Good Girl's & Good Boy's

Now, his words are so absurd that you can’t help but laugh through the swirling frustration. The ring stays on your finger because you don’t even have the strength to remove it.

Cyno chuckles too, carefully putting his hand on the small of your back to guide you out of the house. You can’t protest, still laughing, as if that was the outlet for your emotions that you needed - too proud and fired up to cry instead. Or maybe it was the cool night air, quenching the fire in your lungs and chilling your heated skin.

“Better?” he asks. You realize he’s patting your back. 

“Yeah,” you clear your throat, “Better.”

“Now, wanna tell me what that was about?” he asks, and honestly he’d be right to sound more irritated than he does. Because he just sounds confused and concerned instead of angry. 

“I was pissed off,” you admit, “And then you came and started talking about everything that already set me off earlier - and I still haven’t figured anything out. And then you argued back and- yeah.”

“Ah, I see,” he hums as he sits down, patting the space next to him for you to join him. You do. “You know you have a mouth, and you can tell me to shut up instead of starting a fight.”

Some part of you is set ablaze again, but you’ve run out of fuel.

“I know,” you sigh. You sway, drained both physically and emotionally, and lay your head on his shoulder. He just exhales with fond exasperation and leans his head against yours. Your feet dig into the cooling sand. 

“Never take off your ring again,” he tells, orders, you, “Not even when showering. You’ve lost your privileges.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you chuckle. He nudges your side with his elbow. “And I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven - for now. Just tell me if something’s bothering you next time,” he chides again, “We’ve made a sacred promise to each other. Don’t break it.” 

Your hand settles atop his thigh, soon covered by his palm. The night is slowly growing chilly, but with your body pressed into his side it’s just what you need to let the tension uncoil where it lies waiting inside your body. And slowly you begin to talk as you should’ve done in the first place.

Cyno listens, he asks and leads when you’re getting too worked up and tangled in your own words. Like he promised, you figure it out together. And at the end of the day, when you finally doze off against his shoulder, he picks you up and carries you inside.

Flins

His words die in his throat, he raises his hand as if to stop you, but you’re too far to reach. Physically, at least, he hopes that the feeling of disconnect and distance between your hearts is only an illusion created by the argument that spiraled out of control.

“Please,” he says, voice quiet and calm, “Don’t leave me. Not you.”

You, too, stop. Fingers brush the ring on your finger as you consider what you were about to do. Flins comes closer, slowly, then circles his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. You let him, your resolve to keep arguing your point broken upon hearing his voice.

“That’s not fair,” he murmurs into your hair, “That’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed.”

You nod weakly, finally letting your arms fall and wrap around his shoulders too. He doesn’t seem to want to let go anytime soon, and you’re grateful. It doesn’t fix anything, not the sadness radiating off of him, not the mournful silence that settled over the room. Still, for now, to feel his chest expand and press against yours, your breaths syncing, feels healing.

“I’m sorry, Kyryll,” you whisper, turning your face towards his, “I really shouldn’t have done that.”

“There was a time where I’d assume you are leaving me,” he confesses in a low voice, “Nothing would persuade me that you are not.”

You know it well. You’ve been there, after all, every step of the way - from how wary he was about getting close to you, then to at least being open to the idea but still reluctant, knowing he might not see you for weeks or months, all at the whim of the headquarters. But you never meant to stop him, accepting of the fact that duty comes first. And though you’ve pushed through the obstacles, you know well that arguments still take a toll on him, knowing he could be called to leave for a long time at any moment, even before you can make up.

“Let’s sleep on it, alright? We can talk over breakfast,” you suggest, “Or just shelf the argument. It’s not worth… this.”

“Can we do that?” he asks, unsure, “Is that allowed?”

You chuckle, and you think he must smile too, only briefly - the same way he only squeezes you tighter for a moment. 

“We make the rules, don’t we?” you think aloud.

“Then I suggest we make it a rule neither of us tries to take off our ring unless our life depends on it,” he pulls away, looking at you with a strangely serious expression that you didn’t expect, “I declare it a rule. As a compensation for what you’ve done.”

You smile, a little relieved. 

“Of course,” you agree, “So you forgive me? I promise I’ll obey your new rule perfectly.”

He makes a thoughtful sound. 

“Maybe I should confiscate it until I’m sure you’ve learned how to behave,” Flins considers, leaning against you with his full body weight as if lost deep in thought. You struggle to keep both of you upright. 

“People will talk,” you remind him gently, “If you need a public apology, I’m more than willing to give it to you without losing my ring and without being interrogated by every nosy old lady in our vicinity.”

He laughs into your hair but shakes his head. At least he can be reasonable. Finally he pulls away to look at you. The hurt on his face softened but its traces still linger. Somehow it feels reassuring that the centuries of his life have not stripped him of emotion, of care.

“I better hear what a wonderful husband you have next time they see me,” he smiles.

“I always tell them,” you promise, “No husband could compare.”

Illuga

“You don’t hurt people you love just because you get upset,” he whispers, yet somehow his voice sounds louder than it did the whole night. 

You look down, at the back of your hand, at the ring halfway down your finger, and open your mouth before realizing you have no idea what to say. What can you say? When you look up, Illuga looks heartbroken. Angry, too. You see the nervous twitch of his hands, the buzzing, anxious whirlwind of energy inside of him. So it’s not a surprise when he storms out into the night with nothing but his coat and his lantern. 

You sit down, the strength in your knees suddenly gone. Was it really worth it? You frown as you recount the events of the evening. Although you can’t say you’re being very efficient. Your mind stutters whenever you remember how calm he’s been through the whole thing, even though he must’ve been uncomfortable and upset too. You sigh. Hopefully he’ll return soon. As used to it as he is, as strong as he is, nothing is ever certain and the nights are long and dangerous. It hurts to remember how reverent Illuga acts whenever he has to leave on a mission, compared to the cold - although understandable - abandonment just now. 

It’s infuriating that you can’t even follow after him - where would you start your search? No, it’s better to just wait, although you can’t seem to be able to just sit and do nothing. And even walking to the window is better than doing nothing at all. Walking? Running. You see a flash of light. 

The flash is a glow of a lantern, circling, and you pace inside the house, running from window to window, one circle, second one, third - then you crack. 

You barely open the door an inch before Illuga’s there, scowling at you. “What are you doing?”

“Please come inside,” you sigh, “I’m sorry. I was wrong and I shouldn’t have done that.”

He hesitates, but his shoulders drop, the lantern hangs by his side. 

“I didn’t want you to worry,” he says.

“Thank you,” you whisper, taking a gamble and reaching for his hand. He lets you, smiling softly at the spark of light that bounces off the bands on your intertwined fingers. “If you need air, I can handle it if you stay like this. But I’d love it if we could talk inside.”

He follows after you, even if he slowly pulls his hand back as you reach the kitchen. It hurts, but you suppose it’s fair. 

“I always think of you before every fight,” he confesses, nothing new, but it makes your heart ache, “Who would I return to if you left?”

“That’s not what- I’m sorry,” you sigh again. There’s a painful lump in your throat that you try to ignore. 

“Just remember that if you ever feel like doing it again,” Illuga begs, quietly. 

Of course you won’t. Finally he comes closer, if only because he puts some water on the stove to boil and needs to stand beside you to do so. He lingers even after the task is done, however. His fingers slowly intertwine with yours again despite the silence stretching on. 

You don’t know what to say or do next, all you do is look nervously at him, but he doesn’t seem to be in the mood to talk either. So you just help him make the tea and sit down with him to drink it before you retire to bed, together, facing each other, even if no words are exchanged, even if all you do is hold hands. Illuga gives you a small squeeze, a reassurance he’ll be okay, eventually. That’s good enough for you. 

Lohen

Your fingers only graze your ring. The briefest of touch of your fingertips against the band that you never manage to get a grip on. 

Lohen’s already snatched your wrist and is dragging you towards his desk. You’re no match for his strength. He pulls you along like a ragdoll with no regard for your panicked gasp or nails clawing at his glove. In all honesty, you think for a second that it only excites him further. 

He roughly shoves you against the desk, traps you between the surface and his body. His hand shoots out for something while his other holds the hand with your finger steady. Before you can collect yourself and resume protests, you feel the bite of a cold metal close around your skin. Your eyes fly towards what he’s doing. The device is familiar, you’ve seen it used before. You know it can cut through bone like a hot knife through butter.

“You’ve evened the odds,” you say, voice calmer than you feel.

It’s a lie, too. As much as you might value your finger, it’s not comparable to what he’d be losing.

“Do you think that’s what I’m doing?” he growls against your ear. His voice sounds frenzied, smirk loud in his every word. The blade doesn’t cut into your skin. Obviously he’s not being reckless.

“In part,” you hum. As if a bucket of cold water was poured over you, your earlier anger has all but dissipated.

“If I add sliiiightly more pressure you lose the finger-”

“And I’ll never take another husband,” you add with a small smile, “Yes.”

Utterly predictable. You feel him bristle. Naturally he wouldn’t say that, but what is Lohen if not a possessive lover?

“How could I after my first betrayed me in this way?” you continue, “After I was marked irreversibly for my mistake and yet still cast aside?”

Lohen falls silent. Calculating? Surely not. Poison might or might not still be coating his tongue, ready to lash out because after all, he’s been wronged. Perhaps more than you’ve been during your clash, perhaps less than you’re being slighted now. 

“I was about to act on emotions, and it was a disappointing reaction,” you continue, “I apologize. In the heat of the moment I forgot certain rituals are sacred to you as well.”

For a long moment, you’re stuck at an impasse. Eventually, though, he deflates behind you, his arms moving to wrap around your waist. His chin rests on your shoulder. 

“You’re no fun,” he grumbles, “And the safety is on.”

Safety? He demonstrates - no matter how strong he pushes, you don’t lose the finger.

“You’re full of surprises,” you sigh, leaning back into him, “I never thought you’d have any use for measures like that.”

He giggles, kissing your cheek. His arms remain tightly wound around you. “I didn’t before. But I have since acquired a liability that needs to be taught a lesson sometimes.”

“Liability? Ouch,” you scoff.

He just shrugs. Though you suppose he’s not exactly wrong - it goes both ways, after all. Liability to each other with your actions, liability to each other due to your position. Even if you doubt anyone would believe they’d get under Lohen’s skin through you or stupid enough to try to threaten his wellbeing to get back at you. 

“Next time, there will be no safety,” he warns suddenly. His voice dropped ten degrees since he last spoke. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“There will be no next time,” you promise, “Regardless of what you just said.”

“Good,” and he’s back to his cheerful self and pecks your cheek, “You learn quickly, that’s why you’re mine.”

You roll your eyes. You did know what you were getting into, though, so you suppose you have no right to complain anyway.

Neuvillette

And suddenly you could hear a pin drop. The world has stopped for a moment in your bedroom, yet it keeps turning without mercy. 

Neuvillette’s eyes are wide, and it’s not just them - his entire body betrays how shaken he feels. His entire line of sight has narrowed to where your ring is held between your fingers instead of being worn on one of them. 

“What does it mean?” he asks, his breathing trembling, voice quiet and unsteady, “What-”

He wants to take a step forward, it almost looks like he’ll fall forward but he doesn’t, instead he forces himself to stay in place. Although trembling, he chooses to stay as if the smallest of his actions might make you leave and leave the ring behind.

Watching him makes you forget your feelings, drained into nothingness. Your own hands start to shake, you, too, start to second guess yourself. More so when you take a step towards him and he draws back, as if he couldn’t fathom anything but a catastrophic scenario. 

“Love, it’s okay,” you whisper, trying to coax him into allowing you to approach him without fear. His eyes finally look up to search your face for something. The second, third, all the following steps are easier. By the time you’re within his reach, the ring is back on your finger, not like it changes anything.

“Why would you do that?” he asks, a pained whisper, “What did you want to say by it?”

You shake your head, slowly erasing the space between you, slotting yourself against his body, embracing him. 

“I’m sorry, mon amour,” you murmur into his shoulder. His hands hover over your body without quite touching you. “I just got so upset I couldn’t think straight.”

Finally - contact. Like you’re the one who needs comfort, and you do - just not as much as the Iudex shivering in your arms. 

“What happened?” he murmurs, “You’ve never done this. I thought we were just discussing an issue.”

You can only sigh fondly.

“This isn’t the court, Neuvillette,” you say, rubbing soothing circles on his back, “I need you to hear me out without evidence and without questioning me.”

“I didn’t realize I was upsetting you,” he admits as he pulls you closer, “Not to this extent.”

You know. The intricacies of intimate relationships are still a little lost on him, and that’s fine. That’s fine as long as you’re the one who goes briefly insane. You have no idea what you’d do to placate a dragon should he get stubborn. 

“Did you want to leave? And,” he hesitates, his voice breaking, “Dissolve our marriage?”

“I didn’t,” you reassure him, but you can’t look into his eyes - not with how stubbornly he refuses to let you put distance between you.

“I can’t lose you,” he confesses quietly, “Scream at me. Be angry with me. Talk to me.”

You chuckle. You can’t help it. To make up for the slight, you hug him tighter.

“How could I leave? I’d get soaked,” you mumble. Biting your tongue before you can laugh again, you listen to the indignant sound he makes.

“How can you joke now?” he grumbles. Still holding you a prisoner in his arms, still squeezing you with every single of your movements.

“It’s alright,” you try to reassure him, “I’m not going anywhere. We’re not arguing anymore.”

He hums while clearly not listening much to your words. Maybe your fears were justified, maybe you did bring out the draconic stubbornness in him. Which is fine. It’s fine as long as he wants you to stay instead of insisting you leave.

Tighnari

“Okay - pause, pause,” Tighnari’s demeanor switches in an instant. The moment you see his ears flatten against his head and his tail frozen stiff behind him, you can’t help but feel guilty. You might’ve overreacted, just a little bit. “I see you, I hear you, let’s take a step back.”

He offers you a careful half-smile as he guides you to sit down. For now, he avoids touching you, even though you see the nervous twitch of his fingers, the urge to do so and reassure himself you’re okay. He kneels on the floor in front of you, offering his hands for you to take. You hesitate for a bit, but eventually sigh and slip your hands into his.

“There we go,” he murmurs, “What was it?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. Because you truly don’t. Maybe it was everything - the late hour, your empty stomach, him making sense, him breathing wrong, just a cocktail for disaster. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think this far ahead.”

He pats your knee.

“I’m sorry too, I pushed too hard,” he sighs, “Still, I’m glad you changed your mind.”

You look down at the ring on your finger and then raise your eyes back to meet his. Giving him a careful smile, you squeeze his hands. You shared the silence, both relieved that your home is back to how it’s supposed to be. Although, some of the tension still remains woven into your shoulders. 

It was so rare, after all. Any kind of an argument with Tighnari, especially a heated one like this. You pull on his arm to make him get up and sit next to you, slipping easily into his hug when he sneaks an arm around your shoulders. He rocks you from side to side, gently, until your heartbeat finally settles. 

“I wasn’t thinking straight,” you finally say, “I don’t think I felt myself taking the ring off at all.”

“I want you to know there’s plenty of sources I could get a really sticky resin from,” he hums, “Don’t make me glue it to your finger.”

You have no idea if his intention was to sound threatening, all you know is that if so, he failed miserably. But that’s also good. Your Tighnari is gentle, after all. Scary only whenever you’re in danger, never towards you.

“Did you mean that?” you ask, “When you said that thing about-”

“No,” he shakes his head, almost as if he doesn’t want to hear his words repeated to him, “I just got a little frustrated too.”

“Hmm, that’s a first,” you joke, “And last, I hope.”

Tighnari laughs too, his ears finally slowly relaxing and unsticking themselves from his skull. His tail lands in your lap like a warm blanket, like yet another appendage that’s supposed to stop you from leaving. 

“But if that was your way of telling me you don’t like the ring-”

“Nari…” you groan, rolling your eyes when he bites his lip to stop himself from laughing again, “But if that’s your way of asking for a vow renewal, I’m not against it.”

“It wasn’t that big of a fight, was it?” he teases, but soon his smile softens, “We can do it - we should do it sometime in the future.”

You nod in agreement. It’s too soon now but just the thought of perhaps exchanging vows again, perhaps even adding another ring to seal those vows, makes butterflies flutter in your stomach. More than that, however, the thought of spending the years leading up to it with Tighnari, and years following after too. 

“I love you,” you whisper, leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek.

“And I love you,” he returns the gesture. 

The look in his eyes betrays him. He was thinking the same.

Wriothesley

“-oh come on, please don’t do that,” he groans, running his hands over his face. Still, he steps back, giving you the space you needed, that you asked for. He backs himself into the wall, sliding against it until he sits on the floor. 

The room falls silent, safe for the sound of your breathing. You worry your lip between your teeth, allowing yourself time to calm down. Deep inhale, hold, deep exhale. A routine until you feel in control enough to not say anything you’d regret later.

“Wriothesley?” you call out to him. He still sits with his back against the wall, his face is still covered by his hands. “Baby? Look at me?” 

“I’m not looking until you put the ring back on,” he says, and he couldn’t sound more like a kicked dog if he was one.

“How about you put it on me, hm?” you try as you sit down in front of him, nudging your knee against his. 

Finally he lifts his head. You’ve never seen him more miserable than right now, looking at the ring in your palm. He takes your hand, brings it to his lips after picking up the ring and kisses your knuckles one by one. You can only sigh affectionately and run your hand through his hair.

It’s a quick, yet gentle affair, him putting the ring back on your finger. He keeps your other hand hostage, cradling it to his cheek.

“Just tell me next time,” he pleads, “Warn a guy. I don’t know, push me away if I don’t listen. Hit me.”

You sigh. You have a half a mind to take him up on that, just to shut him up before he can come up with any more stupid ideas. 

“I’m not gonna hit you, Wriothesley,” you inform him, “But I would like it if you could listen when I tell you I need space.”

“You were about to leave,” he pouts again, “We promised to never walk away when we’re mad.”

“Yeah, that’s on me,” you admit.

“I should’ve listened anyway - we’re even?” he suggests, full of hope. You smile and nod.

“My offense was worse,” you tease, “I’m getting off lightly.”

“You know what, if you’re keeping that ring on your finger I think I can live with not putting you on trial,” Wriothesley leans closer and steals a kiss, “See how nice I am?”

“The nicest,” you roll your eyes. 

He grins, finally more relaxed. Yet you’re not allowed to pull your hand back, still cupping his cheek. He holds your hand there like his life depends on it, contrary to his carefree smile. So you huff and put your hand on his other cheek too, leaning over him when he parts his knees to make space for you.

Icy blue eyes watch you, tempt you to get closer, flicking down to your lips as if you needed more hints. You kiss him slowly, thumbs stroking his cheeks while his hand cups the back of your neck and holds you close, your foreheads resting against each other.

“I’m already in jail for my crime,” you remind him playfully, “Your domain. They won’t let me go without your permission.”

He chuckles too, capturing your lips one more time. He rubs your noses together.

“Not how this works but I could change that,” another kiss, “I should, maybe.”

“There’s no life without you,” you shrug, but you make sure he knows you mean it, not looking away even when the intensity in his gaze threatens to burn you alive. 

How could you not when the many letters he'd slide under your door late at night—loving but creepy at the same time—how could you not know who it was when his handwritting is the same as the reports he gave back to you?

How could you not know when the oh-so-familiar clapping on boots you recognized so well would suddenly start stepping steps behind you? Now, what is he trying to do, you'd say, expecting him to pull tricks on you just like Grandmaster Varka, but instead being surprised by nothing. Even the next day or after, just pure quiet.

And mainly, how could you not when the enemies mentionned in your reports were fast killed when you were in the zone—cry residue and an attack pattern you recognized so well—especially when only Lohen had access to your office?

If he wants to play this game, then sure. It was very fun watching him think that you wouldn't understand the little hints he'd throw.

And you'd make it easy for him too, staying late at night just to open the door for him everytime he would decide to come. Dangerous, but with your killer bunny you were as safe as ever.

"Vice-captain, may I know what you're doing in my room?" You'd say out of nowhere, previously faking to sleep before deciding that you couldn't be ignorant ever.

"Hm? Well because you opened the door for me cap." He would smirk, eyes open as he took in your looks. "I doubt that my ever careful captain would forget to open her door in the middle of the night, no?"

"Right."

"You seem awfully calm, are you not worried I'd hurt you in your sleep?"

"I know that you wouldn't Lohen, you love me too much for that." You'd smile, eyes watching his eyes widen before narrowing.

"And clearly, you love me too much to kick me out at this hour, yes?"

"Well I'd tell you to shut up and come cuddle me because we have work tomorrow but the—"

Suddenly, well not so suddenly, you felt a weight dip beside you on the bed. A toned chest soon coming in contact with yours as his arms circled you. "That eager?"

"Just following your orders cap," the only time he did because you still don't have the reports you asked of him yet.

"Did you atleast close the door?"

"Shhh."

"Lohen, close the damn door."

Atleast, thanks to you for the opened door, the knights didn't have to sigh everytime you and Lohen were talking anymore—two obvious lovebirds with the brain of a peanut.

Face as empty as a blind man's eyes, he obeyed. He had gone through this and more as long as he can remember, a bird bred to fly with a string connecting it to the cage. Skin pure porcelain, tinted with blood beneath, lively for someone considered to be a walking weapon; more than most ‘ordinary’ humans who didn’t see further than their noses allowed. You wiped the little space on where his shoulder and arm met with an alcohol soaked cotton, sterilizing it before hovering the syringe on it. For a second, you hesitated— the very same hand that held his back and wiped his face is now injecting poison through him. What use was in repeating love vows to an angel at night only to pluck its feathers at day? He was pure, too pure for you or anyone. Lily stepped on and tarnished cruelly for its crime: existing.

Swiftly, you pierced the needle in him to its shaft, dense muscle sinking. His arm was sculpted, pallid lamina coffining the lanes of shy blue veins along. It never felt like a body; more of a marble veiled with silk. fingers atop his upper arm for support, touching him alluded to dallying something too precious to be carelessly swung around— he's a first class soldier, anything but fragile, yet your eyes caught another shade of him that longed to be ordinary.

“There…” you whispered. He rolled his dark leather sleeve back down, not bothering to wait for you to bandage it.

The silence lurked, out of mutual exhaustion. The cord was cut short as he asked, voice a purl of water “Did he ask you to do this?”

Your hand halted, the used syringe still in your fist, hovering above the trash can. You licked your front teeth, zipping your lips inside before answering with a small “Yes.” You heard him let out a jagged breath, halfway between a chuckle and a glum “He always sends the things I cannot strike down.”

Hojo warned you for a reason. ‘Attachment clouds judgment.’, he had repeated. back when your head was filled with all those rose-colored glasses, you didn't see what wrong have you committed by being close to someone as Sephiroth— You didn't care if you got hurt, but your foot dug too deep in the trap: If you love him stay by his side, If you decide to leave he'll be thrown under the guillotine of Shinra and SOLDIER, this time abandoned by his sole ‘support system’— You. If you left he got hurt, If you stay you'll hurt him yourself. The illusion of choice in its most perfect tableau.

Maybe you've been the Cerberus² guarding his heel, maiming and nailing him to the cross till he ascended all the way up to paradise; far cry from this planet, Hojo, SOLDIER and you. where he could be human at last, loved in a way you couldn't offer.

​¹ : Originating from Friedrich Nietzsche's philosophy, the Übermensch (translated as "Overman" or "Superman") is the goal of humanity: a being who creates their own values and rises above the "herd" morality of the masses.

Your head whipped around desperately, trying to find the inconspicuous hare’s voice within the dense woods surrounding you. The floppy set of bunny ears on your head were no match for those of Lohen’s—a pair of hare ears that stood straight and were able to detect sound like no other. Feeling your heart pound against your ribcage, you were entrapped by the dire sensation of fight or flight. To run meant to invite him to chase, but to fight was certainly going to end in disaster. What was there for you to do other than to stand paralyzed, unsure of when or how Lohen was going to torment you this time?

“Boo!”

You screamed when you heard his voice, and with a maniacal laugh, he barreled into you. The momentum of your collision sent you both tumbling across the earthen ground, snapping branches and crushing fallen leaves in your wake. Your head was spinning by the time you stopped, that frustrating hare pinning you to the ground beneath him with a cocky grin on his face. You could already feel the bulge in his trousers, pressing into you as he leaned closer.

“You’re terrible at this,” he said, laughing. “Can’t you make the hunt a little more fun?”

“No!” you replied in a sputter. “I didn’t agree to it in the first place!”

“You think you’re gonna be agreeing to it if some other hare catches a whiff of you? If anything, you should be thanking me. It’s great training.”

Your chest heaved with erratic breaths. Staring up into his crimson eyes, your legs squirmed around his hips, heels digging into the mossy ground. Lohen watched you with his shiteating grin, letting you rut against him as your instincts overwhelmed your sensibilities. Rather whiny about it, you wailed, “What kind of mate are you?!”

“Oh, so now I’m your mate.”

“You’re the one who went and decided it!” you sputtered. “Be responsible for your actions!”

“I didn’t decide anything. All I said was that you’re a bunny and I’m a hare. It’s literally in our nature to fuck like crazy, so why not fuck each other?” His teeth peeked through his grin, one of his tall hare ears twitching as if it were nodding in agreement. “Less risky that way, yeah?”

You fervently shook your head. “Don’t talk to me about risk! You’ve put my life in danger for your ego ten times already!”

“Hey, hey—I’d never put you in danger,” he replied stubbornly. “I just use you to attract danger. I love messing with those horny rabbits that come running after you. It’s great entertainment. But,” he said, eyes twinkling, “I’d never let them touch a hair on your pretty little head, Bunny.”

“So then why do I have to train for it?!” you whined. “If you’re going to handle them anyway, then cut the theatrics and fuck me when I ask you to!”

“Jeez,” Lohen said, wincing. “Someone’s needy. To think just yesterday you smacked me for grabbing your ass.”

“You grabbed my ass in public!” you growled. “At work! In front of so many knights!”

“So? How else are they gonna know you’re mine?”

“You are so irritating!”

Your nails clambered for purchase along his shoulders, your hips humping against the curve of his lap. Wetness spread through your undergarments, soaking into the crotch of his pants as you repeatedly mashed yourself into him. Lohen watched you struggle, snickering as he saw fit.

How did you even end up like this? You were simply a new addition to the Knights of Favonius’s ranks, and not even as a member of the militia force. Your role was one that was both simple and safe, a career path that your parents had always desired for you. Your mother had warned you time and time again that a good bunny remained out of the line of fire, kept her head down, and did not get entangled with hares.

“Lohen,” you were whining, tears streaming down your cheeks. Your cunt throbbed, your hips flailing up against his. “Please, I need you.”

“Oh? ‘Need’s a strong word, Bunny.”

“You motherfucker,” you gasped, nails digging into his coat. “Do you want me to beg? Is that it?”

He snorted. “I think you’re begging plenty already, Bun. I’m just taking in the view, you know?”

“Ngh,” you grunted, hinging your knee forward, then back. Again, you pressed your crotch to his, and your leg moved with a mind of its own, your foot stomping into the ground beneath you. You pressed your eyes shut, feeling a shamed heat spread through your neck and into the tops of your cheeks. Your leg jerked repeatedly, and as your stomping grew faster, Lohen only laughed. Leaning his mouth down to your jaw, his voice ghosted hot across your chin.

“You’re so cute when you start thumping, Bun,” he purred in a low, rumbling voice. “Almost makes me wanna fuck you.”

You thumped your foot again, your heart pounding ten times as hard. Letting out a series of embarrassing, dissatisfied grunts, you wriggled beneath Lohen, your animal instincts flaring through your core. Slick upon slick upon slick—you were far too ready for him, but just like a troublesome hare, Lohen did not abide you. Your nails clawed at the fabric of his cape, tears budding the corners of your eyes when your angered grunts mixed with needy whimpers.

What would your parents think if they could see you now? What would your mother; the woman who warned you about hares since you were a child; say, were she privy to how attached you had become to one? You were supposed to be your parents’ golden bunny, yet here you were—laying on the forest floor with a hare on top of you, pleading for him to fulfill your carnal desires.

The worst part was that you didn’t care. Let your parents weep over their disappointment of a daughter. Whenever this hare set his hands on you, you felt alive.

“Please,” you were whispering, high-pitched and breathy. “Lohen, please, I—ngh.” Another involuntary thump of your foot. “I want you.”

He chuckled against the soft of your floppy ear. Giving you a playful nibble, he whispered, “Good job, Bun. I think I like the sound of that a little better.”

You exhaled, your breath shaking as it exited your throat. Lohen reached down to his hip, and when you heard the unmistakable sound of his zipper, you whined his name. He glanced at you with those gorgeous red eyes of his, the ones that had gotten you so whipped for him in the first place, and gave you a smirk so coy, you could die for him right then and there.

It wasn’t the fact that he was a hare that had you so entranced by him. It was the fact that that hare was Lohen.

“Lift up for me?” he asked, giving your legs the lightest of touches. You moved in accordance with him, and as he guided you through it, he said, “Uh-huh, like that.”

His teeth poked through his charming smile. Eyes roaming the length of your body, Lohen purred, “Good girl…you’re so flexible.”

Your knees quivered by your head. Truly, you weren’t built to bend or twist like this, but for Lohen, you would try.

“So pretty,” he murmured, his hands stroking the backs of your upturned thighs. His eyes were trained on your cunt, a flush of red decorating his grinning face. “Are you as wet as I think you are, Bun?”

Desperately, you nodded.

He relinquished a close-lipped laugh. “Guess I’ll have to be the judge of that.”

The sensation of his hot glans against your slick folds sent you curving back into the moss. You reached for your knees, keeping them held back for him, even though your body burned from the strain of it. Making sounds that you’d rather die than hear when you weren’t in a mating state, your toes curled into your flailing feet.

“You’re thumping the air, Bun,” Lohen said, like it wasn’t already obvious. He continued to smear himself up and down the length of your cunt, providing barely enough stimulation to suppress your feral urges. You recalled how full he made you feel, every single night over the past seven days of knowing him, and grunted pitifully.

Hares were generally larger than bunnies—faster and far more powerful, too. Maybe that was why you were so attracted to Lohen, who was lithe like a bunny on the surface, yet so unmistakably hare below the belt. The stretch of his tip against your hole, teasing you, had you sobbing.

“Fuck—me,” you choked out, trying to thump, thump, thump. “Lohen, please. Do something useful, please.”

His sly grin fell from his face. Staring down at you with an open mouth, he began to pant into the air, his ears twitching erratically. Watching your face still, he rubbed his beading head against your sensitive clit, and in a murmur, said, “I wanna breed you so bad.”

That was the thing about hares and bunnies—they both had an insatiable desire to fuck, fuck, fuck—but they weren’t compatible for breeding. That was why bunnies like you were taught to be wary of hares like Lohen, with their silver tongues and promises of sweet nothings. Your whole life, you had been taught that a hare only wanted one thing from a bunny, and that was to use her as he saw fit.

“Bun,” Lohen said, red-faced and gasping. “I wanna breed.”

You couldn’t, and yet—.

“Put it in,” you gasped back. “Lohen, if you want to breed, you have to put it in.”

He let out an odd, strangled noise. Maybe he appreciated the fact that you didn’t point out the obvious, or maybe he was getting influenced by your own state of need. Whatever the case, Lohen’s thick head sank right into your dripping hole, and with a gradual push of his hips, you were full of him.

Were you crying? Were you calling his name? Or were you praying to the Archons above for forgiveness?

“How do you—,” Lohen’s breath hitched. “How do you want me, Bun?”

“Hard,” you slurred. “Hard, Lohen, hard.”

His boots shuffled across the grassy forest floor. Half-squatting over you, Lohen placed his hands to the back of yours, helping you keep yourself ever so delicately folded in half for him. After a glance at you, assessing your comfort level no doubt, he quickly smacked his pelvis to yours.

You were flailing again, your throat hoarse from your cries. Slowly, Lohen’s girth retreated within you, and right when you were just a touch from empty, it shoved into you all at once all over again.

“Lohen,” you were sobbing, your nails digging into your own flesh. “Lohen.”

“Bun,” he panted back. “You’re…so fuckin’ tight.”

The slam of his hips punctuated his sentence. This was almost too much for you.

“Fuck, I…” Lohen hissed aloud. “I want to breed so bad, Bun. Fuck a bunny right…into you.”

With each final word, came another forceful pound of his dick inside of you. Your lower lip was quivering from your sobs and whines, and when Lohen noticed, he squeezed his hands around yours, hesitating.

“How do you want me?” he asked tenderly.

“Harder,” you choked. “Even harder.”

Lohen held you midair. It was unfathomable, how quickly he could fuck you while also supporting all of your body weight in those lean arms of his. You had never doubted Lohen’s strength, but it was times like these that reminded you just how lucky you were to have a hare like him.

Your back was pressed to a nearby tree trunk, giving Lohen the leverage to grunt by your ear. The way he chuffed and whined, nuzzling against your floppy ear with lustful fervor all the while, made your mind feel fuzzier than the ears atop his head. The pound of his hips was relentless, reminiscent of a hare in rut, and as the wet slaps of his body against yours filled the air around you, you worried for a moment that you may attract the attention of any keen-nosed rabbits who happened to wander by.

“Bunny,” Lohen was gasping. “Your pussy feels so good.”

What could you do in response to that, other than grab a fistful of his hair and wail? His breath hitched against your sensitive ear, and in a growling voice, he asked, “You gonna take it?”

Yes, yes, yes—of course you would.

“How much?”

All of it. All of it.

Lohen laughed, that giggle slowly turning into a hot moan. Pounding you so fast that you weren’t sure your womb would make it through this, he dug his teeth into your neck and groaned.

“Bunny,” he mumbled through mouthfuls of your skin, sharp pain mixing with sweet pleasure. “I wanna give you a hare that looks just like you.”

Why did your eyes bud with tears, when you thought about the impossibility of it?

“Fuck, Bun,” Lohen gasped, fucking you so hard your back shifted up the tree with each thrust. “You’d be such a good mom.”

“Please stop,” you sobbed, your nails clambering for purchase in the flesh of his shoulders. “Lohen.”

“You’re gonna give me what I want,” he whispered, the bridge of his nose ghosting against yours, “won’t you, Bun?”

You biologically couldn’t. You knew you couldn’t.

“Yes,” you whined anyway, throbbing and clenching around his plunging dick. “I will.”

His eyes widened. A shadow of darkness cast across his face, and in a soft, tiny whisper, he said, “Thank you.”

His mouth was on yours before you could think to respond. He kissed you hard, filling your mouth with the taste of mint bubblegum, a silly habit of his that you had found quite bunny-like for a hare, but was quickly becoming one of your favorite parts of him. Stretching your arms around his neck, you pulled him in close, the taste of your salty tears dancing between your clashing mouths. There was euphoria, there was longing, and there was a gnawing ache within you—the pain spurred from your inability to meet your mate’s needs.

If only you were a hare, like him. Strong like him, fast like him, able to keep up with his every move the way he was able to keep up with yours. Maybe then things wouldn’t be so hard for you. Maybe Lohen would be happier.

“I love you,” he said when your lips parted, his cheeks as crimson as those sweet eyes of his.

Your lower lip trembled.

“Fuck,” he spat, his eyes fluttering shut. “Here you go, Bunny.”

Dear Gods, this was what you needed. To feel him pumping you full, filling your womb with every last drop of his love for you. To cum from the pure stimulation of his affections; gasping, hot, and blinding; knowing that even if his seed would never take, he loved you.

“Good girl,” Lohen whispered fiercely, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Really good girl.”

“I love you,” you whined back, hiccuping through your sobs. “I wish I could be a mom for you.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry over it, Bun.” He smiled, his eyes softening. “You know I was just saying things, right? I don’t want you to stress over it.”

“I just,” you croaked, “want to give you what you want.”

“…You really do love me.”

You nodded. Lohen chuckled.

“Well. I’m glad you picked me, Bun.”

Your hands smoothed out around his shoulders. He leaned in so close, his smiling lips brushed yours.

“You can do it,” he crooned. “I’ll just fuck you until you can. Sound good?”

You smiled, laughing in spite of your tears. Nodding, you said, “That sounds wonderful, Lohen.”

“One more time then?”

“One more—time!”

Leaning your head against the pine-scented bark, you offered your prayers to Celestia. Once more, your favorite hare began another passionate attempt to complete you, and you couldn’t have been more enamored with him if you tried.

Sure, you may have been a bad daughter. Disobedient and unwise. But whenever Lohen touched you, you never felt anything but the love between you. If that was so wrong, then you didn’t mind being bad at all.

With the increased reports of criminals passing away due to a sudden “heart attack” the office has been busy. More detectives join the “Kira Investigation Team” , which means more head detectives in the office. Thats a good thing, right?

Matsuda was always considered the child of the team. Nobody took him serious, but cmon who could? Hes barely a man as it is. Or thats what he tells himself. 𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓱, 𝓼𝓸𝓯𝓽, 𝓬𝓸𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓭, 𝓭𝓾𝓶𝓫, 𝓼𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓵, 𝔀𝓮𝓪𝓴, 𝓷𝓪𝓲𝓿𝓮 those words flood through his brain every morning, every time he looks in the mirror, every time dares to open his mouth just to be ignored, scolded, laughed at by his comrades. Why can’t anyone see his potential? That hes fucking worth something?

It was a stormy morning in Tokyo, Japan. And the building was busy. Sounds of chattering clashed with the raindrops hitting the window. Outside was grey, too grey. You could almost hear the wind knocking off leaves if it was quiet enough in this room. The office was rather warm and plain. Tall tan walls with cheap fake plants in every corner and carpet floor, that’s all there really was. Matsuda stood at the coffee maker watching the steam from the hot water flow from below him, the sound of the machine buzzing being the only thing filling his mind. God he needed to get out of this office. It was too much. the rain, the constant chatter, every day he wakes up just to be walked over like he’s not shit. Not shit to his coworkers, his friends, his fucking-

“So after we print our copies we are orde- Matsuda are you even listening?” With that Matsuda finally snaps out of his daze. “Hm..? Oh yea yea! The copies of course!” He said as he nervously laughs scratching the back of his head. But Aizawa didn’t find anything funny, instead he shoves a pile of papers into Matsudas chest as if he’s built of brick. “If you want to be apart of this investigation, act like it. We don’t have time for childish fools like you. This isn’t a recess. So use your damn head for once. Or are you too dumb to. Open your eyes son, people are dying for Gods sake! Be useful and take these to room 403.” ….That hit a nerve, and it hit hard. Not only did it hurt Matsudas feelings, but it confirmed his degrading thoughts. He was as stupid as much as he was foolish. Is that all hell ever be? 𝓝𝓸 𝓷𝓸 𝓷𝓸 𝓷𝓸 it can’t he has a purpose right? He has a meaning right? He’s just as important as everyone else… right?

Matsuda barges out the door clutching his papers in one hand and his chest with the other. It’s too much, he’s feeling too much over a stupid comment his coworker made? Did he take his anxiety meds today? 𝓼𝓸𝓯𝓽. Yea that’s what it was, he was just being soft like usual. Of course he was, he’s just a little boy. Always was and always will be. Matsuda forces himself off the door frame and move through the hallway. “403 403…. Cmon cmon be useful for once cmon 40-“ His mind stops, everything stops. The rain, footsteps, voices, computers, it all stops. Why did he pause? He should keep going to get the copies finished!! Why can’t he move? Why was he …mesmerized? He’d seen pretty girls before, so why was this time so different? He was experiencing some kind of new euphoria he never felt before.

You wore a white short sleeve blouse with a black pencil skirt. Topped with your favorite silver necklace with a dainty goth cross charm and small silver skull earrings to match, only showing when your hair is tucked back. On your shoes wore cute black coach branded kitten heels and a small black coach bag with cute keychains. Your hair was in an half up half down with a spiderweb claw-clip holding the top up. Matsuda examined you top from bottom like art . Because you were art. You looked manmade. Nobody could ever be this naturally beautiful. Every curve and every corner of your face and body was perfect. You had your own style even at work. He liked that. He loved that. Everyone in this building is equivalent to a robot, same plain expression, same plain suits, and same plain briefcases… something in you you had color. After realizing he’d been staring like a creep, he finally snaps out of his long daze to continue walking.

On your phone you look at the text that was sent to you. “𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 403 𝘩𝘶𝘩?” You thought to yourself, taking a U turn down the hall looking at the numbers of each room. You were new to the whole building and just moved into town. After a huge argument with your parents you were finally kicked out for good after the last 4 times. They were shitty anyway, always has been. Ever since the day you found ou-. No you can’t think about it, not right now.. you’re at work. Tokyo is meant for new opportunities, new experiences, new friends. That’s what your here for you tell yourself. The past is the past. You’ll find the right people.. your at swear. There’s a good thing your best friend already lives in Tokyo. You haven’t seen her in a while which is understandable, a girls gotta be busy.

Matsuda realizes he’s been walking behind you for a while now. Every turn you take he takes. God he looks so fucking creepy. Have you noticed him? You would’ve said something if you did right? Or maybe your too scarred to. No you can’t be aware, you would’ve at least turned around, right? 𝓖𝓸𝓭, 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷 𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭, he begged to himself. Not because he’d look suspicious, but because he couldn’t help but to look at the way your hips swayed side to side when you walked. Or the way your hair moved with you. And God the way Something about you was addicting, too addicting. Wait-why is he thinking this way? 𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓹 How could he have such perverted thoughts? He should be ashamed of himself… Matsuda mentally beats himself up, just like he always does.

Your eyes finally meet a plate number reading 403 put onto the wall beside a door. The damn building was like a maze. Every hallway and room looks almost the exact same. How the hell do people get around here day to day? You’d lose your mind. “𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵?” You scoff at your own joke. As you walk in your eyes search for a clock in sheet. Theres a printer station in the corner, a counter full of office necessities, and there, clock in station. The last thing you notice was the cheap police badge decorations floating from the ceiling along with golden stars. “𝘊𝘶𝘵𝘦 “…. you thought. You take that as their attempt to bring life to the room, though not doing much help… it’s the thought that counts. The place needed life. Everything looked so boring. Where’s the color? You and your best friend are fashion freaks and would have this place looking pretty in no time.

Shortly after you enter you hear footsteps following behind you making you turn your back. You expected to see some cranky old person since thats majority of this buildings population. Instead It was a young man. You couldn’t tell if he was older than you or not though due to his babyface, but he looked around your age. he had a shaggy but well kept haircut, black hair, and big puppydog eyes. If your being honest he looked kind of… helpless? The timid kind. He wasn’t bad looking, but something in him looked like he was struggling. Was it because you startled him? His expression was neutral, but those big brown puppy eyes looked like they were screaming for someone to help him. You out of all people knew that look way too well considering your terrible childhood. Was it because you caught him off guard? You should say something. Before you could open your mouth he beats you to it.

“oh- sorry.. did i startle you?..im just here to copy papers, ill be out your hair no. worries!!” he says. His cheeks grow a bright pink in embarrassment while he scratches the back of his neck, making you feel bad. Getting nervous around new people was never new to you. Considering the fact that you grew up as a quiet kid. So you understand where hes coming from. “You didn’t startle me at all its okay! Im only here to clock in.” You give him a warm smile while taping your index finger onto your side. It was a habit you always had whenever you felt overwhelmed or anxious. You grew this habit growing up back in your home town. Nervous about a test? Tap on the table. Stressed over your parents? 𝘛𝘢𝘱….. 𝘵𝘢𝘱 𝘵𝘢𝘱 𝘵𝘢𝘱 𝘵𝘢𝘱 It eased your nerves. He gives you a cheeky smile back before you made your way to the clock in table.

Matsuda couldnt help but to stare.. your legs were shaped perfectly and looked so smooth, that skirt fitting your body so well, and oh that smile you gave him made his heart flutter. That was the nicest action anyones done for him this whole week. As he walks over to print his copies, the only thing he could think about was your angelic voice repeating and repeating, the way your glossy lips formed into a smile, everything about you was just so addicting… Hes In the same fucking room as you, the same room as the most prettiest girl hes ever seen in his life. Was he flipping through papers too loud? Was the sound of the machine bothering you? He didn’t want to scare you off. Matsuda wasn’t a bad guy, he means all good right? Once his copies were finished, you were gone. Matsudas heart sunk. “Damn she was beautiful” he said to himself. Even though he was disappointed that you left, it felt like a heavy weight lifted off his chest. He was trying so hard not to startle you, so hard to do everything just right and not make it too awkward. Will he ever see you again? The building is massive, you could be from any unit.. He curses under his breath bringing the copied papers with the words KIRA bolded on the front into his hands. Just before he leaves, he passes the clock in sheet. On the sheet wrote “y/n”. Y/N……y/n. Was that really your name? It suited you so well. “Y/N” he says testing the way your name sounds under his tongue…

The day ended fairly for you. It wasnt your official start day, you were in training. You were showed the navigations to rooms youd need to go to, your duties, and who your boss would be. Being a detective was what you’ve dreamed of since you were a little girl. Your grandpa was one and you swore to him you’ll be one to make him proud. Damn do you miss him… You sigh as you open the door to your new apartment. Yourbest friend was supposed to help you unbox over the weekend. Besides the boxes scattered across the floor, your wall decorations were put up in the bedroom. A bunch of band, anime, games, and horror movie posters filled up the wall along with your collection of action figures, antique dolls, fairy lights and other room decor. This room would be the last thing you’d expect from a detective you laugh to yourself. Some people just never grow out of their old interests. The “professional” outfit you wore felt like a cosplay. You tried to fit a little of the “you” in (the skull earrings, cross necklace, spiderweb claw clip.) but jeez it feels like you have to be a robot to fit in. Good thing you’re damn good at your job.. thats why you were hired to work with the best of the best to catch Kira. But the “weird” girl never really grew out of you. You change out of the tight pencil skirt and extremly uncomfortable blouse and into an oversized affliction tee.

Just like any other night, Matsuda couldnt sleep. That anxious feeling always creeped back to him, latching onto his soul. Was it depression? Is that the reason for all of this? He should get checked out. 𝓔𝓶𝓫𝓪𝓻𝓼𝓼𝓼𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 the word stung somewhere in his heart, making him curl into a tighter ball than he already was in. He thinks back to the interaction he and you had in 403. The way your finger subconsciously tapped on your side. Were you anxious too? Do you understand how he feels?? He doesn’t want to be alone in this void. Sure hes a cheeky, bright, childish guy from the outside.. but when is it time for someone to see the real Matsuda. When will it be time for someone to see his raw emotions? Would she want to see him? The real him? He wonders if you guys like the same things. He noticed your re9 keychain on your purse. Matsuda loves that game. “This is stupid” he mumberd under his breath. How could he be dreaming about a random lady as if it’s some high school crush. Theres a mass killer in his damn hands that hes not doing shit about, 𝓤𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 the word hit harder than the last. And finally after around 30 minutes, Matsuda cradled himself to sleep.

And you’re letting out such a sweet, sweet giggle - even sweeter than the linger of cherries on his tongue - before you duck underneath the table to help him pick them up.

Choso was already on his knees crawling after those damn cherries- and all it takes is a single glance at your face oh-so-close to his, in such short proximity, for him to jolt—and bang his head against the underside of the table. So hard that the glasses clink against one another, and Wasuke groans as he misses in his valiant cherry canons.

So loud that half the parlor stares at your little table.

“Oh no.” You’re reaching out in concern as Choso rubs his achin’ head. “Honey, are you-”

“I-I’m fine—!” Choso turns his face away - and the only things you could make out were the frames of his chunky glasses…and the burning red on the tips of his ears. Blushing. Though you’re not convinced, and once you get a little closer- he’s waving you off more fervently than ever. “I promise, I promise! I can handle it…babe.”

You quirk a brow - “If you say so, sugarplum.”

He almost jolts once more- too much…?

However, before you’re thrusting yourself once more into the stratosphere of emotional fathers (at least, one of them) and glowering uncles, you inch yourself closer to the nerve-wracked man - as quick as a flash. And then you’re pressing your lips to his right cheek—just a graze, just a peck.

But it’s enough for Choso to yelp-

And bang his head against the table once again.

“Easy there, tiger.” You’re giggling at him, “I need you in one piece.”

“N-need me…” Choso whispers to himself- perhaps thinking that you won’t hear.

And it’s a small mercy that you’re handing to him - pretending that you didn’t hear that. Instead, you’re throwing yourself back into your seat, and presenting your most-practiced smile at Choso’s eavesdropping family members. 

In little-to-no time, Choso’s popping back up and plopping all those floor cherries into Sukuna’s black coffee. The older man swears. 

Jin covers the seven-year-old Yuji’s ears.

And then your boyfriend’s excusing himself hastily to the bathroom. Leaving you alone with them.

Unsure how to proceed, there’s a few minutes of silence before you’re speaking first. “Quite the lovely place, isn’t it?”

“Yes- yes.” Jin snaps out of his little reverie—he’d been watching over your interaction with such unabashed pride. Such loving nosiness. Out of all the fathers of clients that you’d happened to meet, you think he might just be your favorite…He beams. “I’m so glad you like it, dear. I mean- the first girl that Cho’s introducing us to-”

“The only one.” Sukuna coughs.

“-I just knew I had to impress. I picked this one specifically because it advertised itself as a place that’s both family-friendly and open to coup-”

“So you met the wimp…how again?” Sukuna interrupts. And he ignores the look that Jin throws at him.

“Six months ago at university.” Choso’s finally finished up at the bathroom, within earshot of the table. He takes his seat right next to you. 

“I hope you washed your hands.” You whisper to him.

“Of course, I did.”

The two of you had already repeated this tried and true story at the very start of your introductions. And it was clear that Sukuna was fishing for something…more.

You make a show of reaching for Choso’s hand on top of the table—intertwining your fingers with his. They were fingers much longer and thicker than yours- that you might not have expected. The most sensual calluses from what you assume to be turning pages of books. The softest touch nevertheless.

You squeeze his hand and shoot him a simpering smile.

Itadori Jin just about faints.

Sukuna scoffs at his overdramatic older brother, “S’that so…?” He then crosses his tattooed arms, “You don’t seem like the type to like ah- biology and hemorrhages.”

“It’s biology and hematology, uncle Ryo.” Choso answers crossly, “And no- we met in the campus library.”

Then you’re the one to pipe up. “Cho here- oh, sorry, Choso-”

“Call him whatever you like—!” Jin cries.

As his brother attempts to wrangle him back into his seat, you smile appreciatively and continue. “Cho here was the one that helped me find a textbook I’d been searching for for weeks.” Just to add a little flare to it, you’re squeezing his hand once more and staring deeply into his big, beautiful brown eyes when you speak. “He knew even better than the librarian! And he was just so nervous- stuttering and- and did I tell you that he almost tripped over himself handing me that book?”

Jin, so very interested in your story, shakes his head aggressively.

Meanwhile Sukuna merely rolls his eyes- though you note that he and Wasuke don’t interrupt you for a second.

“Yeah…that was when I knew.” You conclude. Patting lovingly at his arm, “And of course, it did take a few weeks of being friends for Cho here to finally build up the courage. But he did manage to ask me out in the end—”

Sukuna raises one mean, coral-pink brow.

And you’re elbowing your boyfriend.

“-didn’t you, honey?”

It was rather difficult to convince your boyfriend’s family of the story of you two meeting- especially when your boyfriend himself looked as though this was his first time hearing it…Choso kept an expression of sweet euphoria—something soft. Like he was watching a romantic movie play out.

One that was starring in- and you needed him to say something…

“Huh? Yes?” Choso blinks- sense coming back to him. “O-oh, yes.”

And then he straightens up.

Possessively placing his hand on top of yours, “I saw her and I just…knew she had to be mine-”

“See now, that where yer lying.” Sukuna leans over the table with a devilish smile- pointedly ignoring his brother’s swatting. “There’s no world in which Kamo Ultimate Loser Choso—had his first kiss with a biology textbook, asked out the high school lab skeleton before any real person - would be the one asking you out.”

You’re stiffening as he points at you.

“Are you just someone he’s paying to lie? Because whatever he’s paying, it surely can’t be enough-”

You’re plastering on your smile, “If by ‘pay’ you mean love and cherish me then-”

“Then I know my nephew would no sooner woo a damn lab rat than a real person.” Sukuna scoffs, crossing his arms and falling back into his seat. “Especially one so pretty.”

Jin looked tense- and he’d forgone swatting at Sukuna underneath the table to now openly pinching his bicep. Still, the pain seems to do nothing to bate his suspicion.

“More sundaes, everyone? More sundaes?” Jin asks in a strangely high tone.

The only ones unaffected at the table was Yuji currently plucking at his sundae cherries, and Wasuke who stared at them with the internal debate as to whether or not he should fling those at the neighboring table, too. You almost wanted him to—anything to distract from the terseness that had suddenly taken over.

And to your surprise - it’s Choso who’s the first one to speak. “Why, uncle Ryo…” Those doe-like eyes of his narrow into an expression you’ve never seen made by the sweet, sweet boy thus far. “-jealous?”

Sukuna startles- “The hell did you s-”

“Dagnabbit I almost had it this time-” Wasuke gives up on considering and swipes one of Yuji’s overabundance of cherries to throw into their neighboring tables glass. It’s a hole in one.

“Grandma, do that again—!” Yuji squeals and claps his hands.

“Huh, where? I’m grandpa-”

“Everybody silence!” Jin’s voice raises above than the rest - and into every corner of the ice cream parlor. Echoing. He hadn’t realized it in the heat of the moment, but he found himself standing as he stopped the chaos—and rushed to sit down after some apologetic bows at the wider population being subjected to the catastrophe that was…their family.

And his next apology is directed at you. “My dear, I cannot tell you how sorry I am-” Now instead of pinching Sukuna, he outright gives the man a brotherly smack upside the head. Unafraid of doing so; Jin makes it hard enough that even Ryomen Sukuna winces. Now you understand how he kept his title shining as older brother…“-that I am related to a bunch of buffoons, and Yuji.”

“Yuji has been quite the distinguished gentleman.” You’re nodding at Yuji and his ice-cream-covered grin. “But it’s alright, Mr. Itadori. Honestly- promise I wasn’t offended by anything said.”

Your hands have seemed to find a permanent home in Choso’s - at least for the time being - and you squeeze his. 

“I understand that you’re just ah- cautious as the first girl to meet you like this but…I get it. Really.” Jin’s expression just seems to melt as you keep speaking. “Cho really is someone special to me. And I want to protect him, too.”

Next to you, you hear Choso suck in a shaky breath.

“Really? And you truly promise that it hasn’t been too much?” He probes with shining eyes. “Ryo here can get a little too mouthy-”

“Hey!” Sukuna starts—then immediately winces as Jin’s fingers twitch towards him again.

“Please do forgive him- it’s in his nature.”

“Absolutely promise. And I don’t hold anything against Mr. Sukuna, either.” You knew to hit juuuust where it mattered - and referring to Sukuna using such a title made the man straighten in his chair a little. “Choso did warn me that his family might be a little…excited. But to be honest with you, I always have had a soft spot for big, loud families.”

“Well…” Jin blushes happily, before reaching across the table and shaking your hand. “You may call me Jin, if you’d like. And I’d like to welcome you into our big, loud family.”

“I’m so honored- thank you.”

“The honor is all ours.”

“Oh no, it’s ours.”

Sukuna glances at Choso and scoffs. Underneath his breath, “That’s as long as that wimp has paid for-”

The table rattles as Jin kicks him underneath it. “The honor is all ours. Isn’t it…younger brother?”

“Ye-yes—” Sukuna wheezes. His large hand comes slamming down- merely something to hold onto his dear life for. “Welcome to the family, girl.”

You beam like it’s the happiest day of your life.

Head rested on Choso’s shoulder, and your head nodding at the flow of conversation. “This is cooler than the Turritopsis dohrnii.” He breathes.

Save for the brief hiccup earlier- you’d consider your first meeting with Choso’s family to have gone swimmingly. And sure, perhaps Sukuna held the faintest inkling of suspicion that what the two of you had was a ruse—but he’d been shot down almost immediately by Jin.

And thank goodness for that.

“Let’s celebrate by getting the double double heart-shaped cones- oh, I wonder how they get them into that shape?” Jin hums. “And then I want chocolate chips, dipped in the bubblegum drizzle and- oh, hello.” 

He beams as their server nears the table.

“I would like-”

“Sir, we’ve been getting complaints of cherries being flung into people’s glasses and we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Oh.”

Because of course…Ryomen Sukuna had been completely correct.

As the group gets up to leave - perhaps to another diner downtown or so - you’re refusing to let Jin apologize. And you’re still holding onto Choso as though he was the dreamiest boyfriend in the whole wide world, and you were the luckiest girlfriend—as dreamy as he may be…you weren’t the girlfriend he’d been dating for the past five months.

In fact, you weren’t his girlfriend at all.

In fact, you’d only met two hours prior.

You were #1 Rental Girlfriend in all of Tokyo. And this time, you’d been hired to save face at a family get-together.

Of course, it wasn’t the first time that you’ve had to pretend your way through such a predicament - more people than one would think had less and less time for love. Especially not in this day and age. Especially not when work and responsibilities latched onto you like a starving tick, and though its blood supply might be modest at first, it only grows hungrier and hungrier—greedier, until you’re bone-dry. Bone-dry. Bone-dry. And it still feeds- what’s next? The bones and all?

And society still looks at you with the same standards—yes, the parasite’s gotten bigger, but why are you so frail?

And before you know it, you’re hiring a rental girlfriend to prove to your parents that yes- you can still be a functional and well-balanced adult still!

This was exactly why you continued being a rental girlfriend.

It’d started out as a side-job during your first year of university—your friends were all getting partners or throwing themselves into their studies. And you needed something fulfilling to pass the time.

Then, your best friend suggested getting a part-time job.

You’re sure she didn’t mean as a rental girlfriend.

But you couldn’t help it - it’d been the first advertisement for Hiring that’d popped up once you’d searched online! 

And it was meant to be for a few weeks initially- really, you hadn’t planned on continuing this career for so long. Let alone making it a sort of career. 

That morning, you’d opened up your approved application for Doki-Doki-Girlfriend and determinedly made your way to the interview section - promising yourself that you’d run at the first sign of anything off. The interview was being held at the Doki-Doki headquarters: this pretty pink-colored building in downtown Akihabara that had formerly been a host club. It’d been dimly-lit and draped in old perfume and even older sex. 

Though you’d been nervous the first time you entered, you’d been quickly taken by the Doki-Doki owner—Tsukumo Yuki.

The first thing she asked you was what your type in men was.

And when you’d answered - through your shock - that it was the shy, stuttering type- she laughed that that was about 95% of their clientele. So you’d be lucky, perhaps.

Yuki, as she insisted you call her, explained to you the ins and outs of being a rental girlfriend. To smile. To simper. To be sweet but not overly so.

To never let them pressure you into anything. They weren’t the type of rental business that offered other sorts of services. 

What people were searching for above all was a connection- for at least this brief moment in time. And the both of you would understand this transaction: it was the fantasy of a human bond that you were selling, and they were buying. It was your time. It was your emotional investment.

But later…you would come to genuinely connect with most of those you worked with.

After that interview—which you passed with flying colors, you spoke with some of the other girls working there and decided to continue with the job opportunity. Much to Yuki’s delight, who’d taken a liking to you almost immediately. After that was the training period - during which you accompanied some of the other rental girlfriends on their dates.

You were introduced to some as their friend—and as many guys as expected were actually flattered to be seen with two ‘girlfriends’ in public. 

You took notes on conversation topics. You watched their behaviours. 

You understood how they’d change their approaches according to the needs of their clients, and you absorbed it all.

After a few weeks of observation, you were finally added to the roster of rental girlfriends to go on your own dates. 

You just didn’t expect to shoot to the top of the ranks.

#1 in Tokyo.

Perhaps one of the Top 5 in the entire country—only three years after starting, in your fourth year of university. 

The clients adored you.

They draped you in gifts. They went on repeat dates - spending extra just for a minute of your time, though you often refused the additional amounts. Of course, there would be no funny business (and this was something you made quite clear within the first few minutes of meeting a new client). And excluding one or two unsavory clients that were quickly blacklisted from Doki Doki, you’d grown rather fond of your regulars.

There was the older woman who’d practice speaking to women through you- for when she planned on getting her first girlfriend. There was the excitable college student who tested out date spots with you. There was the pensioner who wished to take a monthly stroll through the park, simply talking about their day.

It was the feeling of belonging amongst strangers. Connecting with people you never could have imagined finding common ground with before.

And you believe, through this line of work, you began to understand humans better.

Humans were all just…really, really lonely.

Choso had been the same when he came to you.

It had been a working day like any other - you’d been called to the front desk of Doki Doki in order to be given a briefing of your next date. It was all standard processes, really.

Name: Kamo Choso

Age: 23

Occupation: Student

Prior appointments: None.

Prior love life: None.

Purpose: Client seeks a rental girlfriend to sit through a family dinner with his family, pretending to be his girlfriend. Prior backstory required to be able to maintain the conversation and create the illusion of a loving relationship (5 months). Flirting and mild physical affection. 

Extra notes: Client says to please be wary of his extra ‘rowdy’ family. 

And so, you’d accepted.

You met up with the aforementioned Choso—and found yourself a little taken aback at just how…cute he was.

Nerdy. Nervous.

Pushing his glasses up as he frantically introduced himself - that, too, messing his name up a few times before actually telling you.

Exactly your type. Yuki had been right.

He was your age, and went to - it turns out - the same university as you. Though the two of you hadn’t seen each other before, Choso confessed that that might be because he was cooped up in the library most of the time. 

He bowed at least a dozen times through apologies for the trouble- even though you assured him that meeting a family wasn’t anything out of your way. And then he insisted on paying extra, on coming up with a code should you want to leave, on—you shook your head and grabbed his hand. “So, how did we meet, boyfriend?”

You always did enjoy the ones where big families were involved - sure, they might be more awkward in the long run…but those types of dates always did manage to make you feel so warm inside. Big families. Big emotions.

And the biggest, perhaps, of all had been meeting the Itadori family.

They’d been unlike any other family you’ve ever met.

And that was saying a lot.

Thus, you’re letting out a prolonged sigh the moment you’re stepping outside—it was some downtown diner that the six of you had ended up at after your less-than-ceremonious exit at the ice cream parlor. Sukuna had been craving something hearty after living through that introduction on just sweets and coffee - and Jin had suggested one of their favorite ramen places.

It was only after you’d sat down with them at one of the booths - the one they called their ‘usual’ - that Jin had revealed that when they referred to it as ‘their’ ramen place—they really meant the their.

In everything but ownership.

This was the first restaurant they’d gone to celebrate Choso’s first birthday, this was the first restaurant they’d gone to after Jin’s mother had passed, this was the first restaurant they’d gone to after Yuji was born and Jin was granted full custody.

And you couldn’t help but feel a strange sinking feeling at the pit of your stomach. What was that you said about family-oriented dates being the most awkward in the long term?

At least the ramen had been the best you’d ever tasted- and the conversation flowed freely. Even Sukuna seemed to forgo his initial suspicion to make some conversation with you on Akihabara’s best spots. 

And in the end, you were walking out of that ramen restaurant with a full stomach and an even more full heart. 

Waving to the retreating backs of Jin, Sukuna, Wasuke, and a sleeping Yuji—you’re turning to Choso once they were completely out of sight. “Your family is…”

“Abhorrent?” He pushes his glasses up with a crooked smile. Choso had eased up around you significantly compared to your initial meeting outside the Doki Doki building, stammering through an adequate backstory for your faux-relationship, though he still seemed to be the nerve-wracked type.

“No…” You pretend to think.

“Overbearing?”

“No.”

“Savages?”

“Certainly not.”

“The servers at that ice cream parlor would disagree.” Choso mutters, “How about aneurysm-causing?”

“No.” You’re shaking your head once again, before turning to him with a smile. “They’re loving.”

Choso says nothing, but the tips of his ears burn.

“They care about you a lot- even your uncle was making sure I wasn’t some stranger just taking your money.” Well…

The long-haired man pushes his glasses up with a sputter of confirmation- or at least something that sounds like it. “I-I suppose ah- in their own…ways they’re rather…” Choso swallows a few times, and you’re watching his face as he does so—the Sun was dipping past the horizon now, and cracking its golden yolk over the grooves of his worried face. Handsome. Choso Kamo was just so handsome. 

With his lashes dark and draping over his cheekbones. With his lips pouty and bitten whenever he was thinking deeply about something. With his stature so tantalizingly tall—though he didn’t even seem to be aware of it, as he navigated the world like a newly-birthed fawn. 

He was the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen - glasses and all. 

“—caring.” Choso finally finishes his sentence.

You’re letting a smile stretch across your lips- and before you can think twice, you’re clasping Choso’s hand once more. You’d been doing it so often over the course of the date that it almost feels- natural now. 

“You know…you paid for five hours of my time, Choso. Do you know how much more time we have left?” 

“Two hours, fourteen minutes and—” He grows ever-redder as he stares down at you. Were you…leaning in? Pressing yourself against him? Fuck. “-f-fifteen seconds.”

“Mmmm, I do love a smart boy.” Beginning to tug him in another direction from the path to the Doki Doki building - though you leave enough leeway that he can stop should he want to. Choso follows you like a dog on a leash. “I don’t usually do this, but if you want to spend the rest of your time with me then…I know this ah- other place we can go to?”

“Like you want me to c-call my family back for another family dinner?” Choso asks, eyes bulging.

“Oh no, no.” You laugh. “This place isn’t family friendly at all.”

.

.

.

“A-a love hotel-”

“One room, please. Standard.” Interrupting Choso, you smile at the receptionist.

“Will that be for an allocated time or overnight?”

“Hmm…” You glance sidelong at the gawking Choso next to you- looking around the hotel lobby as though it was some sort of attraction. “Overnight, please.”

As the woman behind the desk continued tap-tap-tapping away at her keyboard, you take a moment to look at Choso - now adjusting his glasses to make sure that he was seeing right. That really was a bowl of condoms sitting on the front desk. As the heat rushes up the back of his neck, you’re wrapping your arms around one of his own—and pressing your body against his. “Everything alright, Cho?”

He’d been like this ever since you started heading him in the direction of the glitzy love establishment. Pink walls. Fluorescent lights. He’d agreed to going…elsewhere to continue your date- but he’d expected your apartment or something! Choso had been stunned but allowed you to lead him in front of the love hotel, and once outside you turned towards him once more. It was the first time you yourself was doing this with who was supposed to be a client. “And you’re really su-”

“Yes.”

And that was that.

The lobby was quiet…too quiet. In a way that made your spine tingle with anticipation.

“That’s a…a real bowl of condoms.” He exclaims- earning a look from the receptionist. 

“That is. Is this your way of saying that we don’t need any?” You joke…mostly. Then the key gets slid over to you - Room 143 - and you’re nodding at the receptionist. “Thank you.”

The two of you make your way down the lust-pink corridor and take the elevator up to your room - jamming in the key to open up a space that looked as if a honeymoon threw up all over it. Rose petals on the floor. Faux candles flickerin’ on the beside cabinet. Rows upon rows of even more condoms lined on the middle of the queen-sized bed. 

If you looked at it from the right angle, it formed a few hearts. 

“I didn’t mean we shouldn’t use them…” Choso’s the first one to speak- and he visibly gulps as you close the door behind you two. “It’s just…I-I’ve never done this before.”

Your eyes widen—you’d been suspecting this ever since you entered. But to have it actually confirmed…“No fooling around before finals or anything? Nothing to de-stress?”

He shakes his head n’ bites his lower lip. “Nothing. I haven’t even had my first kiss, to be honest…” Choso looks up at you with those nervous eyes. “Is that okay?”

“Okay?” You smile. Walking over to twist your hands into his lapels- and tug him to you. “It’s perfect. And since you’ve shared a secret with me, I’m gonna share one with you, okay?”

He nods. 

And so you’re leaning in so that your lips are grazing - just grazing - his pretty, blushing ears. “It turned me on more than it should’ve, seeing you on your knees in that parlor.”

Choso gasps-

And then your lips are on his. 

Then you’re tucking his cute, shivering bottom lip into your mouth—and sucking softly. Choso lets out the most guttural groan at the act- and his hands tremble in mid-air not knowing what to do. 

“Don’t be shy.” You’re cooing at him - reaching up and guiding one of his hands to be on the back of your neck—the other one on your ass. You lean into his surprisingly firm chest, “Although…I find it really cute when you’re shy.”

His involuntary whimper gets swallowed up by your own lips. 

You’re the one that’s guiding him through the sensual motions of your mouth. Kissing and kissing him till he’s senseless.

Till those thick glasses of him have been knocked ever-so-slightly askew.

Till you’ve left him weak in the knees - literally. 

Choso Kamo is melting into you—he’s letting his hands grasp your body as though a forgetting man holding onto his last memory, a drowning sailor holding onto a lifeboat. It doesn’t even feel real to him. And he can’t stop himself as his hands, his body, his knees buckle n’ he’s sliding doooooown the expanse of your body- lips breaking contact with yours with a pained grunt.

Before he knows it, his knees are hitting the floor.

And he’s peering up at you with a desperate expression; brows pinched, mouth kiss-bitten and trembling. Expression something of dazed awe. It makes your pussy clench at just how utterly pathetic he looks. “Everything alright, baby?”

“Ngh- yes.” You watch as one of his hands automatically shoots to cover his crotch - he was rock-fucking-hard already. 

“You suuuuure?” Teasing. There’s a devilish twinkle in your eyes that’s reflected through his as utter indigence. 

And without saying anything more, you step backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed. Bouncing a few times. You’re sitting yourself down on the plush bedsprings, crossing your legs- and watching him through half-lidded eyes. Not a single word comes out of you.

But it doesn’t take a single word for Choso to realize what you wanted with a jolt—

He crawls to you.

He crawls to you.

Choso’s letting his features twist into something akin to embarrassment - with the tips of his ears so red that they were practically radiating heat - as he edges closer. As he shifts on his knees. As he crawls just as he had been doing in the ice cream parlor—except this time, the only cherry he was searching for was that cute lil’ wet spot between your legs.

Your dress was short and already hiked up to reveal those pale pink panties. 

Was that a little bow on top?

Though it seems like an age before he’s finally able to reach close enough to affirm that- yes, that was a little bow on top. Choso finally manages to without combusting, and looks up at you with wide, pleading eyes. 

“Please…” He begs.

You’re softly caressing his cheek- almost lovingly. And Choso’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into the touch in an almost feline manner. 

Moving to his jawline. Moving to the back of his sweaty scalp.

And then you’re shoving his pretty face between your legs—and Choso’s letting himself gladly be shoved. Manhandled. His chin sticks against the foamy mess of your panties, so wet with all your leaking juices. His nose digs between the plushest parts of your swollen pussylips. And Choso lets out a hallowed breath as he gapes his mouth ever-so-slightly wider-

“Awww, why so shy, baby?” You’re cooing down at him.

With your hand clasped onto the back of his head- you’re guiding Choso’s mouth to better plaster against your pussy. For him to find his balance.

“S-s’like a second kiss.” Choso sputters out. And you’re grinning.

“Naughty, are we?” You had a feeling that this was going to be a loooooot of fun…

Choso’s mouth was parted. And his lips were rubbin’ incessantly up and down the outline of your cunt—up and down, up and down.

That flimsy fabric of your panties was just glued to your sopping wet pussy, and he’s able to slot his lips over your folds perfectly. Managing to string down a line of hot wet kisses where you needed him the most- “Mmmm…” You’re arching your back with a deep groan as his nose fits between your pussylips—the pointed tip pressing on your clit. “Just like that, Cho. You can go deeper if you like, y’know that?”

“H-how, baby?” He rasps. Those pleading eyes of his were just so cute- and Choso can’t last too long speaking without pressing a few more open-mouthed kisses on your cunt.

“You want me to teach you?” You’re asking him, to which he nods. “Mmm, well open your mouth a little wider- just a little wider-”

And he does- his cute canines snaggin’ against the top of your pussylips.

“You can just start off by kissing lightly, baby. Remember how we did all that kissing earlier?” Nodding once more. “Yeah- just try to replicate that.”

“M’gonna do my best, baby…” He’s starting off soft at first- slow. Almost timid in his movements as he properly slots his mouth over your pussy - over your panties - and kisses n’ sucks lightly. 

“Fuck- you study biology, so you know where the good spots are, hm?”

“The glans clitoris a-and the…” Kitten kisses. “-the labia minora contain an immense number of nerve endings.” Chaste pecks—but every single droplet of your pussy’s juices splashed onto his tongue seems to leave Choso Kamo reeling. 

Eyes drawing to the back of his head. Ragged pants emanating from the back of his throat. 

And he’s pushing himself deeper, deeper, deeper - making out with your pussy so desperately, depravedly that his glasses were crushing against your pelvis—“Easy there, baby. Easy.” The only way to even get him to take a breath is to tug him back using his hair. “We have more than ‘nough time, okay?”

“Mhmmmm…” He nods through a pout- lips sucking off the juices seeped into your panties. “All night.”

“Eager boy. Next, I want you to use your tongue, okay?” His expression turns into something startled. “What? Not scared are you, Cho?”

Choso shakes his head furiously—as though he couldn’t stand the mere thought of it. “N-no.” He hisses, hot breath gluing to your leaking core - the way he was just so…greedy to lavish your pussy left you even wetter. And he was gladly allowing the excess residue to land all over his face and end up sliding off, “No no no- not at all. This pretty labia- Mmmpf—”

Whatever else was on the tip of his tongue gets muffled- 

For then Choso’s flattening his tastebuds on top of your pussy. Those swollen pussylips. Movin’ his muscle siiiiiiide to the siiiiiide and then up and down the line of your slit. 

You whine, “Oh- just fuck me with it.” Tugging on his locks, “Fuck me with your tongue- ngh, the way I know you’ve been wantin’ to since we met. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you were looking at me…”

“I was…” He pleads. He prays between your legs. Zig-zagging his tongue wildly. 

And then after he’s sucked off your panties all clean - Choso reaches one of his hands upwards to try and take off those useless undergarments-

But you’re faster than him.

And you’re stopping him with a searing pull at his scalp. The nerdy man lets out a sudden yelp and looks at you with the prettiest doe-eyes. “Ah ah—” It almost ached your heart to act so mean to him, not giving him exactly what he wanted. But more than your heart- it was your pussy that was throbbing. “Now who said you’ve earned the right to take them off, hm?”

“B-but…” Choso’s peripherals widen - they were glazed-over with lust. “How can I reach the tunica mucosa if I don’t take off—”

“You don’t have to take it off, right?” You hum. “Eat me out through my panties-”

Just the mere sound of that sentence makes Choso moan.

“-and…” And you’re cocking your head to get a better look at where his hips were starting to rut. Against the rickety frame of the love hotel’s bed, he was grindin’ and crushing what seemed to be an aching erection. “-don’t touch yourself, either.”

Choso’s free hand immediately halts in its tracks.

He’s shooting you a pained look- but more than that, it was flooded with pure, unabashed need. 

Something dark. Something primal.

Choso’s tipping his head back and letting you plough your pussy against his mouth- in rough, rapid grinds. You don’t wait a single moment for him to catch his breath—and that seems far from his main priority in the first place. He’s merely flopping his lengthy tongue out - so pinkish n’ pretty - and slithering it past your panties.

Riiiiiight underneath, after a few tries he manages to ease it past the rim of your puckered entrance.

You’re letting out a semi-shocked gasp once you feel your convulsing walls streeeeetching at the girth of him. He was thicker than you’d expected- with the ridges of his tastebuds melding to your inner channel. And without any experience, Choso doesn’t know how to ease into it - which works just as well for you as he’s expanding his thick tongue inside of you. And then thrashing n’ thrashing away. “Sh-shit, keep going, Cho.”

“What- hck! what do I have to do?” He manages to somehow ask between heavy gulps. And even that amount of time spent parted with your pussy means that he’s letting out loooong, luxurious licks inside your velvety walls to make up for it.

“H-huh?” You blink down at him through your bleary eyes. “Keep going, ngh- faster, baby.”

“No, I just meant…” Choso blinks those big, beautiful peripherals at you. He kept both hands on your thighs to press himself ever-deeper—he couldn’t get enough. “-what do I have to do t-to take off your panties? I wish to see all of you…that pretty vulva like a flower, the- ngh, prepuce…”

The mere thought has him ruttin’ away against the bed once more.

“How about you make me- haaaah, cum, baby? Hm?” You smile down at the desperate man, “And you have to do it before cumming yourself, m’kay?”

He can’t remove your panties.

He can’t touch himself.

He can’t cum before stuffin’ his face between your legs and making you cum first—

Choso was in heaven.

Even through the obscurement of his now-fogged glasses, Choso’s features twist into something primal- and he lets out a looooow whine before drag-drag-dragging his tongue into your clingy walls again. Thrusting in and out at a frenzied pace—the nerd was eating you out like a man starved.

Almost wolfish.

Choso was suckin’ and biting and snarling deep into your cunt. His glasses stick against your clit, and every single time he was forced to part with your pussy in order to breathe felt like fucking torture to him. “The clitoral nerve network consists of about 8000 to- ngh, over 10000 nerve endings-” Before you know it, he’s spitting. Letting it smear down your panties. Then dragging one of his calloused thumbs down that buttony nub. “-and baby, I need you to feel every single one.”

“Ohhhhh, fuck.” Your back arches deeper into him. Hands planting against the mattress in order to steady yourself, “A man that knows anatomy is dangerous.”

“And then the tunica mucosa…those spots there are also-” Such a priggish smile spreads across Choso’s mouth - one that you’re feeling on your cunt - as he swabs his tongue inside and stimulates some of those sweet nerve endings he was talking about. The hooked end of his muscle pushes apart your clingy walls, and somehow manages to find those sensitive areas so easily- “-effective…”

“Shut up and eat me out.” Pushing him deeper between your legs.

“A-and that’s not to mention—” But of course, you should’ve known that it isn’t easy to shut a STEM major up when it comes to their subject of interest. Choso most of all. And that nerdy man is babbling away whilst he’s slipping his tongue in and out, in and out, of you at a furious pace- until it was nothing but a pinkish blur squeezing away between your pussylips. “-the Gräfenberg spot-”

“You mean the g-spot?!” You’re wailing out.

“My favorite.” Choso nods, with your clit sucked into his mouth. Holding your panties to the side. He now alternates between rolling his tongue over your sensitive nub, and pushing it deep into your hole—stretchin’ you out juuuuust enough for his fingers to slip n’ squelch their way inside.

You’re letting out the shrillest keen as two of his fingers scissor apart your cunt’s walls, pushing up into their spongy surroundings to mold his sheer size into you. He’s softer on the tips of his digits, and rougher against the sides - “Easy there. Fuck, easy…” Choso’s sucking in a harrowed breath.

“I should be the one saying that to you.” You huff. Because Choso wasn’t dry-humping the foot of the bed whilst eating you out anymore - he was way past that.

Now solely keeping himself pushed- wedged in one place because just a little more friction and he’s bound to be cumming. “I-I’m alright, baby.” He tells you, “The Gräfenberg spot is located on the anterior wall, so right…up…” 

Just a single press up into the roof of your cunt makes you buck - not having pressed on your sweetest spot just yet but-

“And then about two- three inches deeeeeep—” The loudest, sloppiest squelch! echoes across all four corners of the love hotel room as he eases inside. Roverin’ about inside your tight, wet channel for a few strokes before an explosion of pleasure runs right through you. “-right- there-”

“Fuuuuuuuck, oh.” You simper out. “There- right there- ngh.”

And then he’s thump-thumping his perfect fingers inside your cunt- accurately pinpointing that one spot inside you with his digits like a searchlight. Again and again. And don’t think that his mouth wasn’t working overtime—Choso kept his maw permanently gaped on top of your clit and had his lips hollowed with a constant suctioning motion. 

Letting out broken moans off into your cunt all the while-

Choso manages to slip in a third finger- though those damn panties kept getting in the way. “Baby…” There’s a rasping, almost guttural tone to his words that you don’t recognize at first- you’re even raising onto your elbows to make sure that this was the same Choso Kamo.

But it sure was.

Glasses pressed up against your cunt—getting wetter by the second. “Baby, you’re experiencing vaginal contractions and tremors. Your pulse is faster. Your transudate is leaking even more- you’re getting wetter. And your clitoris is growing even, mmm-” He savors the feeling of your nub being pulled n’ dragged into his mouth. “-more swollen.”

“A-and that means…?” Though you already have an inkling of it.

“You’re going to orgasm, baby.” He never sounded more confident than when he was speaking science between your pussylips. “And I need you to cum aaaaaall over my mouth, okay?”

“Was planning to.” You whisper-

And it’s with a few more strokes, with a few more gashes of your pussy against his face, that the pressure that’d been building in your pelvic region finally explodes.

It thrums through your body faster than you can announce it—making every single vein, artery, and axiom within you vibrate until they’re sizzling at the sheer pressure. It felt as though your body was on fire. And the hottest it could get was at your sopping core- shoved against Choso’s pretty plush mouth and getting draaaagged through the violent peaks of your high.

The best you’ve ever had.

Choso manages to locate your g-spot right when the pleasure was hitting you the most - and you’re getting the faint suspicion that he was counting your throb-throb-throbs until he’d timed it just right. “One…two…” 

Thrashing his fingers deepest.

Damn-near tearing your panties.

Shoving his erection against the bed. 

And his tongue would move over your clit in an almost soothing motion- “Your vasocongestion m-means you’re sucking me up even- ngh, more. Fucking tight.” He spits. “Myotonia and contractions. Your orgasm’s strong, baby.”

“Didn’t need science to tell me that.” You comment.

Thrown through your orgasm.

It’s a crescendo then a plateau, and then when you’re finally done - Choso keeps jabbing his greedy fingers into you just for a few seconds longer. Fucking you through it. Fucking you past it.

You’re so sensitive by this point that you’re sobbing- pushing on his sweaty forehead. “Baby—oh, baby I’m done.” 

“Done…?” He rasps. Eyes bleary as he raises them up, seeing you on your elbows. “Oh.”

“And you did as I wanted.” It takes much more effort than you expected to detach him from your quivering pussy - still a little sensitive from your previous orgasm. It was incredible. A part of you almost couldn’t believe that it’d been poor, inexperienced Choso Kamo that pulled that out of you. 

He’s setting your cunt free with a whimper n’ a loooooud slurp!

Watching slack-jawed as you peel off your soaked-through panties and throw it right at him- it makes you gasp when Choso catches it with one hand…

Then brings that flimsy fabric riiiiight up to his face to sniff, to suck off the remnants of your syrupy sap. Not a speck of regret.

“Filthy.” You leer.

And then you’re tightening your hold on him—merely than sound was enough to wrench out a yearning croon from him. Preventing Choso from chasing after your cunt once more, “Now now…you don’t want to continue losing that virginity of yours, baby?”

“I-I do.” He eagerly nods.

“Good. Then get on the bed f’me.” You’re patting at the space beside you.

Soon enough, your positions are somewhat flipped - Choso finds himself lumbering onto the bed. Back against the mattress. Skin searing at the heat that your body had left behind. 

He lies where you did- and you’re making quick work of discarding his graphic t-shirt (proudly claiming ‘I found this humerus’ next to a picture of a bone) and his trousers. The tent in his boxers was jaw-dropping—Choso stood proudly erect, thick and looking heavy between his legs, his bulbous tip kept trickling out more n’ more precum the longer you stared. 

And had he just…

Taking off his boxers to make sure—you’re revealing his cock. Long and rock-hard.

It slaps against his soft core, and leaves a heart-shaped mark of sap. Just about seven or so inches in length- though the longer your gaze lingers on him…the longer he seems to look. Shit, was he about nine inches, maybe? And he wasn’t too thick - just flared enough at the tip that he’s sure to make your walls feel it. 

But Choso had an abundance of pretty, long veins decorating down the shaft—underneath the tip, creating patterns down to his base. One which had a few sparse tufts of curly brown - almost black - hair.

Yet what you’re interested in the most was how Choso was so damn hard that his blushin’ red tip looked just about ready to fall off—

“I c-couldn’t help myself, baby.” Choso admits shyly. His hands reach downwards to try and cover his mess- but you’re waving him off. “Having you cum aaaaall over my mouth made me- ngh, want to cum as well.”

“I can see that.” You smirk.

“I didn’t mean to.” He insists, voice growing urgent as the silence stretches - fearing that you’d perhaps refuse to continue as he somewhat broke his promise. “P-promise, I didn’t mean to! It’s just that your tunica mucosa was squeezing me so tight- and your vaginal lubrication just tasted so sweet-”

“Choso?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Shush.”

“I- oh.”

Because, initially, you’d planned on riding the man senseless. But now you were leering yourself closer—almost sake-like in motion.

Staring deep into Choso’s widening eyes once you’re hovering yourself over his shivering legs. His long abdomen. And pressing a cute peck right on the top of his frothing tip—the splashes of his precum were syrupy-sweet. And they were combining with Choso’s cum from earlier to add a salty tint-

“So messy.” You’re whispering as you run your tongue ‘round and ‘round the top of his shaft. Cleaning him off until he was shining. “Are you gonna make a mess like this inside me too, hm?”

“D-don’t say something like that…s’gonna make me cum again.” Choso pleads.

And he really was serious - his words were on the verge of shattering.

You’re letting out a giggle- right into his aching hot cock. The vibrations sprint through his body and make him buck up into you—body before his mind, he doesn’t even realize until he’s doing so with a startled yelp. “My apologies-”

“Mmm, keep going. Get some practice in before the real deal.” You hum once more. 

Choso seems as though he’s about to sob - this was too good for him - as he fucks his cock into your mouth a few more times. You relax your throat to take down most of him, and the parts that you can’t get milked with one hand. 

Once. Twice. Thrice and quadruple before his flared tip starts twitchin’ wildly—draaaaagging up the soft insides of your throat, he leaves a salty aftertaste behind that makes you realize…

You’re pulling off of his cock with an emanating pop! “But you’ve got to save that up for inside, got it?”

He’s nodding so hard you idly wonder whether he might get whiplash. “Yes, baby. Anything for you, baby.”

“Mmm…” Climbing up the expanse of his body, you’re kissing Choso squarely with the same lips. “Just how I like it.”

And then your knees straddle Choso’s slender hips, your thighs press against his sweltering skin - you reach behind you to grab ahold of his cock’s base—and the sudden squeeze is enough to make him jolt. Bodily. He’s letting out a visceral shiver, “B-baby…”

You guide his ruddied tip to you—and just the barest, briefest smooch of your sweet pussy makes him jolt. Just feelin’ his hardness press up against your softness.

It makes him drive his hips off the mattress suddenly. 

“Ah ah-” You warn. “Take it easy, baby. We have all night, don’t we?”

“But…” Choso’s eyes flicker between your face n’ where the two of you were about to connect. Something in him seems to almost break. So close. So close- “That’s so unfair. Your pussy feels like this and you’re expecting me to take it easy?”

A hand claws down your arched spine.

“Not even the textbooks could replicate how good it feels- m’not even inside you yet and I feel like I’m going insane.”

You swipe a thumb down his throbbing tip—catching a bead of white that was threatening to pour out. “I told you. As long as you keep it inside, Cho.”

And then you’re letting your hips lower - aiming to seat yourself down on that toned pelvis of his. “Ohhhh, fuck.” Your back bends, your head tips backwards as you’re taking in the inches of him. It’s a slow process - given that Choso was much larger than average - and you’re wrenching out primal moans as his thick length invades your core. A sweet prodding vein down the side of him was already massaging your insides—“You’re so big, baby. It’s always the quiet ones, huh?”

If he heard you, then he doesn’t make a show of it.

Choso’s handsome features scrunch up into something of pure ecstasy as he dives his cock deeper into you. Hands flying to your waist. Bottom lip stuck between his teeth. “Inside-” He whispers.

“Hmmm?”

“Inside- inside.” Choso gets out through heated pants. His mouth was moving a mile a minute- fuck, even his mind was. But he couldn’t possibly juggle any single coherent thought when his cock was sucked between your soft, soft pussylips and getting practically drained already. “A-am I really going inside? Or is this just a dream, baby?”

Without waiting around for an answer- he’s pinching his arm.

It leaves an angry red mark that proves to him that no…life really was this sweet.

“I am?” As though still in disbelief. 

As though this in and of itself would be enough to make him cum and- oh, shit. 

He really was cumming.

It seems to take the both of you by surprise, and Choso’s lunging his hips completely off the mattress - slamming his cockhead into the springy back of your cunt. 

Bouncin’ off at the sheer force for a few seconds- it isn’t long before he’s then scouring deep into your walls and letting his bawling divot run free. Cumming in less than a single stroke inside you. “Oh- oh, shit.” Choso’s mouth waters, a single line of spittle running from the corner of his lips. “I’m sorry I…”

But he doesn’t have an answer.

He really, truly doesn’t.

“Pussy got your tongue?” You giggle. 

This was his first time - and your pussy just felt that good all wrapped ‘round him and keeping him hostage.

His cum’s flooding you with a warmth, spreadin’ from the in-betweens of your legs and then right upwards. The satiny tresses of it rush uuuuup your walls n’ then right back down—those goopy layers then getting fucked back in by his desperate semi-thrusts. 

Squelch after squelch as he accumulates the cum like frosting on top of his swirling tip. Shoving. 

Choso scrunches his eyes shut and tears start to well up behind- now he was crying, too? Crying just by putting it in?! Buried like this, he feels like he’d do anything for you right now. He feels like he could lay his life on the line for you right now. He feels like—like—he could really truly ask you to become his real girlfriend now…

“Baby, I think I love you.” Choso blubbers up. “Do you want to marry me?”

“Let’s get dinner first.” You giggle, lovingly patting his cheek. 

“Oh…”

If you could feel the way his ruddied tip twitches inside you (and you could) then you’re not teasing him for it…much. Simply a smirk before you’re veering your hips down until he’s bottomed-out.

Clit massaging against the scruff of his happy trail. Pussylips struggling to squeeze around his sheer size. “Fuck.” You’re groaning, starting up a lecherous pace that keeps Choso’s toes curled - his head thrown back into the pillows, his skin blushing. He was flustered.

But more than that- he wanted more.

And sending a silent word of gratitude to the chance of the universe and science itself, Choso slithers that same right hand of his between your sultry legs. Sheened with slick. 

You were making such a mess fucking him whilst you’re still keeping his cum inside you—he scrapes his calloused thumb up, up, uuuup the few inches of his cock still left to fit inside. Collecting the slimy layers of slick up until the folds of your pussy. Reaching it up to his mouth- 

“Now, now.” You tut. “Are we just going to waste that, hm?”

“Oh…you’re right.” With a quiver of his lips, he then plunges it back inside. Then repeats the motion again and again until you’re feeling stuffed to the brim—with both his cock n’ his sappy fluid. Like you said before, it all deserved to stay inside. 

And you better keep it.

The rickety bedsprings creeeeeeak—! as he meets your pace. 

Choso continues, “Not just cum.” His curvaceous thumb swipes your inner folds again, “But that bulbourethral fluid deserves to stay inside, too. How else m’I gonna fill you up, baby?”

“Oh, of course.” You coo, something sensual. “But don’t think that that’s going to be your last time cumming tonight, Cho.”

His eyes damn-near bulge out of their skull. “E-excuse me?”

“It’s not even your last time cumming in this hour.” Oblivious - or so you pretend to be - to his growing concern n’ his gaping mouth. You’re bowing your body into his—manoeuvring your hips in somewhat of a circular motion, the slightest figure-eights and curves, that drag his tunneling cock juuuuuust right against every nook and cranny of your walls. Every hidden spot. “You’re gonna cum for me at least twice more, right?”

“I-I—I don’t know if that’s even possible!” Choso sputters, pushing his glasses up with his free hand- it was glossy with the excess of your slick from earlier.

And without warning, you’re leaning down to lightly lick off a bit of that glittering sheen.

Choso moans n’ feels his overly-stimulated length jolting away inside of you. “Baby, just consider the refractory period. Has it even been a few minutes since I last…?”

“Just about.” You’re smile. “Should be enough, no?”

“Though it varies based on age and health- when I can cum next depends on the blood redistribution, and how long prolactin and serotonin lasts in the body.” Choso admits then, albeit a bit sheepishly. “And I’m still fuh-feeling so goooood, baby- fuck I can’t—”

“But my smart boy’s gonna find a way, right?” Even if he couldn’t cum again, however - it was just too cute to watch Choso squirm like this. “When I said I wanted it inside, I wanted it stuffed inside, Cho.”

“S-stuffed…” He breathes - almost hypnotized by your pussy.

You’re grinding and swervin’ and clenching around his vein-loaded length in ways he could’ve only ever dreamed about before…“Mhm. Need it pouring out of me.” You beg, putting your best pleading expression on. “Need it up until…” 

Hands scouring up his front to press down on your stomach- almost up to your chest.

“-here.”

You pout. 

“If m’not bloated with your cum, Cho, is there even a point?”

“No there isn’t.” Choso’s jaw drops—as though the epiphany had just dropped on him. And no sooner are the words leaving his worry-bitten lips, he finds himself pumping wispy ropes of cum deep past your entrance. 

He doesn’t even know how he did it.

His body just seems to listen to you more than himself - and Choso jerks his pelvis up in synchronization with the faintish strings of cum that escape him. Thoroughly into your cunt. Thoroughly coating it on top of your womb.

You’re shivering as you feel the thin excess thwack! against your deepest innards. Such a lecherous feeling that cannot be replicated. 

Every time he strikes your spongy cervix, Choso lets out a sudden whimper. He sobs. He groooans. He’s fighting to clamor onto your body in any possible way that he could - your waist, your legs, your tits. It doesn’t matter where, Choso just needed to grab ahold of you and perhaps try to get you to fucking slow down—

“Please.” Every single letter in that word is botched with a cry, “P-please. Baby, keep riding me like this and you’re going to make me cum again-”

“Isn’t that the point? Third time’s the charm?” You ask. 

“Oh…” It’s then that he remembers that you’d said twice more- he has to cum twice more. Hiccuping, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Cocking your head with a smile, “And would you like to stop?”

“Not at all.”

Then you’re planting one hand in the middle of his defined chest for balance. Throwing your head back and ridin’ him silly.

Choso cries beneath you. Choso babbles. Torn between the pleasure of having those sweet, sopping lips wrapped ‘round him- and the insanity of his orgasm just barely bating before you’re attempting to hurtle him into another one. This was almost too much for his just recently-lost virginity, but Choso begs for more, more, more. “Please- please- that anterior wall of yours is so clo-”

With your other set of fingers then shoved into Choso’s pretty mouth- spit splashes from the sides of his lips. But he’s taking you so happily—“No no, keep going.” You tell him once his brows raise in surprise, “I just wanna watch my poor boyfriend struggle just a bit.”

“Mmmmpf- soooo good.” He lets out an agonized moan, muffled through the intrusion of your digits. You’re swirling them ‘round his mouth and watching him lightly choke on them. “I need to c-cum just once more, huh?”

Choso’s tears were enough to wash off the fog from his glasses lens.

And he blinks those teary eyes up at you - a few times before one of his hands slithers between your legs. Almost difficult, considering how the space between your two sweaty, crashing bodies was practically non-existant—but his long fingers find a way to thumb apart your puffy pussylips. Nearly swollen shut.

He runs the doughy tips of his digits across your clit, “Around it…just light kisses.” Choso murmurs to himself. “Juuust a little- ngh.”

A single squeeze of your fluttering walls leaves him reeling. 

“And then the good spots-” Peering down at your glossy cunt through his glasses, his half-lidded eyes. “The primary erogenous zones are the clitoris and introitus. Then the periurethral surrounding the urethra is also…oh…” Alternating between bashin’ his swollen cocktip against your g-spot, and thoroughly massaging every good spot he’d memorized.

“Shit…” You suddenly clench around him. “Keep going.”

He was seeing stars at the mere action. “And then the- hngh, even the perineum…” Fingers dipping just a liiiittle downwards to roll over that spot. He was unabashed - not in the state to be as he usually would. “And then fucking- at least as much as I can…here…” Slack-jawed, gaze unfocused. “My favorite is the clitoris.” The nerd presses the crescent pad of his thumb down on that knob.

Your hips are stutterin’ at the sheer amount of pleasure overwhelming you. Choso has taken up stimulating your clit in constant circular motions now. “I th-thought you said your favorite was the g-spot?”

“Both.”

As if on cue, he’s banging his thick tip against that ooooone spot.

Choso was stimulating you almost too well. Leaving you the one speechless as he drills his hips into you at a relentless pace—almost painfully desperate. 

“Good boy.” You whisper.

“Just need to make you- mmm, cum soon.” He states. “Because if you cum…then I’m sure to cum, too.”

Shoving a third finger in his mouth, he moans as he sucks. You hum, “And you’re sure you’re a virgin?”

“S’just everything you t-taught me.” He insists, mouth full yet listening to every word you said - if you expected an answer, then he was giving you an answer. “And sometimes…I’d search up…things online…”

“Online? Poor, innocent Choso Kamo watches porn?”

“Not that, I get too shy.” Choso responds. He blushes all the way down to the roots of his hair, “But using my textbooks, I’d- hah, read through them…study them…look at all the diagrams…”

You smirk. “Ever jerked off to a textbook, Choso?”

His jaw drops. “No…” Although you remain rather suspicious of the ever-deepening blush that seems to invade his cheeks—all the way down to his collarbones. “But I did jerk off just today.”

“Today?” One of your brows raise, “Don’t tell me this was- hah, before we met or…?”

He shakes his head. “After. After.” Big, bulbous tears make their way down his cheeks - and Choso tastes the salt on them as they splosh across his lips. You do too, as you kiss him. “S-snuck right into the bathroom at that ice cream parlor and- oh—”

“And what for? Saw a pretty someone at the neighboring table?”

Shaking his head even harder- “It was…you.”

“Me?”

“You said that thing- fuck, you said you needed me.” Choso’s dark chocolate-brown eyes glaze over as if he’s reminiscing the very moment. Living in it. “Under that table. And I couldn’t run to the bathroom faster to r-relieve myself.” Ah, this was that time then…

Your faux-boyfriend’s brows are then knitting.

His cock tunnels into you at an even more accelerated pace - one that leaves your head dizzy. Flinching at every run of his thumb down your pulsing clit. 

Choso finishes, “But I only lasted two pumps- the thought of you, ngh—” Thrusting in so deep that it felt as though, if he could go past your gooey cervix, then he long since would have. Choso thumps against the back of your cervix and remains there, “-wrapped around my cock and usin’ me to make your anterior- pussy feel pleasure was just too good of a fantasy for me.”

It’s a lewd admission.

It’s almost startling to hear this from Choso above all.

And it’s exactly what’s making you cum—just in time that he is. Your orgasm is prolonged and has been building up ever since he tickled your g-spot for the first time- “C-cumming—!” Belatedly, the announcement leaves your lips.

But Choso already knows.

He can already feel the rhythmic clenches of your sopping wet walls - the soft thing he’s ever felt. They’re tightening around him and tuggin’ on his pistoning cock like you didn’t fucking want him to leave. 

Toes curling. Back arching.

The bang after bang after bang right on that target of your g-spot meant that your orgasm was being intensified. Every peak left your thighs clenching around his waist, and you bounce your hips up n’ down furiously. Up n’ down. Up n’ down. “Yes- yes, yes, yes—and you’re c-cumming too, Cho.”

“I am?” Choso blinks his teary eyes down at your lower halves. The smacking of skin-against-skin was deafening, and Choso’s pelvis was rawly red due to the sheer friction. 

But more than that…he was feeling his even redder tip twitch a few times. Once. Twice. Thrice- before the warmth of bliss takes over his body. It’s a wave of euphoria even stronger than the last few, and it makes the nerdy boy flinch his hips up into yours- agonizingly good. He was hammering into you so animalistically- jabbing short, sloppy semi-thrusts. “I am.” Choso gasps out. “I’m cumming-”

He’d predicted as much earlier, but it actually worked?!

“M’filling you up, aren’t I?” Choso blabbers, a crazed smile on his face. “This virgin…I was able to stuff this pussy full.”

Lovingly patting your cunt. 

“So much so that- hah, look she’s even struggling to- ngh, take me. That cervix uteri is all flooded, huh? All drenched in me?” Through the waves of your high, you’re feeling your orgasm fizzle and pop as he rolls his thumb doooown your clit a few more times. “And these pretty labia of yours are all swollen- bloated with my cum, hm?”

“Mhm…” Before you blink a few times. “Oh- this one was shorter than the last though, wasn’t it? Maybe we need to go again- heh.”

“S’it already done? I…but I’m still…” Choso jabs out numerous more thrusts before he’s pulling out.

And whilst you’re interested in the squelch! and the feeling of hot, wet cum splashin’ out of you and onto his toned hips—Choso himself is more interested in the way his cock twitched n’ feels like he’s cumming…but nothing is actually coming out. 

“Orgasmic anejaculation?” He states in shock. “Baby, you’ve made me cum dry—”

“Oh.” Lips parting, you look down to watch as his pretty reddened tip jolts about irritatedly as though he was in the throes of his orgasm - and he was. It’s just that nothing was coming out. 

“I-it’s likely that this is due to the lack of semen replenishment. Thus, if there’s none left to-”

“So fourth time’s the charm, right?” You cock your head down at him with a smile.

Another time?!

His half-hard length twitches in interest.

“You really are going to be the death of me.”

Choso really, really needed to ask you out after this.

.

.

.

Ryomen Sukuna knew that the two of you weren’t dating.

He knew it.

He just had no way to prove it. 

That is…until one day, just a week after that initial introduction to you, Jin had bothered Sukuna into visiting his nephew. He’d made some cookies—some of your favorites that you’d briefly mentioned at the ramen place, and Jin had immediately gotten to work scouring through his recipes. Flipping through some of grandma’s old cookbooks - he really did get his love for cooking and baking from her.

And then trialing batch after batch of cookies in order to make the perfect one.

And Sukuna hadn’t minded, of course - no one in the house had. They each got to scarf down the ones that Jin deemed as ‘failed’ and they turned out as great as ever. Sukuna honestly didn’t know what more perfection Jin was searching for—especially not for someone he knew Choso was surely paying you in some manner…

There was no conceivable world in which his nephew - as much as Sukuna respected him, for the sole reason that he was related to him (and anyone in some proximity to the great Ryomen Sukuna can’t be all that bad…) - would ever have enough courage to ask a real person out. Let alone someone as electric as you?

Let alone have you say yes?!

Something was up. And Sukuna was on the case.

At least after he finishes this mountain of cookies…

Either way, it took an entire week for Jin to perfect his cookies. And once completed, he’d thumped Sukuna over the head with a couch cushion and told him to go deliver them to Choso.

Unfortunately they hadn’t managed to catch your address or anything of the sort - and there was no telling when Choso would have enough time between his studies and library-haunting to visit. Thus, it’d be easier to just have Sukuna (who was far too busy doing a whole load of nothing) drop the cookies off at Choso’s apartment and let him give it to you.

Jin could trust Choso with handing them to you safe n’ sound.

He couldn’t trust Sukuna not to swallow them whole on the way, however…

So it was with a tonne of brotherly intimidation and threatening brandishes of that cushion that Jin waved Sukuna off—‘you better not eat those cookies, Ryo.’

But Sukuna promised. He promised.

He had other, more important, things on his mind - like cornering Choso into admitting that the two of you actually weren’t dating. Maybe if he didn’t relent so easily, he’d even look around the apartment to check for signs of you or anything you’d left behind—after five months of dating, surely, there’d be some evidence, wouldn’t there?

And then maybe he’d eat the cookies- hah!

The perfect plan.

Ryomen Sukuna what a genius you were, what a mastermind—who said that Jin was the smarter brother?! It was Sukuna that liked literature and poetry (wait, was nerdiness genetic?) No one should underestimate the sheer underappreciated brilliance of a prodigy like-

“Choso’s uncle?” He gapes as you answer the door- and you’re just as beautiful as he remembered you. And oh, alright—Sukuna admits you’re beautiful. Gorgeous, actually.

Which is also why he found it hard to believe that Choso could ever manage to bag you- sure, he wasn’t bad looking…but that’s only because Choso was related to him.

Then again, he wasn’t any Ryomen Sukuna.

A Ryomen Sukuna that was feeling rather…a lot…small as he looks at you.

Your eyes widen as you recognize who your visitor was, though your smile never falters.

“Oh, Cho should be right out. Please come in, have you eaten breakfast yet? You should join us!”

Opening the door even wider, though he stands as still as a statue. 

“Is…everything alright.”

No movement once more. No answer, either.

“Ummm, maybe it’s more comfortable there then?” You’re awkwardly smiling at his lack of a response - this certainly wasn’t the Ryomen Sukuna that you’d met at the family dinner…And perhaps at the same time, you’re realizing why.

Because you weren’t just answering Choso’s apartment door—you were doing so in nothing but sleep shorts and a humerus-related t-shirt that was most definitely not yours. And above the hem of that ratty t-shirt were a series of bite marks, nail marks down your neck…such an obscene display that makes you immediately yelp and tug your neckline upwards.

Though Sukuna remains gawking. “I uh…”

“I am so sorry.” You’re blubbering away, and when your neckline fails to cover you adequately without showing off the similar marks on your midriff- you’re reaching your hands up instead. “We’d just been making breakfast, and I’d completely forgot-”

“No, that’s fine uh…” Goodness, when has the rough n’ tough Sukuna ever floundered like this? “It’s my fault for coming unannounced um…”

“What’s this?” Another voice sounds from inside the apartment.

Soon enough, Choso’s joining the two of you at the door—he’s in JBA sweatpants and pulling on a t-shirt as he walks. With whatever mercy that the universe had granted Sukuna, Choso sneaks up behind you, so he doesn’t see whatever similar markings might have been left on him as Choso finally wears his t-shirt properly. 

There’s amusement in Choso’s tone as he adjusts his glasses and speaks, “I never thought I’d see the day that you apologize to anyone, uncle Ryo.”

Choso throws an arm over your shoulder - the intimacy was palpable. Something far more different than at the ice cream parlor, and yet…Sukuna should’ve recognized the same admiring glint in Choso’s eyes back then, too.

The apartment behind was messy in that domestic way. There were eggs frying on the stove. 

“Sh-shut it.” Sukuna spits. “This is all your…girlfriend’s fault.”

Ah, you really were his girlfriend. The great Ryomen Sukuna has been wrong. How could this be? How could he fathom such a thing?

He takes a big bite out of one of those cookies. 

A/N. Oh Kuna dw I’m here for you <33