★

The brothers seemed to listen to punishment better when it was dealt by your hands. It started with when you snapped at them, raising your voice and putting them in their place purely with shock. Whatever they did wrong, they fixed it that day. Mammon…Mammon was a little different. He’d much rather deal with a punishment from you than Lucifer, though that didn’t keep him from his usual shenanigans. Eventually, stern talking to’s weren’t cutting it.

“Mammon, I have reason to believe you’ve been selling my things.” You haven’t even raised your voice, and Mammon resembles a kicked puppy. “Lectures haven’t been cutting it, I’m going to start taking physical measures with you.” The low lights of your bedroom highlight that pang of fear almost perfectly. It’s gone before it came. “Yeah, yeah, go ahead and tie me up already.”

You rummage around your wooden chest, retrieving something sleek and dark. “Actually, no. I’m going to punish you the way humans do.” You sit down on the edge of your bed, setting the paddle within your reach. Mammon swallows thickly, heat blooming on his face. “I-I mean, y-you,”

“Over my knees, this is your punishment.”

Mammon slowly shuffles over, averting his eyes every time he finds you still staring at him. “S’ weird,” he grumbles, yet he bends over your lap nonetheless, crossing his arms in front of himself. Just the feeling of your hand on his back makes him jump. You guide your hand down his tailbone, resting it on his rear. “I won’t start with the paddle just yet.”

Oddly enough, Mammon finds himself a little disappointed. That disappointment fades with the first hit, the fabric of his jeans cushioning the full force of your hand. He hides his face in his arms, biting down on his bottom lip. You hit again, dissatisfied with the lack of sting. “I’m pulling your pants down.”

“Wha-!”

You reach under him, where his crotch presses against your thighs and flick open his button. It takes a few tugs to get his tight jeans off, yet Mammon makes no effort to get away from you. You pull his jeans down under his ass, exposing black underwear. You decide to keep his underwear on him, if only to spare him from a complete strip of dignity.

The next spank is far more satisfying, a resounding slap! echoing from your palm. Mammon yelps, legs kicking out behind him. “That’s one,” you reel your hand back and hit again, slapping under his thighs. It elicits a high whimper this time, muffled by his arms. “Two,” he gasps out without your prompting. You raise a brow, a smirk spreading on your lips. “That’s right, go ahead and keep counting.” You punctuate your sentences with a few more spanks, focusing on his right cheek. “Ow! Three! F-four, five!”

“Tell me what you did wrong, why you’re here.”

Mammon swallows, panting in the crevice of his elbows, his hot breath fanning back at him. “I-I took your stuff.” He keens as you grab the lean fat of his ass, squeezing it between your fingers before spanking finally again. “Sixxx,” he practically drools, cursing himself at the interested twitch his dick gives. “Hm, you don’t seem too sorry,” you sigh with mock disappointment.

The shuffling clues Mammon in that you’ve grabbed the paddle, a surge of fear and excitement pooling in his chest.

You rest the paddle on his ass, the resin cool against his heated skin. It’s about the same color as his underwear, a smooth voided black. Mammon braces himself, lurching forward when the paddle comes down on his ass with a thwack!

“Fucking—seven!”

Thwack! Smack!

“E-eight, nine! M’sorry, I’m sorry!”

You put as much force into the next hit as you can, an actual moan slipping from his lips. “Ten,” he croaks, and it’s abundantly clear how hard he is, straining in his underwear. Mammon’s shaking violently, stomach clenching with his wracking body. He feels like he’s on fire, and you didn’t even smack his bare flesh. “You did good, you took your punishment like a good boy.” Your praise coats his senses like a balm, and Mammon feels like he’s floating. “M’good?” He slurs, feeling loose and unscrewed from his body when you begin guiding him back up.

He slumps against your lap again, clinging onto your shoulders. “Yes, you are! Punishment’s over, it’s all done.” You lean forward and press a kiss to his forehead.

Mammon melts, lips parting in a whimper. “How about we take care of this now?” You ask gently, pressing a fingertip to the swollen tip of his cock. He groans, weakly rutting his hips up. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he stutters, his head thumping onto your shoulder. You keep rubbing him through his underwear, tapping the little puddle of sticky fluid building at its peak. Mammon’s breath is hot against your neck, his drool collecting in the crook of your shoulder.

You begin pumping him to the best of your ability, yet he doesn’t seem to mind the restricted mobility. His toes curl in his boots, fingers squeezing tighter into the meat of your arms. “S’good, so good,” his stomach tightens, a warmth pooling below his navel. “Go ahead and come for me,” you whisper in his ear, gently rubbing underneath the head.

He keens, his entire body tending as liquid warmth spreads under your hands. “Ah-hah, hnn,” Mammon falls limp, arms loosely curled around you. “I d-didn’t, I didn’t sell it,” he begins, his voice cloudy and hoarse.

“Sell what?”

"Just take your shirt off and lay down on your stomach," You say, gesturing to the bed and showing him the bottle of lotion you have in your hand. "Let me take care of you?"

Mammon had a hard day today. With grades coming in, Lucifer obviously wasn't very happy with his performance and, well... Mammon doesn't ever tell you the details about what happens after that. He mostly just complains vaguely, but you get the gist.

He doesn't question it as he pulls his shirt off, giving you a lovely view of his abs and chest before moving onto the bed. You take a seat on the back of his thighs and put some lotion on your hands. Mammon looks over his shoulder at you, watching your every movement intensely.

"You're sure this is just gonna be a normal massage?" He asks.

"I know you've had a rough day," You rub the lotion across your hands, warming it up, "I don't want to tease you, I just want to take care of you a bit."

He relents as your hands begin to work over his shoulders, doing your best to help the tight knots in his back. You're not trained, but you can tell by the sounds he's making that you must be doing something right.

As you massage lower down his back, you feel his skin heating up under your touch. His breath is quicker, too. You know what's going on.

"Does that feel good, baby?" You coo as you press your thumbs down at either side of his spine and he lets out a low groan and nods his head against the pillow. "I love doing this for you, you know."

Your poor baby is so touch starved. He's starved of love and affection, too. Before you came along, you don't know how long it'd been since he was touched in a way he actually desired, in a way that made him feel loved and wanted and cared for. In those ways that you touch him that make him melt and make his eyes fill with tears. You remember your first time with him when he was nearly overwhelmed by the sensation and the feeling of being truly loved.

"Oh, my sweet baby," You hum, leaning down and nuzzling against his neck as your hands continue further down his back. He gasps, trying to smother it into the pillow he's clutching to his face, but you hear it. "This feels nice, doesn't it? I love taking care of you, I love you so much."

As you speak, you finish working on his back and simply run your hands up to his shoulders as you lean back and move off of him.

"Turn over, let me do your front, too."

He tenses up under you.

"D-Do people usually massage the front?" He asks, words muffled by the pillow.

"I dunno, but I want to. Plus I still have some lotion on my hands." You shrug. "I won't if you don't want it but-"

"N-No! I do, uh..." He looked away as he rolls over, hips settling on the bed and torso propped up by his elbows. Your eyes track down his body, from his heated face down his chest and stomach, down to the obvious bulge in his pants.

You don't mention it, you don't even acknowledge it as you start to massage his chest, again working from the top down. Like this, you can really feel his stuttering, rapid breaths as you work.

"You really are so pretty," You say. You spare him, not looking into his eyes as you speak. He gives a little hum just to acknowledge your words while you move down. You don't spend as long as you did on his back, arriving at his hips pretty quickly.

"My love," You hum, one hand resting lightly on the tent in his pants.

"I'm sorry! I'm not used to it a-and you kept-" He starts to stammer out excuses, but you cut him off.

"You want me to take care of you here, too?"

The sentence knocks the wind out of his chest.

"Please." He's breathless. You move again and lean back against the pillows next to him. He knows exactly what to do, it's his favorite position after all.

Mammon sits between your legs, leaning back against your chest. You take the opportunity to kiss his neck and leave sweet little nips there.

"My good boy," You purr. Warm hands stroke down his abdomen, making it to his pants. His belt comes undone with little effort, and you undo the zipper and push his garments down, all while Mammon watches with bated breath.

You free his cock from the confines of his clothing. He tenses up, looking off to the side, embarrassed by how aroused he is.

"You just need someone to take care of you, baby," Your slick hand makes contact with his length and he gasps. "I love taking care of you, it makes me so happy to take care of you."

And he sobs. Just a quiet little noise from his throat.

"Oh, my love," You stroke him slowly, your other hand gently rubbing up and down his front, sometimes lingering to tease his chest. "You're doing so good, just like that."

He's not even doing anything, but the praise makes him even hotter. He whines and just accepts. He takes everything you give him because he's never wanted anything more. One of his hands holds your wrist, the other reaches back to hold the back of your head as you kiss his neck.

"So good," He whimpers, "Love you, ngh-"

"Yeah, darling?" You smile against his skin, he feels it and he keens. "I love you too, I love you so much." Your free hand makes it up to his neck and you just let it rest there. He doesn't have a collar on right now, but he doesn't need one to feel like he's yours. "If I could live off of just loving you, I would."

His voice is just being used for soft pleas and little cries. Declarations of love. Begging. Swearing to devote himself to you forever. Nothing else feels so right on his lips, besides your own of course.

Your thumb strokes over the head of his cock and his hips twitch up. His body tightens over yours, under your hand.

"Does my baby want to cum?" You purr, "I want you to cum for me. Just let yourself feel it." Your hand picks up the pace.

Without your words and without you with him, the slow pace you'd taken up with your hand would have never been enough to get him anywhere, but now he feels so close. The rampant heat inside him keeps dialing up and up, and he wants his release.

Just as he's about to cum, you bite down on his neck and he's gone.

He cries out, desperate and hot as his orgasm crashes through his body, it uses him. Cum stripes his stomach, up to his chest, pooling by his navel, painting his front. His hips buck and thrust up into your attentive touches until he's finally spent and panting on the bed, leaned against your chest.

"So much," You giggle as you look over him, glancing at the mark you left on him and making sure that it's not too bad. "That felt good, didn't it, baby?"

"Mmh," He can hardly think in the aftermath. You find it endearing, how easy it is to fuck him dumb. You take some tissues and start cleaning him up while he catches his breath. Once he's all clean, he curls up against you like a child.

"Thank you for letting me take care of you," You smile, pressing a kiss to the top of his head while he nuzzles into your neck.

"Thank you for taking care of me," He mutters, "I know it's a lot of work."

"It's hardly work if I'm doing it for someone I love."

You love him. You really do.

--

“Mammon, I know you’re greedy, but this is a bit silly,” you tell him gently.

He whines into your neck, where he’s hidden his face. If you thought crowding Mammon against the headboard would stop him from wrapping himself around you, you were sorely mistaken. You straddle him and Mammon makes weak little bucks of his hips, mindful to be obedient and not truly fuck into you. It’s like he somehow wants to force his bottomed out cock further inside.

Or perhaps it was just a consequence of grinding down on the toy inside him, hips twitching whenever it rubbed against his prostate. The toy was the biggest one either of you owned, and yet-

“Need more,” he whines. You tug his soft white hair back until he lifts his face and looks at you. Mammon is truly beautiful after you’ve worked him over for hours, white lashes wet with unshed tears and all tension gone from his face. “Please?”

You sigh, knowing you spoil him too much. But how can you help it? When he’s good for you like this, taking what you give him, asking so nicely…

“How about this,” you begin, and immediately Mammon is hooked on your every word. You smile and kiss his nose. His hips buck hard and sudden and you both gasp at the sudden pleasure. “I’ll buy you an even bigger toy. Maybe something inflatable, so my greedy boy will always have what he needs.”

Mammon flushes with pleasure, opens his mouth-

“After you get me off.”

Mammon isn’t perturbed at all, just smiles mindlessly and rolls his hips with more enthusiasm. “Thank you, thank you, thank you-“

Though his cock inside you feels incredible, filling you to a comfortable stretch, your clit is feeling grossly neglected. With the way Mammon’s fingers are clumsily scrambling against your back, you don’t trust him to play properly either.

“Can you be trusted with a toy, good boy?” you ask him and Mammon lights up, nodding. Good boy always gets him happy, eager to please, and when you press a vibe into his hands and help him switch it on, he leans away from you for the first time tonight.

You both groan when he presses it to where the two of you are connected, the buzzing finally convincing you to ride him properly. Mammon’s face goes right back into your neck, mouthing mindlessly against your skin, but he’s your good boy right now, and he doesn’t let the vibe fall away. It’s pressed into your clit, sometimes slipping in the wetness to find his dick and vibrate through your body.

While you rise and sink down on him again and again, Mammon squirms beneath you. “Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum-"

You wait until your own edge to give him permission, your “go on, good boy,” all he needs to let go. Your own orgasm makes you pull his hair hard - but you know Mammon likes a bit of pain.

You guide Mammon to lie down before you slip him out of you and begin to work the toy out of his ass. He’s boneless but watching you with clear adoration, one shaky hand reaching out to hold yours.

Mammon first brought up the topic over text. It was around midday, when the two of you had the House of Lamentation to yourself. You thought about heading to his room, but decided to just write back from yours.

Mammon: I read this real weird article about pacts.

About people using them to, uh, get creative.

“Creative how?”

Mammon: Well, I saw uh… some people like to use their pact to put their partner in some kinda trace. And they both get off on it!”

“Are you interested in trying it?”

Mammon: Well, a little. I mean, it’s real interesting, ain’t it? I mean, I’d kinda like to see if a human like you could really have that much power over the Great Mammon.

“So you are interested.”

“I’m alone in my room.”

♡ ♢ ♧ ♤

Mammon sits next to you on the bed, facing towards you and nervously licking his lips. He’s flushed red, his hands curled into fists. He’s excited, but a bit nervous. He’s never done anything like this before… and he’s mostly worried he’ll embarrass himself in front of you.

But isn’t the thought of that rather exciting as well?

You trace your hands up his back, starting by his waist where his leathery wings flap around you, up his spine and over all the pretty white marks, all the way to his shoulders. “Relax a bit,” you command, and his shoulders slump. You massage them as a reward, and he moves a bit closer to you.

“Relax… relax your mind, Mammon.” He shivered again, parting his lips in a gasp of relief. His eyes were beginning to get a little cloudy, with pangs of hunger within them.

“Just completely relax, my treasure. Don’t worry, just focus on feeling good.”

His tongue began to peek out, a little drool coming off in drops. He mumbled, something, “s’good,” was the only coherent bit.

♡ ♢ ♧ ♤

You gently push him back onto the bed, and he flops over with a gasp. “Nnngh, ey human! Careful pushin around the… a-actually,” he shivers, “could you do that again?”

“You want me to push you again?” You raise an eyebrow.

“F-feels good, it ah, it’s cause you’re real strong. How’d you get so strong for a… a human, huh? You’re like… a human, but you’re strong.”

You put a stop to his babbling by crawling over him, placing your knees around his waist, and your hands on his shoulders, pushing him deep into the bed.

“Mmmh, see? Strong human. Good, good big strong human. That’s my human.”

“What do you want next, my treasure?”

“Mmmh,” he replied, wiggling around to try and take off his pants.

“Do you want me to touch you?” You coo.

“Nngh, that’s a good idea! S-smart human, you always kn-know just what to do, ha-ahh..”

♡ ♢ ♧ ♤

While under the dumbification spell, Mammon gets much, much more possessive. As the Avatar of Greed, he wants you all the time, he can’t help it. A part of him wants to keep you to himself, but at the same time he knows that isn’t right.

But once he’s under your spell, he can’t help himself but to cling close to you. All he knows is master makes him feel so, super good, so master needs to stay with Mammon.

He pouts and whines every time you take your hands off him, even if it’s only a moment. And if you try to get up? No way, human! He clings tightly to you, wrapping his arms and legs around you.

He might even make like he’s going to bite you, snapping his teeth around the air your hand just occupied, always just a moment short of actually biting you.

You could try to punish him for it, but when you try, he gives you big puppy dog eyes and lets out a genuine damn whine. He even tries to kiss your hand where he nearly bit you. Could you really stay mad at such a sweet little dog?

♡ ♢ ♧ ♤

As you fuck him, Mammon wiggles around even more than usual. His wings flap desperately, and he moans tremendously loudly. He babbles about how good you feel, how he wants to feel every inch inside him.

All of Mammon’s obedience goes out the window in favor of chasing each impulsive whim, every opportunity to grasp a little more of you, to feel you a little deeper, to feel more of your strength. He wraps his arms around you tightly, so tight you might even have to remind him to loosen up so you can thrust faster. He’ll apologize, but he’ll definitely do it again.

Finally, when under the spell, he cums a lot quicker than normal, and you slow down to check in on him… only for him to start wiggling and moaning.

“M-more, fuck me more, I want more, m-make me cum more, more, more!” He whines, grinding himself against you. “S-speed up again, please gimme more. Please, pleaase!”

“Relax, Mammon,” you coo and go back to smacking your hips against his, and he gasps with relief, mumbling both gracious thanks and demands for even more.

As it stands, his head is tipped back and his hands viciously grip the sheets, knowing better than to try to guide your hips faster or slower. He knows not to take what he is not given. You have everything here, all the control, the power, and the responsibility to give him only what you feel like he should have. He loves it.

"Baby, come on," He whimpers, "I've- you- it's been so long-!" He can't really figure out his words. You've edged him many times, yes, but it still isn't enough for you to feel like he should cum.

"Yeah?" You lean down, slowing your hips but not stopping. You cup his face gently, "I know it's a lot, darling. But I know you can hold out longer."

"Please!" He yelps.

"Poor baby," You giggle down at him, only making his cock throb harder. "You'll get your orgasm when I decide, okay? So all you can do is take it. Do you understand?"

"Y-Yes, Master."

It would be an understatement to say Mammon hasn’t been like himself recently. Marine eyes behind shaggy silver locks turning away not daring to look at you, booking for the nearest door whenever you linger around his vicinity. Though, he really just couldn’t help it, not when he’s just been dying to get a taste of you since that day of accidently overhearing you pleasuring yourself in room.

Your breathy moans, soft groans and melodic whines replaying in his head like a broken record. The erotic scent of your arousal spilling over as you continue your assault deep within the confines of your clenched walls. Just imagining them tightening around his dick was enough for him to break, staining his sheets and hand in white, the stickiness seeping onto his skin as he breathed deeply.

It was already proven difficult to be around you, his face flushed to the point of no return, your touch every now and then grazing upon his skin, your gaze stripping him out of everything he has without you even knowing. How can he keep his composure up when your voice is already a reminder to the sweet harmonies you were letting out that day. God, even just thinking about it makes his trousers grip onto his skin tighter.

Maybe he could let off some steam with a hot bath?

Yeah that will probably do the trick!

So there he was, the great Mammon, sitting in a tub full of bubbles. Steam fogging up the mirror, his tan skin shimmering under the light, highlighting his figure and built. As his mind was slowly drowning in the warmth enveloping him, he heard a creek coming from the bathroom door. He tsked, getting up from his laying position, waiting to tell off the person when they face.

“Mammon?” He stumbled, falling head first into the clouds of bubbles. You rushed over only for a hand to quickly rise from the surface, his head popping back up with a splash, throat in a coughing fit once air reaches his lungs again.

“W-wHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”

“I was going to use the bath, and I thought no one was in, since, erm.. it was so quiet-”

COULD HAVE AT LEAST *coughs* K-kNOCK FIRST!?”

“Well I’m sorry your majesty-”

You pouted slightly, you really didn’t meant to accidently stumble across a drenched Mammon when deciding to enter the bathroom. You really wanted to have a nice long bath. But the lack of attention from your little demon lately and the want to cleanse yourself off brought upon an idea.

“Is there some space left in that bathtub?” Mammon’s eyes snapped back and widened, marine pupils only ever glancing off once a while to catch glimpses of your sculpted body. His already flushed face darkening with every passing second, his limbs giving up on the strength to hold his body up anymore, ‘causing him to slip back into the water below him.

“If you’re uncomfortable you can just say-”

“n-NO!” He got up again, hacking out the water flooding his organs.

“I- mean, w-whatever..”

“Heh, thanks Mammon~”

You carefully sank into the tub, resting your towel to the side before breathing out a sigh. It wasn’t long before you felt yourself pinned to the walls of the bath, Mammon’s legs intertwined with yours, warm palm finding its ways to your cheek, chest pressed upon his, beating hearts syncing together.

“Mammon-”

The conversation was lead to a silence, only the sloppy sounds of your lips crashing with his echoed the room. His taste was intoxicating, the sweet and bitterness of Demonus staining your taste-buds as you sank into his lips further. Your wandering hands finding support on his shoulders, leaning closer and closer, closing any caps to get more of the addicting taste.

“Hah~.. more..”

He pushed on further. Now his lap found its place on yours, softly grinding himself on your thighs, rocking back and forth like an attention seeking child. Tongue trailed and glided across your exposed flesh, canine teeth chewing at your collar slightly, blue and purple bruises blooming, crescent like markings on full display. You huffed quietly, patting his wet locks as you indulged in the pleasure between your thighs and the pain of the bites.

“Who’s m-my greedy little boy~” Mammon whined louder, tucking his head down and draping it over your shoulder, creeping into the crooks of your drool stained neck. Sharp white nails kneading and gripping at your skin, leaving you in moans, bottom lip being chewed between your jaws.

“aH~ clo-close! Please d-don’t stop~..”

You giggled, reaching below the waters and tugging at his dick, fingers warped and moved, up and down, ripping a gasp from the demon above you. You returned the favor, nibbling and nipping at his flushed skin, bites and marks not as visible yet would still cause a storm in the household if any found out.

“Don’t be too loud now, darling, wouldn’t want them to find you doing such dirty things here~ or maybe you’d want that~”

“Ye-yes~ hah.. want them to k-know you’re mINE!” Mammon nodded almost to the point his head might break and fall off, hips dragging itself across your thighs harder and faster, ripples in the water splashing and spilling over the walls, drenching the floor below.

It wasn’t long till a vibration beneath you, slender hand covering over his mouth, muffling the moan he slipped out, marine eyes rolled over almost hitting the back of his skull. Tiredly, he laid at your shoulder once again, snuggling into your warmth and hugging at your frame.

“Oh, I didn’t say I was done with you yet~”

It started small. He'd get you little trinkets - never delivered by him, always by his crows. Plausible deniability, you guessed. If you rejected them, he could put the blame on the birds.

Then slowly he escalated when you responded positively. A small bouquet of flowers on your desk. Some chocolates he'd delivered straight to your room so there was no chance Beel would find them. Last weekend, he'd taken you shopping and Mammon had told you to go wild - and while you made sure he was still a good, responsible demon with his money, you did let him spoil you a bit.

It was adorable to watch Mammon's chest puff up with pride, his smile the brightest thing in the Devildom when you thanked him for his latest present. When you wore the clothes he'd paid for. When you called him your good boy.

So you aren’t entirely surprised by the heart shaped box on your desk when you walk into your room after class. It's the most openly romantic gift yet, the tin delicately embossed with swirling golden patterns over the red surface. No brand gives you a hint of what chocolate or biscuits lay within - or perhaps it was some piece of jewellery?

You drop your bag onto your bed before walking over to your latest gift with a smile. Mammon had gotten detention - again - so you know you're going to have to wait about an hour for his return. You’d have to thank him then.

Your smile drops once you open the box.

You stumble back, falling against the floor with a jolt of pain that whipped your already racing heart into a frenzy. A hundred possibilities whirl through your head, each more dire than the last.

Had someone gotten into the House of Lamentation, into your bedroom, to leave this for you? Had one of the other brothers done it? Was the Lucifer’s way of warning you off? There’s no way it could be an intruder right? Were you really as alone in the room as you thought?

The smell wafts from the box to where you sit and you taste copper on your tongue. You're convinced someone's going to leap out from under your bed or out of your closet any second and yet you can’t get your legs working to move, to flee - to find anyone, even Lucifer.

There, in the pretty heart-shaped box, lays a heart.

Your initial moment of panic gives way to your brain trying to rationalise.

The heart was not human - didn’t even seem to be from anything humanoid. Demon Anatomy isn’t a subject you're supposed to take until next semester, but you're pretty sure even Beel’s literal heart couldn’t be that big. No one had attacked you while you were half-incapacitated on the ground and when you look around, you realise there aren’t many hiding spaces in your room.

So. One of the brothers or an invited guest.

You pick yourself off the ground and examine the heart closer, breathing slowly through your mouth.

Yeah, definitely too big to be a human or a demon. Or an angel. You think.

It looks more like something Cerberus’ size, but you know it’s not the HoL’s resident hound, because you’re pretty sure that thing is unkillable to everyone but Lucifer.

All in all, it’s a heart. You’re never going to figure out what it’s from on your own, but you can tell a few things about it. The remains of the veins and arteries still attached have been sliced neatly. Only one bears more damage - from the size you figure an artery. Whoever cut this one tried to hide it, but you can still see where there must have been a puncture just above where it was removed, the ragged edge remaining at odds with the rest of the smooth cuts.

Okay.

You put the lid back on before you think about fingerprints. You just can’t stand the smell anymore.

Your feet carry you to the library and you’re halfway there before you realise you’re holding the box. You don’t go back and put it down. Your room still reeks of heart and you have a disturbing mental image of Beel eating it.

Maybe an anatomy textbook might give you a clue as to what it is. Or maybe-

“Good afternoon, MC,” Satan greets from his armchair.

You don’t have a pact with Satan yet, but you like to think you’re on good terms with him. While he had asked you to shut Mammon up next time, Satan hadn’t seemed at all upset about the development between you and his brother. Just the noise level.

“Hey,” you croak back. Satan looks up from his book, noticing for the first time something is wrong.

“Ah,” Satan says. There’s a knowing look in his eye as he sniffs the air, examining the box in your hand. “I was wondering when this would happen.”

"When what would happen?"

Your voice is still higher than you'd like and you're not sure how to feel about Satan's calm demeanor. Perhaps sensing your distress, Satan smiles. It's probably meant to reassure you.

"Let me see?" he asks, gesturing for you to bring the box over. You sit on the table as he pops the box open, your leg bouncing nervously.

The heart is still there which is a strange relief. You'd half convinced yourself you'd imagined it, but now Satan's looking at it and this isn't solely your responsibility anymore. Eventually he stands and places the box on the table - next to you - and pulls a few books from the shelves.

"The heart belongs to a Dessowary."

"A what-"

Satan opens one of the books to a page depicting a large flightless bird with wicked claws. The illustration provides a demon for scale - the bird is nearly twice its height.

"They're quite rare, but very skilled predators. Usually subsist on vegetation but if provoked, or just hungry, will attack other creatures or even demons." Satan speaks with a certain puff in his chest and you can't help but be drawn in by his explanation. He turns the page to show you an anatomical drawing and yep, the heart matches.

"Why was it in my room?" you ask slowly, fingers brushing over the pages. The smell is starting to get to you again. Rot.

"Dessowaries are fast. It's what makes them dangerous and also extremely difficult to kill. In fact, of all of us, Mammon's speed is what makes him the only one capable of consistently taking one down - without the use of traps, anyway." Satan gestures towards himself and you wonder about how casually he says it, wonder how often the brothers went hunting before your arrival. "It's for you. To demonstrate his capacity as a hunter."

"Like... like a..." Your mind heads straight to mating displays - or cats that drop dead mice at their owner's feet.

"In the Devildom, this is quite common as a part of courting." Satan shrugs and passes the other book to you, an old and dusty tome with a title in cursive script you strain to read. Etiquette and Courtesy in the Matters of Courting. "Mammon is trying to show off to you, basically."

"Oh."

The explanation goes a long way to calm you, but you still have a few questions. You flip through the pages of the book, eyes lazily scanning a few sentences.

"So, what do I do?"

Satan shrugs at your question. "Mammon knows a decent amount of human culture, but I doubt he knows much about the romantic endeavours of humans. The serious ones, anyway. If you explain to him that this is not done in the human world, he'll probably be embarrassed, but he'll understand."

You nod along with his explanation with a frown. This is weird but... Mammon clearly didn't have bad intentions. If anything, he was trying to do the right thing by Devildom culture. Trying to take this seriously if what Satan said was any indication.

"Or..." Satan trailed off.

"Or?" You meet his eyes. Satan had a look on his face you tended to associate with Lucifer about to have a bad time.

"This is a cultural exchange program, after all. You could always just... partake in Devildom culture."

You look at the box beside you. At the heart inside it.

"Is there a way to get rid of the smell?"

-------

Mammon had given you a bright smile when he noticed the box in pride of place on your shelf.

Over time, you got used to the idea. Mammon was still your demon, your first man as he insisted. Maybe you’d forgotten for a bit exactly what demon meant, but you're sure you could accept him for who he is. Love him for who he is, even.

Mammon’s blush, you're delighted to see, spreads down to his chest, tinting his skin even darker. You swallow his moans with kisses and use his hair to grip him closer.

“Thank you, Mammon,” you whisper and he bucks up, his beautiful eyes meeting yours. His smile is gorgeous.

It would take a week for you to realise that you might’ve encouraged something you can’t control.

———

Devildom Botany is one of your favourite subjects.

For one, turns out humans can't be allergic to most Devildom plants. The teacher's also pretty welcoming and seemed genuinely excited to have a student who actually asked questions. Not to mention the more practical subject - planting, pruning, writing down observations on the effect of different light levels and feed - gave you a break in the day.

The only downside was the jerk sitting next to you.

Your three pacts had gotten your demonic classmates to stop looking at you like a snack, but it hadn't warmed all of them up to you. Beel's Fangol team were friendly to you, Majolish employees were very eager to help you, and the entire Devildom Navy was apparently now at your beck and call.

Not this asshole, though.

You sort of wish he was stupider. If those light pushes turned into shoves, or if he nicked you with those claws he was so willing to show you, then you'd have something to show to others. A clear justification, in front of all your classmates - including Mammon - to push back against what he was doing.

But unfortunately, he was a little too smart. Always subtle. Never enough to justify snapping back, not unless you wanted everyone to think you were weak. For the most part, you could ignore him anyway.

Until today.

One of your three plants, the three you'd raised from seedlings, that you'd spent all semester working on, is totally destroyed. Your frozen gerbera, carefully grown and protected from any heat source, is melted - its flowers still dripping with their protective icy sheen while its stem dried and withered from the heat

Your mandrake and blood moon flowers seem okay, but you'd worked hard on that gerbera. You feel Mammon's arm wrap around your shoulders as you gently check the base of the plant, confirming what you'd feared. There's no way to salvage it.

Your teacher tuts sympathetically. "Looks like it got too hot overnight."

After a discussion, it's clear your grade won't be hurt by this. Anyone could've messed with the cooling charm on the pot. You'd been growing some of the more difficult plants anyway, so just the two remaining would be enough to pass. Even pass well!

But that plant had been months of effort. You'd been proud of it. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes that you push down. You aren't going to cry in front of the whole class. Especially when you meet eyes with that asshole over the remains of your frozen gerbera and you know he'd done it.

Mammon convinces you to skip the next class - it isn't hard. You're still filled with jittery, nervous energy, your hands are shaking, and you feel stupid. It was a plant, hell, it was an assignment.

But it was months of your hard work, and Mammon never once judges you for your tears.

------

A few days and a movie night with your pact demons later, you feel better.

Lucifer, in a rare show of genuine thoughtfulness, had gotten you a little frozen gerbera pot for your room. Beel had shared his lunch with you for the past two days. Levi had you playing video games that got out some of your lingering anger.

Mammon, meanwhile, was out past curfew.

You wait with the door to your room open, knowing you'd hear him come in. Mammon breaking curfew isn't entirely weird, and it wasn't even that uncommon for him to forget to text you back if he was on a winning streak at the casino or dealing with some witches.

It's just the aftermath of the flowers that has you a bit nervous, you tell yourself. Mammon isnt’t acting strange at all.

Tension you hadn’t realised you’d been holding relaxes as you hear the front door open and close, Mammon’s soft footsteps headed towards your room. There's another odd sound though - a dragging, a thumping, like a sack being pulled and kicked around.

You poke your head into the hallway and froze. Your hand grips the door tightly.

There in the hall is Mammon, in his demon form. Blood splatters his body and stains his clothes - you can’t see any injuries on him - and the sound was-

It takes you a moment to realise that the thing Mammon was holding had once been humanoid. You can see the memory of limbs in the twisted form. The torso at the centre, what was once a head - now barely more than blackened and charred skin stretched over a skull, some parts still glistening wet muscle, jaw unhinged in a final, desperate scream. Mammon carries it with two golden hooks embedded into the thickest parts of its flesh, cursing as he struggles to find a solid grip when the skin kept - kept sloughing, melting off-

You don’t know what sound you made. Your elbow might’ve knocked against the door, you might’ve gagged at the sight, but suddenly Mammon’s eyes are on you and you flinch back.

“Shit,” he says.

You back off into your room and hear his approach again. Mammon finds your doorway, dropping his macabre package just outside. You've backed yourself against the bed without meaning to, but Mammon keeps a respectful distance.

He scratches his neck awkwardly. It's such a simple, painfully Mammon gesture it could’ve made you laugh.

“You weren’t supposed ta… I wanted to clean it up, give it to ya tomorrow… why are you still awake?” That last part comes out accusatory and tugs something free, some part of you that can’t, won’t see Mammon as a threat.

“I was waiting for you, jerk,” you say, and marvel at the smoothness of your voice. “Next time text me back.”

Mammon has the decency to look guilty. Not for murdering whoever that victim had been. For worrying you.

“Sorry, I just… wanted it to be a surprise.” Mammon meets your eyes, bright blue and gold shining in the dim light of your room. Covered in blood and with the stench of burned flesh drifting through the room, he looks incredibly sincere. “I’m trying to take this seriously, y’know? I’ve not really… I wouldn’t do this for just anybody.”

"Who is that?" you ask slowly.

Mammon blinks. Twice.

"Right, forgot humans don't have the same sense of smell." Mammon walks back to the corpse and you don't understand what he's going to do until he's reaching into the chest, hand slicing through loose, burnt flesh and rib bones cracking and pulling out the heart.

All you can think of is steak. Crispy on the outside, still red on the inside.

"How's that supposed to help?" you choke out, your eyes fixed on the muscle in your demon's hand.

Mammon frowns. “Yer sense of smell’s that bad, huh?”

You nod.

You have an idea. You aren’t an idiot - or maybe you are, for having a calm conversation when you should be screaming in fear. Mammon was dressing this up as something he did for you and you're pretty sure that was a demon. There's only really one option here.

Mammon confirms it.

“The bastard from botany. He made ya cry.”

You take in the sight of your sort-of-boyfriend, wings and horns on display, covered in blood, with a heart in his hand.

That heart once belonged to a living, breathing person. A jerk, sure, but you didn’t know anything else about him. Maybe he wasn’t a complete dick. Maybe he had loved ones, a family. Maybe he had some redeeming qualities. Maybe-

Okay, that justification isn’t working right. But the point isn’t that, is it? Mammon wasn’t treating this as anything weird. Satan had told you hunting and proving yourself as a demon was a common part of courting. The question is simple.

Were you okay with this?

You look at the way Mammon watches you, cheeks heated, eyes shining blue and gold - the melted, charred skin of his kill - the heart he offers to you, all because you were hurt by that asshole. The way the blood highlights the lines of his muscles, a beautiful, powerful demon, willing to put all that strength to use for you.

Were you okay with this?

Absolutely.

“Mammon,” you whisper. “Against the wall, okay?”

You’ve never seen Mammon move faster. His back hits the wall. His legs spread. You can see him pose, you can see Mammon going into model mode - showing you his best angles, making himself as appealing as he could be.

“Good boy," you whisper and he squeezes the heart in is hand.

That could be a problem.

"Mammon, listen to me closely, okay?" You eye the body still in your doorway - your open door, but at least this time of night most of the other residents would be asleep or on another floor. The only real risk was Beel on a snack run. "I don't want to get blood on me."

"'Course not," Mammon grins and you'd never really noticed how much sharper his teeth are in this form. "No part of this bastard deserves to touch you."

Your heart swells with affection - and you're starting to realise you might be a bit more fucked up than previously thought, but that amount of introspection could wait until later.

"So I'm going to need you to control yourself and not squeeze that heart until it bursts."

Mammon nods, adorably determined, and you get to work on those leather pants.

His demon form comes with a handy zipper and you can’t decide whether that’s surprising or not. It’s definitely convenient as you expose Mammon to the cold of the room, your hand quickly wrapping around his dick to warm him up.

His groan reminds you of your promise with Satan.

“Open,” you order and Mammon’s mouth follows your command before his brain can even catch up to him, his eyes half-lidded with desire as you take control.

“Get my hand nice and wet, hm?” You twist your fingers around Mammon’s mouth, playing with his tongue, prodding at those sharp teeth. Mammon focuses on his task beautifully, sucking and licking and lightly nipping at your fingers, his moan muffled as you force them further into his willing mouth.

In your other hand, Mammon’s cock is catching up to the situation. He gets excited adorably quick but you hold off on stimulating him too much with your dry hand, keeping your strokes light.

It’s still got Mammon rocking his hips back and forth, chasing the feeling of your fingers, pleading with his body for you to give him what he wants.

You take both your hands away and he growls in protest.

“Remember what I told you,” you order, unmoved by his puppy dog eyes. “No blood on me.”

“None! And even if there was I’d clean it off you-“

“None, Mammon.”

“Yes, Master.”

Mammon grumbles at your stern tone but perks up quickly when your other hand pushes into his mouth, sucking the digits eagerly.

With his makeshift gag in place, you take your hand, soaked in saliva, to his cock.

The reaction is immediate. Mammon groans deep in his throat, the vibration travelling all the way through your arm, while he rocks his hips forward to meet your touch. His eyes flutter closed and you watch as the rest of his body relaxes - his arms and wings dropping to his sides, his knees barely holding him up, his head tilted against the wall. Only his mouth and his hips work hard.

The heart is left hanging from his hand, half-forgotten for now.

Mammon only ever meets your pace, never trying to make you go faster. Knowing he’s being rewarded, knowing he’s been good, seems to have worn off the desperate edge he usually carries.

You jerk him off at a steady pace, taking the time to appreciate his exposed chest, the leather that covers his body. The little metal spikes that dangle from his jacket jingle with every thrust and his wings flutter and shake.

“Such a pretty boy,” you praise and watch his expression shift as he whines, trying to force your fingers further down his throat. Drool starts to gather around the corners of his mouth.

You twist your hand around his cock and Mammon stiffens and jerks, his entire body tensing - his claws squeezing into the heart before stopping, forcefully relaxing himself.

“Good boy.” It sometimes hurts your heart just how responsive Mammon is to praise, how desperate he is for it, but when he tilts forward and rests his forehead against yours you can’t bring yourself to complain. Even as you feel him swelling in your hand, precum aiding your movements, he’s still careful to keep most of his weight on the wall, to not just collapse against you with his blood-covered clothes.

You meet Mammon’s eyes as you speed up. You find his usual blue and gold gone glassy, wet. The new angle of his head encourages saliva to drip around your fingers from his mouth to his chest.

His teeth graze you lightly and he makes an apologetic noise but he’s still sucking you down eagerly and you make a note to get him a nice, big toy later.

“Let me know when you’re close,” you order and Mammon responds instantly, bucking his hips and whipping his head back. The hand holding the demon’s heart is working it like a stress ball, the dead muscle now bruised and softened.

“You can cum when you want, as hard as you want.” You speed up to match his pace now, the way his hips buck, planting your feet hard into the ground so he doesn’t end up throwing you back with the force of his thrusts. “But not a drop of blood on me, remember.”

Mammon has always been so easy to read and you know this is a challenge for him. Know he aches to throw himself against you fully, wishes he could tense and shudder and move they way he wants, but still you can see him smile around your fingers.

Mammon doesn’t just want to cum, he wants to cum for you.

And so he does.

Your fingers can’t fully muffle his shout. His entire body is drawn into the motion, his head thrown back, his chest pushed out - his cock pulses in your hand, cum covering your palm, his stomach, and dropping to the floor.

Mammon’s hand squeezes, his claws dig in - but before the heart can burst his wing flies up, shielding you.

Even in ecstasy, Mammon follows your orders. There’s not a speck of blood on you.

You release him, wiping saliva on your pants as Mammon drops to the ground. His hands fly behind his back - trying not to grab you, stain you with blood - but his nose comes forward to press against your crotch.

“Master,” and you can see he’s out of it, in the floaty space he goes to when he’s following your orders, when he’s just being your sweet, obedient Mammon. “Need to get you off too.”

You gently force him back by his hair, looking into those pretty, wide eyes.

“We need to get you in the shower, Mammon.” You tug him up again, careful to be slow and not tip him over. Mammon’s legs are still shaky and even with his demon strength, you’re pretty sure a stiff breeze could knock him over right now.

“Can I get ya off in the shower then?” he asks, and you can see a hint more of your mischievous demon come through.

“After we get the worst of that filth off of you.”

Mammon grins, triumphant, as if he’d just made a good deal. You roll your eyes and start to tug him towards your bathroom, but first-

“Can you please get rid of him?”

Mammon looks between you and the charred body still in your doorway. He groans.

“Fine,” he mutters, tucking away his spent cock and grumbling.

“I’ll heat up the water for us,” you promise and Mammon, predictably, perks up again.

Mammon moves the body out of your sight but you’re not going to be able to forget it.

Objectively, it was a horrific sight. The empty eye sockets, the twisted limbs, the gooey mess of the flesh beneath the charred skin… and yet all you’d been able to focus on was that Mammon had done that for you. Would do it again, for you.

Mammon

"Sit!"

The single word sends him to the ground from where he was going through your drawers. Mammon yelped as he landed solidly on his ass.

You'd just had a long tutoring session with Satan and your brain was starting to hurt. You did not need Mammon trying to steal your shit on top of that.

It takes your tired brain a moment to realise the drawer Mammon had open was filled with your underwear.

Your exhaustion is swiftly replaced by rage, and you repeat your command - "SIT" - until Mammon is left with his chest pressed to the floor, panting, knees barely hold his hips in the air.

"What do you think you're doing?" you demand, standing over him. His eyes are trying to look up at you, but he won't meet your gaze, settling on staring at your legs, your folded arms, the book you'd borrowed from Satan.

Mammon huffed. "Figured you'd hide your expensive shit in some stupid place. Same as most humans."

And that - that didn't sit right.

Mammon had pulled a lot of shit in the months you'd been here, but despite it all, he'd never once stolen from you. He was nosy, sure. He had a terrible understanding of boundaries.

But a thief? To everyone else, yeah, but not to you.

It's out of character enough that it's got you squatting beside him. Mammon still won't look at you properly.

"Are you like... okay? Are the witches pulling anything?" It felt weird to respond with concern when Mammon is for sure the one in the wrong here, but for better or worse, you and Mammon were usually pretty good together. This was weird.

"No." Mammon insisted, squirming a little, trying to escape the pact. The movement makes you roll your eyes and draws your attention to his body, and-

Well.

Well shit.

"Mammon," you say, and something in your tone must tip him off, because he clearly realises that you know. His voice rises and he's saying something but all you can really pay attention to is the way his dick twitches where it's straining against the fabric of his jeans.

And you have some things to consider.

You're pissed. At Mammon, at being kidnapped, at being drawn into their whole fucking family drama with Belphie, at being treated like a fool for not knowing things you never had a chance to learn.

You're bored. Devildom Law sucks. You've been studying for 2 hours and you're still not sure you understand the readings.

You could fix one of those problems right now.

"Mammon," you cut off whatever he was saying. Mammon's cheeks are flushed, his breathing heavy, but he's still hard as ever as far as you can tell. "Do you... know what a safeword is?"

Your demon gapes at you. You think for a minute you've broken him, and that doesn't change when he starts stuttering out curses and questions faster than you can understand, but you wait him out until you repeat the question.

"'Course I do, human," Mammon was so painfully trying to act tough but his wet lips parted with every breath. You could see him calculating where this could go. He was finally looking you in the eyes, too.

"Colour system? Red for stop, yellow for slow?"

"Like I'll need to-"

"Safeword out if you want me to stop," you order. The pact shuts him up, but he nods. Mammon's breathing is getting heavier and he keeps shifting around as much as your command will let him, clearly uncomfortable trapped chest down ass up on the floor.

"How do you feel about me using the pact?" you ask him. Mammon growls.

"How d'ya think, human-"

"Mammon," you say, and-

And you don't even give an order, but you can feel the surge of power between you. Your power over him. And Mammon can feel it too.

"It's good," he spits out, face burning. You swear you see tears in the corner of his eyes. "It- fuck, it's good."

"Okay. Flip yourself over. Take off the jacket and your pants."

You don't need to make it an order, but you let a little bit of a command slip through. Mammon responds fast, flipping onto his back and raising his hips, fumbling with his belt. His jeans catch on his ankles and you sigh as you realise you're gonna have to help him out.

You toss the jeans and boxers away while Mammon throws his jacket somewhere. The black shirt stays on, the hem riding up on his waist.

You take a moment to look.

Mammon is painfully hard. The whole thing is red and swollen, his dick already leaking precum onto his stomach. Your demon bites his lip and mumbles something about making you pay for the view even as his cock twitches in interest at your stare.

You consider your options. Mammon is a nice average length, not large enough that you worry about how it’s going to fit but big enough for a nice stretch. You weren’t planning on fucking Mammon today, so you have a distinct lack of lube, toys, or anything else that you could mess around with in easy reach. There is also the issue of Mammon looking seconds away from blowing his load untouched.

“Don’t cum.”

The order makes him shudder and groan before he even fully registers it. You can see the moment Mammon’s brain catches up.

“What?!” he protests, raising his head as much as your command will let him. His scowl is even less intimidating than usual with his desperate expression.

“Only good boys come, Mammon. Maybe I’ll let you if you do well.”

Mammon grumbles. He doesn’t safeword.

His expression quickly slackens once more as you remove your own pants, keeping your top on but opening up the buttons. His eyes follow the fabric as it drops to the ground, flicking back up and finding the space between your legs.

You straddle his face, forcing his head back onto the wooden floor with enough force to indulge his masochism.

“You’re going to eat me out until I can take that gross dick of yours,” you tell him. You can already feel his tongue trying to reach for you before you’ve even properly sat down. “You can use your fingers to help. Tap on my leg three times to stop, okay?”

Mammon nods enthusiastically.

“Okay?” you repeat, harsher.

“Yes, master,” Mammon whines and fuck. You drop down onto his tongue, grinding against his face.

Mammon adjusts your hip with one hand while the other sneaks between your pussy and his mouth, gathering up slick and saliva, helping him find your clit. The first time he shyly wraps his tongue around it you buck against his face and Mammon letting out a long, drawn out groan that vibrates against you.

Mammon is passionate, to say the least. You can’t help but roll your hips against his mouth, gasp when one finger finally enters you - gentle and slow, in stark contrast to the actions of his tongue. Mammon’s eyes are half-lidded and if it weren’t for his clever fingers and silver tongue you’d think he was already fucked dumb before anything even touched his cock.

Mammon has to be experienced, no virgin's this good, but he's whining and moaning like he's never been touched before. He's so hard it looks painful, and if you hadn't walked in on him trying to steal your underwear you'd feel sorry for him. As it is you just grind down harder, only allowing him some air when he slips another finger inside.

You pull yourself away when you feel ready - commanding hands off when Mammon tries to keep you stuck to his face - and sit on his stomach, your fluids mixing with the inhuman amounts of precum already there.

Mammon is breathing heavy, glassy-eyed. You run your hands over his chest, cooing gently until he comes back to himself, eyes focusing on you.

"Hey, cutie," you say softly. It's the only kindness you intend to give Mammon tonight. "How are you doing?"

Mammon gulps heavily. His hands hover over your hips where you haven't yet removed your last command. A single word lets him grip onto you, squeezing into the fat of your hips.

"I'm... why'd ya stop?" Mammon whines. His hips try to buck but he's still stuck to the floor. His face is flushed but he's talking to you, which you take as a good sign. He licks his lips, then does it again when he tastes you on them.

"I'm going to put you inside me now, okay?" Mammon sputters and chokes on his words, but that's pretty normal for him. "Are you ready?"

"I- yes, human!" he snaps. Your frown is enough to cow him into submission once more. "Yes, master, please. I want inside you so bad. Please."

"Better," you reply with a smile.

You cut off his next complaint by lifting your hips and sinking onto him.

Your own groans are easily outmatched by Mammon's. He fits nicely, just as you thought he would. Mammon had prepared you well and while you'd probably rushed yourself a bit by just dropping straight onto him, at least you can take a moment to adjust. Mammon's certainly not going anywhere.

"You need to quiet down," you tell Mammon, but this time you don't attach a command to it. He bits his lip and squirms as much as he can, trying his best to do what you say. "I didn't lock my door."

Mammon groans - quieter this time, at least - and his head falls back onto the ground with a sharp sound. "Yer a tease."

"I don't think you can say that right now." You roll your hips to emphasise your point and one of his hands flies to cover his mouth. "Just don't get us caught."

You alternate your speed - sometimes going hard and fast, chasing that high, but slowing down before you can reach it. You purposely avoid playing with your clit too much. You want this to last, you want to really punish Mammon. You don't think you've ever been wetter.

Mammon tries to buck up into you but all he can really do is wiggle his hips and watching his frustration and helplessness rise only makes you want to push him further.

It takes minutes for Mammon's vocabulary to be reduced to pleas, whines, and the occasional apology. His hands, the only part of him he can control properly right now, roam your body. Sometimes settling on your chest, clumsily playing with your nipples - sometimes gripping your hips hard enough to hurt - eventually, endearingly, settling on holding one of your hands.

You ride him until your legs hurt, until you're starting to feel a little brainless. Turns out edging yourself fucking hurts after a while. You decide it's time to end this.

Mammon is long past complaining about being your living dildo, his volume rising again as you increase the pace in your final push, your hand circling your clit like your life depends on it. You watch Mammon's face the whole time, the tear streaks, the way his hair is starting to slick with sweat, the way drool has started to gather at his lips. He's a mess, this beyond powerful demon is a mess, and it's all for you-

As you cum you know this is going to happen again, that you can't just have him once. You ride him through it and fall against his chest, heart racing. The only sound that fills the room now is sound of harsh, heavy breathing.

Mammon eventually gets squirmy again, escalating to a sharp groan as you pull yourself off. Your legs feel like jelly and you curse when you realise you left your water bottle in the kitchen.

You resign yourself to catching your breath and getting it later when Mammon grumbles.

"Hey, hu- Master," he corrects himself at your glare. "Um, aren't ya forgetting something?"

Mammon's hands hover over his dick and you realise that he's already well-trained enough to not touch himself without your permission. He's a good boy when he's like this, but...

You don't want to reward bad behaviour.

"You want to cum?" you ask innocently, making your way to your feet. You manage to hide your wince as your legs stretch out after... a while on the floor.

"Please. I- I know I did bad, but I'll be good I swear, I won't do it again, so please-"

Mammon shuts up when a pair of your underwear lands on his face.

It's not a fancy pair, nothing particularly sexy. But his hands fly to his face and he holds it like it's precious gold.

"You can sit up and lean against something," you tell him, and Mammon scrambles backwards to your bed, props himself up against the mattress. "And you can cum if you jerk yourself off into those panties."

"Thank you, thank you, thank - fuck-"

Mammon wraps your underwear around his dick, fisting himself harsh and quick. He's not going to last. You can see it in the way his eyes roll back, hear it in the way he calls your name. You can practically taste it.

When he comes it's with a full body shudder and a loud cry. There's no way no one's heard you two now. His cum dribbles out of your panties and you settle down beside him to scoop it up and press it back in.

"Hey, sweet boy," you call softly. "Can you stand?"

Mammon, eyes closed, nods. You ruffle his hair and he growls a little at the feeling of his cum on your fingers.

"We need to take a shower, okay? Think you can handle that, good boy?"

Mammon finally opens his eyes, meeting yours with obvious, unfiltered, sleepy affection. It makes you smile. You're definitely in too deep.

"Can I clean you up?" Mammon mumbles.

"Of course."

As Mammon pulls himself up, you take your dirtied underwear and shove it in the pockets of his jeans.

Mammon’s brain is hazy with lust but he can’t get enough of your touch, your hands, they’re all his. The thought nearly brings him to his fourth orgasm but the subtle pain throbbing through his lower body keeps the building of his climax steady, his skin begging for a break but his brain knowing it wants anything but. He’s begun panting heavily, gasping under your touch as your finger runs over his sensitive slit, but he doesn’t pull away from you. Instead he leaned into you for support, head on your chest as his lower body jerked into your hand, his body language begging for more as his mouth felt too dry to form proper words.

Mammon normally saw you as some sort of merciful deity but there wasn’t much mercy in the way you were touching him now.

“Aren’t you my good boy?”

Fuck yeah he was. He looked up at you as he you spoke with tears gathering in the corner of his eyes, emotion flooding through him as well as pleasure as he sees the fond look you’re giving him. He loved you, he desperately loved you, he could never get enough of you, he would have you torture him for the rest of his life as long as it was you inflicting it on him. His throat is growing sore from letting his voice out so often and you’re quietly shushing him, telling him to relax his muscles, kissing the tears that had begun to slide down his cheeks.

“Come for me, baby, I know you can.” 

More.

“One more time, pretty please? I know you wouldn’t want to disappoint me.” 

Mammon wanted more.

“Look at me when you come, baby. Let me hear that pretty voice of yours again and tell everyone who’s doing this to you.” 

“…yes,” you whimper.

“Then fucking arch it.”

You sniffle. “Okay.”

He breaks character and huffs out a laugh as he watches you continue to helplessly stretch and squelch around him, making a creamy mess all along his shaft. He straightens his back, big hands now firmly grabbing your hips as he picks up the pace.

“Yeahh—stay right there,” his chest rumbles as he lets out a low, drawn-out groan. The smack of his hips growing louder, driving himself right into that little spot that won’t stop screaming for his attention.

It has his attention now.

The new angle had you whining into the pillow, absolutely reeling from how good he was at this, despite his complaints. He knows how to be rough. Nearly lifting you off the bed once he starts pulling your hips back, heavy balls smacking against your sensitive clit as he makes you meet each and every rough thrust he delivers.

“F-fuckk!” you choke out, barely able to form a coherent sentence as you start babbling out a bunch of words.

“So fuckin’ spoiled.” He complains, but just barely. “C’mon brat—you’ve been working me like a fuckin’ dog, give it to me already.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He doesn’t believe you. You sound like you’re in heaven right now. “Mmhh—I love you so much.” His scowl deepens. “So, so much—you’re so fucking big.“

“Tch.” He grabs a handful of your hair, then yanks you back until you’re up against his chest, lips grazing your ear while muttering in it. “I don’t want an apology. What I want is for you to cum on my fuckin’ cock already. Or should I just stop?”

“No, no don’t! Please! I’m trying, I swear,” you begin to plead with the man.

“Try harder.” Then he smiled, because he felt you squeeze around him. “Jesus Christ—you need to me talk you through it too? The chocolates supposed to make you horny, sweetheart. Not useless.”

“It’s not my fault,” you whimper, and squeeze around him again, pulling a condescending huff out of him.

“You poor thing,” he hums. “Probably spent the whole day waiting for me to come home so I could make you feel better, huh?”

His breath tickles your ear and you nearly moan. “Mhm—I thought about it all day.”

“Well aren’t you sweet,” he mutters, tone as condescending as ever. “You got what you wanted, too. I’ve been taking care of you for a while now. How many times have I cum in you now?”

“I… I don’t know—“

“Of course you fuckin’ don’t.” He cuts you off, unamused by your answer. “Want me to do it again? Fill you up, make you feel all nice and warm?”

“Please.”

“Give me what I want then. If these sheets aren’t soaked by the time I’m about to cum again, I’m pulling out and finishing on your face,” he lets go of your hair and begins to laugh. You don’t get much of a chance to react before you feel the pads of his fingers on your clit, pulling a gasp out of you once he starts rubbing little circles on top of already fucking you. “Heh—let’s see if playing with this cute little clit saves you.”

And he knows you don’t deserve it—any of it, honestly. Unfortunately, he can’t help himself, not with the reactions he gets out of you. He married you for many reasons—getting to spend the rest of his life with a squirter was one of them. The moment your breathing grows labored and you sound like you’re gonna start to cry, his lids grow heavy and he starts saying all the things he told himself he wouldn’t say today.

"Yeahhh, that’s it, baby—fuuuuck—takin’ it so good.” He is fucking gone. Voice thick, filled with nothing but lust and awe as he presses against your lower belly. “C’mon, you want it here, right? Yeah, you know what to do—don’t let some fuckin’ asshole finish on your sweet little face.”

Yes. Your husband just degraded himself. And you just egg him on without meaning to. You were already whining about how it was too much, the incoherent “want it inside,” just made it better worse.

“I will, I’ll give you so fuckin’ much if you just give me one—just one. Easy. Shit—I’ll fill you up as much as you want afterwards.” He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but that doesn’t matter when it’s what has you crying and trembling and finally gushing around his cock.“Yeah, that’s it. That’s it, that’s—fuuuuck yeah. Good job, sweetheart—good fuckin’ job. Fuck.”

Funny enough, he came right after you, which was a relief because that meant his job was done and he was finally able to give his dick a fucking break after hours of feeling like he was working for free, when he had already worked a regular eight hour shift prior. The biggest relief of all was seeing you lie limp in bed, after slightly worrying if you ever actually would.

He leans over you with a smug smile, already having forgotten how much you pissed him off earlier as he moved some hair away from your face. Checking to see if you’re actually asleep or not, then feeling a deep sense of peace when seeing that you are. He presses a kiss against your cheekbone, and in the most loving way hopes you stay that way because he cannot do that again. Then finally, he gets up to use the bathroom.

The peace is only lasts four steps until it’s completely shattered again when he hears your weak voice.

“Are you ready to go again?”

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

YESTERDAY

ethan’s cock finally impales you fully as you fully sit down on it, the dull, crown-like head brushing your sopping walls, eliciting a soft moan from you. “eth, fuck..”

“a-are you okay? you’re okay, right?- fuck!” all of the sudden, you start bouncing. you set a brutal pace, ethan’s toes curling in a last ditch effort to get him from cumming so quick. “wait, wait- holy shit-”

and then a knock on the door gets the attention of both of you.

“hey- ethan? do you know where chad is?” mindy’s voice, easily recognizable echoes through the door. he panics, but it doesn’t stop you. you keep riding him slowly, in desperate need for more friction. he snaps his hips up, making you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood just so you don’t make noise.

“don’t- don’t fucking move.” he whispers shakily, getting ready to answer mindy’s question. he clears his throat as he speaks. “oh, yeah- i think he went out- shit..”

“he went out? are you serious? he told me that he’d be here!” she groans dramatically, and ethan can easily infer that she’s most likely sinking down on the wall right now. not that it matters, anyway- because he’s too busy sinking his cock into your plush walls. he bucks his hips, grabbing yours to still you as he softly thrusts into you, giving you the friction you wanted.

“y-yeah, must suck- aah-” ethan lets out a strangled moan as you clench him particular hard, causing mindy to start.

“are you good?”

“yeah- just- um.. just cut- cut myself. shit…” he blabbers out a half-assed lie, his brain working solely on the desire to fuck you.

“do you want to help me look for him, or…?”

“o-oh, um, i-im- cumming! fuck- u-uh…” he finally reaches his climax, his hot cum pouring into you. bummer, you didn’t even get to finish. as black and white specks fade from his vision, mindy calls out to him.

“i’ll give you like, six minutes to get ready then, loser. im serious, ill leave you!”

“r-right…” he groans, slowly pulling you off of him. “i’ll pay you back, i swear. im sorry-” he cringes, seeming a bit embarrassed.

“who’re you talking to?” what the- mindy’s still here?!

“nobody!!”