✨wooahae✨

Usually you’d hate for people to offer help when you’re forced to do something you were unprepared for, taking the sentiment as a passive aggressive version of getting called incompetent but this time, you ponder while rereading the sweet little note in green ink— of course he used green ink to avoid students from being discouraged — and it's one of those times your stupidity has done you some good.

It’s an hour and a half later when class ends, people filing up to leave the doors of the lecture hall when a voice calls out to you. 

You smile at your professor, a little strained, but it’s okay, you tell yourself, you expected it. You walk up to him, bag on your shoulder, unzipped because you rushed down. You’re still smiling when you’re there, already preparing for what he has to say. 

The smile falls and you sigh, “I know that look.”

He’s standing with his arms crossed, dark shades balanced on his straight nose, looking down at you with nothing short of paternal disappointment. “Yes, and you shouldn’t be too familiar with it either. Seventy-five? really? I thought we were talking recommendation letters last week, turns out you’re barely passing my class?”

You swallow back, not really knowing what to do so you kinda just stand there awkwardly, waiting for him to air out his worries. “I know it's like, a little weird to put this much pressure on you but c’mon kid, you’re looking at being the next assistant after Choso to help your resumé right?” 

You nod, still not saying anything, but you can’t deny how you perk up when you heard his name. 

Your professor pauses briefly mid rant after spotting how you only met his eyes when he mentioned his current TA’s name, a light bulb flickers on in his head. 

He squints, “You’ve been familiar with each other, correct?”

“Yes, sir.” You’re quick to reply, stopping yourself from physically gulping out of nervousness. 

“He been showing you the ropes bit by bit?” he mutters, uncrossing his arms and leaning over the desk. 

“Bit by bit, yes.” You echo, unable to reply without being scared of saying the wrong thing to tick him off.

“And…” He feigned thinking about it, fidgeting with he pen in his hand and tapping the butt end of it on a thick stack of paper. “…He’s also helping with lessons to keep your grades up?” 

You say nothing, keeping your mouth flat and shut. You peer up at him, and shake your head slowly, “No sir.”

He tsks, standing up to his full height. “It’s not necessary but  you’re aware there’s an average for you to keep up just to become a TA right? We wouldn’t want students biting off more than they could chew.”

You nod once more, though this time, a lot more fervently. “I—yes, sorry. I’ll-“

“Get to it, yeah.” He finished for you, tucking his hands in the pockets of his slacks. He waits for you to move, watching how you’re still standing there and waiting for him to also tell you to move. You’re so alike, he thinks. 

He nods upwards, dismissing you. You thank him while you’re already turned your back, eagerly making your way to your next mission.

Gojo watches the door swing inwards from the impact of your departure, a smile in his tone when he mutters to no one, “That’ll give her some motivation.”

You’re rushing to your next class now, given the fifteen minute grace period you were granted had now been shaved down to ten, no thanks to your professor, forcing you to take two steps at a time when making your way to the other side of the building. 

You’re looking down at your phone, deleting and retyping a message in your instagram dms. It’s when you pass the stairway that an unexpected force uncontrollably comes on to you. You thud against it, breath caught, hand tightly clutching at your phone. You stumble on your steps, holding onto the closest thing you feel for. You don’t fall, you don’t even come close to the ground, but your knees certainly felt like they couldn’t carry you.

Because here you stood against a very worried, very tightly holding you, Choso Kamo. Your mind blanks, your class just a few doors away, forgotten. Unintentionally, a small smile spreads on your face. 

“Hey, I was—“ He laughs nervously, “I was looking for you.” His hands wrap around your nearly limp arms, almost covering the expanse of it, yet held at a respectable position.

“You okay?” He tilts his head down to meet your eyes, a look of concern etching back on his terribly handsome face, he swallows thickly and you watch his adam’s apple bob decorating his thick neck.

 He takes a second to peer back at the stairs, then back to you before he realizes how his grip still clutched on you. “I’m sorry.” He pulls his hands down at his sides, unsure of what to do with them. “I was about to-“

“-Me too actually.” Cutting him off, you couldn’t help but smile even wider, uncaring if you looked too excited. You raised your phone, “Was about to send a dm but I got class in like,” You flip the screen to face you, “two minutes.” A pinch of apprehension makes its way to you but you push it back. 

His eyes widen behind his rectangular frames, lenses making them appear bigger than they actually are.  

“Really? Shit, “ He cursed, regretful,  “I don’t have class anymore so I could just wait out—”

“Sit in with me?” It comes out of you before you could stop it. “—or not.” You quickly add, retreating. “I could just go and email you.”

“No—I mean, Of course. Yes. Me, I’ll go.” He smiled with a toothy grin, ignoring how you said email instead of your socials in hopes you won’t bring up how he stuttered over his words.  You’re caught off guard and before you know it, he’s already making his way to the door without even being sure which class it was. 

He’s reaching for the handle when you stop him, “Oh, next door, please.” He nods bashfully, adjusting the strap of his comically small backpack on himself and apologizes under his breath. He follows you inside, you push, prying the door open. His palm flat against the wood, effortlessly holding it for you both. 

Luckily your professor hadn’t been in class yet, so you  weren’t spotted as the only late comer (technically no, with company, you weren’t.) The class was sparsely filled as it was only part of your minor and this schedule wasn’t as popular, so you could basically sit anywhere. You scan over the room, and you spot some seats at the very front. You’re about to take a step forward when you realize you’re being a little rude. 

“Where d’ya wanna sit?” You ask, head tilted up with a smile. You try to ignore the gleefulness that comes with the idea you’re gonna be seated next to him. Again, you push this feeling down, knowing it’s completely unprofessional and straight up childish. Though conversely, what you feel for him is not in the slightest, childish. 

“Back, definitely.” He answers a little too fast, blinking to check with you. “If you want.” He adds. 

He’s so polite, you could just die. 

You find comfortable seating by the right side of the class, second to last row and close to the back per request. This classroom was a little smaller, so distance from the whiteboard wasn’t really an issue.

You’re listening to your elderly professor repeat instructions about a future assignment and knowing he’s just going to be posting the guidelines, you just tune him out again, distracted. You have to learn to stop doing that.

But you’re shamelessly peeking at the side, Choso’s writing something down, you watch his face as he continues without a care in the world, back hunched down to get closer to the papers maybe, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in focus. You look down at what he’s writing when he flips the sheet over, the sound of the paper is quiet amongst the loud hum of the air conditioner.

 He’s checking something, a test again? You wonder if yours is there. Something catches your eye, he’s even writing down notes in the side for each correction. Maybe he’s also writing notes of encouragement for others. You don’t wanna wanna act all sensitive but something in your chest dampens. A lick of disappointment knowing you weren’t just given a little extra effort.

You shift in your seat, suddenly aware that you completely distracted yourself again and let your overactive imagination take over. You bite your cheek, brushing off the disappointment and sit properly on your seat. It moves the entire table though, you moved a little too roughly. Choso backs up in his chair, the commotion throwing off your professor in his fruitless discussion.

You gasp before immediately turning to check on your hard of hearing professor. He mumbles some incoherent complaint but you don’t wait to think and just apologize, “Sorry,” and it’s hopefully enough to divert the attention from you both. 

Choso grunts, “No—sorry, my chair was too loud.” He pulls the long, shared desk back with one pull of his hand, before hunching to go back to work. There’s already a furrow in your brows at the apology, and you’re staring at the side of his face, his hand behind his full, overgrown hair, expression mirroring your own except towards his papers. 

You adjust back, only this time you’re a bit farther, scared he’ll probably sense you’re being a little invasive. So you keep your eyes up at the projected screen and let the silence pass, the light sound of the ballpoint scratching paper on the smooth surface of the table and your teacher murmuring mix behind the stupid thoughts interfering and prodding at your composure. 

You made this unnecessarily awkward, eyes looking back down on the paper without trying. You’re still kinda curious what he’s writing down. He’s writing down notes to the side, red pen and all— red pen and all?

You do a double take, your uncontrollable, imposing, borderline deluded thoughts returning back to their place in your hopeless brain. Did he use a red pen for everyone or green? He used green earlier, definitely. What the hell? Why does it matter?

“Can I help you?” The inner monologue in your head ceases at the question. You glance up at him, a crooked smile on his face, dimple gracing his features. He waits for you to say something, you process how it's a little close to a tease. You’re unable to say something and end up nodding.

He smiles, achingly sweet and sincere, still waiting for a response. You blank out, unable to think of a proper fake answer in time. 

A last flick of your gaze at the paper outs your thoughts, he looks down at them. “If you’re looking for any of your own, this isn’t your section’s.” He assures, trying to fill in the silence you were so talented in bringing out in your conversations. 

You giggle out of pure giddiness, unable to hold it in as you act like a school girl and not a college student. It’s probably so strange to him that you’re acting this way  — internally reprimanding yourself is your only avenue for self control at these moments. You hope he doesn’t think the same way. “No um, you’re so focused on writing nice notes for everyone and marking every point.“

He smiles wider, eyes turning into pretty crescents. He shakes his head once, sitting back on his chair, and finally not slouching. Your stomach flips noting how he occupies more than half the seat. He scratches his neck, eyes flicking back at the papers for a moment before meeting yours, then averting again. 

“I don’t think…” He leaned over to read the name on the paper, “…Inumaki, T. thinks my detailed corrections, or rather critiques are very nice, nor the rest of section Z26.” he mumbled the last part, adjusting the collar of his pull over.

“critiques?” You inquire, unconsciously leaning to his side of the desk, closer so you could read them too. Choso hopes you can’t feel the warmth on his cheeks radiating right now. 

He nods his head a little too quickly, despite not being able to see him from where you were. He’s dizzy with the scent of your floral shampoo under his nose, heady and pulling. “Yes, just to help with,” he falters again, your bare arm brushing against his own, clothed one when you point at a certain part of the paper while reading, knees hitting under the table when you’re closely looking down on the sheet. “With the, the uh, future tests yeah-”

Choso watches your lips move but he doesn’t hear what comes out. Right now, he’s pushing away such un-utterable, uncalled for thoughts when his view is your head over what would be is his lap, only being separated by this rickety table. It only gets worse when you shift your eyes at him, wide and up at his tired onyx ones, only now his are a little wider too, something past friendly reflecting in your before averting back down the white sheet.

You’re still reading the paper, taking in the info for each question. “Oh,”

He snaps out of his daze, immediately taking notice of your blank tone. “What’s wrong?” 

You’re processing the words on the essay type test he’s checking and you realize you’ve never seen this kind of test before. “Y’know, now that I’m reading this, I don’t think  we’ve answered this activity yet.” A beat, and Choso flips the paper down.

“Right, that’s probably not good,“ He places a spread out hand over the papers, sheets mix on top of each other, disheveled and disorganized, one nearly falling off the narrow table.

You’re already laughing, “You’re so clumsy,” your hand stopping one of them from flying out of place. 

“No, you probably shouldn’t look at that too-“

“Relax, I don’t have the photographic memory to copy each answer. As much as I wish I did.” You mumble the last part, tucking the papers into an organized pile, facing outwards. “See? No cheating for me.” 

Choso fights the smirk that inches his way under the skin of his cheeks, nodding to you. “I appreciate your integrity.” You return the look on his face except with the stack in your grasp right now, it reflects its white canvas like a soft light on your skin, a sweet warmth overcomes him. “I never told you why I was looking for you.” 

You place the sheets separate from his pile of unfinished work. Pursing your lips, you make a noise of acknowledgment. “Oh, I was thinking the same thing. I didn’t know how to approach you ‘cause it was kinda embarrassing.” 

“Embarrassing how?”

For a while, you contemplate how to make yourself sound less pathetic, trying to amp up how to sound flirtier without breaching whatever boundary of the title you held to him. You wanted to play safe, for now.

“Like to ask for help, I bet it's as funny as someone asking a stupid question since you probably didn’t have to do any of that when you were in my year.” You don’t have to confirm with him whether or not it’s true, Choso’s going straight to a master’s after graduating this year. You’ve been hyping yourself up to ask him out for a while, knowing that he’ll most likely drift from you as a friend with the work that comes with finishing one. 

You truly weren’t looking for any kind of college relationship or even a fling, knowing such places bring unnatural levels of attraction to people who lack self identity, and if you’re being honest, college made you question that part of yourself when you first began.

 Ergo, you focused on yourself for your first year to second. Now, you’re in your third year’s second semester and people are thinking about their thesis and fellowships.  And here you were only starting to make career moves for your future in your third year. 

But you digress, circling back to how all that led you to meet Choso. Someone you’ve made acquaintances with last year during an exhibit at the school’s anthropology museum. Yes, you had an anthropology museum — Jjk technical college was not cheap.

His hair was a tad shorter back then, guiding a bunch of first years through the new exhibit, excitedly discussing some bones and energy. The glint in his eyes was bright and he was wholly unfiltered, charmingly gauche. You had tried to pose a question at the time, wanting to entertain him out of definitely just pure curiosity for Bioarcheology, but second guessed yourself and never approached him again. 

Until, it was that same year you found out he had been the TA for the professor you were aiming for next year (as a second year college student), and you found out he was resigning as the teacher’s assistant from a friend of a friend, and how Gojo had been already looking for a new one early on because Choso was that competent.

You want to say that maybe you joined just because professor Gojo was someone you highly look up to in the field of history research and will grant you a killer recommendation for a future career — which you know he will— there’s an underlying feeling where you also can’t deny that the idea of how it brings you closer to Choso made the position all the more appealing. 

So this year, when Gojo read your CV and decided to accept you out of the many (3 applicants, one was an irregular student, the other a nepo baby), and encouraged Choso to start training you by now, it was like fate realigned itself to bring you closer to him.

Sort of.

Now he was in front of you- beside you, and casually replying with, “ I don’t mind spending my free time with you—tutoring and stuff.” He offers, completely unaware how he gets your stomachs in knots and your heart feels like it's trying to rip out of your ribcage. 

“Really?” You ask too eagerly, he nods for extra reassurance. “It’s just, Historiography just isn’t something I’m good at but I’m also I find it interesting but it’s also really hard but— I also want this.” You size him up,  towards his side of the table. “Y’know, this.” 

He‘s about to point at himself, before looking at the papers and something clicks in place. “Checking papers on top of your thesis, dropping them off at Gojo’s office at 8 am, and getting death stares when I come across his students?”

You nod, almost even more eager, “Absolutely.”

“You’re perfect then.” He says, no hesitation whatsoever. You were eating it up and he was completely unaware. You giggle, heat rushing to your face.

You almost forgot how talking came easy with Choso. It was refreshing to meet someone you could hold a conversation with without feeling like you had to perform all the time, or wonder what to amp up or tone down. He had his intimidating moments at first, like being overqualified for a TA and the unmistakable height, or when you’re overthinking how to impress him and you don’t truly act yourself —  but those impressions crumble effortlessly when you recognize him for his sincerity and obsession with the academe. 

Choso can’t help but let a chuckle bubble in his throat, smooth and rich like a creamy cup of strong coffee. He’s analyzing your face, the apples of your cheeks are out with how wide you smile, he made you smile like that. The fact sits comfortably in his chest. He’s staring at your lips, maybe he can get away with it as him just looking down to your height, the few times he feels his own acted as an advantage for him. 

“…any reason you use green?… Choso?” He blinks, and he’s back in the classroom and you’re now holding your own head with your palm, waiting for him to answer. 

The back of his neck is hot with the thought you could probably notice him zoning out. “I like,” he searches your eyes, hesitating, and then, “I like green, so.” He nods, trying to rationalize his plain answer to himself. 

You’re squinting, “Cool,” nothing behind your tone, just the air that still manages to sit awkwardly between you two, suddenly the old scribbles in the storage part of the desk was so interesting—

“And it's good for not like…” He swallows back his nerves, heart pounding in his ears. “I didn’t wanna discourage students.” 

The admittance runs like oil down your back and you feel like you’ve hit him dead center in what you wanted to hear. “Right,” You look around, a false pretense of thinking in your expression, “So… why the red?” You ask curiously, pen in your hand scratching off the old paint under the desk in anticipation.

He paused like a deer caught in headlights, licking the dryness of his lips. Staring down the sheet of paper, yes it’s red indeed, he thinks. His lips part, you watch the smooth, glossy sheen of it move against the light. “I guess I have a favorite class.” He coughs, feigning the ease he was currently lacking with each word he carefully chose to speak.

Despite the urge to egg him on, you leave it at that, your bravery for the day already expended. You know if you continued you might say something a little irrational, and you’re also afraid to jump his bones too quickly. Though you’re pretty sure he could still hold you up if you tried.

Class ends anti-climactically, your professor waving your class off with a less than interested parting. You’re out of the classroom, Choso following behind when, “So, when do you wanna start? I’m free after class tomorrow and it’s the weekend. I don’t mind staying longer.”

You’re following his pace as you walk through the hallways of your building, aiming for the exit but you’re thinking about what happens after. You’re not fully sure where you’ll end up once you part. Do you just go? He stayed with you the entire boring class, (obviously the only reason why you want to stay longer and none other in particular) surely there must be something you have to do in return.

You’re nearing the exit and you can’t help but feel like you’re letting something slip if you go past the doors without making your thoughts known, “I have this thing with my best friend tomorrow, this is not a very good look for me— I promised I’d do this qualitative interview and—“

He’s quick to reply, “Oh yeah, I totally understand—“

Shit, okay you were not seizing the moment correctly. “You should come with me.” You turn over to him, unable to stop yourself.

Choso all but freezes, “What?”

Okay, no going back now, smacking your lips together before going for the kill. “—With me. Yeah, we could hang out and,” Could you still back out? No. 

“Just, maybe study after? like we could study like… for the,” So much for not wanting to jump his bones, “…whole night.” You can’t look at him any longer, eyes scanning back the outside that now surrounds you. The noises of campus and the lamp posts are bright, projecting a warm white over you. But all this is not enough to comfort you from the trepidation finally shaking your brain.

You watch as Choso’s pale cheeks start to tinge into a flushy pink, eyebrows raising behind his glasses.

 “Oh, okay, yes. Okay!” He nods taughtly, though willing.

You pause, “Okay?” trying to check if he’s serious.

“Sure.” You’re both standing opposite his body, shocked with what you’re hearing from the other as much as you were shocked from the words leaving yourselves. 

A beat passes, leaves rustle, and amidst that you’re silently hoping it won't matter how you didn’t think this through fully. “Five o’clock sound good?”

***

It was a steady, calm-ish afternoon, your best friend Miwa was sat in front of you, laptops laid out on the table. She’s writing down notes and closing up her recording software and you’ve been fixing up your hair, clothes, and picking lint off it. You find a loose thread on your shirt when, “Hey,” You look up, alert. Miwa’s squinting at you, blue hair cast in a warm yellow from the mid-afternoon sun. “You good?”

You’re finger quits picking at yourself, “What? Yeah,” eyes flitting back to the pesky string sticking out of the hem of your top. 

There’s a hum coming from in front of you, “You sure? You’ve been so fidgety this entire time.”

“I am not fidgety.” You say, fidgeting. A sigh comes out of you, and you lean back on your chair, hands coming on top of the arm rests. “You really okay with me bringing Choso?”

At this, Miwa’s lips curl into a smirk. “I knew it.”

Your eyes flick over to the side in thought, then back at her sly expression. “What do you know?”

She’s sitting up from her hunched posture over her laptop, and drinking from her cup of her almost lukewarm coffee, shrugging with her eyes still locked on yours.

Your thumbs come up from the arm rests, “What is it?”

She clears her throat, placing the mug on a coaster. She looks back up, a smirk still planted on her face. “Just that I didn’t know that he was your crush,” she expects you to reply, but you’re still waiting for her to elaborate. “Y’know, Choso.”

“I don’t have a crush on him!”

She squints, “Okay so we’re lying today.”

“It’s merely admiration— and some attraction at most.”

“That’s literally what a crush is based on.”

You’re blinking at her, feeling caught. You bite your tongue, knowing that your best friend out of anyone should be able to catch you in a lie. Or even a truth you lie to yourself about. You speak up, “Well?”

“Y’know I love you.” She starts.

“Oh no.” Dread seeps into your stomach, and you know if she starts somewhere along the lines of sugar coating, the following was about to be some bland truth coated around maybe an even bitter core inside.

“I like Choso! He’s been your friend for a while and I’ve never talked to him but he sounds really devoted to his work, maybe goodlooking, he’s smart, and he’s nice—“

“What would Muta think…?”

She chuckles, softening at the thought of her own boyfriend. “No, I just wanted to keep an eye out for you too when I say this.” She pauses, trying to find a way to word this as pleasantly as possible. “Cause you know how girls talk…”

You latch onto that last part, stomach churning in suspense. “Not really, I don’t.”

She stops herself from cackling at your nervous expression, “I just heard he’s always…nice.” 

“What’s wrong with that?” 

“Like too nice? I guess…it’s really hard to explain babe,“ She cuts herself off, sensing your growing apprehension. She observed how your hands are rubbing on the expanse of your cup, and bringing it to your lips to avoid saying something. She quiets down her tone, now kinda shy about mentioning it. She leans a bit towards you, “Like… in bed, y’know?” 

You sputter in your mug, feeling unwelcome liquid scratch your throat. Miwa’s eyes widen when she watches you cough, eyes turning watery. “Ooh gag reflex, that’s not coming in handy.“

“Fucking shut up-“ You’re coughing still and she’s laughing uncontrollably now. “—I did not expect that.”

She’s wiping the corner of her corneas with a finger, “I—I’m sorry I just had to bring it up.”

You’re more composed now, eyes looking up at the clock, it’s ten minutes to five, and you’re trying to relax. 

You don’t exchange looks with Miwa until a short moment passes for you to think. 

“So have you thought about what it would be like?” You’re back to meeting her eyes, a silent exchange between you both. Miwa smiles at you, lowering her voice and putting a finger up to her ear like an agent, “Then I’m glad to relay information.” She’s giggling when you throw a tissue at her.

You’re already standing out of your seat and making your way to sit beside her. She motions her hand for you to come nearer, both turning your heads when the door chime rings and someone enters, calming down when it’s just some delivery person. You relax, side eyeing her. 

Miwa inches closer, “Okay so I’m friends with this senior from my org and she had a friend who was seeing Choso, sort of? Anyways I mentioned once that you were replacing him and that you’re a little into him, sorry.” You’re beckoning her to continue, not caring much for the last part and nodding along. 

“Anyways, it was like a one night stand thing and — don’t get me wrong I’m not trying to spread rumors or judge,” Another pause, and you’re already on the edge of your seat. 

“Well? Go on,” You pull her in, arms tangled and clutching her, knee jittering. 

“I heard he was kinda scared in bed? Like maybe he has a phobia or something.” Your knee stops, and you’re now confused, “It’s just kinda odd ‘cause the guys like a unit, right?” a crease forms between your brows. “Maybe he’s like… a power bottom?” she whispered, tone serious.

You’re nodding, taking in the information with actual consideration. “Possibly,” You’re fully facing her now, “Y’know…he is a TA.” 

It’s Miwa’s turn to be confused, struggling to find the correlation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You fight the expression trying to pull on your lips, you nibble on the skin then let go, “I’d say he’s good at being told what to do.”

Miwa’s eyes widened, before adding, “Tell me when you find out.” A second where you’re both quiet and then you’re being shook by the shoulders, both of you squealing and chortling in your corner. It would be no surprise if you’ve caught the attention of other customers with your commotion. 

She quits with the shaking, now smoothing over the fabric over your shoulders for messing up your top. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

You can’t help but entertain your imagination, “I mean I think I’m too conscious to be playing around too much.” Your friend nods along, supportive. Past these exciting thoughts, it was all a front for the feelings you struggled to word out, “I really like him, Miwa.”

She parts her lips but as if on cue, another chime from the door rings once more. He stood by the entrance for a brief moment, barely scanning the vicinity when he locked eyes on you, a cheeky grin lighting up his face. 

***

“—I think they never made any real contact.”

“No, that’s definitely up for debate.”

Miwa watches your back and forth, pen in hand. Choso decided to be part of her research sample as well, given that he’s already here, he should make use of his time. And he didn’t mind, he liked helping out. 

If only he could actually speak and answer the questions without you guys debating every time one of you made an opinion on something vaguely related to Miwa’s research topic.  At first it was good, your opinions can be added too but now she’s running out of space in her storage with how long this unintentional joint interview was going.

“Okay guys, the interview questions are about historical revisionism. While I do see the correlation, how did we end up in Egypt and…?”

“Ancient Mesopotamia.” Both of you say,  completing her sentence. 

“I can elaborate.” Choso suggests, clearly unable to read between the lines of Miwa’s inquiry.

She stretches in her seat, her legs feeling cramped up with the lack of movement all this time. “Y’know what, I’ll hold you two to that. But first, let’s take a break!” It’s not even a minute until she’s out of both your and Choso’s sights, on the way to the restroom, pen and recorder left on the table. 

“Y’know, I don’t think she likes me that much. I also think she’s too nice to tell me that.” You’re in the middle of cracking your neck until you’re moving your attention to him.

“Don’t worry too much about it, I think she just isn’t up for hearing any more strong opinions on exported textiles.”

“That’s if they were truly exported—“ You shove his arm, and he’s laughing at your face, not even moved from the push. He’s pretending to rubbing his bicep in feigned hurt, lifting his arm in the process, almost flexing. You try to ignore how they felt so hard under your fingertips. You check him out unintentionally, taking notice of how the hem of his layered shirt hangs enough to show the lower part of his stomach. Out of respect, you look the other way.

You swallow thickly, ears hot. “I think I’ll get another snack. Want anything to eat?” You’re already standing up and off the chair, limbs wobbly from the long period of time you spent sitting on the deep arm chair.

There’s a sudden burst of noise coming from the entrance of the café, very loud and boisterous. You can’t help but let your jittery self get distracted, there stood an entire group of men, looking like they just got off practice. You’re wondering why one of them looks vaguely familiar, but there’s a body blocking your view out of nowhere with what you realize is Choso’s chest. 

There’s an odd, slightly frantic look in his eyes you haven’t seen on someone as easygoing as him. “Um, how about I go with you?” 

You’re looking up at him, a little skeptical on why the sudden change of tone, but agree anyways. 

You’re in the short line along the display and point out pastries that you could try when a voice calls out to the person beside you. “Cho!”

It’s easier for you to check where it’s coming from as Choso was in front of said voice. You recognize the pink hair from the group coming in earlier. He’s about 2 inches away from being as tall as Choso, hair damp like he just came from a shower, and a sports bag was strapped across him. 

A pat on his shoulder signals your dark haired companion to turn, seeing a sight he’d been trying to avoid earlier. Of course he had to be the one ordering for his group. 

“Hey man,” Choso greets, strained, a guard visibly coming up around him. 

“What’s up, you don’t say hi to family anymore?” The sentiment, although on paper sounded sweet, in reality was like a taunt. Something you don’t wanna dissect to avoid reading into it too much. “Who’s this?”

You peer over at both of them, their attention now on you. Still unable to read the room, you focus on Choso to see how he wants this to play out. He steps in for you, “You know her, I mentioned the TA thing like a while back. She’s a friend, though she is replacing me.”

 He gestures to the pinkette’s side, introducing him. 

“My brother by the way. Same year though.” 

Sukuna nods at that and smiles, canines showing. He reaches out with his hand, and you meet it halfway. “Ryomen Sukuna.” Huh, he’s not a Kamo.

“Pleasure,” You’re squinting your eyes, there’s something a little unsettling about him that you can’t place, but you’re not trying to jump into that. 

 “I didn’t know Choso had any siblings — ones on campus, no less.”

You let go of his large, callous hands, moving an inch closer to the cashier when the customer before you has their turn to order. “Have 2 terms to catch up with and I don’t really see this one around either ‘cause I did training camp in Barcelona last semester.”

You nod in acknowledgement. Silently, you’re comparing them, unknowingly looking back and forth between him and Choso a little too obviously. 

“We don’t look related do we?”

 Before you could defend yourself, a dry chuckle beats you to it. “We get that a lot.” He squeezed where his hand was planted on Choso, who visibly tenses. “Different mom, same dad. He doesn’t take after him though, if you’re worried—“

“Alright, I don’t think she wants to know about that.”

“Speak for yourself,” You laugh nervously, trying to ease the tension you could feel multiplying tenfold. He pats Choso’s shoulder before bringing his hand down to the side, not before looking at the side of his brother's face as he semi-whispered, “At least one of you doesn't have their panties in a twist.”

“I would if I were wearing mine.” A very long, awkward silence overcomes all three of you. That is until a nearly genuine smile breaks out of Sukuna’s angular features. 

“Ha, what the fuck,” He mutters in amusement, “You’re both weird, that’s cute.” A dry chuckle eases the anxiousness you were struggling to place the source of. Though at the cost of your own dignity.

The line to the cashier moves, it’s yours and Choso’s turn now. He’s first to leave his brother’s side, not even bidding him a glance as he moves past you. “Nice meeting you,” you voice out, still on edge, Sukuna just nods in acknowledgement. 

***

It’s around 6:40pm  when Choso walks you to your apartment outside of campus. There’s a slight tension in the air that you’re struggling to bring up, it’s been there for the remainder of your meet up, not having said a word since you’ve left the café. You’ve been trying to make a move and talk to him but he’s had his eyes on the ground this entire time, rarely up, and definitely never on you. 

He was about to walk in the pedestrian lane when you tug on his backpack. He’s caught in the pull, looking up to the red walking signal reflecting on the road. He walks back to stand next to you, still not saying a word. “What’re you thinking so hard on?”

For a moment he turned his head to you, a little too quick to not look like he wasn’t anticipating you to bring it up yourself. He looks ahead once more when you’re walking now. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

You start to feel a little guilty for not clarifying sooner, wondering if this entire time he thought he should’ve apologized for something he couldn’t control.

“It’s alright, it wasn’t unpleasant for me.”

He almost laughs at that, “Right, and I was jumping for joy.”

The air shifts, it’s not so tense anymore, just between that and uncertainty directed at something else entirely. “I felt really dumb earlier.” He adds, looking back down on the pavement. “I couldn’t say anything to make him leave us alone.”

You’re a few blocks nearby to your place, walking a little ahead of him so he could follow you now. 

“Again, it wasn’t that bad. You don’t have to apologize.” Once more, silence fills the space between you both and it feels like you’re unable to remove this weight you feel affecting your interaction.

Now you’re both looking at your feet as you wait for cars to pass the street you’re crossing and for the timer to finally get to zero. Your foot is stepping over a dry leaf to fill in the lack of communication, the sound crunching in the quiet in a loud, distant manner.

“I just kinda get made fun of for acting like this—weak.” You crane your neck up to meet his eyes, and you’re right to think he’s still looking down. “It’s just annoying how even until now it’s expected of me to bite back on others ‘cause I look like I should.” 

There’s a furrow in his brows, and he’s tightly clutching on the strap of his bag. “Like I’ve accepted that, sort of.  I’m already conscious of it— but maybe people like to pick on me when it's obvious I’m not gonna do anything.” 

You’re making another turn together, he’s leading with the path he’s familiar with and you follow, his words don’t falter. “Maybe ‘cause it makes them feel less small or some shit — I don’t know.”

After processing the words that left him, it brought you back to your conversation with Miwa. How you laughed about his past history with women and how you basically gossiped about his insecurities. Guilt swirls in your stomach, realizing this might just be a little worse than you treated it to be. You keep quiet, deep in your own thoughts, letting him say what he needs to.

“And of course my own brother is like that too.” He rants, tracing back to the behavior he displayed earlier. “He’s my brother and I love him, yes. But frat guys could be such dicks, y’know? I was like his first practice hazing dummy lite…in a way.”

You nod, acknowledging him. “Right, right.” You’re turning to the street ahead of yours, just about a block away now.

“It’s hard to not let those insecurities take over.” He groans, “I spent so much of my life trying to make my best first impressions, and I feel like it backfires on me with the wrong people—I hate that.” He’s scratching the back of his head. “Sometimes I just wish I looked normal. That way I wouldn’t literally feel like the elephant in the room.”

At that, you turn almost as if you’d heard the worst take in your life, brows scrunching. “Normal?”

He shakes his head, “Yes, normal. Like I can wear normal shoes and sit on couches normally.”

“I like that you’re not.” You say, insensitively. “I mean you’re not not normal. But I like…it.” You slow down, trying to backtrack on what you just let slip. 

He’s blinking down on you, a look of surprise etched on his slowly flushing face. “…Why?” 

Your breath is caught in your throat, not knowing how else to explain it.  No going back. Remember? 

 “I feel safe, even if you don’t…bite back. And on top of that you’re kind. I think that matters a lot.” 

Choso stares at you like you just grew a tree on your head, but in truth, he’s just trying to tone down his elation. “Really?” He asks dumbly, already cursing himself in his head for looking like he wants to hear you call him that again. Safe.

You dip your head, agreeing once more. “I’m a girl so I may be a little biased but if I were also a little taller, I wouldn’t have to deal with some idiot guys trying something on me, and I could also defend myself easier.” 

“Oh yeah—Yes, that's totally different from my problems.” He clarified, trying to catch himself from sounding ungrateful. You watch the way his expressions shifts from blank to stressed and bite back a smile. “There’s obviously people with worse problems than being bigger than a doorway.” He’s looking down and pushing his glasses up, almost ashamed. 

You turn to the road leading up to your street, your apartment just at the end of it. “Is that like 6’3 or…”

“Huh?” He meets your inquisitive eyes, “Uh, just a little more.” He replied, shying away from your stare. You’re thinking about all the objects that could possibly match up to Choso’s figure. 

“Those chillers they got in 7’11?”

“Hm, nope. Like 2 inches more, maybe.”

Your stomach does a flip you had to ignore, “You’re lying. Six foot six?”

“Without shoes, yes.” He nodded, met with you side-eyeing him. “Well you’re free to go with me to my annual checkups and see.” He defends, a smile finally appearing on his face at your skepticism.

You squint, stopping yourself from looking too excited with the many, unbecoming thoughts storming your brain. “I’ll hold onto that.” 

Shortly after, you find yourself standing in front of the building to your apartment. “I’m sorry about dumping all that on you, It was a lot.” He looks around before letting out a barely there sigh, “I’ll get going now—“

“Are you forgetting?” You look back and Choso’s standing stiffly, feet planted on the ground. “We’re…studying, remember?”

Choso’s throat bobs at your sly tone, convincing himself there is nothing behind it.  “You did a lot today I just thought we were tired—“

“We don’t have to study then.” You’re looking around and thinking to yourself before landing back on his face, “I mean you came all the way here, you could come up and have some tea?”

The notion has his chest puffing out to regulate the way his heart started beating like its pounding from behind his sternum. He doesn’t say anything, his eyebrows raise behind his glasses, his usually sleepy eyes now wide. He nodded and let out a strained, “Okay.”

***

The door to your apartment swings open with a loud creak. The lights switch on, a warm white cascades from the ceilings. 

Your keys make a clinking noise against the ceramic jewelry tray you leave on the dresser by the entrance. The door is wide open, you feel Choso trailing behind a couple steps away. 

He’s standing kinda stiffly, “Do I take my shoes off or—“

You’re shaking your head, stepping aside to let him in. “My neighbors are kinda sticklers for people who leave their shoes outside in the halls.” He walks past the doorway, head craned down. It’s supposed to look like he was trying to avoid getting hit by the frame of it, though he’s only finding a way to hide his face naturally.

He picked his head up when he heard clanking from the kitchen which meant that you were inside. “I hope you’re not allergic to pollen? I like to put honey in mine.” You ask, your voice still clear as the space isn’t big at all, but in his head it’s distant. He’s trying to calm himself down, taking in your apartment. 

It’s small, kitchen tight and you’ve no space for a table. You use the counter as one, your bed, desk, and sofa all in the same space. However, the lack of furniture made it wide, the “living room” taking the least space with just a little coffee table and the tv on the floor as the only decor. 

“You didn’t say anything so I didn’t add any honey.” He finds himself turning on his feet when he’s met by your figure, coming from the kitchen with two— red and yellow —mugs. You hand him the yellow one, he  takes it with a ‘thanks’. You make a move to sit on the couch, trying to get cozy. Choso’s still standing, sipping on his cup awkwardly.

“You can sit if you want.” Choso’s eyes flick over to you. You realize he had shed his bag on the entrance, still it looks like something is weighing on him.

“I’m okay, I might launch you out of it—“

“Sit with me.” You pat the spot beside you on the couch, your fawn-like eyes up at him. 

It turns his legs into jelly. Thoroughly convinced, he sits beside you, trying to be as careful as he can so the side of the couch doesn’t sink to his weight too much.

He winced at the audible sound of the springs under the cushions, “Sorry.” 

Quietly, you assess him. How stiffly he sat, how much of the seat he took up despite keeping himself at the edge of it. If he sat back, would his knee brush against yours? Though you feel a little bad for taking advantage of his reactiveness towards you. However, something deep inside you is undeniably excited with the thought. 

On the other hand, Choso feels like he’s watching himself act in third person, deliberating what part of his body he should move next to not look too obnoxious or stiff. He doesn’t know if he should just let the silence pass till he runs out of tea, or maybe till it turns lukewarm. You shift in your seat, he feels your gaze heavy on him. You don’t say anything, you just stare at the side of his face. His throat bobs.

He looks over to you for a split second and meets your eyes, you raise your brows at him, a smirk growing on your sweet face. 

An anxious laugh bubbles from his throat, the tips of his ears tinging red. “I think you’re aware of how you’re making me nervous.” 

You couldn’t stop the way the smirk spreads into a wide smile. “I was thinking of how to get you to talk, is all.” You tilt your head to the side, checking out how the light from your room lamp makes his jaw seem sharper. His hair nearly fell on his shoulders, built and perched with his elbows on his knees, posture a little hunched, but he still sat taller than you. Nothing short of tempting in your eyes.

He follows your gaze, “What?”

“You’re also thinking of something.”

His brows pinch, he hates how good you are at prodding at him when he clearly doesn’t know what to say. “I’m always thinking.”

You nod, “And still, you haven’t said anything since we went up.”

Choso pauses his already stiff self. You place your mug down, crossing your legs on the couch. He brings his attention back to you but you’re already intently looking at him. He flinches back.

Sighing, “What do you think I’m thinking about?” You purse your lips, shrugging at his question. He shakes his head, a smile fighting its way on his face.

 “Then I’m happy you only brought me here to drink some tea.” A roll of his eyes comes out of sarcasm, reaching for his own mug on the table, stretching his arm out. 

He’s about to pull his hand back when your smaller one lands on top of his. The contact would have made him drop the glass into little pieces if it weren’t for the coffee table underneath. He lets down the cup, missing the coaster you laid out. 

“That’s my mug….” You point at the red cup in his grasp, yours. You let the words linger like the pads of your fingers on the back of his hand, “Hm, you’re really warm.”

He blinks, unable to ground himself back to reality because maybe, maybe you’re trying to make a move on him. He’s unable to look into your eyes, 

“Uh,” He falters, the warmth on his cheeks multiply and spread out when you inch closer, the warmth of your own body makes him feel like he’s overheating. 

“How else could I get you to go up with me?” You say, goading another reaction out of him. 

“I-I mean you could just ask and…I wouldn’t say no,“  You’re closer to his face now—too close. But you’re still not looking at eye level — not close enough. 

“I think I’ve done a lot just to be around you, Cho.” He almost melts at how the stupid nickname his brother calls him sounded so good coming from your honeyed lips. Choso gulps, audible and embarrassing in the silence of your apartment. 

He started off this conversation on the edge of the couch, somehow it feels like you’ve backed him into it.

“Y’know, the TA stuff, asking to study—do we look like we’re studying now?” Your arm skates over his hand, up his arm, the touch leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You watch how his jaw all but clenches at the feeling, a newfound confidence makes you unbelievably giddy, driving you to push more. “But what I wanna know is,”

He feels like he’s running out of breath before he could utter a word when your palm lands up on his hard chest, feeling for the erratic thumping of his heartbeat underneath the fabric of his shirt.

Your head is craned up, lashes bat at him, “What are you willing to do…?”

He’s looking deeply into your eyes, searching for the answer to your question, not realizing how his neck is craning down at your height in return. Several beats pass — he feels a tug on his shirt and then he’s closing the distance between your lips. 

He whines on the soft, wet skin, sucking gently, eyes falling shut. His hand finds your cheek, the other reaching for your side when you tangle your arms around his neck. The pace is hungry yet fervent, tugging and melting against the other. You pull away slowly, lips parting from each other wetly. You’re smacking your own lips before smiling up at Choso, giggling. 

His eyes are hazy, glasses crooked out of place. His hands are covering your back and smoothing over your clothes, “I can do anything— whatever you want.” 

If you weren’t already grinning wide enough, now you’re fully Cheshire-like. Pushing yourself closer towards him, “Anything?” He nods eagerly, you’re pulling him in, hungry. 

His hand is on the back of your neck now, holding. There’s something about his touch that feels like it’s keeping you together without feeling too possessive. Caring with a dash of hesitance. One you’re looking to break through tonight.

Your lips travel down his neck, leaving hot, lingering kisses along his throat. “Oh, mmh-“  He bites his lip immediately after nearly letting out the low noise from chest, eyes shutting when you find the particularly sensitive spot on his neck. You feel his fingers dig rougher on your hips, you’re on your knees now, determined to cover every inch of him in your touch. Your weight falls on him when he tugs you, the hands planted on his shoulders squeeze out of instinct.

“You good? I-I didn’t mean to, ah—“ He tried to move his head away from your persistent lips, but a shiver that runs through him stops his actions. You’re sucking on his skin, humming proudly, undettered from your little slip. His hands brush down your sides, they plant themselves lower on your waist.

You plant kisses all the way back to his chin then meet his lips again. You’re eye level, a sinister glint in your eyes. You stick your tongue out, half lidded gaze and staring right at him — brushing the wet, pink muscle along Choso’s bottom lip, teasing. Heat rushes on his face, blood rushes on his crotch. You’re killing him.

You suck on the pink flesh, tugging then letting go, he’s pulling you in closer by the back of your neck. He wants you on him,  mind unable to decide how — just everywhere is fine. You drop your palm down between your bodies and on the garter of Choso’s sweats, feeling for the hardness underneath.

He hissed as your fingers brushed what would be his shaft, “Um, sorry, can we make out a little I think…” He holds your head closer to his face, breaths mingling as you catch them. “I’ll get less hard— nervous, I think. Sorry,” You hummed in agreement before landing back on the flushed skin of his mouth, quieting him down with your lips.

You giggle against him, chasing as he squirms, palms settling on his shoulders. You pull off him with a peck, feet planting back on the carpeted floors.  Choso now sat far into the couch, slacked with legs spread. His mouth parts as you start undressing, stripping off into your underwear. 

He sizes you up and down, taking in your soft, bare skin, your strapless bra and cotton panties under the warm lights of your apartment. It elicits a heavy throb under his pants. Choso’s breathing feels uneven and the air grows thinner when you settle back on the couch, only now between his spread out legs.

 You’re steadying yourself, his hands find a place on your warm, now bare skin. You smooth over the wide expanse of his chest, then land on his neck, even warmer than you. “This okay?” You ask, to which he only replies with a nod. 

You’re about to lean into him when he reaches for his glasses, but you stop him before he tries to pry the piece of metal off. “They stay on.”

His breath catches in his throat, stomach dipping. A part of him he’s not quite sure whether he wanted to acknowledge, liked when you tell him what to do.

 He lets his hand fall, you adjust the rims on the bridge of his nose. “You’re so pretty.” You’re holding his face with both hands, tilting it upwards to you. A lopsided grin appears on his face at the comment, eyes shying away and down from your face and to the body on him.  

“Thanks- Thank you,” He replied poorly. His palm skated from your waist and to your back, laying above the clip of your bra. His lips are caught between his teeth as he takes in the feel of your skin against him, he looks up. “You’re awfully pretty as well.”

He was never good at expressing himself,only with what he was sure of. But this was new, you pushing, him taking, it was all new. But he meant every word he said to you. He leaned in to catch your lips against his. Fuck, if only you could tell how much he meant it.

He’s slotting his tongue in between your parted mouth, leaning further in and you’re falling back, but he’s catching you — keeping you to him. You work together smoothly, as smooth as silks rubbing against each other. You clutch on to him tightly as if he’ll slip if you don’t. You taste like jasmine tea and he’s wondering if the sweet taste is from the honey or just you. He’s holding you by the neck and pushing your back into him. 

You finally move to settle on his lap, the kiss unwavering so you’re first to pull away, “Choso—“ He catches the sound of his name in your mouth, chasing, taking, and taking. There isn’t any place on your body that isn’t covered by him, your arms, your back, your legs in between his that caged you. You moan at the thought against his greedy tongue,  entirely consumed. But you’re impatient and already wet, the fabric of your panties has been riding up for the last 10 minutes. So you squeeze his arms weakly, but it’s enough for him to let air flow between you.

“Shit, Sorry—” He’s frantic and searching your eyes, but he’s met with your hazed out ones and your swollen, drooly lips. He wiped the corner of it, chest heaving. “I need to— you’re driving me insane,” He chuckles, deep and uncertain with how true the fact felt. He’s brushing your hair back gently, “I’m sorry,” he lets go of you as you’re pulling away.

You’re upright now, letting your feet back down. You’re bending over to his lap, palms resting on his spread out limbs, “You need to make it up to me,” You’re once again reaching for his sweats, the imprint of his shaft taking form at the side. He gently lays his hand on your wrist.

 “Are you sure?” His eyes are wide, pupils dilated, the frames of his glasses are now on the tip of his nose bridge. But there’s a wave of genuine uncertainty blanketing his expression.

You’re blinking up at him, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

It’s a tangled knot in his chest, one bundled in embarrassing moments and unsuccessful hook-ups. He stuttered over his words,

“Just that before I’ve-“ he pondered if he should risk you laughing at him, but you’re expectantly looking into his eyes, and your hands are already on his lap, a little more and you’d be right where he’s aching for you. “I’m scared of making it…unpleasant?” 

His hand rubs up and down your arms, you’re tuning him out and thinking of how you should go about sitting on him. He continued to ramble on, “Um, like I’ve been told it was…“

“Too big?” You ask, attention now on him. Externally you’re collected, stating it like a remark. But internally you know it’s a fact. You feel a little bad thinking about it but now you’re piecing together your earlier conversation on what Miwa’s friend’s friend might’ve been complaining about. 

Choso all but nods, eyes scanning your room as if that would keep yours away from him. “I could just help you, y’know. We don’t have to—“

You’re turning over and maneuvering his hand out of his lap, sitting on his thigh. For a moment, you’re a little hesitant, hovering. “I mean I’d like it if we did, but I’m also…” His words trail off, holding your hip and securing you on his lap, unbothered as your weight settles on one thigh. He clears his throat, “I’m okay with, um,  anything.”

You’re leaning into him, on your side, hand trailing underneath the hem of his shirt, grazing his clenched abdomen. He jolts, causing you to jump in your seat. Your eyes widen for a moment before relaxing, hand skating lower under the garter of his sweats with a simpering grin on your face. You’re kissing his cheek, gentle and slow as your hand palms over his hard, covered cock.

He’s watching your move under the fabric of his gray sweats, feeling your smaller fingers squeezing and rubbing the base of it. It hurts, he thinks. In a way that something stings and feels good at the same time. You’re squeezing at his tip when he throws his head back on the couch, groaning loudly. You take the opportunity to mouth on his neck again. 

“Can you please— Can I please take it off?” He asks politely, but the grip on your hip feels anything but. You hum, still licking at the expanse of his neck. 

You’re pulling his pants down with his help—mostly him just taking it off himself, desperate and aching. He’s bare from the waist down now when you settle back on his thigh, sweats and boxers discarded on the floor. 

You’re now shamelessly gawking at his erection bouncing against stomach, slapping against it. The warmth of your hand catches him off guard, finally making contact skin to skin. You tug on the shaft, immediately taking notice of how your fingers struggle to close around it and were squeezing on accident.

“F—oh, god. ” He rests his head on your shoulder, sweat building on his forehead. You start moving your hand up and down, already slippery from how he’d been oozing in his boxers the entire time. He’s quiet behind you, save for the heavy breathing on your skin. You go faster. “Your hand’s so tight,” it comes out in a whimper. A wet, mouthing sensation can be felt on your shoulder, he’s biting your skin to muffle himself. But It doesn’t work, his throat lets loose with each reaction.

 His eyes roll up from your shoulder when he feels you lean forwards and away from his chest, cock twitching when a wet glob of spit drips on him from your tongue.

You’re both watching your hand work up and down, bringing both onto the shaft, he’s cursing as you go faster. 

You’re throwing your other leg over his thigh, straddling him in reverse, before resting back on him. Choso's hands come up to hold you under your knees, keeping your legs apart. He watched as the movement stretched the fabric, pussy still clad in underwear, drenched and barely covering it. But he can’t help but peek lower, your hands exclusively paying attention to his erection. 

You joke, “It’s like I'm jerking myself off.”

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest, the vibrations thrum against your back and you turn them into moans as you suddenly go faster. “Sucks though, I can’t feel it.” 

You’re unable to see his expression behind you, but you can hear how his moans are muffled between his teeth, “You’re s-so eager.”

You reveled at how shaky he’d sounded. “One of us has to be.”

And then a strange noise akin to the tearing of fibers can be heard from below. You gasp as it happens in front of you, hands slowing its ministrations. You realize you’re watching him rip your underwear, exposing your wet, shiny pussy. “Hey—“

 He’s adjusting himself from under you, bringing his other hand under your thigh, your legs tugged higher as he starts rubbing right on your clit. 

He’s rough and accurate on where he wants to touch you, deliberate in his movements.  He’s quick but he isn’t rushing either, his only motive was to get you to falter in his stead as you were doing just the same.

Your voice shrinks into breathy pants, the slick sound from your poor clit syncing in with each, “Ah, ah, Cho—“

“You’re making me so, so hard, baby—” You’re both an obscene sight to behold, playing with each other, spread out, grunting or whimpering. Both sloppily still trying to let your lips tangle with each other despite the inconvenient position. Both a mess, your tits spilling out of your bra, and his glasses all fogged up. 

You grind into him, “Feels so good,” rubbing your juices on the cock you’re jerking with now one hand, coating his chubby length. Your body felt like it was on overdrive, moving your hips up and down as you clenched on nothing, gushing freely. 

You’re biting your lip as your hips grow erratic, brows pinching and your abdomen clenches on itself. “I-I’m close.”

Choso lets a groan escape,“Fuck, really?” realizing he’s making you come first. It’s a miracle he’s held off this long, he wonders if he’ll hold up if you let him inside. The thought makes him move your hips on his cock, assisting you as you use him to get yourself off. 

He doesn’t know if he’s breathing so hard because he’s getting tired or because he knows getting your clit rubbed nudges you a little closer to the edge when you start to get louder. He breathes against your ear, “Come on me, please.” He’s mumbling now, less at you and more to himself.  “I wanna see you cum on me, please, please—”

Your legs begin to shake in his hold, fighting to shut close but the grip under your knees forces you to come with your legs spread wide, pussy making a show of spasming against Choso’s cock, voice breaking as you whimper. “That’s it baby, that’s it,” 

Choso is completely enamored, the sounds of your high pitched whines in the air was like music to him, the way you writhe against his body was this entrapping dance. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

He notes how you were still in your bra, he whispers something about it, but you’re just nodding your head with your eyes shut, riding it out. Then he’s unclipping the strap with one hand, the fabric falling off and releasing your perfect tits.

You then relax your back to him, twitching still. But then he’s thrusting his erect cock up between your folds, the stimulation starting to make you wetter again, your breath can only catch up so fast.  You’re attempting to lift your hips with a squirm.”Gi-give me a sec—”

Choso quickly lets your legs fall to the side and pauses, sitting up and moving your head to face him. “Shit- we can stop here,” he assured, breathy and worried. “I didn’t mean to, I was just looking at you. You looked-” So fucked out, “I’m sorry.“

“Sh-shut up,” You look away and Choso stiffens under you. Was he too rough? Before he could even utter another apology, you spoke, “I’m fine, I just need to— breathe.“ 

He watches you quiet down from underneath you, he’s rubbing your thighs comfortingly. “I am sorry,” The silence lingers, only getting tenser with each beat that passes.

And then you start chuckling — at nothing in particular. Your breathing slows down, and you look back to check on him. He looked so worried, brows pinched and his lip jutted out. A lazy smile breaks into your features, leaning down to catch him in a chaste kiss so he wouldn't see the expression on your face. “I liked it, okay?”

His breath hitched in his throat when you spoke against his lips, “Yeah?” 

You’re nodding, smile now exposed. You kiss him again, powerless against his sweet lips. He relaxes, hand coming up to the back of your head. “I wanna-“ A kiss, “Fuck you now,” A slower kiss, “Please.”

He’s backing up to read your face, reassessing. Within the silence, something passes between you two. Amidst the air that smells of sex and vaguely of tea, there’s this mix of warmth and uncertainty—and whether or not to dive in it — that lingers in between. 

He’s nervous under your gaze, once again, looking for a way out of your eyes that traps him so effectively like no other. He’s looking down at his still, very much, erect self. “I don’t have a condom.”

You’re thinking to yourself before you reach for the side table of your couch, scrambling for a box you kept there in case.

Choso’s scrambling to rip the plastic off before fishing for one packet. “I’m not really sure if it would fit so, maybe just try it,” You remark as you’re being maneuvered out of his lap and on the side of the couch. He fumbled with the rubber a couple times, pulling it down before it snapped a little too tightly on his girth. He tugs it down on him until a tear starts spreading on the side of the translucent material. 

“I’m sor—“ He hissed as it snapped against his skin, “See I can’t even fucking…I don’t think this is quite right—” He’s cursing to himself, obviously a little sexually frustrated. For someone his size he still managed to look somewhat like a defeated puppy. 

You’re tugging the broken thing off, relief blooming in his chest but it’s short lived as he’s reminded of how he might not even have sex with you anymore. “But no, we really don’t have to.”  He says, discouraged. 

“You can fuck me raw, I’m on the pill.” He internally groaned, pulled back out of his head. You just had a way with your words. 

He does a complete 180, eyes widening, shifting from beaten to optimistic. He reminds himself to curb his excitement though, slowing down. “You can be on top—set the pace?” You’re already moving to sit on his lap.

He’s nodding his head at you, and finally rips his shirt off himself, now completely naked. You’re staring down at him, licking your lips at the sight of his milky skin and toned chest. He pulls you out of your thoughts, voice small and distant. 

“I’ll pull out, yeah?” He’s swallowed back thickly, more of reminding himself to do that. “Just be slow okay? I didn’t prepare you that wel—um,"

His voice trails off when you’re already lining yourself up with his reddened tip. “A little at a time—Oh,” You’re already sinking down, unrepressed. 

The stretch is long and constant, to the point it feels like you’re rethinking how fast you jumped on this, except you remember you’re already lowering yourself very carefully. 

Your jaw hangs open in a silent scream when you get past the head, sinking lower, your walls throb against his member. You’re bracing yourself with a palm, Choso’s chest is covered in sweat and heaving. “You’re so—‘s really tight, oh fuck you’re so warm,” He whined out, unable to complete a sentence.

He’s leaving a trail of hot, open mouthed kisses on your neck and then back on your lips to keep your mewls at bay. You’re kissing back, he’s only half way in when you start moving. Choso’s breaths turn ragged against yours, pulling you closer to him. You catch your breath, “It’s stretching me out so much, Choo-” You whine, slowly rolling your hips.

He’s squeezing your waist before trailing his hands down your ass, “You’re doing good, you’re doing really good.”

He’s looking down at your progress, struggling to tell where you ended and he begun, now nearer to the base of his cock. He throbs inside you. “Fuck, a-are you okay?” He’s looking back up at your face, taking in your lips, bitten and swollen under your teeth. 

He lets out a shaky whimper, “You’re taking so much.” His eyes finding their way back to your hole swallowing him. “So good, baby.”

You tuck your feet over his thighs for leverage, pulling off his cock slowly then sinking back down, and back up. You repeat the motions, torturously slow, your slick creating this lewd noise from each rock of your hips as you go deeper. Choso’s hands are on your thighs, weighing you down but he’s really holding back from actively pushing — still you’re sinking, taking more. 

You start to bounce, struggling to hold yourself up with your palm on his chest, the slight sting of the stretch dulling out to a deep pressure. It’s a lot easier now, you go even faster with the help of your growing arousal slicking up his cock. Every touch you leave on each other now feels highly sensitive, your tits pressed against Choso’s hard chest, his hands squeezing on your ass for dear life. You’re left unable to keep up conversations or teases to each other now, heads completely in a different space. You're left babbling incoherencies as your tingling nerves derail your focus, the only thing clear was to go after what felt good. 

But you falter, your knees slowing as they start to ache but you push yourself further, desperate, taking even more of Choso’s length. You find yourself losing balance and lean over, panting. You lift your hips, then let your ass fall back into his lap, a strained mewl leaving your throat, “I-I need help. I need you, Cho—need you t’a fuck my pussy,” 

He groans out at how high your voice got, fresh from its suppressed whines. “Okay I’ll help,” He’s quick with his hands, holding you by the globes of your ass, and pulls you up. He bites back a noise, hearing and feeling your tight pussy gush and clamp on him as he lifts until it’s just the tip. “s’ okay if I thrust a little?” He whispers against your ear, growing desperate as his cock pulses in anticipation. You nod fervently in his neck, arms circled around him. “Okay baby, I’m gonna. I’m gonna help this pussy- fuckkk” 

It’s noisier now, from your skin, sticky and slapping against each other, to your gasps turning into moans against each other’s open mouths. Choso’s now taking all the work, lifting your ass and bringing it down to meet his aching cock even faster than you could have. He starts meeting your pussy half way, thrusting up wards and it knocks the wind out of you.

Moans spill out of you with each thrust up, breaking and then bursting out of you. You’re clinging to him, bodies impossibly close, skin rubbed up against skin. “You’re so fucking loud, honey—do you like it?” His groans turn into grunts with how he’s physically exerting his body, on a mission to see you break apart on top of him.

You reply with a noise of acknowledgment, barely audible amongst the slapping and heavy breathing. You’re body feels hot all over, from inside and out. He’s deep enough inside you in places you didn’t even know was possible to go that far in, and the best worst part is you haven’t even reached the base of him yet. A new objective makes itself known in the part of your brain that still functioned, a dimly flickering idea. 

“Ch-choso can you, ngh—“ You’re bringing your face out of his neck to face him, but he’s still busying himself with his thrusts, “I want you deeper, c-could you do that f’me?”

He’s letting out a high pitched whine he when lets you down, about to throw his head back when you catch his lips in yours, tugging on his hair and pulling roughly.  “You’re stronger than me Cho, c’mon. Make me cum on your big cock—“

He groans, planting his feet on the ground, before you know it you’re up in the air, now standing. You cut yourself off with a moan, both of you do —sighing out when he lifts your ass up before dropping you on his painfully hard cock. “You’re so filthy when you talk, y’know that?”

It feels like he's all the way to your lungs when he finally bottoms out in you, which would make sense since it feels like you aren’t breathing anymore. You cry out once more, wiling your eyes and muffling the noises in his neck, biting down. “Are you crying?” He asks, concern prodding between his excitement, but the thought manages to make it’s way to his cock, fucking you on him rhytmically slow and deep. You let out a choked sob, “Fuck you’re crying—not even going that fast.”

“Then g-go faster,” You managed to voice out between moans, your hips wiggling in his grasp. He groans in response, kneading your ass to stop you from getting ahead of him.

“You tell me if it’s too much- just, you have to tell me a-alright?” You’re clenching on him, still trying to bounce. “Shit, Okay.” 

The slower sounds of your skin slapping each other turn into rapid, sharp sounds. Choso grunting from each thrust, now fully unrepressed. In seconds, the image you’ve crafted of him as this shy, hesitant boy, crumbles. You’re fully moaning out now, his cock nudging deeper and repeatedly in that spot that triggers your insides. “I’m so full, fuck-“

He’s hiccuping his moans out, turning into whimpers as he pumps you up and down even faster, his nails digging into the meat of your ass. “You’re taking me so good baby,” He’s thrusting up when he lets you fall on his cock midway, his muscles forgetting to strain. “Fuck, take it, take it—“ 

He dives in against your lips, tongue invading your whimpering mouth. You try your best to kiss back, eyes nearly closing while he’s drowning you in him. You’re clenching on his cock a lot tighter now, his balls drenched in your arousal, slapping against your other hole from the impact of his motions.

“I think I—I’m gonna cum-“ You pull away from Choso who lets out a breathy moan, licking your lips to chase yours. You’re falling limp against him, hips rendered useless when he’s already fucking you on a pace outside of your own stamina. 

Your insides are pulsing around his member, your moans growing even louder. Choso’s deep enough into you when he feels his cock twitch, “I need to pull out—“ You’re immediately protesting, letting out noises of disapproval. “No, no baby I’m gonna cum if you—“

“I don’t care.“ Fuck. Choso holds himself back, his pre-cum oozing out makes your sopping hole even more slippery at the thought of filling you up to the brim.  He’s thinking of ways to keep himself from cumming right this very second when you’re already so fucked out and desperate, high up in your own head.

His dick twitches again and he’s biting his lip, slowing his carry on your body til you’re stopping altogether. Before you could say anything else, he’s pulling out and placing you on the couch, lying down. You’re complaining, spreading your legs as much as the cushions on your side could let you. 

Choso’s holding his cock, squeezing at the base to calm himself down but he opens his eyes to your gaping, hungry hole, presented to him like an offer, “C-cum inside me, Cho,”

His resolve breaks within a blink of an eye, already laying above you and wrapping your legs around his waist. You feel like crying out of joy when he finally makes his way inside, thrusting slowly and hissing from how tight you still are. “I need to be on top of you, I need to—“ He mumbled, eyes already hazed out and clambering for satiation.

He topples over you as he finds his balance, now setting a newer pace from earlier, caging you with his body while his thrusts grow even faster.

The sensation is much more different now, a stretch added with the forces of his thrusts now fully landing on you.

He’s watching every twist of your face and moan spill out. Scanning your body downwards while he lays a palm on your lower abdomen, “If I cum inside you’re gonna bulge right h-here, d’ ya want that?”

You’re squealing against him when he presses down, his cock nudging where he’s digging his fingers from the outside. Your walls flutter against his member, sucking him in and pulsing wetly. Choso’s grunting against you, hips growing faster as he watches your eyes get even more hazy and your face twisted.

Your eyes are rolling back when he starts rubbing on your clit, already impatient with wanting to feel your pussy tighten impossibly around him.

He’s whispering incoherencies to you, face on your neck when he pulls back his hips and pushes back in deeply as he continues rubbing you. 

You cry out, shuddering against Choso as the coil in you snaps, holding onto his wrist as your legs secured against his ribs.

He lets out a shaky moan, pumping faster when he chases his orgasm while you ride yours out on him, bodies grinding up against each other intimately. 

A curse lets you know that he’s finally reached his climax, thrusts growing slow and deep while pumping you full of his sticky cum.  Your eyes are glossed over, your throat sore from your own voice when he’s riding out his high, panting and leaving kisses all over your face. 

Your chests are pumping against each other,  both catching your breaths. Your hand finds its way to his face, turning it so he could look back at you. His cheeks are red and his glasses were no longer on him, probably losing them from how much you’d been switching positions. 

You’re brushing his hair from his face, tucking a long strand onto his ear. Your body still feels like it’s on fire but it doesn’t compare to how even after all that, his stare on you still makes your heart skip a beat. You let out a breath, gathering yourself.

 “What do you think?” His eyes scans over your face, “Better than coming up to study?”

Choso shifts on his elbows as he’s laying on top of you.“Yeah that was…” He takes a moment to think of a better way to describe it, a smile spreading on his face. “Really good.” He settles with honesty instead.

He’s thumbing over your shoulder, a hundred thoughts trying to materialize themselves in his still mushed up brain. “I’ve never done it like that, before I mean.“ 

He’s looking up to meet your eyes, and you’ve got a glow emitting from you, drawing him in. He hesitates for a moment but then, “And you? How’d you feel?”

You huff out a soft chuckle, realizing how ironic this all was. How you’ve still managed to not destroy the awkwardness that came with affections even when you’ve skipped over to, well sex. Choso waits for your answer, something swirls tight in his chest, uneasy but still patient. 

You’re brushing back the hair on his scalp, taking in how much less guarded he looks without glasses. “Yeah, I feel…safe.”

He smiles, that knot in his chest untangling. To no surprise, he finds the thread it’s bundled from may be connected to you. “Yeah?”

You nod, smiling, “Yeah.”

@cursed(your)wombz huh?

He had a pitch-black profile picture and a layout with nothing of note, a banner as equally colorless and unnotable, and a simple bio stating: 

I know what you want…

- C.

And beneath that was a link.

It stood out stark against the black background. You don’t click on it, of course- for fear of being something malicious, you’re avoiding it like you’d avoid a minefield. 

You’ve already heard one too many horror stories on here about such things. One click and you’d find your address posted somewhere. Instead, your eyes drop to the number of followers he had…and your eyebrows are immediately shooting up.

0 Following.

581k Followers.

Now that makes you blink.

Okay- alright, maybe it wasn’t the most astounding number you’ve ever seen throughout your expansive time on the Internet - but it was still niche celebrity-status. Especially on this app. Especially to be stalking an account like yours…where all you did was repost the stray picture of a pretty landscape or yell into the aether about your missing assignments for your friends to comment on. 

Now that was a little strange.

And so you’re scrolling down.

And you never quite know what you’re in for whenever you enter the realm of a person’s account—fanfiction with tags you never knew existed, one part of an argument on social media that really shouldn’t exist, mpreg. 

Which was all fine and dandy to be quite honest- you just never expect to be met with the most beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes on.

The first picture you’re seeing- pinned.

Posted just an hour ago. It’s a mirror selfie taken at a low angle; of a man with his body angled towards the lens and his phone covering his face. In nothing but a towel. With nothing but his chiselled body. His beefy arms flexed as he takes the picture, biceps rippled with a few veins—though still lean and almost smooth to the touch. Pierced nipples. Defined abs. Your eyes linger on the sparse dusting of dark hair leading below, below, below his fluffy white towel…

The picture cuts off just a few inches past his navel. You know because you’re enlarging it.

The photo is almost vampiric in nature.

Somehow. 

Dimly-lit. Beautiful—he clearly knew his angles and lighting. It’s slightly blurry and you can’t make out much of the man’s features - nothing more than the slender length of his fingers, silver rings, and the outline of his dark (perhaps brown?) hair. Touching his shoulders. From just above the hem of his towel, the amorphous blur of a tattoo snakes down his left v-line - and no matter how much you’re zooming in, you can’t quite figure out what it is. 

Something twists at the pit of your stomach as you’re latching your eyes onto the very obvious bulge he was sporting through the towel - very.

The flash created a shadow of his lengthy cock—oh. Hanging between thick thighs, heavy and needy. And it also illuminated the slight dampness clinging onto his body; perhaps he’d just gotten out of the shower, or was about to take on after a workout. 

Whichever scenario it was, both made your thighs clench- fuck.

Fingers slightly shaky, you’re exiting out of the picture and scrolling down for more. 

The next post is a video seemingly taken from the very same instance: it was from the point of view of the beautiful man. Facing downwards, as he zoomed the camera in on his bulge and ran one vein-covered, ringed hand down his abs- down his pelvis- down to that throbbing erection and squeezed himself through his towel. 

And then through your speakers echoes out the most pornographic moan. 

Thank goodness your dorm had thick walls. 

And that’s when you decide that you’ve seen enough.

Not enough as in enough enough to block this strange man and move on with your life- of course, not. As quickly as your fingers would possibly let you, you’re exiting out of the video and scrolling up to a bio that seemed to have more to hide than the first time you read through it. 

The link stands mockingly stark - almost winking at you - against the dark background. You think you know what it is.

And you click on it.

Suddenly, your laptop screen’s flooding with a gaudy pink color. A loading circle swivels in the middle of it for a few seconds, before you’re met with a logo in swooping, slanted black script: C4mBoyfriends. Better than that boy in your dms.

Rapidly, you’re opening up a new tab and typing in the name.

“C4mBoyfriends is an adult streaming platform that hosts webcam performers that choose to label themselves as male. Here they can stream live video, post photographs, and interact on forums with a wide array of paying viewers—for a range of content catering to specific niches or sexual roleplays. C4mBoyfriends, since its recent launch, has shot up in the industry as one of the most-visited adult sites and the safest for its performers. All cuts go to the performers themselves and the site runs on separate donations from its audience.”

Ah- you’d guessed right.

Excitement burbles at the pit of your stomach for a few seconds. You’re clicking back onto the tab with the pink logo, and finding that it’d stopped loading.

It was in the layout of a streaming device, with static images of ongoing streams on one side of the platform, and different pages listed out on top. But what took up the majority of your screen was the vision of the very same man from before- from the mirror selfie, from the video.

This time, it was a stream.

@cursed(your)wombz is streaming—#1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends [101 week streak]. [Only solo]. Your internet boyfriend <3

0 Subscribed.

820k Subscribers.

455k Currently watching.

This time, he had his towel lifted up and his hands fisted around his fat cock.

Perfectly angled. 

Your jaw drops. He was about eight- maybe more inches, though you weren’t in the state to count. Way too entranced by the way his veiny, ring-decorated hands were wrapped around his cock. Large. He was just so loooong and standing tall between wide-spread legs, shiverin’ every time he’s gliding his hand up and down. Up and down. 

Again and again.

Getting faster by the second before he arches-

The edge of his thumb’s reaching for his ruby-red crown—then smearing the glistening liquid that just kept on foaming from the top. He lathers it upon his palm and drags it down his hot erection, making every inch gleam underneath the off-camera lighting.

You’re clicking on a button to increase your volume.

And just in time, too, because then he snakes his left hand down and squeezes his heavy balls- letting out a botched groan that leaves your shorts oh-so-wet. 

Deep and guttural; there’s a slight quiver in them as he whispers. “F-fuck.” Just so full and sensitive—the man’s head tips backwards and his hips buck off the cushioned chair. Sluttily. As though he was fucking something invisible. It’s creaking ever-so-slightly as he settles back down, composing himself just a little bit before he starts cumming.

Pearly white droplets of cum. 

Beading from the very top of his shaft - where he was the most pink n’ angry - shaking as he empties out. Globs of it start to glide down his length, and a few more collect where his silver Prince Albert’s piercing was positioned right beneath his mushroomy tip.

You’re just letting your eyes linger upon that little heap of satiny sap, when the man thumbs upwards and smears that, too. Such a mess.

And you think that might be all- but then he’s reaching his non-dominant hand upwards and pressing down on his frothing cockhead. Stopping himself from cumming - and as he leans to the side, you swear you’re glimpsing the twinkle of even more piercings on the upper side of his shaft. Was that…a Jacob’s ladder?

You’re rendered so damn speechless that you almost don’t register him speaking- “Awwww, did my pretty sluts wanna watch me cum?” 

A shiver runs down your spine at the hitched tone of his voice- drunk on lust. He’s slightly slurring. So alluring, you almost catch yourself nodding.

“Well, too bad.” The man meanly snickers, before he’s suddenly reaching out with his non-dominant hand and angling it higher. The screen shifts to display that very same mouth-watering body from the picture—though, this time with the addition of a black-and-white mask that covered his features from forehead to his sharp jawline. 

The only opening in it was a concave cutout for his mouth - almost reminiscent of a Phantom of the Opera mask. In the background was a clearly expensive bedroom of a clearly expensive home - far different from your single dorm - an artwork that you couldn’t name on the wall behind him. Something like a photograph or a portrait. Something about it was so precise- so cinematic. Like watching a movie scene. He continues, “Because you know why? You don’t deserve it.”

There’s a flurry of comments on one side of the screen, so fast that you wonder how he reads it.

“Didn’t I tell you to spam me with your nastiest stories in the chat?” He asks, and from beneath his mask you catch the outline of dark eyes shifting down those hurried words. Those needy comments. “None of you are nasty enough, so none of you get to see me cum…”

You’re tearing your eyes off of him to peruse what they were saying.

@girrrrrrrrrrth: nuuuuuu please, curse! i’ll get on my knees!!

@vampzo333: me too ME TOO

@likezmenpregnant: My story about the body pillow wasn’t nasty enough? TT

@CCpervnextdoor: AWWWW I’m begging~

@Curse’swifey: I’LL PAY YOU EXTRA PLEASEEEEEEE

@Curse’swifey donated 500 cherries.

“Tch- what a desperate bunch. Just fucking look at yourselves…” And though his words weren’t in the least bit nice, you couldn’t deny just how badly he made your cunt twinge. 

Curse…that’s what his name was, huh?

You’re squeezing your thighs together- your sleep shorts were definitely soaked. 

Curse rolls out the kinks in his neck just a little, and stares down at the camera with a crooked grin. “But that’s not gonna be enough. I said to be nasty- so be nasty.” The active chat becomes nothing but a blur once more: pleas, donations, stories half-typed in their urgency. “And in return I’ll moan whatever name you want me to moan when I cum.”

Before you know it, you’re opening up the sign-up page in a new tab.

Keeping Curse’s livestream playing in the background as you zip through your details. You’re picking out a username for yourself: Ietsmakeamovie and hastily going back to the ongoing stream with your newfound handle. Was it too obvious to make it the same username as your other account? The one that he had stalked?

Fuck- you’re too wound up to think of something else at this point. You decide that you’ll change it later…

Luckily, Curse’s stream didn’t have a paying threshold before you could comment. And you’re jittery with excitement as you pull the laptop closer to yourself and start typing out something—hitting send before you could overthink it.

@Ietsmakeamovie: Seeing you is the first time I’ve gotten this wet.

Curse’s eyes drift down the chat, and he seems to latch onto something. Eyes widening just a fraction.

“The first time?”

Fuck.

You’re feeling a jolt at the way he addresses you - never expecting him to pick out that comment amongst tens of thousands of others that were uttering even filthier things. Curse leans in and speaks with his deep tone, “Those other boys didn’t know how to treat a perfect pussy like yours, huh? This is why they call me the Internet boyfriend, baby.”

@Ietsmakeamovie: Yeah.

@Ietsmakeamovie: Fuck, you’re so hot.

@Ietsmakeamovie: I don’t even wanna look away to touch myself.

You feel embarrassed typing it all out - but you console yourself with the notion that no one here knows who you are. And you don’t know anyone here, either.

Curse leans back and starts pumping his cock even harder—taking his left hand off the drivelling top. His milky-white precum is frenzied n’ sticks to his hand like glue, and the chat grows more and more excited as Curse’s actions do the same.

“That’s alright, baby, you don’t have to finger yourself.” He chuckles, eyes locked on the comments. “I’d be doing that for you if I was there.”

@Ietsmakeamovie: Wish you were. You’d reach so much deeper.

@Ietsmakeamovie donated 1000 cherries.

“Fuh-fuck—” He hisses, head throwing back in his chair. You take the time to admire the lines of his prominent Adam’s apple - the way it bobs every time he’s taking a shaky swallow. “No need to donate or anything, baby, just keep- ngh, talking t’me like this and that’s enough…”

@0003h0lesforCurse: holy shit. i’ve never seen him like this.

@CCpervnextdoor: Needy Curse I like it~

@bewbsRlife: KEEP GOING OP KEEP GOING!!

You giggle to yourself.

@Ietsmakeamovie: Enough to make you cum, Curse?

“Greedy, greedy girl…” Through the slightest gaps in his mask you’re catching the way his nose crinkles in amusement. A wolfish smile. “S’that what you all want?”

The chat explodes in agreement.

He cocks his head, “Movie?”

Was that your new nickname now? Hastily, you reply-

@Ietsmakeamovie: Mhm.

“Well then…” He grins, toned body arching off the chair. “Get ready for a show—” Darkened gaze narrowing at the comments, “And you better not take your eyes off of me for a single second- hump your damn pillows if you have to. I don’t care.”

Quickly grabbing your own puffy pillow, you’re stuffing it between your legs.

Right as Curse lets his head loll backwards- and his cum drizzles out of his cock. He’s been edging the poor viewers and overstimulatin’ himself for so fucking long now—all it takes is a few pumps to let the cascade of white coat his hands and his rings. Just the slightest bit of silver peaking through.

Hard and fast.

The man’s cockhead flushes even redder as he drags his high out deliciously. Every burst of dopamine. Every heaving pant. Every pretty moan escaping him. 

It seems to be ramming into him in waves- gooey ribbons of seed coat his digits. Getting smeared like a gloss across eeeeevery single inch, ridge, and vein—and since Curse’s pace was something furious, a few globs of cum splatter across the towel and onto his thighs. A mess that he’s seeming to love.

Because in the next few seconds, he’s wrung out just the final bits of pleasure in him- and is raising his cum-coated fingers up to his mouth and sucking. Staring straight into the camera lens as he does so.

You’re watching slack-jawed as those long, lacquered digits disappear between his lips. Finishin’ them off squeaky clean and letting his head tip to the side.

He mouths, “Movie—”

Part of your username.

Though you hadn’t asked for him to moan your name, as he’d promised to do to one of the viewers had they been nasty enough. And this special treatment…

Maybe he did it to every new viewer. Maybe he just liked how much you complimented him- though everyone else did, too. Either way, it’s perhaps what sets off the bursts of electricity between your legs—and soon enough you’re hurtling into a high you hadn’t even realized had been building up and up and up.

Your lashes flutter shut as the orgasm overtakes you. 

Hips ruttin’ away into the plushness of your pillow- you wonder just how much better riding him would be…

And that’s setting off a whole new layer of dopamine at your core, your cunt quiverin’ as white-hot pleasure makes your heartbeat throb in your ears. Chest pounding. Breaths heavy.

By the time you’ve finished pushing through your high, you’re coming to find that Curse had somewhat cleaned himself up with the towel and was bantering back n’ forth with the chat. He rests his head on one hand and sweeps his eyes down the usernames, “What happened to dear Movie, huh?” Curse pretends to pout. “The first stream wasn’t too much for her, right?”

@girrrrrrrrrrth: kekekeke you’re too freaky, curse!!

@CCpervnextdoor: So dirty~

@daddytoeknee: Must thank Movie for the show though…

Urgently, you’re gathering yourself and tapping a few buttons on-screen.

@Ietsmakeamovie subscribed to @cursed(your)wombz. 

@Ietsmakeamovie donated 2500 cherries.

@Ietsmakeamovie: It’d never be too much.

“Ahhh, there you are.” Such a beautiful smile smears across his face, and Curse’s leaning in to take a closer look at the comments. “And thank you for subscribing, same time tomorrow?”

You’re unsure whether that was directed at you or everyone viewing- but you’re chiming in agreement alongside the rest of the comments. And Curse reads through them, lingering for just a little while longer before he grins.

“Heh- bye, sluts.”

And he covers the camera, the stream cuts off. 

Yet your heart still thunders.

Ignoring the time at the bottom of your laptop screen, you’re then clicking on his profile and scrolling through what other videos he had…

.

.

.

It was your fault that you kept dozing off.

Honestly. 

You should have known better- and you know that you should’ve known better…but you couldn’t help yourself. After Curse’s initial stream, you spent some time browsing through the numerous photographs and short clips that he’d posted; there were even some saved streams that were each dirtier than the last—each with his attractive mask and his even more attractive voice, his sensual cock getting pumped over and over for the audiences.

And so you’d left a few comments, a few hearts.

Throughout all of them, you made the peculiar discovery that they were all more high-quality than the last. The standard of being the #1 on the site, you guess. But the lighting and angles were all just so perfect…

You’d watched them for just a little while- at least, what you’d thought was a little while. Because by the time you’re realizing that your laptop battery was dying, and your eyes were tired, you’re turning your head in the direction of the dorm windows and- fuck.

Why was the Sun coming up?

And so you’d rushed to get at least half an hour of sleep before you had to get up for your 8AM lecture. 

Professor Yaga taught Film 101 as though he was trying to scare everyone off it. Rigorous coursework and never-altered deadlines. Though you yourself wouldn’t consider him an unreasonable man, it was impertinent to be punctual and alert in his classes - and right now, you were feeling neither of those. 

By the grace of the universe, you’re somehow managing to stumble into class just two minutes after it starts. It’s not enough to rouse Yaga’s anger - and either way, you had made a name for yourself as one of his most avid students - though it does get you a sternly raised brow as you apologize and take the nearest open seat.

Just-so-happening to be in the very last row. 

At the very forgotten corner.

Right beside who you knew to be Yaga’s actually most avid student—Choso Kamo.

Had it been a race between the two of you - perhaps between the entire department - Choso would have finished five times before anyone’s even stepping past the finish line. You would’ve gotten second. And that wasn’t to diminish your abilities in any way - you’d long since proven yourself to be one of the best students this course had even seen - it’s just…Choso was a film nerd through and through. 

If there was anyone that could live up to such a title, then it was him.

Choso lived, slept, and breathed film and television. He could name any television show around the world with just a single frame, and most he could recite line-for-line. Oh, that? He learned Korean just to immerse himself in that scene in Parasite. That scene? It was from the 1957 Sri Lankan film Amba Yahaluwo, by the way did you know that Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom was filmed there, too?

Knitted vest. Hair in two messy space buns. 

Clunky glasses rested atop his nosebridge, and dark bangs covering most of his vision, you’d often see him tottering around campus with a column of books that was damn-near taller than him. And despite his towering demeanour - from your mental counting, Choso was around 6’2 or more - around most of the student body, he was the type that couldn’t meet your eyes no matter how many classes you shared with him.

Even now, as you seated right next to him and smiled- Choso softly yelps and turns away from.

You don’t take it personally, of course, as he was simply the shy type. And by the flush that rises to his high cheekbones, you know he - at the very least - doesn’t dislike you.

Situating yourself, you’re opening your bag and pulling out your laptop. Opening it- fuck.

The briefest flash of one of Curses’s previous streams—where he had his cock in his hands and his face contorted mid-ecstasy flashes across your screen. And you can’t slam your laptop shut fast enough- cracking it just the slightest bit to exit out of the numerous tabs, fingers nothing but a blur. Thank fuck your volume hadn’t been set on high.

Head ducked, you’re looking out from the corner of your eye to check whether Choso had seen anything. 

But if he did, he shows no indication.

Only keeping his back ramrod straight- his gaze ahead- his flush fiery as he listens to whatever Yaga was saying. 

And so you think you’re in the clear…for now…

Opening your laptop up once more, you’re logging onto your lecture platforms and attempting to forget about last night. Which was difficult when that smile upon Curse’s face, just beneath his mask - was the only thing running through your mind.

And before you know it, you’d been staring blankly at your screen for a few seconds—before Choso inches in just a centimeter closer. Unwilling to let himself take up even more space. He keeps his eyes trained ahead and his voice - fuck, you’d never heard his voice before but it was just so deep and measured, something you wouldn’t have expected out of him - low. 

Whispering to you, “H-he’s on Chapter 18 of Stone Butch Blues, we’re about to write a screenplay for the zoo scene.” 

“Ah…” You don’t know whether you’re more surprised at the timbre of his voice or the way he managed a proper sentence out to you. All your previous attempts at conversation throughout the semester had been futile—and you’d long resigned yourself to the idea that he was too nervous to ever talk to you. “Th-thank you.”

He doesn’t answer but nods in shy acknowledgement.

And as you’re opening up your file, you bask in the realization that Choso Kamo was actually hot underneath those glasses. If only you could see his features further…

Maybe you’re being a little delirious. Your eyes feel heavy. 

Heavy.

Heavier. 

Tap-tap-tap.

A shake.

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

A warm hand on your shoulder, by the time you’re opening your eyes- you’re looking up into even warmer, molten chocolate-colored ones. They were framed by fawny eyelashes and thick glasses that made his shy gaze seem ever-so-slightly amplified. 

You think you’re stunned for a few seconds before Choso speaks, “U-um…class is over.”

“Oh.” That makes you dart your head up and look around, noticing that most of the students had filtered in or were in the process of already doing so. “Oh, shit-”

You’d seriously slept through all that?

And Yaga had left you alive?!

No, you weren’t going to question this act of mercy—thank goodness for the last row, because he likely hadn’t been able to see you. Shooting upright, you’re grabbing all your things and hoping you hadn’t snored next to the sweet boy - “Thank you so much for waking me.” You’re turning towards him and saying, earnestness seeping into your tone. “Knowing me, I would’ve slept right through till next class. Might actually have been more convenient.”

He startles into a laugh then raises a hand up to his mouth and quietens himself down, “It’s alright.” You’re staring closely at the little bells of laughter, and he turns his eyes downwards. Bashfully admitting, “Happens to me too, whenever I stay up um- studying. Long night?”

You sigh, “You could say that…” Not a long night studying, but…

And as the conversation quietens down and Choso worries down on his bottom lip, you’re hiking your backpack up on your shoulders and saying. “Well, I guess I should be going then. Catch up on the recordings of the lecture and everything-” Turning, “See you ‘round—and thanks again.”

You make all of five steps before Choso finally gathers up the courage to call out-

“Wait—!”

Confused, you’re facing him once more. “Yes?”

And his hand was out, his fingers were slightly trembling. He was mouthing out the words as though still debating whether to speak them into existence - whether he was capable of. “I…we-” Eventually mustering up the courage once you give a reassuring nod, “When will we meet up?”

That makes you pause.

Was he…

“F-for the assignment.” Choso clarifies, a flush rising to his cheeks as he likely realizes he should’ve led with that. “Professor Yaga’s mid-semester project he always does…”

Ah—you’re clapping a palm on your forehead. How could you have forgotten? Yaga had announced at the start of the semester that about halfway through, the class would be paired up or put into groups to work on a collaborative project that contributed to about 50% of your grade. This semester, it was to write a full-length movie screenplay for a book or musical of your choice. And you’d been excited for it, in fact, but after the…activities of last night it’d completely slipped your mind that he’d be delving more into it this lecture.

And the poor boy stumbles through his explanation, “H-he let everyone choose their partners, and I wanted to wake you up but…you just looked so peaceful.” He fidgets with his fingers and flushes, “I th-thought one of your friends would come up here and choose you but-”

Probing him gently, “But?”

“B-but I’m afraid you ended up paired with me.” Choso just looks so genuinely apologetic- “I’m sorry- no one picked me either. I should’ve woken you up, but we can go talk with Professor Yaga about changing partners if you’d like-”

“Hey—wait.” You’re cutting off his spiel, something in your chest aching at the utterly devastated furrow between his brows. You take a step closer to him, “I would love to do the project with you, Choso. No need to talk to Yaga about anything.”

He looks up at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “B-but your friends…”

“I don’t really have close friends in this class, anyway.” You smile, “I’d much rather do it with you.”

“Really—?” Breathed. As if he couldn’t believe it.

And it’s after some time - and a deep inhale - that he speaks again. Finally sinking in that someone would choose him of all people—that you would, that he speaks again. “And um- would you like to work on the script at my place?” Before you can answer, his breath hitches and his head shoots up. “N-not that I’m pressuring you into…it’s nothing weird, I promise! We can meet anywhere else you like- the library, your place- wait, no that’s weird, too…”

“Choso- Choso.” You giggle. And if this was anyone else then you would’ve assumed that they were putting the moves on you. “I’m okay with your place.”

.

.

.

The apartment was a fair distance away from the campus dorms. 

Which made sense, you suppose, given the fact that less than half the people there would be able to afford the rent on such a place—especially after tuition. The highrise dove into the clouds, its vermicular body scaled in glistening windows and gold-accented furnishings within. You got the distinct feeling of being swallowed whole as you entered through the widely-gaped entrance, with several doormen and security that eyed you up and down, bowed at Choso.

You thanked them and made your way - slightly speechless - through the hallways.

This was everything you could ever dream of, and you’re sure you spot the odd actor or two down in the lobby. As you’re getting into an elevator the size of your entire dorm room, Choso punches in one of the highest floor numbers and turns to you-

Throughout the bus ride here, you’d been the one chattering away. And so it surprises you once he finally speaks, “I-I’m sorry…my place is a bit of a mess.”

“Can’t be as bad as mine. I won’t judge.” Who cares about a mess when he lives in a place like this? You couldn’t wait to go inside…

He pushes his chunky glasses upwards and gives you a shy smile, “Thank you.” Looking down at his polished shoes, “You’re so sweet.”

“Thank you.” 

And you rise upwards in silence.

Soon enough, you’re finding yourself being led up to his massive apartment. He’s punching in the numbers of the code and setting his backpack down—telling you to make yourself comfortable. And you shuffle inside awkwardly; past the lavish furnishings and the alien-shaped lamps that all rich places seemed to boast. 

He leads you in the direction of the master bedroom - where Choso said that his film collection was vast and likely to reveal techniques that the two of you would be able to incorporate into your own script.

“I even have a copy of Momijigari- it’s one of my most prized possessions.” He shoots you such a charming smile, eyes twinkling behind his glasses, over his shoulder. Heading inside. 

And you can’t help but follow.

A single step inside his not-so-humble abode and you’re feeling a sudden sense of déjà vu wash over you, rendering you unsteady on your feet. Not quite sure why, you’re sweeping your eyes around the space: the high-quality camera equipment in one corner (not unusual to see for a film student), the chic furnishings, and then over to the empty wall space above the king-sized bed, something in you remained dissatisfied as they find nothing there but white plaster.

Choso notices that you’ve stalled behind and looks over at you curiously—he was taking a seat on the carpet, laptop opened up on top of the coffee table. “Something wrong? I’m sorry, I know it’s really messy but-”

“No, you’re good.” You shake your head, “It’s actually not messy enough.”

He smiles.

That night, you went home and wondered why Choso’s smile looked so familiar.

.

.

.

The musical that you’d chosen for your ‘adaptation’ was The Phantom of the Opera, suggested by you, of course.

And if there had been any connection to the masked man you’d been watching the night prior, then you were just glad that Choso had no idea.

It was far easier, given the fact that it’d already been adapted from the initial novel—though that only meant that Yaga would be critiquing yours even harder. 

So you had to strive to be more cinematic, than the others in your class, stronger in ways than the ones before you - and though you doubt you’d ever match up to Schumacher’s visuals, there was little doubt as to whether you’d be the best amongst the students. This was a screenplay made to impress, and in the week since you’d pored over it—and Choso Kamo’s mahogany coffee table typing away at it, you only grew more determined in the fact. And throughout the week, you’ve been flitting in and out of that very apartment of his.

Choso had been a lovely partner for the project - the best you could’ve ever asked for - and you’re coming to find that he was actually far more funny than anyone ever gave him credit for. Far more open. Far more active when it came to something he was passionate about.

And of course, you knew that he’d be sweet.

Despite his initial insistence that he could do the project himself, you’d taken up half the work. And you’d joined him in browsing through his massive catalogue of movies, in searching up screenplays to read, and in annotating them for techniques when starting to write yours.

You’ve come to make friends with one of the doormen by now. 

Just today you’d watched the 2004 Phantom of the Opera adaptation. And after a few hours of occupying his space and getting to know the nerdy boy a little better, you’d go straight back home to…Curse.

Whenever Choso made you feel tingly with his sweetness, Curse would amplify that heat to right between your legs. 

It’s been a week of getting to know Choso Kamo, and a week of having Curse splashed across your laptop screen—cock furiously hard n’ his moans echoing. He’d smile and utter your username whilst wearing his iconic mask and it’d be a high strong enough to follow into the day after. And often Choso would ask you what you’re so happy about.

Today, in particular, Curse had just finished one of his streams - cumming aaaaaall over the desk this time - when he’d settled himself back down and started chatting with the comments. Responding to one or two of yours.

You’re just about to joke about why he was sticking so long after his orgasm when he speaks once more- 

Voice somewhat serious, “Alright, now…settle down, settle down.” Curse waves his hand airily at the camera, throwing a middle finger up when the chat only gets more frenzied. “Tch- what brats you all are, would you wanna roleplay that someday?”

@vampzo333: YES PLEASE.

@likezmenpregnant: How about you be the brat…?

@Ietsmakeamovie: I would like that. 

@sixeyesorsixh0les: ^^

@0003h0lesforCurse: ^

“Fine fine…” Underneath the mask, he rolls his eyes fondly. “But I really do have something to announce-”

@likezmenpregnant: You’re pregnant.

@Ietsmakeamovie: I’m the father-

@Curse’swifey: NO MEEEEEEEEEEE!!

“I’m thinking of getting a partner for these streams.” He finally admits, rubbing his chin as though still in thought. And your heart stops-

@bipplruletheworld: so down.

@Cursenoticeme44: Omg yeeeeeeeeees!!

@daddytoeknee: YESYESYES.

The chat practically explodes, and you’re unsure what to feel about it—after all, you don’t know Curse and it’d be strange to feel a little possessive over his solo streams, however, you did have your preferences. But then again, you can’t help but imagine just how much hotter it would be to have two people- perhaps to see him make expressions he never has before…

Ultimately, you’re quiet as Curse leans in and scans the chat. His brows furrow just a little as he sweeps through the blurring usernames, “I dunno…I’m still thinking about it- I haven’t even asked this person, to be honest. I just wanted to know what you guys thought.” Nodding his head along or huffing out laughter at some of the comments, “Movie?”

You jolt—at being called out.

He wanted your opinion specifically? You suppose you did contribute to about half his comment section most streams.

But you stall as your fingers reach for the keyboard. 

Biting down on your lip and contemplating for a little while. Though he waits as patiently as ever-

@Ietsmakeamovie: I don’t mind!!

Something seems to wash over him as he reads your comment, nodding. “I see.” 

He moves onto something else and his expression was indiscernible. 

You’re flickering your eyes to the artwork behind him, the small corner of it peaking into the frame, and it suddenly hits you that it’s the theatrical poster of The Phantom of the Opera (2004).

.

.

.

It can’t be.

It can’t be.

It can’t be.

There’s something your brain was telling you that you’re absolutely refusing to believe—after all, how many people in the world loved The Phantom of the Opera? Hell, how many people in the world have watched The Phantom of the Opera?

That didn’t mean that everyone you came across had a secret identity as one of the hottest streamers on C4mBoyfriends.

You were being paranoid, you told yourself. You were being utterly silly- and the next time you’re going over to Choso’s apartment was the very next day. Which wasn’t entirely ideal, given how much you’d tossed and turned after Curse’s last stream conjuring up all the possibilities…but Yaga wouldn’t accept a request for an extension even if you were set on fire in front of him. And so you went.

The pit of your stomach twists as Choso swings the lavish wooden door open and gives you a beaming smile. So innocent. So sweet.

He shakily pushes his glasses up as he welcomes you in. “Come in—s-sorry if I took a while to get to the door, I’ve been doing some decorating recently.”

His nervous smile is what makes you find your voice. And you’re dubiously looking around the luxurious apartment, “You need to do some decorating?”

“Believe it or not, yes.” Choso huffs. “Would you like something to drink? Or maybe to eat? I checked out that bakery you recommended last time and you’re right- they have the best Danish pastries.”

“Actually, Choso…” You’re shaking your head, shooting him a grateful smile. “I’m good. I’d think I’d prefer to start right away, if that’s alright? I really wanna get to Act 2 today.”

“O-oh, of course—!”

And he’s sweetly guiding you inside, whilst you attempt not to look like you’re taking two steps at a time. Back to that familiar room. Back to that familiar desk. Back to that (somewhat) familiar bed which most certainly did not have an artwork from The Phantom of the Opera on it—

You open the door and the first thing you’re seeing is the familiar plane of that white mask. The Phantom. 

Choso follows behind you and catches you staring at the poster. Gravelly tone echoing from behind, “I told you I did some decorating.”

And you jump-

Swivelling around to find him bearing you a sheepish smile, “Sorry if I startled you.” He pushes those chunky glasses up, “Tea?”

“S-sure…” You breathe, if anything for a thing to occupy your mouth with. Wait- not like that—!

And as Choso disappears down the hall, you’re taking a seat on the bed you’ve sat on countless, countless times before without a single care in the world. Now you’re sinking into the very - the very - edge as though it’d swallow you whole.

Body just resting on the plush comforter before-

“Hey, so I also have coffee if you would prefer?” Comes Choso’s sudden voice.

And you’re startling once more- “Just tea is fine, thanks.” Barely managing to get that through your lips, you’re watching as he disappears…as the sound of his footsteps echo…

Before darting off the bed and now heading towards the camera equipment you’d noticed in the corner the first time you’d been here. What you’d assumed to be part of another one of his classes or personal projects. Now, you’re leaning in and wondering with just which camera he showed his pretty cock off to millions, at just what height of his tripod he made your cunt so heated. 

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck this was real.

Now, you’re noticing things in the room that you’d never noticed before. Like the ring light kept underneath his bed, and the dresser in the corner with numerous rings- those weren’t costume props or anything. They were pure silver.

Heavy.

Heavy, like the pit in your stomach—excited and swirling. Just trembling at the tips of your fingers - ever-so-slightly - you’re reaching out as though to touch it, as though to feel the alternate version of Choso that you knew longer than you knew Choso-

“Ah, so you’ve realized.”

And then his voice permeates the room.

The room that suddenly seems smaller, the room that suddenly seems to rise ten degrees in temperature - though goosebumps skitter across your skin. And almost as though in a horror movie, you’re turning in slow motion to face the bespectacled man who was now holding up a tray of steaming hot tea. 

He walks over soundlessly and sets it on the coffee table with a slight click! And besides that, Choso walks over to the dressing table and puts his silver rings on.

One by one.

His eyes hold court with yours through the mirror, “How long?” Voice a deep timbre. 

You’re taking a step closer without even realizing, “Um…just last night. Just now- actually.”

He chuckles and you realize he’s asking how long you’ve known about Curse.

“I-I found you by chance. About a week ago, actually…” And then you say what’s been on your mind ever since you had, “Ever since you liked and unliked my repost.”

“Ah, a rookie mistake.” Choso comments. “I should have known better than to stalk using my public account.” And with all rings now put on and glinting in the lighting of his bedroom, Choso shuffles through his jewellery tray to pluck his earrings in and one eyebrow piercing. And then…one lip piercing—a lip ring that twinkles mischievously as he smiles.

He rises and you think you’ve never quite appreciated his built frame. 

His deep eyes as they’re locking in on you. Echoing out, “Though…you really can’t say much- can you, Movie?”

And though you knew that he knew- you can’t stop the zaps of electricity running through your body. 

Sputtering out, “Yeah-” Your fists clench and you’re looking up at the object of both your fantasies and your secret interest these past few days - melded into one. “Yeah, I really can’t. Choso you’re so…”

“Different?” He fixes his glasses, “Though I really am shy, I can’t deny that- especially around you. But it helps to be a little more antisocial when I’m around idiots.”

He leans in closer- so close that his scorchin’ hot breath wafts across your features. You have no idea how you’d diminished such a distance so soon…

“And if my memory serves me right-” Choso taps on the edge of his chin, in mocking thought. “-I seem to remember that Movie agreed to have a partner on my stream.” You shiver. And he looks at you adoringly, “So how about it? Wanna make a movie, baby?”

You step a little closer. 

“Only if I get to match wardrobes.”

He chuckles and picks you up to spin you around-

And then it’s getting to work. And then it’s shuffling through his closet to find a mask that matches his own. 

He stretches on the rubber a bit and brings it to you—“I bought this one when I first started, but it ended up being too tight- I think it’d be just the one for you.”

It was. It fit perfectly.

And then he paces around the room and starts to set up- before Choso’s gaze catches you hovering around the bed, and then he’s clicking his tongue and forgoing the tripods altogether. With just the professional lights and the high-quality camera, Choso places the camera on top of the coffee table. Facing the foot of the bed - everything and anything could be seen.

Just with a few clicks he’s started the stream.

And with just a little nudge he’s urging you to sit next to him. 

“Hello, my little sluts—” Choso- or should you say Curse croons towards the camera. On one of his monitors you can see him being projected there - waving, in his knitted vest that clashed with his mask. You stand off awkwardly out of sight from the camera. He smiles. “As you can see, things are a little different today…”

@girrrrrrrrrrth: uuuuuu change of angle!! change of angle!!

@bewbsRlife: ARE WE GETTING A SURPRISEEEEEEE??

@likezmenpregnant: Pls be pregnant, Curse <3

“No- no, I’m not pregnant.” He laughs, “But I have been thinking about what we talked about last night.”

@bipplruletheworld: omg this can’t be…

“And guess what? I did what you guys told me about- and I talked to her.”

@bipplruletheworld: yessssssss

@yoyoyoureinmypuss: I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE^^

@bewbsRlife: WOOOOOO-

@daddytoeknee: Omg where’s Movie, Ik she’d love this- heh. Imagine this WAS Movie though…

“So, my little sluts…” Choso announces, “I’d like to introduce you all to my new partner—” And he’s reaching out and clasping your wrist, looking up to check for reassurance before continuing. Miming whispering to the camera, “And this is her first time on stream, so be nice…”

You’re sheepishly walking into their view. 

Slightly bowing your intrusion into the stream, “Th-thanks for having me?”

“Isn’t she cuuuuute?” He asks the commenters, and there’s a flurry of agreements. You’re even spotting a few questions about your name n’ interests, even kinks, amongst those - all of which Choso waves off with a laugh. “Now now—we can have the Q&A later. For now, let’s get to the fun part…”

@Curse’swifey: FUCK THAT’S MY FAV PART-

@2coolforcond0ms(i’mavirgin): Movie you’re missing out on a historic moment uwu

And the fun part consisted of clamoring onto the bed as fast as lightning. Letting the mattress dip n’ creak its protests out as Choso sits on it with his back turned to the camera, then lovingly pats his manspread thighs as a signal for you to climb on. Meaty muscles. Thick enough for you to want to sink your teeth into- how could you never have noticed?

Perhaps because this was the polar opposite of how he acted when he was on campus - always keeping to himself, never taking up too much space. Now he was practically vacuuming it all up so you had nowhere else to sit.

And you were more than happy to climb onto Choso Kamo’s lap.

Sitting your ass down on his readily-awaiting seat. From under your skirt you feel something hot—and throbbing between his legs. Cylindrically shaped and curved to the left.

Just the slightest movement makes his rock-hard erection twitch underneath- and you’re whimpering at the lewd sensation. At the way he drips out a hefty dollop of precum that seeps through his trousers and sticks to the front of your panties, making you gasp—“Ch-Cho-”

“Shhhh.” Choso wraps a hand ‘round your throat and cuts you off. 

And before you know it, he’s bouncing his knees to get you to slide your drippin’ pussy up and down his bulge. Up and down. Turning towards the camera, “Ya hear that?” Up and down. “My girl’s so needy- she’s already begging for it. But I dunno if she deserves it, huh?”

@bewbsRlife: I MEANNNN

@theh0rniestsoldier: i’m feeling mean today…

@daddytoeknee: Give her your mouth!!

“Mouth? I love that idea.” Choso titters.

And then he’s giving a teasing slap on the side of your ass cheeks—smack! 

“Please-”

“Sit on my face now, baby.” He purrs, eyes flickerin’ with pure need underneath his mask. Then leaning in to whisper in a loooow tone for only you to hear. “You know Choso, but let’s see if you can handle Curse.”

Then he leans back on the bed - his head pointing in the direction of the camera. 

And you’re shuffling up Choso’s toned, brick-hard body—straddling your knees upon either side of his head, veerin’ your hips right atop that pretty face. You’re sitting - right in front of the camera. Though nothing was revealed…yet. 

And Choso’s digging his tongue up to you instantly- he isn’t even making it past the fabric of your panties. But that doesn’t stop him from lettin’ his tastebuds take a looooong, luxurious lick of your swollen pussy.

Right down your sopping wet slit. 

Suddenly, the room echoes with one of his pornographic moans- the very same ones you’d listened to night after night through your laptop speakers. Now they’re even louder, and somehow even sexier, sending electricity shooting straight up, up, up from your core.

And even more treacherous was the way you’re feeling something cold…and metallic at the very middle of Choso’s tongue. Rock-hard. It takes whatever’s left of your rationality to realize that it’s a silvery tongue piercing smack-dab where his tastebuds kissed your pussy. Scraping alongside where you were most sensitive. 

Instantly; your head tips back and saliva starts bubbling at the sides of your lips. “Fuh-fuck…” And before you know it—you’re starting to drag your throbbing pussy up n’ down his features.

Short, barely-there jerks of your shy, shy hips.

And Choso chuckles huskily to himself at the cute way you were yearnin’ for his mouth. But what you didn’t expect was for him to reach one ringed hand up and squeeze the left side of your hips.

Your only warning.

Before he’s suddenly tightening his hold on you and reaching one more hand up- snaking it beneath your skirt like some pervert. Choso edges towards your throbbing cunt and places one good slap—

It’s the resounding smack! of skin-on-skin that makes you halt more than anything.

Jaw-dropped. Thighs quivering. The white-hot pleasure runs through your spine and leaves you barely hearing his roughened words, a tone lower than you knew his voice to be- as though drunk on the delicious taste of your pussy already. “Greedy, greedy girl…” Choso tuts, “Don’t tell me you’re trying to enjoy yourself without letting our dear audience in on the fun?”

Oh, shit.

You’re letting your head snap to where the camera was positioned and blinking its one gluttonous eye. Comments flooding the screen of the monitor so fast that you couldn’t read them-

You’d completely forgotten about the stream for a second. 

“I—oh, I um.” 

Yet another harsh smack! “Forgot, huh?” Amusement seeps into Choso’s words, as though he’d already guessed the situation.

You admit, “M-maybe…”

“I’m afraid I can’t blame you, baby.” Smack! “Curse’s mouth is too good, huh?” He yammers on and on, his tongue nudging deeper, his rippling tastebuds skidding into every ridge- as if trying to fuck you through your damn panties. “This pussy’s too good–she’s purring f’me already. Hear her?”

And you’re not sure why- but you’re nodding to whatever he says. “Y-yes—fuck.” 

“Mhm. So why don’t we let our lovely audience hear, too, huh?” You’re barely given the time to register his suggestion, before Choso husks out a command. “Lift your skirt up, baby.”

Your thighs squeeze around his head at the notion-

And your fingertips touch the short hemline of your skirt.

@Cursenoticeme44: Holy shit.

@theh0rniestsoldier: i’ve been waiting for thisssssssssss-

@daddytoeknee: WOW.

@girrrrrrrrrrth: bby’s so needy!!

@R€4leater: munch Curse #canon

The chat explodes as you let them bear witness to Choso’s face stuffed between your pretty legs- he’s redly-flushed and ravenous. They could see the slightest glimpse of his nose n’ the way he’s driving it between your sodden pussylips, diving and diving, they could see the glossy layers coating your cunt—and the way Choso’s pink lips come up to suck on it. 

Those handsome cheeks of his hollow out, as he’s makin’ out with your pussy through your panties.

Like a man starved.

Long canines slightly nippin’ at your folds- almost wolfish in mannerisms.

“Oh p-please…” You’re quivering atop him. You don’t even know what you’re begging for—just that it feels so good to have him veering his tongue hungrily against your cunt like this. And you wanted more.

More, more, and more.

Choso’s holding onto your restless hips with a clammy hand- he’s stuck to you almost like adhesive. And he guides your hips - he fucking slows them down - whilst you continue moanin’ and shaking atop his raw mouth. Glistening wet tongue extending even more than its usual length to slide-slide-sliiiiide your panties to the side-

And you’re gasping at the sudden whiff of cold bedroom air against your naked pussy. “Ch-” A spank. “I mean- fuck, Curse?”

“Mhm, m’here, baby.” He drawls out. Slightly slurring with all the extra globs of your pussy juices - pooling straight into your mouth, n’ Choso reaches up and smooches your soft swollen folds to smear it all around. Like some gloss. “M’here aaaaaand- so are 820k sluts that wanna watch you break.”

“B-break?” You’re gaping, “I thought you were just gonna- ngh, eat me out…?”

“Baby, Curse never ‘just’ does anything.” And you’re shocked to find him sliding his tongue out, tipping his head back to refer to the camera on the coffee table. “Isn’t that right, fuckin’ pervs?”

@daddytoeknee: Hell yeah.

@0003h0lesforCurse: duhhhhhhhhh

@yoyoyoureinmypuss: YOU’RE THE BEST CURSE

@Fishygurodad: Fuck, her pussy’s divine.

“Heh…” Choso smiles into your cunt, “And so whaddaya say? How many slaps before I stick my tongue in her?”

@vampzo333: 3

@bbynohuuuuzz: 14

@Ilikepr1menumbers: 29

“Since m’feeling nice- read your favorite one out, baby.” He murmurs.

To which you’re unable to do anything but- you tilt your upper half just the slightest bit closer to the monitor and pick out the first one you can read through the blur of words and numbers:

@Fishygurodad: Until she cries.

Oh.

Your blood runs cold.

Your cunt grows heated.

And before you can either rectify your recitation or beg for mercy—Choso doesn’t hesitate before fixing the rings on his fingers to be slightly higher than before. Making sure they’re in line of him planting one- two- three good, loud spanks on your sobbin’ cunt. “O-oh my god- fuck, mmm, oh my god.”

Until the skin of his fingertips seems to redden, and your pussylips feel raw - “How about that?” He asks- not from you, but from the viewers.

@daddytoeknee: I don’t see her crying yet…also idkkkkk I’m getting Movie vibes.

@girrrrrrrrrrth: movie would’ve loved this-

And then it’s one after the other. Again and again, Choso’s emblazoning the rude outlines of his rings against yours - until you’ve fucking memorized the ridges n’ patterns of the one ring on his middle finger with the carving of an octopus. 

Tentacles flared out.

“Shit, not that damn ring again.”

And as he’s doing so he can’t help himself- fuck, he can’t heeeeelp himself. His canines dig into the sticky fabric of your underwear like a damn dog - and throughout the duration of what his hands were doing, you’re hearing the sharp riiiiip of fabric tearing—!

Soon enough, your panties are tattered and ruined in Choso’s maw- just from his mouth. He spits it out and continues swerving his thickened tips inwards to give a loving pinch on your clit—and you can’t help but burst into peals of shrill, needy cries. Both pain and pleasure mixing as he doles out a final swat-

Before Choso swipes your pussylips apart and spits- the glutinous glob of his saliva landing directly on your hole. He doesn’t give it the time to seep back out—instead, he’s surging up and shoving his face between your legs.

This time, without the barrier of your panties in the way. 

@CCpervnextdoor: HE FUCKING RIPPED IT OFF WITH HIS MOUTH??

@bewbsRlife: HOLY SHIT CURSE-

@Fishygurodad: Shiiiiit, I’d do the same ngl.

And then Choso’s shoving his tongue inside and slurpin’ all around your wet hole like a damn animal…

In and out.

In and out.

Probin’ into slippery sweet spots.

Chin hitting the back of your slit. Plastic mask rubbing against your clit. 

Choso’s pierced tongue was going absolutely fucking wild inside of you. He wastes no time before gripping either side of your cute hips and slammin’ your pussy down onto his mouth- hard and fast. The perverted nerd is slashing his tongue inwards, smearin’ apart your glue-covered folds. As deep as he could go. He doesn’t care if it hurts, he just needs to make sure that loooong slick muscle of his tastebuds were scrapin’ every inch of your walls.

With the curved tip of it, he flexes it against a sweet bundle of nerves. Making you buck with a pitchy moan of his name—“Ch-Cuuuurse—!” And the sensation was made even more delicious with the way his orb tongue piercing presses in contrast against your hot cunt. “It feels so good, Curse.”

“I already know.” Choso pipes up- cocky in all the ways you never knew he could be. “I already know- but what about those fuckers watching, huh?”

“W-well…” Spit drivels down your chin, and you’re struggling to keep your eyes focused to read the urgent chat. 

@bipplruletheworld: they’re so HOT!!

@NERDSAREMYBABYGIRLZ: OHHHH WHAT A MUNCH

@daddytoeknee: Me next <3

And it was clear that they were seeing the effect he had on you- how could they not?

Your eyes were dazed and teary, your thighs were shaking like leaves in the wind, Choso was making your body twitch—just from the way he’s reeling his entire tongue out. And breathing out steadily and slowly against your twitchin’ pussylips, freezing cold air that leaves you even wetter on top of him.

He’s unfastening his mouth - leaving it wiiiiide open for all the satiny ribbons of your slick to enter his gullet. And once you’re done- that isn’t enough riling you up.

Choso leaves a good slap on your folds and asks, “So…what about it?” Muffled through his mouthfuls.

“They agree- they agree—” You’re keening out. Star-struck, seeing pleasure burst behind your shuttered eyelids at the sudden stinging. “Fuck- you’re the hck! best I’ve ever had, Curse.”

“I agree.” He hums. And as if this entire ordeal wasn’t sinful enough, Choso’s swashing around the silky-smooth sap he’d collected from your leaking pussy. Letting the flavor seep into his tastebuds, before he’s then spitting again on your pussy. A semi-opaque layer of lewdness that coats your inner thighs in a sheen that catches the lighting. 

Perfect on camera.

You’re squeezing your wettened thighs together and creating an audible squelch!

“Awwww, look- this pussy agrees, too.”

The gooey addition startles you- and you rut.

Only straight down onto his awaiting fingers.

@girrrrrrrrrrth: oh, shit is he…

@legsopenforcurses: With the rings on, too!!

@likezmenpregnant: My show is onnnnn

It’s such a fucking mess for him to navigate- even with his own fingers. Soon enough, you’re arching your back as you feel him intrude a single ringed digit between those utterly swollen pussylips of yours—almost difficult to find your snug hole between them. You’re damn lucky that Choso’s fingers were slender as well as incredibly lengthy.

Because he’s circlin’ your tight orifice a few times - only a few times - before inserting the sections of his finger. Quirking just right and hitting the exact bundle of your nerves.

That infamous g-spot that made you yelp once he starts and keeps on hitting.

And his rings- oh, fuck, his rings.

Just so chunky and textured. They were the perfect designs to press up against your walls and massage them stupid- every drag meant that you’re feeling them dig into ridges n’ crevices you hadn’t even known existed. 

Hitting and hitting. Curling his dexterous finger and scraping- “Fuuuuck, oh my god.” The doughy tip of his finger soon becomes damn-near molded to the area where it was, and your eyes flicker to the back of your head as you continue anglin’ your hips so he could hit it perfectly. “Right there, Curse- r-right there.”

“I know.” Choso rolls his eyes - at least what seems like it underneath his mask. “That’s why I’m hitting it. Honestly…is my girl dickmatized?” He utters as he sucks on your clit—ultimately erupting a sobbing slurp! that makes him nod. “Mhm, I think my girl’s dickmatized.”

Tipping his head back before you can refute his claims. He then addresses the audience-

“Whaddaya think, my little pervs? Dickmatized already…maybe I should go easy on her, huh?”

@olderandR4w: nooooooooooo

@yoyoyoureinmypuss: NEVER.

@Fishygurodad: Go even harder.

“Tough crowd.” And with that said, Choso’s stuffin’ in just a few more fingers. Each with their own numerous rings and sopping wet sounds accompanying them—slurp!

One. 

Two.

You’re counting about three of his prolonged digits pushin’ your tight walls to their limits, rubbing your sweet spots raw with his constant bashing rhythm, before lustful fogginess coils around your brain. And it’s around here that Choso catches onto the glazed look in your eyes and chuckles—

“Ohhhh, you really are dickmatized.” He hums to himself, though you’re sure the professional mic picks it up either way. “And so soon, too. Probably hasn’t had a good finger-”

A fourth being added so that he can scissor apart your velvety channel whilst still multi-tasking with his other fingers to ram into your g-spot.

“-or even a good mouth on ‘er…” To emphasize his point, he presses a dramatically loud kiss upon your clit. One that’s making you bounce n’ bounce your hips atop his clammy face, and grind your throbbing nub down on his pointed nose. The addition of his mask just makes that cool touch even more lecherous. “My poor girl.” Choso still mutters out despite the way he’s gluing your cunt to his mouth. He pulls away from your clit with a loud pop! “What do you think, my slutty audience?”

At the slurring question you’re letting your head down to watch him. “Ch…Curse, what’ve you got on your mind-”

“M’just asking what else you deserve, baby.” He coos. And questions them once more, “How about a little quiz? Which parts of Curse are going to make my poor, poor girl feel the best? A). My fingers. B). My mouth. Or…”

And he pretends to listen to your noisy wet pussy once more.

“Or C…”  You could practically feel the grin plastering against your needy pussy. The way his eyes narrow in sinful amusement beneath his mask- you didn’t have to see his full face to know that Choso was enjoying this perhaps way more than he should. “—all of the above.”

And it was futile to think that they would answer anything else.

C floods your vision.

You’re letting your mouth droop, and your gaze meet Choso’s own between your legs- but you’re finding that you don’t have to say a thing for him to already know the answer.

And as expected, he gives a final roll of his tongue atop your clit - before munchin’ on your aching cunt once more. This time, he’s tunneling his fingers deep into your cavern whilst still licking inside with his prolonged tongue—when stretched out, Choso’s tongue could reach almost as deep as his fingers could.

Your cunt was being stretched-out to lengths you never thought about before.

Not only were Choso’s fingers thicker than yours, but his tongue was something ravenous- no matter how much you’re flinching in sensitivity, he isn’t slowing down. “Mmm-” He groans, barely breathing through even his flared nostrils. You’re hit with the distinct feeling that he thinks he doesn’t even have to breathe as long as he had you on him like this - “Mmm, hold still.”

Taking advantage of the fact to lavish your sensitive inches with kiss upon kiss. To grind his nose down purposefully on your clit. To glide his metallic piercing across those hidden spots. To bash your poor g-spot in again and agaaaain with his fingers before his tongue’s coming to the rescue to soothe the slightly raw sting-

So it’s not long before you’re throwing your head back and cumming.

Perhaps the strongest you’ve ever felt when you’re in the throes of your high.

You barter your hips forwards and keep up a steady pace - one that’s making Choso hit the exact spots you wanted him to during the peaks of your high. The utmost peaks. “Shit—shit, just like that.” Breathless. “K-keep going, baby, it feels so good.”

And he doesn’t even answer - too caught up in fucking you through your orgasm.

In the way you shudder above him. In the way you’re only getting even sweeter by the second-

Bodyheat raising a few degrees in temperature; your heart sings and the bed creaks with how much you’re jostling from above. This was even better than touching yourself to videos of him, there were so many thrills of bliss that he’s wringing out of you- like he’d wring out of himself during his solo videos. 

With both his fingers and his tongue, slurpin’ and sliding. Those doe-like eyes of his are edging straight to the back of his skull as he feels your drenched walls cleeeeench around his pierced tongue, as though it’s the best thing he’s ever fucking felt. And you’re acting on impulse - you really are - because the coffee table was positioned right beside the foot of the bed.

And all you had to do was reach your arm out to grab the simple camera there. Turning it into your point of view as Choso’s sweaty brown bangs stick to his forehead, as sweat trickles down his temple, as he lets out soft yet unyielding moans whenever you’re squeezing your thighs around his head.

@cockycockowner: no homo but that’s the most beautiful man i’ve ever seen.

@theh0rniestsoldier: woah he’s PUSSYDRUNK

@Fishygurodad: Show me his POV.

@daddytoeknee: Don’t you know that she’s his girl now smh?^^

@daddytoeknee: Movie-core- wya ml??

Choso cocks his head and keeps making out with your pussy in all the ways that make your toes curl—pleasure elongating from your orgasm and spreading into every part of you. Your vessels, your cells, your atoms.

They’re all buzzing with pleasure and still aching for more once Choso finally pulls away with a loud pop! of his lips releasing. 

When they do, you’re sneaking a look down at him and noticing just how red n’ swollen they were. Even the skin around his jaw was flushed with the constant ramming contact. And the viewers are just gobbling it up - subscribing bells keep dinging here and there, and everywhere. 

Just a single look at his stats on-screen reveal that Choso’s climbed up to 870k just since you’d started this stream.

And it’s after a little while - after he’s had his fill - that the dark-haired man finally taps at the side of your thigh to gesture for you to get up. Though, even then, he’s tightening his grip on your body—going against his own fucking instruction to press a final few open-mouthed kisses before he’s done.

He chases after your pussy with his maw for a little- before he’s finally sitting up.

And it’s only then that he seems to notice the camera in your hand, blinking his glazed eyes a few times to make sure he isn’t dreaming things up. Once it finally registers, the most attractive grin spreads across his face. “You changed POVs?”

“Had to.” You admit, “I wanted them to see how pretty you are…”

“Guess you finally learned about sharing, hm? Greedy girl.” He chuckles darkly to himself. And then he starts looming closer, “But you realize that the show’s not done yet, right?”

You gulp.

@Fishygurodad: Fuck her already, damn!! I’m only here for her.

@2coolforcond0ms(i’mavirgin): Hate to admit it, but he’s lowk right. I think I’ve discovered I’m bi…

@vampzo333: ^^

@girrrrrrrrrrth: ^^

“So impatient.” He looks at the monitor, reading the chat and tuts. “Honestly- so ungrateful. I should end the stream right here and fuck her on my own terms.”

There’s a frenzied flurry of comments- all of which you were sure were begging for Choso not to stop and bashing that one commenter for attempting to start a revolution. To which you’re only giggling and handing over the camera to him.

Choso - as the expert - then positions it somewhere by the edge of the fluffy pillows: where they’d be able to see the expanse of both your bodies and where you’d soon be connected…

And then you’re shedding your clothes in a hurry- making it to your smart blouse before he’s reaching a hand up and tearing through it. The buttons hit the floor, and at your noise of displeasure Choso merely lets out a half-delirious giggle. 

He leans in and whispers, “I-I have a Phantom of the Opera t-shirt I’d love for you to wear.”

The change in demeanour gives you utter whiplash, and you can’t help but stare at him open-mouthed.

“What?” Choso asks, next moving on to shrugging off his own fabrics. They’re landing on a heap beside the bed, and your lips slightly part at the display of his red-hot erection—it’s just as large and sensual as all those streams had proven him to be. Polished strawberry top. Slender veins along the middle. 

A happy trail of dark brown - nearly black - glistened with the splattered remnant of his precum. Just like the gleaming mess across his chin, mouth, and cheekbones that Choso wore like a medal.

He was slightly longer than even on camera- and even prettier up-close. Way up close- he shuffles his body up yours n’ fucks your tits a few times to dollop out glistening translucent precum across yours tits.

“Lighting’s not the best here.” Choso explains- or at least attempts to pin an explanation onto that. Onto something he’s clearly been wanting to do for so long. “Had to highlight ‘em, baby.”

You scoff, “It’s just…” Throwing a cautious glance at the camera, you lower your voice. “You’re so different from how you are in real life.”

“Oh? And how did you expect me to be, huh?” He positions himself between your legs - wrapping both of them around his waist. Before then thinking better of it and throwing them even more lewdly around his neck instead—his plush priggish tip kisses your entrance. “Did you expect me to be like…”

He trails off.

He doesn’t need to complete the rest of his sentence- and you don’t think you’d have heard him even if he tried.

Because in that very moment, Choso’s jerking his pale hips back a mere few inches—then plopping his globular tip between your pussylips and push-push-puuuuuushing. Fucking past the initial restraint of your first ring of muscle, he’s funneling in some thick inches that make your heels bang against the muscles of his back.

And he doesn’t even seem to notice.

He doesn’t even seem to breathe as he’s letting his cock swerve inside. Get suctioned inside. Get his Prince Albert’s piercing crept down your sensitive innards. Get gobbled up between your greedy legs-

You clench ‘round him and Choso throws his head back with a low, broken moan.

“Oh p-please—” He’s babbling out through unsteady pink lips, a lazy line of dribble starting up from one corner of his mouth. Those long lashes of his flutter as he’s reaching one bulky hand up to grip the headboard, and placing his right one on your hips- keeping you steady.

Fingers trembling. Muscles rippling.

@likezmenpregnant: Woah…make him do that again…

@sixeyesorsixh0les: SUBBY CURSE HELLO??

@whimperwhiteboywhimper: oh I am SO here for this

@Fishygurodad: Whatever…

Your eyes bulge once his throat cracks with what sounds like a whimper—“Please it feels so good.” And though you couldn’t quite make it out, even the chat seemed stunned as Choso punctures out a broken stutter of his hips. Delving a few inches into your goopy insides- though not enough to bottom out completely, as you’re still too wound-up for him to fit completely. And you’re able to pinpoint exactly where he’s using the orbed metal of his first piering. With more to come…“Ngh- oh.” Broken noises emanating into your eardrums and the mic. “It f-feels shooooo good, baby.”

Choso’s head drops into the crook of your neck, and there - and there - you’re feeling his cheeky grin.

And suddenly you’re understanding.

Oh—he was toying with you.

And he was doing it in a way that’d completely fooled you- and perhaps all of his viewers, too.

But before you’re able to open your mouth to bite back something at him, Choso staggers his hips back and gives you a vicious jackhammer with his cock, “O-ohhhhh, my god—” Your toes curl atop his shoulders, slippery with sweat. He hadn’t even rammed all the way inside yet, and yet the slightly left-leaning angle of his shaft was driving you wild.

Big and thick.

Running the slick globe of his tip down your walls, Choso probes a direct hit to that spot you loved so much. And he knew you loved it so much—he’d mapped out your entire pussy earlier, of course.

And yet, he’s still gasping as though the pearls gates of heaven had descended right here and there. He’s letting his sweet caramel eyes widen convincingly as he peers down at you, “I-is that…the spot, baby?”

@Curse’swifey: HE sounds SO NGH.

@daddytoeknee: Daddy likey…

@daddytoeknee: Also Movie would’ve really LOVED this, huh?

You hiss, “Curse, you should already know-”

“But how could I know—?” He exclaims. “This is my first time, after all…” Then Choso’s plastering his clammy tattooed hips - with a snake on the side - to yours, as though the two were connected by the force of the world’s strongest magnets: pulling and pushing, pulling and pushing. Every single battering ram of his mazing cocktip ends up lodged against your sweetly bruised g-spot, marking his circumference out with the sheer pace at which he was hitting it. 

“Shit—” Your nails clench on the sheets, and feeling jealous- Choso guides them to fist his hair instead. “Shit, right there. It f-feels so good-”

“There?” The once-nerdy man breathes out in awe. Disbelief every single time - or at least the mocking imitation of one. Swipin’ a line of precum down your nervy spot once more, “Th-there, baby—?”

Something breathy- octaves higher in his tone. “Yes- yes there-”

“There-” Choked up and ruined. Husky grunts hatching in the back of his throat. There was something there in his words that you couldn’t quite pinpoint—a sort of undertone of primal need, primal amusement as he ruined your pussy with his speedily pap-papping hips, but acted as though he had no idea what he was doing. Every single syllable uttered was met with a thorough whack of his curved cockhead against your particular spot- “There there there there- there-”

“Fuh-fuuuck-”

“So this g-spot’s really m-mine now, baby?” Choso asks. 

You whine, back arching off the mattress. “Yes-”

“Does she really have my mark on it now?”

“Yes…?” Eyes shooting open as you’re half-registering his question in your hazed brain. He bores his dark eyes down at you intensely. And as though to emphasize his point, you’re feeling his perfectly round tip squeezing into your throat by the next few thrusts. Deeper and deeper.

His Jacob’s Ladder starting to ease its frigid way past your entrance and glide across the roof of your cunt. It was a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt before. 

Choso probes even more, “I-is she really shaped to the shape of my cock now?” 

“Cho—ngh.” Quickly shutting your cockdrunken self up. Quickly reaching a ringed hand up to squeeze your throat- before he’s languidly snaking his way up to squeezing your pretty cheeks together.

Smushing your face in a way that was almost disrespectful- though, not that you were in any state of mind to call him out on it. And there’s a mean inkling in Choso’s tone as he coos, “Awww, b-baby, why aren’t you answering me?” Another rude slap! of his hips make your own sear in flames- that damn strength of his. Those damn piercings of his. “Is your poor, poor Curse not good enough?” 

Before you can answer, he’s looking at the blinking camera. 

“My babies, my girl doesn’t love my cock anymore…”

“I do—I do-” 

Squeezing his doughy-soft restraints - those contrastingly mean fingers of his - around your cheeks. He’s managing to smush your mouth shut and make you echo out the most pathetically pleading whines—as he fucks you. Determined and targeted.

The glossy rotund edge of his tip presses against your g-spot a few more times before you’re managing to make yourself take a peek at the comments on the monitor. 

Almost too far away- almost too blurry with the tears in your eyes. 

@Curse’snewestharem: Awwwww poor bby </33

@CCpervnextdoor: I would LOVE your cock, Curse!!

@girrrrrrrrrrth: is it just me or is he teasing us?

@Fishygurodad: ^^Yeah, he’s totally a fraud.

@Curseswombmommy: ^^girl shut up

“Th-they really think you’re oh-so-innocent…” You’re whispering up at him. Overstimulated tears in your eyes.

Breath hitching every time he’s surging his tattooed hips forwards and hitting that one spot particularly hard. Though there was never such a thing as too hard…

And Choso’s shooting you a secret smile - one just between the two of you - before morphing his expression into that of picture-perfect innocence. Roleplaying the demeanor of his nerdy self on campus, mixed with the utterly sultry—sexual way he was draaaaagging his lengthy cock in and out of your cunt.

Eventually, Choso’s emptying his inches out n’ bruising the bottom of your pussy. All of his nine - you seriously felt nine throbbing inches - inches shaping out the in-betweens of your legs. All of the beaded barbells of his Jacob’s Ladder massaging inside- the slitherin’ feeling of them making themselves at home. Zig-zagging and slithering. 

He feels the sponginess of your cervix and presses a hand down on your abdomen just to make sure, before changing that excitement into one of almost-genuine bafflement- “I-I really bottomed out?” Choso’s pinkish bottom lip juts out and quivers dramatically.

“Of course, you did.” You’re ready to scoff-

But whatever sarcastic sound was in the back of your throat gets quickly dissolved at the sight of Choso with genuine tears in his eyes. Glistening. “But I never- ngh, never thought I’d be able to.” He puts some more merciless pressure on your stomach that makes you buck—

And the only thing you can do is let your head tip back into the pillows.

The only thing you can do is let out a few mottled moans as he rubs over the small tummy bulge he was fucking into you. Pushing his palm down so that he could feel it. 

Whispering out, “I-I never thought this pussy would claim my cock as- ngh, hers, hm?” And for the moment there, you’re completely sure that he isn’t talking to you. Rather, your pussy that was sobbing out squelches after every one of his jackhemmerin’ thrusts. “And it’s not too big, right?”

“N-never—”

“Because m’just a nerd with a- hngh, biiiiiig fuckin’ cock.” How pitiful, right? He’s letting his long, dark lashes flutter as Choso avoids meeting your eyes—as though in shyness. He drills his hips even deeper - one unforgettable strike after the other following every word he spoke. “Just a big- fat- fucking- cock-”

“Please—!” Eventually, your arms reach upwards and you’re grabbing ahold of whatever part of him it is you could reach first. Which just-so-happened to be his bulky deltoids.

Choso’s brows genuinely seem to furrow at the lewdness of you digging your nails into his muscles, leaving your marks for everyone and anyone to see even after this stream has ended. And so he continues in his faux-innocent tone, “Oh? Did that feel good, baby?”

Purposefully slidin’ his cock across your g-spot so that you’d have to cry out. “Y-yeeees—”

“I didn’t even know, baby.” His mouth hangs open, and the most lustrous squelches! echo between your two connected bodies. Your cunt n’ his precum were making such messes…“I had no idea…”

His Jacob’s Ladder leaves your channel feeling raw n’ overstimulated- you feel raw and overstimulated. 

And you’re laid-out on the bed dazed and feeling so fucking good as Choso’s picking his pace up even more, you notice for a split-second that his hands have moved. No longer was he holding onto your cheeks n’ watching you squirm—now, the nerdy man hooks both hands around your sweaty thighs and pins them close to his body.

Holding them in place as he leans down, down, dooooooown until the caps of your knees hit your tits. 

You’re keening at the stretch, and a searing burn spreads from between your pussy and along your hamstrings. How did he even hide such strength underneath those soft knitted vest? Such a body?

Before you know it, you’re being pressed into your first-ever mating press.

And Choso gapes as though he was just as bewildered as you, “O-oh…did I do that?” He’s fucking asking you—however, when your stunned expression bears no answer, he turns and asks the same question from the camera. The bursts of replies obviously agree n’ tease him. And he’s shaking his head ever-so-slightly, “Did I really bend you in- heh-” A slight chuckle escapes him. “—half, baby?”

And what else can you do but nod and nod and nod—? 

“I think this is called a…breeding press?” He cocks his head ever-so-slightly, before shaking his head. “No wait- a mating press.”

“A m-mating press.” You’re repeating lamely.

“I c-can’t believe I’ve folded you into a mating press, baby.” Choso nearly snarls at himself, his hips accelerating until that rouge-tipped cock of his was almost nothing but a blur. “Can’t believe—s’like my body is moving before my mind, ngh. My fat cock’s not hittin’ you too deep, right, my girl?”

“Not in the l-least…”

And he really was long enough to make each and every probe feel as though it was slam-slam-slamming into your throat- the capped crown of his shaft was entering crevices n’ crannies you hadn’t even known you possessed. All marked out precisely by the silvery orb of his Prince Albert’s. 

Just then, after your answer, Choso reaches his left hand up to wrap ‘round your throat - and then hauls you back down to meet his slapping hips.

A thrust even harder than the ones before it.

Your breath gets snatched out of your lungs, dissipating into the heady air filled with the contact-riddled sounds of sex. Hard and fast. Only getting harder the longer you have your ankles looped ‘round his neck—“Not too hard, is it, baby?” Chosos asks you once more.

And you don’t have anything to spit out besides, “Oh f-fuck off.”

He gasps dramatically-

Well, not exactly dramatically. But in a way you knew was fake, and in a way that sends the chat exploding into comments.

The nerd pouts cutely, “Well, that’s not very nice…”

You’re rolling your eyes—right before Choso’s genuinely sending them rolling with his two fingers clamped around your clit. Using the silvery edges of his rings, he runs a few massages that end up with you sobbing and blabbering out your pleasure. 

@Curse’swifey: FUCKKKKKKKKKK they’re both so hot. THEY’RE BOTH SO RUINED.

@peepeesarebetterfictional: they both look like they’re gonna cum soon hehe

@bewbsRlife: CUM CUM CUM CUM CUM

Biting back. “I would argue th-that that’s not very nice, either.”

“But m’just trying to make my gorgeous girl cum…” And from where he’d been looming his pretty face above yours, Choso then lets his head droop down between your tits. During his ravenous pace, he’s roverin’ his mouth all over to kiss and suck at your tits, your nipples.

His cold lip ring drags across your left areola- and he catches onto the way you’re shivering. Before Choso then grabs your nipple between his lips n’ hollows his cheeks out sucking—“Promise m’just trying to make you feel- hah, good.” He mutters, slightly muffled. “Promise I just wanna fuck my cock raw if it means making my lifelong crush feel good…”

“Cho- Curse, are you…?” Your eyes widen.

And his own flap droopily a few times, “Hmmm?”

And that proved it.

That proved it.

Because Choso Kamo could be pretending to be a stuttering, panting, blushing mess on your heavenly cunt all he wanted- he could pretend to be pussydrunk out of his mind. But at the end of the day, it was impossible to hide when pretend turned into something…more. 

When the cocksure streamer that’d been driving you wild all this time morphs into the contentedly pussy-whipped nerd you expected him to be deep down inside.

His eyes genuinely glazed and blinking longingly.

His hair drenched in sweat.

His skin flushed with need- and only flushing even more fiercely the longer he kept his eyes on you. 

Without much ado, you’re throwing your hands around his neck and tuggin’ him as far as he could crane his neck when his entire body feels like collapsing onto you and into your maddening pussy. 

Choso pistons his hips slightly upwards to hear the slurp of his Jacob’s Ladder sliding across your walls, and he grooooans—

“Curse, baby…” You hum.

“Mhmmmm?” He replies with half-lidded eyes. Barely focused.

This was the big, bad #1 streamer on C4mBoyfriends? As though sensing your thoughts, Choso’s fingers grow a little more frenzied on your clit. “I need you to cum inside, okay?”

He jolts at the idea- that sinful, sinful idea. Before chuckling, “Never had any other plan, baby.” And then he turns to the camera, “What do you think, fuckers? Think my girl deserves to cum?”

@Fishygurodad: Yes.

@Curse’swifey: YES.

@likezmenpregnant: Yesssss~

@girrrrrrrrrrth: yesyesyes.

@daddytoeknee: Hell yeah-

He’s holding out a little longer to make sure there wasn’t a single ‘no’ in there - and had there been one, you’re sure that Choso would have stopped and edged your incoming orgasm until it was a wave of complete agreement.

Luckily for you, they liked you.

And all he does now is press down harder on your g-spot from inside, lingering, and massage a pretty heart on your clit once more, lingering—before a final, thorough stroke is all it takes for you to hurtle into your second high of the night.

For you to arch your body into his chest, and shutter your eyes. “Ch-Cho…” 

Barely a whisper. He’s crashing his mouth into yours to make sure that secret between you two isn’t revealed. And you’re moaning deeply into Choso’s mouth as you cum—“Feels so- oh. It feels so…”

“Mhmmmm.”

Unable to even find the words.

The only thing you can do is riiiiiide out the massive wave of your high. It’s torrential; pure bliss floods your system from head-to-toe, and no matter how much you’re squirming your overstimulated hips, Choso only succeeds in batterin’ away his pierced cock into eeeevery single hidden sweet spot inside of you. The ones that prolonged your bliss and left spikes of euphoria leading up to your brain.

Your cunt clenched so tightly around his cock- almost as though you didn’t want him to even pull out. And Choso’s sweaty head drops once more into the crook of your neck as he cums with a shudder.

The knot between his brows deepening, the bedsheet around his knees bunching up as he surges his body upwards. Almost animalistically.

Choso bottoms out his furious, twitching cock and keeps it there- “Oh, fuck…” It didn’t sound like he was acting once his bawling red divot starts splatterin’ out more milky white wads. Deeep in the back of your pussy, right where your womb was, Choso puddles out his ecstasy in long ribbons. “Oh fuck fuck fuck—fuck. Always knew it’d feel this good.”

Wave upon wave.

Toes curling. Eyes scrunching shut.

If you thought his moans were sensual before, then you weren’t prepared for the ones your pussy was able to drag out of him - ragged and hollow utterances of your name. Over and over like a broken record, like a mantra.

He’s fucking into you to milk them out of his hefty balls- then fucking you again just to pump those webbed wads right back in. From the top of his rotund tip and dooooooown to the tufts of hairs at his base. All nine inches of him being used to stuff you till the brim—

You’re sure your insides look like an utter fuckin’ mess by the time he’s slowing his tattooed hips down ever-so-slightly—still shaking from the aftermath of his orgasm. This was far stronger than anything he’s ever experienced before. 

Drunkenly, you’re blinking your eyes up at him. “Always?”

He smiles, “Ever since our first lesson of Film 101.” Admitting, he lovingly wipes off a bit of his cum you were foaming between your pussylips. “You referenced Pride and Prejudice when talking about the best lines of dialogue of all time, and I-I’d been a goner since then.”

“Corny…” You snort. Though you can’t help the flutter of your heart.

“So um- coffee after this?”

“It better be dinner.”

He laughs in agreement. “Also I bought a vibrating piercing the other day and have been dying to try it…”

Your eyes widen.

And once you’re helping him pull out- Choso reaches for the camera and gets a good shot of the cum leaking between your legs. Before you’re both waving at it, “Thank you for joining us, today—this was the most fun I’ve had on stream yet- heh.”

You’re shooting the camera a pretty smile, too.

And Choso kisses the corner of your cheeks, “Until next time. This has been Curse and Movie.”

@girrrrrrrrrrth: holy fuck??

@Curse’swifey: WAIT WHAAAAAAAAAAAAT NO WAY-

@bewbsRlife: HOLD ON-

@CCpervnextdoor: SAY SIKE RN?

@bipplruletheworld: oh my god that’s amazing.

@likezmenpregnant: Oh, a love story for the ages~

@yoyoyoureinmypuss: YOU TWO LOOKING FOR A THIRD??

@Fishygurodad: Damn.

@Fishygurodad: Hmu when he messes up.

@daddytoeknee: Stfu he won’t.

@daddytoeknee: Also I totally called it <3

A/N. I did NOT plan to have me inserted and beefing with Toji Fushiguro but here we are-

when he finally settles between your legs, his cock looks obscene against your smaller frame. thick, heavy, already glistening. you tense again the second you feel the blunt head nudge your entrance.

“breathe,” he says, one hand stroking your thigh. he’s trying so hard to be gentle, but his voice is strained. “i’m not gonna shove it in. not like that.”

he rubs the head up and down your slit, coating himself in your wetness. you’re soaked despite the nerves, and that small fact makes him groan low in his throat. still, he goes slow—pushing in just the tip first, jaw clenched tight.

“fuck… you’re tight,” he hisses. his hips twitch, instinct screaming at him to thrust, but he forces himself still. “too much?”

you shake your head, eyes still closed. “keep going… please.”

toji pushes in another inch, then another, cursing under his breath the whole time. every time you whimper he freezes, big hand rubbing clumsy circles on your hip. he feels too big, too rough, too much for someone as anxious as you. but you’re taking him so well, stretching around his thick cock, and it’s driving him crazy.

halfway in, he leans down and presses his forehead to yours. his voice comes out rough but surprisingly soft. “you’re doing good, baby. so fucking good for me.”

when he finally bottoms out, buried to the hilt, you both moan. he stays still for a long moment, letting you adjust, even though his arms are shaking with the effort of holding back.

then he starts moving—slow, shallow thrusts at first, trying not to be too rough. but toji has never been gentle in his life, and it shows. his hips snap a little harder than he means, the slap of skin louder than he wants. every time he catches himself he curses and slows down again, kissing you messily to make up for it.

“sorry—shit, sorry,” he mutters against your lips when he accidentally thrusts too deep. “you feel too good. can’t help it.”

you wrap your arms around his neck, finally opening your eyes. the fear is still there, but so is want. “it’s okay… i like when you’re a little rough.”

that seems to break something in him. toji gathers you against his broad chest, one thick arm sliding under your back to hold you tight. he fucks you like that—deep, steady, still a little clumsy, but wrapped completely around you. every thrust is punctuated with gruff praises and clumsy kisses.

when you finally cum, clenching hard around his cock, toji follows right after with a low groan that vibrates through his chest. the feeling hits him like a punch to the gut.

your walls flutter and squeeze around him so tightly, pulsing in waves as your orgasm crashes through you, and it drags him under with you. his hips stutter once, twice, then slam deep one final time as he spills inside you—thick, hot ropes of his creamy cum flooding your insides for the very first time.

“fuck— that’s it… take it,” he rasps against your ear.

it feels overwhelming. the wet heat of your pussy milking him, the way your body trembles and clenches like it never wants to let him go, the slick sound of his cum already starting to leak out around his thick cock. he’s never felt anything like this before—raw, intimate, almost too much.

every pulse of his release seems to push deeper, filling you until you’re stuffed full of him. toji stays buried to the hilt, hips pressed flush against yours, letting every last drop spill into you. his breath comes in heavy pants against your neck as the intensity slowly ebbs, leaving him shaky and strangely tender.

he’s cum inside plenty of women before, but never like this.

never while holding someone so small and anxious in his arms. never while feeling your heartbeat hammering against his own. never while his rough hands are still gently stroking your back like you might disappear if he stops touching you.

the sensation lingers—warm, wet, intimate—and it makes his cock twitch again even as he softens just a little inside you.

“shit…” he mutters. “you feel that? feel me filling you up?”

he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, still rocking ever so slightly to push his cum deeper, savoring the way your body accepts every bit of him.

for the first time in his life, cumming inside someone doesn’t just feel good.

it feels right.

then his large hand slides down between your bodies. his palm presses firmly against your lower belly, right below your navel. he pushes down gently, feeling the slight bulge of his thick cock still buried deep inside you.

“fuck… can feel myself right here. so deep in you.”

you gasp sharply—you’re still so oversensitive from your orgasm, every nerve raw and sparking. the feeling of his hand pressing down while he’s still inside you makes your cheeks burn with embarrassment. you try to squirm away.

“toji… don’t— it’s embarrassing…”

“no,” he says, firm but surprisingly gentle. his thumb strokes softly over your skin as he looks down at you, eyes dark and intense even in the low light. “look how well you’re taking me. all full of my cum… belly swelling just a little because of me. nothing about this is embarrassing, baby. it’s fucking perfect.”

you whimper, face burning hotter, but your body betrays you by clenching around him again. toji lets out a low, satisfied hum and presses down just a tiny bit more, feeling the shape of himself through your soft stomach.

“yeah… just like that,” he murmurs, voice dropping even lower. “so damn pretty when you’re stuffed full of me.”

then toji rolls onto his back, taking you with him so you’re lying on his massive chest, his cock still nestled warm inside you. the room is quiet except for your slowing breaths. his rough hands, usually so quick to grab and bruise, now move with surprising tenderness. one palm strokes slowly up and down your spine, while the other hand cups the back of your head, thumb brushing gently behind your ear.

he keeps caressing you in long, lazy passes—over your shoulders, down your arms, along the curve of your waist. every touch is careful, almost hesitant, like he’s afraid his calluses might scratch you.

what the hell have you done to him?

he feels clumsy and huge and completely out of his depth, yet he can’t stop touching you. can’t stop wanting to be gentle for you.

“you okay?” he asks.

you nod. “yeah… you were really good to me.”

toji huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s no bite in it. his hand keeps stroking your back in slow circles. “didn’t think i still knew how to be gentle,” he admits, almost to himself. “you’re making me all soft, doll. never thought anyone could do that.”

he pulls the blanket higher around your shoulders and tucks you more securely against him, one thick thigh sliding between yours to keep you close. his fingers continue their gentle exploration—tracing the shell of your ear, the line of your jaw, the delicate skin of your collarbone.

“stay here tonight,” he murmurs, pressing another soft kiss to your hair. “don’t want you going anywhere. not after that.”

you smile against his chest, and toji feels something warm and unfamiliar settle deep in his ribs.

yeah… you’ve ruined him.

and for once, the roughest man alive doesn’t mind being soft at all.

You kept your face blank, eyes lowered like the obedient daughter they expected, while inside your mind screamed.

Later that night, when the household finally fell into drunken slumber and the torches burned low, you moved.

You had planned this in secret for weeks. A plain dark wool cloak stolen from the stables. A small bundle of hard bread, dried cheese, and a waterskin. Soft leather shoes you hoped would last. But the most valuable thing you owned was the wedding gown itself. You had decided to wear the half-finished white dress during your escape — the expensive satin and delicate lace might fetch enough coins in a distant village to buy you passage far away from here. It was risky, but you had nothing else of real value.

You slipped out through the narrow servant’s entrance at the back of the kitchens, the heavy door groaning softly behind you like a warning. The moment your feet touched the cold, dew-soaked grass, terror and fragile hope surged through you in equal measure.

You ran.

The forest swallowed you whole.

Ancient trees loomed like silent judges, their branches clawing at your white gown as if trying to drag you back. The delicate satin — still only half-finished, with pins and loose threads — snagged mercilessly on thorns. You heard fabric tearing again and again: sharp rips that sounded far too loud in the darkness. The long lace veil caught on a low limb and nearly yanked you off your feet; you tore it free with shaking hands, leaving half of it fluttering behind you like a surrendered flag. Mud and wet leaves caked your bare feet. Sharp stones and roots sliced into your soles until every step left bloody prints in the dirt. The cold night air burned your lungs. Sweat soaked your back and chest despite the chill, making the torn gown cling obscenely to your skin. Your legs screamed with exhaustion after only an hour, but fear kept you moving. Behind you, distant shouts echoed through the trees — your father’s guards, torches flickering like angry fireflies. Dogs barked. They were coming.

You pushed harder.

Branches whipped your face, leaving stinging cuts across your cheeks. Your hair fell loose from its elegant pins, wild and tangled. Tears streamed down your face, mixing with blood and dirt. Every shadow looked like a man ready to grab you. Every snap of a twig made your heart seize. You ran until your vision blurred and your chest felt like it would burst. You ran until the shouts grew fainter and the trees finally began to thin.

Hours had passed. The moon hung high and merciless overhead, bathing the world in cold silver light. Your legs trembled violently as you stumbled out of the treeline onto a wide, muddy road. In the distance, warm golden lantern light glowed between clusters of simple wooden buildings. A village.

You nearly collapsed with relief.

The main street was deserted, shutters closed tight against the night. Only one building still showed signs of life. Warm light spilled from its open front door onto the dirt road, carrying with it the thick, metallic scent of fresh blood and raw meat. A weathered wooden sign creaked overhead in the cold breeze:

Fushiguro Meat Co.

You limped toward it, every cut and bruise screaming.

A massive man stood under the wooden awning, illuminated by the lantern light. He was enormous — broad as a barn door, easily over six feet tall, with shoulders and arms so thick with muscle they looked carved from stone. He wore a blood-streaked leather apron tied low on his narrow hips. Beneath it, a simple white tank clung to his sweat-slicked chest, the thin fabric molded to heavy slabs of muscle and dark, scattered scars. His black hair was damp and messy, strands falling across his forehead. A deep, jagged scar twisted the corner of his mouth, giving his face a permanent, dangerous smirk even when he wasn’t smiling.

Thick veins stood out on his forearms as he slowly wiped a long, wicked boning knife clean on the edge of his apron. The blade gleamed.

He looked like violence given human shape — raw, brutal, and utterly terrifying.

You didn’t know his name. You didn’t know anything about him except that he was the only soul still awake, and you were completely out of options.

Your legs gave out the final few steps. You dropped hard to your knees in the cold dirt right in front of him, the torn white satin of your ruined wedding gown pooling around you like spilled milk mixed with blood and mud. Your chest heaved. Fresh tears cut clean tracks down your filthy cheeks.

“Please—” Your voice came out cracked and hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “Hide me. Just for one night. My family… they sold me to Lord Kato to settle their debts. He’s going to break me. Hurt me in ways I can’t even speak of. I’ll do anything you ask — scrub floors until my hands bleed, haul carcasses, sleep in the cold room with the meat, be your servant, your cleaner… anything. Just please… don’t let them take me back.”

You bowed your head, trembling, and clutched desperately at the bloody hem of his apron with both hands, staining your fingers red.

The man stopped moving. He looked down at you slowly, sharp green eyes narrowing as they took in every detail: your torn and filthy wedding dress, the cuts on your face and feet, the desperate tears, the way you knelt before him like a supplicant before a god of slaughter.

He flicked the long knife shut with a loud, metallic click that echoed in the quiet street.

“Not my problem, princess,” he rumbled. His voice was deep, low, and rough — like gravel being dragged across stone. There was no pity in it. “I don’t hide runaways. Go beg somewhere else before you bring trouble to my shop.”

You stayed on your knees, fingers still twisted tight in the bloody hem of his apron. Tears kept falling, mixing with the dirt on your cheeks. “Please… I have nowhere else. They’ll find me by morning. Lord Kato will—”

Footsteps. Soft, quick, coming from the narrow alley beside the butcher shop.

Three women emerged into the lantern light, their shawls pulled tight against the night chill, each carrying a small lantern. They stopped short at the sight of you kneeling in your ruined white gown in front of the massive butcher.

“Gods above,” the tallest one gasped. “Is that a wedding dress? Child, what in the world happened to you?”

The women hurried closer, lanterns swinging. Warm golden light spilled over your torn satin, the mud-caked hem, the blood from his apron smeared across your bodice and hands. One of the younger women pressed a hand to her mouth. “She’s bleeding… and look at her feet!”

You looked down at yourself — the once-beautiful dress now filthy and shredded — then up at the stranger towering over you. His green eyes were narrowed in clear irritation, jaw clenched like he was seconds away from shoving you into the street and bolting the door.

A wild, desperate plan came to your mind.

You pushed yourself up on shaky legs, ignoring the sharp pain in your cut feet. Before he could step away, you grabbed his large, calloused hand with both of yours, clinging desperately. His palm was warm, rough, and still faintly sticky with dried blood.

Turning to the three women with the most exhausted yet radiant smile you could force, you announced clearly:

“This is my husband.”

The words rang in the quiet night air.

The women froze.

You kept going, voice trembling but determined. “We were married in secret this evening. My family didn’t approve — they tried to sell me off to a cruel lord to settle their debts. So I ran away through the forest to reach him. The dress… it got ruined on the way, but I’m here now. I’m exactly where I belong.”

Silence stretched for a heartbeat.

Then the women erupted.

“The butcher got married?!” the tallest one exclaimed, eyes wide. “Toji Fushiguro actually took a wife? I never thought I’d live to see the day!”

One of the younger women clapped her hands together, beaming. “Look at her, even all torn up she’s lovely! Brave thing, running through the woods in the middle of the night just to get to her husband.”

The third woman laughed warmly. “We’ll bring fresh bread and some stew first thing in the morning for you newlyweds. Can’t have Toji’s new wife going hungry on her first day here!”

Toji.

So that was his name. Toji Fushiguro.

You felt the man — Toji — stiffen beside you. His massive hand twitched hard in your grip, muscles flexing like he was fighting the urge to rip free and deny everything. His sharp green eyes burned into the side of your face, dark with fury and silent threat. But the women were watching excitedly. The whole village would know the story by sunrise if he contradicted you now.

You squeezed his hand tighter, nails digging into his skin in a silent, desperate plea. Please. Just play along.

Toji’s scarred jaw flexed. A low, dangerous growl rumbled deep in his chest. For one terrifying second you thought he might expose you.

Then, in the flattest, most reluctant voice you had ever heard, he grunted:

“…Yeah. She’s mine now. Wife.”

The women squealed with delight. They offered more congratulations, promised gifts for the “newlyweds,” and finally bustled away down the dark street, lanterns bobbing and their voices already carrying the juicy news.

The moment their footsteps faded, Toji’s grip turned bruising. He yanked you forward so hard you stumbled against his broad, solid chest, then dragged you roughly through the open door of the butcher shop. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind you with a resounding thud that rattled the walls.

Inside, the air was thick and heavy — cold iron, raw meat, woodsmoke, and the faint metallic tang of fresh blood. A single lantern burned low on the wooden counter, casting long, flickering shadows over heavy chopping blocks, hanging meat hooks, and rows of sharp knives.

Toji spun you around and shoved your back against the closed door. One thick, powerful forearm braced beside your head, completely caging you in. His massive body loomed over yours, heat rolling off him in waves. The scent of blood, sweat, and raw masculinity filled your lungs.

His green eyes were dark with fury… and something much darker, much hungrier.

“What the fuck was that?” he snarled, voice low and lethal. “You just told half the goddamn village you’re my wife. You got any idea what you’ve done, little runaway?”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. You could feel the hard press of his chest against yours, the sheer size of him making you feel tiny and trapped.

“It was the only way,” you whispered, breathing fast. “They would’ve dragged me back to Lord Kato by morning if they knew the truth. Now they think I belong to you. No one will question it. Please… just let me stay the night. I’ll disappear at dawn, I swear it.”

Toji stared down at you for a long, heavy moment. His scarred mouth twisted into a slow, dangerous smirk. His free hand came up and gripped your chin firmly, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his intense green eyes.

“Disappear?” he growled, thumb pressing hard into your jaw. “Too late for that, princess. You just tied yourself to me in front of witnesses.”

He leaned in closer, so close his breath ghosted hot across your lips. His voice dropped even lower, rough and full of promise.

“You owe me now. Big time.”

His gaze dragged slowly down your body — over the torn white lace barely clinging to your curves, the bloodstains, the way your chest heaved with fear and adrenaline. He just held you there, pinned against the door, letting the heavy tension coil tighter and tighter between you.

“Upstairs,” he finally ordered, voice like gravel. “Now. We’re gonna have a long talk about what you just got yourself into.”

Toji didn’t give you time to argue.

His massive hand clamped around your upper arm like a steel band and he hauled you away from the door. You stumbled after him on aching, bleeding feet as he dragged you through the back of the shop. The scent of raw meat grew thicker near the cold room, but he turned toward a narrow wooden staircase tucked behind a heavy curtain.

“Move,” he growled when you hesitated at the bottom step.

You climbed. Each step sent fresh pain shooting up your legs, but you bit your lip and kept going. Toji followed close behind, his heavy boots loud on the old wood, one hand still gripping your arm so you couldn’t possibly run.

The stairs opened directly into a small, sparse apartment above the butcher shop. It was surprisingly clean for a man who spent his days covered in blood. A single main room served as both living space and kitchen — a sturdy wooden table with two chairs, a stone hearth with dying embers, a few shelves holding jars of preserved meat and dried herbs. A narrow hallway led to what you assumed were the bedroom and washroom. Moonlight spilled through two small windows, painting everything in cool silver.

Toji kicked the door at the top of the stairs shut behind him and finally released your arm. You immediately backed up a few steps, the torn hem of your wedding dress whispering across the floorboards.

He folded his thick arms across his broad chest, blood-stained apron still tied around his waist, and stared at you like you were a problem he was deciding how to carve up.

“Start talking,” he said flatly. “And don’t leave anything out. Who the fuck are you, why is a lord hunting you, and why the hell did you decide to drag me into your mess?”

You swallowed hard, still catching your breath. You introduced yourself by name, then continued quietly, “My family is in debt. Deep debt. They sold me to Lord Kato yesterday to settle it. He’s a cruel man. Three wives before me, and none of them lasted long. He told my father in front of me what he plans to do on our wedding night.” Your voice cracked. “I couldn’t stay. I ran in the only thing of value I had — this dress. I thought maybe I could sell it in a village for enough coin to disappear.”

Toji’s green eyes flicked over the ruined white lace clinging to your body — torn, muddy, bloodstained. He let out a low, humorless snort.

“And instead of keeping your mouth shut and hiding somewhere quiet, you decided the best plan was to announce to the biggest gossips in the village that you’re married to the local butcher.” He took one heavy step closer. “You realize what you’ve done?”

You nodded quickly. “They won’t hand me over now. Not if they think I belong to you. The whole village will protect the butcher’s wife… right?”

Toji laughed — a short, dark sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Protect?” He shook his head. “You just painted a target on my back too, princess. Lord Kato isn’t the type to let his property run off. When he comes looking — and he will come looking — he’s going to hear all about how the village butcher stole his bride.”

He dragged a large hand down his face, clearly pissed off, but there was something else in his expression now. A glint of dark amusement. Maybe even reluctant interest.

“You’re either the bravest idiot I’ve ever met… or the most cunning.”

You stood there trembling in the middle of his living room, arms wrapped around yourself. The torn bodice of the dress had slipped dangerously low on your shoulders, but you didn’t dare fix it.

“I’ll leave at first light,” you promised again, softer this time. “I won’t cause you any more trouble. Just… let me stay until sunrise. Please, Toji.”

Hearing his name from your lips made his eyes narrow.

“Don’t,” he warned. “You don’t get to say my name like we’re actually married.”

He turned away from you and walked over to the small hearth. He crouched down, added two fresh logs, and stoked the fire back to life with practiced efficiency. The warm orange glow slowly filled the room, chasing away some of the chill.

When he stood again, he looked even bigger in the firelight — shoulders impossibly wide, muscles shifting under the thin tank top, the scar at his mouth pulling as he scowled.

“Sit,” he ordered, nodding toward one of the wooden chairs at the table. “You’re bleeding all over my floor.”

You obeyed, lowering yourself carefully onto the chair. The moment you sat, exhaustion crashed into you like a wave. Your feet throbbed. Every cut and bruise ached. You were filthy, terrified, and running on nothing but fear and adrenaline.

Toji disappeared down the short hallway and returned a minute later with a metal basin, a clean rag, and a small jar. He set the basin on the floor in front of you, then dropped into the chair across the table, watching you with those sharp green eyes.

“Clean your feet,” he said gruffly. “I’m not carrying you around if they get infected.”

You dipped the rag into the water and started wiping away the mud and blood as carefully as you could. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. The fire crackled. Outside, the village was completely quiet.

Toji leaned back in his chair, arms crossed again, studying you like livestock.

“You really think this marriage story is gonna hold?” he asked after a long minute. “Village folk love to talk. By noon tomorrow everyone’s gonna want to meet my mysterious bride.”

You kept your eyes on your injured feet. “I just need a day or two to figure out where to go next. I can… I can work. I’m not useless. I can clean, cook, help in the shop—”

Toji’s low chuckle cut you off.

“You? Working in a butcher shop?” He shook his head. “You look like you’ve never touched anything bloodier than a sewing needle in your life.”

He watched you struggle to clean a deep cut on your sole for another moment before he made an irritated sound and leaned forward.

“Give me your foot.”

You hesitated.

“Now,” he growled.

You slowly lifted your leg. Toji took your ankle in his huge, rough hand — surprisingly gentle despite the calluses and dried blood on his fingers. He pulled the basin closer and started cleaning your wounds himself with careful, efficient movements.

The contrast was jarring: this terrifying mountain of a man, covered in someone else’s blood, carefully tending to your torn-up feet.

“You’re staying the night,” he said quietly, not looking up from his work. “Not because I’m kind. Because if I throw you out now, those three hens will ask questions I don’t feel like answering. Tomorrow we figure out what the hell to do with you.”

He finished cleaning one foot and moved to the other. His thumb brushed accidentally over a sensitive spot and you hissed softly.

Toji’s eyes flicked up to your face for a second, something unreadable flashing across his expression.

“After that…” He set your foot down carefully and leaned back again, voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble. “You’re gonna start paying off the trouble you just caused me.”

He didn’t explain what that meant.

But the way he was looking at you — slow, heavy, possessive — made heat crawl up your neck despite the fear.

Toji held your gaze for another long moment before he finally released your ankle. He pushed the basin aside with his boot and stood, towering over you once more. The firelight danced across the hard lines of his face, catching on the jagged scar at the corner of his mouth.

“Stay there,” he muttered.

He disappeared into the back room again. You heard the sound of water splashing, then heavy footsteps returning. When he came back, he carried a thick wool blanket and a tin cup. He set the cup in front of you — it was filled with cool water — and dropped the blanket over the back of your chair.

“Drink,” he ordered. “You look half-dead.”

You obeyed without thinking, your hands still trembling slightly as you lifted the cup. The water was clean and cold, soothing your raw throat. Toji watched you drink the entire thing, arms crossed, before he spoke again.

You lowered the empty cup. “Thank you… for the water. And for cleaning my feet.”

He made a dismissive sound in the back of his throat, like thanks made him uncomfortable. Then he leaned against the edge of the table, close enough that his thigh nearly brushed your arm.

“You really thought this through?” he asked, voice low. “Running in a fancy white dress, announcing yourself as my wife in front of the nosiest women in the village… What’s your actual plan once the sun comes up?”

You stared down at your bandaged feet. “I didn’t have time for a real plan. I just knew I couldn’t let them marry me off to that monster. I thought if I could get far enough away, maybe sell the dress, I could buy passage on a cart or a boat. Start over somewhere no one knows me.”

Toji exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh but darker. “Selling that dress would’ve gotten you robbed or worse before you even reached the next town. You’re lucky you only made it as far as my doorstep.”

Silence settled again, broken only by the crackling fire. You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders, suddenly aware of how exposed you still were — the torn bodice of the wedding gown hanging loosely, the lace ripped in several places, dirt and dried blood streaked across your skin.

Toji’s eyes drifted over you again, slower this time. They lingered on the curve of your shoulder where the dress had slipped, the rise and fall of your chest, the way the white fabric clung to your thighs.

“You look ridiculous,” he said bluntly. “Like a bride who lost a fight with a pack of wolves.”

Despite everything, a tiny, tired smile tugged at your lips. “That’s… not far from the truth.”

He pushed off the table and walked over to a wooden chest in the corner. He rummaged inside and pulled out a large, worn linen shirt — clearly one of his. It looked big enough to reach your knees.

“Here.” He tossed it to you. “Can’t have you walking around my place looking like that. Change. There’s a washroom down the hall if you want to clean up more.”

You clutched the shirt to your chest. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he warned. “You’re still in my house. Still wearing that damn dress that’s going to bring trouble to my door.”

He turned his back to give you a moment of privacy, busying himself by adding another log to the fire. You quickly stood, wincing at the pain in your feet, and slipped behind the partial wall that separated the washroom. You peeled off the ruined wedding dress with shaking hands, letting the torn fabric pool at your feet. The cool air kissed your bare skin as you pulled Toji’s shirt over your head. It smelled faintly of smoke, soap, and something unmistakably masculine. The hem fell halfway down your thighs.

When you stepped back out, Toji turned around. His eyes darkened the moment they landed on you in his shirt.

“Better,” he grunted, though his voice sounded rougher than before.

He gestured toward the narrow hallway. “Bedroom’s at the end. Only one bed. You take it tonight. I’ll sleep out here.”

You hesitated. “I can sleep on the floor. I’ve already caused enough—”

“Don’t argue,” he cut you off. “My house, my rules. Get some sleep. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

You walked carefully down the short hall, every step still painful. The bedroom was small and simple like the rest of the apartment — a large wooden bed with thick blankets, a single chair, and a window overlooking the dark village street. You climbed onto the bed, pulling the covers over yourself.

Toji appeared in the doorway a minute later, leaning one broad shoulder against the frame. The firelight from the main room silhouetted his massive form.

“Door stays open,” he said. “And don’t even think about sneaking out in the middle of the night. If I have to chase you down, I won’t be in a generous mood.”

You nodded, sinking deeper into the mattress. Exhaustion was pulling at you hard now, but sleep still felt far away with him standing there watching you.

“Toji…” you whispered.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Thank you,” you said again, softer. “For not throwing me out.”

His expression didn’t soften, but something in his eyes shifted. He pushed off the doorframe and turned to leave.

“Get some sleep, runaway,” he muttered. “You’re gonna need it.”

He left the door wide open. You heard him moving around in the main room — the creak of the wooden chair as he sat down, the quiet clink of a cup. The fire continued to crackle.

You lay there in his bed, wrapped in his shirt, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on you. The fake marriage. The village women who now believed you were his wife. Lord Kato still out there searching. And the terrifying, strangely careful butcher who had just tended to your wounds and given you his bed.

Sleep finally claimed you, but even in your dreams you could still feel the heavy weight of Toji’s gaze on your skin.

You woke to the sound of knocking.

It was loud, cheerful, and relentless — three sharp raps on the shop door downstairs, followed by muffled feminine voices. Sunlight streamed through the small bedroom window, warm and golden. For a brief, disoriented moment you forgot where you were. Then everything crashed back: the forest, the blood-stained butcher, the lie you’d told.

You sat up quickly. Toji’s oversized linen shirt had ridden up your thighs during the night. Your feet still ached, but the bandages held firm. You heard heavy footsteps downstairs, then Toji’s low, irritated growl as he opened the door.

“Morning!” a cheerful woman’s voice called up. “We brought breakfast for the newlyweds! Fresh bread, stew, and honey cakes. Don’t tell us you’re still in bed on your wedding night!”

Another woman giggled. “We’re dying to meet your bride properly!”

Toji’s heavy footsteps came up the stairs. He appeared in the bedroom doorway, looking imposing in the daylight. He wore a clean black tunic stretched tight across his chest, the same blood-stained apron tied around his waist. His hair was messy, jaw set with clear annoyance.

“They’re here,” he said flatly. “Three of them. Loaded with food.”

Your stomach twisted. “What do we do?”

Toji’s green eyes dragged over you — bare legs, wearing nothing but his shirt. Something dark flickered across his face.

“You sold us as newlyweds,” he reminded you, voice low. “So act like it. Smile. Look happy. Keep the story straight.”

He stepped closer and tugged the hem of the shirt down your thighs possessively. “There’s a spare skirt and blouse in the chest. Change. Quickly.”

You moved fast, wincing at the pain in your feet. Toji turned his back while you dressed in the simple dark green skirt and cream blouse. They were a little loose but far more practical.

When you were ready, Toji gave you one last look and jerked his head toward the stairs. “Downstairs. Remember — you’re my wife.”

The three women had already let themselves into the front of the shop. They had laid out a generous spread on the wooden counter: warm bread, a pot of hearty stew, honey cakes, and spiced cider. The moment you appeared behind Toji, their faces lit up.

“Oh, here she is!” the tallest, round-faced woman exclaimed. “Look at you, dear. Much better than last night. I’m Mrs. Sato, by the way! My husband runs the bakery just down the street.” She gestured to the other two. “This is Mira and little Hana.”

The younger women smiled warmly.

“You clean up beautifully,” Mira said. “You already have that newlywed glow!”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks. Toji’s large hand settled heavily on your lower back, warm and claiming.

“Thank you,” you said, offering a shy smile. “You’re all so kind. I’m sorry for how I looked last night… the journey through the forest was harder than I expected.”

Mrs. Sato waved her hand. “No apologies needed! Running away from a bad match to be with the man you love? It’s the most romantic thing to happen in this village in years.”

Toji grunted, his thumb slowly stroking your spine. “Wasn’t exactly planned,” he said dryly. “But here we are.”

The women laughed and chattered while you helped serve the food. They asked how you met, how long you’d been secretly courting, and whether you planned to stay in the village. You answered carefully, sticking close to the story. Toji added short, gruff confirmations, never moving far from your side.

Just as the women were gathering their empty baskets to leave, a loud, sharp knock echoed through the shop.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

This knock was different — heavy, authoritative, and impatient.

Toji’s hand tensed on your back. His expression hardened instantly.

Mrs. Sato glanced toward the door, curious. “Are you expecting more visitors already?”

Toji didn’t answer. He moved toward the door, positioning himself so his broad frame blocked most of the view inside. You stayed behind the counter, heart suddenly hammering.

He opened the door.

Two armed men stood outside, wearing the dark crimson and gold colors of Lord Kato’s household. Swords hung at their hips. Their eyes scanned the interior of the shop coldly.

“We’re searching for a missing girl,” the taller guard announced. “Runaway bride. White wedding dress. She fled the lord’s estate last night. Anyone matching that description come through here?”

The air in the shop grew thick. Mrs. Sato and the other two women turned to look at you with wide eyes, then back at the guards.

Toji’s voice was calm but ice-cold. “No one like that here.”

The second guard tried to peer past him. “Mind if we take a look inside?”

You stayed frozen behind the counter, heart hammering. Before Toji could answer, Mrs. Sato stepped forward with the confidence of someone who had gossiped through every scandal the village had ever seen.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she said brightly, waving a hand. “You boys are wasting your time. That right there is Toji Fushiguro — our butcher for the last fifteen years. We’ve known him since he was a surly teenager dragging whole pigs through these doors!”

Mira immediately jumped in, nodding eagerly. “And he has a wife! They’ve been happily married for two whole years now. We were at their quiet little wedding ourselves. Very romantic.”

Hana clapped her hands together dramatically. “Yes! They’re the sweetest couple. Toji can barely keep his hands off her even when he’s covered in blood. Always canoodling right outside the shop like they’re still courting!”

Mrs. Sato leaned toward the guards like she was sharing precious village lore. “Honestly, if some runaway noble girl in a fancy white dress had shown up here last night, the entire village would’ve known before sunrise. This dear girl has been living above the shop for ages. Helps Toji with the accounts and everything. She’s no fugitive — she’s the butcher’s wife, plain and simple.”

Toji finally moved. He reached back with one thick arm, caught you around the waist, and pulled you forward against his side in one smooth motion. His grip was firm and possessive, his large hand resting heavily on your hip as he held you close.

The guards blinked, clearly thrown by the united front.

The taller one squinted at you. “But the missing girl was wearing a white wedding dress…”

Mira let out a theatrical laugh. “Plenty of white dresses in the world! Our girl here has been wearing plain village clothes for years. Look at her — does she look like some pampered noble who ran away last night?”

Hana nodded vigorously. “Exactly! She even makes the best meat pies in the village. We’d know if she was some lord’s bride.”

The two guards exchanged uncertain glances. Between Toji’s intimidating size, the three women’s absolute certainty, and the perfectly domestic scene in front of them, their suspicion melted away.

The shorter guard cleared his throat. “Seems like a false lead, then. Sorry to bother you folks.”

The taller one gave a reluctant nod. “Apologies for the intrusion. If you hear anything about a girl in a white dress, send word to the lord’s estate.”

Mrs. Sato smiled sweetly. “Of course, dears. Safe travels back!”

The guards turned and walked off down the street without another word.

The moment the door clicked shut, Mrs. Sato burst into laughter and fanned herself. “Well! That was more excitement than we usually get before noon.”

Mira winked at you. “Don’t worry, love. We’ve got your back. No one’s taking the butcher’s wife anywhere.”

Hana grinned. “We’ll spread the word. The whole village will keep an eye out.”

Toji gave them a short, gruff nod. “Appreciate it.”

The women gathered their empty baskets, still buzzing, and finally left with more promises of future visits and gifts.

The shop fell quiet again, morning sunlight streaming peacefully through the windows.

Toji slowly turned to face you. His hand was still on your waist, heavy and warm. For a long moment he just studied you, green eyes dark and intense.

“You’re damn lucky those three are the nosiest women alive,” he muttered. “They just sold that story better than we could’ve.”

He stepped closer, backing you gently against the counter. His voice dropped low, rough around the edges.

“So the whole village’s got our back it seems.” His thumb brushed slowly over your hip bone. “This lie keeps growing. Whole village thinks you’re mine now.”

His gaze dropped to your lips for a heartbeat before returning to your eyes.

“So tell me, runaway… how long do you plan on playing my wife? And how far are you willing to go to make everyone believe it?”

You swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close he was. The counter pressed into your lower back, and Toji’s broad body blocked out most of the morning light. His hand remained heavy on your hip, thumb still tracing slow, absent circles that made your skin prickle beneath the thin blouse.

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think past getting away from Lord Kato. I just wanted to survive the night.”

Toji hummed, low and thoughtful. He tilted his head slightly, studying your face like he was trying to decide whether you were worth the growing headache you’d brought him.

“Surviving isn’t enough anymore,” he said. “Not after this morning. Those guards will report back. When they don’t find you, Kato will send more men. Maybe even come himself.” His fingers flexed on your hip. “And the whole village now believes you’re mine. If the story breaks, they’ll look like fools. They won’t forgive that easily.”

You met his eyes, heart thudding. “Then what do we do?”

For a moment he didn’t answer. Instead he reached up with his free hand and brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the gesture surprisingly gentle for someone so rough-looking. His calloused fingertips lingered against the side of your neck.

“We lean into it,” he finally said. “Hard. You stay. You act like my wife in public — every smile, every touch, every time someone knocks on that door. No slipping up. No running off when it gets hard.”

He leaned in a fraction closer, voice dropping. “And in private… we figure out the real terms.”

Your breath caught. “Real terms?”

Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, dangerous half-smirk. “You cost me peace and quiet, runaway. You cost me the simple life where nobody bothered me. So you’re going to start paying me back.”

He didn’t elaborate, but the heat in his green eyes made it very clear what kind of payment he had in mind.

“I won’t force you,” he continued, surprising you. “Door’s right there. You can still walk out and take your chances on the road. But if you stay…” His hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. “Then you’re mine until this blows over. Or longer. Depends how good you are at pretending.”

The solid wall of his chest pressed against you, warm and unyielding. You could smell faint traces of smoke, soap, and the metallic hint of blood that never quite left him. Your hands came up instinctively, resting lightly on his abdomen.

“I’m not pretending right now,” you whispered.

Toji’s eyes darkened. For a second you thought he might kiss you — really kiss you — but he held back, letting the tension stretch until it was almost unbearable.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because the village expects a devoted wife. They’ll be watching. Bringing food. Asking questions. Asking when we’re going to have little butchers running around.”

Your face burned. Toji chuckled, deep and rough, clearly enjoying your reaction.

“Don’t worry. We’ll give them a good show.” He finally stepped back, giving you room to breathe again, though his hand lingered on your waist a moment longer. “For now, help me open the shop. Act natural. If anyone else comes asking, you know what to say.”

You nodded, still flushed.

As he turned to start his morning routine — sharpening knives, hanging fresh cuts, preparing the counter — you moved to help where you could. Every time you passed near him, his hand would brush your lower back or arm — small, deliberate touches that looked casual to anyone watching but felt heavy with intent.

By midday, a few villagers had already stopped by “just to say hello” and congratulate the newlyweds. Each time, Toji played his part perfectly — gruff, possessive, pulling you close with an ease that made the performance feel dangerously real.

An older man dropped off a small basket of eggs and clapped Toji on the back. “Didn’t think I’d live to see you settle down, Fushiguro. She must be something special.”

Toji’s arm tightened around your waist as he gave a low grunt. “She is.” His fingers flexed against your side, warm through the fabric of your blouse. You leaned into him instinctively, playing along, and felt the solid wall of muscle beneath his tunic.

A young mother came next with her toddler in tow, offering a jar of preserved berries. She smiled at you brightly. “You two look so good together. How long have you been hiding her from us, Toji?”

“Long enough,” he answered, voice rough but carrying a hint of smugness. He pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the top of your head right in front of her. The casual affection made your stomach flutter.

By early afternoon the steady trickle of visitors finally slowed. Toji flipped the shop sign to “Closed for the Day” and locked the front door with a heavy click. The sudden silence felt louder than all the chatter combined.

You let out a shaky breath and leaned against the counter, arms wrapped around yourself. “They really believe it. All of them.”

Toji wiped his hands on a rag, watching you from across the room. He tossed the rag aside and stalked toward you, slow and deliberate.

Gods, he was huge.

Up close like this, in the quiet afternoon light, the sheer size of him hit you all over again. Broad shoulders that seemed to stretch the fabric of his black tunic, thick arms corded with muscle from years of hauling heavy carcasses, a powerful chest that rose and fell steadily. The jagged scar at the corner of his mouth only made him more striking — dangerous, rough, and strangely, undeniably attractive. Those sharp green eyes pinned you in place, intimidating as ever, yet there was something magnetic about the way he moved. Like a predator who knew exactly how much power he held and chose not to use it… yet.

He stopped right in front of you, so close you had to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. One large hand came up to cup your chin, thumb brushing along your jaw.

“You’re handling this better than I expected,” he said quietly.

You felt your pulse quicken under his touch. “I feel like I’m going to faint every time someone looks at me.”

His thumb stroked slowly over your skin. “You’re not fainting. You’re standing here in my shop, wearing my clothes, letting me touch you like you belong to me.” His voice dropped lower. “Looks pretty convincing from where I’m standing.”

The air between you thickened. You could smell the faint mix of blood, woodsmoke, and clean sweat that clung to him. His sheer physical presence was overwhelming — the heat rolling off his massive frame, the way his broad chest nearly brushed against you with every breath.

“What happens when the guards come back?” you asked, voice softer than you intended.

Toji’s expression darkened. “Then we give them the same show. Or I handle it my way.” His hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, fingers threading gently into your hair. “But right now? Shop’s closed. No more visitors. No more pretending for a little while.”

He didn’t move away. Neither did you.

Instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, exhaustion and adrenaline twisting into something warmer, heavier. Your hands rose to rest on his chest, feeling the hard, solid muscle beneath your palms.

“Toji…” you started, unsure what you even wanted to say.

He cut you off with a low sound. “Careful. You keep saying my name like that and I might start believing this marriage is real myself.”

His grip on the back of your neck tightened just slightly — not painful, but enough to remind you how easily he could pull you in. His green eyes dropped to your mouth, lingering this time, dark with hunger.

“You still haven’t answered my question from earlier,” he murmured. “How far are you willing to go, runaway?”

The shop was quiet except for the distant sounds of village life outside. No one was watching now. It was just the two of you, the weight of the lie, and the growing, electric heat between you.

You wet your lips, heart racing.

“I’m still here,” you whispered. “That should tell you something.”

Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, hungry smirk.

“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “It does.”

The silence that followed felt heavier than before. The shop was quiet now, the afternoon light cutting sharp lines across the wooden floor and the rows of knives hanging on the wall. Toji didn’t step back. He stayed right there, towering over you, one hand still gripping the back of your neck while the other rested heavy on your hip.

He really was massive up close.

Broad shoulders that strained his tunic, thick arms veined and scarred from years of brutal work, a chest so solid it looked like it could take a hit from a horse and keep going. The scar at the corner of his mouth gave his face a permanent edge, dangerous and rough. Yet there was something about the way he looked at you — intense green eyes, half-lidded, focused — that made your stomach tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

Toji noticed you staring.

“Eyes up here,” he muttered, but the corner of his scarred mouth twitched like he was amused. “You keep looking at me like that and I’m gonna get the wrong idea.”

You swallowed. “I’ve never been this close to someone like you.”

“Someone like me,” he repeated, almost mocking. He leaned in a little more, voice dropping low. “Big, ugly butcher covered in blood half the time?”

You shook your head. “Not ugly.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them. Toji paused, eyes narrowing slightly like he was trying to decide if you were lying. Then he let out a short, rough breath.

His thumb brushed slowly along the side of your neck, calloused and warm. You could feel the strength in his hand, how easily he could tighten his grip if he wanted. The contrast between that raw power and the way he was holding back made the air feel thick.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said quietly. His gaze dropped to your mouth for a second before flicking back up. “I’m not a patient man, runaway. And I’m definitely not a gentle one.”

Your hands were still pressed against his chest. Under your palms, his muscles were firm and warm, shifting slightly with each breath. You didn’t pull away.

“I know,” you whispered.

Toji’s jaw flexed. For a moment his control looked strained — shoulders tense, fingers pressing harder into your skin. He leaned down until his face was inches from yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath.

“If you stay,” he said, voice low and deliberate, “this stops being fake whenever I say it does. Behind this door, you won’t be playing a role. You’ll be in my bed. Under me. Taking what I give you.” His thumb dragged across your lower lip. “And you’ll moan my name like you mean it.”

Your breath caught.

Toji held your gaze for another long second, then slowly released you. He stepped back, rolling one shoulder like he needed to shake off the tension. The sudden space felt colder than it should have.

“But not right now,” he added gruffly. “You’re still half-dead on your feet and I’ve got work to finish before the meat spoils.”

He turned toward the back counter and picked up his sharpening stone. The steady scrape of metal filled the shop as he worked on one of his larger knives. You stayed by the front counter, watching the way his back and arms moved — powerful, efficient, every motion reminding you exactly what kind of man had just offered to claim you.

Every so often he glanced over at you, eyes dark and unreadable.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. It was charged. Heavy with everything neither of you was saying out loud.

After a while, Toji spoke without looking up from his work.

“You hungry?”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden normal question. “A little.”

He jerked his head toward the stairs. “There’s leftover stew from this morning in the pot upstairs. Heat it up if you want. Or stay down here. Doesn’t matter to me.”

You hesitated, then moved to help him organize the counter instead. Every time you passed close by, his arm would brush yours — deliberate, not accidental. Small reminders that the tension hadn’t gone anywhere.

The afternoon stretched on like that. Quiet work. Occasional glances. The weight of his presence never really leaving you.

By the time the sun had fully set and the village outside grew dark and quiet, the tension between you had only thickened. Lanterns flickered in distant windows, but inside the butcher shop everything felt hushed and intimate.

Toji locked the front door with a heavy click and killed most of the lanterns, leaving only a single low one burning near the stairs. The warm glow followed you both upstairs, casting long shadows across the wooden beams.

He grabbed a spare blanket from the chest and headed for the worn couch against the far wall without a word. The piece of furniture looked comically small beneath his massive frame as he tossed the blanket over it. Then he reached back and pulled his tunic off in one smooth motion.

Your mouth went dry.

Firelight danced over his bare back and shoulders — thick slabs of muscle shifting under scarred skin, powerful arms flexing as he folded the tunic. His waist tapered into a sharp V, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. Every inch of him looked hard, battle-worn, and undeniably masculine. The sight made something low in your belly tighten.

You stood frozen in the bedroom doorway.

“Wait,” you said, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Toji glanced over his shoulder, one dark brow raised. The movement made the muscles in his chest and abdomen flex visibly.

You twisted your fingers in the hem of your blouse, cheeks already burning.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” you offered shyly. “The bed is… big enough for both of us. I don’t mind sharing.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Toji slowly turned around to face you fully. The low firelight carved deep shadows across his torso, highlighting every ridge of muscle, every old scar, the faint trail of dark hair disappearing into his trousers. He looked even bigger like this — raw power barely contained, green eyes locked on you with dangerous intensity.

He took one slow step closer, then another.

“Careful what you offer me, runaway,” he said, voice low and gravel-rough. “I’m not the type to hold back.”

You swallowed hard but didn’t back away.

“I just… it doesn’t feel right making you sleep on that tiny thing after everything,” you murmured, eyes flicking involuntarily down his bare chest before snapping back up. “We’re supposed to be married. At least to everyone else.”

Toji stopped just inches away from you. The heat radiating from his body wrapped around you like a cloak. You could smell him — smoke, clean sweat, and that faint metallic trace that always clung to his skin. His sheer size made you feel small and fragile in comparison.

He tilted his head, studying you like prey.

“You offering to share my bed isn’t about being polite,” he murmured. “If I get in that bed with you, I’m not staying on my side. I’ll pull you against me. I’ll have my hands all over that soft little body. And if you keep looking at me with those wide, needy eyes…”

He leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“I won’t be able to stop myself from spreading those pretty thighs and finding out exactly how wet pretending to be my wife has made you.”

Your breath hitched sharply. Heat flooded your face and pooled between your legs. You pressed your thighs together instinctively, but Toji noticed — of course he did. A dark, satisfied sound rumbled in his chest.

He pulled back just enough to look at your face again, eyes heavy-lidded and hungry.

“I’m not gentle,” he continued, voice dropping even lower. “I fuck hard. I take what I want. And right now, I want to ruin that shy little runaway who dropped to her knees at my door and turned my whole life upside down.”

His hand came up, knuckles lightly dragging down the side of your neck, over your racing pulse, then lower until they brushed the neckline of your blouse. Not quite touching skin, but close enough to make you shiver.

“So think very carefully before you offer again,” he warned. “Because once I’m in that bed, the only pretending left will be how long you can keep quiet while I’m buried inside you.”

The air felt too thick to breathe.

Toji’s scarred mouth curved into a slow, predatory smirk as he watched the effect his words had on you.

“Still want to share a bed with me… wife?”

Toji’s words hung heavy in the air.

You didn’t answer with words.

You looked up at him, heart hammering so hard you could feel it in your throat, and gave a small, shy nod.

That was all it took.

Toji’s control snapped. A low, almost feral sound rumbled in his chest as he moved. In one fluid motion he scooped you up, one thick arm under your knees and the other around your back, lifting you like you weighed nothing. Your breath caught at how easily he carried you — his biceps flexing hard against your body, the heat of his bare chest pressing into your side.

He carried you the few steps to the bed and laid you down on your back with surprising care, but the look in his eyes was anything but gentle. The mattress dipped deeply under his weight as he climbed over you, caging you in completely with his massive frame. His broad shoulders blocked out most of the firelight, leaving you in shadow beneath him.

“You a virgin?” he asked, voice low and rough, green eyes searching yours like he was looking for any hesitation.

You nodded again, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Fuck,” he breathed, the word almost reverent. His gaze darkened as it dragged slowly down your body. “Gonna have to take my time with you then. Can’t wreck this tight little virgin cunt on the first thrust.”

He kissed you deeply, tongue claiming your mouth in slow, filthy strokes while his rough hands explored every inch of you. He took his time peeling your clothes off — first tugging your blouse over your head, then sliding your skirt down your legs, and finally hooking his fingers into your soaked panties and dragging them off. When you were completely naked beneath him, he sat back on his heels and just stared, drinking in every inch of your exposed body like a man who’d been starving for weeks.

“So fucking small,” he muttered, almost to himself. His large hands ran up your thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin on the inside, then spread your legs wide open. “Look at this pretty virgin pussy… already glistening and I’ve barely touched you.”

The cool air hit your wet folds and you shivered. Toji’s eyes were locked between your legs, dark and hungry, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

He lowered himself between your spread thighs like a man on a mission. The first slow, hot drag of his tongue from your entrance all the way up to your clit made your entire body jolt. Toji groaned deeply at your taste, the sound vibrating straight through you.

“Sweet as hell,” he rasped, voice thick with lust. “Could eat this pussy for hours.”

Then he devoured you.

His tongue worked in slow, broad strokes, licking every inch of your soaked folds before focusing on your swollen clit. He sucked the sensitive bud into his hot mouth, flicking it rapidly with the tip of his tongue while two thick fingers teased your entrance, circling and pressing but not pushing in yet. When you started whimpering and rolling your hips, he finally pushed one thick finger inside you — careful, but relentless.

“So goddamn tight,” he growled against your pussy, the vibration making your toes curl. “This little hole is gonna fight my cock the whole way in.”

He curled his finger slowly, searching, until he found that spongy spot that made your back arch. He rubbed it firmly while sucking harder on your clit. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth and fingers filled the quiet bedroom — slick, filthy, and loud. Your thighs started trembling around his head as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your belly.

“Toji— oh gods—”

He didn’t let up. He ate you out like he was starving for it — messy, hungry, and completely focused on pulling every sound out of you. He added a second finger, stretching you open carefully, scissoring them while his tongue flicked fast and firm over your clit. The pressure built unbearably fast.

Your orgasm crashed over you without warning. Your back arched clean off the bed as you came hard on his face with a broken, sobbing cry of his name. Your walls clamped down around his fingers, pulsing wildly.

Toji licked you through every wave, slow and thorough, drawing out every last tremor until you were twitching and oversensitive, whimpering softly. Only then did he pull back. His chin and lips were shiny with your slick. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes dark and satisfied as he looked up at your flushed, panting face.

Then he shoved his trousers down.

His cock sprang free — thick, heavy, veined, and longer than anything you’d ever imagined. The flushed head was already leaking steadily.

“See this?” he said, stroking himself slowly. “This is gonna stretch you wide open, baby. But I’ll make it fit.”

He climbed back over you, pushing your legs up and folding your knees toward your chest. The position left you completely exposed. He rubbed the fat head of his cock up and down your drenched folds, coating himself in your wetness, teasing your clit with every pass.

“Deep breaths,” he warned. “Gonna go slow.”

He pushed in.

The stretch was intense. You gasped sharply, a high-pitched whimper escaping you as just the thick head popped inside. “Ah—! Toji… it’s so big…”

Toji groaned, jaw clenched tight as he fought the urge to slam forward. “Fuck— so tight,” he hissed. “Relax for me, baby. Let me in.”

You whimpered softly, fingers clutching at his shoulders. “It burns… but— ah— don’t stop…”

He worked himself in inch by slow, careful inch. Every time you tensed, he stopped, leaning down to kiss your neck or suck on your tits until you loosened again. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the restraint.

Halfway in, you let out a shaky moan, eyes fluttering. “Oh gods… I can feel you so deep already…”

Toji looked down at the bulge already forming in your lower belly. “Shit… look at that,” he groaned, pressing a big hand over the swell. “My cock’s barely halfway and I can already see it inside you.”

When he finally bottomed out, hips flush against your ass, you felt so full you could barely breathe. A broken whimper left your lips. “T-Toji… you’re all the way in… I feel so full…”

Toji stayed still, buried to the hilt, letting you adjust while he kissed you slow and deep. “Good girl,” he praised, voice strained. “Taking every inch of my cock on your first time. Such a perfect little wife.”

When your whimpers turned into soft, needy moans, he started moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips at first. The wet drag of his thick cock against your walls made you cry out.

“Feel that?” he growled. “Feel how deep I am? Gonna breed this cunt so full tonight.”

“Ah—! Yes… I feel it,” you moaned, voice trembling. “It’s so deep… Toji—!”

His pace gradually picked up. The bed started creaking rhythmically as he fucked you harder, deeper. Your tits bounced with every thrust. You couldn’t stop the desperate sounds spilling from your mouth.

“Gonna fill you up,” he panted. “Pump this tight womb full of my cum until it takes. Want you walking around the village with my kid growing inside you. Everyone’s gonna know exactly who fucked you first.”

The filthy words sent you spiraling. “Please— Toji— I’m gonna—!” You came hard around his cock, walls fluttering and squeezing him like a vice as you screamed his name, “Toji—! Ahh—!”

Toji snarled and fucked you through it, pace turning brutal. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed loudly.

“Fuck— gonna cum,” he groaned. “Gonna breed you— take it all—”

You whimpered and moaned beneath him, voice hoarse, “Cum inside me… please— fill me up—!”

He slammed in deep one final time and came with a long, guttural moan. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your pussy, pulse after heavy pulse. There was so much it leaked out around his cock despite how tightly you were stretched around him. Toji kept grinding deep, pushing every drop into your womb, hand pressing down on the bulge in your belly like he wanted to keep it all inside you.

You let out a soft, overwhelmed whimper at the feeling of being so full of him.

He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, chest heaving against yours, both of you slick with sweat.

Then he leaned down, kissed you slow and possessive, and murmured against your lips:

“This cunt belongs to me.”

Toji stayed inside you for a while longer, gently grinding and kissing your neck, before he finally pulled out with a low groan. A thick trickle of his cum leaked from your abused hole onto the sheets. He looked down at the mess with dark satisfaction, then rolled onto his back and pulled you against his chest.

“Rest now,” he said quietly, voice rough but surprisingly gentle as he wrapped a heavy arm around you. “You’ve had a long day, runaway. Close your eyes.”

He pressed one last kiss to the top of your head, his large hand resting possessively on your lower belly.

“Go to sleep.”

-

You woke up to warmth.

A heavy, solid arm was draped across your waist, pinning you to a broad chest. Toji’s body was curled around yours from behind, one thick thigh wedged between your legs. His breathing was slow and deep, but the moment you shifted even slightly, his grip tightened possessively.

The room was still dim, early morning light just beginning to creep through the small window. Your body ached — a deep, satisfying soreness between your thighs, faint bruises on your hips from his fingers, and the unmistakable sticky warmth of his cum still leaking out of you.

You tried to move again, but Toji’s low, sleepy growl stopped you.

“Stay,” he muttered against the back of your neck, voice rough with sleep. His hand slid down to cup your lower belly, pressing lightly. “Not done holding you yet.”

Heat rushed to your face. You stayed still, letting him pull you tighter against him. His cock — already half-hard again — rested heavy against your ass.

After a few quiet minutes, Toji sighed and finally loosened his grip. He rolled you onto your back so he could look down at you. His hair was messy, eyes still heavy-lidded, but the smirk on his scarred mouth was fully awake.

“Morning,” he said, voice gravelly. His hand stayed on your stomach, thumb stroking slow circles. “How’re you feeling?”

You shifted, wincing a little at the soreness. “Full… and sore,” you admitted softly.

Toji’s smirk widened into something darker, more satisfied. He leaned down and kissed you — slow and lazy at first, then deeper, tongue sliding against yours. When he pulled back, he dragged his hand lower, fingers brushing through the mess between your thighs.

“Still leaking my cum,” he murmured, almost proud. “Good.”

He pushed two thick fingers back inside you, slow and careful, fucking his dried cum deeper. You whimpered, hips twitching.

“Toji—”

“Shh,” he soothed, kissing your temple. “Not fucking you again right now. You’re too sore.” He kept his fingers inside you anyway, lazy and possessive. “Just keeping you full.”

You stayed like that for a while — his fingers buried inside you, his mouth brushing lazy kisses along your neck and shoulder. The morning was quiet except for the occasional creak of the bed and your soft sounds.

Eventually he pulled his fingers out, brought them to his mouth, and licked them clean while watching your face.

“Breakfast,” he said simply. “Then we open the shop.”

He got up first, completely naked and shameless. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring at the powerful lines of his back, the flex of his ass and thighs as he moved. He caught you looking and chuckled.

“Keep staring like that and I will bend you over the table downstairs,” he warned.

You quickly looked away, cheeks burning.

He tossed you one of his clean shirts and a fresh skirt. While you dressed, he pulled on his usual trousers and tank top, tying his blood-stained apron around his waist.

Before you left the bedroom, he caught your wrist and pulled you close one more time. His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip.

“Last night wasn’t pretend,” he said quietly, eyes serious. “Not for me. You’re mine. Understand?”

You swallowed and whispered, “I understand.”

He kissed you again — hard, claiming — then rested his forehead against yours for a second.

“Good.”

He led you downstairs, his hand firm on your lower back the entire way.

The village was waking up outside. And for the first time since you’d run away, you didn’t feel like running anymore.

Toji unlocked the front door and flipped the sign while you tied on a clean apron. The morning air carried the smell of fresh bread from Mrs. Sato’s bakery and the distant clang of the blacksmith’s hammer. A few early customers began drifting toward the shop.

The first hour passed in a surprisingly calm rhythm. You helped weigh portions, wrap cuts of meat in clean paper, and hand them over with a shy smile. Toji stayed close the whole time — sometimes reaching past you for a knife, sometimes resting a hand on your waist as he moved behind you. Every touch felt deliberate, like he was marking his territory even when no one was watching.

Then the bell above the door rang again.

A tall, sun-tanned man with kind eyes and an easy, friendly smile stepped inside. He looked to be in his late twenties, with the strong build of someone who spent his days working the fields. He greeted Toji with a familiar nod.

“Morning, Fushiguro. The usual shoulder cut, please.” His gaze shifted to you behind the counter and softened with genuine interest. “You must be the new wife everyone’s been talking about. I’m Haru. I run the big farm past the mill.”

You returned his smile politely. “Nice to meet you, Haru.”

He watched as you carefully wrapped his order, your hands still a little clumsy with the butcher paper. “It’s good to see a new face around here,” he said warmly. “You seem really kind. Gentle. The kind of person who makes a place feel brighter just by being in it.” He rubbed the back of his neck, almost shyly. “If you ever need anything — extra vegetables from the farm, help carrying something heavy, or just someone to talk to when things get quiet — my door’s always open. Wouldn’t want you feeling lonely so soon after moving in.”

You tilted your head, completely oblivious to any hidden meaning, and gave him a grateful smile. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Before you could say anything else, the air behind you changed.

Toji’s large hand settled heavily on your hip, fingers digging in with clear possession as he pulled you back firmly against his chest. His other arm slid around your waist, locking you in place.

“She won’t be needing anything,” Toji said, his voice low and dangerously even. “I take care of my wife.”

Haru blinked, the friendly smile faltering as he finally registered the tension rolling off the butcher. “Of course. I was just… being neighborly.”

Toji’s grip on your hip tightened. “Neighborly is saying hello. The rest sounded like something else.”

The silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. Haru swallowed hard, quickly paid for his meat, and muttered a polite goodbye before leaving without another word. The door swung shut behind him with a soft jingle.

The second he was gone, Toji spun you around and backed you against the counter. His green eyes were dark, jaw clenched tight with barely-contained jealousy. One big hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb pressing lightly against your bottom lip.

“You really didn’t notice?” he muttered, voice rough.

You shook your head, genuinely confused. “He was just being nice…”

Toji let out a short, irritated breath and leaned in closer, forehead almost touching yours. “He wasn’t just being nice. He was testing the waters. Seeing if my wife might be open to something else. Offering you a soft place to land if you ever got tired of me.”

His other hand slid under your skirt, fingers brushing between your thighs and finding you still slick from the night before. You gasped softly as he pushed two thick fingers inside you without warning, curling them slowly.

“Toji—”

“Mine,” he growled quietly against your ear, pumping his fingers in a lazy rhythm. “This pussy is mine. You are mine. I don’t want you smiling so sweetly at other men. Understand?”

You whimpered, clutching his shoulders as pleasure sparked through your still-sensitive body. “I understand…”

He kissed you then — hard, possessive, and hungry — while his fingers continued their slow, deliberate strokes. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were still dark with jealousy.

“Next time someone talks to you like that,” he said, voice low, “you let me handle it.”

He reluctantly withdrew his fingers, straightened your skirt, and stepped back like nothing had happened. But the tension in his shoulders and the dark look in his eyes remained.

“Back to work,” he said gruffly, still clearly worked up.

You nodded, legs shaky, heart racing, and turned back to the counter.

The rest of the morning passed with Toji staying even closer than before — a constant, heavy, possessive presence at your side. Every time another customer entered, his hand found your waist or lower back, silently reminding everyone (and you) exactly who you belonged to.

The rest of the morning dragged on with the same heavy tension.

Every time a male customer stepped through the door, Toji’s demeanor shifted. His hand would find your waist, your hip, or the small of your back — a silent, unmistakable claim. He answered questions in short, clipped tones and watched the men with sharp, warning eyes. You tried to focus on wrapping orders and smiling politely, but the constant possessiveness was becoming impossible to ignore.

By early afternoon, when the shop finally quieted again, you couldn’t hold it in anymore.

You turned to him while he was wiping down the counter.

“Toji,” you said softly, “you’re being too much.”

He paused, setting the rag down slowly. When he looked at you, his green eyes had gone dark.

“Too much?” he repeated, voice low and deceptively calm.

You swallowed but stood your ground. “Yes. The constant touching, the glaring at every man who even looks at me... They’re just customers.”

Toji stared at you for a long, heavy beat. Then he slowly walked around the counter, backing you up until your hips hit the edge. He caged you in with his massive frame, one hand braced beside you on the wood, the other coming up to grip your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You think I’m being too possessive?” he murmured, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “Tell me something, wife… What kind of husband would I be if I let other men think they can have access to what’s mine?”

His voice was rough, low, and dangerous. “If I smiled and stepped aside while they flirted with you? While they offered you help and soft words like they had any right to you?”

He leaned in closer, breath hot against your ear. “I’d be a fucking joke. A weak man who doesn’t know how to protect what belongs to him. And I’m not weak.”

His free hand slid under your skirt without warning, fingers pushing between your thighs. You were bare underneath. The moment his calloused fingertips brushed your folds, he groaned softly — low and rough — when he found you already wet again.

“Already soaked,” he muttered, voice thick with satisfaction. “Complaining about me being too possessive, but your pussy is dripping the second I touch you.”

“Toji—” you whimpered, hips twitching as two thick fingers pushed inside you in one smooth motion. The stretch made you gasp, your walls still tender and sensitive from the night before.

He curled his fingers slowly, deliberately, stroking that spongy spot deep inside you while his thumb found your swollen clit and rubbed tight, firm circles. His mouth latched onto your neck, sucking hard enough to leave another mark, teeth grazing your skin as he worked you open.

You moaned, loud and broken, clutching desperately at his broad shoulders. Your legs trembled around his wrist as pleasure sparked hot and fast through your body.

“You can tell me I’m too much,” he growled against your throat, biting down lightly before soothing the sting with his tongue. “But we both know the truth. You like it when I act like this. You like knowing no one else can touch you. You like being mine.”

His fingers pumped faster, curling with every thrust, the wet, obscene sounds of your arousal filling the quiet shop. Your hips rolled against his hand instinctively, chasing the pleasure even as your thighs shook.

“Ah— Toji… please—” you moaned, voice cracking. Your head fell back, exposing more of your neck to him. He took full advantage, sucking and biting along your skin while his fingers drove deeper, faster.

You were right there — teetering on the edge, muscles tightening around his thick fingers — when he suddenly pulled his hand away completely.

You let out a desperate, needy whine, hips chasing his fingers uselessly. Your core throbbed, aching and empty.

“Toji…!” you whimpered, voice hoarse and frustrated, eyes glassy with unshed tears of need. “Please— I was so close…”

Toji smirked, dark and satisfied, eyes gleaming with lust as he watched you squirm. He brought his glistening fingers up between you, holding them in front of your face so you could see how wet they were — coated in your slick right up to his knuckles.

“Open,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.

You obeyed instantly, parting your lips. He pushed his fingers into your mouth, letting you taste yourself as you sucked them clean, tongue swirling around them obediently. His green eyes darkened further, pupils blown wide as he watched you.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice rough with arousal. “Look at you… so fucking eager. Whining because I stopped, sucking my fingers like you’d do anything for my cock right now.”

He pulled his fingers free with a wet pop and leaned in, kissing you deeply, tasting you on your own tongue. When he pulled back, his breath was ragged.

“You can complain about me being possessive all you want,” he said, voice dark and low, “but your body doesn’t lie. This pussy knows exactly who it belongs to.”

He suddenly lifted you onto the counter with ease, as if you weighed nothing. The wood was cool against the backs of your thighs as he shoved your skirt all the way up to your waist in one rough motion, baring your dripping pussy completely. He stepped between your spread thighs, his broad body forcing your legs wider apart until your knees were nearly touching your shoulders.

His hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise, fingers digging deep into your soft flesh with unmistakable ownership. With his other hand, he freed his cock — thick, heavy, and already throbbing. The veined shaft glistened as he stroked himself once, slowly, eyes locked on your exposed, glistening cunt.

“Since you think I’m too possessive,” he said, voice rough and dangerous, “I’m going to remind you exactly why I am.”

He rubbed the fat, leaking head of his cock up and down your soaked folds, coating every thick inch in your slick. He teased your swollen clit with every slow pass, tapping it lightly until your hips jerked and you let out a needy whimper.

“Toji… please—”

Without another word, he pushed in with one deep, powerful thrust.

You cried out sharply, back arching hard off the counter as the thick head forced its way inside, stretching you wide open. The sudden, overwhelming fullness stole your breath. Toji groaned deeply, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke, his hips flush against your ass.

“Fuck… still so tight,” he growled, voice strained with pleasure. “Even after I filled you last night. This greedy little cunt keeps sucking me in like it doesn’t want to let go.”

He didn’t give you any time to adjust. He started fucking you hard and deep, the heavy wooden counter creaking loudly under the force of every brutal thrust. Your moans echoed shamelessly through the empty shop as he claimed you right there in the middle of the day.

“Mine,” he snarled against your neck, biting down hard enough to leave another dark mark. “Say it.”

“I’m yours— ah— Toji—!” you moaned, voice breaking as your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, heels digging into his lower back.

He fucked you even harder, hips snapping forward with powerful, punishing strokes. The wet slap of skin against skin filled the room, loud and filthy. One of his big hands reached between your bodies, his thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing fast, tight circles.

“That’s right,” he panted, breath hot against your ear. “My wife. My pussy. No one else gets to look at you the way I do. No one else gets to touch you. No one else even gets to fucking think about you.”

Your moans grew louder and more desperate, your walls fluttering around his thick cock with every deep thrust. The counter shook beneath you. Your tits bounced wildly inside your blouse with the force of his movements.

He suddenly leaned back slightly, gripping your thighs and spreading you even wider as he drove into you. The new angle made him hit even deeper, the bulge in your lower belly becoming visible with every thrust.

“Look at that,” he groaned, eyes fixed on the spot where his cock disappeared inside you. “You’re taking me so fucking deep. This tight cunt was made for my cock.”

You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside you. “Toji—! It’s too deep— ahh—!”

“You can take it,” he growled, fucking you harder. “You’re going to take everything I give you.”

Your orgasm crashed over you without warning — fast, violent, and overwhelming. Your walls clenched hard around his cock, fluttering and squeezing as waves of intense pleasure tore through your body. You screamed his name, thighs shaking violently around his waist.

Toji snarled like a beast, his rhythm turning erratic and savage as he fucked you through your climax. He kept pounding into you, chasing his own release, hips slamming against yours with wet, filthy sounds.

But he didn’t cum.

Instead, he suddenly slowed his thrusts, grinding deep and slow, keeping you right on the edge of overstimulation. His breathing was ragged, sweat glistening on his chest and neck.

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a messy, possessive kiss while still buried deep inside you.

“You’re not done yet,” he murmured against your lips, voice dark and full of promise. “We’re nowhere near finished.”

Before you could catch your breath, Toji pulled out of you with a wet, obscene sound. You whimpered at the sudden emptiness, your pussy clenching around nothing, already missing the thick stretch of him. But he didn’t give you any time to protest.

In one swift, powerful motion, he flipped you over onto your stomach across the counter. Your chest pressed against the cool, smooth surface, your cheek resting on the wood as he yanked your hips back and up, forcing your ass high in the air. Your skirt was still bunched uselessly around your waist, leaving you completely exposed — bent over like a whore in the middle of his shop.

Toji kicked your legs wider apart with his foot, then pressed one large hand firmly between your shoulder blades, pinning you down hard against the counter.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growled, voice thick with raw lust. “Bent over my counter like a proper little wife. Ass up, pussy dripping for me.”

He spread your ass cheeks wide with both hands, exposing your swollen, abused pussy completely. Without any warning, he spat directly onto your folds — a thick, warm glob of saliva landing right on your clit and dripping down. You gasped sharply at the filthy sensation, your hips twitching.

Toji groaned at the sight and used two thick fingers to rub his spit into your pussy, mixing it with your own slick, pushing it inside you. Then he brought his palm down hard on your ass with a loud, resounding smack.

The sharp sting bloomed hot across your skin. You cried out, jolting forward on the counter.

“Stay still,” he ordered, voice rough. He smacked the other cheek even harder, watching the way your flesh jiggled and turned pink under his hand. “This ass is mine too. Every fucking inch of you is mine.”

You moaned helplessly, pushing back against him despite the sting. Toji lined up the thick head of his cock again and thrust back inside you in one brutal, deep stroke.

The new angle made him feel impossibly bigger, reaching even deeper. You moaned loudly, fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth wooden counter as he immediately started fucking you hard and fast.

The counter creaked loudly under the force of his powerful thrusts. Each snap of his hips drove his thick cock impossibly deep, the wet slap of skin against skin echoing through the empty shop. Toji’s hands gripped your hips in a bruising hold, pulling you back onto his cock with every stroke like he was using you.

“Fuck— this pussy feels even better like this,” he groaned, voice rough and strained. He smacked your ass again, harder this time, watching the way your flesh rippled red under his palm. “So fucking wet. You like being bent over and used like this, don’t you?”

“Yes— ah— Toji—!” you moaned, cheek pressed against the cool counter, eyes fluttering shut. Every brutal thrust made your breasts press harder into the wood, your sensitive nipples dragging against it.

Toji reached forward and fisted a hand in your hair, pulling your head back slightly as he fucked you even harder. His hips slammed against your ass with wet, filthy sounds. He spat on your pussy again, right where his thick cock was stretching you open, and used his thumb to rub the saliva into your swollen clit.

“Such a messy little wife,” he panted, smacking your ass repeatedly between thrusts — sharp, stinging slaps that made you clench tighter around him. “Dripping all over my counter. Taking my cock so deep like you were made for it. Look at this greedy cunt swallowing every inch.”

Your moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure. The combination of his brutal pace, the stinging heat on your ass, and the filthy words pushed you right to the edge again.

Toji leaned over you, his broad chest pressing against your back, his breath hot and ragged against your ear as he kept pounding into you without mercy.

“Tell me who this pussy belongs to,” he growled, smacking your ass one more time, hard enough to make you yelp.

“You—! It belongs to you— Toji—!” you cried out, voice hoarse and desperate.

He snarled in satisfaction and fucked you even harder, the counter shaking beneath you. His hand slipped between your legs again, rubbing your clit fast and rough.

You came with a broken scream, your walls clamping down hard around his thick cock, thighs shaking violently as intense pleasure tore through you.

Toji groaned loudly as your orgasm triggered his own. He slammed in deep one final time and came hard, flooding your pussy with thick, hot spurts of cum. He kept grinding into you slowly, pushing every drop as deep as possible, his hips pressed tight against your reddened ass.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the shop were your heavy breathing and the faint drip of his cum leaking out of you onto the floor.

Toji stayed buried inside you, leaning over your back and kissing the back of your neck possessively.

“Still think I’m being too possessive?” he murmured against your skin, voice dark and satisfied.

You could only whimper in response, too overwhelmed to form words. Your body was trembling, pressed against the counter, pussy still fluttering weakly around his thick cock. Every small shift made you feel the mess he’d left inside you — warm, sticky, and so full it was leaking down your thighs.

Toji let out a low, rumbling sound of approval. He stayed deep for a long moment, grinding slow and lazy, pushing his cum even deeper as if he couldn’t stand the thought of any of it escaping. His large hand smoothed over the reddened skin of your ass where he’d spanked you, almost soothing now, before giving one last firm squeeze.

“Answer me,” he said quietly, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“…No,” you breathed, voice hoarse and shaky. “I don’t.”

He hummed, clearly pleased. He finally pulled out slowly, watching with dark eyes as a thick trail of his cum dripped from your abused hole onto the floor. The sight made him groan softly.

“Fuck, that’s a pretty sight,” he muttered. He used two fingers to push some of the leaking cum back inside you, then straightened your skirt with surprising care.

Toji helped you stand on shaky legs, turning you to face him. He cupped your jaw with one hand, thumb brushing your flushed cheek as he studied your expression — eyes glassy, lips swollen, hair messy.

“You’re going to feel me for the rest of the day,” he said, voice low. “Every step. Every time you move. I want you thinking about who fucked you over this counter.”

He leaned in and kissed you — slower this time, but still deep and possessive. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a brief second.

“Clean yourself up a little,” he told you, pressing one last kiss to your temple. “We’ve still got half a day left.”

Toji stepped back, tucking himself away and adjusting his apron like nothing had happened, though the dark, satisfied glint in his eyes remained.

You stood there on unsteady legs, heart still racing, feeling the unmistakable warmth of his cum slowly leaking down your inner thighs.

And somehow, you couldn’t find it in yourself to complain.

a/n: aren't the old hags kinda iconic? lmk what you think and if you'd be interested in a part two! likes and reblogs appreciated!!

The first time you’d met the leader of the Zenin clan had been far before he ever had to bear such a title- in fact, he hadn’t even been considered an adequate heir. 

Back then you’d never in a million years have thought that Toji Zenin would be your future husband. 

It was a humid summer at the Zenin Estate.

Almost two decades ago to the day; on a day when even the cicadas seemed to sweat off the trees, echoing their sun-baffled frustrations out into the open air. And the clouds slugged across a blue sky that battered down mercilessly its balmy glare upon the heat-drunken Earth. Upon the type of people that padded their perspired foreheads with embroidered handkerchiefs, tailored hand-made for but one clan.

Just five years old, you’d been running through the Zenin Estate’s hallways in an effort to get away from the heat and your family. Your tiny feet thundering down the polished floors. Your best kimono flapping behind you.

Your clan was always rather close with the Zenin’s - on a business level, if nothing else.

So it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for them to visit Naobito and his council to go over numbers you didn’t understand, and contracts you couldn’t read yet, and shake hands with men that made your stomach lurch in nervousness. But what was out of the ordinary was the fact that you had joined them this time—your private tutoring had been paused for the summer, as most conventional schools would have. And so your father had thought that perhaps bringing you along to one of their meetings would be more fruitful than leaving you alone with the garden and the house staff. 

But the corridors were hot, and even hotter were the meeting halls your father made you bow to elders in: thick and saturated with the sweetness of expensive perfumes and clan deals done well. 

So well, in fact, that no one had noticed when you’d slipped out the mahogany double doors.

You knew you’d get in trouble sooner or later- so you might as well do as much exploring as you could!

You weaved through the expansive compound.

Skipping rocks from atop their garden bridge, feeding the koi with shreds of bread one of the house attendants had handed you, swinging from the conservative branches of gingko trees. There weren’t many flowering trees or bushes, you’d noticed. The garden was green and sterile of any other color. 

Then you’d taken to being fed little morsels of delicacies by the ladies in the kitchens- at least, until one of the Zenin elders had barged in and started barking out orders. You’d escaped immediately - not wanting to get caught just yet - and run out into the sun-scorched corridor outside.

It was there that you’d flung yourself into the nearest open room you’d found.

Its grand sliding doors shuddering shut behind you, you’d cowered into the shadows as the elder’s grumbles walked by outside.

You’d only breathed out a sigh of relief when you were sure that his feet had trundled towards the end of the hallway, making a swift turn on the pathway to the meeting hall. Sitting down on the cool wooden floor, you clutched your knees to your chest. “Thank heav-”

“If you’re gonna make this much noise then at least do it where it’ll disturb those old toads.”

You’d nearly jumped out of your own skin- in fact, you think you just might have.

If the shadows could speak then you’d have said that they sounded oddly young, though the growl in his voice made you think of those types of boys that would graze their knees and then pretend it didn’t hurt. There weren’t many children in your estate outside of you, but sometimes you’d watch over the walls at the neighborhood children from afar—and you found there seemed to be at least one or two of those always. 

He sounded like the rowdiest of the bunch.

And who you’d first thought to be a ghost - perhaps in hindsight you weren’t too far off - turns out actually to be a lone figure in the middle of the dark room. A little boy. 

He was sitting before nothing, he was sitting against nothing. 

He had long shaggy hair that covered his eyes, and a mouth permanently downturned. An irritated red scar shone from one side of it.

A drop of red blood trickled down it and made you wince.

You attempted to take a step closer-

“Didn’t ya hear what I said?” That hoarse voice - much too grown-up for but a mere child your age, perhaps a year or two older - rang out before you’d even let the soles of your feet rest. Echoing. Foreboding. “Get. Out.”

“And who are you to tell me what to do?” And you always did have a habit of questioning elders that you should perhaps not question - at least not according to your etiquette classes. So who was a little child?

He scowled and looked away.

Through the shreds of his death-black bangs, you thought you saw a glimpse of green eyes, so much like the gardens of the Zenin Estate. And you can’t help but step closer—“Who are you, anyway? What’s your name?”

“Zenin.” He spat out as if it was venom. 

“I could’ve guessed that.” You sighed, with all the wisdom of a five-year-old. Most Zenins had those sharply handsome features, the dark hair, and green eyes that glimmered like crystals. You could already see the burgeoning Zenin in the boy your age, the weight of it. “What’s your first name?”

He didn’t answer.

With a huff, you’d stepped closer.

“What’s your first name?”

He still didn’t answer.

And closer.

“What’s your first name?” 

He didn’t answer still. Not even when you were standing right beside him, he remained turned away as if you didn’t exist. 

You leaned down to try and glance at his face- but the boy snarled and whipped away. His lips stretched almost garishly underneath that fresh scar—even in the darkness it was obvious: a ruby-red slit, a slice of torture.

It looked like it hurt.

“Fine then.” You said, and he almost flinched at the exhausted tone of your voice. There was a slight collapse of his raised shoulders, as if he expected you to leave him to his shadows-

But the only thing you’re doing is grabbing onto his face and bringing it up to yours.

With the silken fabric of your very best kimono, you’d dabbed away gently at the cut on his lip. “But if you’re not going to treat this thing any time soon- then at least wipe away the blood.” Though you knew that this wasn’t the lady-like thing to do, nor even polite in any sense of the word, you couldn’t feel even a twinge of regret. “It looks pretty deep. Don’t you think you should tell your momma and papa?”

You tilted his head to the side, and he glared at you through long black lashes. “Tch…”

“Hmpf-” Puffing up your cheeks in annoyance, perhaps you’d used slightly more force than necessary when touching away the rest of the blood on his lip.

He grimaced but he didn’t move. And just when you think he might not say anything at all—“My…attendants.” 

You almost thought you’d imagined it. Eyes wide, your hands stopped. “P-pardon?”

“My attendants.” He repeated, more sure than before. “My attendants will take care of it…later.”

“I see.” It almost looked as if he was searching for your reaction, and you don’t satisfy him by showing anything. You merely tilted his head from side-to-side and checked for bruises, the way your mother would whenever you fell outside while playing by yourself. He had a few more scratches here and there - though none too deep like the scar, they stood out starkly against this pale skin. He looked like a sickly boy. “And why are you here all alone?”

“Punishment.” This answer comes out easier than the last, as though it should have been obvious.

A cold shiver ran down your spine. “Oh…I’m sorry about that.” You knew what it felt like to be punished by the council for doing things that went against what a ‘respectable daughter’ would do. Though your punishments were more writing lines and standing outside. “But I don’t think you deserved it.”

He scoffed, “You don’t even know what I did.”

“I don’t.” You shook your head, “But I still know.”

And that had been that. You finally let go of the boy’s face - there had been no more bleeding for some time now, and you almost felt embarrassed to have been holding onto him for so long. 

In the obscurity between you two, you stood in silence for what felt like a few minutes- but might as well have been eternity. You’d stared at him - the strong jaw, the hunched shoulders draped in a kimono with the Zenin emblem on the back, the scar that made him look older than he was - and he’d stared right back.

Brows furrowed, yet still looking. 

Eventually, you heard the harried calls of your mother outside - she was searching for you.

With a final look at the boy - he’d turned his face away now - you started to take a step towards the door—

Only for a small hand to clutch onto your wrist.

Stopping you in your tracks, you’d snapped your head to him immediately- but the boy still wasn’t looking at you. He had his gaze fixed on the floor, and the air about him was as if you didn’t even exist.

Though the tightness of his grip was undeniable-

“Toji.” Out had come a tiny voice. Steely. Slightly trembling. 

And for a second you were more confused than anything, before the realization had dawned upon you like the beaming of the summer Sun’s rays. 

He had repeated, “Toji Zenin.”

You repeat, “Toji Zenin.”

And then Toji had let go of you.

You nodded.

You told him your own name.

And for the first time since you’d barged into his life, Toji Zenin had looked at you with his green, green eyes. Sparkling.

It was only later - years later - in one of his letters that you’d learned of just how he’d gotten his scar. And the weight of knowledge was much heavier than the abyss of not knowing; your tears had blemished the starchy paper upon which he’d written to you about being thrown into a pit of cursed spirits by none other than his own family. That day.

All because he had no cursed energy.

And that was another thing - when you first found out about it, it hadn’t been from Toji himself. Grown-ups talk. And you’d come to realize far before he’d confessed to you that this was that infamous oldest son of the Zenin clan, one year older than you, with not a single speck of cursed energy to show for it.

Jujutsu society hated him for it.

How odd it was that they couldn’t seem to keep his name out of their mouths, then.

Though you didn’t quite care—you yourself didn’t put much weight onto the strength of one’s cursed energy. It just seemed too confusing to you as a child, and more confusing still once you grew up.

You visited the Zenin Estate as often as you could after that, often tagging along with your parents for their business meetings, or sometimes even begging some of your attendants to take you if they weren’t home. All for one person.

Him.

And though he never showed it, you knew he was happy to see you.

Happy to roll his eyes and drag you all through the hallways and secret doors and gardens- it was at your insistence that Toji had gotten the gardening staff to plant a few rose bushes there. A dash of pink in the landscape of Zenin green. You’d even managed a few times to sneak away and play together with his new cousin, only just crawling.

And just as life heartens a child, Toji also grew strong.

You saw it in him each time you visited - the way his grip on your hand would grow stronger, the way he’d tell you about another cool trick he learned in training. By himself.

And you were proud of him, you really were—“Don’t get too strong though- because what if you get all big and scary like Vegeta?”

“Vegeta’s cool.”

“Toji Zenin.”

You just didn’t expect it all to come to head like this.

The letter had arrived when you were seventeen - Toji was eighteen then, and had just gone through his coming-of-age ceremony. It was a private affair attended only by the Zenin clan members, and you understood that customs dictated their rituals remain hidden- besides, you and Toji had promised each other to celebrate in your own way with some takoyaki later on.

But the letter…

“To whom it may concern,

By decree of the Elders and in accordance with the ancient traditions of the Zenin clan, you are hereby notified of termination of regular visits to the head of the Zenin clan.

This decision is irrevocable, and any further personal association with the master, outside of compulsory business and contractual visits, is prohibited. Henceforth, you are instructed to discontinue contact with Master Toji Zenin without delay. Failure to comply with these prompt directives will result in the appropriate consequences.

Our new clan head must now focus on what is truly important.

With respect.

The elders of the Zenin clan.”

That was the first you’d ever heard about him being clan leader- or even the fact that he’d had a chance.

You had visited the Zenin Estate immediately afterwards, of course.

And it was only because of the rather close relationships that you’d grown with the house staff and guards over the years that you weren’t thrown out immediately. Though, you definitely weren’t allowed inside, either. They’d told you with grave faces that you were no longer welcome in the Zenin Estate without a guardian with you at all times - and even then you couldn’t meet with the clan leader. 

You’d been forced to trudge all the way back home, letter in hand. Toji in your heart.

You’d visited a few more times afterwards, of course. 

Perhaps for a peek of Toji if anything. But the only thing that greeted you were those looming iron gates and the same answer.

You were not welcome. No matter how much you pleaded or cried or begged for answers. 

You didn’t see Toji Zenin, newly-dubbed leader of the Zenin clan, until ten years later - and by then you’d missed him as long as you’d known him. In the meantime you’d heard whispers of him in every corner and corridor of those stuffy clan functions you were forced to attend—oh, have you heard of that Toji boy? Have you heard he’s the new Zenin clan leader now?

Have you heard they overlooked his little…lack of cursed energy if he proved himself?

Have you heard he has a gift of power said to be from the heavens?

Have you heard he’s the cruelest clan leader they’ve ever seen?

Have you heard he’s grown up to be so tall?

Have you heard he’s looking for a wife?

It was that last one that got your ears perking - no matter how much that rational part of you knew that eavesdropping wasn’t a polite habit. No matter how much you knew that you and Toji Zenin were people that didn’t know each other. And hadn’t for a long time…and perhaps might never. 

You shuddered to imagine - according to the rumors - what blood-thirsty clan leader he might have grown to become like all the Zenin clan leaders before him. But a part of you just kept circling back to the little boy in the dark room, with a scar that wouldn’t stop bleeding. 

Sure enough, by the time you’d stepped foot inside your own estate after the function- your attendants had informed you that a letter was awaiting.

A letter of proposal.

Of marriage.

.

.

.

The ceremony was a message.

Every clan leader and madam and mistress, every sorcerer and higher-up, everyone that was someone was invited to your wedding to Toji Zenin. It was a lavish affair, overripe with the most succulent foods and drinks. 

Though the week leading up to it…not quite as much.

You hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with Toji during the marriage meeting- rather ironic considering, well, the two of you would be the ones getting married. But where you might have answered the few stray questions posed by Naobito and his council, Toji had merely sat silently opposite you. 

He didn’t speak to you, he didn’t gesture at you, he didn’t even raise his green eyes and look at you.

Not during the marriage meeting. Not after.

Perhaps some stupidly hopeful part of you still thought that it was the meeting hall’s oppressive air that kept him from speaking- but Toji hadn’t spoken to you even when most of his advisory council had filtered out towards the end. When they’d left the ‘young couple’ alone to get to know each other better, but Toji had stayed silent.

“Toji?” You’d tried - and he hadn’t responded. “I suppose it’s clan leader Zenin now…”

To that, he’d flinched.

There were no more words exchanged between the two of you, and you’d travelled back to your estate to cry yourself to sleep.

The wedding vows had been written to you by your family elders. And in the days that followed - not wanting to make a fool of yourself in front of the wedding guests nor your family nor your in-laws - you’d recited and re-recited your vows until your tongue got sick of the words. Until your tongue could feel them tingling at the tip of your tastebuds every passing moment.

Like a nagging, ever-present dread.

So it was rather anticlimactic when that portion of the wedding ceremony went by without a hitch—you were awoken with the blinking sun, and dressed in a wedding kimono of snow-white. Escorted to the Zenin Estate in one of their glossy black Mercedes, you were ducked from view and taken to the family shrine there like a secret.

You shuddered as you stepped inside this land for the first time in ten years.

Deep in the gardens. A froth of wedding guests already lined the lantern-lit pathway from the gates to the shrine, they turned their heads and attempted to peek underneath your white headpiece. You were grateful for the lady attendants who would smack them away no matter which higher-up they happened to be.

You found that you had been strangely calm up until this point - strangely feeling as though it were a dream.

But you’d raised your head just as you’d come to the steps of the shrine -and the first thing you’d seen were pink roses. Upon either side of the steps.

And the next thing you’d seen was Toji’s calloused hand - you’d recognize it anywhere - outstretched to help you up them.

That was when it had become real.

The binding rituals and sharing of sake passed by in a blur. Your voice shook as you stumbled through your vows, and Toji had steadily echoed his out—it seems they were written to match. Something about upholding the values of the household and furthering the Zenin name, words that were wiped from your mind as soon as they escaped your mouth. Then, after barely stealing a glance at those green, green eyes trained on you- you were dashed to the wedding reception.

Both you and Toji sat at the head of a U-shaped dinner table.

Winding around the massive dining hall like a serpent with a feast laid upon its silken white belly: sashimi platters, rolls and fragrant white rice, broths and pasta, cakes of all different kinds. The wedding reception was so big that professional chefs (some from the Zenin Estate, others hired from the best Michelin Star restaurants around the world) lined their workshops in the middle of the U and cooked for the guests live. 

The scrape of flat-top grills.

The clinking of sake cups.

The laughter of drunkards.

And the longer the night went on, the more rambunctious they seemed to become.

They toasted, they guffawed, they pretended not to brag, they asked for more.

You’re watching the scene unfold before you like a Renaissance painting—The Throes of Gluttony—and rub your weary eyes. Strained. The thing that no one seemed to mention about keeping a smile on your face for hours on end was just how deeply it caused a headache - all the way from the back of your eye sockets.

“Would you like to leave?”

It’s a gruff voice- deep. One that you haven’t heard in so long that it might have been someone unrecognizable completely.

But you knew who it was.

Even if the husky baritone didn’t come from right beside you - sending goosebumps skittering down your spine - you would have known that slightly teasing tone anywhere. You could have picked it out in a crowd of about a thousand voices- and Toji didn’t even seem to know that that familiar tease was slipping into his voice.

He looks dead serious when you turn to him, for perhaps the first time since the shrine. And oh—you’re hit with something indescribable.

Because what the rumors hadn’t seemed to mention about him was that he was so devilishly handsome.

He’d grown into those Zenin features he seemed to hate so much—now with a sharp jaw, a smoldering gaze, hair that seemed to fall effortlessly over his forehead. His tannish skin looked almost golden in the yolky yellow of the wedding lights. Puckered, pretty lips. Even the scar on there only served to make him look even more attractive. 

There was an intensity about him that only seemed to have grown tenfold in the years that you didn’t see him. There was sadness.

Despite knowing very well of his numerous fighting accolades as of late, you were taken aback by just how large he’d grown to be. The first time you’d seen him, he’d been a scrawny six-year-old that wasn’t even as tall as you. The last time you’d seen him, he’d been a gangly seventeen-year-old suffering from a sudden burst of height, and threatening to show signs of growing even taller.

And he had grown taller.

Broader.

Beefier.

Toji shifts in his seat to face you more clearly, and you watch as his dark hakama stretches over his wide shoulders. Puffed-out chest. Slender waist. Large arms. Barely doing anything to conceal his muscular frame-

He raises one jet-black brow at you and you jolt.

“Pardon?” Breathless.

Toji shoots you a slightly knowing smile, “Would you like to leave, my wife?”

My wife.

It’s more of a factual statement, than anything - a confirmation of what you already know. But you can’t control the sudden lurch in your stomach as he says it—

“Yes.” You’re blurting out the answer faster than your mind can compute it. And you reach your hand out to him. “Yes, I would like to leave.”

Toji clasps your hand with a slight chuckle, “As you wish, Madam Zenin.” Both your golden wedding bands twinkle in the dim lighting.

“Look! Look! The newly-weds are leaving their own reception-”

“Am I drunk or are they being audacious enough to hold hands-”

“Do you think we may see an heir soon?”

“All rise for the esteemed clan leader of the Zenin family, and his madam.” The last one is a booming announcement by one of the Zenin council members.

In unison, the wedding party rises to their feet.

Cluttering and slightly clumsy with liquor.

“All bow for the esteemed clan leader of the Zenin family.”

In unison, they bow.

And you’ve just about had enough of being ogled as if you were a party trick- smiling politely and tugging on Toji’s hand to leave. And perhaps the thought that you wanted to be alone with him - with your husband - was hastening your movements-

“All bow—” But Toji stands firm. Raising his stern voice above the chaos, so that every corner of the dining hall shall be able to hear his crystal-clear words. You look up at him in slight shock at this sudden speech—did he want them to bow to him again? Before he’s saying your name- “—my wife, the esteemed madam of the Zenin family.”

Your heart drops to your stomach.

Your gaze snaps to the audience- you could see the confusion simmer across their faces, the realization, the shock, the slight apprehension. It was a chamber filled to the brim with men who’ve never had to look up at a woman a day in their lives.

And here they were, bowing to you.

It doesn’t happen instantly - not at all.

They first look at each other, they first bend at their knees as if in the motion of dry heaving (and some of them look as though they just might at this very notion), then—to your surprise, Naobito Zenin is the first to bow.

Then more of your family.

Then some of the Kamo clan.

One by one, they were bowing before you. 

“Lower.” Toji barks, and they each flinch- before doing as he said. Until their heads touched the floor, the higher-ups of that room bent before you.

As if worshipping.

All but one, of course - the blond-haired man stood out amongst the crowd. In more than one way. He was well-dressed in a way that denoted him as one amongst the clans, the Zenin emblem peeking out in silver, barely twenty with black dye fringing his pale hair. There was a coarse smirk twisting his lips, and he stood with his arms crossed in the front row.

You have to squint your eyes to realize that this was none other than Toji’s cousin—Naoya Zenin. The very same little boy the two of you had played with years before.

And he was refusing to bow before a woman.

Toji, of course, would not stand for this.

One split-second, he’s beside you, the other split-second, he’s in front of the young man and grabbing Naoya’s head with one hand. So fast that you didn’t even see him move. Slamming him down until his forehead hits the floor- “I said—” As Naoya scrambles to get up, Toji raises one foot and stomps it down on the other man’s head. “-bow.”

Naoya sputters, “T-Toji-sama-”

“Lower.” He’s pressing down even harder with the heel of his golden-clad sandal. Naoya flails like a turtle overturned- “Lower.”

“Toji-sama, I didn’t mean to-”

“Lower—”

Naoya’s cheek was pressed to the floor, tears running down his cheeks and darkening the color of the ground. He was no match to your husband. “I-I apologize for-”

“Do not apologize to me.” Toji gruffs out from above, lips slightly twitching at the ends. He was enjoying this. “Apologize—to her.”

Hearing this almost seemed to hurt Naoya more than being stomped on.

He gasps.

He chokes.

He attempts uselessly to stand.

But who was he to reject a command from the clan leader?

“I…” A rush of near-satisfaction goes through your body as Naoya raises his teary eyes to look up at you- and that was only because Toji had allowed him barely even leeway. His bruised lips babble, “-apologize-”

“Madam.” Toji finishes.

“Madam.” Naoya repents, “I-I apologize, madam.”

Toji looks at you with peripherals darkened with anger, and you can only nod at him to spare the other man. You wouldn’t want a bloodbath on your wedding.

He spits down at Naoya before taking his foot off- and where his cousin darts behind the legs of Naobito Zenin, Toji calmly walks over to you and holds out his hand. For you to take.

For him to take you away from all this.

.

.

.

The elders were outside.

The elders were outside your martial bedroom and listening to every slight noise you were hatching-

“Zenin-”

“Toji.”

“Toji—” You’re gasping out wetly into the crook of his neck, your hands fisting in the expensive silks of his hakama. Heated proximity. His panting breath. Toji was pushing you flatly against the king-sized mattress, one hand on the back of your neck, the other pressing down your front.

He reaches the edge of your abdomen, almost near where your cunt was throb-throb-throbbing wildly between your legs. And you have to bite down on your bottom lip to keep the most lecherous sounds from escaping- “T-Toji, so they’re going to be listening all night-”

“All night.” Toji affirms. Pearly white canines glinting between his scarred lips, “So we might as well give them a show, hm, my wife?”

And then he’s gliding the tip of his nose down your neck, down your collarbones, right between the valley of your breasts. Breathing in. “O-oh—”

Your head tilts away to give him more access- and it’s then that you’re seeing yet another glimpse of the sliding doors to this grand chamber. Paper-thin screens. Shadows of council members here to affirm that the marriage was actually being consummated - you knew it was a tradition in the Zenin clan. For the council to stand guard behind the bedroom and make sure that another heir would be born. You just didn’t think that it would be taken so seriously with rows upon rows of-

“Focus on me, darlin’.” Toji’s rasping tone warns, something primal curdling at the very back. You’re snapping your gaze over to him and zapped with electricity a darkened look in his eyes- “Or should I say…”

“Sh-shit.” You whisper as he starts shifting down your body. Lips kissed numb.

The clan leader reaches between your trembling legs. “I beg for your attention, madam.”

“Yes.”

Your whisper billows out and makes some of the elders behind the screen flinch- their shadows stretch and grow on the pale sheet almost as if they were listening even closer.

Listening in for the whoosh of Toji pushing up your decadent silks and stuffin’ his head straight into your pretty cunt. His nose dives between your pussylips. His chin hits the base of your folds. He sticks out his lengthy tongue and manages to sluuuurp! up the wads of slick stuck to your pussy.

He manages to sniff.

“Oh.”

Something cracks at the back of his throat, and you’re looking over at him curiously.

Only to find that Toji wasn’t looking at you- not even close.

He had his murky green peripherals permanently fixated on your drippin’ wet pussy, a line of slick sliding between your folds. He was almost entranced. He was almost speechless.

“Oh.”

He had his gaze locked with your throbbing cunt until it’s only a slight creak from outside that makes him break his stare to look at the elders. And then over at you and oh—you notice that his pupils were blown so wide that you nearly couldn’t see a speck of green.

You almost feel…strangely cautious at the animalistic way he was acting. Blinking down at him, “T-Toji, are you-”

But it’s almost as if hearing his name wrapped around your pretty lips is enough to send Toji Zenin into overdrive.

And he’s startling- almost fight or flight, before slapping a hand down on the side of your hips and draaagging you halfway down the damn mattress. Letting the expensive bedsheets bunch up where your hips were pulled.

Because Toji doesn’t seem to care for your trembling questions- he doesn’t seem to care that you were bucking your hips up n’ down his handsome face for more.

No.

He was gaping his maw over your wet cunt and slippin’ his tongue inside in a mere split-second- not even waiting for your elastic hole to stretch properly before starting to fuck you like a madman. Like a madman.

He was holding onto either side of your thighs n’ pressing his nose up reeeeal close to your clit- breathing in gutturally as he swabs his tongue inside. Spit dribbling. Scar grazing your folds. “Sh-shiiiiit—”

And, usually, he’d tease your whiny voice—wouldn’t he?

But right now Toji Zenin can’t even fucking breathe as he’s pistoning his fat tongue in. And out. Repeatedly, he’s swervin’ the curled tip of his tongue against the roof of your cunt and feeling as you clench all ‘round him. 

As you buck your hips off of the rickety mattress - it must’ve been decades old by the way it was protesting your every movement.

But Toji doesn’t even register just how close his bed was to shattering into a zillion pieces right now.

The only thing on his mind was…

“You.”

You’re snapping your head down in shock and confusion at the abrupt groan of a word barked between your pussylips - no warning. It hums vibrations of pleasure up your spine and makes you arch into Toji’s slidin’ lips. All dazed, as if he doesn’t even know he’d blurted it out loud.

The only thing - one - he can think of is you.

You, you, you, you.

You with your soppy wet walls wrapped around his pokin’ tongue, you with your cunt throbbing away every time his nose dug between your pussylips. You who was sucking him back in every time he pulled out, you who was- fuck. Enough to drive a man wild.

And you could feel the change in the way that Toji was makin’ out with your pussy, too.

He had gone from the slow and sensual kissing when you first entered the room- into the rapid gestures of his tongue now. Manhandling you. Not letting you escape.

Your voice cracks once he’s pinning down your flailing limbs, feeling the bulge of his big beefy biceps against your skin. “Shit, and you just really did no- ngh- preparation or anything? Just fucking me—mm, like that?” He was stretchin’ you out so hard with his mere tongue that it was making you see white.

“All the better to feel you, my dear…” The way he says it itches something carnal at the back of your mind. And you shiver as he purses his lips and gives your clit a harsh suck. 

“A-and you’re just being so- ngh, rough.” You mumble out between wet lips.

“All the better to eat you, my dear.” Toji flicks a careless look at the grey shadows beyond the screen, the way they stirred as they surely knew what was happening in here. Almost to taunt them - Toji’s taking a few more hefty thrusts inside your hole and moaning. Loud and proud. 

“And, Toji…” Breaths hitching a mile a minute - right on time with the sloppy cadence of his tongue. You gasp, “-you’re just so damn…” Rough? Needy? Gluttonous? “-loud.”

“All the better to make them know you’re mine, my dear.”

And it’s as if your mind is suddenly made of nothing but fuzz and the most lecherous swipes of Toji’s tongue- he was holding you so tight to him that you can feel the half-moons of his fingernails embed onto your skin. Pointed chin smacking against the base of your pussy in a constant drumming that leaves you maddened. Tongue viciously pummeling in and out—

So damn noisy with the most primal slurps that you almost can’t hear yourself over it. Whining maddeningly.

“And by the sounds of it-” Toji’s continuing into your cunt, as if he was still in the middle of a conversation. Just casual. Not even with you - he was chattin’ away lovingly to your pussy. “-m’eating you pretty well, huh?”

“Fuck, when did you get so cocky—mmpf.” You’re raising a hand up to muffle the noises leaking from your throat.

But Toji catches the slight movement- and in the blink of an eye, his trained reflexes have both of your hands pinned to the front of your stomach. Wrists restrained. Your tits pressed together in a way that presents a feast for his eyes.

The way he looks at you…oh.

You’re just so wet that you could already see the gleaming layer forming on Toji’s face like a medal of honor. And you’re sure the squelches were loud enough that they could be heard even outside- “Shit.” Struggling against his lewd restraints, “Toji, but they’re gonna hear us-”

And when he still doesn’t stop his motioning face, you find yourself breaking away a hand and running it through his sweaty black locks.

Having to lightly tug to get his attention on you instead of your sopping pussy- “Toji, they’re gonna hear-”

Your husband whispers something breathless against your cunt that you don’t quite catch.

“What was that?” You’re leaning up on your elbows to hear. And you can only stare into the murky depths of his gaze, pupils blown and dazed. 

He smacks his scarred lips- slightly parted as he tries desperately to crane himself closer to your quivering hole. “Cheh.” Toji rolls his eyes and lurches back a mere centimeter or two - the expression on his face was something agonized as if it hurt him to pull away - only to spit a dripping wad of saliva down onto your cunt. 

“Please…” You’re shivering, “What was that?”

Breath choppy. Tone absolutely shattered. He repeats- “Who did ya marry?”

His voice muffles into your folds. You’re looking away from the traditional sliding doors and finding that he has his eyes dead-set on you—intense.

For a few seconds you’re so enraptured by the look in his verdant eyes that you’re speechless- and only then do you register what exactly he asked. “Wait…what?” He looked dead fucking serious.

Splat! Another wad of spittle. “Answer the question, will you, madam?”

His voice was full of authority. The beastly man from earlier. “Y-you…? Toji Zenin.” You’re just managing to gasp out, shivering at the feeling of his tastebuds then rovering uuuup and down your slit. Teasing. Then pushing inside. He’d stretched his muscle out so that very honed tip would graze your most sensitive insides, “Toji, why are you asking me-”

“Then why dont’cha fucking scream your husband’s name for them to hear, hm?”

And you swear you can feel his smile against your very pussylips for a mere sultry moment.

Before he’s back to swipin’ into you like a machine. 

Except this time…he’s using both his mouth and the two globular ends of his fingertips.

The fingertips on his left hand.

They were thick and rough after years of training- perfect to swab against your most tender spots and leave your walls raw with pleasure. And just when you thought his size and shape would be enough to drive you frenzied, Toji was curvin’ up his fingers in a way that let the frigid metal of his wedding ring press against your walls.

All cold and making it easy to follow his movements. He was forcing in his solid inches with quick, methodical strokes down your velvety channel.

Probin’ into the sweetest spots - you’re sure that Toji was just so generous with his size that he doesn’t even have to try to fill up your every orifice. He spreads his fingers apart and scissors into your insides, pumping them roughly.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

“Oh my god—” Let them hear? Let the elders hear? “Toji, what has gotten into-”

Thwack!

“I said…let them hear.”

Just then he’s puckerin’ his two fingerpads against your poor g-spot- already having mapped your cunt out with his tongue. It was almost as if his digits were on a treasure hunt to find where you liked him thumpin’ away into the most.

So hard that you think the elders outside can hear it. So hard that you swear they’re flinching-

Thump-thump-thump!

And whatever question you had on the tip of your tongue before is immediately evaporating at the sheer frenzy Toji shows when he’s drilling into you. The realization hits you like a truck. “Toji, are you…pussydrunk?”

He merely flicked his half-lidded eyes up at you- “Mmmm—” Groaning his deep baritone against your raw n’ rubbed lips - it makes you leak out in your syrupy sap even more. He has the audacity to look at your ruined expression and giggle. “I dunno, council, am I pussydrunk?”

Though it wasn’t as if they could hear that slight whisper- or even if they could, it was impossible that they’d answer.

But Toji seems to be utterly unaffected by that little tidbit, and instead looks even more gleeful at the silence from the audience just behind a thin screen on the door. “Heh- when they hear they’ll know I fuck my wife goooooood.”

You supposed that answered your question already. And you’re holding onto Toji’s crown and rutting up against his ajar mouth. “Shit- shit, I never thought you’d be so—”

“Look- I think they’re squirming.” Toji glances over at the shadows that still loomed, as present as ever. “I think they’re already startin’ to find out.”

“Fuck.” He’s thrashing his wedding ring against your g-spot once more. 

And from then on you were merely at your husband’s mercy - at the mercy of the clan leader of the Zenin’s. He was acting just as ruthlessly. 

Almost as if he wanted them to hear everything he was doing.

“Bet they can hear just how wet ya are f’me- just how much you’re leaking over this damn fucking Zenin bed they love so much.” On cue, he’s rutting against the bedframe to leave its springs creaking. “Bet they can hear the way you suck me up like thaaaaaat- atta girl. My wife.” Toji hooked his fingertips at the ends and made them splosh out even more slick- dragging them out of your puckered hole and fucking them right back in. “Wonder if they know how sweet ya are though, huh?”

Like your body was ready to prove his point, your hole gapes with a gush of glittery slick. One that Toji’s gulping up with as much noise as he could possibly make.

Purposefully bucking his hips against the mattress even more - it was almost as if eating you out like this was too much to bear. He bites down on the insides of his cheek as his rock-hard erection crushed against the soft comfort. He just needed to fuck you—

Toji has his teeth nibblin’ over your pretty clit and sucking until his chiselled cheeks hollowed and it made the most lecherous squelching sounds. Each of them a cacophony that echoed outside. He moans, “Bet they can hear how ready you are-” And you’re noticing that at this particular sentence, your husband raises his volume just a tad. He raises it. “-how fucking neeeeedy ya are to get fucked stupid by me.”

A rattle outside.

Both of you turn your head in unison to look at the commotion, but whatever the incident may have been, no one seems to move from their seats at your audience. Almost glued there - and not by duty any longer.

You look back at Toji who was grinning.

He puffs out a snicker above your swollen folds—“Pwah! If anything, at least the Zenin clan leader knows how to eat pussy.”

Toji’s shaggy bangs graze across your clit and make you twitch, “T-Tooooji—I don’t think m’gonna last…”

“What was that?”

“I think m’gonna cum.”

A smile he can’t control breaks out across his face, “Louder, madam.” Toji alternates his greedy gaze between your enraptured audience, your lewdly twisting expressions, and your pussy. All gulping him down greedily.

What a sight it was to behold - and that noise? Who’s going to stop him from reaching over to grab at one of your sandals and fling it against the sliding door- where it knocks against the cedar screen and clatters to the floor. “Ya hear that?” He calls to those uptight elders, surely horrified by now… “Louder for the ones in the back~”

Turning your head, you see that your clans are more restless than ever. “M’gonna cum-”

“Louder.”

“Gonna cum—”

“Louder.”

It seems that no matter how loud you were, it just wouldn’t be enough for him.

So the only thing you could do at this point is to throw your head back and get lost in your sudden wave of bliss - throw your head back and cum.

You’re grabbing handfuls of Toji’s shaggy black hair and yowling out his name as loud as your voicebox could handle it- “T-Toji.” Bubbling out past the sizzlin’ mouthfuls of saliva welling up at your throat. “Toji—shit, shit, shit, Toji m’cumming.”

“Mmm—” He barely had the time to respond, fucking his fingers into you furiously. His mouth latched on permanently to your clit as he dragged on your high, digits hittin’ your g-spot at every startling peak of euphoria. Again. And again. And again and again and again.

Somehow he managed to pinpoint each highest point of pleasure, and you have to bite back tears at the sheer intensity. Heartbeat thundering in your eardrums. Toes curling until it almost hurts. 

And through it all the handsome clan leader below you was readily taking on each of your cunt’s drags. Each of the gyrations you were pumping down on his swollen lips and his nose. Each of the little jerks as you had to be pulled back onto his swollen lips and his nose- he wasn’t letting you escape until you were well and thoroughly fucked through your orgasm.

You blink down dazedly at him once you’re clear-headed enough to formulate proper sentences. “Toji, m’cumming and it’s all because of you—”

“Fuck.” And with that said, he’s ruuuutting harshly against the mattress. It groans even louder in response and makes the chamber vibrate with noise.

You swear at the shaking of the bed, “Y-you’re gonna break this bed tonight, I swear-”

“Good.”

And it’s with a few more vulgar strokes that your high’s dissipating into a mere few tingles at your core - which, even that Toji’s threatening to swerve his fingers into you through. And you’re completely sure that he would’ve elongated you through your first high and straight into a second one had it not been for you pulling him off by the strands of his hair.

Begging through choked-up sobs, “Toji-” You were straining to get him to move- not that you didn’t want it, but you were just so sensitive that you wanted something…else more right now. “Toji, I’m begging you to—hah.”

“To what, my wife?” He’s running his calloused hands up and down the sides of your body. “I’ll give you anything, madam.”

Your lips quivered, “I want your cock, Toji…”

And, well, how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

In no time, Toji’s lifting himself off of your lower half and climbing further up the bed. Something about the way he looks right now - half-lidded gaze, primal smirk, panting chest, throbbing erection through his wedding hakama - made you shift yourself up to the headboard.

And once you’re hitting the cool plane of mahogany, Toji grins.

“Nowhere to run, darlin’.”

The Zenin clan leader considers tearing off your kimono with his bare hands - before that admiring look you’d directed towards the garment makes him reconsider. It makes him sigh and gently start to part through the layers. They were much too much work, in his opinion.

And he’s practically jittery with need by the time the last of your obis are thrown over his shoulder.

And as for his clothes…

Toji takes his sensual time slipping off his robes - so many layers that it makes you so thoroughly impatient. And so you can’t help but reach out and threaten to rip his decadent clothes off-

“Tearing your husband’s clothes off already?” Toji says to you, though you do notice that he’s lilting his pitch up just a bit to let the elders outside hear. “S’that pussy that needy f’me already, my wife? Can’t wait until I take it off, huh?” You smack his chiselled pec and he grins even wider, “Oh, madam, we’re gonna have a looooong and happy marriage—”

Toji doesn’t even properly expose himself.

He’s merely lazily pushing aside his robes until you could practically see all of him: the naturally ripped lines of his muscles, his toned abs, his cushy pecs. All outlined with the scruff of his happy trail that wedged between his prominent v-line.

Toji’s meaty thighs peeked out from where his robes flapped open, and he was pushing them aside to bear you his aching hot erection—

You count.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven

Eight.

Nine entire inches that glistened in dripping hot precum, glazed the shiniest ruby-red on the top of his shaft. Flared tip. Heavy balls. Not only was Toji so long - but he was juuuuust as thick, with enough veins that you can already feel the phantom graze of them inside you.

Toji’s balls tightened as he took in the way you were looking at him-

“Like what you see, huh?” He’s smirking down sleazily at you, giving a playful smack on the sheeny inner part of your thigh. “Don’t you worry, darlin’, you’re gonna be feeling me very soon.”

“Shit, I can’t wait.” Your legs drop open around him - and end up wrapped around Toji’s slim waist to get him to buck his cock against your cunt. “I need to feel you now, Toji.”

“Now? No preparation or nothing?” He’s cocking his head down at you—cute. Just too cute how you were shaking your head like so. Not that Toji Zenin really had any idea of stretching you out even more and teasing you endlessly, but it was nice to see you deny it all the same.

His dark fabric was still semi-draped over his shoulders (though they were falling off uselessly by now and you could spot his tanned deltoids peaking out…hoenstly, how had they trained him in the years you hadn’t seen him? Because Toji was just…incredible). And it falls over you almost like a curtain as the man pushes you back against the sweat-dampened mattress.

One hand of his presses down on your stomach, the other snakes downwards to cup his thick hilt. “But I’ve gotta warn ya…s’gonna be a biiiig stretch- alright, my girl?”

You’re nodding, “Yes—”

“And when I say big stretch, I mean a biiiiiiig one- alright?” His black brows furrow at the sensation of his tip kissin’ your pussylips - you were just so hot and soft. So ready that he almost couldn’t bear it, “Enough to make that pretty mouth of yours scream, alright?”

You huff, “A-alri—fuck.”

And those elders stationed outside your martial bedroom could probably pinpoint the exact moment that Toji’s slipping his cock inside. Red-hot. Furiously hard.

Your mouth drops into a soundless scream, and the bed dips as he rests his weight on top of your lower half. The bulbous end of his cock swabbin’ between your pussylips and finding its way inside your tight hole, he’s fitting in just the crown of his shaft and making you squeal. “Sh-shit, you’re just so big-”

“What was that?” Toji’s rutting his hips against you, his cock giving you a probing thrust. “Didn’t hear you darlin’...”

“You’re just so-” Yet another thrust. And this time you swear you can feel Toji’s salty-sweet precum trickle out at the very back of your throat—”-big, Toji—”

And this time, it’s loud enough for him.

He’s tilting his head over to the silent sliding doors with an utterly arrogant look on his face, lips turned upwards priggishly. “Ya hear that?” He’s calling out to those dusty ol’ elders - most certainly, not the least bit that softly teasing tone he’d use with you. “You small-dicked motherfuckers wish you could be me.”

“Toji—” Uselessly smacking at this bicep to no avail.

But he merely keeps going- “The only thing you can do is watch- only watch everything I do. Everything I will become.” It was like this. It was always like this - Toji had fought tooth and nail to come to where he was right now. And he’d be damned if he let some old fossils ruin his wedding night with you—they were going to have a show. He’s snarling down - and just as soon as you’re registering the expression, Toji’s crashing his lips against yours in an open-mouthed kiss. “And right now…”

You’re whimpering as the hand on top of your stomach comes pressing dooooooooown.

“-I think m’gonna become a dadda, hm?”

“Fuck-” And it’s with a single hammering thrust that Toji’s forcing his swollen cock past all that slight resistance. His head falls forwards, bangs obscuring part of his face- and he can’t stop from heaving out a shuddering groan. 

You swear you can see the exact moment that Toji Zenin breaks.

Because you’re clenching your syrupy wet walls ‘round his tip, and it’s enough to make the hulking man above you shudder. Shake. Stop your moving hips with the hand on top of your stomach.

Toji presses down—“E-easy there, darlin’.” He’s rasping between clenched teeth, sounding for all the world as if it was taking every ounce of will in his body not to let his voice tremble. “Let your—haaaah, husband fuck you like you deserve, alright?”

Just as shaky as his words were aching to be, he’s compelling his hips forwards and swabbing the back of your pussy with a plap! “Fuck.”

“Fuh-fuck.” He echoes after you. Yet another hammering movement. “Fuck, I can’t stop myself.”

“Sh-shiiit, how is it even possible to feel like this-” You’re babbling out. And it seems that that’s what Toji wanted to find out, as well.

He’s thrusting his hips forwards again.

Shaking.

And again.

And again.

And again and again-

Soon enough, Toji was fucking you. In long, deeeeeep thrusts that bruise his split-ended tip all the way against the back of your cervix—before then dragging riiiiight back out till your hold was just stretched around his mushroomy cockhead. Then all the way inside again.

“T-Tooooooji—” You’re bawling out at this point, the sheer stretch of him inside you making your cheeks drench with tears. It really just felt as if he was openin’ up every hidden spot and crevice inside you, and Toji had his pointed tip acting as the spotlight.

Pinpointing each sweet spot-

And again…

Your legs start to thrash at the constant rhythmic feeling- “Ah ah- no running away, madam.” He’s scooping you up even further into his arms, “What’d I say? Let your husband- fuh-fuck you like you deserve, hm?”

“But- but you already are—” You cry out.

“Oh?” He’s darting his eyes down to the thick little bulge that had started forming at your stomach - just the slightest movement of his globular tip swabbin’ inside. And out. Inside. And out. No matter how much you bent and curved, Toji was just so big that you could see him from the outside. He’s grinning all of a sudden. “Oh…you’re right.”

Your eyes widen, “Toji, did you just realize-”

“But that doesn’t mean m’fucking you pregnant just yet—let me breed you, darlin’.”

Your head’s falling into the pillows, your back’s arching, your throat’s crying out - your cunt just wasn’t used to him. Which is why he was fucking you harder with no hesitation like he was trying to mold himself to your pussy.

To meld himself.

To which Toji doesn’t let you last even two seconds before he’s grabbing both your limbs and wrapping them around his neck. He lets your ankles intertwine securely before bending you neatly in half until your kneecaps spank your tits. 

You were being folded.

Straight into a-

“Mating press.” Toji rasps out, his scorching hot breath tickling your face. “This is called a mating press, darlin’.” Almost as an example, he’s pumping his solid inches all the way inside your channel - Toji stirs your insides just a little bit in swervin’ motions so his veins slip and graaaaze down your sides. “But you probably already knew that—now do you know what we use it for?”

“Well, it’s to—mmpf.” But how could he expect you to answer when he was smacking the curve of his tip against your sweetest spots. Every time you were opening your mouth to try n’ form a coherent sentence, your husband was fucking that sentence right out of your throat.

And the answer was simple: he didn’t want you to answer. He looks over at the shuffling shadows through the door screen—apologies, he should’ve emphasized. He didn’t want you to answer. “Oi.”

Toji barks out, and you could see the elders physically flinch at being addressed.

He smirks, “How about ya answer it f’me?” It almost makes you shy to hear your husband speaking to them while he was absolutely ruining your insides with his cock- tone breathy, hips smacking yours in an obvious background music to what you two were doing. “What exactly is a mating press used for?”

There’s a silence- and then a noise.

A slight whisper of an answer that only Toji’s extra-honed ears, trained through years of his Heavenly Restriction, manage to pick up. He’s nodding his head down at you, “That’s right?”

“What’d they say, Toji?”

“Oh—you wanna know what they said?” He’s cooing down at you—cute, cute, cute. Your lips were wobbling adorably whenever he grazes the rounded flare of his tip near your g-spot.

“Yes-” You’re nodding, “Yes, please-”

“Louder?”

“Yes, please—”

Loud enough that it rings across all four corners of the heady chamber, saturated with sex. “Good girl.” And Toji snickers as he pulls your restless body once more down to his- and as if that wasn’t enough, he’s craning his head down and blowing against your left ear. “A good girl that’s gonna get fucked full of my heir soon.”

An heir.

An heir.

So that was what it was used for - not that you didn’t know, or couldn’t have guessed. But just hearing your husband himself utter the very words made your pupils shape into heart eyes.

Staring up at him lovingly.

Toji was pounding your cunt against the mattress as though he was furious at you- and the constant creaking noise almost made you embarrassed. It was proof that he was fucking you had and rough. That he was pinning you down with one ruthless hand and shovelling you with every inch of his thickened length, swervin’ the nerves of your g-spot. “Even they approve.”

You’re snapped out of your dreamy little reverie, “Wh-what?”

“Even they approve.” Toji cocks his head down at you with a smile, “And I don’t give a fuck what they have to say about me- but if there’s anything I—ngh, am, it’s that I’m a man of my word.”

“And so…?”

But he merely glides his hand down your belly, feeling for that cute sensitive spot where Toji was rubbin’ your cervix raw. There was such an openly loving look on his face as he stared down at your body. “And so welcome baby Zenin—” Hyphenated with your family’s last name.

Toji shudders as he fucks you.

To be quite honest, he didn’t think that the thought of having an heir would affect him so much - he never has been one to be so hellbent on carrying the family name. Hell, he’d have been happy to take your last name.

But it was the vision of you all pregnant and plump and glowing—

Now that could do something to a man.

And it’s sending a thrill across Toji’s veins to see the tummy bulge he hammered into you, almost as if a little teaser for what was to come. He presses down on your stomach once more as he eases in and out, in and out. “Gonna be the prettiest momma f’me, right?” He’s grumbling out through his large canines, snarled as though he wanted to bite into that pretty lil’ throat of yours. “Gonna suck Toji Zenin dry and keep all my cum inside that- ngh, pretty pussy? S’that what yer gonna do? Suck me dry—?”

“Y-yes-”

“Louder, darlin.” He interrupts you, “I need them to hear their madam.”

“Yes—”

As a little reward, you’re getting Toji’s fat thumb spankin’ down on your clit. He rolls the pad of it over and over that spot- “And the madam is gonna be the one overspilling niiiiight after night while I fuck you pregnant, right? Gonna be the one that won’t even be able to move once I’m done with ya because you’re gonna be, mmm, too fucking full?”

“Yes, please-” Your voice was barely a whisper. And Toji pinches your clit until you manage to raise your warbling tone.

“Gonna be my poor baby with all that sickness, aw?” He’s fauxing out a pout- one that makes you bite on his scarred lips. How rude. “Don’t worry- I’ll massage those pretty feet of yours when the time comes, I’ll paint yer pretty nails, I’ll toy with that pussy- heh.”

“Is that even…”

“Gonna be my bossy lady, aren’t ya? Gonna order me around and make me get every pregnancy cravin’ ya want- as you should.” He’s chuckling at the mere notion of it, so sweet on his brain. “Gonna be asking me to fuck you all over again when those pregnancy hormones hit, huh? And then…”

“And then?” You eagerly ask.

He leans down to whisper - just for you, this time. Not any audience. “Then - if you want - I’ve gotta fuck you with our second kid all over again, huh?”

Your jaw drops.

But Toji continues - his hips and his fingers and his words. “And then a third.” He plummets his thoroughly swollen tip once more against your g-spot - so hard that it sets the crowns of your teeth on edge. “A fourth.” Another.

“Shit-”

“A…” Toji trails off, his dazed head raising blearily towards the sliding doors. “How are we feelin’ about five kids, eh?”

Whatever they answer makes him smile.

“You heard it, momma.” He gutturally moans, “M’gonna cum inside this cute cunt- fuck, m’gonna cum inside and pump you all fuuuuuull.”

Your heels attempt to find purchase on his sculptured back, and you’re kicking madly because of the sheer force of pleasure coursing through you - though, of course, to a man with Heavenly Restriction it feels like nothing but kitten punches. “T-Toji…”

He smiles like he already knew what you were about to say, “Yes?”

“Toji, m’gonna…”

“Cum, huh?” He’s narrowing his sultry eyes down at you, “And do you think she deserves to cum?”

For a second there, you think he’s almost talking to you - and you’re wondering just what he was talking about…before the shuffling and murmurs from beyond the sliding doors catch your attention. “You’re seriously asking them—”

“Ah ah-” Toji hums, “The council is in session.”

You couldn’t believe your damn ears- and you’re getting lost in Toji’s aggressive strokes for some time. Looooong and hard and driving your pupils into the back of your skull. Before Toji’s hand suddenly comes slamming down atop your pussylips-

“And can ya guess what the council has decided for you, madam?” Toji grins from ear-to-ear, “Hm?”

“I-I don’t—oh.” He’s pinching your clit hard enough to make you see stars.

“They’ve decided that you can cum.”

Hard enough to make you reach your high all at once. 

It’s shuddering through your body in waves, and you find your hips arching damn-near completely off of the bed. Toji has his cock stuffed in you deep and his fingers squeezing your clit through each throb of your high. 

It was harder than the last one.

Mind-baffling. 

Earth-shattering.

It was as if a warmth had flooded through your entire being, and Toji was only heating up the temperature a few notches with each probe of his cock. His flared tip swabs down the sides of your g-spot every single time - and Toji was more than happy to send your body twitching each time he did so. 

More than happy to watch the waves of your high turn out to be splashes—

You were squirting.

“Hear that—?” He calls out breathlessly, above the liquidy noises emanating from between your legs. The volume of your sap clearly drenched your legs and left his cock soaked. Thoroughly soaked. “She’s fucking—oh, she’s…” He fucks you through your high with roughened grunts, “Fuck- fuck.”

It left you salivating and unable to string together a full sentence- your arms wrapping tight around Toji’s neck to kiss him. “Want it-”

“Hmmmm?”

“Want you to cum inside me now, Toji.” You’re begging up at him, batting your tear-stained lashes. Pulling him in even closer, “Please?”

“Cheh-” He snickers- though even through that smug demeanour, you could feel the animalistic flinch of his cockhead deep at your innards. He was unravelling as well. “I’m gonna cum in-haaah, inside you- of course m’gonna cum inside you, my wife.”

Toji funnels into you so hard that the crowned top of your head hits the headboard.

“Gonna cum inside you and feel it in your womb-” Toji snarls out, his blushin’ tip starting to trickle out in something hot and gooey. “Gonna give these needy walls of yours something ta really hold onto- gonna have her sucking me dry.” And you swear you could see tears glittering in his dark eyes. “Gonna pump you so full that you have no option other than to- hah, overspill. But oh, don’t worry, my madam, when you overspill your husband will be riiiiight here-”

You hiccup, “Please-”

“-to fuck it right back in again.”

It’s then that you’re really feeling the full force of Toji’s high - because he empties out thiiiiick and miry ribbons of cum that puddle at the back of your pussy. So much of it. So much being poured out. They were just so sticky, with a salted caramel taste that you swear sizzles at the back of your throat.

Muscular back arching.

Eyes shuttering.

His heavy balls hitting your cunt with a thwack-thwack-thwack!

He digs his feet into the springy mattress and arches into you through each peak of his high, dragging his veiny cock right through it. Your velvety walls were just perfect to elongate the feeling of his airy sensation, and Toji can’t help but let out husky groans as he gets lost in the feeling—fuck, he didn’t even know that he could cum this much.

Trickling into you like honey.

Toji glides a hand down your front and feels for that little tummy bulge that was once there- now all bloated with his sheer white sap.

But it’s almost as if it was refusing to stop by this point, and Toji can only swat his ruby-red tip against the deepest depth of your cervix and thank her for taking it all. His eyes fluttering open and shut as he attempts to clear his damn mind.

You’re biting down on your tongue, tears exploding behind your eyes. “Sh-shit, it feels so good.” Pressing your lips to his scarred ones, so familiar now. “Toji, you feel so good.”

He shivers.

“Fuck, we’re gonna make a cute baby.”

Before…Toji Zenin doesn’t stop.

In fact, you learn that he doesn’t stop - and you don’t want him to - even past your second round. Your third round. Your fourth round. Your fifth round.

Toji might have had all those delicacies before him during your wedding reception, but it was here between your legs that he couldn’t stop going back for seconds. Filling you again and again and again- it was by the sixth round that the bed frame had completely broken. And by the eight that he’d stopped taking you on the shattered mattress and fucked you on the polished wood of the floor.

Just two feet away from the sliding doors, your head was being pushed up and up and uuuuuup towards it. As he just kept on thumpin’ his rotund red tip into the base of your pussy until the sun started to rise.

Taking you on all fours this time—doggy style, with a mean headlock gripping your throat.

And the elders outside were slouched and fatigued, if their shadows were anything to go by.

And you yourself was just so sensitive-

“Where’d you think you’re going, madam—?” You’re feeling Toji dragging you down into his beefy arms before you even understand his question - before you even realize that your feet had already planted on the wooden panels and had started to push off. It was as if your body couldn’t decide whether you wanted to bounce up more into his ruinous length, or to bounce away for your own sanity-

He helps you make a choice - and that was by grabbing onto the column of your throat with his biceps and raising your muddled head up to his. Kissing you, “Are we sure it’s even taken, yet?”

“Yes—” You’re babbling out over…the murmurs of a council that agreed immensely. They themselves were sure that their clan leader would continue until the end of time if possible. “Yes, it’s taken- it’s-”

“But are we- sure-” Each word punctuated by a thorough slash of his puckered pink tip.

He was so sensitive by this point that Toji himself was leaking his ivory sap out like no other- not enough space inside you for all of it. It froths down the middle of your cunt and creates such a gooey mess—“Yes.”

“Mmmm, well anything you say, madam.” He’s humming out. Pussydrunk. “But are we really-”

“Toji Zenin.”

The clan leader shudders, “I love it when you do that.” He kisses you with a rather loud smack, “I love you—”

And he doesn’t feel a shred of regret in the world for what he’s just confessed. Always wanted to confess.

“Always have.” Toji swallows, looking deep into your dazed eyes. “Always will- and I tried—oh, how I tried to get to you. But it was never enough. How I imagined holding you and loving you all these years but…but I understand if you don’t feel remotely the same, and if the council’s distance b-between us has already changed your mind on-”

“Toji Zenin.” He shuts up and looks down at you- only to be greeted by your smile. Head turned over your shoulder to keep staring at him. His own scarred lips turn up into a grin, green eyes twinkling. “Come here and kiss me, my husband.”

And so he wastes no time.

Murmuring into your mouth.

Pulling away for a split-second.

Raising his meaty thigh up and pressing the heel of his foot straight on top of your head- “Should we ask those damn old toads for baby names now?”

.

.

.

“Toji Zenin.”

You’d repeated, all those twenty years ago when you met him for the first time.

And for the first time, said Toji Zenin could feel his heart give a little…lurch.

How strange—he clasps at his small chest through his yukata as he watches you leave for your mother with a final wave. How strange, indeed.

The door closes and a little boy with green eyes and a scar is left sitting in the darkness, hoping you’ll visit him again.

.

.

.

The door opens.

What could buy a small apartment in Tokyo, barely the size of your closet, could buy an entire home in Hokkaido. Modest yet spacious. 

With an arched doorway and the curious guest of vines growing down the side of the house,peeking its leafy little head inside in the presence of dim yellow light. A stone pathway zig-zagging through the foliage to lead one right inside. A roof the color of a pastel green that marked it out from the others around it. A plumage of flowers - roses and tulips and lavender - each lifted their head up at the rays of early morning sunlight—this was why Toji had picked this place out.

It was somewhere no one would find you.

With enough space for three people.

You keep a hand on top of your growing belly and take in the scenery around you,as if a moving post card. After your wedding night, Toji had forgone what all the elders said and given you the choice on what you wanted to do in case of a real pregnancy. Taking you to the doctor to know every option in-depth. And, at the end of the day, well…

It hadn’t been easy to run away from the Zenin clan - let alone burn their whole estate down. Carrying only with you your most essential belongings, your wedding dress, and enough money to last the two of you four lifetimes - but Toji still would insist on working. 

It hadn’t been easy.

But you had done it.

The both of you- you had done it.

And through your fingertips were still slightly charred from the remnants of ash and memories, you don’t think you’ve ever felt more free in your life-

A jingle of keys.

While you had been basking in the natural world outside, Toji had gone ahead and opened the door to your new home. He’s staring softly at you from inside, smile crooked, large frame leaned against the door frame.

“What?” You ask him in slight amusement.

He shakes his head and quietly passes you the keys.

They were like any other - a set of glinting keys that had a little tag on them. It was one of those tags people attached to the schoolbags of their children (speaking of, was it too early to start looking into those now?) and at the top of its white face was written—your name. First and maiden last.

And then Toji—not Zenin.

Rather…

You look up at him with glistening eyes, “You took my last name?”

He nods, eyes slightly downturned. “I did- just before we left I handed in the paperwork.” Taking a long pause, “I apologize that I’m no longer your Toji Zenin-”

You’re cutting him off by throwing your arms ‘round his neck and pulling him in for an embrace. Toji steadies you easily, hands automatically then gliding down to your swollen stomach. “You never need to apologize to me for not being Toji Zenin, my love.”

“I see…” He’s clutching you even tighter, while the garden chirps around you two. Slightly choked up, “That reminds me- we need to pick out a name for our son, too, huh?”

Ah yes- a day before you left, the doctor had confirmed that you two would be having a son. A little boy. An heir to the Zenin clan. 

Those days, you just couldn’t help but think of another little boy with the weight of being an heir on his shoulders, sitting alone in a dark room with a bleeding scar.

But now you smile, “All in good time. Though I do have some ideas in mind.” Toji did, too, and you giggle as you think of the little notebook he’d been secretly writing down names in - one at the very top circled ‘Megumi’. 

“Mhmmm.” He’s looking at you with those eyes, green like the gardens of the Zenin Estate - but now green like the gardens of your home here. Toji looks so serene—you should’ve known that your boisterous husband wouldn’t let that tranquil air last too long.

His scarred lips lift up in a smirk, hand gliding across your pregnant belly. And you already know-

“Toji…”

“How about we start practicing for the second, huh?”

A/N. AWWWW I LOB HIM- feel like making a whole series for him now lowk.

Your heavy eyelids snap open (when did they even close?) And you’re casting a sweeping look around the humble room.

You couldn’t see much in this darkness, but then again nothing stood out of place.

And so you’re letting your vibrator go back to work, drawing sultry circles just with the tip by your navel. Again and again. So pent up. When it got too much, and you were just too drenched- you’re teasingly letting its length start to slip underneath your silky sleep shorts—

You feel it again.

Something that made icy goosebumps rise on every inch of your skin.

Someone was watching.

“Fuck- okay.” You’re immediately lurching to sit up on your bed, bouncing ever-so-slightly at the force. That baseball bat of yours for protection was downstairs, you think- but you could still throw a lamp if anyone was there. Maybe your vibrator (hah!)

And you instantly lean over for the lamp - not to throw it (yet), but rather to turn it on. “Who’s there? I swear on everything that if anyone’s there and I catch you are going to be- what the…”

You should have sworn.

You should have screamed.

Because as soon as the lights flood the walls of your bedroom, you’re not coming face-to-face with some masked, murderous intruder. At least, not in the way you might have expected - which, then again, you still couldn’t be sure.

Instead, you catch the pale, somewhat…other-worldly sight of a man dressed in all white.

Tall. Toned. His Stygian hair flowing over his shoulders and slightly over his face, reaching all the way till the tips tickled the floor. From what you could see of his features he was…handsome- delicate, pretty features, high cheekbones, and the most shapely lips all pink. The man smiles kindly, and through the gaps of his bangs you could tell that his eyes were upturned into happy half-moons. 

Were you sure that some model or someone of the sort hadn’t accidentally ended up in your bedroom? And was he included in the rent?

This stranger wore a flowy kimono with the right side wrapped over the left. And even in such a drab thing, he looked ethereal.

There was a strange glow about him.

He almost looked like a…a ghost.

And he was standing in your empty closet.

“Wh-what the-” You’re gaping, your mouth opening and closing a few times before you manage to blink yourself back into cognition (and to sanity). The realization: there was a strange man in your closet and yes, no matter how pretty he was, he’s still a strange man in your closet.

Without thinking, you’re reeling your hand back in a forceful throw. Hurtling. “-fuck!”

Your glitzy vibrator hits the back of your closet dead-on, it was a perfect throw.

And yet, it still didn’t hit the man.

Instead, it passed right through him.

Your veins grow cold as you wipe your eyes with your fists - he wasn’t there anymore. Urgently, you get off the bed and look around your room - he wasn’t there anymore.

Aw, great. He really was a ghost—so there was a reason this place was so damn cheap.

There was no way he could have sprinted from the confines of your closet to the doorway and out without you seeing him. So there was nothing to do but step towards the origin of this entire mess in the first place: the closet.

You cautiously step towards it, your footsteps echoing almost as loud as your heartbeat. As you reach the dark line in the tatami that marked the start of the closet, you begrudgingly can’t find anything amiss. Looking in every corner, on every empty shelf.

Looking upwards—

Ah.

A trapdoor.

A tiny square of a door that was cut out into the ceiling of the closet. You guessed that this led up to some sort of attic (the move had really been hasty, okay), and you tip-toe to brush your fingertips against the high ceiling.

Though, even if you did find him there, what could you even do? How does one even co-exist with a ghost-

Your toes knocked against the fallen vibrator.

And suddenly you have an idea.

You push open the wooden trap door with a creak, managing to peak your head up. And there, sure as day, was the crouched figure of the man. His lifeless face devoid of expression. Eyes wide. He spied down at you in silence as you pull yourself slightly into the attic space. Slightly crawling back a few inches.

He smiled that cute, crescent-eyed smile once more.

Without hesitation, you reach your hands out- and to your surprise, your palms meet solid flesh. Cold. But solid. You’re cupping his face and edging him closer to you. Grinning, “Hey there.”

The next second, your lips are on his.

And this man - this ghost - groans out in ecstacy. Melting into it. You swear you could feel the surface of his skin where your thumbs rested start to scorch with a red-hot blush. His bangs tickle your face as he tilts his head to the side and starts pressing in even deeper.

Until you have to pull away with a gasp and a slick line of spittle that still connects him to you. Something he’s shortening the distance of as he chases after your now-swollen lips with a whine. 

“M-more-” He croaks out from the back of his throat, thick and wet with need. 

To which you raise an amused brow, “Well, I’d like to know your name first, Mr. Ghost-”

“Geto Suguru.” Geto then starts closing the gap. Puckered, pink lips ravenous for yours. Just the slight edge of his fangs grazes your bottom lip as he starts gnawing down.

But you weren’t done just yet. “And then also I wanted to know what it’s like being a ghost? Any habits? Any dislikes?” You probe, expectant of his answer- but he only looks down at you with half-drunk eyes. Focused on only one thing. “If we’re going to co-exist then I think it’s better if we- mmpf.”

And that one thing was to kiss you silly.

He’s pryin’ your lips apart with his textured tongue, slithering inside so he can stick it into every ridge and orifice. Geto kisses you like a man wishing to quench his thirst after eons of going without. Hot and open-mouthed.

His sloppy kisses end up with a thin line of drool sliding down the edge of your lips and he grunts as he registers it. Dark lashes fluttering ever-so-slightly, “More.”

“Like- like this?” You’re panting by now.

You’re slightly dizzy from all the kissing, flapping your hazy lids a few times and realizing that you were now pressed up against the closet wall. How did you even get there?

Fuck, you had no idea. Right now, the only thing that mattered was Geto’s firm abs pressing through the cottony fabric of his kimono and onto your front. His ice-cold heat. His mouth pushing against yours over and over and over- he didn’t need to breathe.

And yet he was gasping into your mouth with every lecherous suck on your tongue, like his favorite candy. His favorite taste. “More.”

Oh.

What have you unleashed?

Your mouth parts in slight shock and he’s taking the opportunity to kiss you even harder. Until his plump, plush lips were on the verge of bruising and yet Geto didn’t even seem to notice.

Only briefly breaking off the Earth-shattering kiss to look you deep in the eyes. One of his pale, slender hands comes up beside your face and you stare at it in confusion. Still confused as he then clicks!

And suddenly you’re on the bed once again.

“Wh-what the-” You feel like you’ve been saying that non-stop tonight - but could anyone blame you? You’re looking around, your eyes taking their time to adjust to the abrupt change in setting. “You can do that?”

Geto only smiles a sly smile, something knowing. And he has the audacity to shrug.

Before his lips attack yours.

Again. Though, this time his hands are firmly caressing the sides of your body. Gliding down every dip and curve until he’s resting his fingertips against the elastic hem of your shorts.

Geto gives it a slight tug, before you’re pulling away.

“Ah ah-” You’re making a noise of warning over his disappointed huff. Geto narrowed eyes (were they amethyst colored? Oh, they were gorgeous) seem to light up as you then fiddle with the ties of his robe, “You first.”

Gladly.

Geto shoulders away the fabric of his kimono until you could make out his toned upper half. His chiselled chest. Pecs. The ladder-like ridges of his abs lining down his stomach- which is all the greedy glimpse you can take in before he’s then rip-rip-riiiipping off your shirt.

Buttons bursting everywhere as he throws it over his shoulder.

Your shorts are next. Though Geto takes his sensual time slipping them off- shuffling himself down as well. His pinkish tongue comes out to lick his lips as he watches a few stringy wads of your slick stick to the front of the shorts. 

Oh, you were just so wet.

It was almost embarrassing. And as the smirk on his mouth grows, you find yourself puffing. “Don’t- don’t get cocky about it.” Attempting to close your legs just to stop the pure intensity of his stare and-

“Don’t.”

And perhaps it’s the startling divergence of him saying something else, perhaps it the sheer carnal need that seeps into just the tone of that one word - but you’re frozen as Geto then uses his palms to smear your sheeny thighs out until you whine at the stretch.

Taking just one second, maybe two, to admire the splosh of syrupy slick that runs between your pussylips. So thick and swollen with need that Geto gulps before he’s immediately surging his face between them.

Pushing in nose-deep.

He doesn’t hesitate for even a second. He doesn’t even breathe before sticking the fat, padded edge of his tongue on your sensitive folds.

Plastering. Gluing.

Geto’s fucking his prolonged tongue into you like such an animal- husking out moans at the back of his throat at he way your flooded entrance was just too tight to take all of his tongue in one go. 

You’re whining as he pushes and pushes his honed, swabbin’ tip against the circular outer rim. Trying to stretch it out even further with the extreme girth of his tongue - he was just so thick. So big. “Oh- fuck, fuck. Calm down, Geto-”

“Suguru.” Geto practically jolts at the electricity of you saying his name.

“S-Suguru—” You squeal, your thighs shaking so much when he sticks his pointed chin to the bottom of your pussy. Just letting his head move in rovering motions and half-thrusts to bully inside. “You’re acting like you’ve been starving for ages, hah.”

And at that Geto lurches himself upright ever-so-slightly. 

Syrupy juices drip down the lower half of his face and splatter back down onto your pussy. Glistening all the way down his jawline and up his cheekbones like a gloss. 

“Oh, gorgeous…” And then he smiles. Something crazed in his eyes. “I haven’t tasted anything this sweet in life or death.”

Your chin drops to meet your chest, “Oh- wait, how old are you?”

“Oh, honey, you don’t expect me to count right now?”

And he was addicted already.

Properly spitting a wadded knot of saliva down, it strikes the front of your pussy harshly. To which Geto immediately followed up with a lingering few kisses, gluing his upper lip right near where your clit was.

Swollen and needy. And Geto’s just as ravenous as he tug n’ tugs your pussylips aside to fit inside his tongue. 

“Never have.” One of his forearms comes up to rest against the inside of your left thigh. You’re trickling out in wires of slick as he runs one of his fat thumbs between your dripping wet crevice. Pushin’ just down on your perky nub like a button, “Never will- fuck, this pretty pussy’s all mine now. Y’know ghosts haunt for life?”

“N-ngh, oh my god…” Your mouth hangs ajar. Hips arching off of the slowly-dampening blankets to further push his pretty face into your pussy. “Y-you’re talking so much now, ngh.”

“Oh.” Like he didn’t even register that. And Geto clouds out a murky breath that heats up your core even more. Just so many sensations that already send zaps of pleasure skittering up your spine - it makes your cunt gush out in a waterfall of even more sap that Geto leans over to lap at.

Tongue fully flopping out, licking and licking every polished inch of you so that none of it goes to waste. You’d soaked yourself even wetter, and he was stopping mid-sentence just to taste you. Only after he’s done does he murmur. “Oh I’m…”

“Hm?”

“Drunk.” Oh. Geto’s knobbly thumb rolls over the tip-top of your clit in slow hearts, making your eyes swirl comically inside the whites of your eyes. “Fuck, always was a talkative- hah, drunk. You’ve got me pussydrunk, gorgeous.”

You admit, “I like it.”

His dark brows raise, the ends of his mouth twisting upwards into something mean. You should’ve known there was an inkling of darkness behind that sweet smile of his.

“Well, you’re going to like this a lot more.”

And then he’s not just teasing, he’s not waiting ‘round to stretch out your pussy’s entrance so that you can take him easily. No, the very tip of Geto’s tongue sticks inside your cunt and then shoves all the way through.

In quick, sloppy half-thrusts.

He’s probing and probing his flexible muscle into the most tender spots against your walls, just swirlin’ them around before each jackhammer so that he can reach every tiny cranny. And they were so thick, too, such a generous girth that stretched out your glossy walls as they should. “Oh, mmm, oh my god- fuck. Just like that, Suguru.”

“Mmm—” But he wasn’t doing it just like that. In fact, he was folding apart your puffy pussylips with the tip of his nose.

Letting it graze lightly against the front of your clit, only further putting pressure on your favorite nub. Hands and face. “More.” A particularly hard squeeze of your clit leaves you bucking wildly, your limbs shaking like a leaf. “More.”

“I’m t-trying—” You sob out, your hamstrings starting to ache with how much harder he was trying to pull your hips into him.

Grind after grind of your glistening, stimulated folds dragging down his features.

Geto rolls his murky irises and latches his free hand onto the side of your waist, “Tch-” He uses that leverage to guide your hips to form filthy figure-eights, openin’ you up just so he can plaster his hot mouth even further. “Try harder, honey. Harder. I don’t have to…heh, I don’t have to breathe, y’know?”

Your mouth drops into a little ‘oh!’ as he then starts to sink in his middle finger inside your wet pussy. 

You were just so hot n’ velvety around him, it felt like he was being crushed in from all sides by a slice of fucking heaven.

Shit. It should be illegal to feel like this.

Dazedly, he’s letting another plumpened digit (his ring finger, this time) scrape against the squeezing edges of your walls. Two of his fingertips almost fighting against his mouth for purchase of your honeyed cunt, pushing and pushing.

“Sh-shit, your fingers are so long-” You’re wailing out, your hands somehow weaving through the sweaty valleys of his locks. And even that only seemed to be used to drag you down even deeper. Even harder against his face.

Something that Geto loves - if the way he fucking smiles against your core told you anything. The toying tip of his tongue pulls out and clings to the outside of your folds now, and he slowly slithers it up to circle on top of your clit. Everywhere. “Oh yeah, c’mon, gorgeous. Like that. Haaaaaarder.”

“T-trying to-”

“And try harder.” There was something stirring in the way that Geto said those words - something dark, something almost predatory. It was a tone that you already knew wouldn’t bode well for you or your poor, puckered pussy. 

And before you know it, Geto has one of his hands in the air once again. 

Smirking as he watches the exact moment your eyes bulge at the sight, lips dropping onto an ‘o’ of recognition. He hums, “Like- this-” And then he snaps his fingers once.

The next time you’re blinking, you’re the one on top.

Your eyes level with the splintering wooden headboard, your legs wobbly where they straddled his handsome face. Geto Suguru had all the teleportation powers in the world and he’d chosen to use it n’ have you seated on his face.

Splayed out on the bed. His mouth chasing your other pair of lips.

Riding your sloppy cunt down his mouth in rapid, little ruts. “O-oh my god, you’re just- just-” You can’t find the words, especially with your mind all muddied like this. Losing your train of thought any time his rovering tongue was licking upwards.

Geto feels you start to hover your hips upwards, not wanting to put his full weight on him. And with his brows furrowed, the man only locks his arms around your waist and pulls you to sit on him. Properly. “-f-filthy! Fuck!”

“Don’t insult me by fucking hovering, gorgeous.” He warns you. Three of his roughened fingerpads now pryin’ apart your pussylips. Before you know it, he’s gyrating them upwards in vulgar strokes, “Who do you even- hah, think you are? Just- fucking- sit-”

You’re already seated on top of him, and he’s using his inhuman strength to pressure your pussy against his mouth even more. Still. 

Just truly jackhammering away all the pretty spots inside your walls as he does so. Pinpointing every bundle of nerves. Geto’s extended middle finger grazes almost near the splotchy area of your g-spot and you moan. “There- just a little closer, Suguru, ngh.”

“Oh yeah? There?” His fingertips maze in that very direction, but this time they’re missing the place completely. And Geto snickers as you shake your head whinily, “Then, maybe I can’t reach it?”

“But-”

“Maybe you just hafta ride my face for it.”

Oh. 

He was just playing with you. Driving you wild with the thrashing drags of his tongue up n’ down your slit. You could feel every sizzling ridge of his tastebuds, they mold against the throbbing nub of your clit and leaves you reeling. 

Once again, Geto pokes his slick-glazed fingers up right near your g-spot and forces your babbling answer out of you. “C’mon, I’m a gentleman. Sit on my face.”

“F-fine—fuck!” You hiccup through your tears. 

Holding onto the silken strands of hair, you grind your hips down harder. Feeling this, Geto’s mouth drops all the way till his limits- wider, deeper, opening up to stick his fingers into your hidden nooks n’ crannies. “Just like that- oh, just like that. Open up wiiiide f’me, please.”

“Don’t stop- feels so good like this.” Your entire body shakes when he bangs a fourth fingertip against the rim of your hole a few times before fitting that in, too.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you, honey.” Geto purrs. This new angle made your sultry pussy let off the most filthy, dampened slurps every time he thrusted his fingers back and forth. Tongue swipin’ up any cobweb of slick that hung out of your hole and dripped down his wrist.

Any and every splash of your juices, he’s lavishing it up.

You swear you can hear Geto finally strike your g-spot and gulp at the mess it creates. Your toes curled. Head thrown backwards.

You’re spraying out your sweetened slick like a fountain - one that he’s got his mouth opened wide for. Partially-closed eyes locked with yours when he lets it all pool at the back of his throat and swallows. 

Fingers thrusting primally inside of you, “Now I- fuck.” His voice was husky, any coherence in them positively shattered. “And now I need you to, ngh, cream all on my tongue, gorgeous. Okay? Yeah? Can this cute human body do that f’me?”

Stupidly, you’re nodding. Body moving before your mind. “Mhm—yes, ngh.”

“Heh, because a dinner isn’t complete without dessert, is it?”

“Yes- yes yes yes, please.”

You just look so pretty whimperin’ and trembling on top of him like this. Your weight presses against Geto’s lower half and he’s moving you feverishly. Swabbin’ the plush fingertips of his digits, he fucks them up into your g-spot and watches as your whole body loosens.

Slouching on top of him, slurping up his every probe.

His mouth upturns into a smile as he suckles on your clit last, “Mhmm—so cum.” He jostles your body around like a ragdoll, as if you weighed nothing. “Ride my face now- and cum- fuck. Use me and cum.”

“Gonna–” Drool seeps from your mouth and down your chin. “Sh-shit I think m’so close.”

“Yeah? Better cream all down my- hngh, tongue, gorgeous.” Geto’s nose crinkles as he feels your movements get sloppy. You could barely control yourself, your head way too dizzy to focus on anything but his roverin’ fingers, sticking against your g-spot in harsh cadence. “Yeah- all down my tongue. Use me-” He bucks his own gluttonous mouth forwards, “Use me use me use me- fuck!”

You’re clenching around his thick fingers so hard that it’s almost hard to slam back in.

“C-cum f’me, honey.”

Within only a few sultry seconds, you’re toppling over into your high.

So hard that you shut your eyes and they still flash white behind your lids. You claw onto Geto’s clammy scalp and push your hips- “Cum—ing, mm.” Your pulse throbs aggressively at both your temple and between your legs. And your lips flap wildly with shrills, “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, it just feels so g-good, Suguru. Never felt like- hck! this before.”

“Heh, aw my poor girl. My poor, poor gorgeous girl.” Geto cooes, though you could discern the amusement in his voice. He smacks his lips on top of your clit, sucking through every peak of your high. So accurate it was almost as if he could see them. 

Spearheading your treacly entrance through each wave of bliss. 

You swear you’re seeing stars once he surges his head even closer and then decides to bite down on that cute nub. “Don’t you worry now. Ghosts have endless stamina, didn’t you know?”

“Th-they do?” Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull - you didn’t expect that. But he’s proving it to you exactly. Slapping his fingers up against the gooey roof of your pussy even after your high is nothing more than a few tingles. “But what if I can’t last-”

“Of course, you will.”

“What if I can’t cum aga-”

“Of course, you will.” Geto was firm on that one. And he was still makin’ out with your pussy as if he was going to prove it to you. Even after most of your orgasm has bated. Even after it was nothing but a few twinges of pleasure bubbling in your veins.

Even after you were so overstimulated that it brought tears to your eyes- Geto takes his own sensual, slow time licking away the last few dewdrops of slick from your cunt. Humming in satisfaction only once he’s finally polished you off completely, “And we have alllll night.”

Geto doesn’t snap his fingers a second time - too pussydrunk to. 

But he’s still flipping you over, the soft fabric of his kimono falling down his shoulders and revealing a few slivers of his milky, toned hips. His kimono covered practically nothing. Practically all-exposed. Him on his meaty knees, you facing him. The perfect viewpoint. All Geto has to do is move his wrapped robes aside- and suddenly you’re face-to-face with the largest, hardest cock you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

And so pretty, too.

He had a thick bulging tip that was blushed a delicate red, scorched in a gradient all the way down to his neat base. Some sparse, curly hairs of black. Your mouth waters as you take in the creamy wad of precum that beads out of his reddened tip, and drips all down.

And his size—oh.

You can’t help it- you’re leaning yourself closer n’ plopping your mouth wetly on top of his flared mushroom head. He tastes salty and of something sweet, almost like honey.

Groaning at the taste, you shiver as Geto hunches over at the feeling of your mouth. His sculptured back flexing, he crouches over to kiss down your arched spine.

Humming, “Sh-shit, dunno what’s sweeter- this mouth or that pretty pussy, hngh.” He grits his teeth. 

You whine into his length when you start to bob your head, throat letting off primal gulps every time Geto’s vein-covered shaft slides down your tongue and targets your throat. He was just so hard that you flinched every time he pulsed, eyes fluttering shut.

“Aww, what’s the matter?” Geto coos down, his rough palm resting on the back of your neck. Meanly, Geto pushes you down and giggles when you choke. “Too big for you, honey?”

“M-mmmpf-” You’re managing out.

And he nods like he understands, “Mhm, don’t worry, gorgeous.” And then with a final buck, like a teaser, he cups your lolling head and pulls you off. The action lets out the most carnal squelch- “I’ll make it fit.”

Click!

You’re on your back. Your head placed softly against the pillows, your legs thrown over his shoulders. 

Geto shoots you the most devilish grin as he holds onto both your thighs and folds you all the way in half. Like a lawnchair underneath him - with your heels against his muscular back, your foreheads touching. 

Into a mating press.

With one hand letting off, he holds onto his bulky hilt and smack-smack-smacks his pink, globular tip between your pussylips. Groaning, “So you better- haaaah, take a deeeeep breath now.”

Your brows slightly knit, “Why do I need to- oh, fuck!” You’re gasping. Heaving. Crying out in lewd trills to which Geto cuts you off by smearing his mouth against yours in a filthy, filthy kiss.

You’re moaning as he fills you up without even trying.

Just the plump, fleshy tip of his cock probing inwards. It stretches out your geysering hole so widely- the smooth lines of his cockhead, and that sensitive line of his slit that massages your walls so sinfully. 

You’re still slightly overwhelmed by your high, and every texture fitted inside of you made your eyes roll to the back of your head.

A few veins ran down the middle of Geto’s cock, slightly redder than the rest of his shaft. And they flinched inside your cunt once he started easing his way in, “Shit- shit, you’re just so big- ngh. Fuck I don’t know if I can–”

“You will.” Sternly, Geto’s kissing you again. Shutting up your silly words, he’s sighing as his massive tip finally swabs its way inside with a wettened plop! “Ghosts never break promises- mm, I never break promises.” Staring dead-on into your hazy peripherals. Voice run ragged. “M’gonna make it fit.”

“Fuck—fuck, it’s so much.”

He wasn’t even thrusting - half-rutting, knees spread, bucking wildly like an animal.

Geto had gotten one cloying taste of your pussy wrapped ‘round his cock and he was suddenly addicted. Suddenly forgetting any and every method of rolling his hips, and instead simply holding onto you and bullying his fat cock inside. 

Both of his hands lace over your scalp, and every time one of his hammering pushes left you reeling- Geto was there to drag you back into his hips again. “What did I say? Hah, what did I say?”

He looks downwards, his jet-black hair falling around the two of you like some silky curtain. You follow his line of sight and come across the most lecherous scene: with your sheeny pussylips all glossed and glittering with slick, dripping all over every time he was nudging his swollen inches inside.

Bit by bit.

Using the restraint he had on you to shove—“M’gonna make it fit- gonna, hah.”

“H-how is it all even fitting, Suguru?” You whine out, your mouth gaped. Geto was a streamlined size near the end of his shaft; but the deeper you took him in, the thicker he became. The more his proud circumference dragged along your walls and stretched you out.

His zig-zagged veins drove you crazy, and you grappled your fingers onto his sculptured deltoids. 

Geto registers your words, and one of his hands lifts off of your head and down onto your front. He pushes down so hard that your breath hitches, feeling for himself as he fucks his size inside. “Oh, honey, you really wanna know?” Something devilish sparkled in his darkened eyes. “You really, really wanna know?”

“Y-yes?” You’re questioning, not entirely sure what you were in store for.

And it turns out- the surface of Geto’s palm, where it was in tactile contact with your stomach, started to glow. Some part of it seeming almost…transluscent as he then glides his hand up n’down. Almost as if he was caressing.

As if he could see exactly where the fat, bludgeoning tip of his shaft ended.

“See here? Here.” Then he’s drawing an invisible line somewhere about midway down your front. Leaning in even closer, “Here’s where I am.” Those glowing fingertips of his move further upwards, dangerously upwards. “And here’s where m’ngh- going to be.”

You balk as that calloused tip of his digits goes up, up, up.

All the way up to your throat- “And here’s where m’gonna be reaching for.”

Oh.

And then he’s fucking you exactly like it. His round, globular tip bulging against the sides of your tight channel- again and again and again. Geto’s hefty thighs slam into the backs of yours with stinging smacks, shovelling his hips ruthlessly.

“And don’t you worry, gorgeous–” He’s whispering out against your ajar mouth, a slight line of drool starting to fall from the edge of your lips at the pressure. “I’m gonna reach there, gonna do it a-all.”

Clammy palm pushing down even harder.

“You can feel it, can’t you?”

“Yes- yes!” Fuck, it genuinely did feel as though he was probin’ his crowned tip against your very lungs. Bruising in a wide circular bruise, Geto snaps his hips further forwards and you feel your back arch. “Can feel you a-all the way in, ngh, here.”

“Awww, there?” Geto chuckles down at the cute way you were clutching onto somewhere ‘round your stomach. Somewhere ‘round your cervix. Feeling him go in even deeper than his jackhammers were going.

The spanking impact of his hips only growing more vicious- he rovers his free hand onto your throat and uses that to keep your restless body still. The perfect target for him to aim his vulgar thrusts, “Then you better allow me to- hah, give it to you there.”

“Yes- yes yes-” Your flooded pussy swallows him up readily with a sluuuuurp, and you feel him ultimately bottom out by your cervix.

“Come on then-” He’s spitting. He’s seething. “-fuck me harder. Fuck back into me.”

The goopy end of your cunt gets punished with a thorough slam of his blushin’ red cockhead. And despite stretching you out to your maximum already, Geto forces his weight down even further. Like he wanted his lengthy shaft to spearhead even deeper-

“Look at youuuu—”  He’s crooning out, his breathy gasp botched with a few hitches now. You just felt so fucking—oh, he couldn’t even put it into words. “Look at you all t-taking it. Fuck back further into me and oh, we are going to have a ngh- niiiiice co-habitation, gorgeous.” Couldn’t even put it into feeling.

The only thing that Geto can do is squelch back his merciless hips. Carnally letting reach winding vein outline the inside of your cunt- and then he’s thoroughly jutting back in. 

Hitting the back of your pussy. Swabbing his slick, drivelling tip into every crevice inside.

He’s smoothing out the ridges of your cunt on his veiny length again. And again. And again and again and again so many times that the spongy area of your cervix starts feeling raw. You stutter out a few sobs, “Oh my g-god, hnghhh—I don’t know if I’d be able to t-take it like this every day in that case.”

“You don’t know?” Geto’s face falls into a faux-pout. And then you’re gasping at the feeling of his frigid thumb gliding across your stomach, his powers fully activated. “Fuck back into me a little-” As you jostle yourself forwards. “Heh, a little more.”

You grab onto him for anchorage, “I’m t-trying.”

“Mhm, trying and I haven’t even shown you the, mmm, half of it.”

Your eyes widen, “What’s the half of it?”

“Well one half is kissin’ that cute little cervix of yours.” He’s smiling, hunching his shoulders forwards so that his pre-glazed tip was fully glued to your cervix. Drawing out little vertical lines every time he drills inside, “Feel that? Fuck- feel me in there, honey?”

“I d-do…”

“And then the other half- or, well, other part is to find that pretty g-spot inside here.” Swirlin’ the slicked end of his cock all around.

Geto’s using it almost like a spotlight, stirring it against the most delicate places on your walls. With each of his hammering thuds, he manages to probe his cockhead even closer to your g-spot. Right where he’d mapped it out before - and right where his ghoulish eyes could see. 

With it, he could pinpoint that exact location of your sweetest, most favorite spot.

“And it can be fooooound…” Geto himself was starting to slobber out from the side of his mouth at this point, like every push of his sensitive length only left him more and more pussydrunk. “Riiiight…”

With every longing drag of his words, he accelerates his cadence.

And it was just the right tempo to make your pupils circle comically, your thighs twitching where they lay across his shoulders. You gasp for air once his fingers press, in—“S-Sugu, it feels like you’re reaching straight for my- fuck!”

He is. 

A plump, plush smooch of his mushroomy tip straight into your g-spot.

Geto strikes his cock against that particularly treasured area so hard that you’re seeing stars. “Yeeees?” Driving into you like such a madman, such incredible strokes that leave you speechless. “Reaching straight for your-” Palm leaving indents where he pushed, where his nails clawed. “-what, gorgeous girl?”

“My- my- fuck.” Your throat clogged up with so many sobs and hitches. And you’re sure that by now you’d barely even be able to spell out your own name let alone-

“Can’t spell out your name, hm?” He tilts his head to the side, teasingly looking at you through the gaps of his shaggy black bangs. “Do you even know your name right now?”

You gasp, “Well…”

And at that even Geto himself seems slightly taken aback. You were that fucked stupid?

 With one hand on your throat, the other then snakes down to the gooey in-betweens of your thighs. Swipin’ over your plump clit with his thumb, “Awww, that’s alright. Heh, let this ol’ ghost here do allll the work. And you just worry about that last- hck! part of it.”

“I—oh.” The rough fringe of his thumb outlines a few hearts on top of your nub for a few seconds. Before he’s suddenly drawing hearts- and his foggy pupils were shaped just the same.

Heart-eyed. 

As you feel the molten bliss start to build up in the pit of your stomach, you strangle out. Slightly mesmerized by the way he was just so ruined. “And what is that, hngh, last part of it, Sugu?”

“Oh, well, y’know…” He casually looks down between your legs. The gooey splashes of slick n’ precum that kept on pouring out. It’s a sight that makes him smile. Geto sweetly kisses your lips, “The next part would be to cum inside.”

“C-can a ghost even cum inside?” You’re wondering out loud, now thoroughly gone on his large, plummeting shaft.

“Oh, honey-” Geto croons, “-you’re about to find out.”

And it’s with a few more sloppy thrusts, just a few more twists of his ravenous fingers- he’s toying with you, driving you wild until you’re finally crashing into your nth high of the night. Because it’s not just one orgasm - over and over, your entire body is being pounded by repeated waves of bliss.

Your clawed hand on his shoulder falls off, and Geto uses one of his to bring it back up to his mouth. He kisses the back of your hand softly as he cums deep inside your womb.

“Ohhhh, god.” Geto throws his head back, silky hair flying. Before he fights against the reflex- his urge to stare down at your pretty face was even stronger.

With one hand pushing up his curtain bangs, and the other pressing down on your cum-inflated stomach. Geto chuckles as he feels you drip down both your legs and his, a shiny coating of ivory white. “Oh fucking hell, I’d die another thousand times just to see a sight like this- fuck.”

“I f-feel so full.” You can barely gurgle out. Your voice feeling all thick at the sensation of his clingy wads of cum being pumped into you.

He’s cumming and cumming- and you swear that one of the lights on the other end of your hallway burst. Each of your skins covering with a layer of supernatural power.

Geto pushes and pushes each sappy layer of it inside with his crowned shaft, the bulbous end of it plugging up your every orifice with the thick knots of his seed. You can feel it splosh all about you, your legs thrashing on top of his shoulders as yet another thrust of his leaves your walls all raw. All overstimulated.

A thickened few drops of it slip from between your pussylips and drench his fat base. To which he’s swiping a finger around and coating it in the glittery moisture, sucking on it. “Mmm–” Geto savors the taste. “So you remember what I said about a ghost’s stamina, gorgeous?”

You were still shaking with the aftershocks of your high, and your ringing eardrums could barely believe what they were hearing. 

But he leans in, emphasizing.

“And by that, I mean more.”

.

.

.

“Oh fuh-fuck…” You’re hiccuping out from the back of your throat. Barely able to even hold your head up, you rest it on Geto’s prominent collarbones, your spittle splashing out in waves.

Something that he’s staring down at with a chuckle, and swabbin’ the plump end of his thumb between your drooling lips. Pushin’ all those wads back, “Haaah, what’ve I said about keeping it- ngh, inside? Both those pretty lips of yours are the same, gorgeous.”

You’re whimpering at this tutted statement - what else could he expect?

After your first round there’d been the second, the third, then the fourth- then the fifth where your high was nothing but a few oversensitive tingles that left you crying. And yet, Geto still had the stamina for a sixth.

Even when his thick, bludgeoning cock was all red n’ raw. Even when he was swollen with need. Even when his precum was webbing out in milky ribbons like cum, and he couldn’t even control himself by now - he was still going.

One hand plastered on the side of your hips to help you ride him silly, the other cupping your face. Geto softly kisses your ajar mouth, before he then spits.

Thick and splattered on the side of your lips, Geto moves his hand down from your face to your neck then. Using it to help your overworked hips slide even faster down his cock, you twitch at the feeling of each vein scrapin’ your poor insides. “C’mon, cooooome on. I told ya what to expect with a- hah, ghost, honey. Didn’t I?”

“You’re no ghost- I think you’re some beast.” You whine out tearily. In response, he snakes the hand at your hips down. Latching on instead to your clit, and he bears no regrets simply puuuuulling.

He purrs, “What was that, honey?”

Your body is trembling on top of him. All wobbly, you angle the splotched area of your g-spot to meet his mushroom tip. Over and over. “I said you- you are a- fuck.”

“Mhmmm—?”

And by now you’re fully dumbified. 

You should have known better than to think that Geto Suguru would go easy on you. In fact, he was only wildly thrashin’ his tip against your cervix harder, it draws with the creamy streaks of cum left before. And if you were any less ruined, then you might not have noticed the way that his supernatural eyes narrow down at your front. At the way he simply stares.

“Hmmm, can’t tell if it’s taken yet~” He muses, out loud. Head tilted, and with it so was the inky curtain of his hair. “But it hasn’t…not taken, heh.”

“Fuck- any chances that power of yours can tell when- hngh, when you’re showing any signs of stopping?” You’re huffing out, and he quickly gives a rude spank against the doorway to your womb to make you shut up.

Shaking his head seriously, “Ohhhh, honey.” Geto then lifts his hand off of your throat and drifts it downwards, letting the waterfall of sap drench his thumb. Before he plugs it inside your mouth, making you suck on it like some lolly. “You’d be lucky if either of us made it out of this alive.”

Oh.

You sure would be lucky.

Because within only a split-second, he’s slouching back sexily. Further against the pillows so that he could drill his hips up into you- your cute bounces n’ figure-eights just weren’t enough. Geto wanted to fuck you.

And he wanted to fuck you hard.

He wanted to pound his plummy, split-ended tip against the back of your pussy until you were practically sobbing. And he was. 

Long, slurped drags of his vein-decorated cock. Ones that splosh around the oodles of cum layered on your walls, getting them into every tiny nook and cranny. He was so thick - you swear he was swollen with even more need than before - that he let you mewling after every ramming thrust.

With nose crinkled, teeth gritted into a snarl, Geto sticks his divot into the area of your g-spot. And he watches as you whimper, your mouth babbling out something half-nonsensical. “Gonna- cum- ngh, again. Sugu!”

“Mmm, love how you say my name.” You were burning up, practically at a fever-pitch by this point. “Can you say it even louder? Hmmm? Say it even hah! more?” With a few more hefty thrusts you’re feeling the oncoming wave of your high- though, by now it felt more like a few white-hot sparks.

Leaving your head completely blank. “I don’t- I don’t-”

“Yeahhh, you can.” He knew you were close. And he didn’t even need his powers to tell. 

He could simply feel it in the way your walls were relentless in their adorable clenching. Their slick surfaces growing wetter by the second, a few lines of your honeyed slick glissade down your legs and up his prominent v-line - now all red with slamming impact.

Only flushing even further. 

Especially when he speeds up, probin’ his tip mercilessly. And then, in a final pattern, Geto cups the base of his length and helps slide his glazed tip. 

It almost feels like he’s circlin’ his girth around your walls, just stretching you out. But, really, he was writing out - a long, scrolly ‘G’ at the very back of your bruised pussy. One that makes Geto huff out in laughter, the burning sting sizzles against your most tender spots. “And what’s that spellll—?”

“G-Geto—” Another curling line that he was scouring out. Within your cockdrunken mind, it almost felt like an ‘S’. ’“Suguru- fuck. Suguru!”

And with that, you’re cumming. 

Short and sharp- your vision in front shattered with a kaleidoscope of tears. Suddenly overtaken by so many spurts of high that you don’t know where yours ends and his starts. Your back arching, breath stuttered.

You’re so far gone that you barely even realize it once a sudden warmth seeps between your legs. Flooding out your tender orifice with a few hefty dollops of cum, “Mmm, yeahhh. Take it, gorgeous. Take- hah, take all of it.”

“I am-” You bawl out, “I am I am-”

Your bedroom lights were already long-shattered from hours prior, and it doesn’t take long for the sheer force of Geto’s orgasm to leave your unbolted furniture shaking. Hovering. You swear you catch your sagged bed lift off of the ground a few centimeters as he rides out his orgasm on your heated, wet pussy.

“S’right here.” His tracing index glides up the middle of your body, as if you couldn’t feel him. Even in the darkness. “Riiiight in the middle here. And- ngh-” His toned hips shift as he sees white with overstimulation, the dribble of his cum petering out after a sudden surge.

You suddenly realize that Geto’s cumming dry now - he didn’t even know that was possible.

The power goes off in your all-new apartment. 

But also in every ward in Tokyo.

Burst after burst of his high leaving you completely spent. You whimper as you feel his supernatural energy let off a few sparks where he touched - but mostly where he plastered a few fingers to your clit. A constant, buzzing sensation even better than any of your toys and vibrators- honestly, you couldn’t even think of those right now. 

As he feels his flinching tip stop moving, Geto looks up at you with the most heady, pussydrunken eyes. Parted lips. Messy hair. 

He just looked so pretty. His voice trembling with need as Geto finishes off, “And I believe it’s taken now, gorgeous.”

You blink, “Taken? You mean…”

“Mhm.” He just looks so proud of himself. So accomplished. Lovingly grazing his hand down the front of your stomach, where a bulge of stuffed cum was starting to form, in a way that only ever could be done by him.

He embraces you tightly, head falling on your shoulder. And despite being cold, usually, you can’t help but notice that he was sweating. Warm. “All taken.”

“O-oh–” You shake atop him, vision still bleary with the haze of your high. But it was starting to fade back in, and so was your sense of rationality. 

You could feel his ivory sap dripping out like a faucet from your core, all creamy and lust-filled. Looking down at it- the way it had completely ruined your silky sheets by now, almost made you feel shy. “B-before that we might have to discuss splitting rent, first.”

Geto squints, “What’s…rent?”

A/N. Mwahahaha