently shown on your face and said man just knows it’s because of the rare situation. like, what he is doing in your room? how was yuma able to sneak him passed you? the pale man could only get more pale but he’s already set on his idea.

“hi...” his voice sounds as meek as it is deep, deeper than the red flush traveling down his neck and coloring his ears..

maybe going to you and yuma about this would be detrimental. or maybe not. i mean, who else would he go to other than his best friend that knows exactly what he wants to learn?

yuma quickly turns your attention back towards him with a hand gripping your jaw, craning your neck as he crouches down to your eye level, and you just want to smack that frown off his face for interrupting your cooking.

“hey kitty, lemme fill you in briefly.” he tilts his head slightly, tone overly sweet for a good reason — perhaps to himself. you’re still trying to find reason for all this. “jo here just needs a little favor from us and as my duty as his teacher for practically everything, i must help him out.”

there’s silence for a moment as you’re looking between the two different men. yuma was the one who breaks it first, like always.

“you know, a little something back for all the tutor lessons he gave me for that other class.”

.. okay, he didn’t have to mock you like that.

the narrow squint of your eyes is what gets the man to continue. “and you do remember our conversation the other day, right? about who could be our… plus one?”

immediately, your eyes blinked wide as big as saucers. he’s watching you clearly through his blonde bangs but you avoid his gaze, knowing how they dilate in glee upon seeing the flush that spreads over your cheeks in recollection of what he brought up.

you definitely can recall the past discussion clearly, how he sat criss cross across from you with an enthusiastic look on his face as you listed potential candidates to your shared fantasy. throughout the talk yuma did not stay silent though, he definitely threw his two cents in with a list of his own, the names of two other men ringing in your ears with a bit more consideration…

he chuckles through his lopsided, toothy grin once you’ve caught on, raising an eyebrows as you finally speak up.

“why would you even bring tha—”

“because this is a perfect chance. jo wants to learn, you have your lil necklace on,” he points out, letting his hand fall from your jawline to twirl the small pendant of your necklace around his finger, the same necklace you use to let him know how freely you want him to take. he remembers clearly when you both exchanged jewelry after a well thought out conversation. “we wanted a plus one…? two and two together…?”

okay whatever, it adds up.

you should be mad at him, you should hit him for even thinking of this, you should question him on how long this teaching thing has been going.

but he’s right— however much you want to smack him and run away before he pull you over his shoulder to repeat this again. you’ll never tell him he’s so right but you figured he already knows by how he leans away, hands falling back onto his hips as his shoulders jump from his stifled laugh.

you took one look back at jo, who raises his eyebrows and blinks his usually narrowed eyes back at you with a hopeful gaze. the sheepish smile that settles on his full lips could only mean that he’s most certainly spoken to yuma about some another fantasy of his as well.

the sigh that empties from your lungs was deep and the fidgeting of your hands was evident, but the way you shift where you sat and the obviously coy look you gave yuma was all he needed to get to work.

you sort of knew what you were getting into, but you didn’t think it would be like this.

right when yuma pushed you back onto the mountain of pillows and told you to stay silent, you immediately caught onto his idea. and now that you’re in this deep, soaked panties thrown somewhere else in the room and long gone, you’re not sure whether or not is really was a good idea.

“okay jojo,” he mumbles and you wish he would’ve never picked up on the little nickname you called jo, giving out a deep sigh at the sound of his purr instead of scolding him. “she’s all yours.”

and fuck, was jo ready. so ready it caught you off guard by the immediate way he leans in to suddenly lick over your entire slit, glasses pushed all the way up and still on. you can see the way yuma’s grin widens from where he laid besides jo, relishing on the soft moan that tumbles from your parted lips. despite it being a first experimental taste, you’re completely winded. he was eager, like he was waiting for this moment all his life, ready to coat his lips with your shining slick.

“like that?” jo mumbles way too close to your cunt and your eyes almost roll at the soft gaze he gives yuma. yuma’s grip on your thigh tightens and you’re catching his stare, feeling yourself grow hotter under his feline stare. what a freak, getting off on seeing his girl get used.

“mhm, just like that.” he nods, pushing your knee closer to your own stomach while turning his attention the glistening wetness of your pussy. “do whatever you feel is right, i told you she’s your doll to play with.”

yuma’s marveling at how slick you’ve already gotten in the span of this spontaneous scene happening, much to your dismay. yet, it’s clear how effect you both are, and jo is completely unaware and just focused on learning more.

he doesn’t waste no time, remembering what instructions yuma gave him from before and putting it to good use. yuma can’t help the small giggle from seeing how eager he was and how you struggled to hide your moans.

“hold on,” both you and jo grow back into your senses at the command yuma gives him, a sharp exhale falling from your lips when jo pulls off from your swollen clit with a wet pop. hm.. what a good boy. you glance back down between them and find jo staring at your cunt with an expression you can’t really make out through your clouded mind. “it seems like you have something to say…?”

ugh, you’re dizzy from yuma’s teasing nature. it’s clear you all want this, want him to continue but, you wait. gnawing onto your raw bottom lip, you wait. watching jo’s heavy and half fogged up glasses slide a bit further down his perfect nose, you fucking wait.

it’s like jo loses all prior confidence within that one second, blinking rapidly as he tilts his head in thought. he doesn’t know how to word it without being blunt but you didn’t think the words he chooses were going to affect you that much.

“so wet. it’s, like, almost bubbling. is she always like this?” speaking as if you weren’t there and you know how much yuma loves to indulge in it. your sheepish whine gets caught off by the cocky man. “jojo—”

“always. at least with me,” yuma simply shrugs and pairs it with a smug smile, leaning his chin over jo’s shoulder to marvel with him at the sight. it should be embarrasing. “means you’re doing a good job, jo, and you just got started..”

your eyes meet yuma’s just as he utters those words, sharing a moment, both knowing why exactly you’re this wet. you’ve clearly been needing this.

jo swipes his tongue over his lips, the sight rendering you speechless despite not saying anything. just the image and the feeling of him tasting your essence was enough to make you tremble underneath their hands, your eyes lowering down to the mess jo’s already made with his tongue instead. your hands fidget with the sheets, not uttering a word. maybe you should just let yuma teach…

“remember— lick, suck, kiss, maybe even nibble,” you hear yuma mumble as he presses the side of his face closer towards jo’s, pushing against his glasses until they’re sitting crooked as he’s squishing his cheek against jo’s. “serenade the lovely lady, worship the kitty, adore her… and maybe, you’ll hear a purr in return.”

he had no fucking business talking this way with such a nasty grin. you would yell at him if it didn’t outright affect you so clearly. it irks you knowing how much fun he’s having speaking this way — especially because he knows he can with jo. said man only speaks in obscenely blunt words to get his point across and yuma always gravitated towards him for that exact reason. he has always been intrigued by jo and now he is savoring the moment.

you would never tell him you were always in fact intrigued by the same, opting to kick yuma’s shoulder for such lewd and stupid talk before he holds your leg further away and apart from the other with another giggle.

“lick her slick clean, kiss on those lips,” yuma keeps going and your eyes trail upwards until they’re glued onto jo, watching his glasses slide a bit further down when his nose bridge scrunches as he intakes the information whispered into his ear. “see this cute little button right here?”

yuma’s hand snakes around jo to press two of his long fingers over your bare pussy, a gasp resonated from your lips when the tips presses onto your swollen clit. sparks trail throughout your body in the form of shivers and jo’s quick to take mental note on how you react. he does not miss the way your teeth sink deeper into your bottom lip until it whitens when yuma makes you melt so easily just by a small touch.

“this is called the clit, i’m sure you’ve heard of it before,” yuma hums in a gentle manner, unlike the rough tight circles he rubs over your sensitive bundle of nerves. jo’s definitely heard it before, maybe seen it before in anatomy class, but never touched it before until now. “mhm, like textbook saying, main erogenous zone — if you wanna get her to come in your mouth, right?”

jo shouldn’t be nodding so enthusiastically. you shouldn’t even be meeting his tired gaze if you want to keep your sanity. just the thought of them staring and playing with you as if you were nothing but a model of study shouldn’t have you this aroused. yet here you were, doing exactly that, with the two people you wished to do this with. you think you’re so conflicted, but all you want right now is to cum. fuck morals, you all want this.

“if you’re fucking her with your fingers, suck on her clit,” yuma sighs as if it was something jo should already know, but that’s what you’re all here for though, to teach him the basic knowledge. so he’ll keep explaining as if you weren’t there, rubbing his fingers over your clit lazily like it wouldn’t make the heat pool hotter in your trembling stomach. “if you’re licking up her juices, rub on her clit just like this— ahh, see? look at how wet she’s getting..”

you didn’t even realize when your eyes were almost twitching closed, mindlessly working yourself closer to more heated arousal until yuma pulls his sticking fingers away, leaving you to tremble with a small whine.

“fuck,” jo murmurs, eyebrows crinkling in what seems to be agony, adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps down the drooling need pooling in his mouth. your hooded gaze lowers to his line of sight, jaw dropping as you breathe out a hitched moan upon seeing yuma’s fingers. strings of your slick connect from the tips of his glistening fingers, the line growing thinner the farther away his hand pulls. it snaps back onto your throbbing clit once it breaks, a breathless chuckle coming from besides jo. “can i— please yuma… may i?”

“go ‘head, jojo. i’m pretty sure she’s dying to feel your tongue on her again.” yuma saw the desperation on the younger man’s face, could practically hear it, grinning at your already fucked out look. yuma’s buzzing with glee at the sight, wanting to see more. so just to make you all lose your minds a bit more, he leans into jo’s ear yet speaks loud enough for both of you to hear.

“if you get her to cum, maybe i’ll even teach you how to make her squirt on the next. wouldn’t that be fun?”

"You're soaked," Yuma says, as if he's commenting on the weather.

The mattress surrenders beneath his weight, a slow exhalation of springs that seems to prophesy the evening's trajectory, and you immediately regret having him over because you know exactly what that look means.

Yuma’s gaze carries something that says he is already three moves ahead in a game you hadn’t agreed to play, descending your body with the migratory certainty of a bird returning to warm climates.

His palms slide along your thighs like he owns the property, a man possessed of one useful skill and absolutely no shame about invoicing for it.

The sheer gall of it, the casual occupancy… you want to scream.

“Let me take care of you,” he says, already dragging you to the mattress edge by your hips, handling you like furniture. “That’s what I’m here for. Isn’t it?”

He looks up from between your legs with that expression—the smug bastard face that suggests he thinks he is doing charity work and you should be writing thank-you notes. You should close your thighs, make him work for it, make him beg. But your body has already opened, slick and traitorous, a convenience store with broken locks.

He thinks that look is smugness. He thinks he's counting coup, checking boxes, doing the bare minimum with maximum fanfare. He's half-right—he is performing. But not for your gratitude. He's performing because if he stops being theatrical for even one second, you'll hear his heartbeat in his throat. You'll see how his hands want to shake.

If he looks like he owns this moment, maybe you won't notice how utterly ruined he is for you.

"You just can't help yourself, can you?" you manage, but the words emerge fractured, breaking apart on the last syllable because his breath is warm against your inner thigh, a ticklish heat that makes your hips jerk in a spasm you can't suppress.

"I'm pathetic, I know," he murmurs, and the vibration travels through your flesh like ripples across still water, reaching the center where you are already beginning to ache. 

The laugh that escapes you is unplanned, sharp as broken glass, slightly unhinged. "You know?" You try to glare down at him, but he is kissing higher now, ascending toward your core, and your vision is fragmenting. "Ah— Finally, some self-awareness."

He arrives at the apex of your thighs and presses his mouth against the cotton barrier, the fabric dampening instantly beneath his lips. 

The underwear is doing his work for him, soaking up everything you're trying to hide. You're still pretending to be demure, still acting like this is something happening to you rather than something you're drowning him in. The only question left is how long he makes you wait before he collects.

It’s somehow more obscene than nudity, this translation of flesh through fiber, the way he mouths you through the cloth. You feel the words form against your most sensitive skin: "Fuck, I can smell you. Open wider."

Your legs spread before you can stop them, muscles stretching, hips tilting up in offering. You watch him inhale, eyes closed, face slack with hunger, and the sight is ridiculous except your underwear is soaked through, clinging to your lips, doing nothing to hide the slick mess you have made.

Fuck it. You’re past pretending.

You hook your fingers in the waistband and pull the fabric aside yourself, exposing everything to the cool air and his stupid, pretty face. "Since you can't wait."

Yuma whines—actually whines, pathetic and grateful—and the sound makes your arousal and secondhand embarrassment fistfight in your chest. The cotton falls away and suddenly he’s staring at god—or whatever deity decided to make women look like this, open and glistening and furious about it. 

“Here,” you say, like you’re tossing him scraps. Like this isn’t the whole feast.

Then his finger is pressing against you, breaching your entrance with a slick resistance that gives way like silk tearing. The slide is mist and masonry, a single digit parting your slick folds with a sound that belongs in kitchens, in shame, in the wettest parts of night.

You want to become steam, to rise from your skin and condense against the ceiling, anything but remain here in this mortifying liquidity, this undeniable proof that you have been waiting for exactly this.

"Fuck," he says, looking up with dark delighted eyes. "I mean I wouldn't mind begging." His finger curls, rough pad dragging against your front wall with unerring accuracy. "But you saved me the humiliation." A second finger pushes in, stretching you with a burn that makes your spine try to leave your body. "So how's this for thank you?"

The fullness is devastating, a weight and presence that hits your most sensitive spot like a debt being collected, principal plus interest coming due all at once.

Then he begins to move. Not fast, not yet. But with the steady rhythm of tides reversing, of moons pulling oceans back and forth across the same hungry shore. Each withdrawal is a loss, each return a claiming. You are arching into it, meeting his thrusts, your body making payments in gasps and tremors, interest accruing with every slick slide of his fingers pressing that exact spot like he is reading the ledger of your nerves and finding every entry marked due.

Your head thumps back against the headboard with a sound you can't control. "Holy shit… keep going— so good—"

Your brain is screaming at you to shut up, to stop sounding so desperate, but your mouth has disconnected from the shame center entirely. You are gripping the sheets like you are falling from a great height, which you are, coming apart at the seams while he works you with the focus of a craftsman assembling something precious.

He keeps the rhythm steady because if he goes fast, if he gives you what you're begging for with every roll of your hips, you'll come and it'll be over. And he's not ready for this to be over. The wet sounds are loud, rhythmic, the slick friction of his fingers in your soaked cunt filling the room.

You might as well be making a puddle on the sheets. This is a crime scene.

"Shh." He leans forward, his breath a warm current against your trembling thigh, fingers still crooking in that rhythm that promises annihilation. "Relax, baby." Another devastating curl, his touch excavating something buried deep in your core. "I love you. Can you feel how much?"

Yes. Fucking yes and you feel it like a fever, an infection, something catching.

And you realise it because you’re already riding his face, hips rolling in circles, grinding down on his tongue with an orgasm already cresting like a freight train with no brakes.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹

masterlist

pls pls pls interact pls reblog pls comment pls slide into my dms i crave validation and friendship is beautiful and so is enabling each other's obsessions and i built this house specifically for collective mental illness we can all hold hands and descent into madness pls i dont bite viva's house is open (,,>ヮ<,,)!

He doesn’t even look offended, just laughs at you while he pats your head. “Hiding away already? You just got here.”

You huff, shoving his hand away. “Well, you invited too many people and you know how I feel about hot tubs. So stop gatekeeping and tell me where it is.”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Okay, okay. The private one is in the basement of the left wing. Just walk straight to the end from the stairs, you’ll find it.”

You stare at him for a moment. “The private one. Meaning, you have more than one?”

He shrugs, a cocky little grin on his face. “Why not? Aren’t you just glad there’s one that people aren’t crowding around?”

You blink. “You know what, hell yeah.” You grin then fist bump his bicep. “Knew I could count on you. Can I borrow some trunks?”

He hands you the cup of beer he’s been nursing in his hand. “Go crazy.”

You fist pump the air before taking the cup from. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

He grins down at you and gives your hip a playful squeeze. “Wouldn’t hurt to hear it more.”

You plant a kiss to his cheek with a laugh before you’re traipsing away to your hot tub. “See you later!”

After weaving your way through the maze that is Keeho’s mansion— manor, whatever— you successfully acquire a pair of Keeho’s trunk shorts and have found your way to the hot tub that’s tucked away in the corner of the basement and is, as promised, vacant.

You step in through the glass doors into the room, all soft beige stone tiles and dimmed warm lighting, large and spacious but cozy in atmosphere. You take a deep breath, the scent of jasmine pleasantly filling out your lungs. “That’s the stuff,” you mumble to yourself as you exhale before you pull off the shirt you stole from Keeho to wear on your way down, your little black dress abandoned up in his room somewhere.

“Didn’t think I’d be having company down here.”

The deep voice echoing through the room has you nearly jumping out of your skin.

You whip around to the voice and see a shadowed figure tucked into the far corner of the hot tub, which you’re now realizing is already turned on.

When your eyes adjust, you feel a heavy stone settling in the pit of your stomach, cold and dreadful. “Jongseob?” You breathe in disbelief. The one person you were hoping not to see tonight.

He’s sitting there with his back against the tiles, arms thrown over the edge, looking like he owned the place. The type of casual demeanour that left a bad taste in your mouth from the very first meeting, when he’d acted like he couldn’t be bothered enough to properly introduce himself to you when you tried to strike a conversation with him.

He was the cute friend of Keeho’s you’d been eyeing from a distance, the one you had to build up courage for to approach. But you wouldn’t have approached him that day if you knew about his nonchalant, can’t-be-assed-about-anything attitude.

“Why are you here?” You ask, failing to swallow back the bitterness growing on your tongue.

He raises a brow at you. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission,” he says in that same monotonous voice. Like he was above having to respond to you with any emotion. Then his eyes rake over your figure and you’re increasingly conscious of the fact that you’re just wearing your lacy black bralette and a dark pair of Keeho’s shorts, far too exposed around him for your liking. “I see you came prepared,” he muses with the faintest hint of amusement in the subtle curve of his lips.

You’re already picking up the shirt you dropped onto the bench and pulling it on. “I didn’t know there was going to be a hot tub,” you grumble, making your way to the door, frantic to escape his presence. “I’ll just go to the other one.”

His voice stops you in your tracks. “If you’re okay with swimming in a bunch of people rather than water and Intak doing fifty cannon balls.”

You sigh to yourself, glancing back at the crystal waters bubbling in the tub, steam curling around it enticingly and practically calling your name.

Are you really going to let one guy get between you and your hot tub? No, you huff, resigned as you turn back around.

You glance at Jongseob, who’s already looking at you with a self satisfied glint in his eye. You pointedly avoid him as you move to the side of the tub farthest away from him and dip your foot in to test it.

It’s warm. Very warm. It’s practically pulling at your leg, calling you to get in.

“Just get in,” Jongseob says, impatient.

You shoot him with a sharp look. “I am,” you snap back before you lower yourself into the water, not taking your shirt off this time. The water feels snug against you as it welcomes you in.

You can see Jongseob watch you with an indiscernible look in his eye before he leans his head back against the tiles and shuts his eyes.

It’s only now that you realize he’s shirtless; bare arms and shoulders exposed above the rippling water. His arms have gotten more toned from the last time you saw him a month ago. His dark hair is longer now and tied in a half up-do, a look you haven’t seen on him before but a look you’re not… opposed to.

If this happened a few months ago, you and him in a hot tub together, you might have been giggling internally like a schoolgirl. But now, you know he’s not the kind of guy you want to involve yourself with. Emotionally detached and too cock-sure, a combination you've had a terrible experience with already. 

You didn’t notice when he’d cracked his eyes slightly open to watch you while you subconsciously watched him.

“See something you like?” He teases and you quickly rip your eyes away, scrunching your nose in distaste.

“No, actually.”

He scoffs a laugh as he sits up, exposing more of his toned chest (not that you’re paying attention).

“Are we still doing this?” He asks you after a moment of stretched silence.

You cross your arms, very aware of the black outline of your bra showing through your now damp shirt. Why did you have to pick a white shirt?

“Doing what?” You ask, feigning disinterest as you drop your head back. 

“You know what.”

You roll your head to look at him, fixing him with a blank stare to emphasize your point.

He sighs deeply and runs his palm over his face before pushing his bangs back. You try not to watch the way his wiry muscles shift at the movement.

“I know you don’t hate me,” he says.

He’s not wrong, but you’d rather not say. “So what if I don’t?”

His jaw ticks as he grinds his teeth. “I don’t think I’ve done anything to you.”

“You haven’t,” you answer drily. 

“So then what gives?” When you don’t respond, he scoffs. “Real mature.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up again. “I don’t hate you, Jongseob. I just came here for some peace and quiet, so can I please get that?”

That doesn’t back him off though, he just seems to get more worked up. “Well, clearly it’s something. You’ve been cold and distant with me from the day that we met. Is it something I said?”

You stare at him, a little taken aback. You’ve never seen him worked up like this over anything before. “I told you, it’s nothing,” you say firmly, hoping that’ll be the end of it.

But it’s very much the opposite as he narrows his eyes at you and pushes himself up. You tense as he starts to wade through the water closer to you.

“It’s not nothing,” he repeats, stopping just a few feet away from you. You can see the dark of his eyes as he watches you from this close, prying at you. “It’s the end of the year. The kind of time where we decide to leave things in the past, don’t we?”

You swallow, your eyes falling to the glistening planes of his smooth skin lit warmly under the low light, tantalizing as the steam curls around him. You know you’re in trouble when you see Jongseob’s lips quirk up into a knowing smirk, his expression dawning with realization.

“Oh. I see.”

You feel the flush on your cheeks but hope the room is dim enough that he can’t notice.

“See what?” You ask, turning your head away. You know you’re being childish by evading. But the stubborn part of you doesn’t want to give into him. 

It’s not like he’s ever outright wronged you. You just can’t stand his attitude, no matter how much your body seems to crave him whenever he’s near.

You hear the water splash as he moves, see him closing in from the corner of your eye. He stops right in front of you, a foot away.

“You know all you had to do was ask me, right?” He asks in that cocky way that makes your eye twitch.

You turn back to face him with a glare. “I tried already, but good to know that you don’t even remember.”

He blinks at that, arrogance washing away and shock slipping in its place. “You did? When?”

You scoff, pressing yourself further back into the tiles to put as much distance as you can between you and him, though it’s not much.

“The day that we met. Jiung’s barbecue. I went up to you and I tried to flir— er, talk with you, but you couldn’t even be bothered to tell me your name.”

You remember it clear as day, the way he’d taken one look at you and decided you weren’t even worth a few words before leaving you for Soul.

For what it’s worth, he looks genuinely confused as he listens to you, until his face dawns with understanding. “Ah,” he says, then abruptly starts to laugh, a sound you’ve only heard from him when he’s around his close friends.

You stare at him, a little affronted. “What the hell?”

He settles down with a little giggle, a sound that sends a startling wave of fondness through you despite your ire. “That was back when I thought you were dating Keeho.”

Your jaw goes a little slack, stupefied. You open your mouth to push back against that, but you can’t even argue. Your closeness with Keeho has been the subject of multiple miscommunications and awkward conversations among your prospects before. So really, you can’t even blame Jongseob for acting curt with you in respect for his friend. But you’d taken that and written your own delusional little story.

You mentally kick yourself, turning your face away to avoid his gaze, too mortified to meet his eyes as you respond with the most childish thing you can think of. “Gross, no.”

He laughs again, not at you, but more at the ridiculous situation you’ve created for the both of you. “I’m telling him that.”

You smack his chest without thinking. “Don’t,” you say, and before your hand can drop away, Jongseob is grabbing your wrist and holding it to himself.

The burn on your cheeks matches the burn against your wrist where his warm hand encircles.

“So,” he says, looking at you with a charming, crooked little grin that has your resolve already crackling. “You’re not stubborn enough to not own up to your little mistake, are you?”

You furrow your brows at him. You can’t be the only one to take blame for this. “You could’ve been a little nicer at least and not blown me off like that.”

He’s still grinning as he brushes his thumb against your pulse point, no doubt feeling the way your heart rate is steadily ticking up. “I thought my friend’s girl was trying to be messy, so I did what I had to do.”

You scrunch your nose, trying and failing to hold on to your fight as he carefully wears down your walls with that playful, searching look in his eyes. He moves in just a little closer to you, brushing his fingers feather-light against the sensitive skin of your wrist. 

“But now that that’s out of the way,” he continues, then lets go of your wrist and places both his hands against the tub on either side of you, caging you in his arms. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

You try to keep your expression steeled, stubborn in your own nonchalance as you evade his gaze again. “Nope, can’t think of anything.”

You hear him huff a quiet, endeared laugh then feel his fingers grasp your chin, turning your gaze back to him. You meet his eyes slowly, emphasizing your reluctance to, but your breath gets caught when you see his face mere inches from yours.

His eyes are sharp and hooded as they look down at you, nearly black with desire. His lips look soft and daunting as he points that subtle little smirk at you, his skin dewy from the humidity of the room and taunting you to reach up and touch.

You don’t.

He lets out a little hum when a few moments pass and you don’t make a move. Then his hands are under you and you’re being lifted up and before you know it, you're straddling him while he’s sitting with his back against the tub, a lazy grin on his lips as he looks at your startled expression. 

You pull your hands, which had flown onto his shoulders to brace yourself, back to yourself. “What the hell?!”

He just shrugs as he leans back, resting his elbows on the edge. “If you don’t like it, feel free to move.”

Oh. So it’s a game now. If he thinks you’re just going to back down or give in to him, he’s sorely mistaken.

With a grounding breath, you place your hands on your thighs, shrugging casually. “Well, maybe I do like it.”

He quirks his brow, amused. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” you say, before you slide your hands up to the hem of your shirt. “Though it could be a little bit more comfortable.”

His smile falters away, his gaze shifting from teasing to poorly hidden interest as you lift your shirt up and off, tossing it to the floor behind him.

He blinks a couple times before he just settles on shamelessly staring at your breasts, the lacy fabric doing not much to cover you at this distance.

He shifts a little in his seat, his next few breaths coming out just a bit laboured. “Comfortable yet?” He asks, voice dropped an octave lower, huskier almost.

You watch him carefully, letting your hands fall back to your thighs, dangerously close to where you can see him slowly tenting in his trunks even through the water. “Could be better.”

You don’t expect his response to be to grab you by the hips and tug you right into him, your core landing right over his clothed length.

You hiss at the pressure against your core, your body jerking with the sudden pleasure, the water sloshing sharply around you. Your hands scramble for purchase on his shoulders again as you whisper a quiet, “Fuck.”

“How about now?” He asks you, rolling his hips up just the slightest, enough to send another wave of pleasure through you. He’s just as affected though, his breaths straining against his words, his hands gripping tighter against your hips.

You stare down at him with a stubborn glare, your teeth grit as you dig your nails into his shoulders. He seems unphased by it, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. You latch onto the movement, then grind your hips sharply down. 

Jongseob throws his head back with a strained grunt, his hips following up to chase the pleasure. “Fuck it,” he growls before lifting his head and crashing his lips to yours in a hard kiss.

You grunt at the sharp pain from the rough contact before you recover and kiss him back just as hard, all teeth and tongue. It’s a push and pull between the both of you, pent up frustrations from months of misjudgments coming out all at once.

Your hand digs into his long locks, tugging his head back so you can press deeper into the kiss. His hand comes up to grab you by the back of your neck, holding you in place as he pushes back even harder. Both your hips chase each other in a frantic tandem, the water rippling around you with each movement.

It’s everything and not enough at the same time.

A loud bang! has you both ripping away from each other, eyes wide and hearts pounding.

“Shit,” you say, panting as you blink yourself out of the quickly growing fog in your head. The fireworks have started. “The countdown’s gonna start soon.”

Jongseob’s eyes are locked on your lips, your words seeming to fall onto disregarding ears. “Let it,” he says, then starts to rock your hips down on him in a steady rhythm, leaving you trembling in his hold. “We’re leaving things in the past, right? What better way than to do it right into the new year?”

You scoff at the logic, but you can’t find it in you to deny him, not when he’s sending sparks of pleasure through your body with minimal effort, not when you finally have him under your hands looking like that, all blissed out from just a little kissing and grinding.

“I worry about your sense of logic.”

“Worry later,” he scowls, then crashes his lips back to yours.

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Dazed, your eyes involuntarily sweep his figure from head to toe - taking in every inch of those dark, sleep-mussed locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner, all the way down to the chiseled- oh god, were those nipple piercings?

Alas, the universe isn’t on your side, and you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly the door slams right in your face, almost rattling off its hinges at the force. The sound echoes in your ears as you blink in disbelief at what the fuck that was. Was that real - was he real? 

You double check the address you’ve known for years - just in case - because, hell, if you were dreaming then this was a damn good one. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on something that won’t make your head spin before reaching for the door again.

But before your finger could even graze the doorbell, it cracks open once more. The same mysterious man towered before you, this time - you note, with a tinge of disappointment - wearing a snug t-shirt that still doesn’t do much to hide that godly physique. 

“Not that m’complaining, but who’re you and why’re ya in my house?” you manage to slur out, voice betraying the shiver that runs down your spine at his intense gaze. He simply leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and expression unreadable. 

“Choso,” he drawls lightly, eyes never leaving your face. Shit, even his voice was hot. 

You nod slowly, mind racing as you blearily try to remember just where you’d heard that name before. Some family friend? Nah, you’d know him if that was the case. An actor? God, he sure had the looks. 

Mercifully sensing your struggle, he clears his throat, snapping you out of your drunken reverie. “Not surprised you haven’t seen me around, sweetheart, but my parents live next door.” he offers, tone laced with amusement and something else you can’t place. “M’babysitting your brother for tonight.”

You almost don’t hear the second part of his explanation, because it hits you like a ton of bricks - oh shit, this was Choso? Choso either-a-hallucination-or-a-vampire Kamo? 

In all your years of having the Itadoris as your neighbors, you’d only seen fleeting glimpses of their eldest son - a flash of black hair at the window, or a sculpted, tattooed arm waving off Yuji at the doorway. And, well, you didn’t know what exactly you’d anticipated. You just didn’t expect him to be so…hot. Or stand half-naked in front of you.

God, he made you more dizzy than the alcohol. 

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. Yet Choso still hears, quirking an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Everything alright there?” he hums, the hint of a tease in his tone. Smug bastard.

You nod your head, clutching onto the doorframe for support as you lean in closer. “Mhm, perfect.” Wait- was that a blush dusting his face? Damn, this dream just keeps getting better and better.

Liquid courage coursing through you, you bat your lashes, too tipsy to even attempt a wink, “Well, Choso, let me know if ya need any help babysitting, jus’ know I’m always down to-” 

And then - perhaps to save you from the embarrassment of an awful pickup line - that’s when the universe decides to remind you of exactly how many kamikaze shots you’ve downed. The world lurches beneath you. Your hands scramble for something - anything - solid.

Ah, falling down really does feel good, especially when the ground is so warm, and soft. Smelling faintly of vanilla, with a hint of sunshine. 

And then it’s all black. 

To match his eyes.

---

The smell of vanilla still lingers in your mind as you slowly pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight streaming in through your window. Groaning, you feel as though you’ve been run over by a truck. Five of them, in fact. 

Trying to will away the pounding headache, you bury yourself deeper into the snug covers of…your bed…that you’ve been tucked into? 

Oh shit. Sitting up with a gasp, you hastily try to rub away the sleep from your pointedly makeup-less eyes, remnants of last night now flooding back to you with a surge of embarrassment. 

Choso. Shirtless. Babysitting. Shirtless. But most importantly - your awful display of drunken flirting. The man appears once in a blue moon and you hit on him? Perfect. Great. Wonderful. 

And just as you’re entertaining the idea of convincing your parents to move neighborhoods, you realize with a jolt that he must’ve been the one that carried you up here and took care of you. Even after all of that. 

With a sigh, you rub your temples, wincing as it throbs at the laughter carrying from downstairs - one of them so decidedly Choso. Deep voice ringing in your ears, you can almost feel the lingering traces of his strong arms holding you flush against his chest, or the warm hands gently wiping off your eye shadow.

And it seems Choso had a penchant for interrupting your barely-lucid thoughts, because the door creaks open, ripping through the heavy silence in your room. Heart in your throat, you startle as Choso carefully steps into your room, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“G’morning,” he says, voice so gentle that some small, strange part of you thinks you could listen to it forever. “Feeling any better?”

You offer him a sheepish grin, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory of your drunken antics. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for... well, everything.”

Chuckling softly, his gaze softens as he steps closer, taking in your slightly-disheveled appearance. “It was the least I could do, sweetheart. Now, c’mon, your brother and I are making pancakes.” 

You fidget nervously under his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious even as he turns to leave the room at your silence. Say it, you idiot. Say it. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to... y’know, act like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time-” 

“It’s al-”

 “I swear I’ve seen ankles-”

A large hand cradling your cheek, his thick rings searingly cold against your chin as he tilts your chin up to meet his warm gaze - and those suspiciously red cheeks. “S’alright, sweetheart. I didn’t mind.” 

And, well, if this was his way of shutting you up then by God was it effective. Because you didn’t trust yourself to speak even as Choso gives you an easy smile. Even as he withdraws his hand, the air thick with something you were too hungover to overthink about. 

Not until he turns back to the door, flashing you a teasing smile, “Besides, it was kinda cute.”

And with that, Choso steps through the door with the audacity of someone that hadn’t uttered words that sent your mind reeling. 

As the creak of the door echoes behind him, Choso’s warm touch still sears into your skin. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Only one thought rings clear in your hazy, still-hungover mind - one that makes your cheeks flare: this was going to be a very interesting summer.

You just didn’t realize how interesting it would be. Not until two weeks, four days, and sixteen hours after you first met Choso. 

It starts out innocently enough, taking the early shift at your internship, volunteering to help with the chores - you find yourself subconsciously making excuses to be around him whenever he’s scheduled to babysit.

You’ve probably learned everything there is to know about the man by now - from the way he likes his eggs (sunny side up) to that time he accidentally dyed his brother’s hair neon pink while trying out a recipe for homemade hair dye. 

Likewise, Choso happens to be the only one who knows that you were the one that accidentally caused that flood in your dorm that required five floors and two plumbers to resolve. 

At this point, Choso’s at your house more often than not - where Choso is, there is you, and where you are, there is Choso. And your brother…and sometimes Yuji, but semantics.

“Semantics” are probably why you find yourself rushing home straight from your internship, ignoring every invitation for an after-work drink - to see your brother, of course. No other reason - definitely not because of the way Choso will inevitably be there too. Or because of the way his smile makes something strange coil in your stomach. Or-

Okay, maybe you speedwalked up your driveway faster than usual a little bit because of Choso. But as you’ve said - semantics.

Yet, sometimes you even think there’s a familiar flicker of something more in those dark eyes.

…

Nahhh. 

Stepping into the yard, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the deafening sounds of splashing, a smile tugs at your lips at the awfully wholesome view that greets you.

Your brother and Yuji are locked in a fierce battle, water guns being brandished like the most seasoned warriors.

And Choso - towering over everyone else - was at the epicenter of the chaos, his laughter booming over the commotion. Shirtless. Again. 

His bare, tattooed torso gleams in the light, muscles flexing with each movement as if sculpted by the gods themselves. Droplets of water glistening on his dark hair like diamonds in the fading light.

Traitorously, your cheeks burn as you step closer, desperately trying to rip your gaze from the milky abs peeking out and the tantalizing glint of metal winking so sinfully at you under the sun.

So he does have nipple piercings.

God, you have to get your mind out of the gutter.

As you approach, Choso’s grin widens, a playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he scoops up a large water balloon and takes aim, launching it with frightening accuracy in your direction.

The icy water hits you before the realization, and you squeal in surprise as the balloon connects right with your chest, seeping into your shirt. Glancing down with a startled laugh, you realize a moment too late that your once-pristine white shirt is now completely see-through. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but the damage has been done. Smug bastard, you think, glancing up at Choso, slightly red-faced yet wearing a sly grin as he surveys the aftermath of his well-aimed shot.

“Shoulda just told me if you wanted a peak, you lecher. This shirt was expensive, y’know.” you call out, mock-glaring at the man that stood so infuriatingly beautifully in front of you.

Choso throws his head back in a laugh that makes something tingle all the way down from your toes to your burning cheeks. “Maybe you shoulda just kept your guard up, sweetheart,” 

You scoff, “Maybe you should stop being a distraction then.”

His grin widens, reaching for another nearby water balloon, “S’not my fault you’re so easily distracted. No need to be a sore loser.”

“Oh, it’s on now.”

“Well, well, looks like we have a new contender in the water war,” Choso remarks mischievously to the kids, gesturing towards you. Yeah, really smug bastard.

Ah, what the hell. This shirt was on sale anyway.

---

Now, Choso knows you’re hot - always has.

Ever since that first day he moved in next door, when he stumbled upon you sunbathing in your backyard wearing that sinful bikini. And, well, after hours of moving boxes upon boxes of Yuji’s dumbbells, the mere sight of you was like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him. 

But, especially now - all drenched and disheveled. Your shirt sticking to your curves like a second skin in all the ways that should be illegal - and also makes some strange part of him slightly jealous. Beaming smile directed right at him - shit, this might as well just be the final nail on his coffin. Death by you.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, you're a force to be reckoned with. Choso can barely tear his eyes off of you, breathless and victorious in pure adrenaline-fueled bravado, declaring “Beg for mercy and I’ll let you off easy, Choso.”

“Kinky, but absolutely not, sweetheart.”

Clutching a particularly large water balloon, raising your hand high high high - hurtling it straight at him with an unapologetic smirk, “Then, better run for your life.”

Oh? Maybe Choso was a masochi- what was that- 

A flash of his favorite lacy pink, your poor buttons faltering at the sheer force of your throw. Choso doesn’t even feel the cold splash! square on his chest as he’s drenched icily from head to toe. Too transfixed.

Too focused on trying not to make it obvious he’s mentally calculating the chances of your shirt coming off altogether…

Eyes locked on the sliver of soft skin peeking out at him. Only registering you and the traitorous rush of heat flooding his cheeks - and his cock - as he averts his gaze, internally smacking himself for letting his thoughts wander into such dangerous territory. 

Both thanking and cursing the gods above, Choso realizes with a pang that he’s not just screwed, he’s absolutely twisted, tangled, and tied up in knots.

So utterly screwed, in fact, that he probably needs to make a quick run to the bathroom now.

Like, right now.

Shit. 

With a muttered excuse of a bathroom break, each step more urgent than the last, Choso can’t help but wonder if the water balloon incident was some sort of cosmic punishment for his wandering thoughts. Some divine intervention from his ancestors for being such a pussy around you all these years.

And as he slams that bathroom door closed, bunches his pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, and takes his throbbing cock in his hands, Choso thinks he might just see the gates of heaven - well, at least he’ll be able to give his ancestors a piece of his mind there.

With a groan, he leans against the closed door, eyes scrunching shut as he takes his swollen cock in his fist. Leaking hot precum and glistening in the dim bathroom light. He grips the base tightly, pulsing and achingly hard for you. 

Cold rings searing against his skin, Choso wastes no time - wanting to get this over with and join you again more than anything - starting up a hasty, desperate pace up and down his length that makes his knees buckle. Tighter on the base, just teasing his furiously flushed tip. Pink. Pink to match your bra.

With you so sinfully soaked through, wearing that goddamn lacy bra out there, Choso wasn’t as strong a man to possibly get you out of his mind. He can’t help but imagine your sultry smile, how it would look wrapped around his cock. 

Arm straining now, a shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his throbbing erection. “Shit.” he breathes, “J-jus’ like that, sweetheart.” 

Head only filled with you, and your lips and you-

He milks his base tighter - would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you choke around his cock? 

One hand pulls in urgent, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into his fist. The other reaches up muffle the fucked out moans leaving his swollen lips. God, it would take everything it had in him to not fuck up into your pretty lil’ mouth. Watch you cock-drunk and taking him so well. 

Or maybe…

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso fights back a groan as he reaches a hand up to teasingly thumb under his slit. Delicate beads of precum dripping onto the cold tile with a deafening drip! drip! drip! Smearing at the way he rubs maddening little circles under that one spot, grazing his sensitive veins. 

Maybe you’d be a a fucking tease - run your tongue under his pulsing head so agonizingly slow. Knowing you, you’d probably pull away as soon as he bucks his hips into your mouth. Lips swollen and glossed prettily with his precum as you whisper, “Now now, baby. If you don’t act like a good boy then you won’t get to cum~”

“Sh-shit, hah-” Choso thinks he’s going insane, he can practically hear your hums as you kiss along his length, tongue darting out to trace his throbbing veins so obscenely. Flicking at his sensitive head. Eyes sparkling - ready to positively devour him. 

All for him. 

It’s too much. 

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he moans hoarsely, letting out a low, fucked-out little call of your name. “More. Need m-more, sweetheart.” 

Body shuddering violently, sweat dripping from his brow, Choso’s thighs quiver as he fucks his fist at an almost-animalistic pace. Chasing his release with reckless abandon. 

Choso’s heart pounds wildly in his chest as he tries - and fails - to maintain control. Raspy whines of your name escape through the crevices of his fingers, cracking ever-so-slightly in a way he knows he’d be embarrassed about if he was in a better state of mind. 

Giving up his futile attempt, long fingers snake down below to cradle his balls in a way he knows you’d do better. Tugging and pulling at a jerky rhythm that matches his hand. 

Some tiny, practical part of his brain hopes - prays - that you won’t call off the water fight early and come up to check on him. He knows he should hurry up, he knows he’s fucked if you ever found out. Shit, he should bake you apology cookies tomorrow.

But fuck are so you perfect for him. Voice so pretty and eyes so warm as you turn your gaze to his undeserving self. He’d kill to see if you still look at him that way when - if - he absolutely ruins you.

Would you be able to take all of him? Would you pout adorably until he shoves his dick down your throat? Gagging as he hits the back of your throat over and over - oh how Choso would love to mess up your mascara. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on his dick if he could. 

“Cum f’me, baby.” you’d mewl, and shit would he burn down this entire world to hear you call him that. “Mm, fill me up with your cum, wan’ taste you, baby-”

“Fuck,” he curses again, voice thick with need, and tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, sweetheart.”

You - all see-through white shirts and lacy bras that drive him wild. Giggling with the audacity of someone who isn’t making him slowly lose his sanity. You with prettily lips painted white with his seed. Cum and saliva mixing into a lewd pool on the sterile tile as you suck the soul out of him. 

You. 

And then he’s cumming. 

A raw, drawled-out keen of your name and he’s spilling into his fist. Thick, hot spurts of cum that paint his palms white in a way he wishes he could do to you. And behind his closed eyes all he sees is you - you you you-

You, dragging out his orgasm so torturously, lips decorated with his seed, dribbling down to your lacy pink bra, gushing so lewdly down your ready throat. You with your eyes dazed, lips swollen and quirking up into a fucked-out smile as he does so well for you - cumming, all for you.

You, with your wide eyes and disgust on your face as you realize just what he’d been doing on this suspiciously long “bathroom break”.

Shit.

Body still twitching with the shockwaves of probably one of the Top 5 orgasms of his life, Choso all but collapses against the bathroom door, panting heavily, utterly spent. For a moment, he lies there, wondering if this is what heaven truly felt like.

But as the euphoria of his high ebbs away into nothing but mere tingles, a slight wave of nausea crashes over him. 

Sighing, Choso reaches for the paper towels, ready to clean up his mess. If only you were there to milk him dry then he wouldn’t have to-

…

God, he was definitely baking you apology cookies tomorrow. 

Now, when it started drizzling shortly after Choso left, you took it upon yourself to usher the kids back home and hand over his t-shirt personally like the good samaritan you are - out of the goodness of your heart, of course. 

Not for any reason whatsoever because you were hoping to get at least one more glimpse of those sinful nipple piercings up-close.

…

Okay, perhaps there was a slight ulterior motive involved. 

Either way, what you’d expected was for a flash of silver as you handed over his drenched t-shirt. Or maybe that familiar easy smile to warm you up from the icy water.

Literally anything but to find yourself frozen outside the bathroom door, cunt dripping, and ears ringing with the muffled echoes of his pornographic groans.

At first, completely mortified, your fight or flight instinct had kicked in as you realized just what those rhythmic, fucked-out little grunts meant. Only for you to choose neither option - staying rooted to your spot with the utterance of one, simple, word - your name.

Confusion whirls in your mind almost as much as the throbbing in your cunt, knees weakening. Heart thumping louder and louder in your ears at each whine of your name. Shivers running down your spine - all the way to your wet cunt as it really sets in that this was Choso. And he was fucking his fist in your bathroom. To you.

And you didn’t mind?

In fact, you find yourself leaning against the door, thighs squeezing together - mere inches away from where you imagined him slumped against it. Soft strands sticking to his forehead, cock hot and heavy, aching for release. Ragged breathing as if caught off guard by the intensity of his own pleasure. Broken whispers of your name leaving him over and over-

Really, you know you should give him your privacy. But if the white-hot ropes of pleasure running up your spine are anything to go by then, well, is it really that bad?

You have half the mind to just reach down down down - just a little release. Almost jealous of Choso-

Click!

You’re sure you could rival Usain Bolt with the way you ran down those stairs. Cheeks flaring, his damp t-shirt still clutched tightly in your hand. Mind racing with only one thought - this little fuck wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

---

You can barely remember what transpired after your little discovery. You couldn’t decide who looked more dazed - you or Yuji, who was being practically dragged out that front door as Choso exited hastily with vague mentions of baking and cookies

And in the ringing silence that followed after that front door slammed, you couldn’t help the smirk that found itself onto your face. This was going to be fun.

But if there’s anything you’ve learned about Choso - it’s that even after twenty-something years on planet Earth, that man can not take a hint.

You somewhat had an inkling after the fifth time you decided to sunbathe in just a skimpy bikini at exactly when you knew he’d be watching. Well, you might not have gotten any reaction other than an extremely flushed face at the window, but at least you knew he’d have more very fun bathroom breaks.

Hell, one time you even bought ice lollies for the whole house - but especially Choso. Making sure those dark eyes followed every lick and trail of it dripping down your fingers under the scorching summer sun. Ultimately resulting in nothing more but a heavy gulp and for his ice lolly to hit the grass faster than it could even begin to melt. 

Ugh, should you get your brother to start another water fight? That went down well last time. 

It’s only after another failed attempt at trying to get him alone and a few hours of deliberating whether you should ship your interrupting brother off on a cruise too that you realize you have to get out the big guns.

“The big guns” being stealthily organizing a sleepover for your brother at the Itadoris, then inviting Choso over for a movie night. Simple, right? And, well, if anyone asked, you could just say the movie just so happened to be rated R. 

It wasn’t too hard to convince your brother that a sleepover with Yuji would be the best thing since sliced bread. The excitement in his voice palpable as he agreed, not suspecting a thing.

You just didn’t think it would be even easier to convince Choso to come over with a simple playful text of “Netflix no chill. Haha jk…unless?” But then again, when has Choso not surprised you?

And that night, as your brother eagerly headed off to Yuji’s place, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt - but, hey, it was for a good cause, right? 

It’s a win-win either way - your brother gets to spend the night with a friend and you get to be here, so achingly close to Choso on that couch. So close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, stealing glances at his sharp profile as the conversation flows easily about the movie playing on screen.

Shifting ever-so-slightly closer, electricity crackling between you two was palpable. You smile in anticipation, after all - you weren’t lying about the movie being rated R.

Now, Choso certainly didn’t come over to your house tonight expecting a wholesome rerun of Cars 2. However, he also wasn’t expecting the blockbuster action movie to suddenly unfold into something so steamy.

Goddamn lecherous directors and their goddamn pervy movies.

Eyes firmly trained on the ground, instead of the actress currently fake-moaning dramatically onscreen, Choso tries to ignore the subtle shift of your hips or the way the temperature in the room has currently increased by about 10 degrees. Or the way your moans would sound a million times prettier in his ears.

Alas, Choso was not a strong man, and he especially tries to will away the blood rushing straight to his cock right now - but how could he? You were such a vision of temptation, so close and warm and close to him on the couch.

This was absolute torture. 

“God, this is so painfully fake. Don’t you think so?” your voice rips through the deafening silence between you two, tone careful and balanced, startling Choso out of his little reverie.

His eyes flicker hastily to meet yours, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard by your sudden interruption. “Oh, yeah.” voice rough with a hint of nervousness. “I’ve seen better performances in middle school plays.”

You nod, the tension between you thickening as you lock eyes. “I mean, who even writes this stuff?” you continue, leaning in even closer to Choso, words positively dripping in sarcasm. “It’s like they’ve never actually had sex before.”

Choso lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he shifts subtly in his seat - but not subtly enough. Because you catch the way he desperately tries to adjust his now-uncomfortably tight pants. Success. 

“Yeah, exactly,” he clears his throat, ripping his gaze away from yours.

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - exactly where you wanted him. 

A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, and you lean even closer to the man. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two - you relish in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. 

“Choso, just a thought.” you hum casually, lips mere inches from his ear. “Wanna recreate the scene better?”

His breath hitches at your words, muscles rippling so deliciously beneath your touch. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he rumbles, lowly. Eyes darkened and unreadable.

You smile, heart pounding against your chest as your lips brush against his earlobe. “Absolutely.”

It was like something snapped.

Because then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him. Because goddammit you haven’t spent the last month sneaking glances at those pretty lips for nothing.

Movie completely forgotten, Choso is warm under your touch - all sculpted chest and urgent pulses as his lips kiss you dizzyingly. Groaning lowly as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

He breathes you in with an infectious desperation that bleeds into his hands, wandering every inch of your skin - as if he didn’t have enough time. And he probably didn’t. Distantly, Choso thinks that no time in the world would be enough to absolutely fucking wreck you the way he wanted to.

Large, hurried hands grope your chest, squeezing so teasingly in a way that almost made you think he was trying to feel out what bra you were wearing - lacy pink. His favorite, of course.

You minx.

Urgently tugging the hem of your tight shirt over your arms, Choso tosses it god-knows-where. Mouth watering as he pulls away to greedily take in the heavenly view of your heaving chest - the same one he’s shamelessly fucked his fist to for too long.

God, you were perfect. With a soft, little oh! Choso leans down to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he could reach. Nipping, and tugging lightly. Relishing in the way you whine for his lips again.

Threading a hand through his soft hair, you lightly pull him back to you. Breath fanning his face, lips ghosting over his own.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

And, well, Choso didn’t have to be asked twice. Molding his mouth against yours once more. Letting your lips part, you intertwine your tongue so sinfully with his. He tastes just like he looks - so intoxicatingly delicious.

With a breathy sigh, he lightly taps the curve of your ass. Hands lingering for far longer than necessary, kneading the flesh in a way that has your skin searing. 

You get the signal. Urgently, you loop your legs around his waist. “Choso- bed.” you whisper, muffled in-between kisses. “Now.”

Shivers run down your spine at the way he chuckles darkly, “Honestly, sweetheart. I don’t even hah- know if we’ll make it there.” Mumbling against your lips, “Would you kill me if I take you right here right now?”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t fucking do something.” you hiss, words dripping in desperation. Ah, but Choso, ever the merciful man, shuts up whatever other retort on the tip of your tongue with his own. Kissing you with almost-bruising intensity as he gets up from his seat. Strong arms securely wrapped underneath you, holding you flush against his warm skin.

Choso doesn’t pull away even once as he hastily makes the route to your room. And honestly, with the speed at which your back hits the soft mattress, bouncing at the sheer force at which you two fell on top, you wouldn’t even be surprised if he teleported there.

Now safely in the confines of your room, you all but rip off Choso’s snug t-shirt. Those familiar obscene nipple piercings winking at you under the dim lighting in greeting. 

“Always wanted to do this.” you murmur, surging forward as if on autopilot. Lips latching delicately onto the pretty pink nipples, tasting the cold metal on your tongue. 

“Oh- oh, fuck. A-always knew you had a thing hah- f’my piercings, sweetheart.” Choso breathes out, letting you have your fun. His favorite bra now at the foot of your bed. Fingers deftly sneaking under your skirt, blood rushes straight to his cock as he feels the positively soaked state of your panties - if you could even call them that. 

Sanity snapping, he immediately flings off your skirt. Throwing it somewhere across the room with no care or concern for where it ends up. All so he could look down at oh-

Oh god, if you had to describe Choso’s face as he takes in the sight before him - it would be absolutely losing his sanity. Your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing - all for him.

Strings of slick trail down your thighs as Choso hooks one, long finger under your slutty g-string, tugging impatiently.

You keen as the cold air hits your dripping cunt. Yet Choso’s eyes stay locked hungrily on the sticky fabric intertwined around his fingers “Guess you were expecting this, huh?” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. 

Scoffing, you buck your hips up for something - anything. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since that first night I hit on you, y’know,” you admit, the heady air of your room melting away any reservations you had previously. 

And that seems to snap Choso out of his trance - eyes flickering over to you, darkened with something so carnal that it makes your cunt throb. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles, swiftly stuffing the g-string in his pocket before leaning down, hot breath hitting your ear. “Now, what was that pick-up line you were gonna say that night?” 

You gasp in embarrassment, heat flooding to your cheeks at the memory. “Wha- that doesn’t matter. I was drunk and-”

Smack!

The delicious sting on your ass hits you before the realization that Choso smacked you. He smacked you. Even later do you realize that you like it - slick beading so obscenely at your sloppy hole.

“What was it, sweetheart?”

You shudder at the tone that leaves no room for argument. The words tumbling out of you as Choso caresses soothingly over the handprint on your ass. “I- it’s stupid. I was gonna say that I’m down to sit on your face, baby.”

“Thought so,” he grins, pulling away from the dizzying proximity. Shifting - well, more like manhandling - you to flip positions. 

God, you could almost sink into his muscles as he lays back on your bed. Voice low and dangerous as he utters words that go straight to your dripping pussy, “Now, sit on m’face.”

And before you know it, you find yourself hastily straddling Choso’s pretty face. Hands snaking down his milky abs, lips kissing along his tattoos, catching purposefully on his sensitive nipples. 

Warm breath fanning your quivering cunt, he reaches up to cup your ass, nudging your needy core to his mouth. Kneading. Groping. 

Not stopping his ministrations even when your slick oozes slowly, torturously through your swollen folds and onto his awaiting tongue. A maddening drip! drip! drip! ringing in your ears above your thundering heartbeat.

Choso groans at the mouthwatering sight above him. You - spread so shamefully open for him and clenching around nothing. 

“Luckily for you, sweetheart, wanted you to sit on m’face ever since I saw you.” sweet juices flowing down his throat, words muffled against your throbbing lips. 

He barely even gets the words out before he’s surging forward. Licking a long, languid stripe up your heated folds. Again. And again. Faster at the pretty moans that spill from your lips.

Pushing his tongue in between your slit, past that first, tight ring of muscle. Bullying it deeper and deeper. Chin pressing against your throbbing clit, ravaged at each movement of his face. 

He caresses your warm walls, relishing so filthily at the way you clamp down on him in surprise. “Hngh- oh shit, baby. Ah-”

Your sweet moans are music in his ears and shit - you called him “baby”. It’s as if every wet dream he’s ever had has come to life as Choso dips in and out at a ruthless pace. Pulling out to tease your dripping entrance, pushing past mercilessly into your plushy walls. In and out in and out in and out-

His cock strains so painfully against his pants at the way your sloppy hole sucks his tongue in so obscenely - almost as if it hurts to part. Tongue fucking you the way he wishes he could with his cock right now.

“Oh- Hah- Choso! Fuck, baby. S’good.” your body arches into his absolutely depraved tongue. 

Desperate whines spilling incessantly from your mouth at the way he quirks his tongue up just right to graze that spot he knew would have you grinding down on him for more. “Ah! Right there - jus’ like that!”

As if he knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to break you. You almost don’t notice the mindless, shallow little thrusts of his hips into your open palm. Almost.

Eyes snapping open at the tremors, you reach a hand across his quivering thighs. All the way down towards the very obvious dark patch on his pants - right where his furiously hard tip was leaking thick, relentless precum that made your mouth water. 

Oh, how you’d kill to taste him - see if the rest of him is as intoxicating as his mouth is.

So you do. 

Choso was so pussy-drunk in-between your thighs that you think he barely notices the way you fumble with his belt. Shakily pulling those pants down just enough to glimpse the rock-hard erection that those boxers do nothing to hide. 

“Shit,” you whisper, voice strained with need. 

You always imagined Choso had a big cock - but this was ridiculous. Your pussy clenches in both nervousness and anticipation as you imagined the delicious stretch of him splitting you apart on it. Breaking you. 

And that’s probably when Choso notices - you clamping down so filthily on his tongue. 

“Oh?” he rasps, voice sending white-hot vibrations of pleasure right up your spine. “Didn’t think you were so desperate for my cock, sweetheart. Gon’ make me cum, hm?”

Now, you’ve always thought of yourself as a woman of action rather than empty words. Which is probably why you urgently pull down his boxers. Choso’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs. 

You take a moment to admire the long, heavy cock in your hands - a deliciously pretty pink on top, furiously leaking glistening precum. Saliva pooling in your mouth - you shove it as far down your throat as you possibly could. 

Oh, how many times in his life has Choso imagined this moment right here. In the shower, right before bed, right after waking up too. You’re really a dream come to life. 

A startled, strangled moan of your name leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips as you take him all in one go. Only to pull back and spit once- twice on his throbbing cock. The steady stream of spit cool - followed so maddeningly by the warm heat of your mouth once more. You start up a torturous, filthy pace bobbing your head up and down on his cock.

He strains his head to catch a glimpse - even just one - of your nose pressed against his pelvis. Breathing in the heady scent at the tufts of hair at the bottom, already wet with precum and spit. His dirty girl. 

Popping off with a lewd squelch, “Feels good, baby?”

“Feels perfect.”

But he wasn’t gonna fall far behind.

Immediately attaching his lips with yours once more, Choso dives nose-deep in your dripping cunt. Rolling your throbbing clit in between his lips. Flicking his tongue along the sensitive bud in a way that makes your head feel so light. He alternates between a slow, languid torture on your clit and fucking into you unforgivingly.

Your movements stutter as you teasingly lick at his sensitive slit. The salty flavor of his precum is probably your favorite taste now. That bastard.

Reaching down, you cup his heavy balls, massaging the tender flesh in harsh, hasty circles that match your mouth down his length - up and down up and down up and-

Muffled moans and lewd squelching filling the heated room. A rhythmic, sinful cadence that both of you were losing your sanity to. Movements more frantic now. Desperate to make the other cum. Desperate to be first.

Letting out soft, raw grunts, Choso fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth. Your eyes water as his tip abuses the back of your throat. And it makes you wish you could see how messy he looked right now. All smudged eyeliner and slick-glossed lips. 

Gagging around him, a mixture of drool and precum drips sinfully down the corner of your mouth as you increase your pace, pooling messily on his lower abs. Sloppy - so sloppy.

So it only made sense that your orgasms were the same. 

Pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming, you gush around Choso’s mouth with a stifled squeal. Stars behind your eyes, vision blurring, mind blanking - the only things you register being the languid tongue lapping up at your sweet juices and the guttural groan of what sounds like your name as Choso shoots thick, hot spurts of his cum down your throat. 

Throat burning as the salty taste fills your senses, you milk his cock for more more more- his dick pulsing and stuttering in your mouth. Cum staining the fresh sheets below - a problem for later. 

Right now all you were focused on was riding out your high, grinding almost animalistically on Choso’s pretty face. 

You’ve barely removed yourself from him with a lewd pop! before Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress. Two fingers squishing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout, cold rings digging into your skin. The other hand snaking in between your thighs to play with your still-twitching cunt. 

“Didn’t say we were done yet, sweetheart.” he mutters. You weren’t done - no, far from it. Because fuck a refractory period - both of you were going to take all you could get.

And before you can think of anything else, Choso is leaning down, hand prying your lips apart for him into a brutal kiss. Teeth clashing, lips bruising. He forces his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself before you barely get a chance to taste him as well. 

“Hah- fuck-” you flinch as he swears into your bruised lips. “So fuckin’ sweet. You taste so good sweetheart.” The sheer debauchery and ache of his cock too much for him. 

Tasting him. Tasting you. Both a heady flavor that leaves you yearning for more. 

You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation, relishing in the drawn-out groan that rumbles into your mouth at this. The kiss is feral. It’s animalistic. It leaves you feeling so fucking dirty. 

And you barely recognise the dazed, predatory glint in Choso’s eyes as he pulls away, his mind clearly miles away as he spits once. Twice. Three times on your face.

The wads of saliva and cum hit your face with a warm, wet jolt. You whine at the way it seeps into your skin, dripping down your cheeks so fucking obscenely. Pooling at the sheets below in a way that makes you feel sorry for whoever had a shift at the laundromat tomorrow.

“Now, what do we say, sweetheart?”

A fucked-out, delirious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you realize - yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Thank you.”

Not even when Choso lets out a dark chuckle, throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders and manhandling you so that you’re splayed out so shamefully for him. Dripping cunt spread for his greedy gaze and clenching around nothing - aching for him. Begging for him.

Not even when he lines up his still-rock hard cock at your entrance, tip - angry and red - weeping so desperately as he nudges at your sloppy hole. Dragging his head along your folds collecting every bead of slick, just grazing your pulsing clit. Every muscle in your body trembling and anticipating what was to come.

You mewl at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock. 

And especially not when he bottoms out inside you in one, harsh thrust. Burying himself inside your sloppy walls till his twitching balls smack against your ass. 

“Ah- hngh- oh fuckkk.” you keen in both pain and pleasure - broken, raw moans leaving you uncontrollably. But not for long, because suddenly Choso’s shoving two ringed fingers in your mouth, bullying their way inside till you’re gagging and moaning around them. 

Pressing right at that spot on the back of your tongue that makes your eyes tear up so prettily. Hey, if he couldn’t see you choking on his cock properly, the least he could do is see you choking on his fingers, right?

“Now now, wouldn’t want anyone else to hear, hm? Our brother’s would get worried.” he chuckles. Pure, dark amusement in his eyes as he takes in your swollen lips, the teartracks down your cheeks, how utterly beautiful and debauched you look underneath him. So much better than any lust-hazed imagination of his.

And yet, even when you’re being gagged and split apart on his cock, you find it in yourself to be mouthy. Words muffled around his thick fingers as you raise a brow. “There’s no one else home, though?.”

The corners of Choso’s lips lift into a devilish grin, “The neighbors, sweetheart.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a chill down your spine. He’s just joking, right? Right?

“Wha-”

And probably because he was losing his patience - and partly to shut you up - Choso begins to move.

Pushing past the resistance, beginning to fuck into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips. Just little motions to get him off, groaning at how sinfully tight you were - the way you were sucking him up so good.

Next time, Choso thinks, reaching down a hand to draw tight, little circles on your poor, abused clit - next time he’ll fuck you right. Hours upon hours of teasing you so you don’t know what it feels like when you’re empty without him. 

But fuck does he think he could just about pass out right now.

There’s no going back now. Choso fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage.

Pulling all the way back so that his leaking tip just barely kisses your sloppy entrance, slamming down down down, Choso fucks you at a merciless pace. Relishing the delicious stretch of your cunt as he thrusts into you with a desperation that surpasses the need for reason. 

“Sh-shit, sweetheart. God, s’tight. better than I ever could’ve imagined.” he moans breathlessly, brows furrowing, eyes rolling to the back of his head, the feeling of you milking the absolute soul out of him just too much.

“Oh, yeah- wanted this for so long-”

You yelp every time he rams his cock into you, the smacking of his toned pelvis against your thighs stinging almost as deliciously as his tip kissing your cervix. The obscene slapping of skin on skin makes your cheeks burn - both pairs as his heavy balls smack against your ass each time he shoves his throbbing cock into you.

And because you can’t leave him alone, of course, you find your nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders. 

Pulling him impossibly closer. You want more. You need more. 

Maybe you say those words out loud - you don’t even know anymore, too delirious and cock-drunk from Choso and your last orgasm and Choso - because his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, mouth falling open into a small oh. Your cunt twitches at the surprised, fucked-out little laugh that leaves him,  “More? My sweetheart wants more?”

And, as you’ve come to learn with Choso - anything you want, you will get. 

“Then fucking- take it.” he grunts lowly, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust of into your plush walls that sends both of you spiraling deeper and deeper into insanity.

And God does he make you take it. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits - both your cunt and your senses as he leans down to bury his head into your neck, hips moving so sloppily, hiking your leg further up his shoulder. The change in angle making you see stars.

Your hips buck up in tandem with his, uncontrollable little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. You whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room, “Yes. Yes yes yes- wan’ cum. Need more. Need you-”

“Fuck- Hngh-” is all he manages to gasp out, pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Choso’s balls twitch almost painfully as they keep smacking your ass. Brain still not keeping up with his body because shit, this is all he’s wanted for years, the least he could do is make you cum before him.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart.” he rasps into your heated skin, “So close- m’ so close.”

You all but sob at his words, “M’too- hngh- ah, m’gonna cum, baby.”

You didn’t expect the petname to be what breaks him, but then again you didn’t think there was anything more left to break. Because Choso groans gutturally, cock twitching inside you “Shit, you’re driving m’crazy, y’know that?”

“I know.” you mewl, voice breaking at the way he increases his frenzied pace on your clit. You could barely even call them circles, just filthy little movements to get you closer and closer to the edge. So close. You writhe beneath him, desperate for release.

And what you didn’t expect was for Choso to connect his sweaty forehead with yours. You take a second to admire just how beautiful he is - all smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, your release still shining on the lower half of his face, and yours. All yours. You could probably stare at the sight forever.

Choso’s hot breath fans your face as he moans breathlessly against your lips, words slurring together as he ruts into you mindlessly, “Always did, y’know?”

“I know.”

“No- y’don’t hah- understand, I- for so long fuck- I-”

“Choso, just kiss me.”

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth. A slow, tender little dance that doesn’t match the way he rams his cock inside you. 

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - clamping down desperately on the harsh, jerky movements of his glistening cock that fuck you so sinfully like his little slut. 

White-hot pleasure runs down your spine, or maybe that was Choso - painting your insides the prettiest white you’ve ever seen. Shooting thick, hot ropes of his seed into your waiting pussy. A creamy ring forming around his base as he spills his cum into your snug cunt as he moans against your lips.

It’s messy. It’s sloppy. And as Choso fills you to the brim, hips still unforgiving, seed dribbling out of your dripping pussy at the way it was so overfilled - you think that it’s all you could ever want. 

As his cock twitches finally, exhaustedly - and you distantly wonder how the fuck it isn’t seizing up - Choso collapses onto you, thoroughly fucked-out. Finally pulling out with an obscene squelch, you hiss lowly at the pool of cum that forms beneath you. Gushing out of you sinfully. 

A weighty silence in the air as you both try to catch your breaths.

In the haze of your orgasm you realize that even after all that transpired, he still isn’t laying his full bodyweight on you.

Too afraid to break you.

To break whatever this tender little understanding in the air was.

And it makes some part of your heart clench so delightfully. Subconsciously, you thread a hand through his damp hair, breathing in that familiar smell of vanilla and sunshine - and the heady scent of something so Choso. It makes you intertwine your body so impossibly close with his, not knowing where one of you ends and the other starts.

“My parents are coming home tomorrow.” you start, casually. 

“Mhm. But I’ll still be around here, sweetheart.” Choso rumbles into the crook of your neck. Kissing soothingly over the marks he’d made in the heat of the moment - some carnal little part of him proud of the way you looked like you were fucking thrown to a pack of wolves. 

Words hiding a tense little fear beneath them as you probe further. Something prickly and scared rolling around in your stomach. “For babysitting?”

“Nope.”

Settling deeper into the covers, basking in the afterglow of him. You know you should get up and clean, but right now this was all you wanted. And maybe no other words were needed. 

“God, am I glad your parents aren’t home.” 

Except maybe those. 

You chuckle as you pull back to stare into those deep, dark eyes. Cheeks flaring at the tender little warmth in them much more than they had when he was fucking you so sinfully. A devious idea coming to mind - because now that you got a taste, you were absolutely hooked.

Choso Kamo was absolutely intoxicating.

“Well, we still have time so how about-”

A distant click!

“Honey, we’re home~!”

Shit.

A/N. Fun fact this was originally supposed to be called Timeout! but it was giving too much me during beep test.

Like candy - particularly that sugary, strawberry-flavored kind you’ve had to tell Gojo off on more than one occasion for eating too many of. Tilting your head just a bit, you think you could also catch hints of honey and pine, such a strange, hypnotic combination.

“S-Satoru…” your words come out in a syrupy gush, feeling your head whirl.

“Hm?”

And despite yourself, you’re taking in deep, heavy inhales of the air surrounding you. Hungry. Mouth salivating as that heady, perfumed whiff clouds up all your senses. “Do you- hah- what is- do you smell-”

“Ngh- no?” he’s cutting you off with a barely-audible groan, one you probably wouldn’t have even caught if your abilities weren’t so sharpened right now. Gojo’s movements seem sluggish, languid as if he was moving through molasses when he raises up one hand to massage the back of his neck.

You can only watch as his head droops down onto the long table with a wince. 

Strange. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have almost thought- 

No, there was no time to be entertaining wild conspiracies. Because at this very moment you’re too caught up flitting through the dates of all your previous heats in your mind. Urgently. 

Three weeks.

Your next heat wasn’t due for another three weeks. So, sure, you didn’t take your suppressants just yet but, that really didn’t matter, did it?

It wasn’t normal for jujutsu sorcerers to be anything other than a beta - and as an omega, you knew firsthand just how difficult it was to fight tooth and nail just to be able to sit at this table. 

Historically, any other faction of society would rather be caught dead than outed, and have their second gender be taken advantage of by the very curses you were supposed to exorcize. Forced to face the stigma of alphas and omegas being too “unstable” or “vulnerable” to be trusted with missions.

This was the very thing you’d been trying to avoid ever since you argued your way into studying at Jujutsu Tech - losing control. 

Especially now.

But god, you were burning up. It smelled so sexy.

And, taking a sweeping glance around the table of betas - at your fellow sorcerers, those grim elders, and your disheveled best friend - that left only you to explain the scent.

You were only thankful that their noses weren’t as powerful as yours. Clinging onto this as a saving grace, with a shaky gulp, you gently nudge Nanami on his side. “Hey- Ken?”

“Yes?” And maybe it was the heat - whatever this was - but Nanami’s deep baritone sends shivers down your spine, and you find yourself leaning in traitorously closer to his heated body. His jaw ticks, “Is something wrong? You look…”

“Satoru’s also-”

“So what?”

Without warning, one of his hands comes to splay out across your forehead. Just a mere touch has him sucking in a sharp gasp, “You feel warm, I think you have a fever. You can’t continue the meeting like this.” 

You shake your bleary head in protest. 

“I won’t let you.” Nanami’s voice hardens with a tone of finality, and yet, you still find yourself trying to whirl around to look at Gojo. Maybe for help, maybe for a distraction to escape when your colleague speaks again - this time directed at Yaga. “Principal Yaga, it seems my dear friend here is sick.” Circling an arm around your shoulders to pull you up from your seat and onto weak legs. “If you’ll please excuse us, I will escort-”

Nanami stills - everything stills. 

Everyone stills when his voice tapers off with a ragged grunt, and you feel his chest heave in unsteady breaths. So close now that you can mark the exact moment Nanami’s eyes widen, “Are you…”

Shit. 

Shit shit shit-

“Wait.” Yaga’s voice bellows reproachfully. “Is this- That smell-” But even he can’t find the words, slumping back down into his seat.

Truly, the scent was so saturated now, so primal that even the most stubborn of unmated betas were sneaking peeks at you. You bite your lips raw at another glossy gush from your already-heated cunt. It was so embarrassing - your heats have never acted like this before, let alone come three weeks early.

Sure, perhaps that one time on your very first day at Jujutsu Tech itself - which was embarrassing by itself. And, yet, your mind had never been clearer than it was right now. 

Eyes sliding over to a familiar, trembling mop of white hair - never been needier. 

Fuck, what was your delirious self thinking-

As if drawn by an invisible string, Nanami’s inching impossibly into your hot proximity, hazel eyes falling half-lidded when he takes in a deep whiff. Grumbling, “My love-” Another. And another. Nose almost grazing your pulse now, “-you’re in-”

Slam!

“Out.”

It’s a threat.

That was the first thought that slammed into you, and then the voice continues, slow, snarling like a predator on the edge of ripping something to shreds. “I won’t repeat myself.”

Before you finally understand, it’s a command.

There’s one strong hand around your front, pinning you against a sculpted chest. Something about it has your pulse booming in your ears, fingers clawing at that pale wrist at your shoulder. Yet, he doesn’t even flinch.

Nanami, however, reluctantly detaches his hands from your body, and you finally have enough strength to look towards the origin of the words. Only for your glassy gaze to meet with a towering Gojo Satoru standing at his full height - when did he even get up? 

Jaw clench, sharp canines bared, blindfold dangling haphazardly around his neck - ah, he looked like a man that crawled from hell and back simply to take you all along with him. 

With you at lucky number one. 

First in his line of sight. Close enough that you can finally smell him. 

Oh.

Oh. 

And you swear you saw his eyes tint with the faintest blue lightning when your own scent perks up. Boring into you for just a millisecond before narrowing his gaze down at a stupefied Nanami, cracking the kinks in his neck. “Unless ya wanna watch.” He bares the rest of the room with his flooring glare, “Unless all of you want to watch.”

It’s chaos. 

They understood - perhaps long before even you did. 

Chairs clatter, the desk trembles, and that safe haven of the door is swung open. That weezing council of elders are first to stumble over one another into the hallway, Yaga following shortly with a wordless sigh. 

Until the only ones left are you and him - and Nanami.

Blond brows raising, his eyes flit frantically between you and a possessive Gojo. Sputtering out, each word jagged, and dry as if they’re being wrenched from his chest. “What is the meaning of this- We- I thought you were a- a beta.” 

Everyone did, and Nanami was speaking what your mind couldn’t right now. 

Gojo Satoru always presented himself as a beta - never affected by your heats, never disappearing once every few months for his ruts as you remember Suguru did. He always seemed so normal - perhaps the one thing about him that was. Unaffected by the stupid little trials and tribulations of alphas and omegas in sorcery. 

But it was undeniable, he was an alpha. 

And taking a deep inhale of his saccharine sweet perfume - so overpowering - he might just be the strongest you’ve ever encountered. How fitting.

“You thought.” Gojo’s voice was clipped, rumbling with a low growl that sent electrifying shivers down to your very cunt. And his tone just makes Nanami jolt. “And I can’t right now so I- fuck-”

Gojo’s body wracks with a violent shudder, making him hunch over - with you in tow. His hot breath puffs out in feverish pants near your ear, abs clenching as another velvety wave of pheromones emit from him. 

You mewl when your body is jostled in his toned arms, nudging the very curve of your ass - tight uniform skirt hiking up just enough - so that you push in a slow drag against something rock-hard. Massive. Weeping out in a sticky damp spot that seeps into your skin. 

“Hah-” you’re gasping, face swirling to nose up the crook of his neck - where the candied scent was most prominent. “Toru–”

There’s a gasp - and it’s not from you this time. 

Both you and Gojo are snapping your dazed heads upwards at a frozen Nanami, his hand shooting to cover his nose. Eyes wild- “I-”

Before thinking better of it, it seems like Nanami opted to keep some part of his sanity as he abruptly turns on his heels without a second glance backwards. Marching robotically, the only moment he stops is once he’s at the doorway. One hand tugging on his suddenly too-tight pants, the other on the doorknob. Eyes still trained forwards when he calls out gruffly, “Don’t break the table, insurance doesn’t cover it.”

SLAM!

Finally alone.

Your vision swims - is the door even locked? Is this- God, you feel hot. So hot - too hot.

And Gojo’s burning up, arms wrapping around you so tight that you could feel the way his skin flushed with a thin sheen of sweat. He breathes out into your ear, “My pretty girl…”

“Oh sh-shit–” you’re whimpering, big fat tears welling up behind your eyes. And without wasting a second, as soon as it splatters hotly on your best friend’s skin, he licks a long, lazy stripe to lap at the hazy saltiness. Babbling away, “Feel so dizzy hngh- and you- you’re an alpha?”

Honestly, part of you still didn’t want to believe it.

But as soon as he husks out a gravelly moan, as soon as his tongue dips down a wet pathway to the scent gland on your neck - you already know you won’t be making it out of this alive. “Why did you hide it from me?”

“Mhm- fuck! m’sorry.” he grunts into your skin, slightly muffled. Nipping ever-so-slightly, “M’sorry m’sorry- had to- my sudden rut made my- hah, made my pretty omega go into heat, didn’t it?”

His soft palms glide down your trembly body, greedily kneading every dip and curve that comes his way. He’s lost. So, so lost. 

Plastering his lips down every inch of skin he could reach, that sweet scent sticking to you like a sloppy second skin. And you can barely even think when you feel his swollen dick just twitch behind you, a fresh wave of swelteringly hot precum sloshing right through your silken skirt.

You whimper when you’re rutting messily back and forth, and he drags a thick thumb to pry your spit-glossed lips open. “Aww, poor baby. Tell me- fuck tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

And all you can really give him right now is a circular swivel of your hips, which evidently wasn’t enough. 

Because Gojo’s furious tip only hardens, and he hisses with a slight tug up your skirt. Cold fingers dancing ravenously up the edge of your drenched panties, gliding the very rounded tip of his index slowly across your sopping slit. 

“Tha’s not enough.” he snickers, and suddenly you’re hit with another wave of emanating pheromones. Enough to make you just slobber a glistening coating all down his long digits. “Use your ah- w-words like a big girl now. Because when I start…” His teeth find your earlobe, and his fingers find themselves planting a dripping wet slap! across your puffed-up clit. Unwavering. Unapologetic. “I won’t be able to stop.”

“Please, Toru.” That cute little nickname makes him jump, makes him throw his head back with a low moan. Brows scrunching together as if pained. “Don’t want you to stop-”

Maybe you were going to say more - maybe you would’ve called him that nickname and driven him even crazier. 

But Gojo doesn’t wait to find out. 

In one, fluid motion he’s picking up your body into the easiest princess carry you two would’ve laughed at if this was one of those romcoms you watched together. Just splaying you out on your back across the cool table, he situates himself in the perfect position between your legs. 

Oh, how he loved this view. How he’s spent so many ruts just like this imagining this view.

“F-fuck- You have no idea how- how crazy it drove me.” rasping groans drag out from his throat, strained with every slow drag of his cock down the front of your now-see-through panties. “How wild-” You’re nearly screaming when his canines dig in to that soft spot underneath your ear. “-to pretend I didn’t know you smelled so hah- so fucking delicious.”

And then you feel him still - alert, ready.

Chest heaving, an almost chilling tone dipping into his words when he spits, “Except when you smell like him.”

Your jaw falls slack when the temperature in the room heats up another few heady degrees, and the sheer power of your two scents mixing together is almost maddening. 

“He- he? Toru, what do you-” you’re gasping out in tiny huffs, while he busies himself with biting and licking down your exposed neck. Enough to leave you smeared all over with marks. “Who- Kento?”

“Oh, sayin’ another man’s name when you’re with- fuck- me?” Gojo’s bucking powerfully into you, his body was pinning you down. Scorching, now. “Such a naughty omega- I should kill him for how he touched you.”

Truly, his alpha was fucking clawing at him to trek out of this room right now and finish off the job - but, no, you were too hypnotic. And Gojo Satoru, the strongest, was no match for you.

The wet thwack of his fingers once more kisses in a rude smack against your clit, making you squeal. Ringing across your thundering ears, he swears at that broken, blissful noise from you. “Fuckin’ oh, would ya let him see you like this, too? Let him touch you like th-this?”

And Gojo looked so starved, velvety blindfold tickling your chin when he leans in close. Lips ghosting your own - but not quite. You’re suddenly brought back to the very first thought you had - that this is about to be a bloodbath. 

“I wouldn’t–” you bite back in your honeyed tone, and you can feel your omega just purr in satisfaction. “N’ it’s not my fault that someone-”

Smack! Harder, sprinkled with tiny bolts of electricity.

“Correct.” 

It’s breathed out into your mouth - a quick, hedonistic peck. Gojo just taunting your sanity before he’s pulling away with a gruff string of profanity, like it hurt him just as much as it did to you. 

You feel your slick dribble down into a saturated puddle below you. And the mere sight of it makes Gojo just reel his hips deliriously forwards, grinding his massive bulge across your dripping cunt until you could see it soil a fountainy dark patch on his pants. 

“F-fuckin’-” his eyes roll to the back of his head at how hot you were. How pouring wet. Wrangling your quivering legs painfully stretched open, “-woman of my dreams.”

With two, thick fingers hooked over the hem of your skirt, it’s being torn off in an easy pull. Falling somewhere in a pile of impractical tatters onto the meeting room floor, along with your shirt.

And as soon as it’s off, Gojo’s only growing more feral. More hungry. 

He’s drooling from one corner of his mouth, but he doesn’t even notice at this point. Honestly, barely even realizing the burning pain when he falls to the floor on his knees. Clattering haphazardly, insatiably nosing up your jittery inner thighs. 

“Oh sweetheart- oh my pretty girl. My pretty, pretty girl–” he’s breathing out, head lolling drunkenly against your legs. And Gojo gulps when he spreads your panties away with a wet glide of his thumb, just enough to see your messy hole winking up at him eagerly. All soaked and needy. “M’gonna have so much fun being yours.”

He kisses wetly through your panties - without warning, without even breathing. Just surging his pretty face into the heated crevice between your thighs, taste buds on his pinkish tongue grazing up the soaked fabric.

Like he was addicted.

“Oh- oh my god-” you’re mewling out, lower lip wobbly at every sultry swirl of Gojo’s tongue over your pussy lips, painting your messy hole in every mesh of slick and spit he could conjure up. “It feels too- hah–”

You were always so sensitive during your heats, every single one of your senses heightened to the max. So it made your mind all overwhelmingly melty inside to have his steaming hot mouth on your equally ravenous cunt. Hungry.

Yeah, he was addicted.

Dragging a few fingers in-between your glistening folds, scissoring them shamefully open to spit. Once. Twice. 

Some of it splatters strayly onto the start of your thighs, which Gojo glady licks up all over again to stream out a thick wad back onto your silt. Until your cunt was drooling translucent dredges of everything he has to give, he smears his messy thumb in easy rotations around your clit. Filthy. 

“So gorgeous- so good f’me.” Gojo titters, biting down teasingly on the very edge of your panties. And he can’t hide that fucked-out little groan when pulls it back, back, back to just snap! it meanly right on your cunt. “Fuck- you taste as s-sweet as you smell, mmm–”

You’re yelping when his long tongue draws a slow circle around the edge of that first ring of muscle, just barely pushing back against how your gummy walls are trying to hug him. To milk him for everything he has.

“S-such a tease-” you whine, fingers tangling into his cloudy white hair. Soft - the silken tresses smoothed over your palm, slotting between your digits when you pull his mouth roughly onto your pussy. “Jus’ want you on me- ngh!”

“Ohh ya can still t-talk easy, huh?” Gojo raises an amused brow from in-between your legs, that won’t be possible soon with how he’s going to have you. “Well then, don’t you dare beg me to go easy on you, girl.”

And he keeps the panties on - fuck, he keeps the panties on when mashing those ragged, rosy lips of his in a steamy make-out with your cunt. It’s as if he was breathing you in, so close that you could feel every clench of Gojo’s jaw, every grind of his chin into the very base of your pussy. 

“Sh-shitttt-” he spits, stray wisps of white covering his eyesight. Dragging you on his tongue through pure instinct. “Shit wait- ah you’re so fuckin’ so-”

Unable to even finish his sentences with that usually-sharp tongue of his. No, that tongue right now was too occupied with the steady, repetitive drag along your snug channel. Bullying into your sodden sensitive spots, thrusting back and forth back and forth back and-

And his fingers, oh those infamous fingers were straying back onto the sensitive nub of your clit. Drawing tight, tempestuous circles that have you keening at the dual stimulation, thighs stuttering to an embarrassed close. 

“Open.”

It’s just like before - and Gojo’s using that annoyingly baritone tone of his that hits you at your very core, that makes your omega snap open your legs for him.

Even you’re surprised at how pliant your body acts before your mind right now - and so is Gojo. though, his expression doesn’t show it, every bit of that feral animal that scared everyone out of this room not too long ago. 

“That’s it- that’s it–” he can’t hold back, hands glued to the globes of your ass to pin you still against his mouth. “Ha- so fuckin’ different when ya listen to me, so fucking sweet.” Breathing in deeply, “Were ya giving off this scent so Nanami could do this, too?” 

Thwack!

Another mocking slap against your clit - not enough to make you cry, but with just enough buzzing jujutsu to make your batting lashes teary - forces you to find your words. 

And fuck, Gojo swears there’s no sweeter music than the sound of your voice - especially when you’re moaning like that. 

Voice breaking into a whine, accompanied by a few raw clenches of your pussy around his furious tongue. “N-no fuck- don’t know-” your hips arch into the most perfect curve he’s ever seen. One that makes his mouth water, cock straining against his pants. “Toru- jus’ want you, wanna cum- wanna- want you so bad.”

Fuck - and who was he to not go along with each and every one of your pretty whims?

Pussydrunken already. He’d read about this - but he really had no clue how potent an omega in heat was, never having spent a rut with one. That little special occasion was always saved for you but, ah, that was a story for another time.

“M’gonna cum- hah- so- close-” 

Right now, he couldn’t think of anything other than how gorgeous you would look when you cum. How delicious - your sweetened scent raising up by a few notches, taking over his sentences. 

He feels his cock just throb at the mere thought.

Which is why Gojo’s pulling away with one final, sodden kiss on your pussy. You feel the curvaceous curl of his smirk against your cunt, and a deep, filthy inhale. 

“Nah.” he smiles a glistening smile up at you - grin glossed all over with a sheen of your sweet, sweet juices. And the rest of his face was almost-obscured with a curtain of his white bangs, but you still think you could peek the glow of his inhuman eyes through them. Powerful. “Don’ think you’re c-cumming anywhere other than on my knot first, pretty girl.”

And he’s so tall that Gojo’s blocking out the dim meeting room lights when he stands up - slow, smug, making you spend each passing second in such anticipation. 

Face expressionless - almost hypnotized - when he shrugs his shirt off. Lips parted into a soft oh! eyes half-lidded, heaving he slides his belt off almost lazily. 

It clatters! to the ground, and he’s sliding down his drenchingly wet boxers with it - leaving a gleaming trail of precum down the front of his toned pelvis. Letting his achy cock finally spring free, he hisses when it hits the too-cool air. 

And you do, too - though, for much different reasons. 

Because Gojo’s so unfairly big - fitting, for an alpha of his stature. Blushed the prettiest pink at his rotund head that matched his cheeks right now, gradiating down into creamy tufts of white at his thick base. Showing the starting of his knot swelling. It made you wonder whether he tasted as sweet as he smelled. So hard it looked painful, curving into a long, solid shaft that glides a wet smear across his washboard abs. It makes your omega just preen, rabid to have him inside you right now now now-

“Heh, impatient lil’ thing, aren’t ya, sweetheart?” Gojo huffs out in a heady bout of laughter. “Can practically feel yer omega ngh- calling out to me, is this what you want?”

You claw ferally at the milky display of his back, branding him in your own way. “Yes- please-” 

A sudden rip! makes you realize you still had your panties on - up until a few seconds ago, at least. Jostling him ever-so-slightly closer, you mewl when the rounded tip of his angry cock nudges against your pussy lips. Melding into a slight kiss that already makes him stream steaming hot ropes of precum.

And if you were in any better state of mind maybe you’d have noticed the way the light above flicker, fizzing with electricity just as much as you were right now. 

“Heheh- oh y-you made me like this, ya realize?” he chuckles out - but his voice didn’t show even a hint of humor. It’s like he was out of control, out of rationality with each languid drag in-between your folds. Babbling, “You threw me into- fuck fuck fuck this is all- your-”

Honestly, Gojo’s so utterly shocked he managed to grit even half that sentence out. 

Because every sloppy second has him grinding upwards in the tiniest of ruts into your sung cunt, tiny, mindless grinds that make a low ah! ah! ah! rip from his throat. 

“Open that mouth f’me, sweetness-”

As soon as you do, you’re feeling a thick, glossy stream of saliva slosh onto your lolling tongue. Mouth wrenched shut until you swallow - and you do. Happily. Filthily. 

That’s enough to make Gojo lose it. 

And he’s plunging headfirst into your toasty insides, shoving back that tiny bit of resistance before your elastic walls are milking him so well. Greedily swallowing up every one of his generous inches, and it only seemed like more was to come.

“Oh shit- ohhh sh-shit-” His eyes are rolling to the very back of his head, mouth hanging open, that tiny trickle of drool splatters onto your skin. 

“T-Toruu—” your cunt was addictive, and so were those moans of yours. Craning your neck upwards, “Kiss me, please.”

For a second, he’s leaning in - making it seem like he was about to smear that firmly placed gloss all over his lips onto yours. But Gojo only sneaks a peck at the corner of your mouth, then the other - and then one on the tip of your nose. 

“I will I will-” he’s musing, giggles bursting from his lips. “Once we’ve mated, can’t get too greedy at once now? Can I?”

But oh how his actions spoke otherwise, because Gojo’s powerful hips absolutely refused to stop until he was well and fully buried into the hot depths of your cunt. Sheathing himself in all your soppingly wet walls, the sheer tightness was enough for him to throw his head back, heavy balls squeezing. In and out in and out. 

“Ohhh fuck-” Two hands of his roughly attach themselves to your hips, pitching up your needy whines when he drools down your pussy even more thoroughly. “You sure do make it f-fuckin’ hard though-”

You whine when your ass hits against something bulging and hot, whirling those dazed eyes of yours down at the intrusion. 

“Shit-” you’re gasping, eyes widening. And the sheer awe in your eyes is enough to make him grow, blood pumping to every thick inch of his cock until he was expanding even girthier, molding your pliant walls to his size. “That’s your knot- I-I-”

“I-I-I-” Gojo mocks, in a voice octaves higher than usual. Fucking the rest of that sentence with a harsh roll of his hips, knocking bruisingly at your cervix. “C’mon now ah- tell me- you can t-tell me anything.” Kissing softly at your ear lobe, zaps of jujutsu making you jump. “M’your best friend, right?”

How ironic.

All you can gift him in response is a few soft whimpers that only make him wilder.

“Fuck!” you’re keening when another one of his slams leave you gasping for air, feeling like he was clashing into your very womb. Glissading a deep, wet glide of his fat, curved tip across your spongy cervix, his breath hitches at the slight recoil. “I want it-” 

Your words make him almost falter with his ruthless pace, and you take it upon yourself to just drag him down by his muscled shoulders. Until he was hunching over you, abs flexing against your front, “I want your hah- knot in m-”

And you can’t even finish the sentence - you don’t know if you want to.

Because just that syrupy jumble of words is enough to make Gojo Satoru snap. 

To cut you off with a rough growl, teeth bared at you, in a split-second he has you limp legs thrown over his shoulder. Biceps flexing in such a mouth-watering way when he makes them lock at the ankle, bending down, down, down into the meanest little mating press your joints would allow. 

The change in angle has you scrambling - has him scrambling to crash his leaky head into your swollen g-spot. Hitting that bulging bullseye with no regrets - over. And over. And over and over and-

“Oh, marry me sweetheart.” he’s panting into your mouth. His pulsing girth rummaging your insides so good, dragging every ridge and thumping vein on his shaft against your sweet spots. He was so big that you felt like your syrupy cunt had already forgotten what it felt like without him pounding into you. Suckling wetly at the corner of your lips, “Marry me marry me- oh, fuck- gonna give you m-my knot. Don’ think I could go on hah- l-living without ya, pretty.”

He was feral - eyes glowing a blazing blue, sparks of lightning bolting down his milky skin. And you swear with each speeding cadence of his, the lights flickered on and off. 

Every slippery smack of his tight, cum-filled balls has you seeing stars, yearning for the additional burning stretch of being plugged by his knot. 

You’re throwing your arms over his neck, reeling him in like he was your prey, though his hips were devouring you. “W-we’re not even dating and you want me t-to be your hngh-”

“-wife!” He kisses every inch of your face, down your neck, over that soft scent gland of yours - now so overstimulating his senses with your sweet scent that he’s almost forgotten what his own smelled like. Buzzes of electricity skimming down your skin with each touch. He’s groaning, “Be my wife- please- fuck, I need you to be my wife.” Planting an almost-french kiss on that one sweet spot. Once. twice. “M-my mate- sh-shit-”

And you already knew Gojo was close with the way his pretty eyes are almost fluttering shut, the way his hefty balls clamp. Twitching in desperation, his thickened base pumps in even deeper - harder. As if he was trying to rut every single inch into your clingy depths. 

Every single inch.

“Mhm–” you moan, feeling the staggering stretch of his even hotter cock shape your walls. “I wanna- wanna be your-”

You don’t even bother finishing your sentence - and neither does Gojo let you.

Because it only takes a few more sloppy jackhammers before he’s finally sinking his taut knot into you. The stretch is so insane you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head, being plugged so suddenly full. 

And then you’re hurtling headfirst into your high - toes curling, white-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes, your spine bowing so sluttily into his. And Gojo-

Oh, Gojo had his mouth sagging open the moment he felt his massive knot intrude against your silken sweet walls, stretching that snug channel around all of him. And he wishes he had the willpower to look down at the heavenly sight, he wishes he could do anything but sink his teeth down hard into your precious scent gland as he cums and cums and cums. 

The lights burst, shards deflecting off the limitless he’d coated over the both of you. 

Teeth breaking skin, metal tasting on his tongue, scents tangling together into one now.

You do your best to bite him back on his heady neck, breaking through Gojo’s milky skin to reveal a set of pretty pink indents.

Finally yours. Finally his. 

“O-oh, pretty girl–” he hiccups, voice cracking. Hips not moving even the tiniest second of momentum while he stuffs your tight pussy full of his potent seed. “My wife- my mate.”

And Gojo almost bawls when the tight lock of his knot prevents him from plunging into you as deeply and thoroughly as he wanted to right now. Sobbing down big fat tears that splatter! against your lips while he kisses your mind dizzy.

You could feel the syrupy slosh of his cum inside you with each one of his dragged-out grinds, milking your orgasm for as long as possible. Unmoving. Unapologetic in how he was spitting out such voluminous loads of milky white seed that overfilled you. 

“Shit- so much-” you’re whining, still clinging to him. And you don’t think he even hears you right now, mind blanking. “I feel so full, Toru-”

But you didn’t have to babble out those words for him to know, somehow, he just knew. Knew every single thing about you, but couldn’t dredge up the words to respond.

Too pussydrunken to do anything but bite you on your scent gland all over, he kisses a wet trail up to your lips, “Now you- really hafta m-marry me heh.”

Bang! 

Gojo’s fist comes crashing down on the rickety table - it’s too much for him.

Those ringing squelches and the way you were sucking out every single drop of his cum makes his sensitive shaft twitch. Tears blimping up into his eyes again, more and more velvety ribbons ooze out. “My wife- my wife my wife my wife- my mate-”

It’s just about all he can say - like a mantra. Over and over against your lips, until the peaks of your pleasure turn into mere tingles, until Gojo’s own knot is softening down. Slightly.

Just enough that he can pull out-

“Toru, what-”

“Shhh, pretty girl-” He’s kissing your puffed-up clit with another spank from his trembly fingers, and then an actual kiss. Mouth slotting over the mess he’s made below. Grazing all over like a creamy gloss. Filthy. “Rut’s just started.”

His ravenous tongue drags out your overstimulated high, and you’re clinging onto a lock of his snowy hair for dear life. 

“Please-” you beg, voice shot. You don’t even know what you were begging for, but god was Gojo Satoru happy to let himself be used. “Please please please, Toru-”

Oh, his fingers tighten on your thighs - imprinting neat patterns of crescents. Animalistic, in how Gojo just drags your twitchy body forwards.

His eyes were drooping shut, gaze crazed - frantic where he looked you right in the eyes from down below. Head craning to ram his stretchy tongue even deeper, quirking up deftly like he’s wanting to bruise his taste buds along your walls. 

Slurping at and collecting the creamy mess on his tongue - only to spit it back into your sloppy hole. Messy. 

Even with the dark, lightless room - with only those stray sparks of power to accompany you two - such loud squelches echo across his own ears. And just by the noise Gojo could tell how wet you were - as if you weren’t drooling over the lower half of his face, up to his cheekbones, already. 

Sticking to your inner thighs in an obscene drip! drip! drip!

It’s so shameful and you love it. 

And you love that you’re so cockdrunken that you aren’t even sure when you’re cumming - if you’re cumming. Whether those sudden crashes of pleasure were because of your nth orgasm tonight, or because of the way Gojo kisses you with another thwack!

Adrenaline and electricity coursing through your veins, ears thundering with your rapid pulse. Oh god, you never knew a heat could feel this good - this maddening. 

You moan, and he’s eagerly lapping up every sweet bead of slick you have to offer, like a man that hasn’t had an ounce of water in weeks. Brows furrowed, jaw sagging open-

“Shit shit shit-” he’s rasping out, and the very slide of his fingers across your skin sends waves of powerful jujutsu - somehow bunching at your clit just right. “M’cumming- m- m’still cumming fuck- won’t- stop-”

Just as soon as your orgasm is ending, Gojo’s is just starting. Like he’d been holding back on this from the moment he’d started eating out your overspilling pussy - happily. 

And exactly on time, too, because you barely even have the time to catch your breath before Gojo’s standing on his two unsteady feet. Just splitting you open on all of his red, raw inches - uncaring for your little mewls and those tears. 

Because you were sucking him up madly. 

Spearheading his swollen cock into you like he was trying to fuck another orgasm out of you. His strokes are long, harsh, showing off all the years of strength he built up boasting the title of the strongest. 

And this hastily put-together mating press has his cum just overspilling out of you by now, dribbling down in wet globs that made you wonder how much more he could fill you up. It seeps in a white circle underneath your ass, slicking you back and forth along the wood at each harsh ram. 

Again. And again. And again and again and-

“Made me this- hngh- this way, y’know?” he spits into your mouth - followed by a slurred string of swears. Every time his heftily smacking balls clench, you could feel the table creak under pressure. “Sat next to me with that fucking skirt- smelling so fucking- ngh- good- do you even know how delicious ya are?”

You can’t answer - because he’s back to squeezing in his staggering knot into you. Sparks exploding out from the corner of his scrunched-up eyes, forehead knocking into yours.

Gojo kisses you like he couldn’t get enough, letting you taste all the sin from just before. 

“Three weeks away, huh?” That accusatory little inflection in his words isn’t lost on you, only growing stronger and stronger as his staccato grows sloppier. “Have your- hah- heat in three weeks and fuck- I could just- smell it on you-”

It’s incredible. Sliding your frenzied bodies across on another, stinging with skin-on-skin and how your gooey walls constricted around him.

“Showing off in that scent and that skirt-” His eyes are almost bulging out of his head now, hips stuttering like just the very thought of that pile of fabric at the corner of the room drove him mad. “-fuck that skirt- always fuckin’ hated it. Hated how Nanami loves hngh- it. Made me lose fucking control a-and you know what?”

One of his hands curls around your throat now, the other taking hold of your left - kissing your ring finger pointedly. “I’ll do it all over again if it means I’d get to have ya like this, my mate.”

And just then he’s coating your melty insides in a creamy sheen, that overworked divot right at the end of his dick was firmly pressed up against your g-spot. Plugging you with his knot, and you swear you could see a little inflation forming where he was filling you to your limits. 

Cumming and cumming so hard it’s like he couldn’t stop - didn’t want to stop until his body practically forced him.

Gojo’s biting down hard exactly over those deep indents on your scent glands when his gushing spurts of seed turn into almost-painful blanks. 

Over and over, he’s cumming nothing. 

“L-love you, Toru-” you’re babbling out, reeling him in to peck the corners of his smirking mouth. 

Utterly fucked out of your mind enough that you don’t even register the loud boom! from somewhere in the distant grounds of Jujutsu Tech. Barely even care that the overpriced meeting table is now sagging on one side, just about in splinters. 

“Aww, m-my c-cockdrunk baby–” he titters shakily into your glossed-pout. “Love you, too, always have always- will-”  Patting the bulge on your stomach, before kissing you gently, “Ever since I th-threw ya into heat the ngh- first time ya met me.”

Oh. 

And later, you’ll learn that that almost-deafening boom was the generator for Jujutsu Tech, mysteriously bursting after a sudden spike in atomic pressure in the surrounding area. You’ll find out that every piece of furniture in the surrounding buildings had moved about six inches in your direction, and that the now-ruined table was an irreplaceable heirloom.

But for now, all you register is soft. 

Warm. 

With a gasp you realize you’re in a bedroom - Gojo’s bedroom.

“Did- did you teleport-”

“Mhm-” he pants, and in the dim lighting you could spot his leering grin. Satisfied. Pussydrunken. And you could feel his knot swell up hotly, halfway through to its previous size. 

You sputter, trying so desperately to find the words. Difficult, when Gojo still had you wrapped around his thick cock, all the way up to his fat, drenched base. Swiveling his cock in slow, sultry grinds for how much he couldn’t ram exactly how he wanted to right now. “Wh-why didn’t you do this before–?”

“Because-” he licks over his mating mark on you. “-wanted to show off what animals we were.” His grin grows wider, as does his tired cock. And that dangling blindfold around his neck ends up around your wrists, tying you up pliantly for him. “What animals we will be.”

---

Right now, all Nanami can think about is you you you- Yet,he doesn’t expect to see you for about the next week. Or, at least, that’s the hopeful side of him - knowing Gojo, and the state he’d left the meeting room in, he won’t see you again for a month. 

Possibly not walking.

Perhaps, that’s for the best. Looking down at his swollen, throbbing cock - one fist wrapped around its thick base, the other around his shaky phone, he clicks on that familiar app. 

Shit, his rut is near. Now, actually. 

Nanami sighs, it’s hard pretending not to be animals.

A/N. Was soooo giggling writing about how the table was some heirloom.

.

.

.

“Fuck-” Geto sighs between his clenched teeth, one hand gripping onto his scribbled sheets. The other runs through his hair until it’s all unruly. A few bystanders swoon- it almost makes him feel better. 

He’s pacing through the corridors of campus, solely because his bandmates had banned him from pacing inside the practice room. Long legs taking about five normal steps a stride, he absentmindedly nods at all the starstruck passerbys, the fans. 

Being in the midst of writing a new song usually does get him this way - for about a day. Two days. Maximum. 

But it’s been weeks and he hasn’t been able to jot even a single verse down, hasn’t scrambled together anything for the upcoming gig. Gojo said it was alright - that they could scrounge up something off the old EP - but Geto knew it rested on him, as lead guitarist, and vocalist. 

Imagine, an opening act with no fresh songs. 

If only he could just write—but what about? Heartbreak? Love? He’d rather write about Yaga.

“Fuck!” He spits again- just in time with your very own startled profanity. A pretty voice. 

A cute bump! before the two of you stumble backwards, colliding into each other. A plumage of papers burst into the air, and start showering the smooth tile below. Geto’s down at the mess and internally groaning; all those half-written, mostly-crossed songs mixed in with what looked like your lecture notes. Perfect.

Without looking up, he’s bending down to rifle through them, when-

“Oh, you’re in a band?”

“Yes?” Geto snaps his head up, somewhat shocked that you’re speaking to him, even though he knows he shouldn’t be. And then Geto Suguru - campus heartthrob, gets a laundry list of numbers after every concert, the untouchable - catches a glimpse of you and just…stares.

With his raven brows slightly raised, and the shapely curve of his mouth parting. Ever-so-slightly. 

“Hi.”

You have to fight back a smile, “Hi.” Was that seriously the red tint of a blush crawling across his handsome cheekbones?

Oh, he can’t stop staring.

It’s long enough that you’re clearing your throat, dropping your gaze as you pick up your own papers. “I should have probably started off with that. Sorry I uh- I just see you’ve been writing songs.”

“Trying to,” he huffs. Half-joking. 

And then the intricate metal of his ring brushes your own fingertips as you hand him one of his sheets; less song lyrics and more ugly caricatures of Nanami. He lingers the touch. It’s electric. 

It makes the forefront of his fingers twitch. Almost jolt. And they itch towards you as if trying to prolong the skin-to-skin contact, as if trying to hold onto a pen. 

It suddenly hits Geto - he needs to write. 

“Hey uh- do you have a- thank you.” His voice trails off as you catch his drift and quickly hand him a pen, Geto then rapidfire scrawls down a few words. Phrases. Not even entire sentences, just an explosion of feelings that pulsed like the thumping of his own heart. 

And then someone calls out his name - perhaps in greeting, perhaps in a yell to move off of the middle of the hallway - and his hand stops writing. Fuck- what was that? He looks at you again, and hands you back the pen, “I promise I’m not usually this unsmooth.” Holding out his hand for a handshake, your palm fits in his and he hears nothing but melodies in his head. “The name’s Geto, Geto Suguru. But you can call me Suguru, all my friends do. I’m in the band ‘Sorcerers.’”

You’re introducing yourself with your own name and he almost has the urge to write that down, too. Humming, “It’s alright, band stuff, I assume?”

“Band stuff.” You were walking with him now, side-by-side.

“Keyboard?”

“Guitar.” It made sense - the tattoos that crept all over his strong, beefy arms, those twinkling piercings. What didn’t make sense was just why he felt the need to show it all off for you; like the minutes before a big concert, his fingers trembled. But he grins, and it’s something devilish. “And vocals.”

Walking backwards now so that your gorgeous, gorgeous face can face him. You slow down your walk and he’s realizing that you’ve arrived at your class. 

He’s realizing that he just might not see you again.

And he wanted to see more of you.

A lot more of you. 

A few of your classmates throw the two of you looks as they pass, walking inside the class. Geto was a bit of a campus legend; and for as popular as he was, seeing him talk to someone outside of his band - especially during his song-writing blues - was rare. Exceptionally rare. 

So he bites the inside of his cheek, “Actually…you think you’d wanna see it in person sometime? Like—tonight?”

“Oh?”

.

.

.

“Man, a grown-ass man should not be giggling like that.”

“I would hate to remind you that you do nothing but giggle.”

“I’m just special like that, Nanamin~” Gojo winks at the blond-haired drummer, who makes to throw down his drumsticks before paying attention to the concert setlist instead. Anything but him.

Unfortunately, Gojo does not have that willpower and was entirely too invested in whatever had his best friend acting like a middle-schooler with a crush. Bright-eyed. Flush-faced. Glued to his phone since before rehearsal started. Skipping around the corners of the practise room—skipping, he swears.

He throws a wadded up ball of paper - yet another one of Geto’s failed lyrical attempts - at the back of his head. It hits. And he doesn’t even notice. 

Shoko herself looks up from her phone, “But in all honesty, what is up with you today?” 

“Did a new type of guitar drop or—” Gojo grumbles from his other guitar station, looking above the metal rim of his glasses. Yes, the ones he wore indoors. 

Geto pulls himself away from his glaring screen with a low, mindless, “Huh?”

“For fuck’s sake what’s got you so-”

“Hi, sorry- I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Just then, you walk in. Door opening; there’s no way you could’ve gotten in without invitation. And there’s no way you weren’t invited by Geto.

Because, immediately, your eyes meet his deep, amethyst ones. Like two ships at sail, you’re beaming a smile at all of them - but the brightest one for him. Going to stand at his side as he plunges his phone back in his trousers. And then he gets it.

Oh, they get it.

Nanami blinks.

Haibara waves.

Shoko takes a picture (with flash, of course.)

Gojo whistles.

And then Gojo promptly gets smacked upside the head - by two different hands, two different people. Geto makes a note of wiping off his palm before introducing the rotation of amateur musicians and visitors to each other. 

“Now what she’s really here for isn’t your dumbasses.” He’s rolling his eyes, pulling on the lightning purple guitar of his. “It’s for the music-” He tilts his head with a smile, “-and me.”

You were here for a few demonstrations, after bumping into Geto and exchanging numbers - to which they gladly pump out the best of their best for a pretty girl. Hell, Geto thinks he even sees Nanami and Shoko putting in a lil’ extra effort, and can’t help but strum even louder. 

Letting the electric twang of his guitar take over.

It still rings in the air after they finish a runthrough of their first three songs. And you’re clapping fervently by the end of it. 

“That was amazing.”

“Why thank you, sweetheart-”

“Why thank you, gorgeous.” Geto quickly takes over, silently glaring at Gojo to leave. He gets the message - albeit reluctantly, and soon enough is being dragged by Nanami, Haibara, and Shoko out for some fresh air and a brief break outside the room.

Leaving the two of you alone.

“So…”

“So.” Geto’s scratching behind his neck, where there was a massive inky tattoo of a dragon. Snaking. Fuck- when has he ever had this much trouble talking to…well, anyone, really?

And he’s clearing his throat, not letting the silence drag out for much longer before the thick fabric of his guitar strap loops over your own neck. Safely swaddled. You’re looking up at him with such adorable confusion as he snickers, “Wanna learn how to play?”

“Hell yeah.” And before long your fingers are twisting over a few chords - tangling. He’s attempting to teach you about the G chord and the E major, and you’re attempting not to fall to your knees. 

After a few unsuccessful tries, he’s catching onto your desperation and gesturing for you to sit on the carpeted floor. Perhaps to teach you hands-on, perhaps to make you relax- but whatever it was, you certainly didn’t expect him to sidle up behind you.

For his toned pecs to press up against your shoulders, you could hear Geto’s gravelly breath graze the shell of your ear. He leans over, his lengthy hair tickling your neck. “Like…” Much larger hands covering yours, “-this.”

And then he’s just so gentle.

You’re not sure what exactly you expected, but he holds your hands in his like glass. Oh-so-softly helping your fingerpads prick at the strings of his guitar, “S’easier this way.”

“Yeah–” you’re breathing out, practically in his lap with the way that his long legs were curling underneath yours, nowhere to go. And his tone core presses against your back, weight leaning slightly on you so that he can see what you do. 

You don’t know what you’re doing.

You grin once your hapless chords actually start to formulate into something that sounds like it’s part of a song. Something slow. Almost sensual. “It’s beautiful- what song is this, I don’t think it’s one you played?”

“Because it’s not.” He’s purring from behind, piercing catching the light as he grins. “You really like it~?”

Something was dripping darkness in his voice, and your breath catches. “Y-yes.” He was taking over completely. Guiding your hands with his experienced ones, they slide looooong and slow down the neck of the guitar. 

From the back of Geto’s throat, he’s murmuring a barely-audible few words. “Come and get it now. Come and get it now.” Lowered eyes gliding in a feline manner to you, “Baby show me what you’re doing- hm.”

You snap out of your little bubble as he stops abruptly.

Looking somewhat sheepish, “It’s a work in progress.”

“I think it might be my favorite already.” You admit. And you don’t know whether it’s your imagination - you don’t know whether you’re projecting - but you could’ve sworn that his heat does a thunderous ba-dump–! from where his chest was plastered to your body from behind. 

You’re yelping, jostled as he pulls you in even closer. “That so? Maybe you can help me write it then?”

“Me?” You balk, “How-”

The plump end of his lips curl, sinfully. It was almost unfair how he could look so attractive without even trying- “Just by sitting there. Just by being here. It helps.”

“By being here with you?”

“Being here with me.” Confirming. And by the way he was gazing upon you through his peripheral vision, fingerpads still tracing your digits, your knuckles, even though you weren’t playing anything. “S’that a problem?”

You find it hard to swallow. “Not at all.”

Close.

You two were too close.

And that wouldn’t have been a problem if you were moving away—but the fact of the matter is that you were moving closer. Your lashes flutter, and his own dilated pupils alternate in a triangle between your right eye, your left eye, your mouth.

Closer.

Until-

“I’m coming in and you two better not be fucking in there- ouch! What was that for Nanamin?”

“You’re a bad wingman, Gojo-senpai.”

“Sorry, Haibara.”

Before the Sorcerers can bustle their way through those soundproof walls once more, you’re hastily scrambling off of Geto’s lap. For now.

.

.

.

“I heard you’ve tamed the cult leader of Tokyo Tech-”

“The who?” You squint at Utahime, trying to figure out whether she was simply trying to raise your blood pressure so early in the morning. No. She was dead serious.

“No need to hide it, Shoko already told me everything. So- about the cult leader of Tokyo Tech?” she repeats, as if that was enough. And when you look dangerously close to an aneurysm, she’s sighing. “Geto Suguru? Tall, tattoos, piercings, dark hair, devastatingly hot- you know who I’m talking about, I can see you fantasizing about him already.”

“I’m not fantasizing.” You’re insisting, though it sounds as if you’ve been caught. Any louder and Yaga would give up on glaring at the two of you, and instead send you out of the lecture completely. Only just started, but already the gossip was hot in class. 

You just couldn’t believe it was about you and him.

With your pitch slightly back to normal, you try to sound as civilized as possible as you say, “I am not fantasizing. Nor will I ever.”

Utahime puts her face in her open hand and shakes her head, “Right. Nor will you ever. So that means you completely, totally wouldn’t fantasize about him walking into this class right now and sweeping you off of your feet?”

Well, you had to admit that class was getting a bit droning…but you had to stick to your claim. It was the principle of it. “Correct.”

“And so that means you completely, totally wouldn’t care about the fact that he just did walk into this class?”

“Corre- what?” Your desk rattles, just a little bit, as you turn your body around to face the entrance. And you find that Utahime hadn’t been lying: not the part about him coming to class, or the part about him being ‘devastatingly hot’ from prior.

He saunters in with such confidence, Yaga himself doesn’t point out that he’s just about fifteen minutes late. And he stands at the foot of the lecture hall, eyes scanning the seat and- you don’t think you’ve moved faster in your life than at that very moment. You’re throwing both yours and Utahime’s bags onto the floor from where they’d been placed on the empty seat beside you.

Ignoring her half-hearted ‘hey!’ you let Geto spot you. Like his eyes were drawn to you. 

It’s then that you’re noticing he’s wearing glasses. You think he should wear them more often.

And he’s gladly taking the seat, his dark, skin-tight arm-cut pressing against your side. “Thanks, gorgeous.” Noticing all the stares, perhaps even a few whispers that erupt. He leans in real close to mutter in your ear, “They’re just jealous.”

Somewhere in the distance, you think you hear your friend gag. After some brief introductions, you ponder, “I didn’t know you were in this class.”

“Never attended.” He slumps in his chair, making himself look almost too lanky for it, almost too big. In front of you, you think you see Yaga’s bushy brows raise at the interaction - and the fact that Geto Suguru was actually here. “Yaga doesn’t count it. Only reason I’m topping the class—” He smiles, showing off his lip piercing. And if you didn’t know any better, you swear you could see that he had a tongue piercing, as well. “-second place.”

“Braggart.”

“Sore loser.”

“Nerd.”

“That I am,” he chuckles. Geto shuffles through his backpack, patch-worked with various pins and decorations of bands—you think you can make out Green Day, Nirvana, The Garden, and a few more that he’s more than happy to show off. 

What he pulls out isn’t his laptop, or a textbook of any kind - it’s his lyrics notebook. And he spreads it open between the two of you, to a page with a few half-written verses. 

Met each other just the other day.

But you got me feeling some type of way.

And then past an empty space where you assume he wanted to add in some more:

I wanna hear you…

I wanna see you…

With your own pencil, you’re making a few tweaks. You finish off that second-last sentence that he seemed to be stuck on—I wanna hear you confess. 

Geto’s pearly white teeth sink into his bottom lip, and he toys with the chunky rings on his fingers for a few seconds. You’re unsure if that meant he was hesitating. If that meant he was thinking. Considering.

Before he leans over and finishes the other line—I wanna see you undress now.

Something zips down your spine, your thighs clench- and you find that he follows them with his own. Bumping his knee against yours. And you push right back against his, following the quiet scritch-scratch of his graphite starting to jot down a few more lyrics.

You got me down on my knees.

It’s getting harder to breathe out.

You always did seem to pull that out of him.

Utahime pinches you as the two of you continue, whispering in your ear so that only you could hear. “What was that about not fantasizing?”

“Shut up.”

.

.

.

A party.

An open bar. 

And the thrumming music.

But you and Geto weren’t anywhere near the dance floor, or the lengthy drinks table, or where the couples sneak off to make out- actually, scratch that. Because you two might just be occupying a lil’ alcove in Gojo and Geto’s penthouse apartment.

With the heady college party raging around you two - one that the band had been the one to invite you to - somehow, you’d found yourself with him. Shoulders against shoulders. Skin against skin. Your hands brushing against his when you pick up the pen from his hands–

“Oh, I like this one better than the last-” You circle the lyric that he’d just jotted down, with a few notes of your own that he always loved to read. Something about ‘churning his gears’, whatever that meant. He was almost done with the song now, it seemed. 

“Mmm, that’s what I was thinking.” He hums, thoughtfully, dark bangs falling across his face. It was no wonder that half the party was split between waltzing past the alcove merely to get a glimpse of him.

And the other half was on the other side of the penthouse, out of pure shyness. 

The thick pads of his fingers scratch out some more writing on his notepad, messy and masculine. His rings glint as he’s scrawling, “If I can figure…it out. I’d take you…back to my house and—” He halts, unsure how the rest of that sentence would go. With his tongue still rolling on those words, he’s glancing at you sidelong.

As you tilt your head in confusion, he’s smirking. “No, s’just funny. You’re already in my house.”

“Mhm, and what are you suggesting?” You raise a brow.

“Ohhh, nothing. Just the song.” And he raises one right back, teasingly. His cherry-vodka laced breath wafting across your features, “And what are you suggesting, gorgeous?”

“Nothing, just the song.”

“Are you sure?” He’s tilting his head down at you, even in the cramped space he somehow seemed to tower over you with his hulking frame. Sheer size. And his deltoid pushes against the side of your body, “You’re awfully close, y’know?” The way that he was leaning even closer. 

And you can only sputter at his audacity- “Are you sure?”

“Oi! You two—” Gojo Satoru always did seem to have a penchant for interruptions. You don’t know if you’re maddened by it or grateful- the air was thick, and you couldn’t seem to breathe as well as you might have. 

Directly in front of you, from the other side of the room right opposite, Gojo’s waving his hand frantically. His booming voice echoing all across the house, “Stop flirtin’ in there and take a shot!”

Oh, you could imagine the rumors that were taking root already.

Geto flips him off. With a deadpan expression that told his best friend that he’d be staying here with his work (and you, mostly just for you), thank you very much.

Gojo trills, “We’re doing body shots~”

“Let’s go, gorgeous.” Instantly, he looks at you.

“Wha- huh?” You don’t know whether you’ve sustained whiplash by how fast he’s changed his mind, or by how fast he’s moving. With his fingers smoothly replacing the pen in your hands with his own set of digits—big n’ warm.

Geto holds both his lyrical notebook and you as close as possible as he’s meandering through the party. Through the slightly taken-aback gasps, the flirtatious waves, and the grinding bodies. 

Gojo looks smugly accomplished by the time you’re making it through the whirlwind party in the middle to reach their table of alcohol. There’s a small group forming now already, cheering on the reunion of the main duo. 

Geto looks at him, and there’s a small flicker of understanding that passes. Invisible but existing.

“You two go first-” The white-haired man then thrusts one full shot glass of tequila into Geto’s hands- then immediately grabs ahold of you and cricks your head side to tap out a line of salt down the column of your throat. A wedge of lime between your teeth, pulp side out. Without any adhesive surface, it was messy, scattering nearly up to your jawline. It tingles on your skin once you realize just what was about to happen.

As Geto’s mouth tightens at Gojo’s rough handling of you, the other finishes off. “-I’ve gotta find Nanamin first so he can do one with me.”

Shoko groans. “You’re a lightweight.”

“Exactly.”

“Kento ran out of the building I believe, senpai.” Haibara beams.

And as Gojo whines his protests, Geto can only shake his head- partially because of his band’s antics, partially to clear his fuzzy brain because of you.

You. You. You.

Oh, what gave you the right to present that sensual neck up at him like that? Your teeth worrying your lower lip as if you were nervous. He catches the way your gaze slightly tracks towards the cat-calling crowd, and one roughened hand of his cups your cheek.

Tilting your face ever-so-carefully to look at him instead of the audience.

His pinkish tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he leans in close- as if he was going to whisper something. As if he was going to kiss you.

Before Geto immediately downs the acrid liquid in the glass, barely even reacting. Barely even finishing his swallow before his long, flexible tongue glides up the salt lining your throat. And then where he didn’t hesitate before, didn’t even slow down: he takes a look at the sour lime between your lips and grins.

Slowly, agonizingly.

He’s moving his greedy maw forwards, the plump edges of his mouth hovering above your own. You feel the pressure on the lime as he lightly sucks—and as your knees weaken, he’s easily taking it into his own mouth.

With just the lightest graze of his lips on your lips.

An indirect kiss? A direct kiss? You didn’t even know at this point.

Geto stares at you through his wispy bangs, dead-straight in your widened eyes when he sucks on the lime. Easily ridding it of all juice, he takes it out. 

Then, like a gentleman, the fat crown of his thumb wipes away the stray salt that dusts your jawline. Somewhere near the edge of your lips that you’re sure wasn’t coated in salt at all. But you weren’t complaining.

Your ears were ringing, and only too late do you realize that the half-drunk students around you were in uproar. Gasping. Fanning. Staring. 

Gojo himself gapes slightly speechless. 

“Meddle about.”

“What?” You startle, it had been thick silence in your little bubble until now–like an extension of the alcove. But Geto was the first to break it.

He’s smiling down at you like he knew something you didn’t, then taps the song notebook in your hands- when did it even get in your hands? “If I could figure it out-” Smoky breaths, like he’d just run a marathon. Pants. Heaves. His eyes draaaag down your body, that special outfit you’d put on just for the party. “-I’d take you back to my house, so we can meddle about.”

Oh.

Oh.

It takes you far too long to recognize he’s talking about the song. The song.

Even if he’s looking at you in a way that shows otherwise.

“Just get a room- honestly-” Gojo whines, but then promptly turns to Shoko. “Tell me you got that on camera- please tell me you got that on camera.”

“I did.”

It was palpable. To just about everyone in the room—including a gruff Nanami Kento who walks back in after a few urgent calls from Haibara, then immediately blanches as he looks around the room. At the two of you.

He turns to run.

And as the three others turn to run as well (towards Nanami, in order to catch him), you turn to Geto- only to find that he’s already looking at you. He takes a long lick of his lower lip, lapping up the remnants of liquor. Something glinting in his dark eyes, as if he was trying to figure something out.

Something.

.

.

.

“Hey, let me try something.”

It was the day of their concert, just before. And you’re looking on in slight confusion as Geto taps away the last few notes of his rehearsal, in the green room. The other quartet had slipped out for last-minute drinks beforehand, it was a somewhat dingy hole-in-the-wall bar, but Geto had told you that the music here was legendary.

You trusted him. So you don’t question it either when he’s dragging you by the hand to sit upon one of the big, boxy speakers they kept in the corner of the room.

Making sure the cable connection with his electric guitar was alright- before he strums.

You gasp—the vibrations were tingling all the way at the tip of your feet, and up to the very crown of your scalp. And everywhere in-between. Especially between your legs.

You gape, and Geto snickers like he knew exactly what you were thinking. He hums, low in the aftermath of the guitar screech. “Pretty nice, huh? D’you wanna sit on one of those while we play up there?”

“A-are you sure?” Could you even handle that?

“Mhm. And I think it’ll help to have you so close, too- when we play our new song.” He’s helping you hop off the speaker and stand on your slightly wobbly legs. Arm still helping support you as you teeter your way towards the green room sofa. 

It was covered in a blanket of parchment. Sheet music, papers, lyrics.

As you silently look through all the different versions of that song he’d been writing, Geto sits beside you. Arms against arms. Thighs against thighs. Bodies against bodies. Shuffling through all these papers, it almost reminds you of the day you met.

“So many rewrites,” you giggle. Looking through all the infinite crosses and scratches on the papers as he wrote, and rewrote, and rewrote. All day and all night, it seemed. And yet he’s found that everything, words especially, just seem to flow easier around you.

“I wrote it for you.” His dark lashes lower, confessing. “They’re all for you.”

Your heart races- a part of you expected it. A part of you still can’t believe it. “You did?”

“Yeah.” He turns to face you, properly, now. With his predatory gaze making a beeline for your mouth, “S’that a problem?”

“Yeah.” You swallow, “And I like it.”

And then your back’s splayed out across the couch, draped all over Geto’s toned front. He’s got one of his knees wedged between your thighs, and you’re yelping at the sudden movement.

You were just so cute- he’d barely even done anything, and yet you were starting to drench those poor panties of yours already. If he grinded his knee any harder, then he’s sure he’d have a splotchy dark spot that all the audiences would see once he’s up on that stage.

But right now, he didn’t care.

Not at all.

One tattooed hand of his pins down two of yours somewhere by the armrest of the couch.

And your cunt twitches when his face starts looming closer. The shimmering tip of his tongue toying with his lip piercing for a few seconds. Eyes partly-closed to watch you through his lashes, and his mouth greedy to taste yours. He throatily whispers, “I think I just finished the entire song right now, gorgeous.”

Like this, you’re raising your head to meet Geto halfway with a whine. Fluttering your gaze shut as you ready yourself to kiss him—

“Hey, d’you wanna shot before we head ou- ohohoh?!”

“Oh.”

“Congratulations, Geto senpai!”

Nanami leaves, the only one out of the four that seemed to have some inkling of respect for your privacy. Though, to be fair, this was the common green room. And as you try your very best to block out Gojo’s screeches, and Shoko’s constantly shuttering camera, Geto dips down. 

Not to kiss you - not right now - but rather, to whisper in your ear. “After the show, m’gonna take you back to my house so we could meddle about.”

.

.

.

After that, it wasn’t just meddling about. 

Hell, after that, the two of you didn’t even make it to his damn penthouse. 

The minute the concert was over to roaring cheers and quite a few bras thrown on-stage- Geto’s meaningful eyes had locked straight with yours. Seated upon the speaker, and dripping wet from what he could tell from your face. 

He doesn’t think he even debriefed with the band or said his goodbyes. 

Just a hand on your wrist, the other on your waist. Attached meanly so that he can give the side of your ass a good smack- Geto’s pushing you into the back of his 2018 jet-black Dodge Demon, parked outside the dingy bar. Thank fuck he didn’t decide to take the bike today.

Slamming you into the leather backseats, pinning your hips down.

You’re fucking them back into him already, just as he cups your drivelling pussy through your panties. Whining, “P-please, Suguru. Don’t tease.”

“Fuck-” He’s hissing, taking his hand off of your cute cunt as if it burned. And it did - not to have you in his mouth and around his fingers, that is. First, he’s letting his dark leather jacket drop to the floor, right along with his undershirt. 

And you take the time to admire how sexy he was.

From the detailed tattoos that trickled down his neck, to the dragon on his back, to the side of his hip that was decorated with one of a sting-ray. Right on his v-line. 

Then he’s moving to take off his fat, silver rings—but you stop him right there. And the look on your face must say enough for you, because just then you’re seeing his features split with such a brilliant smile. Oh, he knew what you wanted. Geto huskily spits, “Alright then, naughty girl. So take it.”

You’re letting off a sudden yelp once he plunges his cold, ringed fingers between your spit-slicked lips. 

He’s swabbin’ them all around like an animal, letting your maw suck on him like your favorite lolly. And, fuck, he can’t lie- watching you drool and whine around him like this might just be the hottest thing he’s ever seen. 

With two glittering rivers of spit dripping down either side of your mouth, you’re moaning once you catch sight of his hand snaking down to his pants. “Mmm, gorgeous, I wanna make you sing.” With only one hand, he’s undoing his chunky belt and the rest of his buttons. 

He looks you right in the eyes - not even the slightest bit shy - as he pushes down his dark pants so that you can see the bulging outline of Geto’s erection through his boxers. Rock-hard. 

And just as you gasp—his fingers reel back from your slobbery mouth, and slightly teases down your slit. You gush with the drag of his thick thumb, all around him till his wrist was all wet with sweet syrup. 

You hold onto his flexing shoulders, “O-oh.” Your hips rutting directly into his hands. 

“Oh- oh, gorgeous.” Geto doesn’t even want to speak too loud, not when your pussy was echoing out the most lewd squelches. “She’s reeeeeally happy to see me, huh? Haven’t had a warm welcome this nice since- ever.” His fingers swirl ‘round your tight hole and watches as you just keep on pushing out wave upon wave of your juices. Swirl upon swirl.

Until his digits were just so glazed in all your cream that he couldn’t help but carnally yearn for a little taste. Just a little - you can’t blame him.

Glistening rivulets of slick travel down his pale forearm as he lifts his hand up- you were just that wet for him. And then Geto sucks—then his eyes widen. Then he pants. Then he almost flinches at just how cloyingly good you tasted on his savoring tongue.

Looking you right in your eyes, Geto licks up every last drop from his fingers. And he gusts out the most primal slurps as he does so. 

“Oh, gorgeous,” he’s repeating, like before. But there was something different this time. Something faintly…wrecked. As the last few dollops of slick disappear down his throat, he groans. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, “Oh, fuck- that’s not enough.”

It all happens at once. All of a sudden, he’s on his knees on the floor of the backseat. Knees digging into the carpet below, your upper half being more or less propped up on the cushion. 

It’s giving you whiplash how fast it happens, and you’re staring at Geto in slight shock at his strength. To which he catches your cute, bulged gaze and answers, “M’not playing around anymore, gorgeous.”

Skirt, panties—everything is torn off of you with only one of his hands. That lacy lil’ underwear of yours in particular catching his interest. He makes sure to put it in his back pocket - then turns on the backseat light. Uncaring, because his windows were tinted pitch black.

Right now he just smears apart your pussylips with his two thumbs. He’s never seen a prettier fuckin’ sight; how glittering and wet you were, with your folds so swollen that it looked like you were pouting up at him.

Geto plants one sweet lil’ peck right in the middle of your cunt and lingers, just smelling the sugary whiff of your body wash. And that primal scent of your pussy—

“Mmm, y’know what they say about guitarists?” He’s murmuring wetly, right against your sex so that you’ll squirm all cutely. 

“Wh-what?” You puff out, a heady breath.

He doesn’t answer- that’s because your wettened pussy is answering for you. With a great, upheaving squeeeeelch he’s sinking inside his lengthy tongue. Past your folds n’ all the way to spearhead into your gooey insides. Muffled, “That.”

It’s barely even registering in your mind, because then Geto’s thrusting his ridged tastebuds in n’ out like he’s gone insane.

In and out, in and out.

With such vulgarity, he’s pressing himself nose-deep against your cunt and breathing you in. Letting the sharp edge of his nose just press on your clit, Geto’s jaw works overtime to prod his bludgeoning tongue. 

Slapping against the roof of your pussy, he’s prolonging his muscle into spots you didn’t even know you had. “Oh my n-ngh, fuck!” And so thick, just stretching out your damp hole until you see white.

You gurgle on your own spittle at the sloppy drags of his tastebuds, and pathetically attempt to push back on his clammy scalp. “W-wait, I can feel a- ngh, don’t tell me you really have a…”

“Have a what, gorgeous?” Just to tease you, Geto jerks his head back- letting his tongue flop out of your pussy for just a second. And you’re missing his size inside you, but most of all you’re awestruck by the cold metal piercing right in the middle of his pink tongue.

And he was proudly stuffing it straightly back into your entrance, this time spitting. He smears the line of saliva that glues to your sultry folds, “A piercing- yeah. S’that a problem?”

“N-no…” Your head starts to drop backwards at the sudden usage of his piercing now. You could feel that circular orb poke into your soft innards, like a cold finger almost. You’ve never felt anything like this. “I like it- oh! I like it, I really do—”

“Mhm, glad we cleared that up, baby.” Geto purrs, and he lightly smacks the front of your pussy in adoration. Watching as specks of pearly slick spurt all over his hand, “Now, how about this?”

Before you know it, he’s squeezing in the crowned tip of his finger past your hole - two of them, in fact. And your elastic entrance stretches with the most rawly wet noises, ones that he leans his ear closer to hear even better. Even louder.

Geto snickers meanly once one of his rings catch on your snug hole, and you flinch. “There we go-” He eases them in with repeated pumps, “Theeere we go. Hah, told you I wanted to make this pretty lady sing.”

“Fuh-fuuuuck, I can’t help it, ngh.” Your entire body breaks out in trembles, and the bottom one of your lips starts wobbling.

Oh, he could write songs- fuck that, he could write an entire album about you at this very moment.

But right now, he had more important things to do. Namely: you. And Geto plucks apart your sticky folds to take a good, long look at your cunt swallowin’ in his fingers. Push after push. Probe after probe.

The knobbly, scouring ends of his fingers delve in deep and send you spiralling. “You don’t need to mmm, help it, gorgeous.” He’s continuing where your conversation had trailed off. “You just need to…”

And he’s gulping wet wads of saliva that just slide down his throat. 

His thick Adam’s apple bobbing, Geto’s flaring his nostrils- making sure to focus his entire aim on exactly hitting that one spot he knew you’d love. That one spot he’s thrusting in with a rough jackhammer and pushing—“-to project.”

And you were projecting that pretty voice alright.

You’re screaming almost feverishly at the sensation of him scraping your inner lining, your walls cling onto him maddeningly. Gobbling him up as he hits your g-spot at a frenzied pace - once, twice, thrice. 

“Please-” Babbling out stupidly, tears cascade down your cheeks when he manages to shove your wet orifice apart. You’re drip-drip-driiiiping gummy wetness once he pushes in a second fat fingertip, the globular edge of his swipin’ each nook n’ cranny of your cunt. “Please please please- I need ngh-”

“Yeahhh, who do you need, gorgeous?”

“Y-you…”

Geto cups his ear with a mocking smile, and he’s crushing your throbbing clit between his front teeth. Just gnawing. “Mhmmm—?”

“You-” You’re sobbing out - squealing. Your back hits the seat of the cushion as you slump over, and he’s forced to push down on your stomach with one hand just to stop you from rovering about. Pinning you down.

“Babyyyy, you know I love to hear your- hah, voice.” He’s drawling out, and his words were just as sloppy as his mouth. Just salivating all over. “I have a feeling you can be louder though.”

“Sugu-”

“Louder~”

Putting all the pressure on your lower body when he sliiiiides every inch of his long, knobbly fingertips inside. The doughy pads of them push into your g-spot just right, until you felt all battered n’ bruised by him. “Please- you- ngh, you, Suguru.”

“There- what did I tell you. Fuck, I wish I could h-have this on speaker.” Groaning. Panting. “Yeahhhh, you like that, huh? Want my tongue, t-too? Oh.”

But then you’re clasping his sweaty forehead and shoving him down between your legs. Where his curving tongue was sloppily zig-zagging all over, and you’re trilling. “K-keep going, mmm.” Cock twitching. Rutting so hard that his damned muscle car jostles.

He couldn’t even catch his breath - and he didn’t want to. “Well, I hafta make it up to my muse in some way, yeah?”

His tongue is so expert, too. You’re easily getting louder - even more than you first thought possible. Partly because of the way his pierced tongue was resting on your overstimulated nub. Flicking your ruddied clit until it felt all raw, again n’ again—you were so far gone by this point that Geto can feel each pulse of your hot core on his mouth.

And he counts it - one, two, three, four. Like the beat of his favorite melody- fuuuuck, he was so pussydrunk right now that he might just memorize it and write it as the next beat of his song. 

“Y-you’d- hck! what?” You’re hiccuping in pure disbelief, unsure if those words had actually (accidentally) fallen from Geto’s mouth, or if he was makin’ out with your cunt so good that you were hearing things. You wouldn’t be surprised.

“Exactly what I jus’ said.”

And Geto isn’t, either. 

Of course, he was bound to be fucking stupid on the sultry taste of your pussy. Especially when you were streaming out wet ribbons of slick with each rovering push of his fingers. 

He vulgarly wets his lips a lil’ in the liquid leaking out, and then promptly plops his open mouth over your sopping hole. Geto had lapped up all the slick stuck to your folds, your thighs, your clit - now the one place left was inside. 

And he was still hungry.

His pierced lip draaaaagging over your quivering orifice, Geto starts to push his tongue in eagerly. Uncaring for the way he was already barreling his fingers inside. Uncaring of the absolutely incredible stretch that was making your back arch. 

N’ he’s so dexterous. Alternating between wet whacks! at the front channel of your walls, and then licking over your clit. He was plastered to your pussy in a way that felt maddening- “Sh-shit, I don’t think m’gonna last, Sugu—”

“Sugu, huh?” He raises a neat brow at the nickname, “I like that.”

And if it was possible, his narrowed strikes are accelerating. More honed, more precise to your g-spot, it’s like a cute lil’ bullseye that he can’t stop hitting. All because it makes you shake and whine like that. 

“Mmm, yeah, just like that. C’mon, gorgeous girl- come and get it-” Geto gruffs now, the back of his throat all hoarse. His baritone voice was on the verge of breaking at this point. “Ride my mouth, would you?”

You’re whimpering, because Geto’s then opening his pretty mouth even wider for you to ride him - but you’re so weak. 

Your limp knees struggling to keep on rutting- only for Geto to then shift a free hand underneath you. 

Feeling all his firm biceps n’ muscles bulge as he keeps you up, just so strong- fuck, was it all those guitar sessions? He gurgles out, “Upsy daisy. Lemme help you cum, baby.” Dragging; he’s just moving you like a ragdoll, push and pull of his slippery tongue. 

Just babbling nonsensical syllables. 

And he’s gluing his upper lip to your clit, to your folds, to your weepy hole. Everywhere and anywhere that you’ll be feeling the most pleasure, then he’s twirlin’ the pointed tip of his tongue inside like he’s reaching for your g-spot with that.

Like he’s fucking you with his cock. Craving to. 

Again and again, it makes you squirm.

Your syrupy goodness starts to drip down his forearm at the sheer pressure, showing him that you’re close. And with each bash of his three fingertip circumferences, Geto grunts. “Lemme help you- let me- ngh, you have to cum, okay? Cum alllll over my tongue.”

“Yes-” Being moved. And soon enough, with a few more vicious thwacks! your mouth hangs open in a silent scream. “S-Sugu, I’m…”

It’s the only thing you’re able to intone at the moment. The only thing that you can even think of - your heavy orgasm. You’re being manhandled, with your hips gyrated onto his face through every burst of pleasure. 

Somehow, you start to wonder whether he doesn’t need to breathe.

And he’s the one who doesn’t care about it. Doesn’t even care if he suffocates just as long as his mouth can remain plastered onto your pussy. Eating you out till he’s feeling dizzy.

And you? You’re seeing white, before it’s a kaleidoscope of color because of the tears.

You hiccup, your chin dropping down to your chest to stare at him through comically swirling pupils. Practically heart-eyes at this point. “Ngh, it feels so g-good, Sugu-” Your thighs start to twitch, feeling his orbed piercing spank down on your clit. Your very own tastebuds water at the stinging euphoria, the way he was scraping your innards. “M’so sensitive.”

“Mhm, and you’re not tapping out now,” he’s challenging. Looking up at you through shaggy bangs, Geto grins around your thoroughly puffy folds. “Because my throat is parched after the concert.”

You squeeze, so hard that he can feel his rings pushin’ against your sultry walls. Oh, he won’t be giving up so easily.

And by the time that Geto’s popping himself off of your treacly cunt - with a wet noise, with a few more kisses to your silvery slope, with a final bite on your clit - you’re run rightly ragged. You can barely even speak, occasionally tremoring at the shockwaves still bubbling through your veins. 

“P-please—” You’re running your fingers tenderly through his dark locks, pushing them away from his face. And luckily for you, what a sight it was. 

Because Geto’s high cheekbones were just cherry red in color from all the blushing and lack of air. From the way he was so pussydrunk on your cunt that it was starting to make him look oh-so-ruined. Eyelids heavy. Lips swollen. 

He had a sheen of your slick splashed from his pointed chin, all the way up his cheeks. His jawline. And his lengthy tongue pops out once more to stretch n’ lick up those clingy wads. Making sure you see.

Bit by bit, your mouth grows more agape. “Please, I wan’ your cock now, Sugu…” And you wanted it badly - that glimpse from before was enough to get you all antsy on his seat.

Slowly, sensually, Geto reaches out his fat thumb - the one from his left hand, that wasn’t covered in your shiny juices - and wipes off the slobber trickling from one end of your mouth. Putting it in his own maw, he sucks it up like he sucks up the slick all over his other set of digits. 

“Anything you say, my muse.”

He sounded husky, even more so than after the concert.

And you barely even have the time to touch whatever was left of the rest of your clothes - before Geto gently repositions your hands away and onto hold his slim waist. He undresses you himself, as if he was opening up a cute lil’ present.

Then he’s patting a thumb down onto the hem of his boxers, where black curls of his happy trail rested. Teasing. 

“Don’t tease.” You have half the mind to take them off yourself. Before Geto finally puts you out of your needy misery, and rids himself of those boxers.

And you were right - his bulging dick-print was huge, but the real thing was even more massive. 

And hard. Rock-fucking-hard. Geto’s plump, puckered cockhead was a bright red that looked angry, and he was flushed all the way down to his heavy balls. All twitchin’ and tight at the thought of being inside you. 

Hell, you swear you could even count the mere throbs of his veins, so far-gone that they seemed to make his decorated cock twitch in midair. But what you were gazing at the most wasn’t all of that - even though it did catch your eye - it was the small, circular piercing that rested underneath the slit of his tip. A Prince Albert’s piercing. 

Geto’s feeling the intensity of your stare and and leaks out a wad of buttery precum, a few droplets of it making it down his shaft. He wipes away the rest of it with the front pad of his thumb, and then pushes it between your gawking lips. “Shut that hah, pretty mouth, gorgeous, don’t wanna catch flies.”

You moan at the slightly salty taste, and it only makes your cunt grow even wetter. Only made you lean in even closer without even realizing - and Geto lets it happen.

He lets your pouty mouth slip all the way across his furiously weeping tip, pressing just one wet kiss in hello before a hand at your throat wrenches you away. “Don’t even worry about it, baby—” He uses his chokehold on you to lift you up.

To flip you around and then smack the side of your asscheeks. You were on all fours now, with him pressing his muscular weight into your arched spine.

Geto gutturally groans out in your ear, “Tonight’s—” And you feel something poke at your entrance. You feel something hard. “-allll about you.”

He rests a hand on the side of your hips, attaching, and then uses the force to drag you back into him. All filling up your gooey orifices with his erection, he’s squeezing himself inside like he’s gone feral. 

Oh, he’s squeezing himself inside like he’s trying to make you feral.

That flared, mushroomy tip of his pryin’ apart your sticky walls, Geto uses his honed shaft to push n’ push n’ push. Too big to completely bottom out for now, but still making your mind spin with rapid, hard half-thrusts. You whine, “Oh- oh!” Voice reaching a fever point. “Please, a-all the way in, Sugu.”

“Mmm, want it all the way ngh, in, huh?” Doing the exact opposite, Geto then slows. He then stops. His cute, orbed piercing rubbin’ the roof of your cunt frigidly back and forth. Ever-so-slightly. Teasingly. 

It’s only once you start huffing and puffing in disappointment that he’s chuckling, thinking that delirious expression was just too adorable on you. And in a low bass, Geto purrs out. “Come and get it now.”

“You’re not seriously–”

“I am, show me how you do it-” His hand on your throat twists your face backwards - all tear-stained and fighting the urge to let your eyes roll to the back of your scalp. The moment he catches sight of your face properly, you feel his blistering hot cock twitch inside you. “-fuck, turn around.”

And he was urging you to fuck your hips back into his. Goading you into it, practically.

Firstly, you start off with a few tentative bounces. Just gyrating your hips, almost shy of his size. “L-like this?”

“Nuh uh, baby.” He’s tutting from behind, other hand scraping down your tummy. He wants to feel himself as he sinks in. “You n’ I both know that you can do muuuch better than that.” And even though he wasn’t moving, his cock seemed to be growing even bigger. Swelling. Elongating.

One of his curly veins rub up near your g-spot and you trill, “But you’re just so…”

“So?”

The most shallow, wet grinds. Not enough to take him entirely, not enough to satiate you. “Big.” 

And then you’re blessed - well, more like punished - with a semi-rut, swabbin’ his thickened tip even deeper. You can’t help but squeeze your plush walls around him, expecting more. “Wan’ it that bad?” Swatting your ass, the force is enough that your flesh jiggles and he grins. “Take it, then. M’all yours.”

So you’re raising your ass up even higher, arms wobbling limply in front of you. You use up all the energy left in your shattered body to perk your waist up just a bit, then slam down the rest of Geto’s length. Hitting his hard v-lines. Bottoming-out. 

Taking him all the way from the fat, split-ended tip- down, down, dooooown till his hairs tickle your slope.

Geto raises a brow at the way you’re mewling uncontrollably by taking all of him, then his right hand starts to push n’ pull you with the restraint at your neck. “S’it that big? Hah- ya like it thaaaat much, gorgeous?”

“Yes- oh, f-feels so good having you like this.” You moan, every time he was elongating his words, Geto made sure to glide the cold metal of his piercing down your spongy cervix. “Fuck, can barely even ngh! take it.”

And you have the feeling that if he could reach even further than that, then he would in a heartbeat.

“But you are.”

Before you know it, a wet splat! of something strikes your cunt folds. You’re turning your head over your shoulder to find out that it was Geto spitting on your already-dripping pussy, an invisible string of it still connecting his mouth to your entrance. 

“Because m’proud of you, my muse.” He drawls out, and he sounds drunk. Geto swerves around the tip of his thumb all over your pussylips, just like he was stirrin’ around his cock by now. 

Circle after circle. Prodding into hidden spots you didn’t even realize were there- he then catches the slightly pouty curve of your mouth and coos. “Awww, what’s the matter, baby- fuck.” In response you only clamp down on him, the textured ridges of his shaft so sensational that it leaves your mouth ajar. His lip curls, “Oh, I get it.”

“H-huh?”

Just then he leans over, and it leaves his curvaceous tip poking in even deeper. Melting his sweaty abs on top to the back of your spine, Geto purses his lips and spits. Straight into your mouth, then he smiles all handsomely like he’d just done you a favor.

You look at him with bulging eyes. He’d read your mind. 

“Fuck, you’re getting even w-wetter.” He’s sputtering out- fucking up into you. Chasing your pussy. Every hard thrust of his left you shoved forwards a few inches, and Geto’s reeling you back in just so he won’t lose you.

Just so the feeling of your pulsing, velvety walls won’t be lost- soon enough, he’s wrapping his beefy left hand over your neck to hold you in a headlock. “Gonna hafta give me a show- we can do that, ngh, can’t we, gorgeous? Gonna drive me wiiiild w-with that pussy, huh?”

“O-oh my god-” you’re blabbering out. A sparkly sheen of saliva forming down his forearm, trickling from the front of your mouth. “I think you’re doing the- driving wild- oh.”

You could barely even string together the sentences.

Your entire body twitches at the sudden change in angle; with him bent over and leaning his weight into you like this, you felt like you were being crushed in the best ways. Geto’s constant pummeling reaches deep into the back spots of your cervix, leaving a cute lil’ bruise of his circumference. 

He kisses the side of your head sloppily- and you’re realizing that Geto had forgotten to take off one of his silver chains. Or maybe he didn’t want to. Because there was just the rhythmic, cold bang-bang-bang of his jewellery that was greeting the back of your neck in time with his furious ruts. 

All the way from his hard, globular tip n’ dooooown to where his shaft was the thickest. His drilling pace left your plush insides being all straightened out on his length. His girth. 

Just fucking you like an animal.

You can feel your head start to slowly tip forwards, too heavy and filled with cotton. But Geto would never let you get off that easy, “Hey, hey—look at me.” Pulling you back in with his headlock.

Geto’s tone was firm, he meant it. 

You struggle to blink your lids open properly, all sticky with the residue of your tears. Yet once you look at him, you can still make out the sultry twinkle in his eyes. 

He lifts his right hand up to your bleary line of vision, “You see this?” And you have to take a few seconds to note that he’s talking about that tattoo that slithers across his entire arm - a snake. With its fanged maw wide open where his thumb separated from the rest of his fingers, “Mmm, nice, huh?”

Absent-mindedly, you nod.

That’s when you register what’s happening - the snake. With its mouth wiiiide open, creeps down to your pussy, and he’s cupping your delicate folds. Almost as if to swallow. As if to strike. 

Geto’s pounding you into the expensive backseat of his car like he’s devouring you. Pinpointing each n’ every leaking crevice with his buttery precum, letting the mound of his palm slide back and forth down your slit. 

You gush out a wet splatter! of syrup straight into his palm and he grins, “Really- oh, ya really are drivin’ me wild, baby. Look into my eyes now.”

He wanted to stare away into your beautiful, stupidly dilated eyes as he mazes his entire length inside you. The forefront of his piercing acting like a searchlight, you can feel the exact moment that Geto smears apart your walls n’ precisely bashes your g-spot.

“S-so unfair that you have a- hck!” You can’t even finish your sentence. You’re choking on so many whines n’ copious amounts of drool that wash down the front of your chin like a fountain. 

Geto himself finds it adorable how you’re cockdrunk already. And it almost feels like that night at the party when he leans in, parched tongue licking up your web of drool - why waste it? “I don’t hear her complaining.”

“M-maybe she is-” You insist back stubbornly, just for something to say.

And at that very moment, one of Geto’s long fingers extends so that he can drag them down the dribbling crevice of your pussy. The edge of his middle finger slide-slide-slides between your slit with the loudest, most primal slurp. “Mmm, I don’t think she is. Not when she’s- ngh, singing f’me.”

His words are enough to make your eardrums pop at the filth - but then again, so is the way he was driving his hips into you. Repeatedly, like a train. And so was the way the crowned tip of his ringed fingers start rolling over your clit.

You prattle out, just when he uses his large index to draw a heart on the very tip-top button of your nub. Just the pressure felt too good. “S-sooooo cocky–”

“Damn right n’ you’re full of it- literally.” 

Perhaps it was the way he said it - reminding you of the thick, solid inches that were filling you up - or perhaps it was his newly-drawn patterns on your clit, but you’re growing even wetter. Dripping in thick, glittering wads of slick that trickle down Geto’s own legs.

Feeling the sloppy wetness, he’s looking down- and then immediately grinning to himself. He whispers, “Wonder if I can…”

“What are you-”

“Shhh, told you tonight was all about- hah, fuuuuck- you, my muse.”

Oh, you don’t know how well that boded for your poor pussy. Or your walking abilities for at least the next week. 

In a mere few nanoseconds, Geto has his hips churning out an interesting angular cadence. Not only was he pumping his red, swollen cock into you- he was also shiftin’ his hips in grinding movements so that the edge of his Prince Albert’s piercing would swab its way ‘round and round.

Sticking his glazed tip into each spot, the icy circle of his piercing was just driving you wild. Making your toes curl and your feet anchor- almost in an effort to run–

“Ah ah-” Only for him to pull you back in with his constraining headlock, flexing so that his sexy biceps are squeezing your neck even tighter. “We’re getting- ngh, doooown and dirty, girl. Don’t run.” Then he’s repeating the scrape-scrape of his decorated crown down your walls, red n’ rude. 

“F-fuck, could you feel that, gorgeous?” Geto’s voice breaks at some point, after a particularly drawn-out drag of his rovering tip. And he has the audacity to giggle, “That one was a heart.”

Your eyes snap open, mouth plummeting out a low- “Oh, fuck.”

Because Geto wasn’t just fucking you with his pierced cockhead anymore; he was using that orb at the beginning of his slit to draw on you. Right at the very end of your sponged cervix, in ravenous strokes, he was buttering you up. Painting you.

Next, he glissades a swooping motion that makes his veins push up against your roof. Uttering a low hiss, “Mmm- my- hah, my name’s a bit harder…”

“L-let me help.”

And that makes Geto’s heart skip a beat.

He slides his hand up n’ down your slit, prodding at your clit lovingly. “O-of course, my muse.” Letting you push backwards in a figure-eight, until his dark happy trail was rubbing your ass cheeks raw. “Harder-” A vulgar spank to your ass. “Harder. Show me how you can d-do it.”

“M’going- ngh, fuck. Wan’ more, Suguru.”

Anything you say. Anything you do- fuck, he almost thinks he could cum right here, right now. That’s why he’s instead focusing his attention on manhandling your body back in ruts, to hit his massive girth with such rough recoil.

Again. And again. And again and again—

Until you’re feeling his pulsing mushroom tip glue up against your womb, carving along a whalloping bruise. And you swear - with whatever frenzied brain cells were left within your skull - it formulates the zig-zagging motion of an ‘S’

“And thaaaaat was my n-name.”

Maybe he got lucky. Maybe he was just that good.

Sobbing, “F-fuck!” You don’t get to find out whether he’s able to finish off the rest of his name - whether that was even possible - because immediately you’re bucking back n’ forth. “Oh my god- i-it’s almost- ngh, too much.” That lecherous action sending sparks of pleasure to your brain. Having him try n’ claim the very back spots of your pussy. Those hidden crevices. 

“Easy, eeeeasy there, baby. What did I say—don’t run.” Pulling you back with his headlock, “Don’t make me- ngh, choke you like that- gorgeous-” Even though he already was.

You’re getting easily dumbified as he repeats those movements a few more times. Needily moving faster to chase those sparks he’d erupted before, “Please- please want it- ngh, close-”

“Nice try.” Body so weak that he was the one predominantly in control now. He’s matching your pace- surpassing it, all with a thumb that tweaks your clit until you see white. That snake. Maw ajar. “But you’re the one that’s gonna, mmm, cum first.”

You whine. Geto was just so mean- was he always this mean? Because he surely was fucking you like it; now three different points of pleasure. From your throbbing clit, to your g-spot being massaged by his decorative veins, then that lewd lil’ pattern he drew at the back of your cervix. So much. Too much. 

You’re so close that you’re slobbering out in waves at this point, and he has his mouth slipped to the side to lick up any n’ every sap you were leaking. 

Pierced tongue slimily slithering allll the way down the side of your lips, you mewl. So filthy. “Fuck- y-you’re right-” His blushing red tip twitches at those words. “M’gonna- gonna…”

You can’t even finish your sentence. 

With a few more sinful strokes, you’re falling apart on his creamy cock. Letting the heatwave of your high take over you- you throw your head back, resting upon Geto’s collarbone, toes curled, mouth shrilling out his name. 

After each and every sloppy drag of his vein-covered cock, he was fucking you through your high so perfectly. The frigid tip of his piercing pushin’ into your g-spot, that makes you last even longer.

Even more. 

And Geto himself was just as drunk on your pussy- “F-fuck, m’gonna cum.” He moans, tonality hollow in a way that made him sound so wrecked. Just then, you’re feeling something warm and gooey fill up the nooks and crannies of your cunt.

Webbing you up from the inside. It sticks to you like a second skin and he’s overfilling you to the point where you can feel a sheen of white drip down the insides of your thighs. Gluing them together. “Shit- don’t even have enough, ngh, space.”

“Oh, you will.” Through labored pants, Geto looks down where you were taking him - and he doesn’t think he’s seen a more heavenly sight. With your damp folds glazed in ivory, glistening after each pump of his hips. It’s forming a ring around his bulky base, soaking his happy trail.

He smears the droplets of cum that are part of the spillage, layering them onto the padded top of his thumb. Then, immediately, you gasp as you feel the stretch of him pushing those knots back inside. “Listen to that-” The loudest wet noises. “Wonder if I’ll be able to hah- sing as good as that at my next concert, hm?”

“Shut up.”

Geto doesn’t stop just yet. 

Not until his ravaged, red cock feels raw—oversensitive. Not until he’s properly fucked you through the hazy peaks of your high and you’re left merely trembling. Not until he’s squirted every ounce of pure white cum inside you, n’ you can’t do anything but perk your hips up from the seat and take it. Take it. 

He has tears in his eyes by now. The rockstar pulls back his hand from your clit after you start wriggling with overstimulation. 

And then makes sure you watch - make sure you can see his looooong, pink tongue slither out to suck up every sullied dewdrop of slick and cum from his digits. From his rings. Lastly, he slaps his cleaned, moisturized fingers against your ass. Groping. 

“I could write albums about that, gorgeous.” You still haven’t gained the ability to speak since being completely dumbified. 

And Geto sets you free from that headlock, finally. You’re dropping to the plushness of his car seat like you’re boneless, barely even able to look up as he seethes. Through labored pants, he smiles, “So…still wanna go back to my house so we can meddle about?”

Not even pulling out of you yet.

He throbs from the inside. Plump n’ probing. Awaiting your answer- you start to wonder whether he’ll be able to write out the entirety of his name on your cervix.

“Fuck yeah.”

.

.

.

It was no surprise that Meddle About topped the charts. All of them.

Someone had recorded it back at its debut concert, to which it had gone viral overnight. Then came the record deals, the studio sessions, and the official album launch (of which Geto claimed that all those love songs were about you.)

And it was also no surprise that that was what launched the Sorcerers from being a regionally famous band, frequenting the local bars and gigs, to being internationally-known. To touring all ‘round the world. 

But what did come as a slight surprise - a pleasant one - was when he’d asked you to join him.

Somehow, some part of you had imagined that once Geto got a taste of the high life, the fame, the music, the travel; that meant he’d simply indulge in it. Without you. Without even a thought of you - little did you know that you were all Geto Suguru could think about.

Seriously. It did endearingly irritate his bandmates. 

So when Geto asked you to join him, after some arrangements with your life back at home, you’d said yes. Of course.

And then there was another surprise. At the very first concert that you’d attended with him- and then for each one thereafter (it grew to be a little tradition, you see) there was this…

“And tonight- I have someone very special in the crowd for me- yes, Satoru, she’s here for me, not for you.” The crowd buzzes, peering over each other’s heads for a glimpse of another collaboration act, perhaps. Some even waited for one of the band members to stage dive. 

But what happens is that Geto Suguru - rockstar, worldwide heartthrob, lead guitarist of the Sorcerers - smiles. A slow, soft smile that they don’t think they’ve ever seen on him before, not this sort. 

And he’s pointing somewhere to the VIP seats, the closest ones at the very front row. Where there was you; you could feel the stares now. The whispers. The phones recording. Surely, this was about to end up on just about ten different social medias- just when you had gotten used to the campus teasing. This was about tens of thousands of more eyes. Honestly, having a rockstar boyfriend was not for the weak.

But he did make it so easy. So, so easy.

Geto continues on, a gentle chuckle leaving his mouth at the way you squirm under the spotlight. He says your name, “My muse, my lover. I love you. This one’s for you, just as they all are.” 

There’s a tumultuous wave of ‘aww’s’ that ring out, and screams, perhaps a few faints.

“Let’s meddle about, shall we?”

A/N. FHSJHKS I NEED HIM SOO BAD NGH-

Lightning crashes against the sky. And you crash into his arms. 

Staring right into the blue, blue eyes of Gojo Satoru.

Who else could it be? 

That warm, handsome priest your age who’d taken it upon himself to renovate the dilapidated ol’ church of your town. It’d been forgotten for ages - and with it, the fear for what came after you were no longer upon this Earth.

Now you had both the recent string of deaths and Father Gojo to remind you.

And oh, were you reminded - it was hard to miss him. Especially in a town so small. 

Golden cross always swinging in the middle of his dark black cassock, Bible always in large hands that you couldn’t look away from.

Perhaps it was sacrilegious, perhaps it was fleeting fancy- because there always was much to see. 

From the broad shoulders filling out his holy robes, to the slight dimples that cratered his pale cheeks any time he grinned - at least you weren’t alone with your admiration. For it had only been a few weeks since Gojo had arrived, as quietly as if he’d simply parted the heavens and set foot here, and he was already starring in as much of your town’s gossip as the myth of the vampire was.

Well, a myth no longer, you’re realizing. And it’s enough to make your shivering fingertips clench-

Onto…a firm arm? 

You blink, looking up only now to register that it wasn’t just any arm - it was Gojo’s arms. Heated. Strong. Around you. 

The only thing holding your weight up right now, as your weakened legs made themselves useless. 

And Gojo himself was peering down at you through his long, pale lashes. Close. Close enough that your wet-streaked cheeks bristle at his scorching breath, “My, you look like you’ve been face to face with the Reaper himself, beloved.” His rosy lips curl at the ends, slightly. “Or…worse.”

That makes you gasp- fighting in his grasp, you snap your head over your shoulder and stare into the darkness behind you. Just hoping it won’t stare back. “It- he- was f-following me- kept after me, wouldn’t let up-”

“Pardon?”

“The- the vampire!”

His eyes seem to flicker in the dim lighting, and Gojo speaks not a word. Just lets out what sounds like a short, sharp gasp- before tucking you deeper into his embrace. 

And it would almost be scandalous, you knew. If it wasn’t for the rain then one of the neighbours might have peeked their head out, and by tomorrow afternoon the entire town would be ablaze with the news of the priest holding a rain-drenched woman outside the church itself.

But Gojo didn’t care if anyone would see, it seems.

Because he only tugs you tighter against his tense core once he feels you struggling, “There there, my angel. It must have been quite the fright, the Lord has surely tested your courage.”

“Oh, it was downright terrifying. One moment I was closing up my stall- ready to walk back home tonight, and the next thing I know I hear the crunch of a twig.” 

Close. “Interesting.”

“He towered over me like a mountain- and just as cold. I-I think he was gunning for my blood next-”

Closer. “Real interesting.” So close that you could count each spike of grey in his irises, and every vibrato in his baritone voice. “No harm shall come to you whilst these holy walls and I stand, my darling. He shan’t lay a hand on you.” And then Gojo smiles, crooked and gleaming in the glowing candles from behind him. “Not a single hand.”

You seem to breathe out, for the first time in what feels like years. Simply held. 

Simply ignoring the coil of something deep down in your stomach- you busy yourself with the frigid dig of something hard against your back, where his hands glided up n’ down soothingly. Like the corner of a book-

“Oh, heavens. I have forgotten myself.” Gojo starts, noticing the most minute shiver that runs down your spine. 

In a singular, fluid motion, he’s breaking away to shut the heavy wooden doors and usher you inside- so fast that you half-heartedly wonder whether it may be spellwork. “Please, come in. Soak up some warmth in my office.”

“Th-thank you, Father.”

“Please. Call me by name.”

And you can’t help but follow.

Noticing the small, tattered book that was clutched in one of his hands - ah, that was what you’d been feeling on your skin. Guiltily, you think you must have interrupted him during his reading time…

As Gojo turns his back on you to lead you down the long, candle-lit hallway of the church, you can’t help but narrow your eyes at the tiny book swinging by his side. It didn’t look like his usual Bible-

“Ah, here.” You’re looking up to see Gojo dip his lengthy fingers into a side pocket within his dark robes. Almost melding with the shadows of the candles, it’s as if he’s pulling a long, stringed rosary from thin air. “Take my rosary. Let your faith guard you when I cannot, beloved.”

“O-oh, thank you again, Father-”

His dimple winks, “Satoru.”

“Right…” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, even as he probes you with half-lidded eyes to do so. Instead, busying yourself by tugging on the incense-scented necklace, it weighs light ‘round your neck. And you can’t help but run your fingers over each bead- “I won’t forget this.” 

And the very second your eyes flit up- you see him, Bible grasped in his hand like it always had been.

Strange, you quiver your head slightly, tonight must have shaken you up more than you thought for you to be seeing things that weren’t there.

Though, it should’ve been expected with how disorientingly massive the interior of the church was. Much too immense for such a town. You didn’t remember it being this grand before Gojo had arrived- far arches of the ceiling peered in with gargoyles, high stone walls carved with faint effigies. 

Ahead of you, the pews were polished enough to act as mirrors. And as you turned left past the high place of worship down a corridor towards his office, you couldn’t help but feel like the building was swallowing you whole. 

“Something the matter, my angel?” Gojo’s voice breaks through the cold silence, back still turned. “Still troubled by what the Lord has shown you?”

Clutching the delicate rosary, “It- it’s just…it wasn’t the vampire that spooked me.” You twist, and so does the string of beads in your hands. “But those eyes?” 

“Yes–?”

“Hell rode in ‘em.”

The clap of thunder, the clash of dry prayer beads on polished stone.

It’s as if each degree of warmth bled by the candles blows out in a single gale of wind the very moment you say this. 

Boring into your very soul, Gojo’s pale eyes are almost other-wordly as he turns. “Worry not, for no monster can enter through these holy walls, beloved.” Chuckling, and the rolling spheroids of his now-shattered rosary sing as he steps past them. 

A tall, shadowed figure leading you into the dark.

“Except humans, of course.”

.

.

.

“Sugar-–! The finest sugar from the East-”

“Boots half-off–!”

“-get yerself velvet-”

The market was always alive, despite everything. A bustling, breathing thing lined with snug stalls upon either side of a dust-track road. And you were stationed at your fruit stall, as usual, as if you hadn’t damn near been the lucky fourth on a long list of closed caskets. 

Shuddering, your fingers tighten on the wooden panel where you’d lined your plethora of fruits. 

Eyes darting towards the melting yolk sun warming your skin- right, it was still light out. The elders whispered that vampires feared the day - and so you were safe. For now. You had to make sure to pack up as soon as the others did, no more idling around tonight.

“My my, isn’t that Father Gojo- oh, what a sight for sore eyes he is.” Your head turns at the coo of the bookseller’s young daughter, Miwa, her stall right next to yours.

And it didn’t take long for you to see what she was talking about- not long at all for you to nearly want to fluster, too. 

Because there was Gojo Satoru - even in the distance, he was two heads taller than anyone else. With his stark ivory locks catching the daylight, tight cassock snug against his waist and fluttering ever-so-slightly as he weaved through the flea market, the calling pedlars. 

“Oh, Father Gojo- I hear he built that dingy ol’ church right up with his bare hands-”

“I know he’s gotten nearly twenty-seven proposals by the wealthiest families, but guess what? Rejected ‘em all!”

“And that purity ring, oh, a true man of the holy script. Why, forget their daughters, I would have proposed myself- oh, but don’t tell my husband.”

The whispers made you squirm for some strange reason. It was a hasty retreat from the church last night after a brief bout of warming tea in his office, lest someone caught you and thought something else. And you didn’t expect to see him so soon; least of all have his fiery blue eyes waft through each shabby stall as if he was drinking them in. 

So close. Close enough that you couldn’t help but let out an dragged-out sigh-

“Oi. Oi! You deaf or somethin’- fuck’s sake.” 

Oh. Shit.

“M-my apologies, sir-” You’re gasping, snapping your head to the front of your fruit display to find that you’d attracted the attention of none other than Zenin Naoya, sole heir of the house of Zenin merchants. As if your day couldn’t have been any more eventful.

Well, as long as he was a paying customer. Plastering a plastic smile across your face, you gesture towards the ripe red pomegranate held in his grip. “Want me to tally that up?”

Scoffing, “No not after that shoddy customer service. It’d be the last time I spend a dime in this dump.” He tilts his head defiantly, “What’s got yer eyes so occupied anyways-”

“Nothing-”

“Hehhh–?” And you’re appalled to see the way Naoya’s smile curls as he swivels his head the same direction you were looking in - one that half the market was surely turned to admire at this point.

The sight of priest Gojo Satoru bent in playful conversation with a little child, beaming. 

“Sweet on that damn preacher, huh? Isn’t it a sin to watch him that close, sweetcheeks?”

You bristle, “I beg you not to say another blasphemous word-”

“Oh, I bet the gossips at the general store’d eat this little turn of events right up.” Naoya titters, pomegranate now rhythmically thrown up n’ down into the air to be caught. “Small town like this? News like that won’t stay quiet for long. Real shame, huh?”

Only one word and it wouldn’t just be you paying the price, it would be poor, undeserving Father Gojo as well. You stay quiet. You can only stay quiet. 

More so to stop from snatching that pomegranate and slamming it straight into his sneering face. 

But Naoya takes that as an opportunity to lean in- to let his tobacco scent cloud all over your face as he grumbles. “Unless, maybe you care to keep me company for one ni-”

“My darling, pray tell, did you know that the Greeks figured the pomegranate to be symbols of abundance and fertility?” A smooth, simpering voice cuts in- and so does a slender hand that stretches its pale fingertips to clasp the pomegranate in Naoya’s palm.

What? You’re blinking at rapid-fire speed, looking from the familiar newcomer to where you’d just been staring seconds prior - how was he here? So quickly? All of a sudden? 

And Gojo doesn’t even let out a pant of fatigue as if he’d been running, only curving his lips into an icy smile down at the other man. “The Lord speaks through consumption. Planning to expand the family, mister Naoya?”

“I- you-” Naoya strangles out, he jabs. A finger right into the smiling face of Gojo, and then into the space between you two. “My ol’ man shall hear of this. See how holy you really are when you’re-”

Gojo grins, leaning down from his towering height as if he was speaking to a child. “He shall be welcome to find me. Sermons are on Sundays.”

“Tch-” 

With one last glower, and a few more muttered words underneath his breath, you can only watch in speechless amusement as the seething man promptly turns his back and saunters away. Fast. Furious. 

“You have saved me yet again.” You’re breathing out in relief, finally raising your head to look up and oh- did he look absolutely magnetic bathed in the blood-orange light of the setting sun. “How can I ever repay you?”

“I do beg your pardon, to defend your holy honor is the least I can do, beloved.” And you don’t know where to look - the dimples decorating Gojo’s cheeky grin, or the peripheral vision of Miwa beside you mouthing ‘beloved’ in shock. 

But Gojo always does steal your attention away in the end, and the buzzing marketplace rings with the snap–! of his bare, neat nails cracking open the outer rind of the pomegranate. 

Letting thin trails of crimson run down his wrist like blood, “I was not jesting about the Greeks and their belief of fertility.” You gulp as his pinkish tongue darts out just teasingly to run down a stray droplet of juice before it inched too close to his long sleeves. “Try it, my angel.”

Before you can say a word, one hand tucks his Bible, and the other holds a clump of bright, beaded pomegranate to your quivering lips. 

And you swear you hear the bookseller gasp! when you gingerly take it into your mouth. Humming at the explosion of sweet, saccharine syrup. “I can see why- about the Greeks, I mean. Now, if only that snake Mahito didn’t swindle me of the price each time.”

“Hm, is that so?” He huffs out slightly deep laughter, sharing more fruit. “But this was no idle trip to the market today. Truth be told, I came, with earnest heart, to see you.”

“M-me?”

Unaware of the restlessness he’s seeping through your very veins, Gojo tucks a free hand between his Bible and pulls out a long, now-fixed rosary. The very same one you’d accidentally torn apart just the night before-

“It was to give you this.”

Your ears burn with the hushed, pointed whispers of the market as he reverently puts the necklace ‘round your neck. And the cold flowers of the pearly chain nearly sizzle against your skin. “O-oh, thank you, Father-”

“Satoru.” Gojo smiles. He nods. 

He reaches over to hold one of your clasping hands, pressing his mouth against your pomegranate-stained fingertips. In an instant. Red, red juice drips from the ends of your digits and stains his lips scarlet - almost in a kiss.

Oh.

He taps the nearby book stall in goodbye, “Until next time, my darling. Have a blessed day.”

With that - and nothing more - as swiftly, and as quietly as he’d arrived, Gojo Satoru was disappearing back into the thronged crowd. Cross on his chest, Bible in hand.

And you barely register the giddy whispers of Miwa- all but gripping your shoulders and jostling you back and forth at the excitement of coming across the most scandalous piece of gossip to hit this town since the vampires. 

Hissing feverishly, “-way he cast his eyes upon you and- and how long has this been going on?”

“I uh-” At this point she was shaking you, much to the amusement of passersby. Monotone, “Don’t you have your mother’s stall to run, kid- oh.”

And something catches your eye, something tattered. Something blue. 

Something that you swear looked exactly like that old book Gojo had for but a mere split-second in his arms last night. Neatly piled at the top of Miwa’s column of novels on sale. And you can’t stop yourself from pointing, “Hey, what’s the price of that book?”

“Oh? Hm…” Picking it up, she scrunches her eyes in thought. “I don’t remember such a book being here, least of all in this condition- my momma would’ve skinned me alive.” Then, suddenly she perks up. “Tell ya what- you tell me more on wha’s happening between you and Father Gojo and I’ll give you this here thing for free.”

.

.

.

There wasn’t much that one could do during a monsoon rain, and raindrops fall heavy on the roof of your cozy lil’ home. Making the wooden structure creak and sing you to relaxation as you tried to take your mind off of what happened when night arrives.

Who arrives, as night does.

“I’m starting to spook my own self.” You’re notching up your oil lamp to flare up even brighter; so long as you had this, no vampire would set his clutches on you. 

Sighing, you search for a distraction in your gunnysack bags from the marketplace. Leftover fruits still good, a stray few hairpins, and oh- 

A soft gasp leaves your mouth as you find it - that small, blue book you’d bought just a few days ago, not having had the time to read through just yet. No author. No date. Yet, you look over the faded gold print of the cover, “‘Scripture of Shadows’, huh?”

Satisfied, you drag your armchair to where your oil lamp sat sleepily on a windowsill, and start to read by flickering fire light. 

‘Prologue: On Creatures That Walk Among Us. 

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against. —Ephesians 6:12

In the years of my ministerial labors, I have come to learn that one may never truly know what walks alongside you. There are creatures in every shadow you look - though you may not see. 

Out past the edge of God’s hand, these things are borne of hunger and sin - they may be cursed, fallen, or bound to their flesh cruth; salvaged only by thirst that no godly mortal can explain. I have seen them, spirits of ruin that massacre entire herds and weep alongside the shepherd in the waking morn’. 

Yes, dear reader, they may take shapes you belove—wolf, woman, child, lover. And above them all, vampires-’

The flash of lightning, the grumble of thunder- you’re jumping in your seat and nearly slamming the heavy tome shut with a yelp. Wide-eyed, you take a hasty glance through the window, feeling your skin blanket in skittering goosebumps. 

“Dear gods-” Breathless, you’re flipping through a few more pages on vampires and other such entities to settle on a random chapter. 

‘Chapter Four: The Myth of the Vampyre.’

Heavens, why was this always following you like so? And what was Father Gojo doing reading up on such a thing- skipping a few paragraphs and scriptures, you continue reading in honed silence.

‘Perhaps the most cunning of demonic creatures. Not truly dead, nor truly alive, the vampyre boasts the most fearful humanly power of all—beauty. Indeed, they possess much more; overwhelming strength, teeth to kill, speed to hunt. And yet, I have seen more mortals fall victim to the enticing nature of the vampyre than any other creature.’

Perhaps it was the topics taled in the book, perhaps it was the raging storm outside, but you can’t help but squirm restlessly in your seat as you feel oddly…watched. 

‘Let this scripture stand, then, not as idle fancy, but as a caution towards the charismature essence of the vampyre. With this, most hold positions of great authority. Infiltrating even the most tight-knit towns with ease - among them, mayors, teachers, merchants, and mostly-’

Someone was watching you. 

You stare up at the empty, pitch-black square of your window. And then back down past a few paragraphs-

‘But fear not, dear reader, though they cross realms of living and shadow, the vampyre has one confirmed flaw - not sunlight, nor garlic, as tales claim. It is barred from thresholds unbidden, for only when an invitation is offered, may the creature enter. And Revelation 3:20–’

You look up.

The empty window.

The full book.

‘Take care to hold forth the crucifix and be not deceived by beauty or charm. But be cautioned, god-fearing reader, even vampyres have tales of legends. Those of their kind so infamous-’

The empty window.

The full book.

‘-that we hear merely brief whispers of his name, one so vicious and almighty that even vampyres dare not evoke His anger.’

The empty window.

‘An omniscient being amongst even creatures of the shadows, his name-’

A flash of blue-

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

You gasp. 

Urgently, you drop the book and hurry to the ramming fist at your door, more to get away from its words than anything else. 

KNOCK! KNOCK!

“C-coming–!”

Your rickety front door creaks as you swing it open, immediately struck with the light of the storm and the icy breath of rain. Wincing against the droplets of water that hit your face, you can just barely make out the flicker of blue, blue eyes. 

Gojo tips his hat to you solemnly, “I pray I’m not disturbing you, my angel.” His deep voice rings out, curiously above even the howl of the wind, and his pretty face simply looks haunted. “Forgive the haste, but I came straight away- there’s been another attack.”

Out of breath, “A-another vampire attack?”

“We fear so, ranch hand Mahito this time. Neck punctured, eyes white- God have mercy on us.” He shakes his head, “The town’s congregatin’ for a special Mass tomorrow, I would like it if you were to join us together to pray for the four lost souls.”

“Of course of course.” You’re taking in the layers of water that soak through Gojo’s dark robes, skin-tight over his heaving chest. Opening your door wider invitingly, “Please, come on in. Oh, you’re just drenched.”

And he opens his eyes just a tad wider, he curls his lips just a slight further. 

“I fear I cannot, beloved. So many more houses to alert.”

Gawking at yet another clap of lightning- “In this storm?”

And you have no idea how he can just smile like that during dark times like these. The pearly whites of his canines wafting near the shell of your ear as Gojo leans in- whispering. “Worried for me?” 

He takes a step, his rain-soaked clothes chill your skin as he inches forwards. Then another step, trying to listen in for your breaths. Your lack of an answer. “You should be worried. Though, not for me.”

Lashes fluttering, “Wh-what do you…”

“Be careful, my angel.” And your collarbones turn humid with the steam of his breath, the way he’s moving his ajar maw down. “You’d do well not to open the door for strangers. Lest you wish to invite…” Down, down, down—“-a vampire.”

You wait - gasps stuttered, fists clenching once he takes a step past your doorway. Just a singular, miniscule step-

Only to brush off something invisible from your shoulder, touch warm on your skin.

“I bid you a goodnight, my darling. Rest well.”

And with that Father Gojo was gone, and so was any wink of sleep that very night. Or any memory of that book, now laying as open and untouched as it had been left on the floor. 

.

.

.

“I ask you not to give into fear- neither anger, nor isolation. Solely to the word of God.” Gojo’s fervent voice sing-songs over the numerous pews. Hands waving, feet stepping. “And I ask you to watch over your kin, pray over those lost, and keep your lamps lit with the faith that He watches.”

It was impossible to tear your eyes off of him.

And you’re sure that the elderly lady seated right beside you was drenching her fifth handkerchief in tears already.

“Trust in me, as I trust in Him. For even in the darkest night, there is still light to be found. For no creature can snuff out the soul of one who believes…”

As you’re nodding, you can’t help but feel that familiar sensation of eyes burning into you. Though, softer than last night- less…frightening. Darting your line of sight behind you to catch Naoya assessing you- and you couldn’t snap your head back faster. 

Instead, catching Gojo’s own twinkling eyes as he finishes his sermon. 

“And who is a vampire to Him? Go forth, and may the Lord be with you. Amen.”

There’s a rush after concluding rites, a crowd forming around Gojo before he can take even a step from the polished pulpit. And just as you close your books to stand from your seat yourself, ready to head home- something tugs on your wrist.

“Oi- I still have a bone to pick with you, missy.”

Or more…someone.

“Naoya.” You’re deadpanning, snatching your wrist free to stare him down with a glare that was utterly not suited for the place you were in right now. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He spears his index your way, “Don’t you go thinking that I’ve forgotten ‘bout you and that tch- preacher.”

Standing your own, you sneak glances at the thinning crowd and just pray they won’t give this little quarrel an ear. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“Telling me nothing’s happened, sweetcheeks?” Naoya huffs, “I heard you talkin’ with that sobbing hag- saying how he invited you personally for today’s sermon.”

“Why, yes. What seems to be the problem?”

“You think he went knockin’ on any of our doors at the dead of night?”

Your brows furrow, wouldn’t he have? After all, it was what he said.

“But, of course, he’s gonna invite you personally. The day right there by the fruit stall? The way he was undressing you with his eyes today—I wouldn’t be a darn bit surprised if he’s laid with a shameless woman like you already-”

“And if that is so? Jealous?”

Naoya gasps, and so do about fifteen of the nosy townsfolk lingering by the pews. 

Wincing as Naoya’s grating voice threatens to speak once more–

“Mind your tongue, mister Naoya.” A steady hand claps down on the shorter man’s shoulder, and this silvery bangs flick towards the interruption of the one and only priest. “We stand on hallowed ground.”

Just as he turns his fury towards Gojo instead, his palm squeezes where it lay- hard enough that you can hear the faint pop! of something emanating from the contact. And before he can say any further, Gojo tilts his head down to whisper something in Naoya’s ear.

Something that has him pale. Trembling. And rushing out of the church faster than you can even blink. 

As Gojo smiles at the rest of your company in a polite dismissal, you’re fighting back an awed whistle from your throat. “Pardon my language but-” Eyes steady on his rapidly retreating figure, shoving past each attendee misfortunate enough to cross his path. “-what in blazes did you say to him, Father-”

“Satoru.”

You grin, “Gojo.”

“And ah, I only spoke the truth- that this was God’s sanctuary.” He tilts his head with a beam, though, there’s something about it that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “And perhaps something of his father…”

“You’re the devil.”

“Quite the opposite.” Never one to care for gossip, Gojo wastes not a second leaning down till his breath wafted your cheeks. Snowy brows pinched into one of regret, “That reminds me, do forgive my intrusion last night, beloved, I pray I didn’t come at a bad time.”

You flail your hands in disagreement, “Oh, heavens no-” In fact, the eerie book rested upon your bookshelf, and you couldn’t have asked for a more welcome interruption. “I was just…reading a book, you see.” 

“So you say.”

Carefully watching for his reaction, “Called um- ‘Scripture of Shadows.’”

And if you expected him to gasp- if you expected Gojo to even blink at the familiar title, then he doesn’t give you the satisfaction. Only nodding his head in deep understanding, “Anything interesting in that book, my angel?”

“Only fearful.”

He jests, “Then you should devote those eyes to the Lord.” 

You grip your rosary, “I shall do both.”

“Good.” The call of Gojo’s names for blessings and prayers were often, and he nods his head towards a group beckoning him over. As he turns to walk away–“Chapter six is particularly fascinating…and I have plans to reread it tonight.” He whispers, just barely audible over the sound of footsteps on the hardwood holy floor. “My door is always open for you, my darling.”

Oh.

.

.

.

Step.

Step.

Step.

“Hello?”

You didn’t know whether it was the darkness or the taboo in what you were doing that had your footsteps rattling in noisy unison with your heartbeat. 

It was dark - dark enough outside that the neighbors wouldn’t be able to make out your flickering oil lamp through the blanket of the night. Light in one hand, your book in the other, you let yourself slip through the unlocked gates of the church, making your way down the winding hallway that you knew led to Father Gojo’s office. 

Though, it was not the church like you’d ever known it.

And you’d known it crumbling from the walls, you’d known it manifested into something grand - but never so…chilling. 

Each candle was snuffed out, puffing out ghosts of smoke that curled up in the high hallway. Clinging onto your shivering shoulders and making you flinch at each miniscule noise in the distance- “Father Gojo? Are you present toni- mmpf.” 

Your mouth gapes, aghast, nose wrinkling when it felt like you’d just been run over by a carriage. But, it wasn’t a carriage at all - it was a thick, metallic scent that permeated the frigid air and made you stop straight in your tracks.

Hand coming up to cup your mouth, “What is that godforsaken smell?” 

Step. 

Step. 

And it only gets thicker. More relentless. 

Soon enough you’re fully closing your tingling nostrils with your palm and hopelessly praying that it was only a passing perfume. For this wasn’t just the tinge of metal you might smell as you pass the time piece-maker, rather, it was heavy. Slightly sweet. 

Step. 

The one you’d smell on the butcher.

Iron. 

Your eyes widen- blood.

Gojo. 

Running. 

All but sprinting, you’re staggering further down the hallway to where you’d remembered were his quarters. Following the faint memory of his candlelit office, fear laces its frosty grip ‘round your heart as you call out. “F-father Go- oh!”

And it seems you’d forgotten that light reveals more in the shadows than you might want to see.

Red.

Red, red pools paint the grey stone of the church in a bloody mosaic. 

You gasp, body running a few steps backwards on pure instinct at the pale hand sinking into the blood like a desolate ship. Mindlessly, the hand holding your oil lamp jerks over to reveal pale, silvery bangs peeking out from the crimson puddle.

Your heart races- was this. No. Stepping tentatively closer, your mouth drops as once you spy a few stray strands of deep, two-toned black. Naoya. 

“Bitter.”

Slowly…achingly…your quivering oil lamp raises up to the darkness behind Naoya’s corpse. And there you see it - two bright, harrowing eyes of azure blue that bored into your very soul from beyond. 

His eyes. 

Just a flash of those, a mere single glimpse is all that you’re given before the light crashes down to the ground, and you’re both plunged into darkness.

Both you and Gojo Satoru.

Who shoves you against the nearest wall with such inhuman speed, so fast that you don’t even have the time to register it, register your rosary breaking.

One hand slamming down on the rocky wall above you, hard enough to make it crater an outline of his five fingers. The other cupping your cheek gently- almost gingerly, as if afraid to use his true strength with you. 

“Five bodies.” He rasps, and in the grimy lighting you can see two elongated glints of his canines, “Five bodies. All five of them bitter, but you, my darling…”

Before you can even take a closer look, he’s stuffing his face into the thrumming skin at the crook of your neck and drinking in a deeeeep inhale. A sigh. A groan.

“-I would kill for but a taste.”

And he already has, you’re realizing. 

You stammer, staring up into his pale, stoic face - looking at him properly now. 

From the sharp fangs poking through his rosy lips, to the beauty that was so incredible that it was other-worldly. He had a trail of dark red blood staining one side of his maw, a few droplets spattered onto the whites of his roman collar. 

“Y-you’re-”

“Say it.”

“You’re a vampire.”

Whimpering at the ice-cold breath that haunts your flesh, your pulse. “And you’re a delicacy.” He’s enveloping all of you, as if you were ripe for the picking- and you can feel the way your thighs tremble when Gojo’s pushing himself harder against your body. He’s holding you. 

Cassock rubbin’ your front, your book falling, golden cross startling.

Gojo raises his refined nose into the air just once to sniff, before the most simpering tone bleeds into his voice. “How adorable.” 

“Wh-what you- oh!” 

It seems you can’t help but fail in catching your breath whenever he’s around, even though it might just be your last. And Gojo slithers out his long, pinkish tongue to sliiiide down your racing pulse - wet and hot on your flesh, he’s tasting you. Savoring you. Enough to make something instantly hard n’ raw tug through the layers of his holy robe. 

One that he ruts between your legs-

Gojo tilts your face up by your jaw, nailmarks dotting your chin. He gives you a sensual peck, “Let me show you what true carnal pleasures are, little human.”

Maybe you’re nodding, maybe you’re simply gasping at the shock of his touch and bucking your hips up wildly - because that’s all it takes.

All that it takes for Gojo to scoop your weakened knees underneath a singular arm and turn- almost as soon as he did, you’re blinking your eyes to stare up at the ornate ceiling of the priest’s quarters. 

Right now you’re laid out across the large, cushioned couch in the middle of his room. Legs sprawled out embarrassingly, dress hiked high up to your knees where Gojo had kneeled himself on the floor in front of you.

Speed to hunt, the book had said. 

The very same book that he was now twirling between two pinched fingers and humming idly, “My my, it seems that you haven’t even read chapter four properly, my darling. Going against holy orders? Now, how should we rectify that, hm?”

Fingers itching for the hem of your skirts, “P-please-”

“Oh, the Lord has spoken to me.” Gojo gasps, suddenly, as if he’d just come to an epiphany. And his smile is simply sinful, sapphire eyes glowing- the very same ones you’d seen that night. “Bend.”

“Wha- hey!” 

In a nanosecond, he’s manhandling you like a puppet. Making you crawl onto your knees with your front plastered against the high seat of the couch. Arched directly in front of his salivating maw-

“This shan’t work if your heart didn’t will it, my angel.” Gojo muses, shit, how gorgeous you looked like this. Bent and ready for him. He doesn’t even have to make use of his inhuman eyesight to locate that pretty damp spot blotchily drenching through your dress.

You were so wet that all he had to do was lean his nose closer and sniff to drink in that sweet, heavenly scent of you. “Oh.” Gojo’s sharp nails tug on the hem of your thin dress, “Oh.”

Rip-rip-riiiiip—!

Every inch of your clothing melts like butter underneath his power, and the only thing you can do is whimper as you lay your spine arched. Thin panties the only thing you had on underneath during this humid night. 

“Fuck.”

It’s the last thing you hear before Gojo’s lengthy tongue probes at your sheeny inner thighs and laps up- not your drooling, puffy core where you’d needed him the most.

But instead the slight cut that had grazed your heated flesh as he tore off your dress- Gojo moans the instant your taste hits his tongue. Red-hot. 

Not even having to breathe, but his pants were labored, “Fuck.” The sloppy drag of his moistened muscle lets out the most sinful slurp when he’s licking and licking before nothing else is left of your crimson. And then he’s inching his tastebuds up your thighs. He wanted more. Needed it this very instant, all the patience of these immortal years and it wouldn’t be enough. Not even caring for your paper-thin panties, “Fuck-”

Hastily stuffing the quivering orifice of your puffy with his fat girth- before scoffing at the complete n’ utter tightness that wouldn’t let him go completely in. “Pure as a dove, aren’t you, beloved?”

“I-I’ve never…” Tearfully mewling at the burning streeeetch, Gojo’s tongue was just so massive that even the slightest probe inside made your head loopy. “Never done…this.”

The only thing he does is spank a hand down at the edge of your spine to make you bend even further- “Then show me how devoted you are.” Straight into his mouth. Straight into a pert, pretty target for him to spit. Thick, globular, and wet. “Show it to me, my darling.”

And it’s maddening how it’s the last thing that Gojo can get out before he flicks his sizzling tongue through your undergarments to taste down your slit. Letting the slippery wads of your slick fill up his tastebuds and make him groan-

You gawk over your shoulder when his eyes only dilate, sharp fangs growing even sharper. “Show-”

With a hand groping the left of your ass cheeks, he’s tuggin’ you all back to him with an inhuman strength that makes you keen. 

That makes his metallic crucifix press against the backs of your thighs. Fanged lips hovering over your outer pussy as he wetly nuzzles aside your panties to slip his tongue past-

You buck, “Sh-shit, Gojo-”

“Oh.” He’s shuddering at the act of you bucking up stupidly, chasing the temperate French kiss of his mean mouth. Giving him even more of a taste that he just can’t take it- 

“Dear heavenly father, I thank you for this meal.”

And then it all happens at once- your soggy panties are torn off you in a split-second, Gojo’s mouth replacing it even more rapidly. 

Bent over the chair, he’s eating out your saccharine sweet pussy like a beast starved.

He glues his upper lip against the swollen nub of your clit and you whine at the sharp sting of Gojo’s fangs digging right up against your bundle of nerves. Sucking. Tasting. Until his cheeks are all hollowed out with the friction of his suckling and he’s still forcing himself deeper into your pussy for more.

“Oh g- fuck.” Head throwing back stupidly, his nose nudges against the very tip-top of your treacly cunt. “It feels so, so good-”

“A meal this exquisite- never in my s-six hundred years.” He’s muttering between the swollen folds of your pussy, lining your slippery slit with the long line of his nosebridge. 

So messy. Gojo snickers in lewd amusement at the way you’re rolling your hips back to ride n’ slide his nose. He’s rovering his mouth everywhere, glassy eyes half-lidded until he’s simply moving in pure primal instinct to slap the curl of his long, lecherous tongue by the edge of your dampened hole.

Tugging the rubbery circle of it just enough to make you whimper, he circles out soppy patterns that stretch out your cunt. Back and forth back and forth until your limbs weaken. “Have you just finished your monthly dues, my angel?”

You’re gripping onto the wooden headboard of the chair for sweet relief, “Y-yes?”

“That explains it.” And then he nuzzles in nose-deep and even deeper into your drivelling pussy, up n’ down to latch onto your clit and bite. “The next time, you tell me first. I know exactly how to…”

Murmured straight into your hot pussy, mouth departing such a guttural groan as he feels your sap splash down with a noisy squelch. Alllll down his pointed chin and where he’s creepin’ up one of his free hands to caress your glossy outer pussy. “-help.” 

Squealing, you’re feeling just the thick crown of his index poke your cunt. “A-are you putting your ngh- fingers in?”

“I said I shan’t lay a hand on you.” And just then, the doughy palm of his second palm pushes your legs wide apart, not nearly enough to distract you from the flick of his flexible tongue and the way he smooches your filthy hole with yet another cushy fingerpad. “I shall lay two.”

And then you’re seeing raw white in your vision, the feeling of Gojo pushin’ his two ringed fingers past your first tight ring of muscle too much to bear.

Thick enough that you’re struggling to squeeze him inside- “Fuck back t’me- fuck back-”

“L-like this?”

He’s matching your sluggishly sensual pace, nose wrinkling sinfully at the velvety texture of your insides. Gojo’s cross necklace swats your thighs with each constant lurch of his head, crooning out. “Yes- yes. Oh, hell.”

He scrapes the mushy roof of your walls with his deep black purity ring, the cold material thrusting into your most sweetest spots and making him grin. “This is devotion, beloved.”

“Y-you’re just so big- nghhhh–” Your moans strike against the wide chamber and echo all across the building. Hips rutting back to feel his prolonged digits all the way down to the mountains of his knobbly knuckles, “Why are your fingers so big?”

“Only to please you, my darling.” And oh- oh, it was such a tight fit. 

Gojo can’t help but salivate the slimy tip of his tongue down your silvery slit and fucking pry your pussylips apart to let your snug channel take him deeper. Harder. Faster. The roaming shapes of his long, long digits scissor just so that he can stir apart your gluey walls and let you gush out slick.

Licking his way inside while he’s pushing into each nook n’ cranny- hitting down all the way to the base ends of his digits with a right thwack! 

“And you’re just so- ngh- looong—”

“Only to find-” Oh, you didn’t forget about those eyes of his, did you? Because right after he’s letting off a murky gust of those syllables, Gojo’s eyes glow- his fingers hammer - exactly into the bulging area of your g-spot. He’s seeing right through you. “-this sweet thing better, my darling.”

And then it’s absolutely driving you crazy- Gojo’s fingers are just so incredibly rude, swatting a furious back and forth. Thrash-thrash-thrash, determinedly perking up his fingerpads to push his purity ring against your g-spot and watch as you cutely flinch. 

“You’re so- oh- oh my god-” Making each scrape against your sweet spots so sensitive, pump after pump.

“I prefer…Satoru.”

He’s letting out a husky snicker each time he’s plunging into the deepest of your melty depths. Maw now gaping widely ajar to scoop up every glittery ribbon of slick that trickled from between your folds. He’s hungry- thirsting like a vampire parched for six hundred years n’ now he can only gulp in the first meal of his lifetime - you.

You’re bending your pussy to slope down against his mouth and he has the audacity to give you a sweet, puckered smooch. Innocent. “C’mon say it- pray.”

“Please-”

“Not what I asked, beloved.”

Your throat rips with such a carnal shrill at the pudgy crown of his third finger desperately trying to find a way in. Pushing- pap! pap! pap! “Pleeeease- ngh- Satoru. Satoru, fuck-”

SPANK! 

Such glistening beads of pearly slap stream n’ gush all down the front of Gojo’s bobbing throat the very moment he swats his plush palm down across your cunt. “Profanity is a desecration of the church, my angel.” 

Another spank. Another splurging squelch of your pussy talking out in leaks of your sweet, sweet juices. And Gojo only nods along as if in conversation, “How wonderful of you to volunteer to read chapter six in repentance-” Some invisible force of his powers is guiding your familiar shadowy book to your hands. “-and recite it in perfect condition, too.”

“But-”

“Perfect-” Just as a third finger spears its way between your slick-glazed pussylips and finds itself mazing down your walls, headed straight for your g-spot with a thump. Grinning. Voice airy. “-condition.”

A tiiiight fit, that makes you fumble with your poor book, your eyes whirling in the exact lecherous patterns he’s drawling out on your wettened cunt. Each sloppy slurp Gojo’s drinking in enough to make your wrists weaken-

“Ch-chapter six: The Vampyre’s ngh- Beloved.” Unsure of what has your mind spinning more, the title or the way that he’s picking his pace up angrily. “Many are unaware of- hah! the one weakness of the- fuck.”

Tittering, his dimples peek. “Keep going.”

“-the vampyre- hnghhh–”

“Don’t make me- oh.” And before you know it, not only does he have three of his fingers rummagin’ inside. But also the slither of his tastebuds stuffing insides- his vampire tongue so lengthy that it squeezes and squeezes ‘round your tight rim till he’s rutting his flushed cheeks against your cunt.

And the underside of your stomach crackles with a few sparks of bliss, “-the vampyre- their one true love.”

“Mmmmm, yes. Say that again.” 

“O-one true love?”

Gojo’s pulling back his tongue with a wettened squelch. Ravenous. Feral. He’s getting himself drunk on each drag that your restless body was quivering out - now moving everywhere and anywhere. 

Faster. Sloppier. 

Fucking back inside your hole. Slapping over your clit. Biting down on the swollen edge of your pussy just to hear those pretty cries, “One true love-” Then sticking the damp edges of his bangs to tickle your skin, he suckles on your clit like gum. “-my one true love.”

Again and again.

Moving so rapidly- it’s like he’s in three places at once. Swirling the long edge of his tongue around and around your walls until you’re babbling stupidly, “The fated mate- ngh- soulmate…?” Skipping paragraphs, enough to make Gojo give your pussy a quick spank.

“All scripture is God-breathed.”

“-c-can induce a different kind of bite in the vampyre. An unexplainable soul tie that happens merely once in- haaah- eternity- one that vampyres tear down heaven and hell for.” Oh, that gets him excited. 

Flicking his tongue furiously in hearts upon hearts on top of your sensitive clit now. Thoroughly. Feverishly, you’re half-wondering whether his lips weren’t aching- “And one such known- ngh- vampyre in search-”

“Yeeees–?”

“Gojo Satoru.”

And then you’re hitting it- that lewd, lecherous crash of your orgasm that’d been building up for what felt like eons at this point. 

“O-oh my god-” Was this what all those filthy romance books you hid away meant? It was so much better than a lonely night with your hand. You were cumming so hard that you’re seeing comical stars, letting go of the book. “Satoru- Satoru Satoru Satoru- I-I’m-”

“All over my face now. All over, my darling. C’mon.”

You didn’t even know where it started, you didn’t know where it ended. 

Just that it had your poor, trembling pussylips plastered to Gojo’s mouth like he was attaching it with adhesive. 

Inhuman strength holding your thighs down to stop you from even recoiling- because anything that would break off the rubbing massage of your cunt was something he had to halt. You were creamin’ all down Gojo Satoru’s face and he was making sure it stayed that way.

“Yes- yeeeees, that’s it. That’s it. Never in my life have I- hah-” Even speaking was such a difficult endeavor for him, not when he couldn’t bear to pull away mere inches from your gushing pussy. “-been more grateful for the fact that I don’t need to breathe.”

Thighs shaking, goosebumps taking over. You arch your back with a whine at the repeated flicks of his tongue on your clit- in dual stimulation with your g-spot. “B-but I do-”

In response, Gojo’s only crushing your poor pussy against his face further. “Hmmm- heh.” 

Only fucking you juuust a bit more with the coiling ends of his tongue, oh-so-lengthy like a snake’s. He swabs the bruised corners of your walls a few more times, gurgling through each fleck of gooey sap that escaped you. Before pulling back with such a loud, dramatic mwah! “Amen.”

Shocked, you flip your woozy head backwards to catch sight of his sleazy smirk, the way that his summer-blue eyes seemed to spark. Feeling your legs twitch slightly with the jolts of your high, “A-and about the vampire’s Beloved?”

“Huh? Oh.” Blinking his dazed eyes, he’s so pussydrunk that it takes Gojo a few seconds to even register what you’d just asked. “Well…will this prove my scripture’s truth, beloved?”

You’re being treated like a cute lil’ ragdoll at this point; because it doesn’t even take seconds for Gojo to perch a rude hand on the side of your hips and flip you over. 

With your back now against the cushion, you’re grappling for the woody bearings of the chair as he holds your ankles wide apart and lodges himself between them. “How devoted I am?”

“D-devoted?” You’re puffing out a humid breath, and your chin strikes your chest in your hurry to ogle the entire sight of Gojo Satoru. Because oh…oh, was he such an utter sight.

Your slick sheens the entire lower half of his handsome face- all the way up to his damn, ruddied cheekbones. Dripping down in sticky sloshes all across the hollows of his cheeks, and down his pointed fangs. Your breath catches in your throat as you take in just how glistening they were with all your glazes of sweet juices. 

He was wearing it like a mark of honor.

“So. Hopelessly. Devoted.”

Staining his neckline of his dark cassock even darker, you can’t help but notice that you were completely exposed while he was still dressed in his priests’ robes. Right down to the gold cross. 

Gojo slaps down the edge of his coral pink tongue to lick up the cloying excess glued to his mouth, staring dead-on at you all the while. “Oh…are you aware that I can smell whenever that pretty pussy gets even wetter?” 

“Y-you can?” You’re hissing, trying to close your legs but you can’t - not with Gojo pushing himself between them.

“It’s delicious.” Even deeper. Even wider, he stretches your legs and hunches over with his towering frame to fit a fat thumb between your spit-glossed lips. “I can smell your blood.” Sniffing your throbbing pulse, “Your need.” He glides his digit down your canines, so much more blunt than his fangs.

“And–?”

He looks down with a grin, “Your pussy.”

And Gojo could already sense your lewd impatience, holding onto the side of your waist with one hand- and the other pulling back to fumble with the golden buttons of his robes. 

Pop!

Pop!

Pop!

“Satoru-”

“Ah ah.” He was such a damn tease. Unbuttoning only about halfway down his fitted cassock and black clerical shirt. Just enough for you to be spying his extremely chiseled front, from the bulge of his curvy pecs, to the ridges of his abs.

He was oh-so-naturally sexy that it made your mouth water. Ripped core flexing once he’s removing his belt and tugging down those pants of his, robes lifted now. Not enough for you.

But just enough that his red, aching cock springs free and hits the pure white happy trail on his abs with a thwack! 

Nine- maybe even ten thick inches. And you can only speechlessly gape, because he wasn’t just rock-hard…he was so hard n’ heavy that it must’ve been painful, like every drop of blood in his pale body was surging up to the bulbous tip of his cockhead. 

Gojo’s mushroomy tip blushes a scorching hot pink and leaks out hot precum as if he’s melting, a translucent splat! straight between the slitted slope of your pussy. “Any last words?”

You’re trembling, “L-last words?”

“Mmm—” He’s sandwiching the girth of his fat, veiny cock between your folds. Just so thick that your pussylips are already being spread near their absolute max- and was that…

You gasp, surging your head down and oh- you were feeling it right. Each n’ every time Gojo’s sliiiding his length between your cunt, your clit snags on the cold, bulging nib of something. A piercing. He had a piercing.

Like one of those you’d only heard they had in large cities and oh, you weren’t making it out of this alive. 

“M’gonna eat you alive, my angel.”

As if he’d just read your mind.

And you wouldn’t be surprised if he could- pure cottony static entering your brain the very second that Gojo’s aligning his smooth tip at your entrance and pushing.

The stretch is so much that you can only blink your teary lashes and keen– “I-it’s so big- oh, shit, go easy on me, Satoru.” Especially when you’ve never been stretched out like this before.

So-very-vulgarly, Gojo only hovers his wet-glazed thumb down to tip aside your plush folds. It was so cute, like your swollen pussy was puckering right up at him every time he nudged his hips back to give your tight hole a good probe.

“Is that all?” He’s inspecting with a grin, ringed fingers pryin’ your dewy cunt apart. Mindlessly rutting- bucking- “Six hundred years and s’that all you can take, beloved?”

Clearly teasing, but the thought of taking all his barrelling shaft makes your back arch wildly. Whimpering after every smooch of his orbed piercing, “I-I can make all of that fit?”

“No.” Gojo snickers, but even that sounds unsteady. Even that sounded like it was on the very verge of shattering into a zillion pieces, and he’s only sinking a finger inside your pussy to stretch you out. To force his raging dick to break off from your clammy cunt to push and push. “But I will make it fit.”

And then it’s like you’re losing your mind- seeing white behind the lids of your eyes when he’s sinking in a few fat, heavy inches. 

Hissing underneath his breath, Gojo’s moving the hand at your hips over to your throat to pin you down. 

“C’mon-” Chortling, he uses it to keep you still as he ruts- “C’mon c’mon-” And ruts, burying your upper half into the couch cushion as he swerves his hips deeper. The stretch just vicious, your elastic entrance is being oh-so-tugged to his very size. “Acting like such a sinful girl– and you shall be dealt with as such. Now, open those legs wider, my darling.”

“Oh-oh, god- Satoru-”

Choking you, his big, beefy biceps flex once he’s pulling you down by your neck. Meaty thighs gluing flush against your own, his fangs peek in a grin. “Yes and yes.” 

Languidly, Gojo’s pumping himself deeper to fill out each slick ridge and orifice. Prince Albert’s piercing decorating the very line of his sensitive slit, he’s acting like it’s a spotlight to massage every spot inside of you.

 Letting the puffy entrance of your pussy stretch-stretch-streeeetching-

“F-fuck.” Gojo lets out, all of a sudden. Barely even audible over the resounding plop! that lets off from the damp space between your thighs when he’s finally - finally - bottoming out. 

Finally. 

And oh– it takes a few seconds to register inside your mind, did you just make the infamous Gojo Satoru stutter? Mewling in bewilderment, “D-did you just…did you just fit all- hck!”

He groans—“Sure did.” But there’s something dopey in his tone, something that sounds like utter fucking disbelief. Gojo rovers his hand over your plump cylindrical tummy bulge - he was so big that he could tap his thumb down on the hill of his cockhead poking through. “Fuck.”

Then it’s like the floodgates open. The floodgates shatter. 

Gojo’s fangs elongate, his eyes slit almost menacingly- and he’s throwing your boneless legs over his shoulder to push you down into the tightest possible mating press. 

A mating press.

Hand slamming down on the couch’s oak frame hard enough for it to splinter, “Fuck.” He’s croaking out like a broken record as soon as he’s gifting your goopy cunt with the first thrust. “Fuh-fuck.”

Then the second, the third, the fourth- smashing against that cute spongy cervix at the bottom of your pussy. Gojo rubs his swollen veins raw on the gummy texture of your walls, feeling a little part of his sanity crack each time.

“Oh my- ngh- fuuuuck, Satoru–” You’re wailing out whimpering, fingers valleying through the locks of his ivory hair and pulling. “It’s so big- h-hngh- how’s it even going in-” 

“If only your eyes may gaze upon what I can.” The edges of his blue eyes sizzle with power, and shit, he’s seeing right through your drooling cunt.

Using the lecherous advantage of his powers to swerve his hips just right, he knocks the flared end of his tip right at the target of your g-spot. Extra, extra blissful with the way his chilling piercing slips n’ snags just right across that particular orifice.

“Then you’d know that this is the only- ngh- heaven that a creature like I shall ever taste. The only heaven that I shall…fuck.”

Digits twitching on his clammy scalp, “O-oh.”

And you just look so pretty like this- lips sprayed with bubbles of drool, your eyes rolling cartoonishly every time he struck the bottom of your pussy, chest heaving. 

So Gojo can’t help but feel your gushing pussy clench ‘round his cock and gasp- and slouch. Maw sagging fully open, cross hitting your chest, he’s furrowing his brows down at you- yeah, the most beautiful thing he’s seen since he was turned six hundred years ago.

Letting go of teasing that tummy bulge, he holds your left hand - tenderly. 

And Gojo, for all his riches, might not have an engagement ring ready yet; which is why you’re feeling the cool slip of his purity ring make way onto your ring finger. Blinking dazedly, “C-can the Father even- ngh- propose?”

“For you? I’d burn down every soul, building, and flora upon this land.”

Dead serious.

Gojo tilts his flustered features down at you and asks one simple question, “Feel like flying?”

“Flying? What- oh, fuck!”

And he could fly, if he so wished to grow his wings- but what Gojo meant right now was to pick you up. Cleanly off the broken couch, he stands tall with only a singular inhuman hand supporting your weight. 

The other turning your head up to watch the twitches in your expression as gravity slides you doooown his aching cock. From the ruby-red globe of his crown to the wide circumference of his hilt, each squirm leaves his prominent veins grazing your walls sensually.

Your ass cheeks nuzzling his heavy balls, you whimper, “I-it’s in again?”

“Oh, beloved, it’s more than in…” Trailing off with a husky groan, Gojo leaves a wet, open-mouthed kiss on your lips that makes you whine. “-I don’t think m’gonna make it out of this with my life to spare.”

Oh.

Oh.

Then Gojo’s fucking you like he’s angry his thick, ravenous cock can’t delve deeper inside your pussy - just furious, slobbering strokes. 

He thwacks the curve of his ballsack against the front of your cunt and then hisses when it won’t go any further. Usin’ a firm grip on your ass to get you to arch even further, “More- come on. More, little human.”

Rolling your hips back with each hit after hit to your g-spot, he’d mapped you out perfectly at this point. Shaft just so extremely long that you were feeling it in your very lungs. 

“R-right there mmm–” Spittle pours from the edge of your mouth and lavishes Gojo’s deltoids, where you can only hold on for dear life. “Oh my god, Satoru-”

“You think your Lord’s lookin’ down at you right now, my angel?” Gojo has the audacity to giggle with his fanged canines - pussydrunk and gone once his hips only slam harder into yours. 

His golden crucifix repeatedly thumps your chest, and you can only watch when he drags up your ringed left hand right up to his mouth. Biting. “He can’t hear you-” Hard. “So maybe you should heh- scream louder.”

Louder and louder - your pitchy whines were utter music in Gojo’s blushing ears. 

By now reaching a fever point as you’re feeling the sensations in your legs go numb, head lolling stupidly-

“My, no ngh- sleeping yet, my darling.” And this position just left you so helpless, completely at Gojo’s mercy when he’s deciding to slip a free hand between your legs and pinch your perky clit. Brushing the calloused fringe of his thumb down where you were the most sensitive. “Not until I bite every inch of you.”

Oh…it just felt too good. Those slender fingers knew exactly what they were doing, targeting the most delicate spots of your nub, until you felt all raw. 

You babble at the carnal itch of his fingerpads rolling across your clit. Smearing the dewy droplets of slick that just kept on seeping out of you. “B-but I’m so- ngh- can feel it again, Satoru…”

“That so?” Absolutely no mercy. Gojo’s starting up a synchronization between his pre-glazed tip banging your g-spot, and the toying of your honeyed clit. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. “And yet…”

You’re shivering as he whispers in your ear, rasping. Dark. Something that makes your heart race and your cunt pound. “I will still fuck you until you can’t walk out the hah- steps of this very church.” 

Another dollop of buttery pre sprays along your cervix, another kiss of his frigid piercing glueing to your walls, and yet another twitch of your useless legs. “I will still make everyone see- make everyone know. But first…”

And you knew from that delicate dimple dotting the side of his grin that the next few words won’t bode well for you.

You knew you were done for just as soon as Gojo leans back from your haphazardly dangling body, ever-so-slightly. Eyeing down your front with his superhuman sight, he still bites down on your purity ring as he grins.

“-I wish to make a statement even the heavens shall know.”

And he can see. He knows exactly where his stirrin’ cock is heading for - right towards the bullseye of your womb. Thrashing- the only carnal sensation you register before it’s all white.

Both your bleary vision and the thick, copious clumps of cum that Gojo was filling you up with.

Both hitting your highs at once - so hard that his fangs shatter the deep purity ring on your finger. Though, never once leaving even a scar on you. 

“Oh, ya really are made for me.” Gojo gasps out a sharp pant, toned hips rutting so ferally upwards at the clenching squeeze of your heated insides. And oh- saying it was good would be an understatement.

The winding lines of his veiny cock dragged out your wave of bliss until you felt like your mind was melting. Bludgeoning his Prince Albert’s against your g-spot again and again and again at the precise peaks of your high.

You almost get the feeling that he’s milking himself on your overspilling cunt, twiddling a thumb over the button of your clit just to get you to clench. “H-heh-” Gojo watches as your creamy pussy driiiips with ivory syrup. “More more take more-”

You curl your toes in euphoria, dragging him into a filthy, filthy kiss. Slurring,“M-mmm- yes. I wanna-”

“Mhmmm–?”

“Hck! wanna be yours, Toru–”

Oh.

He had such a look on his face that told you he would just kill for you. Simply say the word. 

“M’already yours, beloved.” Gojo’s meaty thighs shiver after each stringy ribbon of sap being pumped into you, and he’s sliding a thumb all over the drivelling mess of your slit. Cooing as you flinch, “Oh, you’re so fuuuuck- ripe.”

Ripe? What did that even mean-

You didn’t need to utter the question, because he’s already answering it in the next sultry instant. 

You watch as he lovingly gazes at your tummy bulge, now stuffed with the weighty knots of his cum. There’s an almost tender note in his voice as he speaks, “Should you so wish, this one’s gonna be a ngh- boy.”

Oh.

Ripe for the picking, like a pomegranate.

Ripe for him to fuck you till you were all round and glowing- and it’s almost the two of you are moving at the speed of light. Gojo barely even taking a split-second to transport himself to the edge of his humble priest’s bed and bully you down.

Cock still buried deeply near your womb, he flattens the weeping head of his shaft against your cervix. Taking a loooong, languid glide of his pierced mushroom tip-

“Y-you’re still- ngh-” You hiccup, feeling the parched twitch of his length - still so red n’ swollen that it ached him to not be stuffed between your glossy folds. 

Sheathing himself in sluggish gyrations that stir your insides, Gojo’s tearing off the rest of his holy robes. From his cassock to his roman collar- and that twinkling golden cross ends up dropped somewhere on his dampening sheets. 

“Still hard? Heh-” Gojo snickers, oh, he’s going to have fun with you for the rest of eternity. “Now, you didn’t expect a vampire to stop at only one, did you, my angel?”

Fuck. 

.

.

.

And maybe it’s been hours. Maybe it’s been days.

All you’re learning is that a vampire goes for seconds, thirds, fourths- that Gojo Satoru won’t be even the slightest bit satisfied until he’s well past the sixth round. 

Your tired hips slumped on top of his now, riding him dry- well, as best as you could when your entire body was utterly helpless. At his mercy, he’s got his large hands clawing on your waist, moving you in steady figure-eight grins.

Long, achingly probing his sensitive divot into your battered and bruised delicate spots. So far gone that you could feel the slimy second skin of his cum from hours prior pool inside. 

Gojo slaps his hip bones up to yours and lets out what sounded like a damn broken whimper, “Yeah- yeah, if this isn’t the most heavenly thing- nghhh–”

“Oh-ohhhh my god—” You whimper, the cheeks of your ass stinging as he perks a hand underneath your thighs to slam you down. Crushing your overstimulated clit against his soaked happy trail, “The sun’s coming up, Toru.”

And sure enough, tentative yellow light was seeping between the half-shuttered blinds of Gojo’s quarters.

With it, a new day. And a new victim of the vampire to be discovered - of his. 

Though, that’s the last thing on your stupidly fuzzy mind when the thickened end of his thumb is coming down to draw out a cute lil’ heart on your clit. “S’that soo–? Heh-” He gulps from his completely dry throat, looking at you through unruly white bangs. “Better make this fast then, my darling.”

You had no idea where his stamina was coming from- even for a vampire this was ridiculous, surely.

At some point he was clinging onto your hips and maneuvering you up n’ down his vein-decorated cock as if it was nothing. 

Slight sparks of power flying from his half-lidded eyes every time he’s swirling and swirling his flinching cock ‘round your walls. Each semicircle of him stretching you out gets you rewarded with the slightest geyser of milky pre- damn near cumming dry.

“Oh.” Gojo’s nostrils flare, and his flushed maw hangs wide open with a sliver of spittle. Turning into a torrent of saliva once he’s hit with that familiar candied perfume of your orgasm.

Close-

Before you can even babble out the word, you’re cumming- and not just cumming, squirting. All over Gojo’s…face?

Fuck, your hands dig into the sweaty locks of his pale hair. Half-melted mind realizing that he’d transported you with his powers just as soon as you hit your high. Moving you from his jolting cock to seat all prettily on top of his face. 

Right on top for him to lavish his swollen mouth with the splosh of your velvety sap. Creaming all over his handsome features, leaving his lower and upper body soaked.

“Mmm- fuck.” He slaps his dewy-wet lips down your dripping wet cunt; simply drunken, Gojo lets the ribbons of your thick slick drench his sharp jawline. Puddle after puddle of cloying liquid that sprays across his mouth. A fucking mess. 

“A-men…” Cum and slick bubbling down his rosy mouth n’ fangs, he babbles. Catching sight of the bleeding orange of the sun rise, “Oh, it’s time.”

Time for him to lick up the last few tingles of your orgasm. Time for him to keep pinning you down to his face as he turns his head towards your thighs and bites.

Hard.

Puncturing.

And just as soon as the hot crimson of your blood leaks into his mouth, Gojo finds himself smiling. “May God never forgive me.”

A different kind of mark, the book had claimed. And sure enough your body flashes hot- something churning inside your blood vessels. Something that makes him tenderly flip the two of you over so that you can lay across the ruined sheets-

Only for him to take sweet, sweet advantage of the crook of your neck and bite. Once more. Then twice on the other side, just to make sure. Just because he couldn’t stop himself.

Six hundred years.

Six hundred years that he had been searching for you.

You’re wheezing out weakly, “Satoru…”

Now to finally, finally find you.

“Rest. The transformation from human to vampire is quite taxing.” Gojo hushes you, ivory lashes lowered in pure loving. He plants a kiss on the bloodied bite marks at your neck, fangs peeking out just enough to tease. “We have a long eternity together, my beloved.”

.

.

[Excerpt from ‘Scripture of Shadows’: Latest published edition, author unknown.]

‘Chapter Six: The Vampyre’s Beloved

Many are unaware of the one weakness of the vampyre: their one true love. Yes, reader, the fated mate, only poetically comparable to a ‘soulmate’, is one that can induce a different kind of bite in the blood-thirsty vampyre. 

It is an unexplainable soul tie that happens merely once in eternity - one that provokes even the most blasphemous creature of the vampyre to tear down heaven and hell. One such known vampyre in search was the famed Gojo Satoru, almighty of even these shadowed beings.

But through my journeys, I have found that our despicable being has come to find his fated mate, as of late. The latest whispers within the shadowed realm speak of an atypically happy life, and an even happier bride—expectably, leaving bloodied wedding favors behind.

Some even claim an heir of the Darkness to be within reach, God have mercy.

Six hundred years of terror, and it seems that He has found even the most undeserving worthy of being loved. Being seen. 

For, perhaps even the cruelest of creatures can love.

Amen.’

A/N. Omg y’all I had to get permission from like five of my Christian friends before I could post this erm- obvi disclaimer that this isn’t a true representation of Christianity!!

“Oh? Okay.”

“Listen I know it’s stupid and I know-” Wait…what? Cutting yourself off with a choked-up wheeze- for the first time since he’d barged into your life, Gojo had truly and absolutely stumped you. “Wait- you agreed?”

He’s shrugging one broad deltoid, tinted glasses that you’d bought for his last birthday sliding down that high nose bridge of his. And the grin you’re graced with is blinding. “Well, I knew it was about time before you fell for my charms~” Before one strong arm swings its way around your shoulders, manhandling you against the thin black t-shirt wrapped around his sculpted body. He wiggles his cloudy brows, “What was it- the hair? The eyes? The body? Y’know I’ve been hitting the gym more-”

“Gojo Satoru.” you’re gritting out through tight lips. “I need you to date me- just for one night.”

“So it was the body-” he’s gasping dramatically, beefy arms frantically wrapping around your middle. You could feel the curves of his washboard abs against your palm. Purring voice pitching up into what almost sounded like a whine, “At least take me out to dinner first–! To think that you just want me for a one night stand-”

In a split-second, your palms slap over his nonsensical mouth - hard enough that you almost spy a stinging stamp of red on his skin. 

And yet, Gojo doesn’t complain. Doesn’t display anything but a brazen gleam in his gaze that practically screamed out kinky~! 

“Shut- up- my brother’s in the next room.” You’re hissing, eyes flickering behind Gojo’s toned figure and towards the kitchen door for any looming sign of Geto. “I need you to date me-” Your digits tighten over his mouth as soon as you feel it moving to prattle away once more. “-just for tonight- no, not as a one night stand, put that banner down- We just need to ah- pretend?”

Damn, it sounds more of a garbage idea out loud - and you didn’t even know that was possible. 

At the question in his summer blue eyes, your hopefully explanatory words spill out a mile a minute. “S-so Sukuna has been getting around since our little break-up a few months ago- if you can even call it that…”

Ah, melding into such a big group with your brother’s friends and your own in university had always meant that there would be a few bumps along the way. 

From explaining to an overeager Haibara that no, you and Gojo were definitely not dating, to making sure that your brother and his best friend didn’t make Nanami suffer from an aneurysm too early in life, to perhaps the biggest of them all - your fiery, yet short-lived fling with Ryomen Sukuna. 

The most dramatic bump, according to Shoko.

Sukuna wasn’t a close friend, but it’d taken work to get over the worst of the awkwardness after he’d dumped you without a moment’s notice. And you weren’t exactly dreaming up a wedding with him…sort of, but you certainly did skip out on a few invitations to hang out if you knew that he’d show his smug face.

And right now it left you ironically wishing you’d heeded Gojo’s words when he’d first warned you that Sukuna “wasn’t right for you.” 

Though, you think part of it came from his own unexplainable love-hate animosity with the man.

“-but I’ve still been painfully single since the last time I saw him, and you know how he is. I can’t face him like this.” You, in particular, knew too well. “You two still have that weird rivalry thing going on, right? So help me show him up just for tonight- then later we say it fizzled out and everything goes back to normal. It’s a win-win really if- eugh!”

You snatch your hand back as far as it would go the very second you feel the sodden drag of something against your palm. Staring in horror at your clammy skin…he licked you.

And Gojo almost winces at the loss of your touch - he almost drags your hand back himself. 

But oh, it was worth it just to see the way your gorgeous features get scrunched up into an even more gorgeous glare - one that said if looks could kill, then he’d already be six feet under and having his surprise party thrown on his grave already. 

Truly the way to a man’s heart, he swoons internally. 

“Fine.”

And when has that particular tone from Gojo ever boded well for you?

“Fine?”

You find yourself gulping at the slight bob of his smooth Adam’s apple, the flex of his back muscles when he hunches downwards to crowd your space. Mere inches away. Somehow, he seemed too close and too far away at the same time. Too intoxicating with his cold, pinewood scent.

“Fine I’ll let you- heh, use me for my body.” Tone intentionally dipping into a low, rumbling territory. Gojo’s batting his long snowy lashes in a way you’d almost deem innocent - if it wasn’t for the next few words that tumble urgently from his mouth. “-only if you give me something back. A kiss.”

You jolt, “What?”

“I’m the birthday boy, and I say-”

Cutting him off with a thoroughly practiced scoff, “Well, I have common sense. And I say I should just ask Nanami instead-”

“Is the common sense in my five-star getaway cabin with us right now?”

“Okay! You two!” Geto’s roughened hands clap down on your shoulders with a little more force than necessary. His voice is patient - used to this. “Please try not to make this a funeral before we can make it a birthday party, Satoru’s decorations are non-refundable.”

Oh, shit.

How long had he been standing there?

Judging by Geto’s slight shake of your shoulders as if scrambling the practical part of your brain back into functionality - and the way he wasn’t lecturing your ear off just yet - you guessed that the two of you had been lucky this time. 

Face burning, you pray you didn’t look as guilty as you were. Swatting your older brother’s well-meaning hands away. “Speaking of, for a busybody hosting his own surprise party, I’m shocked you didn’t want any gifts.” Quirking a brow, “Is there even anything you want? Anything else?” 

Gojo knew what you meant - you weren’t just talking about the party anymore. 

And, well…he avoids your eyes. Yes. Yes, there is .

You. 

But, woe, even the utterly shameless Gojo Satoru couldn’t possibly say that out loud - especially in front of his best friend, and your brother - so he settles on an obnoxiously dragged-out, “Awww- Trynna make my birthday special f’me, sweetheart~?”

And even that was toeing the line.

He can’t help the way his rosy lips curl smugly at the edges when you’re hissing out a heated, “S-see if I try and have a civil conversation with you ever again, Gojo.”

“Ouch!” Gojo’s clutching dramatically at his heart with a willowy faint that leaves him hanging off of Geto’s shoulders - and it wasn’t too hard to fake with the way his heart lurches uncomfortably at the sound of his last name on your pretty tongue. “Right for the jugular- is this your way of throwing the towel on our truce?”

Truce…is that what he’s calling it?

You catch your own brother - that traitor - stifling a bout of laughter behind his hand when his towering best friend seems to cower in your mere presence. Because, really, who was Gojo Satoru against you? 

Sighing with that slightly infuriated pout you haven’t lost since you were a whiny, teary-eyed brat meeting him at his Digimon-themed birthday party many, many years ago. 

Gojo takes the moment to truly appreciate how you’ve grown since.

He hadn’t technically invited you back then - but what else was there to do when your older brother was off making friends in kindergarten already and being invited by his “new best friend”?

You’d been pouty the entire evening at that, he remembers, and his mother had gotten a ton of photos just of your bickering duo. A year younger and just barely an inch shorter than him, but to a freshly six-year-old Gojo that made all the superiority - enough to tease you badly enough that you’d left him with a tiny, throbbing pink handprint across his cheek, and his poor heart in your palm.

“No.” Your voice rips him out of his reverie, as it always seems to do these days. “So you better k-keep up your end of the truce, too.”

With you stomping your way back to your cabin suite, Gojo finds his twinkling eyes straying right after. Hot on your heels. Unable to tear away. You really have changed since then, all grown up - as is he - and yet-

“That’s after a truce?” Geto wonders out loud for the both of you.

Well, he’s eyeing his best friend. And Gojo was nothing if not a good- well, he was good at everything, quite frankly. Everything except for when it came to you. “Suguru, we might have to plan a surprise engagement party tonight instead of a surprise birthday party.”

“Huh?”

“Huh?”

Because he still feels as much the bumbling six-year-old with his first-ever crush as he was back then.

---

“Matching colors?”

You sigh, “Check.”

“Matching backstories?”

“Check.”

“Kiss me?”

“Ch- wait not yet-” you’re managing to shrill out, fingers curling even tighter around where Gojo had insisted you latch onto his bicep. And you feel him flex boastfully under his velvety button-up, “And do we really need to make some grand entrance? You literally planned the entire party.”

He’s flicking your forehead - softly, you’ve seen Gojo roughhousing with your brother before and he didn’t use even half his strength on you. “Surprise party- the birthday boy has to make a dramatic entrance with his girlfriend. How else will we make a statement?” 

You’re grumbling to yourself about why you needed to make a statement at all - but you can’t argue, this was your idea after all.

And Gojo seemed well and fully intent to excel in his role…perhaps too intent. 

Now, you always knew that his family was disgustingly wealthy; but Gojo practically dragged you to the nearest high-end mall this morning. Insisting on the latest twinkling bracelets and bejewelled necklaces to match his fitted shirt. Cooing that you looked “absolutely gorgeous” in every single one. 

Was this official girlfriend treatment from Gojo Satoru himself? You’ve never known him to have had a long-term relationship in all the years he’s been your brother’s friend but…but it was all so much for just one night of acting. 

And when you’re twirling that flowy silken fabric of your dress around your fingers, you wonder if that’s all he was thinking. 

“Hey?” The rounded pads of his fingers skim over your cheeks, “Nervous?”

“A little.” you admit, trying oh-so-desperately to escape from his blazing sapphire gaze. 

And Gojo crushes you close to his body, one massive palm resting firmly on your hips, hardened front pressing up against yours. Warm. Steady. Voice so close now that you could catch every slight crack towards the end, the heat of Gojo’s feverish breath - practically burning - against your ear. 

You wanted to feel his hands more - everywhere. 

Woah. You’re shaking your head, thankful it simply looked like you were gathering your wits. Maybe you were more tired than you thought.

“We’ll be alright. Trust me, it’ll go smoothly.” Was- was Gojo Satoru comforting you? He’s cracking a smile, like the thought just occurred to him, too. “And if it doesn’t then I can beat up that b-”

SLAM!

“Why are you taking so lo- What. The. Fuck.”

Your first instinct is to wrench away from Gojo’s hold - but unluckily for you, his first instinct is the exact opposite. And you find his firm digits tensing to dig into the plush of your hips, both of your heads snapping towards that gravelly new voice. 

Catching a jaw-dropped Shoko with her half-burnt cigarette dropped to the floor, she looked nowhere near even thinking of picking it back up. You could practically see the gears curdling around in her head.

“Ah-” You’re gasping out in what you hoped was believable scandal, fingers latching around Gojo’s own cold ones. Not to remove - no, Gojo almost has a heart attack when you intertwine them with yours. “Hope we’re not too late, Sa- Toru here wanted to go shopping.”

“Wait-” Shoko runs her hands through her silky locks like she was pleading to the skies above. “Wait wait wait- wait- when did this happen no-” She’s baring you with her most aghast look, “Why did this happen?”

Gojo comes to your rescue, face falling into the crook of your neck with a grin. “Told ya she would fall for my charms eventually~”

“Yes, but I didn’t think she was that stupid-”

Yes! You have to fight to hide your smile, despite the blatant insult. One down - if you could get everyone at this party to believe in your little act, then Sukuna would have to. 

“Still here–” You’re deadpanning, hoping that your friends didn’t catch the slight tremors in your voice. Damn- why did Gojo have to be so warm. “-and uh- maybe we should head inside? After it is a certain someone’s-”

“Shhh! You’ll ruin my surprise.”

It all goes according to script - well, your entrance with Gojo and his entrance into the party. 

As soon as your duo steps in, the dim lights flicker on and you’re deafened with the cheery yell of surprise! Blinking your startled gaze to adjust to the blinding decorations upon decorations that Gojo himself had put up, you can’t help but let out a chuckle at the smiling faces that meet you. 

Geto and Haibara holding exploded party poppers, the rest of the group from Kyoto standing around a brightly lit cake you’d baked, Nanami the one turning on the lights - the farthest away from the birthday boy. Purposefully so, you imagine.

And there - in the center of it all - Sukuna. 

Arms crossed, a pink brow raised as he drinks in the sight of you - all of you. 

As was the rest of the room, eyes widening in true surprise. 

Gojo’s clutching the front of his shirt with almost-frightening theatrics. “You guys- You did this all for me? You’re the absolute best-”

“Eugh.”

“What did you blackmail her with?”

“Congratulations on your relationship!”

Your eyes latch onto Geto - who only takes a long look at you and cackles. 

Gojo’s huffing ever-so-slightly as he gets cut off, and that’s what it takes for you to realize that you still had his fingers looped undeniably with yours. In fact, he’s tugging you even close to wrap one heavy arm over your shoulder, the very picture of sappy devotion when he nuzzles his cheek into your own. “They’re bullying me~”

He was laying it on thick.

He’d barely steered you into the living room before you catch a flash of white and two firm arms curled around your neck - away from your supposed boyfriend. 

“My lovely!” Utahime cries, cocktail abandoned somewhere to wrangle you free from Gojo’s treacherous grasp. She’s cupping your face with visible concern, “Is your head okay? Did you knock it somewhere? I know a good doctor that can help with-”

“Hey! She’s my lovely-”

“I’m fine, Utahime.” You’re subtly stepping on Gojo’s toes before things can escalate any further. Eyes meeting red ones from across the room, “-I promise. We’re just ah- giving it a go. It’s very new and we didn’t want to make such a big deal out of it, honestly.”

Lies. The entire point is to make a big deal out of it. 

Shoko crosses over in a flash, droopy eyes flickering between you and a sheepish Gojo. “Giving it a-” Slicing their way over to the decorative blush on his cheeks, “-go…huh.” 

And as you’re surrounded by the tittering crowd, you’ve never felt more like one of those cell samples that Shoko would dissect in medical school and proudly show your reluctant self pictures of. 

Ogling everything from the weight of Gojo’s hand on your shoulders to that soppy smile on his face when he smushes his cheek into yours like some overgrown cat. And you can’t help but wear a grin of your own.

Can’t help but feel relief when she cracks a wicked smile, “Fucking finally.”

Haibara gathers your hands in his own, “I-I’m so proud of you two! Nanami and I have been hoping for this for the past five years-” Flitting his strangely wet eyes to a Nanami who couldn’t have looked more disinterested if he tried. “-isn’t that right Nanami?”

“No it’s not.” he’s rolling his eyes, but you catch the slightest hint of a twitch at the corners of his lips. And it hits you that he’s happy for you. 

Really, truly happy.

“Right right!” Haibara plows on, and you have half the mind to wonder if the obliviousness was a skill. “It’s been more like the past seven years-”

Geto slaps! his hand on Gojo’s shoulder, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “So he finally grew the balls, huh?”

“Eh? I mean-” you’re strangling out at your brother’s sudden comment. “-I mean of course. Had to practically force it out of him though, y’know?”

Shoko nods, eyes far away like she’s remembering something you can’t. “Of course, you did- pining fool.” And in the corner of your eye, you sneak a glimpse at the way Gojo’s sharp jaw clenches. Grinding ever-so-lightly as she calls out, “Well, I was almost at my wit’s end with your horrible taste in men. No offense, Sukuna, not that this one’s any better- let me know if you ever need his balls chopped off in his sleep–”

Utahime’s narrowed glare stays locked on Gojo, “Hurt her and it’ll be more than your balls.”

Sukuna, notably, says nothing.

.

.

.

Gojo Satoru was a liar. 

The guestlist for his birthday wasn’t simply your friends - it was damn near the entire campus by the time the cake had been cut and you’d all settled into your usual conversations. 

Body after body filtering in through those towering mahogany doors of his. Invitation or not. Rapidly and steadily, it was growing into another one of Gojo’s famed parties. Honestly, you wouldn’t even be surprised if you’d actually bumped into Professor Yaga somewhere in there. 

“Eheh- whoops.” His apologetic words hit hotly against your ear over the thumping music. Your body jostling precariously where you were sat all prettily in his lap on the overpriced living room couch. “I don’t even know half these people.” 

And, yet, more than half the people seemed to know you - or, at least, your relationship with Gojo. 

Sure, you were aware that your brother and his best friend were amongst some of the most popular students on campus, but this was ridiculous. You couldn’t pass two minutes without a few guests sauntering up to wish the two of you well and leaving Gojo with a “congratulations for finally growing the balls.”

“They sure know a lot about your balls, huh?” You’re raising a brow, back pressed up against the massaging ridges of his abs. And some part of you felt guilty for deceiving all of these people - they really did look curiously happy for the two of you. 

Gojo’s bemoaning, “I can assure you that you are the only one allowed to talk about my b-”

“Ugh, couples.” Comes your brother’s voice to the side of you, the cushiony couch dips as he takes his seat. “Though, it is much better than having him mope around.”

“Suguru…” Gojo murmurs. Low. 

“What? Scared I’ll embarrass you in front of your girlfriend?” Geto was such a provocateur despite that serene expression he’d constantly wear on the outside. Taking a long swig of his beer before musing, “Remember, she’s my sister, Satoru. And I think she should know about that book of pick-up lines you bought for her. And that picture in your-”

Immediately, two engulfing hands find their place on either side of your head, covering your ears so blatantly. Gojo’s strained screech is only slightly muted when he drags out, “W-we haven’t gotten to that stage yet!”

“Oh, I see I see-” And Haibara - dear, sweet Haibara - always chooses the worst times to pop up from behind the two of you. Ringing voice commanding the attention of about half of the room nearby when he’s humming, “So you two are still in the honeymoon phase, then? How romantic!”

“No.”

“Yes.”

There’s such dangerous possessiveness in Gojo’s limbs when they tangle in a mess with yours. One arm wrapped tight around your waist, the other gliding its lecherous pathway up and down your exposed thigh. Slowly. Savoring. 

Gojo’s fingers twirl over the short hem of the dress he’d bought, lips pressed up against your throat as he mutters. “Aw, c’mon– no need to be shy, sweetheart.”

And you’re sure whatever strange little flip your heart did showed on your face - because immediately, you’re being showered with awww’s and squeals from all around you two- when did you even draw in a crowd?

“Then why dontcha give ‘er a pretty peck to prove it.”

But of course, Sukuna was in it, too.

“What?” 

You try not to let your true feelings bleed into your words when you take a long look at that unchanged smirk, the way he’s tilting his tattooed neck in defiance. Shrugging up sculpted shoulders, “M’just saying. If you were my girl, I’d want to prove it to everyone here.”

Damn.

Geto nudges his best friend, and you grit your teeth - because proving it was exactly what Sukuna did when you two were dating. Often these parties found you sneaking away if he felt generous, and Sukuna’s lips hot against yours right on the dance floor if he didn’t. 

All in front of a fuming Gojo.

And, hell, if he could be petty then so could you. 

You’re ignoring the boiling in your veins to run a few stray fingers through Gojo’s angelic hair. Soft. It drags his steely gaze from Sukuna over to you with a gulp, “S’that okay, Toru–” Oh god, that nickname has Gojo wondering whether he’s in heaven. “-wouldn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“Tch, are you kiddin’ me-” He recovers quickly, and you didn’t know whether the raw awe in his voice was part of the acting or simply just Gojo being himself. “-provin’ to losers than I’m yours is the best birthday gift I could get.”

The last thing you see is that tiny, curvaceous dimple at the end of Gojo’s grin before he’s smashing his lips onto yours. It’s messy. Disorganized. The very beginnings of a sodden French kiss. 

Sheer teeth and lips and need as he suckles lightly on your lower lip, pearly white canines sinking in ever-so-lightly until you keen. Lost into the wolf whistles erupting from the party-goers - it seems to knock some sense into you two.

And Gojo breaks the kiss with a panting pah! sugary sweet taste of his birthday cake lingering on your tongue - over as soon as it started. “Happy birthday to me.”

“You are so corny-” you’re croaking, more so because you didn’t know what to say than anything. Because all your mind was whirling with weren’t words - it was the feeling of wanting more more more-

Shit. Your eyes widen, peering down at Gojo’s half-drunken gaze - even though you’re sure his lightweight self hasn’t had a single drink tonight. You wanted to kiss him more. 

“I-I think I’m going to get a drink.” you’re mumbling out, hastily standing on two unsteady feet. Mere moments away from stepping into the kitchen - from making your escape - before long digits clasp around your wrist. With a plastered smile, you turn to Gojo, gaze flickering down between his begging eyes and that vice-like grip of his. “You need anything, babe?”

“Ah-” Gojo lets you go as if your skin scorched him - as if he didn’t even realize that he’d been holding onto you this way. “No no, nothing for me- don’t take too long, m’kay~”

Every step you take, Gojo’s watching after you like it couldn’t be fast enough.

Because after that? That kiss that had him feeling like a pathetically melty puddle of teenage hormones? Shit, he’s almost on the verge of getting out of his seat and running after you like a maiden himself-

“So…ugh- was that part of the truce?”

“Huh?”

“Was that- dammit, Satoru fuckin’ look at me- she’s not even in your line of sight!”

“Oh- what?” Gojo’s veering his eyes over to his best friend, gaze still trailing after you like a lost puppy even when he registers the other man talking to him. Your little audience had mostly dissipated by now, leaving him to act as much of a fool as his idol-like persona on campus didn’t allow. 

Geto lets him stew in the strobing silence of the party music for a little longer, before heaving out a sigh that was much too worldly for a young man of twenty-something. As a younger sister, you really did give him grief - and he finds himself almost wishing he hadn’t interrogated Gojo after overhearing your strange agreement earlier today. “Man, you really are stupid, huh?”

“I know.” 

“And this charade of yours is even stupider.”

“...I know.”

“And you realize that you might just be helping her back into the arms of that Sukuna all over again, right?”

“WHAT?” He’s so desperately loud that a few guests in the vicinity jump. But Gojo didn’t care - he didn’t give a shit about anything other than grasping onto Geto’s collar, shaking him stupid. “Have you lost your mind- I’m supposed to be the nonsensical one in our duo-”

“I-I’m just saying.” Geto’s putting his hands up as if a shield, “Getting an ex-boyfriend jealous using the same man he was threatened over when they were dating? Sounds like the textbook recipe for jealousy sex if you ask me.”

Oh, Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone. Brows marrying together, he only wobbles his best friend harder. “B-but no- that can’t be- they hate each other, don’t they?”

And, ah, he hated how Geto always knew what to say. 

Hated how he already knew by the devilish curve of Geto’s lips that nothing that was about to fall out of it was going to do his sanity any good. 

Gojo flails, “No wait-”

“Don’t you two claim you ‘hate each other’? And yet, here you are.” Geto’s patting his best friend on the back as if consoling him, shaking his head with the patience of a mother with a few problem children. “There there, you complete imbecile. Now you might want to stay here sulking with a singleton like me, or- you might want to go over there and avenge the honor of your fake relationship, because I see an ex-boyfriend coming in hot.”

“What?”

He’s jerking his head around so urgently that Gojo’s vision blacks out for a bit - and that’s exactly the excuse he’ll use for years to come when he shoots up to his full height. Snatching a glass of liquid courage from Geto-

“Satoru, that’s-”

Knocking it back within seconds before storming off to just where he could just peak your beautiful self in the kitchen being crowded by Sukuna. That adorable furrow in between your brows betraying your thoughts, lips moving furiously with a frown.

“Do you think he knows that what he drank was just water and not alcohol…” Geto tilts his now-empty cup at a lounging Nanami nearby, head bowed like he couldn’t give a single fuck if this party burned with him in it. 

“No.” 

“Do you think he realized the ‘jealous sex’ was a bluff?”

“No.”

Geto lets out a slight huff of laughter, “And do you think he realizes that more than one person in our group knows it’s pretend?”

“No.” Nanami didn’t care if he risked sounding like a broken recorder, after spending almost a decade with you two dancing around each other, he thinks he’s owed that privilege at the very least. “I don’t think he realizes that had your sister so much as looked his way, let alone date his sorry self, then the entire campus would have been hearing about it for the past month.” For the first time since he’d found himself accidentally dragged into Geto’s conversation with him, Nanami raises his head to catch the tail end of Gojo’s lanky legs disappearing into the kitchen. “After all, Sukuna did break up with her because they were in love with each other. Just too stupid to see.”

Now, you might not exactly be his yet like he’s wished on every single birthday candle since he was six - but Gojo Satoru was to be damned if was going to let any other bastard steal his fake girlfriend.

“Sukuna-”

“Awww…what happened to ‘Kuna’, baby?”

You snort, arms crossing over each other while you fixate your glare on Sukuna’s leering form. God, the kitchen just seemed too small for the two of you. “I think you lost that privilege when you dumped me.” Attempting- failing - to sidestep, “Now if you’d excuse me, my boyfriend is-”

Scoffing, “Girl- what boyfriend?”

Sukuna looked to be on the very verge of laughter, and you were on the verge of breaking into a nervous sweat. He’s rasping out a rumbling snicker at that look on your pretty face, “Oh come on, now- you can’t really expect me to believe that sorry excuse of a kiss came from the same man that’s been wantin’ you for years, right?”

Shit. 

Wait…years?

Your fingers curl tighter around the beer bottle, “I-I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

And you watch as Sukuna’s mouth drops - now fully laughing in your face. “Damn- not even a hint? You really did downgrade after me, ma. At least I was honest.”

“Honestly an asshole, that’s for sure.” 

But the rest of your fire swims down the drain as he inches closer. And closer. Heat radiating off the rippling muscles of his body when a big, beefy arm of his cages you against the polished marble counter. Head inclining slightly towards the door, “Well- why don’t you and I-”

“Take your fuckin’ hands off my girlfriend.”

“Satoru?”

But the sight you’re met with seems anything but - gone is that softly teasing demeanor, vanquished is Gojo’s easy smile. His pretty features are twisted into such a feral snarl; and where his tone was ice-cool, his eyes were blazing with raw fury.

Gojo looked like he didn’t even hear you as he echoes, “I won’t say it again.”

“Well alright then, Mr. Boyfriend.” Sukuna lets go of the cool counter surface with a knowing chuckle, walking horrifically towards a seething Gojo himself. The two stand eye-to-eye, glare-to-glare. “Are ya sure you and your third-rate acting wasn’t interrupting anything between myself and my girlfriend?”

“Satoru, ignore him–” You’re pleading, trembly voice jolting Gojo out of his hypnotized stupor, and making him drag his heavy legs around to you. Fuck, that was close. You didn’t know what-

“That’s right. Comfort your friend the only way you know how- s’not like you can do anything other than pine for decades until the next one comes around to steal her away, anyway.”

CRASH!

In a split-second, Gojo has Sukuna pinned against the wooden cabinets by his cotton shirt. Ego and desperation wafting from the two men as his feet dangle a few centimeters off the floor. Gojo had his teeth bared - eyes wild, looking like he was seconds from foaming at the very mouth. And Sukuna’s own lips quirked upwards into a grin. 

“You better watch your fucking mouth.” Gojo hisses. 

“You wanna tell her or should I-”

“What is happening here-” Shoko’s sharp voice snaps the three of you from your little bubble of violence, and it’s like all of a sudden the music and the party comes pouring back into the kitchen. Strangers and friends alike hot on your heels to watch the drama unfold, being pushed back by a frantic Haibara. “You’re acting like children.”

Sukuna shoves the other man off of him, and makes his way out. “Well, I know one of us hasn’t grown up.”

And Gojo is just about to stride forwards- until you catch him with a hand hooked around his elbow. Feeling the washing sense of deja vu from not too long ago. Hastily spitting out, “N-now- oh! Look at that, let me get that bruise cleaned up-” There was no bruise, and there was no reason for you to drag Gojo from the kitchen as fast as you did. Yet, you did anyway. “We’ll be upstairs–”

“Man…Sukuna.” Geto whistles lowly, watching you lug his 6’3 mess of a clingy best friend up the stairs and into what he assumes to be Gojo’s bedroom. “I know you wanted to set them up together badly but wasn’t that a little much?”

“Oh shut up- I don’t give a shit if they get together or- or if she’s happy or not.” he gruffs, stalking off. 

Yet, Geto guffaws at the angry rouge that colored the very tips of his ears, and the slight wobble in Sukuna’s lower lip when he stops to watch you two make your escape.

Yeah. “Didn’t give a shit” his ass. 

“Ugh.” Utahime rolls her eyes, signalling at the DJ to raise the volume on the music just a tad louder. She had a dreading feeling they’d strangely need it. “Men.”

.

.

.

Ugh, men. 

You roll your eyes, the soft pads of your fingers tracing over where Gojo’s knuckles were slightly reddening after knocking against the cabinets. You were only glad that it didn’t escalate into something even worse - damn this stupid idea. 

“I’m sorry.”

Gojo breaks the thickened silence between you two, his sullen voice echoing across all four wide corners of the master bedroom. But all you can hear is the thundering of your own pulse when he blinks his eyes up at you, “I didn’t…didn’t think it would go this far.”

The two of you are sitting on the edge of his king-sized bed, practically sinking into the plush mattress. And you can’t help but notice how much the room smells like him.

“Ah, well- y’know…” you’re trailing off, and the way you look at him - so soft and raw will forever be etched into his honeyed mind. You were comforting him…what a night. “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. B-beside- it’s over now, isn’t it?” 

He can only nod.

And you feel your fingers twitch where they were cradled in his much larger ones. Fuck. Here goes nothing…

“So that means I have to hold up my end of the bargain now, doesn’t it?”

Oh. 

Gojo blinks.

Oh.

“Wait- so was it the body or the char-”

“Unless you finish that sentence right now. In that case I’m never speaking to you again.”

And shit, if you knew that this was the way to shut Gojo Satoru up then you’d have been wielding this power much, much sooner. Breath hitching when his plump, pinkish lips instantly zip shut, and he’s scrambling off the bed to kneel in front of you.

Kneel.

Gojo was kneeling in front of you, knees clacking to the floor so hard that you think it must hurt. But all that he wears on his expectant face is the rosiest of blushes, and the slight pucker of his lips when he leans in. “I-I’ll shut up- but can I have my kiss now?”

You couldn’t gift an answer even if your dizzy mind could somehow conjure up one.

Because with the slightest nod of your head - barely motioning even a few millimeters - Gojo’s crashing his lips onto yours like he was starved. 

Like he didn’t want to breathe - didn’t need to - when his mouth was meshing against yours. Addicted from that faux kiss downstairs. Keening out a low whine at the very back of his throat, he’s gulping in steady heavals of your essence. Greedy hands circling your body-

“O-oh shit.” he kisses, mouth parting from yours ever-so-slightly because fuck, he had to breathe. But he’s completely and utterly sure that he could die happy right here and right now, lips firmly pressed against yours. 

You’re half-heartedly sputtering, “We should– the party–”

“D-don’t talk to me about a fuckin’ party, pretty.” His teeth pull lewdly on your lower lip, “One more- that was a practice run. O-one m-”

This time, it’s you cutting him off. 

Swallowing up the rest of Gojo’s sentence and forcing his body to wreck with a sudden bolting of lightning. And Gojo swears he tastes heaven on your lips, thumbing open your jaw further to pry out your lolling tongue and suck. 

You moan out what sounds like a slurring string of his name over and over - praying that these walls were as soundproofed as they looked. 

Fingers nimbling their way over to the first few open buttons of his shirt - the very graze of your skin down his burning one sends shots of electricity down Gojo’s body. It makes him jolt. It makes him drag in a heaving lungful. It makes his heavy palm drop its way to the curve of your ass and squeeze. 

“Wait-” he’s drunken. Seething. Silvery strings of rope snapping in the heady lack of space between you two when Gojo pulls away. “-what’s it that they say- one more for luck?”

One more. And another. Another. Another and another and it’s still not enough even when Gojo’s mouth was throbbingly red and raw from crashing against yours, whimpering at the slightest wet glide of your candied lips across his.

Meshing in a sodden pucker he’s trailing his plumpened lips down the splatters of dribble that’d made its way down the corner of your mouth. 

As lazy as his hands were, long digits drawing circular massages up, up, up your thigh. You’re gasping when the fat curve of his thumb nudges in through your drenched panties, drawing a sopping wet line down your teary slit. 

“I think…” Cutting himself off to let his tongue slide out and lick a languid stripe down your drivel. “...think I needa hah- kiss those other lips of yours for good measure, sweetheart.”

Oh.

Fuck.

He looked like he was seconds from drooling at the very thought. Nervous energy bleeding into his words, making them sound almost like a whimper. Gojo Satoru wasn’t asking - he was begging on his knees right before you to eat out your pretty cunt.

Sharp inhales being sucked through his drunkenly parted lips when you slide your fingers through his sweat-soaked hair and pull. “Th-then you better make it worth all the trouble, Toru.”

Oh, his head tumbles backwards at the sound of that nickname on your lips once more.

Chuckling - chuckling - all humorless and crazed. Bleary eyes locked on you and only you, he doesn’t move them a singular inch once all the while dipping his fingerpads into the hem of your panties and pulling. Dragging out the drenched excuse of your panties, they’re splotching a glistening coating of your sweet, sweet juices down your thighs. 

And Gojo only turns to look once he brings them eye-level - up to his face and-

“Toru, you’re so nasty–”

“Ya think?” Gojo huffs out through the slicked-up fabric of your underwear, breathing in your essence like it was his favorite scent. And you swear you catch him sneaking in a few droplets of your syrupy juices that splatter onto his mouth. Groaning, “Oh, sweetheart- m’gonna make you realize just how nasty I really am.”

Without any apologies, without any warning, your thoroughly hypnotized self is being shoved down roughly onto the mattress. You bounce a few times against the navy sheets, legs hiking up on autopilot - exactly the way that Gojo wanted them. 

You really were made for him. 

Mewling, “Wh-what-”

“Shhh sh sh-” he’s whispering out in ragged rasps, still pressing a few pretty pecks against the mound of your translucently glossed panties. It was taking everything in him to part- to set them down…Well, perhaps not that far. Gojo stuffs your panties mindlessly into the back pocket of his pants, tongue swiping a moisturized coating over his lips when he takes back in the sight of you. “M’talking to her.”

All splayed out on the bed for him - it was like all his dreams materialized into real life. 

Literally. 

“Oh, look how wet she is–” His creamy fingertips push up your dress to make such a slurring mess all over your pursed lips. On purpose. Swirling the edge of his manicured thumb over and over in the tiniest of circles over your pulsing clit. And Gojo snickers at how greedy she was for his attention…how cute. “-whaddaya think she’s ngh- tellin’ me, pretty?”

Rubbing your fists over your eyes, you’re seeing stars when Gojo’s rude digits give your clit a sudden pinch. “I-I don’t know–”

“Awww- are you sure?” You’re being showcased the most innocent pout you’ve seen him plaster on his entire life, lower lip jutting out and looming so dangerously close to kiss the drizzling trail at your puffy folds. “Because she’s so talkative to me- might jus’ be nicer than you.”

You wish you could snap back as you usually would - oh, how you wish. 

But you’re sure that any and every noise that showers out from your dazed mouth wouldn’t even be heard. Because for one infuriating time in your life, Gojo was right. 

Those sugar-coated squelches from your dripping cunt replayed in your ears over and over. Every teasing pattern of Gojo’s fingertips has you rambling in a saturated song that sticks to your ears like cotton. And Gojo couldn’t get enough.

He couldn’t stop.

He couldn’t falter no matter how much he wanted to keep up this ever-cracking facade of being suave. Heeding to practically every word from your pretty pussy when his heated mouth gruffs closer and kisses you.

Slow. Filthy.

“T-Toru–” you’re whining, your fingers entangling with his snowy locks. And no matter how hard you tug, Gojo doesn’t move even an inch. “-make sure you ngh- b-breathe- fuck-”

“Don’t need to..don’t- don’t need it…” Gojo’s slurring out into your saccharine pussy lips, intentionally dragging out his words so that they vibrate all down your spine. 

Button nose massaging against your ample clit, the decadent room rings! with a sultry squelch. And you’re peeking down at that sinful sight of Gojo’s tongue smearing your puffed-up pussy lips agape. Swiping around and around the circular hole of your entrance before plunging in-

Oh.

Gojo looked like he was so in bliss. 

Eyes sliding all the way to the back of his head with one taste of your bawling cunt on his tongue- shit. Shit.

Shit shit shit. He’s out of control when he gasps, two hands curling under and around your thighs to haul you down the bed. Maw hanging ferally open when he’s gashing your poor pussy with the most sodden French kisses - Gojo’s never kissed a person like this before. And he doesn’t think he ever will - other than you. 

Doesn’t think he’ll ever feel as feverish as he does right now when he’s craning his deft fingers into his mouth. Sucking. Tasting. Each and every one with a messy pop! pop! pop! 

He really was nasty.

You gape at the way your slick hangs all down his lips and coats a sparkling glaze that drips down his chin and forms a little pool at his neck. His collarbones. Trickling down with pearly beads of sweat that sift between his perky pecs so mouthwateringly.

“F-fuuuuck-” Gojo’s hissing, brows scrunching together like he couldn’t even believe what he was seeing. “You jus’ got ngh- wetter. S-so much wetter…”

It’s said like a prayer. 

Like a plea because your cunt was driving Gojo crazy.

“It’s all because of ah- you–” You squirm at the way that these were the words tumbling from your mouth. And you already know that Gojo was about to tease you for this for the next few years - if he even remembered, that is. 

Because just about the only thing that he can do right now is twirl the edges of his fingers over your winking hole. Once. Twice. Before feeding you inch by long inch of his middle finger - in your lusty haze you think you manage to count about six inches from his staggering size. 

And it only had you imagining his size down below. 

“Don’t squeeze around m-me- fuck who am I kidding-” Gojo’s sleazy pumps of his hand has your cunt slobbering all down to his working wrist. Adding in one more, two. “-drool all over me- make a mess- hah- fuckin’ ruin me.” Mouth bumbling a mile a minute when his drives build up sloppily, swiveling around your gummy walls to nudge over all your tenderized sweet spots. “Yeah- heh- yeah suck me up like that. S-such a slutty girl, aren’t ya?”

“S-stop being so-”

So what?

Talkative with your cunt? So greedy when he shovels his face back in between your tottering thighs? So heated when he utters. Like a death sentence. All that he could. “I-I can’t stop- do you know how long I’ve ah- imagined this? Dreamt of this?”

Your palm constrict on his silky strands and Gojo’s so pliant when he lets himself be rummaged even deeper against your pussy. So ready to be used. “Th-think I like you better when you ngh- shut up–”

And even through it all, Gojo finds it in himself to roll his eyes - though, you think it’s a way to disguise the way he’s agonizingly swimming in euphoria more than anything. Chuckling out wetly, “Th-think I like it better when you’re ah- actually on m’tongue and n-not jus’ in my fuck- dreams when I have my cock in hand.”

Shit.

He’s so shameless. 

Fingers jackhammering in and out in and out in and out- 

“Where is it-” he’s spitting out into your squirming pussy, the lower half of your body being pinned to the mattress with one of his strong arms. You’re feeling the way his biceps bulge against your skin. Getting faster. Faster. “-where is it where is it where-” 

“What are you even ngh- looking for, Toru?” you’re crying out - it was all so much now. So close. 

But the only answer you get are your ankles being tugged to wrap around Gojo’s fervent head, pinned with one hand behind his back. “Lock it.” Keeping you held there until the ends of your feet knot as vice-like as possible to mash his face into your drooling cunt. 

Gojo wraps his rose pink lips around your weepy clit and sucks through furrowed brows when his thorough digits surge upwards at a bruising pace into a bulbous magical spot. That spot. 

“Found it.”

And you find yourself cumming with such a loud yelp of Gojo’s name - throat rubbing sore with every peak of your high. Your orgasm crashes into you over and over as he laps up every bead, every splatter, every drop that you’re giving. 

And he’s still parched. 

Spitting out a wet slew of saliva into your quavering hole, Gojo’s making such a mess of you. Absolutely ruined when he sucks up every wet smear that waterfalls from your cute cunt - so thirsty. 

It’s only when your high has died down to a few tingles, when your limbs twitch with overstimulation, that Gojo finds himself pulling away. His lips stinging rawly, nose slicked and dripping with your sweet, sweet juices - you’re hearing the most pained grunt from between your legs as he pulls away.

It hurt him to.

“Oh, w-would ya look at that—”

You weren’t sure if you trusted him enough to look - already knowing that whatever it was would have your mind reeling.

But how could you not when Gojo’s fat fingertips squeeze your cheeks together into a pathetic pout, opening your glazed mouth just wide enough for him to salivate. A thick wad of spit hitting your lolling tastebuds, his thumb swipes over the stray slops that’d made their home on the corner of your slack jaw. 

He grins, “I said look, sweetheart…”

Groaning, your eyes blink downwards - and you weren’t even sure what you were witnessing at first. Not even sure if you were daydreaming - because Gojo had his black dress pants unbuttoned. Shoved down until his thick, milky thighs just enough for you to witness his massive length.

Yeah, his fingers were definitely an indicator of something.

Because Gojo was so big that you felt nervous. His length swollen and thickened to an incredible girth. All pretty with a red, rotund ruby tip that blushes a cute strawberry pink all the way down, down, down until neatly trimmed tufts of white at his base. Saddling his tight, hefty balls that looked much too heavy.

He made your mouth water. 

But that wasn’t all - no, what really catches your eye and snaps you from your orgasmic haze and into a half-lucid state were the creamy rings upon rings that laminated his shaft. Frosting-like dredges of cum sliding lazily down his angry cock, spurting out a few more from his weepy divot at the very end at your unwavering attention. Did he-

“Yes.” Gojo gasps out in a condensed puff, his voice sugary and embarrassed. Shit, did you just say that out loud? “I-I came just from…you’re just so-” 

Damn, he curses his stupidly babbling mouth. So drunk on you that he can’t voice all the sinful thoughts sprinting through his melty head right now - all the thoughts that have been already for years now. 

It was impossible - even for his big fat mouth.

So without another word, Gojo tuts as he’s rolling his shoulders as if on instinct to pop a few joints; in one, fluid motion your body is being sidled into such an easy princess carry. 

Patting you down right into the cushiony middle of the bed, he looms over you - stalks over to you. And you can’t deny that the absolutely feral smile twisting his features makes your cunt twitch. 

“Too many clothes.” Gojo tugs on your dress - that darkened glint in his eyes not boding well for you or-

RIP!

-for this dress.

At the sight of your jaw dropping in adorable surprise, he chuckles out a rough, “Don’t worry- I’ll buy ya that again. I’ll buy ya the ngh- whole fuckin’ store jus–” And oh with a few masterful flicks of his fingers on your bra, you’re left in nothing underneath him. Nothing to hide your perfect body away from the way he was fucking you with his half-lidded eyes. “-just let me f-fuck this cute cunt, please?”

It takes you a few sloppy seconds of Gojo nibbling down your neck for you to realize that he’s waiting for you. For anything. 

Huffing, your shaky fingers clench around the glaringly open lapels of his button-up. “S’unfair th-that you’re the only one in clothes-”

And, well, who was Gojo Satoru against you?

You’re demandingly helping him shrug off that branded shirt, buttons hitting the ground, his pants hitting the floor-

“Whoops.” Gojo grins sheepishly when his pants and those tight boxers collapse onto the floor in a tatter of fabric and your panties. “Jus’ consider it a uh- birthday gift, pretty–”

No longer having his flaps of fabric to reel him in by, your fingernails dig neat little patterns of crescents on his heated skin as you drag him down to you. Heady breaths mingling with one another, “You said no gifts, remember? If you ngh- really want those panties- y-you’re gonna hafta earn it, Toru.”

And earn it he will. 

Because as soon as the bulging spherical shape of his fat head swipes a sopping kiss down your pussy lips, you feel yourself already moan. He was so hot. 

Already so pussydrunken when he says, “Hope ya don’t mind–” Teeth sinking into your tender earlobe, “-this is my first time.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

You barely even have the mindpower to register those words before you’re being split apart - gasping at the almost-unnatural feeling of being so thoroughly full. Of having our steamingly hot insides being fucked open with just the simple tip of Gojo’s staggering cock. 

“C’mon- c’mon–” He’s lunging up in slow, mindless gyrations trying to force his thick length inside. Powerful arms keeping your wrangling legs spanned wide open for him, they barely even let you budge. Biting down on his lip in frustration, “F-fit inside- shit, your pussy’s so tight, sweetheart– s’it too big for you?”

Stubbornly, “No-”

And Gojo only has to glissade the curves of his palm down to that inflationary nudge of where he was drilling into your cunt. “No?” 

“...no.”

Pressing down. Hard. “No?”

“Fuck- yes- you’re just too big-” And you meant it as a complaint - you really did. But those words only have every ounce of blood remaining in Gojo’s shivering body galloping down to his gluttonous cock. Pushing at the seams to make him expand even fatter, bigger- “Why are you getting bigger?”

Shit, you really needed to watch that mouth of yours. 

Because it has Gojo’s hulking body falling onto two elbows on either side of your head, like a heavenly cage you didn’t ever want to get out of. 

Sweat-simmered forehead bumping into yours, you feel his large fingers interlace dangerously on top of your head. “You need to-” He’s crashing his lips against yours in such a filthy open-mouthed kiss. “-s-stop talkin’ outta ya ngh- pussy. Leave that to her.”

Her. 

And you’re so utterly distracted by all his little ministrations that you didn’t even realize the way he was snugly fitting himself into your cunt. 

The stretch is impeccable when it hits you like a train at full speed, feeling the tiny nooks and crannies of your magical spots being brushed up against the thrumming upright curve of Gojo’s cock. He’s leaving no millimeter of your elastic walls unturned, unstretched. Untainted. 

Gushing out a sweltering hot wave of buttery pre that sloshes all the way against your womb. “Oh- oh what the fuck-” Gojo hisses, chest heaving. And if you didn’t know any better you’d have wondered if he was in pain. “-what the fuck- th-this is what you feel like?”

Right - shit. In all the chaos, you’d forgotten those words he’d confessed just earlier - Gojo Satoru was a virgin. Because of course, he was. Don’t make him laugh, who else would he have ever wanted to see him like this other than you? 

A virgin that was currently pacing his slender hips back and forth to instrument the most syrupy squelches from the very gooey bottom of your cunt. His drooling mouth spreading wider and wider with every sultry half-thrust. 

You mewl, “H-how does it feel, Satoru?”

“I-I feels so- so–” But the words are failing him - the words are escaping him with every gummy squeeze of your walls like you wanted to swallow down more and more of his solid inches. And hand on your hips swirls your hips around ever-so-slightly to feel his sobbing tip paint tiny circles of gluey precum inside you. Gojo snaps his eyes open - wild. “-is it even l-legal to have ya cunt feel this good, sweetheart? This- oh! Heavenly?”

And he was sounding genuinely concerned. Genuinely worried for his sanity once Gojo manages to feed your needy cunt all of his length. 

Now in.

Fully.

And it feels too good - too blissful to have almost every single prayer in his life finally answered that Gojo can’t help but scrunch his eyes shut and cum.

Loudly. Pathetically. 

One hand dancing downwards to give your plump clit a punishing little squeeze as if it was your fault. The other curling around your throat to have you meshing your mouth with his panting one, you can feel it in the vibrations how his voice cracks at the very same second your gooey cunt is filled with such copious dumps of his seed.

There’s so much. 

As if he’s cumming and cumming harder than he has in his entire life, every splatter of stifling hot cum managing to paint the bullseye of your g-spot in pure white. Ounces of his seed creaming around his hefty base, it smears and slide around your thighs as Gojo continues to fuck you into the mattress. Pound after pound that make him see overstimulated stars. 

And it makes Gojo giggle - giggle - head lolling deliriously into the crook of your neck, now covered in a slather of his drool. Every slow ram into your splurging cunt has him grunting out the tiniest ah! ah! ah! 

“Shit- fuckin’ embarrassing-” You hear him groan into your neck, licking a languid column from his tongue before biting. Hard. Hard enough that you’re wondering whether he’d draw blood, “Can ya believe- s-saved my virginity for the ngh- girl of my dreams n’ m’cumming already~?”

He leaves a few final pecks against your lips, “Th-this pussy’s got me too haaaah- addicted, pretty–” As he’s moving to part sloppy ways, you’re gasping at the splatter! of something warm. Wet. And only then do you register the literal tears crinkling at his eyes from overstimulation. Crying. 

“A-are you okay– Satoru?” You’re whining, limp fingers skimming away the strands of white that cling to his prespired forehead. 

“No.” Comes the answer, comes the heaving gasp when Gojo’s fatigued limbs force themselves through his trembling muscles to heave back upright. “One m-more. That was a practice run.” Throwing your legs over his broad shoulders, you feel his flexing deltoids underneath you when Gojo brings one ankle up to his mouth and kisses. Muttering - more to himself than anything. “B-but m’gonna make y’feel good- oh- fuck- m’gonna make you t-take this big cock.”

His words have you just as stupidly fucked as his fat shaft does. 

Those lightning bolts of his veins thump down the upperside of your goopy channel, massaging your sweet spots over and over and-

“Th-think it was here-” Gojo’s palms feel everywhere and anywhere down your tummy for the vicious back and forth of him inside you. To feel that bulging opening, the way your snug channel clenches every time his bouncy tip recoils back from your cervix. Wanting more more more- “-or w-was it- here.”

“Fuck!” The entire expanse of your spine arches off of those thoroughly and filthily dampened sheets now, meshing up sluttily into Gojo’s body until his prespiry-glossed abs cushion your front, plush pecs so comfortably collapsing on top of you. “There- there there hngh- more-”

“More-” Gojo chuckles, hitting that precious spot over and over. His chubby head mashes in slurping soppy collisions until he was out of breath. Dizzy. “More she says- Greedy girl, wh-when you have me already ngh- dripping out of you. Shit- squeezin’ me so. Oh-”

And his vigorous fingers scoop up such lecherous volumes of his own milky cum, toying with the gushing waves of white your poor pussy leaks with every pound. 

He’s bullying them between your lips - cerulean eyes dilating, mouth sagging unsealed when you eagerly suck on his digits. Tasting his candied self, tasting you. Somehow managing to muffle out, “M-m’not greedy.”

Gojo can only grin, “S-say that to me when this oh- cunt of yours isn’t sucking the fuckin’ soul outta me.”

And Gojo would love to tease you more for this - to mouth away for hours on end into your ear about how drenched you were getting and muse out loud whether you’d dreamt of this just as much as he has, too. 

But instead, he’s pecking a flurry of lovely kisses all down your face. Gasping into your lips, “M-move that pretty hand f’me-” So rudely swatting those fingers of yours that’d snuck their way down to toy with your neglected clit, Gojo’s taking over himself to rub steady, methodical circles. Thumb peeking pressure on the hood of your clit just the way he’d read online. “-I’ve always w-wanted to ah- do this. To fuck you raw. T-to ruin you and ngh- fill you up-” As his words spill, so do a few ropey wads of pre. More. Frequent. “-a-and eat you out all over again. See how you taste like mine…”

“Y-you’re gonna-” You can’t even bring yourself to say it. “Again?”

“Of course, sweetheart- why? Scared I- oh.”

That’s when he does it - the mistake of peering his barely-open eyes down.

His weightily smacking balls that smooch against your ass with each thrust clench oh-so-painfully at the vision of your puffed-up pussy lips gaping around him. Drooling. Swallowing. Accommodating his ruthless cock for all you can, practically broken in half and still yearning for more.

Shit, the sight’s so hypnotic that Gojo doesn’t even realize when he’s letting his thoroughly overwhelmed body lock into yours like a puzzle piece. So hefty and sculpted. 

His abs practically melting into your body, and his sloppy hips pistoning into you even deeper. Harsher. Every raring grind of Gojo’s lengthy shaft probes into your g-spot so hard. Like he wanted to leave widely battered bruises of his circumference on your sweetened spots, your cervix, anywhere and everywhere he could reach. Like he couldn’t stop. 

Doesn’t even know the very word right about now in this filthy, filthy mating press. “C’mon- c’mon one more for ah- luck?” Whimpering, “My sweetheart, I-I’m gonna-”

Gojo sees white when he cums once more this night - and you do, too. 

You’re not sure if it’s because of the violent streaks of electricity that run down your entire body, or because of the treacly spurts of cum that overspill from your poor cunt. But fuck- did it feel so good. 

Your entire body tingles all the way down from your toes up to your bleary head - and the entire room feels like it’s fucking spinning at this point. 

Black tinging your vision with ever overfilling thwack! of Gojo’s tight, cum-filled balls as they empty out, out, out into your depths. It’s coating your insides like a sticky second skin, leaving stringy drizzles of seed seeping from between your slit. Adding to the ever-growing puddle before. 

You’re feeling it swashing around you with every drivel of his hips. Overstuffing your elastic walls until you felt like they were about to burst. 

And all you can do is simply grapple your nails into the bulging muscles on Gojo’s back, whimpering out a broken, “T-Toru–”

“M’here I-I’m here–” Yet his voice sounds airy, hitching like he was on cloud nine. A beefy arm wraps around your body and manhandles you close to him like some sort of ragdoll, “M’here- shit-” His lips graze against yours in what you assume must be a kiss, too oversensitive to even perk his head up and peck you senseless like you knew he wanted to. “Never lettin’ ya go- haaah- never- ah-”

Whatever promises Gojo always imagined whispering into your ear can be said and done later. 

Right now, the only thing he can streamline his body into doing for him is to search blindly for his discarded pants by the side of the bed. Searching for that bulge in the back pocket- no, not the panties he’d swiped right in front of you - instead, he’s feeling for the shape of his wallet. 

Pulling your tired body back into his, Gojo’s carding it lazily open to show you that. 

Exactly what they were talking about.

Splayed out proudly in the front and center of his wallet was a picture of the two of you. Years and years ago exactly on this date, the aged photograph showed a smiling Gojo Satoru in front of a candlelit birthday cake, tiny cheeks all pinkened. A small, surly you standing by his side - eyeing his Digimon hat more than you were eyeing the camera. 

But that didn’t matter, because Gojo wasn’t looking at the camera, either. 

He was looking at you - exactly the way he was right now.

Glowy eyes half-lidded, a mysterious little smile playing on his lips. Gojo nuzzles his face against yours and breathes out a tiny, “I…I might have loved you ever since then, y’know that?”

You’re gasping, eyes shining with…something. And Gojo’s heart stutters as he wants to find out. Wringing your hands to wrap around his broad chest, you’re coiling your legs together until you’re unsure where one ends and the other starts. 

Whispering three lovely words into his ear - and three more into the honeyed  air. 

“Happy birthday, Satoru.”

---

Gojo’s one wish was to wake up next to you - like this. Under soft blankets, with your sleepy breath puffing softly into his collarbone, your body tucked safely into his. 

And he never wants to let go - could never even dream of anything that could ruin this precious moment-

“Mind explaining who ordered wedding decor last night on MY account?”

Ah, that would do it. 

Bleary blue eyes wrench open, taking Gojo every shred of will in his body to not jolt at the unwelcome greeting of Shoko peering down at him…while he was all wrapped up with his best friend’s sister in a bedroom that could almost be mistaken for a crime scene. 

Would it really be too late of a birthday wish to hope that she hadn’t noticed your tattered clothes on the floor, the ruined state of the sheets, and the way that the bedframe sagged suspiciously on one side?

Gulping, he’s pressing your body even tighter into his, careful not to let you stir - well, at least it couldn’t get worse than this-

Footsteps. 

Close.

And an unmistakable few voices - and laughter. “Is that my sist- SATORU, YOU BASTARD-”

“Eugh.”

“WHAT did you blackmail her with?”

“Woahhh- congratulations on your relationship!”

A/N. Lowkey has the spirit of a crackfic, I fear. This was SAUR fun.

Jiung and Intak, sitting at your sides and across from each other at your small breakfast table, freeze in the middle of their petulant glaring and angry chopstick pointing. 

It hasn’t even been an hour since they stepped into your apartment—you’d invited them to smooth things over since that night only seemed to unravel the tension into something messier. 

The peace had lasted all of ten minutes before the subtle bickering started up again. And now, here you are, in the middle of yet another battle you were unwittingly drafted into. 

They turn to you, their endless ire towards the other slipping away to shock, one flustered and one appalled. 

“I didn’t even get to fuck you,” Intak huffs, dropping his chopsticks with a clatter into his bowl. His round eyes sharpen and snap back to Jiung. “He practically hogged you the whole damn time.”

Jiung’s hand tenses around his chopsticks before he neatly places them down. “You’re just bitter that you lost,” he responds coolly, though the tic in his jaw as he returns Intak’s glare is anything but. 

You sigh to yourself as, like clockwork, they spur on. You were foolish to think you could ease things over with a peaceful dinner and drinks, but the further they get into their bottle of soju, the further they seem to settle in their pettiness. 

“Guys,” you warn. 

“I won, fair and square,” Jiung states, completely ignoring you. 

Intak sputters, hands flying wildly as he attempts to defend himself. “You cheated! What happened—that was—you weren’t supposed to—“

“Nothing happened,” Jiung cuts in, his demeanour of calm a fickle thing in the face of being reminded of the… unforeseen events of that night. 

Jiung refuses to acknowledge what happened between them. He chooses to live in complete denial. You, however…

Flashes come back to you—of an angry kiss, pushing hands, low grunts. None of anything that had any involvement from you.

Your thighs clamp together as a sharp sting of arousal shoots through you at the reminder. The amount of times you’ve had to physically restrain yourself from touching yourself to that memory is a number you’re not willing to admit. 

But now, with them in front of you looking as frustrated and flushed as that night, you can’t help that your body reacts to it. 

If only they would stop fucking fighting. 

“Guys,” you repeat, louder but all the same ignored. 

Intak has a sly grin on his lips now, one that can only mean trouble. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

You could be wrong, but Intak seems to be in the same boat as you. Unless it’s just another one of his tactics—to hold it over Jiung’s head that he might have actually been into what had happened. 

“I just had to do what I had to do,” Jiung snaps, unable to hide the red that starts climbing up his neck to settle at the tips of his ears. “That’s it.”

Intak just preens, feeding off of Jiung’s fluster. “Is that it, hyung? Hm?” The wider his smirk grows, the sharper Jiung’s glare turns and the redder his cheeks go. “I felt you, you know. I could tell how close you were—“

“Intak,” Jiung cuts in, low and warning. 

But in pure Intak fashion, he barrels through. “You don’t want to admit it.” He crosses his arms on the table, his smirk going lazy as his eyes crawl down the slopes of Jiung’s pretty face and rest on his lips. 

Suddenly, you’re not in the room anymore. You might as well be a fly on the wall, just watching the scene unfold right in front of you. 

“But I think you liked it.”

Jiung doesn’t respond, whether to prevent what regrets he might let slip out or simply because he can’t find the words, you don’t know. 

And Intak takes the opportunity to press on. “And I bet,” he murmurs, his eyes traveling further down, “you’re hard under the table right now just thinking about it.”

The pause that follows is thick and nearly tangible with tension in the small space between you three. 

But there is also the chance that Jiung might throw something. To save the peace of your home, you cut in. 

“If you two are going to fuck, can you not do it where I eat?”

All at once the tension breaks—Jiung clicks his tongue as he picks up the empty bowls and rises for the kitchen (he’s not hard), and Intak beams with the satisfaction that he’s won the argument for once. 

Intak turns to throw you a cocky grin. “Dont worry, we wouldn’t leave you out of it.”

You roll your eyes despite the smile tugging on your lips as you rise with your bottle of soju and escape to your couch. 

“Keep dreaming, lover boy,” you tease without commitment as you drop yourself on the cushions. 

Honestly, you wouldn’t want anything more. But you can’t let yourself admit that. Rather, you can’t let them know that—you don’t know just how much more insufferable they can get. You don’t want to know.

As expected, Intak follows you with his complaints. 

“But that’s not fair,” he whines as he drops down beside you with a pout. “I didn’t get a turn.”

“Because Jiung won, fair and square.”

“Oh come on,” he huffs, his warm hand landing on your knee and clamping down pleadingly as he fixes you with those big eyes and that cute smile that he knows you’re weak to. His voice drops to a low purr as he crowds into your space. “I can do so much better than him.”

Your body seems to not want to heed your inhibitions; instead it welcomes his heat in your orbit, subtly seeking it out.

Intak notices the way you falter, and he braves to slide his hand up to settle on your thigh. The heat of his skin is a searing presence through your jeans. 

“Don’t you wanna find out?” He asks, a low whisper as his eyes settle on your lips. The tip of his tongue flicks out in a subconscious tic, one you’ve become familiar with, and leaves his lips looking even more enticing. 

You do want to find out. Your body pulses with a need to. 

So you swallow down the tension in your throat, shifting just a little closer.  

“Don’t fall for it,” comes Jiung’s deep voice as he settles on your other side, another wall of heat encasing you. It sobers you immediately. “He’s all bark and no bite.”

You mentally shake yourself out of your stupor and sigh to yourself, leaning back on your cushions to escape the line of fire. 

“How would you know?” Intak immediately bites, his attention easily pulled from you and fixed on Jiung. Though his hand remains clamped down on your thigh. “See for yourself, and then you can talk shit.”

“I’m not fucking you.”

Intak sputters. “I didn’t mean that!”

“Yeah? Then what did you mean?”

“I just—you—just, go back to the kitchen!”

“Not until you get your dirty paws off of her.”

“Dirty? I’ll show you dirty—“

“Oh my god, are you guys going to just fight or fuck me?” You snap. Two sets of eyes turn to you, bewildered. “Or are you going to actually fuck each other finally? At least let me watch.”

They gape at you like fish, jaws slacked and eyes wide. 

“You—was that a serious offer?” Intak asks, gaze practically glittering at the prospect. 

“Fucking each other?” You raise a brow. “If that’s what you want, go for it, I’ll happily sit back and w—“

“Cut the crap,” Jiung snaps, and you quickly close your mouth. 

Your body grows hot at the tone of his voice, so demanding and so similar to then. He narrows his sharp eyes at you and somehow makes you feel like you should be the one apologizing. 

“Why did you really invite us here tonight?” He asks.

Well. You certainly weren’t fooling yourself.

You let out a sigh, leaning forward to drop your bottle on the coffee table. “Guess there’s no point in pretending.” 

You become hyper aware of their presence, their prying eyes. The air becomes more heated with each passing second that they wait for your answer. 

“I can’t stop thinking about that night,” you admit. 

Your gaze flits between the two of them. Intak just looks hungry, like he’d been waiting to hear that all night. Jiung looks… a little shy. 

He avoids your gaze, looking instead at Intak’s hand fidgeting with the inner seam of your jeans, but he isn’t really looking. 

The thought of making him squirm makes you preen internally. Is this what Intak feels?

“What is it, Jiung?” You coo teasingly. “Don’t tell me you’ve been thinking about it too.”

“How could I not?” He defends weakly, eyes flicking up to you for half a second but they run away, land on Intak, then flit quickly away again like he can’t figure out where he can look without exposing himself. 

It’s cute. Really cute. 

You chance a look at Intak and see that he feels the same, watching Jiung with that same dazed smile you’ve caught him looking at you with. 

And it makes you ponder. 

“Hm…” You lean back, smiling when both pairs of eyes follow you. “Glad I’m not the only one.”

Neither of them respond. They simply wait and watch, like they’re waiting for a cue. Or a demand. 

You bite down on your lip, reaching for Intak’s hand still on you. You lace your fingers through his, his hand twitching in response like he wasn’t expecting the touch. You give it a light tug. 

“C’mere, Intak,” you call quietly, and like a sailor falling for his damnation, he gives to your beckon. 

His lips press to yours slowly at first. Like he’s testing the waters to see what’s safe despite already having been here before. 

You lift your hand to his jaw in quiet encouragement and he takes it well, pressing more insistently against you with a settling sigh. 

You tease your tongue against his lip and he groans like it’s his ruin, his fingers clamping down tighter into your flesh, almost painfully so. 

Magnetized, he parts his lips for you and you lick your way into wet heat, meeting his tongue halfway. There’s something about him that isn’t as eager as that night. He isn’t trying to prove anything to you. It’s like he’s just… giving himself over. 

It makes you dig your hand into his hair and pull, drinking up that pained whimper he lets out into your mouth. 

“You’re so good for me today, Takki,” you whisper with a swipe of your tongue over his parted lips as he heaves. 

He pouts, blinking his hazy eyes into the present like he’d already been floating away with a simple kiss. “‘M always good for you,” he weakly argues, giving with a soft moan when you kiss him again, short but demanding. 

When you pull back, he latches onto your jaw, not quite keen on being separated from you. Your eyes flutter closed for a quick moment when he mouths at the sensitive spot under your ear.

They open again for your vision to clear on Jiung, who watches the scene completely enamoured. His breathing is a little laboured too, like he’s affected just from watching. 

You reach for his thigh, squeezing down onto the thick muscle and he jolts. “Don’t just sit there.”

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes flicker down to where Intak has attached himself to your neck, leaving biting, wet kisses down the smooth expanse. 

“Come here,” you whisper. 

It doesn’t take more for him to give into your orbit too, crashing his lips to yours in a kiss that’s more fervent than you’re prepared for. 

But you meet his fire with your own. He tries to claim you from the get go, but you don’t allow it. Not this time. 

You push against his seeking tongue with yours, reaching up to grab his collar and pull him further into you. He gives almost immediately, melting under your hands and moaning into the kiss. 

His hand finds your shirt and clutches it in a fist in an attempt to keep it from wandering. But it explores anyway, climbing up before resting just under the swell of your breast, heavy and warm as he lets you drink him in. 

He whimpers when you bite down on his lip, parting his lips like an instinct to welcome your tongue into his mouth. 

You don’t get much time to map him out. Intak, still present and still insistent, starts nipping impatiently at your jaw. 

You pull from Jiung to meet him, but Jiung doesn’t allow it. He grabs your jaw and turns you right back to him, stealing you with a searing kiss. 

Your gasp gets swallowed up as you momentarily lose yourself to his magnetic pull, the one that demands control at all times. 

But Intak doesn’t let it slide, not like last time. 

He bullies his way into the kiss, carving out his own space as he tongues in through the corner of your lips. 

You’re overwhelmed, your body thrums alive and simmers with nerves as they kiss your senses out of you, both in tandem and selfishly. 

It’s a clash of tongues, it’s carnal and dirty and wet and loud and messy. You’re pressed back into the cushions as their bodies mould over you. There’s a hand in your hair, tilting your head back to make more space. There’s a hand on your chest, grabbing and kneading, one at your thigh and dangerously close to your needy heat. 

You don’t know your left from right, your up from down—just that Jiung and Intak have a hunger for you so raw, the need to kiss you so pure, that they don’t even realize they’re kissing each other. 

You pull from them slowly, careful not to startle them away, and watch it unfold. 

Intak parts his lips for Jiung’s searching tongue, accepting it with a choked gasp that Jiung swallows right up. Intak tries to fight back with his own tongue but is immediately tamed when Jiung bites down on his lip. It’s a push and pull; they even kiss angry. 

You’re still not sure if they even realize. But whether or not they do, you can’t look away. 

You don’t know how long it goes for, how long you have to clamp your thighs shut to keep yourself from losing anymore dignity. How long Jiung and Intak try to devour each other whole. 

But the hunger ebbs away as they sober for breath. Your own breaths get caught as their eyes slowly blink open, seeing through their lust driven haze. When the clarity brings them reality of what they’d been doing, they don’t clash like you expect them to. 

Intak’s lips turn up into a lazy half-smile, smug and self assured as he pants his words. “I knew you were into it.”

No, they clash in an entirely different way. 

Jiung is on Intak in a flash, leaping over your lap to claim the space on Intak’s as he smothers his surprised yelp with a kiss that looks more painful than anything. 

“You’re the freak who couldn’t shut up about it,” Jiung spits into Intak’s mouth, digging his teeth into his lip and soaking in the pitiful whine he gets with a low laugh. He’s out of breath and heaving and a little deranged, but he argues anyway. “Don’t act like you haven't been practically begging me with your eyes for it to happen again.”

Intak doesn’t take it lying down. He grabs Jiung’s waist, takes his claiming kiss for another moment, before rolling his hips up in a pointed grind that has Jiung stuttering and throwing his head back. 

“Is that why you’re so hard?” Intak gasps, grinning at the pinched expression that grows on Jiung’s face. “Because you’re not enjoying this?”

When Jiung grinds down, hard, it’s devastating enough that Intak’s expression breaks down to nothing but pure bliss, a loud moan ripping through his throat. 

“I am, actually,” Jiung says, voice gruff as he shoves at Intak’s body to bully him onto his back. 

Thrown into motion, you quickly scamper back to make space, with no power to do anything else. 

“Where’s all that talk now, huh?” Jiung grits as he hastily tugs open Intak’s belt and the buttons of his jeans, scowling a snarky grin down at Intak’s wide, glazed over eyes that can do nothing but watch. 

Jiung is a man of patience. But not in this moment, you surmise, because he just slips his hand in through the layers he couldn’t be bothered to rid Intak of and grabs ahold of his cock. 

Intak wails, body jolting at the sudden pressure as he flails to grab onto Jiung’s thighs. 

“J-Ji—ah!” Intak breaks off with a cry, head thrown back as moans fall freely from his parted, slick mouth. 

You can’t see much from this angle, but you can see enough of Jiung’s arm moving in a rapid, merciless rhythm to know just how undone Intak is getting. 

The lewd, slick sounds of skin on skin fill the air, of Intak’s pleasured little whines and grunts. It takes away all your restraint. 

You clumsily loosen your jeans, pushing your hand in to press against your throbbing heat. It quells some of the ache but it fires up tenfold when Jiung pulls back his hand, spits into it, then uses it to drive Intak into tears and a babbling mess. 

“Ji—mm, m’gonna—“ Intak breaks off with a loud cry when Jiung seemingly twists his fist, his head tilting back as those tears slip through the corners of his eyes. 

“Yeah?” Jiung taunts, slowing his hand down enough for Intak to settle just a bit. He grabs Intak’s jaw to hold his fraying focus, looking down at him with a grin twisted with a sadistic sort of pleasure. Like he gets off on driving Intak insane. “Am I gonna make you cum? Again?”

Intak, the poor thing, can only latch onto Jiung’s forearm with both his hands and nod eagerly, rolling his hips up in mindless little bucks to chase the heat of Jiung’s fist. 

“P-Please,” he sobs, parting his lips when Jiung’s thumb digs into his lower lip. “Need’ta… need you…”

Jiung falters entirely, his expression falling blank for a second that feels like it stretches longer than it is. You hear him curse under his breath before he shoves two fingers into Intak’s mouth to shut him up then starts fisting him again, rapid and unrelenting, a pace that has Intak thrashing and sobbing under him. 

You dig your teeth into your lower lip to hold back your noises as you rub your clit harder in tandem, your thighs clamping down on your hand. 

You can’t remember being this turned on or this wet—what does that say about you? Getting off to being ignored as the two people you want the most have at each other?

Intak’s body grows taut as it starts to bow up off the couch, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. You drive yourself there too, to the same precipice that Jiung pushes Intak to—before it all gets ripped away when Jiung suddenly pulls back. 

Intak comes crashing back down with a cry of Jiung’s name, the call tangled with a pained sob. 

You refrain from shuddering too, trying to hold yourself still as you climb back into your body, your hand going still where it stays pressed against your core. 

“No!” Intak sniffles. “N-No why did—I was so close,” he pants through his tears, blindly reaching for Jiung through the blur, his body quivering with the loss.

Jiung gathers Intak’s wrists and holds them to his stomach, his own breaths laboured as he watches the boy untethered under him, because of him. 

“Because,” he starts, then lifts his gaze to you. You nearly jolt under the intensity of it, forgetting entirely that you yourself were even there. “You wanted to prove you were better, right?” He’s not talking to you, but the words sink into you and pool low in your gut anyway. “Prove it then.”

Intak tilts his head back slightly, blinking like he’s seeing you for the first time. His eyes turn starry at the prospect, watching you intently for your signal. 

If it were anatomically possible, you’d pull Intak to you and fuck him into oblivion.

“You’re so bossy, Ji,” you say instead, slipping your hand out of your jeans and shuffling closer. 

Intak bristles when you get close, squirming to get out from under Jiung but Jiung doesn’t let him go. 

You press your hand to Intak’s cheek, and he immediately turns to nuzzle into your palm. 

“You want to?” You ask him softly, endeared with how he blinks up at you again and nods eagerly. 

“Want it—want you… Please?”

You smile at his big, begging eyes, glancing up to see Jiung watching with his hands idle on Intak’s lap, mindlessly brushing his thumb over the clothed ridge of Intak’s hard on. You meet his eyes and give him a conspiring smile that he meets with one of his own. 

“You can,” you say, having to grab Intak’s shoulders and push him back down when he immediately tries to push Jiung off of him. “If you can make me come before you do.”

He makes a confused noise, one that goes unanswered as you pull back to start shucking off your jeans and your panties. 

“Otherwise, Jiung gets to fuck me while you watch. Again.”

His complaints die on his tongue when you shuffle to kneel over him. As soon as your dripping cunt moves in line of his vision, his brain reroutes. He grabs onto your hips and sits you right on his mouth without another complaint. 

You gasp at the first swipe of his eager tongue, tremors rushing through your body as he immediately starts to tongue at your clit. 

You’ve fantasized this so many times since that night; you don’t think you’ve met anyone as talented with his mouth as Intak. And he proves it now as he starts a mind numbing rhythm of circling your clit and tonguing at your hole like it’s what he was born to do. 

Seeing how quickly affected you are, Jiung gets right to work. It’s a better angle now as you watch him tug Intak’s jeans and boxers down, freeing him fully. 

You bite down on your lip at the sight. Intak is thick and long, curved enticingly and so, so hard that he’s almost purpling at the tip. 

“Poor thing,” you mumble under your breath, gasping when his tongue drags through your folds while he whines against you. 

Jiung seems just as dazed by Intak’s cock as he wraps his hand around it once again. He has big hands, but even they look small in comparison. 

Intak jerks under the pressure as Jiung squeezes down, mouth faltering against your pussy as Jiung slides his fist up in a slow drag. 

You watch, mesmerized as a pearly drop of arousal beads at the tip then trickles down over Jiung’s knuckles. 

You nearly forget where you are as you're barraged with the sudden urge to lean down and lick his fingers clean, then maybe seek out more straight from the source. 

But you’re pulled right back when Intak’s lips wrap around your clit and sucks down hard enough to seize your body tight for a hot, blinding second. 

“Fuck!” You gasp, bracing down on Intak’s stomach before grinding your hips down, dragging your clit right over his tongue. 

It seems to set everything in motion—Intak grinding you down on his face as he mouths helplessly at you, Jiung holding Intak down with a hand on his hip, the other vigorously working Intak’s aching cock, and you clinging desperately onto your last morsel of sanity. 

Maybe you were in way over your head. There’s no way you can last longer than Intak with the image in front of you, Jiung fisting his best friend like his life depends on it and watching as Intak devours you like he wants to devour him whole. 

So you opt to look away, shut your eyes, but that plan gets immediately derailed when Jiung leans down and wraps his lips around Intak. 

Intak falters with a choked moan, his hips driving up to instinctively chase the wet warmth but Jiung immediately pulls off and brings his hand down on his hip with a harsh smack. 

“Stay down,” Jiung grits before he dives back down, taking him in his mouth again. 

Your clit pulses dangerously at the sight. Of Jiung’s lips stretched around the girth of Intak’s cock, of the furrow of concentration between his brows as he tries to sink deeper. He stops before he can even take half of it, but seems satisfied enough with the way Intak is tensed up and just panting under you, his fingers digging harshly into your hips as a way to brace himself. 

You feel Intak’s moan as a hot breath fanning over your cunt as Jiung slides up his cock, gives an experimental suck on the tip, then sinks back down with a breathy grunt.

You nearly cum on the spot when Jiung bobs his head and starts to fuck his mouth on Intak, his hand wrapped around whatever he can’t take, his eyes rolling back as they flutter shut at heady the taste of Intak on his tongue. 

His cheeks are flushed, the sounds are vulgar and obscene, and you can just tell it’s not about the dumb little bet anymore. 

He’s not blowing Intak because he wants to win—he’s doing it because he likes it. Because he fucking wants to. Jiung never does anything he doesn’t want to.

“Fucker,” you hiss. You reach back to clamp your fist into Intak’s hair and hold him still before you rock your cunt back down over his panting tongue. 

You don’t even care anymore, especially not when the tip of Intak’s nose starts to nudge at your hole. You ride his face and chase that burning pleasure right to the end with the sight before you, of Jiung looking drunk on Intak’s thick cock and struggling to take it as Intak starts to clumsily fuck up into the wet heat. 

You snap with a startled cry, the orgasm hitting you so suddenly that you nearly topple over. 

You catch yourself on Intak’s stomach, shuddering as Intak dutifully licks you through the high despite being in near shambles himself. 

When Jiung pulls off of Intak, it’s slow and hesitant, like he doesn’t quite want to stop. There’s a thread of saliva and precum that strings momentarily between his lips and the tip of Intak’s cock, one that you want to reach over and bat away. Jiung’s eyes are nearly glazed over, lips parted as he pants, like he was the one that just got his shit rocked. 

“Pathetic,” you mutter without thought and his wide eyes snap up to you.

He looks clueless as he stares at you. “Huh?”

“You’re fucking pathetic,” you double down, pushing off of Intak, who lays there limp and unresponsive. You grab hold of Jiung’s chin, forcing his eyes to stay on you. “You’ve been wanting to do that for a while, haven’t you?” You prod, and his eyes widen with each word, red climbing up his skin. 

He starts to shake his head but you tighten your grip on him and hold him still. 

“What, did you really need me to mediate? Are you really that much of a coward?”

He grits his teeth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tries to argue but you push him back against the arm of the couch. He falls against it without fight. “Hands behind your head. You’re going to watch Intak fuck me.”

At the sound of his name, Intak bristles alive and starts to climb out from under you, settling behind you. 

Jiung’s jaw goes slack as he rears up to argue. But one sharp look from you has him snapping his mouth shut, hands rising hesitantly to lock between his head and the couch. 

He parts his legs to give you a little more space to settle in the compact area, but all that does is expose just how hard he is, his cock straining against his dark pants, a damp spot seeping through at the tip. 

But you don’t get much time to grill him for it. 

Because Intak latches himself to your back, completely bare from what you can feel of him. He mouths at your neck as his hands climb up under your shirt, clumsily grinding his still hardened cock against your ass. 

“It hurts,” he whimpers into your ear with a press of his hips against you, before he hastily tugs at your top. 

When you pull it off, one of his hands immediately latches onto your chest, kneading at your tit through your bra. The other presses low on your naval to push you back into him and you hiss softly as his cock brushes right against your sensitive mound, his movements eager and hurried like he can’t quite figure out what to do with himself. 

“Please,” he begs, dropping his face into your shoulder to sniffle into it. “Please lemme fuck you, can’t take it anymore—‘t fucking hurts.”

Your heart tugs at the genuine distress in his voice. You’ve been stringing him long enough, and really, he’s been so good to you that he deserves much better than this. 

You card your hand through his soft hair, urging his head up so you can turn to press your lips to the corner of his. He immediately turns to push his lips into yours in a weak but heartened kiss. 

“C’mon baby,” you urge gently into his lips, arching your back to push your cunt against his throbbing length. “Put it in.”

Intak nearly sobs in relief, wrapping his arm tightly around your waist to hold you still as the other reaches down to guide himself into you. 

His tip drags over the length of your pussy, slow, heavy, hot. You think for a second he might turn it around and tease you, get back at you for putting him through everything. But Intak was never one for patience, not like Jiung. 

So he catches against your hole and pushes, not bothering to ease you around him as he drives himself all the way in despite your body’s resistance at the sudden, nearly unbearable stretch. 

Your mouth falls open in a loud, pained whine at the feeling of being practically split open by his cock. You nearly fall over, your body’s weight giving out, but his strong arm around you keeps you up against him. 

Your walls clamp down on him, resisting against the impossible stretch. He’s big, so much worse than Jiung, especially with barely enough prep. But there’s something mindnumbing about the pain that sears through you. 

Intak is a mess too, gasping into your hair as he gathers his bearings from how tight and warm you are around him. 

You barely get the chance to recover before he’s pushing into you with shallow, uncontrolled thrusts that send a flare of stinging pain through you with each one. 

“Fuck, Intak, s-slow d—ah!” You cut off with a yell at a particularly harsh thrust, one that has him nearly kissing your cervix. 

“Can’t,” he pants, his hands sliding down to claw onto your hips. He holds you tightly before he pulls back and punches into you with a hard thrust that has you falling forward and grabbing onto Jiung’s thighs to brace yourself. 

You choke down the pained yelp that rises in your throat. Intak plasters himself to your back, wrapping his thick arms around you again and holding you down as he starts to fuck you with fervour. 

“I can’t I can’t I can’t,” he pants into your neck, his hand lifting to grab onto your chest once again. His hips slam into you, rocking your body with his, his cock piercing in and carving out space inside you, brushing against your walls in spots you didn’t even know were possible. “Can’t—fuck—can’t hold back, need to cum—“ He turns to dig his face into your hair as his hand tugs your bra down so he can paw at your bare tits. “Needed this—needed you for so long…”

All you can do is take it, take it as Intak pounds into you like a man possessed by his carnal desires, ones that he’s been caging inside and letting fester for who knows how long. Of course he can’t hold back anymore. 

“Yeah?” You ask, gasping when he brushes against that gummy spot inside of you. The pain isn’t so much pain anymore as it is fire and bliss. You turn to press your lips to his ear, letting your breathy moans spill right into it as you speak. “Take whatever you need baby… m’all yours.”

Intak falters, his weight dropping on you as his cock pulses inside you. 

Then he rises up, the heat of him against your back ripping away and leaving you cold. He grabs your hips and lifts them, arching your back before he pulls out until his tip catches against your hole, the swollen head stretching the tight ring of muscle. 

Then he slams into you, once, twice, then again and again, with unrestrained, unyielding thrusts. 

You cry out as he starts to insistently piston against your g-spot with the tip of his cock, the precision almost terrifying in his state of carnal chase. 

“Intak!” You yell, your cries muffled when Intak’s hand lands on the back of your head and pushes you down. 

You’re helpless to him and his brutal cock, forced to just lay there with your ass up and take the barrage of pleasure laced with remnant pain. It clouds your head with a fog so thick that you don’t even realize you’re pressed into Jiung’s lap, not until he bucks his hips up in an attempt to press his boner to your lips. 

You blink up through the fog, your vision clearing on Jiung’s pinched expression, his brows furrowed and jaw tight over clenched teeth. His hands are still caught behind his head, though his restraint seems to be hanging on by a thread. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he watches Intak pummel into you and babble mindlessly about how you feel so good, how he’s gonna fill you up, and never gonna pull out.

Jiung’s hips buck up again, more insistently this time that his clothed cock bumps against your nose. You dig your fingers into his thighs in retaliation and he hisses, eyes snapping down to you in a weak glare. 

You manage a weak smile, smug and teasing, before it wipes away with a brutal snap of Intak’s cock against your cervix. 

“Fuck!” You scream, your pussy clamping down on his pulsing girth. He’s close. You’re not sure how he’s lasted so long. 

He drops onto your back again, arms tightening around you as he grinds his cock into you with deep, uncoordinated thrusts. 

“Gonna cum,” he warns with a gritted whimper, his dick kicking inside you as he pushes in and seats himself deep. 

But he doesn’t finish just yet; he reaches down for your clit and presses his thick fingers into it, flicking against the aching nub with quick movements. 

Your body thrashes under the sensation, your walls fluttering around him as you get drawn up to another orgasm. 

“I-Intak…” You gasp, squirming under him. 

He only speeds up, holding you tighter, rapidly rubbing at your clit. “Come on,” he pleads, rocking inside you once. “Come for me first.”

And then he pinches your clit, pushing you right over. You come with a cry of his name, pulsing violently around him as you cream over his cock. 

It drives him over too. He groans and shoves his cock into you once, twice, three times before he spills inside you with a choked grunt, his entire body trembling as he shoots into you and fills you with his hot seed. 

He whines like he’s pained as he releases into you, before dropping his entire weight on you after the wave passes and trapping your body between his and the couch. 

…his and Jiung’s lap, you realize after a moment of coming back into your body. 

You blink your eyes fully open to see Intak’s head settled on Jiung’s other hip, his eyes already open and fixed on the raging hard on right in the small space between your faces. 

You nearly laugh. Until you see the fucked look on Intak’s face. 

Jiung squirms under you, as if trying to shift away. 

“If you two are done,” he starts with his voice low and gruff, like he’d been the one exerting himself. “Can you get off?”

Intak’s eyes meet yours and you know then that that won’t be an option. The idea pulls a tired grin on your lips. 

“I dunno,” you hum, shifting a little under Intak. You shudder as Intak, still buried inside you, twitches anew. You sigh as you turn your face, nuzzling into the side of Jiung’s boner, your eyes flicking up to see him desperately trying to hold in his reactions. “It’s pretty comfy here. Isn’t it, Takki?”

Intak hums in agreement, shifting in to bump the tip of his nose against the hard ridge. 

Jiung gasps a sharp breath then, his hips twitching up in reflex. “Don’t fucking play,” he seethes, though he doesn’t move, nor does he move either of you. His hands remain right where you told him to keep them.

You just giggle, letting the vibration of your voice tease him through the dampening fabric. You’re sure it’s painful with just how much he’s seeped through his jeans. 

“When do I ever?” You taunt, leaning forward to end a bit of his suffering. 

But Intak beats you to it. He presses over your shoulder and runs the flat of his tongue against the rough fabric, leaving a damp trail up until he reaches the tip of Jiung’s cock and latches down. 

Jiung’s hand flies into Intak’s hair, letting out a choked grunt as he pushes his head down and grinds his crotch up into Intak’s face. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, grinding up again when Intak lets out a startled whimper. 

It only spurs Intak on as he starts tonguing over the bulge, trailing his lips tightly down the length before settling at his base. 

“Shit,” you mutter, watching with your jaw slack and another nagging pull at your gut. “I should’ve just made you guys fuck. Would’ve fixed—“

“Shut the fuck up,” Jiung snaps, grabbing your hair with his free hand and pushing your face into his lap. 

You go down easily, lips landing on and wrapping around his base, but not without digging your nails into his thighs in retaliation. 

But he doesn’t respond to that, too occupied with both your mouth and Intak’s on him. The denim of his pants dampens under your tongue as you suckle on him, Intak still mouthing over his heated length. 

“Talk too fuckin’ much,” Jiung pants as he lets you both go, only to tug open his belt.

Intak immediately reaches over you to help him pull himself free with single minded focus, tugging his pants and boxers down to let his cock spring free, hard and leaking with need. 

It’s embarrassing how quickly your arguments die on your tongue, the space too occupied with your drool. 

You don’t bother with your hands, reaching instead with your mouth to swallow his tip in. 

You hum as the salt and musk bursts on your tongue, giving it a firm suck to milk more out of him. It’s nice, the heavy, velvety taste of him. 

Jiung groans, his hand landing in your hair once again, not to push but just to have something to hold onto. 

You can hear the wet sounds of Intak’s mouth sucking and tonguing at Jiung’s base, and you drag down the generous, ridged length to meet him there. 

You don’t even care how obscene it is, the fact that you’re both mouthing at Jiung’s cock like filthy whores while Intak is still buried balls-deep inside you, where you can feel him hardening up again.

All you can focus on is the sounds Jiung is making, the ones Intak makes as he and you lap at Jiung’s cock in tandem, practically making out with it and each other. 

You don't think you’ve done something so dirty, ever felt so dirty yourself. You don’t think you can have it any other way now. 

“Look at you two,” Jiung breathes, his fingers carding through both your and Intak’s hair, fingers scratching down both affectionately and condescendingly somehow. 

You moan against him just as Intak does, dragging your mouth up to swallow him in again, tonguing at the gummy tip. 

Jiung lets go of your hair and takes your chin instead, digging his thumb into your hallowed cheek. “You sound better with my cock in your mouth.”

You let out an offended whine, sucking down hard to watch him hiss and jerk. 

“Brat,” he grits, grunting when Intak starts prodding at the corner of your lips with his tongue in a silent ask. 

You hum, popping off to let Intak in, but you don’t move away. You both tongue at the swollen tip, mouths tangling together as you practically make out with each other on Jiung’s cock. 

You swirl your tongue over the tip and give it a suck before dipping into Intak’s mouth, sharing the salty taste, letting him do the same before he dips into your mouth and sucks at your tongue. 

It’s brainless, completely devoid of any direction, any thought—just pure, animalistic instinct. 

Jiung curses under the barrage, pushed to his limits. He holds you both down with fists in your hair and starts to fuck up into the space between your mouths, poking into your tongue and Intak’s in a mindless alternation. 

Intak’s eyes roll back at the heady feeling, his body spurring to life to start halfheartedly fucking his cock into you, fully hard again.

You just lay there and take it, let the drags of his cock ease the burning that flares up between your hips again. 

You let Jiung chase his orgasm between the messy press of your mouth and tongue against Intak’s—it’s frantic, lewd, head spinning. 

And it’s completely over for you when Jiung starts whining. 

“Gonna cum,” he whimpers, hands tightening down on your and Intak’s heads. Intak grunts at the pressure but he opens his mouth like you do, just letting Jiung rut against your tongues and faces like a bitch in heat. “Fuck, y’r gonna make me… nngh, fuck fuck fuck—”

He breaks off with a choked yell, forcing you both off of him before he takes his cock and frantically fists himself to completion. 

He cums with another yell, head thrown back as he gasps through it, hot ropes of his cum landing on your faces. You try to catch them with your tongue but it’s far too messy and uncoordinated. 

So you turn to Intak’s blissed out, cum splattered face and start lapping it up from him instead, your brain reduced to nothing but a filthy caricature. Intak seems to share that same mind, licking off whatever he can from your chin and cheek before he forces his tongue into your mouth and tries to take from there. 

You moan against him, sharing the taste of Jiung between what you suppose is a kiss, but you can’t really tell anymore. 

It’s when he cums inside of you again that you realize Intak was still fucking into you with rocky, noncommittal thrusts. It’s much less intense than the one before, but the feeling of him spilling into you again does you in, coaxing out a similarly languid orgasm out of you. 

You settle with a shudder, dropping down on Jiung’s stomach, the cotton of his shirt a soft reprieve against your heated skin. 

It’s a quiet moment of hard breaths and slow realization, with Jiung dead against the couch’s arm above you and Intak laid on your back and panting into your shoulder. 

You don’t move. Don’t think you even can.

The first bit of motion after a handful of moments is Jiung’s voice over you, low and gruff and a little fucked up. 

“What the fuck was that?”

It pulls out a startled laugh out of you. You shift, nudging at Intak’s weight to let you free. 

He whines against you but obliges, though hesitant, slowly sliding out of your cunt with a hiss before he rolls down onto the floor, splaying onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. 

“Heaven,” he says, all too serious as he blinks his starry eyes slowly, a giddy grin climbing onto his swollen lips. 

He looks all cute and boyish with that dimpled smile, his bangs fanning over his eyes. Like he hadn’t just blown the guy he’d been fighting with over a girl, while fucking said girl. 

You snort, shuffling down the couch to settle at the other end while Jiung pulls up his pants and tucks himself away with syrupy movements. Of course he’s the only one clothed while you and Intak remain almost completely bare. 

You tug your bra back in place as you curl back into the cushions. “Needed is what it was. To get you dickheads to finally stop fighting.”

Intak giggles from the ground. “He’s too stubborn to stop.”

“Hm. You’re right.”

Jiung glares at you, still boneless where he lays. “I’m right here.”

Intak’s head pokes up from the ground, looking at Jiung with an impish grin. “So? Can you admit it now?”

“Admit what?” Jiung grumbles, refusing to look at him and opting for the ceiling instead.

But Intak, annoying as he is, shuffles closer to rest his head against the arm of the couch, his face right below Jiung’s. “That you wanted it,” he says, waiting with that smile still plastered on his lips. There’s an honest anticipation behind that gaze though, one that seems to be waiting for a particular answer. “Did you?”

Jiung is silent. You watch his throat bob, his eyes flicker down, his jaw work around his teeth.

“No.”

Intak’s smile pulls wider and only then do you see the corner of Jiung’s lips twitch up.

“In that case,” you start, finding yourself grinning too. The heat pooling low in your gut is starting to feel something like a permanent fixture. “Same time next week?”

Turns out, your games weren’t all for nothing. 

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1 reblog/comment = 1 virtual kiss <3

Well...he’s still soft-spoken—his voice never rises, never loses that calm, steady tone but gentle? Not quite.

Behind closed doors, there’s a different edge to him. His sweetness doesn’t disappear, but it’s laced with dominance, control, and an intensity that contradicts his daytime demeanor. If there’s one rough thing about him, it’s the way he takes control when you’re underneath him.

Sex with Jungwon is good, no doubt about that. But the thing is… he doesn’t know how to stop.

Once he starts, it’s like he falls into a rhythm only he can hear, and you’re just along for the ride, trembling and breathless and completely at his mercy.

Your wrists are cuffed to both sides of the bed, the metal cool against your heated skin. Your legs are spread and tied down, leaving you completely exposed—open for him. At first, it’s fine. You can handle it. The slow build, the teasing. The way he slips the toy inside your pulsing cunt, then drags it up to circle your clitoris with frustrating precision.

Each slow movement of the toy has you dripping onto the sheets, your body reacting before your mind can even catch up. You don’t miss the way Jungwon’s eyes light up with excitement, a sparkle in them. A small, satisfied smile curves on his lips as he watches your pussy clench around absolutely nothing, the vibrator pulsing against you while he teases, never quite giving you what you’re begging for.

That’s the thing about Jungwon—he knows exactly how to ruin you without even touching you properly. He hasn’t taken off a single piece of clothing, hasn’t even laid a finger on your most sensitive spots. And yet, you’re falling apart.

He makes you crave everything. His touch. A simple brush of his fingers. Even just a glance at what’s hidden behind his pants—his huge fucking cock, so painfully hard. You’ve barely seen it tonight, and that alone makes you dizzy with need.

Your head is spinning. Your throat burns from all the begging, the moaning, the hoarse screams you’ve let out over the past hour. Your legs shake, your wrists ache against the cuffs, and your eyes—God, your eyes can barely stay open. Every time he pulls another orgasm out of you, they roll back with a mix of pleasure and exhaustion. You’re so, so tired, and so wrecked.

“Please, please… just fuck me. Just fuck me already!” you cry out, voice cracking from exhaustion.

Jungwon is still sitting at the edge of the room, completely composed, watching you with fascination. Your legs tremble uncontrollably, still spread wide, still bound, as another orgasm rips through you. The loud hum of the vibrator fills the room, blending with your high-pitched moans and hitched breaths.

You try to shut your legs, to push the toy away from your aching core, but you can’t. You’re strapped open, so damn helpless. Your clit feels raw, burning from the endless attention. It’s been nearly two hours of this, and your entire body feels like it’s on fire. You’re drenched in sweat, heart racing, muscles twitching from the constant tension. And still… Jungwon doesn’t look finished. He watches you like you’re the most captivating thing he’s ever seen.

“L-Let’s just finish this and sleep, okay?” you gasp, trying to meet his eyes. There’s desperation in your voice, but you still try to sound sweet—still trying to bargain with the man who holds all the control.

Finally, he stands. His gaze travels slowly down your body, from your tearful eyes to your heaving chest. And then, he leans in and kisses you softly, almost tender. You melt into it, sighing against his lips, your body automatically responding despite the ache. You try to kiss him deeper, tongue desperate against his, hands twitching against the restraints as you try to pull him closer.

“Love you, my sweet little angel,” Jungwon whispers against your lips, smiling so gently it almost feels cruel.

You smile weakly back, eyes watery but soft. “Love you too… now please—please untie me?” you beg.

For a moment, your heart lifts in relief as you see him walk toward the cabinet beside the bed. You think he’s going for the keys because finally. But then your eyes widen in horror when he pulls out a small collection of toys instead and places them gently on the nightstand.

Your stomach drops.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“No!” you cry out, yanking at your cuffs even though you know it’s useless. Panic surges as he picks up a pair of nipple stimulators and places them over your already sensitive chest.

"Shit— no! Don't! Stop!"

The moment they turn on, you jolt. The soft suction and flickering pulses send electric shocks through your breasts, focusing on your nipples and making your back arch off the bed.

“Ahh—n-no! No more!” you shout, writhing, body bucking against the restraints.

Jungwon doesn’t say a word. His fingers trail down slowly, tracing the mess between your legs, spreading you gently. Then, without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you, curling and sliding them.

“Hahh… J-Jung… ahh—” Your head falls back, and your eyes roll. The pleasure blurs everything—your thoughts, your words. “I c-can’t… anymore…” you whisper, voice trembling, barely holding together.

Your thoughts scatter like leaves in a storm, lost to the overwhelming flood of sensation. Every nerve in your body is lit up, every inch of you trembling, wrung out, and oversensitive.

Jungwon, on the other hand, looks like he’s in bliss. His chest rises and falls with labored breaths, eyes locked on your body. When he feels your walls tightening around his fingers, his lips part with a quiet moan. The way you grip him—so hot, so wet, so helpless—nearly drives him insane.

Your head lolls to the side, arms stretched and chained above you. Your mouth hangs open, tongue slipping out slightly, drool tracing a path from your lips to your chin. You’re panting, muttering broken, incoherent phrases that even you don’t understand.

Underneath his pants, Jungwon’s cock throbs with the weight of restraint. Finally, he pulls his fingers out of you and quickly undresses, his hands shaking in urgency. He barely blinks, barely breathes, as he climbs back onto the bed.

Before you can even register his presence fully, you hear another vibration. A sob tears from your throat as a small egg vibrator slips inside you, humming to life with a relentless buzz. Another one is pressed directly to your clit, making your hips jerk violently. The stimulation is too much, all-consuming and now you’re crying, tears running freely down your cheeks.

Your mind is barely there when Jungwon settles over you. You feel his body hovering close, the warmth of him mixing with yours. He cups your cheek with one hand, gently brushing away your tears, while the other supports the back of your head.

“Shhh…” he soothes. “It’s okay, baby. You can take it, can’t you? Be my good girl, hmm?”

You can’t even answer. Your lips tremble, a sob stuck in your throat, your body wracked with pleasure that borders on pain. The buzzing on your clit, the pulsing deep inside you, the suction on your nipples—it’s too much!

“You’re my good girl, right? Answer me, angel,” Jungwon repeats.

“I-I… I’m y-your… nghh… g-good girl,” you manage to choke out, eyes squeezed shut. The moment you say it, Jungwon smiles—and not just any smile, but the one he gives when he’s deeply, thoroughly satisfied. It’s the kind of smile that says he’s proud of you.

He shifts on the bed, straddling your hips, his knees on either side of you. His cock is flushed, rock hard, and leaking precum. From this angle, you can see it clearly—aching and ready. Your breath catches.

“Say you can take it,” he says again, eyes burning into yours.

“I-I c-can t-take it… F-FUCK!” you scream as the vibrator inside you kicks up to a stronger setting. Your nails dig into your palms, your back arches off the bed, and your legs jerk against the restraints. Another wave crashes over you, and you’re gone again, mouth open in a silent scream before the moans pour out helplessly.

Jungwon groans at the sight of you. He tosses the remote aside and his hand wraps around his length, the slick glide of his palm a poor substitute for what he really wants, but right now, it’s enough because what he’s seeing? It’s everything.

You’re trembling, legs shaking uncontrollably, arms pulled taut by the cuffs. Your entire body is soaked in sweat, flushed, and still, you’re clenching and twitching, hips jumping with every surge of overstimulation. You’re crying, sobbing softly through parted lips, but your body won’t stop responding. And to Jungwon, there’s no more beautiful sight in the world.

Ecstacy.

He never understood the word fully before you. People always talked about it like a fleeting rush, a peak that fades as quickly as it comes. But with you? It lasts. It blooms slowly.

"Hahhh.... 'Wonnie, c-close again!"

Jungwon whines, an unfiltered, almost desperate sound as his hand speeds up. He braces himself on the mattress, panting through clenched teeth as the fire in his gut coils tighter and tighter.

You’re nearly delirious, legs quaking, sweat dripping off your skin in soft trails. The small toy is still pulsing relentlessly between your thighs, buzzing away mercilessly, and you—his perfect, precious girl—can do nothing to escape it.

Your body jolts, then locks up. Another wave crashes over you, and Jungwon can see it in real time—your stomach tensing, mouth falling open, eyes fluttering back as you climax again. It’s like your soul momentarily leaves your body and crashes back into it, all in one breathless scream.

He groans loudly, the sound raw and shameless, as his orgasm builds at the sight. His cock throbs painfully in his grip, aching for release.

“Stop! Please… stop! Make it stop!”

You’re sobbing, shaking your head side to side, tears streaking your cheeks as your voice breaks entirely.

A strangled gasp escapes Jungwon’s lips as his climax slams into him. His body jerks forward as he spills across your stomach and chest. The orgasm tears through him, spine curling, muscles locking, vision flashing white at the edges. His hips twitch helplessly as each pulse escapes him, breath ragged, mind floating somewhere far away.

Between his high and the aftershocks rolling through his body, he still hears you screaming his name, begging him to stop.

Jungwon blinks, disoriented. For a moment, his mind is blank, floating somewhere between euphoria and guilt. But then his eyes land on you.

With shaky hands, he reaches for the remote and flicks off the power. The hum of the toys dies, replaced by silence—save for your ragged breathing, the hiccuping sobs that break his heart, and the faint creak of the bed as your body finally begins to fall limp in exhaustion.

He moves fast but gentle, slipping the nipple clamps off first. His breath hitches at the sight—your nipples flushed deep red, firm and oversensitive. He swallows hard, fighting the urge to touch, to kiss, to soothe with his mouth.

Then there’s the vibrator still buried inside you. It’s soaked, your slick dripping down your thighs, clinging to the toy as it slips out with a wet, lewd sound. The air is thick with the scent of sex, of release, of everything you gave him tonight. His stomach tightens again at the sight, but he forces himself to stay focused.

“D-done?” your voice comes, barely a whisper.

Jungwon doesn’t answer right away. He’s still staring. His body might’ve just finished, but his mind is caught somewhere in the afterglow.

His fingers fumble briefly with the small key before unlocking the cuffs, one by one. You don’t even lift your arms—just lie there, shivering, twitching occasionally when a breeze brushes across your skin.

You let out a shaky breath as your wrists fall free. A sob leaves your chest, but this time it’s soft—relieved. Grateful. Your arms weakly pull inward, cradling your own chest as you collapse into the sheets.

But your body… it’s still trembling. You’re still soaked. That last orgasm hadn’t even faded, and the aftershocks have your thighs twitching with every shift of your hips.

Jungwon swallows hard as he kneels behind you, watching your body try to recover, the way you curl slightly into yourself like you’re trying to keep your insides from spilling over.

"J-Jungwon?"

You feel his hands gently reposition you, guiding you slowly onto your stomach. You let him, barely resisting, only sobbing quietly, the kind of sound that makes his chest ache and his cock twitch.

“One more,” he whispers near your ear, brushing his lips over your cheek. “Just one more, baby. Then I’ll stop. I promise, okay?”

You cry out, he gently pushes your legs apart and lifts your hips just enough, guiding you into position.

“Fuck,” he hisses, as he presses forward slowly but your body reacts instantly.

"Ahhh!" You gasp, then squeal as your walls clamp down, and without warning, a gush of liquid pours from you. You’re fucking squirting.

Jungwon groans, forehead dropping to your back, overwhelmed by the sheer sensitivity of your response. Your hips try to jerk forward, trying to escape, but he holds you in place with one arm curled around your waist.

You’re still spasming when he finally sinks inside, forcing his huge cock inside you. Your soaked walls resist him in a trembling way, trying to push him out while also drawing him deeper.

You scream again as he fills you, your voice breaking around the sobs. He hushes you gently, lips brushing your neck.

“Shhh… it’s okay, baby. Almost there. You can do it—just a little more,” he whispers, his own voice shaking.

He stays still for a moment, buried inside your pulsing heat, feeling your body flutter and tighten around him. His chest presses to your back, arms wrapping around you, holding you close as you sob into the pillow.

“My good girl,” he breathes, kissing the space behind your ear. “You’re doing so well. So perfect for me.”

You whimper brokenly, clenching again as he slowly draws his hips back—just an inch—and thrusts forward again.

Your body goes pliant beneath him, letting him take the lead, letting him guide every motion as his hips begin to roll with slow, fluid strokes. The drag of his cock through your drenched heat makes his head fall forward, jaw clenched, breath shuddering against your neck.

“Little more,” he pants. His eyes flutter shut as he sinks back into you, the tight grip of your body drawing another moan from deep in his throat. “Just… like that.”

You sob again, your hands claw at the sheets.

Jungwon groans softly and leans over you more. His hand slides gently around your neck, His thumb brushes your jaw, tilting your head up so he can see your face.

Your lips tremble. Your eyes flutter, barely open, hazy and wet from tears, but locked onto him.

He exhales sharply at the sight. He leans in and kisses you upside down, the angle is awkward, but lips finding yours between moans and movement. The kiss is messy, wet, desperate. His hips never stop, and the rhythm begins to build again, more urgent now. Each thrust hits deeper, heavier, guided by the way your body clings to him, keeps him buried.

He moans into your mouth as you whimper against his. Then his tongue drags over your bottom lip, over your cheek, catching the taste of your tears and sweat. His teeth scrape lightly against your skin before he licks up the salty trail along your face.

“Mine,” he breathes against your cheek. “All mine.”

Your only response is a faint cry as your body clenches again, another sharp squeeze that makes him falter, hips stuttering from the overwhelming sensation.

His hand leaves your throat and presses between your shoulder blades, pinning you gently into the bed as he pulls your hips higher, changing the angle.

“Ahh, f-fuck!” you squeal. Your thighs quiver violently, and Jungwon nearly loses it right there at the sound.

His pace falters for a beat, then picks up again, faster, more erratic. “So good—so fucking good,” he stammers out, neck slick with sweat.

Your walls clench again, fluttering around him, and he lets out a wrecked sound, almost pained in how much he needs this.

His hips slam forward as he grits out, “Pretty… you’re so pretty. So good for me.”

His hand moves from your back to your waist, holding you tight as he keeps grinding in. “I love you,” he gasps, not even meaning to say it again, but it falls out of him in a choked whisper. “I love you so fucking much…”

His voice cracks at the end, moaning into your skin.

His lips find your shoulder—he kisses it once, then again, moaning into your skin as he thrusts harder. He’s unraveling. His rhythm turns desperate, your name falling from his lips.

"J-just a little more, hmm? I'm gonna creampie this little pussy t-then— fuck, we're done." Jungwon pants, voice cracking with emotion, every word shaking as it leaves his mouth. His eyes are blown wide, focused on where he’s buried deep inside you. “I love you—ahh, I love you so much…”

Jungwon grabs both of your arms, pulling them back gently, lifting your upper body just enough to tilt your chest off the bed. Your back arches, his hips slapping against you, skin to skin, the sound filthy and wet.

Your breasts bounce with every motion, your body jolting under his force. You barely register your own scream before your entire frame begins to convulse.

"Holy shit." Jungwon gasps at the sight, eyes wide with stunned, reverent awe as he breathes out.

You let go completely—again—and it’s overwhelming. A fresh, hot stream releases from you uncontrollably, drenching everything. His thighs. The sheets. The space between you. The air fills with the scent of arousal and sweat, with the stuttering breaths of both your bodies falling apart at the same time.

His thighs shake violently as he spills his cum into you, a strangled, low moan escaping from the pit of his chest. He doesn’t stop moving—keeps thrusting, dragging his length in and out as he pours every last drop inside of you, desperate to make it last.

The warmth floods between your legs, and the way your body pulses around him only draws more out of him. And it’s almost an afterthought to you now, dulled by the overwhelming waves of pleasure and exhaustion. You’re beyond feeling it fully, your body too far gone from the overstimulation he dragged you through.

He whines high as he buries himself to the hilt again, staying there, pushing in as far as you’ll let him. Your body quivers under the weight of his release, and he presses his chest to your back, wrapping both arms around you.

"Thank you, thank you, my angel."

The room falls into a heavy silence.

When Jungwon finally, carefully pulls out of you, he pauses—eyes drawn to the mess he left behind. His release slowly trickles from you, glistening down your inner thighs, and he can’t help but stare.

Then his gaze drifts up.

Your body is limp against the sheets, your chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Your face is flushed and dewy with sweat, eyes barely open, lips parted like you’re still floating in that lingering euphoric high.

And yet—something about the sight of you like that makes heat stir in his gut all over again.

Given your well-known low tolerance for alcohol, you would have done your best to avoid drinking even a single drop that night. But how could you have avoided it? When Keeho teased you for being a wimp and Intak practically shoved the bottle of tequila down your throat, saying it would “make it more fun”.

And while it might have actually been more fun for them, you had your head in the clouds. More specifically, you were fixated on the way Jiung’s boxers peaked every time he stretched to grab something from the coffee table.

You wouldn’t be worried if it were just his underwear peeking out every now and then; the problem was the nagging doubt that had been bugging you ever since you noticed that perfectly irritating line of fine hair below his belly button.

As much as you love all your friends equally and spend almost every weekend at one of your places, Jiung holds a special place in your heart. You grew up together, and he’s seen you at your most vulnerable, so looking at him with desire left you feeling confused.

You tried to force yourself to stop looking, to stop wondering if the hair continued and what it would be like down there, but you just couldn’t. It was as if a magnetic field were forcing you to stare at his pants every time he moved even slightly. All you could hope for was that everyone around you was drunk or tipsy enough not to notice how blatantly you were staring at your best friend.

Luckily for you — and unfortunately for Jongseob, who were eating more than anyone — Jiung announced that all the snacks on the table were gone, causing an imaginary lightbulb to go off above your head with an idea that wouldn’t have occurred if you were sober:

“I’ll help you grab more,” you spoke up as you were already getting up, a little unsteadily, leaving him no choice but to accept your help.

The others didn't seem to mind; they were too engrossed in talking about whatever it was. Jiung, on the other hand, followed you in silence down the hallway leading to the kitchen. “You are such a weak drinker. Can barely walk.”

You gave off every sign of annoyance, even with your back turned: clicked your tongue, shrugged, and rolled your eyes. He was so intriguing, but just as annoying as ever.

Halfway down the short hallway, you find yourself passing by the main bathroom, not thinking twice before pulling the boy behind you into the room and closing the door.

“What are you doing?! Gonna throw up?” Despite the obvious mocking tone, you could sense a hint of concern. You weren't such a lightweight that you'd throw up after just a few shots.

Not knowing how to say “I want to see your dick,” in a way that wouldn't scare him or embarrass you for the rest of your life, you decided to just grab Jiung’s face and press your lips against his, eventually pushing him up against the door.

His reaction was almost immediate and unexpected: he kissed you back. His hands quickly found their way to the back of your neck, leaving you at his mercy as he took control of the kiss. His lips were, as expected, soft thanks to his daily skincare routine, and deep down you could taste the bitter flavor of the absinthe you’d refused to drink.

Both of your breaths were ragged and desperate, as if you were willing to practically suffocate if it meant you could practically devour each other.

“I've wanted to do this for so long,” he said, breaking the kiss to rest your foreheads together. "Seriously.”

“Then why haven't you?”

“For the same reason you dated that jerk,” and your eyes widened. You knew he didn't like your ex — but jealousy? You just bit your lip to hold back an excited smile.

“And why did you do that?” Jiung looked you up and down, making it clear what he meant by his question, still holding onto your head as if you were going to run away.

“It’s stupid,” you took a deep breath, looking anywhere but at his face. “Your happy trail made me wonder…”

Jiung raised his eyebrows in surprise at your answer. He couldn’t help but laugh at your silly confession, causing you to look back at him in astonishment. “Wonder what?”

His hands began to slide dangerously down to your shoulders, then brushed innocently against your breasts before finally coming to rest on your waist, gripping you tightly.

“What are you like down there,” a quick answer, without further ado. Alcohol is really dangerous.

You felt him grip your waist and his gaze drift down to your revealing cleavage. “You have no idea how many times I've wanted to know what you look like down here. But you didn't see me going around grabbing you in the hallway.”

He really couldn't change his attitude, but you were horny enough to let him do whatever he wanted with you. “Check it out then.”

“Let's put your mouth to a better use,” you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the situation, but Jiung’s rosy cheeks were a sight you hoped would be etched in your memory forever. With that, he moved his right hand to the top of your head and pushed you toward the floor, making you kneel in front of him without much effort.

“Now you check it out,” he smirked as he gently ran his fingers through your completely messy hair. As much as you wanted to tease him back, you were desperate to see your best friend’s cock. Without breaking eye contact, you unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, finally breaking the intense eye contact to slightly lift his shirt and get a close look at what had led you to this situation.

Not only did his happy trail fascinate you, but the three butterflies drawn to the right of it took your breath away. “You’re so pretty, Ji,” you could feel his body react to the compliment as you took your hand to drag it along his lower abdomen.

“Hurry up,” a gentle tug on your hair made you turn your attention to his face. “The others will miss us.”

“Let them,” even though you wanted to take your time with him, he was right. So you hurried to pull his pants down to his ankles, blessed with the sight of his erection screaming for attention inside his boxers. “But it would be cool if they watched it... it's quite a sight.”

You could feel Jiung’s tension and urgency as your head was pushed right up against his bulge. You could feel just how hot and hard your best friend was, even through the single layer of fabric covering it, which made you rub your thighs together in anticipation.

“Do you want me to help you? Fucking hurry up,” he thrust his hips forward to rub his covered member against your face, seeking any kind of self-relief.

“Maybe if you asked more politely…” You could have sworn he whispered that you’re a bitch, but you were too distracted by something else to care in the slightest: Jiung taking off his boxers right in front of you

It was better than you could've asked for: he was surprisingly bigger than you expected, and you couldn’t help but notice that the color of its tip matched the color of his lips. But what caught your attention most was his bush. You didn’t expect someone as meticulous as Jiung to let the hairs go untrimmed.

“Ji, it's so pretty,” instinctively, you grabbed his cock in your hand and began to slowly stroke it, admiring the way the pre-cum pooled on the tip. “Fuck, so pretty.”

The alcohol had completely taken over your body by this point, because there was no way you could have been that brave on your own. But it was worth it when you looked up and saw Jiung looking right back at you, clearly holding back any sound that might escape his mouth.

But that wasn't what you wanted.

With that in mind, you leaned in and took as much of his dick into your mouth as you could handle, drawing a scream from him loud enough to make him cover his mouth.

You smiled at your conquest and kept pushing it all the way down your throat, not caring about the lack of air or the uncomfortable sensation.

Since he wasn’t pushing your head anymore, you pulled your mouth away from him and went back to jerk him off, looking at him with the most innocent expression you could muster at that moment.

“You taste so good too, you know? Wish I had you earlier,” you moistened your lips before leaning in and scattering gentle kisses along his length, never once breaking eye contact — you couldn’t bear to take your eyes off a completely flushed and utterly flustered Jiung. “Bet it would fill me up so well. Bet you'd fuck me so well…”

You didn't give him a chance to answer, because you were already taking him into your mouth once again. And that's how you kept going: bobbing your head up and down his dick and reveling in his struggle to hold back his moans.

The sight was obscene: Jiung, with his head thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open, flushed face, and a bit of sweat forming on his neck. You couldn't help but let out a moan, sending shivers down his length that made him pull away.

As you tried to catch your breath, you looked at him, confused, trying to figure out if you had done something wrong.

“Don't wanna cum yet. Wait a sec’,” As you wiped the drool from around your mouth, you chuckled to yourself at your best friend’s lack of self-control.

“And I’m the weak one?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you knew that Jiung hated being teased and enjoyed annoying him every day, but you’d never seen that look on his face before. By the time you realized it, he was already guiding his cock into your mouth again, this time grabbing your hair so tightly that your scalp started to hurt.

All you could do while he fucked your mouth was moan. The only relief you felt was digging your nails into his thighs as he ravaged your throat.

“I’m the best dick you'll ever take. ‘m still gonna fuck you so much- fuck- fuck you dumb,” his other hand joined the one already on your head for extra support. His hip movements became more frantic, leading you to believe he was about to cum.

And all you could do was take. Staring at his face, which was contorted with pure lust, you waited until he had released almost everything into your mouth; what was left ended up all over your face.

He came so beautifully, too — the broken moan and the furrowed brows as he jerked off to milk every single drop onto your face.

“Someone was waiting for this day”, you mocked as you used your thumb to wipe away a trace of his cum that was tickling your cheek, immediately bringing it to your mouth.

“I was serious. I still wanna fuck you,” he said in the most serious tone he could manage as he pulled up his pants and buttoned them, helping you up from the floor right after.

As you stared at each other, a deafening silence fell over the bathroom, making you feel awkward and prompting you to sneak over to open the door. “Let's just go,”

When both of you arrived at the living room — hands empty — everyone was staring at you. A wave of embarrassment washed over you, and your body immediately grew hot: your hair was still a mess, and some of your makeup had completely smudged.

On the other side, Jiung just moved to sit down where he originally was, not even bothering to explain the absence of snacks.

“I threw up,” you quickly stated, looking at your friends’ faces to check if they bought it.

“Right,” Taeyang started unbothered, “and that's not cum on your chin.”

Not only your eyes, but Jiung’s eyes widened too. Embarrassed, you quickly wiped your chin and rubbed your hand on your top. Not knowing where to hide, you just went back to the bathroom while you could hear Keeho complaining about people fucking in his bathroom.

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VOLUME ONE.

001: Sibling Negotiation.

002: Making It Out The Groupchat.

003: Can You Lowkey Spot Me.

004: Why Would A Man Be There.

005: Everything’s Chill, I’m So Chill.

006: My Sis Has Standards.

007: Mortifying Encounters.

VOLUME TWO.

008: Japan, I Am On My Way.

009: Traveling And More Traveling.

010: His Name Is TamTam.

011: Late Night Conversations.

012: You Only Live Once.

013: The Next Morning.

014: Liar Liar Pants On Fire.

015: Mr And Miss Giggleshits.

VOLUME THREE.

016: Unexpected Tummy Ache.

017: Dinner In Saitama.

018: Somewhere In The Garden.

019: Smiling Through It All.

020: From The Start.

Epilogue: Love Is Driving Me A Bit Insane!

(closed) TAG LIST: @u2jwon @endoll @chccnne @lisie-loves-u @quiiirkiiis2 @nataliasdiary @pxronbeat1 @ssulhara @seobjectt @seonghwaswifeuuuu @seobpaya @mimisboard @cryingwithsparkl3s @jongseobsno1fan @niyareloadedd @maffyy @yumimeimi @ilovjongseob @seobsongz @stylann @snowzxki @cminr @breakmeonce @argenkraken @just-agirl-lol @xionvlog @urmomsfavlesb @tikfreakingtak @aalyluvz @atdeerhunter @aeritakus @piuvi @sisakoekiee @ozzysoatsolivesandpasta @seobstars @supernaturalstilinski @piwonlover @rayurss @fauxfocus @soobieboobieee @k-4ttiee @ilovebtsomgie @whoowannarockwjennie @halluci-nati0n @whitefang1919 @solars-system @goatedwiththesaucedotcom @alienslostinworld

“OH! King of Curses down- Six Eyes knees him in the ribs so hard that I’m sure you could hear it, ladies and gentleman! Is he the one who’ll take the Shinjuku Showdown grand prize tonight?!” 

You’re grimacing at both the booming volume of the eager commentator, and the cracking slam of flesh-on-flesh. Having your special nurse’s position smack-dab on the first row meant that you could see n’ hear everything. 

Everything. 

From the roaring cheers of the bustling crowd on their feet, to the way that Gojo was gritting through his dark Stygian muzzle and grinning. Wild. Gorgeous.

Your thighs squeeze together involuntarily - despite the way the entire underworld had his name in their mouths, the one thing nobody ever disagreed on was how…hot Gojo Satoru was. 

A devil masquerading like an angel. All curtains of silky, sweat-slicked white hair, and muscles for daaaays. His skin-tight t-shirt was hanging off of him in nothing but rings of tatters, showing off a snowy happy trail that makes you gulp. Milky skin glistening in the beating stadium lighting, all decorated in as much battle-won scars as sultry, sultry veins. 

Gojo’s towering shadow falls right in front of where you were gawking up at him, and fuck- he makes a big show of letting the rest of his shirt riiiip—! with only a mere tug. 

Well, there was a reason he was your favorite patient.

And you swear he was so close that you could practically taste the scorching iron dripping between his lips, lacquering his pearly whites with a thin film. All red and raw when he turns to you and winks–

“HOLY SHIT! The King makes a comeback- he’s still on his feet! And he’s swinging wide at our monster Six Eyes.”

The thundering, thick stadium air simmers a few degrees tenser as Ryomen Sukuna crashes his meaty, closed fist right into the other’s right cheekbone. Shocked inhales ring out all around you - because if Gojo was the monster of underground fighting, then Sukuna was the curse.

The only fighter in history to ever get a solid few knocks on the other. Both massive.

And if this was anyone else, the sheer force would have made them pass out right then and there. If this was anyone else, then they wouldn’t be snickering-

“Cute.” Gojo’s deep sing-song voice is cold. Seething. Just barely audible enough that your buzzing eardrums can make out. He throws one arm over the stretchy fighting ring ropes, “But I gotta lady ta impress.”

Crimson eyes flicker to you for nothing but a split-second, but it was long enough for the other man to grow rigid. On edge for the first time.

Smugly, Sukuna spits right into Gojo’s face. “Heh- Hell yeah, that chick’ll be impressed in the locker rooms by a real winner later. Me.”

Just a word about you is all it takes.

A breathless gasp departs from your lips as something in Gojo grows…different.

Without another word, he’s drifting over a hand to one of the bulky bands wrapped firmly around his wrists. Unlatching them. So often mistaken for somewhat of a fashion statement, but after so long spent in fighting company, you knew what they really were.

They were weights. Yet another disadvantage. 

And they crack the ground as they fall.

“Weights? Weights?! OH- Gojo headbutts! The King of Curse’s is down-” He’s bleeding and accomplished, every trace of humor wiped. Every degree of a smirk clenched into a steely scowl, and suddenly you’re feeling that perhaps those rumors about him being superhuman are true. Perhaps. “SHIT! He snaps back with an elbow strike-”

Gojo’s big, beefy biceps tense and flex as he curls it menacingly around Sukuna’s throat into a fucking headlock - and your thighs clench.

“You- fucking-” He chokes out past the sculptured harness, cushioned palms coming to slam down on Gojo’s forearm. “For- for some girl-”

Tightening, “What was that~?”

“The King misses- oh, he’s in some real trouble now! Place your bets, you greedy watchers, there’s a reason they call Six Eyes ‘The Strongest’.”

And you knew that underground fights had no rules other than attempt not to die - or, at the very least, try not to make a mess when you do. It’s hard to get stains out of the felt. But Sukuna’s vein-popped face was going purple now, and Gojo was blank-featured through it all. 

Barely even flinching as his opponent grapples a hand into his ridged obliques, lunging and lunging. And yet, the strongest doesn’t even flinch. 

Doesn’t even notice, it seems.

His ghostly cerulean eyes drift to you, seated on the edge of your chair, and he slams a knee into Sukuna’s rugged face. Letting the man drop onto the frictional ground with a resounding thud! - before his fists continue. 

Once. Twice. Clawing at his throat-

“FUCK- CALL THE MEDICS. SIX EYES IS MAKING A SLAUGHTER-SCENE–!”

And no one needed to draw the count, for fear of getting near. Why would they risk death incarnate?

Continuing and continuing until Yaga barks at four- five other referees to even get Gojo to budge. They only just manage to throw a few arms ‘round his powerful ones, and pull him far back enough to giggle down at the carnage he’s created.

Voice octaves higher. Crazed. “Don’t you talk about my lady, ya hear?”

Yaga, as Gojo’s burly coach and former champion, is the one that dares break his harrowing eye-contact to shake him into a stand. Ordering the organizers to get the awards ceremony done as swiftly as possible lest they wanted one of their top-earning fighters down for the count permanently. 

“S-Six Eyes is the champion of Shinjuku Showdown! And in LESS than his signature six moves- oh what a fight it was! One for the books, folks!”

Of course, Six Eyes is declared the winner.

And as Gojo is handed a glinting winner’s banner - dominant arm being thrust in the air - you watch as Sukuna’s barely half-conscious firm slurs out a ferocious, “Rematch. T-tomorrow.”

Cash. A shoddy belt. Champagne.

Tens upon hundreds of reporters and photographers scramble and keen to get the most-selling shots of him. The glare of the flashing lights illuminating him into some sort of other-worldly figure. 

A fighter so dangerous that they claim he hides six eyes. And yet, they only remain on you.

Though, it’s not as if you’re any better - you can’t look away. 

He stands tall, proud. Button nose overspilling with a wisp of cherry-red, perspiration-dampened shorts clinging onto thick thighs and showing you a pretty tuft of white in a way that was unintentionally sexy. Gojo’s leathery mask now dangles haphazardly to show off such a wicked grin.

And Gojo points. Right at you. In front of everyone. 

“Later,” he’s mouthing, whilst interviewers scream for a quote. 

Oh…

.

.

.

“Fuh-fuuuck, Toru–!” Your mouth floods with sheer bucketloads of drool through each wailing whine n’ whimper, back arched like such a slut into Gojo’s bumpy, Herculean front- though, what else could you have expected when the great Gojo Satoru himself accompanied you to your dingy clinic above the fighting ring?

Ready for his real prize of the night.

And lo and behold, bandages and rubbing alcohol forgotten, you’re finding yourself draped right over his lap so prettily; struggling to close your jittery legs ‘round his huge, meaty thighs. 

The fringes of your teeth nip right along Gojo’s plush, scarred deltoids once he tugs on your nurse’s outfit and clings onto a good handful of your ass, draaaagging you to grind all over his quadriceps. Dribbling out a fresh line of candied slick that smears on top of every dip and curve of his bulging muscles.

Your drenched panties catch onto his velvety boxing shorts and you have to hold back a tiny sob. With a deep inhale of his musky cologne, you murmur, “T-Toru, I wan’ you ngh- so bad, y’know?”

“Awww, how cute~” He’s crooning from above,muzzle still on. The pointed curve of his nose tickling your throbbing pulse. Dangerous. Gojo breathes in your sweet scent until it’s all he can smell, “But yer gonna get us caught, mama.”

And he’s so mean.

He fought mean, and he teases you even meaner.

You’re frowning, kiss-swollen lips down-turning into a pout once the sensory pads of his stern digits rover up to your cheeks and smush them together. Crashing your jutted mouth into his frosty mask–

“C’mon now, gotta- gotta be quiet.” Gojo groans at the way you’re getting ever-more soaked when he’s toying with you like this. Lazily, he drops his muzzle to let his plump, bubblegum-pink lips tickle down your own, “Suck on my tongue, there- you can do better.”

So filthy.

Huffing out, your further unfastened jaw basically floods with the damp rivulets of saliva that just kept on watering out of you. When it rained, it poured - and Gojo finds himself smirking at the slop. “Yeah- yeahyeah, you got it. Theeere’s a good girl.”

Weepy pussy positively throbbing at the scratchy texture of his tongue like candy, you couldn’t help but let your fuzzy mind wonder how it would feel inside-

“Oi, nasty girl.” Your pitchy yelp fills the paper-thin walls as Gojo gifts the right of your ass with a rude spank, and then one more just to hear you make that cute noise again. Gruffing out, “Can feel ya getting wetter on top of me. S’like a damn waterpark.”

Before you have the time to even catch your breath, he slouches back sensually to watch you - letting your thin patient bed ring out with an ancient creak! 

And Gojo stares at you lecherously- oh, he was devouring you with his heavily half-lidded gaze. 

The way you’re pouring out syrupy sap with every urgent back n’ forth of your hips, the way all he has to do is hook a thumb past your gluey stuck panties to watch you pulse and quiver. 

Hazy, summer blue peripherals roaming all over your needy expression for a split-second before he’s tap-tap-tapping the doughy mound of his heel on the tile floor. Bouncing you with every motioned lurch, your puffed-up clit catches on one of his zig-zagging veins and you squeal.

Oh? Speeding up, you’re struggling desperately at his whims. One hand grappling onto Gojo’s dimpled back, and the other clawing at the starchy bedspread, no matter how much you were trying to regulate the tempo - he would just speed up more. 

And more. And more. 

Over and over he’s lurching just a few carnal inches off of your bedsprings to chase your sensitive nub. Reeling you down - hard - with a hand stuck to you like adhesive, to pap! against his thigh, letting white-hot bliss spark all that way from your pressurized clit and up your clammy spine.

“F-fuck!” You’re babbling away, fingers interlocking with the soft creamy curls at his nape. Clawing. “Toru– k-keep that up and I won’t…”

Gojo perks his calloused thumb to swivel over your sloshing mess and promptly plugs up your unfastened lips, muffling you. “Shhh shh sh- Wouldn’t wan’ any of those fucks to hear those pretty noises, my girl.”

He was brutal.

Your lower tummy was tumbling and spinning and doing gymnastics you didn’t even think existed. And it was times like this that the strongest from all those headlines peaked his head through. 

Swirling your tongue around his plummy fingerpad, he tasted so much like caramel salt that made your legs grow weaker. Cadence springing to jerky. To oversensitive. “P-please- ngh!”

“Now, what was that pretty lil- hey now, c’mere.” Your lungs cave with a soft ‘please’ as soon as an engulfing, bruised hand crowns your sweat-oiled scalp and holds you still. Gojo doesn’t even have to try, and yet he’s showing off a few sexy flexes of his biceps just for you to ogle at. 

Rutting his jerky leg up into you until your head throws back, he can’t help but leave a sweet, innocent peck right there on the tender spot of your throat. “Don’t run. Don’t run from me.”

Another wet kiss near your slobbery maw, and yet another swat of his thickly tipped fingers right over the slivery slope of your pussy. The sharp sting was just enough to get your glassy eyes to focus on him, “Yeah? Look at me- gimme a lil’ kiss, mama.”

Oh, he always was such a ruthless opponent. 

Because as soon as your spit-glossed lips are crawling towards his, Gojo’s prying them open and spitting inside with a soft coo. Watching as the treacly wad of splashing syrup slides allll the way to puddle the back of your throat. 

“T-tease.”

“I think you mean…champion.” He hunches you over until you’re slipping n’ sliding all down the ridged rollercoaster of his abs. The fragile points of your hardened nipples massaging into his sensual scars and driving you mad. Sweaty and needy. Boring dead-on into your half-shuttered heart eyes, “Now, tell me what you want.” He hums, still tugging on your bloated outer cunt, watching you gasp. “Tell me what’s got this lady here so fuckin’ wet.”

Your words choke with every viscid tear - tears of bliss. Close. “Want t-to-”

“Mhmm–?”

“To-” You’re just so far gone, your gushing orifice only getting soppier and soppier by the second. And before Gojo’s fourth and final spank comes slamming down on your clit- you’re crying. “Cum- fuck fuck fuck- m’so close. So- m’gonna cum–”

And as soon as it was about to happen - it’s gone.

Immediately, your lungs depart with a disappointed whine. “Nooo–!” Scratching at the pronounced back of his throat, you’re struggling to maneuver your body within his merciless hold. And the entire time Gojo only watches in amusement at his sheer display of strength, “I was so close- fuck! Was about to cum, Toru…”

“Nuh uh.” Gojo’s grinning - grinning. And oh, despite the way that makes his cheek indent with a cute, cratering dimple you already know this won’t bode well for you. “M’starvin’ after that match.”

Before you can dredge up enough brainpower to ask what that meant - he’s already showing you. 

Falling back onto the stark white bed until his head hit the pillows with a dull whoosh! and for the moment you’re simply admiring just how pretty he is. 

This wasn’t the Six Eyes that everyone knew and feared. 

With his ethereal locks splaying out on the cushion like a halo, looking oh-so-pale in comparison to the pretty pink that he was flushing all the way from forehead to neck. Irises half-lidded, crazed. Gojo’s broad, scarred chest heaves with every murked out pant he was whistling out. 

Twiddling over the shoulder strap of that tight lil’ number you called your nurse’s outfit. “Take this off f’me- show me my hah- show me my lady.” 

Oh, it would never get old when you do that.

The way that Gojo’s toes curl, the apples of his cheeks staining with a scorching whirlwind of blushing red. Fuck- his heavy tongue droops even heavier with a slick covering of watery spittle, just watching you in your matching set of bra n’ panties. 

All in light blue.

“Knew I’d win, huh?” He’s quirking a snowy brow smugly as he does away with your bra, too. “C’mere.” Gojo’s long lashes flutter up at you delicately, his crowning smirk plastered permanently across his handsome features. And as you’re tentatively making your way on top of him, he cups a roaming grope of your left ass-cheek. 

Squeezing for a second - two - before the strongest simply lifts you up to straddle his face. He doesn’t even waste a second. Doesn’t even hesitate. 

Setting you down gently - you think he of all people would even need to try to manhandle your pretty self this way?

No introductions, no welcome mats necessary - your throbbing pussy was already pouring out in torrentials of translucent sap right through your underwear. Copious, dolloping droplets that hit his readily awaiting pinkish tastebuds in claggy splats!

“Mmm—” He’s swirling his soaked muscle all ‘round the insides of his mouth to just savor your sugary taste. Through a sharp, three-second spank to your ass once more, Gojo grunts, “No need to be shy. Sit on my face, mama.”

And Gojo was always such a messy eater - not even the slightest bit afraid to get his hands dirty. 

No wonder all his opponents complained that he had the filthiest mouth. His tongue was lengthy, dexterous enough to slither past your panties with a sapping squelch! the very nanosecond your drooling core hits the tip of his tongue.

Oh- Gojo’s eyes agonize shut simply to memorize the pattern in which your strands of dangling slick slipped into his mouth. Lathering his chin all glossy, “Yeah like that-” His rugged palms stick to that perfect curvature of your spine. “-sit properly. Sit.”

You’re mumbling out something barely audible, cut off when he curls a firm hand around your throat and pulls you down onto his ravenous face. “Said- fucking sit-”

Sweltering hot breath strikes your geysering hole and makes you keen, your cracked eyelids open just barely enough to spot the way Gojo lands a shimmering glob of saliva right inside. And more when it only adds to the steadily-growing pool you were formulating on his pointed chin, his neck. 

Whimpering when your weight settles on a purple-ish spot on his cheek where Sukuna had caught him off-guard. 

“Watch this.” He’s moaning throatily, making such a show of letting your slippery slit streak out utter cascades all down his tongue. “Told ya- s’a fuckin’ heh- waterpark. Come ride my mouth, my girl- come- come.”

Your head tumbles back with a loud ‘fuck’ when his parched muscle bullies right past the rubbery ring of your entrance. And he takes the time curling his mazing tip into your slicked hole and streeeetching out a cute lil’ heart that makes you whine your poor heart out. 

With a scoff at the way whoever walked by your clinic definitely knew what was happening, Gojo’s slapping the tender skin of your ass raw. “Yeah yeah, louder n’ maybe that ngh- bastard Sukuna will hear.”

Slowly yet sensually probing his tastebuds into every mushy ridge and corner embedded inside of you, he was roaming so deep. Raking a thorough grip on your right ass cheek to gyrate your sodden cunt rougher.

Fucking you wiiildly with his tongue - so wide. Fast. 

He was impatient. 

“Y’know with you sittin’ and- nghh-” You’re mewling once he tapes off that sentence with a pinch of your perked clit between his plush lips. Hollowing out those attractive cheeks to tug n’ tug until you’re sobbing. “-and- and squirming in the seats tonight- this was alllll I could think about?”

He spits back a loaded wad of drool that slides away back down to your flooded hole, pushing the webbed mess right back with the fat crown of his thumb. “Couldn’t wait-”

“Ngh- Toru—” You’re recanting like your own personal mantra, the crackles in your voice following every flop of his textured tongue in and out in and out in and out. “Keep going- hah! Feels so gooood–”

“Mhm, I know.” Gojo bites back cockily, chewing on the squishy inside of his cheek to stop himself from fucking moaning outloud at how your pussylips were just throbbing. The very same pulse you felt in your tight throat. “Had to stop myself from- ngh- making out with this lady right ‘ere all in front- in front of those cameras.”

“Y-you would-”

THWACK!

Oh, he’s snapping at the stretchy elastic of your panties to let the slimy fabric spank your precise pussymound.

Taking the filthy, filthy opportunity while you’re thrown into a dumbstruck daze to skim a few strong fingers underneath your stringy panties, Gojo pulls-pulls-pulls until it’s torn cleanly off of your hips. Freeing you completely bare, and gifting him with the perfect scented fabric for him to draw up to his nose and sniff–

Your jaw dangles widely agape, the same greedy oh! that your dewy hole makes when setting it aside to dip a finger sloppily inside your cunt.

Stocky and long. And yet you take Gojo’s length middle finger with great gulping clamps of your dripping pussy, so much so that you’re hearing a growling “Fuuuck, mama- m-made for me.” from underneath you.

You just made the strongest…stutter?

And you’re just pouring wet from the idea, but before you can stupidly open your mouth to taunt the big, bad fighter below you - Gojo squeezes his hold on your neck and draaaags you further down. Until you’re so pushed against his hot maw that you don’t know where you end and he begins.

He’s spitting, there’s another pop! as he adds another girthy finger to scissor apart your treacly slit. Rovering and rovering. Your voice shatters into numerous pieces so cutely, and he can feel the way your core pulsates frantically once he’s smudging the doughy tops of his digits nearer to your g-spot. 

Hmmm, he’s snickering internally. Gojo’s swirlin’ his manicured fingernail right over your bulging magical spots with such ease. It was so cute how obvious you were. 

“Got such a pretty cunt.” You’re arching desperately on and off his vibrato of words, the very same vibrations curdling that tightness in your stomach. “Such a pretty- pretty…”

“Sh-shiiit, Toru–” You hiccup, warbling shrills filling up Gojo’s ears like his favorite song. And it was. Almost as much as the plap! of a fresh wave of sap spraying a sheen across his face as he slithers in a third finger.

Sliding his pearly whites over your neglected clit, “Tha’s my name.” Gojo’s mouth hangs open with every slop, slapping alllll over the hood of your nub before trying to squish the very mound of his tongue in past your overstuffed entrance. Stimulating you. Driving you insane.

He’s swatting your ass a few more times until the mere touch of skin-on-skin sends your eyes sliiiding all the way to the back of your head. Gurgling – wet. “Say it a lil’ louder f’me now.”

“Toru–” you’re raking your hands down his pecs, nudging your plump clit right into the very tip of his button nose. And oh, you’re feeling the frigid whoosh! of air once Gojo leans his head in and takes a deeeep breath. Tugging gingerly on his unruly hair and he groans-

“Louder.”

“T-To-”

“No stutterin’.”

And you don’t know if you could comply with all his mean rules even if you could, the locked vice of his warm palm jostling your watery eyes until they were dead staring at him. 

He was peering up at you through angelic, white lashes with such loving. Cerise lips swirling all over your beating clit, he could practically taste the rapid ba-dump–! of it coating his heated mouth. 

Starting to crawl straightly up but you don’t even mean to. All he has to do is grasp your throat until all the air drains from your lungs and you’re held there. Solely by his monstrous strength. 

Swallowing back the leaden lump that’s permanently branded on your throat, with a flex of broad arms you’re being lazily shoved sloppier and sloppier by each passing second. And as you’re resting your dribbling slit back on his sensual chin, a steamy cloud of Gojo’s giggles hit where you’re stretched the most tautly tight. 

Blinking eyes flickering with primal need, your bleary vision is just filled with the heavenly sight of him him him. Urging your rickety knees to knobble faster, he murmurs into your folds. “Say it.”

“P-please.” The outdated bed sings as you’re shivering. Shaking. And no amount of cute gasps that you intake is enough to stop your heart from racing. “Toru. Please l-let me ngh- cum.”

“Hmmmm. Good enough.” He’s leering mean-spiritedly up at you, that very same wicked curve of his lips glued to your pretty clit. Gojo lets off a strained growl that almost makes you shy – desperate. “Now…you’re gonna squirt f’me, mama.” 

Another hit thud! of hits at your g-spot, and another few steps closer to your inevitable high. So close, in fact, that you’re not even realizing what Gojo’d uttered until he lolls out his fat tongue like he was drunken, silvery slabs of spit hitting your inner thighs. “Spit.”

Fuck- the very same moment your glittery cobweb of saliva is hitting his sizzling tastebuds, you’re hitting your high. Well, more like crashing headfirst into it. 

And Gojo was right, the way you squirted your brain-shattered release was in the most vapid spurts of juices. Spraying out of you like a fountain, sploshing all over the top of his face n’ gravitating down to his chin. “Squirt on my face- yeahyeah fuck, squirt on my face.”

One that he loooooves. Oh, how he loves it. Loves you. 

“So sweet- fuck…fuck, always the fuckin’ sweetest, my girl.” His guttural syllables ring out and make your eyes immediately flap helplessly shut. Toes curling, “Thank you- was so fuckin’ thirsty after that fight. Thank you.”

Lets his swollen lips slip open to drink up the honeyed squirts in big, deep sluuuuurps–! Scraping near your g-spot to draw out more and more of those pooling splotches all over his face. Gojo knots his fingers ‘round your throat and shoves your pussy to cling to his mouth ruthlessly. You’re watching through the white-hot stars behind your lids at how obviously his prominent Adam’s apple bumps and propels. 

Fuck. 

Glossy layers of slick stick to your folds like a candied apple, and every lil’ suck Gojo leaves drives you craaazy. Soon enough, your thighs are twitching right on top of him, “Please, Toru–”

“Mmmm–?” He’s panting, positively blistered in sweat at this point. And even when he’s catching his eyes with yours, his own look…cloudy. Feral. Murmuring something like ‘round one’ into your outer pussy.

“Want you in me–” You’re babbling out the only few sets of words you know will work to draw him away from the sweet, sweet dessert he’s found between your legs. And you’re watching with bated breath as Gojo takes a sloppy second to consider, still nibbling his canines on your sensitive clit. 

Huffing n’ puffing cutely, you’re reeling your sweet cunt back– only for Gojo to squeeze his hold around your neck and pull-

“Just one more-” He’s contaminating the heady clinic air with repeated saccharine, saturated squelches after every peck upon peck. Like it hurt to part with your pussy - it always did, n’ Gojo made sure to leave her more than enough goodbye kisses.

“One more-” Stringy oodles of slick washing over his face, “One- one more.” Again. Just another French kiss. “One…” And again.

And again and again until you’re dipping your hands through his mussed-up bangs of cloudy white and tugging, all that it takes for Gojo’s achingly hard cock to twitch.

“O-oh.” His voice breaks so many multiple octaves higher as he pulls away with a final - final - slimy graze of his stinging lips. Head lazing in an angle downwards, as if he’d just noticed the painful, rock-hard bulge tenting his too-tight boxing shorts. 

And Gojo’s cerulean eyes widen, flitting from the slushy wet spot soaked through his dark pants, to the way your glistening hole was winking down at him. Needily - as if to beg.

The middle of your bowed spine tingles with the remnants of your orgasm as soon as Gojo opens his mouth to growl. Low. Rasping. 

Depraved. 

“On- on my cock now, mama.” He’s tracing his hands admiringly over your tummy, the edge of his thick thumb drawing a long line right across the middle and your teary slit - measuring you. Where he’d already memorized the sweet lil’ targets he’d be fucking deeeep inside. Could never forget. Gojo nudges his straight nosebridge between your dewy folds once more, “Gotta really celebrate w’my heh- lady here tonight.”

And as you’re scrambling on your still-tottering knees to slide yourself down his Adonis-like body, he scoffs. 

With a blunt roll of his eyes, Gojo’s cupping the curve of your slam-driven ass and manhandling you easily. Trawling your weepy pussy down, down, down over every one of the calloused scars on his front, every one of his bumpy abs - you counted eight - to sit all prettily beneath the snug waistline of his shorts. 

Gojo spies up at you through his chalky bangs, plastered to his forehead with perspiration until you’re barely making his greedy stare out. Eyes half-hooded, pupils darkly dilated until you couldn’t even see those irises. 

It’s then - only then - that you realize just how ruined he looked. 

With that blossoming injury from tonight’s match across his cheek, burnished and purple - though, not even half as bright as the flush that coated his pretty features. 

All red and raw. You were practically basking in the scalding heat that radiated off of him, melting the glassy sheen of slick that dripped off of him in globules, so fucking wet. 

And yet, Gojo only ever wanted more. Kissing you with his cutely pink lips, he heaves in great panting gusts. “Take- heh-” Massive, twitchy hands fall on your own and guide them to his thick hem, a viscous gumdrop of your sap trickles from the point of his nose. “Take ‘em off f’me, mama. Take a goood long look f’me~”

“So bossy.”

“Mmm— I’ll be fuckin’ that rude mouth shut soon.”

Gojo sits obediently manspread as you fumble your eager fingertips underneath his shorts and pull–

The first thing you see is a curly tuft of his white happy trail, glimmering and drenched through with his own buttery precum. 

And the second thing you see…fuck. He’s never been harder.

Swollen n’ aching. Gojo’s furiously reddened mushroom tip dribbles out a constant stream of syrupy pre, hitting your hands with a loud splash! And not just that– he was spilling out a murked milky few dewdrops as if eating you out had him on the very verge of cumming. 

He’s sprawling his swole, veined arms behind his head, letting you gawk and ogle as you please.

And how could you not?

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to just how pretty Gojo and his erect cock was. Damn past ten inches, it’s as if he grows every time you see him for a post-match ritual. 

And so does his rosy cockhead, the exact same shade of pink as his burning cheeks. So wide that your slippery hole clenches ‘round nothing at the sight. All bloated and over-decorated with so many lightning bolted veins, you’re feeling your mouth water at the mere notion of tasting him–

“Ah ah-” He tuts, pulling you away as he once more cradles your throat softly in one hand. 

You pout, “B-but…”

Nodding sloooowly so you understand, “Wanna fuck this pretty pussy. Ride me like a hah- good girl now, m’kay?”

Oh, he was so evil. He knew exactly how that lil’ nickname would have your mind pitching into a state of carnal frenzy.

The desire purely evident on your gorgeous face as you’re toppling your capped knees on either side of his firm, toned waist. 

One masculine hand wrapping around his bulky hilt - aligning it all ready to smooch your pretty pussy - he sliiiides his heavy head to sandwich between your bloated folds. Rocking upwards into a teasing little back n’ forth that leaves his rigid head swatting on your clit. Pap! Pap! Pap! 

“Ready–?” Gojo drawls out in husked syllables, licking his lips to lap up any remnant of you. Wordless, the only thing you can manage out right now is a shaken nod.

Before it feels like you’re being split apart.

You’re whining when your hole stretches out with a rowdy sluuuurp–! just the thickened tip of his length popping in past your entrance. And he’s so fat, you could feel every solid ba-dump–! of his prominent veins tugging your cunt apart. 

“Oh, f-fuck, jus’ look at you.” He’s spitting through gleaming clenched teeth, words hitting you straight into your saccharine sweet pussy. Biting down on his pouty bottom lip, “Just ngh- look at you takin’ me- taking that biiig stretch, fuck.”

Your glassy eyes roll all the way back at the way he wasn’t even halfway inside yet already made you feel so dizzy. Stumbling flailingly into his arms, “Wanna kiss, Toru–”

“S’so cute when you’re all cockdrunk” Gojo whispers as he leaves a stinging spank on your ass, the shock of the force makin’ you swerve your hips deeper down his thick shaft. 

But he doesn’t kiss you - not yet. Instead, he’s chuckling deeply at your adorable irritation, sharp hips bucking off the mattress just so that he could fit himself inside. Up. Up. Up. Probing and probing his pulsing crowned tip over and over to ease inside a few more solid inches. 

“T-Tooooruuuu–”

“Mhm–” He places a warm palm faced open on your tummy, searching for that familiar bump where he’d be ruining you all inside. Where his rounded head would be prying apart your gum-like walls in urgent impales. “I’ll kiss you if ya say ‘biiig stretch’ f’me, my girl.”

You’re squirming your hips impatiently, only to be locked down with only one of Gojo’s hands. Honestly, what did you think going against a fighting champion? “B-big-”

“Nuh uh.” Bearing you with a wild, animalistic smile that makes you shudder. All wide and toothy. He’s rudely slapping you once more - this time on your dripping cunt. Quivering. “Say it. Biiig stretch, mama.”

“B-big-” You wail out whimpers just as soon as your little mistake leaves Gojo’s swollen shaft inching out of your hole, a warning. Already making you feel so empty inside- “Fuck! Big- biiig- stretch mmpf-”

Before you can register it, a hand clawed into your throat pulls you to crash your lips onto Gojo’s soft ones - muffling the absolute trill you’re letting off when he finally bottoms out with one big push. Finally. 

“Now m’kissing you here, too–” he has the audacity to flush. 

His sensual mushroom tip scrapes a swiveling line allll down your gooey walls, swirling ‘round and ‘round until he’s following the map directly to your g-spot. Giving her a good long snog, you’re curling your toes at the swashing waves of pre that dribble out of him and straight onto that tender orifice. 

You’re so full that your mouth overspills with generous helpings of drool, slobbering right onto the valley between his pecs where you found yourself laid. 

The slick velvety walls of your cunt scoop him up gladly, and Gojo finds himself wearing such a dopey smile at the instinctual way your gummy walls clench. “Hmm– have I ever told ya how much I ngh- love you?”

And maybe it was the way his thick cock was reaching you everywhere, maybe it was the way Gojo stared at you with heart eyes. It could’ve been anything and everything - you simply found yourself cumming. 

Right then and there, with only a few vulgar bludgeons of his merciless cock. 

And Gojo?

Gojo looks like he’s in heaven. 

Startling out a slight puff of laughter while he careens his hips back to fuck you through your sudden high, and you can feel the way he pinpricks your insides with every thrust. Feel the way he strikes right at your most favorite spots - precisely. 

“Already? I really am winnin’ tonight- heh. Already won Round 2, too.” 

Round 2? What is he…oh. 

Oh, shit.

He’s talking about how many times he’s made you cum.

The sounds of his raspy praises make your ears buzz, head throwing backwards when you start to arch your back and rut yourself, attempting to meet his vicious pace. To run.

“Fuh-fuuuuck” You’re biting your tongue to try and fight back those pathetic pitches and mewls seeping from your lips. And all it takes is a slamming whack into your cervix to render that useless. “Fuck me- fuckmefuckme, Toooru–!”

“Now now,” he’s tutting, and oh you can feel your tummy lurch with anticipation at that dark tonality of his. Or maybe that was just the feral twitch of his battering tip. 

Through eyes saturated with a film of fat droplets of tears, you’re glancing down at the way your hips are suddenly pinned to his toned pelvis. Unmoving. With just his steady grip of your throat. “Runnin’s against the rules, mama.”

And suddenly, you’re moved so fast your cottony brain begins to wonder if maybe you’ve teleported. 

You’re whimpering as your fatigued back ends up laid over the crescent curves of his pectorals, his front digging into your mounds of flesh as Gojo pulls your clammy knees back back back back. Into a full nelson so mean that you don’t even realize he’s positioned his cock until he sinks allll the way back in–

“Atttta girl. Look at youuu–” His hoarse pants sizzle the tender lobes of your ear after every unapologetic pound you’re being graced with. You gawp at the full-length mirror that was right adjacent to the patient bed, shit- you forgot that was even there.  

And now that you’d taken a glimpse at the lecherous scene, you couldn’t look away.

Gojo was so staggering. Swole muscles bending you pliably, the only thing holding you upright enough so that your cross-eyed stare could lock with your fucked-out reflection in the mirror. 

Your dizzy pupils circling all over comically the more n’ more he jackhammered away. Vehemently. 

The girth of his shaft was so big that your head lolls stupidly back into the planes of his collarbones, “Takin’ care of ya favorite fighter.”

Five exact circumferences of his fingertips sway over to that large, cylindrical outline being oh-so-thoroughly fucked into you. A tummy bulge that he thumbs over, that mushroomy globular end.

“Takin’ c-care of me alllll ngh-” He massages down on that cute lil’ bump going back and forth back and forth back and forth. Driving himself just as crazy as he was with you. Groaning, “-here.”

And Gojo’s body was still aching from the aftereffects of his fight, he was still sore in places with soon-to-be bruises. Yet, he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t even slow down.

Hard and fast.

His crownhead an angry red that prodded your deepest, most tender insides. Pushing and pushing and pushing. So wide that both you and the rickety bed were singing with whimpers after every delving drag of his vein-covered length.

Strokes vulgar. Alllll the way from the very strawberry divot in the middle of his globular tip, to the massive circumference of his hefty base. And even though every pricking whack into your cervix was hard, Gojo took his lazy time pulling back out to make sure you felt every bump and bolt of his swollen veins scraping down your insides. 

“Watch this.”

“Wh-what- oh.”

You’re peering through the smoggy mirror at the way the strongest himself rovers up his big, beefy right arm to wrap neatly ‘round your neck. His hard-earned biceps bulging against your throat and blocking off your airway sexily.

Watching yourself, you swear you could count every vein thumping down his forearm, every flex of his rippling muscles caging against your neck. Oh…you only got wetter. 

“Saw you lookin’ at me. Could tell how much ya- haaah- liked this, mama.” Gojo titters, words sloppy and his strokes even sloppier. “Almost drenched the heh- seat didn’tya? Watching me? Ohhh you like this don’tcha? W’my big arms puttin’ you in a ngh- big headlock?”

Babbling. Gojo himself was drooling, a thin trickle of spittle that befell with every passing second he watched your sloppy slit swallow his inches. 

Yearning for more.

Begging for more.

You half-couldn’t believe that was you with your face tear-streaked and oh-so-ruined in the reflection. And once you feel that familiar fluttering from your pussy, you’re slithering down a hand between your legs–

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare.” He was breathless. 

It was so easy for Gojo to trap both your unsteady wrists within only one of his, gruffly bringing you back into your cute headlock whilst pinning them so you could struggle allll you want. But he wasn’t letting up.

Clinging onto your swiveling with one hand, and keeping you manhandled with the other. He bucks his hips so your curved spine is rubbed all down with his sweat-glossed abs, he knew how weak you were for it. 

Smearing the stocky end of his thumb over your needy clit, “Not when ya have me, mama.” He breathes next to your ear, so close. Drawing circles. Hearts. His name. Mindlessly lapping away the pearls of tears running down your face, “Not when your d-dear ngh- ‘Toru’s’ here.”

And when you’re cumming, it’s with those exact words scratching a carnal desire set inside of you. 

“Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming- ngh!” Your previous orgasms had already taken so much out of you that it was all you could to will yourself not to pass out right now and here. 

“Yeah? Yeah? Go on- I- ngh- win- round three- heh.”

Sharp stings of pleasure buzzing all the way from your throbbing pussy to your empty head, you draaag your nails all over his sturdy forearms. Your body slicks over with sweltering perspiration, glissading you smoothly up n’ down Gojo’s sculptured body. 

Gojo jostles you in his headlock to stare deeply into your eyes while he drags out your high, counting every filthy spank he was honing out. It’s not too far into your overstimulated high before his creamy tip showers your drenched insides with sprays of buttery cum.

You could hear yourself mumbling out faint nonsense with every ropey smack you felt pumped inside you, and it was as if Gojo was orgasming harder than he had his entire life. 

Cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t stop - didn’t even know if he could.

And it was so weighty, too.

You could feel the soppy splosh of his sap being bubbled all up inside you, every swab of Gojo’s leaking cockhead frothing it even deeper inside. You’re swearing the bumpy outline of your tummy bulge was only being cumflated, feeling like he was glueing your very walls together.

Naturally, a few slicked gumdrops of cum ooze their way out between your teary slit. His hips jolt at the primal sight, thick seed dribbling out of you like frosting, formulating so many rings upon rings that Gojo just can’t help but admire and muse as his most favorite ones. 

Shit, with a humid pop! he’s inching out just to watch the butter-covered sheen that stuck to his red shaft. 

Hooded, his sapphire gaze rips away from your reflection to narrow down at you. At the way your ancient patient bed was now completely destroyed; headboard split, standing on only three feeble legs. 

“Broke the bed, heh- tha’s a KO, my girl.” Gojo lets go of his headlock on you, nuzzling your cheek with his sweat-lacquered forehead whilst you still attempt to catch your breath. “Mmmm– really do love you, y’know- the fuckin’ b-best prize I could ever have.”

“I love you too–” You find your cartoonishly dazed smile directed up at him. “-Six Eyes.”

With a soft groan, he twiddles his thumb over to toy with the sticky seconds of his seed pouring out of you. Lazily.

Letting it scoop onto his fingerpads, shoving it back between your slippy lips. Repeatedly even painting a languid heart with it over your tummy bulge- before skidding the salted cream between your lips. 

With a fat few fingers stuffed into your dampening maw, overflowing with glutinous saliva, you’re letting your eyes stray back to the reflection in the mirror. Blinking back your vision-

“Holy shit.” You’re gaping - at everything from the way that Gojo Satoru had seemed to gain more red, red scratches and bruises all over his arms, back, and pecs from you than in an actual fight, to the way he seemed utterly content about it. “T-Toru, I gave you more marks than Sukuna did during the Shinjuku Showdown…”

“I know.”

.

.

.

“Aaaand welcome back, folks! To the Shinjuku Showdown 2.0!” 

You wince, Haibara’s commentating voice would never grow any less booming no matter how many times you sat here. Front row for yet another one of Gojo’s famed fights. 

Though, you squirm in your seat, you wished he could get here sooner. 

“Requested by our very own King of Curses- he’s quite a sore loser you see- oh, my mistake, Mr. Sukuna, sir. You are the underground’s most honorable fighter, of course of course.”

Ryomen Sukuna scowls even as the crows roar and yell rambunctiously around him, eyes falling on you - for the briefest, tensest second - before he tears away. Pacing around the barren ring like a tiger prowling for his prey.

Only, said prey wasn’t going down without making sure that Sukuna knew the true hierarchy here. 

“FINALLY! Hereee we have our monster of Japan, Six Eyes, making his long-awaited entrance tonight! Ohhh place your bets, ladies and gentlemen, tonight is going to be goooood!”

When Gojo Satoru entered the ring, everyone knew. Everyone held their breath.

It never got old seeing his generously over six-foot figure loom menacingly towards the ring, draped in a dark blue robe of crushed velvet. Which just-so-happened to be the exact color of your matching lingerie tonight…

Usual gloves on hand, a tiny, plastic remote in hand.

You’re shivering as he twiddles it over deftly, pulling down the hiked-up hem of your nurse’s outfit. Just praying that nobody could hear the bzzz–! of that hot-pink bullet vibrator lodged inside your sloppy pussy.

Meant to be there for the entire fight. 

The cutting stadium air was so tautly-pulled that you could hear every resounding thud! of his powerful footsteps as Haibara rattles off Sukuna’s introduction. Jumping swiftly and athletically over the ropes of the ring. 

“And in THIS corner, we have Six Eyes, The Strongest. Some fear to speak his name. Some think he isn’t human. With a winning streak ever since he arrived here, with so many knockouts that it’s said they created a new medical term for it. Challenge him and you challenge death. The man. The myth. The nightmare-” 

Then Gojo straightens- 

“-a monster that can never be tamed!”

-and he lets his robe fall.

All red, angry patterns of scratches on full display for the countless rabid photographers and watchers to gawk at. Down his back, down his arms, down his pecs.

Everywhere and anywhere for the eye to see, and to see Gojo- Six Eyes of all people to be so thoroughly claimed. As if he was thrown to the wolves - someone put a hand on him?

Oh, you could hear the reporters stumbling over their questions as they screamed for answers and relationship reveals. 

Though, all of them were answered once he turns straight to you. Miniscule remote calibrated to the very maximum before Gojo fucking throws it somewhere into the ringside. Even through his muzzle, you could tell he was grinning as you gasped at the lecherous vibrations pulsating to your g-spot. 

Over and over whilst media personnel - realizing your connection to the most dangerous underground fighter in all of Japan - jostled you for more juicy details. Fuck- everyone was going to know about this. Everyone. 

Gojo turns back to a fuming Sukuna with a quirk of his ivory brow. 

“The monster has- has been tamed! Let the fight begin!”

A/N. FAWK I NEED HIM. Was this slightly inspired by all the boxing talk going on in my blog? Mayhaps.