forever yours

can anyone really blame you? enjin may not get scouted to be a hand model anytime soon, but that doesn't mean his hands aren't attractive as fuck. his fingers are long but not too slender, veiny from the hours he spends working out, and the dark tattoos ringing each finger topped with chipped black nail polish make your head spin. his hands are usually calloused from training and you almost choke on your saliva when you dare to consider how those rough fingers would feel inside you. 

“hey, are you listening to me?” enjin waves his hand in your face and you snap out of your reverie, pressing your thighs together a little more to ease the ache in your core.

“not really.” you roll your eyes, trying to maintain your nonchalant facade. “you aren't that interesting.” mentally, you're praying to every deity in existence that you weren't drooling and staring at him the entire time you were daydreaming. you swear you're innocent, it's just that your gaze is naturally magnetised to the sight of enjin's hands! maybe it's a side effect of his jinki? or maybe you're just delusional, and maybe you need to admit for once and for all that you want your coworker to fuck you.

“you're being mean, which means it's time to go for a smoke.” enjin claps you on the shoulder, pulling you out of your seat and dragging you outside before you can argue. it's already past midnight, the streets are empty and there are barely any shops still open aside from the bar the two of you just left. 

“didn't realise it'd be this dark so early in the year.” you kick a tin can around as enjin pulls out his cigarettes and a lighter, doing your best to not ogle him lest you get caught again.

“yeah, i can barely see shit.” he exhales a sigh and rests his head against the wall you're leaning on. hearing a soft click, you can't help but look up, only to see enjin lighting his cigarette and putting it in his mouth. it's a normal sight, but the more primitive part of your brain is unable to stop thinking about the way the cigarette looks so small in his hands, the gentleness with which he holds it despite possessing the strength to crush it in a millisecond. and instead of ending there, your mind plays a highlight reel of all the moments you’ve filed away mentally of enjin's hands – flexing on the steering wheel,  white-knuckled gripping his jinki, much larger than zanka's as he teaches the younger man a new move… yeah, you're definitely way too horny for this shit.

“here.” you barely register enjin passing you his cig as he exhales a cloud of smoke. the two of you have shared cigarettes countless times, it shouldn't be anything special. but there's something about this moment, the two of you enveloped in darkness save for the glowing end of the cigarette, just the two of you alone together while you fantasise about how this is practically an indirect kiss. 

and instead of reaching out your hand to take it like a normal person, like you should, you open your mouth on autopilot before you can stop yourself instead. and instead of calling you a freak like he rightfully should, enjin's eyes darken and he slips the cigarette between your lips.

“you're so cute, you know that?” his voice cuts through the quiet like a knife, and it's so abrupt you wonder for a second if you hallucinated it. then the nicotine hits your bloodstream and there's a rush of euphoria, only amplified by the sensation of the man opposite you suddenly reaching out to grip your chin. 

“e-enjin?! what are you-” 

“shh…” enjin's golden eyes gleam with lust as he looks down at you, taking in the way your gaze darts everywhere except his face like a frightened rabbit. “you've been waiting for this, haven’t you? dreaming about it too, i bet.” 

“i don't know what you're-”

he plucks the cigarette from your mouth with his free hand, using the other to gently stroke your bottom lip with his thumb. “open up, sweetheart.”

and as embarrassing as it is to admit it, your jaw immediately drops open like an obedient puppy. something about the way enjin's cooing to you in this condescending tone and giving you humiliating instructions you know you shouldn't follow is making a delicious warmth pool in your core, and you can already feel yourself slipping into the headspace where all you want to do is give in and listen to everything he says.

“attagirl.” he smirks, and the sound is like a jolt of electricity right up your spine. you can almost feel your knees buckle at the pet name. before you can even blink, enjin's slipping his thumb past your lips and into your mouth while his other fingers press into your jawbone, holding you in place. you know you wouldn't run even if you could.

“mmff-!” you gag around his finger just a little, startled by the intrusion at first. but then your inhibitions melt away and you start sucking on it like candy, your eyes slipping into a heavy half-lidded gaze as you meet his eyes shamelessly. 

“there we go…” enjin's voice is even deeper than usual, a lazy drawl to his tone laced with a hint of excitement. “keep looking at me like that, pretty girl.” his finger probes even deeper and you whimper, tears beading along your lashline.

“you can take it.” he murmurs, his towering figure moving impossibly closer so you have to tilt your head up further to maintain eye contact. “you're making me so hard, you know that? gonna take care of me later?” to the best of your ability you nod frantically, which pulls a chuckle from him as he strokes your head with his other hand. “good girl. my good girl.” 

you moan around his finger at that and he tightens his grip in your hair as you sink to your knees in front of him, hands fumbling blindly for his zipper. enjin just laughs, caressing your cheek with his other fingers. “so eager, pretty… seems like you got a knack for taking things in your mouth, yeah? so let's see how good that throat of yours feels.”

every time i'm ovulating enjin crawls into my brain, i black out and when i wake up i have a new freak draft of him (im in denial abt liking him) . moving on! as i said it's been a long time & i'm sorry for going MIA, i lowk moved to japan 😭 anyways ily all mwah hope we get s2 SOON i need more zanka content

resting in your lap is a notebook. it's small, with no lines, and currently filled with messy sketches and annotations of court positions.

thump. thump. thump.

the sound of ushijima wakatoshi's spikes hitting the floor sounds like a gunshot. every time his hand connects with the ball, you flinch, but your hand doesn't stop moving.

because most importantly, you're tracking the boy with the red hair.

tendou satori.

on the court, he's a nightmare. he moves with a strange, disjointed grace, his limbs long and birdlike. he doesn't follow the ball – he follows the person.

he watches the setter's fingers, the hitter's shoulders, the tiny glance of an eye. he's guessing the future, and usually? he's right.

you hold your breath as tendou jumps. he’s laughing, a sharp, jagged sound that carries over the screech of shoes. he shuts down a spike from the opposing team with a sickening slap of the ball against his palms.

"baki baki ni ore, nani wo?" tendou sings out, doing a little dance as his voice echoes off the high ceilings.

he's terrifying, you think, shivering as your pen scratches against the paper. how do we even begin to get past someone who reads minds?

you're so focused on writing down his movements that you don't notice the gym has gone quiet – the whistle has blown to signal a water break.

you keep your head down, obscuring your face, waiting for the squeaking of shoes to resume.

but no. the silence stretches. strange.

slowly and carefully, you tilt your head up just a tiny bit. down on the court, the shiratorizawa players are huddled around their bench.

all except one.

tendou satori is standing in the middle of the court, his hands on his hips. his jersey is dark with sweat, clinging to his lanky frame. he isn't looking at his teammates. he's staring directly up into the bleachers.

directly at the dark corner where you're sitting.

he doesn't say anything. he just tilts his head to the left. then to the right.

then, a slow, wide grin spreads across his face – the kind of look a cat gives a mouse that thinks it's hidden behind a single blade of grass.

your blood runs cold. you close the notebook with a soft thud.

he knows.

—

you don't wait for tendou to point you out.

you slip out of the gym through the side exit, your heart hammering frantically against your ribs. you feel like a criminal. if coach washijo finds out karasuno sent a manager to spy on scout their practice match, he'll have coach ukai's head.

as you reach the vending machines near the school gates, your hands shake as you search for some coins.

you need sugar. you need a distraction. you need to get on the bus and get back to miyagi before the guess monster decides to hunt you down.

you reach out to select a warm canned coffee, but before you can, a long, pale hand reaches past your shoulder and presses a different button.

chocolate ice cream.

the little plastic cup drops into the bin with a heavy clatter.

"you look like you're about to faint. coffee is too bitter for a spy, don't you think?"

you freeze. the voice is right in your ear – high pitched, melodic, and laced with a dangerous amount of amusement. you turn slowly, your back hitting the cold metal of the vending machine.

tendou is leaning over you, one hand propped against the machine, effectively trapping you. he’s still in his volleyball shorts and a t shirt, despite the chill in the air.

up close, he’s even taller. his eyes are huge, reddish brown, and fixed on you with terrifying intensity.

"i-i don't know what you're talking about," you stammer, trying to pull your hoodie strings tight. "i'm just a student. who, ah, wanted to watch your game."

"a student with very expensive taste in notebooks?" tendou reaches out, his fingers hovering just centimetres from your bag. "and a very familiar way of taking notes? i saw you at the inter high. you were sitting on the bench with the crows. the little manager who looks so serious all the time."

he reaches into the vending machine nook, retrieves the chocolate ice cream, and peels back the lid with his teeth.

"spying is forbidden, you know," he says, his voice dropping to a mock serious whisper. "coach washijo is a very, very grumpy old man. if he finds out the crows are sending spies.. poof. your team might get banned from practice matches for a long time."

you feel the color drain from your face. "please. it wasn't.. i just wanted to understand how you do it."

tendou stops licking the wooden spoon. he blinks, his expression shifting from amusement to genuine curiosity. "understand how i do what?"

"the blocking," you whisper, your voice gaining a tiny bit of courage. "everyone says it's luck or guessing. but you're too consistent. it's not a guess. it's art. i wanted to see the process."

the silence that follows is thick with tension. tendou stares at you, his eyes wide.

then, he starts to laugh. it's not the mocking laugh from the gym – it's something softer, more surprised.

"art?" he repeats, tasting the word. "nobody calls it art. they call it creepy."

tendou shoves the wooden spoon into the chocolate ice cream and holds it out to you, despite the fact that he's already licked it.

"eat," he says. "it's the best chocolate ice cream in sendai. consider it the price of my silence. you payed for it, after all."

you hesitate, looking at the spoon and then at him. "first of all, it's vending machine ice cream. and second of all, your silence?"

"mhm." he hums, leaning closer until your noses almost touch. you lean back instinctively. "i won't tell my coach that the cute manager from karasuno was here. i won't tell your coach you were 'studying' me. but.. you have to share this with me. and next time i'm in your neighborhood, you owe me another one."

"next time?" you ask, your heart doing a strange flip that has nothing to do with fear.

"don't sound so scared," he winks, his voice like silk. "it's a secret, right? a forbidden little truce. just between the spied and the spy."

you take the spoon, flip it so the ice cream is on the handle, and take a tiny, tentative lick. the cold chocolate that melts on your tongue is rich and dark.

you know you should walk away. you know this is a betrayal of the rivalry. but as tendou watches you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, you realise..

the guess monster isn't looking for a victim.

—

for the next week, you're a ghost. every time coach ukai mentions shiratorizawa's blocking, you feel a hot prickle of guilt at the back of your neck.

because you've been meeting up with tendou from shiratorizawa.

you have the notes – the most detailed observations anyone at karasuno has ever managed to get on tendou satori – but they stay tucked at the very bottom of your school bag, hidden under a pile of old math homework.

you can't bring yourself to hand them over. every time you try, you taste the lingering remains of chocolate on your tongue.

"y/n-senpai? you okay? you’ve been staring at that water bottle for five minutes."

you jump. nishinoya and tanaka are hovering behind you, their faces twisted with concern.

"i- i'm fine," you say quickly, forcing a smile. "just thinking about.. player rotations."

"so dedicated!" they cry in unison, but their energy feels so far away. your mind is still in that sendai parking lot, trapped between a vending machine and a boy with eyes like embers.

the 'next time' tendou mentioned comes sooner than you expect.

it's a tuesday evening, and a thick fog has rolled over karasuno. practice has just let out, and the air is crisp with the smell of autumn and musty rain. you're the last one to leave the gym, having stayed behind to double check the equipment list.

the walk to the school gates is quiet.

too quiet.

as you pass the bike racks, a familiar, tuneless humming drifts through the mist.

"baki baki ni ore.."

you freeze, and your heart does an annoying double tap against your ribs.

there, sitting atop a concrete wall near the entrance, is a lanky silhouette. he's wearing a thick, dark coat that swallows his frame, but there's no mistaking the shock of red hair or the way he swings his legs like a restless child.

"you're late," tendou says, jumping down. he lands silently, and saunters into the circle of light cast by a flickering streetlamp. "i was beginning to think the crows had eaten you alive."

"tendou? what are you doing here?" you hiss, looking around frantically. "this is karasuno territory. if daichi sees you–"

"he won't," tendou interrupts, leaning into your space. he looks different tonight. less like the 'guess monster' and more like a boy who's skipped class to do something he shouldn't. "he's already buying meat buns with the rest of the murder. i watched them leave."

he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a small, foil wrapped square. he holds it out to you.

"what's this?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

"truffle," he says, his eyes gleaming. the chocolate kind not the mushroom "from the bakery near my house. they only make them on tuesdays. they're filled with sea salt and dark cocoa. better than the vending machine stuff."

you look at the chocolate, then at him, bemused. "you.. you came all the way to give me a truffle?"

tendou tilts his head, eyeing you with a mischievous grin. "is it working?"

"is what working?"

"the mystery," he says, stepping closer. you can smell the cold air on his jacket and a hint of something sweet. "i can see your brain working. you're trying to guess my motive. you're still trying to figure out if i'm a threat or a friend."

he takes your hand. his fingers are long, cold, and calloused from years of volleyball, and presses the truffle into your palm. he doesn't let go immediately. his thumb brushes over your knuckles, a slow, deliberate movement that makes your breath stumble.

"it's a secret," tendou murmurs, his voice dropping an octave. "that's the best part, isn't it? nobody knows i'm here. nobody knows we're talking. it's just us."

"and the chocolate," you add quickly.

tendou smiles smugly. "and the chocolate."

you're about to say something – you don't know what, maybe a thank you, maybe a plea for him to leave before things get complicated – when the sound of heavy footsteps suddenly echoes.

"hey! i forgot my kneepads in the gym!"

hinata's voice.

he's coming back, and he's not alone; kageyama's muffled insults are trailing right behind him.

panic flares in your chest, and you shove him away with a finger. "you have to go. now."

tendou doesn't look panicked. if anything, he looks thrilled. "oh? a chase? how exciting."

"tendou, i'm serious! if they see you with me–"

"hide me, then."

before you can protest, he’s pulling you behind the large equipment shed near the gates. the space is narrow, cramped, and smells of old wood and damp earth. he presses himself against the wall, and because the space is so small, you're forced to stand right against him.

his chest is so, so close to yours. you can hear his heart – it's fast, just like yours.

"shh," he whispers, his breath warm against the top of your head.

you can hear hinata and kageyama running past the shed.

"did you see that?" hinata asks, his voice fading as they get closer to the gym. "i thought i saw someone standing by the lamp."

"it's just the fog, boke. you're hallucinating. hurry up, i'm hungry."

the sound of their footsteps recedes. you stay frozen, your hands pressed against tendou’s chest to keep some semblance of distance. beneath the fabric of his coat, you can feel the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart.

when you look up, tendou is already looking down at you. the playful, jagged edge of his expression has softened into something heavy and unreadable.

his eyes trace the line of your face, lingering on your lips for a second too long before snapping back to your eyes.

"your heart is racing," he whispers. "is that fear, l/n? or something else?"

something else.

"i have to go," you breathe, but you don't move.

"i know," tendou says. but he doesn't go either.

he leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead – a ghost of a touch, so brief you almost think you imagined it. "see you in your dreams, little spy."

and with that, he strolls out, humming a soft tune like he belongs.

by the time you find the strength to step out from behind the shed, he’s gone. the only proof he was ever there is the slightest scent of chocolate in the air and the small, foil wrapped truffle clutched in your shaking hand.

you walk home in a daze, the chocolate slowly melting in your pocket.

this feeling.. it's supposed to be forbidden.

but the only thing feeling forbidden right now is the fact that you’re starting to want him to come back.

—

the official announcement of a practice match between karasuno and shiratorizawa jolts everyone wide awake.

"don't let them intimidate you!" daichi barks, though his own jaw is set tight.

you stand in the corner, clutching your clipboard so hard your knuckles turn white. your pocket feels heavy – the empty foil wrapper of the truffle is still tucked in your wallet.

it shouldn't be there. so why is it still there?

when the karasuno bus pulls up to the shiratorizawa campus, the grandeur of the school feels like a personal insult. it's too big, too perfect, too cold.

you step off the bus, eyes glued to the ground, trying to blend into the shadows of the tall players.

"look at those gates," hinata whispers, awestruck. "it's like a castle."

"it's a fortress," kageyama grunts.

tsukishima snickers. "haven't you been here before from when you went to spy on ushijima?" he says slyly.

you follow them into the massive gym. the sound of slapping – palms hitting balls – echoes through the hall. and then, you hear it. the humming.

tendou is leaning against the net pole, watching your team file in. he looks bored until his eyes find you.

for a split second, his mask slips. his eyes widen, a spark of pure heat flickering in them before he pulls his face back into a mocking grin.

"the crows are here!" he chirps, his voice loud enough to make tanaka bristle. "and they brought their little managers, too. how sweet. too bad we'll eat them all."

he looks at you and winks. it's so fast that if you weren't looking for it, you'd miss it.

—

the match is a bloodbath.

ushijima is a force of nature, but tendou is the one doing the psychological damage. he's everywhere.

every time hinata tries a new angle, tendou's long arms are already there, waiting. he's dancing, singing, and terrorising the front line.

during a timeout, you're handing out water bottles, hands trembling. you can feel tendou's gaze on your back. he isn't even hiding it anymore. he's standing near the center line, sipping water, his eyes tracking every move you make.

"l/n," ukai calls out, leaning over a white board. "did you get the timing on that middle blocker's jump?"

you open your notebook, the one you used to spy on him weeks ago. your notes are right there.

'tendou satori: jumps on the third beat of the setter’s breath. looks for the elbow drop.' idk wtf that means but it sounds cool

you open your mouth to tell them. this is the moment. this is what you're here for. you are a karasuno manager. you love this team. you want them to win.

aaand then you look up, and tendou is watching you.

he isn't smiling anymore. he’s just waiting. he knows exactly what's in that book. he knows you have the power to mess up his game.

a silent question hangs in the air between you: are you a spy, or are you mine?

"i.. i couldn't get a clear read," you lie, the words tasting vile in your mouth. "he's too unpredictable."

ukai sighs, frustrated. "damn. okay, we'll keep trying to pull him out of position."

you retreat to the bench, feeling sick. you've officially crossed the line. you didn't just keep a secret; you protected the enemy.

tendou watches you sit down defeatedly, an unreadable expression on his face.

—

after the match – a crushing loss for karasuno – the teams head to the bathrooms to clean up. you volunteer to take the towels to the laundry room in the back of the athletic wing, needing to be alone.

the laundry room is huge, filled with the roar of dryers and the smell of bleach, humid and dim. you lean your forehead against a cool metal locker, closing your eyes and rethinking your life decisions.

"lying is a very bad habit for a manager, l/n-chan."

you don't even jump this time. you just let out a shaky breath, murmuring against the locker. "you should be with your team, tendou. they're celebrating."

"celebrating is boring." he says, his voice coming from right behind you. he doesn't touch you, but you can feel the heat radiating from his body. he’s still wearing his sweat soaked jersey. "i wanted to see if you were going to betray me."

you turn around, your back against the lockers and smiling weakly. "i should have. my team is hurting because i didn't tell them what i saw."

tendou reaches out, pinning you between his arms. he leans in, his face inches from yours. the scent of sweat and that faint hint of chocolate from before fills your senses.

"why didn't you, then?" he whispers. his voice is low, stripped of its usual theatrics. "you could have been the hero. you could have broken my.. guesses."

"i don't know," you breathe, your eyes darting to his lips and away again.

"i think i know," he murmurs. he moves closer, the tip of his nose almost brushing against yours.

"it's because when we're in the fog, or in the laundry room, or at the vending machine.. there are no teams. there's just the monster and the spy. and the spy.. likes the monster."

you gulp, and tendou's gaze flickers down to your throat.

he doesn't kiss you. not yet. he just stays there, his breath mingling with yours, torturing you with the proximity.

he's waiting for you to close the gap.

he’s making you choose him again.

"we're going to get caught," you whisper, even as your hands reach up to grab the hem of his jersey.

"let them look," he says, his eyes darkening. "let them see, let them think what they want."

he leans down, his lips hovering a hair’s breadth from yours, when the door to the laundry room creaks open just a fraction.

"y/n? you in here? the bus is leaving!"

shit. it's sugawara.

tendou doesn't even flinch. he just looks at the door and then back at you, a wicked, beautiful spark in his eyes. he pulls back just enough and darts behind a row of hanging shiratorizawa jerseys.

karasuno and shiratorizawa. how fitting.

"see you at the finals," he mouths, a grin playing on his lips.

sugawara peeks in, looking confused. "y/n?"

"oh, hi. yes, sorry. i- im done now." you're very sure there's a rapid blush spreading across your cheeks now.

you scramble to gather the towels, your heart thumping so hard it feels like it might burst through your chest. as you walk out of the door and past sugawara, you keep your head down, praying he doesn't see the flush on your cheeks or the way your hands are still shaking from tendou's touch.

—

the atmosphere at karasuno changes after the shiratorizawa match. it's not just the loss - it's the way the air feels electric whenever you walk into the room.

you're careful. you're meticulous. you work twice as hard to fill water bottles and doing whatever you can to help, hoping that by overcompensating, you can bury the memory of tendou’s breath against your skin.

but it's impossible to keep tendou satori a secret.

it starts with a stray comment from hinata during lunch. "hey, did anyone else think that red haired guy was acting weird? erm.. tender i think was his name? like, weirder than usual?"

"he’s always weird," kageyama grunts, stabbing at his pork curry. "and his name is tendou."

"no, but... he kept looking at our bench," hinata continues, his brow furrowed. "not at us. at our managers. i saw him wink. it was like he was trying to put a curse on us through them!"

your heart stops. you keep your eyes fixed on your bento, your chopsticks frozen.

don't react. don't react. don't rea-

"he's a.. provocateur, hinata," suga says, though his tone is thoughtful. he glances at you, his kind eyes narrowing just a fraction. "he does things to get a reaction. it's best to ignore him."

you feel suga's gaze linger on you a second too long.

bonus "question. what's a provocateur?" "boke!" "high and mighty king, you don't know either." "shut up, saltyshima."

—

that night, your phone buzzes on your nightstand. you shouldn't have given him your number - you don't even remember the exact moment you did, perhaps it was scrawled on the back of that truffle wrapper - but there it is.

you don't reply. you shouldn't go. but as you close your eyes, all you see is red hair and a stupid grin.

fuck this.

—

saturday comes with a biting wind. the station is nearly empty, the lights flickering with a hum that matches the buzzing in your ears. you're wearing a long coat and a scarf pulled up to your nose, shivering from the cold.

tendou is already there, leaning against a pillar. he's wearing a hoodie and a beanie that covers his red hair.

when he sees you, he doesn't wave. he just pushes off the pillar and walks toward you, his stride slow and steady.

"you came," he says, his voice muffled by the wind. he's holding two cups of something, the steam curling into the chilly air.

"i'm an idiot," you mutter into your scarf.

"the best kind of idiot."

tendou leads you away from the station toward a small bridge that overlooks a frozen river. the city lights twinkle in the distance, reflecting off the dark water.

it's the first time you've been together without the threat of a volleyball hitting the floor or a coach shouting in the background. or anyone around, really,

tendou stops in the middle of the bridge. he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small paper bag, the smell of cocoa and sugar immediately cutting through the cold air.

"hot chocolate," he says, handing you a cup. "and a brownie. the lady at the shop said it was dangerously fudgy. sounds like us, right?"

you take the cup, the warmth seeping into your frozen fingers and thawing you out from the inside.

when you inhale, the cold air bites at your nose.

"tendou, i.. why me? really. there are plenty of people at shiratorizawa who would.. who would be easier than this."

tendou looks out over the water. for a moment, the playful mask is gone completely. he looks tired.

"shiratorizawa is a machine," he says quietly. "everyone there has a role. i'm the monster. we're not parts of a whole. each of us.. we are the whole. it's how washijo coaches us."

he turns to look at you, his eyes searching yours. "but you.. you were trying to take me apart and understand the pieces. you didn't look at me like a monster. you looked at me like a puzzle you were trying to solve."

tendou reaches out, his thumb catching a stray crumb at the corner of your mouth. despite the cold, his touch is warm.

"satori.."

you feel the wall around your heart crumble. you reach out, grab the front of his hoodie, and pull him down.

this time, there is no sugawara. there are no teammates. there is only the cold wind, the taste of dark chocolate, and the frantic, desperate press of his lips against yours. it's a messy kiss, full of teeth and suppressed longing. tendou groans, hands tugging desperately at your hips.

when you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, your puffs of air mingling in the night.

"that," tendou says, his eyes blown wide, "was definitely better than any chocolate i've ever had."

you laugh, and lean in for another kiss.

but then, your phone vibrates in your pocket. over and over.

you pull it out, and your heart drops into your stomach.

there's a photo in the team group chat. it's blurry, taken from a distance - likely by a passerby or a student from another school. it's a photo of the two of you on this very bridge, silhouetted against the lights.

the caption from tanaka reads:

'guys.. tell me this isn't who i think it is.'

—

the walk back to the station is a hazy memory of terror. tendou sees your face drain of color before you even show him the screen. he leans over, his eyes scanning the photo in the group chat, and for the first time since you’ve known him, his expression isn't mischievous - it's sharp. defensive.

"that's.. a bad angle of my hair," he jokes, but his voice lacks its usual tease. his hand stays firmly on your shoulder.

"satori, they're going to hate me," you whisper, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard. "they won't understand. they're going to think i was feeding you secrets the whole time. they're going to think i'm the reason we.. we lost."

"let them think it," he says, his grip tightening. "their opinions don't change the stats. and the stats say you're the best manager they’ve ever had. their pride is just hurt, y/n."

but when you arrive at the karasuno gym the next morning, the heart feels like it’s being put through a blender.

the gym is silent. usually, there's the sound of shoes squeaking, balls bouncing, and everyone yelling. today, the team is huddled in a circle in the middle of the court.

daichi is holding his phone. sugawara is looking at the floor. asahi is fiddling nervously with his fingers. tanaka and nishinoya look like they've been told the sun isn't going to rise. kiyoko and yachi stand off to the side, whispering to each other.

at your trembling footsteps, they all look up.

"is it true?" daichi asks. his voice isn't loud, but it carries a weight that makes you want to curl into a ball.

you don't lie. you can't. "yes. i've been seeing him."

"the guess monster?" tanaka explodes, stepping forward. "the guy who laughed in our faces? the guy who tried to break hinata's spirit? you've been.. dating him?"

"it's not about the game, tanaka," you say, your voice trembling but steady. "he's not a monster, especially when he's with me."

"it is about the game when he's the reason we can't get a point!" kageyama snaps, his glare fierce and fiery.

sugawara finally looks up. his expression isn't angry - it's disappointed, which is way worse. "did you give him our data? the rotations? the quick attack timings?"

that hurts more than anything else. did they really think you'd do that? "no. never. i actually kept his data from you because i didn't want to choose. i chose neither of you. and in the end, i failed everyone."

you turn and walk out, leaving your clipboard on the bench. you don't wait for them to kick you out.

—

you're sitting on a bench in a small park near your house, watching the swings move in the wind, when a familiar shadow falls over you.

tendou doesn't say anything. he just sits down, much closer than he should, and hands you a small, warm paper bag. "ah- don't look at me like that. it's just a chocolate croissant this time."

"i quit the team, satori," you say, your voice cracking as you stare down at the bag.

"good. they were too loud anyway," he says, though his jaw is clenched. he looks at his hands - those long, talented fingers that have spent years blocking dreams. "my coach found out, too. he told me that if i see you again before the finals, i'm off the starting lineup."

you gasp, turning to him. "satori, no! you’ve worked so hard for this. it's your third year. you can't give that up for anyone."

"you're not anyone."

tendou turns to you, his eyes burning with a terrifying intensity. ""old man washijo's been losing his mind. told me im 'distracted.' hah! like i haven't been distracted since i saw you trying to hide a notebook behind a bag of chips. it's annoying, honestly. im supposed to be thinking about blocking, and im just thinking about what kind of chocolate you like."

he leans in, his forehead resting against yours. "i'm playing the finals. and i'm going to win. but i'm doing it as me. and after the whistle blows.. i'm walking straight to you, no matter who is watching."

your heart stutters in your chest.

—

the day of the prefecture finals is unlike anything you've ever experienced. the air in the sendai city gymnasium is vibrating. you're standing in the spectator stands, wearing a plain shirt, no longer part of the karasuno bench. it hurts to see them down there - they all look nervous, and hinata hums with energy.

and across the net, the white and purple wall of shiratorizawa.

tendou looks like a man possessed. he isn't singing today. he's focused. every block is precise, every movement calculated. he plays like he has everything to prove and nothing to lose.

it’s a five set marathon.

set one. 1:0. shiratorizawa.

set two. 1:1. karasuno.

set three. 2:1. shiratorizawa.

set four. 2:2. karasuno.

and when karasuno finally scores the winning point - the ball hitting the floor with a sound like thunder - the stadium erupts.

you watch as the karasuno players collapse in joy. you see the tears on daichi's face and you feel a pang of longing to be there, to hand them their towels, to share the victory.

but then, you look at the other side.

tendou is standing at the net. his head is bowed – his third year career is over. he's lost his final chance at nationals, and he looks so small.

washijo is shouting, screaming, at the team, but tendou doesn't seem to hear him. he lifts his head, his eyes scanning the thousands of people in the stands. he looks past the scouts, past the parents, past the screaming fans.

he finds you.

and despite the loss, despite the sweat and the heartbreak of the game, a slow, familiar grin spreads across his face.

he doesn't wait for the formal bows. he doesn't wait for his coach's permission. he vaults over the barrier, ignoring the gasps from the crowd and the confused shouts of his teammates. he runs up the stairs, taking them three at a time, until he's standing right in front of you.

the entire gym goes quiet. even the karasuno boys stop their celebration to look up.

tendou reaches out, his hands trembling slightly, and cups your face.

"i lost," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

"i know," you murmur, tears blurring your vision.

"i'm.. officially unemployed. do you still want a broke ass man?"

you don't answer with words. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss that the entire prefecture can see.

below, you see sugawara nudge daichi. they don't look angry anymore. they just look tired, and maybe a little bit relieved. suga gives you a small, hesitant nod – the first step toward forgiveness.

but did you ever need it in the first place?

tendou pulls back, resting his chin on your head as the cameras flash and the crowd whispers.

"y/n?"

"yeah?"

"there’s a ice cream shop not far from here that stays open late for losers," he hums, his heart beating strong against your chest. "want to go see if they have our favourite?"

you laugh, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. "only if you're buying."

"always," tendou says, taking your hand and leading you out of the gym.

because naturally, your favourite is chocolate.

writing this made me feel some appreciation for tendou baki baki ni ore nani wo

dude ion even like chocolate ice cream MAYBE TENDOU CAN CHANGE MY MIND

taglist ( to be added OR removed, fill out the tag form ) @an5k2s4ny @leosxrealm

“jesus christ,” he heaves, catching his breath. “yeah sure.”

he shoots you one glance, eyeing your casual outfit, before moving to grab you a cup in their only available size. you stand quietly, hand briefly coming up to suppress a yawn. it’s silent. just the quiet actions of the worker.

he places the drink in front of you, turning the small screen for you to pay. but you just pull out a twenty, before pointing to one of the posters they’re showing in their three theaters. “and one ticket.”

choso hums, rubbing his eye as he includes that in the total, printing out your ticket.

“anything else?”

you shake your head for half a second, grabbing your drink and ticket, then heading to theater two.

he muttered a good night once the film ended and you were leaving. you barely offered him a polite wave in return.

that was the first time you met choso, but you didn’t know that was his name until the third week you came. you point to your chest.

“shouldn’t you guys have name tags?” you ask as he fills your cup with your usual blue raspberry slushy.

“lost mine,” he mutters, placing the drink on the counter, eyes clearly bloodshot and lidded. “my name’s choso if ya need anything,” he rings your drink and ticket up, turning the screen.

then his brows crease briefly, eyes snapping up to you, almost like he finally processed your question again before he starts sputtering, “don’t report me though, if that’s why you wanted to know my name. I don’t even smoke in the theater, it’s just a vape.”

and that was the first time he saw you smile.

your eyes gleam with a little mischief and amusement, taking your drink and ticket without uttering a single word.

choso worked at the small local movie theater every summer and winter break. primarily to get away from his nagging dad asking him about his future, as if he’s convinced choso actually attends all his classes and isn’t moving around pot for extra cash. and also to get away from his uncle who’s doing god knows what with megumi’s dad.

either way, the theater job was chill. the owner was his gramps and he let’s choso handle practically everything, and lately choso’s found himself looking forward to seeing you come in multiple times a week so he’s taken up more shifts.

sometimes he would casually stand at the front of the theater when it was empty, which it usually was, and smoke a joint. his dark bloodshot eyes shining when he’d see you cross the street.

the hot summer sun was beating down on you, your cropped top was stuck to your body like a second skin, hips swaying in your jeans.

“fuck,” he exhales lowly. your chest gleaming from the sweat.

you wipe your forehead, slightly out of breath as you shoot him one single glance, smiling to yourself once he follows you inside like a lost puppy.

“were you running?” choso coughs, putting out his joint, and picking up his pace as you reach the counter.

you nod, “yeah, was at the old diner a few blocks away with my friends,” your shirt was pretty low cut, desperately controlling his eyes from wandering as he grabbed a cup and went to the slushy machine.

“friends?”

“yeah from high school and stuff. we usually jus’ hangout in the summer since we all go to different schools now,” your tone is so easy and light, choso always feels like he’s floating when you speak. or it could be because of the weed he just smoked. either way, every time you come in now, he feels it’s less and less awkward talking to you.

“so why’d you rush here?” he casually asks, placing the slushy in front of you, hands leaning over the counter. you were shorter than him, but you still carried yourself high which had lately started to make him fantasize about things.

you glance between his sunken eyes, chest still coming down from the light jog you had. “I always come around this time,” was the explanation you’d give him. but deep down, choso was praying you’d say it was because of him. still, you point to another old movie that’s playing and finally disappear into the theater.

it wasn’t until a few weeks later, and the fourth of july rolled around.

surprisingly, the owner kept the theater open, and choso would rather smoke on the job, than get caught by his dad or uncle back home so he took the shift. however, the last thing choso was expecting when he was walking absentmindedly in the theater as fireworks went off outside, was for someone to walk in.

and that someone being you.

“you guys really stay open,” you smile, something you’ve started doing more with him. choso’s red eyes widen, heart palpating at the sight.

you were fucking breathtaking.

his mind was so high in the clouds he couldn’t control it anymore, his eyes immediately wandering down. his ears burn red, eyeing the short short skirt you’re wearing, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. even the half-zipped sweater you’re wearing barely covered your top which was a red bikini top that hugged your breasts as they bounced lightly. “choso?”

his eyes quickly snap to your face, cheeks aflame as he stutters out a reply, “yeah, uh—you wanna watch something?”

choso swallows thickly glancing down at your chest again as you walk up to him, fingers at the hem of your sweater, fixing up the zipper before slowly pulling it up. “someone told me,” you stop in front of him, big seductive eyes batting up at the stoner, “that there’s a better view of the fireworks, from this roof.” your finger points up.

it takes a moment for choso to register your words, his eyes now glancing at your glossy lips, beyond tempted to brush his thumb across it. “someone told you?” he repeats, brain still processing as you hum. suddenly his eyes snap to yours, wide and alert, “wait I said that!”

your lip tugs up, laughing softly, and it feels like a shot of dopamine was just injected into his veins. “you said I should come see the fireworks from here. did you forget?”

choso gulps, remembering now, how could he forget. maybe because he thought there was no way you’d ever come. which is ridiculous considering you’ve been coming every week since the start of summer. but it was the fourth of july you had to have been doing something before this to be dressed like that.

“choso?”

the stoner blinks, electing a light giggle from you which sends him into orbit, but he manages to push his hair back, biceps flexing in his old tee shirt, catching you by surprise.

“shit, yeah—here follow me.”

choso felt like he was floating the second his hand wrapped around your wrist, guiding you further into the theater all the way into the back. the marijuana in his system easing his nerves as he led you up to the second floor. completely unaware how flustered you’d suddenly gotten.

your heart was racing at the sudden contact, his hand warm, cheeks hot as you glanced at it wrapped around your smaller wrist. your chest heats up as you notice the veins that run up his forearm. the tee he was wearing was much more firm fitted than his usual oversized ones, which extenuated his broad back.

“woah,” you exhale.

“huh?” choso glances over his shoulder, catching you by surprise. “did ya say something?”

you swallow thickly, shaking your head. his lips part before closing into a tight lipped awkward smile, turning. you’re so hot. you watch him reach the ladder in the back room on the second floor.

“lemme just unlock the hatch first,” he says, letting go of your hand to climb the ladder. your fingers loosely wrap around one of the bottom steps as he reaches the top. he digs his hand in his pocket grabbing the set of keys.

maybe this wasn’t the best spot to stand because now your entire body feels like it’s on fire as you watch the, once, chill slightly dorky movie theater worker reach both arms over his head, his shirt riding up and exposing a sliver of skin, along with the few hairs that peak out of his black Calvin Klein boxers and loose jeans. oh fuck, you can see his defined v-line—

“there we go!” choso smiles, pushing the hatch up hearing it bang and the lights shine in the night sky in the distance. choso hooks the keys back on his belt loop as he climbs to the top, hand stretched out for you.

damn, your heart is thudding against your chest as you reach the top. his shockingly muscular arm flexes once your small one falls in his palm feeling a second wave of heat flood your body. you were so consumed by how flustered you’re suddenly getting that you miss a ladder step and slip—

“woah! careful,” his arm catches the edge of the latch, holding your bicep with his other hand. “grab the ladder,” but before you could even find your footing again, he’s lifting you higher. your body weight seemed like nothing to him. you’re halfway out of the hatch when you’re finally able to stand on the final step. “you okay?” he’s heaving lightly, hand falling from your bicep to your waist, brows creased and eyes still bloodshot.

this is bad.

your name leaves his soft voice again, a tinge of concern in his eyes when he notices you staring off. “a-are you high too?” he cuts again, finally able to shake you back to reality.

“no, I’m fine. thanks,” you gently pat his shoulder as a thank you, the action filled with timid awkwardness, nothing like how you usually were.

his brow raises, glancing at your sudden attitude change. are you acting differently?

you wet your lips, crossing your arms feeling slightly more self conscious as you walk further away from the hatch you came out of. choso is not far behind, dusting his jeans and stepping up beside you, hand digging in his pockets for another joint.

“wait,” he puts the joint in his mouth, then stands behind you. both his hands come up to your arms as he walks backwards. completely unaware of the shock his touch sends throughout your body, even over the sweater! your heart hammers louder, mouth dry as you try to look over your shoulder. “yeah, here. now look up.” he unconsciously squeezes your arms, nodding his chin up, hands sliding off you to grab his lighter.

your face burns, mouth going dry as you watch the theater worker casually light his joint, jaw flexing at the action as he inhales.

his dark black lashes flutter as the smoke fills his lungs and dulls his senses. he looks so effortlessly pretty….it felt like this is the first time you were seeing him. like you hadn’t realized the first fifty times you came to the theater that he was actually pretty attractive. or that his lips were a pretty pink as he exhaled the smoke. or that he was taller than you, of course you knew that, but your body didn’t fully sink that fact in until now.

“you sure you’re not high?” choso cuts, glancing down at you seeing you still staring at him.

your eyes widen, glancing away. “no, not high.” choso’s hums, shoving one hand in his pocket as he stands beside you, both of you silently waiting. as for choso, the joint from earlier had loosely dulled his anxious heart, but he could still feel the heat creeping up his neck. your body heat so close to his arm, occasionally glancing down at you. eyes flicking over your breasts, then face, then back down.

“where were you before this?” choso breaks the silence.

you glance down at yourself then up at him. “there was a fourth of july party at my friends beach house.”

choso hums, “sounds fun.”

you nod, “yeah. it was fun.”

another sound leaves the man’s lips, rocking on his heels, keeping the conversation going as best as he can. “how come you never bring one of your friends to the movies with you?”

a silent beat passes.

choso looks back at you, your smile no longer playing on your glossy kissable lips. the joint slowly burns between his fingers, heart picking up at your silence.

“was that tmi?” he quickly cuts, salvaging the moment, no filter whatsoever.

your fingers lazily play with the zipper on your sweater, shaking your head. “no…I just like watching movies alone,” you shrug, “all my friends talk through the whole thing anyways.”

“ahhh yeah, that’s like super annoying,” choso nods in agreement, earning a soft giggle from you. “watching movies alone is such a vibe.” you hum again, smiling.

another beat of silence follows, but luckily the second round of fireworks begin. you and choso simultaneously tilt your heads up, faces illuminated by the lights.

“woah,” you both exhale. choso snorts, taking another hit before passing it over to you. you glance at the joint, leaning forward. “oh,” choso blushes, bringing the joint up to your pretty lips, watching you closely as you wrap your lips where his once were, and inhaling.

you can still hear your heart racing behind your ears.

your fingers lightly brush his wrist, before pulling back. you do your best to hold in the smoke, then exhaling, onto for a throaty cough to come out.

“shit,” choso bursts out laughing, softly patting your back. you flush deeply, still coughing as you hear the man laugh a little louder at how flustered you are.

to think you were this nonchalant regular that would give him attitude, and finding out you’re just as awkward as him. well maybe he’s still the weird one, but it was cute seeing you struggle to take another hit to prove some stupid thing to him. so he holds the joint for you again, letting you hit and you do better this time. eyeing him down as if you really showed him.

“cute,” he mutters.

flustered by his comment, you distract yourself, and move a step forward before squatting carefully to sit on the roof. however, when you start to lean backwards—

“what’re you doing!” choso suddenly lurches forward, stopping you from laying down with a hand on your head.

your brows fly up, “I’m just laying down??”

“this roof is dirty as shit!” choso scrambles, looking around for god knows what. you’re still looking at him, even more confused. why is he suddenly freaking out? “here!” he resolves the problem the only way he knows how.

his arm comes over his head, grabbing the collar of his shirt and yanking the material off.

“what the—“ your cheeks sting, eyes bulging wide at the sight of choso completely shirtless. what the fuck! your brain short circuits. he was built! his abs were defined, and his arms are huge. he’s literally the definition of sleeper build. and is that a “tattoo?”

choso was bent down, laying his shirt behind you, catching a glimpse at the large tattoo on his back. “huh—“ he glances up catching your eye as he looks over his shoulder, almost like he forgot he had a giant tattoo on his sculpted back. “oh yeah, cool right?” he smiles widely.

how can he be so hot and dorky at the same time?! you internally scream, because now you’re just nodding, too flustered to respond.

“my dad fucking killed me when he found out. here lay down,” he pats his shirt, then crawls beside you and lays down.

now the two of you, side by side, stare up the flashing lights, and distant laughs and cheers from the town, everyone’s eyes were up. and then you realize…

“I was gonna put my hood on, you know…so like…you didn’t have to take your shirt off, dude.”

a beat.

choso’s ears are a bright red, then you feel him turn his head to you.

you do the same.

and the deadpan look on the man’s face had you sucking in your lips, holding back a horrible laugh.

“well…” was all he could respond with.

your lips curve into a smile as the sound of your laugh bursts out and fills his ears. your eyes close laughing harder when he tries to keep that deadpan look, especially with how bloodshot his eyes were, he was not fully present.

but eventually, he gives in. laughing with a touch of embarrassment, grumbling under his breath, before nudging you with his muscular arm. “it’s summer so it’s not that crazy,” he huffs.

you laugh again, but make him feel better with an encouraging nod. “for sure. I’m wearing a bikini under here so I can’t really say anything,” but you still laugh at him.

“yeah whatever,” choso sarcastically snorts, but then his eyes fall to your bent knees, your beach skirt exposing more flesh as it rests on your waist. you couldn’t stop laughing, hand on your stomach as you lean towards him, leg touching his waist.

“sorry sorry,” you wave, “just the face you pulled was crazy.” you slowly come down, stomach hurting from how much you’d been laughing. unaware of the warm palm resting on your thigh now, until you feel the light caresses of a foreign touch.

“my bad for tryna be a gentleman,” he mutters, tone laced with amusement, but his eyes were slightly lidded. gaze locked on your face, brushing his calloused palm over the surface of your thigh.

your heart skips a beat. skin breaking out into goosebumps. how did we get here?

the bursts of fireworks fall quiet, senses focused on him and his heavy breathing. his dark orbs glance over your lips. face inching closer. you couldn’t stop your heart from beating louder, not when you feel his warm breath fanning across your face now. is going to kiss you? please please let him kiss you.

similar to you, choso couldn’t not keep his heart from pounding in his ears. palms turning clammy, the sudden confidence, slowly sinking now that he’s so close. fuck—

“is it—“

his words are cut by your lips. his gasp eaten by your hungry mouth as you swallow another whimper from him. your hand gently cups his jaw, lips molding against his, parting them to swipe your tongue across his.

“open,” your soft command, had a pathetic groan escaping the man’s throat.

your confidence was souring at his response. his hand squeezes your thigh, letting you hook your leg across his lap. sliding closer to him as the kiss deepens. neither of you could focus on anything else other than the touch and taste of each other.

you pull away, catching your breath as he pants, hand squeezing your waist under your sweater. “you’re so pretty,” he husks, cupping your head and pulling you back to his lips, taking control. the shift in dominance has a wave of heat pooling between your legs. pressing yourself against him, just to feel a hard tent.

choso swears under his breath as your leg shifts on his bulge. your name leaves his lips, jaw straining. “I needa sec…”

his breath is hot, swallowing another moan when you purposely shift again. blushing at the moan like whimper that leaves his mouth. your nails slide across his pecs, sending shivers down his spine, and blood to his crotch.

“seriously,” he squeezes your waist, groaning as you press your thigh firmly on the bulge, smiling at the twist in his expression.

your lips brush his lightly, smirk tugging at the corners, “is it okay if we keep going?”

choso freezes. his eyes are wide, completely out of his element, unable to react as he watches you climb on top of him. cheeks flushed as you settle back on the large bulge that tent his jeans up. your pretty hands fall on his warm chest, lashes fluttering down at him.

he must be dreaming right now.

the fireworks go off above you. the lights beaming in the night sky and illuminating your seductive silhouette. now this was the same girl that gave him teasing banter for the last month.

“choso?” you softly coo, hips slowly grinding down on his bulge, the friction of his jeans against your thin swim suit bottom had your stomach twisting in pleasure. “you still with me?”

an embarrassing noise leaves the stoner’s lips. his face turns a darker shade of red.

your lips part again, a gentle sigh of pleasure escaping. “do you like me, choso?”

the man finally is able to nod, followed by his hands on your thighs and waist again. you smile, leaning forward, lips hovering over his as you whisper softly, “I think I’m starting to like you too.”

all sanity flys out the window. his lips crash into yours, swallowing a gasp as your bodies mold perfectly. it was amusing to anyone else, the way two young adults, both playing at the timid confidence and flirting, making out heavily on the roof of a struggling movie theaters. desperately dry humping like your life depends on it.

“ngh fuck,” choso grunts, hips bucking as he pulls the zipper of your sweater off. his hand easily falls on your breast, groping the flesh. “this okay?” he asks, nibbling on your bottom lip. however, he doesn’t wait for a response before pulling your bikini top down exposing your tits to the warm summer air.

“choso,” you whine, jaw slacking as he wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking like he’s been deprived of water. he moans around the bud, hand falling to grab your ass, rocking you more.

the air grew thicker around you. his bare chest was burning under your palm, his heart racing as you continued grinding your clothed pussy on his jeans, unaware that the material has been sliding to the side, allowing your arousal to stain his pants. the two of you were possessed. his teeth tugged on your nipple, eyes flicking up to catch your pretty face twist in pleasure, jaw going slack as you began shivering.

“y’ look like you’re gonna cum?” he mutters, tongue swirling around your nipple like a lollipop.

an incoherent whine leaves your lips, unable to speak when you’re so close.

“fuck, you’re gonna cum now. yeah—haah gonna cum just from humping me?” he’s both amused and so unbelievably turned on. his cock was leaking desperately in his boxers, jaw clenched when your humping grew sloppier, pretty lashes fluttering. “shit…” choso groans as he watches you come undone. your luminous eyes are glossed over, jaw slack with a silent oh escaping your lips.

your thighs tremble around his waist, back curving forward, cumming from just a measly dry hump session.

you bury your face in the man’s neck, completely embarrassed. did you seriously just cum? the heat spreads up your neck, to the tips of your ears. however, a deep voice suddenly breaks your anxious heart.

“that was really fucking…hot.”

your heart clenches.

“you feel good?” choso is completely unaware of your reserved reaction to what had just happened. his words just spew from his lips without a second thought. it was usually how he spoke to you before, but in this setting, it brought you more comfort than you were willing to admit you needed.

your lips turn to the shell of his ear, arms wrapped around his neck, and lowly replying, “yeah.”

the slight rasp in your tone sent shivers down the man’s spine, his cock twitching in its confines, hips pushing up. his hand slides to your ass, biting his lip as he grabs a handful of your cheek. the other brushed along your spine under your sweater.

“I don’t know if you noticed,” he starts, face turning to nudge you up, a lopsided grin plays on his lips as you hover close to him. “but I’m really fuckin’ hard.”

you swallow thickly, cheeks burning hot, his lips brush yours again, kissing your bottom lip. his sudden switch between submission and soft dominance left you spinning. now you’re wondering how big he is. especially when you start to sit up, shuffling further down his lap so you’re straddling his thighs.

“I’m gonna….” you trail off, wetting your lips as you start to unbuckle his belt, heart racing as you eye the light hairs that grow darker the lower you go.

choso is in a similar position, possibly worse since he’s rethinking you taking his cock out. his heart is racing, praying the moment you wrap your hand around him he doesn’t cum.

choso doesn’t sleep around — he has slept with the occasional clients back in university, but he definitely doesn’t compare to the fuck boys in the frats. but to say, even with those experiences, watching you unzip his jeans, still two layers over his bare cock, was the most exhilarating feeling ever.

you flush as you thumb his boxers, hooking your fingers around them before—

“what the fuck are you doing on the roof!”

a loud yelp escapes your mouth as you duck to the side of choso, covering yourself from the stranger’s head popping out of the hatch.

choso immediately sits up, turning around in fury, hands coming to his pants.

the low whistle sends even more heat bursting through you and choso, followed by the stranger’s boisterous laugh. “ah ya took her to the spot. told ya this always gets em in.”

your heart stops.

“shut up,” choso snaps. fully sat and reaching to help you fix yourself. however, you immediately brush his hands off, zipping your sweater on your own.

what did that guy mean by this always gets them?

“can you give us a sec?” choso huffs, the stranger was now standing on the roof beside the hatch, hands in his pockets and lit cigarette in his mouth.

“ya left the theater unlocked, you’re lucky it was me and not the old man that came around,” the man tilts his chin to the fireworks still in the sky. “plus i wanted to see the view,” he smirks, sharp crimson eyes skimming your figure.

you brush your skirt off, skeptically glancing at the man as you and choso stand.

“yeah whatever,” choso huffs, cheeks burning red as he faces you, away from the man as he tries to hide his obvious boner.

“who is that?” you glance over choso’s shoulder, the man was still smiling wickedly.

choso tsks at the question. he does his best with his bulge before turning around.

“that’s my uncle ryo.”

uncle? your heart speeds up, so it definitely wasn’t some joke then. why would he say this always gets them?? your mind starts spiraling, hands getting clammy as you glance at his uncle again, his smile doesn’t reach his eyes as you follow choso to the hatch.

“sorry to breakup the lovemaking,” his uncle adds.

you reach the latch when choso is suddenly stopped by the older man, his hand catching his shoulder, turning choso to face him.

“dude,” choso tilts his face away, knowing exactly what’s about to happen, but his uncle holds him still either way.

“how fucked up are you?”

choso’s tsks, jaw clenching, “jus’ smoked like two joints, I’m fine.”

sukuna eye’s narrow at his nephew, letting go. “I won’t tell ye’r dad—“

“yeah, I know. you owe me—“

“cut the shit,” his uncle snaps, pointing at him, “walk home. leave the car.”

choso waves him off in disinterest, turning back towards the hatch when—you’re gone.

his sweat turns cold, quickly racing down the ladder, sharp eyes catching a familiar raven haired man at the bottom. of course his uncle and toji are about to do some shady ass shit now. choso brushes it off and quickly jogs down to the lobby catching your pretty skirt exiting the front doors.

“wait!—“ choso calls your name, sprinting out and catching your wrist with a firm, gentle grasp.

your heart lurches in your throat, stomach twisting into an uncomfortable knot. he’s panting beside you, dirty t-shirt thrown over his shoulder. the fireworks were still going off, and the streets were filled with teenagers and young adults running around with sparklers and making bad decisions.

“I’m really sorry about my uncle. i didn’t know he’d come by—“

“s’ fine,” you cut in, unable to stomach a second thought about what his uncle had hinted at. “I’m gonna head home.”

choso can’t help the sudden jump in anxiety he’s feeling. did his uncle really mess things up with you for good? he treated you nicely though, does that not mean anything. choso swallows the lump in his throat, nodding his head, but instead of letting go of your wrist, you’re suddenly being pulled to his broad chest.

his muscular arms carefully wrap around your smaller form, hugging you close, eyes shut tight. “I’ll see you later…?”

choso’s question hangs in the humid summer air. his heart thumps louder the longer you’re silent, biceps twitching with nerves.

it was an unfamiliar experience. your skin was sticky with sweat, insides hollow and unsure, but your body moved before you can think too much. “yeah,” you quietly mutter, giving him a gentle hug back, allowing him to finally pull away from you.

the booms and cracks of the fireworks echoed through the alleys and streets, quietly rattling store windows as choso watched you disappear into the crowd. and the moment you left his sight, he definitely knew something was wrong.

his anxiety was only proven correct once the following week came around…

choso was sat at the counter, heart thumping loudly as he waited for your usual intimidating aroma to walk through the doors, monday afternoon. you’d be stoic, but the moment you asked for your blue raspberry slushy and he’d make some lazy comment, you’d grace him with your smile.

but you never came.

not monday, or tuesday, or wednesday, or that entire week. and with every passing day, choso grew more and more heartbroken and bitter. was it really because he tried to fuck you on the first night? you kissed him first!

“nah man, girls are just weird,” his close friend ino drags, the usual beanie still covering his light brown hair even in the summer heat. his arms were covered in grease stains, gloves resting on his lap.

choso frowns, joint still between his fingers as the two sit outside toji’s beachside car shop. “that’s not an explanation,” he huffs.

“well,” ino thinks some more, “did you say something wrong?”

“no,” choso’s leaning on his knees, fingers scratching his sharp jaw. “i said sorry because my uncle interrupted.”

“so she’s mad at sukuna?”

choso’s shakes his head, “but that doesn’t make any sense? why would she ignore me?”

suddenly a deep voice cuts behind them, “she looked heartbroken when i saw her running out.”

the two young adults turn their heads, toji was standing a few feet away clearly eavesdropping on the conversation. his white wife beater was covered in grease stains and sweat that trickles down his back and chest. the older man swiped his forehead with his arm.

“what’re you talking about?” choso’s brows pinch.

toji shrugs, wiping his hands with a rag, “the cutie on the roof with you last week. saw her climb down the ladder lookin’ devastated as shit.”

choso’s jaw clenches, “how do you know she was upset?”

the older man scoffs, wicked smirk on his lips, “i know when a woman is heartbroken.”

ino holds stifles a laugh, glancing at choso who doesn’t bother to question toji, he’s known him long enough to trust his instincts with women. however, this leave choso even more confused.

“so was she upset at uncle? or maybe that i made her vulnerable and he saw?”

“vuLnErable,” ino chuckles, just for choso to kick his friend.

toji shrugs, walking over, “could be.”

“or she’s a virgin!” ino shouts, solving mystery.

choso’s eyes widen, “a virgin?!!”

toji deadpans at the young men, “don’t listen to him,” he tosses his dirty rag at ino. “from what y’ said, i fuckin’ doubt she’s a virgin—“

“she’s not a slut!” choso defensively cuts.

toji rolls his eyes,” I didn’t say she was slut.” choso’s eyes are still aflame, standing his ground. toji sighs, “ino’s right.”

“for real?” the twenty-two year old smiles.

“women are confusin’, ya gotta talk to her and ask,” toji shrugs, like it’s that simple.

choso’s head falls forward, “she hasn’t been around the last week. that’s the whole point man!” he groans into his hands. “I thought you know women.”

toji snorts, leaning down to snatch the joint from choso, taking a drag. “I do if I’m with ‘em. I read body language, kid,” he winks.

ino laughs, while choso frowns, “her body language was that she came from dry humping me.”

toji exhales from his nose, laughing, “not just sex. general body language, facial expression, eye contact.”

“oh…”

toji takes one last drag before dropping the joint on the ground and putting it out.

“dude!”

“y’er dad’s comin’ to pick up his car,” toji nods towards ino, the kid sighs dabbing up choso before jogging back to the shop. “she’ll come.”

the week following your absence was worse than the one before. all choso could do was wait. wait until you finally come to theater so he can clear whatever miscommunication managed to happen without him even realizing. all of it was infuriating, especially because he didn’t have your number or any of your socials so it was impossible to contact you—

“one blue raspberry slushy.”

choso jumps so violently and inhaling like someone just unplugged him from the universe and plugged him back in at full voltage.

the vape he was twirling between his fingers clatters onto the counter. he hadn’t even seen you walk up, he was too busy having an out-of-body experience staring at the theater’s carpet pattern, convinced the swirls were breathing back at him.

but then you speak. and suddenly you’re there. right in front of him.

his soul launches into the astral plane for the second time tonight. “oh—” he chokes, jerking back so hard his elbows smack the slushy machine. his eyes shoot to you, wide and slightly bloodshot, like a startled cat who just saw god.

and god, apparently, looks like you.

after ten dry, agonizing, notification-less days, there you stand glowing in the neon reflection of the concessions menu like an angel descending from the heavens with a halo.

you’re an angel. a terrifying, sudden, beautiful angel who kissed and dry humped him days ago then vanished like a fucking heart stabbing tragedy. and then you just fucking walked in holding exact change.

“you scared the shit outta me,” he whispers, voice shaking, but there’s no real accusation in it, just awe. the kind that sounds a little like heartbreak and a lot like love.

you don’t grace him with a smile. your eyes don’t even meet his fully, only flick over his face briefly, then glancing at the three films playing, pointing to one.

choso’s heart beats erratically. palms clammy as he grabs your drink. you were wearing the same sweater you wore that night, but this time it was a cute spaghetti strap sundress that reached mid thigh underneath….are you gonna say anything? maybe something happened to you that’s why you didn’t show up…fuck no, toji already confirmed you were upset with him, or uncle ryo. fuck!

“can we talk about—“

you turn on your heel once he placed your drink and ticket down. disappearing into the theater.

“what the fuck?” choso’s insides twist into a fighting pit of anger and confusion. so you’re not even going to talk to him now? acting the same fucking way you did the first time you met??

his heart hammers against his chest with every passing minute. knee bouncing on the floor glancing at the theater door.

“fuck me—“

the stool slams back into the counter as choso rises. the adrenaline quietly pumps through his veins as he enters the theater, eyes scanning the room, before landing on your form two rows from the back.

it was the first time he left his position to see you. not counting the fourth of july.

“if you tell me what’s wrong or whatever, I’ll leave you alone,” choso whispers, not caring one bit that you’re trying to watch chungking express.

his jaw clenches at your silence, your legs crossed and hands holding your blue raspberry slushy, sucking the straw with a frown tugging at your brows. you’re definitely upset.

“is it about my uncle? I’m really sorry he walked in. for real, I had no idea he was coming,” choso whispers, heart beating quickly, desperately trying to remember the other things he wanted to say. “and I should’ve taken you on a date first, o-or just asked you out first. so I’m sorry for being douche and tryna fuck you—“

your head suddenly snaps to him, your lips blue. his breath catches, and his heart immediately sinks to his stomach at the sight of your glassy eyes glaring at him.

“I’m not mad that you wanted to fuck me, choso,” you whisper, chest rising in anger. “I’m mad that this how you fuck me.”

huh? choso shakes his head. “what’re you talking about??”

your jaw clenches, eyes narrowing at him, “how many times have you done this with other girls? it’s—“ your face contorts, “it’s disgusting.“

choso is even more lost than he was before.

your heart beats erratically in your chest, eyes wavering as you glance between his. the large theater screen the only source of light, as choso shifts closer to see your face.

“honestly, I’m sorry, but i have zero clue what the hell you’re talking about right now. what trick? I didn’t trick you?? and other girls. I’ve been bumming my whole summer in this theater??”

you frown, “I don’t need an explanation seriously,” you mutter turning back to the screen. “we’re not even a thing.”

“I want an explanation because I’m really lost here,” choso’s agitated voice irks you, throat drying as your eyes flick to him.

“your uncle said some bs about, this always gets them in, how else am I supposed to interpret that?”

your words suddenly clear the fog in chose’s mind. breaking the surface as he blinks with absolute annoyance.

“are you kidding me?” he whispers, voice low sending chills down your spine. you frown. “so you assumed he meant me?”

your eyes flick between his, “well…yeah.”

choso’s face is suddenly inches from you, his hot breath fanning over yours. “my uncle used to work here when he was in school. i’d mentioned you once to him and he told me about how he brought girls up here to watch the fireworks,” choso’s lips brush your ear, deep husky voice laced with inconvenience. “there were no list of girls. I already knew the view was good from there and invited you just for that.” your heart suddenly starts beating with anxiety, throat growing dry as he continues. “there was no master plan…my uncle’s jus’ a narcissistic dick and thinks he deserves credit for everything.”

choso’s lips brush the shell of your ear, his hand hesitantly touching your wrist. “I never took any girls up there. and you would’ve known all that if you just asked me to clarify.”

with a blink of an eye, you’re pushing his chest back, pretty eyes glowing up at him.

“really?”

choso immediately flushes, heart pounding out of his chest as his ears turn pink.

how are you able to go from zero to a hundred in seconds?

he’s left speechless by you’re shining orbs, nodding wordlessly.

then, straight out of his prayers, you finally grace his humble self with your warm, infectious smile.

“i—“ your words don’t come fast enough as you embrace the stoner. arms wrapped around his shoulder hugging him close. “I’m sorry.” your apology doesn’t even attempt to ease his racing heart. “I don’t know. I was being dramatic, but like we also don’t know each other that well anyways, so you can’t blame me for just yeah—“

“I wanna know you,” choso suddenly cuts, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“me too,” you smile bashfully, relieved he can’t see your face. “but you know what I mean…right, choso?”

his hands squeeze your torso, humming against your shoulder as he inhales your ocean-coconut scent. “so were you mad about what happened on the roof?” he can’t help but question, especially when your lips are ghosting over his ear now, sighing softly with a slight shake of your head.

“I wasn’t mad about that. it was all perfect until your uncle came,” you exhale, sending shivers down his spine.

the creaking and hushed whispers in the back barely concealed the truth behind what was unfolding.

his body is unable to stop himself from guiding you to his lap, lips ghosting over one another.

“so you wanted to have sex with me?” choso whispers, smile playing on your glossy lips.

“mmm…felt bad about leaving you unsatisfied like that,” your lips part along with his, your tongues connecting, just as his hand squeeze your waist with a pathetic whimper. he’s so quick to whine, it sends a flood of heat between your legs.

“you’re hard now,” you mutter, settling on his bulge for the second time.

choso swallows a moan, “can’t be surprised. got an angel devil on top of me.”

you’re heart skips a beat, lips crashing onto his. neither of you care that you’re in an empty theater, and the risk of anyone walking in was still high. your actions remained hushed, intimate.

choso was melting the second he had his hands on you. tongue tasting you the blue raspberry slushy on your tongue, unashamed by your smirk. “cho?” your fingers move between you, unbuckling his belt.

heat breaks out across his face, heart speeding. “you wanna?”

you nod, mischief gleaming under your lashes.

choso silently swears under his breath, biting his lip as he quietly helps you shimmy his jeans down, breath catching once you place your palm on his bulge. “feels big,” you mutter against his lips. his cheeks sting, cock twitching in his boxers. you continue groping and feeling him, smile playing on your lips as he whimpers.

“s-stop teasing,” his grip tightens on your waist, your sweater slipped off your shoulder.

“jus’ wanted to feel,” you coo lowly, licking his bottom lip like a seductress. you then gingerly thumb his waistband, slowly pulling it back and slipping your small cold hand inside. his entire body locks up once you grip his base, pulling him out. “oh.” you’re pleasantly surprised by the size in your hand. “it’s big.”

choso let’s out a shaky exhale, hips rising briefly once his cock touches the cool air. his pretty eyes flick up to you watching you spit in your hand, and slowly start working his cock.

“you’re not gonna cum in my hand, right?” you coo against his lips, back arches over him as you press your pretty breasts agaisnt his chest.

choso swallows a whine, shaking his head. “n-not even you don’t want me too.”

you smile adorably, like you didn’t have this man in the palm of your hand, “good boy.”

fuck.

choso’s head falls back, jaw slack with quiet moans as you jerk his thick cock. his abs clench every time your thumb swipes his tip. tapping the crown like a devil. “d-don’t,” he whimpers.

“but it looks so pretty, cho,” you whisper, kissing his lips. he only whines in reply, kissing you back with more fever. jaw slacking and tongue pushing into your mouth desperate for the taste of the blue raspberry that’s stained your tongue.

it was easy for choso to get drunk of you, and he realizes that when he’s feeling his tip brush a wet soft flesh.

“oh fuck—“ he chokes, he pulls away briefly, gaze dropping to his lap to see his flushed cock rubbing your bare pussy. “wait,” his head snaps up to you, brows furrowed in worry. “is it not to big, I can stretch you out first?”

your fingers brush his jaw, tilting his head up as you kiss the corner of his mouth. your voices hushed, “s’ fine, I can take it.”

choso swallows thickly, hand finding purchase under your dress to grip your waist, and the other holding your ass as you slowly nudge his tip against your entrance.

“okay,” you exhale coolly, slowly sinking down.

“shit,” choso swears between clenched teeth. grip unforgiving as you gasp against him. your cute whimpers were the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. it felt like honey being dripped into his ear as you did your best to swallow his thick pulsing inches. “y’er squeezin me, r-relax baby.”

you whine quietly, gently moving up, just to push down again and take a few more inches. “bigger than I thought cho,” you pant.

his head tilts, capturing your lips, “sorry,” he apologizes, and it actually sounds like he’s sorry for how big he is, especially when you let out another adorable whimper.

but still, he kisses you like it’s the first time he’s ever been intimate with someone. and after a few more shallow bounces, you finally settle every big chubby inch of him inside your gummy walls.

“fuh—you feel so good,” he mutters, “feel so good wrapped around my cock,” your tongues collide as you start grinding against him. hips rocking slowly, as you adjust to his impressive size.

your hearts beat together. breaths colliding as the world slowly disappears, likes it just you two quietly moaning and whining on a theater seat. the creaking and quiet squelches that left your pussy with every bounce didn’t register in your ears. instead your focus remained on one another.

on his voice. your gasps. his curses. your coos.

“I feel so full, choso haah,” you babble, lips glossy from his spit. “d-do you feel me to anh too?”

choso whimpers as you clamp around him as you sink down again. his fingers dig into your ass the other fully wrapped around your waist, biceps flexing around your back. “course I do,” he grunts, bitting your bottom lip. moaning once you drool into his mouth.

nothing else mattered now.

his thick thighs part. his hips angle up, and his firmly plant themselves on the ground. “c’mon, keep riding my cock princess,” choso moans agaisnt your lips. his hips snap up getting you to pick up the speed.

you gasp in surprise, cheeks flushed, sweater falling at your elbows, and the straps of your dress starting to slip of your shoulders as you fix your feet to rest over his knees for better balance. “o-okay choso,” you hold his shoulders as you start picking up the speed.

neither of you could think about the sounds of your ass clapping against his thighs, or the whines that left both your pathetic mouths.

choso kept your pace, helping you bounce your pretty ass up n down his cock like one of his toys. and with every bounce, your pretty breasts followed, until one strap fell low enough for it to expose you to him.

“haah fuck,” choso groans, lips wrapping around your nipple sucking immediately.

“ahh,” you clamp around him, whining. he only moans around you, humming as your nails comb through his hair.

you were lucky you were the only one in the theater, because now it was obvious what was happening. the creaking, the clapping, the moans. it was beyond lewd, and obscene.

“m gonna cum cho,” you whine, bouncing quicker as you chase that coil twisting in your tummy. his flushed tip continues hitting your sweet spot, dragging against your gummy walls with each bounce.

“fuhck—fuck I’m close, keep movin’” he huffs, drooling against your chest as he kisses up your sternum to your neck, panting harshly as he bucks his hips as you start to grow sloppy. “don’t sto—ah-p—“

“I can’t—angh—“ your vision turns white, drool escaping your lips as you fall apart, creaming around the stoner.

choso swears, arms holding you desperately to his chest as he starts pumping his messy cock into your weeping hole. “fuck—tight pussy, melting inside ya—haah—“ his thighs start trembling, muscles flexing underneath you as his head falls on your shoulder.

“so good baaby…ngh haah god—“ his own climax hits him like a truck. the words fall off his tongue and pull out flashes in his mind, but the searing white that blinds him leaves him frozen inside your deep warmth.

“chosoo,” you whine into his neck as the thick ropes of white cum fill your insides.

the stoner pathetically whimpers, hips still bucking as he milks every last drop, emptying his balls, hand wrapped around your nape as the other squeezes around your waist under your dress.

“fhuck,” choso pants, chest heaving as he slowly comes down, lips parting as he leaves open mouthed kisses along your exposed shoulder. trailing them up your neck. “beautiful,” kiss, “so sweet.” his hums and sighs left shivers down your spine as you stroke his long hair. scratching his nape as your lashes flutter.

that’s when a loud whistle cuts the air.

you freeze hugging the man desperately as he lifts your strap up. neither of you realizing the movie had ended.

“y’er shameless, kid. your daddy would be disappointed ya turned out like me.”

a vein pops from choso’s neck.

“dude, what the fuck?” choso groans, hand coming up to fix your sweater on your shoulders again at sukuna laughs beside the door.

“I’m not the one fucking in a public space—“

“fuck off,” choso swears under his breath, choking quietly as he pulls out, electing the softest whimper from your lips. “sorry,” he mutters.

“why is he still here?” you whisper, fixing your dress as you stand up, glancing at his uncle still beside the door, choso quickly tucks himself ignoring the stickiness of your mixed juices.

“because he’s a dick,” choso tsks, leading the way out.

sukuna smirks, eyeing his nephew, “all good?”

“you need the space again” choso holds your hand this time, glaring at his uncle,

sukuna exits first, revealing another man standing beside the door. “something like that. don’t tell your gramps.”

choso hums digging for the theaters keys in his pocket, “don’t tell him about today then,” he tosses the set,

“I don’t talk to that old man anyways,” sukuna catches them. “take the girl out for dinner, can’t just keep fucking her here.”

“dude!”

you glare at the uncle making him smirk wider, shooting you a wink.

choso leads you to the exit as you hold his arm, “your uncle is weird,” you grumble.

“yeah, sorry ‘bout him,” choso catches toji, accepting the wink he gives the kid before exiting the theater. “but uh—you down for dinner—on me?”

you smile, lips still stained blue, “yup. and we needa get plan-b.”

“oh shit!”

Your face is all buried into his neck and he could feel your arms tightening around him as you mumbled a gentle, “Mhm, he is.”

Great…

Because who in their right mind would want to deal with Naoya on a Saturday night? The guy gets kicked out of every frat house party that’s ever been held ‘cause of shit like this. All he does is harass and insult women, only to be eventually approached by one of the many frat brothers and get kicked out moments later.

Seems like this week it’s Choso’s turn to handle him. Which is just wonderful, really.

“Yo,” Choso calls out to the fully approached Naoya, whose mere presence makes him feel nauseated. “The fuck do you want with my girl?”

Now, you’ve never spoken to Choso before this but, the sound of him calling you his girl has your heart feeling all warm inside—even though he’s only said that because you’d asked him to play along. 

The scent of his cologne mixing with the thick musk of weed fills your nose as your face smushes up into his chest. You only know the man through the rumors you’ve heard and the few times you’ve seen him around these parties you keep attending. As you readjust your chin to look up at his expression, you think your arms unconsciously hold onto him a little tighter the moment you spot the vein peeking out against his jawline.

Everyone hates Naoya, that’s an irrefutable fact. But, something about how annoyed Choso was looking at him right now had you pulling your lower lip into your mouth.

Naoya lets off a scoff, his voice all loud and annoying, “This dumb bitch is your girl?” He asks. 

Every syllable that left his mouth is grating to all listening ears. Ugh, he was such a nuisance…

You merely glance back at the guy for a second and notice the look in his eyes that clearly says he’s not buying this shit. Choso—catching the same thing that you do—slips one of his hands downwards to the small of your back, not daring to go any lower just yet, and then eases you even closer.

“First off, watch your fuckin’ mouth,” He scoffs out, jaded eyes dragging up and down Naoya’s frame as he wonders how long it would take to knock him onto his ass. “Secondly, yeah, we’re together. What do you want?”

“That slut owes me money,” Naoya curses with tightly crossed arms, his gaze fixated entirely on you as if Choso weren’t even there. Though, he’s not really looking to get kicked out of this party just yet and he’s trying his best to avoid physical confrontation.

Cocking a brow, the brunet smoothes out a low huff that smells of the recently consumed marijuana he's inebriated under before redirecting his slightly glossed eyes down to you, “This isn’t what I think it is, is it, baby?”

You’re quickly distracted by the pet name that so easily rolled off of his tongue but without getting too wrapped up in it, you blink. “Huh?”

Choso slowly tilts his head to the side and cracks a knowing grin, “You’ve been seein’ other dealers? Don’t you know I’m the best on campus?”

Gulping, “Well, I–”

“S’okay,” He cuts off to ease the concern and worry trying to paint itself into your features. “We’ll get back to that in a sec’,” Then he gestures his head over to Naoya, gives your waist a little squeeze, and says, “Lemme handle this guy for you first.” 

Choso carefully moves you to the side and steps toward Naoya, who’s arguably a bit taller than him. He sizes him up again and bites back his scoff, replacing it with a tiresome sigh that he doesn’t even try to play off as anything else outside of what it is—an honest gesture of displeasure.

Voice lazy, “How much does she owe you, man?” Choso asks with one hand already fishing through the pocket of his pants for his wallet.

It really didn’t matter what number was thrown out to him, he was gonna fling whatever bit of cash he had on him toward Naoya to get him to fuck off. The only thing good about his presence right now was the fact that it brought you along, which is something Choso would like to return to as swiftly as possible.

“Tch,” Naoya chuffs, trying to glance behind him to get another scowling look at you before he says, “As if you have enough to—”

“Jus’ give me the number before I get you kicked out again,” Choso cuts off cleanly with a gaze that bores into the man’s skull.

One beat of silence passes by as Naoya contemplates a few things in his mind, wondering whether or not he really wants to test his luck with this. 

Ultimately, he ends up caving with a roll of his eyes, “Fine…” Then he gives him the number of which you owe and he’s literally smacked in the face with a random wad of cash as if he were some kinda’ cheap whore to be dealt with.

“There,” Choso spat, “Now don’t let me catch you trying to sell my girl your overpriced bullshit again, yeah?” Technically, he had no right to tell someone else not to sell drugs to you when he didn’t even know you.

But, one look at your face and he was certain he’d want you coming to him for weed and not anyone else after this. Especially when going to someone else landed you in this situation where you’re being followed around parties for payment—Choso would never do such a thing. He’d offer alternatives before even thinking to harass you like that.

Naoya was immediately enraged by how he’s being dismissed but it’s not like he could express that since there were one too many fraternity members in the area for him to do so without instantly getting escorted out. Thus, he settles for shuffling up the cash that’d fallen onto the floor—snatching each bill from beneath the feet of partygoers—and keeps his curses in a lowered whisper that’d never be heard under the blaring music.

Then, as if nothing ever happened, the surrounding people return to their dancing and Naoya seems to disappear somewhere into the crowd shortly after.

Which leaves you standing in place with slightly widened eyes whilst Choso turns around to look at you, brushing his hands off like he’d just dealt with some type of dirt or something.

“You alright?” He asks, taking a step closer toward you. The music is loud so it’s hard for you to really hear him, hence why he leans his ear down to your lips so he can gather your response properly.

You nod at first and then the words follow, “Uhm, yeah. I wasn’t expecting you to pay that off for me but, thank you, Choso.”

Shifting over to talk into your ear now, “Don’t sweat it, princess. But uh,” He clicks his tongue before darting it out to swipe over his lower, pierced lip. “I meant what I said before. You should’ve been dealin’ with me, not that idiot.”

“Oh,” You chirp.

Then he pulls away and the two of you are able to take one another in properly for the first time.

Under the changing LED lights—which are currently a mix of purple and red—both of your faces are dimly illuminated. Choso’s eyes openly scan over every detail of your expression, watching the cute curl in your lips as you slowly smile at him.

Oh, you’re gorgeous. 

What are the odds that a pretty girl like you literally comes running into his arms at a party like this? And then this dress you have on… Choso doesn’t exactly mean to glance down but when he does, he notices the way the fabric simply hugs your body, shaping you in all the right places and more.

He gulps, a sound that would’ve been rather loud if not for the vibrating base of music against the surrounding frat house walls. His eyes flick back up to your face and you’re shamelessly staring at his lips, then your gaze lifts to his nose, then to the right side of his face; right at his cheekbone for some reason? After, you’re looking at the tattoo running across the bridge of his nose and—

Ohhh, Choso was so distracted with checking you out that he almost forgot how many body modifications he has. He gets these kinda stares all the time but for a second he’d lost his entire train of thought. There’s the ring on the left side of his lower lip, his anti-brow piercing on the right half of his face, the small one on the left side of his nose with a very obvious tattoo running across the bridge, and then the multitude of piercings all over his ears.

Makes’ sense why you were staring now. You’ve got this clueless little look in your eyes and it’s kinda cute—

“How much do you charge?” You’re asking, ending his thoughts entirely. 

The word, “Free,” blurts out of him before he even realizes it and it’s not until he sees the way you start giggling that he realizes what he’d just said. Shaking his head, and backtracking, “Wait-, no. I don’t do anything for free, sorry. If anything,” Choso leans back and slides his hands down into his pockets, “You actually owe me now.”

Your eyes shoot wide open, “Owe you for what?!” you’re huffing as you wonder how the hell you keep finding yourself in someone’s debt like this.

“Hm, I dunno. Paying Naoya off for you?” He says with this sly grin stretching across his face. “But don’t worry, you jus’ owe me a promise.” 

You lift a skeptical brow at him and watch his pinky finger lift out for you to attach your own to in the most cliché way possible. Looking down at his finger, then back up into his eyes, “What kinda promise?”

“Gotta’ promise you’ll come to me for your weed instead of that moron, I’ve got better prices and better strains. None of that baby shit he was scammin’ you with, trust me.” Choso offers with his pinky still outstretched. You’re slow to intertwine your finger with his and he uses the connection to pull you closer, “I need to hear you say it too.”

You almost start stuttering with the way he’d jerked your body closer just to say that all lowly to you. “I promise I’ll come to you instead of Naoya from now on,” You respond with a dramatic emphasis on your words, fighting the blooming feeling in the pit of your stomach that spurs when he smiles at you as if he were proud or something.

And that’s roughly how the two of you met and became acquainted with one another. A couple minutes of fake-dating, one pinky promise, and a “complimentary” joint to start you off later and the two of you were practically best buds!

——

Well, not exactly best buds but you and him do get really close after that little party and encounter.

You stay true to the promise you’d made with him and only ever deal with him from then on. Choso was entirely honest with you that night so, everything he’d said turned out to be more than true. The shit you used to get from Naoya was nothing compared to what you were constantly high off of now, and it was cheaper.

Though, sometimes you did seduce your way into convincing Choso to give you an even lower discount….

One slightly revealing top was usually all it took for him to snag off a couple dollars for you—amongst other things. Like the cute ass smile you flash his way whenever you’re geeked out of your mind, yapping on and on about fuck knows what until the words leaving you no longer make sense. Yeah, Choso loves that. 

Oh, and the tasty gloss you typically coat your lips with. 

He’s not some kinda weirdo so he definitely hasn’t had any… lustful thoughts about said gloss but, he can’t exactly avoid getting a taste of it whenever the two of you are cycling a blunt back and forth and bits of it are left clinging to the wrap.

Outside of just smoking his weed and becoming his favorite customer, you also become someone he likes to keep by his side and talk to from time to time. The best discounts from him come after a good smoke sesh that he usually has to beg you to stick around for.

During those, the two of you end up talking each other’s ears off until it really comes time for you to go. 

Slowly but surely, the two of you are spotted together more often than either of you cared to be, and dating rumors shuffle about. They’re quickly shut down after a couple of parties where you’re spotted letting some other random guy kiss on you but, a certain two individuals try their best to keep it alive.

The individuals in question are none other than Choso’s closest frat brothers: Gojo and Geto. Those idiots were fully convinced that poor Choso never got any play until he met you, and now they’re both convinced he’s your loser boyfriend.

You’re pretty sure they only act like that because they’re jealous you’re probably getting free weed from the guy while they’re not.

Little do they know, their perception of your relationship with Choso couldn’t have been further from the truth. He was definitely getting play, he was just quiet about it since he’s the kinda guy you wouldn’t even realize slept around unless he wanted you to realize it. And as for you, you’re the one who ends up feeling like a loser after a while seeing as every guy you hook up fails to make you cum.

So much so that you were starting to believe there was actually something wrong with you. 

This all leads to now, as you enter Choso’s dorm room for the nth time this week to, hopefully, get high enough to distract you from that little orgasmic issue of yours.

As soon as you enter the dorm, your mood is killed immediately.

Sitting in the living room laughing loud as hell, is Gojo and Geto. Both of their heads turn in sync as you walk in, trying to quickly pocket the spare key Choso had made for you some time ago—having mentioned something about being too lazy to open the door for you all the time—and hoping that the two men will leave you-

“Look who’s here to see her man, awww,” Gojo coos before you can even try to ignore him.

Then Geto follows that up with a cunning, “Should’ warn you though, your boyfriend’s high as a kite in there.”

Trying not to let their annoying-ass taunting get to you, you settle for a sigh of, “When is he not?” before turning the corner and b-lining towards Choso’s room.

There are some more childish snickers and comments made about you from the two men but you pay no mind to it this time.

Pushing the desired door open, you’re immediately met with a thick heat of smoky air and a completely fogged room. The sound of a towel brushing against the floor as you push the door open makes you look down and you quickly realize he’d been hotboxing all by himself.

“Without me, seriously?” You hum with no malice behind your words as you slip past the door and shut it behind you, using your foot to nudge the towel back into place and then letting your eyes scan Choso’s slightly cluttered room.

The man is lying across his bed, dark hair hanging off its edge with the way he splayed out upside down and pinched a rather fat blunt in between the thick of his thumb and index. “You were takin’ too long,” Choso drawls.

And god, you could tell by the tone of his voice that he was barely even with you right now. He always had a pretty mellow way of speaking but when he was really high, his voice would drop an octave or two—words crawling off of his tongue all sleazily and heavy with each syllable.

“Y’know I’ll make it up to you though, here,” He adds on seconds later before you get the chance to settle into his room.

That strong earthy scent coated the entirety of his room as you walked over to the edge of his bed and looked down at him, noticing the jaded reds and pinks coating the typically white portion of his eyes as he batted them up at you. He’s got some low melodies playing from some corner and it only adds to the ambience of the space. Then, his arm extends and he’s offering you the cause of his fumed room.

Humming, “Thank you,” whilst plucking the joint out of his hands, your nails just barely graze his skin. Choso eyes the way you bring it up to your mouth and clasp it lightly in between your lips, leaning down to him and nodding your chin towards the lighter in his other hand. 

He catches your gesture and hoists it up to spark the blunt for you, hand cupping the air around as he filters through a couple stubborn flicks before a flame adorns the preroll’s end. Choso’s eyelids are weighted even as he watches you draw in a steady breath to capture the item’s contents into your system—quickly moving your hand to the joint afterwards to pry it from your lips and exhale slowly.

Another hum, this time one of approval, ghosts past your lips along with the fumes you’d just let escape you. “You look tired,” You comment while pulling away.

As you move around his room to plop your back down somewhere and get comfortable, your plug merely mumbles an easy, “M’not.” in response to you.

You shoot him over a look he doesn’t quite see, “If you fall asleep on me like you did last time, I’m leaving.”

“You better keep me awake then, no?” Choso chimes with one lazy smirk making the corner of his lips twitch.

Cocking a brow now, “And how am I supposed to do that?” you ask.

You then relax down into the chair in front of his desk of scattered papers and unfinished assignments, dragging it over to the side of his bed so that you’re close enough to pass the blunt back and forth. 

He lifts his head adequately to glance over at where you’re sitting and then offers you a shrug as his hand goes out, “I dunno, you tell me, baby.”

In the midst of taking another long hit and after passing it off to him, you meet his expectant gaze with a certain look, “Cho.”

“What?” He scoffs immediately. Then he’s sitting up and reaching over to pluck the blunt out of your hand and bring it to his lips, mumbling, “I call everyone that…”

He knew you didn’t care much for the pet name, even though he’s been calling you that ever since the two of you met. You told him about how much you hated the way it fueled the dating rumors and made it harder to get Gojo and Geto shut up. But, when your eyes roll in reaction to what he just said, he lets off a soft whir.

“Mh, you didn’t like that, huh?” Choso asks you in between several back-to-back hits that you’d normally scold him about. The brown of his eyes glide over your frame and then zero in steadily on the way your lips are moving as you speak.

“What?” You huff, “No, I don’t care if you call everyone baby.” A lie, it did bother something deep down inside of you. “I-If anything that’s a good thing.” You suggest.

To which he extends his hand out to you again, letting a single brow arch up, “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” You’re humming. Though, the sound definitely seems like you’re trying to convince yourself here…

The conversation dies out there for a moment longer than either of you care for and it doesn’t go unnoticed, even as the two of you cycle the blunt back and forth until it’s about halfway smoked through.

While you try to relax in the uncomfortable silence that’s stretching itself out in between the two of you, your mind is unfortunately drifting back to your sexual issue. The weed is supposed to keep your mind at bay and help you relax and yet, today it decided to do everything but that. Instead, your head is very much wracked with annoying flashbacks of the recent times in which you’ve been faking your orgasms for the second-rate men you’ve been sleeping with.

It’s not that these thoughts are completely unwelcome but, you’d rather not have them now while you’re busy smoking with Choso. And it really doesn’t help that he’s not being his usual talkative self right no–

“You’re quiet today,” Choso breaks the silence all of a sudden and the sound of his deepened voice is almost enough to make you flinch. It was like he’d read your mind or something just now… 

Spooky.

You’re slumped back against the chair and staring up at the thickly clouded ceiling, “Think so?”

Choso nods before he speaks. “Yeah, what’s up?” He asks, eyes still watching you as if he were studying your every little move amid the haze, “Talk to me, princess.”

While your stoned brain decides to focus on your lack of orgasms, his mind is unable to drift away from you and the way you look sitting in his bedroom right now. This isn’t too unusual for him since weed does tend to help his focus but, normally it’s not on you as much as it is today.

Perhaps that was because of your weird silence. You hadn't even complained about anything yet, which was enough to tell him that something was wrong.

Before you speak, the question rings around your head for a few seconds. Choso has a handful of pet names he uses on people and you know that but, you’re not quite sure if he says that last one to just anybody.

Hence why a delicate, “...Do you call everyone that too?” streams past the gloss of your lips.

“Nah,” Choso answers immediately as if he’d been watching the words walk right out of you. Then he tilts his head, “Just you.”

At that, you visibly tense up a little. You hated sessions like this with him. When the quiet got too loud that the mostly dormant emotions began to bloom around you. The warmth you feel flash over your face and cling at your heartstrings is definitely not from the weed but, you try to ignore it.

He’s been like this a couple times in the past. While he does get sleepy after a long smoke sesh, he also tends to get uncharacteristically direct and soft with you. You remember how one time he went on this looong rant about how pretty you were. But, before you could reply to any of it, he dozed off while mumbling about how he hoped to see you in his dreams that night.

Anytime you bring this up now, he tells you none of that ever happens and that he’d definitely remember doing so but, he doesn’t.

“You gettin’ shy on me now?” Choso asks abruptly, to which you lift your head and look at him. He’s sitting all the way up now, rolling a few more joints—as if he needs to—and then glancing to you again, “I said talk to me, what’s on your mind?”

Your gaze fixates on how careful his thumbs are with the joint’s edges, smoothing over them with the rolling, and only ever taking his eyes off of you to focus on what he’s doing before slipping his tongue out to lick it. 

A short, “Everything…” comes out of you in a manner so cliche that it makes him snort.

The unpierced side of his lips quirk up now that he’s half-smiling, “Pfft, okay… Well, what’s been going on with you lately? You’re bein’ dry as hell with me right now.” He points out.

You pout a bit and take your eyes away from him, “I dunno. I… It’s stupid.”

Choso rolls his eyes at you, “Don’t you start that shit,” He warns. You know he doesn’t like when you beat around the bush but how the hell are you supposed to tell him that you’re quiet today because you’re sexually frustrated? He’s your dealer, not-, “We’re friends, aren’t we?” He asks, interjecting your thoughts directly before shrugging, “Just talk, girl.”

You scoff a simple, “You’re so annoying…” that trails off into another long beat of silence, the only sound coming from his softly moving fingers and the way you take a few more hits of the preroll still in your hands, hoping to gain enough confidence to blurt it out. Then, after a few more carefully thought-out seconds, “...I think something’s wrong with me.” You manage.

“Seem’ perfect to me,” Choso blurts out, clearly not thinking twice about the words that just fell off his tongue.

“I-,” You pause to digest the sudden compliment, brushing it off with a chuckle, “I meant my body, Cho,” To which he mutters the same thing and you pretend not to hear it this time as you say, “I dunno if maybe it’s the stuff I’ve been smoking lately but….”

Some more stillness flies by and this time he seems to be fed up with it.

“But what? Don’t edge me here.” He demands.

The light buzz in your mind serves as a coaxing feeling that helps you finally breathe out, “I can’t cum.” 

You don’t get much of a reaction from him at first. If anything, he looks confused as he cocks an almost innocently puzzled brow, “Huh? Can’t come to what?”

“No, not-,” His literal interpretation of your words ends up making you giggle. Then you sigh, “I meant that I can’t orgasm, Choso.”

“What?” He questions dumbfoundedly.

“Please don’t make me repeat that…” You mumble.

“No, seriously, what?” Choso repeats, looking now as if you have three as he puts everything down and turns his head your direction, “You’re not gettin’ fucked right?”

Caught off completely guard, “Jesus. That's not even what I said—”

“But that’s what that means, right?” He interrupts, waiting for you to meet eyes with him again, “Unless you’re trying to tell me you seriously can’t make yourself cum.”

It’s slow but, you finally manage to look at him, “I can…”

Nodding, “Exactly so, that means you’re out there receiving mediocre shit instead of coming to me… again.”

If you weren’t caught off guard before, you damn sure are now. So much so that you cough in between your next hit, the smoke choking up in your lungs with a slight burn as your zen is thrown off. “H-Huh?” You unintentionally stammer.

Even with your eyes on one another now, he can tell you’re nervous just from talking about this. Smoking was not the cause of that flush in your cheeks and he knows it. Something else definitely had you hot right now.

Choso’s eyes flick up and down your seated frame long enough to see the way your thighs shift against the seat. Instantly, his tone gets sly, “What, you think I’m only good for weed?”

Your lashes bat, “Well, n-no, but…”

“C’mere,” He cuts off, having lifted a hand to beckon you over with two generously ringed fingers.

Your scoff is instant, “Choso, respectfully, I don’t think-”

“M’not askin’ you to think,” He smiles, fingers still waving, “I’m askin’ you to come over here.”

It takes you a bit to digest his words before your body gets to moving and when you haul yourself off the chair, you move to plop down on his bed. Sitting right next to him now, Choso leans over a little and his arm slides somewhere behind you. His hand ends up just a few inches away from your ass, his fingers splaying out against his comforter whilst his head weighs to the side.

His body is hot next to yours. So hot you could practically feel the heat oozing off his frame. And the peering look in his eyes wasn’t making it any better either…

“How many times have I told you I’m here for whatever you need, huh?” Choso whispers, the lowness of his voice causing your hips to twitch a little.

He’s all focused on you again, even more so now than he had been earlier, and it was almost as though you could feel him everywhere without him even touching you yet. Perhaps it was the cannabis in the air and the way it swirled throughout your system but, all your sensations felt heightened now.

Pulling your head away from him to gain some distance back, “Plenty of times, but..” Your shoulders slump a little, “This is different, Choso.”

His gaze falls down your body and something husky and wanting sneaks its way into his words now, “How? You think I can’t make you cum?”

God, every time he opened his mouth you felt as though you were losing your mind. And the audacity he had to be so bold with his words on top of that was making it perpetually worse by the minute.

“N-No,” You huff as your head turns back to him and you’re heard gulping thickly at his focus on your mouth. “I’m not saying that but…” You pull your lower lip in between your teeth for a moment to chew while you think. Then, you sigh again, “Well, maybe I am saying that… I just think–”

“I told you to stop doin’ that,” Choso murmurs, arm snaking around your body so that his hand could land on your hip. He gives you a little pull and almost sounds needy as he utters a husky, “C’mere.”

“I’m right–”

“Closer, baby.” Choso cuts off, finally tugging you closer so that the side of your thigh brushes up against his. He then takes his other hand and brings it up to your jaw, drawing your face way too close to his. You could smell the viscous scent of weed on his tongue as he spoke given the lack of distance between you both, his eyes never straying away from the soft, soft curve of your lips, “Now, jus’ tell me if you want me to make you cum or not and I got you.”

Your top set of lashes meets your lower ones in slow-motioned blinks as breathing properly grows increasingly difficult, “It’s not that simple…”

The man’s grasp on your chin grows a little tighter, “It really is.”

You roll your eyes again “Literally no guy has made me-”

“Do I seem like every other guy you’ve been with?” Choso scoffs, as if he were actually ticked off now. Then he forces your head some more up so that your gaze is meeting his and, fuck. The look in his eyes did something. Looking at you all commanding and desiring like you were the only thing that ever mattered in his life, “Do you want my help or not?” he whispers one last time.

Of course you wanted his help, even though you had your doubts about receiving it. You weren’t sure what would be so different with him. 

Even so, you’re slow to give him a nod of your head and grumble a cute, “Yeah,” that has him swallowing down a groan.

Then he’s weighing forward and you barely get to fully shut your eyes before his lips smooth over yours. Catching your hesitance, you feel his thumb slip upwards as he talks into your mouth, “Don’t be shy, open up f’me, baby.”

At the sound of that, your lips get to parting over his and his tongue immediately slides right in. Both of your heads tilt off in opposite directions and he’s the first to let out a string of sounds. It starts out with a grunt when you pull back half a centimeter just to slip down and clasp his lower lip between your teeth, nibbling softly.

When you give it an adorable tug and then press forward into the kiss, that’s when he starts groaning. 

Choso’s got no idea how any guy could’ve gotten their hands on all this and then decided not to make sure you’re squirting by the end of the night. He supposes he can thank all those guys now though, seeing as you’re swiftly moving forward with this kiss.

Yeah, it starts out slow and a little sloppy but while your tongues are mingling with one another’s and sharing the prominent taste of marijuana, you’re getting eager for more and throwing a leg over him.

You’re properly sitting in his lap before he realizes it. And the only reason Choso acknowledges it at all is because he feels a rush of heat spark from in between his legs as something rubs over the previously dormant tent in his sweats. He can’t even pull away from your mouth to say anything because he’s far too distracted by the gorgeous moan you sink past his lips.

Oh, he’s lost it.

Choso’s hands grab at your waist suddenly and then squeeze hard enough for you to acknowledge his touch before he smoothes downwards to your hips and pushes your body lower so that you’re flush with him. “Mmph,” bursts past his parted lips in the middle of his suckling your tongue deeper into his mouth. 

The man is all but swallowing up the sweetness against your mouth, quickly growing addicted to it. Weed could never compare to the taste—a fact of which he’s sure about now. As his tongue soon goes diving down the center of yours, you feel the surprising bud of a snake eye piercing decorating its tip.

That’s when one of your hands moves in between your bodies and sneaks under his shirt as you gasp out his name and then pull away.

His lips chase yours as you draw distance and then he hauls your entire body impossibly closer to his, your chest smushed up against him now. In doing so, you roll your hips forward against his naturally and hear the way his breath hitches. Then you feel something.

Poking-, no, jumping up against your clothed cunt in between the many, many layers between the two of you is the thickness of his bulge. And with it comes another wave of sloppy kisses.

Choso’s hands are everywhere against you now, literally. 

Something in you seems to snap at the feeling of his cock growing under you and right after you let yourself gasp at the sheer size of it one more time, the hands you had on his chest manage to recline him back against his bed.

Choso hits the mattress with a soft huff of previously lost air and his brows twist up to flash something needy at you. “Fuck,” Scratches out of his throat whilst he stares at the way you look on top of him.

So pretty…

There’s a single string of shared saliva dribbling out of the corner of your mouth and he almost moans as you start leaning down to him again, his arms moving so that he could wrap them around you. Then your lips meet again and this time it isn’t even sloppy, just hungry.

The sound is loud, louder than any kiss you’ve had lately, and noisy enough to earn a couple of smiles from him in between all the kissing. Breathing into your mouth, “You shouldn’t have told me that shit,” Choso sears as one of his hands comes up to the back of your head, the other at your neck now. “Can’t even calm myself down…”

Followed by his not-so-gentle admission is another heavy pulse from his fully erect cock. 

You manage to pluck yourself away from his mouth long enough to say, “I don’t see why,” Then you snort cockily, “S’not like you’ve changed my track record.”

“Yet,” Choso quickly corrects. And before you can add another snarky comment in response, “But that’s alright, I’m about to.” He claims, tipping his head back to relax as his hands fall away from your body completely, “Come get up here.”

You blink, “Huh? Up…” Searching his frame as if you weren’t already on top of him, your brows tweeze together, “...where?”

Even with the poking of his dick, he takes this moment to gather himself and reach over to swipe up the blunt you were last smoking. Then he shuffles for a lighter and sparks it up again, taking a hit and returning his attention to you as if the little intermission didn’t have you on edge.

You had no idea what he meant by ‘get up here’ when you were literally sitting in his lap already. Surely he didn’t mean–

“On my face,” Choso clarifies, a sexy cloud of fumes ghosting out of his mouth along with his words.

At first, you just stared at him and watched him smoke. Your body was thrumming with need in multiple areas but you just couldn’t fathom sitting on his face. Surely, that’d be pretty unsafe to do while both of you are heavily intoxicated. Hell, you can barely see around his bedroom, how can he possibly expect you to sit on his face…

Well, a few minutes later and you’re halfway there.

Not quite sitting—after a million and one concerns of being scared to suffocate him—you’re now hovering over Choso’s face. You refused to meet eyes with him so you’re turned the opposite direction and your hands are helping your body remain hoisted up as they rest on the bed, caging the lower half of his body—just as your legs were doing to his head right now.

Your pants have been snatched off and you’re completely exposed to the greed of his eyes. He’s hardly touched you ever since you caved and brought your bare pussy up over his face. You’ve been left to stare at the throbbing bulge that rests a few inches away from your face and you feel awkward.

Y’know, until there’s a warm blow of intoxicated air that swirls up against your dripping cunt. Followed by which is the sound of Choso lapping over his lips at the sight, scoffing after. One thumb finally draws up to meet the left lip of your pussy as he slips it over and reveals more of your slicked glory. Your cunt clenches embarrassingly at his first touch and you silently hope he doesn’t notice how you drip when he starts talking.

“Shiit,” Choso begins, voice heavy in baritone now—no longer from the weed but purely from his own arousal, “You’re tellin’ me nobody’s made this pretty girl cum?” He asks, “Who the fuck have you been goin’ to, huh?”

You glance back at him over your shoulder, hardly able to see his face with the way you’re hovering, “Cho, I—“

“Shhh, I’ll take care of ya’. Don’t sweat it.” He claims, to which you roll your eyes. He always fuckin’ says that… “Now sit.”

Another gulp is heard from you, “Choso, I already told you. I don’t wanna crush—“

Rolling those blown-out brown eyes of his, Choso’s other hand meets your hip with a mean grip before he tugs your body down and your cunt promptly meets his greedy face. “So stubborn.”

The gasp you let out at the initial contact of his lips against your wetness makes something inside you crave the ability to disappear. You were hot before but now you’re soaking and heated all over.

Your nerves felt like they were on fire and your hips practically melted downwards when you felt Choso’s tongue slither out to get the first taste of you. “Hnngh-, fuck…” You breathe, fingers curling into the sheets to hold onto.

You’ve gotten head from guys plenty of times but this was so much different. And he only just started!

You definitely had your high to blame for the way his tongue feels glissading upwards in between your lathering folds—the sensation so strong and pleasurable you swore for a second he had two tongues or something. Of course, that’s just the weed talking but shit…

“S’sweet…” Choso mumbles into your cunt, pulling away just to spit and then using the fat of his thumb to rub the slick of it into you, “Poor baby, nobody could make you cum, huh?” He says.

You start to open your mouth—thinking he was talking to you—but when his thumb presses past that rather welcoming ring of resistance and earns one gorgeous squelch, you quickly realize he’s not talking to you at all.

“Yeahh?” He purrs, one eager smile plastering itself out across his face, “You needed someone to come talk to you directly?” 

Choso toys with your insides using only his thumb for a while, grinning wickedly the whole way through as he watches the way your pussy splurts out such saccharine sounds of slick ‘n filth. It’s not until your soakage is dripping down his hand that he finds himself grunting and then dragging his thumb out of you tenderly.

Sticking it into his mouth just to suck your taste off for a second, you hear the way he moans around his own digit. Then, before you have time to realize just how wet you really are, there are two dumbly thick fingers slipping past the plush of your folds, wiggling in deep and coaxing a pitched sound out of your throat.

“Y’like that, huh?” Choso mutters from beneath you, jaw already coated with the sweet traces of your taste, “You’re bein’ so loud, this must feel really good…” He comments softly. Then his fingers abruptly slip out of you and swat over to your clit to land a couple of wet smacks against, earning nothing more than a whine from you. To which he chuckles and tilts his head at the little quiver your cunt does in reaction, “Hah, s’okay, you don’t have to answer… she’s doin’ plenty of talkin’ for you.”

Those little smacks of his quickly grow repetitive and as he does so, he lets his jaw fall open and hangs his tongue out to capture the syrupy drip that oozes off of your walls. 

When he starts working you over his fingers again, you don’t even realize the upper half of your body has slumped over until you feel something pressing up against your cheek. Your eyes had fluttered shut and everything, having grown so lost in the pleasure of his fingers that you didn’t even realize what you’d laid yourself on.

Lifting your head, you look over and stare at the outline of his cock again. There’s a slight patch of wetness where his plump tip is resting and you’re moving before you’re thinking.

“Aw-, woahh..” Choso gasps from behind you, to which your senses come back to you a bit whilst you push his sweatpants down. “What uh-,” His voice almost cracks for a second there but he swallows the hindrance in his voice down. Then he’s hissing when your hand slips under his boxers and wraps around his curving shaft, “Fuck.. what’re you doin’?”

The curve in your back deepens and the fingers he’s got inside you now get swallowed up even tighter the second his cock springs out. With wide eyes and a drooling mouth, you don’t even hesitate to take his length into your hand and then let your breath hit it as you whisper, “Returning the favor, Cho…”

He scoffs, “You don’t have to-, holy shit…” The mere press of your warm lips against his leaky cockhead is enough to make him whine. And as if encouraged, you quickly spread your mouth over him and ease it down around his dick, letting your tongue lap at the sides upon your descent. “Oh god, your throat feels s-so fuckin’ good…. A-All this and people had the nerve to leave you unsatisfied? Tch.”

Meeting you halfway, Choso dives back into your cunt with the entirety of his mouth. You feel the ball of his tongue piercing tickle your walls as he stretches you out against the glutinous pink muscle—your moaning around his cock sending filthy vibrations all throughout his body.

His hips thrust up instinctively and his lips pop off of you with a sharp breath, “Fuck, princess… Do that again, yeah?”

Your cheeks hollow out as your jaw widens and you force yourself down further until his fat tip is bumping up against the back of your throat, earning a nasty gag from you. You try to lift yourself to breathe but you’re met with a sudden pressure at the back of your head as he swiftly pushes you back down.

“Hold it f’me,” Choso groans, “Need you t’feel me back there,” He adds shortly after. Then, keeping your head still, “There ya’ go, gooood girl…” He praises as his hips start bucking up again until your eyes are coated with tears.

Truth be told, Choso isn’t normally this rough with anyone he fucks. But the high buzzing throughout his brain has him acting different. He can't get over the way your lips feel wrapped around his cock like a warm hug. And the way he slides all the way down your throat perfectly? Oh, you’re lucky he hasn’t cum inside your mouth already.

The dark hairs he has decorating the area around the base of his heavy length tickle your chin with how wide your lips are parted around him. You could feel him leaving soggy kisses against your uvula and all it did was make you soak above his face.

When you finally give him another moan as your face presses snuggly against his skin—the veins trailing his dick pulsing with little heartbeats against your tongue—he lets your head go. You fly up a bit and start coughing softly, glancing back at him with a pout as you wipe your mouth off, just to see that he’s already moving on to do something else as if he didn’t just choke you out on his dick less than two seconds ago.

Choso’s got a joint perched between his lips as he takes a loooong drag from it and when he plucks it away from his mouth, he takes his free hand and moves it to your hip. You don’t even realize what’s happened until something heated is slapping up against your slobbering cunt. The sensation makes you jump and then Choso—ever the freak—is leaning up to shotgun a kiss directly into the puffy folds of your cunt.

“Ch-Choso,” You choke, “What the f-fuuck…”

Then your hips are lifting as if to escape him and something throaty and annoyed reverberates its way out of his throat before you feel his painted fingernails dig into your skin and force you back down, his head shaking up into your pussy whilst his tongue lathers into the deepest depths of your slutty cavern.

Then you hear the wet, gushing smacks that his mouth against your cunt begins to make, feeling a certain sensation bloom in the pit of your stomach. Your legs are twitching around his head and you’re whining. “Choso, w-wait… please, I-I feel weird…”

Instead of acknowledging your words, he just groans something filthy and hot against you, “Such a sloppy pussy, droolin’ allll over me like this…” He points out. You’re not sure if it’s possible but he’s clearly high off of you and not just the weed. 

You try rolling your hips back to see if that would capture his attention but all that does is make his cock drip with creamy slathers of white from the slit. As you notice that, you try to lean down and suck on his neglected tip, hoping that would get his mouth to go easy on you for just a second.

Unfortunately for you, that did the exact opposite. 

Instead, Choso’s pulling back to spit a gloopy wad of spit onto your cunt and then scoffing, “You should tell me-, hah.. who the assholes are,” He mutters, beyond pussy drunk, “The ones that couldn’t make you cum,” His tongue flicks around as if he were spreading his own saliva via spelling something out, “Then let me send ‘em the sexy lil’ mess m’about to make of you….”

Prying away from his cock for a second, “That’d be so-, mmgh! Right there, Choso…”

“Yeah? Right here? This is the spot they couldn’t find? How pathetic,” He’s searing with his tongue, drawing his name into your gluey walls all cursive-like, making your eyes roll back. “You’re so easy to please,” He teases, smiling after, “Unless, of course… fuck, that’s only ‘cause of me?” Choso asks, spitting again just to have the entire space in between your legs a slopped, wet mess, “S’that what it is? You like the way I treat this pussy?”

“Yesss, Cho,” You whine ever so thankfully.

And of course, he leans back up to french-kiss your pussy lips in response. You’re so high ‘n horny that you don’t even realize the number of times you’d let your shimmery gloss of release coat the insides of his mouth by now. 

Not until he’s felt smiling into you, “Mgh.. again? How many times is that now? Eight?” The number makes you inhale swiftly in surprise, your hand squeezing the base of his cock a bit tighter as you move your head to the side to moan deliciously. “Gimme one more ‘n I’ll give you a break…” He coos, pierced tongue massaging your sensitive folds now. 

At that, something prominent builds up within you. “Choso, mmnh! I-I think I’m… ohgod… m’gonna cum,” You pant, lazily jerking him off with what little strength you have in your hand.

He snickers, “Silly girl, you already did that. I think what’s about to happen now is uh…” His voice trails for a moment so that he could plug your hole in with his fingers and curl them against your g-spot, “You’re about to squirt f’me…” Choso tells you. 

And squirt for him you do.

You never thought you could feel pleasure so good that you couldn’t even tell you’d finished until you were at the point of squirting. It’s a weird sensation that makes you moan his name loud enough for his fraternity brothers to hear outside of his room. 

Your entire body convulses and your mind just blanks out. You think his fingers are somewhere around your clit and his tongue is back in between your slippery walls but you couldn’t tell at this point—all you knew was that you were making a mess all over his face.

And through it, he was down there praising you. “That’s it, thaaaat’s it, princess..” Letting his tongue dangle out again to slur, “Right on my fuckin’ face, I want everyyy drop.”

It’s embarrassing for you—y’know, squirting all over your plug’s face just from his stupidly skillful tongue and fingers. You wanted to hate every second of it, hate how nasty you felt by the time your orgasmic high began to diminish but, fuck there wasn't a single thought left in your brain.

You told the man no guy was making you cum and he did so consecutively without even putting his cock inside you. Not only that, he was faded the entire time!

Arguably, you were too so that’s likely why you were so sensitive to his mouth to begin with but… still.

You feel like you black out after your orgasm but, it’s only for a few seconds. Eventually, your ears catch the loud roar of his groans and bat your tear-coated eyelashes open to see his cock has spilt globs of cum out around your hand. Your grasp on him instantly releases and you scoff softly at the sticky mess.

Both of your orgasms leave your bodies motionless for a long while—your frame slumped over against his—and nothing but the sound of filthy pants echo throughout his fogged room.

Choso’s the first to eventually break the silence with a breathy, “And uh, next time come to me when you wanna get off…” He murmurs, feeling your limp body weight shift against him a little, “…not just for weed, okay?”

“Uhuh..” You babble tiredly.

“Good,” He sighs. “'Cause I charge pretty cheap for these sex sessions.”

Freezing, “What?”

Choso chuckles, a weary smile painted across his slicked face, “I told you I don’t do anything for free, didn’t I?”

perm choso tags (1/2):

@yulissacastillo11 @xxvendettaxx @blcknebula @imyourightnow @cupidstrace @iiakithegoat @hellodeeyanna @navyllll @etsuniiru @not-a-glad-gladiator

@hopelissromantiq @2kool4skoolll @o4tmilf @daxphoriax @gorouenjoyer @avatar4eva @broimherebcsimboredok @indiaas-priv @blubearxy @wonderfullymickey

@iaintblockinnobody @kitassecretgf @iam-souless @nanamitiddiechomper @ohreallyfriend @withersworld @suguphile @megottheswaskikacooooke @kvsqkiii @yourlocalcatscammer

@prettysexcgorgeous @themicthatyeosangwith @autistmicfool @v33326 @lucy-lulu @sukubusss @sweetieelilii @lisabelhyhn @serenadesvt @bloxdhawks

Could it be a present? 

While you’re busy putting on another dress to show him, Gojo sneakily makes his way over to the pile and opens up that pretty little bag. What he finds inside delights him. 

Underneath the layers of tissue paper lay a lacy, pink set of lingerie, woven with the most dainty little flowers. He laughs out loud when he sees it, imagining you wearing it for him later that night. 

When he hears your footsteps he quietly tucks the lingerie back into the bag, but he can barely contain himself and has to cover his mouth to hide his smile. 

So later that night, he waits as you finish up in the bathroom, lying all suggestively on the bed with a hand tucked behind his head and a grin on his face.

The door opens up, and at first his view of you is hidden by clouds of steam from the shower. Then, you emerge from the fog like an angel, dressed in–

An oversized T-shirt and a pair of his sweats? 

You’re brushing your teeth and staring confusedly at your husband, wondering why he’s lying in this candle lit room in nothing but his boxers. 

“Toru…what’s all this?” you ask through a mouthful of toothpaste. 

Gojo quickly recovers from his confusion. “What? Can’t a man romance his wife?” 

After a minute of debating whether he’s really serious or not, you shrug, spit out your toothpaste, then join him on the bed for a good dick down. 

Step 2- Discover Her Secret Lingerie Collection In The Back Of Her Drawer

That lingerie set’s been in the back of Gojo’s mind ever since he first spotted it, but you haven’t brought it up so neither has he.

It could’ve been an impulse buy, something that initially caught your eye but you later regretted. Maybe it didn’t fit. Maybe you returned it. 

Gojo’s in the bedroom folding up clothes while he thinks this over, and then, like the universe can hear his thoughts, he spots something in the back of your underwear drawer.

Among the monochrome assortment of panties and bras, a flicker of color.

He just has to see what could be hiding back there...

A red, chiffon slip dress, trimmed with little lace hearts. 

But that’s not all. The deeper back Gojo looks into the drawer, the more he finds. 

Sets with thin camisole tops and flowy little shorts that’d perfectly hug the swell of your ass. 

Sheer, soft colored bodysuits. 

He’s not even sure how half of them are worn, but his favorite is a crotchless, light blue babydoll set the same color as his eyes. 

And everything is decorated in lace, lace, lace.

Lace bows, lace straps, lace flowers, lace trim–lace everything. In every shape and form, and in every color of the rainbow. 

How has he never seen any of these before…and how does he get you to start wearing them?

Step 3- Start Hinting Towards It In Conversations 

Gojo’s been wondering how to bring up the topic of the lingerie without admitting that he’s been snooping through your stuff. Sure, it was an accident, but any hint that he knows your secret might embarrass you and make you even more reluctant to wear them for him. 

But the perfect opportunity arises when he sees you in a pink sweater that’s the same shade as that first set of lingerie he saw. 

It’s something you rarely wear, a scratchy turtleneck that’s been sitting in the back of your closet for months. You've been debating whether or not to throw it out for a while now. 

When Gojo spots you in it his eyes light up and he wraps your waist in a hug from behind. 

“I like that sweater,” he says grinning against your ear. 

“Really?” You look down at the ugly thing you’ve got on. “I only put it on because it’s cold.”

“Yes, really. I really, really like it. Especially that color….”

“Oh. Well…thank you,” you respond, although you’re seriously judging your husband's fashion taste. 

Then, five minutes after the conversation has ended, Gojo brings it up again. “I told you I love that color on you, right?”

“Yeah, you told me…literally five minutes ago.”

Gojo smiles. “Because it’s true. I love it.” 

And you give him a confused little nod, because the sweater was about to go right to the donation center. But since he likes it so much, maybe you’ll keep it. 

In Gojo’s mind, complimenting the color of the sweater should translate to any other articles of clothing you have in that color. And once you connect the dots you’ll wear the lingerie for him.

Throughout the week he starts making even more puzzling, random comments.

“Put a finger down if you’ve ever hidden something from your husband.”  

“Have you ever wanted to wear underwear but like, fancier?”

“Wouldn’t it be crazy if we had sex while wearing clothes?”

But either you’re ignoring all of his hints or you really don’t understand what he means, because you haven’t been entertaining these remarks of his. So now he has to bring out one last trick.  

Step 4- Give Her Insane Amounts of Money Everytime She Goes Shopping

Gojo’s been practically begging you to go out shopping all week long, and you’ve finally finally agreed to go, although you don’t understand why he’s pushing so hard for it. 

“Fine, if you want me out of the house that bad…” you sigh as you grab your keys. 

“No, it’s not that. I’m coming with you.” 

Gojo takes you to an outdoor mall, and it’s a beautiful day outside. The sun is shining, the birds are singing. The perfect setup for people to make impulsive purchases. 

The whole trip Gojo’s on his best behavior, waiting patiently for you to browse through store after store, giving you his opinions as you try on different outfits. He doesn’t complain. He doesn’t even try to get you to stop at the food court so he can sample all of the desserts. 

Something else a bit…sweeter is on his mind. The thought of you using his card to buy yourself some more lingerie. 

Pretending it’s accidental, Gojo guides you towards one store in particular(one he knows sells lingerie), pointing out some random robe he sees in the storefront window.

“This one next!” 

You hesitate to go inside. “Are you sure?” 

Gojo nods. “Yes. I’m sure. It looks like your kind of place.”

You don’t move an inch, and Gojo smiles, thinking he knows the problem. ‘Of course she wouldn’t want me to follow her around when she buys lingerie! It’ll ruin the surprise.”

So Gojo just pulls out his card and hands it to you. “I’ll be over at the food court. Get yourself something… special.”

He gives you this little smirk that you have no idea what he means by, and he chuckles as he turns on his heel to walk away. 

While he enjoys something sweet in the food court he see a message from you asking if he’s getting tired and wants to leave soon. He just types back, “Nope. Take your time, sweetheart ;)"

And sends you an extra $100 dollars, because why not?

Surely you’ll get the hint. 

Step 5- Get Caught Jerking Off To Her Lingerie

It’s now been officially a week and a half since Gojo first found that lingerie in your shopping bag. But despite all his efforts, you still have no idea what he’s trying to hint at. The only thing he’s accomplished is making you think he’s lost his mind.  

The thought of you all dressed up in one of those lacy sets has been torturing him for a while now, so today, when you’re out shopping, Gojo can’t help but shove open your underwear drawer, pull out the first lingerie set he sees, and stuff it up to his nose. 

It smells like fresh laundry detergent rather than your scent and that disappoints him a bit but…the fact that it smells like laundry must mean you’ve worn it recently. And if you’ve worn it recently it means this fabric was all pressed up against your skin…

The hand that’s not holding onto the lingerie pulls out his aching cock, and he closes his eyes and jerks his fist to the thought of you. How you’d look splayed out underneath him on the bed, all decked out in soft, pretty lace. 

How he’d caress you through the dainty fabric and feast his eyes on the sight of you all wrapped up for him like his own personal present. 

Gojo jerks himself harder as the scene in his mind becomes more and more clear. He can practically feel the warmth of your skin. Taste the sweetness of your lips. Hear you moaning and and whining and–

“Toru?” 

There you are, standing in the doorway and watching your husband in shock. He quickly whips around to face you, looking surprised–but not the least bit guilty.

“I thought you–fuck–left to go shopping.”

“I was about to… but I forgot my coat…” Your explanation dies down and your confusion increases as you see what’s stuffed into your husband's fist near his face. 

A flash of light pink lace… it’s that set you bought last week! 

He’s sniffing it and crushing it in his grasp. Ramming his hand down onto his cock and making obscene moans, all while keeping eye contact with you.

“Is that my–”

“Yes, " he answers quickly.  “Why–why did you hide them from me, baby?”

It’s impossible for you to formulate a coherent sentence while watching the filthy sight unfolding before you. Your husband looking all crestfallen and hurt and furiously fucking his poor flushed dick. 

But if you had the words to explain you’d tell him that you weren’t hiding them, exactly. Most of your lingerie has been gifted to you by your friends. You’d only recently bought that little pink set on your own. Several times you debated surprising Gojo by wearing them one night, but you were too embarrassed to actually go through with it. So you were satisfied by just owning some pretty pieces of clothing to wear for yourself in the mirror every now and then. You never thought your husband would react like this.

“Wear it for me, please,” Gojo begs. And you can’t deny him when he’s asking like this. 

As you go over to him to reach out to pry the lingerie from his grasp, he quickly shakes his head. “No, no. The crotchless blue ones.” 

You raise a brow, because how would he know about that pair? Gojo just gives you a shy smile and watches as you open your dresser and take out that light blue set that matches his eyes. 

You can feel his heated gaze still on you as you slip your clothes off and take your time stepping into the dress. 

When you turn towards Gojo and he gets the full sight of you, his hips stutter and he almost cums right then and there. 

“Fuck–you look beautiful,” he breathes. 

The lingerie in his hand is forgotten and tossed to the floor as he sinks down to his knees and grabs your hips. His lips kiss at the soft flesh between your thighs before he’s parting them and watching as wetness drips from your swollen pussylips. 

“So wet for me,” he whispers, his warm breath ghosting over your clit and making you shiver. “Liked watching me jerk off, huh?”

Your husband nuzzles his nose towards the scent of you and and moans deeply, then he nudges two fingers inside your hole and licks a long stripe up to your clit. He starts sucking and licking and thrusting those fingers in and out of you. Then he’ll pull the fingers completely out and suck your wetness from them before shoving them right back in.

It's like seeing you wearing lingerie gave him some newfound vigor, because he's lapping and sucking you like a man starved. Like he'll die if he stops. And he's intent on showing you that with every motion of his mouth and hands.

When he pulls his head away for a fraction of a second to gulp up some air, you grasp his hair and pull him right back to you. “Keep going, Toru–I’m close,” you huff as you cling to the white strands of his hair for purchase. 

 Gojo obliges, grinning and mumbling about what a ‘needy little thing you are’, and yet he’s the one moaning and bucking his hips into nothing, already pussydrunk from tasting you for a few minutes. 

His hand gripping your hip moves back to your ass so he can push you even closer. And with this new sensation of being all pressed up against his face, you’re cumming, moaning and yanking hard on his hair in a way that he seems to like. 

He finger fucks you through the last waves of his orgasm, then rises to his feet and carries you over to bed. 

Gojo yanks his clothes off and hovers above you with arms on each side. And his eyes widen as he fully drinks in the sight of you laying down before him. Just like he imagined. But better.

 But he’s not moving. He’s not even breathing. 

And this is what you were worried about. Him seeing you like this and not liking it. Your hands instinctively move up to cover yourself but–

“No, sweetheart. Don't cover yourself. I want to see you.” 

Gojo gently moves your hands away, and his own start to roam over you, caressing your body and rubbing you through the material of the lingerie. It’s almost teasing, to have you so covered yet still so exposed. To have you in something only he will see. 

And then he’s kissing you, all hungry and hot and wet, while grinding his dick back and forth through your folds. 

“Toru, put it inside,” you're whining. 

He does, with one, deep thrust that has you gasping and arching your back. He sits inside of you for a bit, allowing you to adjust to the size of him.

“You take me so well, pretty girl,” he murmurs against you. 

And tonight your husband doesn’t fuck you, he makes love to you. All slow and gentle and passionate. Each thrust like a deep kiss into your body. Each touch of his hands tender, adoring graze. Like you might break if he holds you too hard.

The whole time he's whispering and murmuring praises, about how good you feel about how beautiful you look. Rambling a whole mess of words like he's not even aware of what he's saying.

He slides his dick alllll the way in, rolling his hips and rubbing over all your most sensitive spots. And then he dragggs himself out, his veins massaging your walls. 

His thumb travels down to swipe at your clit and it’s all too much–his mouth at your neck, his cock stuffing you full, and his thumb just gently circling until you finally finish and cry out his name. 

And Gojo’s close, too, his head tilted back and his eyes fluttering shut but fighting to stay open so he can keep watching you. His hips pull back and you know the second he thrusts into you again he’s going to cum, but you never feel the warm spurts of his release.

Instead, he pulls his dick out completely and aligns it with your stomach, finally shooting his hot ropes of cum all over your belly. He watches in fascination as the sheer blue material darkens in color and clings to your skin, and he starts thrusting his dick back and forth through his own release and spreading it all over your chest. 

You scoff in disbelief when he’s finished, but he stares down at the mess he’s made like it’s a piece of art. 

“W-what the fuck, Satoru? You know I can’t wear this anymore, right?”

Gojo wipes the frown away from your face with a gentle stroke against your cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll buy you a thousand more of these sets, baby.” 

The attendants behind him had turned white as ghosts, bracing for the inevitable spray of blood. Sukuna’s jaw had set, a terrifying, low growl vibrating from his chest. But you hadn't trembled.

You hadn't scrambled to fix your posture. You had just looked at him with an expression of profound boredom.

If he wanted to kill you, he would kill you. Fawning over him wasn't going to change his nature, so you simply refused to waste the energy.

He hadn't killed you. Instead, he had left, the doors slamming shut with enough force to rattle the shoji screens.

And that was the exact moment the nightmare began. Because from that night onward, Sukuna became an insufferable, permanent fixture in your life.

"You are eating that wrong."

You stopped your chopsticks halfway to your mouth, letting out a long, slow exhale through your nose. It was midnight.

You had been looking forward to a quiet, solitary meal of cold rice and pickled plums, but Sukuna had simply materialized in the corner of your room ten minutes ago, dripping wet from a thunderstorm, and had proceeded to sit directly on the edge of your bedding.

"I am eating it the way I have eaten it for more than twenty years," you said, not looking at him. "If my technique offends you, the door is exactly where you left it."

Sukuna scoffed, leaning back on his palms. His massive, tattooed frame took up half the space in your small room, his lower arms crossed over his chest while his upper right hand casually reached over and swiped a plum straight from your bowl.

"You have a wretched attitude," he remarked, popping the fruit into his mouth and chewing lazily. "The women in the east hall weep with gratitude if I so much as glance toward their courtyard. You look at me like I am a stray dog that ruined your garden."

"Stray dogs are quieter," you muttered, finally looking up to glare at him. "And they don't steal my food."

Sukuna’s lower mouth twitched into a sharp, jagged grin. He loved it. The realization turned your stomach, a strange, dizzying mixture of irritation and heat.

He didn't come to your room because he wanted a concubine; he came because he was a creature driven entirely by conflict, and you were the only person in the entire empire who refused to give him the satisfaction of a fight. You gave him nothing. You gave him a wall of pure, unbothered apathy, and it was driving him entirely insane.

He leaned forward suddenly, crowding your space. The smell of the storm, ozone and rain, rushed over you. Before you could pull back, his large, calloused hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around your jaw.

It wasn't the brutal, bone-crushing grip he used on his enemies. It was controlled, a heavy, unyielding restraint that forced your face up toward his.

"You should fear me," he murmured, his upper eyes tracking the movement of your throat as you swallowed. His thumb thumbed the soft skin right beneath your lower lip, a deliberate, electric friction that made your toes curl inside your robes. "A single flick of my finger, and this pretty little throat splits wide open."

You met his gaze evenly, refusing to let the wild, frantic thudding of your heart show on your face. "Then do it. I'm tired of your bragging."

Sukuna froze. For a second, the silence in the room was deadly. Then, a loud, booming laugh tore from his throat, the sound rough and genuine as he released your jaw, shifting his weight until he was practically draped over your lap, his heavy head resting casually against your thigh.

"Insufferable," he muttered, closing all four of his eyes as if he owned the space. "Utterly insufferable."

You stared down at the King of Curses currently using your legs as a pillow, your hand hovering over his unruly pink hair, entirely tempted to shove him off. But you didn't. You just sighed, picking up your chopsticks again, ignoring the way his subconscious weight felt entirely too natural against you.

The shift happened. In Sukuna’s dictionary, words like love or devotion were meaningless concepts invented by the weak to justify their dependency. He would never admit to favoring you. If anyone asked, he would simply say you were a minor amusement, a dull distraction from his boredom.

But the rest of the estate wasn't blind.

The servants noticed that the rare silks brought from the western raids, the ones Sukuna usually threw into the treasury to rot—somehow kept finding their way into your wardrobe because he had casually grumbled that your current robes looked "like rags."

The guards noticed that if Sukuna left your courtyard irritated, he was significantly less likely to execute someone in the main hall.

And then there was the incident with the lord of the northern clans.

During a formal banquet, the lord had made a passing, disparaging remark about your status, calling you an "eccentric, useless mouth to feed" who didn't know her place.

You hadn't even heard the comment; you had been across the pavilion, systematically ignoring Sukuna’s attempts to make you try a cup of sake.

But Sukuna had heard it.

He hadn't made a scene. He had simply stood up, walked over to the lord’s table, and dismantled the man’s entire lineage within three seconds, leaving the pavilion drenched in red before sitting back down next to you, casually picking up his chopsticks as if nothing had happened.

"You're exhausting when you're angry," you had murmured, wiping a stray drop of blood from the sleeve of your robe with a click of your tongue.

Sukuna hadn't answered. He had just grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand toward him until you were forced to use your sleeve to wipe a smudge of gore from his cheek instead. He hadn't asked. He had just assumed your hands belonged on his skin.

Late one evening, weeks later, the heat of the summer had turned the air thick and oppressive. You were lying awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling, when the shoji screen slid open without a sound.

Sukuna stepped inside. He looked exhausted, the heavy marks of a curse battle still lingering in the tension of his shoulders. He didn't speak. He just shed his heavy outer robe, letting it hit the floor, before crawling directly onto your sleeping mat.

"Go away," you groaned, trying to roll over to the far edge. "It is too hot for this."

"Silence," he grunted, a large, heavy arm snaking around your waist from behind. He hauled you back against his chest with a single, effortless tug, his massive body completely enveloping yours.

His chest was blazing hot, a furnace of pure cursed energy, and his face buried itself directly into the crook of your neck.

"You cling too much," you muttered, though you didn't actually fight the hold. It was a useless endeavor anyway.

"What nonsense," Sukuna rumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his lower arms tightening around your hips, anchoring you so securely to him that you could feel the rhythmic, heavy thud of his heart against your spine. "You are small. You fit here. Stop complaining."

You lay there in the dark, his breath warm against your skin, his long, sharp fingernails absentmindedly tracing patterns into the fabric of your garment near your ribs.

He was completely unaware of how intimate the gesture was, how entirely possessive his body became the moment he was near you. He thought he was just resting. He thought he was just taking what was his.

You turned your head slightly, looking back at him. His eyes were closed, his expression unusually peaceful in the dim moonlight.

"You're an idiot, Ryomen Sukuna," you whispered softly.

A faint, arrogant smirk touched his lips, though he didn't open his eyes. His hand moved up, his fingers lacing through yours with a casual, unthinking pressure, locking your hands together against the bedding.

"And you are still breathing," he murmured into your skin, his grip tightening just a fraction more. "Be grateful I find your stupidity so entertaining."

You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his terrifying, inescapable warmth, finally accepting that while the King of Curses would never say the words, his actions had already rewritten the entire world around you.

............................................................................

the playdate gets set for saturday afternoon, and sukuna seems pretty indifferent to it or at least he pretends to.

“you’re taking yuji to the park?” he asks while scrolling through his phone.

“mhm.”

“so, who’s the kid— or more like, you know their parent?”

“well.. a little?” you say thoughtfully. “toji fushiguro.. i think?”

“…fushiguro?”

you blink. “hm? you know him?”

“used to run in similar circles.” sukuna looks deeply annoyed already. “guy’s a pain in the ass.”

“well.. he seemed nice?”

“that’s because the guy likes pretending.”

you snort. “you’re dramatic, it’ll be fiiine.”

“i’m serious.”

“baby, i’m going to a playground. not a nightclub.”

sukuna looks at you for a long second, then sighs.

“fine, do what you want.”

which, surprisingly, he actually means— he fully intends to let you have your little park day in peace.

because really.. what could happen?

apparently a lot.

because now sukuna’s standing outside a convenience store a few minutes away while staring at his phone with growing irritation.

he just cannot stay at home while knowing you’re out with that damned black-haired man, so he lasts another three minutes before getting back in his car.

meanwhile, you’re sitting at the park bench while yuji and megumi run toward the playground together.

“be careful!” you call after them.

toji sits beside you a second later holding two juice boxes and an iced coffee.

“kid asked me to bring extras,” he says, handing you the iced coffee.

“thanks!”

“don’t mention it.”

for a while it’s easy and comfortable, you talk while the boys play. mostly about school— how both boys have been doing, how megumi apparently refuses to sleep without his stuffed wolf, how yuji always has endless energy no matter what.

“so.. that your kid, right?” toji asks eventually, nodding toward yuji.

you smile. “well no.. but technically my nephew.”

“could’ve fooled me.”

you shrug slightly. “he does feel like my own, though.”

“clearly.”

talking to toji is surprisingly easy, the guys laid back, which is probably why the next thing out of his mouth makes you second guess.

“you single?”

oh..

but before you can even answer, another voice cuts in.

“no, she‘s not.”

you look up immediately.

sukuna stands there behind both of you wearing all black with sunglasses pushed into his hair.

he looks weirdly calm, which means he definitely heard enough to annoy him.

toji glances between both of you once before leaning back slightly.

“oh! what are you doing here?” you say surprised.

“was just getting something to drink.”

“from the park..?”

“eh, crazy coincidence.”

toji snorts quietly beside you— big mistake, because sukuna’s eyes immediately slide toward him.

“fushiguro.”

“ryomen.”

you can absolutely feel the tension in the air.

you look between them slowly. “oh my god.. you actually know each other.”

“unfortunately,” they say at the exact same time.

yuji spots sukuna from across the playground and immediately lights up.

“UNCLE KUNA!!”

he abandons megumi and runs across the grass at full speed before slamming directly into sukuna’s legs.

sukuna just rests a hand on yuji’s head. “now get off me brat, you’re sweaty.”

“we were racing!”

“that so?”

“i won!”

megumi finally walks over, hands shoved into his little pockets.

“yuji cheated..” he says quietly.

“did not!”

“you pushed me!”

you’re trying not to laugh while yuji now clings to sukuna’s arm, and you get up to approach both.

toji watches the interaction for a second, then he looks back at you.

“…damn my bad,” he says finally. “cute little family you got there.”

sukuna goes quiet for a second, then his arm hooks around your waist possessively.

“exactly,” he says. “know where you stand, fushiguro.”

fixing up this series a lil ..