reminisce.

You can feel your breath hitch- and something at the pit of your stomach twists in a sudden lurch before you’re turning away in an instant. The glint of his deep eyes too stark, the intensity in them too burning. 

“She’s right.” Shoko’s the first to pipe up from your right, tapping her manicured nails on the top of your campus bench. “I won’t deny that everyone’s being a lil’ hard on the guy just because he has a few tattoos and piercings.”

“And he’s a city big-shot with an annoyingly loud car.”

“And he’s a city big-shot with an annoyingly loud car.”

Utahime shudders, seated right in front of you so she has to turn at the feeling of Choso’s stare - who immediately looks away. “Well- fine. But it’s also the way he looks at…”

Your little group leans closer as she trails off, seemingly lost in thought.

Before nodding to herself in affirmation and narrowing her chocolate eyes- “-at you.” Unabashedly, she’s jabbing her index your way, as you sputter in protest, “No no, I’m serious! It’s like he- he wants to eat you or something, my dear.”

Shoko smirks, “Kinky.”

“Shoko.” You’re groaning, flipping back through your textbook to distract yourself, if anything. “Don’t let my parents hear you, Uta. They’ve warned me every single day since he’s stepped foot here to steer clear of him.”

Which wasn’t quite effective when you shared half your classes with the very man that haunted every nook and cranny of your town - and the minds of the people living in it.

And especially not when you couldn’t help but notice him during said lectures; tall, quiet, always seated at the very last row with his head in some car magazine, fingers twiddling with the chunky metal rings on his long fingers. 

Not that you’re looking at him that closely, that is. 

You find your thighs involuntarily pressing together as you’re hastily darting your eyes to Choso once more, taking in the subtle curve of his pierced lips. The slooow flutter of his long, chestnut bangs in the breeze- “Y’know they told me just this morning to never so much as let him look at me? Apparently some neighbor of a neighbor of a neighbor saw him driving late at night and assumed he was involved in everything shady possible.”

“Understandable.”

“Still dealing with the ol’ folks, huh?” Shoko grins as you wince, a reminder of the parents that absolutely refused to let you hold your own in one of the university dorms.

Not quite out-of-the-ordinary for such a small community, but you still did feel a twinge of envy whenever Shoko and Utahime happened to mention something about them being roommates. 

“You should just move in with us, y’know- fuck whatever the lease lady says, we have more than enough room.”

“Ah, one day.” Clearing your throat, you’re standing up- “Anyways, I should really get going before I miss my lab time.”

“Aw, Yaga keeping you late for another project?” Your friend muses as Utahime grabs onto your skirt with a protesting whine, trying to tug you back down onto your seat with all her might. And it’s a small chaos that erupts in a few surrounding giggles, a stray eyeroll or two - and for a certain dark-haired man to spy up from his motor book. 

Heady eyes locked on the scene, his gaze seeping right through your body. Choso tilts his head with a glimmer of interest that leaves your mouth dry no matter how many times you swallow. 

Oh, he looked just devilish.

You struggle to keep your voice even, “Yeah. Lab project.” And before you make your escape, you’re stealing one last glimpse at him- “No need to wait up, I’ll find my own way home.”

.

.

.

You were definitely, absolutely not finding your own way home.

And it was all your fault of staying way too late behind class hours, glued to one of your most important finals projects. 

“Dammit. Dammit.” You’re whispering to yourself as you check the time flashing on your phone - just a little past 10PM, you’d already missed the last local bus. 

The university was so empty that you could hear your own heartbeat thumping in your eardrums, in rapid unison with your footsteps. Leading up to the campus parking lot, a quick check showed you only a few stragglers that you didn’t know.

With a sigh, you make sure to stand underneath where a streetlight was overspilling its glow, weighing your options in the dim atmosphere.

You could call Utahime for a ride - or maybe your parents? But as much as you loved them, the multiple earfuls you’d get on ‘responsible time management’ was enough to have you closing out of your Phone app. 

Maybe you could (affectionately) blackmail Shoko into borrowing Utahime’s car? No, the one time you two decided that was a good idea, the other girl had given you both a lashing that had you bowing at her feet for weeks.

Swearing underneath your breath, you’re opening up the Uber app and making appalled note of the prices. Ah, perhaps you were just meant to sleep here tonight. “I’d rather beg for a ride from Yaga-”

And then you hear it.

You’re sure that anyone within a five-mile radius hears it, in fact- that low, infamous vrrrr— that made the ground beneath you quake ever-so-slightly. It was the very noise that roared past your quaint neighborhood streets at night, the very noise that your parents made sure to complain about every morning after.

And there was only one man who would drive such a behemoth.

Choso’s midnight black Ford Mustang glistens as he’s lazily pulling up to the flickering streetlight, taking up nearly the entire pavement. Too fast, too be lost, too slow to be heading for anywhere but you were - you can only gape as his tinted windows pull down almost silently. 

Almost smugly. 

The first thing you’re spying is the glimpse of a pale, beefy forearm gripping onto a leather-clad steering wheel. Tattooed and toned. 

And then it’s him - Choso Kamo, in all his glory.

“Need a ride?”

You’re blinking, voice never quite reaching your throat- “Wh-what?”

The first sound of your pretty, pretty tone and his hand tightens on the wheel - as if he’d just been zapped by volts of electricity.

He chuckles softly like he’d expected this, stray arm coming to scratch nervously at the back of his neck. And you don’t know whether you’d simply been standing out in the cold long enough to muddle your mind, but you swear that Choso’s ears tint a bright red. “I uh- I wouldn’t mind dropping you off home…or wherever it is you need to go?”

Expectantly, he’s searching his molten eyes up for an answer. But the longer Choso stares, the longer your silence stretches - and the darker the tips of his ears flush. 

“If- that is, if you don’t have another ride coming for you of course.” He’s peering his irises around, as if expecting one of your friends to pop out from the bushes any second now. Words running a mile a minute. “Sorry for assuming, I just saw you here alone and- oh, p-promise it wasn’t anything creepy I just notice y- fuck, I messed this up.”

And his shy smile withers, replaced by the anxious twiddle of his silver snakebites. Hand reaching for the gear shift now- “I should just-”

“No, wait!” 

You’re calling out before you can stop yourself, and it’s like Choso’s body listens to your words before his brain does. Because he’s halting in his tracks with a comical yelp, enough so that you have to stifle a smile. 

“I uh…I don’t have a ride, actually.” You’re telling him, with a deep breath. 

And it’s only with a final glance ‘round your surroundings that you’re confirming Yaga really wasn’t here and you really couldn’t bother him instead. 

Looking down at Choso and oh- he’s staring up at you with stars in his eyes. Curved grin urging you to speak- “If it’s ah- not too much trouble, I would really appreciate a ride back home.”

“Yes- yes, of course.”

And as if he’d not just been two seconds away from speeding down the pathway in embarrassment, he instantly lunges out from the driver’s seat. Speeding to the other side of the car and holding the passenger’s wiiide open for you.

You’re slightly taken aback by the manners, by the innocent smile that suggested he’d never even thought of anything less. “Oh!” Making sure you’re safely buckled before gently shutting the door, “Thank you?”

“Any time.”

You can’t lie to yourself and say that you’d never imagined what the interior of Choso Kamo’s notoriously intimidating car might look like. Feel like.

You just never imagined it to be as close to heaven as you could get - all luxurious woven seats and a touchscreen polished enough to mirror your awed face. 

You’re running your hand down the side of the car as you give directions to your home, your family would never even let you get close to a ‘deathtrap’ like this. And as Choso starts driving, you can’t help but breathe in that slightly bittersweet lavender scent of him, clinging onto the interior. 

“This…this is-” You’re grappling for the words as he’s shooting a kind smile your way, “So all those car magazines aren’t just for fun, huh?”

Choso’s lips twitch, “You noticed. Yeah- a 2025 Ford Mustang Dark Horse.” Tapping the wheel reverently, “My pride and joy.”

“I can tell.” As he looks at you curiously, “My family, we ah- we can hear you driving down the street sometimes, it’s incredible.”

Snickering, “Bet the neighborhood hates me then. With good reason, this thing goes from 0 to 60 in four seconds. 500 horsepower-” 

Then there’s a look he shares your way - something the complete opposite of the nervous, stuttering boy he’d been earlier. Perhaps closer to all the whispers that shrouded him instead- “-without modifications, that is.”

And you didn’t doubt that he’d made many.

“So how fast can you really go?” You’re asking with a quirked brow, slightly leaned over the console to take in all the numerous meters on his side of the seat. 

The heat of your proximity makes Choso bite back a gasp- “Trying to find out?”

There’s something in his words - his tone.

“What if I am?”

“I-I’d advise you against it.” He’s answering easily, the thickness of his thumb toying with the gear shift in dizzying circles. “Don’t you know what everyone in this town says about me?”

“They say a lot of things-”

“The loudest being that you should stay away.” Long, dark locks fall over his features as he nods, pulling to a stop at a barren red light. Darkness inking beyond his headlights, as if the only living beings on Earth right now were you, him– 

“You know, I don’t care what they say if I don’t truly know you.”

“Let’s- let’s just drive slow, get you home safe and you can forget about m-”

VRRRR—!

And the assholes that had pulled up to the side of Choso’s car. 

Gesturing him to lower his window, the boisterous voices from the neighboring vehicle hit you instantly. “Oi- nice car!” And before Choso can seemingly thank them, they’re revving up the engine of their own. “Would hate to embarrass ya in front of your girl, though.”

“She’s not my-”

“Why doesn’t she come with us?” One of their troupe of men lean out of the window, “We can show her a real fast car.”

You grimace, taking a glance at the still-red light. “Ew.”

“Oi-”

Your savior turns up the engine of his Mustang, cutting off the other man cleanly - and just a peek his way shows you his darkened eyes. Eyes hooded, face bathed in red from the traffic stop. Tone hard enough that you’re wondering whether this was the same man from just a few minutes ago. “Those are fighting words.”

Orange now. 

A sleazy cackle rings out, “That so?”

“You’re asking me?”

“No, I’m asking your gir-”

Green.

You’re instantly sunken deeply into the cushion of your seat as Choso speeds off- tailed closely by the Mercedes of your unwelcome guest. So fast that your surroundings are a blur, so hard that you can barely even move your mouth-

“A- a race?” You’re managing out.

“And we’re gonna win.”

Speeding; and you have a slight feeling that Choso was barely even trying as he’s looking over at the rearview mirror to watch the flashing headlights of his opponents.

Muttering underneath his breath, he shifts his gear with a clack to burst in speed- “Fucking imbeciles.” And if you thought his car was loud before, then you weren’t ready for him to smash the Sports Mode on his touchscreen and make the engine keen deafeningly. 

“Hold on tight, my girl.”

Clack!

“Shit, a fucking Mercedes, huh?” 

Clack!

Clack!

Another gear shift, and you’re seeing the trees of the landscape mix into one great splash of mere green. Choso flicks his eyes over in the side mirror only once- before the entire car swerves to the right to block off the Mercedes. “Fucking imbeciles.”

“Ch-Choso.” You’re gasping out, holding onto your seatbelt for dear life. Fuck- you think you’re seeing the line on his speedometer jerk upright as he steps harder on the gas pedal. 

“Yeees–?”

Your finger trembles - whether from fear or adrenaline, you have no idea - when you’re reaching it somewhere past the windshield. Eyes nearly bulging out of your skull once you take in the familiar road, “There’s a bend coming around. Hard.”

“Perfect.”

Clack!

You’re hitting the large dip in the road before you know it- thrown in so hard against the left side of the Ford Mustang that you claw onto Choso’s arm. Reached right over the console to grab onto his flexed biceps, “Heh.” He looks down at you through lowered lashes for a second, “Told you to hold on tight.”

Gaping speechlessly, you dig your nails against his pale skin and watch as he bites down on his lower lip. 

Fingers tilting down the rearview mirror, “And now, for those bastards.”

Bracing yourself, you manage to garner up enough strength in your body to raise your front off of him - only mildly mortified about being thrown around like a ragdoll by his driving. Taking a quick glance behind, “Oh, they slowed down for the bend.”

“Mhm, told you we’d win.” Choso grins, easily flicking off the Sports Mode for an easier regular one. You’re cruising smoothly down the velvety road, Mercedes long out of sight and out of mind. “You’re like my good luck charm- that means I better get you home safe n’ sound now..”

And that’s exactly what he does.

No more races, no more assholes on supercars - you’re turning into the suburban street of your tidy neighborhood without another hitch.

Well, if you don’t count the rumbling engine that was sure to disturb all the neighbors, that is. 

But strangely enough, you can’t seem to bring yourself to care as much as you should. Not even when he’s slowing down by the familiar driveway to your house, not even as you watch the lights inside flick on at the noise. 

Dwindling into a low purr by the time that Choso stops- “A-about before- I am so sorry about that, I don’t know why I let them get to me and-” He’s running a hand down his pretty features, “-and I promised myself I’d be good for you but-”

“Are you kidding me?” You breathe.

“I’m sorry.”

“That was-” He winces, waiting for your outburst. “-amazing?”

Choso’s fawny eyes widen, “What?”

“That was the most alive I’ve felt in ages.” You’re starting, “I mean- sure, I wanted to throw up a little but I promise once the nausea stopped it was really fun. And did you see the look on their faces- pffft, those assholes deserved it. Fucking- Mercedes.” Against all judgment, you’re gripping onto his broad shoulders just to shake with emphasis. “I didn’t even know you could drive like that- have you ever considered real racing? Fuck, I wonder if you could go even faster with this beauty.” 

Now it was his turn to be awestruck. Soundless. And suddenly you’re understanding just how self-conscious he must’ve been back at the campus. 

“Hello?”

“…”

“I mean…oh, what am I even saying.” You couldn’t grab your bag fast enough, hastily opening the door. “Thank you for the ride!”

You make three steps to your front porch - exactly three for Choso to snap out of his little reverie and chase right after you.

Long legs striding up, one of his matching exactly two or more of yours- a large hand catching your wrist, soft breath striking your face once he pulls you back. “Wait.”

Pants desperate, voice pleading.

You’re staring up at him so close that you could count each of his glinting metal piercings - those two sensual snakebites on his lower lip, one on his left eyebrow, several dangling upon both ears. And you swear you see one wink out from the tip of his pink tongue as he’s opening and closing his mouth.

“Do you-”

“I hope-”

You both speak at the same time, huffing out in slight amusement. You gesture for him to go, and he insists, “Ladies first.”

“Fine.” You’re letting him have his way, and the defeat is not nearly as bitter as how sweet it was watching Choso beam down at you from his height. “I just ah- hoped I didn’t weird you out or anyth-”

“Never.” 

He says it so seriously that you almost find yourself taking a step back- almost, because he still had his warm fingers curled softly around your wrist. As if he’d noticed your flighty demeanor, Choso drags you a few steps back with him, leaning against the side of his supercar. “Actually- would you like to go to a…thing-”

“A thing?”

“A place-”

“A shady place?”

“Yes-” Seeing the look in your gaze, “-but no! It’s just a race- a big one.” And fuck- he was finding it difficult to hold the line of your sight, ears scorching redder and redder every second you bored up at him. “And I want you there- if you would like to come, as my…” Choso winces, like he was despising each word spilling from his mouth. “-good luck…charm.”

You grin, “Is that a date?”

He squeaks- “If- if you want it to be.”

“Hmm.” Pretending to think for a second, you’re only deciding to let Choso off the hook after you watch as he genuinely, physically sweats a trickle of perspiration down his temple waiting for your answer. “It’ll be a date-” He gasps. “-if - and only if - you win first place.”

The grin you’re gifted with is devastating - and Choso Kamo doesn’t stutter a single syllable as he quirks a brow. As he leans in. As he bends down just enough that his deep, drawling words tickle your ear, “Oh, you’re gonna watch me win, baby.”

Oh. 

And you’re still thinking of them even as you manage to waddle your feet back up to your house after exchanging numbers. Predictably, being met with a lecture from your parents and yet not registering a single word. 

That is, not until-

“-and wasn’t it that boy?”

Snapping up at their disapproving tone, “Who? That was Choso, he gave me a ride when there was no one else on-”

“You should stay away, you know what they say.” Wagging a finger reproachfully, “How many times have we told you to stay away from brutes like that? And you just had to go and get fondled by the exact same one the entire town’s been talking about- and don’t lie to me, we saw you through the window.”

“Then you’d have seen that we were doing nothing.” You’re gripping onto your bag hard enough to tear, heart thumping with anger where it was once excitement. 

“That was not ‘nothing’, girl. I thought we raised you better than that.”

“But-”

“All the loud cars and the tattoos. Mark my word he’ll end up-”

Mumbling, “He was actually really sweet…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” 

“You’ll ruin your life.”

“I barely have one.”

With a long-weary sigh, you block out the rest of the screeching to head for your bedroom - the same ol’ innocent bedroom you’d had since you were a child. Throwing yourself over your bed, you scroll through the listings of studios in your university area, as you often did.

Except this time, you dare to bookmark one. Just one. 

.

.

.

It was hard not to know when Choso Kamo stared.

Because Choso never stared, he never tore his eyes away from the glossy pages of his motorsports magazine, even during lectures. And you always did wonder how he managed to top the scores of each exam despite that. 

Except for now.

Right now, you’re feeling the burning sensation of two dark peripherals on the back of your head - immediately making you swivel your own gaze behind you. 

Lo and behold, there he was - pen tapping on the side of his plush, rosy lips, brows furrowed as if you were the toughest of calculations he just couldn’t figure out. But the moment your pupils meet his, Choso only grins.

Mouthing, ‘Tonight.’

Your veins bubble when you notice more than one pair of eyes from the lecture hall on the two of you, and the implication of something happening ‘tonight’ wasn’t lost on your little audience. 

But you nod anyway, a reminder of what the two of you had been texting back n’ forth for days now. ‘Tonight.’

“What’s happening tonight and why are you eye-fucking Choso Kamo?” Shoko’s whisper infiltrates your little bubble - and many other nearby bubbles, if the way that a few students titter was anything to go by. 

“Shoko.” You elbow her side.

“No no, I want to know too.” Utahime pipes up, “Have you learned nothing from the two-bit bad boys in those shitty Netflix movies we watch?”

“He’s not just a two-bit bad boy, he also has a car.” Shoko’s adding on, “And I heard my neighbor’s friend’s aunt’s cousin say that he’s an F1 hopeful-”

The other gasps, “Is it the athlete’s salary tempting you, my dear? Y’know, I’m old money-”

Groaning, “It’s not like that.”

Shoko’s glancing between the two of you - Choso back at his books now that there wasn’t anything more worthy of his attention. You were looking away, after all. She balances a pen on her upper lip in thought, “When did that even happen, though?”

After a few seconds of trying to hide in your hands wasn’t working - in fact, it only made Professor Gakuganji throw more and more increasingly disgruntled glares your way - you sigh. “Well…you two remember last week when I stayed late at the labs? And I said someone was kind enough to give me a lift?” At two matching nods, “It was…”

“Him.”

“Him.” Utahime shakes you by your shoulders, “He didn’t do anything weird, did he, my dear? Oh, do I need to kill-”

“Not at all—” You wave them off, deciding to tell them about the impromptu race later today - preferably at an open space where it would be more acceptable for Utahime to scream bloody murder. “He was actually sweet and…”

Utahime and Shoko gawk at you with wide eyes, and the shorter-haired of the two speaks. “…and?”

“And a bit…cute.”

The pen clatters to down, down, down to the floor.

Already interrupting the class enough, you decide to simply rip the bandage off in one go- “And we may or may not have planned a date for tonight.”

It turns out that you’d very unfortunately overestimated Utahime’s ability to control her scream in a closed educational environment. 

.

.

.

It was electric. 

You felt electric. 

Choso leans over his seat to indulge in your personal space, and you’re sure you’d be melting if it wasn’t for the way that both your eyes were locked on one noisy opponent - that Mercedes. 

Engine revving right beside the Ford Mustang, sour faces peeking through the window with a thirst for revenge - who’d have thought that your lil’ enemy from the street competition would wind up being your opponents in an actual street race?

Honestly, tonight you’d let Choso drive you deep into a dingy corner of the town you didn’t even know existed in all your years living here.

You doubted that anyone knew of this secretive scene.

Filled to the brim with as many supercars as your lonely roads could hold- hell, Choso had told you that some participants drove from multiple cities away solely for these races. They were lining every inch of tarmac like glitzy streetlights made to overpower, the type to have given half your town an aneurysm just to think about. 

“It’s why I ended up here for my exchange program, y’know?” He was whispering in your ear, voice low in a way it was just for you. “The racing, the cars, the practice. I wanted it all before I went big.”

Dark eyes flickering briefly to you, “Didn’t think I’d find something else worth winning, too.”

Your breath hitched, you didn’t know what else to say to that. And Choso didn’t elaborate- instead informing you on the make and model of the cars that would be going up against him this time. 

And the roaring cheers grow deafening by the time a woman in a glittering outfit waltzes over to the middle of the track, a handkerchief held carefully in hand. Her cheery voice chimes out. “Alriiight, I want a nice, clean race around town- not. You know the drill- all racers on go by the time the cloth drops. Ready—?”

Teasing the little fabric around, you can pick out a few stray shouts surrounding the car- “Choso? That’s Choso Kamo? No way he seriously brought his gal- the man doesn’t even know how to smile-”

“They say it’s his last official race before he goes pro- better show off then, eh?”

“Move move I can’t see- Oh my  god it’s really him, shit, he has a girl, too. You think they’ll win?”

As you’re nervously toying with your fingers, you jolt at the sudden feeling of ice-cold rings sliding around your throat. One hand of Choso’s on the wheel, the other putting slight pressure on your neck to make you gasp. “Don’t you worry, baby. We’re gonna win this.”

“Set—!”

“Because of the date?” You watch from the corner of your eye as she’s waving the handkerchief ‘round like a chequered flag, raising it up, up, up—

“Because I have my lucky charm with me.”

“Go–!”

.

.

.

“Oh sh-shit.” A shrill whimper tears out from your throat the very second that Choso’s slimy tongue hits your inner thighs. 

He’s just so long - so dexterous that the pinkish tip of him curls inwardly along your sodden panties. Lavishing the swollen folds of your pussy with a few kittenish licks, you feel yourself buck in need at the slight graze of his tongue piercing. “Fuuuck, Choso, you’re not even gonna take my p-panties off?”

“Haaa—” His scalding hot breath gusts out in a sticky pant, and you can only watch as his lips purse to spit straight down your slippery slit. 

A fat glob of saliva that he’s smearing with the front end of his thumb, snickering. “No.”

And then Choso’s pursuing the quivering lips of your pussy like he’s a man starved - ravenous. Fuck, you didn’t even know how you got here.

It was a given that he would win that street race, coming in first among all the cars with an almost ridiculous lead. But it was only when Choso had kept driving - not even stopping to collect his cash prize - that you’d started to question what he had in mind…

And there you were- sprawled out across the back of his Ford Mustang and smearing the expensive seats with your sheeny slick. 

He’d driven you to the edge of some romantic viewpoint, a place to watch the twinkling stars above - but right now, Choso was drinking in a much better view. 

“Oh-” The edge of his sharp jawline strikes your cunt, “Oh.” And no matter how close he was, he wanted more - he needed to see your pretty pussy all up close n’ personal. 

Using the knobbly edge of his thumb to pull your folds apart with a sluuuurp, Choso’s mouth just waters seeing you drip ‘round your stringy panties. “Congratulations to me.” He’s drawling, syllables shaky. “She’s better than any grand prize, my baby.”

“You’re just so filthy—” You’re whining, hips rutting off of the cushioned seats while he’s making out with your pussy through your panties. 

Slap after slap of his mouth plastering to every inch of your hot core. 

It’s as if he was just trying to make you even messier, with each side of those rosy pink lips drooling against your pussy. “Mmm, tell me something I don’t already know, baby.”

Slickly rovering his tongue up n’ down the line of your slit- you feel Choso hone his wet muscle until he’s aligned precisely towards your sloppy hole. Pushin’ against the barrier of your underwear like he’s attempting to thrust his way in, “Stop teasing me, Choso–”

“Teasing? Who’s teasing?” 

Another push of his tongue against the cloth of your drenched panties and you shriek, just barely feeling the pressure of his mouth drag against where you really needed him the most. “Then eat me out properly-”

Mockingly confused, your pupils sprint all the way to the back of your throat as you’re feeling him murmur straight into your cunt. “M’not teasing, I just can’t see-”

“S-see?”

Looking down so fast that your chin knocks against your chest, in the dim street lighting you can make out the long mess of Choso’s hair. The way his unruly bangs were gluing to his forehead, half-obscuring his darkened gaze. 

“Mmm, m’just doing what I can—” He playfully hums, so close that he was practically nose-deep n’ yet still refusing to make out with your pussy past your panties. “Oh, if only I had my pretty girl to pull my- oh, fuck.”

Choso doesn’t get to finish his damn sentence before you’re giving him exactly what he asked for.

“Is this enough?”

Your trembly hands plunged into his clammy scalp, tugging on his silky hair- enough for you to admire his pretty, flushed face. All twisted into a mean smirk, “O-oh, now I can see.” There’s something unsteady in his words, as if he was on the very verge of shattering. “Now just tell me where you want m-mmpf-”

Then you’re shoving his face between your legs and Choso moans.

Mouth slacked all the way ajar- lengthy tongue coming out to simply flick aside your ruined panties. “F-fuck.” Choso’s wastin’ absolutely no time prodding at your clenched hole and squeeze-squeeze-squeezing inside. “Lemme see her. Lemme taste her- my pretty baby.”

Rutting the front of his hips into the backseat, he clings two large hands upon each side of your hips to haul your pussy deeper against his mouth.

Primal tongue slobbering everywhere, he’s gluing his textured tastebuds to the roof of your entrance and watches as you squirm oh-so-cutely. Pushing n’ pushing until he feels the first pressure of resistance from your cunt, “Ngh- Choso, dunno if it’ll- fit-”

“But you’re a goood girl- aren’t ya, baby?” Reeling back with a dewy plop! to prod his tongue into each of your nooks. “So aren’t ya gonna take my tongue like hah- a good girl?”

Your hand claws to clamp your mouth shut as you feel him stick his mouth against your entrance and start to bully inside once more. “I- I don’t-”

“Ah ah, none of that.” Only to have one set of his slender fingers tug down your shaky hand, hearing your pretty whines like his favorite song.

Fuck, Choso can only let you buck wildly once he’s rubbin’ his tongue piercing along your clit. “You’re gonna be loud-” His tongue was just unfairly flexible, twisting around until the metallic orb near the middle hits down your nub with a splat! “Yeah- exactly like that, pretty baby.” He could barely even speak through each pressurized push, “Gonna let this, mmm, entiiiire fuckin’ town hear. And then-”

And then he’s throwing your boneless limbs over his broad shoulders, ankles locking on instinct ‘round the back of Choso’s neck. 

It’s the change in angle that has you gasping, holding onto the cushions surrounding you for dear life when that only makes his mouth roam deeper- “-th-then you’re gonna fucking take all of my- ngh- tongue.” 

Muffled, each syllable leaves your pussy all raw n’ sensitive. 

Splashing out oodles of syrupy sweet sap each time the tip of Choso’s taste buds scrape the inside of your cunt. Stretchin’ out your poor hole to the maximum until you’re mewling at the sting.

Constricting widely, he’s shovelling your walls apart until you’re memorizing the exact feeling of his tongue. Pump after pump. 

He wasn’t just hungry - it’s like he hadn’t eaten for eons with the way that Choso was grinding and grinding his face between your face. Each gyration of his tongue rendering you speechless, licking all over your sweetest spots until not an inch was left undiscovered by him. 

You feel the glossy points of his snakebites stick against the base of your outer pussy and gasp.

“And then my cock next.”

“Oh- oh my god- ngh-” You babble away- was it possible to bottom out on a tongue? Because the curvy tip of his tongue was reaching all the way near your g-spot and you couldn’t help but sob. 

Hands trekking down on instant to-

SMACK!

Your fingers twitch where Choso had swatted your hand away, crushing it within one of his. “But Choso-”

“And who said you could play with my prize?” He tilts his head, dark eyes narrowed in a way that looked almost dangerous. Plump lips twitching with a sleazy grin, “S’my pussy, baby.”

Before you know it, he’s guiding your guilty hand down to meet his maw. Slick-sheened fingertips finding their way just between his lips- oh, he was greedy for your sweet, sweet juices. He wasn’t about to let you have a single drop.

Sucklin’ on them like his favorite flavored lolly, Choso stares right into your eyes once he replaces what you wanted with his own fingers.

A drive-roughened index smearing open the edges of your pussy, “D’you know that?” 

You’re shuttering your eyes in need, “Oh my god your fingers-”

Pressing just inside your hole, “Do you know that?” You can only let out a few more mindless wails in response, and he’s slipping a second finger against the roof of your core. “Need you to answer me if you want-”

“Yes- yes.” You claw against his strong wrist so hard that you’re leaving marks. Doing anything - everything to get him to go deeper, to sloppily fill you up from the inside with his fingertips. “Oh…mmm, please, Choso.”

“And don’t you forget it.” You’re being treated like a lil’ plaything - one thumb flicking your clit, two more scouring inside your glossy walls. “I’m taking my prize tonight.”

There’s a lecherous, resounding plop! as he manages to fully sink in the two prolonged fingers all the way till his knuckles hit the slope of your pussy. The curvaceous edge of Choso’s index easily mazing past to locate your throbbing g-spot, “Oh fuck- so deep- ngh, so…”

Only letting off once your own fingerpads are licked all clean of your slick, he hastily pushes his face back into your treacly cunt. “That’s it, thaaaat’s it. Fuck up into m-me- into my face.”

And he had you have you on his flushed face - Choso needed you on his face. 

Right then and right now, it’s like he’s fighting against himself for a mere piece of your pussy. Like the sweetest dessert in the world, he laps up every slimy ounce of leaky slick- wide tongue draaagging in circles ‘round and ‘round your sensitive hole.

One that was being absolutely pummelled by his fingers, he’s filling up every slick orifice with the curve of his digits. Hooking them so they thrash right against your g-spot-

“This is how ya do it.” You swear you watch as the mountains of Choso’s knuckles turn red with the slamming impact of his pumps, “Look at her- mm, just look. Now this is a winning celebration, huh?”

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” Your pupils are speeding in stupid circles within the whites of your eyes, hands twitching on his brown locks. The metal of his snakebites snag against the sensitive part of your folds and your legs shake, “It just feels too good- hck!”

Dragging down his handsome face harder against your pussy- and the manhandling force makes him rut. Crushing the rock-hard outline of his bulge against the carseat, “Too good, huh?”

And then the unthinkable happens - Choso dares to pull his long, hammering fingers out of your pussy. 

Instantly latching his pearly white canines onto your clit to bite so you can’t get out a single complaint- he’s forcing you to be patient as he reaches for something in the back pocket of his trousers. “Don’t you move now.” As you’re starting to push away from his shoulders at the sheer fucking stimulation making you see stars. “Don’t you fucking move.”

He’s serious about not letting you escape- one hand reaching behind his sweaty head. He grips both your ankles in one hand and locks them together, pinning them firmly together, dragging you to him.

“Excuse me for this, baby, I can’t take my hah- reward otherwise.”

In a split-second, his fingers are back to bullying between your puffy pussylips- but they weren’t the only thing pryin’ apart your bubblegum walls. 

Oh.

With a gasp, you’re lurching your dazed head up as much as possible - watching in real time when Choso’s now-ringed fingers disappear between your folds. 

Chunky, cold metal rings scraping your innards carnally, you feel him press a particularly textured one against the area of your nerves and see white- “Oh- oh my god, mmm—” Reaching for the very back of your core, he’s scissoring your cunt open to reach for your g-spot with a dull thud! 

Pushing into each softened spot. 

Your throat’s clogging with saliva again and again as he’s thrusting in n’ out, in n’ out, in and- “I don’t think I’ll last.”

Fuck, that makes him push his raging erection against the cushion and groan. 

“Then cum on my face.” Choso states simply, pressing a sweet lil’ kiss on your clit. Your quivering entrance splatters out a few speckles of glittery slick that latch onto his chin, “Cum on my mouth.”

Sticking his long tongue out, you can see the dot of his piercing glimmer in the dim lighting. Rovering down to swirl on your clit, he’s driving you wild with precise, prodding rolls right over your overstimulated nub. 

It was a dual stimulation - and you should’ve guessed from all the expert driving, but he was damn near taking you to heaven with all the multi-tasking.

Clawing at your every gooey spot, the splotchy stains of your sap cling onto his lips like a gleaming  medal. Every swirl of his greedy tongue on your clit making your back arch so cutely into his touch. 

The flesh of Choso’s bottom lip teasingly juts out to tickle his snakebites along your slope, “Cum alllll over my tongue, baby.”

At this point you don’t know what to ogle - the vicious lashings of his mouth, or the way he just looked so pretty doing it. 

Stray strands of his bangs falling over his forehead, ears burnt rouge, biceps flexing as he fights off the thrashing of your legs to keep you in one place. 

“Oh- oh, fuck-”

“Yeah-” Your eardrums flood with the rickety sound of friction on his decadent carseat, and only then do you realize that Choso was humping it. Fucking you with his mouth the way he wished he could with his swollen cock right now. “Yeah yeah yeah- exactly.”

Honey-brown eyes locked right into the target of your own as he bucks n’ bucks his face deeper into your sloppy pussy. Wrist aching, mouth panting, but he couldn’t fucking stop. 

You’re feeling him directly smash in a repeated one-two against your g-spot and choke- “I-I think m’gonna…” Trailing off, each n’ every word slurs together into one long call-out of his name. Thighs twitching as if you were electrocuted, “Oh, mmm- m’cumming, Cho-”

The only thing you can manage through your wobbly lips before throwing your head back and cumming.

Rushing into your orgasm so hard that it makes your ears pop! “I…I can’t believe I- fuck!” Your lashes flutter at the way he kept his probin’ fingers jackhammering through your high, blinking back tears. “Y-you’re only making it even ngh- better.”

Plap! Plap! Plap! The rugged joints of his knuckles nearly rub raw at the impact against your pussy’s slope, scouring against your poor battered g-spot. 

Your hands were on his ready head, holding on to grind on those pretty features in sloppy drags. Zaps of your pleasure bursting at the feeling of his piercings on your flesh, “You really are filthy.”

And Choso was more than happy to have his mouth be used, have the tip of his nose be ridden. 

“That’s it-” Eyes twinkling watching your cute lil’ hole spray him with flecks of slick, each peak of your high making you clamp down.

He’s slithering his tongue just vertically down your treacly cunt to try n’ bully it greedily inside. Swabbing with the metal of his tongue piercing, and you think you see white. Head throwing back at the sheerly raw stretchhh—

Yearning to feel the way your goopy innards squeezed ‘round his muscle once more, “Tha’s it- oh, baby, clench like that and m’gonna cu- fuck.”

Too late.

Too late; Choso was already feeling your snug, dripping insides melt around his tastebuds and he was already creaming his pants. A dark, dark stain forming where his leaky orifice kept wadding out seed- the man takes a glance down and tuts.

“S’all your fucking fault, y’know?”

“M-mine?” And by now your wave of euphoria was nothing but a few tingles here and there- so Choso’s lifting himself out from between your trembly legs. Albeit with a sloppy last French kiss on your sopping pussy. Two. 

Three.

Four- fuck, you had to be the one to wrench Choso away by the base of his perspired bangs. Leaving a few jet-black stains of his eyeliner smeared between your legs.

Forcing him to stop pussydrunkenly chasing the taste of your cunt, “Yes, fucking look at me.” He sounds gone. “M’addicted and it’s all y-your fault, baby.”

And he was dripping wet from his twitchy girth, so much so that his trousers stick to the upper half of his thighs like a second skin. Choso’s peeling his ruined pants and boxers off and oh-

“Fuck.” You’re gasping, in a daze. Eyes never leaving the hot, pinkish length that he’d just freed, “You’re so…”

Big.

Huge.

Staggering.

Damn near nine or ten inches, and so pretty, too. 

The cutest lil’ shade of pink on his globular tip, glistening with cum n’ covered with a few sparse veins that led to his happy trail. More than rock-hard, it looked painful. And was that- oh, fuck. 

He had a fucking Prince Albert’s piercing - right there, dotted on the line of his sensitive slit. Choso slaps down his heavy cock between your legs and watches as you squirm at the feeling of him slipping n’ sliding between your folds. 

From your distance leaned against the end of the backseat, you’re measuring him up. Eyeing the girth of him, fuck, he was fat enough that your legs squeeze-

“Now now-” Hastily, he unsticks your clammy thighs and flips you over onto your front. Leaning his weight down on your back to keep your restless body pinned, “-none of that.” Tonality breathy, octaves higher. “None of that none of that- oh, you’re not getting off easy tonight, pretty baby.”

Somewhere along the line of you ogling his impressive length, Choso had taken off his rugged band t-shirt. And fuck- you didn’t know which view was better. 

Because he was naturally ripped - all lean abs and pecs that jiggled once he’s leaning down. Your mouth waters when you take in the piercings going through his rosy nipples, the draconic tattoos going down his neck. 

You’re craning your head, now on all fours. “I-I could’ve guessed.” Sheepishly, as he’s aligning his thick, throbbing cockhead against your entrance. 

Choso pulls back on your tattered panties with a snap! “We’re gonna give this entire town something to hah- talk about.”

And that’s exactly what he does. 

Because the moment you feel his reddish crown bulge between your folds- you almost bawl. The utter primal stretch so much that he’s clawing onto your hips to keep you still. 

“Come on.” Choso spits into your open mouth, one of his free hands pressing up on your tummy - hard - just to feel that sensation of his large outline spearing through your walls. “Come on come on-”

“Fuck- fuck, Choso, you’re in s-so deep-”

“Here’s the finish line.” You hear him titter from above you, index paintin’ an invisible line somewhere about halfway down your stomach. Right where his target of your womb was. 

And before you can get out a single word, he rears his hips closer and makes you see stars. Closer. Deeper. The curvy weight of his tip bullies between your first ring of muscle, so thick that you can barely even clench. “First, m’here-”

You gasp, “Wh-what-”

“The- the starting line-” He’s hissing out, deliciously rutting a meager inch back n’ forth just to make you feel the way your entrance was gaped to the max. “Now I’m…”

With a hand pressed down to feel your cute tummy bulge, Choso’s fat cock slips further down your walls. Easing in after such a raw, primal squeeelch- 

“-here.”

“Oh- my god- I can’t believe-” You whimper, nails clawing at the faux leather for all he was putting you through. Just a few more solid inches, a few more visceral bucks of his hips and you’re babbling stupidly. “Are you ngh- are you there yet? Are you even halfway?”

“Mmm, not quite.” Choso twists out a grin.

Free hand snaking between your legs to lap up a few ounces of your sappy slick, mixing with his cum from before. It’s such a filthy concoction, and it’s exactly what’s being used to draw a line right over your tummy. 

“M’here and then-” Another rut, another line - higher upwards this time. The fat, aching length of his cock was slickly mazing between your walls and making your head spin. Tapping that lil’ spot with his pointer,  “…h-here.”

Until you could feel every pulse, every vein.

Choso Kamo didn’t even have to try to fill your poor channel up, his vein-decorated shaft poking into every tiny crevice and cranny. Until you felt like you were being molded to his very size. 

“And- and then-” Even he wasn’t immune to the completely carnal feeling- your cunt was just too hot, too soft. He’s pokin’ his pointed tip into one of your tender spots and throwing his head back at the way it makes your glossy walls tighten. “-finally-” Rutting. Half-thrusts. “-here.”

Hitting your cervix dead-on, right with his pierced part.

“H-heh…the grand prize.”

Shit, all this effort putting up a cool front and that very first thrust shatters Choso. 

It makes him gasp, it makes him stutter- groaning out your name in a gravelly tone like a mantra. 

“Fuck- the…grand- oh.” He’s babbling away his own joke, planting yet another thorough slam all the way to the back of your pussy. Hard enough that the vehicle quakes. 

Strawberry-pink tip swelling up just a bit more at the impact. Sheathed until those curly dark hairs at his base, and Choso chuckles like he’d just stumbled across an epiphany. “Your cervix- I hit it- got s-second place, too.”

Second place…?

You blearily blink your eyes, saliva flooding at the pure stretch. “Are you-”

Pap–! 

“And third-” In a sultry split-second, you’re being pulled back by one of Choso’s beefy biceps - in a fucking headlock. His pierced lips kissing the side of your face, “Got third, too, baby- are you p-proud of me?”

Your hands fist in his silken hair- “Yes- Yes yes yes- ngh, it just feels too good, Cho.”

There’s a sudden slurp, and suddenly the two of you are snapping your heads back down to watch how your stimulated pussy grows even wetter. Spraying out syrupy slick with each of his furious pumps, every slam leaves his meaty thighs stuck to the backs of yours like adhesive. 

A roughened thumb slithers down to spread your pussylips. “O-oh.” Just so that he can watch his achingly hard cock disappear from your winking hole. Studded piercing dipping in and out in and out in and out- “We’re gonna break this damn car, baby— Just like this hah- pretty pussy is breaking me.”

Headlock tightening, backseats creaking. “Ch-Cho, are you-” Another smash against the spongy layer of your cervix and he swears.

You’re peering into the tinted window of his Mustang and seeing the full effect of your sweet, candied pussy on him.

Head hunched, back muscles tense. 

It’s like he was breaking - bit by bit with every swab of his cocktip against your deepest innards. The rounded globe of his orifice probes into the door to your womb and you find yourself drooling. “Choso, are you even ngh- okay?”

Choso’s long lashes bat, eyeliner smudging ‘round sexily, “No. Fuck.” Sizzling tastebuds lolling out to lick the salted tears streaming down your face. “Fuck- fuck, how could I ever be okay?”

You’re feeling his abs plaster against your spine, usin’ the weight to angle his roaming length even deeper. “A pussy as sweet as you- ohhhh.” Grunts departing into your ear following each rut after rut- “M’n-never going to be okay.”

Choso’s puffy veins drag against your g-spot and you whine. “H-harder.”

“Harder?” Something that sounds like a pussydrunk giggle escapes him, eyes wide. Feral. “Can you even handle harder, my girl?”

Huffing, the first thing you’re thinking to respond with is a sloppy nod. Your neck is barely even capable of keeping your heavy head upright by now, “Faster, too.”

Oh.

Oh.

You were fucked. 

Because when you said ‘fast’, you didn’t think that he would act this rapidly. Taking barely a second - no, a nanosecond - to plunge his angrily hard dick out n’ flip your limp body over. 

From the filthiest doggy position to having your legs ‘round his slender waist, his cock ebbing deep inside once more. The new angle easily lets his weepy girth map your walls, mazin’ inside like a searchlight. 

Reaching your aching g-spot easily- “Hold on tight, my girl.”

And then he’s fucking your dizzy brain thoughtless. 

Until the firm, steady frame of his supercar was shaking from side-to-side.

Plump, raging cock stuffin’ right between your folds to poke against the top of your cervix. Again and again. Thump after thump. 

His piercing is so cold that it makes you shiver. And Choso takes extra care to make sure that his winding veins find a way to precisely scrape your most treasured spots. 

One hand holding onto the right side of your face, gently brushing against the top of your cheekbone. “It feels so hah- good, oh.” The other toying with your pretty lil’ clit, “So good it’s driving me- fuck, crazy.”

Drawing out the cutest hearts with his thumb on your nub, Choso was just so gone that you swear his pupils were starting to turn heart-shaped, too. 

Especially once he catches two of your hands snaking down the sweaty line of his chest- stopping right where the curve of his pecs were. Without a second thought, you’re fingering the sensitive area of his nipple piercings. 

Choso arches, he shivers. “Heh, you’re fucking dangerous, baby.” Drilling cock overspilling your insides with a few sticky wads of precum as you tug on one of them.

You whine when he’s withdrawing the loving hand from your cheek to swab the cavern of your mouth. “That’s what they said about- ngh- you.” 

“Mmm—” He lolls his head pussydrunkenly, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You’re sure that Choso’s leaving a few bites and smears of eyeliner for you to worry about later. Each word punctured with a thrash of his rotund tip, “Well, they don’t know me yet.”

“A-and I do?”

“Well…” And that makes the sinful man grin. 

It makes him unload the hand from your ajar maw - removing it with a few stringy ribbons of spit. And it’s exactly that moisture that Choso’s using to write out your damn name on his left pec, right above his heart. 

“You-” Your voice clogs up in your throat- because he wasn’t done. Far from it.

Because soon enough, the ringed fingerpads simply teasin’ your clit start to repeat in a pattern. A swoopy few movements that you’re realizing is his name.

C-H-O-S-O-K-A-M-O

Yours on his heart, his on your cunt. 

Spelled out expertly on the buttony top of your clit, you’re seeing stars after each quick movement. The sharp turns n’ swoops of his name being branded onto you was almost too much to handle. 

Which was exactly what he was looking for- and the tips of Choso’s plush lips twitch at the sight of you slowly edging towards your high. “Yeahhh, you fuckin’ do. Know me better than hah- anyone else here, my pretty baby.”

Throat breaking out in a sob, “I-I’m so close-” Pulling on his hair, thrashing up your hips. “Not gonna hngh- last too long, Cho—”

“Oh, yeah? Say my name like that- say my name.”

But you can’t say anything, really - because in a singular, fluid motion, Choso has your legs perched on his flexing shoulders. Your capped knees pressing down until they hit your tits- the realization smites you and you gasp. 

“A-a mating press?”

“Whaaaat–?” Drawling out through a drunken hiccup, he gifts you three strikes with his Prince Albert’s on your g-spot. Thud-thud-thud. “Wanna see your gorgeous fuckin’ ngh- face when you’re cumming on my cock.”

This angle was perfect for glissading a line of pre straight across your g-spot, unstopping until he’s hitting the back of your cervix with a rattling thud. Speeding his sloppy tempo up until the smacks of skin-on-skin were downright deafening. 

Ears ringing with the sappy squelches reeled out of you after every second of his rough cadence. With the way the car was shifting- “You’re just so- so filthy.”

“Mmm, only for you, baby.” Comes out the ragged response, something near the tailend of his sentence cracking. And so is his restraint. His sanity. “A-Always for you, baby.”

He’s driving into you as if he was crazed; toned pelvis of his stinging red, temple trickling with sweat, the fat circumference of his crownhead was leaving absolutely no spot unturned. Thumb nearly a blur on your clit, it makes you arch to have him rewriting his name over n’ over n’ over. 

Choso’s simply ruining you from the inside out, and you can feel your body twitching already in response. 

Pants hoarse- gone. He finishes off yet another signature twist of your clit - C-H-O-S-O. “Anything for you, baby.”

And then you don’t know who’s first - it’s simply crashing into both of you at once. 

A long, blissful wave of euphoria that leaves your vision all white n’ delirious. You’re just so full- being stuffed to the very brim of your dripping wet pussy with his cum. Creamy white ropes that glue to the start of your womb n’ end up being stirred about by his length. 

The only thing you can even think to do is wrap your arms ‘round Choso’s neck and give him a lingering kiss. 

Mind spinning, stomach twisting - it’s probably the hardest orgasm of your life.

Feeling him moan into your mouth through each clench of your high, “Better than I’ve ever fucking- ngh, imagined.” 

Oh, it was just too cute to have him confessing like this as he’s fucking you through his high. 

Pushing each knot of sinful cum even deeper- “You’re better than a ngh- dream.” It makes him sensitively whimper to feel you clamping down at his words. Webs of ivory syrup sploshing through your channel like a second skin. “You might just be- oh, my dream, my girl.”

There’s just so much of it.

So much that’s spilling out. Coating his bulky base in a slathered ring of white, neither you nor him can even think to care about the stained material of the seats. 

Only plowing probe after probe of his blushin’ tip to probe into your favorite spots, Choso leaves your toes curling at the pleasure of having him draaaaag out your high with his veiny cock. 

And it takes you a few seconds to register his whiny words- “You- you really mean that?”

“Y-yeah…” He’s breathing out, in awe. Flinching when your fingers start to caress the crimson tips of Choso’s ears, “Meant every fucking word.”

“And I do, too.” At his slightly puzzled expression, you’re chuckling. “Remember the first time we met? I told you I don’t care about hck! anything this lil’ town says.” It’s almost too intimate having you brush away his bangs from his gawking eyes, but you couldn’t think of anything more fitting. “N’ I still don’t give a single fuck what they have to say-”

“O-oh.”

Choso ends up cumming again - simply from hearing those words fall from your beautiful mouth.

Except, this time, it’s dry. Just a single pearly bead of sap bein’ withered out, he juts the throbbing crown of his cock up against the roof of your cunt. 

Knees planting deeper upon either side of your hips to give you a thorough slide of his exhausted, pierced cock. He’s cumming out near sparks by the time he spits out- “Your- your parents are gonna kill me.”

“My parents are gonna kill me.”

“N-next time-” 

You knew he’d just bared his feelings out for you, but you can’t help but feel your heart flutter at the mention of a ‘next time.’ “-m’fucking you in your bedroom, my girl-” The raspy tone of Choso’s breath makes you shiver, up close n’ personal. “-while your parents are home.”

.

.

.

“Did you hear- they say that Choso Kamo races F1 and he’s-”

“Forget the racing! Did you hear he’d apparently taken her out- yeah, her, after that race last night and…well, I hear there were numerous noise complaints at that cliffside viewpoint.”

“Oh, my aunt’s her neighbor and she said the house was in chaos the entire night after she came back. Couldn’t even walk apparently.”

“He was that good?”

“Good enough that she packed her bags and moved into a place of her own, apparently.”

.

.

.

“Aaaaand Verstappen holds the lead but Kamo’s close behind—” You never did get tired of the revving thunder of the cars, the booming voice of the Formula 1 commentator fighting to be heard above them. 

You’re leaning against the wall of the VIP box with Utahime and Shoko - meant only for family and friends, stomach churning as it always did whenever it came to the last lap of Choso’s races. 

“Oh- oh! You can see Kamo weaving behind, ohhh it’s a tight one, ladies, gentlemen, and every folk in-between.” 

It was honestly still surreal to be here, of all places, after everything.

After how many told you that he’d break your heart, and here he was holding it with him through each lap like he’d fall apart without it. 

As the distance closes - all power, pressure, and speed - you’re yelling his name at the top of your lungs despite the fact that he won’t hear. “Come on— Cho–!” Waving about the flag with his number and color as all his tens of thousands of fans did. “Not too long for the finish line–!”

The announcer bellows, “Ah, you’ve got Kamo’s girlfriend, one of our most beloved F1 WAGs, yelling as the finish line draws nearer- so close! So close! Will he make it?” As that chequered flag raises, his familiar car speeds. “Push now, boy!”

His engine roars - and so does the crowd, split-seconds later. 

“And in the final corner, it’s Choso Kamo who seizes the chequered flag—! He wins the Italian Grand Prix! What a drive! What. A. Drive.”

Choso doesn’t give a single shit about the few victory laps, he doesn’t even wait for a final discussion with his pit team. 

Zooming right past the finish line and further along the main straight. Right where it was most visible to you from your seat, he’s immediately punching on the gas pedal and swerving the absolute monster of his racecar. 

Right then and there on the tracks.

Right into the shape of a…heart?

You’re giggling behind your hands as the commentator cackles– “A celebration for his eighth win this season, Kamo shows off his title- and his love!”

Surrounding you, you can hear the crows coo and cheer, you can already taste the fizzy champagne being popped. And in nearly no time, your boyfriend has pulled his car up to the parc fermé - running right through the outline of a heart he’d drawn in celebration.

Running right up the stands to you-

But not into your arms.

No, not at all. 

Instead, Choso Kamo drops to one knee right before you.

The audience loses it- and you hear the booming loudspeakers squeak. “Wait- wait’s what’s happening in the VIP box?! Choso Kamo- it can’t be-”

And Utahime, without a single word, digs inside her purse and throws a small, velvety ring box over within the blink of an eye. One that Choso catches with ease. And oh, he just looked so pretty.

The same boy you met all those years ago - lengthy hair mussed up from his helmet, rosy lips quivering, face flushed. 

“Is everyone in the pits watching? Is everyone at home watching? This is absolutely sensational! Choso Kamo has just seized the moment to propose to his long-time girlfriend, an incredible celebration of love we’re seeing here on the tracks today.”

So in love. 

Choso whispers, “It would be a dream…if you would marry me, my girl?”

Tear-filled, you can only nod. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, and every folk in-between — we have a winner—!”

A/N. The things I would do for him cannot even be spoken into existence.

Geto’s spit-slicked lips part open to steal a sharp gasp of the sweltering lecture hall air- it couldn’t be. And his bleary irises can’t even focus, can’t lock on anything but the figure of you mere feet away. 

…Could it?

With a slight tilt of your head, you’re staring back at him - and something…carnal pangs through his suddenly-boiling veins.

Then you smirk- and Geto twitches.

Fuck.

He would’ve crashed onto his knees right then and there if it wasn’t for the way that you proceed to dig through your cute, useless bag - still in the middle of a conversation with your friends - and throw something flimsy and pale pink at him.

No shame. No regrets.

None for either of you; but especially not Geto once his strong palms reach out to urgently scramble for the shred of gauzy fabric in midair. 

Tangling the stringy satin between thick, ringed fingerpads, he’s sinking his face into its sugarcoated scent before sinking into the realization that you’d had the audacity to throw your fucking panties at him in the middle of a bustling seminar. 

Yet, he was even worse - jaw slackening, broad chest heaving with rasping ahs! as he drinks in loooong repeated puffs of your pheromones. Coating his brain in melty molasses of sugar and spice and you. 

There was a reason you were the most sought-after omega on the entire campus. With your filthy skin-tight outfits, and your flirty smiles. 

And him? He couldn’t get enough.

Smearing away a sloppy splotch of saliva spilling from the corner of his mouth- when had he even started drooling? Geto watches through watery peripherals as you mouth a smug “an advance” at him, and saunter out of the class in your tightly-knit group.

Too tightly-knit, if you asked Geto. Dead-on stare narrowing, he catches the way one of your so-called friends brush away an invisible piece of lint from your shoulder. 

Just barely. His head snapping towards Geto when the latter growls-

Oh.

Oh, fuck. 

He was fucked.

.

.

.

Listen, it’s not as if you make Geto finish all of your homework - just the ones that you found too tedious, too complicated, or too time-consuming. Which might just happen to be all of them, but you digress! 

He was more than happy to collect those slutty scraps of silk you called “panties” and you were proud to keep your streak of having the second-highest GPA in class (after the man himself, of course.)

The more important the grade the more sinful the panties. 

After all, it wasn’t as if you minded all of Geto’s fiery stares at you during lectures, the spark in his eyes when he tried to drill a difficult concept into your mind, or the way his dark lashes would flutter drunkenly the moment you got too close. 

In fact, you might even admit that you…like it.

Because Geto was hot. Fuck- he was fucking pretty.

You’d seen just how fawny his amethyst eyes were behind those clunky glasses. Lengthy Stygian hair, so many inches above six feet, and biceps that pull his gamer t-shirts so taut that it made you wonder what was underneath.

But it wasn’t as if a nerd - and a beta, obviously, though you didn’t care for secondary gender - like him would ever make a move. 

Hell, he barely even talked to anyone other than the professors. 

All grumbling and rude. It took you weeks to even get him to acknowledge your existence, and that was only by giving him an “accidental” glimpse of your red, red bra strap. 

So you were mostly fine and dandy with this lecherous transaction of yours. Geto was smart; he was never a minute late in emailing you your surely A+ worthy work before their deadlines, and you’d gift him his little treat just the day after.

Except- you were lounging on your couch as the 12:00AM deadline for your latest essay rolled around and there was still no sign of Geto. Not a single ping from your inbox. 

With an impatient thumb, you’re idly scrolling through the sparse chat history you’d all but bullied him into sharing with you, brows furrowing deeper and deeper at your plethora of ignored texts and calls. 

Nothing new but, seriously…

Scoffing as the clock tick! tick! ticked! its way to 12:01AM. 

He was late - and your homework was, too. 

You’d been feeling a little too…feverish tonight to attend that one party your friends had invited you to, and thank your stars for that. Because not even minutes later, you were stomping the few blocks down to Geto’s apartment building and all the way up to his white-painted front door.

“Hey, Sugu—” You rap your knuckles harshly on the wood, exasperated. “Are you in there?”

No answer. 

Huffing, your heated skin stings where it clashes even harder against his door. Impatiently, “Hah- making an omega walk all the way out here…I should take back all those panties I gave you. Yaga deducts points for late submissions and I am not leaving until you come out.”

Still no answer. Not even a sound. 

“In fact, I’ll only get louder.”

Not even a breath. 

That was…strange. He should’ve at least come out to shut up your racket so that he can study, if not at the mention of your panties. 

And right now your annoyance was being washed away with sharp waves of concern, a nervous bout of laughter escaping you as soon as your hand falls on the door handle to find it shockingly unlocked. Oh? 

You and Geto might not be the best of friends, but you wanted him to be alright goddammit. 

“Better come out and stop me now, unless you want me to barge in!” You call out, jostling the cold, metallic knob for good measure. It holds firm in your hand, the only thing grounding your swimming mind as you bask in a second of silence. Two. Three. Before sighing, “Have it your way then. I’m coming in–”

Then it hits you.

Slow, at first. Like a smell from a distant memory that you find yourself aching for - find yourself stumbling a few steps inside Geto’s cozy apartment and devouring in generous lungfuls. 

You slam the door shut to cloud yourself in the saturated air and gasp.

This was nothing like any expensive perfume you’d smelled before. It felt like your entire body was on fire, like every one of your pores was scorching from deep inside. Like you needed him.

Head whirling with the heady concoction of caramel salt scent and those dark undertones of wine. Something so dangerous. So tempting. So…Suguru.

You jolt. He was in rut. 

Wait, rut? Geto Suguru? Wasn’t he…wasn’t he a beta? 

You swear he was. You didn’t know what was happening, only angling your head up for more and more and more-

Shit, you’re shoving your thighs together before you know it. Already feeling the slippery stream of slick that sloshes past your pussy lips and puddles at the bottom of your underwear. And you know you’ve never been wetter. 

“A-anyone home?” You’re straining out, the doughy mountain of your palm rubbing mindlessly up n’ down through your thin skirt. 

Undoubtedly, there’s still no response. And yet, it’s almost as if he’s calling to you - and maybe he is.

Feet wrenching one jerky pitch after the other, you have to balance yourself on the hallway walls to fucking keep your sanity.

And to perhaps stop your weakened knees from slipping you into a pile on the polished hardwood floors. Perhaps to stop yourself from breaking out into a run to wherever your inner luna was clawing to take you. 

You breathe, “Th-this isn’t funny, Suguru…”

The soft thuds of your padded steps thunder in time with your racing heart. Louder and louder. Deafening by the time you’re catching sight of a large mahogany door at the end of the corridor that waves ever-so-slightly ajar. 

Where those hypnotic pheromones were the most saturated. And your mouth waters. 

It’s only once you’re reaching it - trembling, standing stock-still, right outside what you now assumed to be his bedroom - that you realize Geto was calling to you. Well, more like he was calling out for you. 

Your name. 

In soft, breathy moans that make his rich baritone crack.

“Get the fuck in here.”

.

.

.

The moment Geto Suguru catches a glimpse of your oh-so-cute face - the moment he senses that you’re actually, honest-to-goodness here - he cums. 

And he can’t help it- fuck, he can’t help it.

Even dabbing the fat of his massive thumb right over his bawling tip can’t stop the heaping torrents of gooey white escaping from him. Such slick ribbons upon ribbons crawling their way up Geto’s washboard abs, you can only watch with bated breath as his messy, round globs of seed trickle up n’ down until they drench his dark happy trail. 

Your watery thighs stick together, maw falling agape because you’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined this.

You had. Once or twice or many, many times. 

All splayed out on his Digimon sheets like this; meaty thighs cracked open, silky locks slathered across every inch, glasses fogged up. Ruined. Geto’s sweat-shimmered back arches off the outdated bed springs with a creak! while his hand flew furiously up and down his swollen cock.

Shit, you’re biting your lip. Syllables jumping roughly off of your heavy tongue, “S-Suguru?”

SLAM!

It’s like the sound of your voice does heavenly wonders to him.

Plump, tender balls squeezing, Geto’s free hand encloses behind his sweaty scalp and onto the headboard above him. Hard enough that the sturdy frame snaps, pale biceps flexing enough that you find your skin clammy with need. 

“Fuh-fuck.” He’s hissing through clenched teeth. Staring right at your meandering form through dazed half-crescents, mouth departing endless husked grunts. And oh…oh a few more dewy droplets of cum spray out of his bawling orifice once you gulp. “Look what you’ve done t’me.”

“Y-you’re an alpha?” You finally manage to find your voice. 

He snickers, the murky scent of the room growing ever-stronger. And even more than that was your own scent, mixing and melding until you felt dizzy. “And you’re in danger, little omega~”

Your widened gaze grows to lock on the way that his rugged fingers continue milking out creamy sploshes of cum. Expertly flying up, up, up– before fisting his hefty base with an airy sigh. 

Large. He was so large. 

And in so many ways more than one. 

An alpha. He was an alpha. 

Seductively sculptured body dwarfing his single bed with what looked like miles upon miles of toned, tall muscles. Were those tattoos spying out from the sides of his back?

A syrupy geyser of sap formulates between his two legs the size of your head- this was Geto Suguru? 

And his cock - oh, he was so perfectly massive. Oversized, even in Geto’s engulfing hand. 

So painfully hard that he was blushing a blossoming magenta near the very tip of his globular cockhead, throbbing. Pulsing. Thick lightning bolts of veins gripping down either side of his pink shaft and all the way down to his breeder balls.

With a harrowed gasp filling your lungs, you’re spotting just the barest fringe of something soaked-through and gauzy tangled underneath his digits. 

Fuck. 

“Is that-”

“This?” Geto grins - grins. You’ve never seen him smile let alone show off this dopey, predatory leer plastering all over his flushed features. A gentle dimple embeds near his curled lip, and he quirks an eager brow. 

You can barely even think while he untwines the frilly pair of panties you’d thrown at him in class from around his aching cock. Sticky and stretched now, it finds home right near his flared nostrils as Geto brings it up and sniffs. Crazed. “C’mere.”

The rawest of glints twinkle in his half-lidded vision as you inch closer, the way you tremble on your two feet like a newborn fawn was adorable. And he can’t stop himself from letting out a low whistle–

“Yeah. Good fuckin’ girl.”

Your body kneels you right by Geto’s bedside before your mind can even think to catch up. Head lolling lecherously against the wide plane of his shivering thigh, you let your tongue lap up a pearl of his buttery white cum and keen. He was even bigger up close. “Sugu—”

“Nuh uh, gorgeous.” Geto tuts, gravelly tonality rendering you confused just as much as you were needy. His two palms grip the crown of your head to peer upwards, “S’all because of you. You n’ those d-damn panties. M’not your hck! nerdy fuckin’ Sugu right now. Best remember that- m’gonna make sure you remember that.”

He’s more than gazing down at you, he’s boring right through you. 

Spectacle frames creeping precariously down his nose bridge, tendrils of his shaggy hair almost curtaining him, pellets of sweat trickle down his temples and hit you in thin spatters. So close. And you wanted him closer. 

“Tilt your head back, lemme see that ngh- pretty mouth.” One hand slips from your head to curl around Geto’s fattened hilt, nudging his puckered tip to strike your lips with a dull thud! “Count.”

“One-”

And it’s not once. 

“T-two-”

Not twice. 

“Three- hah!”

Not thrice, until he’s leaving your mouth whimpering and stinging with the slam of his rock-hard shaft slapping down your tender flesh. Leaving a slimy trail of pre and salty cum that leaks between your maw and drives you wild. 

Then - and only then - is he wrenching you up closer. Manhandling your pliable body until the very tip of his perfectly button nose meets yours. So close.

Your teary lashes flutter halfway shut once you feel the foggy breeze of his breath scorching your face, cunt quivering with the anticipation of a kiss. His pheromones hit you in powerful gusts, your primal urges scratching up to the surface.

Closer. Too close- for a kiss that never comes.

“Heh. Cute.”

He doesn’t kiss you.

But before you know it, Geto pitches his tongue back and wets your shimmery pouted lips with a large wad of his syrupy saliva. 

In just a split-second. 

Bowing you back underneath him and stuffing your chatty mouth so damn full of his swollen cock that you can’t even think of anything else. Fat droplets of tears fountain up at the edge of your eyes, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so split open.

He was eight- no, maybe nearing ten whole inches that scraped the back of your mushy throat with his ruthless mushroom tip. 

Hard. Girthy. 

Cratering out a wet circumference of bruises into your melty mouth with a singular thrust, and it wasn’t enough- fuck, it might never be enough.

Geto’s throwing his head back, toned core muscles tensing. “O-oh. This. Th-this is what it feels like?” 

You almost wonder whether he even knew what he was doing once you feel a shaky thigh throwing behind your neck and reel you in close. Drawing you all the way up until your nose scratches his tufted pelvis, mouth hanging wiiidely agape. 

“Sh-shooo big–” You’re mumbling through a scalding mouthful, slicked walls clenching at the realization that he had you trapped in a headlock. And by the looks of it, he was never going to let go.

“Yeah- yeah?” He shudders out, bass cracking into a zillion shatters near the end. Octaves higher. Unsteady. Meanly, Geto’s leg jostles you even further from behind to probe his shaft even deeper into your velvety mouth, your chin buckling underneath his curvaceous ballsack. Holding you still. Firmly. “Fuckin’ l-like that, don’t you?”

You can’t nod. You can’t hum affirmative. He was so bulky inside you that your lips sag underneath the sheer weight.

But your omega preens for the attention, sleek tongue zig-zagging over one of the pounding veins that poked into the roof of your mouth. And it’s enough of an answer for Geto.

Spitting out, “Oh yeah? Dirty girl. Didn’t expect your loser lil’ Sugu to have such a fat fuckin’ dick, huh?” 

So fucking…rude, words teetering right on just the edge of being menacing. And you were just so gorgeous crying all over his cock like this, so much better than when you were hanging off of other alphas. 

So much better when he strays a thumb to feel your filling throat, the way he’s lodged deep inside. Him. All him. 

You let off a whiny gag the moment his blushing red cockhead twitches up ferally at the thought. The static cotton in your head making you slurp his length with a sloppy squelch! 

He’s pushing up his glasses furiously, “Can you even take it? Seriously- acting so popular n’ mighty when you can’t even take my hngh- cock.”

And you’re about to rebuke, you’re about to- you swear.

But oh, he didn’t have mercy now. 

“Whaaaat? M’just saying.” The ridges of his head press up all against every nook and cranny of your mouth, a silvery trail of drool now seeping from between your locked lips. Geto wipes away his own cobwebs of drool with the back of his mouth, giggling. Giggling when you scuffle, “S’it too big? Too big for our f-famous lil’ omega?”

Your throat aches something carnally delicious when he keeps a hold ‘round your neck to plunge into the waterlogged bottom. Bobbing your head in lewd maneuvers allll the way up n’ down. “Ngh- Sugu–” 

“Hah- hah!” His glassy eyes gleam something wild, microscopic tastebuds watering all over again with just how intensely he was gawking down at you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that his eyes were glowing- “Why are ya still fuckin’ speaking, gorgeous?”

It wasn’t a Command, but oh did it feel like one.

Only mere moments later and Geto’s springing himself off of the bouncy mattress to shovel your hot throat full of copious inches and leave you spellbound. Swirling a lazy few half-circles of his heavy tip where you were most sensitive.

“Cool that pretty lil’ head. You’re cuter when yer like th-this, y’know?” He groans, feeling your slippery cheeks grip his shaft in an adorable hug. Knee drawing up even tighter to hold you still while he fucked your mouth the way he’d been wishing he could for so long. “All shut up a-and mine and…”

Ah, breath wisping away. He’s prodding your poor gag reflexes at the very same time he rovers up a stray hand to squeeze your nostrils together. “-only mine.”

“Nghh- G-etooo—” And yet, he still doesn’t let up. You’re cupping Geto’s plumpened balls with a delicately loving touch, lustrous strands of spit layering your lips. “Want you.”

“Hm?”

“Want you.”

Oh.

Oh.

Those are the very same words he’s been dreaming of every single rut since meeting you. And he can’t help himself, he can’t stop himself from letting out a slew of swears and cumming.

Shocked. 

“Sh-shit—” It’s all Geto can do to bite down on the plush of his bottom lip and wrangle back those embarrassing fucking whimpers on his tongue, dewy eyes sparkling with a few overstimulated tears. “You’re gonna- f-fucking…”

But he’s not given the privilege to finish his thought let alone his sentence. 

Just flooding your senses with the caramel salt of his scent, and his gobs of pearly seed. Every jackhammer has Geto pinpricking it on the back of your bruised and battered throat, every squeeze of his hand around your neck makes him drool out in wiry oodles of sap more and more and more-

“S’what you w-wanted, right?” And you’re sensing the way his scent tinged with something maddened, leaving your eyes popping. “Prancing around with your hah- p-pre-heat panties and your- fuck!” Geto fights to keep his eyes from flapping closed, “Take it- ohhhh take it all.”

As if you could do anything else.

Every tiny twitch leaves your cavern flooded. Geto was cumming so hard that it was overspilling from each crevice of your lips, a silvery waterfall of cum that he’s dabbing around a thumb to smear. 

Letting your pouted lips wobble at the fresh topping of white gloss, “There’s a good girl. My goood fuckin’ girl.” 

Oh, there’s no doubt in your fractured mind right now that Geto Suguru was an alpha. Inhaling his deep puffs of contentment, you’re arching your back mindlessly in delight. Throat loosening with the motions to-

“Don’t swallow.”

So mean. 

You don’t think you’re given the split-second to wonder otherwise before he’s grappling for the pretty column of your throat and kissing you raw. 

You’re gasping when his depraved tongue smacks down between the seam of your mouth to lather in every scorching hot mess of sap he’d left behind. The mess that he made. And he was only making it messier.

Watching you through barely-cracked open pupils while he scooped up the sticky webs of seed dangling from your mouth. Scratchy buds taking over. A kiss so filthy that you felt shy to even call it that. 

“Mmm—” Geto’s skidding his tongue down the buttered length of his lips, flicking over any stray droplets he could find. And something in his eyes told you that he was mere seconds away from doing it all over again. “Not bad for a first kiss.”

Fuck- what?

“Sugu- what-” You’re panting out measly syllables through the gaps of his sappy mouth. “I-I thought you’d be more…”

“What? A heh- bumbling loser?” His eyes narrow down at you, words purring sexily. “Oh, gorgeous…”

Fuck, and if the rasping growl in his tone didn’t shut you up, the way that Geto’s throwing you onto the bouncy bed sure does. 

He doesn’t have a care in the world, he doesn’t have a single thought other than ripping off your flimsy clothes. Everything but those very same cherry pink panties you’d teased up at him, well- more see-through than anything right now.

Kneeing apart your jittery legs to watch the way your cunt gushes in pure need. Lips curling into a leer at the way she winks up at him through filthy masses of slick.

“Sh-she’s mine now, isn’t she?” Rumbling out, eyes wide. Unfocused. And the look on Geto’s face made white-hot trills sprint down your spine - ones you couldn’t decode between primal need and fear. “She’s…”

Ptwah!

The vicious goblet of spit that hits you this time is somehow even meaner than the last, striking at the very top of your sobbing pussy and disappearing riiiight between your folds. 

“Mine.” Awestruck, Geto bullies one capped knee to smooch up against your slit. Gleaming his heated skin with the bucketloads of cute sap that you kept pouring out by the second. Geto was greedy, he was grunting. “Beg for it, omega.”

You’re squirming underneath him impatiently, clawing all over his unmoving wrists. You ached all over for something. Anything. “Don’t- don’t wanna-”

But Geto had ten times your strength and wasn’t afraid of using it. Oh, he wasn’t afraid of using it - wasn’t afraid of pinning down both your trembly hands on the bed springs with one of his. Rutting his knee up even more mercilessly, murking his pheromones until it burned of salt and spice. “Beg.”

You mewl, “P-please-”

“No stuttering.”

“Please.” And if that wasn’t enough, you’re batting your lacquered lashes up at Geto in exactly the way you knew was his weakness. Exactly the way that got you the second-highest GPA for so long. Jutting your back the perfect curvature off of the bed, “I’ll let you k-keep my panties, Suguru—?”

“Oh, giiiirl—” He husks out, leaning in so close to plant a yearning snog on your mouth. Blushing pink lips wrapping around your tongue and sucking. You always got what you wanted. “M’keeping those regardless.”

In his special drawer for all your slutty underwear, of course. 

And just as soon as Geto’s kissing your lips, he’s trekking his way downwards to make sure that your other ones don’t feel left out. 

“Look at her.” He breathes, words taking on an airy tone that makes him sound as if he was furious. Blistering with the anger that he’s been deprived of the heavenly proximity of your soft, seeping cunt for so long. “H-heh, if o-only those tch- popular friends of yours could see. Just look- look how wet she is f’me. All me.”

A fattened thumb fringes past your panties, and you flinch at the cold press of his silver rings. Rovering all the way to greet your puffy pussylips in languid drags uuuuup and down, pricking his manicured fingernail on the button of your clit. 

Geto’s hooded lids widen, heat rushing all over his cheeks at the sloppy squelches he draws out. So easily. Adorably.

And it was true - he did have a tattoo. A splashing inking of a dragon all across Geto’s muscled back, somehow making him even more unintentionally hotter. 

“And look how loud mmm–” He’s kissing the mound of your folds like a lover, lingering. Loving. Stealing deeeeep gasps of your scent, “M’gonna ruin you. Ngh- ohhh, m’gonna r-ruin you, gorgeous. Ruin ya for anyone else.”

And when Geto meant he was going to ruin you - he meant it.

“Shit.” He was going to mush his pretty features up into your sopping wet pussy until you could feel every minute, warm pant. Staring right up into the target of your fuzzy heart-eyes, “How do you- how do you taste so good.”

Every gasp he’s drinking in of your murked perfumed pheromones, showering ‘round every sense and making him dizzy.

“Squeeze- wanna feel-”

And maybe it’s his rut, maybe it’s the way your tension was so thick - but you instantaneously know what to do. 

To close your legs in a deadlock around Geto’s oily scalp. Your weighty eyelids bat up and down subconsciously at the attractive way he was digging his bulging biceps into the sides of your thighs. Pulling you in closer and closer and closer. “That turns you on, huh?”

But that wasn’t all- oh, that wasn’t what he was making out with your cute cunt and begging for. 

His mouth lathers over with a fresh bout of watery spit the moment your rubbery ring of muscle clench all around him. Making every ridge of his hot tongue catch on your gooey innards, the texture of it enough to drive you positively wild. 

“Sh-shiiit–” You’re letting out a primal groan, clawing at his tattooed back. Chest shuddering underneath the strain of one powerful hand pinning you down. Holding you painfully still. “Suguru- want more. More.”

Slipping his slick tongue in and out of your fluttery hole, Geto keens at the way your entrance kept on trying to suck him back in. 

“Fuckin’ know-” In one second, he’s pushing his cloudy glasses up his nose, and in the other he pries apart your puffed lips and caresses. “Yer turning into a fucking w-waterpark, dirty girl. Even wetter than all that p-porn I learned from…”

You’re whimpering, legs falling further n’ further open until it burned your inner quads. No matter how deeply Geto stuffed his face between them it just wouldn’t be enough.

It was almost as if…

“Heat.” He’s slurring a looong lap of his grooved tastebuds all over the lustre of your sweet, sweet juices. Free hand wrapping at his favorite position around your neck and making sure to angle your head so that you catch the twinkling droplets of slick pouring down his tongue. “You’re in heat, little omega.”

Gasping, “W-what?”

But it made sense. It was falling into place and that only made you wetter.

With a smirk, Geto swats your hands until they tangle into his silken tresses. “Lemme take care of you.” SWAT! The plapping sensation hits you before the realization that he’d run his crowned digits over to spank your perked clit. “Ngh- just sit tight n’ let your nerdy ol’ Sugu here take g-goood care of you.”

He was pleading with you - begging you - to latch onto his pretty locks and grind your pussy in repeated gyrations all over his face. Guiding him, using the hook of his pert nose as the perfect ridge to rest your throbbing clit on. 

“Th-thank you, alpha—” Too good. You were giving into something baser, to let your head loll into the cushy pillow behind you in sweeping motions. And it was so cute he could cum. 

“Yeah? Who- who?”

“You, Suguru.”

“Damn right.”

With every drag of his hoarse syllables, Geto was trawling his face across every inch between the beautiful legs that you had to offer.

Purposefully. 

You’re holding back his endless, inky strands just to admire how pretty he looked. How ravenous. Greedy. 

Fuck, Geto was making up for all these years he spent parched. Spitting out streak after streak of spittle that made your pussy pour out all over his snogging mouth. “Gonna- gonna fuck you like this w’my cock next.”

His tongue folds into your slobbery hole and slithers into every tender orifice - so staggeringly long that you were feeling a lump in your own throat. 

Just a few flops into your earliest magical spots and Geto could already hear the way you were fighting to hide your little sobs. 

“Th-this right here-” He’s probing a finger underneath the panties that stuck to your cunt like adhesive, letting it spring back to hit you with a smack! Tittering at your yelp, “S’mine.”

Rubbing a fat few crowns of his fingerpads at the tender area underneath the base of your pussy. Pressing down. Hard. “And her? All the w-way from here-”

Drawing sensual patterns up, up uuuup all the way to your sensitive clit, and oh- it felt so right to have him draw sultry little hearts on your weepy hood. 

Tugging it over to nip underneath one sharp canine - one that you swear had grown even longer in the last few minutes. Geto was gone in the depths of his rut, hallowing out his cheeks to eat you out as if he was a man starved. And you were his favorite dessert. “To here? S’mine, too.”

RIIIIIP—!

Through your glossy heaps of tears, you can make out the fuzzy shapes of Geto tearing your satiny underwear into tatters. Balling it up into a wad of sugarcoated fabric that he unapologetically stuffs in your drivelling mouth.

“Gonna add these t-to my collection.” You feel him smile against the outer edges of your claggy cunt, tittering at the stupid way your overspilling lips slacken with a soggy pwah! You’re hearing and feeling a long-winded woooosh from below once he takes a deeeep breath in with his over-delicate senses. “Th-thereeee we go. Cum all over my mouth, gorgeous.”

And if you were in any better state of mind perhaps you’d have noticed the way that Geto’s driving his hips into the bed like a damn dog when he sensed your scent peaking. Sensed you getting closer.

Ragged breaths striking your quivering pussy mercilessly and making your teeth sink desperately into the muggy jumble of underwear in your mouth. 

Your broken moans burst out even through that particular watergate, right along with a slithery trickle of saliva and a huff of “S-Suguru—” Craning your head to watch his nostrils flare with knowing, “Close- clo- cumming.”

Eyes flashing. Heart thumping not just within your rib cage.

When it rains, it pours. 

But you weren’t just pouring - you were flooding.

Such glutinous ropes of your orgasm, it sprays Geto’s sexy face in squirts. Clinging onto the edge of his glasses and forming little puddles right at the apples of his high cheeks.

Suddenly, you were oh-so-thankful for the way he’d stuffed your mouth mercilessly full - because by the rusted rasp in your throat, you’re sure you’re singing out shrill trills loud enough that his neighbors would file a noise complaint.

But that was the last thing on his mind.

The last thing- well, fuck, it wasn’t on his mind at all. Geto’s cooing at how unstable you feel, treacherous fingers mazing across your fat clit and giving her a goood few pushes just the way he would with his gameboys.

“Good girl-” he spits into your gapingly widened cunt, still suffering from the remnant tremors of your high and still slopping out wads of juices. Like a mantra, Geto’s dark brows scrunch in concentration, “Good girl good girl gooood fucking girl.”

Words hitching up into something shrill near the edge, he sounded as if he was fraying his sanity with every droplet of slick you pumped into his mouth. With every single second. 

Pushing his aching hot cock deeper and deeper into the sullied sheets. More. He needed more. 

Every sloppy swivel of your widely pried-apart pussy on his tongue made him leave an open-palmed smack! on your thigh. Other hand traipsing to pin your hips down with his big, vein-decorated forearm. 

He doesn’t want to let go.

You’re barely letting off a whine at the lack of friction before Geto lets his mouth depart from your cunt with a soggy pwah! Leaving a final few French kisses on his favorite sweet orifice, he’s pecking a loooong open-mouthed pathway up to your loosened maw.

“Good girl…” He hiccups, clammy forehead sticking against yours. Each syllable struggles to wrench past the leaden ball slowly forming on Geto’s mouth. 

The syrup-glazed lenses of his glasses clash into you, and Geto himself seems to notice. “Look what a fuckin’ mess ya made.” He’s gruffing out at the thick topping of oozing gloss that made the frame impossible to see through. 

Immediately pulling back a few millimeters to take them off and dump them on your own nose bridge. Unceremoniously. 

And it was so wet. 

Almost as wet as Geto’s features were - all showered in gunky dredges of glistening sap. It streaks all the way from his pointed chin and up to his handsome cheekbones. Beads of it hitting your panting chest in a pat! pat! pat!

Heaving out a shaky exhale, he’s pushing away a few elegant strands of charcoal bangs. 

“M’gonna…m’gonna fuck you now.” Sounding more as if he was talking to himself rather than you. Or perhaps both. Puffy folds being rubbed all raw with the depraved back and forth of his veiny under-shaft. “Gonna fuck you. So take it- take it.”

Geto stares deep into your whirling eyes while he sinks his hefty cock into you just as thoroughly. A clingy film sticks to his gaze, dazed and all half-hooded that you wondered if he could even register what was in front of him.

Crazed.

And he’s such a fucking tease, too. 

Creating a slimy trail of pasty pre all over your weakened inner thighs, he drags his bawling divot all over every stretch of your entrance. Around and around in circles. 

“B-big, huh? Better take it b-before I- make it- fit-” He’s echoing, dimples peaking out at the cute way your breath hitches once you feel the sheerly massive circumference of his fat tip. “Shhhh shh sh, s’alright- s’where you’re m-meant to ngh- be.”

Even for an alpha, he was always staggering - but having him stuffing you to the brim would be a whole other feeling. Would have you ruined. 

You’re peering up at him through humid lashes, borrowed glasses smearing wet splotches of slick underneath your skin. Eventually, those panties had found themselves spilling out of your unfastened jaw, “Meant to- hah! be?”

“Mhmmm— pretty omega.” You’re hit with a sudden wave of coaxing pheromones, the gentle salty breeze making your hips buck subconsciously upwards. Subconsciously aching. “This s’where you’re ngh- meant to be.”

And as much as Geto loved hearing whiny questions bubble their way up to your spit-layered lips, oh- was it so much more fun to eye down at your speechless self when he snugly squeezes just a mere sensual inch.

Leaning back to watch the way his bustling cock was stretching and stretching and stretching your tender walls flawlessly. You were taking him so ridiculously well. 

“Fuh-fuck you-” His plush pecs rumble with his bass from above, words tumbling. Hips rolling. And Geto was fucking gone- staring at you with wide, humorless eyes that you doubt were even seeing. “Fuck you- m’fucking you…fuck you fuck you fuck!”

With every sharp fah! being whirled into your loose mouth, Geto rubs his puffed-up veins into the tender mound of your cunt. You can’t help but count every rapid ba-dump—! his achy length throbs. 

Desperately. Rutting and rutting just to fit himself inside. 

Around the time he’s only halfway in, Geto circles one hand over his drenched base to skid taut O’s at the edge of your hole. Nudging his fat girth past your entrance and keening-

“M-more!” You’re barking out primally, your tongue tied into all sorts of bows and ribbons with the way this stretch was searing. And it was the best sort of tight fit, you were practically drooling all over again at the fleshy thwack! of Geto’s rounded balls smacking your thighs. “More, Sugu—”

“M-more…?”

It wasn’t just you - your luna needed more, too. 

You’re nodding and nodding- only to realize with a harsh muffle of Geto’s palm over your noisy mouth that he wasn’t even talking to you.

No, he was tittering away in a small sort of voice. Octaves higher. Strained. Goosebumps smatter all across your skin at the way he sounded so unstable. 

“More…” Irises flashing a glowy purple, fingers twitching where he held you. A loser like him. A nerd like him. “M-more she says.”

Fuck. 

Without another word - without another breath - Geto’s flipping you around with only one beefy palm clawing at your hip. Shoving your face deep into the puff of his nerdy pillows, he’s bottoming out with just one thrust-

You think you scream, you think you bawl once you feel his plummy mushroom head draw a long line of pre along the insides of your cervix. And your pussy felt so full you could burst, your walls crushed with all overpacked inches of his.

Finally. 

“Thaaaat’s it, that’s it-” He’s grunting through furiously clenched teeth, a hand crowning the back of your scalp and muffling your words into the bed. Hard. Fuck- he was going to pass out if you made another pretty sound. “S’where you belong.”

Ah, there it is - that little broken prayer.

Except, this time it was being respired in boiling hot pants against the tips of your ears. Was being wheezed out of Geto when he lurches his sweat-simmered hips back to hit your ass with a resounding pap!

“All f-fucked dumb on my ngh- biiig fucking cock, hm?” He tilts your head up with one hand, smiling to himself once he catches a glittery flash of spit leaking from your lips. “All…” A warm splatter! strikes your back, and only then do you realize that he’s slobbering. “Mine.”

And where Geto was talking all possessively - he was fucking you even more so.

In the blink of an eye, he’s planting two sets of fingers on either of your wrists and pulling all the way back, back, back. A length foot being placed right at the small of your spine to get you to bend in a delicious arch-

“Fuck!” Your cute voice rings hoarse, like music to his blushing ears. Struggling to regain the gasps of air leaving your lungs, “There- th-there.”

Oh, shit.

The way Geto was manhandling you was not only bending you in all sorts of lecherously pliable ways that had your slit dripping, it was making his rotund cockhead stub oh-so-viciously into your cervix. 

Rough. Probing. 

“H-heh, guess I lost my first kiss there, too.” He’s giggling out, biting down on the rugged mewls that threaten to depart every time your cunt swallows him whole. “Congrats on being my ngh- first, little omega— yer e-even better than my ngh- bodypillows of you.”

Bending you over ever-deeper, honestly- your walls were cloying onto him so desperately that it was making Geto’s heart pang with disappointment every time his ruddied tip recoiled back from the bottom of your sloppy pussy. 

He wanted to be this close to you forever. 

Treacling out stringy wads of pre, he’s furrowing brows and making sure each n’ every jackhammer fills you up impossibly. 

You can barely grapple for air at this point, the sloshes of syrup left after each barrelling strike leaving you star-struck. 

He grins, “Shit, d-do ya ever stop fuckin’ drooling? Gonna hafta call the f-fire department, girl.”

“Can’t help it–!” All you can do it let your mouth unlatch to warble whimper after whimper–

“C’mon now, gorgeous- aren’t ya ashamed?” Licking his lips free of your taste, Geto diverts more pressure to his foot. Hefty balls rippling wickedly against the sobbing end of your slit with just how easy you were to throw around like his favorite toy. Like his favorite figurines. “Look at what a mess yer making. Being fucked so f-filthy. And I haven’t even ngh- found it, yet.”

Haven’t found it. Oh, but he knew he was going to. He was going to make you scream.

Your syrupy whines slip into something desperate, “Y-you don’t know…?”

“Of course I f-fuckin’ know. Who d’ya think you’re ngh talking to?” As if you could forget you were being thoroughly pounded by the smartest person on campus right now. And evidently the filthiest, too. 

A ringed finger treks down to your sensitive nub, soothing over where you were throbbing the most violently. Cute. Lulling you into a sweet, sweet state of bliss before Geto pinches–

“Oh p-please!” You’re targeting your hazy vision over your shoulder, and somewhere along the lines Geto’s spectacles had slid cleanly off of you. Toes curling as his bloated head bludgeons just the creamy edges near your g-spot. “Please- y-you’re so close, Suguru-”

You didn’t know whether it was your heat or just Geto that had you so desperate. Your sparkless mind blames the latter.

“Am I?” He hums, leaning over so that the soft tendrils of his hair tickled your back. 

Whacking his painfully achy crownhead mere centimeters below your magical spots, and you’re starting to think he’s doing this on purpose. 

Geto starts holding it there for lingering French snogs into the steamy inner depths of your cunt and then you know he’s doing this on purpose. Spitting in your mouth with a smile. 

That mean bastard.

Jittering your hips to chase the texture of his curly pubic hair against your ass, he snickers. “Are you ngh- suuuure? You haven’t done a s-single one of your ngh- human biology essays lately, dirty girl.”

You’re molding your lips into a pout - difficult, with just how many loads of saliva were pouring out of you and cementing a puddle onto the Digimon pillows. “F-fuck you.”

“No…” You set free a gasp of air you didn’t know you were holding the very second he lets go of the rough foot anchoring your spine, instead- in only mere nanoseconds you find yourself jerked up into Geto Suguru’s hold with a hand at your throat. Back gluing against his glissading abs, even his voice was unbalanced and trembling now. “I’m fucking you, little omega.”

And you were about to remember it.

With an immediate pitch of his gasping breaths, Geto’s angled hips go from steadily ruined to sloppy. Calculated. 

He didn’t care if he made a mess of stringy slick that circled in the satiny sheets around the two of you, he didn’t care if your eyes were bulging out of their poor sockets when his pronounced hips dig into your backside with blistering bruises. 

He didn’t care for anything but digging the curled fringe of his fatly bloated tip right into the target of your g-spot. 

Mazing through your gluey folds and keeping them snugly open with his reddened girth, Geto knocks your sweetest spots with vengeance. 

“There–!” You call out, as if he hadn’t already felt the gooey seize of your pussy trying to hold him hostage. 

His mouth trudges over your throat, fingers roaming over to give your clit a nice few pinches. Meaningfully, “Here? Orrrr–” Punctuating each word, each second with a thorough drilling into your g-spot. “-here? Make up th-that ditzy lil’ mind. Seriously.”

Your head drunkenly crashes on top of his collarbone and stays there, “R-right here- there. Both, Sugu.”

“Again with the f-fucking Sugu-” Geto snarls out, though you can sense by his cloudy scent that he was anything but irritated with you. 

Your whines had quietened down into something more of an incoherent mess, and the main things ringing in Geto’s ears right now were the creaky protests of his bed and the clammy plops of his thrusts. 

“C’mon now— where’s my bossy fuck! omega? The one who loves her poor, nerdy Sugu?”

Arousal reaching a peak, and now that he’d found your g-spot, he was probing into it with fat thuds. Not just once or twice. Nooooo, it was over and over and- 

“Just w-wanna cum—” you’re sobbing out. Jerking your body like a bobble-head up and down to further feel the drag of his Herculean form behind you, to savor each ridge and sculpted curve sweatily massaging your back. “P-pleeeeease, Suguru. Let me cum?”

Swerving his tensing hips out alllll the way back to leave solid smooches ‘round your pussy entrance each and every time, and then there were the squelches-

Oh, you were just flooding a slippery sheen all over his hefty, swelling base. A viscid luster of slick that glided all the way down to drip off of his sack n’ between his legs. 

Your eyes manage to snatch themselves open- hissing at the realization that it was pooling especially around that particularly ballooned-up ring right over Geto’s breeder balls. 

Was that? With a shiver you’re rutting backwards, feeling for yourself the slow drag of his proud knot. Bigger than any else you’ve ever seen. It was. 

You rasp, throat itchy and raw. Sweltering droplets of tears streaming down your cheeks when he matches the stuttering beat of your heart with every pressurized push- “P-please.”

“Needy thing. Cum, huh?” Geto drawls out, voice thick with need and something else you were too stupid to register right now. He collides you even tighter against rippling pecs. Taking the sweet, sweet opportunity to poke his nose into your scent gland and steal a looooong breath of your overdriven pheromones. 

“Cum then, c-cum. Fucking cum all over my cock.”

Fuck, it’s with those exact words in mind that you do.

Startling straight headfirst into your high - and you don’t think you’ve even crashed into one wave of bliss before the other overtakes you. And another. And another-

“Oh g-god—” You’re trilling, only held up by the ruthless grip that Geto was maintaining. His hips were deep, and your pleasure even deeper. “-please. Please- please, Sugu-”

He’s hunching over your body ever-so-slightly, resting your thighs against his thick, flexing ones. Only bending you over to kiss your g-spot even more sinfully, Geto’s response comes out ragged into your lobes. “Tch, wh-what now?”

His ruby-red tip was blushing like a strawberry and just as plump - swirling around your treasure trove of spots, pounding you through each peak of your orgasm until you saw stars. 

“Cum i-insiiiide-” Your barely-audible groans spring out into the heady air, adding to its hypnotic mix of perfumes. And it’s not just the heat that made you crave Geto carnally, every pap! against the puffy ring at his base making you crave more more more- “Want it a-all up…”

You’re trailing off, melted mind unable to do multiple things at once. 

With tottering fingerpads, you’re trapping one of his palms underneath your own. Homing itself right above where his rounded tip was stretching open your insides, right above your womb.

“H-here, okay? Don’t miss-” 

You blink up at him and Geto thinks he might just be having a heart attack. Sparks fizzing around his sloshed brain, “Fuh-fuuuuck– don’t talk out of yer pussy, gorgeous.” He spanks your clit once. Twice just to watch your eyes glaze over stupidly. “Or m’gonna get you pregnant.” 

Soothing over that faint bulge he was fucking into your tummy, “Gonna h-have my baby growing allll up in here. Make you round and…” His voice sounds faint, whispering. “-big and…glowing. And…and pregnant.”

But, ah- you never did make it easy for him. Did you? Always had to have your way. 

Which Geto Suguru gladly gave. 

“But I want that, Sugu—” You pout, “Wan’ your knot…please?”

You didn’t have to say another word before Geto’s finishing off in such a messy way, reaching the biggest fucking orgasm he’s had in his entire life. The strongest. The most heavenly and oh- oh, were you an angel?

He’s collapsing onto the drenched sheets before he knows it, pinning you down with the strong v-line of his hips. 

“Shit-” Geto emits through the cracks in his bitten canines. “Shit shit shit- shit-”

You don’t know who’s losing their mind more, you or him. Falling into the well of a second, third, perhaps even fourth orgasm with how blissfully his fattened, split-ended cock bruised every nook of your adhesive-like walls. 

Your saliva cascades in puddles that soak the pillows through. “Suguruuu— a-are you okay-”

“Do I look okay?”

Sexily ridged abs kneading your back, hands scrambling on the mattress, inked shoulders shivering. His swollen knot hits and hits your pussymound. 

And it’s only once his trembly fingers latch around his glasses - fumbling, dropping it copious times before Geto manages to push them haphazardly onto his face. 

Tilting his head back just enough degrees to watch as the curved fringe of his knot disappears past your puffy folds. 

“There we- there…” He’s driveling clingy wads of translucent saliva, letting the stray pouring excess hit your fluttering hole with a splat! One eager thumb of Geto’s hooks into your entrance and bullies it aside to let his incredible perimeter sink iiiiiiiiin-

He’s melting into you now, spent. Ruined. “Get pregnant.” Geto whispers into your sweat-glossed shoulder blade once he feels the back of his knot get fully enveloped into your pussy with a gummy pop! Once he feels himself finally tip over- “Get pregnant.”

And it’s not just mindless babbling - it’s a promise. 

A promise that he rasps out time and time against with every wadded slip of seed that dollops out across your cervix. Pushing it so deep. Smearing acres of ribbony streaks all over your most precious orifices and spots. 

“Gonna know wh-what we did.” Geto whimpers, shit- he couldn’t pound his voluminous ounces of cum into you as aggressively as he wanted with this damn knot. “Entire campus. Professors. Everyone’s gonna know ngh- how I fucked ya full. F-fucked you pregnant. Gonna wonder.”

But that didn’t stop him from trying.

That didn’t stop him from wrenching out a hand to squeeze the ends of your sopping wet slit, forcing down on his very knot. Squeezing out so many numerous dredges of syrupy white cum that thwack! thwack! thwacks! a filthy second skin against your walls. 

“Fuh-fuuuuck— get pregnant, gorgeous.” He’s rutting. Grinding. Humping you like some beast more than man. “Gonna l-look at you all round n’ big and see me- me me me. Get pregnant get pregnant get-” 

Geto’s mouth parts at the pearly dewdrops of seed that leak from the overstuffed ends of your cunt. He can feel his entire body twitch, can feel his sharpened teeth lacquer so rabidly. 

He still wasn’t done.

Still letting one prespired forearm of his dangle around your neck, manhandling you into a fucking headlock. The other tracing the edges of his digits over your glands, squeezing until your skin was all tender and raw. 

And puffy. 

Perfect for him to tilt his head and bite—

“Ohhh- yes!” Every fibre of your being delights at the way Geto’s biting you so hard that you can smell crimson iron. Your pheromone bubble pops! to mix together with his own. Becoming one. And you can scent him - you can feel him. 

Glasses clashing, teeth tearing. Before you know it, you’re doing the same. “Suguruuuu— m’yours.”

Your mate latches onto the curves of your hips - your soon-to-be birthing hips. 

And the way Geto rediscovers that - tucking his face into the ruined, drenched fabric of those cherry pink panties and taking an endless, husky sniff - tells you that this was going to be a long, loooong night. 

“Mine.”

A/N. MMMMMMMMM NERD GETOOOOOOOO

Trying not to scowl, you turn away from the commotion, continuing to tune the strings of your trusty Fender. You’ve had your fair share of die-hard fans, so lately why did it bother you so much when Suguru entertained their thinly-veiled advances? 

“Ohoho~ Quite a look on your face there, why don’t you go and caress his biceps too?~” you hear idiot brigade member #1, Gojo Satoru, cackle from beside you. 

If looks could kill, Satoru would’ve been 6 feet under and rotting already. “I thought you stopped writing band fanfiction, Satoru.” you raise a brow. 

“THAT WAS ONE TIME.” he whines dramatically, clinging onto you and shaking you back and forth as if to knock the memory of his Wattpad tendencies out of you. “WHY ATTACK ME JUST CUZ YOU’RE JEALOUS? C’MOOON ADMIT IT.”

You were not jealous. 

Suguru knew you were jealous.

Sneaking a glance, he had to fight the urge to coo at the adorable little furrow of your brows. How unprofessional would it be if he walked off mid-conversation to kiss that pout off your lips?

He knows it’s just sex for you. But - foolishly - every time he held you he could only hope that he ran through your mind as often as you did through his. It elated Suguru to know you were getting that worked up over him. 

That is until, out of the corner of his eye, he spots Satoru draping himself all over you, whispering god-knows-what into your ears. 

The rational part of Suguru knows Satoru is a very touchy person, but why was he so…close? And why weren’t you pushing him off?

Smile tightening into something a little more artificial, he turns to the girls fawning over him. “Well, ladies, I’m sorry to say I’ve gotta go practice before Shoko yells at me again. I’ll see you all in the front row, yeah?” he lies smoothly, disappointed whines following him as he makes a beeline for your figure.

“Well! What have we here, Satoru, are you done tuning?” Suguru pops a head between yours and Satoru’s overly close ones, interrupting whatever conversation you were heatedly whispering. What was so important that you two needed to be that close to talk anyway?

He narrows his eyes at Satoru’s surprised ones, an invisible conversation taking place between them before Satoru cracks a smug grin. “Alright alright. I’ll go tune my guitar.” he rolls his eyes, heading for his electric blue Gibson. 

Your confused gaze meets the twinkling eyes now boring down at you. “Done with the meet-n-greet already?” you question, eyes darting to the group now watching you two like hawks.

The smile on Suguru’s face grows, “Yeah, remembered I didn’t do my pre-concert rituals right.”

“Oh?”

“Wanna help me with it?”

He doesn’t give you time to answer. Quickly setting down your guitar, he drags you out into the corridor - hand tightly in yours and pointedly ignoring Satoru’s wolf-whistles. 

Hallway sex is overrated, Suguru believes - which is why he heads for the dressing room. 

“Pre-concert rituals” his ass, Suguru just thinks he might pass away if he doesn’t get his hands on you right now. Make you feel like his.

It’s not long before the door is locked and he has you bent over the vanity, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt. 

“S-Sugu! Why now? The concert- Hah-” You gasp in pleasure as two long fingers probe inside of you, ruthlessly searching for the spot that Suguru knows would have your toes curling and eyes watering deliciously. 

“Fuck the concert, darling. Barely even started and already so wet f’me.” he drawls out over your whimpers. “Wanted you to come over y’know? And save me from those groupies trying to get in my pants.” 

In your lust-hazed mind, you find the words to respond to him, “You s-seemed to - hah - be enjoying that.”

“Of course not.” he leaves a trail of kisses down your back, “Wasn’t my favorite girl.” he whispers into your heated skin.

He’s being rougher than usual, he knows. In the back of his mind he wonders what it was that he was so pissed at. But all thoughts of that are thrown out the window once he presses into that plushy spot inside your wet core, drawing a sinful whine from your mouth. There.

Pulling back to tease your folds with your own slick, he plunges into your swollen pussy once more, easily hitting that spot over and over. 

“Hngh- Suguru, more!” you grind your hips to meet his merciless rhythm, clenching around his fingers. 

You feel as if you’re losing your sanity when he adds in another finger, walls burning as your cunt stretches around his thick rings. 

Suguru was definitely losing his sanity. 

Anyone could walk by. The concert was about to start any second now. But he couldn’t give less of a fuck, too focused on how his fingers were being sucked back in every time he pulls out, your pretty pussy dripping all over his numerous bracelets.

He has to hold back a moan at the way your ass jiggled every time your hips buck to meet his fingers. 

Leaning down over you, he hums lowly into your ear “So desperate for me, hm?”. Pressing the erection straining against his trousers against you, he huffs out “I’m the same, darling. You drive me absolutely mad.”

He feels the way you squirm in impatience at the large outline of his dick, raising your ass in an attempt to get more friction. Eyes crinkling in satisfaction, he pushes down on his girl’s slutty hips, cold rings digging into the small of your waist. 

“Now now…not yet.” he tuts mockingly. 

“Please, Suguru. Please let me cum.”

Increasing his pace, abusing your g-spot relentlessly, Suguru knew by your breathy moans of his name that you were getting close. 

His hand moves from your waist, leaving behind purple marks to remember him by. They wander the expanse of your body - groping your curves, and pinching your nipples through your thin top - delighting in your mewls.

God, you were perfect. He really needed to take his time with you later.

Suguru’s hands, nail polish chipped and fingers calloused from years of playing, finally rest on your face. He pushes your cheeks together, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth and forcing you to look at him through the vanity mirror in front of you. Your dazed eyes meet his darkened ones. 

Suguru was so feral. The man that was usually the personification of grace and poise was falling apart at the seams. His eyes wild and grin spread devilishly as his fingers abuse your cunt never-endingly.

“Look at me when you cum.” he murmurs raspily into your neck, teeth ghosting over your rapid pulse.

You don’t know what it is that sends you over the edge - maybe it was his lustful words, or the way his fingers quirked just right inside of you. All you know is you’re cumming all over Suguru’s fingers, hands clutching the vanity table and eyes locked with Suguru’s in the mirror, mouth dropping into a gasp.

“Fuck! Suguru- Suguru!” you whimper.

Suguru watches in wonder as you ride out your orgasm, using him. He couldn’t give less of a fuck if anyone walked in right now. In fact, a small part of him wishes someone would.

Let them see how beautifully you fall apart because of him.

Finally pulling out, Suguru inspects his fingers. “Now now. That won’t do.” he purrs. 

His tongue erotically licks up your juices covering his rings, still holding eye contact with you through the mirror. He catches the way your thighs press together at his lewd act. ‘Oh? Want some?“ he teases. 

Before you can retort, he’s bullying his fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself. 

The way you moan around him sends blood rushing straight to his cock. Fuck, he has to steel himself from cumming in his pants right then and there - that wouldn’t be very “sex icon” of him. 

You have no idea what you do to him.

Not willing to wait any longer, he leisurely takes a seat on the spacious vanity sofa. You whine at the loss of contact before catching the predatory look in his eyes. Suguru was going to eat you alive. 

“Come on, darling. Show me how badly you want me.” he grins, legs spreading and prominent bulge on display. 

You take a second to admire the view. Tousled black hair falling enticingly along Suguru’s muscled shoulders, tattooed dragon peeking through where his shirt was messed up. His eyes lustful, and locked on you. 

He was devastatingly handsome. Your mouth waters at the chance to get what so many people would kill for.

Suguru chuckles as you struggle to unbuckle his belt - did rock stars have to always wear such complicated trousers? 

Finally, you pull them down along with his boxers to expose his creamy thighs. Suguru’s throbbing erection lays on his abs, flushed a delicate pale pink.

Your pussy quivers with excitement as you press wet kisses to Suguru’s leaking head, precum dripping down his length to where you’d gently grasped him. A strangled hiss leaves his mouth as you swirl your tongue around the slit. You find yourself lost in his heady taste - he tastes so good.

“Having fun, darling? C’mon now, use me the way you want.” he murmurs, need laced into his voice.

You’ve never gotten used to how big Suguru is. Soft groans leave his mouth as you flatten your tongue and take him in inch by inch, eyes locked with his blown-out ones.

Suguru’s back arches as the heat of your mouth envelops him, hands bunching your hair into a messy ponytail. His pornographic groans echo across the dressing room as you suck on his cock, tongue swirling in just the way you knew he liked.

He can’t even catch his breath with the way you bob your head so heavenly, sucking the soul out of him. It drives him wild to think about how he’s got his lead guitarist on her knees, choking on his cock as your fans wait outside. 

Suguru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as you pop off his cock to take his heavy balls into your mouth, moaning around them as you suck on both erotically.

Shit, he was really feeling it today. 

Through the bangs now sticking to his forehead, he makes out the way your thighs grind against each other for relief. 

You were, too.

If this keeps up he really will lose his sanity.

“As much as I’d love to paint your pretty face with my cum, I think we both prefer it inside, no?” he grits out, cock twitching at the strings of spit and precum connecting you to him as he pulls you off. 

“Need you inside me so badly.” you nod, brain foggy and filled with only Suguru.

He’s quick to lift you into his lap, resting your ass against his pulsing cock, sly grin spreading at the way you’re already so fucked out. 

Suguru feels like he could cum just from the sensation of your juices smearing all over his length, pussy dripping and aching for his throbbing cock. 

“Oh yeah? How bad?” he purrs, eyes half-lidded and already knowing the answer.

“Please. I want you to fuck me so badly, Suguru.” 

“Badly enough that you’d fuck me out there - where everyone is? Show ‘em who I belong to?”

“Yes.” 

At your whimper, Suguru thrusts fully inside you, a moan of relief leaving you both as you finally get what you’ve been craving for. 

“Shit, so tight. Always so good for me, darling.”

Once you start, it’s hard to stop, Suguru finds. 

It happened when he first fucked you in high school - in his car after your first show, running on adrenaline and teenage hormones. And, years later, it’s happening now as he sheathes himself in your wet cunt. 

He just can’t get enough.

He fucks you animalistically, cock ramming in and out of your hole in a way that makes it feel like you’re missing something without him. Nothing in the world other than your two connected bodies. He feels you clamping down on him deliciously, ego growing at you struggling to accommodate his size. 

“F-fuck, darling. Hah- It’s s’tight. Take it like my good girl.”

“Hngh- Suguru, faster!” you groan, fingers delicately playing with the nipple piercings peeking out of his barely-buttoned shirt, euphoric at his drawn-out moans. 

Unlike Satoru - who takes off his shirt every chance he gets onstage - Suguru was one to shy away from showing skin, slutty piercings and tattoos hidden to the world. It just makes it all the more satisfying as you lick a long stripe along the dragon on his shoulder. 

Feels like your little secret. You wanted to be the only one to see this ethereal sight.

“Ah- So good, darling.” Suguru leans back, allowing you more room to play with him as you please. Cock twitching - so close - as you bore into his eyes, sucking his flashy piercings. 

He ramps up his pace, bouncing you on his cock in a way that was carnal. It was so feral, the way his balls sting as they smack your ass, a ring of spit and precum forming around his base. 

His cock aches for release, but he wants to see you cum first. His pretty girl, cumming all over his throbbing cock.

You pull yourself off his swollen nipples and attach your mouth with his, tongues swirling sensually as he kisses you like he needed you to breathe. 

He’s almost as unforgiving with his mouth as he is with his cock. Almost.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“YOOO I don’t know if ‘pre-concert rituals’ was a code-word for something else but we’re on in twenty minutes.” the unmistakable voice of Suguru’s best friend - and occasional bane-of-his-existence - made you two jump apart. 

“The ultimate cockblock.” Suguru sighs out - his pace, however, does not slow down. Each harsh thrust makes it difficult to muffle your yelps of pleasure from Satoru, who was still calling for you two from outside.

Noticing your predicament, Suguru grins dangerously. “Oh? My poor girl finds it hard to stop her moans? Aww, better try harder unless you want dear Satoru finding out.” he mocks in your ear. 

Both humiliated and turned on by his words, your dripping pussy clenches around his cock. He lets out a choked-up groan, biting hard into the crook of your neck to stop it.

A satisfied smile spreads across your face, “Who should try harder now, Suguru?”

Ah, perfect. You were perfect, perfect for him.

As Satoru’s yells about “cutting a chunk out of Suguru’s pay” disappear across the hallway, both of you let out exhales of relief.

“Dangerous game you played there, mister.” you raise a brow, teasingly.

He chuckles out, before pulling you to him closer by the waist. Lips ghosting over your own, he whispers “Only with you, my darling.” 

Slightly more clear-headed but still dripping with lust, you meet the bounce of Suguru’s hips with your own. Eyes still locked with yours, he stuffs you with every inch - tip kissing your cervix so painfully good. 

The steady slapping of skin and synchronized moans fill the room, blocking out the cheering of the audience awaiting your band. 

Yet, the air crackled with something different this time. For the first time, it didn’t just feel like just mindless fucking.

Bite mark on your neck stinging, you could feel Sugurus heartbeat thundering under your touch - synchronized with your own.

In this moment it felt like just you two in this world. 

You wanted to be the only one in his world. Not his fangirls, not some manager, not anyone else. 

Maybe that was the reason for your courage, feeling like everything has finally come to a boiling point. 

“S-Suguru.” you breathe out as you feel yourself getting closer. 

“Mhm?” brows furrowed, he looks up at you with a tenderness in his eyes that does not translate to the merciless cadence of his hips. 

“Be mine.”

And that’s all Suguru ever wanted. 

With a final hard thrust of his cock, he pulls you into a searing kiss that sends you both over the edge. He cums in hot spurts, thick ropes of seed filling your quivering cunt. It was feral - and it made you feel like his. 

Suguru’s seed drips down the side of his length, forming a white ring at his base as he fucks it deeper into you, letting you ride out your highs together.

As your climaxes bate, he buries his face in your neck, kissing softly over the mark from before. “To be yours is everything I could ever want, darling.” he breathes out, hugging you closer as if to hide this vulnerable moment. But you feel the heat of his cheeks on your skin.

Embracing him, you gather his beautiful black locks in your hand, fingers deftly taking the hair tie around your wrist to tie his long hair into a messy ponytail. 

Pulling back, you admire Suguru’s angelic features. Face flushed, lips swollen, and dark eyes half-lidded as he stares up at you in surprise.

“Wanted to see your pretty face.” you huff out a low laugh.

The expression on Suguru’s face is indescribable, such pure adoration in his eyes. 

Voice low, he murmurs words meant only for you, “I…I’m in lov-” 

“HEYYY I’m serious, stop doing the devil’s tango and GET THE FUCK OUT.” Satoru’s voice bellows once again through the door, shattering the little bubble you and Suguru had found refuge in.

“Ah- um-”

“You-”

Both of you stammer out at once, chuckling at how shy you were acting with one another even after all that had transpired in this room.

“We should probably go, before Satoru and Shoko pop a blood vessel.” Suguru jokes. You laugh out in agreement as he carries you tenderly to the washroom, his interrupted words weighing heavily on both your minds. It’s okay, you have time. 

Rapidly cleaned up and dressed, Suguru stops, a hand on the dressing room doorknob. “”Hey..” he starts almost-hesitantly, “After the concert, would you maybe want to-”

“Yes.” you interrupt, excitement lacing your voice. 

Chuckling in pure euphoria as you both exit, your smiles turn more sheepish as you’re faced with a bored-looking Shoko and an impatient Satoru tapping his foot. “You horny lil’ fuckers almost missed the show, think of my poor fans~” he exclaims, though the glee in his eyes at your intertwined hands was very evident.

“Hope the sex was good at least.” Shoko drones out, eyes flitting over your guilty flushed faces. 

‘Oh yeah, and Suguru - next time you dump your fangirls on me, I chop your balls off.“ she chirps out, pointing her drumsticks threateningly at his neck as you all head back.

Blinding lights. 

Deafening screams.

Hair pulled into a messy ponytail, he was fatally beautiful onstage.

Everybody wanted to fuck Suguru Geto, lead bassist of Tokyo Special Grades. 

But he only wanted to fuck you.

A/N. MMMMM long-haired men.

And the worst part? (Best part?) He was sweet about it. Gentle voice, praise so soft it made your spine arch, but with enough force behind his thrusts to move your tax bracket. There were positions you didn’t even know existed. He held your wrists above your head with one hand. He let you bite him. Like a human stress ball. He told you, “It’s okay, you can be loud,” and then earned it.

You came—like, full-body, shaking came—FIVE TIMES. You blacked out during the third one and came to with your foot in the air and Nanami calmly fucking you like it was Monday morning paperwork.

Now:

You’re on his chest, dazed. He’s still warm. He smells like the answer to every prayer you’ve ever mumbled in a dressing room mirror. His arms are around you, strong and gentle, like a goddamn weighted blanket made of man.

He rubs your back slowly.

“I ran you a bath,” he murmurs into your hair, voice still a little hoarse from all the groaning he did while rearranging your internal organs.

You nod into his collarbone. “You’re so perfect it’s fucking unfair.”

He laughs, soft. Presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re perfect.”

“Incorrect,” you mutter. “I’m unhinged.”

He looks down at you.

“Why?”

You reach for your phone. Pull it up. Open a Google Form. Hand it to him.

“Please take this short survey to rate your recent sexual experience with me,” you say like a goddamn concierge.

Nanami blinks. “I—what?”

“Customer feedback is important to me,” you say brightly.

He looks at the screen.

Title: “Did I Fuck Good? 💖✨”

You watch his eyes scan the questions:

Q1: How would you rate my pussy?

🥲 1) Moist but confused

🤔 2) Made an effort

😤 3) Had potential

🤤 4) Top tier

🐉 5) Built by the Gods

Q2: Did I arch my back good?

Yes

No

You weren’t looking :(

Q3: Did you feel emotionally held by the experience of raw dogging me into another plane of existence?

Yes

I cried a little

I would like to talk to a therapist about it (in a good way)

Nanami freezes. Looks at you. Looks back at the form. Blinks again. He’s not upset. He’s just—processing.

“…Are you serious?”

You nod solemnly.

He stares.

“I—I’m not sure what to say. This is—” He gestures at the screen. “This is absurd.”

“Customer service is everything,” you mumble against his chest, trying not to laugh.

He reads the next part out loud:

“Would you like to leave a 15% tip for your server tonight?”

Pause.

“Or 20% if the pussy game was exceptional,” you offer helpfully.

Nanami is looking at the phone like it might explode.

“You’re joking.”

You stare at him, completely blank.

“I—uh. I mean. I would tip,” he starts, voice hesitant like he’s walking into a trap, “but we’re in a relationship. This feels—transactional?”

You can't hold it anymore- you burst out laughing. Instantly. Rolling onto your back, wheezing.

Nanami is utterly lost.

“You—wait—you’re not serious?” he asks, confused and adorable.

You just keep laughing, gasping, “I got you SO bad—Kento, you looked like you were about to file a formal HR complaint.”

He exhales hard. Shakes his head. A hand comes up to his face like he’s exhausted by your bullshit and also deeply in love.

“You—” he starts, then breaks off into a helpless chuckle. “You’re insane.”

You poke his bicep. “You like it.”

He leans over you, eyes warm, mouth curved in that rare soft smile that makes you want to cry and blow him at the same time.

“I do,” he murmurs. “Very much.”

Later, in the bathtub (which he made exactly 104°F, with those nice essential oils), you’re half-asleep in his arms. He’s washing your hair with gentle fingers. It’s disgustingly tender. Like cottagecore but make it slutty.

You murmur, “Hey, Kento?”

“Hm?”

“I think your dick is really pretty.”

He pauses.

“…Thank you?”

“Like. Not scary-pretty. Like not the kind of dick that looks like it came from the Mariana Trench. Like one of those deep-sea angler fish, you know? All pale and sad and overqualified.”

He’s silent for a moment. Then:

“I… suppose that’s good?”

“Your dick,” you continue, “looks like it pays taxes on time. Like it owns a really nice pen. It has manners.”

“I’m glad you find it… respectable.”

You grin at him through your shampoo-lathered hair. “Also your thighs are so unreasonably thick. Like you could crack a watermelon between them. Or a soul.”

He looks away, slightly pink.

You nuzzle into his shoulder. “I love you.”

“…I love you, too.”

Later, back in bed, he finally submits the form. Adds a comment at the bottom:

“Would recommend. Beautiful form, strong arch, excellent enthusiasm. Will return.”

He selects 20% tip.

And adds a Etsy gift card for good measure.

Because Nanami ? He supports women. Especially when they’re insane about his dick.

“Fushiguro Fucks™: First-Time Customer Satisfaction Survey 📝💦”

You knew Toji Fushiguro was gonna fuck like a menace. The man has biceps bigger than your self-control, a criminal record, and enough swagger to bankrupt a nation. His voice is all low and lazy and sarcastic, and the first time he muttered, “you gonna be good for me, or you gonna make me break you in?” you almost came untouched.

So of course, when it finally happens—when he finally throws your bratty ass over his shoulder like a sack of sins and fucks the fight right out of you—it’s exactly as intense, filthy, and bone-deep GOOD as you’d fantasized about while watching him eat a protein bar in one bite.

It starts with his mouth. Because Toji Fushiguro eats pussy like it owes him rent money. Like he’s trying to win something. It’s messy, it’s loud, there’s tongue everywhere, and at one point he pops off just to say:

“You’re fuckin’ loud for someone who talks so much shit, sweetheart.”

Then he spits on your clit and goes back in like a man possessed.

You’re clawing at the sheets like they personally offended you. You’re already shaking. And he hasn’t even fucked you yet.

And then. Oh. Then.

“C’mon,” he growls, dragging his cock along your soaked slit, “count it for me.”

You blink up at him, dazed. “Huh?”

“To the hilt, baby. Count every inch while I stretch this little pussy out.”

BABE. LISTEN.

He lined up that massive fuck-off cock and growled again—

“Count it, baby. Count the fuckin’ inches.” and you did. “One—nnngh—two—ah! fuck—three, s-shit, too big—” “You wanted to be a little bitch. Take it.” “fuckfuckfuck—i am!!!”

Toji had you folded up like an omelette. Thighs shaking. Jaw slack. Drooling. Literally drooling while he wrecked your shit like his life depended on it. You barely make it to “three” before your voice breaks and Toji just laughs and keeps going. By the time you get to “seven,” you are drooling into the pillow, folded in half like a camp chair, mumbling about god and death and possibly taxes.

Toji’s grunting, breath hot in your ear, and when he locks that rear chokehold in around your neck with one fucking strong arm, you straight up go boneless. Like a ragdoll. Like a little slutty puppet.

“Still got that mouth on you?” he pants into your neck. “Or did I finally fuck the brat out?”

“Y—you did,” you slur, tears in your lashes. “You fu—fucked the alphabet out of me—”

You come. A lot. He comes. Deep and hard, with a feral noise and a shudder that rattles your entire body.

Afterwards:

He hauls you into the shower.

You protest weakly.

He calls you “crybaby.” you call him “cockzilla.”

He washes you roughly, but careful. Palms big and firm and steady as they run down your back. He kisses your temple when he rinses your hair.

You do the same for him. Except you add in some extra groping. He pretends to hate it.

You’re both warm and soft and human again. (you are, in fact, so in love. but we’re not talking about that right now.)

Now:

You are soup. You are ruined. Your pussy is making dial-up noises and your soul left your body fifteen minutes ago.

Toji’s got you in his lap, one hand stroking your thigh absentmindedly, other hand still kinda pinning you by the waist like he doesn’t trust you not to float away or commit another felony.

You’re also not sure if your spine is still aligned. Or if your soul has returned to your body.

What you do know is that you can’t move your legs. Not well. Not at all, actually. They’re kind of just… there. Twitching occasionally. Definitely on strike. And toji’s the union-busting boss who just made them clock 87 hours of overtime. With no breaks.

“You alive?” he mutters, brushing sweat-damp hair off your forehead.

You blink up at him. “Barely. You broke my brain. You did a crime.”

He grins, lazy and fucking smug. “Yeah? That’s what you get for mouthing off.”

You smack his chest. Weakly. “Abuse. You’ll hear from my lawyer.”

Toji chuckles. “You got a lawyer now?”

“No,” you say, fishing for your phone, “but I do have a customer satisfaction survey.”

Toji squints. “The fuck?”

You pull it up. Flip the screen to him.

“Post-Dick Debrief: Brat Edition,” you say sweetly.

Q1: Did I look hot while choking on your dick?

Yes, obviously

Stunning

I saw god

You cried a little (it's okay)

Q2: How many braincells do you estimate I lost?

1

2

All of them

You took them with you

Q3: Would you describe the pussy as:

A menace

Highly delicious

Too powerful to be left unsupervised

In need of... correction 😏

Q4: Would you like to leave a tip for your experience today?

10%

15%

20%

I AM broke but can offer... another kind of tip 😏

Toji is staring at the screen like it personally insulted his bank account.

“What the fuck am I looking at?” he asks slowly.

“A survey,” you say, chewing a piece of jerky he fed you for aftercare. “Rate your experience. Comments appreciated. Praise mandatory.”

He lifts a brow. “You made this before we even fucked?”

“Of course,” you say, shrugging. “I had high hopes.”

He grunts. “Bold of you.”

You look at him. “You literally made me count the inches. What do you mean bold.”

He snorts. "Yeah. Bet that mouth won’t forget 'em either."

You grin. “No, but my cervix might need therapy.”

He huffs a laugh, still scrolling through the form. Then pauses at the tip section.

“I’m broke,” he says bluntly. “You want me to Venmo you $3.87?”

You make a dramatic gasp. “So you’re saying this pussy wasn’t WORTH TIPPING FOR—”

Toji groans and rolls on top of you again, pinning your wrists down.

“I’ll give you another kind of fuckin’ tip,” he growls, nudging your thighs apart again. “One that goes right back in.”

You shriek, laughing, kicking uselessly beneath him. “TOJI I’M GONNA DIE—”

He smirks, presses a kiss to your collarbone. “Guess I gotta re-fill out that survey, huh?”

You look up at him through your lashes. “Maybe this time I’ll make a loyalty punch card.”

He snorts. “Fifth nut’s free?”

“Only if you say please.”

He growls into your throat. “You’re lucky I like brats.”

You wink. “You’re lucky I like felons.”

You were seeing colors, and not just the sexy RGB ones you saw behind your eyelids every time Gojo did that thing with his tongue.

No, no. You were seeing cosmic, interdimensional, 5D shit.

God personally gave you a high five, and then left you to perish under that white-haired menace.

The bed was in pieces.

Not “wobbly headboard” pieces. No. Like wooden shrapnel embedded into the drywall pieces.

Your knees were—gone. Your neck was at an angle it shouldn’t be, your pussy was… well, she had been through war.

And Gojo? Gojo looked like he just got a massage. Glowing. Shirtless. Muscles flexing with every breath. Hair a mess. Blue eyes still doing that glowy thing that made you feel like maybe he was trying to ascend you to another plane again. You were not ready.

He was humming. Actually humming. A happy little tune, like he hadn’t just rearranged your guts with cursed technique-enhanced strokes. Like he hadn’t grabbed your ankles mid-missionary and literally bent time around your clit.

You were cradled into his chest, naked and swaddled in the very last towel you had left because—again—bed? Decimated. And Gojo had the nerve to pet your hair like he had been the victim.

“Babe,” you croaked. “I think I left my soul in my uterus.”

“Aw, it was in the way anyway,” he said sweetly. “Now there’s more room for me~.”

You were too tired to bonk him. Your bones? Were jelly. Your organs? Rearranged. Your will to live? Floating somewhere in the corner of the room, probably clutching a support beam and whispering prayers to the jujutsu gods.

You shifted slightly. Winced. "Ow."

Gojo perked up instantly. “Too much?”

“…No,” you said hoarsely. “I’m just learning how to walk again. Don’t mind me.”

He snorted and kissed your forehead. “Told you not to challenge the Six Eyes, princess.”

You glared at him from your makeshift cocoon. “You broke the bed.”

“Enhancement technique, baby.” He grinned, proud. “Was so worth it.”

You made a mental note to never let him touch cursed energy during sex again unless you wanted to explode.

But enough of that. You had work to do. Scientific work. Important data collection that simply could not wait.

With a Herculean effort, you unwrapped the towel from your cocoon and reached for your phone on the floor—barely missed the shattered corner of the nightstand. (RIP to the nightstand. He didn’t deserve that.)

Gojo, ever nosy, leaned over your shoulder with a curious look. “Whatcha doin’? Texting your funeral director?”

“No,” you said, unlocking your phone and opening the form.

His eyes narrowed as the pastel-colored screen popped up. “Wait. Is that—”

“Yes,” you said seriously. “Post-Sexual Performance Evaluation Form. Version 3.2.”

Gojo’s lips twitched. “There have been multiple versions.”

“Yes.” You pointed to the title. “I take data very seriously.”

He blinked. “Is this about me?”

You turned to him slowly, dramatically. “No. This is about me. I’m the subject.”

“…Oh,” he said, visibly confused. “Wait—what???”

You held the phone up like a clipboard and cleared your throat. “Name one word to describe your experience of me, tonight. Don’t overthink it.”

He blinked again. “Uhhh. Holy.”

You nodded solemnly. “Mmm. Good choice. I did cry out to God at least twice.”

“Three times,” he corrected. “And once to Nanami, which was weird, but I’m not judging.”

You gave him a look. “He’s stoic. It’s a kink.”

“Remind me to never make eye contact with him again.”

You cleared your throat. “Next question: On a scale of 1 to 5—5 being ‘destroyed my soul and I’d thank her’—how would you rate the head?”

Gojo didn’t even hesitate. “Infinity.”

“…That’s not an option.”

“I am the option.”

You side-eyed him. “Fine. 5 with sparkles. Got it.” You tapped it in. “Next: What was your favorite moment of the evening?”

Gojo flopped back dramatically onto the pile of pillow casualties. “Ooohhh, that’s hard. I mean—when you started sobbing during reverse cowgirl—”

“I WAS OVERWHELMED.”

“—but also when I cursed technique’d your clit and your eyes went white like a demon was leaving your body.”

“That one’s going in my memoir.”

“Oh! And the part where the bed cracked under us and you said, and I quote, ‘Fuck a headboard, I’m seeing GOD.’”

“…Are you proud of yourself?”

“Baby, I’m about to make this my LinkedIn bio.”

You scribbled that answer in with a satisfied hum.

He peeked over your shoulder again. “What’s next?”

“Describe my ass in three adjectives.”

“Juicy. Divine. World-ending.”

You raised an eyebrow. “World-ending?”

He gave you the most deadpan look. “The way it bounced when I hit it from the side? I almost died.”

“…Fair.”

You tapped that in.

Gojo leaned in close now, nosing at your cheek. His voice dropped just enough to make your toes curl (again). “Are you gonna ask me to fill out a form for you?”

You smirked. “Nah. Your dick already signed the guestbook five times.”

He wheeze-laughed. Absolutely cackled. Clutched his stomach and rolled like you’d just hit him with a “your mom” joke in 7th grade. “BABE—no wait. Wait—‘guestbook’ is INSANE—”

You patted his cheek lovingly. “Shhh. Science is happening.”

“I'm in love with a psychopath.”

“Ahem. Final question: Did this experience make you fall deeper in love with me, and if so, how will you show it?”

Gojo looked at you. His grin softened—just a little. His arm slid around your waist, pulled you against him again, all warm and lazy now. “I’ll show it,” he murmured, voice dropping to that low timbre that made your legs twitch, “by fixing your damn bed, drawing you a bath, feeding you strawberries in the tub, and then asking if we can do it again tomorrow.”

You stared at him.

“…You wanna break another bed?”

He kissed your shoulder. “I’ll buy you five.”

You looked down at your phone.

Form Completed. Response Submitted.

You shut it off and rolled over to wrap yourself in Gojo like he was the blanket and the mattress and the room itself. “You’re the worst,” you mumbled into his collarbone.

“I’m the best,” he whispered back.

“…Yeah. You kinda are.”

Shrine Maiden Pussy Hits Different.

Like. Listen.

You were warned. The moment you let Suguru Geto put his hands on you—really put his hands on you, not the polite little touches and idle petting he usually reserved for his sweet, holy little priestess—you knew something was going to snap. Somewhere between his mouth on your thigh and his fingers still dripping wet with your slick while he kissed a prayer into your skin like a sacrament, something went very, very wrong.

Because Suguru Geto?

Suguru Geto fucked you like he hated you. Like your pussy owed him money. Like he was punishing you for praying to anyone but him.

And you liked it. You loved it. You are no longer the same person you were before. That version of you? She died. Perished. Ascended. Is floating in nirvana right now, wearing a commemorative hoodie that says "I Got Destroyed On The Altar And All I Got Was This Lousy Post-Nut Clarity."

You don’t remember how many positions he folded you into—mostly because your brain stopped processing human thought around orgasm #3. He manhandled you like he owned you, like your body was something to use, and it wasn’t just the strength—it was the way he did it.

Like he didn’t give a fuck if it hurt. Like that was the point.

"Aw, poor thing," he’d said with a saccharine, infuriating mockery of a coo, dragging his cockhead over your spent, twitching entrance for the fourth round. “You wanted to be good, didn’t you?”

You whimpered something. A prayer, a plea, a garbled little noise that may have included his name, the words “I’ll behave,” and maybe even “Please, I’m trying—”

But Geto only smiled. Tilted his head and smiled, strands of hair clinging to the sweat on his neck, eyes dark and mouth mean.

“Too bad, sweetheart. Being good doesn’t mean you don’t get punished.”

And then he bit you. Again.

He bit your shoulder, your thigh, your tit—God help you, he had fangs, didn’t he? There were actual bite marks down your ribs. You were positive he had rearranged your guts and taken notes while he was in there.

By the time he was done with you, the shrine was desecrated, your thighs were shaking like you were going through exorcism withdrawals, and you were soaked in every kind of fluid. Bodily and otherwise.

Suguru Geto fucked you like he was trying to replace your soul with his cum.

And unfortunately?

Mission accomplished.

So, there you are now.

Your legs? Not working. You’re draped across the altar like a spent offering, still twitching, still leaking, still absolutely fucked out of your goddamn mind. Your hair is a mess. Your body feels like it was rolled in candle wax and whispered about in Latin. Geto is sitting beside you, smoking. (Where the fuck did he even get that cigarette? Did he summon it??)

And your phone is in your hand.

Somewhere in your sex-melted neurons, you remember a sacred duty. A higher calling.

You unlock it. Open Google Forms. Type with trembling fingers.

You hand it to him.

“…What’s this?” he says, glancing down, voice low and hoarse, a little smug but mostly curious. His hair’s a mess, half-up, half-fallen, bite marks on his neck from when you lost your goddamn mind and yanked it mid-round five. His lips are still red. Still smirking. Still tasting like you.

“A… survey,” you say weakly, blinking at him with all the life of a damp washcloth. “For my… performance.”

He stares.

You blink again. Maybe drool a little.

He slowly turns the screen towards himself.

"POST-NUT PERFORMANCE EVALUATION™️" ✨✨Rate your experience today on the shrine! Be honest, I am fragile. ✨✨

How would you rate the service?

🥺 Exceeded expectations

😳 Went feral, thx

🫠 I saw god

💀 I can’t walk

Was the shrine adequately defiled?

Yes

Also yes

It’s currently haunted

Would you like to leave a tip?

💰 Money

🍆 Dick again

✋ High five

🙏 A prayer to forgive me for what I let you do to me

Additional comments: “(eg. I no longer fear death, thank you.)”

Geto’s mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

He looks at you. Then the phone. Then you.

“…Are you fucking serious?” he says.

You nod solemnly.

He scrolls. Silence. More silence.

Then—

“…‘It’s currently haunted.’”

He barks out a laugh. Honest to God, deep-chested, spine-warming laugh. You feel it in your bones. It’s not fair. It’s not right that this man can go from soul-breaking dick demon to adorably amused priest-boyfriend in under a minute.

“You’re insane,” he says, shaking his head as he clicks through the options. “Absolutely fucking deranged. How are you still conscious?”

You smile hazily. “I have… very strong bones.”

“You were literally crying because I said ‘good girl’ and spat in your mouth—”

“I said what I said. Fill out the form, Suguru.”

He snorts. Checks ‘I saw god’ and ‘Also yes’ for the shrine haunting. Pauses at the “tip” section. Slowly checks “Dick again.” Looks over at you.

“Again? Baby, you can’t even feel your legs.”

“…So that’s a no?”

He growls. Growls. "You really want to do this again? You want to end up comatose on this altar for real?"

"Maybe I have a kink for religious trauma,” you shoot back.

“You’re gonna have a kink for hospital beds if you keep mouthing off.”

“Oh no,” you whisper, pressing a hand to your heart, “Not the ER sex arc…”

He lunges at you and you shriek-laugh, legs flopping uselessly as he grabs your ankle and drags you back across the altar like the shameless little hellspawn you are.

You are definitely going to hell. But at least you'll have five-star dick on the way down.

You knew you were in for it the moment your yukata got ripped down the middle like it owed him money.

Not even a preamble. No warning. Just—RIP—and Sukuna's voice in your ear like smoke and brimstone:

"You won't be needing that anymore, little pest."

Well. Excuse you.

Now you're here. Somewhere between heaven, hell, and a realm of overstimulation where your brain has been entirely replaced by white noise and the alphabet no longer exists.

Because here's the thing about True Form Sukuna:

FOUR. FUCKING. ARMS.

Two of them holding you in place. One gripping your jaw like you're something fragile (he lies). The last? Alternating between teasing, pinning, choking, and pulling your thighs apart like he's trying to break you in half.

And TWO. FUCKING. DICKS.

One already had you creaming when he folded you in half like a napkin. The second? The second made you see a version of God that moaned back.

(And the MOUTH on his stomach??? THE STOMACH MOUTH. THAT THING IS THE DEVIL. It LICKED your clit while you rode him and SMIRKED when you came. You're suing.)

By the time it's over? You're toast. Puddle of melted girl. Legs trembling. Pussy bruised. Eyes glazed.

Sukuna? Not even breaking a sweat.

"You're alive," he says, amused.

You wheeze. "Barely."

AFTERCARE TIME... kind of:

You end up in the bath together. Honestly, your brain is soup. Your body is soup. You are soup. Welcome to Sukuna’s special: human girl stew.

You're floating in the water, arms barely moving, skin kissed by a thousand faint bite marks, bruises blooming like little purple constellations all over your thighs, your collarbone, your titties.

Sukuna with one leg out like the arrogant bastard he is, while one of his lower arms casually rubs circles into your thigh like he's not the reason you're semi-comatose.

You scowl at him, chest rising and falling as you attempt your fifth breath in a row without audibly wheezing. (It doesn't work.)

“You,” you rasp, voice wrecked and crispy like fried seaweed. “Destroyed. My. Yukata.”

Sukuna doesn’t even blink. “That flimsy rag? It ripped like wet paper. Not my fault you wore tissue paper to a ritual sacrifice.”

“IT WAS COTTON BLEND!”

He shrugs. All four shoulders shrug. You want to die.

“You should thank me. You’ll never wear another one again. Gonna be limping for a week. You're welcome.”

You try to splash him. You miss. You almost drown instead. You flop back against the bath edge and wheeze.

The smug bastard leans over, one hand—big, veiny, and frankly illegal in five prefectures—reaching for your face. For a second, you flinch, thinking he’s gonna grab your chin and whisper some new filthy punishment into your ear. But no.

He just tucks your wet hair behind your ear.

...

You stare at him.

“Are you… being gentle?”

Sukuna scoffs like you called him a virgin.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You're just weak and pathetic after getting split open like a festival melon. I’m letting you recover.”

Then a pause... and:

"I should break you more often," he hums.

"I'm not a glowstick," you mutter. "I can’t light up unless you shake me first."

He grins. Sharp. Dangerous. Still fucking fond. His top set of arms pull you closer.

"You like it."

You make a noncommittal noise and nuzzle into his chest. His skin is hot. Muscles for miles. The tattoos on his body practically hum under your fingers. You swear one of the mouths on his shoulders chuckles.

Then.

Then.

You wiggle out of his hold. Grab your phone from the nearby table. Open up a Google Form you had pre-filled and saved in your drafts for this exact moment.

You crawl back into his lap. Flash the screen.

"So. Feedback time."

Sukuna stares.

"What. The fuck. Is that."

"A post-sex survey," you say sweetly. "For me. Your human plaything, remember?"

He blinks. Once. Twice.

Reaches for the phone with two fingers—like it's some kind of ancient relic. His claws dwarf it. One pinky alone could probably break the entire device.

He squints at the screen. All four eyes.

POST-COITAL SURVEY: HOW DID YOUR HUMAN DO?

Q1: Was the experience satisfactory?

Yes

Yes, with blood-curdling enthusiasm

I saw the edge of existence and she waved back

Q2: Did your human make pretty noises?

Yes, very pleasing to my curse ears

I recorded them for later

Q3: Were there any injuries?

Minor

Delicious

I hope there are scars

Q4: Would you like to leave a TIP for your service experience today?

15%

20%

Two tips 😏

Sukuna stares at you.

Stares at the form.

Back at you.

Then back at the form.

He is so visibly confused.

"This is a thing humans do now?"

You nod solemnly. "Standard protocol. Helps build trust."

He glances back at the phone. His lips twitch. "And this 'tip' part..."

"Like money," you say, barely holding in your laugh.

He scoffs. “Leave a—?! I gave you the privilege of getting fucked by a god. That’s the tip. You want coin for getting fucked into a new religion?"

"Well. I am a five-star experience."

Sukuna grins. Wicked. All teeth. One hand grabs your ass.

"Fine," he says, voice dripping filth. "I'll give you two tips."

You raise a brow. "Oh?"

He leans in, mouth by your ear.

"The tips of both my cocks. In your throat."

You SNORT.

Collapse onto his chest cackling like a demon.

"YOU’RE DISGUSTING!"

"You started it, little pest."

You wipe a tear from your eye. Reach up and peck one of his cheek-eyes. It narrows, pleased.

"Admit it," you grin. "You love me."

He grunts.

"I tolerate you."

(He tucks you into his side and lets you stay there. His stomach mouth licks your shoulder like a pet cat.)

You're grinning like a fool. Completely fucked out. Survey sent.

Sukuna doesn’t delete it.

He does, however, start filling it out when you fall asleep.

(It auto-saves. You’ll find it in the morning. Under the comment box he wrote: “Stop being hot, I’m trying to stay evil.”)

God. You’re in love with a cursed idiot.

Listen. You didn’t mean to ruin him.

You really didn’t.

You just meant to ride him a little, maybe pull his hair, leave some scratch marks to remind him who’s in charge.

And Choso—sweet, lovely, emotionally constipated Choso—looked at you with those big wet anime eyes like, “You want to go on top?” Like it was some sacred ritual. Like you were about to crown him King of the Universe. Like he was LUCKY to even be beneath you.

And you were like. “Oh I’m gonna ruin you.”

So here’s the thing about Choso. He’s sweet. He’s so fucking sweet. He’s whispering thank yous while you sink down on him like you’re the one doing him a favor. He’s grabbing at your hips like you’re evaporating. He’s moaning with this messy kind of reverence like he’s not entirely sure this is allowed, but god, he hopes it is.

And when you scratch down his chest with your nails and pull his hair back to whisper, “Mine,” into his mouth?

This man WHIMPERS. Whimpers. Like. A sound came out of him. From the soul. The lower abdomen.

You ride him into the fucking void. He’s gripping the headboard. Begging. Not even words, just sounds. Babygirl noises.

“You’re doing so good,” you purr, grinding down hard, deliberately slow. “So loud for me, huh?”

He covers his face. Moans into his palm. You yank it away. “I wanna see that face when I make you come.”

AND HE DOES. Like a fucking fire hydrant.

You laugh. You’re having the time of your life. He’s ruined. Already looks like he cried a little. And you? You are THRIVING.

But then.

Then.

CHOSO FLIPS YOU OVER.

You don’t even register the switch until your knees are by your ears and he’s got one hand tangled in your hair and the other gripping your thigh like he’s trying to implant a tracking chip.

He mutters, “S’my turn, right?”

Oh. Oh no. OH YES.

He rails you. He RAILS you.

And he’s still sweet about it, whispering your name like a prayer, but also??? He’s possessed. Like “I died once and I’m not doing it again without turning you into a cumsock” levels of aggressive.

“I—I thought I was on top,” you gasp, barely coherent.

He’s breathless, panting, so soft. “I wanted to feel you under me.”

SIR-YOU'RE GONNA NEED TO PAY FOR THERAPY AFTER THIS.

At some point—you lose count of time. Of orgasms. Of which limb is where. He makes you come until your vision is fuzzy. He praises you like it’s a kink (it is), and when you scratch his back so hard he hisses, you SWEAR he fucks you harder. Freak.

Eventually, you go limp. Done. Finished. You see God, and She high-fives you. Then you see Choso’s sweet, flushed face hovering above you like he didn’t just annihilate your cervix.

“You okay?” he asks softly, pushing your hair back.

“Yeah,” you rasp, “just need… a moment. Or a shovel.”

He kisses your nose. “I can carry you to the shower.”

“Romantic,” you say. “Is that before or after the survey?”

He pauses. “The… what?”

You weakly pull your phone from the nearby pillow, open the Google Form you’ve had saved in your Notes app since you decided Choso had “first dick appointment” potential.

“Please fill out this anonymous form,” you say sweetly. “It’s called ‘How Did I Do? 😌💦’”

Q1: Was the pussy

Feral

Majestic

God-tier

Forbidden fruit of Eden

Q2: Did the riding make you see ghosts?

Yes

Yes, but they were nice

I forgot my own name

I think I saw my brother

Q3: Were the scratches on your back out of pocket?

No, I liked it

I deserve worse

Mark me like a canvas

Can we go again

Q4: Would you like to leave a tip?

10%

15%

20%

I’m broke but I’ll make you breakfast

Choso is blinking. Slowly. Like a confused baby deer.

“You… made a survey?” he says, voice soft.

“Mmhmm,” you say, nuzzling into his chest. “For feedback. Very professional. I’m ISO certified.”

“Is it anonymous?” he asks, concerned. “Is someone else reading this?”

“No,” you giggle, “it’s about me. Not you.”

He stares. The screen. Then you. Then back to the screen.

“I don’t—do you want a real answer? Or a joke? Or—wait. Are you serious? Is this, like… a sex thing? Is this a dominance thing? Like, ‘fill out my Google Form, slut’?”

You start cackling.

“Oh no-,” you wheeze, “I’M JOKING. You should’ve seen your FACE.”

He blinks again. His ears are so red.

“Oh,” he says softly. “Okay.”

You giggle and kiss his cheek. “You’re so cute when you’re confused.”

“I thought you were gonna make me… write a paragraph review or something.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp, rolling over him. “NOW I’M GONNA.”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Please don’t post it anywhere.”

“I won’t. Probably.”

He whines, muffling it into your shoulder. “You’re so mean to me.”

You stroke his hair. “And yet you begged to be under me.”

He grumbles. “Yeah, ‘cause you’re scary.”

You smile.

“Good,” you whisper. “Now fill out the survey before I fuck you again.”

You’ve killed a lot of people. Like—a lot.

Strangled a cartel lieutenant with her own belt once. Clean shot through a diplomat’s temple with a rifle you assembled in under ninety seconds. One time you poisoned a man just by kissing him (thanks, custom lipstick). You're not new to adrenaline, to high-stakes, to... messy.

But this?

This is the messiest you've ever been.

Shiu Kong just rearranged your soul and now you’re staring at the ceiling of some nondescript safehouse while your legs do this weird twitchy thing every time he exhales near you.

You’re a trained killer and this man—your handler—just made you come so hard you saw static. Five times. Maybe six?? You lost count somewhere between the choking and the part where he bent you over the sink and said, "If you’re gonna act like a brat, I’ll fuck you like one."

No one warned you Shiu Kong fucks like a tired, overworked demigod with a deep resentment for incompetence.

And you? You just happen to be his favorite little killer for hire. So guess what that means.

Earlier...

"You know the mission briefing said subtle, right?"

He’s got his arms crossed, suit pants rumpled like he’d been sitting too long, tie just barely loosened. And the look in his eye? That half-lidded, already-annoyed expression? Yeah. That’s the look he gives you right before he reads you for absolute filth.

"I was subtle," you said. "Up until the stabbing part."

"Subtle doesn’t include seven fucking witnesses and a goddamn fire alarm."

You smiled at him. "Technicalities."

You expected him to sigh. Maybe hand you another envelope with your next job and tell you to clean up your mess.

What you didn’t expect was him stepping in, cornering you against the concrete wall of the safehouse, and saying low against your mouth:

“You want to act like a headache, sweetheart? Fine. Let’s see if you can still smart off with my cock halfway down your throat.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Now.

You’ve got one arm flopped off the bed, one leg somewhere near Shiu’s shin, and you can’t remember your own name.

He’s shirtless, somehow still looking composed while his knuckles brush your hipbone. You should be afraid of how fast he made you fold. You’re not. You’re a slut. And also emotionally unstable, but mostly a slut.

“Still alive?” he murmurs.

You let out a croaky “...eh.”

He huffs. You think it’s a laugh. Maybe. Either way, your brain is pudding and you’re not even embarrassed.

You roll onto your stomach with a noise that can only be described as disrespected furniture. Then—with the energy of someone who just emerged from a particularly intense spiritual awakening—you paw around for your phone on the floor.

Shiu watches, eyebrow raised. "...You ordering food?"

“No,” you mumble, unlocking your phone. “I need you to fill something out.”

He blinks. "Excuse me?"

You thrust the phone at him with the last of your strength. “Here. It's a Google Form.”

He stares at it.

You watch him squint. Then frown.

Then stare at you like you’ve just presented him with a tax audit and a pregnancy test at the same time.

“‘Post-Encounter Evaluation for Elite Operatives’?”

“Yes.”

“…Why is the first question ‘How satisfied were you with my holes today (scale of 1-5)?’”

“I’m gathering feedback.”

You’re trying so hard not to smile, but your lips twitch anyway. It’s either that or drool again.

Shiu doesn’t laugh. He never laughs. But his nostrils flare and he exhales through his nose like a man trying to process something deeply confusing and mildly arousing.

“Question two,” he reads aloud, deadpan: ‘Did I make you feel like a powerful man who could destroy the world with his cum alone?’”

“...Well. Did I?”

Shiu blinks at you.

Then, after a beat, he actually tilts his head. Like he's genuinely thinking about it. Which is insulting but also hilarious.

“You are completely useless right now,” he says, glancing at your limp body. “So. I suppose that’s a yes.”

You beam.

“Keep going.”

He scrolls. "‘Were the sounds I made appropriately slutty and grateful for your dick?’ Jesus Christ—”

“You were incredible. I’m just trying to be professional about my brand.”

Shiu lowers the phone. Looks at you over the screen. His expression? That deeply unimpressed, handler-through-hell look that says: I hate that this is working on me.

"...There’s a tip section."

“Yes.” You blink up at him like a koala on tranquilizers. “It accepts Apple Pay.”

He actually chokes. Not laughs. Chokes. It’s like hearing God cough.

“You want me to tip you.”

“I was a very good girl,” you say. “And you’re not paying me for this. This was a... personal project.”

“Personal?” His voice drops. “That wasn’t personal, sweetheart. That was a field test.”

You whimper.

God, why is that so hot?

“I needed to know what happens when you’re overstimulated and half-feral,” he continues casually, like he’s reviewing your resume. “For future assignments. In case I need you compromised.”

Your thighs clench.

This is fine. You're fine. You're a professional.

...You’re also going to need like 72 hours and an ice pack.

“Did I pass?” you whisper.

He leans down until his mouth is against your ear, voice a quiet purr:

“You’re lucky I didn’t fucking fail you on the spot. No composure. No stamina. You begged like a brat who didn’t read the briefing.”

You shudder.

Then groan into the sheets, face down. “Sir, I literally cannot feel my pelvic floor. Can you please just fill out the form?”

Shiu sits back. Looks at your phone. Quiet.

Then?

He types.

You try not to giggle as you hear the soft click of his fingers tapping on the screen.

"...You selected ‘Extremely Satisfied’ for my holes.”

“I did.”

“...And you left a comment that just says, ‘Jesus Fucking Christ.’”

“Accurate.”

You pause. “What’d you put for the tip?”

He glances at you.

Then back at the screen.

Then slowly... presses a button.

You hear the tiny ping of a successful payment.

"...You tipped me fifty dollars?” you ask, stunned.

“You earned it.”

You're quiet for a second. Then, a beat later, in a completely wrecked voice:

"...Handler of the year.”

Shiu’s mouth twitches. His version of a smile.

Then he sets the phone down, rolls on top of you again, and murmurs:

“Don’t get cocky. You’ve got another mission tomorrow.”

You whimper into the mattress. “I can’t walk.”

“That’s your problem.”

submitted response to your google form:

Holes Satisfaction? 5/5 Did I feel like a powerful man with world-ending cum? Unfortunately, yes. Was the agent appropriately slutty? Debatably. Lacked professionalism. Good vocals. Room for improvement? Didn’t cry. Next time, tears. Tip: $50. Don’t spend it all on lube.

Additional Comments: Please stop sending me forms. Also, clear your browser history.

You once called him a “walking prosecution kink in a three-piece suit” to your best friend over drinks. You also once said you’d rather eat your own foot than sleep with him.

And now, post-fuckageddon?

You're not sure you could eat solid food if you tried. Let alone walk.

Your soul is hovering outside your body, sipping tea politely and waiting for your system to reboot.

Hiromi is beside you—naked, warm, freshly showered, and dangerously tender. Which is a war crime, frankly. He’s rubbing slow, absent circles into your thigh while you lay face-first on his stupid crisp white sheets, drooling like a newborn and trying not to moan every time you remember what he did to you.

Five times, bitch. Five. You came like he was getting paid by the orgasm.

The first time? Fingers. The second? His mouth. (His nose, really. That thing deserves its own license to kill.) Third? With your legs up and your arms pinned. Fourth? Bent over the fucking dresser. Fifth? From just the way he kissed you and talked to you while he was still inside. ("You don’t have to prove anything, you already won. Let me take care of you—")

STOP. You can’t mentally afford a sixth.

“So,” Hiromi says, voice all low and calm like he didn’t wreck your shit less than an hour ago.

You hum into the pillow.

“I hope I didn’t—go too far.”

You pick your head up just enough to blink at him. “Hiromi. I literally begged you to go further.”

He smiles. Softly. Like a smug cherub who knows exactly how tight he made you scream.

“I just wanted to make sure I didn’t… you know. Overwhelm you.”

You snort. “You gave me two orgasms before even putting it in. I was overwhelmed at the entrance exam, my guy.”

He squeezes your thigh. "I just want you to feel safe.”

You want to say something witty.

But all that comes out is a pitiful, genuine little: “...You’re so good at sex.”

Which makes him go so red it’s illegal. This man has cross-examined murderers with the composure of a glacier, and you made him blush harder than any closing statement.

But okay.

Enough. You didn’t build your entire reputation as his courtroom nemesis—the only defense attorney who’s ever flustered him on record—for this to be all hearts and roses.

So.

You reach for your phone.

He watches with curiosity as you open your notes app, tap something, then pass it to him like you’re handing off a subpoena.

“Here,” you mumble.

He takes it. Squints. Blinks once.

Then reads aloud.

“‘Post-Coital Performance Evaluation for Your Favorite Legal Rival (Anonymous Feedback Welcome)’…?”

You bury your face back in the pillow. “It’s a Google Form. I made it this morning just in case I died.”

Hiromi is frozen.

Like actual lag-on-the-hard-drive frozen.

"Question one," he reads slowly, bewildered: "‘How satisfied were you with my holes today (scale of 1–5)?’"

You lift one finger. “Be honest.”

His mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again. You think he may be buffering.

“Question two,” he continues, tone becoming increasingly… confused husband. “‘Did the defendant perform with enthusiasm and skill?’”

You nod solemnly. “I’ll need citations.”

“…Question three: ‘Were the sounds I made appropriately slutty and legally distinct from what I say in court?’"

You peek at him. He looks like he just found out he was dating a BuzzFeed quiz. A very slutty one.

"I've never—" he starts, then cuts himself off, flustered. “No one’s ever given me a—performance review before.”

You shrug weakly. “You’re my rival. I need metrics.”

You pause. Then murmur: “Also I gave you very good head as an apology for joking about your hand-holding thing, so I feel like I deserve something.”

He squints. "That blowjob was vengeance."

"It was reparations," you correct. "You looked so sad, Hiromi. I had to fix it with throat."

He covers his face with one hand. “You’re insane.”

“You held my hand while railing me within an inch of my life, sir. We all have our coping strategies.”

After a minute, he actually… starts filling it out.

You hear little tapping sounds. The softest clicks. The man is legitimately answering. Your toes curl.

You grin into the pillow. “What’d you put for the holes question?”

He glances at you. “Six.”

You snort. “That’s not even on the scale.”

“It should be.”

Then he hesitates.

"...I don’t know how to answer this one."

You peek up. “‘Did you feel emotionally held while also being physically annihilated?’”

"Yes. But that feels inappropriate to admit.”

You hold out your hand.

He takes it immediately, like a reflex, and squeezes.

You both pause.

“…So that’s a yes,” you say.

He makes a quiet, wounded noise in his throat.

“I just think,” he mutters softly, “if I’m ruining someone in bed, I should at least be nice to them afterward. That’s just basic decency.”

You blink.

Then smirk. “Wow. Gentleman dick. You’re like the legal world’s favorite war crime.”

Hiromi ignores you and goes back to filling out the survey.

A minute passes. You close your eyes, finally relaxing.

Then—

“...You put a tip section,” he says slowly. “And a line that says: ‘Cash, Venmo, or Apple Pay accepted. I also take compliments.’”

“Money or praise,” you mumble, half-asleep. “I’m a modern woman.”

Hiromi sighs. Then taps a few more times.

You hear the ping of a payment.

Then he murmurs, “You just got a Venmo for $69.69.”

Your eyes pop open. “You tipped me?!”

“You said you take Apple Pay!”

“That was a joke!”

“I didn’t want to be rude!”

submitted response to your google form:

Holes Satisfaction? 6/5 Did the defendant perform with enthusiasm and skill? Yes. Devastatingly so. Still recovering. Was emotional + physical annihilation achieved? Absolutely. Recommend with caution. Tip? $69.69. Additional Comments: Please don’t show this to anyone. Also, I think I’m in love with you. But I’ll object if you bring that up in court.

A/N:.... sorry. this was inspired by a dear friend of mine telling me that she did this to like two of her bfs. very funny tbh. also this isn't proof read annnddd sorry for being late again. also i messed up a couple areas that i meant to indent and not put in bold, but i have a headache so i'll fic it later

Massterlist.

the end they get married and have kids and die and he rises from the dead to jump into her casket 🌹