toejispubelice

Sukuna leans in, flashing a sharp, predatory grin with all his teeth accounted for, beady red eyes gleaming maliciously. Though in the infant's perspective it's like looking at the man through a fish eye lens which is even creepier with how it warps his face so it's round and huge.

“Yeah, I’m the big bad wolf. Your dad actually sold you to me for a pack of cigarettes,” Jin doesn't even smoke, “He’s not coming back. It’s just us and the cold, hard world now.”

Yuji lets out a tiny, uncertain whimper, curling in on himself in that newborn scrunch kind of way.

“Don’t start that,” Sukuna warns, kissing his teeth in annoyance at the thought of dealing with a crying infant and pointing a calloused finger. “Better watch out. I haven't had breakfast yet. You look like a prime slider.”

A mean chuckle bubbles in his chest as his nephew's eyes widen and he kicks out with a soft hiccup.

“Yeah, I’m gonna eat you. Start with the toes. High protein,” his uncle gives a growl that startles the baby, amusing Sukuna to no end.

But Yuji doesn't cry. Instead, he reaches out a tiny, chubby hand and pats Sukuna’s nose. It is a tactical error—definitely not the reaction he expected.

Kids usually run and scream, hiding behind their parents’ legs when they see him. Hell, even the parents can't seem to comfort their children when the sight of him makes them wanna shit their pants too.

And yet, this fat, pink-haired baby cracks a gummy smile, all coos and gurgles for him. Sukuna just knows he's going to talk his ear off one day.

Sukuna's less grumpy after eating breakfast. He's got Yuji propped up in his baby seat on the couch as they sit in awkward silence, the television playing something uninteresting in front of them.

The baby seems content just sucking on his pacifier but Sukuna is not. Maybe it's because pacifiers don't come in adult sizes. He feels like he needs to say something—anything to end this weird quietness.

“So, uh,” he starts dumbly, scratching the back of his head and clearing his throat as the baby casts his cute little doe eyes on him.

His uncle interlaces his fingers on his lap, squirming a bit like he's in some interview. Which is odd because Sukuna is never nervous; he makes other people nervous by just existing.

“Have you decided which university to want to apply to yet?” That is the stupidest question Sukuna has ever asked and Yuji stares at him blanky, obviously not fucking understanding.

Of course, the man has to make it worse with a poor attempt at a nonchalant shrug as he sniffs. “I'm just saying. I could help you out. Went to an ivy league myself, you know? Could help you apply.”

Again, just that unmoved expression on that plump face, pudgy cheeks drooping with how fat they are and blush, wispy hair sticking out in all directions as he eyes his uncle.

“You've got, what?” He scrunches up one side of his face with a hum as he actually thinks about it. “Eighteen years until you have to enroll? A head start is always a good idea. Your dad is a delayed fucker.”

A blink is all he gets in response, watching his nephew's salmon lashes brush his cheeks as he suckles on his pacifier faster.

The evening quickly devolves into a series of failures after that.

Babies are bound to get fussy when they remember that they don't know who the fuck the person in front of them is. The hulking, tatted man before Yuji is not his Papa Jin or Mama Kaori.

So he cries, eyes glassy and bottom lip jut out as he sniffles and heaves out pathetic sobs.

A tug pulls in Sukuna's chest as he paces, trying to figure out how the fuck to console him. He's tried rocking him, playing nursery rhymes, talking to him, handing him toys.

None of it worked.

Then it hit him. Not just the sock that Yuji kicked off but an idea too.

He's the identical twin of the baby's father—Yuji is biologically his child too. While Jin looks dorky as fuck, they still share a face.

Grumbling, Sukuna puts on his spectacles and ruffles his hair like a dog shaking water off his fur coat. Yuji’s hiccuping cries falter as he frowns at the odd scene before him.

Slick back hair gone, the tresses are now akin to a fucking mop, similar to the bowl cut his dumbass brother has. He feels so silly like this, doesn't know how Jin walks around looking like an embarrassment, how he even got laid.

He wouldn't have believed it if the proof of his brother's rendezvous wasn't currently giggling at his stupid change in appearance, eyes curving into crescents as sweet, heartwarming giggles flutter out of him.

“Yeah, you like your uncle looking like an idiot, huh?” he scoffs, looking at his nephew through the curtain of his bangs but is relieved that it worked.

Yuji coos and babbles in delight.

During feeding time, Sukuna holds the bottle like a live grenade after ensuring to follow the instructions to the T and checking the temperature. As much as he terrifies and torments the kid, he's still his nephew.

Though it's hard to remember that when Yuji decides this is the perfect time to practice being a fucking pressure hose, spraying lukewarm formula across Sukuna’s t-shirt and face, milk dripping from his scowling face, droplets running down the path of his tattoos as he stares ahead for a crumb of patience.

When it comes to burping him, Sukuna pats the baby’s back, big hand spanning his entire upper body and reminding the man just how tiny and fragile the little human is, with the gentlest strength he possesses, which is still enough to make the kid sound like a deflating bagpipe.

“Crap, sorry,” he hisses in apology, softening his touch even further as he waits for the release of gas.

It does come. From his mouth and his butt.

Diaper changing is a biohazard situation that requires Sukuna to use his high-end gin as an emergency sanitizer after a vomit-inducing mishap.

Sukuna holds his breath until his vision blurs, hovering over the changing table with the intensity of a man dismantling a bomb.

“This is worse than a club bathroom. Blech," he gags, pinning a squirming Yuji down with one hand while grappling with a sticky tab.

By 8:00 PM, both are covered in a questionable film of sweat and baby powder. Sukuna sighs, running a hand through his mussed coral locks, stripping off his ruined shirt, and hauling the infant into the tub.

As the warm water fills the basin, something shifts. Sukuna sits on the floor, his massive frame cramped, using a tiny yellow sponge to wipe Yuji’s forehead. Yuji splashes, a spray of water hitting Sukuna’s face.

Sukuna blinks slowly, wipes his eyes, and lets out a dry, accidental chuckle.

Yuji pauses, then lets out a high-pitched, melodic coo. He splashes again, his toothless grin mirroring Sukuna’s sharp one—only this time, it isn't scary. It is just... nice.

An hour later, the house is silent save for the living room. Sukuna is sprawled on the couch, a soft knitted blanket covering his tattooed chest. A bright, neon-coloured movie about singing trolls plays on the massive screen—a far cry from his usual gritty crime dramas.

Yuji is draped atop his chest, propped up on his belly as he's doing “tummy time” or whatever, big brown eyes glued to the kaleidoscope of colours dancing across the television, mouth slightly open as drool glistens on his chin that Sukuna keeps muttering over and wiping away with his thumb.

Begrudgingly, the plot of the movie has sucked him in too, brows drawn together as the scenes reflect in the lenses of his eye comfort glasses.

The pink-haired troll who talks too much for his liking and is buzzing with energy won't get off the blue brooding, grumpy one's ass about something until he snaps. You can guess which one Sukuna relates to.

“Because singing killed my grandma!”

A tense beat of silence envelops the characters as that revelation hits them.

“Damn, this is kinda heavy for kids,” Sukuna muses then scoffs and rolls his head to look at his nephew who doesn't spare him a glance. “But what do I know? I was asking you about college.”

“My uncle died tap dancing once.”

It's so random that Sukuna barks out a laugh, spooking his nephew who almost tumbles off his chest from the force of the action, flailing like a turtle on its back.

Eyes bulging, Sukuna's quick to catch him in one burly arm and settle him back on his chest, heart thudding hard against his ribcage and blood rushing in his ears. “Shit! Sorry, kid.”

He stays in place for the remainder of the movie.

The baby reaches up at one point, tracing the tattoo on Sukuna's collarbone, cooing softly. Sukuna doesn't move. He doesn't even breathe or blink, terrified of breaking the fragile peace.

Slowly, the tiny hands drop as eyes droop. The heavy eyelids slide shut. Yuji puffs out a long, contented sigh, sinking into the warmth of his "scary" uncle.

Sukuna stares down, his rough face melting into an uncharacteristically gentle expression as something warm and fuzzy blooms in behind his ribs. He adjusts the blanket, resting a heavy hand over the infant's back.

Yuji is fast asleep, cheek smushed to his uncle's pec like it's a pillow as his small body rises and falls in perfect sync with Sukuna’s breathing. His tiny fist was curled tightly around Sukuna’s thumb.

A smile, genuine and a little dopey, curls at the corner of Sukuna's mouth as he resumes watching the nature documentary he put on.

The pink-haired man checks on his nephew again, the harsh lines of his face softening once more in the blue light of the television. He’d toppled regimes and moved millions, but this four-pound weight on his sternum feels like the heaviest responsibility he’s ever held.

“Fine,” Sukuna concedes, whispering into the quiet room, careful not to wake the baby. “You can stay. But tomorrow, we’re watching The Godfather.”

Yuji just sighs in his sleep, smelling of lavender and milk.

It wasn't even the fact that he'd recreated all of his students with alarming accuracy, spending an embarrassing amount of time trying to get Megumi's perpetually unimpressed expression just right. It wasn't the way he'd nearly cried laughing when he discovered how absurd cutscenes could become depending on who was involved. It wasn't the fact that he'd muttered, "Woahhh they call me ‘Your Majesty’ babe!" with the confidence of a man defending a doctoral thesis.

It was the way he'd made you.

He had approached your Mii creation with the seriousness of a sculptor commissioned to carve a masterpiece through the facepaint section

"No," he had said, frowning at the screen. "Your eyes aren't right."

"They look fine."

"They don't look as cute as you."

"You've been adjusting them for twenty minutes."

"They’re not cute enough, baby."

You had watched him restart over and over again after that.

He insisted the tiny digital version of you needed to be perfect. Every time he thought he'd gotten it right, he'd notice something tiny and start over again. You had eventually wandered away to make tea, only to return and find him still hunched over the console with narrowed eyes.

"You know I'm literally sitting right here, right?"

"You deserve accuracy babe."

"You make it sound like you're painting royalty."

"You are royalty."

After that, it should have ended there, but

It wasn't enough for the Miis to exist on the island. He wanted to see how everyone interacted. He checked friendships, he watched cutscenes, he read out the commentary like an overly enthusiastic sports announcer despite being the only one who cared about the outcomes.

Then he discovered relationship rankings.

"Oh?" Satoru blinked.

"What?"

He slowly turned the console around toward you.

"We're friends."

"...I would hope so."

"No, look." Your Mii and his Mii were listed as friends. Satoru stared and then his eyes widened.

"We can do better than that."

You snorted.

"You sound offended."

"I am offended."

Thus began his campaign.

He didn't call it a campaign, of course. He referred to it as "letting fate take its course," which would have sounded more convincing if he hadn't started checking their friendship status every few hours. You'd catch him lying across the couch with one arm thrown over his face, only for him to suddenly sit upright and grab the console with startling urgency.

"Good news."

"What happened?"

"We're Good Friends now."

"You look happier than when you got your paycheck, Toru."

"It means we're destined to fall in love!"

It escalated from there.

Whenever cutscenes involving your Mii and his Mii appeared, he watched with rapt attention, even when he’d already seen them. He narrated them under his breath. Sometimes he laughed. Sometimes he placed a hand dramatically over his chest like he'd just witnessed the greatest romance ever told.

You had never expected your husband, one of the strongest sorcerers alive, to become emotionally attached to tiny digital representations of people he already knew. Yet every night, he updated you on island developments with the same enthusiasm other people reserved for gossip from work.

Eventually, the inevitable happened.

Satoru gasped. "Oh my God!"

"What?"

"We're Ultra Friends."

You blinked.

"...Congratulations?"

"No, you don't understand."

"I think I understand exactly as much as I should."

"We're Ultra Friends."

He looked genuinely thrilled. Then he threw himself sideways across your lap.

"I think my mii is your mii’s favorite!"

"Well you’re my favorite in real life, so…."

"Yeah, but now it's official babe!" You laughed hard enough that your shoulders shook.

The betrayal arrived three days later, it was far too early in the morning.

He notices your friendship ranking changed overnight and got suspicious because how had he missed that? He'd checked the island before bed. He'd checked it while brushing his teeth. He'd checked it while waiting for instant noodles to cook. There was no way your Mii and Nanami's Mii had become Ultra Friends over his friendship without him noticing.

Then he keeps watching because, obviously, he needs answers.

And he tells himself he's not worried. Ultra Friends just meant they got along well. You were friendly in real life, and Nanami was a decent person even if he was annoyingly competent. There was nothing inherently romantic about being Ultra Friends. Satoru repeated that to himself three separate times while staring at the screen with the intensity of a detective investigating a murder.

Then the cutscene starts.

At first, it doesn't even register as dangerous.

Your Mii and Nanami's mii are talking like all his Miis do. Satoru relaxes slightly, slumping back against the couch cushions as he lets out a quiet breath through his nose. See? He knew he was overthinking it! Your Mii was just as much of a sweetie as-

Then your Mii pauses. Satoru straightens up.

"...Wait."

Your Mii’s cheeks streak pink as the background fades into a pastel hue. Satoru's entire body goes rigid. "No!" The realization hits him all at once. Your mii had fallen in love with Nanami!

Your mii.

The one he'd painstakingly edited multiple times because he wanted to get every detail right. The one he'd proudly shown you because, look, he'd even gotten your smile perfect. The one he'd watched become Ultra Friends with his own mii before cheering like his favorite team had won a championship.

Satoru stared at the screen in complete silence.

"...No."

Your mii admitted to falling in love with Nanami.

Then, with the horror of a man witnessing the collapse of civilization, he immediately shuts the game off. The click of the Switch powering down echoes through the apartment. You don't even have time to ask what happened before Satoru lets out a strangled noise and hurls the console across the length of the sofa.

Not hard enough to damage it, but hard enough to communicate his clear devastation.

The Switch bounces once against a cushion. Satoru turns toward you with an expression usually reserved for discovering a loved one has been replaced by an impostor.

"You fell in love with Nanami!"

"...What?"

"You fell in love with him."

The entire day becomes one long pity party after that. He follows you around the apartment and all day he asks increasingly absurd questions.

"Have you always liked responsible men?"

"Satoru." you chide.

"Did you ever think his tacky yellow tie looked nice?"

"Huh?"

"He probably has good credit or whatever that bullshit means."

"You are jealous of a video game, baby."

"I am ‘jealous’ of a homewrecker!” He curled up dramatically against your side on the couch. At one point, he actually mutters, "I knew I should've made him uglier."

Even after you reassure him over and over again that you are, in fact, married to him and not secretly harboring feelings for Kento Nanami, he still looks personally victimized by the entire ordeal. Eventually, much later that evening, curiosity gets the better of him.

"...Maybe I should check."

"You've been avoiding the game for six hours."

"Because I'm grieving."

"You threw it two feet away."

"It was symbolic."

He reaches for the Switch with the cautious energy of someone handling explosive material. He turns it back on and the cutscene resumes. Your Mii is still standing there with a crush on Nanami. Satoru makes another offended sound.

Then…he notices the options. "...Huh?"

You lean over his shoulder.

"What?"

Satoru reads the choices aloud.

One of them says:

You're imagining things.

Silence settled heavily over the living room.

He stared at it.

Then he pressed the button.

Your Mii paused on screen as if genuinely taking the advice into consideration. After a brief moment, she perked up almost immediately, admitting that maybe she had just been imagining things after all. Just like that, the crush vanished as though it had never existed in the first place. The problem that had consumed Satoru's entire day resolved itself with a single press of a button he could have chosen from the beginning.

Neither of you moved.

Satoru remained frozen on the couch with the Switch still clutched in both hands. You sat beside him, staring at the screen with an expression that slowly shifted from disbelief to something far more dangerous. The apartment was so quiet that the hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen suddenly seemed deafening.

Very slowly, you turned to look at him.

"...You mean to tell me."

Satoru kept his eyes fixed firmly on the screen.

"You spent an entire day accusing me of emotional infidelity, you threw your Switch across the couch, you followed me around the apartment asking if I secretly preferred financially responsible men."

At some point during the interrogation, Satoru lowered the console into his lap. His shoulders gradually curled inward beneath the weight of every accusation, his earlier confidence shrinking into something considerably smaller. He looked less like the strongest sorcerer alive and more like a child caught drawing on the walls with permanent marker. After another long stretch of silence, he finally cleared his throat.

"...In my defense, baby-"

"You had a button."

"It was a very emotional situation!"

You stared at him for another beat before the first crack appeared in your composure. A laugh escaped despite your best efforts to hold it back, quickly snowballing into something impossible to suppress. The look on Satoru's face shifted immediately from sheepish embarrassment to outright offense. He wilted against the couch cushions as though your laughter itself had become a personal betrayal.

He dropped forward without warning, burying his face into your shoulder as if physical proximity might somehow protect him from the consequences of his own stupidity. His arms wrapped around your waist, dramatic as ever, though the grip itself carried a familiar sincerity beneath all the theatrics. When he spoke again, his words came out muffled against your shirt.

"I got scared, don't you understand, sweetheart?"

The confession lingered between you, unexpectedly earnest after hours of exaggerated sulking and ridiculous accusations. His fingers tightened slightly where they rested against your side before he let out a soft groan of embarrassment. "I know it wasn't actually you," he admitted quietly. "I know it was just a game and none of it meant anything, but... I don't know. It still felt weird seeing a version of you choose somebody else."

Your laughter softened almost instantly.

"You jealous idiot."

"I know."

"You really thought I'd leave you for Nanami."

"I didn't think you'd leave me."He pauses. "...I just didn't like seeing a version of you choose someone else." You wrap your arms around him at that. "Good thing the real me has good taste." Satoru brightens immediately in response. "You think I’m in good taste?" He beamed.

 "You had a meltdown over a Nintendo game because you love me. So I’d say you’re at most a sweetheart."

"It’s romantic." He retorted. “No baby, it’s insane!” You replied. Satoru grins against your shoulder before glancing back down at the screen. "...I'm still keeping an eye on Nanami." You immediately start laughing again.

And Satoru, despite having discovered there had literally been an "you're imagining things" option the entire time, narrows his eyes suspiciously at Nanami's tiny digital face anyway.

Because some grudges, apparently, transcended reality itself.

a/n: i know this is a shorter wordcount but my ass is exhausted from life and exams, whiny toru def cheering me up tho :b

also i've rlly liked tomadachi life, i got addicted rlly fast and im ngl it gets boring sometimes but most of the time its rlly fun!!

divider credits!! @dividers-are-us , @cursed-carmine

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

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

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

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

“anything else?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

and that was the first time he saw you smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“friends?”

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

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

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

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

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

and that someone being you.

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

you were fucking breathtaking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“choso?”

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

“shit, yeah—here follow me.”

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

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

“woah,” you exhale.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

this is bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

choso hums, “sounds fun.”

you nod, “yeah. it was fun.”

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

a silent beat passes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

you can still hear your heart racing behind your ears.

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

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

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

“cute,” he mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

a beat.

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

you do the same.

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

“well…” was all he could respond with.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“is it—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he must be dreaming right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“that was really fucking…hot.”

your heart clenches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your heart stops.

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

what did that guy mean by this always gets them?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“that’s my uncle ryo.”

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

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

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

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

“how fucked up are you?”

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

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

“yeah, I know. you owe me—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but you never came.

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

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

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

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

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

“so she’s mad at sukuna?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

toji shrugs, walking over, “could be.”

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

choso’s eyes widen, “a virgin?!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“oh…”

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

“dude!”

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

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

“one blue raspberry slushy.”

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

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

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

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

and god, apparently, looks like you.

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

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

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

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

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

“can we talk about—“

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

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

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

“fuck me—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

choso is even more lost than he was before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you nod, mischief gleaming under your lashes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

nothing else mattered now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that’s when a loud whistle cuts the air.

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

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

a vein pops from choso’s neck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“dude!”

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

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

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

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

“oh shit!”

After handing you your device, Choso turned away all awkwardly and calmly excused himself into his room for the night. This left you to watch him walk away with slightly confused eyes as you carried on with your call, shrugging off his sudden stiffness and figuring it was nothing too serious.

Which, in a way, it wasn't. The man nearly needed a moment away from you.

A moment long enough to take care of the leaking problem in his pants, that is.

As soon as he enters his room, he lightly shuts the door and lets his head push against it with a soft thump. One hand remains on the doorknob whilst the other is just barely keeping his body standing upright. It was like a switch had gone off in his head or something.

It hasn't even been a week with you yet and there's already one thing running rampant in his mind—sex.

Choso's known you for quite some time now, which is exactly why you moving in with him when he already had a spare bedroom only made sense. But to already be losing his head over something so small makes him feel shamed with the weight of guilt.

He shouldn't touch himself. He should ignore how hard he is right now. And should definitely not think about you if he does decide to act against those two things.

...Yeah, that goes straight out the window the moment he hears you laughing from the living room.

You're still on the phone and you'd have no reason to come into his room and check on him or anything so it should be okay, no? Getting off to you once won't hurt anyone.

Clasping his bottom lip neatly in between his teeth, Choso finally moves a hand down over the fully formed bulge poking out against his sweatpants. Maybe he won't even jerk off. Maybe he'll just rub at his cock until he cums.

That should be fine.

Right?

His hand carefully cups 'n grabs at the outline of his hard shaft, his bottom lip falling loose with a moderately noisy pant breaking free from his throat. "Fuck," Choso sears just under his breath as he squeezes his eyes shut.

He shouldn't be doing this. This is wrong. You just moved in!

His hand slides over slowly, letting the friction of fabric and his palm soothe his aching arousal just a bit.

What would you think if you saw him right now? You're only a few steps away from his door, sitting all pretty in his living room. Would you be disgusted by him if you knew how he rubbed his hand against his dick to the mere thought of you? Taking his other hand—the same one that held your phone and now carries the faintest bit of your scent—and slowly bringing it up to his nose to smell.

His palm reeks in your lotion. You must've used it recently, huh? Probably right before touching your phone for the last time, he thinks.

Choso's other hand squeezes around the head of his dick, feeling something nasty beginning to wet up his boxers. Fuck, he feels gross for doing this. He's all hunched up against his bedroom door, body flinching whenever he hears your voice a little clearer from beyond it, and cock jumping with each whiff he takes of his palm.

His mouth flails open a little and he nearly whines as his hand grips at his length a little tighter, slithering towards his shaft, and then letting his hips roll forward. The hand pressed up to his nose slips down to clasp over his mouth to conceal that pathetic sound, only worsening his situation as he realizes this means the smell of your lotion is practically smushed up to his lips now.

Choso feels his knees going weak all of a sudden and can't even help himself as he ditches the teasing rubbing and finally stuffs his hand down into his pants. His cock meets his hand raw with a throbbing heat he hadn't been expecting.

Quickly, before he starts letting out sounds too loud to conceal, he does his best to work himself up to an orgasm. Because of his hasty movements, it's not long before his hand is cramping up and he's jerkily thrusting his dick into his coiled fingers.

"A-Ah," Choso gasps, his lashes fluttering over something wet that'd unknowingly built up against his waterline.

Then there's a sudden knock at his door.

The poor guy nearly falls over, barely managing to grit his teeth and swallow the next array of sounds that threatened to leave him. His eyes stare down at the silhouette of your shadow under the door and he struggles to suppress a groan.

"Hey, I dunno if you're asleep already but," God, you sounded so sweet—how could he be doing this in thought of you? "I just wanted to let you know we're out of trash bags. Tried to text you but it wasn't going through."

Choso's standing here jerking off like some freak after touching something of yours and now you're standing on the other side of his door telling him you guys are out of trash bags?

How comedic.

Not that any of this stops his hand from moving. If anything, his cock feels wetter as he continues on to the sound of each word leaving your lips. Then he presses his face against his door and murmurs, "M-Mhm, thanks for... letting me know. I'll get more t-tomorrow," He grunts out.

Little did he know, his movements had only become smoother because he already came from the moment you knocked on the door. Now his briefs were filled with cum, his hand felt disgustingly sticky, and...

And you have absolutely no idea. You haven't the slightest clue that he just did something wildly perverted in your name.

Or so he thought.

——

Day Fifteen: Missing Hoodies.

A little over two weeks in and Choso's issue has only gotten worse. On the bright side of things, at least he's not the only one slowly losing his sanity in all this.

Because surely if you weren't losing your mind just as much as he was then you'd have moved out by now. Even though he's sure you're not aware of any of the things he's done so far like steal your panties just before laundry day, stuff his nose into your bath towel mere minutes after you've showered, and even use that same lotion of yours to jerk himself off.

But again, Choso is pretty sure that if you knew about any of those things he's done then you would've been out of here faster than you came in. Better yet, faster than he cums whenever you're in mind.

Which is pretty damn fast.

It's on this fifteenth day that Choso loses his first hoodie. It's a plain grey hoodie, but he noticed it's disappearance rather quickly because the last time he wore it was on the day he last spoke to Yuji—and everyone knows how attentive this man gets when it comes to his siblings.

So imagine his surprise when he's tearing his room up trying to find that hoodie to no avail. A small frown takes over his face and he lets out a long sigh before trudging out his room and towards yours.

Knocking thrice, "Are you busy?" Choso asks carefully, ears slightly quirking up at the distant sound of your bedsheets being shuffled about.

Part of him wonders what you were up to.

"If so, don't worry about it," He adds on shortly after. You hadn't even said anything yet and he was already nervous. "I didn't mean to interrupt—"

The door swings open and you're greeting him with your breath seeming as though it's lost it's way into your lungs properly. "You're not interrupting anything, Choso. What's up?" You hum rather sweetly.

"I was just wondering if you'd seen my uh-," He cuts himself short as his eyes helplessly fall downwards. Perhaps he was dreaming or something because surely you're not wearing the very thing he came looking for? Choso's hand draws up as he unintentionally points at your chest, "Is that my hoodie?"

You look down at yourself and then back up at him and shrug, "I dunno, is it?"

Maybe it was the dim hallway lighting but you swear Choso's face is getting redder by the second, a cute hue of pink flushing out over his cheek and noticeable around the dark ink stretching across the bridge of his nose.

Then his hand flies up to the back of his head, scratching beneath his dark, loose locks of hair, "Well, unless we have the same hoodie... m'pretty sure that's mine." He mumbles on.

"Oh." Is the only warning he receives before he watches your hands meet the bottom of that same hoodie, and then lift.

Oh fuck. Choso's eyes widen and all the hairs at the back of his neck seem to stand up as he watches the way you thoughtlessly pull his hoodie off of your body, revealing the very sheer tank-top you have on underneath and the lack of pants below that.

While living with you was easy, truly, there were times like this where Choso wondered if you even saw him as a man. Or if maybe you were just really comfortable around him. Because in what other world would you take off his hoodie right in front of him whilst clad in nothing more than a tank-top and a dark purple pair of panties that he's all too familiar with?

Not that you knew about the last part of that but, still. He's allowed what feels like a minute of staring and drooling before his face is met with that same hoodie of his!

"Was that all?" You ask smoothly, as if you hadn't nearly flashed him and then thrown his own clothes back at him like it was nothing.

His head nods rapidly from beneath his sweatshirt, refusing to move his body just yet in fear of where his hands may find themselves, and waiting until he hears your bedroom door shut again.

As he's left in the hallway to his own devices, Choso's slow to remove the jacket from his head. He holds it out to inspect for a moment and notices a wet patch near the ends of it. His mind immediately goes somewhere dirty.

Did you... use his hoodie how he wants to think you did?

Choso looks back up at your door and gulps. Then his mouth twitches and before he knows it, he’s smiling rather smug-like. If his thoughts are correct then that would mean you got off to how he smells and—he brings his hoodie up to his nose and inhales—luckily for him, the cologne this fabric in particular is doused in, just so happens to be his favorite.

Which is exactly why Choso goes on to make said cologne his only scent.

Following this little act of his is an abundance of his shirts and hoodies going missing. You only got caught wearing them just that one time but, he doesn’t need to see you in his clothes to know you’re the one stealing them.

It’s quite obvious, in his humble opinion. No matter how many times you come to tell him he must’ve lost it or misplaced it somewhere. As if. The man barely leaves the apartment!

And while that’s nothing to brag about, it is undoubtedly the truth.

——

Day Thirty-Four: Indirect Cumshots.

This is where things really start to go from bad, to worse.

The two of you now have a mutual habit of stealing one another’s clothes. You know for sure Choso gets off with your stuff since he mostly takes your panties, skirts, bras, shirts, shorts, and shoelaces?!—all in that order.

What other use for these items could he possibly have if not for sexual satisfaction?

The same questions travels throughout Choso’s mind whenever he wonders why his shirts, hoodies, and jackets go missing. Except, his only issue with it—outside of it being an inconvenience whenever he needs to dress himself—is that he’s still not fully sure whether or not he’s right about your use for them.

Especially since you’ve worn a few of his clothes around the apartment without a care in the world, blaming it on the mixed laundry whenever asked about it. Naturally he believes you, but he can’t deny the fact that he desperately hopes you’re lying to him.

Just the thought of you having your nose buried into his clothes while your fingers play with the neglected cunt in between your legs, your thighs clenching whenever you get close, and mouth breathing out moans of his name makes Choso’s mind go blank.

He’s never had sex before so he hopes that doesn’t turn you off—wanting nothing more than for it to be you that changes this some day.

Above all that, and back to this whole clothing fiasco, Choso has found another way to satisfy his doubts.

In the event that you really weren’t taking his clothes to fuck yourself in, he had a backup plan. By this point Choso had accepted the fact that he’d become nothing more than a dirty pervert since you moved in. So much so that he figured if he could jerk off to indirect kisses from you…

…He could indirectly cum on you too.

Now, now, he knows that sounds bad at first. But he swears it’s really not!

It technically started when he accidentally came on one of your blankets.

He’d been in the living room—doing what any perv would do—rubbing his bare cock against the last place in which you’d sat on the couch. You weren’t home so he wasn’t worried at all about getting caught, thrusting his dick all slanted against the cushions, and letting his precum smear sloppily all over where you were sitting.

“Nngh-,” Choso cared little about holding back his sounds whenever you weren’t home, this moment being the most prime example of this.

His hand loosely kept his cock from sliding all over the place, thumb lightly hovering over his base so that he could have some sort of rhythm in his movements.

He was bare naked, whole body flushed from how hot ‘n bothered he found himself. You looked especially pretty that day. He doesn’t even remember where you said you were going but he does remember the glimpse of your panties he got when you got up from the couch and walked over towards the door in that unfairly short skirt of yours.

It was the same black pair he fucked his cockhead against just three days ago and now you were wearing them and you didn’t have the slightest clue. That fabric would be hugging your pussy for hours and you were oblivious to the fact that his cum had been pooling against it not too long ago.

Fuck, the thought drives him straight over the edge, causing him to stumble against the couch as he fists at his dick. Choso tosses his head back and begins to fuck his hand imagining it was you—gushy spurts of cum spilling out from his plump head in varying directions before he even realizes it.

Heavy pants departed from his mouth as he stroked himself through his high and let whimpers exit his throat. By the time he calmed down, he looked below himself to see that he not only came all over your seat—the splatter of his cum mirroring the way it probably would if he ever came on your ass—but he also accidentally shot some of it onto your blanket.

The same blanket you bury your face under whenever you two watch a movie that’s a little too gruesome, the same blanket you cuddle yourself under, and the same blanket that sometimes get smothered in between your thighs whenever you have it hugging your body a certain way.

Choso tilts his head a little and that’s when it hits him. Just like the time you two had shared a water bottle and indirectly kissed… him cumming on your favorite blanket is no different than him cumming on you, right?

His brows meet. Is that bad to think? If he cums on more of your stuff, does that mean he’s always cumming on you?

Has he technically finished inside you since he’s done so inside your panties more times than he can count?

Shit.

It’s from then on that Choso begins to purposefully release a load on things you use all the time. And just as doing this to your blanket has been one of the most perverted things he'd done so far, so was doing the same to your favorite mug.

He just woke up with the fattest tent in his pants that morning, he had to do something about it! And you can’t blame him when he ignored the erection and joined you for breakfast anyway, watching your lips mold themself around the rim of the dish, gulping deeply until the liquid inside was all gone...

Choso barely felt like himself after you left. He rushed into the kitchen and searched the sink for the cup you used, pulling his cock out and letting it slap against the porcelain. He’s sure this is your favorite mug because of how expensive it is so he knew he had to be careful.

Even so, that didn’t stop him from dragging his dick around its edges—right where your lips and tongue had been. After which he spent the next few minutes emptying his balls into the mug until it was a quarter full with his seed.

This was by far the most depraved thing he’d done so far.

Only for that feeling to get worse in his chest when he watched you use the same cup the following morning, humming at a slightly different pitch as if a new flavor had been added to your beverage.

He couldn’t bear to meet your eyes afterwards. You basically just drank his cum and you didn’t know.

That’s horrible. You’d totally hate him if—

“Did you buy a new dish soap or something?” Your voice breaks him away from his thoughts of impending guilt.

Choso’s head flies up and his eyes, wide and dopey brown, set on you with that intensive warmth you always enjoy. “Huh?” He gapes.

You grin, “I asked if you bought a new dish soap.” Then you shrug all cheekily, “My mug smells really nice for some reason.”

Yeah, probably because he spent an hour cleaning it after he did something so sinful to it…

Your roommate shakes his head, “No, no, I didn’t buy anything new.” He tells you.

The conversation ends around there as you nod and then return to your breakfast, thinking nothing more of it.

Meanwhile Choso feels guilt in between his legs stirring up again and some weird sense of pride in his chest swelling.

Which is exactly why he doesn’t stop there. Although he always cleans up thoroughly after these indirect cumshots of his—it never fails to fill him with pride when he watches you use the same things he’s soiled.

Forks, spoons, straws—which were hell to clean—your phone while you were sleeping one time, pictures of you, etc. In more ways than one, Choso’s basically marked and claimed you as his own via spilling his seed all over you.

——

Day Forty-Eight: Shame? Never heard of her.

The cumshots were one thing, of course. Starting to see your face in every pornographic video he watches is another. So is lightly stroking himself while sitting right next to you and talking to you about his day.

But fucking your pillow when you’re not home, pretending that it’s you, while playing some random audio of yours in the background? Now that was the final straw.

Choso can't even begin to explain nor understand what exactly has gotten into him.

At least when he'd done all those other nasty things with you in mind, he felt bad directly after the fact—apologizing to you via being extra sweet and kind in ways that'd earn him lovely praises from you in return.

It seems like that's a lost art to him now, though.

The man had walked into your room in search of his headphones, the ones he let you borrow last night and now needs to properly enjoy his porn. He hadn't planned to do anything dirty in your room. No, never.

But when he got in there he was thrown off by you leaving a pair of panties on your bed. Not just any pair though, the red pair.

Now, these panties in particular had a bit of a story to them. Choso knows you only wear them when you go out to hook-up with somebody and if they’re sitting on your bed now, that means you saw someone recently or were planning to.

Either way, he doesn’t really want that to happen.

He hasn’t quite revealed any of his intentions nor feelings to you (or at least he doesn’t think he has), but that doesn’t mean he’s immune to feeling possessive over you. You were his roommate, after all.

Maybe this is why he ends up on your bed, grabbing the pillow you sleep on and hauling it up towards his face for a good sniff. The fumes flow through his nostrils and send a rush of blood straight down to his cock.

Partially because he can smell remnants of his cologne lingering in the cottony fabric, which could only mean one thing—you'd slept in his clothes before. Or something like that, anyway.

Halfway through his pillow sniffing, and with a half-hard cock forming in his pants, he hears his phone chime from within his pocket. The chime in question is one he specifically set for you so he wastes not even a second digging for his phone and pulling it out.

Your contact sits center on his screen as it unlocks, revealing to him a voice message you'd just sent.

Choso gulps.

You've sent him a few voice messages in the past, having felt too lazy to type stuff out, but it never fails to make him nervous before pressing play. And right now was absolutely no different.

"Hey Cho, when you get a chance—hahh, shit." Oh? Do his ears decieve him or was that a breathy pant from you? Rewinding the recording a few seconds, "Hey Cho, when you get a chance—hahh, shit. Sor-," He cuts the voice message off and then follows suit with his phone, turning it over and looking up to the ceiling for the moment.

Did you... have any idea of the things you did to this man?

Tossing the question, he tries again.

"Hey Cho, when you get a chance—hahh, shit." There's a short pause as he hears you taking a deep breath, "Sorry, when you get a chance, can you order takeout from the same place as last week before I get home?"

Takeout, of course. Of course. What else would you have sent him a voice message for?

...Certainly not for what he was about to do with it.

You were out at the gym so that little pant of yours should've been expected but he must've forgotten by the time he played the message. His thumb keeps finding itself repeating the same part of your recording, within the first few seconds when that pant, followed by a sweet curse of exhaustion dares to leave your lips.

It's stupid, really. You made one little noise and said one word he's heard from you a thousand times and yet he's already plopping down on your bed, your pillow still in hand, and his legs slowly spreading out so his poor, hardening cock has room to breathe.

Then Choso saves the message to his phone, not thinking twice as he goes on to edit it within his camera roll so that the few seconds of panting and cursing can replay over and over until he's had his fill of it.

After a good five times of replaying those gorgeous few seconds you'd given him, an idea Choso simply cannot ignore is born.

He doesn't recognize himself at all as he tosses your pillow over, snatches up those panties you had lying around and turns around to hover over the two items.

This is so fucked, and he knows it but it's hard to care. One moment he's starring at the assortment of material he has here and the next, he's got your pillow snug under the fabric of your panties. His thumb traces the edge of it just as it would if you were wearing them, swiping up heavily against the center where your pretty slit would be.

Fuck, he should stop.

His thumb glides back down and he shifts against the mattress, knees digging into the plush of it, and hot breaths tumbling out of his lungs. Then his fingers pinch at each side of your panties before he tugs, cleanly ripping the cloth just enough to create a small hole.

He winces upon doing so, knowing damn well he's getting worse by the second.

Choso pauses for a moment and grabs his phone to open his photos. His thumb swiftly swipes through his camera roll until he finds a picture of you, and along with it, he's managed to have your little panting curse combo playing on repeat.

And that's all he needed because now he's got a hole ripped into your pillow and although it was very cottony wrapping around the head of his dick, he couldn't be bothered to care. His imagination was running rampant and all he could picture was you splayed out beneath him, letting him use your body to strip him of his virginity.

He's so sure of how absolutely warm your pussy would be, despite never being inside one or even setting his eyes on one (in person) before. You'd squeeze him nice 'n tight, wouldn't you? Suck him in deeper even when he knows he can't handle that and tries to pull himself back?

God, he's getting dizzy in his own arousal and his precum is serving as lube inside this stupidly dry pillow of yours. It doesn't even feel good but every time he opens his eyes and sees your panties ripped open, his cock bulging in between where he'd torn them, he cares less and less.

Not to mention how you'll be sleeping on this same pillow soon, so the faster he cums inside of it, the faster he can say he's indirectly spilled his cum on your face.

Which is precisely why his hips are picking up their pace, even as he falls over and ends up having to hold his hunched body up with one very unsteady hand.

"Fuck," The curse falls from his lips in sync with the one that fell from yours in that recording—which is still playing in the background of his misdeeds, by the way. Then his visions suddenly become clearer while his movements grow more janky, eyes journeying to the back of his skull in pure bliss.

He swears he can see you under him right now, feel the pretty walls of your pussy clenching around his cock because it's too big for you to take with the way he's rutting forward right now. You'd tell him to slow down a little, no?

Choso steadies the pace of his pelvis just a faction as he catches his breath, "Gonna cum soon." He whispers to the imaginative version of you he's got underneath him.

How would your hands feel pushing or even pulling at his waist, trying to get him to reach deeper inside you despite his dick being much too big for you? Is it cocky of him to think that?

His bottom lip fwips out a little as he pouts, eyes growing teary from how stimulating this is for him. He's never wanted to fuck someone so badly. All these weeks of teasing and sneaking around to commit the most debauched of acts in your name... when would things come to a breaking point? When would you catch onto the hints he's not even throwing??

Ugh, all these questions leave Choso frustrated. So frustrated that now he's applied all his weight to your pillow, fulling humping his fat cock into the makeshift hole. You'd feel so much better than this stupid pillow but the realization of that does little to stop his fingertips from digging into your sheets as he grits his teeth and then spills his first load into it.

"Fuckfuckfuck-," Choso mutters under his breath as he tugs all his inches back a little before diving them right back in. His seed floods throughout the cottony insides of your cushion, making everything creamy.

He ends up having to bite down on your sheets just to hold back the sounds he begins to let out as he drives himself straight into overstimulation with a lack of halting his movements. You'd let him do this to you, right? Fuck multiple loads into you? Breed you?

Hell, what does Choso—who spends majority of his time thinking and fantasizing about you without ever feeling the sexual touch of a woman—know about breeding?

All these damn questions have had the man so distracted that he never realized how much his hand had bumped into his idle phone screen, having somehow managed to capture all of his past few events—which consisted of him moaning your name out and muttering filthy things he doesn't much understand—on camera.

But, that's not the worst part about all this.

The worst part about all this is that by the time Choso finishes up with properly breeding your pillow, he went to finally swipe his phone up, and in doing so he hit send on everything he just recorded.

Now, bear in mind that you never received any sort of response to your innocent takeout request. So really imagine your shock to hear nearly twenty minutes worth of audio porn from your roommate. Actually, scratch that, imagine how quickly you got wet from opening your text thread with Choso to see a video from him.

Because it wasn't just audio he'd accidentally captured, but an entire production of him fucking your pillow.

Shit.

——

Day Sixty-Nine: The Copy-Cock Incident.

Ever since that day, things have been weird between you and Choso.

You came home and didn't say a word to him, didn't even look at him or acknowledge him, and proceeded to hide away in your room for... the next few days or so.

By the time Choso saw you again, you pretended to be completely normal and made him feel like you'd forgotten all about the video he sent you. In fact, you even talk to him as if he'd never done anything wrong.

Weird.

The man was naturally uneasy around you for every day that followed, feeling his skin crawl with guilt every single time he was in front of you. There was nothing he could do about it either, anytime he tried to bring it up or apologize, you'd shut the conversation down or change the subject. It was almost like you didn't want him to apologize for it.

Does that mean you were silently thanking him for it? Did you perhaps like the video?

Choso's unsure. Like, severely unsure.

If you thought he was nervous and awkward around you before than he's gotten a million times worse after the whole video thing.

But today—the sixty ninth day in which you've been living with him—he's finally given the clearest answer to all his questions. All his awkwardness and shyness flies straight out the window the moment Choso comes home to see you sitting rather weirdly in his designated spot on the couch.

He made small talk with you while grabbing a bottle of water for himself from the kitchen, hearing this notable waver in your voice that he simply couldn't ignore.

What Choso didn't know quite yet was that he'd came home far earlier than you expected him to. So now you were left to maintain casual conversation with him as if there wasn't inches of thick silicone stuffed inside your cunt right now.

"—and they're dropping a sequel too, can you believe it?" Choso's voice reverberates throughout the fine walls of your apartment and your hips squirm slightly.

You don't think he ever noticed it but you always found his voice to be especially sexy. And after you got that video of him fucking your pillow—which you've replayed a concerning amount of times since—you think your attraction to his voice has only worsened.

You never knew someone with a tone that deep could whimper and whine so sweetly. The mere reminiscent thought of it has you lifting your body up an inch or two, before you sink back down onto the dildo you have beneath you.

Then your eyes threaten to close and you nibble on your bottom lip to stop yourself from making any sudden noises.

Clearing your throat instead, "Really? That sounds—"

"Are you okay?" Choso cuts off, having fully entered the living room with you now.

His eyes narrow at you as you make contact with them, watching how he's got a single brow cocked up and one hand at his hip—the other busy drawing his perspiring bottle of water up to his lips. Instead of answering him immediately, you sit there and watch the movement of his mouth for an unhealthy number of seconds.

Choso's lips press against the opening of his water oh-so-effortlessly, his tongue swiping out to capture any liquid that imperils to escape his mouth, and his throat shifting along with each unwavering gulp he takes.

When his mouth detaches from the bottle, your eyes are glued to the small breath he lets out before he tilts his head. Then his hand waves out your way, "Hello?"

You shake out of your little daze and cringe at yourself internally, "Huh? Oh-, yeah, mhm. I-I'm fine."

Choso nods his head slowly as if he definitely does not believe you. Then you see the way his eyes drop down to the blanket concealing your lower half, and his feet move against the floor to carry him over to the empty spot on the couch beside you. "Are you sure? You look a little..." His eyelid lower a fraction and he clears his throat, "Stiff?"

You wanted to move around and reposition yourself to show him that you're totally fine but it was a little difficult to do so when you had a sex toy poking up inside you. "I'm fine, Cho. Don't worry about it," You tell him.

He's entirely unconvinced. After living with you for a little over two months, he can confidently say he knows you and your body language like the back of his hand.

So, he leans back against the couch—eyes still trained on your ever little move—and then rests one of his arms against the backside of it, leaning closer to you. "It's kinda hard not to worry about it when you're looking at me like that."

You blink. "Like what?"

"Like you've been caught doing something wrong," He says with a breathless scoff following, "Did something happen?"

"N-No," You breathe out as quickly as you can.

Choso's gaze gets impossibly firmer on you, "You're lying."

Looking away for a split second, your arms move to fold beneath your chest, "Since when did you become so intuitive?"

"I've always been this intuitive," He tells you.

An uncomfortable beat of silence passes, and unfortunately for you, his talking is not helping your situation right now. Every word that vacates his mouth has you soaking both the item you're sitting on and the couch below it.

"So," His fingers idly drum against the back of the couch, "Are you gonna tell me what's wrong or...?"

You scoff, "Nothing's wrong, Choso."

He waits exactly ten loooong seconds before cracking a smirk, "So move."

"What?" You gasp.

He's still starring at you with the same unconvinced look on his face, "If there's nothing wrong, move."

You wave your arm out in a dismissive gesture before rolling your eyes and turning your head elsewhere, "You're being annoying over nothing."

Choso sizes you up, drinking in every inch of your noticeably rigid frame. "And something's wrong with you but you won't tell me what. Are you in pain? Did you hurt yourself in an embarrassing way? C'mon, if that's the case, I promise I won't make fun of you for it."

God, you hated when he acted like this. Sometimes Choso cared too much for his own good. He almost walked in on you touching yourself one night and wouldn't leave you alone until he set his eyes on your face to make sure you were okay.

You turn your head back towards him and sigh. You knew he knew what was going on here. Otherwise, why would he be pressing you to tell him what you were up to like this?

"You walked in at a bad time, that's all," You admit to him.

Choso's brows scrunch up all cutely, innocence etched into his sight as it softens on you. "What do you mean?"

How the fuck are you supposed to explain that you were in the middle of bouncing up and down a dildo—that's actually a direct copy of his cock—just moments before he walked in, and now the damn thing is nestled inside you??

"Well," You pause, heart racing a mile a minute as he stares you down like you're the only person who's every word has had him on the edge of his very seat. Then you start to fidget with your fingers in your lap and let your eyes drift away, "I was in the middle of something, and—"

You notice his legs spreading apart and his hips rolling up slowly from your peripherals. Before you can even finish, "In the middle of what?" Choso asks.

He knows.

You look at his face, and the way he's staring at you now is enough to make the heat pooling below get impossibly hotter. You can't help but squeeze your legs together, which causes the cock inside you to slip deeper.

Then your face twists up in reaction before you can help it and Choso watches the entire thing—not missing the movement in your thighs, the breathy moan you let out, and the way your fingers curl into the blanket you have neatly clutched over your body.

Oh.

Choso drags his slightly salivating tongue over his lips to wet them and then releases a short, unnerved chuckle. "I interrupted you, huh?" He asks rhetorically, voice husking a pitch deeper.

You nod your head, aching to move your body to satisfy yourself again.

"Are you embarrassed?" He goes on, trying his hardest not to move his legs out of fear you'll finally notice the boner he's been sporting this entire time.

"O-Obviously," You stammer, "But, I don't wanna talk about it. Just—"

"Don't talk then," He huffs, feeling something starved resting all thickly against the tip of his tongue. "And don't let me stop you."

Your breath tangles, "What?"

His eyes glide up and down your body thrice—seamlessly undressing you through those desperately blown-out pupils of his. "...You were playing with yourself, right?" He questions lowly.

"Something like that, yeah,” You reply.

A singular moment passes between you two before he finally says fuck it and looks at your face, "Can I watch?"

Your cunt involuntarily clenches around the dildo and you squirm, "Choso, I..."

He gives you a surprisingly calm, reassuring smile, “You know you can say no, ri—"

"I know that!" You huff, turning away as your face burns from the heat of embarrassment.

Then, without giving him a vocal answer, you finally shift around in your seat. He watches as you lean back against the corner-part of the couch and move your hand to the blankets edge before lifting it.

The first thing he notices as the cover is removed is that you're in his hoodie—the one he just wore yesterday!

You slouch your body a bit and move the blanket to the side as you slip from sitting to laying back, peeling your legs apart nice ‘n wide to give him the most sinful display of that dildo sliding a few inches out of you. Then your hand reaches down to make contact with the base of it and you bite your lip before languidly pulling it out of you.

Your pussy lips hug the silicone neatly whilst it schlicks its way out of your hole and you release a breath you weren’t aware you’d been holding in. There’s a droopy string of your slick dangling from in between the dildo’s glossy tip and your pulsing entrance—all of which Choso’s is left to peer at.

You redirect the toy’s weighty tip towards your clit and roll it around slowly before tossing your head back a little and sighing in relief.

"Ohgod-," Your roommate chokes into the palm he’d slapped over his mouth all of a sudden.

His body jolts and his other fingertips dip and grind into the couch as he tries to steady himself, holding on so tight that the veins trailing his arms begin to protrude out against his muscular arms. Something in between a throaty grunt and a whine had been ripped out of his throat.

You look over at him from beneath your lashes before batting them, "Are you okay? You're the one who wanted to watch..."

He nods shortly, mumbling, "M-Mhm, m'fine."

As if you’d believe that.

You raise a brow and move the silicone away from your cunt before snorting, "Why're you making that face then?"

"Well, I kinda..." He turns his blushing face away from you completely. Voice small, "Watching that made me cum..."

"What?” You lean up a bit, propping your body up more comfortably against your elbows, “I couldn't hear you, speak up."

Choso thinks his cock is gonna hurt after all this. He turns to face you again and looks you dead in the eyes as he speaks softly, "Watching you do that made me cum."

You blink dumbfoundedly as you find yourself unable to stop the amused smile that breaks into your features, "Just like that?"

He nods.

"You didn't even touch yourself..." You snort, looking down at yourself and shrugging as you tap the dildo against your pussy. Speaking casually, "I know you're a perv 'n all but, shit, I thought you'd last a little longer than that."

Choso’s entire world freezes, "Wait, what?"

"Mmnh," You’re busy moaning as you let the tip play with your entrance—teasing yourself shamelessly right in front of him.

The fact that you just admitted you’d known he was a filthy pervert all this time, and then went back to playing with yourself like it was nothing really threw him off.

Not that he has much time to let that sink in, though. Choso is far too easily distracted by the sight of your glistening pussy below, the living room light doing well to illuminate just how pretty your wet, sopping folds look against the head of the dildo.

“O-Ohhhh fuck.” He gasps, already on the verge of pleasureful tears. “You’re…” His hand shoots down to hold his dick as if to control it—squeezing his shaft roughly before pushing at it. "You’re soakedd. Can I taste it?” Choso asks, voice cracking a little on the last word.

You flick your eyes up at him, “What?”

“Wanna lick it,” He's whispering while moving to lean down, and flashing you this voracious look from his half-lidded eyes. “Can I? Please? Can I taste you, mommy?”

The second, “What.” that falls from your lips is flat as you find yourself struggling to process just how quickly he'd positioned himself in between your plush thighs and how smoothly that name just poured off of his tongue.

“S-Sorry, I didn’t mean to uh-, call you that…” Choso grumbles awkwardly, looking away to let the moment pass before peeking back up at you, “But, can I please—“

“Why should I let you?” You interrupt rudely.

He blinks. “Huh?”

The sudden shift in tension was rather palpable since you realized it's you who's in control here, and not him. “After alllll the dirty things you’ve done in thought of me," Your head angles off to the right, "Why should I let you taste me, Choso?”

“B-Because I’ll make you feel good,” He tries to promise, his dark eyes locked up onto the unfairly gorgeous display of you—wearing his hoodie and spread out a few inches away from his waiting mouth.

His small promise does little to help his case considering how you tut, “Aw, you think so?”

“Uhuh,” Choso nods submissively.

There's a feral, burning urge inside of him to bury his face in between your legs without permission, but that same urge battles strongly against the equally as resilient urge to be pliant and await your every command.

“That’s cute," You say before holding the dildo towards him, "How about this; if you can make me cum with this, I’ll let you get your taste, yeah?”

For the first time, Choso lets his eyes capture the toy you've been using all this time. The item is... weirdly familiar. Your roommate is many things, but he's not stupid—he knows what his own dick looks like.

Not that he has the mind to question you about it right now, though. there are much more pressing matters to tend to.

Which is exactly why he's not asking you anything as he takes the toy from your hands and then looks down at your cunt. Your hole pulses as if asking to be filled and he thinks his heart skips a beat.

He can see, touch, and smell everything.

Sluggishly, Choso directs the head of the fake cock towards your entrance and applies the faintest bit of pressure before stopping the moment he feels resistance. “Uh, is it.. supposed to do that?” Choso murmurs as he looks up, “Like.. are you supposed to be this tight? Do I need to use lu—“

“Don’t tell me you’ve never had sex before," You cut off.

You've had a feeling for months that Choso was a virgin but you'd never been too sure until now.

He pouts sheepishly, “Well..."

“Just-,” You cut yourself off with a sharp exhale. “Y’know what, you're the one that wanted to taste me so bad. I’m not teaching you, figure it out.”

His chest feels like it's caving in for a moment, “What?” He'd never heard you be so.. mean. Though he'd be lying is he said he wasn't into it, “But you made a copy of my dick, I don’t think that’s fai—“

“I don’t think it’s fair that you’re in between my legs with a toy in your hands and no idea how to use it," You say with a prominent roll of your eyes. “If you wanna taste my pussy, figure it the fuck out, Choso. Make me cum."

Oh, his cock swells impossibly harder.

Then he whines, “Y-Yes ma’am..."

Choso takes a deep breath and returns his attention to your cunt. Leaning down experimentally, his lips press clumsy, open-mouthed kisses against your inner thigh before he starts working his way inward. His nose bumps against your folds a few times, but you keep watching him try his best to piece everything together.

His brows furrow a little before he glides the dildo up and nudges it under your clitoral hood, plucking it away directly after once he notices your body flinching, and then tapping the silicone back down against it in the same way he'd seen you do earlier.

“This is your clit, right?” His question is made with genuine curiosity, but something in his eyes tells you that he already knows the answer to it—he simply wants to hear you say it.

Your head bobs a little and you're already feeling a little dazed from watching him, “Uhuh…”

You could feel his searing breaths flap down against all your wet skin and it was making you more sensitive than normal. The sound of your breathy confirmation made his face light up triumphantly.

Choso waves the tip of the dildo—technically his cock—left 'n right against your clit just to tease you before he lifts it away and lets it push against your hole again. He presses it forward with more pressure than the first time and finally pokes an inch inside you, lifting his eyes to see you bite back a moan.

You were so fucking needy.

He can only imagine how hard it was for you to sit there and act like you didn't have this toy inside you all that time. Now you're more worked up than you probably would be in any normal situation.

He strips your insides of that taunting inch after a few seconds and then repeats this action over and over until he can hear it in your breathing that you're getting frustrated with him. But before you can send him any complaints, he lifts his head and hovers his lips over your clit.

“It’s so pretty, can I kiss it?” Choso asks softly.

“I…” His eyes are all glossy ‘n pleading—too irresistible for you to say no. “Yeah…" You concede, "But no licking.”

“Thank you,” Then he dives in and smothers his lips against your clit, sucking on it lightly without ever letting his tongue make contact with it.

The tip of that stupid silicone continues to pop in and out of your squelchy pussy mindlessly as Choso gets addicted to the feel of your clit against his lips.

Muttering, “S’pretty,” into the twitchy lil’ bud over ‘n over again in between the groans he's letting vibrate out. “It keeps—mwah, runnin’ from me.” He whispers against you, “Sensitive girl—she’s so fuckin’ cute.”

As soon as that praise leaves him, the entire length of the fake cock is thrusted into you and your back is forced into a nasty arch as your hands grab at the couch. A wanton, “Choso!” flying out of your mouth before you can even help it.

He plucks his lips away and glances up at you desperately, “Can I lick her now? Please. I’ll pass out if I don’t—“

“Fine,” You huff shakily, “J-Just... lick her ‘real good for me or I’ll make you stop.”

He doesn't have to be told twice whatsoever.

The next thing you feel is his tongue finally melting against your clit as the dildo is thrusted into you, stretching your saccharine walls out perfectly. Choso only fucks the toy in halfway this time though, pulling it out directly afterwards and then repeating this action many times over as if that's all you could take.

It's at complete random that he decides to fuck the entire length of it inside you, and your body flinches as the sudden gesture is paired with his tongue practically wrapping around your poor clit.

“You like that, princess?” Choso utters with a rasp, sticking his tongue out to show you how he moves it around into spelling out his name, “Like the way I flick my tongue against this pussy? Hm? Am I doin' a good job now?”

“F-Fuck. Hnngh-, yeahhh..” You purr out all softly, hips carefully rocking up to meet both his tongue and the dildo.

You hadn’t expected him to be a talker, especially since he’s never done this before. You assume he’s just saying whatever sounds right in hopes that it works, and luckily for him it always seems to.

In a matter of minutes, Choso's fucking you relentlessly with both his tongue and the copy of his cock. You could drive that toy into you at the same speed of which he's doing now, which is exactly why it's not long before you're whining for him to slow down a little since you didn't wanna cum so quickly.

It felt like he'd only just started!

And if he was doing all this with his tongue glued solely to your clit and that toy thrashing against your g-spot, you could only imagine what the entirety of his mouth would provide for you if you let him.

Even with your pleas of him slowing his pace, Choso wasn't much listening until after you came all over the dildo. He let the toy slip right out of you and held it to the side as he tried to move in and lick at your gaping hole in an attempt of finally getting a raw taste of you.

Sure, he got to savor a bit of you just from licking at your clit but that was far from enough.

You shot a hand down to grab ahold of his hair and yank his head up before that could happen. Panting, “What’re you doing?” as you furrow your brows at him.

Choso whimpers, “Y-You said I could taste you after I made you feel good.”

“Yeah," You smirk, "But not like that.”

You make a gesture towards the same toy he's steadily growing very envious of and his eyes are slow to follow along. Then he frowns because he knows exactly where this is going.

His chocolatey eyes travel along the fake veins trailing the cock and he wonders distantly how you managed to capture every essence of his sex like that. “You… You want me to suck my own…” Choso trails off instead of completing his sentence as the realization settles in.

All whilst you're laying there with the same haughty smile on your face, “You want your taste don’t you?”

A light, defeated groan evades his lips as he watches you go on to grab the dildo and hold it up towards his mouth. The slick, shining toy is absolutely coated in you—your arousal clung to the silicone in glossy streaks, and the evidence of your orgasm fragrant and sloppy against the material.

Choso's nose twitches as he catches the sweet scent of your release oozing off of it before his voice stains out. "Fuck." He breathes, watching a slow bead of your cum slide down the length of the silicone—some of it pooled at the tip where a perfect copy of his own slit had been molded.

The man can't help the way he licks his lips reflexively as he leans towards it.

"Atta' boy," You hum, tapping the head of the toy against his bottom lip and watching your wetness smear across his skin. "Open up and get your taste, c'mon."

There's a war between his pride and his raging need to satisfy your every whim, of which the latter easily wins.

Choso parts his lips and you guide the head inside, his eyes fluttering shut upon feeling your taste meet his tongue. He moans around the toy and you push more of it into his mouth, watching how pretty his lips sealing around the shaft as he begins to hesitantly suck.

"Look at youuu, sucking yourself clean," Your words come out in a breathy purr the more you watch him work his mouth around the copy of his dick. "Good boy."

His eyes open and he bobs his head forward a little more, hips rutting against the couch hard enough for the furniture to inch forward. You watch drool trickle out of his mouth and trail down his chin, feeling yourself throb each time he moans.

You knew Choso was desperate for you but this...

“Mmgh..” He groans around the faux flesh, sucking a little faster once he notices the glow of entertainment in your eyes as you watch him.

“How’s it taste, pretty boy?” You ask in that unfairly sinful tone.

Choso pops his mouth off and gives you a fucked-out little simper, “S’good, mommy.”

Your hand falters against the base of the toy for a moment as you chuff out, “Stop calling me that.”

“Sorry,” He says, not sounding the slightest bit apologetic as he returns to licking his cock clean.

After a long, drawn-out time of him practically sucking and licking the dildo brand new, he pulls away from it with a slippery, wet pop!

Then he gasps, sucking in air, and moves his arm over to wipe off the slick and saliva mix from his chin. There's a disheveled look plastered all over his face and his eyes are hazy when met with yours.

"Was that good?" You ask despite already knowing the answer.

To your surprise, Choso doesn't respond.

He just stares at you like he's debating more things than can currently be expressed through words. Then he wraps his hands around the base of the dildo, snatches it from your grasp, and tosses it across the living room like it's useless.

Halfway-glaring at you with a new look in his eyes, he leans up leisurely. His hands move to the edge of his sweatpants and you see his dick imprint practically staring at you from beyond the fabric—a concerning wet patch darkening the area.

There's something grave in his eyes as he cocks his head over and exhales heavily, “Can I give you the real thing now?”

Your thighs twitch but you hope he doesn't notice it. Trying to distract him from it by shrugging, “You think you’ve earned it?”

“I think,” His fingers dip beneath the fabric and he begins to tug his pants down, “You’re being a brat—acting like you’re not just as bad as me.”

Oh. The switch in his head had most certainly been flipped and you were not expecting it.

“What?” You puff.

“Look at you now,” He reaches out and presses the thick pad of his thumb against your clit, “Swollen, needy, aching… all for me.”

Your thighs try to shut, “T-That’s just because—“

“Shhh, shhh,” He hushes, rapidly swatting his hands over to your legs and forcing them open before you can close them, “Let me show you I’ve earned it.”

He grips at your skin until it feels like you won't move once he extracts his hold on you, swallowing up how pretty you look submitting to him now.

Choso goes to pull his dick out and your breath hitches, entire body flinching as you watch it bob out. His length spanks down against your pussy, meanly spreading your wobbly lips apart and nudging against every sensitive nerve you have there.

Your roommate doesn’t move for a moment and just sits there so you can feel his veins thumping, and watch the crown of his cock drooool silky, wet ropes of mushy cum against your abdomen. He's a mess of his own seed but he doesn't seem to care or be embarassed by it whatsoever.

After all, you're the one who got him like this.

All while he’s panting, sweat running down his skin, and face flushed beyond belief. Hovering over you, Choso tilts his head and continues on with his needy glare, “Can I fuck you now?”

“Yeah,” You don't even hesitate to whisper.

His hand moves to hold your jaw graciously but the way he tugs your face up is quite rough, “Speak up.” He demands.

“Yeah,” You say clearly, “You can fuck me, Choso.”

And that’s all he needs.

Next thing you know and Choso's tucking his thiiiiick, creamy cock into your quivering pussy, throwing his head back from the sensation of feeling you welcoming him in for the first time. He's got one hand clasped onto the couch and the other having moved to grip the top of your head so you can watch him have his way with you.

He couldn't let you miss a second of this by looking away or turning your head because you didn't want him to see how much your face twists up in pleasure. No, no, if you're gonna let him fuck you then you're gonna watch how he does it too.

Every fuckin' second of it.

That initial inch of him sinking into you had your vision blurring. The dildo you had made couldn't even begin to compare nor replicate the real thing. It doesn't twitch the way he does, doesn't end with his hips pressing forward with intentional, punishing slowness as if to get back at you for making the damn thing in the first place, and doesn't make you feel every ridge or rubbing vein against the soppiest crevices of your pussy.

"Look at that," Choso drawls, his eyes locked onto where your bodies meet, "You take me s'fucking well—always knew you would." He admits.

But then he stops halfway with no warning, no nothing. You're left impaled and clenching around him, wanting and needing more desperately whilst he just waits. He watches how your walls flutter around him as if to bed for the rest but he still doesn't move.

Your voice feels broken, "C-Choso.."

"Hm? Something wrong, princess?" He coos innocently, "You want me to keep going?"

You nod desperately and the movement makes his hand grip at your skull tighter by just a fraction. Then he sinks in a little deeper and you deliver a trembling moan in response.

He doesn't even sound like the sweet, respectful Choso you know has he tuts, "I can't hear you."

Through gritted teeth, "Yes—fucking move, Cho. Please, fuck me." you beg.

The edges of his lips curl, "Thaaat's more like it."

And then he's bucking the rest of his plump cock into you, bottoming out just the way both of you have always desired. The fluid motion has air fleeing from your lungs and your back angling up ‘n away from the couch, a shamefully loud cry—that you’re sure your neighbors will send complaints about later—leaping out of your trachea.

Choso sets a nasty rhythm inside you, thrusting without a concern in the world about the way the couch is squeaking and creaking beneath your bodies.

Shit. At this rate the dame thing could just break and he still wouldn’t give a fuck.

His hand tightens within your hair and he pulls at your head, “Goddd, you’ve no idea how long I-, hahh… waited for this. Need you to watch, baby. Watch how I fuck this pretty pussy.”

You feel his stout cockhead flog up against your cervix repeatedly, almost like he means to brand himself into the area and have his cum signing his name across it permanently.

“Can’t believe you got some-, fuck—s-stupid toy to replace me. L-Like m’not right here for you,” He pants, a crisp whine slipping out somewhere in between his words. “You knew you wanted the real thing, knew you needed it. Right? Doesn’t this feel s’much better, princess?”

Your jaw is flailing open at this point and you’re a slobbering, moaning mess underneath him, “Yes, Choso. F-Feels s’good, nngh!”

A particularly puncturing thrust makes your eyes fly to the back of your head and your hand reach over to hold onto his arm, nails scratching across his skin. He smiles once he realizes he’s found the perfect spot to fuck you dumb.

Then he’s doing exactly that, pounding your body straight into the cushions and letting groans pour out of his mouth. He’s so fucked-out that he doesn’t even realize he’s drooling on you as he plows forward.

Your pussy is weeping all over his cock, lugging his every jerky inch in deeper ‘n deeper until he earns a specific twitch from you.

“O-Oh,” Choso moans again, “I found it, huh? You gonna cum on me again?” Once your head goes nodding and your pleasureful cries pitch out into airy whines, he gasps. “Give it to me then. Please? Please cum on me, lemme feel it. I wanna feel it baby—wanna feel you cum.”

His words immediately fade off into whimpers when he feels you doing exactly as he’s begged you to—your orgasm practically crashing through you and causing your body to convulse around him. Choso fucks you through it like his life depends on it, eager not to disappoint.

Then he’s right there with you—even though he technically came again quite some time ago, but both of you were too fucked-out to realize—and you feel globs of his cum gushing all throughout your pussy, the mess of releases getting mixed with one another with the way his hips insistently continued on.

Muttering, “Take it, take it, take it-,” over and over mindlessly whilst your cunt shuddered around him.

It’s not until his hips come to a sharp stop that both of you manage to catch your breath in an synchronized gasp of air. Choso’s body topples down over you and you feel his cock twitching as it goes flaccid inside you.

Your bodies remain still for a minute or two before he lifts his head to look at your face, leaning in to plaster kisses on your cheek and whisper intimate things that your ears don’t quite catch.

When your ears come in tune with what he’s saying, "—and about that video... I wanted to apologize for that. A-And for everything else." you hear him finishing off with.

To which you let out a little dream-like sigh, "Choso… I literally have a camera in my room. I've known about what you've been doing for quite a while now. You don't have to apologize."

"Oh, you-," He pauses and lifts his body. "Wait, what?"

perm choso tags (1/2):

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"Sukuna," You held up your damaged silk garment. "it's damaged, again."

"And it will be taken care of again." He matched your attitude.

"That was one of my favorite garments." Your eyebrows furrowed. "Could you stop tearing my clothes? It is becoming irritating."

"I find your change of opinion humorous." He lowly hummed. "I remember you being irritated, but for a different reason."

"What ever do you mean?"

"I believe you were telling me to tear it. You wanted to feel my hands carress your plush, hot—"

"I do not need a retelling." You quickly interrupted him, feeling warmth crawl up your neck and elevated heart rate. "Have it fixed, please."

"It will be, beloved."

Sukuna always called you to his chambers. It became so frequent to the point where you wouldn't see your own quarters for weeks, much to your enjoyment. He excelled in bed, and treated you with reverence while you both were not tangled under sheets. When you did go back to your quarters, the other concubines had questions. 'Why haven't I been called?' or 'What is going on?'

You could only respond with a shrug, trying to mask the pleased look on your face.

You hadn't scrambled to fix your posture. You had just looked at him with an expression of profound boredom.

The attendants behind him had turned white as ghosts, bracing for the inevitable spray of blood. Sukuna’s jaw had set, a terrifying, low growl vibrating from his chest. But you hadn't trembled.

If he wanted to kill you, he would kill you. Fawning over him wasn't going to change his nature, so you simply refused to waste the energy.

He hadn't killed you. Instead, he had left, the doors slamming shut with enough force to rattle the shoji screens.

And that was the exact moment the nightmare began. Because from that night onward, Sukuna became an insufferable, permanent fixture in your life.

"You are eating that wrong."

You stopped your chopsticks halfway to your mouth, letting out a long, slow exhale through your nose. It was midnight.

You had been looking forward to a quiet, solitary meal of cold rice and pickled plums, but Sukuna had simply materialized in the corner of your room ten minutes ago, dripping wet from a thunderstorm, and had proceeded to sit directly on the edge of your bedding.

"I am eating it the way I have eaten it for more than twenty years," you said, not looking at him. "If my technique offends you, the door is exactly where you left it."

Sukuna scoffed, leaning back on his palms. His massive, tattooed frame took up half the space in your small room, his lower arms crossed over his chest while his upper right hand casually reached over and swiped a plum straight from your bowl.

"You have a wretched attitude," he remarked, popping the fruit into his mouth and chewing lazily. "The women in the east hall weep with gratitude if I so much as glance toward their courtyard. You look at me like I am a stray dog that ruined your garden."

"Stray dogs are quieter," you muttered, finally looking up to glare at him. "And they don't steal my food."

Sukuna’s lower mouth twitched into a sharp, jagged grin. He loved it. The realization turned your stomach, a strange, dizzying mixture of irritation and heat.

He didn't come to your room because he wanted a concubine; he came because he was a creature driven entirely by conflict, and you were the only person in the entire empire who refused to give him the satisfaction of a fight. You gave him nothing. You gave him a wall of pure, unbothered apathy, and it was driving him entirely insane.

He leaned forward suddenly, crowding your space. The smell of the storm, ozone and rain, rushed over you. Before you could pull back, his large, calloused hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around your jaw.

It wasn't the brutal, bone-crushing grip he used on his enemies. It was controlled, a heavy, unyielding restraint that forced your face up toward his.

"You should fear me," he murmured, his upper eyes tracking the movement of your throat as you swallowed. His thumb thumbed the soft skin right beneath your lower lip, a deliberate, electric friction that made your toes curl inside your robes. "A single flick of my finger, and this pretty little throat splits wide open."

You met his gaze evenly, refusing to let the wild, frantic thudding of your heart show on your face. "Then do it. I'm tired of your bragging."

Sukuna froze. For a second, the silence in the room was deadly. Then, a loud, booming laugh tore from his throat, the sound rough and genuine as he released your jaw, shifting his weight until he was practically draped over your lap, his heavy head resting casually against your thigh.

"Insufferable," he muttered, closing all four of his eyes as if he owned the space. "Utterly insufferable."

You stared down at the King of Curses currently using your legs as a pillow, your hand hovering over his unruly pink hair, entirely tempted to shove him off. But you didn't. You just sighed, picking up your chopsticks again, ignoring the way his subconscious weight felt entirely too natural against you.

The shift happened. In Sukuna’s dictionary, words like love or devotion were meaningless concepts invented by the weak to justify their dependency. He would never admit to favoring you. If anyone asked, he would simply say you were a minor amusement, a dull distraction from his boredom.

But the rest of the estate wasn't blind.

The servants noticed that the rare silks brought from the western raids, the ones Sukuna usually threw into the treasury to rot—somehow kept finding their way into your wardrobe because he had casually grumbled that your current robes looked "like rags."

The guards noticed that if Sukuna left your courtyard irritated, he was significantly less likely to execute someone in the main hall.

And then there was the incident with the lord of the northern clans.

During a formal banquet, the lord had made a passing, disparaging remark about your status, calling you an "eccentric, useless mouth to feed" who didn't know her place.

You hadn't even heard the comment; you had been across the pavilion, systematically ignoring Sukuna’s attempts to make you try a cup of sake.

But Sukuna had heard it.

He hadn't made a scene. He had simply stood up, walked over to the lord’s table, and dismantled the man’s entire lineage within three seconds, leaving the pavilion drenched in red before sitting back down next to you, casually picking up his chopsticks as if nothing had happened.

"You're exhausting when you're angry," you had murmured, wiping a stray drop of blood from the sleeve of your robe with a click of your tongue.

Sukuna hadn't answered. He had just grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand toward him until you were forced to use your sleeve to wipe a smudge of gore from his cheek instead. He hadn't asked. He had just assumed your hands belonged on his skin.

Late one evening, weeks later, the heat of the summer had turned the air thick and oppressive. You were lying awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling, when the shoji screen slid open without a sound.

Sukuna stepped inside. He looked exhausted, the heavy marks of a curse battle still lingering in the tension of his shoulders. He didn't speak. He just shed his heavy outer robe, letting it hit the floor, before crawling directly onto your sleeping mat.

"Go away," you groaned, trying to roll over to the far edge. "It is too hot for this."

"Silence," he grunted, a large, heavy arm snaking around your waist from behind. He hauled you back against his chest with a single, effortless tug, his massive body completely enveloping yours.

His chest was blazing hot, a furnace of pure cursed energy, and his face buried itself directly into the crook of your neck.

"You cling too much," you muttered, though you didn't actually fight the hold. It was a useless endeavor anyway.

"What nonsense," Sukuna rumbled, his voice thick with sleep, his lower arms tightening around your hips, anchoring you so securely to him that you could feel the rhythmic, heavy thud of his heart against your spine. "You are small. You fit here. Stop complaining."

You lay there in the dark, his breath warm against your skin, his long, sharp fingernails absentmindedly tracing patterns into the fabric of your garment near your ribs.

He was completely unaware of how intimate the gesture was, how entirely possessive his body became the moment he was near you. He thought he was just resting. He thought he was just taking what was his.

You turned your head slightly, looking back at him. His eyes were closed, his expression unusually peaceful in the dim moonlight.

"You're an idiot, Ryomen Sukuna," you whispered softly.

A faint, arrogant smirk touched his lips, though he didn't open his eyes. His hand moved up, his fingers lacing through yours with a casual, unthinking pressure, locking your hands together against the bedding.

"And you are still breathing," he murmured into your skin, his grip tightening just a fraction more. "Be grateful I find your stupidity so entertaining."

You closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into his terrifying, inescapable warmth, finally accepting that while the King of Curses would never say the words, his actions had already rewritten the entire world around you.

............................................................................