₊ ⊹ ᶻz .ᐟ.ᐟ SOSA .ᐟ.ᐟ ␥ ⭑.

ᛪ༙ black. twenty. she/her. beautiful girl. leo. 420 enthusiast. certified procrastinator. mother mother lover. #youngho. multifandom. real bad plug! choso addiction. minors dni.

NAVIGATION.

masterlist.

rules.

© luv4dapape 2026. do not steal, copy, plagiarize, rewrite, feed into ai, or rework any posts or works on this blog without permission. thank you.

white girl wasted! levi ackerman. fluff/crack. black coded reader.

"i think it's time we get home" levi ackerman muttered as he took his wallet from the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled some bills out, covering the tab for the whole table. you let out a drunk whine, throwing your head back against the back of the booth at your mood killer of a boyfriend. "but i don't wanna goooo" you slurred "'m having so much funnn"

he wasn't though. this was supposed to be a little get together for you to catch up with your friends, but after you had one too many shots, he ended up being your babysitter for the night.

"y/n, sit down" he says sternly when you start to get up and bother the people in the booth behind you guys, that guy’s girlfriend must be drunk too because all of a sudden he hears ‘oh my god! you’re so pretty!’ ‘no that’s alll you babe, i literally love you!’

hange chuckles at the theatrical sight in front of them. "hate to say it, but he might be right, you're drunk as a skunk" you turn back around and pout before letting out another slurred whine.

"nooo, he justs wanna get me home so he can fuck me again" erwin chokes on his drink and levi eyes widen at your outburst before sending you a warning glare, which you proudly giggled at.

you keep talking though, leaning over the table towards hange as you cupped your mouth with a shitty, drunk attempt to whisper. "—and it’s bigggg too and heavy like thor’s hammer" hange busts out laughing, holding their stomach in sheer delight.

despite the deep furrow of levi’s brows, he can’t hide the fluster that’s warming the back of his neck. he runs his fingers through his dark hair then lets out another huff.

"the uber is outside, c'mon" he quickly grabs your arm and pulls you away from the two of them before you can expose anything else your friends didn’t need to know—and knowing you, you definitely will.

on the way, to the door you stumbled over your feet a few times despite you insisting that you could walk perfectly fine in your heels, bumping into people and accidentally pushing their food on the floor—which levi ended up having to pay for.

even when you two finally make it in the uber, you down right refuse to get in, letting out loud and bratty protests which pulls the attention of the people passing by. so loud they even made someone approach levi, accusing him of trying to kidnap you.

and on the ride home, you kept messing with the person's radio and trying to turn the music all the way up, you repeatedly poke your head out of the window like you were the main character of a indie movie and pulling on the door handles.

levi’s forced to pull you in his lap and restrain your hands, another carefree giggle bubbles out of you as you move your hips in his lap. you turn your head slightly and he sees the mischievous glint in your eyes.

levi kisses his teeth and another strong hand comes down on your hip, firmly holding you in place (not before you can feel the throbbing heat at through your fabrics)

the tip of his ears might be red, but a small frown settles on his face at your absolutely outlandish behavior, you were stressing this poor man out wayyy more than he needed to be.

you guys finally make it to your condo, and of course levi has to carry you up the stairs to your shared bedroom, long and tired breaths leaving out of his mouth from you obnoxiously singing umbrella by rihanna while flailing yourself around in his strong arms.

he throws you on the bed with a loud and dramatic huff, completely ignoring your complaints that he was too rough as he peels his jacket from his body, tossing it to god knows where in the room. levi gently pulls you by your ankle to the end of the bed, making your short dress ride up with the sudden friction. you lift your head up and smirk at him.

"i knewww you just wanted to fuck me again, you wanna take a deep dive in this ocean, ackerman?" that clumsy smirk playing on your lips. he rolls his eyes before unstrapping your heel and taking it off, which earns a loud gasp from you.

"you have a foot fetish?! oh my god!" you snatch your feet away from him and he growls. "what the hell are you talking about? be still so i can take your damn shoes off" he grumbles before grabbing your ankle a little more firmly and taking the other heel off.

you hum, more of a vibration really. eyes low and filled with amusement as you watch him shamelessly. "i know you wanna suck my toes levi, i don't mind baby" as you wiggle your painted toes in his face, which he dodges with ease.

levi screws his face up in disgust at your words. "you're so close to sleeping on the floor, keep it up" levi grumbles again before he pulls you up by your loose arms and take your dress off, letting your body flop back with ease on the bed when he’s done.

he walks away for a few minutes and you roll over on your stomach, blowing raspberries and making random noises as you watch the room spin from the side of your head. maybe you should’ve stopped after the fifth shot…

you feel a dip in the bed, looking over and seeing levi’s now stripped figure (exactly how you like ‘em) lean over to put your bonnet on your head, making sure to tuck all your hair away so you won't have to worry about it being a mess in the morning.

"there, now go to sleep. i have to make sure hange isn’t posting your little sex gossip in their new status update,"

you scoff but it lacks conviction, your eyes grow heavy as you snuggle closer to his warmth, his arm pulling you closer to his hard chest. but one more thought pops in your head despite the sleepiness.

"why do i have to go to sleep levi? you wanna fuck me in my sleep?"

she’s really supposed to be studying, she’s been sitting at the textbook cluttered desk for about an hour now. apparently there’s some important board test coming up that she’s been stressing herself over. you hear the occasional huffs and sighs from her as you pick out a hair color for your sims on her dorm bed.

with your back against the headboard and face buried in your ipad, you don’t look up when you hear the chair creak or at the sudden dip in front of your feet. you feel shoko maneuvering between your legs, spreading them apart as she leans over and looks at your screen, pursing her lips. “i’m over there dying in neuropathology, and you can’t decide over a brunette or a red head”

you finally tear your eyes from your game and look at her tired face, the bags were starting to set in and there was a slight wrinkle in between her brows, despite the small amused smile that was on her lips. you take your thumb and press it right between her eyebrows, rubbing the crease. “stop frowning, that’s how you get wrinkles”

she catches your wrist softly, lowering it and brushing her lips against your pulse. her eyes glint with mischief. “i can think of a few ways to stop frowning” her voice dips as she leans in, her brown eyes dilating with every inch she closes. you roll your eyes but can’t fight the smile that’s forming. “you’re such a hornball”

“only for you” her breath fans against your lips as she closes the distance. your hands completely drop your tablet and tangle themselves in her hair. her lips are soft and plush against yours, you let out a soft moan into her mouth and she smiles against your lips before parting them with her tongue.

you wrap your wet muscle around hers, saliva mixing together and a small grimace forming on your face. “you taste like cigarettes” you mutter in the kiss and she hums. shoko breaks away as her lips drag across your jaw and pepper down your neck. “‘m sorry baby, you know it’s a bad habit” she hums against your skin.

her slender fingers find their way up your skirt, the cold tips of her fingers rubbing soft circles on the sensitive part of your inner thighs as she nips at your neck. just as her fingers were about to touch the hem of your panties, “ah ah” you tug her back a little by her hair. a small pout crosses her face as she looks up at you. “what’s wrong now?”

you give her a knowing look. “go brush your teeth, you aren’t going down on me with cigarette breath” shoko rolls her eyes playfully, “that’s gonna take an entire two minutes” she leans in closer to your face, tilting her head slightly “i can make you cum in one” her lips brush against yours and she smirks.

“see that would’ve been hot…if you didn’t smell like a pack of new ports”

shoko scoffs and she rolls off the bed. “newports? it’s like you don’t even know me” her voice calls over her shoulder as she heads into the bathroom attached to your guys’ bedroom. you hear the water turn on followed by the sound of her brushing her teeth a few seconds later.

a smirk creeps on your face. “and we have to wait an hour afterwards! so the fluoride can do its job!”

synopsis // choso’s best worst day of his life was coming across you.

pairing // loser! choso kamo x mean! reader

cw // college au! mentions of blood + cursing + “bullying” + masturbation + voyeurism + cum eating + oral sex (f. receiving) + humiliation + sexting / non-consensual nude viewing(?) + panty stealing + usage of weed / alcohol.

a/n // loser! choso won the poll so here u go lovelies! fair warning: unedited, pls don’t mind grammar / spelling errors.

choso has always been a loner. it’s not like he doesn’t want to be around people, they just all seemed to avoid him for some reason. maybe it was his pale ghostly skin, always making him look like the walking dead—the eye bags really didn’t help, not after his little brother insisted that if he put a little purple eyeshadow on them it’ll make him look “alternative” (because apparently that’s in now).

or it could’ve been the tattoos that decorated his arms and sprawled up his neck, the shiny piercings that hung from his lips and brows, maybe the cold look in his eyes that honestly betrayed how anxious he always felt. talk about a resting bitch face.

so the first time you came across him, you expected maybe two words from him and probably a grunt, he was hot but you were 100% sure he was a himbo. you were walking in the cafeteria with your friends and you bumped into him—which was harder than you expected, the thick muscles of his chest collided straight with your face and your forehead took most of the impact.

the throbbing sensation in your head immediately gave you an attitude and you took half a step back before glaring up at him, pointing your charmed manicured finger in his face and sharply demanding an apology from him. you feel one of your friends try to grab your arm and mutter something about staying away from him, but you weren’t hearing it.

what you didn’t expect was how his chapped lips parted and his entire body stiffened. he looked like he had just been shocked by a taser. he stood there completely frozen, the black of his eyes dilating as he stared down at you.

and then…the blood starts gushing.

it wasn’t a little trickle out his nose, no. the crimson poured from his nose like a faucet as the back of his neck warmed to a heated flushed. the blood ran from his nose down his lips and drops fell to the floor, right on your crisp white shoes.

you gaped down at your shoes, mouth parted as your eyes darted from his frozen features down to the red stain that started to spread through the ivory fabric. “what the fuck?! you fucking freak!” your body physically recoiled as you screeched and the sudden dip in conversation throughout the cafeteria barely registered to you.

“fuck—i’m—i didn’t—“ he stammered out, words coming out half muffled and nasally as he quickly presses a large tattooed to the lower half of his face, attempting to stop the blood and simultaneously smearing the mess that’s already on his face.

another disgusted sound leaves from your mouth. you forgot to grab some napkins in line. you turn your head, only enough to spot the napkins on your friend tray and quickly snatch them as you shove them into his hard chest with enough force to make him stumble back a centimeter.

“clean this up, now. you’re lucky i don’t make you clean it with your fucking tongue” your face screwed up as you snarled at him.

choso’s eyes widened as his eyes traveled from the hardness of your eyes to the stern set of your jaw. oh you’re serious. he glanced around the cafeteria, the low chatter from before has completely ceased now, all eyes were on the two of you and his heartbeat picks up a notch.

your nails dug a little deeper into his chest and his attention was pulled back to you. “are you slow or something?! clean this shit up now!” one of your girls behind you follows up with something sharp aimed at choso as well and he flinches.

fuck, okay. maybe if i just—

his hand shook lightly as he placed it over yours to grab the napkins, you snatch yours away as if he had a disease and twist your face up further. he opens his mouth to say something else but you shove your hand in his face. “save it, ink stain. hurry up”

choso quickly shuts his mouth and nods. the metal in his tongue clicking against his teeth as he hesitantly starts to lower himself down, eyes rapidly flicking from your mean mug to the splatters of blood on your shoes, napkins clenched in his hand and the feeling of dozens of eyes burning into his skin.

he’s crouched down now, shoes creased and one knee pressed against the dirty floor while he glances up at you again through his lashes—a small peek of purple greets him from under your skirt and the flush on his face deepens. a few more drops of blood leaks from his nose onto the floor and on the edge of your sneakers and he hopes to god you didn’t catch it.

you didn’t, but your sneer doesn’t loosen up as you stare down at him on his knees in front of you, dabbing at the stained cloth of your gym shoes. it didn’t help—honestly, he was making it worse, and that only irritated you even more.

yeah, you didn’t exactly give him much cleaning material to work with, but he’s a grown man! he should know that you can’t just clean blood with napkins—fucking idiot.

your finger looped through his black gauged earlobe and you yanked him closer, earning a small hiss from him. “look at my shoes! you’re making it worse!” you huff as you tighten your grip on him, not paying attention to the way his cheeks are heating his the closer you bring him to your exposed thighs.

“it was an accident!” he hissed. by now, phones are out and hushed whispers and snickers are rippling through the room. his dark brows knit together as the pain shoots from his ear to his temple. you scoff and release him harshly, shoving him back as his bloody hand latched onto his now red ear.

you’re about to double down on him but your grips your arm, a little more firmer than the first time, and your attention is finally pulled away from the pathetic mess on the floor. “people are recording—just leave him” she mutters to you, but the way her hand is tightening around your arm is basically telling you down girl.

you huff and whip your head back around to choso, sending him another glare. “this is far from over, kamo” the words are laced with venom and choso visibly flinches again, breath hitching as you lean down closer to his face and lower your voice. “these shoes cost more than your entire life is worth, best believe, you will pay for this,”

choso’s nose was a little stopped up from the blood, but as soon as the sweetness of your perfume flooded his nostrils his head felt dizzy, your face was so close to his he could see the tiny sparkles of glitter in your lip gloss, watching as little strings of it stick together as you spat your harsh words at him.

he was pulled out of his trance when you straightened up and ran a hand down your expensive clothes, perfectly tailored to your body. you make the extra effort to forcefully press your foot against his hand on floor, smirking at the way he winces as you walk away with your friends, his ears barely registering the snarky words they spit to him in passing.

that was choso kamo’s first impression of you and you turned him on so much scared the shit out of him. the rumors about you on campus truly didn’t do you enough justice—he heard that you were known for destroying ego’s, knocking people down a notch, but not literally putting them on their knees (not that he necessarily minded).

little did he know that was only the beginning.

choso didn’t even realize that he shared classes with you. he always made sure to sit in the back corner, far away from everyone else yet close enough to the door, just how he liked it. he was drawing in his notebook—just a few doodles until the lecture started.

one minute, he’s hunched over, the leather book open in front of him. the next? his books and papers and pencils are suddenly slapped out of his hand, crashing to the floor with a loud thud. he flinches at the suddenness, a shadow falls over him and he jerks his head up.

the supplies on his desk are quickly replaced with your hand, your pretty charmed fingers sprawled against the wood as you lean over and look down at him. your expression holds utter boredom and a little disdain as your eyes lazily travel over him:

messy black strands that are barely held in his shitty attempt of buns, wrinkled and disheveled clothes (he wasn’t even matching, yuck), the panicked look in his eyes as he looked from you to the door—as if he was contemplating running away—but the way he cheeks started to dust pink completely betrayed the scared kitten act he was trying to pull.

but he couldn’t help it! not with the way your jeans hugged your curves or how the plush of your tits were practically in his face, your camisole is tight across your chest and the smooth mounds spills out from the top.

he feels a flush threatening to peek from his neck against and he forces himself to tear his gaze away from your body and back to your face.

your nose scrunches up, he reeks of weed and disappointment. you kiss your teeth, a sharp sound of disapproval and choso shrinks in his seat ever so slightly. “i would ask if you have the money for the shoes but…” you trail off, eyes flickering over his body again with a look that makes his stomach twist. “i doubt you have the money for anything”

choso huffs quietly and attempts to gather what little of his dignity you haven’t taken from him yet. “i—i don’t have the money” you raise a brow, you were so focused on his lack of manners and common sense the other day, you hadn’t noticed his voice was this deep and…gravely. like something he doesn’t use much.

“well no shit, didn’t i just say that?” the sharp edge of your voice draws a few people’s attention and choso shrinks lower in his chair. “can you not be so loud? people are staring…” his eyes darts around the room and you scoff. “right, because you just have such an important reputation to protect” you lean back, pulling your hand from his desk and crossing your arms over your chest.

his brown eyes drop to your tits again before they snap back to your face. choso swallows thickly then leans back in his chair and frustratedly runs his silver ringed hands down his face, he can’t tell if his heart is pounding against his chest out of fear or nervousness.

“okay, fuck—look. i’m sorry but i can’t pay you, what if i did your homework or something? for the rest of the semester? i have a pretty decent grade in here” the words came out of his mouth rushed with absolutely no confidence, a little fear and desperation though. your mouth quirked up ever so slightly, look who suddenly found a voice.

choso was fully prepared for you to probably curse him out again, your friends were probably hiding somewhere with their phones recording as you prepare to laugh in his face, his stomach twists again at the thought.

you narrow your eyes and bring a finger to your chin, tapping slowly like you’re actually turning the thought over in your head. his eyes track every movement.

but…much to his surprise, you actually agreed.

that same day, choso went back to his dorm and stared at his phone screen for hours—literal hours. memorizing the ten digits you gave him until they were permanently etched into his brain.

he was sitting at the dusty, cluttered desk in his dorm. another blunt burning in his hand (who knows how many he’s smoked today) and just staring at the contact you typed into his phone a few hours ago.

he used his free hand to pick the device back up, images of you snatching it from him popping into his head as he turned it over in his hand. he can still hear the tiny clacking sounds of your charms on his screen. he brings the phone closer to his face, already half-lidded eyes closing when his nose presses against the glass and inhales.

and he swears—he swears he can still smell your perfume. the sweetness of it, it was warm and intoxicating (or maybe that was the weed). his lashes fluttered and his cock strained against the fabric of his sweatpants. he wasn’t surprised, this was his usual routine.

ever since that day in the cafeteria, choso had made a bad habit of stalking your social media for hours and using your perfectly arranged feed as his personal porn stash. that picture that you posted last month with your friends? plastered across his laptop screen as he pumps his angry cock rapidly before thick ropes of cum are splattering across your digital face.

that picture of you at the charity ball from last semester is printed and taped onto the head of his twin sized bed, the pinnacle of his attention as he thrusts into a flesh light that he stuffed into his pillow, choso’s thick fingers gripped onto the plushness and imagines it’s your waist instead—would you still have such an attitude when he’s pumping you full of cum?

“ngh~ oh fuck—” a broken whimper rips from his throat as he the flesh light full of his cum for the nth time today.

but he loved the arrangement honestly: he would do your work for you, you would double check his work and yell and curse at him about how things are wrong and you would be better off letting a dog do your work for you—he’d go home and cum all over his hands imagining you being mean and yelling at him in other ways.

and in all honesty, choso didn’t really know shit about greek mythology—or at least he thinks that’s what the class is—but he managed to half ass enough in the class to know more than you, and that’s all that really matters.

choso quickly found you in the library, there was some mini project this week and with your busy schedule, he could only manage to get a few minutes of your time. of course he had to practically give his first born for it, you said something about “dirtbag disease” and apparently he was the cause.

after a few hours of back-and-forth, you eventually found some kindness in your heart, with a stern command that he stays at least six feet away from you.

he sets the caramel frappe down on the table in front of you, wiping the leaking condensation from the cup on his flannel. you didn’t ask for it, but maybe it’ll earn him some brownie points, or at least maybe you’ll look at him like he isn’t a bug on the ground. he stays standing, just looking down at your unimpressed form.

you don’t spare him a glance yet, just keeping your eyes glued to the phone in your hand as you reach forward, grabbing the cup and taking a long sip, choso’s throat works and the metal in his mouth grinds against his teeth as his eyes track the plush of your lips around the straw.

your eyes finally meet his and his breath catches, he shifts his weight on his other foot, hands fumbling in his pockets. “how’d you know my order? did yuki tell you or something?” his stomach flips and you hear another small click from his mouth as his jaw works.

“…in the cafeteria” he mutters. you huff out a breath, he would be so much easier to get along with if he ever said more than 5 words at once. “in the cafeteria? what are you stalking me or something?”

yes. choso scratches the back of his neck and the tip of his ears start to tint. “that day in the cafeteria. when i—yeah.” he takes another deep breath. “anyways, you had one of those on your tray…i just figured, why not?” he shrugs as casually as he can, like it’s just the most obvious thing in the world.

you narrow your eyes at him, stretching the silence between you two until it was almost uncomfortable. the sound of a fax machine being used the only thing filling the space. “you’re fucking weird, sit down and don’t talk unless i speak to you” you snapped.

a beat passed before it registered in choso’s brain. he scrambled in the chair across from you, slinging his bag behind the chair. he watches as you pull your macbook and all your color coded supplies out, taking note of how clean and sleek everything looks.

when you’re about to open your laptop, he clears his throat. “did you like it—the drink, i mean” you pause and take a deep breath. “if i didn’t like the drink, don’t you think you would know?” choso fumble with the sleeves of his hoodie as his head tilts ever so slightly. you rub your temples, he’s like a dumb little emo puppy.

“yes, i liked the fucking drink! now, stop talking to me before people think we actually know each other” you huff, snatching the cup and taking an aggressive sip as you finally open your laptop, brows furrowed in a way that makes the corner of his lips quirk up slightly as he looks down at his legs.

yeah, it definitely was becoming his favorite routine.

what was out of routine though: was you suddenly texting him at—2:16 am?—choso’s three blunts in and forcing himself to focus on whatever hercules has going on in his textbook when your contact lights his screen up.

the blunt falls from his hands and he immediately sits up on the bed. was he nervous? absolutely. why were you texting him? especially this late—fuck, your grade must’ve dropped again.

he’s already forming the excuse in his head when he unlocks his phone and presses on the notification. his eyes read the message. he stops. he reads the message again. then his ears and face burns a hot red.

you: pull that dick out.

jesus christ. choso practically clutches his pearls, the heat in his face was searing, he brings a hand up to his chest, a lousy attempt to steady his racing heart. he ignores the way his cock throbs in his pants at the pure audacity. but there’s no way this message is for him, clearly you’re drunk or something and you just sent it to the wrong person.

and as if you can sense his oozing doubt and hesitation through the screen, another message from you comes through.

you: should i say please, choso?

little did choso know though, this wasn’t necessarily…you texting him. you’re laying down on your bed, hands muffling the exasperated groans you let out as your friends: yuki and shoko, text this fucking lowlife of a man you’re acquainted with.

“oh come on! he’s totally hot, there’s no way you don’t wanna see it” yuki teases and you shoot her a glare through your fingers.

“he’s a goddamn degenerate and a pothead, the guy has like two working brain cells” you grimace, like speaking about him puts a bad taste in your mouth.

however, despite his clear lack of care of personal appearance and hygiene, yuki wasn’t wrong. and you weren’t blind. you notice the way those dingy hoodies fit his arms, and how the piercing in his tongue glints when he drags it across his lips (a nervous habit you figure), or even how his voice is always an octave deeper when he’s high versus sober.

and the only reason you know that last part is because you got tired of him showing up to class high off his ass like he’s bob marley. how is he supposed to do the work correctly and he’s floating on another planet. you told him to save the “stupid junkie shit” for his own time.

but that’s the only reason, not because the skunk of the weed mixes with his sharp cologne in a way that makes your stomach flutters, or because his stare always seem much more intense when his eyes are red and glassy and half lidded, like he’s not looking at you, but looking through you.

right! none of that matters! choso was simply a piece of trash that you’ve just procrastinated on taking out—

“oh shit, he sent a picture!” shoko’s voice pitches slightly.

hold that thought.

“i fucking knew it” shoko breathes while she stares down at your phone with buck wide eyes, the cigarette that dangled from her lips a few minutes ago now forgotten on the ground and yuki practically knocks her over trying to look at the screen, her expression soon contorting into one of shock and pure glee. she looks up at you with a crazed grin. “girl, if you don’t fuck him, i will”

you scoff and finally move from your spot on the bed over to them. they’re so damn dramatic, but that tiny voice is gnawing at that back of your head—just what exactly is he packing? he’s always wearing baggy pants, but it’s not even like you care what’s down there anyways. you’re simply looking because, why not? yeah, why not.

your face soon matches yuki’s and shoko’s when they turn the screen towards you, your breath audibly catches and your brain goes completely blank when you look at the masterpiece debauchery that was plastered on your phone.

you choose to ignore the multiple wrappers scattered across his bed as your eyes zero in on him: face cut out of the shot but doesn’t make it any less jaw dropping. that same dingy hoodies that he wears to class is hiked up on his chest: exposing choso’s pale but chiseled abs, decorated in scars and dark ink.

your eyebrows furrow as you lean closer, “are those fucking nipple rings?” your voice comes out hushed with something that almost sounds like respect and interest. the little barbells poked out of his pink nipples and glinted in the camera. your eyes travel lower and widen, a shaky exhale leaving past your lips.

it wasn’t a picture of his dick, no. but it was damn sure enough. you could see the thick outline of his cock pressing against his underwear, even how fat his tip was against the fabric, it almost look like it hurts.

your stomach twists into something hotter and your thighs clench. there’s a darker stain right above where his tip stops, and you don’t have to think hard about where it came from.

however, it’s the message that came after that completely shattered whatever perverted fantasy you were conjuring up in your head.

choso: i knew you wanted it

nowww, in choso’s defense. he was taking his stupid little brother’s advice: something about “girls like it when you’re a little cocky, there’s nothing wrong with knowing that you’re the prize”. but he should’ve definitely considered the timing, and the person he was saying it to.

you wanted him? you wanted choso kamo? you didn’t know whether to laugh or throw up in your mouth (or give in and admit it like a normal person—), but you nearly tore yuki’s hand off snatching your phone from her and preparing to type—no, record him a very lengthy voice memo explaining how fucking delusional he is.

but why waste of your breath on that waste of good genes, when you can just show him. you’ve always been better at backing it up anyways.

so out of nothing but pure spite, you marched your little self straight to your greek mythology professor’s office and demanded that all your digital work now be transferred onto paper (which she had no problem with, she prefers the old school way over this new technology anyways).

it was a bit harder on choso, he wasn’t the most organized so having to keep up with all these new things wasn’t his norm.

but you weren’t really concerned about his lack of organizational skills, all that matters to you is that he comes by the day before class to drop off your papers, sliding them right under the door, and every time you see the shadow of his heavy boots approaching, you always make sure your moans are extra loud, the creaks of the bed slams against the wall extra hard.

every time choso comes out of his way to drop your class work off, “coincidentally” also happens to be the time you’re getting your back blown out by some random frat boy, and this isn’t the first time—the fourth actually—you’re barely registering the heavy body thrusting on top of yours.

your eyes are glued to the door of your room, a smirk on your lips as you watch choso’s feet from the crack between the floor.

your lips part as you let out some loud dramatic mewl, the guy in between your legs (suguru? or, was it satoru? who cares) probably think he’s a sex god right now but the only thing you’re focused on is making sure he hears.

you make sure he knows exactly what he can’t and will never be able to touch. you moan again for extra effects, the sound bouncing off of your walls and straight into choso’s ears.

every time he stopped by and heard you, he always stood out there for a few minutes longer than necessary. your narcissistic pretty little brain assumes he’s probably crying, each time hurting him more than the last, the sounds of you taking a cock that will never be his.

but—not exactly.

each time you put choso through your form of “torture”, he gets more excited every time he has to drop something off at your dorm.

you just have the prettiest moans, he can see you arched in your bed, taking everything and still demanding for more, the way you probably glare at your fuck buddy when they don’t make you cum enough, it makes his toes curl. he couldn’t help but to start recording the sounds you make.

so whenever he comes by to drop off your work and hears you being a slut just beyond the door, he’s quick to scramble for his phone and presses record, teeth grazing against his lip piercings when he sinks them into the softness and grinds his hard clothed cock against the knob of your door. he presses his phone to the wood, he makes sure to not miss one whimper or whine.

and that same audio file is being played back to him through his headphones almost as soon as he’s back in his dorm, shoving his hand down his pants as his pulsing cock spits pre-cum into his palms.

one day though, choso comes to drop your papers off, and your door is cracked. you usually never leave your door unlocked let alone open. he pauses a few inches away from it, his eyes nervously dart around the hallway, like this is a setup and you’re just around the corner waiting for him to take the bait.

he steps half an inch closer, turning his head and pressing his ear gently to the door, piercings clacking softly against the steel.

silence.

no moans. no creaks. no movement. doesn’t even sound like there’s someone in there. the metal of his tongue piercing clicks against his teeth as he pokes the soft tissue of his cheek, contemplation crossing his features.

worst case scenario: you catch him in your room and threaten to run him over with your car (again), to which he can just say he’s just dropping your papers off like a good…whatever he was to you. that’s not creepy at all.

he ignores all the alarms going off in his head, the hairs that stood up on the back of his neck, he slowly pushed the door open, the soft creaking startling him a little. your room is empty—well, not empty. but you’re not here. choso’s shoulders relax by a fraction and he releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

choso takes a step forward, then another one. all the way until he’s well past the threshold and officially in your space. he inhales deeply, knees buckling slightly from the pure intoxication of your scent engulfing him. your perfume. your shampoo. your sweat. you.

choso left your dorm with no papers and a pocket full of your dirty panties, an extra sense of urgency in his steps as he walks the ten minutes across campus to his dorm. as soon as he closes the door and is officially back in his space, he almost rips the delicate, lacy garments snatching them from his pockets.

and not even twenty minutes later, choso is a complete mess. a blue thong of yours, bejeweled and shiny, found itself wrapped around his thick shaft, the bright blue now soaked in the thick, creamy loads that poured from him.

another pair—that same purple that he seen that first time in the cafeteria—was shoved into his mouth, covering up the needy whimpers of your name that threatened to spill past his lips.

“ah~ god, taste’s so good, need more, i—“ the muffled pants spills from his mouth

his messy buns were now a mess of raven strands all over his head and sticking to his sweaty and flushed face. the drool that dribbled down the side of his mouth and stuck to his piercings soaked the panties in his mouth. choso sucked them hard, eyes fluttering as he tastes your juices still on the fabric.

choso’s hips bucked into his large hand, drooling tip red and irritated from the harsh fabric rubbing against it, but choso keeps going, body locking up and shaking as he lets out a loud, strangled whine and splurges in his hand again.

your wet panties are still hanging out of his mouth when the thought crosses his mind.

this is fucking pathetic.

after that post nut clarity and a long ice cold shower to wash away the shame that burned through his body (even thought he knew that he wouldn’t one hundred percent do it again), choso finally gave in and confided in his little brother, yuji, who was much more social than he was in literally every aspect of the word.

and yuji’s grand plan was to bring him to a kappa psi alpha party.

maybe in yuji’s world of sunshine and butterflies and rainbows, a party is a perfect place to let off some steam. but in choso’s? he’d rather put a bullet in his head. the half broken down frat house was absolutely packed from wall to wall, the air’s thick from berry flavored vapes, hot breath, and some cheap weed that made his nose burn.

annoying EDM music blared in his ears and vibrated from his feet to his chest, people were shouting and screaming to their friends that stood less then two feet away from them, there’s some guy puking in the sink in the kitchen while people…cheer him on…?

he couldn’t believe this is something people did every night.

choso kept his head down while pushing past the thick groups of people, not bothering to mutter any apologies. they were too drunk to notice and after those three—no, five? however many shots yuji made him take, he was too tipsy to really give a fuck.

he needs some water, and a quiet place to sit down and roll his blunt, he tried to earlier and some random girls came begging him for a hit.

he didn’t have time for his blunt to his passed around to the entire party so he opts for the upstairs, which is almost night and day compared to the noise that still leaks from the floor under him.

he shoulders his way into the first unlocked door he came across, the shots making his brain too fuzzy to think about the real owners of the room’s he was entering. the door swung open and the heavy scent of sex and sweat immediately hits him.

and there you are, laid under the covers in the bed. you’re alone (and naked, from what he can see), when your eyes finally drag from your phone to the sudden interruption, the bored look on your face suddenly transforms to something of amusement and defiance.

choso’s body stiffens and he feels his mouth go dry, he can’t see himself right now, but he’s sure that the heat behind his face is definitely giving him away right now.

“well, look at who it is,” your eyes narrow but the dazed grin and the syrupy slur of your words already tells him that he’s not the only one who has a few in the system.

“you—i didn’t—“ he struggles to find the words, his eyes locked on your flushed and disheveled state, the way the after sex glow radiated from your skin. you say something else, sounds like you’re mocking him, but choso isn’t worried about any of that.

fuck. he should leave. this is weird. that would be the gentlemanly thing to do right?

“—mr, wait what did you say again… right! ‘i know you want it’ ha! you wish!” you ramble on, attempting to pushing yourself up from the bed as you sway side to side.

choso stays frozen in the doorway. the alcohol makes your brain a little fuzzy, but you can see him clearly. his usual cheap hoodie is switched out for something tighter, the black henley stretches right across his broad shoulders and coiled muscle of his arms, the dark jeans baggy on his frame. his buns were neater tonight and a few strands fell across his sharp jaw.

his usual silver face piercings are all swapped out with black ones, dark and shiny against his pale skin. even that weird tattoo across his nose somehow looks better, neater, sexier.

you let out a low hum as your eyes dragged over him. you tilt your head slowly before your eyes meet his again, still frozen and panicked in the doorway like he got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. choso flinches when your eyes meet and he takes a deep breath. he needs to say something, anything.

“did you just have sex?”

anything but that.

just as he’s about to kick himself for sounding like a dumbass in front of you, again. instead of the useful snarky remark that you have ready and loaded for him, a drunk giggle bubbles out of you instead. choso’s body relaxes by a fraction, he’s still on guard in case you’re ready to yell at him again or kick him out, but he can’t seem but to loosen up at the sound.

choso’s moving before his brain fully catches up. not anything too much, just enough in the room to reduce the distance between you two and because he was tired of standing in the doorway. you catch his attempt but it completely rolls off your back, you feel too light right now to pick a fight with him.

“why choso?” your head tilts and amusement dances in your eyes. “you gonna clean up the mess we made? because let me tell you…“ your sentence trails with the implication into more giggles and you miss how his breath catches, or how his pupils dilate ever so slightly.

“would you let me?” your laughter stops abruptly. you drag your eyes back over to him and another laughs threatens to break from you but dies in your throat. he’s closer now, at the head of the bed, with eyes boring into you with an intensity that borders on crazy.

“…you’re serious” you breath. a mix of disbelief and awe laced your tone as you look up at him with parted lips. the sheet that you were holding against your chest has fallen a bit and his eyes snap from the exposed skin back to your eyes and he swallows hard.

“hypothetically, of course…” he trails off, the liquor giving him a false confidence that he knows will disappear in the morning, but he didn’t make it this far to back out now, he ignores the pounding in his ribcage. “…if i wanted to clean up your mess, would you let me?” his eyes flicker from your covered body back to your face.

“how are you gonna clean it?” your voice cracks. fuck. the alcohol loosens your tongue, and your resolve. the usual easy confidence you radiate is completely diminished as you stare up at this hungry man looming over you. the heat pooling in in your belly has absolutely nothing to do with the liquor.

choso keeps his eyes on you as he deliberately drags his tongue across his bottom lip, it shines with a thin layer of saliva as that shiny bar protruding out of it smiles at you. it had to be the liquor, there’s no way this man was always this hot. you exhale—more shaky than you’d like to admit.

“you’re fucking disgusting” your voice has never sounded so unconvincing. i mean, it was disgusting! but the way that he’s leaned over you, you can smell the strong weed and some musky fragrance from his clothes, he leans in closer and your heart skips.

choso brings his hands from his sides and places them on either side of your hips on the bed, you stiffen as he leans down and for a second you actually think he’s gonna kiss you. his head dips past your lips and the chill of his piercings against the bare skin of your sternum raises goosebumps.

he inhales deeply, smelling the sex on your skin. he lets out a low noise as he presses his hips deeper into the bed, the erection growing in his pants craving some type of friction. you stare down at him, completely caught off guard. his jewelry rubs against your skin.

“i know” he whispers, a small shudder ripples through him as he breaths you in deeper, pressing his face against your chest and sending a jolt straight between your legs. “i know i’m disgusting and pathetic—but i’m yours, and can be good for you, i—i promise, i’ll do whatever you say” the broken whimpers leave his lips as he arms move from your sides to around your waist.

you let out a small sound of surprise as he wraps his arms tighter around you, letting out small whimpers against your skin as his hips rut into the mattress, small creaks coming from the springs.

your fingers harshly tangled into the back of his hair and you yanked him upwards, only enough to see his face, the way his eyes were knitted together, eyes glassy and foggy with a burning need, the flush was starting to creep up his neck again.

and fuck, did he look good. his eyes traveled down to your skin again and it’s like his lips chased after the softness but you tug him back again, earning a soft whine as he pouts ever so slightly.

now you weren’t usually the dominant type in bed, but he was practically putty in your hands, you bite back a smile as your teeth drag across your lips, tilting your head ever so slightly while your fingers tighten in his scalp.

“now, is that how you ask choso? weren’t you ever taught manners?” your voice dripped with honey and condescension.

another shaky breath leaves him, he wraps his arms tighter around you when he swallows and parts his lips “please” it’s broken, barely a whisper. “please, what? use your words” another shift of his hips against the bed. he looks up at you, eyes wide and full of nothing short of devotion.

“god, please, i need you, i wanna feel you all over my tongue—“

talk about freaked out.

the next few seconds flashed in a blur, really. you had barely gotten your smug version of yes out before the boy practically jumped you. one minute you were sitting up holding the cover to your body, and the next, you were laid on your back with each leg over his broad shoulders and the cover tossed somewhere across the room.

“someone’s eager” you tease but choso barely hears it. his breaths come out raggedy as he eyes the slickness of your puffy cunt. there’s still cum dripping out of you, it slides from your entrance and drops onto the fabric of the bed, he can’t help but to lick his lips again at the sight. “she’s so pretty…”

he manages to tear his blown out eyes from your ruined cunt back to your face. your narrowed eyes darted from your wetness to his face, like you’re still trying to figure out if he’s serious and you’re intrigued disgusted either way, but the way your hole clenches around nothing tells a different story. “can i?” his breath fans against your clit.

that feeling in your stomach twists into something more hotter, and your clit twitches. your hand reaches out and land on top of his soft black strands, and then you pat his head, like he’s some more of dog.

you spread your legs wider by an inch, a lazy and drunk smile stretching your face. “be a good boy and clean up my mess cho’” you coo down at him. “and maybeee, i’ll let you make another one afterwards—only if you’re good though”

a strangled sound leaves him, something between a growl and a whine. he nods his head eagerly “i can be good”, you feel his hot tongue ghosting over your cunt before he lunges in between your legs.

you throw your head back on the mattress when you feel like lick a long strip from your leaking hole to your puffy clit, slurping and moaning into your slick skin, that cold piercing making your breath hitch.

“y’guys tastes s‘good” his broken and muffled voice vibrates against your clit. “you know no idea how much i needed this—god” choso’s eyelashes flutters when he gets that first taste of you on his tongue—sticky and sweet, you taste even better than he imagined.

his hands grab onto each of your thighs to wrap them tightly around his head, gripping your legs until his rings left imprints in your skin. his warm tongue presses deeper inside your cunt, sloppily lapping up the leftover mess inside of you.

the sounds are just filthy, your loud mewls, the wet sounds of his tongue working on your puffy pussy. your back arches off the bed when he rolls his tongue around the bundle of nerves before sucking harshly.

your fingers curl tighter in his hair and it pulls another moan from his mouth. “ngh~ yeah, that’s it—grab me, use me” he slurs against your drenched folds.

“jesus fucking…” your words trail off into another syrupy moan, your body shuddering when his thick fingers stretch your gummy walls and you clench tighter around them, his hips jerk wildly against the bed as he shoves himself deeper in your pussy.

choso curls his fingers and scoops the rest of the cum in you out on his tongue “i promised baby, i promise ‘m gonna get it all”, you spot the black metal now coated in a white glob as he flattens his tongue on your clit.

his neat buns are now a mess in your hands, you use them as leverage as you rock your hips against his drenched face, riding the flat of his tongue and his needy moans send sparks of heat up your spine.

“yesyesyes! yes, choso!” you gasp breathlessly and he hums in your pussy—hungry and satisfied. you grip his strands harder and yank him upwards, away from his meal.

a pout forms on choso’s pink lips, pained whine escaping his lips as he looks up as you with big and confused eyes. you hold his gaze for a beat longer before smashing your lips down on his. it was more of a collision than a kiss, a choked sound left his mouth into yours as he kissed you back with equal intensity.

you can taste yourself and some cheap liquor on his tongue, the metal piece tickles your cheek while he takes the chance to explore your mouth. you swallow his little whines, feeling his nails dig into your thighs as he continues to rut against the bed. “‘m gonna—i can’t, mmfgh~” his voice cracks against your lips.

and that was the only warning you got before choso’s body violently shook against yours, his lashes flutter and all you see are the whites of his eyes as he twitches. once. twice. he lets out a long needy whimper as he collapses his body on top of yours. you pause, confusion crossing your features.

but as your eyes travel down his body, the twitches, the flush on his neck and cheek and ears, the way his hips shifted against the mattress.

he came in his fucking pants.

you can’t help the laugh that escapes you, your hand slaps over your mouth but you throw your head back laughing, dying at the boy hunched over on top of you. choso’s ears burned tomato red—from embarrassment this time.

he tried to scramble up on his hands and create some distance from your cackling figure but as he shifted, a slimy squelch came from his jeans and he winced before shuddering.

your fingers grip at the collar of his henley and he comes willingly despite the humiliation burning in his stomach. “did i tell you to move, choso?” you lean closer, letting your teeth graze his lip piercing. you smirk at the hard swallow from him that follows.

masseuse! levi who absolutely hates his job. rubbing and touching random, dirty people all day definitely wasn't something he enjoyed, but hey, whatever pays the bills right? until you starting coming in more often, requesting him every. single. time.

your skin was always so soft and smelled like shea butter that made his head dizzy, it was music to his ears hearing the small groans of pleasure whenever his calloused hands reached that certain spot in your back or rubbed deeply into the backside of your thighs, slowly trailing up to the plush of your ass.

kaminari's a loud and outgoing man, like the fucking energizer bunny, but when he comes home and just throws his stuff on the floor without uttering nothing but a low hey babe to you, you already know that he had a long and tiring day at work, so what's better then catering to your baby?

your hands were flat against his chest as you bounced up and down his fat dick, feeling his mushroom tip kiss your cervix with every slam of your hips back to his. kaminari's hands were placed on your hips as he threw his head back into the mattress, letting out a few whimpers. you lean forward and press your soft lips against his neck, sucking and biting as you grind your hips deeper on his dick.

cw: dark content + masturbation + religious manipulation + power imbalance (?) + inappropriate use of religion + implied age gap.

↳

“forgive me father, for i have sinned” your voice is small, but it still echoes through the tiny confessional, the shame that burns in your stomach evident in your tone. you glance at the mesh screen, feeling father suguru’s heavy presence on the other side.

you thought this would be easier since he isn’t able to see you—the way your thighs clench at his words in the middle of sunday mass or how flustered he made you during your one on one studies.

“my last confessional was three months ago” you pause. “but i know i should’ve came sooner, i’m so sorry father” the words trembled. “my sins are—“ you swallow thickly. “the devil is heavy at work, father. i can’t stop having these…thoughts. and they get worse every day”

you hear a shuffle of movement on the other side, then a deep voice of velvet follows. “what kind of thoughts are you having angel? tell me” your teeth sink down into your bottom lip, he was always so patient with you, so kind, he didn’t deserve the filth that your mind conjured up in the late hours. your imagine was absolutely licentious.

your stomach lurched as you scraped up what dignity you could find. “they’re…they’re inappropriate thoughts, father” you whimpered

on the other side of the mesh screen. suguru’s breath hitches just barely, before that momentary stun is replaced with a more predatory grin. he hums, long robs flowing off his arms as he places his hand right above his crotch. “you have to be specific angel, how am i supposed to cleanse you if you’re not transparent with the lord and I?” he drawls out.

you release a shaky breath, unaware of the greedy hunger that’s only a few feet away. “i think about this…this man. i think about him touching me” your voice is barely a whisper, but suguru hears it, a low exhale leaves his mouth as he palms himself through his robes, his hardening cock presses against them.

he tuts, but his tone holds something heavier than the disappointment you’re bracing for, something more primal. “go on little one, confess to me” he rasps, slowly sliding his hand beneath his robes and into his trousers.

you let out a shaky breath, your heart pounds against your chest and you pray to a god that’s probably glowering down at you right now that he can’t hear the thumping in your chest. “at first, they were only at night, when i was in bed alone. i would think of him in bed with me” your voice cracks again. a heat of embarrassment burning your face.

“naughty girl” suguru is a bit breathier than before, his hand wraps around his twitching cock, already hard and leaking from the tremble of your voice. he strokes himself once, “you’re still unwed little one, how would the lord feel about you lusting over a man who isn’t your husband?”

you flinch, the guilt burying deeper in your bones. “i-i’m so sorry father,” you stammer. suguru’s hips buck into his hands at the sound of your tiny voice. he strokes himself at a steady pace, imagining how your bottom lip must be trembling the way it always does when you think you’re in trouble. it’s adorable. a bead of pre-cum rolls down his fat tip at the thought of it.

“and what do you do when these visuals appear in your mind?” his smooth voice purrs through the screen. you take a deep breath and close your eyes, as if the darkness would wash away the humiliation. “i touch myself, father” you whisper. “i touch myself…down there,”

suguru makes a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. his cock throbbing in his hand, pre-cum leaking down his shaft and coating it in a wet, sticky sheen. he hums again, a smug smirk crossing his features “you know what they call young girls who can’t help the urge to satisfy their flesh?”

“no, father”

a dark chuckle comes from the other side. “well, that’s what you would call a slut, sweetheart” your body physically recoils at the word and you shake your head rapidly, as if you could shake it away. “n-no! father, i swear—“

he shushes you slowly. suguru’s hips grinded up to meet the long strokes of his hand as he spoke. “what would god think little one? watching you pleasure yourself at the thought of one of his children, like a little whore” his head falls back against the confessional wall, brows knitting as he pumps himself faster, listening to your scared whines on the other side.

hot tears pick at the corner of your eyes. “please father! please cleanse me, i swear to you i’ll never do it again,” suguru lets out a low grunt. “you swear to me, angel?” his usual neat bun was now stuck to the sticky sweat that formed at his forehead, a bead of sweat rolling down his face as he rolls his wrist slowly over his fat leaky tip.

“then get on your knees, get on your knees for me and pray those sinful thoughts away, sweetheart” the words barely finish leaving his mouth before you fall to your knees in the confessional, hands clasped together as you desperately whimpered out prayers.

your pleads only spur him on more, the muscles in his thighs tighten as he listens to you begging for god—for him to absolve you of your sins. “good girl, you’re doing so good” he pants out, the motion of his hand becoming sloppier as he tightens his grip on his cock. “god is looking down on you now smiling, all his angels belong on their knees,”

“thank you father,” you choke out. “thank you for saving me from my sins” suguru grits his teeth hard, bucking his hips into his hand, his long and heavy cock twitching a few more times before he’s spilling his thick load all over his sticky hands and robes.

his free hand grips the wall of the confessional, as if he was trying to grab you through the mesh screen. his breaths come out ragged and uneven, pumping more and more cum into his hands.

✘ jabber wonger

stoner! jabber.

huffin n’ puffin.

bitch got a rope for a tongue! (various)

let my face be your chair. (various)

kiss me thru’ the phone. (various)

side nigga! jabber.

✘ enjin

bitch got a rope for a tongue! (various)

let my face be your chair. (various)

kiss me thru the phone. (various)

✘ tamsy

bitch got a rope for a tongue! (various)

painter! tamsy.

let my face be your chair. (various)

✘ satoru gojo

get yo boy! (ft. nanami)

dirty perv! (various)

good weed , bad bitch

victim , victim.

haunted.

attention.

therapy! (various)

switcharoo!

oops! wrong hole.

perv! satoru.

frat! satosugu.

satosugu sneaky link.

undercover agent.

✘ ryomen sukuna

dirtbag! sukuna.

dilf! sukuna.

dirty perv! (various)

frat! sukuna & plug! choso.

therapy! (various)

plug! sukuna.

✘ choso kamo

foot fetish! choso.

frat! sukuna & plug! choso.

plug! choso.

3:47 am.

plug! choso , guitarist reader.

long day!

crush!

therapy! (various)

dirty perv! (various)

✘ nanami kento

get yo boy! (ft. satoru)

dirty perv!

good weed , bad bitch. (various)

oops! wrong hole. (various)

✘ toji fushiguro

pussydrunk! toji.

good weed , bad bitch. (various)

oops! wrong hole. (various)

gun kink! toji.

jealous! toji.

dirty perv! (various)

professor! toji.

✘ suguru geto

satosugu sneaky link.

dirty perv! (various)

priest! suguru.

frat! satosugu.

✘ hiromi higuruma

daddy’s friend! higuruma

dirty perv! (various)

✘ shoko ieri

smoker’s breath

cw: masturbation + dirty talk

(1) new message from: plug🍃

your eyes squinted at the bright screen, it’s what? 3:47 am? plug!choso usually never texts you first unless he was hooking you up with some deal or asking if you wanted to smoke, but never this late. you’re not complaining though, i mean it’s not like you have his contact in your favorites or anything—or like you always tip him heavily whenever comes to drop off (even though he insists you wouldn’t).

so you pushed that little fluttering butterfly in your stomach all the way down because knowing choso, it was probably just a new strain text.

you press on the notification. his messages pop up and last sent is a black screen. a video. you furrow your brows before clicking on it.

it starts off black and grainy, shuffling in the background before it’s propped up—a desk or stand maybe—and you nearly drop your phone on your face.

it’s shirtless—i mean, it’s choso. and he’s shirtless. fuck. he’s sitting in a gaming chair, his usual two buns now taken down, black strands framing his face. dark tattoos trails up his arms and down his abdomen, a stark contrast against his pale skin. you knew he had ink but not this much. he’s smoking a blunt, dark eyes focused on the camera as the grey smoke escapes his lips and the blunt hangs lazily from his lips.

you’re so focused the ink that snakes around his biceps that you almost miss his free hand slowly trailing down his stomach, fingers brushing against his defined abs and past the patch of hair right before his low waistband.

you turn your phone off and flip it over. “oh my god,” you mutter.

you quickly turn it back on and click back on the video, resuming where you left off.

choso pulls himself out and you swear your heart stops. he’s thick and pulsing, veins running up and down his length. his cock twitches as he strokes his hand lazily over his fat tip, smearing pre-cum all over the ink on his hands. choso takes another pull of the blunt. his eyes are glossy and hooded as he looks down at himself before pulling his hand off his dick and spitting on it.

he takes the wet hand and wraps it around his dick again, hips bucking lightly into his palms. “fuckkk” it comes out breathy and needy. his fingers grip around his length as he starts a steady pace, flushed tip drooling over his fingers. you haven’t picked your jaw off the ground yet, your fingers grip around your phone so tight you’re sure it’ll crack.

a mix of wet sinful sounds and his breathy moans play through your phone speaker. his wrist works in a circular motion around his leaking tip and he throws his head back against the chair. a ramble of curses and whines falls from his puffy lips.

but it’s when he says your name that you swear time completely stops.

you don’t even have time to process it before he keeps going “—need you so bad pretty girl, ngh—wanna stuff you full baby, wanna bend you over in that tiny fucking skirt—hah—and fuck you till you can’t walk, please baby? i promise i’ll be good—“

you’re frozen in your bed. eyes wide as saucers as you watch—no, as you listen—as you watch and listen to the filth that the guy who never said maybe more than five words at once, was on your phone begging for you.

choso jaw falls slack, he gives another needy moan, his now sweat slicked chest falling up and down rapidly as the strokes of his hand increase. he leans over and puckers his lips, a fat glob of spit falls from his lips onto his leaking tip, mixing in with the thick pre-cum as he firmly pressed his thumb to his tip. choso hisses, then it quickly becomes a whimper as he shudders in the chair.

the sweat beading at his forehead glued his hair to his face, a deep blush loud on his neck as his breathing becomes more erratic. “fuck, fuck, fuck” the blunt that was in his other hand (now it’s gone, wonder why) completely discarded as he grips the armrest of the air, the ink on his knuckles becoming paler as he leans forward. “can i cum for you baby? can i? pl—“

the video suddenly cuts and you’re immediately snapped from the trance. you blink a few times, confused and definitely turned on. you look down at your messages and see that choso sent a few more messages.

plug🍃 unsent a message

plug🍃: wrong person

plug🍃: ignore that

you read the messages. then read them again. then read them again. your heart pounds in your chest, he doesn’t know that you seen that video, but do you even want him to know that you seen the video?

of course you do.

you bite your nails while peering down at his messages again. it’s late, you have classes in the morning, you should just end this conversation now and not possibly flirt your way into having your hot plug come over at 4 am for a hookup, something a responsible person would do.

you laugh at the thought as your fingers fly over the screen. your bottom lip pulls in between your teeth as a mischievous smile pulls as the corner of your lips. you send the message and try to ignore the fact that you’re so nervous you want to throw up.

you: you can cum for me anytime

you let out a shaky exhale, your nail beds screaming as you chew them down, watching the phone like it’s a ticking time bomb.

delivered

read

cw: voyeurism

satoru gojo is such a fucking pervert.

here he stands: lean muscular body locked and rigid, a deep pink flush across his pale skin, his teeth sinking deep into his bottom lip to muffle his breathy moans as strokes himself and watches his teammate, his best friend—ryomen sukuna—fucking his girlfriend through the crack of a door like a peeping tom.

it wasn't even his fault! satoru was coming back to the apartment like any regular day: he walked inside, dropped his bag off, and just as he was about to—

"f—fuck! oh my god ryo—"

your whiny moan pulls satoru from his thoughts. another muffled whimper threatens to leave his mouth while his dick throbs in his hands. he works a big and veiny hand up and down his length, sticky pre-cum drooling from his fat tip on the floor as he watches the scene with lust glazed eyes.

the small crack in the door gives him a direct eye line to ryomen bending you over on the bed, a large tattooed hand shoved into your hair and forcing your face down in the mattress as he pounds you from behind. the room fills with your needy moans and the incessant wet slaps of skin against skin.

ryomen takes his other hand and trails it down your back before sending a hard slap to your ass, leaning down until his sweat glistening chest is right against your bare back. "you take this dick so good baby" his rough voice growls against your ear.

"this pretty pussy sucking me like she doesn't want me to leave—don't worry baby, 'm not going anywhere" his gravely words had just as much effect on satoru as it had on you. his slender fingers tightened around his thick length as he pumped faster and faster, knees buckling from the sound of your desperate moans mixed with his friend's rough praise.

satoru’s eyelashes flutters as his breaths become more and more shallow, his hips buck desperately into his warm palm, making a small squelching sound that’s barely heard over the scene in the next room. another “don’t stop baby!” from you and satoru is digging his nails into the wall on the side of the door as he cum.

strained and silent gasps falls from his lips while the sticky, white ropes shoot out on door in front of him. he keeps the pace of his hand steady, hot semen coating his hand as he keeps stroking himself empty to the sound of your pleasure.

he’s so caught up in the sensation of his high, he didn’t notice the sudden dip in the sound in the other room, or the pair of red eyes that now watched his heaving figure outside of the door.