blainey

You gulped, awkwardly placing a hand on his messy hair. “Let’s get you some water, Choso. Come on” you signaled while kneeling down to place your arms under his shoulders. With little to no help from him you waddled your way into the small living room. The whole way there he wouldn’t stop apologizing which only made you feel more pity on him.

You slowly placed Choso onto the couch, “I’m going to get you some water. Stay here, ok?” He nodded while he placed his hand on yours while you pulled away. Your eyes lingered on him for a second before stepping away and making your way into the no-so-far kitchen.

You grabbed one of the glass cups from the dish rack and pulled out the pitcher from the fridge. With sleep on your tail you accidentally overfilled the glass. The cold water touched your hand awakening you from your mini-nap. “Oh— shit” you mumbled placing the pitcher down and dumping some water into the sink.

A yawn escaped your lips as you walked over to Choso who had made himself comfortable on the floor. You bit the inside of your cheek biting back a laugh as you kneeled down to his level. Choso, through half lidded eyes sat himself up. “Hi, ba..by..*hic*” he slurred out.

A warm feeling in your chest began sprouting and unfortunately it kept growing throughout your body. “Hi, Choso.. I have your water.” His trembling hands searched for the cup as his stripped it away from you. To your luck he ended spilling some on the floor, you pulled the cup away from him. “Hey—“

“Here..” you whispered leaning in closer and placing the cup to his lips. Choso obediently followed through as you tilted the cup, he drank whatever you gave him. Yet, he wouldn’t break eye contact with you. His big doe eyes were examining every feature on your face making you feel small. Once a majority of the water was gone you pulled it away and placed it beside the couch.

“Yur..so pree..tty, baby” Choso smiled at you before wrapping his hand around your waist. “*hic* I’m..sorry I was” he paused feeling his eyes well up once again. “A bad boyfriend.”

“I’m so sorry..” Choso sobbed out wiping his tears into his hairline. “Other— girl aren’t..*hic* like you..” he slurred out along with multiple other sentences. “They..*hic* don’t smell..or *hic* act like you..”

“I miss you..so..so..much..” he whimpered as his half-lidded eyes closed shut. Tears stained his face as his whimpering faded into silent sniffles.

Your hands were on your knees before you let out a huff and stood up from the ground. You walked over to the hallway closet, grabbing a pillow and blanket making your way back to Choso.

You hovered over him, lifting his head up and placing the pillow under. You watched his brows furrow together in stress and eased up as you ran your fingers through his hair. You sat there for a few seconds before covering him with the thick blanket you brought.

“Goodnight, Choso.” You mumbled squatting up and turning off any lights. You locked the front door and walked past the living room once more. Choso was still slurring words— even in his sleep.

“I love…you, baby..” He blurted out. You stopped in your tracks looking at his body in the darkness. “..” you nodded to yourself before heading into your bedroom and flopping back into your bed.

“I love you too, Cho” you mumbled to yourself before letting your sleeping hormones take over. You hated seeing Choso around, but maybe just this once was ok.

Right?

I’m on my period and wanted A LITTLE BIT OF ANGST AND ROMANCE Ó╭╮Ò anywho I LOVE CHOSO you guys might get another one that I’m working on. Anyways love you my cuties I hope you enjoyed reading ♡♡

©Secretdiarylines — Do not feed into AI or claim this work as your own. — All rights reserved.

you check the time; just past eleven.

choso had left around seven, so it's been a few hours now. you're not worried about him — yuuji's responsible enough, and choso's a grown man, even if he sometimes forgets that when he gets distracted by a stray cat or spends twenty minutes staring at the ramen aisle in the grocery store.

your phone buzzes in your hand.

cho ♥︎ i lvoe you

you blink at the screen.

it's short, simple, and misspelled in a way that makes your lips twitch. it’s not unusual for choso to say, exactly — your boyfriend tells you he loves you all the time; in the morning when you're both still half-asleep, in the afternoon when he sends you pictures of his lunch, and at night when you're brushing your teeth side by side.

but there's something about the typo, the timing, that makes you tilt your head.

y/n i love you too baby are you having fun?

his response comes almost immediately, which is rare.

choso's not a fast texter on a good day; he types like he's learning the keyboard for the first time, one careful thumb at a time, and he always reads his messages over twice before sending them. but this one is fast.

cho ♥︎ yesss but i misss you i misss you so mcuh i wwant to go home

your stomach does something really soft and warm. you bite your lip, already smiling.

y/n it's okay, stay a little longer! i'll be awake when you get back

three little dots appear, then disappear, then appear again, then… disappear, and appear once again.

cho ♥︎ you're so pretty like rly rly pretty do you kno that you shouold know tgat

okay, something's definitely up with him.

your smile widens as you type;

y/n are you drunk, cho?

there's a pause, a longer one this time.

you can almost picture choso staring at his phone screen, brow furrowed, trying to figure out how to answer, probably squinting at the letters like they're swimming.

cho ♥︎ maybeee a little yuujii said it was jusst juice i think he lied

you laugh out loud, the sound echoing in the empty room.

of course, of course yuuji would pull something like that — not maliciously, but with that little brother energy of wanting to see his older brother loosen up for once.

cho ♥︎ my heaf feels fuzzy but in a nisce way like when you pllay with my hair except more spinnny

you can't stop smiling now. your thumbs move across the screen, warm fondness blooming in your chest.

y/n that's the alcohol baby drink some water, okay?

cho ♥︎ i lov you i alrwady said that but i loove you i wan t to marry you somedaay is that okkay can i do tgat

your breath catches a little.

you know choso is drunk, you know he might not even remember this tomorrow, but your heart doesn't seem to care about the logic of it. it's doing its own thing in your chest, beating a little faster, a little warmer.

y/n yeah, that's okay drink your water

cho ♥︎ you're not sayig no that's good i wouold cry if you said no not to make you feell bad just so you kno

you're laughing again, pressing a hand over your mouth like someone might hear you.

it's just you and the quiet apartment and your drunk boyfriend texting you from his little brother's place, and somehow it's the most endearing thing in the world.

the texts keep coming;

cho ♥︎ your handss are so soft i think abouut them a lot like when you hhhold my face or when you're coooking you havce nice hands i'm goinng to tell everyonne about your hands

y/n please don't do that

cho ♥︎ too laate i already tolkd yuuji annnd nobara annd megumi and that guy i don't rememmber his name but he knowws now too

you drop your head back against the couch cushion, laughing helplessly at the ceiling. your face hurts from smiling.

this is the most choso has ever texted you at once, and it's all drunk confessions about your hands and marriage proposals and typos that make you want to squeeze him.

cho ♥︎ i wissh you were here not becausse i'm not havinng fun yuuji is beinng so nice he keepss patting my head but i wannt your head pats yourr pats are bettter

y/n i'll give you head pats when you get home

cho ♥︎ promisse

y/n promise

cho ♥︎ okkay i’m goinng to finnish my water becausse you said to i lissen to you i'm a good boyfriennd

y/n you're the best boyfriend baby

there's no response after that for a while.

you wait, thumb hovering over the screen, but the three dots don't appear. you imagine yuuji probably confiscated his phone, or choso got distracted by something, or maybe he fell asleep sitting up. any of those feel equally possible.

you set your phone down and pull the blanket up higher, tucking it around your shoulders. the reality show has been replaced by some late-night infomercial about a vegetable chopper, and you're too comfortable to reach for the remote.

you're starting to doze off when your phone buzzes again, then again, then again; rapid fire, like someone's discovered the send button for the first time.

cho ♥︎ cominng home yuuji is walkinng me he saiid i have to be superrvised like a babyy i'm not a babby i'm a mann a man who lovess you a man who is goinng to marry you with your handds sorrry that soundded weird i meann i'm going to marry you ANND your hands noo i'll stopp texting now i lov you

y/n i love you too see you soon

you're smiling so hard your cheeks ache as you finally push yourself off the couch.

the blanket falls away, and the cold air hits your bare legs, making you shiver. you pad into the kitchen and fill a glass of water, setting it on the nightstand in the bedroom. you grab the bottle of painkillers from the medicine cabinet and put that next to the water, just in case. then you go back to the living room and crack the window — just a little — so the air doesn't feel so stuffy.

you're not sure how long it'll take them to get here.

yuuji's place isn't far, maybe fifteen minutes walking, but with a drunk choso in tow, who knows. you kind of hope they take their time. you kind of hope choso is leaning on yuuji's shoulder, mumbling about you, telling his little brother all the things he loves about your hands.

god, you're so gone for him.

you wait by the door, not hovering exactly, but close enough that you hear the footsteps in the hallway before the knock comes. it's soft — more of a courtesy knock than anything else, really — and then the sound of a key fumbling in the lock. it takes a few tries. you hear a soft 'fuck' on the other side, and then the door swings open.

and there he is.

choso stands in the doorway, hair messier than usual, cheeks flushed pink, eyes a little glassy but bright when they land on you. his shirt is slightly untucked, like he's been tugging at it, and his lips are parted like he was mid-sentence.

yuuji is behind him, one hand on choso's shoulder like he's ready to catch him if he tips over, and he's got this apologetic but amused expression on his face.

"hey," yuuji says, grinning at you. "i brought him back in one piece. mostly."

"mostly?" you raise an eyebrow.

"he tried to hug a lamppost on the way here. said it reminded him of you. also he's been hiccuping for like ten minutes."

as if on cue, choso hiccups. it's a small, soft sound, almost like a squeak, and his whole body jerks slightly with it. his eyes widen, surprised by his own body, and then he hiccups again.

"s-sorry," choso mumbles, and his voice is slower than usual, like his tongue is heavy. "i can't—hic—can't make it stop."

yuuji pats his back sympathetically.

"it's kinda cute, actually."

choso makes a face, somewhere between embarrassed and annoyed, and shrugs off yuuji's hand. he takes a step toward you, then another, and his balance wavers just slightly — a little sway, a little stumble that he catches at the last second. his eyes never leave your face.

"you're here," he says, voice softer than usual, a little slurred at the edges. "you s-said you'd—hic—you said you'd be here."

"i said i'd be right here."

you open your arms, and choso walks into them like it's the most natural thing in the world, like his body was always meant to end up here, pressed against yours. his arms wrap around your waist, and he buries his face in your neck, and he just... breathes. and hiccups, right into your collarbone.

yuuji gives you a thumbs up from the doorway, mouthing 'sorry' before he slips away, closing the door behind him. you hear his footsteps retreating down the hallway, and then it's just the two of you.

choso is warm.

warmer than usual, maybe from the alcohol, maybe from the walk, maybe from the way his whole body seems to be trying to melt into yours. he's not heavy, exactly, but there's a weight to him, a presence that fills all the empty spaces you didn't even notice were empty until he came home.

"hi, baby," you say softly.

your hand comes up to the back of choso’s head, fingers threading through his soft hair. it's a little tangled, a little damp at the roots, and he makes a small sound when you start to scratch gently at his scalp; something between a sigh and a hum, deeper in his chest than his throat.

"h-hi," choso mumbles against your skin.

his lips move when he talks, brushing your collarbone, and it sends a little shiver down your spine.

"m-missed you—hic—missed you s-so much."

"i know, baby. you told me."

"g-gonna tell you a-again."

choso pulls back just enough to look at you, and god, his eyes; they're so soft, so honest, like every wall he's ever had just dissolved somewhere between the lamppost and your doorstep. his pupils are a little blown, and choso keeps blinking like he's trying to focus.

"m-missed you."

your heart squeezes. "i missed you too."

he stares at you for a long moment, like he's memorizing your face all over again. then his hand comes up, clumsy but careful, and he cups your cheek. his palm is warm, a little rough, and his thumb traces across your cheekbone like he's checking that you're real.

"you're so p-pretty," he whispers, and it sounds like a confession, like he's telling you something secret, something he's never said before, even though he tells you every day. "h-how are you sooo p-pretty. it d-doesn't make sense."

"you're drunk, cho," you laugh, but your voice comes out softer than you meant it to.

"d-doesn't m-mean i'm wrong."

he leans in and presses his forehead against yours, his nose bumping your nose, and his breath is warm and smells faintly of whatever yuuji gave him.

"i l-love you—hic—i kn-know i say it a l-lot. but i l-love you. i love you s-so much it's—" choso pauses, searching for the word, brow furrowing. "it's a l-lot—hic—it's a r-really big a-amount. that's n-not—that's n-not a good s-sentence. b-but you know wh-what i mean."

"i know what you mean," you say, and you're smiling so wide your eyes are starting to sting a little.

"g-good."

choso nods, satisfied, and then his whole body seems to remember that he's standing up, because he lists forward slightly, and you have to brace yourself to keep him upright.

"oh. th-the room is m-moving."

"yeah, that happens when you drink too much."

"i d-didn't drink t-too much. yuuji s-said it was juice." he says this like it's a perfectly reasonable defense, like the concept of lying has never occurred to him.

"yuuji was wrong."

"yuuji is—hic—a l-liar." choso's voice is serious, almost offended, but his head is starting to droop, chin bumping your shoulder. "i'm n-never drinking j-juice again."

you huff a laugh and guide him toward the bedroom, one arm around his waist, the other hand holding his where it's still pressed against your cheek. choso shuffles along with you, compliant and heavy, adorablely hiccuping every few steps, and choso’s body leaning into yours like you're the only thing keeping him upright.

which, to be fair, you probably are.

getting him to the bed takes some… maneuvering.

you have to turn choso around, walk backwards, and basically catch him when his knees hit the edge of the mattress and he simply... folds. choso lands in a sitting position, bounced slightly by the springs, and he cutely blinks up at you with those hazy, adoring eyes.

"w-we're in the b-bedroom," he observes.

"we are, baby."

"our b-bedroom." he looks around slowly, like he's seeing it for the first time. "our b-bed. i l-like this bed. it h-has you in it. usually. w-where are you. you s-should be in it."

"i'm right here."

you crouch down in front of choso, your hands on his knees, and his dark eyes track the movement like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.

"let's get your shoes off, okay?"

he looks down at his feet like he's forgotten he has them.

"o-okay..."

you make quick work of his sneakers, tugging them off one at a time, setting them aside. his socks are mismatched — one gray, one dark blue — and something about that makes your chest ache with fondness. choso is so particular about everything else, so careful and deliberate, but he can never find matching socks in the morning.

"stand up for me," you say, and he does, wobbling slightly.

you slide your hands under the hem of his shirt, and he lifts his arms automatically, letting you pull it over his head. his hair sticks up at odd angles, static from the fabric, and his cheeks are even pinker now, flushed from the alcohol and the warmth of the apartment. another hiccup makes his shoulders jump.

he's so beautiful. even like this, glassy-eyed and swaying and hiccuping, he's so beautiful.

"you're l-looking at m-me," he says quietly, watching your face.

"i'm looking at you."

"wh-why?"

"because i love looking at you."

choso’s lips part slightly, and something vulnerable flickers across his expression.

"th-that's—" he swallows. hic. "th-that's a good r-reason."

you help him out of his pants next, and he steps out of them obediently, one foot at a time, almost losing his balance when he has to stand on one leg. you catch his elbow, steady him, and he makes a small, pleased sound at the contact.

"you're t-taking care of m-me," choso says, like he's realizing it for the first time.

"that's what i do."

"i kn-know. th-that's why i—" choso stops, shakes his head a little, like he's trying to clear the fog. "th-that's why i w-want to marry you."

your hands pause on his waistband for just a second before you continue, guiding him to sit back down on the bed.

"you keep saying that, cho."

"b-because i m-mean it." he looks up at you, and even through the drunken haze, there's something so earnest in his gaze, something so genuinely him. "i m-mean it when i'm s-sober too—hic—i just… i don't s-say it when i'm s-sober. b-because i get s-scared. but i m-mean it."

you don't know what to say to that.

your throat feels tight, and your eyes feel hot, and you're suddenly very aware that you love this man more than you know how to put into words.

so you don't say anything, you simply lean forward and kiss his forehead, softly and slowly, letting your lips linger against his skin. choso sighs, and his whole body seems to relax at the contact, shoulders dropping, tension bleeding out of him.

"okay," you whisper. "let's get you some water."

you carefully hand him the glass from the nightstand, and choso takes it with both hands, like it might escape if he doesn't hold on tight enough.

he drinks slowly, deliberately, and you watch his throat move with each swallow. he pauses halfway through to hiccup, almost spilling, and you have to steady the glass with your hand. he gives you a grateful look, eyes soft and apologetic, and then finishes the rest. when he's done, he sets the glass down with a soft clink and looks at you expectantly.

"i d-did it," choso says. "i drank the w-water."

"you did. good job."

"are you p-proud of m-me?"

"mmh, i’m so proud baby."

choso smiles at that; it's a small smile, sleepy and satisfied, and it crinkles the corners of his pretty eyes in a way that makes him look way softer than he already is.

you take the glass and set it aside, then reach for the blanket and pull it back, exposing the clean sheets underneath.

"okay, baby. time to lie down."

he scoots back on the mattress, clumsy and uncoordinated, and when he finally lies down, he lets out this long, heavy sigh, like he's been holding himself together all night and now he can finally let go.

choso’s hair fans out against the pillow, and his arms reach for you instinctively, fingers grasping at empty air.

"c-come here," he mumbles. "please. n-need you."

you can't deny him, and you wouldn't want to.

you turn off the overhead light, leaving just the soft glow of the bedside lamp, and then you climb into bed beside him.

the moment you're within reach, choso is on you — not in a heavy way, but in a way that feels like he's been waiting exactly for this all night. his arm hooks around your waist and pulls you close to him, and his head finds its place in the curve of your neck, and his leg slots between yours like it belongs there. hic. the hiccup vibrates against your skin, and you have to bite lip to keep from giggling.

"th-there," choso breathes, and the word is warm against your skin. "th-that's better. th-that's perfect."

you stroke his hair, slow and rhythmic, running your fingers through the dark strands over and over.

choso completely melts into you with every pass, his breathing slowing, his body growing heavier against yours. every so often, a hiccup interrupts the quiet, and he makes a tiny, frustrated sound each time.

"you smell good," he says, voice already getting drowsy. "you al-ways smell good. l-like home. you sm-smell like home."

"yeah?"

"yeah."

choso nuzzles closer, nose pressing against your jaw.

"i l-love your neck. i l-love your sh-shoulders. i love y-your—" choso yawns, wide and sudden, and it cuts off whatever he was going to say. "s-sorry—hic—i love ev-everything. all of i-it. all of y-you."

your hand moves from his hair to the back of his neck, thumb rubbing small circles into the tension there. choso makes a tiny sound — a hum, a groan, something in between — and his whole body shudders against yours.

"you're so w-warm," he murmurs. "are you al-ways this warm? i f-feel like. i f-feel like i'm f-floating. is th-that okay? is it o-okay that i f-feel like i'm fl-float-ing?"

"it's okay," you whisper. "just relax. i've got you."

"i kn-know." his voice is barely there now, soft and fading. "you al-ways got me. th-that's why i—" another yawn, this one so big it makes his whole body stretch. "g-gonna marry you. g-gonna be so h-happy. you're g-gonna be so h-happy. we're g-gonna be so hap-py t-together."

you press a kiss to the top of his head, breathing him in.

choso smells like the faint trace of cologne he put on hours ago, mixed with something else — cold air and sweat and the particular scent of him that you'd know anywhere.

"go to sleep, choso."

"ok-kay," your boyfriend agrees easily, like it was his idea all along. "b-but tomorrow. t-tomorrow i'm g-gonna tell you ag-gain. about the m-marrying. and your h-hands. i'm gonna t-tell you ev-everything."

"i'm looking forward to it."

choso hums, satisfied, and his grip on you tightens for just a moment — a reflexive squeeze, like he's making sure you're still there, next to him.

one last hiccup, soft and almost sleepy, and then, gradually, his breathing evens out. his body goes loose and heavy, all the tension draining away until he's just... warm, soft, asleep.

you don't move.

you lie there in the dim light, feeling the rise and fall of choso’s chest against yours, the tickle of his hair against your chin, the steady thrum of his heartbeat where your hand rests over his ribs. the apartment is quiet now, save for the distant sound of traffic and the occasional creak of the building settling.

your phone is still on the couch, probably. the tv is still playing infomercials. the tea is still cold on the coffee table.

none of it matters.

you close your eyes and hold him a little closer, and you think about forever. you think about what it might look like, what it might feel like. you think about mismatched socks and drunk texts full of typos and hiccups. you think about a man who loves you so much it spills out of him in stutters and stumbles when he can't hold it in anymore.

you think about marrying choso someday.

and you don't say no.

He wins almost every race.

There's no joke about his prodigy status, especially when he's been training some new kids on the block named Megumi and Yuta. Though, not many, in fact no one outside of you and Satoru knew about the two kids personally. Having to take care of them, since the fushiguro's father and mother weren't in the picture anymore.

"we're parents!" He had squealed to you when you were helping Megumi brush his teeth one morning, since the five year old was sleepy and down with a cold. It didn't matter if you were in a robe, looking tired and annoyed, you'd always look soooo fine to Gojo when you were with his (adopted) kids.

Despite the crowd of women flocking to his car after races or even before them at the showcases, his eyes remained on one woman. You.

And yet, he still entertained girls now and then with flirty comments and glances, just to see you jealous. "Pleaseeee?" The girl begged, as she was offering a marker to the white haired racer an hour before the race was set to begin. Her lips jutted out in a petulant pout to appear more cute, while her other hand was pointing at her dangerous amount of cleavage.

Satoru, knowing exactly what he was doing, bit his bottom lip and smirked, "hell yeah. Keep those tits steady, can't mess up my autograph," he raised an eye brow and tilted his head to the right, smiling at the blushing woman.

Taking the marker out of her hand, he popped off the cap with his teeth, one hand out to steady her while the other was rapidly signing his signature. Even taking the time to poorly draw a little chibi of himself and his car on her skin. A flick of his wrist and he's flipping a coin, watching it flip in the air as he muttered to himself with a smirk, "heads and I get a kiss..." before landing it smack on the back of his opposite hand and smirking down at it.

"Tails, she's pissed at me."

He staggered into the sleek car, opening the shiny car door softly and trying to gauge your reaction. Your head turned away from him, only able to see a small glimpse of your face in the reflection of the window. Not even a greeting, he could practically feel the anger seething off you.

"Satoru," you talked to him flatly as he felt a strange thrill tingle down him, not your usual calls of "..'toru!" In a whiny tone. He squealed out happily and reached out his arms quickly, trying to get a feel of his favourite girl.

You stopped him halfway, hand outreached and pressing your palm flat to his face, his dark tinted sunglasses smushed against his face. His eyes squeezed shut as he didn't bother to even remove your hand, just continuing to try and reach out to hold you.

"Babyyy, are you mad at me? C'mon, you know I didn't do anything bad!" He pouted playfully and tried to reach out further again to hold you.

You grumbled, lips downward in a small frown and your lower lip jutted out in a small pout. He was close enough to smell the strong musk of his cologne, you liked to joke about it being 'illegal cologne for criminals' when you were not annoyed with Satoru. Right now was not one of those times.

"Satoru. I know what I saw," you scoffed and let go of his face to jerk your thumb back over your shoulder, pointing at the girl still outside the car window nearby. "You think it's a joke? I'm being serious, you're gonna end up sleeping on the..." you trailed off confused before grumbling his name in a louder, high pitched tone when he pulled out a small coke bag from the pocket of his leather jacket.

"I swear to god if you snort cocaine before a race, when I'm mad at you—" you paused to snatch away the baggy and stuff it down the side of the car you were in. "—I'm never seeing you again and you can say goodbye to... sleeping with me, holding my hand..." you continued to rattle off on your fingers.

Satoru sighed but smirked, reaching out to hold your hands in his, pressing kisses onto your knuckles when you tried to punch him. "Are you jealous, pretty girl?"

His teasing question was mean with your deadpanned face, completely unamused and thinking long strings of swears towards him.

He chuckled before leaning over to kiss at your forehead, even while you grumbled and halfheartedly tried to push him off of you. "C'mon, as if you'd ever be able to to refuse sleeping with THE Satoru Gojo," he scoffed proudly and leaned back in his own chair, blue eyes staring into yours.

"Plus I looooove you, isn't that enough? I wouldn't ever cheat," he argued earnestly, enough to make you pout and falter in your annoyance a little. You knew Satoru. Knew that from being such a high status, as being the clan leader of the 'Gojo Clan', the only recent successor to have one of those special knacks for dealing with cars and having multiple eyes just to know what races he would win and what ones he wouldn't, he would've cast you aside already if he wasn't serious about being exclusive with you.

He's already got a lot on his plate, the recent drug busts at where he would usually have Nanami deal, and rivalling Sukuna, the leader of the Ryomen clan for so long, maybe he was just tired and it looked like—

"Besides, I barely stared at her tits for like, what? 4 seconds? I stare at your tits like all the time—" he was casually admitting with that signature smirk, before letting out some playful exaggerated grunts when you punched his chest and shoulder repeatedly. "—uff pretty girl did I say something wrong? C'mon, why are you punching the most handsome man in the universe? Is this to do with that ovulation cycle reminder notification on your phone? You can just ask nicely for me to fuck—"

He was in the middle of playfully teasing you, before hearing the annoying growl of an engine drive in front of him towards the race line. Sukuna leaning out of his car with a scowl, "Yah, are you still parked here? I mean, I know I'm a strong racer but giving up sooooo easily?" He smirked before sticking out his tongue and pulling down at his lower eye lid just to piss Satoru off. He was eventually pulled back into his car by his girlfriend, out of view for you and Satoru to see.

You sighed when Satoru didn't pause to start up the sleek, illegally modified car and quickly pulled up to the start line of the race. "Look, all I'm asking is that you stop... are you even listening to me right now?" You glared at Satoru.

Meanwhile, Satoru was truly listening to you, but just to piss you off even more, had his eyes playfully undressing the scantily dressed flag girl who was approaching and standing between the two revving cars. He only whined and gently grabbed your hand when you were pinching his ear in retaliation, "okay okay, I'm not gonna stare, let me focus on the race so that asshole can't win."

The red lights flashed down at the two revving cars, dust and flames flying as cheers were heard all around from people watching. All from novice racers to fan girls of Satoru and Sukuna. The loud mechanical beeps as the flag girl shifted the top piece of her race flag bikini, before swiftly raising the two flags in her hands. Satoru's grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, shifting the grip as he leaned his head back and cockily glimpsed over at Sukuna's car.

Your hands gripped down on the leather seat with a fast and tight hold, a second before both the flags were lowered quickly. Cars zoomed past her in a flash, the red sleek car initially took the lead.

"Cocky bastard.." Satoru scoffed when seeing Sukuna sticking his tongue out at him for a brief moment when he was whizzing past.

It didn't take long for the whizzing blue car to ram upwards near the last minute of the race. You were busy squeezing your eyes shut and counting down from ten, hoping you didn't throw up. Satoru was getting off on the thrill, on the chase, on the racetrack.

Just as soon as it started, the car stopped to a slow halt. Satoru's hand pulled away from the fancy gadgets and modifications to grab at your thigh, rubbing gently. His breath uneven, despite the cocky smirk that made its way to his lips. His other hand making way through the locks of white hair, a self satisfied expression.

He won. Again.

"Get in the backseat," he breathed out, rubbing your thigh gently before letting go.

You wanted to be mad, to be annoyed at him and set your foot down. To show him just how much he had pushed you this time, to show him just how scary you could be when he tried to get on your bad side. You were bad at that. So bad at it.

The wet shlicks filled the car, rocking it gently on its tires. Parked in some dark corner under a bridge, far away from race or anyone really. Clothes thrown across the car, in random places, as both of your sweat slicked bodies combined. The windows were fogged up, a hand quickly reaching out to draw a shaky smiley face through the fog. You didn't even have the energy or brain to complain to Satoru about being distracted.

Hell, you were distracted. His muscular body completely covering yours in the now sweaty leather seats in the back, his face focused entirely on your expression. White locks sticking to his forehead before he brushed a hand through his hand and grabbed your legs, hitching your ankles over his shoulders.

You whined out his name at the different angle, reaching out your hands for him when he leaned down, essentially folding you in half. "... 'toruuuu.." you whined when he smirked between heavy breaths.

"First time you're calling me that— fuck, tonight, huh? god you're so tight..." He groaned out when tracing a shaky finger over your cheek.

"I'm.. mmh, still mad...!" You tried to whine out, before letting out a high pitched moan when he thrusted in erratically. A breathless chuckle escaped his lips when he stared down, taking in your blissed out expression. "Yeah, pretty girl? Keep going.. ngh— keep complaining while I make you— fuck, cum on my c-cock.."

Oh god. You were so screwed.

ɞ⠀.⠀geto ﾉ⠀suguru ﹗ ໒꒱۪

Geto Suguru, the mechanic.

While specifically working for Satoru as his best friend, everyone had small business dealings with the cunning man. He's the man that all novice racers think of as too good to be working at these street racing events, too pure-hearted and meant for big star companies. Suspected to have a secret child with you, from how gentle he is with the two girls he had fostered a year ago.

But they don't know how he gets when he's angry, how he gets when he knows he can get a jackpot out of manipulating one of the poor little gambling addicts that nanami had trapped in this sick world. They don't know how mean he is behind everyone's back, gossiping and laughing at all the misfortunes befalled on people that never suspected him to be behind it.

You do though.

His little assistant. Always babbling your pretty little head off while showing him all the cool new contraptions and modifications you had made to one of their test cars, showing him the freaky gadgets you had made in your spare time. Flicking his forehead whenever he jokingly insulted you, "mhmmmm, now how about you actually get back to your job that I pay you for doll?" His gossip sessions are met with the most unamused looks from you, "his dumbass went and got caught after I gave him all that counterfeit– hey! Come on, why are you looking at me like that? I told him to not show anyone," he would laugh out before shaking his head and getting back to the engine of the car.

And then it was the other part of your little relationship that neither of you addressed.

The stolen kisses, the make out sessions in the back of Satoru's car that neither of you told him about. He mayyyyy or may not have eaten you in the back of said car before too, and his mean tsking whenever you made a mess and squirted, but it's whatever, you know? But it's not just one sided either! You jerk him off whenever you two are bored in the workshop, or suck him off when he asks all nicely, just... needing a little something to take the edge off.

Free time in the workshop is either spent getting fucked out of your mind by Suguru, or getting high.

"I just wanna get high with my lover ♫" Kalil Uchis's voice sings sweetly in the background, loudly playing from your phone that was forgotten on the console of the car. Suguru scoffed and groaned, throwing his head back before sitting up in the car again and throwing the joint out the window, to be cleaned and dealt with later.

"You always put on this goddamn song... do you need to be so literal?" He questioned you incredulously, "every situation calls for a weirdly specific song."

You only looked at him annoyed in response, too busy grabbing your phone off the console, about to change the song. "You played that one 'mantra' song when getting ready to go out with Shoko and Utahime last weekend, and don't even get me started on our last little 'sleepover' where you started playing motive by Ariana Grande when I was trying to initiate a kiss!"

"I was kidding around!" You giggled at him and shared a small glance at him while he crawled over the dashboard from the driver seat into the back passenger seats where you were. "Also, are you admitting we're lovers?" You cooed at him with a playful pout.

"Ohhh, we're going back into this again?" He said absentmindedly, his eyes everywhere but on you. Throwing some bits and bobs from the seats out the window before settling back next to you.

"I'm gonna play... Love Hangover next if—" you were speaking before you stopped at the feeling of Suguru cupping the back of your neck, his hand warm and rough. Before you even knew it, his lips pressed onto yours, all warm and soft, moving with gentleness that made your thighs ache. You were left wanting more when he pulled away after a seconds, pouting while he looked at you with a deadpan.

"Don't play any other goddamn songs, okay?" He told you, and covered your mouth when you were about to speak. "Just nod or shake your pretty head, doll," he instructed as you nodded.

A beat of silence overtook you both, before he asked a question that made you feel a small throb. His smile was so sweet, you could've mistaken his question for something wholesome if you hadn't actually heard him.

"Do you wanna spread your legs for me, doll?"

You whined and began to subconsciously press your thighs together before nodding at him, while he smirked and began to ease you backwards, spreading your legs, cooing "yeah? Wanna spread your legs for Suguru, doll?"

You hesitated before letting out a soft whine when feeling his hand already trailing up your waist and hooking onto the waistband of the cargo pants you had on, small stains and spills of oil and other car fluids. Your head moved subconsciously, nodding to his request as he smirked at your state and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

God you should really rethink the type of underwear you wear when knowing Suguru's going to do this.

He slid off your jeans with ease, pushing you back to lay down on the seats and spread your legs to accommodate his large shoulders. "Can't I pick a song at least?" You whined with a small pout, while Suguru was busy pushing your underwear aside, into the junction of your thigh and letting out a warm breath at the sight of your glistening folds.

"Yeah yeah, just— don't put on some specific song.." he muttered before leaning in the flat on his thumb to rub over your puffy folds.

Your hands trembled when holding your phone, before giving up when you felt him waste no time in leaning his tongue in and tasting you. Your lips spread by his hands, while he leaned his tongue in to drive kitten licks all over your sensitive spots.

Your hands were still trembling, as you clawed them down to dig into Suguru's scalp, causing him to groan into your sensitive skin. A shiver running down your neck, when he pushed in a finger inside your tight hole, before adding a second and pumping them in unison. "fuuuuck yeah—" he groaned, focusing his tongue to suckle on your puffy clit.

He was a messy eater too, loudly slurping and suckling while you whined and moaned, half embarrassed and half turned on. Your hands tugging on his hair, confused whether you wanted him closer or whether you wanted him to shut up.

"Y-you're so loud..." you stuttered a little, before letting a small whimper of his name slip. He scoffed a little, continuing to suckle and slurp loudly. His voice was muffled against your dripping entrance, too focused on getting you off.

His tongue traced around your clit, flicking his tongue over it before he suckled it up into his mouth. Sucking on it gently as his thumb was beginning to press and shallowly thrust into your tight hole. He groaned softly before licking down and beginning to focus on your hole again, his thumb, still wet and slick from being inside you, was slowly rubbing over your clit.

The car was stuffy, and your clothes felt oh so hot. You just need to get a grounding on your senses, take off all your clothes and just let him take care of you.

"You know I'm not g'nna stop.." was what you could make out of his voice between the lewd noises.

It wasn't long before your thighs began to tremble, your voice rising a pitch higher and your nails digging in gently to his scalp. He could tell the signs, all too familiar with them when he redoubled in his efforts to make you come. With a whine of his name, you came, cumming on his face and leaving his chin, cheeks and lips dripping with your essence.

He pulled away slowly and licked his lips, before using the back of his hand to wipe at just how messy your (neo)essence was on his cheeks and chin.

"Now you wanna bend over for me or what?"

ɞ⠀.⠀nanami ﾉ⠀kento ﹗ ໒꒱۪

He does the dirty work that no one else at the car meet ups do. He's the one pulling up his sleeves, all to keep his wife quiet and safe.

Your husband, as sweet and transparent as he makes himself, he lies. He lies to you so innocently, you have no choice but to believe him! He's doing business, he's keeping you all safe at your shared home, living like a princess. All you have to do is love him, and don't question what he does.

Sure he comes back home with blood on his sleeves a few times, the smell of weed and his palm often seems unnaturally red, but he can't be lying to you! He's Kento Nanami, your husband, the one who doesn't lie.

All you know of his co-workers is that they're lazy and clueless to how his 'industry' really works. What is Kento's industry? ... business. What type of business? And by that question he would've already distracted you and made you forget all about your silly concerns. Sukuna's there for the thrill of beating Satoru Gojo, and Satoru's there for the thrill of the race itself. Neither of them want to 'bore' themselves with recruits for the races.

So while you're sitting all pretty and cozy at home, Kento's rolling back his sleeves and adjusting his tie in the grimy bathroom. Looking dead straight ahead, and hiding his wedding ring into his wallet, before picking up his briefcase and exiting with a sigh.

It's only a few steps on the sticky floors of Shibuya subway before he tilts his head to the side, analysing the man in the hoodie in front of him.

Easy enough.

The young man, with a small stubble and greying eyes looks up from his phone when seeing a smiling Nanami Kento, looking down at him. Nanami doesn't think twice before flicking the cigarette out of the young man's hand and stepping it into the floor with the most charming smile.

"Hey, what the hell man?" The man questioned him, getting riled up and confused. Pushing his hoodie back to reveal the messy black locks of hair on his face, his jumper wasn't zipped up properly either. Revealing a green fast food employee uniform, with the name tag still on, 'Atushi'. He ran a hand through his hair, scoffing at Nanami as the blond man reached out his hand with a business card.

"Please, no need to yell sir. I can tell you're a good man, smart enough to make money..." Kento trailed off, glancing down at the name tag away before chuckling in that unnerving smile again when Atushi snatched the business card out of his hand.

"What's it to you? I'm not here to join your weird multi level marketing scheme—" he was speaking annoyed, eyes reading over the card before raising one of his eyebrows confused. It was all about car racing, and how much money people made within the first week. Too good to be true.

"Are you one of those YouTubers that play pranks on random people? What the hell is this?" He argued back and shook the card in his hands.

"No no, please, good sir, I would never!" Nanami shook his head innocently and smiled at Atushi. Adjusting his tie discreetly, and running a hand through his well groomed blond locks. His lips, although smiling and soft, his eyes only crinkled slightly. Making a small chill run down Atushi's neck, maybe he shouldn't yell so much in a random subway.

"...I do need money, but I'm not doing whatever—" he shook the card in his hand again, "—this is!" He huffed.

Nanami only smiled in response before offering the man two things from his large hands. His name tag, and a small stack of fresh 100,000 yen notes. Atushi looked at Nanami quizzically before glancing down at his chest again, noticing his name tag gone. When the hell did Nanami grab it?

"What— is this some kind of magic trick? I'm telling you man, I'm not interested, I've already got my sister to take care of," Atushi shook his head and scoffed incredulously, hesitating to take his name tag back.

"Your sister, huh?" Nanami tilted his head to the side slightly before continuing. "I'm sure that a responsible man like you would know just how valuable even 100, 000 yen would be. It doesn't take much to earn either, can you drive?"

Atushi hesitated, quacking glancing at Nanami's face and then down at his hands again before looking up into those dark eyes. "I can. Why?"

"Novice races. They're easy, really! You can even bet some money on the pro leagues, and earn huuuge stacks of cash," Nanami persuaded him with that sweet smile. Offering out his hand again. "I'll let you borrow this money from me with no charge, just promise me you'll show up on Friday Night at the place on my card." Kento grinned.

It felt like time had slowed for Atushi, as he hesitated between his two options. His grubby fast food job again, the manager he didn't like, and barely able to pay for Keiko's medical bills. The other option was more tempting, a whole golden goose if he played his cards right.

He took the money.

Kento grinned even wider and threw away the name tag. "You're a smart man. I'm sure you'll spend that money wisely." Little did Atushi know about the word the smooth talking blond man had dragged him into.

Nanami would always return home, making sure to rub off any other smells and return the smell of that rich cologne you had picked out for him on your last anniversary. He felt a bit guilty every now and then when having to talk about how annoying his nonexistent office coworkers were, and convince you that it would be a terrible idea for you to ever visit him at the office.

"I'm making an honest living for us, aren't I? Isn't that enough, darling?" Kento asked in a soft voice when cupping your face and kissing your forehead.

"But... I've only met your office coworkers at our wedding!" You pouted at Kento and huffed softly. You had only met the charming Gojo and Geto at your wedding reception, both of them with their own plus ones and teasing Nanami about how Nanami always kept you away from their 'workplace'.

"Ah, ah, ah" he shushed you quickly with a swift and soft kiss to your lips. Leaving you a little confused and dazed, pouting up at him.

You were about to protest before Nanami cut you off again, pressing his finger to your lips, "I'll invite over Suguru and Satoru for dinner next week, how about that? You can even meet the new intern, Ino." Quietness followed as you thought about it, while he held back that cunning smirk of his when his pretty wife finally shut her mouth.

"No point in dwelling on it now, I've already invited them," he lied to you smoothly and adjusted his tie, loosening it while crawling onto the sofa with you. His hips settling between your thighs, his large warm hands gently pushing your nightgown out of the way. "Hm? And you wore... that piece?"

He raised an eyebrow, amused when glimpsing down at the cute pink number you had on with the little bow at the front, the one Kento loved.

His lips gently pressed onto your plump ones, silencing you while your thighs trembled and ached. Soft whimpers and whines escaping your lips, pressing Kento on to hook his fingers around the waistband of your underwear and sliiiiid them off smoothly. He pulled away from the kiss and held up your underwear, dangling it in front of you.

Your blush and embarrassed whine onto seemed to turn him on more, "Kento!" You squealed and tried to grab at the pink number, before he pulled it out of your reach and tutted at you. "Ah, ah, ah, greedy girl. What have I been teaching you?"

You pouted at his words, watching him stuff the lacy number into the pocket of his pants. "Patience..." you muttered, a little annoyed. He only seemed to smile at your words and kissed your forehead again, more mockingly this time. "Mhm, good job.." he cooed before continuing, "gonna keep this cute little number for later, okay? Save for when I'm all alone and missing.. this.."

He breathed out heavily, parting your legs again gently and sliding a single hand between, rubbing at the slit. "So messy..." he muttered mockingly.

His small teasing touches shifted bolder when he began to kiss you, muffling your small moans and whimpers. Two fingers gently but steadily pumping in and out of your puffy hole, the heel of his palm rubbing against your sensitive clit. You moaned his name out into the kiss, not even having to say a word as he fastened his movements.

"Such a pretty wife f'me.." he whispered into the kiss before pulling away, fingers not stopping in their pumping. He admired your flushed out look for a second before glancing down at where his fingers were so lewdly pumping in and out, small wet squelches could be heard. He smirked before looking back up at your face, cocking his head to the side.

"Stick your tongue out for me darling," he muttered, his free hand trailing up to gently tilt your chin up.

You obliged obediently, making him groan softly, "such an obedient wife for me, aren't you?" He cooed and began to slowly try and sneak a third finger in. When you began to whine and whimper at the intrusion, he leaned in and suckled on the tip of your tongue.

It wasn't long before you came on his hand, warmly coating the tips of his fingers. His hand slowly sliding out after your orgasm, lifting it up to his lips before sucking them clean. Eyes locked onto your dazed and flustered ones, knowing he had successfully distracted you once again. Just like every other time when you tried to question him about anything tied to his job.

"Have you ever thought about having a baby, darling?" He asked, innocently enough for you to believe he was asking from the genuine curiosity and love he had for you. You nodded in response to his question, slurring on your words a little, breathless, "yeah.. sometimes..."

He nodded, before kissing your forehead again. "Wanna spread those pretty legs for me then, darling? Maybe we should do a test round... or two."

ɞ⠀.⠀sukuna ﾉ⠀ryomen ﹗ ໒꒱۪

Sukuna's known for his attitude. Everyone knows not to piss him off.

Everyone knows especially not to mess with his girlfriend, you. Someone flirts with you? Unconscious with a black eye an hour later. Someone compliments you? The most venomous glares ever, as if silently threatening the person to not overstep. Someone bumps into you? You have to physically pull Sukuna back from causing a scene.

He gets especially pissed off whenever he even catches a small glimpse of Gojo's white hair. Someone with blue eyes look at him? He's complaining to you about Gojo again. A white cat crosses the street? He's complaining about Gojo.

You like to tease him though from time to time, "ooooh, I think sukuna's just a little shy and wants to make friends with Satoru!" You'd coo at him.

He'd only glare and deadpan in response, swatting away your hand that was trying to pinch at his chubby cheek.

The worst days for everyone at the car race are when you're mad at him. You don't show up to ride in his car, preferring to stay all cozy in your shared penthouse, giving him the silent treatment when he was glaring at you, holding the keys and tapping his foot impatiently at the front door.

Now that he's being ignored, suddenly it's everyone's problem.

Nanami won't approach him on that day, not even if it's to share good news about the increase in earnings. Suguru makes sure to stay holed up in his workshop, busying himself with anything he possibly can and praying sukuna's car doesn't break down. The novice racers avoid him more than usual, even girls who watch his races know not to bother him when he's in one of his tantrums when you're in an argument with him.

The only person who provokes him and gets away with it is Satoru fucking Gojo.

Teasing him,dreamily and loudly talking about how he got to freely kiss his girlfriend, how wonderful it was to cuddle with her, even flexing about how his arguments were always resolved. It was a true miracle that Satoru wasn't dead by like... his first meeting with sukuna a year ago.

Yet, when Sukuna makes up with you, earning his cuddle and kissing privileges back, he's... nice.

You're holding his hands and kissing his cheeks after he wins a race, and he's trying his best not to make his blush obvious. Looking at you with the most fond eyes ever, as if you had personally hung the stars and created the earth he stood on. He'd break the law for you, buy a billion roses and still buy you even more, he'd burn the world for you if you wanted.

"Mwah! Mwah! Who's my good boy?" you're cooing at him with a smile as sweet as honey, his lips fighting their hardest not to smile back. His cheeks are covered in pink sticky lip gloss, in the shape of your sweet kisses.

"Woman, are you trying to drown me in this–... this?" He tries his best to sound intimidating under the harsh lights of the streetrace venue, hundreds of eyes on him and his opponent. His hands gesturing to his face, a mocking scoff escaping his lips as he looks down at you incredulous.

You return his look back with a playful tilt of your head, playing innocent. "What? My love? My kisses? If you don't want me to–"

Your playful words are cut off when he grabs at your wrists, keeping them near his face as he snarls down at you. His words come on in an embarrassing whisper as he keeps up the annoyed and dominant facade. "What? No–.. now I never said that... you know damn well what I meant, woman. Just–" he trails off, letting go of your wrists to look away with a sigh.

"– Just... continue what we're doing later. When we're back in the car."

Ah yes, his car. His car that's littered in traces of you. The sticky girly lipglosses, little keychains and pins, perfumes that were wayyyyy too expensive but sukuna still bought for you, and of course, all the small polaroids you took of your relationship. The sneakily photographed moments of Sukuna cuddling with you, sleeping and drooling on your chest, mixed in with more purposeful photos that sukuna took of you, or photos that you had asked others to take of you and sukuna.

Because no matter what others say about his attitude, you know Sukuna.

The sweet sukuna that holds your hand the gentlest he can, the sweet sukuna that holds all your bags for you and carries you up the stairs if you're too tired.

The sweet Sukuna that promises to marry you and make you carry his children when he's hitting your cervix in your quiet penthouse, huffing and puffing while the bed creaks loudly. His breath tickling the back of your neck, while he uses one hand to push your face down in the pillow, the other large hand being so mean when he holds at your waist, preventing you from escaping. The sweet Sukuna that fills you up to the brim every other night, and holds you close, muttering all sorts of filthy things in your ear while subtly rocking his hips to harden his softening cock inside you, trying to get just one more round in before you passed out.

No matter what, Sukuna loves you and treats you like a princess. 

He's been your cute stay-at-home-hybrid for a while now, finally comfortable enough to not be as shy around you.

Choso was on the more timid side, but he'd make sure he's always around you when you're home.

Sitting next to you at the breakfast table, thigh against thigh, his tail wagging and smacking against the leg of the chair. You liked his presence, letting him steal food from your plate, wiping his cheek with your thumb when he got a bit messy.

He wanted to watch everything with you, getting startled by horror movies- you had to hold the sweet boy and scratch behind his ears. You loved it though, getting to coo and laugh at him when he trembled from a jumpscare.

He slowly had moved to your bedroom instead of his designated room, sleeping besides you, sometimes at the foot of the bed if you weren't in the mood to get snuggled up with a man that could engulf your whole form in his arms.

But that was rare.

You let him lay his head on your chest, place soft kisses on his hair and listen to his breath.

If there was a thunderstorm outside, then you'd huddle up under blankets with him and read to him as a distraction from the loud thundering sound and howling winds.

He did get a bit… touchy though, nosing and trying to scent you in the middle of the night when he thought you were fully passed out.

…You liked it.

He could smell how turned on you'd get, the lovely way your panties became damp and your cunts hole would flutter.

He wanted to have a lick… get your flavor in his mouth.

But he was good, just shifting to try and go to sleep, even if he had the most delicious smelling treat right under his nose.

When you went for walks at the park, he behaved well and stayed near. Choso was actually fairly frightened by the other demihumans.

Especially that mean looking pink tiger guy… or the gray wolf.

Choso wasn't some meek weakling but he preferred to stay hip to hip with you… in case he had to protect you, not the other way around… definitely.

Back to him being the bestest boy ever.

He wasn't.

Choso was a little pervert.

Like any dog would be.

He gave you sad puppy eyes when you left for work, whining about missing you- all to get a kiss on his droopy expression before you left and closed the door.

He did miss you, he didn't lie about that.

But that pouty act turned into one of pure neediness.

He had started off tame… going into your bedroom, rummaging trough your underwear drawer to get his paws on the fresh laundry, bringing it up to his face to sniff.

Then put them back.

You never knew.

Then he got bolder, sitting on the bathroom floor and pouring the dirty laundry basket out on the tiles, picking your most recently worn clothes up to roll in, laying on his back while smushing a pair of filthy panties to his face. As if you would be on his face.

And then he would shove all of it back into the basket and go laze about on your bed.

You NEVER knew.

One morning you had given him a bye bye peck on the lips, something you had never done before but he had been on the brink of tears, kneeling while tugging at your jeans, ears all flat and tail between his thighs. He was being extra clingy.

So a little kiss was sure to cheer him up.

A bit too much.

Late afternoon- and you return back home, exhausted from work and in need of a shower and a good meal. And some love and attention from your house dog.

"Choso! Puppy, I'm home…" You yawn out, toeing your shoes off and dropping your bag on the little table in your hallway.

Choso, the precious boy he was, rushed over and hugged you, his frame folding over you.

You couldn't help but giggle when he nosed at your neck, acting all cute. Not trying to taste you, no not at all.

He had acted normal throughout dinner, maybe a bit more… nosy than usual.

Nothing was amiss.

Until you were picking out some clothes to change into after you took a shower.

T shirt.. check… sweatpants… check… chewed up panties… check.

…

chewed up panties?

You lifted the cotton pair up by the sides.

There was a hole… a big one… bit right out from where your pussy would go if you wore them-

You don't remember moths having such a big appetite.

Your stupid mutt of a hybrid had gotten into your underwear.

He had gotten a little bit too excited and had decided he NEEDED a taste.

So what else was he supposed to do? Not take a chunk out of your favorite pair?

You tossed the ripped up thing to the bed and groaned, rubbing a hand over your forehead.

"CHOSO."

He was in the room before you could even finish the full word, on his knees and a trembling bottom lip sticking out, tail neatly tucked under his thighs and black furred ears down on his skull.

"Yes, mistress..?"

You glanced over to the bed.

He did too-

Oh no.

I mean, what did he expect would happen.

Leaving evidence right where you'd find it.

Silly boy.

The kneeling hybrids face started to heat up, looking to the floor where his hands were.

"…Wasn't me.."

"Who then? The undie ripping fairy? The pervert gnome of panty land?"

"…Both of them…"

You went silent, eyes staring down at his.

He whimpered, shifting uncomfortably under your glare.

"Choso, be good. Tell me what happened, seriously."

"I.. i didn't mean to… swear it."

"Choso Kamo."

He bit the inside of his cheek, head tipping forwards and hanging. His dark locks falling over his face to cover the guilty look.

His tail was starting to slooowwly slide back and forth across the floor.

Was he enjoying this?

You ran the hand from your forehead down your face.

"I did it…ma'am.."

"Why?"

"Wanted to smell you… but.. but also taste so i…"

"Taste and smell… what else, touch and lick?" You scoffed, making a sarcastic remark.

But he nodded, finally lifting his chin back up to have his chocolate irises meet your annoyed ones.

"May i, mistress?"

"May you? You tore up my favourite pair and now you want to get some? Fine. But you won't like it. "

You tried to threaten him, but he didn't look all that scared.

Not until you grabbed him by the hair and made him scoot forward, clumsy hands clinging to the backsides of your thighs. That pitiful little face he was making made you want to forgive him, but he deserved to be punished.

You stepped a bit wider, shoving his face between your legs.

This earned you a whine from him, unsure what to do now… the scent of you filling his nose and making his fluffy tail thump around on the flooring.

"Don't look so excited, damn mutt."

Choso shuddered from the mean name, peering up at you, tongue already darting out to try and lick at the fabric of your pants.

You unbuttoned your jeans, letting the not so guilty looking hybrid watch you unzip and tug the waistband down.

Before you could even get them past your thighs he was trying to lap at the front of your filly panties- canines lightly pulling on the material.

Someone was hungry.

"Look at you… now hold on, you can't taste unless i allow it." You chuckle, pulling him away by his hair.

Poor Choso was already sniffling, unable to tear his eyes away from the damp fabric clinging to invitingly to your puffy folds, hands gripping into his own sweats.

"Please….mistress… please."

You tutted.

How impatient.

You pulled him up from his knees, pushing him onto the soft bed- ripped up panties forgotten underneath him.

You didn't want to let him get what he wanted the most. To get to touch and bite at your skin.

So the best course of action?

Forcing him to lay down, tugging his sweatpants down just enough so you could sit on his weepy cock. It looked like it was crying by how much precum was oozing out.

Your clothed pussy formed around it, thighs trapping his legs underneath yours.

"No touching."

"Yes ma'am."

It was a pitiful sight, his ears floppy and his eyes glossy, unable to look away where your bodies were rubbing together- and his hands, oh his desperate hands, trying to lay flat on the bedsheets beside his sides.

You didn't slide your soaked panties to the side until he started to buck his hips.

Obviously his cock was obscenely large, with a plump knotting bump at the end. Not to mention how pretty his happy trail was, your hands pressing down on his lower stomach to hold him still while shifting and helping the leaky cockhead find your sopping hole.

Thwap slap thwap slap slap!

Your hips bounced up and down, ass meeting his trembling thighs, the wet sounds of skin meeting skin filled the usual wholesome bedroom air.

All he could do was… well.. cry. And let out whimpers of your name- too overwhelmed.

He was sobbing, nose scrunched up and his eyes blinking out pearly tears before shutting completely, fingers gripping into the bedsheets so hard they might tear.

"Misuhh…mistthhrurress…" He hiccuped out your title over and over again.

You leaned over, grabbing his face with one hand, the other bracing your weight on his abs.

"Cmon, look at me, you crybaby. You did this to yourself."

He refused to open his eyes, trying to squirm out of your hold.

Smack!

You have his cheek a light slap before leaning back, making sure to clench around him for a torturous squeeze.

"Bad puppy."

You didn't even let him cum inside, getting off right at the last moment.

And the thick load splurted out all over his own chest and face. Nowhere near where he would have liked to get it on… or in.

Lesson learned?

For now, maybe.

You weren't that cruel… you scooped up the whiteish liquid in your fingers and fed it to him.

That counted as cleanup.

Fine, he got a proper cuddle session and a short lecture about eating your clothes.

Didn't mean you knew about all the other stuff he had done before getting caught this one time.

Yoon's notes: sumn abt writing subby pup choso always hits the spot

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(as if he hadn’t been drooling all over the damn couch.)

“insufferable,” you’d mutter, an exasperated scowl on your face.

varka would only laugh at that — loud, bright, utterly unashamed, 'cause of course he is, he's varka for archons' sake.

“but still yours, no?”

which was, (un)fortunately, true.

even if he gave you migraines on the daily. even if he was utterly unbearable sometimes.

varka was yours, as much as you're his.

decades of marriage had taught you many things about the man you loved. some grand, some small, some hidden in the quiet habits he didn’t even realize he had.

but you'd see them all, no mattter how miniscule they may seem.

you knew the way exhaustion settled into his shoulders after long days, knew the look of him when he walked through the door.

dim ocean blues, a crooked, tired smile, muscles aching beneath his coat.

these days he would simply press a quick kiss to your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom to wash the grime off his skin then spare a few minutes for mantaining his swords, talking about the day with you as he wipes and polishes them to perfection.

and inevitably, after a meal, he'd end up passing out just about anywhere but your shared bed.

you knew your husband very well.

which is why the moment he steps through the door tonight, you kmow something is different.

his eyes meet yours.

and the fire burning in them — sharp, bright, dangerously familiar — sends a shiver down your spine.

“i’m home,” varka whispers, boots heavy against the wooden floorboards as he crosses the room.

tonight he isn’t wearing his usual coat, nor the small pieces of armor that usually cling to him like a second skin. they’re nowhere to be seen. instead, he’s dressed only in a black shirt — the top buttons carelessly left undone.

half of his chest is exposed through the open buttons — scarred skin, a faint trail of blonde hair, and the familiar wolf-tooth necklace swaying faintly with each step he takes.

yet somehow, tonight, everything about him feels. . . different.

"sorry if i've kept you waiting," he places a light peck on the side of your lips, eyes gazing straight at you as he does.

predatory.

that was the gaze of someone who wanted to devour something — or in this case, someone.

warm, large palms rest just above the side of your hips, and you can feel the way he presses slightly, inching your body closer to his.

"no 'welcome home, honey' for me?" a deep chuckle spilled from him, soft with fondness, "finally got tired of your husband, hm?"

his eyes gleam with a certain hunger, tracing over the shape of your lips to the half-exposed cleavage of your dress.

varka does not lighten his grip, eventually pushing you further and further until your back hits the wall. leaning over until he's got you trapped between his frame and the wood now, faces mere inches apart.

you could hear the sound of his heartbeat, loud yet steady.

gulping the sudden nervousness, you were about to welcome him home as you usually did.

before you could speak, he captures you in a deep kiss, discarding whatever restraint he has. varka places a hand behind your head, softly caressing, before forcing your face closer into his waiting mouth.

he can barely keep it together, chest heaving with every rhythmic dance of his lips on yours.

"welcome—mmph—" kiss. "ahhn, home. . ." kiss.

you whine at his desperation, "varka—"

he groans into your mouth at the mere mention of his name, lips turning even more desperate. the sound rattles your bones, making you squirm against him.

and with how large the knight is, you're practically engulfed in his arms, body pressing onto the flimsy fabric of your dress until you eventually mold into one, until you eventualy feel it —

your face goes red immediately, and you hopelessly try to hold onto his biceps as he grinds the very obvious bulge against you.

you can hear every wet smack of his lips on yours, the lecherous sound bouncing off the sides of your throat into your ear. he's practically devouring you by this point, panting into the wet cavern of your mouth.

there’s a hunger in the way he looks at you, not for anything fleeting, but for the entirety of you — your voice, your laughter, the way you carry yourself

he needs you so bad that it's breaking him apart.

a small yelp escapes you when varka suddenly lifts you into his arms.

the motion pulls your lips from his, the kiss breaking too soon. he doesn’t go far, though — only tilts his head forward until his forehead rests against yours, breath warm against your skin.

your hands fumble to rest at his shoulders, steadying yourself in his arms.

"yeah, much better," he laughs, bright as ever, "my back was killin' me, leaned over too much."

varka's moved the both of you to the living room now, hs probably knocked into a few things on the way but the two of you are much too distracted to care.

"it's not my fault you're built like a hilichurl tower." you quip, looking to the sides so you can avoid his peering eyes.

he flashes you a fond, crooked grin, resting his face on your chest. "hilichurl tower? surely, there are better structures to describe someone like me."

"like what, grandmaster?"

"a guizhong ballista?"

". . . i have no idea what that is."

varka lingers dangerously near your throat, warm breath brushing your skin.

"hah, don't worry, love— you'll find out soon."

you're sitting on his lap now, directly over the twitching bulge of his cock. your thighs flinch at every shift of his hips, feeling it brush over your warmth.

he's nipping at your exposed neck, leaving faint marks that you'll scold him for in the morning. though, varka could care less about the scolding he'll get when he has you exactly how he wants you:

flushed, trembling, and soaking wet.

the strap of your dress starts to fall off your shoulder, revealing the rest of your cleavage for him to stare at. he's mesmerized at how beautiful you look, finding it hard to believe he has you all for himself.

"have i ever told you how beautiful you are?" he rasps, unzipping your dress from behind. maybe it's because of the way he's speaking to you in that tone, looking at you with that gaze, but you suddenly feel like putty in his hands.

"many times, i believe you say it everyday."

he chuckles, "really?" pulling the dress down further until it's bunched at your hips. "s'pose i can't really help it when you make me hard every damn time i walk into this house."

you feel him lick and suck bruises into your skin, each mark blooming red and pink across the canvas of your flesh — a vivid display of his relentless desire for you.

"aren't you embarrassed being this shameless at your big age?"

even well past thirty, there’s still that same restless hunger in the way he looks at you, the same eagerness in the way his hands find yours. time may have carved new lines into his face and scattered scars across his body, but it has never managed to dull the way he wants you.

varka makes a show of caressing your thighs, pushing your skirt along with it, "shameless? i'm just being honest, don't you like an honest man?"

he sneaks a glimpse at the cotton underwear hidden beneath, swallowing the urge to push them aside and take you already.

"maybe if this honest man stopped seducing me everytime he came home, i'll like him better." you huff, carding your fingers through his disheveled hair.

he looks back up at you.

"oh?" varka smiles toothily, amusement rolling off him in waves, "so the lady screamin' for more last night was just a figment of my imagination then? the very same lady who rode me so well she—"

memories of last night started flowing into your head, causing you to fluster.

your hands immediately fly to his mouth, shutting him up for good, "okay! i get it, that's enough!"

you hear his muffled laughter through the gaps of your palms, his eyes crinkling with shameless amusement.

meanwhile you’re left flushed and needy beneath him.

it’s terribly unfair.

for all the years you’ve had this man wrapped around your finger, not once have you felt undesired.

if anything, there were moments you felt too desired.

his appetite for you was relentless — rivaled only by his well-known love for alcohol.

passion has never dimmed in your marriage,. you were in an eternal state of the so-called 'honeymoon phase' where the two of you fucked like rabbits and slobbered over each other anytime you can.

that never changed, even as varka traded the reckless, stubborn youth he once was for the measured, commanding man worthy of the grandmaster’s position.

you actually found it quite funny that the young boy who used to cause a ruckus everyday for valentine would mellow down into this boisterous but dependable leader.

he's changed so much over the years, turning into the pillar of strength in mondstadt — a legend among men.

and even so, he still acted the same with you, as if he was that same bumbling fool who professed his love to anyone who would listen.

varka might have changed — in ways that might seem inconsequential to anyone else — but deep down, he was still the same man you married all those years ago.

even down to that insatiable hunger he always carried for you.

your husband has you laid out on the sofa, legs wrapped around his waist — though they never quite meet around him, his broad frame simply too large, pressing you close in all the ways you’ve grown to know and crave.

"is it too much, hun?" varka asks, combing a hand through his hair to keep it away from his eyes, all so he could stare at the way your face scrunched up for him, kiss-swollen lips trembling from the stretch.

"need me to slow down a li'l?"

you vigorously shake your head, clutching at the large palm softly caressing your cheek, "no, no, keep going, please—"

varka laughs at your desperate cries, pushing a bit further into your warmth. it's always been necessary to prep you for hours before you could take him without much pain, and varka doesn't mind the extra work – he quite enjoys it actually.

but you don't have that patience, too needy and wanting to feel him inside you as soon as possible. he finds it very cute by the way, seeing you beg for it always gets blood rushing to his nether regions in no time.

"taking me so well," he whispers, kissing your forehead, "just a bit more, mhm? be a good girl f'me."

you whimper, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he starts to slowly thrust back and forth, and it immediately makes you even wetter, soaking him in your juices.

varka lets out a lengthy groan, throwing his head back when he feels you clench around him.

“fuck,” his brows pull together, beads of sweat trailing down the hairs of his chest. “relax a bit. . . gonna break me at this rate.”

varka chuckles lowly, an obscene grin curling across his lips.

"s-sorry. . . " you say, clinging to his arms like it's the only thing anchoring you to reality.

his wolf-tooth pendant sway with every delicious roll of his hips, nailing you to the cushion, the metal glinting under the dim-lighting of your home.

your eyes linger on the many scars along his chest and arms, each one waz a testament to the battles he’s survived — a symbol of courage, of years spent facing danger without hesitation for the sake of his lobed ones.

and yet it’s the very same body he uses to carry you to bed, careful hands far gentler than anyone could imagine.

the same arms that once raised a blade now wrap around you with an ease that feels almost tender, as if the weight of war and bloodshed melts away the moment you’re in them.

it always amazes you — how a man built for battle can hold you like something precious.

varka's lips found its way to the dip of your neck, licking anywhere he could while his hips gain a steady rhythm for the both of you.

and soon enough, you start to see blurry white stars along the edges of your vision.

decades may have passed between the two of you, yet varka’s desire has never learned how to calm itself. age has softened many things in life, but not this — not the way his hands still find you with the same urgency, thee same hunger as it did all those years ago.

time may wear down mountains, but it has never managed to wear down the fire he carries for you.

"still, ah, with me?" varka asks, face still buried in the crook of your neck. his voice a soft and warm thing, contrasting the way his hips viciously slam against your soaking heat.

you could barely even garble an answer, moaning and whimpering his name at every hard thrust.

varka gently pushes your knees toward your chest, holding you close as he leans over you, his presence overwhelming in the small space between you.

you could feel every vein and throb of his thick cock, the way he stretches you out sooo good that it leaves you limbless.

he's got an arm under both of knees, locking them together, and pushing them to the side of his waist.

"take a deep breath for me," varka warns you, chuckling at the way your pussy seems to respond instead, pulsing around him with need.

he fucks you roughly, frantically pushing in and pulling out. bright red marks start to form on your ass, his pelvis repeatedly hitting against it.

every loud slap of skin makes you go dizzy, mind turning into mush as you let yourself get lost into the throes of pleasure.

your neighbors could probably hear you by now, moaning so loud that the sound bounces off the walls. varka could care less, more than happy to let you disturb the ones nextdoors — what are they gonna do? complain to the knights of favonius?

plus, hearing you sing his name like this, talking about how good everything feels and how he's 'too big' just pushes him off the edge.

he leans over to lick your lips, fingers brushing onto the side of your face.

"too much, hngh. . . "

varka laughs quietly against your ear, the sound deep and gravelly, “oh, but you love it rough. don’t you, pretty?”

your nearly roll to the back of your head, a line of drool slipping past your parted lips, "yes, i do! love it s'much—"

"really?" varka teases, voice low with desire. he wipes the drool with his thumb before bringing it back to your lips, "tell me how good it is then, c'mon, cry for me."

cry for me.

this is the only time varka would let tears run down your face willingly. he loves seeing how good he makes you feel, especially through the soft cries of his name.

"i love you! i love you!" you wail, feeling him speed up, the sounds of skin against skin getting louder. "ah! varka—"

he’s practically buzzing with adoration, every muscle taut and alive with each “i love you” that slips from your lips. even now, his heart leaps every time you praise him — a feeling that has never waned, no matter how many years have passed.

he bites his lip, letting his hips do the talking.

the sofa shakes with every brutal thrust, wood creaking under his weìght and strength.

he laughs, a low rumbling thing that makes your cunt throb, "fucking gorgeous, could never get tired of this pussy—hah, shit."

"could never, ever, get tired of you."

a mixture of sweat, drool, and cum is splattered across his meaty thighs and sticking to the trail of hair along his navel.

varka loves it when you make a mess — whether it’s around the house or on his cock. to him, it simply means his wife feels comfortable enough to let herself go around him.

and he loves it the most when you arch so beautifully in his arms, cunt clamping hard on him as you cum — you could call it an addiction with the way he groans at the way your eyes cross, whimpering his name.

"i love you too," varka whispers into your ear, leaving small butterfly kisses along the shell of it, "gonna—ugh—cum." he stutters, a low exhale leaving his lips.

your nails scratch down along his shoulders, leaving bright red marks but the pain doesn't register for him, too busy chasing his release.

not that something as small as a scratch could ever faze him.

his eyes never leave yours, following every tremble, every small gasp, as if he could memorize you whole. varka’s expression stays gentle, even as his hands leave indents on your skin — a silent tether, a promise you’re not going anywhere.

even through overestimated tears, you manage to see the silhouette of his face, desperate in a way he shouldn't be. after all, he had you nearly everyday, so why is it that he always fucks you as if it's your last?

varka presses down on you — hard. putting most of his weight onto you while you keen, cumming for a second time.

his hips goes completely still, filling you to the brim with all of his length.

all while he crashes his lips into yours — hungry, desperate, and all consuming, moaning into the kiss while your tears fall from overwhelming pleasure.

"sorry, honey. . . i don't think i'll be able to hold back tonight."

"ugh, maybe i should just go ahead and get married too. . . " one of the junior knight sighs dreamily, looking at the grandmaster's bright grin as he steps into the favonius headquarters.

his partner looks at him with a confused expression, "hah? what brought this on?"

the junior knight, palez, points over to varka, "the grandmaster gets to come home to a sweet, loving wife and a warm meal. . . that's why he's always smiley like that, look at how much he's glowing!"

"are you mentally ill?"

a suave voice cuts in, "oh dear, gossiping about the grandmaster's love life in such an open space, getting a little too chummy are we?"

kaeya and rosaria look at the two knights, and an air of chill sweeps through making them shiver. when put together, these two are no joke (outside of a tavern).

"s-sorry! captain kaeya, sister rosaria! it won't happen again." the two frantically salute, palms already getting sweaty.

kaeya laughs lightly, saluting half-heartedly as he walks away. rosaria follows right behind, her expression as icy as ever.

step.

step.

step.

". . . ."

"you think she's alright?" kaeya whispers, cringing at the thought of you being bedridden again.

rosaria can only scoff, massaging her temples as if talking about it was already giving her a migraine, "likely not. she hasn't gone to good hunter all morning which means she's. . ."

"especially since he's looking so refreshed then she's probably. . . " kaeya trails off, silently praying for your recovery.

speak of the devil.

kaeya straightens up, smiling like normal. rosaria rolls her eyes, wincing at the loud voice.

"oh, hey— it's you two! thank barbatos! mind doin' me a small favor?" varka greets them with an enthusiastic wave, a bright, boyish grin on his face.

and he shall appear.

"jean's gonna tie me to the desk at this rate," varka grumbles, "so i was hoping you two could drop this off for me—"

he shoves them something warm wrapped in cloth, rosaria takes it and perks up at the familiar smell of food — it's your favorite dish from good hunter.

kaeya shares a look with her, looking back up at varka with a sly grin, "of course, leave it to us."

.

.

.

it's just another day at mondstadt.

oddly enough, you woke up that morning with your stomach feeling warmer than usual.

it's probably nothing.

#it's-your-captain-ari-speaking ☆ i was listening to sade while scrolling on twitter dot come when i suddenly came across such a golden tweet that inspired me to immediately open my tumblr drafts to goonwrite.

I KNOWW ITS ASS...im sorry i just wrote this in between other longfics.....just...take rhis for now...ill edit it when i have time

btw just a funny thing i added but he laughs/chuckles a lot in this fic, this is bcs i went through his voicelines and istg — this guy always has to let out a "AHAHAHAHAHA!" or "hahahaha. . . " or even a small "heh." like omg shuuut up....he just be hootin' and hollerin' all over mondstadt bro 😭😭 he is soo happy to be alive.

i asked the gc for a title, and 8 out of 11 people voted for "AITA for fucking my wife too often??" while the rest either voted/recommended "a case of erectile overfunction" or "HOPPIN' DIH DIH DIH" which cracks me up a bit.

anyways brought to you by this #truthnuke of a tweet lol: