𝐴𝑗𝑎𝑥

toji was a quiet man.

stoic, broad, and nearly impossible to read. he didn’t waste time on small talk, rarely showed emotion. it seemed as though your overall presence didn’t faze him in the slightest, as if he’d already adapted to the idea of living with a stranger. he wasn’t the kind to leave messes or linger in shared spaces. everything about him was precise, detached. not out of cruelty, but habit, like he’d spent his whole life perfecting the art of keeping people out.

you’d heard rumors about him growing up. how he used to be the type of man who never stayed in one place for too long, who didn’t give his name to the women he fucked and never spent the night. toji’s never been a one-woman kind of guy. settling down wasn’t in his vocabulary. and definitely not with someone as young and out-of-place as you.

he was older. rougher. the kind of man who’d seen too much and felt too little. you were the opposite— softer around the edges, not naïve, but still idealistic enough to believe marriage might eventually mean something.

but the truth was, you were strangers playing house.

and he made no effort to pretend otherwise.

he never yelled or raised his voice, but he also never smiled. didn’t ask about your day or crack single joke. the most he ever said to you was the occasional, “you eat yet?” or “lock the doors when i’m out.”

he wasn’t cruel. but he wasn’t kind either. he was just… distant.

and every night, without fail, he took a pillow from your bed and laid it on the couch. like it was some unspoken rule neither of you had agreed to, but followed all the same.

you told yourself it didn’t bother you.

it’s better this way, you thought. less awkward. more space. at least he wasn’t forcing anything on you. at least he wasn’t trying to play pretend.

but it still left a strange hollow in your chest, watching him retreat down the hallway like some unwelcome guest, his broad back disappearing into the dark. it was your house, your marriage, but it didn’t feel like either belonged to you.

you could hear him sometimes through the thin walls— the creak of leather, the shift of his weight on the couch, the low sighs he tried to keep quiet. you’d often wonder, did he ever sleep soundly? did he ever think about coming back to bed? or was this just as unbearable for him as it was for you?

you didn’t know what he saw when he looked at you. just a kid, maybe. just another favor he owed. a girl too young for him. a wife he didn’t ask for.

and yet… there were glimpses. brief ones.

he’d linger in the kitchen after grabbing a drink, eyes flicking to you like he wasn’t ready to leave just yet. his gaze would catch on you when you bend over to grab something. there’d be times where his fingers would brush yours when passing a mug across the table, only to quickly pull away and act like the contact burned him.

but none of it meant anything. not really.

he still felt a million miles away, always avoided your eyes, and spent his nights on the couch.

and every time you lay in bed alone, facing the empty space where your husband should have been… you wondered how long it would be before either of you finally broke the silence.

+

months passed.

coexistence— bland, neutral, suffocating— was the best words you could find for it. two strangers living under the same roof. two shadows moving through the same space.

you learned his footsteps before his voice. heavy boots against the tile, always coming home late, reeking of steel and smoke. the scent of blood sometimes lingered longer than it should’ve. cuts along his knuckles, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a cigarette tucked behind his ear he never once lit indoors.

he never offered answers. and you never asked questions.

your conversations always felt transactional— brief and stripped of anything personal. he moved like a man who’d locked his entire life behind closed doors, speaking only when necessary, silence curling in the spaces between

but sometimes, he surprised you.

like when your cough wouldn’t go away, and he left a steaming cup of tea on your nightstand. no note. just honey, lemon, and a quiet gesture you pretended not to notice. or the time your car wouldn’t start, and by morning it was fixed, keys hung on the hook with a single post-it note: ‘battery’s old. don’t leave the lights on.’ or when you dozed off on the couch and woke up in bed, tucked in gently—your socks gone, your blanket neatly arranged over your shoulders, the air warm from the space heater you hadn’t turned on yourself.

little things. fleeting and wordless. barely there, but enough to leave a mark.

enough to make you wonder.

does he care? or is this just guilt? pity? obligation?

you caught him watching you sometimes, too. not lecherous. not overt. just… lingering. like he couldn’t figure you out. like he was trying to memorize you without getting caught. his eyes would trail over your face like he didn’t quite believe you were real.

but he never touched you.

never kissed you.

never allowed himself get too close.

and maybe it was better that way. maybe it hurt less to imagine he didn’t want you than to accept the possibility that he did, and was just too afraid to act on it.

until one night, everything changed.

it was starting to rain. the steady patter against the window, soothing enough to lull you to sleep with a book on your chest and the bedside lamp still glowing, thunder rolled somewhere in the distance. you curled beneath the blankets alone, as always, half-asleep before the storm even settled.

you didn’t hear him come in.

but you felt it— the sudden shift in the air, the creak of the floorboards, the dip of the mattress under his weight. his warm breath near the nape of your neck.

your heart kicked in your chest.

“…toji?” you whispered, uncertain, afraid to turn around.

a pause stretched long.

“…can’t sleep,” he murmured, voice rough, like it scraped against something inside him just to speak.

your pulse quickened. “you… wanna stay here tonight?”

he hesitated. the air thickened, heavy with tension.

when he finally responded, his voice was low. remorseful.

“should’ve been sleepin’ here from the start.”

you didn’t know what to say. but when you shifted, he took it as an invitation— easing into the sheets behind you, his massive arm hesitating before wrapping around your waist.

his touch was delicate. almost reverent.

you held your breath as his fingers brushed your stomach. then your ribs. then lower.

“you sure?” he whispered, lips grazing your ear.

you didn’t need time to think before you breathed out a barely audible, “yes.”

a pause. then a low groan, rumbling in his chest.

“good,” he growled, voice thick with restraint finally snapping. “been holdin’ back for too fuckin’ long.”

and then he finally kissed you.

it was messy. desperate. months of pent-up frustration crashing all at once. his mouth was warm, his lips greedy, tongue sweeping against yours like he needed to taste every piece of you. every part he’d denied himself.

you whimpered, hands fisting in his hair, and he groaned against your mouth— deep and guttural, as if it physically hurt to hold back.

“fuck, baby… taste so sweet,” he murmured, breath warm on your lips. his hands roamed, rough palms caressing your hips, your thighs, your stomach.

he pulled back just long enough to sit up and yank your nightshirt over your head in one swift motion, tossing it to the floor. you lay bare beneath him, chest rising and falling, lips parted in anticipation— the look in his eyes darkened, heat blooming behind his lashes. his gaze dropped to your underwear, and a crooked smirk curved his mouth.

“always sleepin’ in those little fuckin’ panties,” he muttered, laced with amusement and need. “you do it to tease me?”

“n-no, i—” your throat tightened as he hooked his fingers into the waistband, dragging them down your thighs with excruciating slowness, knuckles brushing your skin.

“you do now,” he said, eyes never leaving you. “so pretty… ‘s all mine, yeah?”

you nodded quickly, heart thudding in your chest. “yours.”

he leaned down, kissed your collarbone, your chest, your waist— leaving no place of you untouched. his stubble scraped your skin, rough enough to make your thighs twitch, your breath hitch. you shivered as he moved lower, lips brushing along your inner thighs until he was nestled between them

“spread those legs, sweet girl,” he rasped. “lemme taste what i’ve been missin’.”

you obeyed instantly, trembling.

and then he was on you.

your cry cracked the silence, body jolting as his tongue met your folds— slow, deliberate, filthy. he devoured you like he was starving, tongue flat and thorough, savoring every bit of you with obscene groans vibrating against your pussy.

“fuck… so wet for me already,” he breathed between licks, voice muffled and wrecked. “this pretty lil’ cunt’s been waitin’, huh?”

“t-toji— ah!”

he moaned in response, sucking your clit into his mouth while two fingers pushed inside— curling just right, filling you so perfectly it made your toes curl. you were already so sensitive, so overwhelmed, but he didn’t slow down, didn’t give you a second to catch your breath.

he kept going, relentless, mouth and hands working in tandem until your thighs shook around his head and your fingers tugged his hair, your orgasm ripping through you in thick waves as you cried out his name.

only when you fell back against the pillows, panting and soaked, did he finally stop.

he sat back on his knees, eyes half-lidded, licking his lips like he couldn’t bear to waste a drop of you. he made quick work of his belt, unbuckling it with one hand while the other gently stroked your thigh, soothing you. his cock was thick, flushed, the tip glistening. heavy in his palm as he stroked himself slow, watching the way your chest rose and fell.

“gonna fuck you slow,” he promised, “but i ain’t gonna be gentle.”

you whimpered. “want you… please, toji.”

he leaned in and kissed you again— deep and messy, still tasting like you— before guiding himself to your entrance and pressing in, steady and thick, easing deeper until your walls stretched to take all of him.

“fuck,” he hissed, jaw clenched. “grippin’ me like a fuckin’ vice…”

he stayed still at first, letting you adjust to his size, forehead pressed to yours, his breath fanning across your lips. then he rolled his hips, slow and deep, dragging every ridge of him along your walls. you were already gasping, body arching into his, overwhelmed by how full he made you feel. your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, grounding yourself against the dizzying pleasure.

and then he started to move— faster, deeper, driving into you with smooth, powerful thrusts. the bed creaked beneath you, the headboard thudded against the wall in rhythm.

“yeah, take it, baby,” he grunted. “takin’ it so good for me.”

his mouth found your neck, then your shoulder, then your lips again— hot and open, tongue sliding against yours between moans. you couldn’t think, couldn’t speak— only hold on and feel. your nails raked down his back as he fucked you harder, each thrust making your breath hitch.

“always thought about this,” he confessed between gritted teeth. “every fuckin’ night on that couch. wanted to come in here… split you open.”

his hand came up to wrap around your throat, not choking, just holding. “look at me.”

your eyes fluttered open, and he looked down at you like he was worshipping you. you were already teary, completely undone, and somehow still falling apart beneath him.

his lips were back on yours, languid, teasing, yet driven by something deeper. like he finally understood what it meant to want.

“mine,” he growled, low and steady. “you hear me?”

“yours,” you whispered back, broken and sure.

he groaned as he came, burying himself as deep as he could go, hips grinding into you while he spilled inside— thick and warm, pulse after pulse. you felt it fill you, every drop, your walls fluttering around him as you whimpered through the overstimulation.

you clung to him like a lifeline, barely able to breathe.

and still, he didn’t move.

he stayed there, chest heaving, one hand cupping your cheek, nose brushing your skin like he couldn’t stop touching you. he kissed your temple, your cheek, your jaw. soft and sweet and quiet.

“shouldn’t’ve waited this long,” he murmured against your skin. “you… you make this place feel like home.”

you blinked up at him, bleary-eyed.

“…i thought you didn’t like me,” you hesitantly confessed.

his brows pulled together. “didn’t like you?”

you nodded. “you always slept on the couch. you never talked to me…”

his expression softened, almost ashamed.

he lets out a shaky breath.

“did it ‘cause i didn’t wanna scare you. didn’t think i deserved to sleep next to you yet.”

your heart clenched so tightly you thought it might break.

“…you do,” you whispered, reaching up to touch his face. “you do now.”

he leaned into your palm.

then kissed you— slow, tender, like he meant every breath of it.

that night, for the first time, you fell asleep in your husband’s arms.

and for once… he didn’t leave.

It started innocently enough. sitting on the lounge chair of the hotel room balcony, feeling the heat trickle against your skin. the weight of your sunglasses pushed on your nose as sweat dripped down onto the pages of your book.

the midsummer heatwave was knocking the energy out of everyone, including your, typically energetic, boyfriend, mingi. fresh out the shower, his short black hair was messy, spiked over his head as he opened the balcony door. he had slipped on his matching set of a striped shirt and shorts, the buttons hanging dangerously open.

your eyes were begging to tear away from the words on the pages, catching glimpses of mingi sitting in the comfort of a plush chair opposite from you. you hadn't spoken a word, something unsaid lingered in the air.

as beads of sweat started to run down the side of your neck, you couldn't help but use your book as a makeshift fan. the view before you surely wasn't helping. mingis eyes had shifted closed, hands resting on his lap as his head was leaned back into the chair cushions.

maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the need.

but something in you snapped. nothing crazy, yet, just a floodgate of something seeping out of you. so, you pressed your book shut, and got on your feet.

mingis eyes didn't open just yet, he was basking in the sun, it hugging his features so beautifully in this warm morning. as you stood before him, you let your other hand grip the metal railing next to mingis chair, the other holding onto his shoulder blade. his lips twitched at the sudden touch, but melting into it as your familiar warmth neared him. speaking in a mumbled tone, he muttered:

"isn't it a bit too hot to cuddle hm?" you chuckled lightly, your hips now laid on top of his, chest pressed up on his.

to admit, it was definitely not making the heat go away, more so making it worse. but you couldn't possibly tear yourself off your delicious boyfriend now, his tan toned arm now tight around your waist. you just craved being close, just being here together like this.

the trip so far had been mostly you inside, alone, reading books, since mingi was on a business trip. having these little moments together was certainly more and more rare, so you had to take what there is to take.

"but it's so comfortable like this isn't it?" you asked, tracing shapes into the exposed skin of mingis collarbones. his low laugh rumbled in his chest as he nodded, eyes still hung close.

"mhm, you could say that"

you weren't sure how long you sat there, unmoved, before something started to change. maybe it was the subtle changes in your seating position, or the way your eyes were wandering, but you couldn't help but feel a new type of heat rise in your body.

your both hands laid against mingis sweat sticky chest, your thighs spread around to straddle his. looking up to see his eyes still closed, light breaths passing his lips, you let yourself experiment a bit.

your hand slid down his torso, hanging onto the buttons that remained closed a little longer then supposed, accidentally popping one open. the newly exposed skin glistened in the sunlight, making your cheeks burn red like you've never seen him like this before.

you could feel his breath catching a little, making you pause for a moment before resuming. your other hand traced down to meet the other, slowly opening the last two remaining buttons. with slow but sure movements, you moved aside the light fabric, flashing his toned chest to your vision.

you couldn’t help but feel your mouth salivating at the sight of his exposed chest, the ridges of his muscles, the light hairs below his bellybutton, all the way to to his perked brown nipples. it was all too much.

you didn’t even notice your hips moving at first, your body taking over into an animalistic state. the fabric of mingis shorts was riding up dangerously high, the skin of his toned thick thighs meeting yours as you humped down on him like a dog in heat.

you felt a grin tug on mingis plump lips, his lengthy tongue slipping past to wet the surface before he spoke in a low voice:

" tsk, now now, that's not cuddling now is it angel?"

your breath hitched, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop moving against him, hands now eagerly tugging on the remains of his shirt that hung on his chest. mingis grip on your waist adjusted a bit, both his large palms now resting against your hipbones, guiding your movements.

"couldn't help it" you mumbled, face merely inches away from his. a smirky grin appears on his lips, before he bites down into them, pulling you closer on his lap. you fall forward slightly, your hands now laid above his chest, fingers directly on his perky nipples.

"don't you dare stop now then, even if you're caught, you dirty girl"

even if you wanted to, you couldn't. the feeling of the heat radiating from mingis body, his scent, his presence. the way his eyes were slightly opened now, that dark gaze burning into your skull as you worked your hips against him. you felt your brain melt away as you eased more into it, upping the pressure as mingis hands guided you back and forth.

as you moved, you could feel tension rise below you, the hardness of mingis cock firm against your clothed pussy as you grinded with need. a twitch rippled through mingis body as your hips met up with the sensitive spot of his tip through his flimsy shorts, his fingers digging into your flesh.

“thats it baby, faster f’me, go on”

his hands are eager to pull and push you faster, the slickness of your pussy seeping through your clothes, leaving a wet patch on his shorts. moans tear past your lips as you lean forward to lay youe forehead on his shoulder, fingers digging into his chest muscles.

“min- so good.. fuck..”

raking your hands down his torso, your nails leaving behind a red trail as your chest heaves. you’re burning up, the heat of the summer air and the burning sensation of your body against mingis driving you near passing out, but it felt so worth it.

“yeah? gonna cum untouched like a fucking virgin are you baby?”

mingis words twist your gut, his pitying tone making a new wave of arousal slick down your thighs. he just smirks knowingly, beginning to thrust up into your grinds.

you shriek, digging your nails into his stomach as the new sensation takes over. you may as well be naked from how much you can feel the imprint of mingis cock in his pants. you can feel the thick shape of it, every ridge, every vein running down its sides. and its making you lose it faster then you want to.

“p..please.. d- da.. mghm min..” your words stutter as you hold onto him, teeth grazing his exposed shoulder blade.

“mmm what was that, say that again” his words sharp as his hips slow down a bit, waiting your answer.

your cheeks flare, gulping, you try again:

“please.. please daddy more!” you muster the courage, shaking as mingi chuckles against you, picking back up his page.

“that’s a good girl, always so obedient for me”

you feel the tightness in your abdomen come scarily close at his words, your body tingling with every grind, every thrust. raising your head from his shoulder, youre met with his gaze again, eyes clouded, lips parted in a smirk while low groans tear out repeatedly.

his palm smacks your right cheek before pulling on it again, spreading you open while grinding up into you, and you feel yourself lose it.

“need to.. need to cum now daddy mgmh! m coming”

mingis face dives forward, closing you into a kiss thats almost all tongue and teeth, sucking your sounds into his mouth. you pant, repeating his name like a mantra as his cockhead grinds against your clit with ease.

“thats it, cum on daddy just like this, attagirll baby” his voice mumbles against your lips, you feel him smile into it with that devious grin.

and it completely undoes you. you feel the band inside you snap, the overwhelming heat of your body peaking as you hold onto mingi for some stability, his hands on your hips grounding you.

the wet patch is even more imminent now on mingis shorts as you lean forward to his shoulder again, hanging on like a ragdoll. his hand caresses your back, soothing the burning skin as you come down from your high.

after a minute or two, you leaned up again, meeting his attentive gaze, and that never ending smirk. you raise a brow.

“now, why are you still grinning now, what’s so funny?” mingi chuckles, running his hand down your side, the other below your chin.

“oh nothing, just imagining how you’re gonna walk once we’re done on this balcony” you smack his shoulder, pretending to be hurt.

“oh? don’t think i’m not going to have you holding onto that bar for dear life while i stuff your pussy full, you know i’ll do it.”

and with that, you knew your knees would remain wobbly, and your body heated for the rest of this damned heatwave.

You never understood the duties of Royals. The incessant need for individuals from well respected clans to continuously suck up to other individuals from more powerful families, especially when it was clear that they hated each other.

Perhaps it was because you yourself were not from any clan, just a commoner who watched people you were supposed to be sucking up to suck up to others. It filled you with a sense of disgust. You wondered a lot about how you were supposed to respect such people when they tried so hard to gain favours from others.

Joining palace life was probably the worst thing for someone like you. Your parents had traded you for the Lord’s favour when they were finally allowed to. He didnt pay much attention to you at first since you decided to remain quiet, not wishing to attract so much attention when you had only just arrived. But you had eventually caught his interest, becoming a kind of favourite toy for him. Unfortunately despite having much more grace with the Lord himself, you were stuck to deal with the other women that roamed the palace.

For someone like you, it wasnt the Lord of the House that was the problem. It was the constant judgement of the other concubines, the gossiping, the need to constantly point at your faults. The shoving and teasing. It all made you want to pull at your own hair and scream.

It didnt help that you were unable to hold your tongue, always talking before you could think. Spewing out whatever nonsense would anger the other person the fastest. None of it ever reached the ears of Lord Sukuna though, he was much too busy to focus on the bickering of women who he didnt care about outside of his chambers.

The women were ruthless though, fake smiles and words that felt like they burned under your skin. They picked at every insecurity, every fault you thought you had and laughed it back into your face. You were bound to snap one day.

It was early fall when that day came.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

You were thoroughly annoyed. It was barely even early afternoon and you were ready to disappear into your chambers and never leave again. Unfortunately, you werent allowed to do that. All concubines had duties to fulfill around the palace and you were halfway through yours when the other women had your almost bubbling over.

One concubine in particular — Yorozu — always tried to get on your nerves the most. She was from a respected clan you didnt know much about, never bothering to really listen in or care about those that made it their mission to piss you off. She was a kind of conniving woman that demanded the Lords favour, even if it put others at risk or got them injured.

When he had first taken interest in you she zeroed in, doing everything she could think of to ruin your life knowing you would never let any of it be heard by the Lord despite the favour you held with him.

You were simply trying to do your chores in the garden when she came over and started her antics.

“What did you just say?” You ask, glaring at her. She smiled at you, the expression so fake it made you want to punch her. She took a moment to answer, looking down at her nails.

“I said you arent poor anymore, you dont need to continue wearing filthy rags. It surprises me that the Lord gives you any attention when you wear such things” she laughed, eyeing you up and down. Your jaw clenched, molars pressed together so hard you thought they might crack. You took a deep breath, staring down at the flowers next to you.

“These arent rags” your voice carries a bite to it that makes her grin wider, stepping closer.

“Oh… thats unfortunate. I always knew you werent truly important to the Lord but i didnt realize it would be this evident” she offers you a fake sympathetic smile, reaching a hand out to touch your shoulder.

Your hand reaches out, slapping it away. You scoff as you get closer, crowding into her space. “Do you have some issue with me? Dont stand here and speak as though you’re so important when we all know that the Lord ignores you every time you try to get his attention”

Heads of fellow concubines and servants turn in your direction, curious to watch the scene unfold.

Yorozu stares at you, her grin faltering as she takes a step closer, shoving you away from her. “Who do you think you are speaking to me like that? Youre just a filthy commoner who happened to luck out, youre not actually as special as you think you are”

A few of the servants shuffle together at the sound of the argument growing more heated, a few disappearing into the halls of the palace to find the Lord before things escalate too much between the two of you.

Others crowd around, watching to making sure no one actually starts throwing hands, especially not when his favourite concubine is the one present.

“Is this why youre so upset? You think ive gain an unjust favour from our Lord? Are you truly so shallow you believe thats all that matters?” You try to hold back, fists clenching at your side so you dont lunge at her in a fit of rage. Unfortunately for you she gets closer, her own hands shoving you back, your words striking a chord with her as she reaches to tug at your hair.

“It seems to me that youre an ungrateful peasant, perhaps i should educate you on behalf of our Lord” your nostrils flare at her words, anger licking up your spine as she tugs harshly at your hair. Your own hands shoot out, grabbing at her own hair and tugging it, dragging her taller form down to your height.

One thing you were thankful for was learning how to fight in your village despite being a girl, something that allowed you some form of protection within these walls especially when someone instigates first.

You pull her forwards before shoving her back, her body jolting slightly at the movement before shes reaching out to scratch at your arms, making you scoff. You barely register the hushed voices of servants behind you, the heavy footfall approaching the two of you, or the looming presence watching as you tug her forwards again just to land a punch to her face. She winces and yelps out at the punch, your fist burning as it collides with her jaw and sends her stumbling back.

Sure, it mightve been an overreaction on your part but as you said, you were thoroughly annoyed and had no patience for antics like hers.

You tense immediately when large hands rest on your shoulders, back pressing against solid muscle. You stare straight ahead, bracing yourself for what may come as he lowers his head to accommodate for your much shorter stature, voice warm against your ear.

“The only violence to happen within my court is that in which i permit, my little concubine” his voice was deep, unsettlingly calm as you both watch Yorozu, grabbing at her bruising jaw. She doesnt even pay attention to Sukuna anymore, too busy whining to a servant about how she needs to be tended to immediately. You roll your eyes at the display, convinced Sukuna does as well despite not being able to see his face as he lingers behind you.

A small pout lingers on your lips as you speak, a ridiculous excuse for the unnecessary violence you displayed. “She started it” you mumbled, earning a single deep laugh from behind you that made you flinch slightly. Despite earning the Lord’s favour and being the one he always sought out he still unsettled you a fraction. He still scared you because a part of you was always aware that there were parts of him hed never let you experience first hand, parts that came out while he massacred simply because he could.

“You will need a better excuse than that if you wish to be forgiven for such behaviours” you knew he teasing, he had to be but you were already so annoyed, so strung up you couldnt find any humour in his words. No care or joking he reserved specifically for you registered in your brain as you snapped at him, annoyed by everyone. “Why must i be the one in need of forgiveness when she was the one spewing insolent garbage from her mouth? The way i see it she should be the one begging me for my forgiveness” the words leave you sharp, annoyance dripping from your tone as you finally turn to look at him.

His glare hardens on you, whatever kindness he once showed you dissolving instantly as you spoke. He grabbed at your wrist, dragging you away from the many servants who still lingered in the area and towards his private quarters, the wooden doors sliding shut behind him. He pushed you into the center of the room, now angered with you just as much as you were angered with the other concubines. “From where i stand it is only you who speaks insolent garbage from her tongue. I asked for you to beg me for my forgiveness and yet you go on a tangent about how she should be begging you, perhaps i have shown you too much grace” he reaches out, grabbing a chunk of your hair at the nape of your neck, craning it up to look at him. “Must i show you where your place is? Clearly you have forgotten, my little concubine”

You pout deepens instantly, hands instinctively flying to grip at his arm; the one that holds tightly at your hair. “You focus your anger on me when she is the one who decided to lunge at me first? Perhaps im not as favoured as i once thought. Go on then, request her from now on instead of me” you huff, eyes locked on two of his crimson eyes. He was reaching his limit with you, control steadily slipping.

His eyes linger on the red marks on your skin before his grip tightens in your hair, walking you back along the tatami mats that line the floor of his quarters, towards the large futon. “You believe these pathetic marks excuse your attitude? Have i done something foolish enough to allow you to believe you may act like this without consequence?”

You stare up at him, annoyance burning under your skin as you try to pry his hand out of your hair, pout deepening on your lips as you speak without thinking, voice mocking as you push his hand away from you. “If you intend to punish me, my Lord, at least make it worth my time. I dont need you further soiling my mood, your concubines have done that well enough” you spit the words out harshly, his own eyes glaring into slits as you speak.

Truthfully, he finds your display to be quite amusing. You had earned his favour for a reason — not only your ethereal beauty but also that fiery attitude you carried with yourself no matter who you spoke to. He would never admit it of course but he enjoyed a good fight, whether verbally with you or physically with sorcerers, he never backed down and it was quite rare for him to be on the receiving end of your temper.

It was never made common knowledge but Sukuna remained aware of all matters you tended to during the day, and even though you werent aware he knew of every altercation you had with the other concubines. It was precisely why he wouldve given you grace this time around as well, if only you had teased him back in that sweet tone of yours. But no, sadly you had to be in one of these moods and take it out on him. This just wouldnt do for a man in his position.

His large body shifted suddenly, sitting on the plush futon as you stood next to him, arms crossed over your body as your frown deepens, waiting for him to yell back at you.

But it never comes.

“Strip” he commands simply, voice booming through the room as he gestures a hand towards you, waiting. You stare at him for a moment before scoffing, glaring at him. “I said strip, woman. You will do as youre told” he reaches a hand out, tugging you closer to him.

Anger still bubbles deep within you but you comply with a grumbled sound, annoyedly mumbling to yourself as you remove your robes. The sweet floral smell of your perfumes linger in the air as you undo the ties, dropping the fabrics to the floor along with your panties. Your pout deepens as you stand before him, annoyed.

He reaches a hand out, grabbing at your waist to tug you closer, draping your body over his lap. Your chest rests flush against his thighs, your ass pointed upwards. His hand lingers on the plush skin of your backside, rough hands running along soft skin.

“As Lord of this House i am responsible for punishing behaviour that should not exist in my court. Ive deemed this a rather fitting punishment for someone such as yourself, do you not agree?” His voice is laced with amusement as your fingers dig into his thighs, seething under him.

“Or perhaps you simply wished for an excuse to have me in a position such as this. You should have just asked, who am i to deny my King?” You mock again, your sentence barely finishing before your jerking forwards from the feeling of his hand coming down hard on your ass. A small whine leaves you as you look back over your shoulder, his grin wide on his face as his four crimson eyes rake over your body.

“Perhaps in the future i will, you look rather beautiful like this” his hand comes down sharply again, shame stinging in your gut from how you shudder when the pain lingers on your skin, from the warmth spreading between your thighs.

You whine out, his hand coming down hard once before rubbing soothingly over your skin before repeating from the start. By the time he was done with the spanking your backside burned, skin flushed red and the print of his hand lingering on your skin. Small tears prickled at your eyes at the pain blooming under your skin. It had felt like hours had passed of simply his hand colliding with your soft skin, the gentle touches afterwards torturous.

Your attitude had briefly calmed down in the time you spent below the force of his palm, brain too focused on the heat buzzing between your legs. You wished that you hadnt opened your mouth to yell nonsense at him but now it was too late and despite not being angered anymore you refuse to back down and act properly for him, doubling down on your efforts.

His eyes roam over your backside, large hands picking you up easily to lay you onto the futon. He watches as you wince slightly when your ass makes contact with the soft sheets, a whimper slipping from your lips.

“Have you learned your lesson or do you still wish to act like a brat?” He asks, fingers rubbing along your exposed thigh. The feeling of his touch on your skin contradicted his harsh tone, gentle touches to your thigh to make sure you were alright despite spanking you for the past hour.

“Are you asking because you wish to run off and bed her instead once we’re finished here?” You glare at him with a huff, face adorably twisted as he stares at you. Youre trying to egg him on and hes very aware but he also takes the bait, deciding if you want him to be mean he will.

“I wished to be nice to you today but it seems you are in the mood to test my patience. You could always ask me if you wish for me to be meaner to you, i would never deny you that” his head tilts and you scoff, pissed off from his words when you wanted nothing more than for him to continue being angry with you, to fuck you with all that aggression.

Before you can say another spiteful remark, he spreads your thighs apart, stepping between them as he leans down. His mouth presses along the skin below your jaw, kissing and sucking down the column of your neck and over your collarbones. He shrugs himself out of his own kimono, dark fabrics drifting to the floor as he remains in his pants, stomach mouth grinning widely as its met with the wet heat between your legs.

You let out a small moan as he kisses down the valley of your breasts, the lower set of his arms holding tightly at your hips as his sharp teeth bite at the skin until dark marks form against soft skin. His stomach mouth reaches its long tongue out, licking up your thighs before moving to lick a long stripe through your folds, making you jerk from surprise.

“Sukuna! At least warn me before that thing-“ youre cut off, rough long tongue swirling and slobbering around your clit before diving into your pretty hole. It licks around in you, your body arching off the sheets as your hands fly to hold onto his shoulders, nails biting into the large muscles adorning his torso.

He laughs at your surprise, biting at your neck harder as his large heavy body presses you further against the mattress, enjoying how you squirm from the pleasure his stomach mouth gives you. His upper set of arms rest on either side of your head, crimson eyes gleaming at the sight of your features contorting in pleasure.

“Ive decided my previous punishment wasnt enough, perhaps fucking this attitude out of you will work better” the large tongue swirls around inside you, licking at every crevice. You moan out lewdly despite trying not to, still wishing to anger him by pretending to feel nothing. You bite at your lip, teeth sinking into the plush skin until it threatens to break. His stomach tongue fucks into you, saliva mixing with your own wetness and coating your thighs, the mess sticky against your skin.

His upper hand moves to your lip, thumb pulling the flesh from between your teeth before he kisses your mouth roughly. Your walls clamp tighter around his tongue when one of his lower hands moved to rub at your clit, a groan slipping from his lips at the feeling.

“Tastes so fucking good, if only you werent such a brat” he mumbles against your skin, breath hot as he bit at your lips before continuing to kiss along the skin of your jaw. Your fingers held onto him tighter, head falling back against the sheets as you moaned his name, pleasure curling up your spine as his tongue worked harder inside you.

It sucked at your juices, collecting them greedily in its mouth, lips sucking at your whole pussy. You swat at Sukunas shoulder, whines and moans loudly falling from your lips as your hips bucked away from the pleasure.

“Too much Kuna” you whine loudly, his large hands holding your hips in place as he brings you to the edge, grinning widely as he watches you fall off.

You cum with a wanton moan, the pressure in your stomach snapping in half. The pleasure radiates under your skin, tingling up your arms and down your legs as you shake against him, tongue still lapping at everything you have to offer until theres nothing left. Your pussy tighten around the large muscle, overstimulated from how it never stops even as your high rolls through you, desperate to taste all of you.

He kisses along your skin, tongue pulling out of you to lick any lingering arousal off your cunt and thighs, lips pulled into a large grin.

“Sounds like you enjoyed that despite being so upset” he bit at your breast sharply, small drops of blood pooling at the mark that he licks up quickly.

You scoff, fingers subconsciously finding his hair as he continues kissing over your breasts, sucking your nipples into his hungry mouth. “It was acceptable”

“Acceptable?” He echoes, nodding along your skin as if he were thinking. His eyes look up at you, fingers pushing your breast up as his mouth stays wrapped around the nipple. He sucks hard on it as he watches your face, a gasped moan leaving your lips. He releases you with a loud pop, kissing over the nipple like he was making out with it before continuing. “Perhaps its finally time i fuck you properly”

His lower hands fall to rest on the band of his pants, pulling it down just enough to allow his two cocks to spring free from the fabric. You bite at your lip as your eyes settle on them, pussy throbbing around nothing as he brings them both closer to you, rubbing them over your soaked cunt.

He was large — both of them thick and long, tips flushed as precum beaded at the tip, mixing with your arousal as he drags them against you.

“Surely you can be good after all this and take them, no?” He asks with a wicked grin, kissing you as he pushed both thick tips inside your cunt. You cried out against his lips, stretching open around him. Your eyes squeeze shut as he slowly pushed them in, hand caressing your hair gently as he kisses over your cheeks.

“Shhh can do fucking better than that” his words are rough and mean contrasting how he kisses along your skin to calm you. Your pussy throbs as he spreads your legs wider, slick dripping out of you as he pushes in suddenly, pelvis flush against yours. Your breath catches at the feeling of him pushing fully inside, tears lingering in your eyes from the overwhelming pressure between your thighs, slight pain mixed with a pleasure so intense your brain turns to mush. “Knew you could do it, such a good slut for me. So pretty spread out on my cocks like that” he bites at your neck, leaving another mark.

He kisses below your eyes, catching the unshed tears before they could even fall. His hips pull back till only the tips remain in you before thrusting back in harshly. You cry out anyways, a loud moan ripped straight from your throat at the overwhelming pleasure that blooms through you. He pulls his chest off yours slightly, looking down at the large bulge in your stomach from his cocks, one of his hands moving to press against it. Your eyes roll back at the feeling, toes curling as he fucks deeply into you again, cocks bruising your cervix.

His stomach tongue moves again, circling your clit as his pace picks up, hips snapping against yours as he pounds into you, groaning at the pleasure. Your own loud moans fill the space of his chambers, head fallen back against the sheets as you clawed at anything you could get your hands on, desperately trying to ground yourself as his cocks took you to cloud nine.

His hand presses down harder on your belly, upper hand moving to grip at your throat, squeezing periodically to cut off air. “Feel this?” He groans out, thrusting particularly deep in you. “Gonna fuck you full of cum, maybe then youll finally learn your place, brat”

You whine out loudly at his words, wanting to fight back, to come up with a retort that would surely piss him off but your mind was so fuzzy, no thoughts forming fully as he drives his cocks into you at a ruthless pace. His hips snapped against yours so hard, so fast your brain felt like mush as your whole body tingled with pleasure. His stomach tongue continued its work on your clit, hands tightening around your throat hard as he hits an angle particularly deep the both of you moaning out.

Your brain clouds as its deprived of oxygen, fingers moving to grip at his wrist. His hold doesnt loosen as his hips continue their brutal pace, pressure in your gut building rapidly despite the lack of air. You cry out as you cum, nails digging into his wrist as you shake, thighs clenching shut around his hips as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm.

You squeeze around him as your high washes over you, eliciting a loud groan from him. “Fuck- feels so fucking good- so tight for me” his hand squeezes again at your neck, his eyes squeezing shut briefly as your slick velvety walls suck him in.

“K-kuna” you moan out, scratching down his arm “f-feels so good, oh my god”

He groans at the scratches you leave on his skin, hips faltering as he curses under his breath. His hips speed up, impossibly faster as he chases his own high, stomach mouth working harder at your clit to get you there a third time. Fortunately for him youre so sensitive from your previous two orgasms youre already on the brink, teetering on the edge as you cry out from his pace.

His hips smash into yours, thick spurts of cum filling your walls as you cum with him, body convulsing at the feeling of being filled so fully by him. His own body slumps against yours, hips still thrusting gently in you, pushing the cum in deeper. You whimper at the feeling, ass and thighs so sore as your legs twitch around him.

His hand releases your throat, bruises already blooming on your skin from him. You let out a whine as he pulls his cocks from you, lips kissing over your bruised throat.

“Have you learned your lesson now, brat?” his warm breath fanning over your flushed skin of your neck. Your fingers tangle back in his hair, pout returning to your lips “i suppose i will behave, for now”

He grins at your words, pulling away slightly to look at you. “For now” he repeats, kissing at your pouted lips. “Shall i ask the servants to start a warm bath for us?”

a/n: this has been in my drafts since may 💀

“See…” a hand snatched the thong from him, dangling them in his face. “pervert.” San was grinning with Jongho laughing beside him. “Give them back!” Yunho snatched at them only for San to move out of the way. “Why are you carrying around thongs for anyways?” San passed them to Jongho when Yunho stood, towering over both of them. Annoyed. And his eye twitching. If only San knew who those thongs belonged to….. “They’re not mine.” Yunho snatched them from Jongho and shoved them back into his bag.

“Oh….” Jongho bumped his shoulder with San. “someone has a girlfriend he hasn’t told us about.” That made San perk up. “Oh! Is that why you’ve been so…. loose lately? You’re getting laid?” Him and Jongho laughed again all in good tease. The two of them and Wooyoung were like three annoying younger brothers sometimes. “It’s none of your buisness.” Yunho picked his bag up and started walking towards the small little change room Mingi disappeared into just a minute ago.

“He’s deflecting. That means we know her.” Jongho grinned as San laughed. The change room door slammed shut behind him and Yunho groaned making Mingi look up at him where he was pulling on his shoes. “Who pissed you off?” That’s the thing with Mingi. He could read Yunho like an open book. Yunho rolled his eyes as he started changing his clothes, letting the ones the stylist put him in drop to the floor. “San and Jongho found a thong in my bag…”

Mingi stares at him and Yunho just stares right back. Then Mingi burst out laughing. “Damn…. Didn’t know you were into that.” Yunho glared at him. “They’re not mine. They’re Y/N’s.” That made Mingi stop laughing for exactly seventeen seconds before he started laughing again. “Oh my god…. You mean… you’re telling me that San found his sister’s thong in your bag and he doesn’t even know it? I told you this was going to blow up in your face!”

“First of all,” Yunho pulled his shirt on. “she’s his step sister. And secondly, she’s a grown woman.” Mingi had tears in his eyes at this point as he stood up. “Doesn’t change the fact if San realizes then you’re a dead man.” And he wasn’t exaggerating either. San was a little overprotective of his sisters. He proved that a couple months ago at his eldest sister’s wedding when he threatened her husband that if he makes her cry he’d make him disappear all while he was doing that, Yunho had you, his younger, beloved, the one he’s most protective over, sister bent over an old table behind his parents house. He’d kept your panties that day too.

It started new years. KQ threw this big party and all the member’s families were invited of course. It didn’t take long after you had gotten there for Yunho to have you riding him in Mingi’s studio on the third floor. It was supposed to of just been that one time. But then it kept happening. Now it’s been six months and you were both taking it steady behind San’s back. “He won’t find out.” Yunho sounded like he was more trying to convince himself than he was Mingi.

Mingi snorted. “You have pictures of her naked on your phone…. all it’s gonna take…”

“He’ll never see them.” Yunho clenched his jaw. Mingi was never of supposed to of seen them either. But then a month ago his best friend grabbed his phone while Yunho was sleeping, looking for some unposted unit comeback photos he knew Yunho had and instead found you. You in nothing but one of Yunho’s shirts pulled up over your exposed ass. You wet right out of the shower. You with Yunho buried inside you. That one had been a video.

So, yeah….. maybe Yunho was a bit of a pervert.

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The dorm was quiet other than the low hum of the central air as Yunho and Yeosang dragged inside. “I’m getting a shower.” Yunho wasted no time dropping his duffel off in his room and then crossing the hall to the bathroom. The steam from the shower enveloped around him as his muscles relaxed under the heat. That was the only thing that relaxed. His mind? Not so much. All he could think about was you. Your thong in your brother’s hands. San finding out…… he’s seen San pissed only a handful of times through the years. And honestly, Yunho wasn’t so sure it would be the fact he’s seeing you but more so that he was sneaking behind San’s back. And San hated being lied to.

His neck popped as he rolled his shoulders stepping back out the shower. Water clung to him as he grabbed a towel, drying in haste, leaving his hair to just air dry. He had no shame as he stepped out of the bathroom completely naked and walked out towards the kitchen. Yeosang blinked at him from where he sat on the couch. “You’re just…. dangling ….. very largely everywhere.”

Yunho rolled his eyes. This was nothing new and maybe it was one of the reasons why Yeosang also joked he has perverted quirks. It being just the two of them, Yunho was naked often. There was sometimes sweat stains left in his gaming chair from his ass. Yunho opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, the first swig making him close his eyes and let out a sigh. Then his eyes snapped open as the front door opened. The voices of San, Wooyoung and you trailing inside. He tried sprinting back to his room but as soon as he moved, Wooyoung’s ecstatic giggle stopped him in his tracks.

“Ahhh…. Yunho,” San grabbed you and spun you around, still oblivious that you have seen every detail of Yunho. No idea that you’ve had every inch that was on display buried inside you multiple times. “See! You fucking pervert.”

Wooyoung was ogling. “I say let him keep it out.” He grinned at Yunho as he moved to sit beside Yeosang and you shoved away from San. “Will you move? I’ve seen a dick before.” San gaped at you as Wooyoung laughed and Yunho’s ears started turning red. “Well you’re not gonna see that one.” San grabbed the throw pillow Yeosang had in his lap and chunked it at Yunho. “Cover that thing up!”

Yunho clutched the pillow and held it against himself. His dick barely staying hidden behind the small material. He turned around to get to his room and get dressed but your voice stopped him. “Nice ass.” He could practically hear the smirk in your voice. He was sure you were staring at the fading scratches you left there from a few nights ago. You loved his ass. Loved gripping it when he rutted inside you like he was trying to empty his soul out.

“Y/N!”

Yunho could feel the tips of his ears burning as he disappeared into his bedroom. He was gonna make you pay for that. He was already thinking of many scenarios to make you pay that would have San ready to commit murder. The thought alone made Yunho snort as he tossed the throw pillow he was still holding onto his gaming chair. He casted a glance at his reflection in the mirror on his wall. His roots were starting to grow out in the blonde but he was holding out dying it since you loved it too much. He was realizing he was starting to do a lot because you liked something. But you also did a lot because he liked something. And Yunho was starting to think that maybe whatever this was the two of you had wasn’t so casual anymore…. that it wasn’t exactly steady.

“Knock, knock.”

“Jesus!” Yunho jumped, turning around and glaring at you. “What the hell are you doing?” Because he was still naked and San, Wooyoung and Yeosang…..

“Relax.” You waved him off as you walked into his room, shutting the door behind you. “They all went to get food.” You dragged your gaze down his body, eyes lingering on his shoulders, noticing how much broader he’s gotten lately. Then your gaze dropped lower to where his dick hung heavy. “San said he found some girl’s thong in your bag today….” You started moving closer. “I think he’s convinced you’re hiding a girlfriend.”

Girlfriend. That hit hard. Neither of you had put labels on it yet. On what you were. But Yunho certainly wouldn’t deny it if that’s what you wanted. “San’s nosy.” He watched you trace a hand up his abdomen, then back down and his dick twitched a little in anticipation. At just the thought of having you while your brother was out getting food and would be back any moment. It was a rush. And Yunho could be an adrenaline junky.

You dropped to your knees in an almost haste, now barely eye level with his dick and Yunho let you take over for a minute. Just stood there and watched. Stood there and groaned when you gripped him, bringing his hardening dick to your mouth. Stood there and watched as your lips stretched wide around him and he let you take your time to feed his length deeper into your mouth. The tip bumped the back of your throat with every slow thrust, spit dripping down your chin and onto your shirt.

He pulled out just enough to rest the heavy length on your tongue, tapping the wet tip against it a few times before dragging it across your flushed cheek, leaving a shiny trail of spit and precum. He didn’t give you time to catch your breath. Both hands gripped the sides of your head and he shoved himself back in, hips snapping forward until your nose pressed against his pelvis. The sudden force made your eyes water, but your fingers dug into his ass, nails biting deep enough to leave fresh red marks across the skin and Yunho groaned at the sting, loving that slight little tinge of pain as he started fucking your throat with steady strokes that made wet, obscene sounds fill the room.

“Look at you,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “Gagging on my dick like a desperate little slut. Bet you’re dripping just from having your throat used, aren’t you? Gonna come just from me fucking your face?” You moaned around him, the vibration making his hips stutter and he held you there a moment longer, buried to the hilt before pulling out completely letting strings of spit connect your now swollen lips to his glistening dick. “Strip,” he ordered, tracing his thumb on your bottom lip before you stood.

You snatched your shirt off first. The fabric dropping to the floor. Your pants were next. The jeans sticking at your wet thighs from how soaked sucking his dick made you. When you moved to reach to drag your panties off, he stopped you. “Leave those on.” He hauled you up and onto the bed, positioning you on all fours. You expected him to yank the black lace aside and sink into you, but instead he stayed behind you, one hand smoothing over the curve of your ass. “Nice ass?” he repeated, echoing your earlier words with a dark chuckle. “Saying that in front of your brother? Brats like that should be punished.”

Yunho wrapped his fingers around his dick and dragged the tip slowly over the thin black lace covering your pussy, pressing the fabric against your soaked folds. He stroked himself like that for a long second, letting the tip glide back and forth through your wetness, the lace growing darker and stickier with every pass as your hips started to twitch, trying to push back, but he only teased, never sinking inside you. He pulled back long enough to reach over to the bedside table. You heard the soft click of his phone unlocking. The camera light coming on, the lens aimed straight at where his dick was rubbing again at you.

“Please,” you whispered, voice hoarse and growing desperate. “Fuck me…. Yunho… I need it.”

He hummed in amusement. “Oh, I will.” The recording stayed on a few more seconds, capturing every desperate wiggle of your hips before he locked the screen and tossed the phone aside. Then he dragged one finger up through your slick, gathering the mess and grabbing your hair, pulling your head back, bringing it to your lips. “Suck.” You opened obediently, tongue curling around his soaked finger and cleaned it. Yunho’s thoughts drifted for a second….. yeah, San and Jongho might’ve been onto something when they joked he was a pervert.

He let your hair go, pulling his finger back and yanked your hips up. His dick, shiny with your juices, pressed against your entrance and he thrusted into you, bottoming out with a groan as you cried out. He bit his bottom lip as he thrusted slow and deep, coating himself with you before pulling back out. His tip dragged upward, circling your ass, smearing slick over the rim as he gave you one heartbeat to adjust before sinking in, inch by inch, until his hips met your ass and a low groan left him at the tight heat.

He stayed still for a few seconds, knowing the others could walk in any moment but he was starting not care, he wanted to give you time to breathe. To adjust. Until you started pushing back against him, voice shaky but defiant. “I know you can go harder than that.”

“Brat,” he growled, the word vibrating through his chest as his hands clamped on your hips and he started pounding into your ass without another second to breathe, the slap of skin loud and filthy. One hand slid beneath you, two fingers pushing into your dripping pussy while his dick kept driving into your ass, the dual stretch of his fingers fucking you and his dick buried in your ass making your vision blur and for pleasure to coil tight and fast until it snapped. Your scream muffled against the sheets as your whole body shook through the orgasm, squirting on his fingers and his bed sheets.

He didn’t stop though. Yunho just fucked you through it, fingers still working inside you until his rhythm faltered and he buried himself deep, dick pulsing as he filled your ass. He stayed inside you for a minute, breathing hard, before pulling out and letting his cum start to trickle down your ass as he dropped to his knees behind you, tongue dragging over your used hole, licking up the mess he’d left before moving lower to lap at your soaked pussy. The wet sounds of his mouth were almost as obscene as him fucking you had been.

When he finally pulled back, he hooked his fingers into the ruined black lace of your panties and peeled them down your legs. “Mine now,” he said, voice still rough, and tucked the damp fabric into his pocket.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Yunho had just finished pulling on his favorite pair of grey sweatpants when he heard the others get back. Yeosang said something about never going anywhere with Woo and San again. Their laughter echoed down the hall and into his bedroom. It had only been about fifteen minutes since Yunho had you a mess on his bed. Now you were in the living room, dress. Missing your panties. And his bed was still a mess.

“Hey….” San peaked into his room to let him know they got pizza and immediately froze. He furrowed his brows, sniffed the air and frowned. “It smells like sex in here.” Yunho blinked at him, clearing his throat and lied straight through his teeth. “I jerked off.”

San had a look of pure disgust as he retreated from his door. “Oh my god, Yunho! While my sister was in the living room? I was right. You are a pervert.”

Yunho didn’t even try to deny it this time.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

A week later and Yunho was covered in sweat after Ateez set for BST. The London heat almost suffocating. But that heat didn’t compare to you also being there. You had begged San to let you come which he caved instantly. And Yunho was holding on by a thread.

You wore a white tank top that let him see the slightest sweat glistening on your shoulders. The shorts you had on barely covered your ass and he had to stop himself multiple times from just outright staring. And now? Now you were walking towards him, handing him another bottle of water. “You’re like…” you dragged your eyes down him, staring at his arms on display. “sweating everywhere.”

Yunho uncapped the bottle of water you gave him. “Trust me, I know.” He tipped his head back and your gaze lingered at his throat and the way his adams apple bobbed as he drank. “Mhm…” you stepped a little closer. Just enough for only he could hear. “I’m gonna do things to you with my tongue that your good lord never wanted to bear witness.” Yunho choked. Literally. He shouldn’t be shocked. Because he may be a pervert according to the guys. But you were just as much of a freak.

The water sputtered out of Yunho’s mouth as you laughed and patted at his back. The commotion had San’s attention now. He narrowed his eyes at the two of you then he froze. Blue. Lace. Strings peaking out the back of the top of your shorts as you bent over to grab a dry towel to hand to Yunho. No. No. Absolutely not. It clicked fast after that. Blue lace thongs. You for months now wanting to travel with them when you were allowed. Always going with San over to Yeosang and Yunho’s. Always at their dance practices. The lingering looks he’d catch Yunho give you but ignored because he just thought Yunho thought you were hot. A few of the guys did. But the other guys didn’t carry around your thong…..

“YUNHO, YOU ASSHOLE!”

Everyone froze then. Yunho finally stopped coughing. You and him stared at San as Mingi seemed to put two and two together and pulled his phone to record. “Here we go.”

San marched over, still a little breathless from performing. He seemed more shocked than angry. Ok. Maybe he looked a little angry. “You’re fucking my sister.” The accusation landed like a slap and neither you or Yunho denied it as chaos erupted around you.

“What?” Hongjoong looked exasperated.

“That explains a lot.” Seonghwa snorted as he grabbed himself a bottle of water as Wooyoung laughed. Loud. Tears forming in his eyes as a cackle tore from him. Yeosang didn’t look surprised at all. Being Yunho’s roommate, he’s already heard things he wish he hadn’t.

“Wait….” Jongho looked like he won the lottery. “THE THONGS WERE HERS?” He started laughing, pointing at San. “Man…. You picked up your sister’s used underwear! Used by Yunho!” He made the situation so much worse instantly because now San did look mad. Really mad. Disgusted and mad.

“We’re not fucking.” You argued, then slipped your hand into Yunho’s sweaty one. “We’re dating.”

“This is fucking gold.” Mingi was enjoying this way too much.

Yunho gripped your hand back. Clearing his throat and looking down at San. “Sorry…. we didn’t know how to tell you.” He had to play like he wasn’t absolutely losing his mind over you saying that you were dating.

For now, Yunho was just thankful San had no idea what perverted evidence he had with you on his phone.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

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the company gym is mirrored walls / sweat-soaked skin / air heavy with the haze of midsummer heat. somewhere between the barbell racks & bench press machines, your palms bruise red from the weight of a dumbbell.

toji fushiguro has the body of a god.

you won’t admit it, though. won’t even look at it. even now you’re low lashes trained on shoko sprawled against her mat. said girl is shameless & gawky & wide-eyed.

“shoko,” you hiss. “stop staring.”

“i can’t! his waist is too slutty!”

your tongue licks your canines. girls like you don’t feel the need to sneak a peek. toji fushiguro is a man who knows he will never be refused. to seduce you, he’d need more than broad back or slow gaze or thick thigh—

oh my!

you only see it for a second, really. he shifts & the material clings far too tight—stretching & dipping just enough to outline his cock; thick & fat & far too heavy against his right leg.

“bitch. did you fucking see that?”

“see what?”

girls like you tell lies like they’re gospel. even now, shoko’s shoving your side, spitting something about ‘playing hard to get’ & just ‘sneaking one more glance.’

you do. lashes low. lips half-bitten. eyes on the mirror because girls like you can’t look men like toji in the face.

your cheeks burn hot when your eyes lift.

toji fushiguro is already looking at you.

PRINT ASSESSMENT : B(+) FOR BIASED.

DIHVESTIGATION #2: BOARDROOM 4-B

one half-drunk coffee browning at the rim. two men with glasses who don’t know how to murmur. in boardroom 4-B, there are three reasons why you can’t fucking focus.

reason number one: toji fushiguro is staring at you like he knows how you taste when you lie.

it shouldn’t bother you, really. 3PM at goldman sachs means company whiteboards & stock market projections. this afternoon you’re buttoned blazer & tight skirt & tighter bun. there’s a clipboard in your hands & two knots in your gut.

you’re presenting something about liquid assets. toji’s gaze has liquid pooling between your thighs.

the nerve of him. toji fushiguro has a pen in his teeth & a tie half-loose. his glasses slip low on his nose, chair leaning, thick arms crossed over thicker chest. & his eyes—glazed over & half-lidded—blink slow. heavy & bored & flitting to your hips before glancing away like you don’t even exist.

the projector goes out.

& it’s a good thing it does. it’s hard to talk about assets when toji’s got you wishing his shove through your pussy. you bite your lip, thighs aching like a fucking virgin. down the table, shoko notices.

IT girl shoko ieri doesn’t stand up.

she should. you’re already irritated & it’s her fucking job for christ’s sake, but shoko seems to have other plans. instead she turns to toji,

“mr. fushiguro—do you mind getting that? you’re closest to the port.”

toji doesn’t mind. at least, that’s what it looks like. he gets up, body all spine & lazy muscle, and stops just in front of you.

“s’cuse me, miss,”

he lowers himself to pick at the wires by the screen. you’re quick to clamp your thighs shut & pray he doesn’t catch your soaked panties or the way they cling between your folds.

you also pray he doesn’t catch the way your eyes flick to his crotch.

& god, he’s huge; thin slacks not bothering to hide his shape in his pants. he’s thick. so thick you can’t guess if he’s hard & bulging or some sort of monster even when soft or if his cock would twitch if he shoved it right into your aching cunt—

your thighs squeeze. there’s three crevices in your palm where your nails dig into your skin & your knees feel weak & god why the fuck is he so hot? his hair’s all messy & shirt half-unbuttoned so when you sneak a peek, his chest peeks back.

you bite your lip & sneak a peek at his face as well.

toji fushiguro does not peek back.

he’s consumed by the wires it seems—shuffling cables; one arm lifting to rest on the chair beside you & unavoidably bracketing your knees. you’re leaned back against the wall now, chest heaving, thighs shut, lashes fluttering because toji’s nose sniffles & it’s so fucking cute.

& so fucking annoying. because you’ve used your pretty heel to nudge him twice now & he’s still plugging wires like he can’t feel your thigh brush hot against his arm. like he can’t hear how heavy you’re breathing, or the soft squelch under your skirt when he leans so close you have to shift away. like he can’t—

“legs,” he mutters.

you shift your heel back, cheeks ripe-red & sweltering hot.

toji drops a cable. arms on his knees now, still crouched low, bleary eyes flicking up to yours. there’s only silence for a beat, and then he stands up slow. heavy. you don’t miss the soft knock of his cock against his crotch.

you gulp.

toji stretches. gaze low, eyes somewhere too close to your skirt.

“fix that.”

toji doesn’t clarify as he turns to leave.

PRINT ASSESSMENT: D(-) FOR DICKHEAD.

DIHVESTIGATION CUT THE EYE TAG N’ FUCK THIS CUNT !

5PM at goldman sachs & there’s an elbow wedged between your ribs.

the elevator’s full—too full—& you’re too foolish; and the bone in your rib clearly isn’t yours. to your left there’s a man in khaki suit & beach blond hair & heavy goggles. the man on your right has pearl white hair & talks to him a mile a minute.

behind you is something hard.

but your body knows the scent of maroon’s dogwood et tabac. behind you toji fushiguro is leaning, hands heavy on the rail behind him, crotch conveniently caught behind your ass.

the elevator air is sticky as a chewed prayer. the first time you grind against toji, it’s purely by accident.

too many bodies press together, sweat-slicked & aching in the midsummer heat. the elevator stutters & you can only shift back, backside dragging over his semi-hard cock.

the second time you grind against him, your hips are the culprit.

not you, your hips; because girls like you have bodies with minds of their own so you can only bear witness as they rub against his crotch. heavy. slow. assisted by the weight of two grown men pressing beside you every time the elevator simmers.

behind you, toji hasn’t tensed.

in fact, he yawns. like he hasn’t noticed you frotting on his cock. like his dick isn’t semi-hard & kissing your ass beneath your skirt.

he’s so fucking frustrating.

so you stop for now. even your hips know better than to lie to you twice. you try to move forward, keyword: try, but the elevator slams to brake & you’re shoved against toji’s chest.

big hands catch your hips automatically. you muffle a squeak. how cute.

but you’ll never know if toji thinks the same because he only grunts behind you, sound rumbling through his chest. the elevator fills out quickly, too many footsteps eager to find home.

it’s time for you to find home, too. heaven knows this workday has filled you with embarrassment.

you’re about to step off when toji pushes the emergency stop button.

you only realize it when you bump against his back. you blink once, twice, & toji turns to you with lips ticked up in a smile too cruel to be kind.

“you gonna pretend you don’t know why i did that?”

you tell lies like they’re gospel so you play the fool. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

you say it with clicked tongue but blisters swell where your thighs touch. there’s a heat on your cheeks that you can’t itch away.

toji laughs, shakes his head. the sound is close to guttural.

“heard you and shoko at lunch earlier,” he muses, voice low & steps heavy. “B-minus, was it?”

“what are you—“

a palm pats your cheek. heavy, hot. “rubbing up on me like a bitch in heat. that desperate to find out, miss?”

you shiver against his touch, neck hot, thighs burning. toji’s thumb drags at your lip. the other hand slips towards his pants.

he’s palming himself now, gripping at his crotch, moulding & pressing as you suck air in with glossy eyes.

“don’t be shy,” he murmurs. you’re still rag dolled in front of him, shaky knees & lust-glazed eyes. his palm leaves his crotch to take yours gently, so gently, & you almost moan when he presses it to his hard, swollen cock.

fuck.

“easy,” he rasps, low. you’re half-bitten lips now, pupils blown & palms playing with his zipped-up cockhead. his pants twitch with each clothed rub, & your body has a mind of its own so you whimper.

“wanna take it out for me, miss?”

“yes—i mean, yes.”

you don’t miss the tug of his lips. the expression he wears is close to mocking but you’re half-devil half-girl so you zip him free anyways. he springs free & god he’s huge. veiny & thick & tip an angry pink.

toji pumps himself, horny & pulsing with each stroke. his thighs twitch like it fucking hurts.

“knees, dollface,” he’s breathless now. “tell me i’m a B with my cock stuffed in your throat.”

toji fushiguro doesn’t need to tell you twice.

you sink obediently, palms resting at his thighs. you reach to cup his dick but it only slaps against your face.

“tits out, doll. wanna watch ‘em bounce while you suck me.”

& you’re half-devil half-girl so you obey immediately; knuckles shaky & fingers clumsy against your buttons. toji sighs & snaps them open with a grunt.

“can’t do anything right…”

he murmurs but you’re peering up at him with doe eyes. toji thinks you’re so fucking cute, hot cheeks & clenching thighs & a nose that scrunches in self-denial. ten minutes ago you were rubbing against his cock. five minutes & you were telling him otherwise.

nevermind that, though. he’s always wanted your glossy lips wrapped around his dick.

& the precum on his tip makes them glossier. toji’s got his head tipped back now, thighs twitching, hips thrusting himself into your hot mouth. the sight of your pebbled nipples glistening with sweat makes him groan, & you pump his cock & suck so good he thinks he might be seeing stars.

“mm—fuck, that’s it,” he rasps, “that’s good, s’good, miss.”

you lick a stripe up his slit. toji shivers.

& you’re a devil of a girl so you take it a step further. your thighs squeeze, & the soft squelch of your panties stick to his ears. you take your other hand & fondle with your perky nipples.

“fuck—“

but toji doesn’t let you continue. he yanks you by the hair just as his cock twitches, pulsing & sputtering with sticky precum.

“up,” he rasps, pulling at your waist, “get up.”

you’re only in his arms for a moment before he gets to work, neck flushed & rock hard against you. he’s much too rough in folding up your skirt, dragging it up so your ass spills out & the cool air licks your panties.

“been so fuckin’ noisy,” his fingers rub circles on your juicy clit, “soaked & begging for me since the meeting. thought i wouldn’t fucking notice.”

he’s muttering more to himself than you, pressing his thumb to your panties before he somehow gets annoyed & slides them away. you’re slobbering on his fingers now, sticky & drenched & squelching with each pump.

“mhm—right there, ah—“

“quiet,” he hisses with two fingers in your folds. he’s pumping them in & out now, brows furrowed, hair sweaty, dick impossibly hard. you go limp against him, tits smushed against his chest as he works to stretch you out; cockhead still poking against your swollen clit.

“so fucking tight,” he rasps. “god, baby. why’s your pussy so fuckin’ tight.”

toji fushiguro is big man with little patience. so when he circles your swollen clit one more time, your thighs trembling against him, you’re not too surprised when his palm shifts back to his cock.

he’s still got a palm on your hip, heavy & aching. he pumps himself two more times before kissing the crook of your neck against his chest.

“gonna stuff you with my cock,” he’s pumping harder now, lips brushing just under your jaw. “that okay, sweetheart? want my B-minus cock in you? or is that not big enough?”

“it’s big! so big—please toji—“

“so cute,” it’s almost a laugh now, guttural & vibrating through your chest. he hooks your thigh up with an arm. “starin’ at my cock and rating it with your friend. shoulda stuffed it in you ages ago.”

& he does. he strokes your clit once before pushing himself in, pussy sputtering & spitting around him. your walls streetch, velvety & aching, hips twitching as you clench around his cock.

“m’sorry! so sorry, can’t take anymore, please—”

he only shoves himself deeper as you cry over his cock. he’s panting now, groaning, palm shaky as he grips your thigh. “look at me—this feel like a B to you? can’t even take B-grade dick, hm?”

he thrusts into your squelching pussy as you go limp against him, lashes fluttering, lips bitten hard as your nipples drag against his chest.

“it’s a D! fuck, toji—!”

he slides his dick out as your pussy sputters; walls cumming, body aching & tingly on his chest. toji’s got his dick in his palm & pumping slow; thick white cum dripping out with each stroke. “mhm…fuck.”

you’re still breathing heavy on his chest, nipples budded & glistening with sweat. against you toji shoves his dick back in his pants, breath heavy, tugging on his zipper as his thumb slips low to circle at your swollen clit.

your lashes flutter open to peek at his jaw. toji fushiguro is already looking at you.

his eyes are low, grin sleazy.

“still a B?”

your eyes flutter shut. what a fucking bastard.

PRINT ASSESSMENT : A(-) FOR FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE.

catch print, end.

The grand hall of Zapolyarny Palace gleamed with cold opulence—crystal chandeliers and polished marble floors. The hall’s high arched stained windows revealed the quiet chaos of the snowstorm outside; snowflakes painted the palace with its icy elegance. Today’s agenda was rather bleak, no new missions from Her Majesty had been tasked, nor was there anything of pure interest beyond the palace walls. 

Naturally, with a dull day like this, Sandrone held her tea parties to combat idle bodies within the palace. Her parties were far from formal, more so a casual gathering between friends and people alike—if the Harbingers even considered each other friends. Nonetheless, the get-together was always immaculate—every pristine teacup was aligned and every mechanical attendant moved with flawless precision. As expected from the Seventh Harbinger herself.

Amongst the group sat you with your usual stillness—calm like the ocean yet as mysterious as its azure depths. What lay beneath its tranquil surface was nothing but a façade of lies. It wasn’t a surprise you lived up to your title—Prevaricator.

Sandrone presided at the head of the table, she sat with precision, back pin-straight as she nursed the freshly brewed beverage. Straight across from her, sat Columbina, and Arlecchino on a vermillion sofa; you and Rosalyne to her right, leaving two empty chairs across from you. On some days, The Captain and Childe would occupy those seats.

“When do you leave for Inazuma, Rosalyne?” Sandrone peeked through the steam that rose from her cup, cerulean eyes piercing yet held no ill intent.

The blonde swallowed down a piece of biscuit before replying, a sharp hand covered her crimson-stained lips out of etiquette, “In three days’ time. I’ll make sure to get you Inazuman tea once I get back.” Rosalyne laughed which pulled an eye roll from Sandrone.

Before the latter could entertain the banter, Columbina spoke up, her dainty voice just enough for all to hear, “Inazuma? I’ve heard The Balladeer is also assigned there.” Rosalyne nodded, despite her quiet response, her displeased face conveyed all emotions needed to conclude how she felt about the Inazuman puppet.

As for you, your feelings toward The Balladeer were nothing but neutral. Sure, you’ve previously exchanged disagreements on several occasions but that was all there was to your ‘relationship’. Though, his mannerisms and sharp words awfully reminded you of a certain Harbinger—one you could barely stand even if your life depended on it.

You weren’t alone in that opinion.

As you spiraled into pure disdain for your colleague, a set of icy footsteps against the marbled floors halted all conversation—your thoughts included. For a mere second, it was as though time had stopped and the snowfall outside was suspended mid-air. Oxygen grew thin within the palace and you swore the temperature dipped below necessary. Even Sandrone’s automatons seemed to hesitate for a heartbeat.

Dottore stepped inside. Uninvited. Unannounced. Unwelcomed. As if your unkind thoughts had somewhat summoned the devil himself.

With pure mockery and amusement, Dottore tilted his head slightly, taking in the frozen expressions of his colleagues. His pointed mask shone beneath the crystal chandeliers. 

“Is this how you welcome a guest?” The Doctor drawled. “How cold. You should all be delighted I’m even attending this . . . get-together.” He ended the sentence with absolute scorn, obviously looking down at his fellow Harbingers.

Sandrone’s fingers tightened around the porcelain cup, “You weren’t invited.” She said flatly.

“Ah.” Dottore started, already headed towards the mahogany table, “Details.” He ignored the Seventh entirely and claimed an empty seat, a seat reserved for anyone but him—directly across from you.

You did not react. Nor did you acknowledge his presence beyond the faint clink of porcelain as you set your cup down as if it were any other tea party. Unlike Sandrone who wore her negative emotions proudly, you remained expressionless—cool, unreadable, and infuriatingly indifferent.

Dottore watched your calm figure from beneath his mask.

Of course you would pretend he didn’t exist. That was what fascinated him the most.

Nothing but a lowly ranked Harbinger yet you carried yourself like someone who had already surpassed every soul in the room. And that’s what made Dottore’s skin itch.

Oh, how badly he wanted to break that false persona of yours, and reveal the weak, poor human you were beneath all those layers. After all, your very existence was built on lies—delusions, just like your genius invention.

Being the Tenth Harbinger meant that your physical prowess wasn’t as refined as the others but your intellect was a different story, and admittedly, it utterly amazed Dottore more than anything.

Who could’ve come up with such a brilliant idea of manufacturing Delusions? Even though the entire process was a joint project between you and Dottore—much to your dismay—he had to give you credit. Not only did your invention further aid each Harbinger with their combat skills but it was also being mass produced in Inazuma right this very moment.

Such a feat a lowly Harbinger could obtain.

Which is why you have piqued his very interest. Dottore wanted to study you, to dissect each and every neuron, and learn how your action potentials differed from the rest—was it your synapses? Or maybe your neurotransmitters? Maybe that’s where your blind arrogance came from.

“Well, don’t mind me. Do carry on with your trivial matters.” The Doctor dismissively waved a gloved hand, a smirk curled at the end of his carmine lips.

Silence remained for a beat or two before Sandrone cleared her throat and resumed conversation with Rosalyne in hopes to drown out a certain parasite amongst the group, “This tea is from Liyue, huh? Quite different from Fontaine, I must say . . . but I’m not complaining.”

Naturally, you followed suit by bringing your cup to your lips to finally get a taste of Liyuean tea—your sip earlier had been abruptly interrupted by The Doctor. The fresh brew tasted of intense floral notes . . Was it apricot and peach? Nonetheless, the flavour was right up your alley. You had to hand it to Rosalyne for having such an exquisite taste.

It had already been a couple of minutes since Dottore crashed the tea party and you were two cups in, having taken a liking to this particular brew. Huh, maybe you might just visit Liyue for yourself. Though, this second round felt a little off—not the taste, no, it was still as lovely as before—something to do with how it made you feel. Sure, the heater was on and around your shoulders was a thick ivory Fatui coat you regularly wore in Snezhnaya but they didn’t usually leave you extremely warm—blazing, even.

You frowned.

Dottore noticed instantaneously. 

How your posture shifted imperceptibly—one leg crossing over the other, shoulders rising with a much deeper breath than before. A faint warmth kissed its way down to your collar, even extending as far as to your chest. The slight shift was invisible to most in the room, except Dottore.

Ah. There it is. He thought.

Your fingers lingered at the rim of the porcelain piece as you set it down once again; you weren’t clumsy, nor weak, just a tad slower than your usual movement. Annoyed, you exhaled through your nose, absolutely oblivious to the reason as to why your body was somewhat disobeying you. Was it the long term effects of your Delusion finally catching up?

Dottore leaned back into the plush vermillion chair, fingers intertwined atop his crossed legs. Oh, how utterly delighted he was. Patience really is a virtue! His little experiment of the day had finally fallen into its rightful place; now, he shall sit and watch how you would handle the independent variable given. Of course, with this experiment of his, you were the controlled variable.

Upon instinct, your gaze finally lifted to meet Dottore’s—albeit behind a mask, there was no denying he had his crimson gaze set upon you. He responded with a mere head tilt, as if he were studying a rare specimen who finally gave him some kind of result.

A sly smile spread across his lips, “Are you unwell, Prevaricator?” Dottore asked pleasantly, voice full of concern yet you knew it was all mockery and amusement; that’s all the Harbingers were to him, a group of people convenient enough for him to play with, unfortunately for The Balladeer, he bore most of Dottore’s little games.

It seemed like you were next in line, though.

The Doctor had easily rerouted Sandrone’s automatons earlier before the tea party—a few adjustments just enough to programme her machinery to serve one cup differently from the rest with a diluted compound, a compound barely enough for your body to register. It wasn’t as potent as the final product but it was sure to disrupt your system even by a smidge.

And that’s where Dottore thrived the most, on small differences.

His question drew unwanted attention from the rest, their curious gaze now upon you. It was more so the fact that no one else wanted to engage in a conversation with Dottore.

Your eyes narrowed a fraction, “No,” A small pause.

“Just . . . warm.” Curt and icy, a response only he deserved. “Oh?” The Second Harbinger pressed further.

“This hall is simply overheated.” At your clipped response, his smile stretched even further behind his pointed mask. What an unsettling sight.

Liar. The Doctor thought.

You shifted in your seat once again, this time, your jaw tightened, fully irritated by your own body. Aside from the sharp heat that clung to every corner of your skin, you felt . . . Sensitive; the distinct contrast of the frost bitten air that ghosted your cheeks once in a while against feverish skin formed goosebumps all over your body. Even your chest ached with slight sensitivity as it rubbed against your undergarment. You weren’t utterly uncomfortable but it was enough to fuel your budding annoyance.

That, alone, fascinated Dottore.

He leaned forward slightly as if to study you closer for a brief moment before getting up from his seat, “How disappointing,” Dottore murmured lowly to himself but it was certainly loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I was hoping for something . . . More telling.” He gave you one last look which was met with a cold glare from you. Ah, he adored that look on you, that expression of pure defiance and hatred; you could bury your innermost feelings with such expressions yet it didn’t deny the fact that your pupils were a touch wider now, breathing a fraction slower—heavier.

This was only a tiny crack on the surface but it was more than enough to prove Dottore’s hypothesis—that beneath your seemingly unbreakable façade, you were susceptible to breaking.

Now, he only needed to calculate your breaking point.

How far were you willing to endure? Would you fold after the next experiment? Or would you stick to your stubborn façade and refuse to give in while you suffered in silence? Dottore could barely wait to write his next hypothesis.

Without another word, The Doctor turned to leave.

Confusion amongst you and your colleagues lingered in the air but soon dissipated upon conversations of shared dislike for the Second Harbinger; you could only nod along, heat that simmered beneath your skin needed your attention far more than the conversation at hand. Even your head began to spin. You wanted to call it a day but Rosalyne was bound for Inazuma for an unknown period of time in a few days and you wanted to spend today with her since she had just gotten back from Liyue regarding a previous task.

The get-together rolled on for a couple more hours until conversations ran dry and tea turned cold and it was time to finally call it a day. Everyone excused themselves without ceremony and returned to their respective homes—thankfully, the snowstorm had died down. On another day, you would have done the same but your body proved to be more disoriented than you had assumed, thus, the best option was to reside within the Zapolyarny Palace for the night.

Each Harbinger was assigned personalised quarters by the Tsaritsa for the purpose of convenience such as summonings before lengthy meetings and other matters but of course, no one was obligated to stay in those quarters during other times. Though, Sandrone and Columbina did frequent their respective spaces; you assumed for the former’s case, it was for pure convenience since it was nearer to the Fatui’s Experimental Bureau.

By the time you had reached the upper corridors of the Palace, the cold marble beneath your boots felt wrong; the hear of your skin also hadn’t faded, if anything, it had deepened into something more unbearable: a persistent awareness which you resented with every step. 

You hated this. Hated the way your mind slipped when it should’ve been sharp and precise, hated the dull tension your lower spine housed, and the irritation that came with not knowing why. You knew your body far better than anyone else, so why hasn’t your mind come up with a concise conclusion?

As you rounded the corner, you reached out a hand against the wall to steady yourself, just a few more steps and you’d reach your quarters. Pull it together.

“Are you sure you’re well?”

At the familiar voice, you stopped in your tracks, body swaying ever so slightly as if calm tides of the ocean lulled you back and forth. You hadn't even heard footsteps trailing behind you nor did you sense anyone else’s presence, was this because of your cognitive decline?

Dottore stood behind you, half-shadowed by the dimly lit corridor, posture relaxed as if he had every reason to be outside your quarters so late in the afternoon. You didn’t own the entire hallway, of course but he rarely presented himself in the Palace unless he was summoned by the Tsaritsa, let alone step foot on the upper corridors.

His voice was smooth, almost considerate, “You look like you need . . .” He paused for a heartbeat, “Help.” Whether it was your soiled mind talking or simply the tone of Dottore’s voice, the implication sat heavy in the air like an unpleasant smoke, and it wasn’t innocent either. Just the thought of it coming from The Doctor had you shuddering.

“I’m fine.” You straightened, not even bothering to turn around. “Whatever you’re implying, save it for someone who cares.” Before you could continue your step, Dottore swiftly crossed the distance between the two of you, grabbing a firm hold of your wrist. There was no skin to skin contact yet his touch burned, almost enough to let out an embarrassing gasp.

“Implying? What a bold conclusion. What could you possibly mean by that?” Your pulse jumped at his words, utterly betraying your entire soul. “Let go.” You spun to face him, eyes flashing with raw fury.

Dottore ignored your protest, instead, he stepped forward, ultimately caging you between himself and the icy wall behind your back. An arm braced beside your head, body close enough to feel the heat radiating off him; the faint scent of antiseptics and a few more chemicals you couldn’t name invaded your senses. It made you nauseous.

“There it is. That look.” He murmured, positively amused at your reaction. Your breath came a fraction faster and you despised the thought of Dottore being able to notice the slight difference.

Huh, who knew dosing you a diluted version of the independent variable would incite such a mix of reactions, if only The Doctor had known he’d obtain a variety of results from this simple experiment, he would’ve gone all the way and given you the undiluted compound. But alas, he was nice enough to ease you into the drug.

“Do you have any idea how insufferable you are?”

You scoffed, "You're blocking my way, I think you’re the more insufferable one here.”

Dottore leaned in, only slightly—not to invade your space but just enough to threaten it.

“You walk into rooms like you’re already above everyone in them. You don’t beg for relevance, nor do you perform—it’s as if you believe you’re untouchable.” His voice dipped, much sharper this time.

Your jaw tightened, “Move.”

“That arrogance,” Dottore retorted. “Is precisely what irks me.”

Refusing to look away and lose the fight, you met his gaze head-on through his mask, ignoring the fact that your skin now burned a thousand flames, and you were hyperaware of every inch of space between yourself and The Doctor.

“Yet here you are. Following me—cornering me. If I’m beneath you then why bother tailing after some lowly Harbinger?” Dottore’s amusement completely vanished at your words, and something much, much colder took its place.

“People who think they’re superior are usually just hiding something.” The grip around your wrist tightened, it wasn’t painful but it was deliberate. “And I am very good at uncovering what lies beneath façades.”

“Seems like you’re projecting. Let go of me before you regret it.” Obviously, you were no match for The Doctor when it came to physical combat but at least with your Delusion, you could hold him off for a bit until Her Majesty finally notices two of her Harbingers are at each other’s throats. 

Dottore chuckled, “How fascinating. Even compromised, you still bare your teeth.” That was another result for him, he made a mental note of it so he could jot all his findings down later.

At least, Dottore released your wrist and stepped back, allowing some of your senses to finally return, “For now, get some rest, Prevaricator. I’d hate for you to collapse before I’ve satisfied my curiosity.” Without another word, he turned and disappeared down the corridor, akin to a ghostly apparition.

You stood there for a good minute, trying to process the whole situation despite your impaired cognitive ability. Fury and unease twisted in your gut, creating a ball of mixed emotions, it sat heavy and absolutely uncomfortable but that wasn’t the worst part. It was the fact that whatever you were experiencing right now, Dottore had somewhat gotten his bloodstained hands involved.

On purpose, too, and all the while a sly smile plastered upon his masked face.

You felt sick.

With Dottore, there was never really an end in things, he was like a parasitic species—stubborn and hard to get rid of once they got a hold of their host. With this in mind, you stumbled into tomorrow with your defenses up, walls built higher this time.

At 10 AM, you found yourself in one of the auxiliary research lounges in the Experimental Bureau, the symptoms of yesterday long gone but not forgotten. The auxiliary served as an informal space within the building, an area for research staff and people alike to collaborate and discuss findings over a hot cup. Even though these rooms were built for relaxation, they certainly didn’t look the part—just like any other experimental building under the Fatui, it was all metal and cold; sound travelled far and beyond within these walls.

Safe to say you rarely bumped into your fellow Harbingers in spaces like these—especially Sandrone and Dottore who were frequent users of the facilities at the Bureau.

Just like the two, you conducted experiments and built items but your focus was on physical enhancement, mainly in combat. Human experiments weren’t ruled out of the list but you weren’t like The Doctor—unethical trials weren’t your cup of tea. Your research focused on enhancing what has already existed, not creating something that didn’t exist. Sure, there were times unwanted adverse effects spiraled out of control but that was all part of the process. Not every experiment was perfect.

“Prevaricator. You look well rested.” Unbelievable.

Now, even your coffee break was interrupted? Dottore’s laboratory was on the other side of the building, how could he have possibly ended up in your territory?

He walked in with confidence that had your eye twitching; you hadn’t even noticed the sound of the large metallic door hissing open—were you really that out of it today?

“You tampered with my tea.” You replied flatly, gaze locked onto the hot beverage resting on the table before you.

“An accusation. How unlike you.” Dottore placed a gloved hand atop his chest, feigning offense.

You crossed your arms over your chest, “You don’t attend social gatherings outside banquets, you don’t follow people to their quarters, and I don’t experience unexplained physiological changes unless someone interferes.”

Dottore stood there for a moment before breaking into an unsettling smile, “Very good. You finally noticed.” He praised you. You frowned, seething at the fact that he had treated you like one of his test subjects—they were always unwilling to participate in his experiments yet he proceeded nonetheless without a care, every single time. Their bone-chilling screams haunted your late night projects and you had no choice but to ignore them.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Dottore made his way over to the table you sat on. “About how resilient you were yesterday. Sure, it was only a diluted compound but any other subject would have pathetically . . . Given in.” He reached into his pocket and took out a tiny vial filled with an iridescent liquid, it glimmered beneath the warm lights of the auxiliary.

“This is more refined.” “If you think I’m going to drink that, you are wholly mistaken.”

“Of course you will.” Dottore placed the vial on the table with a clink, right next to your steaming coffee. “Because you’re curious, and you hate unanswered questions more than you hate me.” In truth, the hatred you harboured for both were equal; unanswered questions in research were your biggest enemy and it drove you absolutely mad.

At your indifference, he spoke up once again, “Or because you want to prove that you’re still in control. You’d want that, wouldn’t you?” 

Silence stretched longer than Dottore had wanted but he was a patient man, perfect results took time and with the gears turning in your head, he would conclude he’s not far off.

The thought of Dottore being in control of even a sliver of your life had you fuming, no one wanted that. Surely the effect of this substance wouldn’t be as bad, right? If anything went horrendously wrong, you could always trust in your expertise but would your cognitive abilities even pull through under a more potent chemical?

Despite your better judgement, you reached for the small vial, unscrewed its metal top off, and drank it all in one gulp. As expected, the taste was absolutely horrid; it stung your throat like you’d swallowed a thousand needles. You let out a cough, tears lining your eyes.

Dottore smirked. Right into the lion’s den.

Due to its higher potency, the substance acted a lot faster this time. The liquid sat heavy on your stomach, as if your gastric acid itself directly rejected it, not only did it make you nauseous but it also left an uncomfortable feeling. He noticed the way your breath hitched or how your brows furrowed in realisation that this chemical was much, much stronger.

He moved closer, one, two, three steps to close the distance, “Do you feel it? The way your body is betraying your discipline?”

You sat there for a while, wordlessly assessing the substance’s onset effects—increased heart rate, increased body temperature, vasodilation, cognitive fog, slowed motor skills, and slowed breathing. Your hearing became sensitive, both sharp and muffled at the same time, even Dottore’s sentence sounded almost incoherent but not quite.

“I think . .” You started, trying to catch your breath. “I think you should leave.”

Suspiciously  enough, Dottore didn’t push any further, instead, he took a step back, “Rest. This dosage shall pass . . . Eventually.” The click clack of his shoes echoed in your ears as Dottore left the auxiliary.

You’ll be back in no time. He thought to himself.

You sighed a breath of relief, his presence was suffocating to say the least, and being under the influence of some substance didn’t help. Taking a few controlled, deep breaths, you tried to calm yourself; suddenly drinking coffee didn’t feel like the right thing to do. So, with a hazy mind and light feet, you left the auxiliary and headed to your own laboratory.

As you walked in, your subordinates greeted you, they immediately sensed something was wrong but didn’t dare pry—after all, it wasn’t their position to question their Lady Harbinger even if it meant concern. You tried your best to oversee experiments and discuss results but as each minute passed, your body began to feel even stranger.

Indecent thoughts slipped in and out of your mind, your skin yearned to be touched, and not to mention the uncomfortable heat that pooled between your legs. The flu-like symptoms from earlier you could handle but this was something else, it drove you to the borders of insanity; with the absence of another’s touch, your cunt ached.

You tried to hold it out—to let the effects pass but you only lasted about an hour or two before you ultimately kicked out every single soul inside the laboratory out of embarrassment. There was no way in hell you’d let your subordinates see you in such a state; gossip amongst lower ranked Fatui spread like wildfire and you weren’t about to become the topic of the month.

This compound didn’t simmer like the last, instead, it demanded immediate attention.

The laboratory now fell silent, only the constant hum of machines and ventilation accompanied your ragged breaths. You leaned over your desk, fists curling against the smooth surface as you cursed Dottore with every unpleasant word your impaired mind could think of. The period of effect was unknown, so basically you were just playing a waiting game, a dangerous one at that.

But you weren’t about to settle for this—no, you demanded answers from The Doctor. 

Right now. Your patience had been exhausted and could feel a reckless storm brewing within you—one that abandoned rationality.

Without a second thought, you crossed the entire building from one side to the other, it was probably the fastest you’ve walked despite slightly limping from discomfort between your legs. Archons, you could only imagine how crazed you looked.

The door to Dottore’s laboratory screeched upon opening, gaining the attention of all staff inside it, including the Harbinger himself. He didn’t have to wait for the door to fully open to conclude it was you, according to his calculations, he expected you to show up right about now.

Before the staff could murmur amongst themselves, Dottore spoke a singular word—loud, clear and icy.

“Out.”

His subordinates didn’t have to be told twice. They shuffled to their feet rather quickly, immediately dropping whatever task they had at hand before squeezing out the door as if some madman were chasing them. Something in their mind whispered they wouldn’t want to witness what was going to happen next.

As the last person rushed out, the heavy door behind you hissed as it closed, leaving you and Dottore alone in his laboratory.

“Well, this is highly unexpected.”

“You’re going to give me a counteragent.” You demanded immediately.

Dottore momentarily paused before laughing at your retort, it wasn’t a cruel laugh, it was pure amusement. “My, this drug has really done its job, hasn’t it? Your mind is a mess!” Your furrowed brows and downturned lips only fuelled his delight. “You speak of a counteragent yet aphrodisiacs aren’t poisonous—they don’t harm the body, they heighten one’s senses and increase libido. Indeed, anaphrodisiacs exist but they don’t serve as a counteragent. In short, there is no ‘cure’.”

“The effects dissipate only after . . . release.” Dottore added. 

An aphrodisiac? How could you have not come to that conclusion? You were so caught up in Dottore’s scheme that you completely forgot to account for the use of a common drug. Everything about him screamed complex so it was only right to assume he had synthesized a rather intricate substance.

“You’re well-versed in medicine and human physiology. You should know exactly how these types of compounds function.” Dottore slowly circled your unstable figure as if he were a predator sizing up its prey.

“Tell me, Prevaricator. If you rely on this counteragent you speak of, why didn’t you just synthesize your own instead of barging into my territory like a lunatic? I was in the middle of an experimental breakthrough.”

As much as you hated to admit it, Dottore was right you should have known. Now, you felt like an utter fool standing in his laboratory demanding for something that didn’t exist.

“Unless . . . You’re already aware that there is no counteragent. Which raises a far more interesting question,” He stood directly behind you, his tall stature loomed over your own, voice dangerously close to your ear.

“Why did you come to me?”

Your heart pounded violently against your chest, not because of fear but because of the humiliating reality that The Doctor pointed out. Why did you come to him? He was the last person you should’ve sought when it came to human physiology. What happened to relying on your own expertise?

“I came to you for answers. Why are you doing all this? I’m not your test subject!” 

“That’s precisely the problem—you’re not. So, I took matters into my own hands, whether you liked it or not.”

“Why?”

“Your façade infuriates me. And I will use every resource I have to strip you of your false layers.”

You were dumbfounded. Why was Dottore so adamant? Both of you were Harbingers for gods sake!—your identities were built on lies. Every Harbinger was granted a false identity by the Tsaritsa, everyone knew that. 

“Tell me, Prevaricator. Is it the aphrodisiac driving you mad or the fact that you know exactly what you want but refuse to admit it?”

“I . . .” Your sentence faded into thin air.

The aphrodisiac had you on a chokehold; you couldn’t think properly, any rational thoughts were forgotten, and left behind for your future self to pick up. You couldn’t even refute any of Dottore’s arguments even if you badly wanted to—your brain simply just wasn’t working because right now, all you wanted was one thing, release. The heat your body radiated became unbearable and the painful ache between your legs intensified with every passing second.

Dottore stood right before you, he wordlessly studied your unstable, flustered state; this was only the first layer he had stripped off—the tip of the iceberg—and he was more than ready to find out where it ended.

Dottore took a step forward. You took a step back in response.

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.” He hummed lowly, reaching out a gloved finger to trace the edge of your collar, it was slow and deliberate, cutting you off from what you needed most right this moment, contact. Embarrassingly enough, you shuddered at the sensation of his finger against your clothing, the small vibrations of the friction it created was enough to push you further into insanity.

“Oh. Well, that answers my question from earlier.” Dottore wrapped a gloved hand around your throat, not too tight, not too loose, just enough to have your cunt clenching around nothing. You whimpered at his touch, your sensitive skin finally receiving the contact it has yearned for. His leather gloves felt electric against your feverish skin and you’d be lying if you didn’t want more.

“. . . Please.” You whispered, lips parted to draw shallow breaths in and out. 

“My, what a mess you are and we haven’t even begun the third phase of the experiment.”

Without wasting another second, Dottore pulled you by the neck and pressed his lips against your own. The kiss knocked out all the oxygen in your lungs, it was sloppy, heated, and passionate.

The tip of Dottore’s mask harshly dug into your cheek as he pressed even further, shoving his tongue inside your mouth. Your head spun, the kiss was intoxicating—he was intoxicating. At this point, with how desperately Dottore kissed you, you wondered if you were truly the one under the influence because it seemed like he was more lust driven than you were. Hungrier.

Wet sounds of aggressive lip smacking and the occasional pants you and Dottore let out filled the entire laboratory. If anyone were to walk in right this moment, they’d probably be crimson-cheeked at how lewd and pornographic you both sounded.

Dottore growled into your mouth as he gripped your jaw and tilted your head for better access. Oh, how well you were taking him; you were so obedient and amazing for him to the point where it immensely turned him on. A minute later, he pulled away, flushed and panting, a thin string of saliva connected both your lips.

“How fascinating.” Dottore stated, breathless.

His tongue swiped on his bottom lip, collecting the saliva that pooled there. Your state wasn’t any better, as a matter of fact, the kiss was so messy to the point where saliva was smeared all over your mouth and chin but you didn’t care, you needed him.

Dottore unclipped your ivory Fatui coat, throwing the heavy fabric across the lab, it fell with a distinct thud. With that out of the way, he pushed you to the nearest wall which was right next to the entrance. You stumbled on your feet at his urgency but didn’t bother complaining.

He unbuttoned your blouse, first, second, third, until the fabric revealed skin beneath it. A quiet gasp escaped his kiss-bitten lips, “You’re truly magnificent.” You didn’t know whether Dottore praised you as a human being or as a mere test subject but nonetheless his saccharine words had your cunt pulsing.

Gloved hands momentarily ghosted your feverish skin, as though you were a fragile relic he refused to touch for you were far too precious and pristine to taint. He slipped off your blouse and the cool air of the laboratory kissed your skin, you shuddered at the significant contrast of temperatures.

“Hmm. Sensitive. I wonder what would happen if I press . . . here.” Your body curled in pleasure as Dottore cupped a clothed breast, palms sensually rubbing against your covered nipple. How exquisite you were, he had barely gotten started yet you already seemed like you’ve reached your limit.

“Ngh—Dottore!” Your own hands shot up to your face to cover your mouth, the last thing you wanted was to moan his name embarrassingly loud but it seemed like even your body couldn’t resist.

The Doctor let out a low growl, “Do not tamper with my experiment. This is all part of the result. Uncover your mouth.” 

Humiliation engulfed your almost bare body as you heeded his words. He clicked his tongue and pinned both your wrists with a hand, “Any unwanted changes to my experiment will result in a second trial. Do not test me, Prevaricator.” The only thing you could do was wordlessly nod.

“Good.”

With his free hand, Dottore expertly unclasped your bra, causing it to swiftly fall onto the metal floor. There, he marveled at your hardened nipples, how it seemed to immediately react to external stimuli. He groped a breast, this time squeezing and massaging it, pulling a string of breathless moans from your lips.

“Now that’s what I like to hear.”

Dottore continued to give each breast his undivided attention ‘til you thrashed your sensitive body from overstimulation, “Dottore . . !” This time his name came out as a plea and he immediately understood what you were begging for, “Tsk. How impatient. We shall then move onto the next phase.” He scoffed.

Within the next minute, you were stripped of your remaining clothing, leaving you vulnerable in front of Dottore. Before you could even try to swallow down the embarrassment, his hand was already on you, toying with your sopping cunt. His gloved finger sensually traced your slit—up and down, up and down ‘til it slowly your clit, then did he only rub tight, hasty circles.

“F-Fuck! Haah!” Your back arched at the electric sensation that kissed down your spine. You weren’t a virgin but it has been a long while since you were touched so lewdly like this, moreover, he seemed to really know what he was doing. Dottore watched as your flustered face contorted in pure pleasure—swollen lips parted, brows knitted together, glassy eyes rolled back, just the result he wanted.

But he was greedy, he wanted more. He wanted to see you absolutely fucked up.

Dottore plunged two long fingers inside your wet cunt, causing you to resist his firm hold on your wrists. He curled his digits upward to meet the spongy patch of nerves there, “Mmf—! That feels good—Ah!” You could only moan in response as he picked up the pace.

Each harsh thrust of his fingers had your abdomen squeezing with pleasure, attempting to bear the force of his hand. Loud squelches coming from your cunt reverberated throughout the laboratory’s metallic walls and you could only hope no one would walk by to hear such sinful sounds.

Dottore grunted as he felt you squeeze around his fingers, he could feel the growing tent in his pants, cock aching to be freed from its restraint. He watched as your entrance greedily took him in, your sweet essence oozing out every time he pumped inside.

His crimson eyes beneath the mask glimmered at the way your slick messily coated not only his palm but as well as your inner thighs; he had never seen anything quite like this before. What spectacular results he was given! 

It didn’t take long to feel the coil deep inside your stomach to start unravelling slowly. Dottore noticed it too, how your breath quickened and eyes tightly shut. He kept going, in and out, in and out steadily guiding you closer and closer to the sweet release you yearned for.

But just before you were pushed over the edge, he abruptly pulled his fingers out, causing you to shamelessly whine in protest. Confused, our eyes shot open, vision blurred with tears of pleasure, “Wha-What . . ? Why did you stop?” 

Pleasure slowly faded away from your body, the high that once engulfed you now felt farther and farther away. Dottore brought his slick-stained fingers up, casually examining it under the laboratory’s fluorescent lights like he didn’t just almost fingerfuck you to an orgasm.

“We’re simply moving on to the final phase.”

Final phase?

At the sound of metal clinking, you were pulled out of your thoughts. Before you, Dottore hastily undid his ebony-coloured pants, he pulled the fabric down with his underwear just enough to free his aching cock. Your eyes widened as it stood proudly against his abdomen; he wasn’t as girthy but his length definitely made up for it, his blunt tip was a deep shade of blush, and a prominent vein ran along the underside of his cock. More interestingly, it curved a little to the left.

You could almost drool at the sight.

Dottore let out a low hiss as he wrapped a gloved hand around his sensitive cock to spread his pre-cum all over it, he gave it three languid pumps before stepping closer to your naked body. With one swift movement, he nudged your legs apart—resulting in you briefly losing balance—before slotting himself between them.

You whimpered at the sensation of Dottore’s cock rubbing against your slit, you could already feel how hot and heavy it was from the simple contact alone. Without warning he slowly pushed in, its blunt tip separating your wet folds apart. Your arms immediately flew to his clothed shoulders, nails digging into the expensive fabric as he inched deeper and deeper.

Dottore muttered a curse, lips slightly quivering. The sensation of your warm walls around his cock drove him absolutely insane and he wasn’t even all the way in yet; your cunt hugged him oh, so tightly and greedily sucked him in he could almost come right then and there as embarrassing as it sounded.

It had been quite a while since Dottore engaged in sex since he had more important matters to attend to so this feeling of being inside someone was closer to foreign than not.

Soon enough, he bottomed out with ease. The two of you took a moment to steady your breaths and adjust to each other’s body, though, you did try your best to stand as still as possible as the tip of his cock gently nudged your sweet spot—any hasty movements would cause it to press further inside.

“You’re so—Haah!—Tight!” Dottore let out an amused chuckle, a smirk plastered on his lips.

“S-Shut up.” You flushed.

Without another word, Dottore hooked a hand beneath your right knee and forced it up to rest on his shoulder. That movement alone brought your hips closer to his, allowing his cock to slip deeper; you involuntarily squeezed around him in response, back arching off the icy wall which earned a low growl from him.

Faint wet sounds echoed in your ears as Dottore pulled out all the way until only his tip remained, your cunt sucked him in so much that merely drawing his hips back was met with such resistance. He wasted no time thrusting back in, this time, with the entire length of his cock, it made your knee buckle, and your lips immediately parted to let out a garbled moan.

Dottore started off with an experimental pace—he studied how your expressions differed with each push and pull.. When met with shallow, hasty thrusts, your breathing seemed to mimic the rhythm of his hips, whereas with deep, slower thrusts, you seemed to bite down on your bottom lip while your eyes slightly rolled back.

How interesting. What about deep, swift thrusts?

Dottore picked up the pace to test his next experimental question, blunt tip bullying your sweet spot, and heavy balls slapping against your skin.

“Fuck! Fuck! Ngh—! Dottore!” You mercilessly clawed at his back. The expression you gave him was simply exquisite, your whole face contorted in raw pleasure. Hot tears rolled down your flushed cheeks and he took the opportunity to lick it off your face.

Using a free hand, Dottore reached for one of your breasts, teasing and massaging it while he watched the other bounce with each thrust.

Earlier, the laboratory faintly smelled of chemicals, now, the air smelled of sinful sex—your’s and Dottore’s scent entangled with one another, a completely volatile pair.

“That’s it—Mhm!—Let me hear your pathetic whimpers as I push you further and further into insanity.” He growled in your ear and bit the column of your neck.

Dottore unhooked your leg from his shoulder before securing both arms around to lift you up, “Jump.” He didn’t have to repeat his word for you to do so. As you jumped, he supported your weight with his hands which allowed you to wrap your legs around his waist.

With his hands planted on your ass, Dottore began to expertly bounce you on his cock; this position left you more vulnerable since there was nothing you could do but take each and every thrust. Since gravity also came into play, his thrusts were far deeper than before and you swore you could feel him on your throat.

“Right there! Ah! Right there, Dottore! Please don’t stop—Fuck!” The tight coil inside your stomach began to unravel once again and the high you experienced earlier came flooding back. It was an overwhelming pressure, it pressed on every part of your sensitive body, sending waves of shock up and down your spine.

Dottore observed your cock drunk state—head lolled to the side, hair a complete mess, face flushed with lust, lips locked in a permanent part to let out moans, tear-stained cheeks, and eyes rolled far back enough you could probably see your own skull. This. This was precisely what Dottore wanted from you—an expression so raw, so vulnerable it was an unbelievable contrast from the usual one you wore.

You looked absolutely broken and helpless like he was the only one who could save you. And The Doctor loved everything about it.

He moaned your name as you clamped on his cock—not your title, but the name bestowed upon you by Her Majesty. The name only your female colleagues used to express closeness.

“I’m close,” Dottore panted. “Open your eyes and look at me while you come. Surely you can perform this simple task, right?” You responded with an incoherent sentence but nonetheless used your remaining energy to open your eyes, your body felt absolutely limp as pleasure weighed down on you, and you were positive you’d have trouble walking tomorrow.

He praised you for your obedience and you could only respond with a pathetic whine.

Dottore did his best to keep up the brutal pace but with his impending orgasm looming over, his movements began to falter, he could only hold out for a certain amount of time.

“Ngh! Cumming! Ah! Ah!” The coil inside you violently snapped and your vision flashed white as you creamed around his cock. Dottore let out a deep grunt and followed suit, hips stuttering before fully sheathing his cock inside and shooting a heavy load. Thick ribbons of his cum painted your walls white, he made sure it remained inside of you by thrusting a few more times.

The two of you stilled for a moment to catch your breaths before Dottore pulled out to gently get you back on your feet. As expected, your legs have turned weak and embarrassingly enough, you held onto him for support—not because you wanted to but you needed to.

As you came down from your high, this allowed the haunting reality to finally settle in for you. You just fucked your colleague. And not just any colleague but the one you absolutely despised most. Were you insane? Regret gnawed at your feverish skin.

Out of instinct, you weakly pushed Dottore away, a familiar expression painted on your face—the one you always wore, the one he loathed—cold and indifferent, “This . . This doesn’t change anything. At all.” 

The Doctor could only half-heartedly laugh at your declaration because you both knew it was a complete lie, after all, you were the Prevaricator.

—

you frown. it’s been exactly thirteen minutes and forty-two seconds since satoru looked at you last. he’s been on this stupid spreadsheet since class started, and it’s really starting to piss you off.

so you block his view.

“look at my fingers, toru,” you breathe, lifting your hand in front of his face. “i was in such a rush i forgot my rings. my hand looks so ugly.”

he lifts his head—just slightly, just enough that he can focus on the screen & not your hand in front of him—& replies without a beat. “looks pretty, baby,” he murmurs, kissing the back of your hand. “so gorgeous.”

oh, that’s enough.

“toru.”

“hm, baby?”

“kiss me.”

gojo satoru chokes on his tongue. he freezes, blue eyes leaving the screen only to dart around the crowded lecture hall in alarm. he lets his eyes drop to you, and perhaps he shouldn’t have, because you’re looking up at him with glossy lips & too-big eyes & lashes that flutter in that way that means trouble. gojo gulps.

“we can’t do that right now, sweetheart,” his voice catches. you’re pouting up at him but satoru only cups your cheek and tries to reason with you. “we’re in public. can you wait for me, angel?”

your brows furrow, lips wobbling into that pout that only spells out gojo’s demise.

“are you ashamed to kiss me in public?” you croak, fake sniffling. “am i that ugly?”

you’re not ugly. you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know it, satoru knows it, & he also knows you’re doing this on purpose. but your eyes are so glossy. your breathing’s all hitched. your shoulders shake like you’re about to sob—

gojo satoru folds under zero pressure.

he cups your face, thumb brushing faux tears off your lashes as he presses his lips to yours. you taste like strawberry candy & something too sweet to have a name. gojo sighs into your mouth. cocks his head. pulls back just to lean in again when your lashes flutter up at him all pretty. he lets his thumb tug your lip and tongue lick your teeth and—

“ahem.”

you both freeze.

in the row in front of you the nanami kento is there, frown on his face & completely unamused. there are pens littered on his desk & his laptop is wide open—is he reading semantic error?

he eyes you both, lips curled in disgust.

“this is not a love nest.”

you & satoru are blinking in disbelief when nanami turns back to his laptop. he slams it shut in embarrassment when he’s met with an inappropriate panel onscreen.

II. DISTRACTION #2: NETWORKING ❌ NOT WORKING ✅

time: 7:14 pm. location: Bergeron Center for Engineering Excellence

⎚-⎚

gojo satoru has five minutes until the most important meeting of his life.

an opportunity to pitch one of his latest projects to some high-class engineering recruiters—lucky him! he’s in a private office with his speech in his hands, and his beautiful girlfriend kicking her feet on the office table.

you’re supposed to be his supportive plus-one. and gojo does feel supported—how could he not when the love of his life is here for him, dressed up like a midsummer dream? but gojo thinks he’d feel even more supported if you weren’t bracketing his thighs & tugging on his tie every time he tries to speak.

“thank you all for coming. i’m honored to have this opportunity—“

“satoruu,” you coo. “i miss you.”

gojo satoru knows better than to sigh. he does it anyway, collapsing into your neck in resignation as he squeezes your hips. you’re pressing a glossy kiss to his jaw. “i’m right here, sweetheart,” he mumbles, closing his eyes. “will you let me focus?”

you nod sweetly, patting his cheek dismissively when he presses a kiss to your neck in thanks.

“thank you all for coming. i’m honored to have this opportunity to present—“

“satoruu,”

thirteen words this time. fairs.

“yes, sweetheart.”

“my feet hurt,” you state, kicking your feet up to show him. for once, you’re not being totally dramatic. even with your heels on satoru can see the sides of your feet reddening, flushed & slightly swollen against the material. his brows furrow. “how’d this happen, angel…?”

he kneels down to slip your heels off. you pout: “i got new heels so i’d look pretty for your presentation. now my feet hurt and i’ve ruined everything.”

satoru frowns, but you’re still spiraling. dramatic as always, talking like it’s the end of the world with your eyes glossy & nose wrinkled in lament. but gojo’s heart only goes sticky in his chest. how could you possibly ruin everything when you are everything?

he reaches up to wipe a tear off your cheek. “look at me, baby,” he murmurs, other hand rubbing circles on your ankles. he looks devastating like this—hair messy, tie loose from all your tugging & knees on the floor for you even though he’s in his finest dress pants. “you didn’t ruin anything, okay baby? look.”

he slips off your heels, then his own leather shoes, & laces them onto your bare feet. “wear these.”

you blink as he lifts you off the table, kneeling back down to adjust the shoes better. you wiggle your toes. your feet don’t even reach the middle, and you almost fall trying to walk two steps, but the gesture alone has you beaming. you turn to him with your lips bent in a clumsy smile.

“they’re huge, toru,” you tease, twirling around for him to watch. satoru only smiles. his heart goes sticky in his throat. he pulls you into a soft kiss because trying to speak might make his chest hurt.

knock knock.

one of satoru’s classmates—nerd #1—peeks his head in, expression slightly terrified. “uh, gojo? they’re ready for you in the boardroom,” he gulps. “you’re up.”

satoru nods, gathers his speech papers. you’re practicing walking around in his shoes now, arms stretched out to help you balance as you strut around with a grin on your face. gojo satoru looks down at his feet. they’re in nothing but a pair of socks.

right.

he sucks in a breath, then turns to kiss your forehead. “stay here where it’s warm, okay?”

you’re still admiring yourself in his shoes, but you chirp out an okay! regardless. satoru bites his lip. it’s showtime.

——

the faculty is looking at satoru like he’s grown two heads.

have they never seen a shoeless man before? how rude. he’s standing on the boardroom’s stage now, clipboard in hand, projector lighting up the board behind him. some of the recruiters are nodding. the others are trying not to look at his feet so they can’t be accused of classism. gojo satoru is not even poor. a glance at his suit should tell you that.

but gojo doesn’t care. he presents without issue—even though the entire time, his mind is on you.

the boardroom door has a center made of glass. through the pane, satoru can see you back in the office—you’ve somehow found music controls for the office’s boombox, and you’re dancing—oh god, you’re dancing—twirling around with a clumsy smile & laughing when you stumble in his much larger shoes.

satoru’s heart swells. his lip twitches.

gojo turns his focus back to his presentation. he’ll work hard to keep you smiling for the rest of your life.

III. DISTRACTION #3 : WHY IS MY GIRLFRIEND IMMUNE TO TUTORING…

time: 6:14 PM location: The Quad, Satoru’s Apartment.

⎚-⎚

“who discovered the americas ?”

“Martin Luther King.”

You are going to fail this exam.

“that’s enough general history today,” gojo mutters, voice croaking in alarm when you give your answer. you’re tucked in his lap, fingers curled in his collar, nose in his neck & completely unbothered. your perfume is sticky in his lungs. “let’s try math. you like math, baby?”

“mhm,” you kiss his jaw. “love it.”

no you don’t. gojo flips open a book with one hand, the other rubbing circles on your thigh. “let’s practice some integration…” he scans the page for questions while you twirl the hairs on his nape. “okay, this one. can you try this for me, princess?”

your lips tug into a bored frown. “okay,” you lean up to glance at the page, “done.”

he blinks, “done?”

“yes,” you flop back against him, soft & pretty & tired & his. “i solved it in my head.”

satoru bites his lip, brows knit in concern. “baby, you can’t solve integrals in your head.”

“i have a very strong brain.”

satoru prays for some strength of his own. okay—okay. he purses his lip. “so strong, baby. do you want to walk me through your process?”

you frown in his neck.

“first of all,” you tug his collar, lashes fluttering, “i looked at the numbers.”

“good job.”

“then,” you tug his earlobe, “i got bored.”

“oh.”

satoru sighs—of course you did. he purses his lip, blue eyes flitting across the page as his spoiled pretty angel hugs his neck; dreary and tired and ‘bored’ in his lap. finals are coming up and things are not looking good for you. he prays for strength (again).

you seem to have found some strength of your own. gojo’s not sure when you pick up your phone (which he had confiscated from you earlier), but while he stares into the distance and laments your guaranteed failure, you scroll through your phone with a grin on your lips.

“toru, look at this bag,” you coo, pushing the bright screen to his face. “it’s so pink and pretty, just like me.”

“just like you,” he repeats, still staring into the distance.

“wow, nine-hundred-and-fifty dollars,” you kick your feet in his lap. “baby, can i buy it?” you coo, voice sweet.

satoru blinks out of his daze. he glances at the phone screen—then at you, suddenly sweet & bright & brimming with energy. his thumb brushes your inner thigh. “baby, you’re supposed to be studying.”

“i am studying,” you frown, and gojo wants to kiss it off again. “i’m studying consumer behavior. can i have your card?”

there are three reasons gojo satoru should not give you his card.

you are going to fail your exams.

you haven’t double-checked if the price is in CAD or USD.

you are going to fail your exams.

gojo lets you have his card.

you squeal, hopping off his lap to retrieve his wallet in the other room. satoru leans back against his desk chair. in front of him, his desk is a mess of opened books & littered pencils, a ‘get good grades!’ subliminal playing on your mini speaker because you insisted the whispered affirmations would guarantee your success. gojo sighs.

“thank you, toru!” you sing as you pad back into the room, a skip in your step. you lean down to kiss his cheek & flop onto his bed to open his laptop. you have his wallet in your hands, and gojo satoru already knows you will not double check the currency.

gojo closes your textbook with a sigh. better luck next time.

ac: (see alt text!) @ to00fu

DISTRACTIONS, end.

“i’m gonna get her back.”

sato, suguru and toru all glance towards each other. they know what that voice means. there’s no talking him out of it.

but toru lowers his phone, tries regardless. “are you sure? y/n’s always been strong headed. she might hate you even more if—“

sukuna grabs his crotch aggressively. “keep talking and i’ll jizz on your face.”

toru squeaks. sukuna continues. “i know my own girl. know she’s a fucking brat, doing this shit to get on my nerves,” he growls. “she’s bored. testing me. probably doing this shit to see if i’ll show up at practice ‘n break his jaw for touching her.”

suguru is biting back a grin. “calling her your girl when she broke up with you last week? and the week before that?”

sukuna takes a swig of his beer but his jaw is ticking behind the can. “exactly. she knows where home is.”

sato’s grin is clumsy. “i dunno, man. seems like she’s got a new address,” he elbows suguru’s side. “naoya’s pants, wellesley street east.”

“M-4-Y, 1-H-5,” suguru snickers.

“glad you two have the energy to joke,” sukuna sets down his beer with a thud. “means you’ll have energy to help me out tomorrow night.

tomorrow? tomorrow can only mean one thing.

naoya zenin’s one million snap score party. and also, the party that the college football team throws every year before the start of a new season. the party that sukuna hasn’t been to since he quit the role of captain. the party where sukuna first found you drunk & dizzy in an alley just out back, perfume strong & heels clicky, stumbling into his chest with a clumsy grin & flushed cheeks as he held your hips against him to keep you from falling. you reeked of vodka & you kept slurring his name & ryomen sukuna thought you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

and now his pretty thing is somewhere curled into naoya’s side, and the thought makes sukuna’s throat itch.

suguru cocks his head. “so i’m guessing you have a plan?”

sukuna chugs his beer. “you know the plan.”

they do—they all do. sato is already grinning. suguru is shaking his head. toru is watching the fratboys with worried eyes.

sato, suguru and sukuna’s lips curl.

the plan?

sabotage.

# SHOW TIME !

at naoya zenin’s one million snapscore party, the air is heavy with the smell of drunken bodies / athlete sweat / something alcoholic dripping off a countertop. geto’s piercings glimmer in the evening dim. ryomen sukuna has his jaw tight. and sato gojo is already drunk and somewhere dancing, legworking with ease as rema’s azaman blares through the speakers.

sukuna and suguru are still scanning the scene when naoya saunters up to them.

naoya zenin is badly dyed hair, bright green eyes and a cocky lilt to his shoulders. he’s got the team’s varsity jacket around him—GO PANDAS!—and a grin too cruel to be kind. he raises his hands in faux welcome.

“suguru, sukuna,” naoya smiles. “didn’t think you’d make it.”

sukuna eyes him. “congratulations on your snapscore.”

“and my new position as captain,” naoya bites so hard his teeth show. “how’s retirement treating you, ryomen? enjoying life off the pitch?”

suguru slings an arm around sukuna, quick to come to his defence. “he’s doing great, thank you. how about you, captain? have you found confidence in your buck teeth?”

naoya’s smile dissolves.

“nice engagement bait,” naoya recovers. he’s grinning again but his lips only stretch, teeth hidden. “you always did bite like a bitch, suguru.”

“i try.”

“enjoy the booze,” naoya lets out a jagged breath, turning away. “try not to cry in your cups too much.”

sukuna has his arms crossed over his chest, suguru’s arm still slung around him. but he’s not watching naoya walk away. his eyes have drifted to you.

you across the party and perched on a seat at the bar, a glass of something pink in your hands and a dress so short he can trace the swell of your ass. and you’re laughing—oh god, you’re laughing, tucking hair behind your ear with flushed cheeks and a carefree smile. sukuna’s mouth dries. god, you’re so pretty. you’re always so pretty, and sukuna wants to tell you that; wants to curl up beside you and wipe away the red dribbling down your chin and maybe tug your dress down over your ass. you’d swat at him and tell him he’s ruining your outfit. and then you’d kiss him because you like when he gets territorial anyways.

you laugh again, and ryomen sukuna is already moving.

that is, until naoya curls up behind you.

sukuna stops in his tracks. naoya snakes an arm around your waist from behind—your waist again, not your hips, fucking idiot—and sukuna’s jaw goes slack. he watches naoya press his parched, un-vaselined lips to your shoulder blades, and he doesn’t miss the slight tense of your shoulders before you ease into his chest.

sukuna’s jaw ticks. “suguru.”

“hm?”

“get sato. it’s time.”

suguru grins. “yes, boss.”

suguru disappears into the crowd. sukuna’s eyes shift back to you, back to naoya, back to the way his hands slide up your side and the way he whispers something in your ear. you laugh again and sukuna’s jaw twitches, because the sound itself comes out strained.

you’re uncomfortable. and he’d be a fool to miss it.

suguru reappears with sato in tow.

sato is drunk. swaying. red-bruised lips & booze in his breath. his cheeks are flushed pink & his hair sweat-sticky and he’s slung over suguru’s back like his life depends on it. he nuzzles into suguru’s neck. “mmh—you called?”

sukuna’s eyes are still on you. he nods towards the bar, “you see naoya?”

sato squints. “so ugly,”

“he’s got his hands on my girl.”

sato frowns. “that won’t do.”

“yeah,” sukuna murmurs, lifting a cup of punch off a passing tray. suguru is wiping rum off sato’s lip. sukuna passes the cup to sato. “you remember the plan?”

sato gives a drunken nod. and then he’s off.

the plan is simple: red punch, ugly naoya, combination. sato gojo is supposed to be a ninja, an image of stealth and diligence. instead he’s a wobbly drunken mess, giggling boyishly as he stumbles towards the bar.

he’s so close, sukuna’s eyes narrow. just a few more steps and then naoya will be drenched—

but sato trips. and as he falls, he pulls naoya’s pants down with him.

the situation is a whole mess.

punch everywhere. sticky on naoya’s shocked face, on sato’s fallen figure, on the party’s hardwood floor. and everyone is watching—staring—at naoya zenin covered in punch, pants on the floor. those boxers—is that undertale?

naoya’s face is blood drenched. “you drunken fucking idiot—”

“m’sorry,” sato cries, face down, hands still gripping naoya’s pants. “was tryna—hic—spill the punch, hnghh—suguru—“

“get the fuck off me!” naoya kicks at him, pants rippling around his ankles. someone is pulling out their phone to record. another is already recording. everyone’s laughing, including you, and even ryomen sukuna is struggling to bite back the chuckle on his lips.

naoya scrambles out of the party, shuffling out in his sans undertale boxers with his pants around his feet. suguru has already made his way to sato’s side.

sato’s eyes are teary, and his forehead is bruised red from naoya’s kick. suguru cups his face, brows knit. “hey man. you alright?”

sato groans. “i spilled the punch and the pants.”

“mhm,” geto snorts, smushing sato’s cheeks between his palms. “good job, buddy.”

“i did good?”

“so good,” geto smiles down at him. “come on, up you go.”

suguru helps sato up to his feet. sukuna is already moving.

towards you, you at the bar with your palm over your mouth to muffle your laugh as you watch naoya flee into the night. sukuna steps into your space. your eyes are still on the door before you slowly, slowly, turn your head around to him.

your pupils are blown. cheeks flushed and chest heaving from the alcohol, and your eyes focus for a minute before you grin.

“aww, look,” you beam. “if it isn’t my ex-boyfriend.”

sukuna shouldn’t take advantage.

he knows if you were sober, it’d be a different story. he knows you’d kick and hit at him, maybe snarl about his audacity to show his face around you. but you’re too many drinks too deep and as drunk and dizzy as the day he met you in that alleyway, so instead of kicking at him you lean forward to cup his cheeks.

sukuna tilts his head to kiss your palm. “Hi, baby. you’re drunk.”

“noo,” you slur. “i’m tipsy.”

“mhm,” sukuna grunts, stepping forward to slide his arms around your hips before you can lean off the chair. he tugs your dress down over your ass, then strokes your thigh. “third glass?”

“so close!” you squeeze his neck happily. “i’m on my sixth.”

sukuna hugs you back. but his face is scowling.

naoya zenin—that fucking idiot. sukuna knows your limit is four. he knows that any more than that and you’ll be sick for days, groggy and weak and unable to get out of bed. he squeezes your hips. “s’too much, sweetheart.”

“i know,” you pout into his neck. “i couldn’t resist.”

oh, his poor girl. sukuna kisses your hair. just once—just because he missed the warmth of your skin—but then he does it again and again and you giggle into his chest. fuck. he’s missed the sound bad.

“i’m sorry.”

sukuna’s heart stops. “what?”

“for going past my limit.”

sukuna can feel you pouting in his neck. he sighs, because of course that’s what you meant. not that you were sorry for leaving him or whatever his delusions had him hearing in that moment. after all, he should be the one apologizing anyway. right?

“you’re okay,” he hugs you closer, pressing your head into his chest. god, you’re gonna be so sick tomorrow; and the day after, and the day after. “i’m not mad, pretty. don’t apologize.”

you nod against him. “are you gonna take care of me?”

sukuna wishes drunk you didn’t talk so much.

because it hurts to have to say no, no but i want to, no but i would if i knew you wouldn’t hate me for it when you’re sober, so he doesn’t say it at all. instead he traces circles on your hips. “gimme your phone.”

you rest your chin on his chest and beam up at him drunkenly instead.

sukuna lets out a sigh, shifting just enough to reach for your purse without jerking you off his chest. he slips your phone into his palm and tries for the passcode. it unlocks in one go. the passcode is still his birthday, and sukuna sighs again.

“i’m gonna call shoko,” he murmurs into your ear. “she’ll take care of you, yeah?”

he could take care of you too, you know. if you’d let him. but you wouldn’t, so he bites his lip.

“shoko?” you coo into his neck. “i love shoko.”

“i know,” sukuna squeezes your thigh. “i know you do.”

TORU’S REMARK: I HAVE A BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS…

EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #2: GO BIG OR GO HOME !

taught by: geto suguru

“like the great oikawa tooru said, if you’re gonna hit it? hit it until it breaks.”

ΣΧ

ryomen sukuna is itch itch itching.

itching to know if you’re okay. itching to know if shoko—or, ugh, naoya—let you have those crackers you like to help you settle your stomach, kept your room slightly warm, and for christ’s sake, kept you away from the advil. you love to reach for them after a night of drinking. sukuna knows it only makes your headaches worse.

you haven’t posted on instagram in days.

not that he should know since you have him blocked. but luckily your account is public and sato’s allowed him to log in on his fake instagram hair page. SlayedBySato. hit them up on IG.

sukuna is lying on the couch, nose buried in a cushion. he watches your highlights with bleary eyes. in the one he’s viewing, you’re in a tight black dress, red and blue hues lighting up your face. you’re dancing the night away, cheeks flushed, lashes fluttering. his pretty party girl. god.

“look at my girl,” he mumbles into the pillow. “so fucking hot. i’ll slap the shit out of naoya zenin.”

geto laughs. “shouldn’t have let her get away, then.”

on the floor, sato has his head in suguru’s lap, pouting as geto presses an iced cloth to his forehead. he flinches. “sugu, how much longer?”

“shh,” geto hisses, even though the swelling went down ages ago.

sukuna rolls so his body lays upright, setting his phone down on his chest. “it’s not enough.” he glares at the ceiling. “that stunt with his boxers? did nothing but make a bunch of people laugh.”

suguru and sato look at each other. geto’s voice goes low.

“what are you saying?”

“i’m saying he’s a fraud and i want everyone to fucking know it.” sukuna sits up, tossing his phone unto the coffee table. “he’s still captain of the football team. but i have a video that could change that.”

“the season’s first game, naoya’s first official game as captain…” sato thinks. “are you saying you wanna pull something?”

“i’m thinking of playing it in the locker room TV. make the other boys lose respect for him.”

sato and suguru look at each other again.

“boring.” sato says.

“huh?”

“toru has access to the AV booth,” a slow grin curls its way onto suguru’s lips. “would be a fucking shame if he and i were to mess with the feed on game day.”

sato sits up from suguru’s lap. “locker room TV? boring as fuck, man. the sukuna i know? he’d play whatever video he has in front of the whole fucking stadium.”

sukuna looks at his frat brothers. at their wicked grins and stupid pride and willingness to follow him to the ends of the earth. it’s foolish, honestly. going to such lengths to destroy naoya zenin because he dared to look twice at his girl. but he’s a stupid man, and his frat brothers are even stupider, and this is what the sigma-chi brotherhood is really about.

sukuna’s lip twitches. “i fucking love you guys.”

“we know,” suguru says. “and don’t ever say that shit again.”

# GAME DAY !

LET’S GO PANDAS !

the chanting in the stadium sounds more like a roar.

the air is electric—buzzing, vibrating. cheerleaders on the sidelines with cheeks smeared in blue & red paint. there’s the scent of hot dogs & fried food grilling. a crowd in jerseys with flags in their hands. in the kaisen campus stadium, the midsummer air is thick with anticipation. it’s game day.

sukuna sucks the air into his lungs. he hasn’t been to the stadium in a minute.

sato has run off to get some hot dogs. suguru and toru should already be in the AV room. the pitch has no football players but marching band members instead, drums and trombones blaring music across the grass. sukuna should go over to his and sato’s seats. instead he’s on the stairs, staring down at you.

is it fair for you to look this happy with him away from you?

he shakes the thought away. he always wants you to be happy—he thinks. but happiness with naoya? naoya zenin? he’s not quite sure about that. actually, he is. sukuna knows he’s fucking furious. he knows he doesn’t like the fact that you have naoya’s number on your back, or the fact that you’re jumping and cheering his name when the players haven’t even walked out yet. his jaw ticks. something ugly curls in his throat. he swallows it away.

he stares a little longer. watches your skirt swish around your thighs, watches your arms wave in the air, watches your hips sway to the music. you’ve clearly recovered and your dancing is out of tune as always, and sukuna bites back a smile.

he’s still smiling when you look up at him.

his face falls.

your head lifts towards him, and he doesn’t miss the way your body tenses. your arms drop to your sides. your palms curl into fists.

uh oh.

you look away, pausing for a moment. and then you trudge between bodies and make your way over to what sukuna can only assume is the concession stand.

sukuna follows. he doesn’t give himself time to think any better of it.

——

caramel popcorn and half-burnt sugar. the concession stand smells like caramel popcorn and half-burnt sugar.

and vanilla, but not the syrupy sweet kind. it’s the kind that sukuna smells whenever he kisses that spot below your ear, or presses his lips to the dip of your waist. at the concession stand, sukuna stands behind you with his hands in his pockets, pretending he doesn’t see the frown on your face as you stand in line in front of him.

“go away.” you deadpan.

“i’m here to eat.”

“You will choke on your food and die.”

harsh.

sukuna’s used to it though. so when it’s your turn to get a donut, he slips out his wallet and drops some cash before you can even protest. the stand worker takes the excess money with a grin. you turn to sukuna with a frown.

“what are you doing?”

your tone is mean but ryomen sukuna can’t take you seriously. your hair has ribbons tangled throughout it. you look so fucking cute.

he looks you in the eyes. “let me check your temperature. feeling feverish? at all?”

you only eye him in response. “stop caring about me.”

“can’t,” he mutters. “let me check it.”

he pads closer, and you’re still glaring daggers at him, but you don’t bite his palm as it cups your face. he pats the back of his hand against your neck, then your forehead, then your chest—and then his palm’s on your cheek again.

“you had six drinks that night,” he murmurs, thumb stroking your cheek. “was so worried. don’t like when you go over your limit.”

“i’m fine,” your voice is sharp—or trying to be. “don’t touch me.”

he shifts his hand into his pocket. “okay.” he says. “i’m gonna get you back.”

that sets you off. “i’m done with you, asshole!” you stab your finger into his chest. “i’m serious—no more on and off bullshit. i’ve moved on. i’m with naoya, for fuck’s sake. you just can’t accept that cuz of your stupid little ego!”

you’re still stabbing his chest. sukuna only watches you patiently, letting you yell to your heart’s content.

“and i hate you!” you tug his collar just to shove him away again. “i’m moving on. i’m happy now. so don’t try to act like you’re still my boyfriend!”

“sorry,” he trails off. he’s still watching you poke him with half-lidded eyes.

“i like your ribbons,” he murmurs. “you look pretty.”

“ugh!”

you storm off, and sukuna bites his cheek as your ribbons swing behind you. his hand finds the spot where you hit his chest and he sighs.

ryomen sukuna needs to get you back. and the sooner he does? the better.

———-

sato gojo has five bomboclat hotdogs in his lap.

how humongous! and worst of all, he refuses to share them with sukuna, who left his own food at the concession stand while his mind fixated on your face. you looked so pretty yelling at him. fuck. has he gone mad?

he shakes the thought away. he has his phone in his hands, facetime call with suguru on screen. toru gojo is setting up a monitor in the background with shaky hands. suguru has his phone at a poor angle and he’s humming into its mic with glee.

sato hooks his mustard-sticky chin over sukuna’s shoulder. “yo, sugu.” he says to the call.

“yo,”

“i have five hotdogs,” sato says humbly. “i’m saving a quarter for you.”

“love your generosity.”

“thank you, brother.”

sukuna shoves sato’s face away, ignoring the pout on his face as he rubs his still-bruised forehead. “suguru. how’s the prep going?”

“we’re all good here,” suguru says, turning the call camera to face toru and the set-up. “toru, you’re on video. say hi.”

“uh—hi!”

“hey, twin!” sato’s chin is back on sukuna’s shoulder. he frowns. “i didn’t save you any hotdogs.”

“that’s okay,” toru pushes up his glasses. “i don’t like hotdogs much anyways.”

suguru laughs behind the camera. “aww. i’ll get you a hotdog, buddy.”

“guys, focus.” sukuna pinches his nose. “the footage. is it ready?”

“yup,” suguru pops the p. just waiting for your signal.”

down on the pitch, the teams are lively.

the stadium is roaring. confetti everywhere, cheers and screams from fangirls and fanboys alike. the campus team jogs out in high spirits. and naoya zenin is there, golden boy of the season, arms in the air and waving like he’s the best thing since sliced bread. sukuna tries not to roll his eyes.

it’s a new season, and this one begins with a speech.

and who else to deliver it but the new captain, naoya? he has his helmet in his arm, grin wide, eyes gleaming. he stands on the podium with a mic to his mouth, and then he clears his throat.

his voice bellows. “GO PANDAS!”

the crowd roars. “go pandas!” sato cheers along. sukuna smacks his head.

“it is my honor, as the new captain of the football team, to welcome you all to the new season. kaisen university has suffered many losses. but this year, under my lead, i swear to you all—victory!”

the crowd roars again. sato is smart enough to not get caught up in the high spirits this time.

naoya raises a hand to calm the crowd. “but first off, i want to say a thank you to our alumni, sponsors, team—“

suguru turns the phone camera to himself, grinning. “i think this is the time?”

“your thinking is correct.”

“hit it, toru.”

toru fumbles with the control panel. he plugs in a mic, and suguru brings his mouth to the head.

“hey naoya,”

suguru’s voice crackles through the stadium speakers. the crowd stills. the football team on the grass is frozen in confusion.

“the alumni, sponsors, team you’re talking about,” you can hear the smile in suguru’s voice. “is it these ones?”

toru hits a button.

the big screen flickers.

the static shifts to a video. it’s one of those out of focus, wobbly snapchat ones, captioned ‘this guy’ with a bunch of laughing emojis. someone says something in the background. naoya scoffs.

“alumni? sponsors? they’re all a bunch of old has-beens with heart conditions,” he spits. “lousy fuckers with too much money. yet they can’t even buy us a trophy. idiots.”

but the video doesn’t end there. naoya is talking while he changes out of his uniform, focused on the locker in front of him. “and this shitty team,“ he bites. “dumb fuckers who would need help to wipe their asses. can’t follow instructions for shit. i see why sukuna fucking left.”

the video ends. all that’s left is the grey replay button on the screen. suguru shifts back away from the mic, holding his phone to his face. “holy shit,” he says into the facetime call. “we fucking did that.”

“yeah,” sukuna says. “we did.”

but he’s distracted. naoya is arguing with someone on field but sukuna doesn’t care to see what that’s about. instead his eyes are on you down near the pitch, your hands gripping the stands. he can’t tell if you’re confused, distraught, happy, sad. it’s fucking killing him. he needs to see your face.

sato climbs unto his chair. he cups his hands around his mouth. “GET HIM OFF THE FIELD!”

sukuna’s eyes widen in alarm, but others are already joining in. OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD! GET NA-O-YA OFF-THE-FIELD!”

on the pitch, naoya’s face flushes in embarrassment. “you sorry sacks of shit! do you fucking know who i am?!”

they’ll never know, because he never has the chance to tell. security guards are escorting him away before he even knows it.

sukuna’s eyes flit down the bleachers. back down to you. he finds you hopping at your seat, ribbons swishing as you chant along with the crowd.

OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD!

sukuna’s lip twitches. get him off the field.

———

“OFF-THE-FIELD! OFF-THE-FIELD!”

the chanting of the stadium is still buzzing in sukuna’s ears.

toru gojo left early, body aching with anxiety and in dire need of a nap. sukuna’s decided it’s about time to leave too—college football games aren’t really his thing anymore.

suguru and sato are geeking out over the whole thing behind him as sukuna trudges forward with his hands in his pockets. he’s half-smiling. he still can’t believe the whole scene had you chanting along and hopping eagerly in your seat. so cute. your ribbons were bouncing everywhere. so fucking cute.

“this is all your fault!”

sukuna knows that voice anywhere.

sato and suguru know it too. the smiles quickly leave their faces, brows knitting in alarm. the three quietly speed up towards the corridor, and the scene has sukuna seeing red.

“you dumb fucking whore,” naoya has you cornered against the wall. “all this shit because of you and your crazy, batshit boyfriend. ‘deal’ my fucking asshole. you see how they embarrassed me? because of you?”

sukuna’s already moving. but geto pulls him back. “listen.”

“you can’t pin this on me,” you try to keep your voice steady, but sukuna knows how your voice gets when you’re about to snap. naoya’s face is too close to yours for his liking. “you’re the one who said all that stupid shit. take some fucking responsibility.”

“responsibility?” naoya’s teeth curl. his breath is hot against your lip. “deal my fucking ass. this was your plan all along wasn’t it, stupid bitch? date me and get closer to me so you can sabotage me along with your boyfriend—”

“naoya,” your voice is dangerous. “i’m warning you, get back.”

“or what?” he spits in your face. “you’ll call your big bad boyfriend to save you? run to him like some stupid little whore—?”

you slap naoya silly.

and for a moment, sukuna’s shoulders un-tense. he’s been holding his breath the entire time, fingers curled into the wall, suguru’s hand on his chest stopping him from charging forward. but fuck, he’s proud. that’s his fucking girl. fuck. why’d he have to go and lose you?

but he can’t relax for long.

“you fucking bitch!”

naoya shoves you against the wall and you thud against it. sukuna doesn’t have to pry geto’s hand away—they’re already charging in.

naoya’s eyes widen as soon as he sees the trio. suguru swings. sato punches. but naoya dodges both, shoulder bumping into them as he slips between the two. he should be stopped by sukuna—but sukuna charges straight to your side, tugging you to his chest, breath heaving. naoya zenin escapes.

suguru and sato’s eyes flit towards the exit. their breathing is sharp, ragged. their eyes drift back to you in alarm. fuck. you’re more important.

sukuna hugs you to his chest, tight. his hand presses your head under his chin. he wants to pretend you’re not fucking shaking in his arms, but god you are, god—you are.

“you’re okay, baby,” he lies. your hand is fisting his collar like you want to pull him closer—or maybe push him away. “you’re okay. i’ve got you, you’re okay.”

you squeeze his collar. “ryo,” your voice is small, “don’t go after him.”

“i won’t baby, swear to god i won’t.”

but that’s just another lie. he presses your head further into his chest, palm heavy on your head. and then he mouths to suguru and sato:

GO. FUCKING. KILL HIM.

they don’t need to be told twice.

“ryo,” you whisper in his chest. “where are they going?”

“they’re giving us privacy,” he lies, and you’ll hate him for it tomorrow but he’ll settle for holding you today. he kisses your head. “are you hurt? hit your head? look at me.”

he can feel your lips jut out in his chest. “i’m fine.”

“i told you to look at me.”

you grumble, but oblige regardless. and god, sukuna’s heart aches. you have your chin on his chest, lashes tear rimmed, cheeks flushed and lips jut out in a stubborn pout. your eyes are glistening with wet. sukuna’s jaw aches.

naoya zenin has got to go to hell.

and he’ll send him there personally. he kisses your forehead, “gorgeous.” and then his thumbs wipe your lashes. “i’m gonna check if you’re concussed. do you have a headache?”

“this is so stupid,” you grumble. “i’m not concussed. and you know it.”

sukuna ignores you, cups your face in his palms. “what day of the week is it?”

“monday.” you grumble.

“gonna say some numbers, say them back to me in reverse,” he strokes your cheek. “four-two-four-two-five-six-four.”

you say them back perfectly. sukuna kisses your forehead. “good job baby,” he murmurs. “smart girl. does anything hurt?”

“no.”

“don’t lie to me.”

you rest the side of your face on his chest, pausing for a moment. then you raise a hand to grip his bicep. “my head hurts. just a little.”

“anything else?”

“i was scared,” you mutter, small. “i was so scared, ryo.”

naoya zenin has got to go to hell.

it’s the second time sukuna thinks that, but he shakes the thought away. he squeezes your hips. tilts your chin so you’re looking up at his face. your lashes are wet & your lips are wobbly & ryomen sukuna thinks you are grace.

“shh,” his thumb rubs your bottom lip. “you’re safe. you’re always safe with me.”

“i know,” your voice croaks as you nod.

“fuck, baby,” he murmurs as he leans down to kiss your eyelids, nose, cheek, forehead. he presses his lips to the corner of your mouth. and then he finds your lips, tongue licking your mouth before he kisses you deep and slow.

“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs between your lips. “m’gonna kill naoya.”

“noo,” you whine, tugging his collar. “i told you not to do that.”

sukuna kisses his teeth, stepping back so he can hoist you up into his arms. his hands dip beneath your thighs to haul you up, and now you’re peering down at him through those sad, wet lashes. he kisses the pout off your lips. squeezes your thighs with his big hands. opens his mouth to say—

“i knocked that sucker out the park!”

sato and geto saunter back into the corridor, grins wicked, steps light. their knuckles are bloody and their jaws are bruised and their smiles are so bright they’re practically gleaming.

you turn to look at them. sukuna grabs the back of your head and pushes you into his shoulder. you pout into his neck as he keeps his palm heavy on your head.

sato is shadowboxing. “right hook—left hook—“ he punches the air. “clean hit to the jaw. taught the bloody wanker a good fucking lesson.” he fakes a british accent.

suguru nods, hands in his pockets & smile smug. “it was a good punch.”

“right?!”

sukuna’s lip tugs. he clicks his tongue as sato fakes punches at suguru, suguru dodging them with lazy laughter. sukuna clears his throat. sato and suguru perk up.

“take her to the nurse,” his voice is low. “make sure she doesn’t have a concussion.”

suguru steps forward and sukuna gently moves you into his arms. you frown up at suguru. “i’m not concussed.”

geto only chuckles, shifting your thigh over his arm to lift you better. “i don’t think so either. but your boyfriend runs a strict program, doesn’t he?”

“ex-boyfriend,” you bite. “and he’s not stricter than me.” “never,” suguru smiles. “you’re the strictest.”

sukuna scoffs behind you. sato just says he likes your ribbons.

he watches the boys leave with you. sato bouncing beside geto, you still arguing in suguru’s arms. but then he thinks about naoya. thinks about how he called his girl a whore, how he had the guts to shove you against a wall instead of just taking your slap like a fucking man. his jaw locks.

his feet are already moving. but then he remembers. don’t go after him.

he’s already broken that promise, already sent sato and suguru to beat him bloody. and he trusts his frat brothers, trusts they didn’t go easy on him. but his knuckles ache. he wants to beat naoya down so fucking badly.

but he knows if he sees naoya now, it will only end in death. and sukuna won’t be the one in the deathbed.

sukuna slams his fist into the wall. “fuck!”

SUGURU’S REMARK: CHILLL. WE CONTROLLED THAT

EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #3: ON THE OFFENSE !

taught by: toji zenin

‘want your girl back? then get fucking serious. stop playing her damn games and show her who’s the man.’

ΣΧ

“i have to kill naoya zenin.”

on toji zenin’s bedroom floor, ryomen sukuna’s jaw is tight. his hands dig into his thighs and suguru sits beside him with worried eyes. toji zenin is on the edge of his bed, running a brush through a jet black lace front wig. his son, five-and-a-half year old megumi zenin, sits beside him with a beach blond color 613 bone-straight wig on his head.

megumi tugs his father’s sleeve, voice flat.

“daddy, i have a buss down.”

toji doesn’t look up from his mannequin. “looks great, kiddo.”

toji zenin is twenty-four, stubble on his chin and single-ish student dad. single-ish because megumi’s mother left him when he turned twenty-one, but now he’s engaged to a pretty rich lady who sukuna still can’t believe forgave him for his lies. whatever—that’s a story for another day. even though toji’s girl is rich, he still insists on picking up odd jobs here and there to support him and meg rather than relying on her money. he’s currently working as a wig influencer for ISEEHAIR®.

on sukuna’s right, suguru has his hair in twin braids—courtesy of megumi zenin—and the same kind of ribbons you wore on game day—courtesy of SlayedBySato. he pats sukuna’s shoulder. “hey man, it’s okay. she’s okay.”

“you don’t fucking know that,” sukuna spits. “you don’t know it that bastard is still around her. i should’ve fucking killed him. slammed his skull into the wall back in the stadium.”

megumi blinks, gaze flat. he tugs his father’s sleeve. “daddy, is uncle kuna okay?”

“he’s in love,” toji answers, reaching for the hot comb. “makes you stupid.”

megumi nods, blond wisps of hair sticking to his cheek. then he stares at uncle sukuna for a bit longer before sliding his chubby body off the bed. “i’m gonna lay my edges.”

megumi zenin pads away.

suguru smiles after him. but then his smile dissolves, and he shifts his gaze back to sukuna. sukuna’s jaw is still tight, eyes glaring daggers at toji’s bedroom floor, and suguru elbows his side. “relax, man. brooding’s not gonna fix anything.”

“suguru’s right,” toji grumbles. “sato and suguru already beat him down. that didn’t make you feel better, did it?”

sukuna squints.

“you want your girl back? stop playing her damn games,” toji continues. “show her she can’t just keep playing around. you’ve embarrassed naoya, sabotaged him. all you’ve done is play along with her bratty lil’ antics.”

megumi’s voice comes from the other room. “daddy, can you help me lay my edges?”

“in a minute, kid.” toji doesn’t look up from the mannequin. “you want your girl? beat her at her own fucking game.”

sukuna grits his teeth. suguru slings an arm around him, braids swinging. “there’s a party for the football team tonight,” he says. “pretty sure y/n will be there again.”

sukuna swallows. thinks about it. and then the door swings open.

in comes sato gojo with megumi zenin in his arms. the five year old has wig edges laid, hair on fleek, and there is no doubt he’s been SlayedBySato.

sato’s grin is clumsy.

“did someone say party?”

# SHOW TIME !

at the party, the bass is so loud the speakers are moving.

not a lot—just a little—but the sound is so loud that sato is pouting as suguru helps him cover his ears. geto yells at some footballer to turn the music down. it takes them too long to comply.

sukuna is on a couch trying to ignore the babe curling herself into his side.

pamela? no—pairin. hair dyed mauve & flushed pink cheeks & a pretty nice rack—not that sukuna is looking. well he did look, he’s just a man and she’s got some pretty nice tits, but it’s okay. he still thinks yours are perkier.

pairin is trailing a hand up his thigh.

“ryo,” she coos. “it’s been forever. i’ve missed you.”

it has been forever. ryomen sukuna hasn’t slept with pairin, or any other girl for that matter, since he started dating you. yes you’ve broken up and gotten back together a hundred times, and technically when you’re broken up he’s a free man, but sukuna knows if he dared to touch another woman even when you’re not with him he’d never hear the end of it. so he’s always been patient. always waited.

which is why it’s not fucking fair for you to let naoya curl up behind you right now.

his eyes narrow. ryomen sukuna watches as naoya slips behind you at the bar, arm around your waist once again. fucking idiot. sukuna doesn’t even care about his arm on your waist instead of your hips anymore. once he gets his hands on naoya, he won’t even have an arm to begin with.

but sukuna doesn’t understand it.

he knows his girl. he knows you. he knows you bark more than you bite, he knows you’re bratty and stubborn and selfish and petty, and he knows men like naoya zenin are not your fucking type. he knows you would never put up with a man who would even yell at you—he found that out the hard way. so how could you let naoya touch you so casually after he dared to disrespect you?

are you really moving on?

he’s heard about it before. boundaries crumbling when people fall in love. is that what’s happening here? is naoya manipulating you? are you being pressured? can he kill him?

or do you actually—god forbid—like naoya?

sukuna scoffs. fucking hell if you do. he’ll kill naoya so you have no one to love. he’ll be damned if the man who steals your heart after him is one that doesn’t even know how to hold you right. naoya zenin will die today. ryomen sukuna will make sure of it.

“ryo,” pairin coos. when did her tits press against his chest?

she’s shifted so much that she’s practically on top of him, thigh digging into his hip. sukuna kisses his teeth. “don’t fucking call me that.”

pairin pouts, sliding a hand down his chest. “so mean. ever since you started dating that girl, you’ve become so mean to me.”

sukuna hears a laugh. it’s you, laughing at something the bartender says. another poor man who will be joining sukuna’s kill list. or maybe not, since you seem happy. you take a sip of your drink and frown when a drop lands on your chest. so cute.

pairin lifts a hand to shift his jaw back to her face. “you’re smiling.”

“yeah,” his voice is bored. “not at you.”

she frowns. “you used to be fun.”

“i used to be single.”

he still is right now, but not for long. never for long. he watches as you take another cup from the bartender. that’s drink number three. behind you naoya presses his face into your neck, and sukuna watches as you ease into him.

ryomen sukuna is blinded by rage.

he’s not quite thinking when he does it. he’s not quite thinking when he grabs pairin by the back of her neck, shoving her lips onto his. she squeaks, “mmph—!” as sukuna presses his lips against her. she tries to sneak her tongue past his lips. he keeps his mouth shut.

sukuna sees it.

he keeps his eyes open the whole time, and across the bar he watches your face lift. you’re laughing, you always are, but then your gaze drifts across the room to him.

the drink in your hand nearly drops.

you do that little thing where your chest heaves—anxious?—and your fingers curl tight around the cup in your hands. your brows furrow like you’re glaring but your lips are wobbly, oh god, they’re so wobbly—

he pushes pairin off his lap.

but it’s too late. you’re already off your chair, scrambling, and sukuna can’t see that well from this far but he knows your eyes are wet. he saw that tear slip down your cheek. he bolts for the exit but someone pulls him back by the shoulder—

“sukuna?” sato’s brows are knit. “what the fuck? what’s wrong man?”

sukuna’s chest is still heaving. his eyes are still on the door.

ryomen sukuna has lost the girl once again.

TOJI’S REMARK: NOT THAT KIND OF OFFENSE, IDIOT.

EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #4: SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE !

taught by: sato gojo

“girls like y/n? they like to keep things difficult. and your prefer it just like that, don’t you?”

ΣΧ

ryomen sukuna hasn’t left his room in days.

two weeks. it’s been two weeks since he kissed another girl and watched you leave with tears in your eyes. and sukuna’s disgusted. stomach against the mattress and head buried in a pillow. you’re pretty when you cry—you’re always pretty—but not so much when he’s the cause of your tears.

SlayedBySato is officially blocked by you on instagram. sato’s tried to come in to cheer sukuna up, but to no avail. sukuna won’t eat anything suguru cooks, or any food at all for that matter. megumi sometimes opens his door and stares at him with bored eyes before leaving. toru comes into his room to sit on the floor and read. he’s always shaky & anxious and glancing up at sukuna every five seconds when he does that, but he still comes in to offer his company anyways.

sukuna’s scrolling through his phone, eyes watching nothing in particular. he gets a notification. probably suguru offering him food. maybe just team snapchat. he ignores it. but then his phone chimes again.

[ mine🫀: OBLIGATIONS.docx ]

sukuna’s brows knit. you have him blocked. that can’t be you.

but he clicks the message anyways. and it is you, and the first thing that greets him is your profile picture. you’re smiling big into the camera, angle low & silly, and somehow you still manage to look bright and beautiful. sukuna swallows. scrolls down to your new messages.

mine🫀: i know what you did at that party was just to get my attention. mine🫀: since u wanna be pathetic i’ll give you more opportunity to do so mine🫀: OBLIGATIONS.docx

sukuna clicks the document. there are no greetings, no ‘to whom may be concerned’, no date or titles. just three things.

WRITE ME A LETTER OF APOLOGY. HANDWRITTEN.

CLEAR OUT EVERY ITEM IN MY SHOPPING CART. USERNAME: y/nthebaddest PASSWORD: d1cknballs11037

APOLOGIZE TO ME AND ADMIT TO YOUR PLANS OF SABOTAGE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CAMPUS, JUST LIKE IN YOUR STUNT ON GAME DAY.

his phone chimes again.

mine🫀: you have one week. if you want me back you’ll complete everything on this list. if u dc just ignore it. mine🫀: bye sukuna.

sukuna stares at the list. studies every word. contemplates each task.

and then he laughs.

yeah. that’s his fucking girlfriend.

# SHOW TIME

sukuna trudges into the frathouse living room with his laptop under his arm. at the center table sato is already there, humming contentedly while playing a game of monopoly by himself. he perks up when he hears the sound of the door.

“well, well,” sato sings. “look who crawled out of my grandfather’s ass.”

“what does that even mean?”

“ignore him,” suguru hums. he steps out from the kitchen with a plate of steaming hot jollof rice in his hands. he scoops some with his spoon, blows on it, and offers a bite to sukuna. “here, try some.”

“mm,” sukuna murmurs, leaning down for a bite. it’s hot, chewy—but then sukuna frowns.

“there’s no maggi in this rice.”

geto’s face falls. “no more food for you.”

whatever. sukuna sits at the center table, setting up his laptop right over sato’s monopoly game. he ignores sato’s protests as he opens up your shopping cart. “she sent me a list.” he announces. “of stuff i have to do if i want her back.”

suguru slides in at the opposite side of the table, brows raised. “show us.”

WRITE ME A LETTER OF APOLOGY. HANDWRITTEN.

CLEAR OUT EVERY ITEM IN MY SHOPPING CART. USERNAME: y/nthebaddest PASSWORD: d1cknballs11037

APOLOGIZE TO ME AND ADMIT TO YOUR PLANS OF SABOTAGE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE CAMPUS, JUST LIKE IN YOUR STUNT ON GAME DAY.

sato blinks at the screen. “dick n’ balls,” he smiles wide. “i love your girlfriend.”

“tread lightly.”

suguru squints at the last item. “this is bad. she’s saying she wants you to confess in front of the whole school? like on game day?” his eyes lift to sukuna. “the dean might actually suspend you if we pull something. you know how much trouble i got in when they heard my voice on the speakers?”

“i had to pay him out of trouble,” sato shudders. “and it wasn’t cheap.”

sukuna frowns. if sato’s complaining? it definitely wasn’t cheap.

but sukuna only opens up your cart, taking in the items on screen. he’s not surprised when he scrolls through the items. lingerie from bordelle & agent provocateur, bags from dior and bottega vennetta, shoes, makeup—the high end kind—and then a bunch of sex toys, also unnecessarily overpriced. his lips tug when he notices a pair of lacy black panties. he already knows that’s for him.

or it could be for naoya to fuck you in, so his face falls.

sato slumps against sukuna’s shoulder. “wow. pricey stuff.”

“she likes nice things,” he mutters, double checking the items. he makes sure everything is in CAD and not USD, and then he checks out. nearly $5000 on clothing, accessories, lingerie. CIBC sends him a notification for possible fraud on his card immediately. he clicks no, this was me.

suguru whistles. “well, that’s that.” he leans back on his palms. “on to task number two?”

——

sukuna taps his pencil against the paper in front of him. “how do i spell exquisite.”

“e-s-q, u-z-t,” sato answers proudly. “all you have to do is sound out the vowels. i learned that trick back in freshman year.”

“there are no vowels in what you just spelled.”

suguru drags a palm over his face. he watches as sato strokes his chin, both he and sukuna staring at the half-empty letter with intense focus. he’s not sure whether to start with explaining to sato that this is not the spelling of exquisite, or if he should let sukuna know that ‘e’ and ‘u’ are indeed vowels.

he chooses to do neither. “sukuna, what do you need the word ‘exquisite’ for?”

“i need to tell her her ass is exquisite.”

“in her apology letter?”

“Yes.”

oh, okay. actually no—it’s not okay. suguru pinches his nose. “this is an apology letter. what does her ass have to do with this?!”

“she likes when i say nice things about her body,” sukuna mumbles, low. geto softens. that’s actually sweet.

“i’m gonna tell her i like her nipples.”

suguru snatches the letter from his hands.

he makes the mistake of letting his eyes drop to the poorly written text, and he’s reading it in his head before he can think any better of it: Hello, I am sorry. Your ass is esquizit. Come back to me. Nipples.

“jesus fucking christ,” suguru breathes.

sukuna scowls at him. “you didn’t let me finish the last sentence.”

sato hugs his knees. “i like this letter.”

suguru ignores them. he puts the letter aside, and tears out a new sheet of paper from the notepad on the table. “look, ryomen. i know you’re not good with words. and i know y/n it’s important to you. so we’re gonna help you.”

sato leans back on his palms. “yup, we are.”

“i meant i’m gonna help him,” suguru glares at sato. “tell me what’s on your mind. what you think. what you feel in your chest when you think about her. if she looked you in the eye and told you she was upset about all you’ve done, what would you say to her?”

sukuna scowls at nothing in particular, pondering. “i’d kiss her.”

“that’s what you would do,” suguru wags his pencil. “what would you say?”

sukuna thinks a bit harder. he thinks about how you look when you’re sad, how you don’t laugh, how your bottom lip juts out in that wobbly pout that makes his stomach hurt. he thinks about how you’d cuss at him before the tears fall, and then you’d grip his collar while spitting teary insults, before collapsing in his chest and letting him kiss your cheek till you quiet down. sukuna thinks very hard.

“i’d tell her i’m sorry,” he says. “and that i hate it when she cries.”

suguru nods. “go on,”

“i’d tell her i was scared,” he murmurs. “of her moving on. of her finding someone better.” he breathes. “i don’t want her to be with anyone that’s not me.”

suguru and sato stay silent.

“i don’t even care about naoya,” sukuna’s voice is tired. his palm slides over his face. “i just want her to be with me.”

“aww,” sato coos.

“shut up.”

but sukuna doesn’t shove sato away when he leans over to hug his head. sato pats sukuna’s face into his chest. “suguru,” sukuna mutters. “can you say that i miss her?”

“already did.”

suguru turns the paper around to reveal the words. sukuna squints to make out the words behind the pretty cursive.

dear y/n, i know i've said sorry a thousand times. i know it doesn't mean much coming from me. but i mean it. i'm sorry for the party. i'm sorry for kissing someone else. i'm sorry for making you cry. i hate it when you cry, hate when i make you sad. i hate it when you look at me like you don't trust me anymore. i was scared. scared you were moving on. scared you were finding someone better. i was scared i was losing you for good. i don't care about naoya. i don't care about other women. i don't care about any of it. i just want you. i want to earn you back. i want to earn your trust. i want to be the person you deserve. i love you. i've never loved anyone else like you. i don't want to love anyone else. please give me a chance to prove it. — sukuna

sukuna blinks at the letter. “i sound pathetic.”

“you are pathetic,” suguru sets it down. “for y/n at least.”

he is, isn’t he?

suguru taps his pencil against the table. “so, do you like it? or shall we draft a new one?”

sukuna thinks about it. sato is still patting his head.

“nah,” he says. “it’s perfect.”

SATO’S REMARK: OH WE’RE SO GETTING HER BACK

EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #5: HAVE YOU EVER APOLOGIZED WITH YOUR LIFE ON THE LINE ?!

taught by: nanami kento

“this is the stupidest plan i’ve ever heard.”

ΣΧ

the letter is done. the shopping cart is cleared. but the boys of sigma chi can’t rest just yet.

they do so anyway. suguru is sprawled lazily on the couch, legs spread and popcorn bucket in his hands. sato has his cheek on geto’s chest, curled up beside him. and even sukuna is leaning into the warmth, legs crossed on the floor and his head against suguru’s leg. the tv is playing something none of them truly care about.

suguru takes a bite of popcorn, teeth sticky. “how the fuck are we gonna pull off the last task?”

sato tosses a kernel into sukuna’s open mouth. “i have no idea.”

suguru pops another kernel between his lips, and then feeds a bite through sato’s open mouth on his chest. “before we even get to that—i’ve been thinking. what about that deal naoya mentioned? back in the stadium?”

sato and sukuna perk up.

sukuna’s jaw ticks again. he’s tried not to think about it. tried not to think about how naoya dared to raise his voice at you, how he dared to shove you back in his anger. he licks his canines. his chest is hot.

“i’ve been thinking about it too,” sato says. “ i have a theory.”

“uh oh.”

“don’t be mean,” sato pouts, and suguru pulls his cheek lovingly. he leans off suguru’s chest, palms still on his shoulders for balance. “my theory? y/n wants to make sukuna jealous. naoya wants him jealous too. boom. they work together and date.”

suguru nods. “but now, naoya thinks y/n is dating him so she and sukuna can work together to trash his reputation,” he muses. “and so he’s treating her badly.”

sukuna’s nails dig into his palms.

he knew you wanted him jealous—that’s obvious. but the thought of his stupid antics putting you in danger? with naoya? fuck. you’re a sharp girl. but you’re all bark and no bite. what the fuck is he supposed to do if naoya even thinks of disrespecting you again?

he speaks up. “back at the party. the one we went to after the game,” he bites his cheek. “i saw her with him again. that’s why i got mad. kissed that pamela bitch.”

“pairin.”

“i don’t give a fuck.” sukuna grumbles. “but that’s not what tripped me up. she was with naoya again—even after how he treated her.” his fingers dig into the couch. “she drags me by the ear when i raise my voice just slightly. why would she stay by naoya after all that? just to make me jealous?”

geto thinks out loud. “what if he has something on her?”

the boys go quiet.

for you to stay with someone like naoya, genuine or not? sukuna knows it must be something serious. he leans off the couch, turns to his boys.

“we need to start planning that final task.”

# SHOW TIME !

“kenny,” suguru begs. “please. we need your help.”

nanami pushes up his glasses. “immediately no.”

the theatre hall is humongous.

thousands of students fitted into velvet seats. there’s some ceremony today—what it’s about, sukuna doesn’t know—but he knows it’s the only opportunity he has to fulfill your last task. the next gameday is a week away, past the one week timeframe you specified.

sukuna also knows you’re in the crowd. he’d seen you sitting close to the front. right next to naoya.

god, you looked gorgeous. low cut top that exposes your plush breasts because you have no sense of time and place. skirt short as always, bunched up around your thighs, and lashes fluttering. bored. you looked hopelessly bored and beautiful next to naoya, and it wasn’t till shoko slipped into the seat beside you that your glossy lips smiled again. fuck. sukuna hopes he’ll get to speak to you soon.

but right now, he and the boys are trying to convince nanami to let him show up on stage in place of presenting his speech.

they’re all backstage. sigma chi treasurer nanami kento is sat at a makeshift desk, tie pin straight, expression flat as usual. “i will not allow you to take over my speech in the name of love and sacrifice. this is the stupidest plan i’ve ever heard.”

“nanaken, you’re not listening,” sato shakes his shoulders. “this is a matter of life and death—our last chance to help sukuna get his girl back.” sato pleads. “if we don’t succeed, he’ll be depressed!”

“i won’t be depressed.”

“he’ll be depressed!”

nanami only pinches his nose.

“look,” suguru starts, leaning over the table with his palms. “let’s make a deal. you let us crash your speech? sato buys you all the BL manhwa you want.”

nanami perks up. “BL?”

sato frowns. “sato?”

“exactly,” suguru says. “i know you’re tired of reading semantic error on a screen. we’ll get you all the physical copies—and whatever other BL you have on your reading list. all you have to do is let us crash your set.”

nanami thinks about it. thinks about how nice it’d be to see jang jaeyoung on a page, how he’d be able to have the story right there between his fingertips. he thinks about it. ponders hard.

and then he nods. “you’ve got yourselves a deal.”

——

each speech passes by way too fast.

well honestly, not fast enough. the audience is snoozing. they forget to clap after some speeches, and in the crowd sukuna can see you watching, bored. you have your head against shoko’s shoulder, phone in your hands. a man in a suit walks up to the stage to remind the audience of ‘etiquette’ and ‘keeping their phones away’. you roll your eyes and take a selfie with shoko, lips puckered out.

god, he misses you.

he closes the backstage curtains. suguru is waving his speech around. “you’re up next, man. you ready?”

sukuna swallows. why the fuck does he feel anxious? sukuna doesn’t do anxious. angry? horny? yes. but anxious?

he swipes the speech from suguru’s hands. “yeah. m’ready.”

———

sukuna is not ready.

but he’s not anxious either, so that’s a win. his body’s vibrating with something he can’t quite name. the audience is clapping away as the current presenter leaves.

suguru claps his back. “go.”

and go he does. he rips the velvet curtains apart and trudges his way to the podium. his hands are in his pockets and his gaze is bored and through the corner of his eyes all he can see is you you you.

you, with your brows furrowed and lips in a pout he wants to kiss off. you stare after him with big eyes, before your eyes go even bigger. he watches you facepalm.

that shouldn’t make him laugh. he sets his speech on the podium.

in the audience, shoko is nudging your shoulder. “girl. isn’t that your man?”

naoya turns to frown at her. “excuse me?”

you and shoko ignore him. “i have no idea what he’s up to.” you lie.

on the podium sukuna clears his throat. the TVs overhead are zoomed in on his face. his hair is golden-red under the lights, and sweat glistens on his skin, and sukuna takes in a deep breath.

“my name is ryomen sukuna, and i’m the previous captain of the pandas football team.”

some people whistle and cheer. others watch in silent confusion. naoya is gritting his teeth beside you and shoko is squeezing your thigh.

“i’m here to make a confession in light of recent events within our campus community,” sukuna murmurs into the mic. god, fuck geto suguru and his pretty cursive. sukuna can’t read shit.

“at the first game of the season,” sukuna clears his throat. “there was a video broadcast that interrupted the flow of the ceremony. i profusely apologize for that,” he says. “i was the one responsible.”

gasps fill the arena.

“it’s unsportsmanlike, i know.” he adjusts the mic. “whether the contents of the video are honest or not, to broadcast them during the ceremony was uncalled for and inappropriate. i had no good or honest intentions behind it.” he grits his teeth, eyes leaving the script.

“i wanted to embarrass naoya.”

the crowd is silent, and sukuna finds your eyes.

you’re looking right at him with an expresssion he can’t make out. beside you naoya is there, arm around your seat, and anger seeps into his chest. naoya has a black eye—he’ll have to thank suguru and sato for that. he’ll also have to give him a matching one on his left eye.

he continues his speech.

“naoya zenin, captain of the pandas, stole my girlfriend.” he spits into the mic. “so i chose to embarrass him publicly. that’s it. that’s my reason.”

the audience is muttering, talking amongst themselves. some people have their phone’s up, recording. some are enraged. some girls are swooning.

“y/n l/n—fuck,” he spits into the mic, gaze bleary. he’s gripping the podium with both arms now, head down and away from the cameras. “evil fucking girl,” he murmurs.

“you don’t want him, baby,” he breathes against the mic.

“come back to me.”

the theatre is silent.

and then it roars

single ladies. girlfriends. boyfriends. members of the football team who miss life under sukuna’s reign. they’re all cheering for him, loud and unrestrained. clapping as sukuna grips the podium with his eyes on the hardwood. the headlights flash on his face and he squints to look past them, eyes lifting towards the audience.

you’re not at your seat.

why?

did you miss the end of the speech? sukuna blames himself. he didn’t even have the guts to look up at you as he breathed out the last line, and now he’ll never know if you heard the very words he’s been wanting to say. sukuna almost laughs. his eyes are hot but he almost laughs.

the audience is still roaring. sukuna rips his speech off the podium and walks off the stage.

NANAMI’S REMARK: SO ALL THAT FOR WHAT?

BOYFRIEND TACTICS #1: NEVER LOSE ME.

taught by: y/n l/n

“never had a bitch like me in your life”

❤︎⁠

when sukuna trudges through the curtains, sato and suguru are already there.

faces flushed, chests heaving. “holy fucking shit—“ suguru pulls sukuna’s head into his arms. “you fucking did that.”

he did. so why does he feel so damn empty?

sato is practically bouncing, worming his way into the hug. “you did that!” he cheers. “did you see y/n’s face? was she cheering too—?”

“she left.”

sato and suguru freeze.

suguru pulls away first. sukuna’s face is dull, downcast—and his eyes are dark and soulless. “oh no—” suguru mutters. he holds sukuna’s face. “did you see when she left?”

“no,” he murmurs. no, he didn’t.

“fuck,” sato curses. “fucking hell, man—isn’t this low? even for her?”

suguru pulls sukuna’s head back under his chin. sukuna doesn’t resist or protest. just stares at the wood floor with empty eyes. but then a voice calls his name.

“ryomen sukuna. are you brooding?”

if god liked him, it would’ve been you. standing there in your short skirt and skimpy top and a teasing smile on your lips. mocking his misery. grinning up at him.

but instead it’s shoko ieri, brown hair under a bucket hat.

under normal circumstances, he’d be happy to see her. sukuna likes most of your friends. they’re all pretty party girls like you, a bunch of twenty-something year olds who think life is about bourbon glasses and friday mornings passed out in the backseat of someone’s car. they’re wild but they’re all nice girls, and they’re good to you so that’s fucking that.

but he doesn’t want to see your friends. sukuna wants to see you.

suguru brushes sukuna’s hair back. “shoko. to what do we owe the pleasure?”

“relax, geto. i’m not here to cause trouble,” she hums, leaning against a beam. “just here to pass across a message.”

she muses. “backstage dressing room. one-hundred two, not hundred and one,” shoko recites. “i have to leave now, but don’t be late. and sukuna,” she pauses to look at him. “no backup. just you.”

she turns away with a lilt in her steps, and the boys of sigma chi are left staring at each other in confusion. the message is clear though, and sukuna wipes his face.

room 102. got it.

# SHOW TIME !

ryomen sukuna comes in alone.

the door to room 102 pushes open with a creaak. the dressing room is racks and racks of clothing, some on the floor, some strewn across tables, and mirrors upon mirrors. the vanities still have their lights glowing orange. the room smells like rust and girl.

sukuna finds you in front of a mirror.

you’re checking yourself out, neon pink feather boa around your shoulders. on your head is a comically large sun hat, and there’s a bright green belt flung around your waist. you don’t look up when he walks in. just shift your hips in the mirror, skirt swishing around your thighs.

“you like my outfit?” you hum, still facing the mirror.

you look silly. if he was in a better mood, he’d probably smile. but instead he trudges forward and leans back against the table behind you. “yeah. looks cute.”

“hmm,” you fit your hands over your hips. “i still feel like it’s missing something.”

sukuna stays quiet.

you walk over to a bunch of boxes, pulling out all sorts of costume pieces. your tone is sing-song. “i heard your little speech.”

sukuna plays with the bracelet on his wrist. it’s not a bracelet. it’s one of your bra straps, actually, and he’d forgotten he put it on before the speech. it’s suddenly itchy against his wrist. “you liked it?”

“i thought it was cute,” you hum, inspecting a tie. you walk over to him, and sukuna spreads his legs a bit so you can slip between his thighs. you hold the tie up to him. “can you help me?”

he takes the tie from your hands. fits it over your neck quietly. he’s folding the ribbon around your neck, pretending he can’t feel your breath on his lips.

he murmurs, “i don’t understand what you’re doing, baby.”

his palm leaves your tie to cup your cheek. your gloss smudges against his palm. “what do you mean? i’m getting dressed up.”

his thumb strokes your cheek. “please don’t play dumb.”

you snuggle into his palm, humming contentedly. sukuna’s thumb still strokes your cheek. his other hand has come up squeeze your hip, then snake around it, then pull you closer into him.

“i’m sorry,” he breathes against your lips.

“for what?”

“for kissing another girl,” he murmurs. “for even looking at her. for being difficult. always giving you a reason to turn around and leave, then begging you to come back.” he cups your face.

“i love you. i’ve never loved any girl the way i love you.”

you trail a palm down his chest. “come back to me,” you repeat his speech.

“come back,” he murmurs, hands sliding up your spine. “come back to me, baby.”

you giggle as he leans closer to steal your lips. ryomen sukuna tastes like strawberry and spearmint.

Y/N’S REMARK: GUESS WHO’S BACK <3

COUPLE TACTICS #1 : DICKMEDOWN—WHO SAID THAT?!

taught by: ryomen sukuna’s cock

“there is no quote. i am a cock.”

❤︎⁠

in ryomen sukuna’s bedroom, he has his back against the headboard and his girlfriend in his lap.

you’re half naked. clad in nothing but a lacy bra and matching black panties, giggling as you pose into his macbook camera. you lift another bra up to check it against your chest. ryomen sukuna squeezes your thigh.

“you like this one?” he murmurs behind you, reaching his hand up to grope your breast. “wasn’t in the cart. added it myself.”

“it’s so pretty,” you coo, lashes fluttering. “thank you, ryo.”

“you’re welcome, princess.”

it’s just two days after the whole speech at the theatre. ryomen sukuna watches you with bleary eyes. he leans back against the headboard, watching as you shrug off your bra to try another one he bought. he reaches up to graze his thumb over your pebbled nipple and you giggle, before sliding backwards to lean back against his chest. he squeezes your tits in his palms before kissing your cheek.

“love this set,” he murmurs against your ear. he’s twisting your nipple in one hand & the other is already sliding down over your belly, down to your lacy black panties. “so pretty on you.”

“mmh,” your thighs squeeze as his hand slips below the fabric, finding your wet, aching clit. he rubs the pad of his thumb over it in circles. kisses your cheek again when you whine.

“missed you,” he murmurs. “so bad, pretty.”

“mhm,” you breathe. you want to bite back with something sassy but ryomen sukuna is kneading your breast while his thumb fingers your clit. he slips in another finger and rolls the bud between them. your thighs squeeze around him.

“ryo,” you purr. “you’re gonna get them dirty.”

“i know,” he shushes you. “just wanna feel you.”

and feel you he does. he pushes your body up on his chest and latches his hot mouth around your nipple. “mmh—,” he groans, tongue swirling around the pebbled peak. “fuck, missed this.”

his fingers rub harder against your clit. faster, faster, until your hips arch of the bed and your thighs shake around him. he can already see slick coating your inner thighs, and your moans in his ear only make him rub harder. “fuck,” he curses. fuck fuck fuck.

your lashes go sticky with tears. your clit is wet and throbbing around his fingers. your thighs shake as you reach your high, and sukuna has to shove his lips to yours to quiet your moans. he licks his tongue into your mouth, hot and wet and sloppy, palm settling to gently rub your clit through your high.

you gasp, pulling away. your lashes are sticky & your cheeks flushed hot. “i missed you.”

he kisses you again, soft. “missed you too.”

he slips your panties off your thighs, holding your naked body against him. “missed this pussy too,” he rasps. “gonna stuff you till you’re cumming on my cock.”

you squirm against him, swatting his chest as he unzips his trousers. “but i just came!”

“you’ll come again, pretty.”

he fumbles with the zipper, slipping out his heavy, hard cock. his cockhead is throbbing and sticky with precum, and he shifts you forward so your back is against his chest.

“go slow,” you whimper, already nervous.

he kisses your shoulder. “you don’t want that.”

and you don’t. you arch into him as he slips his cock into your puffy, slick-coated folds from behind. he smears precum and slick over them with his cockhead, kissing your shoulder as you shiver against him. “relax, you’re okay. you still on the pill, baby?”

you nod shyly. he kisses your neck.

sukuna’s cock is thick. heavy and swollen and pulsing between your slobbering foods. he pushes his hips into you, letting your pussy squelch around him, and his arm fits under your body so he can grope your perky breasts. he tugs on a nipple before rolling it between his fingers. fuck.

you whimper as his cock stretches you out, sliding deeper and deeper into your folds. “fuck,” he breathes against your ear. “you’re so fucking hot. so tight. so wet.”

you whimper as his fingers find your clit again. he circles it hard, hips bucking to push his cock deeper into you before sliding back out, palms still fondling your breasts. it’s too much, it’s too fucking much, and he can hardly blame you for whining against him. “ryo—”

“shh—you’re good, you’re doing so good,” he rasps as you clench around his cock. “so fucking good. you know how good you feel around my cock, baby? m’so fucking lucky—.”

he’s shushing you but his hips only buck faster and faster. your eyes squeeze shut as he breathes. “fuck, gonna cum—“

your walls quiver around him as you come together, white hot cum stuffed between your folds. you groan, ragged, as sukuna pants into your neck. he kisses your shoulder before resting his head against your neck.

“i love you,” he rasps.

“i love you too.”

you stay like that for a moment, holding each other before he kisses your shoulder. “let’s get you cleaned up.”

——

“you have a lot of explaining to do.”

sukuna comes back with new shorts hanging low on his v-line. he has a warm cloth in his hands, and he climbs over your sore body. even now you’re still smiling up at him, lashes fluttering, cheeks flushed. “whatever do you mean?”

“don’t play dumb,” he kisses your cheek before gently nudging your thighs open. he slides the cloth down your inner thigh, ignoring the way you reach up to thread your fingers through his hair. “you have to explain. why you went to naoya.”

“but what if i don’t want to?”

“you will,” he says. he slides your panties up your thighs, pressing a kiss to your clit before slipping them all the way up.

but then he changes his mind. slips your panties down again.

“ryomen.” you’re already sitting up.

“relax,” he mutters against your puffy cunt. “lean back for me.”

you sigh, doing as he says. he licks a stripe up your glistening folds. he can taste himself on your stuffed cunt but his tongue keeps moving regardless. he pulls back, lips glistening with slick.

“you’re gonna tell me exactly what your fucking plan was,” he sucks on your bud, letting go with a pop. “why i saw you again with naoya after he dared to fucking talk to you like that.”

“so strict,” you whimper, cheeks puffed as your hips arch into him. “i can date anyone i want.”

“no,” sukuna hisses. “you can only date me.”

“mmh—” you moan as his tongue slobbers over your glossy folds. you run your fingers through his hair as your pussy drools onto his tongue. “mmh—wanted to make you mad,”

“you did good,” he sticks a finger into your cunt and you gasp, loud. he’s knuckles deep now, pumping his finger in and out of you. “hah—wanted you jealous,” you moan. “we were gonna get revenge.”

his fingers curl so hard you cry his name.

you whimper and he ignores it. “was already jealous. why’d you go back to him after he touched you?”

he curls his fingers again. “ah—! sorry, i’m sorry,” you cry, lashes wet. feels so good. “we weren’t dating for real. just showed up in public together. he said we couldn’t stop, said if we did that meant you won,” you whimper. “he apologized, let me punch him. i gave him a—hnngh—black eye.”

ah. so the black eye naoya had wasn’t from sato and suguru.

sukuna swirls his tongue over your clit, lapping and sucking as he pumps another finger into your drooling pussy. he curls them until he’s pressing into that spongy part that makes you sob, and he sucks gingerly as your pussy sputters and spits slick into his mouth. “ryo—m’gonna cum—”

your thighs shake, walls clenching. sukuna pumps his fingers in faster, letting your thighs squeeze his neck. you cum over his mouth, right around his fingers, and sukuna kisses your puffy, still-sensitive clit.

when he looks up at you, you’re glaring. eyes glistening wet, cheeks flushed. pretty.

“what?” he says. “you’re so mean,” you frown. “you see why i break up with you?”

sukuna huffs, climbing over your figure. when he’s right above you, you tug his neck down.

“i love you,” you mumble.

he kisses your lips. “i love you too.”

COCK’S REMARK : *HARDENS*

EX-BOYFRIEND TACTICS #6: BREAK THE CYCLE !

taught by: ryomen sukuna

“loving you is a loop.”

ΣΧ

in toru gojo’s room of his apartment, the boys of sigma chi are all there. oh—and you too, of course.

sato is fast asleep on his twin’s bed, laid down & drooling on suguru’s shoulder beside him. suguru is tapping at his nintendo switch with furious speed. toru is cooking up something in the kitchen. and on his PC, you and sukuna are there, suguru’s sims 4 game loaded up on screen.

you’re on sukuna’s lap, his arm looped around your hips as you rant about the many tribulations you had to endure while ‘dating’ naoya. you’re customizing sukuna’s sim for your save file, and said man is doing nothing but rubbing your thighs and pressing lazy kisses to your skin.

“—and he leaves his boxers everywhere!” you exclaim, scrolling through geto’s CC folder. “i had to come over after he had practice once and they were everywhere. it’s that bad!”

“mhm,” sukuna kisses your neck, love drunk & bleary-eyed. “so bad, baby.”

“he’s so unhygienic,” you shift in sukuna’s lap, and he squeezes your hips to keep you steady. “i told him to at least clean up if he knows i’m coming over. he said no!”

sukuna nuzzles your ear, squeezes your thigh. “mm. m’gonna kill him.”

“no you will not! stop threatening murder!”

sukuna looks up. you’ve turned your head over your shoulder to glare at him, and he looks up at you through bleary eyes. your cheeks are warm. lashes fluttering. you’re the prettiest headache he’s ever had.

he kisses your jaw. “missed fighting with your pretty face,” he murmurs. “gimme a kiss, baby.”

you soften, and he leans up to kiss you deep.

“woah—” suguru throws a pillow at you both. sukuna swats it away from you without pulling back from your lips. he squeezes your waist and geto frowns. “even if sato’s asleep, i’m still fucking here!”

sukuna ignores him, his hand crawling up to grope your tits. suguru scowls, turns over to face sato’s sleeping figure. he should’ve known protesting was futile. sukuna’s always been an exhibitionist, but you’d think his therapy sessions would’ve taught him better by now.

sukuna pulls back, your gloss smeared over his lip & chin. you giggle at the sight, “hi.”

“mmh,” he nuzzles your neck.

the door swings open, snapping you and sukuna out of your daze. in comes toru gojo with a plate of lazy cake, glasses slipping down his nose. he blushes when he sees you and sukuna pressed close together. “hi. i made snacks.”

“oh, toru!” you purr. “you’re my favorite, have i told you that?”

toru sets down the plate on the desk in front of you. as he leans down you press a kiss to his cheek, and he blushes so hard his face turns beet red. he looks up, surprised, and you’re beaming at him. behind you, sukuna is scowling.

toru drops the plate and runs away.

you turn back to glare at sukuna. “you scared him.”

“no one’s allowed to kiss you.”

“i kissed him!”

sukuna ignores your protests, trying to cup your jaw so he can get a kiss of his own. you shove his face back, and he scowls.

“go apologize to toru,” you frown at him. “now.”

sukuna wants to protest. wants to say he’s comfortable right here with your thighs over his lap and your lipgloss on his chin. but he knows if he fights back he’ll be left with nothing but a sore earlobe & an angry girlfriend. he grumbles as you slide off him.

sukuna trudges to the kitchen, says his apologies. toru accepts them in a heartbeat.

when he comes back to the room, you’re gone.

“where is she?” his heart drops. “suguru—where is she?”

“chill,” suguru mumbles, eyes never leaving his switch. “she left you a letter. check on the desk.”

and next to toru’s plate of dessert, a letter is indeed there. he picks it up, thumb running over the paper. you’ve left a glossy kiss mark at the end.

‘dear sukuna,’ it reads.

‘i’m breaking up with you.’

sukuna’s blood runs cold.

‘i know we just got back together a week ago. but i thought about it! thought about how i’m becoming a better woman, growing in my spiritual journey. do i really want a jealous man who scares away my friends by my side??

so i decided: let’s break up. for real this time. it’s not you, it’s me. maybe if we’re truly meant to be, the stars will align and our paths will cross yet again. but for now? i have to choose me and my growth. so i’m leaving. for good.

i still love you though!! you’ll always be my lover <3 i love you soso much baby boy. i don’t even want to do this. but i know i have to make the right choice for both of us.

sorry to walk away like this. and don’t forget, you are not allowed to date any other woman!!! i am the only woman for you!! always and forever!! no dating, sex, kissing, touching, NOTHING. if i find out you even LOOK at another woman i’ll hate you forever!!!!!!!!!!!!

okay, that’s all. goodbye forever. i’ll always love you ryo <333333 i’m sorry it had to end this way.’

sukuna stares at the letter. he reads it once. twice. then once more.

and then he laughs.

because this is his girlfriend, bratty and high-maintenance and demanding and all. because you say goodbye forever, but he knows he’ll see you next week. he knows tonight you’ll call and say you miss his voice and afterwards you’ll send him a text saying you’re still not getting back with him and will be blocking him as a final goodbye. he knows you’ll unblock him on a random wednesday and won’t text, and he’ll just have to keep sending messages till they don’t turn green and he can ask you to come back to him.

and you’ll say yes. you always do. and if there’s anything or anyone who stops you from saying yes, he’ll crush them.

he rubs his thumb over the bottom of the letter. your glossy kiss mark is there.

and right beside it?

XO, YOUR EX HO 💋

SUKUNA’S REMARK: SEE U NEXT WEEK.

#SIGMA-CHI STORIES !

XO, EX HOE end.

The young adult life was fun, with your friends always pulling you out of the dorm in the dead of night and taking you from one bar to another. From the local student's club to the cabin by the lake, owned by one of the jocks you happened to sleep with.

But the joys of a student's life – be it an evening spent studying or fucking in the car after a stressful exam – were, after a few months, taken away by your stalker.

Suguru Geto has been following you since day one. The moment his eyes fell on your body sprawled on the campus lawn, skin shimmering in the late summer sun, and a sweet giggle tickling his pierced ears.

His brain turned fuzzy whenever he saw the angelic aura wrapping around your cheeky face. Heart melted when your eyes fell on him, even for a single second. An uncontrollable feeling bubbled in his chest at the sheer sight of a little crease appearing between your brows when you bestowed him with a grimace.

It was clear that, for some reason, you treated him rather as a foe than a man who could pique your interest. 

At first, he did nothing but look. Observe, with this devilish smile tugging at his lips and lavender irises taking pleasure in the loveliest scowl slipping onto your face. He tried to keep himself at bay, but not because shyness coiled in his heart.

No, simply because he wished to know everything about you, before making an official approach. Your favourite flowers, the desserts you most cherished, the tight course schedule that always seemed to keep you up all night, favourite shapes and colours of the clacking jewellery that hung from your skin. Of the big hoops that always brushed your neck, and bracelets stacked one on another, chirping like sweet birds whenever you passed by.

He wished to know the colour of your lingerie and how your panties smelled after a long day. To feel the warmth of the bra that had just left the embrace of your breasts. Smell the sweetness of your slightly sweated skin after days when you joined the cheerleading sessions.

Suguru… Suguru wanted to be the one having you all to himself, even if you hated the sheer sight of him.

Whenever you took a shower during late, late nights – someone always seemed to be there. In the shared bathroom on your floor, the one meant to be used solely by the female students. A listener, whose ears pricked up to hear a soft hum of a random melody that bubbled in your throat and sweet sighs when the first hot droplets hit your skin. 

The first time you noticed it was when the bathroom doors closed louder than they should. Another girl coming back from a late session, you thought, giving it no mind. 

But the silence that lingered in the air stretched for too long. As no other shower seemed to be in use, nor did any other sounds of movement filled the lonely bathroom. 

You waited, and waited, to hear something that would not make you believe that a fucking creep slipped inside the room just to await your naked body leaving the shower.

But nothing else ever came, and so your voice echoed off the walls with a, "Hello?"

Silence stood still, and the hot droplets soon turned into the cold sweat tickling the shivering skin along your spine. Nothing, but the thick fog filled the tiled bathroom and a heavy breath of yours, trying to listen for the eerie footsteps that clacked against the wet floor a few seconds ago. 

Coming closer, and closer, till you could already see the heavy, black boots peeking from the lower door crack. A gentle tingling of the oh-so-familiar silver chain slashed through the air, and if you lifted your head up, surely you could see a peek of silky black hair. The shower doors were, after all, not two meters tall. 

"You fucking freak," a low snort escaped your throat. "You don’t think I know who you are?"

Silence. 

He simply stood there, as if waiting. For you to come outside? Or maybe simply enjoying the tension that rose within a blinding fog. The faster beating of your heart, shuddered breath you tried to conceal with a harsh tone, and trembling fingers covering your breasts, as if he could see your naked body through the door.

"Cat got your tongue, huh? Don’t be a coward, at least say something," you continued, making sure the miserably weak latch was keeping the door closed. "You’ve been stalking me for months. Don’t you know who my boyfriend is?"

Suguru knew. 

But he also knew that the captain of the basketball team wasn’t your boyfriend. Because you didn’t do that stuff – relationships, love, cheesy romance. 

So a low chuckle slipped past his lips as he pressed his forehead to the door. Trying to smell the sweet body wash that lingered in the air, imagining the foam that coated your soft body and curled around those plush breasts he loved so dearly.

"I can’t believe you’re getting off to this," another snort escaped your throat, as you banged with a fist on the door. "You don’t think I’ll report you? I’ll end you, do you hear me?!"

But Suguru could simply laugh – deeply, with a vibration hitting the plastic surface. His large palm pressed to the door, as if he tried to imagine where exactly your hand lay. So the image of your skins almost touching could slip an eerie, excited thought that tickled his mind in such a pleasant manner. 

A wrath coiled beneath your heart, hearing how much he enjoyed this little torture. Because, if only he wanted, he surely could rip the door off the hinges with little to no sweat. Instead, he simply let out a hum, curling the fingers into a fist.

"Sure, baby. I hear you loud and clear," a low purr bounced off the tile, foggy walls.

The heat made your head spin, body leaned against the plastic door in need of fresh air. But going out now would mean slipping right into his needy clutches. 

And before you could snap once again, he added, "I hope you won’t mind me taking those pretty panties of yours, hm? I’ll give them back one day, pinky promise," and with that, the leather shoes disappeared from your sight.

With your pitched you fucking psycho, kissing his cheeks goodbye, as he left the stuffy bathroom.

And so during the first semester, you started seeing the consequences of having a stalker like him.

Your panties were disappearing one by one, and you knew that it was not a fault of the old washing machines in the dorm. Always suddenly appearing back on your bed, clean and fragrant, although only god knew what he did with them.

Other times, it was the white knee-socks from the cheerleader costume. The woollen, soft material that wrapped your sweaty thighs after hours of training. Always disappearing whenever you planned to do the laundry, always back on your bed a bit stiff, with a heavy cologne still clinging to the cloth.

The report to the headmaster did truly nothing, as you had no proof whatsoever that Suguru Geto was your stalker, nor that he slipped into the women’s bathroom. After all, no one else saw him, and for that matter, no one could accuse him of anything. 

The jock you were sleeping with back then refused to deal with him another way, for he simply didn’t see a reason to it.

You snorted, the first time Toji said it and slipped off his bed. The winter’s biting cold was sneaking past the old dorm windows as you started dressing yourself up. 

"Doll, what are you doing?" The mountain of a man asked with a sigh, stretching his massive body on a bed. "I won’t kill some random guy, just because you think he’s stalking you."

You scoffed at the quizzical tone of his voice, pulling on the warm, woolly sweater. "So you think I made this up, huh?"

Toji groaned, lazily wiping his face with a hand. "Come on, I’m just saying that he may have a crush and that’s it."

"He’s been stealing my underwear and listening to me taking showers for months!"

The emerald eyes followed you with a raised eyebrow, as you pulled tight jeans onto your ass. The scowl between your brows made him chuckle lowly and sit up on a bed, patting the still-warm place next to him.

"Come on, let me make you feel better. It’s not as if he’ll do anything else." His long hand reached for the loops of your jeans, but you quickly smacked it. "Doll, I’m serious. If you were in danger, I would definitely deal with him."

Fully dressed, with shoes on, you turned to him with a low tsk and, "I think you’re too much of a fucking coward to do it," before going out of his room and closing the door with a thud.

Months passed; winter turned into early spring, the second semester began, and Suguru Geto was slowly getting closer. 

In slow, baby steps and yet you felt the line between the two of you thinning. With him appearing on your horizon much more often, following you around the campus, barely trying to hide it.

In early spring, he started leaving little gifts on your bed, under the door, in the locker. A pretty set of lingerie, favourite flowers, a tape with music he thought you could like, the… death threats.

Not to you, oh, but of course, as he would rather cut his limbs off than make a single, precious strand of your hair fall for the greediness filling his heart.

All the death threats were always aimed at your lovers, of course. 

As Suguru had a little patience left for seeing you change men like gloves, with none worthy to be bestowed with the softness of your skin. To nuzzle into your neck, trace kisses down the chin, and hear the sweet laughter every single day. 

Suguru was simply jealous. And he addressed it quite openly in short, paper notes that you somehow always found in your bag.

The mix of, baby he’s not good for you, and, break it off, or he’ll regret ever setting his eyes on my girl.

When you brought them all to the headmaster, he simply offered to monitor the situation. As you still had no proof to offer that Suguru Geto was the one who wrote them all. No one saw him slipping the notes into your bag, nor his ghastly figure stealing all your lingerie. 

On a campus, he was simply a weird guy.

In classes, the best student.

For you, a hellish nightmare that tried to crawl under your skin and wrap around your body like a deathly viper.

And so you ignored the threats. Broke most of your relationships, but didn’t quite reveal the reason. If he had a problem with you sleeping with one guy for a month or two, then… you simply had to stick to one-night stands and not show yourself on campus with any other men.

As long as you weren’t hanging onto anyone’s shoulder, it should be okay. Somehow, you would last the next year and leave this town behind. With the stalker hot on your heels and the presents stacked in your bedroom, one on top of another. 

The middle of the second semester began quickly, with spring in full bloom and the sizzling sun once again letting you slip away for the pool parties at the jocks’ houses. You allowed yourself to get lost in the pleasures and madness of student life, with summer just around the corner. Only a few months left, and you would get a break from your stalker for the whole holidays.

But then… Suguru Geto confessed.

He came to your dorm with a bouquet of your favourite flowers, a small bun sitting high on his head, and pierced lips curling in a gentle smile, as he knocked on your dorm’s door. After months of following you obediently like a puppy, he knew every little thing about you.

Every mood swing of yours, each emotion, always oh so visible on your lovely face. He learned how to watch you, please you, and say the right things to become the perfect boyfriend.

He knew how your pussy smelled during the ovulation days. How you usually tasted, checking it each day with a pretty lingerie of yours pressed to his lips, and fingers pumping his leaking cock. 

He learned the melody you always hummed under the shower and the brand of shampoo that made your hair smell like the sweetest garden.

He found out what you liked and hated in bed, all the kinks you wished to try. The way your fingers pressed to your swollen clit, whenever you stayed in your dorm room alone. How your breath hitched when you were close, and thighs squeezed around nothing, although he truly wished it was his head being squished between the heavenly softness that haunted his dreams.

And when you opened the door, he knew that it was now or never. He, finally, was worthy to ask for your love.

"Hi, baby," he said, glancing at your figure dressed in nothing but a skimpy gown. 

Wrapping you a bit too tight, ending just above the mid-thighs and with perked nipples poking through the flimsy material. 

A scowl bubbled in your throat, and you quickly, with full force, tried to close the door. But he was quicker, slipping his heavy shoe right into the small crack. 

"Leave, or I’ll start screaming," you warned him, getting as an answer a low giggle.

He pushed the door easily, coming into your room. The dim light slipping from the night table bathed the small space with a soft glow. A few scented candles flickered on your desk and the bed of your roommate, as usual, was empty.

You took a few steps back, trying not to show any signs of panic. 

The sudden fear that rose in your chest. Breath becoming slightly more hitched, fingers trembling around the gown you tried to pull down. Eyes fixed on him, as if he could attack any minute now. 

But he, as always, was looking at you. Closely, carefully, with lavender warmth slipping up and down your body and a handsome smirk tugging on his lips. Long hair tickled his shoulder, swimming down along the muscular back dressed in leather jacket. Metal bars on his lips and eyebrows twinkled like coins under the spilling candle-flame, adding a sort of wickedness to his demeanour. 

Suguru Geto was… handsome.

Dear lord, he was beautiful. 

And as difficult as it was to swallow, you could not change the fact that your stalker was one of the prettiest men you had ever seen. With a horrendous and sinful character, yet the face of an angel.

So you allowed yourself to trace the broad back bulging under the jacket. The height looming over your shivering figure. Long fingers that gripped the bouquet and beefy thighs dressed in black jeans.  The woodsy scent of his cologne wrapped around your senses in an utterly pleasurable way, melting you in its warmth.

You hated the way he made you feel. Confused, scared, and most of the time simply furious. But somehow, on some days, a bit too balmy. With a heat spreading all over your body, slipping under the chest, down the belly, between the thighs, as if the wickedness of his actions, the sheer idea of how obsessed he was with you, made you excited. 

So then, while he stood in your dorm with a straightened back, you decided to wait. To see what other foolish plan would bloom in his devilish mind, only for you to bring it back to the headmaster. 

"What the fuck do you want?" you snapped, crossing arms over your chest.

He took a step closer, lavender eyes mingling with an excitement of a source that made your spine tingle in an unpleasant way. Long hand extended towards you, pushing a lush bouquet right into your arms. 

"Go out with me," he stated, not even curving his tone into a question. 

A statement, rather, it was as if he was utterly sure that you would agree.

And you stood there with the same scowl that didn’t leave your forehead even for a second. Fingers wrapped around the heavy bouquet, nostrils tingling with the strong, flowery smell you loved so much.

But the wrath coiling beneath your chest was dangerously close to spilling. Eyes bulged, hearing the question he dared to push after months of acting like a psycho stalker and turning your life into madness. Everyone looked at you like a crazy, delusional woman who tried to frame a poor outcast as a maniac who, Suguru Geto, definitely wasn’t.

And now he had the audacity to stand in your bedroom, checking your body dressed in nothing but a flimsy robe, as a sly smile tugged at his lips. 

"What did you just say?" Rolled in tremble, as you could barely stop the rage bubbling in your chest. 

His head tilted. Long legs took another step closer. Until the big hand lifted to nuzzle your soft cheek, strong thumb brushing the skin aflame with fury.

"Go out with me, baby. Let me love you as you deserve it." The silkiness of his tone made your head spin, in both an unsettling pleasure and madness. "And if you don’t want to date me, use me. It’s been a while since you slept with someone, hm? Why won’t you just use me for your pleasure?"

Thumb slipped to your slightly parted lips. The urge to bite it and suck on it fought in your mind, bringing an irrational feeling that made your lower lip tremble right under his digit.

His words clearly stated that he, in fact, did not know that you hadn’t given up on sleeping with other men. Because if he did…

"Why so sure that I’m not fucking with anyone?" You muttered, tilting head in a cheeky manner.

As if you wanted to indulge yourself in the psychotic game of his, fully aware that you would always end up as a loser. Because for the past few months, Suguru Geto was never, ever, letting you win any of the tricks you tried to play on him. The reports, gathering the evidence, paying people to give him the lesson, although the next day he was always appearing back on the university’s lawn. Fully aware of all your miserable attempts.

Something in his eyes twinkled, but the smile didn’t come off his lips even for a second. "Do you?"

You smacked away his hand, and with a swing, shot the flowers through the room. Gentle petals smashed against the wall, falling pitifully on your roommate’s empty bed.

Before he could even look their way, your arms wrapped around his neck, perked nipples pressed against his torso as you lifted yourself up on tiptoes. The sweetness of your skin immediately enveloped his senses, and it seemed this sudden, intimate gesture left him speechless.

"Every. Single. Night." You whispered, tugging harshly on the long, silky hair curling behind his neck. His breath slipped out shuddered, and, for the first time, you noticed a true rage bubbling in his gaze. "Think you’re so smart? That I’m scared of your stupid threats?" He didn’t answer, allowing himself to cherish the softness of your body pressed to his. "I’m fucking every day with a different guy. Guys, maybe? Who knows, maybe I’m already knocked up stupid after all the cum they–"

His patience finally snapped. 

One hand curled around your waist, the other lifted to squeeze your jaw before the last, nasty words would fully set his mind ablaze. The fingers dug painfully into your cheeks, the arm kept you in place, forbidding you from slipping away from the deathly clutches.

"Aren’t you a smartass, hm?" He chuckled, but his low voice was edged with the wrath that made the lavender irises narrow into a cat-eye glance. "I’m giving you an easy way out, baby. If you’re a fucking nymphomaniac, why won’t you make me your boy toy? Think I was joking?" He tugged you, drawing a soft groan from your throat. And as fear filled your body from head to toe, something exciting, maddeningly confusing, tingled in your fingertips.

"You are a fucking joke," a muffled mutter bounced off the walls, only making him squeeze your cheeks even harder. 

"I don’t think you’re in a position to make me angry, baby," he leaned closer, his lips mere millimetres from yours. 

Another move, and he could taste the sweetness of your lip gloss.

"Or what?" You snorted, enraging him even more. "You’ll kill me? Come on, psycho. At least I’ll get myself free from you."

Suguru never wanted to hurt you. He never wanted to do anything that would cause you even a moment's pain. But the way you spoke to him, the way your eyes twinkled with the truth of choosing death rather than spending another second in his presence, made his blood boil in a disgustingly dangerous way. 

Your doe eyes fixed on his, lovely face twisted in a wicked smile as he finally loosened his grip on your cheeks.

"Is that your final answer, then?" He asked, low bass filling the small room. Candle flames licked a side of his face, with warm tongues and peppered kisses. A devil truly looking like an angel. "I promise you’ll regret it, baby."

And with a final scowl, you pushed him away. This time, he allowed you to do it without a fight.

To kick his massive body out of your room and smash the door till the tremor bounced off the corridors. 

Back then, while gathering the beautiful flowers of the bed and pushing them all to the trash can, you didn’t know what consequences your decision would bring upon the lives of not just you, but all the other people you associated yourself with. The rage filled you from head to toe, making your mind go foggy from the dizziness and adrenaline that still pulsed in your veins. 

Back then, you thought that the official rejection would finally stop all his attempts to coax you into this weird relationship he had made up in his head and give you a little breather.

So when you didn’t notice his presence around yourself for the next few days, a grain of hope bloomed beneath your heart. That maybe, he finally decided to leave you alone. 

Your lingerie stopped disappearing, death threats were no longer found in your bag, and all the little presents stopped appearing on your bed. Life was getting back on track, and you could enjoy the last few months of university, hanging on jocks’ shoulders and slipping into parties every single weekend.

But as it would soon turn out, those few days of peace were nothing but a bad omen. The storm that would soon haunt not only your life but the whole campus itself. 

As on the night one of the male students had left your dorm, he disappeared. Simply, just like that, only to be found two days later in the local forest. With body dismembered into pieces, head a few meters away from the torso.

When the news spread across the campus, not a single student or professor was left unshocked, their hearts shattered. 

Did he have any enemies? People wondered. Did he find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time?

The police went to you first, of course, since you seemed to be the last person who saw him that night. But the two officers didn’t get anything from the stuttering, and weeping body of yours, with dark circles swollen under your eyes. As, in fact, you didn’t even know his name, after meeting at some party and taking back for a quick fuck to your room. 

Weeks passed before you could somehow move on and find calmness within a company of another guy. Not a one-night stand, but simply someone whose kindness and gentlemanly manner made your mind flutter with peace. He talked to you gently and made a sweet, genuine laugh slip past your lips. A friend, companion, but of no love interest from your side.

And yet, after a while, he disappeared too. Only to be found in the lake, with a purple body bulging from the water and a head wrapped in a dirty sack. 

This case… made you spiral into madness. 

Because, as you would soon discover, men who got close to you in any way were always, always, going missing just a few days after exchanging a few simple words with you. Be it a random student working in a library or a waiter at your favourite dinner. It didn’t matter who they were to you, but a single glance at your face was enough to sentence them to death.

And whenever another person was disappearing, you always saw him.

Suguru Geto, looking at you from across the campus, with a diabolical smirk tugging at his lips. Of unmatched beauty, with cheeks, straight eyebrows, and almond-shaped eyes. Lavender gaze lingering, with an uncanny sense of a secret only the two of you knew. The love and obsession so heavy that he was ready to cut you off from any men if that would force you to crawl back to him.

So you simply stopped hanging around campus. You just gritted your teeth, hid face beneath the heavy hoodie, and left the room only for classes. Room – classes, room – classes, the route that, during the last month before the summer break, became your routine. 

You made minimal contact with other men, be it people in your class or a cashier at the local supermarket. Avoided the parties, gatherings, hangouts, just to not risk anyone’s life any further. 

Just one month, you thought, desperately wanting to move back to your parents’ house for the summer holidays. 

To leave Suguru, the university, this whole mess behind, and lock yourself far away from all the problems you already caused.

And then, a few days before leaving, Shoko knocked on your door. And when you opened with a puffy face and a shirt dirty from a chocolate ice cream you just stuffed yourself with, she sighed heavily, quickly coming inside.

"Do you even have a roommate?" She asked, noticing that the other half of the room was always empty.

With a brief nod, you fell back on your bed and closed the book you had just been reading. Ice cream in a big paper cup was melting on your bedside table, and heavy curtains cut off the summer light in the stuffy room. 

"She’s always hanging out with her boyfriend," you muttered, patting the place next to you. 

Shoko took a seat, watching the misery furrow your face. "You can’t cut yourself off. It’s not healthy, you know?" she said, tugging a lock of your hair back behind an ear. 

Your fingers fiddled with the old, pink tracksuit, picking on the little, plastic diamonds glued to the soft material. 

"I don’t want anyone else to die," a low, almost crying voice filled the space as you desperately tried to hold back the tears already swirling behind your eyelids. "What if he’s going to hurt you?"

She wondered for a second, taking in your state, a pain ripping at her heart. "Don’t worry, I won’t let that bastard get anywhere near me. Besides, it seems that he only aims for your…" She bit down on the lower lip, as if not wishing to confirm what was already obvious. "Anyways, I thought that maybe we could have some fun tonight. Nothing crazy, just a simple funfair with me, Utahime and Yuki."

You looked up from behind the wet eyelashes, seeing the comforting smile on your friend’s face.

"I don’t think I’m in the mood for fun," another sigh escaped your tightened throat. "Besides, he can follow me there."

She hummed, nodding her chestnut head. Short hair curled around the lean cheeks, and a single cigarette was pushed behind an ear. 

"Well, how about you slip away through the window? He won’t notice you leaving the dorm. His room is on the other side of the building; he won’t even see you cross the lawn."

A low giggle slipped past your lips, seeing a cheeky grin lift her lips. "And how do you know that?"

"I think you truly underestimate your friends. Yuki’s boyfriend is friends with his roommate, the nerd guy, Satoru. We’ll make sure he keeps him entertained for a few seconds," Shoko laughed, squinting her eyes like a sly kitty. "Besides, there’s some weird metal band in town. I’m sure he and the rest of Addam’s Family will hang out there. He already knows you’re too scared to even leave your room, so… he won’t suspect anything."

The plan indeed sounded good. And as your room was on the first floor, slipping away would be easy. The worst that could happen was a small scratch, but it seemed worth it to experience even the simplest moment of joy before leaving your friends for two months. 

At the same time… the fear was eating you alive. The thought that he might somehow be able to track your location sent a shiver down your spine. Made your mind freeze, heart trying to leap from the tightened chest. You didn’t want to hear about any more murders. Didn’t want to befriend kind, innocent people who would meet a tragic end only because of the psychotic stalker who cared for you in his sick, twisted manner.

And yet, without a second thought, you nodded, drawing a squeak from Shoko’s beaming face. She pulled you into a tight, warm hug, a sweet fragrance of perfume and cigarette smoke wrapping around your senses. 

"So get your ass up now and go take a shower," She said, pushing you towards the door. "I’ll prepare a little special outfit for our night out."

The bathroom was empty when you entered, but no one interrupted your long, warm shower. No heavy footsteps bounced off the tiled walls, and no one’s silky hair peeked down at your naked body. It felt almost unusual, yet you tried to enjoy this intimate moment of peace just as you used to, with the same melody hummed softly beneath the dripping rain and a sweet body wash lathering your skin. 

Colours seemed to slowly spread across your cheeks, the purple smooched disappeared from under your eyes, and a heavy, relaxed breath escaped your throat. 

The life, even for a slippery second, felt as if it was back under your control. 

When you turned to the room, a small, shocked gasp rolled off your tongue.

"I am not wearing that!" You scowled, looking at the set Shoko prepared for you. 

You had long forgotten about the tight, extremely short pink skirt and the sparkling white top that were hidden in your wardrobe. A set of white lingerie lay right next to them, and your heart almost stopped at the bra, thin enough to make your perked nipples visible through the flimsy top.

"What do you mean? You wore it so many times before!" she exclaimed, adding a pair of big hoops and milky-white heels. "Come on, don’t be a prude!"

"I’m not, but…" but what if some guy tries to talk to me, and he will be there, and…

"Nuh-uh, stop. I can read your thoughts," Shoko said, quickly wiping a towel over your naked body. Her chestnut eyes slid up and down your figure, a cheeky smile tugging at her lips. "Mhm, perfect. Dress up and let me do your make-up."

So after an hour and a long fight over the crimson lipstick that smudged your lips in an utterly whorish way, you and Shoko, under the sky blanketed in darkness, finally slipped away through the window. Bags fell onto the lawn first, heels following right after, only for your stupidly giggling lips to shush each other as you ran across campus. 

Yuki and Shoko were already waiting outside, and when you saw them crouched behind the bushes, a loud, alive laugh filled the warm summer night.

"Why didn’t you wait in the car?" You asked, slipping into the passenger seat.

Yuki started the car, slowly reversing from the university’s car park. "For your entertainment, dear." She chuckled before pulling onto the main road.

After ten minutes of laughing and chit-chatting in the car, with music blasting from the speakers and Yuki’s cabriolet swooshing along the forest roads, you finally noticed the lights.

Red, orange, and purple, with a Ferris wheel looming over the dark, haunted house, rollercoasters, and multiple colourful booths filling the place with a mixture of burnt popcorn and sweet cotton candy. The tacky music beamed from the stickers, bouncing off the nearby lake, hidden just behind the deep forest. 

Children, teenagers and students filled the park to the brim, with plastic red cups or paper boxes of food in their hands. Men tried to show off their muscles, hitting the high striker again and again until the golden bell buzzed with a red alarm, tickling your earlobes. A few squeaks escaped from the haunted house after a group of girls left it, laughing and giggling, while another group just entered, fear twisting their faces.

It seemed perfect, joyful and carefree, lifting a heavy burden from your shoulders and allowing you to experience a moment of happiness.

Shoko wrapped her arm around your shoulders and pulled you towards the entrance.

After an hour, you completely forgot about the terror that had haunted you for the past year. You couldn’t count the cans of beer you drank, the amount of caramel popcorn that filled your belly with sweetness, all the times you almost barfed on the rollercoaster, and your miserable attempts to win a plush toy in darts.

Some men looked behind their shoulders to sense a direction from which sugary laughter was coming. Some tried to talk to you, but all three girls were immediately taking you away from their clutches, knowing that the presence of another guy was the last thing you needed.

But then all of them left for the haunted house, which you refused to enter, and suddenly became easy prey. Easy enough for someone to come into your line of sight and let out a chuckle when another soft ball didn’t hit the moving object. 

"I’m sorry, but you really suck at it," a low voice whispered in your ear, and you quickly looked over your shoulder. 

A young man, surely your age, with coffee-coloured eyes that mingled like little stars and sandy hair brushed slightly back. He stood tall, with broad shoulders bulging beneath the blueish shirt. Muscular arms peeked from beneath the short sleeves, with a few creamy buttons revealing his warm chest.

Your lips pouted. "I’m not that bad."

"It’s the fourth time you lost it."

Sixth, almost slipped away, but instead, you let out a giggle.

His eyes scanned your face, taking in the loveliness warming your skin, before drifting towards a booth filled with plushies.

"So which one do you want?" He asked, giving the cashier a few dollars for another try. 

You bit the plush inside of the cheek, pointing with a finger at the big, black cat with yellow eyes and a pinkish nose.

"He looks mischievous," a man murmured, nevertheless sending you a smile.

His legs spread a bit wider, and his body leaned over to get a better view of the moving cans.

"I like them a bit mischievous," you said, moving yourself to stand right next to him. 

With a corner of the eye, you noticed his gaze on your warm cheeks, before he looked back towards the game. "I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’m a nice guy."

The first ball flew, hitting right in the middle of the small can. You gasped, shooting your head towards him. To look at the cheeky smile and sandy brows curving up. 

"You did not!"

He shrugged, rolling a chuckle. "Not bad, hm?"

Another three balls in his hand disappeared just as quickly. One by one, each hitting the can with force, until the metal cups fell to the ground. The cashier seemed just as surprised and charmed as you, watching the blue veins bulge on his forearms and squinting at the aim. 

When the last can fell, you suddenly, without a further thought, grabbed his shoulders and started jumping with loud squeaks.

"Oh my god! Amazing!" The pure happiness lighting your face swelled his heart with pride as he pointed a finger at the big, black cat.

"Here you go, pretty," He said, a gentle rosiness kissing his lips as he pushed the plush into your arms.

A bit too small to hug it fully, slightly bigger than your chest.

"Pretty?" Fell rather cheeky, as you walked towards one of the benches. 

The warm summer air coated your body, hair stuck to the glossed lips, and you noticed the way his finger curled into a fist, as if wishing to push those few strands away. 

"Well, aren’t you?" He scratched the back of his neck at the poor attempt to crack a flirty joke. 

And as heartwarming as it was, maybe a little cheesy, you smiled, nuzzling cheek into the soft fur of your new gift.

"Mhm, whatever you say, handsome."

This time, his lean cheeks blazed with colour. Eyes slipped over your shoulder, as if the loveliness of your eyes was simply too much to bear. Cute.

"I’m Nanami," he said, coffee eyes finally meeting yours once again. "I was watching you for a while and thought you were pretty…"

The shyness creeping up his neck melted your heart. He was handsome, of course he was, with a sharp jaw and sandy hair, a few golden strands as if licked by the sun's rays. Eyes deep and warm, like sweet cocoa, held the damnedest purity that men your age usually did not possess. Pale skin, coated with a sheen of sweat, fingers curling and straightening under the weight of your gaze.

You sat down on the nearby bench, nothing but a black cat keeping your thighs from touching each other.

"Are you trying to flirt with me, Nanami?" You asked, turning head his way.

"Is it working?"

You hummed, leaning closer with a devilish smile dancing on your lips. "I think you’re pretty cute."

Nanami turned out to be the utmost gentleman. Always paying attention to everything you said, listening with pricked ears and quick nods. Sometimes the conversation turned to him, but more often to you. And although you thought of yourself as a rather boring person, Nanami enjoyed every word that slipped past your lips.

He seemed rather boring, but kind, shy, and utterly curious about your persona. Making a pleasurable warmth bubble in your belly and a wicked need to coax him into your arms. To use him for your own satisfaction, as back in the days when you enjoyed spending your nights with men too good to hang out with girls of your sort.

And soon you started leaning closer. And closer, placing the cat on the other side of the bench, pressing your thighs together. He was sweetly, utterly aware of your presence. Of the sweetness that filled his nostrils, the warmth of your body and giggles kissing his earlobes.

"I was thinking…" fell sweetly, with your breasts stuck to his arm.

Nanami’s breath hitched, lips felt slightly open. "Y-Yes?"

"Maybe we could move somewhere quieter?" A lovely pout formed on your lips, doe eyes lurking up from beneath the curtain of lashes. "There’s a lake nearby. And I could reaaally use a cold swim right now."

You felt a tremor slip down his spine. The goosebumps rising on the skin of his bicep, you curled fingers around. A bulge in his trousers that made your eyes twinkle and lips lift in a wicked smile.

"But you don’t h-have a swimsuit," he said, perfectly knowing how stupid his reasoning was.

Because the lack of a swimsuit was, indeed, the whole point of this secret meeting. 

So when a low, "Do you mind?" Slipped past your lips, he quickly shook his head.

"Let’s meet in ten, then." You said, before walking away towards the hidden beach with a gentle sway of your hips and a big cat wrapped within your arms.

It was safer to meet there separately. The reasons were obvious, but Nanami didn’t need to know them. There was no need, as for the past few hours you had been carefully scanning the park for the dark, heavy shoes and their owner, a face that still haunted your dreams.

It seemed he truly had no idea of your whereabouts, so the invitation seemed quite safe. Nanami appeared too good to get himself tangled up in your whole mess, yet the egoistic, carnal need for pleasure was far stronger than the need to keep a clear mind.

 The short path through the dark forest led you towards a small beach, with trees looming over the crystal water and the moon peeking through the thick branches. Crickets hummed a summer melody, gentle waves crashed over the soft sand and without a second thought, you started undressing yourself. 

The top, skirt, heels, followed by the flimsy white lingerie. A shiver ran down your spine when you dipped your feet in the water. Lukewarm, but still cooling your body in such a pleasing way. You slowly went further, and further, till the lake wrapped around your hips and moonlight bounced off the crystal droplets gathering on your skin.

Soft sigh slipped past your lips as you immersed yourself fully, with only your head peeking over the calm surface.

After a while, you finally heard footsteps slowly coming towards the beach. Nanami was close, and so you went back to the shore, slowly, slowly, walking out of the lake, with beads coating your naked body. Hanging off the perked nipples, nuzzling into the collarbones, dripping down your pussy, and a sheer sight of you could make one recall legends of water nymphs. With a beauty that unlatched heaven itself, carrying a wicked spell that spiralled men into madness.

When the shadow lurked from between the bending trees, your lips curled. Head tilted, mind already imagined the fever that would hit his lovely, virgin cheeks. 

"Nan–"

And yet, before the name could fully roll off your lips, your breath hitched instead. 

Because the man who appeared in front of you wasn’t him. The kind boy you met just minutes ago.

No, but instead Satan himself. Demon, nightmare, a fiend plaguing your life since the year before.

With a tall, muscular body dressed in black, heavy shoes wrapped around his ankles, creamy skin drenched… in blood. Long fingers wrapped around the long knife, and this damned smile bubbled behind the lavender irises.

"You–" a shuddered breath escaped your tightened throat, body suddenly a lot more naked than it should.

Everything you showed, exposed, and wanted to offer wasn’t meant to be seen by him.

And Suguru Geto knew it. Oh, he knew too well, and that’s why the lavender gaze travelled up and down your body with a satisfaction.

"Hi, baby," he said, slightly tilting his head. "Why the surprised face? Have you waited for someone else?"

You didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to confirm the obvious. Instead, your hands lifted to cover the soaked breasts, eyes quickly fell on the clothes left messily on the sand. Four big steps and you could at least grab the lingerie.

But Suguru noticed the way your gaze wandered, and a small gasp escaped his lips. He was faster, with long legs carrying him to your panties before you could take a step, body still frozen in fear. With one hand gripping the knife, he bent over and grabbed the dirty panties with the other.

"Such a pretty set. All for me?" He giggled, lifting the material to his nose. You could hear a low moan as he took a deep, heavy sniff with utter pleasure. Pervert. "Fuck, baby. You always smell so fucking good." Before you could snap back, his tongue peeked out past the pierced lip, taking a long, moany lick of your juices, lavender eyes not leaving your face for a second. "And taste like heaven."

Something bubbled in your belly. A mix of emotions too strange to identify, making your mind spin into a fury and spine tingle with a craving too queer to admit. The sole fact that standing naked in front of your stalker felt…

"Where’s Nanami?" you added quickly, trying to ignore the way your thighs clenched the moment Suguru moaned around your panties.

He took a step closer, coming your way at an unhurried pace. Panties hidden in the back pocket of his jeans, a thumb brushing away your juice, mixed with a crimson liquid on his cheek.

Suguru shrugged, eyes still fixed on your face. "Who?"

Your fingers turned into fists, as "What did you do to him, psycho?" fell through the gritted teeth.

But the gentle crease appearing between your brows melted Suguru’s heart. Low chuckle bounced off the calm water, as he was only a few steps away. If he wanted to, he could simply extend his hand and grab you by the neck. 

"Baby, I really thought you learned your lesson," an angelic pout twisted his lips, as he pressed the drenched knife to his cheek. "Let me think… are you talking about the guy who was coming to see you? Blond, slightly shorter than me?"

When a terror flickered behind your gaze, his eyes lightened. "Ah, so that was him? Well, I didn’t like the fact that he was coming to meet my girl," Lavender irises dropped down to your breasts covered by your hands, before slipping towards the soft belly, hips, mound of your pussy, with a low growl tickling your ears. "Fuck, baby. I’m so happy this fucker’s dead. I can’t believe–"

Before Suguru could finish, you took a step.

And the next one, and another, before your palm met with his cheek. You didn’t expect the hit to be that hard, and yet he stumbled and fell on the soft sand. With a shock crossing his face and hand lifting to grab his burning skin. 

"Bab–"

You launched towards him, your hips straddling his, palms pressing his shoulders down until his head hit the ground. Everything felt too weird, unnatural, as burning rage took over your mind and adrenaline pulsed beneath your skin. 

Another slap echoed from the looming trees, and when his head flew to the left, you quickly turned it right with the next hit. And the next, next, counting each man who died because of you. The jock, the kind guy, the diner waiter, the student from the library… Nanami. 

One hit more ruthless than another, but the adrenaline cooed over the sizzling pain that ripped your palms. No tears ran down your face, no trembling washed over your spine. 

It was a wrath that had been simmering beneath your heart for months and finally found a way to spill in a deeply dishonourable way, leaving you filled with disgust for the violence he forced upon you. 

When you finally finished, with deep breaths slipping one by one through your parted lips and eyes looking down at his face, a sort of peace dripped into your mind. Upon seeing a thin thread of blood trickling down his lips and a nasty, lavender bruise slowly forming high on cheeks.

He lay still with a mix of shock and absolute, loving madness that slipped in a shudder past the bloody traces on his face. 

If Suguru Geto had thought he already loved you those few minutes before, now, with your naked body straddling his and cheeks pulsing from a beating he had himself awakened in you – he wasn’t sure whether love was enough to describe the devotion his heart swelled with.

Your breasts rose with deep breaths, lips slightly parted, while your hands still pressed his shoulder into the sand. And before he could speak, your finger hooked around his lip piercing, pulling him forward as pain shot through every nerve the metal had struck.

"Stop fucking testing me," you growled, with squinted eyes looking straight into his. "Think you’re so smart? I know your psychotic ass is too miserable to lay a finger on me. Pull another stunt like that and I’ll fucking kill you," you launched him forward, without a care whether the lip ring would rip through the skin. "Do you understand?"

He quickly nodded, but the heart-shaped irises were enough to raise another wave of fury beneath your chest.

And when he thought you would stand up and simply walk away, leaving him on a sand with a blood trickling down his chin and a hard cock trying to rip through his pants, you…

Kissed him. Smashed your lips against his, licking clean the crimson liquid pooling on his skin. 

Suguru was already taken by surprise, but now, feeling your warmth so close to his body, he could swear that heaven was nowhere but in the taste of your sweet breath.

He moaned, drinking the saliva dripping from your lips and feeling the wet pussy rolling against his bulging jeans. Your hands lifted to his cheeks, squeezing them tight till another pitiful groan slipped right into your mouth.

And when his big palms landed on your hips, you pulled back, giving him yet another slap. "Don’t fucking touch me, you psycho."

Your words fell harshly, but the desire bubbling in your lower belly and sticky juices coating his jeans were enough evidence to make you feel utterly, madly turned on by the miserable state he allowed you to put him in.

"Baby, fuck, sit on my face, I’m begging you," he moaned, looking down at the long, silky thread that dripped down from your cunt right onto his bulge. 

The sheer sight made his mind spin, and when you moved over his face, Suguru was sure that blood started dripping from his nose. 

"I don’t care if you’ll suffocate, but you better make me cum," you stated, looking down into his dazed eyes.

Knowing fully well that the death between your thighs would bring him the peace he did not deserve.

With one move, you sat yourself on his face, tongue already peeking out and plastered to meet the heavenly sweetness of your cunt. A low, loud groan filled your drenched walls as he could finally savour the flavour he had craved for so long. 

Lavender eyes rolled back, muscular body trembled as you sat with your full weight, till his teeth grazed your swollen clit and tongue sealed the leaking entrance. He drank the honeyed saps like a man starved, lapping through your folds with low moans and shallow breaths. Getting himself intoxicated by the creaminess trickling down his throat and coating the inside of plush cheeks with a sheen of sugar.

His hand immediately slipped down to his cock, fiddling with a belt, only to pull out a massive, leaking shaft that hit his abdomen. You looked over your shoulder, mouth watering at the sheer sight of the monstrosity he dared to keep hidden all this time.

He did offer to be your boy toy, and maybe, maybe, you would think it over, knowing the fatness that could poke each and every nerve deep inside your pussy. 

When his lips curled around your clit, sucking on the swollen button, your hips rolled in pleasure. 

"Fuck," you moaned, feeling a smirk already tugging on his bloody lips. 

The metal rings felt slightly cold, bringing a weird pleasure to the heat that ripped you from the inside.

His long fingers curled around the thick shaft, pumping it in slow, lazy strokes. The reddened head pulsed as if ready to burst, balls contracted whenever your hips rolled over and over again, smearing his chin, cheeks, nose in a creamy cum.

His tongue fluttered around your clit, folds, poking inside the tightening cunt. When his other hand slipped up to grab your tit, you allowed it with a soft groan. Long fingers rolled the hardened nipple, squeezing the fat that fit into his palm just right. 

"My sweetest," he pulled slightly away, forcing a frown upon your lovely forehead. "That desperate to get fucked, huh? I’m sorry my baby needed to wait that long."

It could look as if he was talking to you, but, in fact, his squinted eyes were nowhere but on your glistening pussy. With another wave of cum already sticking to his lips and lonely hole clenching desperately around nothing.

"My–"

"Stop talking," you muttered, grabbing a fistful of his silky hair, only to push him towards your cunt. "I’m far from cumming."

And he did as you ordered, plastering himself again to the heaven between your legs. 

This time, he lapped more hungrily. With lips, tongue, nose poking all your sweetest buds, sucking on the trembling clit and pushing, pushing, pushing inside the weeping cunt. Each roll of your hips tugged painfully on his piercing, but he didn’t mind. 

No, but rather took a carnal pleasure from the heaviness of your body, feeling that dangerous warmth bubbling in his loins. 

And you were no better, with head falling behind and eyes closing from the ecstasy that was ready to spill any second. Looking back on his cock, you moaned, already imagining the fat, leaking shaft nuzzled deep inside your pussy. With a slightly curved head hitting your womb and a warm cum filling you to the brim.

"Oh fuck, I’m close," an almost inaudible whisper rolled off your tongue, but Suguru caught it in time.

With a sly smirk and lips sucking on your clit harsher, till the plumped bud trembled on his tongue, leaking a few droplets of sap.

His face turned red, for you really cut the air off and made him suffer in pleasure, strangled beneath your oozing cunt. Eyes rolled back again, a low groan spread through your pussy, sending another wave of climax down your spine.

And within the next few rolls and his tongue digging deep inside your soft walls – you finally cummed. Gushed, all over his face, drenching it in splatters of crystal droplets, landing in his mouth, on cheeks, dripping down the forehead. Your thighs squeezed around his head, a pitched moan left parted lips, and fingers grabbed his hair tighter. 

You trembled, and trembled, feeling the ambrosial orgasm tickle your spine. Probably the first and best given to you through oral sex alone. 

And as embarrassing as it was to admit, Suguru was, by far, the only man who made you moan that loud. 

You didn’t have a moment to catch your breath. No strength to lift yourself up from his body. And to him it was of no problem, as the second later, the world spanned only for you to find yourself under him.

With thighs glued to your chest and ass slightly lifted up. 

"I told you–"

His lips fell onto yours before you could finish, drawing a sweet moan from your throat. 

"My poor baby is in heat," he muttered, licking a long stripe of your sweating cheek. "Let me take care of you. You waited so fucking long, didn't you?"

"And whose fault is that?" You snapped, feeling his smirk back onto your lips. 

He kissed you messily, yet with a sweetness and care you would never associate with a psycho of his sort. 

"I told you," he started, pulling away to take his shirt off. Muscles upon muscles glistened under the moonlight spilling through the trees, dark locks cascading down to his hips. "You will regret rejecting my love."

His trousers quickly joined the shirt on the sand, and soon he was hanging over you naked. With a heavy cock lying on your belly and droplets of precum leaking onto your belly button. It burned down through your skin – the hefty girth that made your mind spin from the sight alone. 

He didn’t cum, as if waiting to release himself deep within the warmth of your pussy, and his next "Last time you mentioned something about getting knocked up, hm?", only confirmed the nasty thoughts already bubbling in your skull.

"Don’t know how to use a condom?" You bit down on lower lip, deep inside knowing that you yourself would throw that condom away. 

There was simply no way you would pass up a chance to feel such a monstrous shaft deep inside you. His big palms hook under your thighs, folding you even further, till the breath alone slipped in trembled gasps and chest squeezed under the heaviness of his body.

And yet, you still tried to expose yourself even further, moving your hips in desperate need to meet the long-craved fraction and the maddening stretch. It felt so embarrassing, humiliating, to get yourself drunk on the pleasure that tickled your fingertips and made your lips fall open.

Dizziness already coiled behind your eyes, and Suguru could see it clearly. In the way you looked at his leaking cock, with this slutty, needy gaze.

"Do you want me to use it, baby?" He chuckled, leaning himself down. Only lick a long stripe down your neck, feeling the sweat tickle his taste buds. "Tell me you don’t dream about getting fucked raw and stupid."

A moan slipped past your lips when the head of his cock smooched your entrance, and lips sucked on sensitive skin right beneath your jaw. "Just do it already, fuck."

"Tell me you love me," He murmured, teeth grazing one of your pulsing veins. "Tell me you’ll stay, and I promise to give you everything."

Hips already rolling, as you tried to get yourself closer to his fatness. To the tip that oozed with sticky precum and the heat radiating from his cock. 

A pathetic mewl escaped your throat as he sank himself a bit deeper. But only the plump head, that already marked the painful stretch you would surely get after the rest of the shaft followed.

"Stop dreaming, you psycho," you gritted through your teeth, pushing out even more of the cum that wrapped in a creamy ring around his cock. You stretched your hand, taking a fistful of his hair, only to pull him closer. Till your lips crashed in another kiss, the dried blood sticking to your maws. "Fuck me stupid, and I’ll think about it."

And Suguru, as desperate as he was, needed only those few, mean words to shove his massive shaft deep inside your pussy. 

A loud scream bounced off the trees, soon muffled by his lips, drinking in every cry, every moan that started spilling out. 

The stretch was as painfully ecstatic as you expected, spinning your mind with drowsiness and rolling eyes into the skull. He filled every corner, every fold of your plush hole, till the reddened head smooched your womb. You trembled from head to toe upon a sudden intrusion, and the way he immediately started moving. 

Pushing, thrusting, shoving his cock till the balls squelched against your lifted ass, and nasty splashing filled the little beach. He kept you in place, with muscular arms folding you in half and lips licking, sucking, and biting on the sensitive skin of your neck. Chest plastered to your nipples, brushing the perked buds each time he rammed his cock inside your weeping cunt.

The air felt sticky and steamy, with the sweetness of your breaths mixing whenever another moan slipped past your lips, and Suguru watched carefully as pleasure twisted your face.

The ethereal beauty that warmed your cheeks, eyes lidded in delight, a stream of spit dripping down your chin, before he licked it with a low, nasty groan.

"Fuck, baby, I waited so long," He muttered, mind spinning into madness whenever your plush cunt clamped on his cock. "So hungry, weren't you?"

When his fingers slipped between your bodies, only to press against your clit, a pitched, "Mmm y-yeah, fuck, I hate you so much," rolled right into his smirking lips.

He chuckled, shoving his shaft faster, deeper, till a small bulge appeared right under your belly button. "Do you? Because I thought you, ugh, liked them a bit mischievous, huh?"

You heard those words somewhere before. Maybe because they were the same words said to Nanami.  

But then, with his cock stuffing you, nasty, full and plush lips caressing yours, you couldn’t give a single fuck about how he knew about them. The only thing that mattered was his heavy, beefy body pressed to yours, leaving barely any space for the warm air that desperately tried to slip between your sweating skins.

"Suguru," a lovely mewl escaped your throat when his curved tip hit your sweet spot inside. Ramming into it relentlessly, with a force that drove your body into the sand. "So, oh god, you fill me so good."

His lips met your jaw, chin, lavender eyes tracing each scowl of your face. "You love it, don’t you, baby?" Big thumb rolled the swollen clit, pulling another pinched moan from your throat. "I know, baby, you love it so fucking much. And if I’ll do this," He rammed his tip against your spot again, before nuzzling it right against the plumped womb. "You will cum very, very soon."

And he was right. Pushing all your buttons, kneading your body in all the right places as if he knew exactly how to make a warmth bubble in your belly. 

Fingers of one hand dug painfully into the backs of your thighs as you opened them even further, letting him slip into you even deeper.

"Talk to me, baby." He ordered, feeling the erratic clenching of your walls. "Tell me how much you love me."

"I love it–ahhh," rolled instead, and you could feel a dissatisfied tsk bouncing off your chin.

"No, baby," his teeth sank into your neck, his thumb pressing on your clit even harder. "Come on, baby, tell me how much you fucking love me. I’ll kill every man you’ll ever try to talk to. Hell, I’ll slash your pretty friends’ throats if they try to keep me away from you." Each nasty word was marked by a more brutal roll of his lips. Till the sweet pleasure of smooching your womb soon turned into your painful cries. "Say it, say that you love me."

The warmth in your lower belly was ready to spill, head lulled to the side only to be brought back by his lips, tugging harshly on yours. He bit into them, then licked the swell with a coo, as if trying to coax you into the madness-confession he had waited so long for. 

And you, wrapped around the heavy weight of his cock inside your cunt and the way he made your feet curl in pleasure, finally, unfortunately, had given up. 

"Suguru, I love you–nghh–s-so fucking much," a sweet mewl slipped past your lips. "So good, fuck, you feel so fucking good. I love you, love you, love you, love you–"

Your desperate cries were muffled by his low groan, dripping into your throat, as he finally stilled. 

With cock kissing your womb, lips lick the tears rolling in the corners of your eyes and a thumb pinching the trembling clit. 

You came with a loud cry, squirting all over his beefy thighs, abdomen, soaking the trembling shaft that started filling your clamping walls with waves and waves of cum. Its stickiness glueing to your soft insides, creamy droplets plugging you so full, till the milky threads spilled from the rim of your cunt. 

And in the brief moment when Suguru Geto let his guard down, your fingers seized the long knife left messily on the sand and, with a single furious thrust, drove it deep into his left thigh. 

A low groan slashed through the air when the shimmering iron struck his thick muscles, sending a painful wave over his spine. 

You rolled his heavy body off, milky cum still dripping down your thighs and eyes… 

Eyes looking no better than his. With heart-shaped irises glancing down at his body wrinkling in pain, with a sweet giggle, as you finally felt the winning pleasure spreading all over your chest. 

His naked, muscular figure sprawled on the sand, cock already getting hard once again, upon seeing the bloody, sticky mess you left on him. Lavender gaze gazed up to you with a swelling devotion, and you needed to grit your teeth not to give him one last slap. 

Instead, you started dressing yourself, slowly, with eyes squinted and lips tugged by a sly smile. 

"I should fucking kill you," tickled his ears, and he could only give you a short nod. "But it would be a waste of resources," your eyes slipped onto his already leaking cock.

"I’ll come over tonight, baby," he mumbled, wrapping his hand around your ankle. If he could, he would crawl behind you, but the pain slashing through his thigh was already spiralling him into dizziness. "Fucking, wait for me, I’ll come over."

"I’ll be taking a shower in two hours, and I expect to see you there," you said with a final low hum and a tilt of your head, before walking away. 

And Suguru… he had to jerk himself twice before he could finally stand up, swaying and pain swirling droplets of sweat on his neck. Yet, neither death nor such a minor injury could ever keep him away from his sweet, precious girl.

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

You know what, I kind feel sorry for Nanami... anyways, pyramidhead Toji next! I haven't written Toji for such a long time! I hope you enjoyed the first story <3

art by @/sayaartss on ig dividers by @uzmacchiato

He was all broad shoulders and thick muscle. Thirty eight and built like someone who hauled heavy shit for a living. His dark hair was messy and that perpetual smirk tugged at his mouth.

Behind him half hidden by his bulky frame, stood your floor neighbor Satoru Gojo. Twenty three and awkward in the best way. He was a slimmer guy. Pale hair falling onto his face. Those big round glasses perched on his nose like he had just stepped out of a lab. You'd seen him in a white coat a couple times. Always quiet, and always keeping to himself.

Toji didn't wait for an invitation to come in,“Heard your heater’s been giving you grief,” he rumbled, voice low and rough. “Figured I’d swing by. Brought the kid for extra hands. Come on, Gojo, don’t you wanna see the inside of a woman’s room for once?” He clapped a heavy hand on Satoru’s shoulder and pushed the younger man forward. Satoru’s cheeks went pink under the glasses. But he mumbled something about being able to read the manual and followed anyway.

You stepped aside and your heart kicked up a little at the sudden presence of two men in your cramped space. Toji moved like he owned the place. His toolbox already open on the floor by the heater unit.

Satoru hovered at first, then he pulled the faded instruction booklet from his back pocket, and flipped through the pages with long fingers. “It says the thermostat connection needs reseating first,” he said softly, voice steady despite the blush. “Then the filter—here, let me show you.”

Toji grunted and got to work. His big hands did the heavy lifting while Satoru directed every step. He pointed out screws and wires with that quiet scientific focus and you watched from the couch, your arms wrapped around yourself.

The room slowly filled with the low scrapes of tools and the first real warmth in days. It didn't take long, twenty minutes later the heater kicked on full blast and it pushed steady heat through the vents.

You exhaled and relief loosened something tight in your chest. “Thank you, seriously. I… I’m kind of short on money right now, though. Payday’s not for another week and groceries are—”

Toji straightened up then and he wiped his hands on his jeans. That sly grin spread slow across his face, then he towered over you. His eyes dragged down your body like he was sizing up exactly what kind of payment he wanted. “I don’t usually do work for nothing, sweetheart.”

The air shifted.. thickened with the unsurity of what he was asking or more so telling. You felt it in the way your pulse jumped, in the way Satoru’s eyes widened behind his glasses as Toji stepped closer. Toji’s hand came up to your face and his calloused thumb brushed your jaw, he tilted your face up to his.

Before you could say another word his mouth was on yours, hot and demanding. His tongue slid in deep and sloppy like he had been thinking about this the whole time he fixed your heater. You gasped into the kiss, the taste of him, salt and something darker, flooded your senses.

Your body responded before your brain caught up. You were tired, you were stressed. You were definitely aching for something that was not bills or cold air and Toji felt like the kind of trouble that could make you forget all of it.

He walked you backwards until your thighs hit the edge of the dining table, and the papers scattered under you as he lifted you just enough to plant your ass on the wood. Bills crinkling beneath your skirt, and his hands were everywhere at once, those rough palms shoved your top up and freed your tits with a low groan that vibrated against your skin.

They were big and pretty, heavy in his grip, Toji not wasting any more time, latched his mouth onto one nipple and he sucked hard, teeth grazing just enough to make your back arch. Wet open mouthed kisses trailed from your tits to your neck, marking your soft skin, while his other hand shoved your skirt up around your waist. His fingers hooking into your panties and he yanked them down in one rough tug.

Your pretty slick cunt was bare now, glistening under the cheap overhead light. Satoru was staring, completely frozen. His lips parted and the front of his pants already tenting, it was embarrassingly obvious.

Toji pulled back from your neck just long enough to laugh, a little low and mean at Satoru. “Look at that, geek's never seen a pussy this close up before, huh? Come on, don’t be shy nerd, get a taste of her cunt.”

Satoru’s breath hitched audibly and his glasses fogged a little at the edges, he stood there looking so inexperienced, so shocked. But his feet moved anyway, right in front of you and dropped to his knees between your spread thighs like he couldn’t stop himself.

Toji kept you pinned with his body. One hand still kneading your tit and his mouth was back on your neck sucking fresh marks while he watched the younger man fumble forward.

Satoru’s first lick was beyond messy, but his eager tongue dragged flat and sloppy from your entrance up to your clit. No rhythm, just pure desperate hunger, his spit mixed with your slick almost instantly, dripping down your folds as he licked again, harder this time, like he was trying to devour you whole. Sucking your clit into his mouth with a wet noisy sound, hollowing his cheeks and his tongue swirled clumsily and overeager.

No finesse, just sloppy enthusiasm that had your hips canting forward into his mouth and his hands gripped your thighs too tightly, fingertips digging into your skin while he buried his face deeper.

His slender nose bumped your mound and his glasses pressed cooly against your skin. Every suck was loud and vibrant, spit ran down his chin as he lapped and slurped like a man who had been starving for this exact taste.

Toji chuckled against your throat. The sound dark and teasing. “That’s it, kid. Suck at er' pretty clit, make 'er feel how bad you want it. Bet you’ve jerked off thinking about something half this good.” Then he pinched your nipple and rolled it between rough fingers while Satoru moaned into your cunt as you squirmed.

The vibration shot straight through you, Satoru’s tongue flicked faster, messier. He sucked your clit with wet pops that echoed in the small room, again he was so fucking eager and witching between long sloppy drags and sudden hard sucks that left your thighs shaking. Spit and slick coated his lips, his chin, even the tip of his nose. But he didn't care, he just kept going. Face pressed in like he never wanted to come up for air.

You were moaning now, your head tipped back and one hand tangled in Satoru’s white hair while Toji kept kissing you deep and filthy. His free hand held your hip down so you couldn't buck away from the overwhelming mess of Satoru’s mouth.

Toji’s voice stayed right there, low and mean in your ear between kisses. “Look at him go, doll. Such a sloppy little nerd, eating your cunt like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. Bet he’s never made a girl cum before—gonna have to teach him, huh?” He sucked another bruise into your neck, then his tongue flicked over the mark while Satoru’s mouth stayed locked on your clit.

He sucked harder, his tongue swirling over it in frantic circles. The heat from the radiator wrapped around the three of you thicker now. It turned your small apartment into something heavy and hazy while your body stayed sprawled across the dining table.

Bills still crumpled under your ass, all the while Toji kept one hand kneading your tit. He pinched your nipple just hard enough to make you whimper into his mouth. But his other hand had already slid down between your thighs. His thick fingers found your fat pretty clit right away and he began rubbing slow mean circles that made your hips jerk, he wasn't gonna let up, not now when he just started his torment.

He pressed firm and teasingly, dragging the pad of his thumb over that swollen little bud again and again until slick sounds filled the room louder than your moans. Every pass was deliberate and mean, like he knew exactly how close he was pushing you and enjoyed holding you right there on edge.

Satoru stayed on his knees between your spread legs. His face still buried deep in your cunt like he had forgotten anything else existed, his tongue kept working in those sloppy eager strokes, sucking at your clit with wet noisy pops while Toji’s fingers teased right above his mouth. But then Satoru shifted, his hands slid up the backs of your thighs and he spread you wider.

His tongue dragging lower, tasting further down until he found your ass. The first wet swipe across your tight hole made your eyes fly open in surprise, he was so inexperienced yet so hungry for more. He licked messy and curiously tongue circling your rim before pressing in just a little, his spit mixing with everything already dripping down from your pussy.

You gasped at the new feeling, shock being the main thing sparking through you, and he wasn't gonna stop. He moaned softly into your skin like discovering this part of you had flipped some switch in him. His glasses were completely fogged now. His cheeks flushed dark as he kept eating both your cunt and your ass in turns. Messily and relentless.

Toji pulled his mouth off your neck with a low chuckle. His eyes dark as he watched Satoru’s head move between your legs. “Look at the nerd go. Found himself a new toy back there, huh?” His voice dropped lower, rougher. As he freed his cock from his jeans.

It sprang out thick and heavy, already dripping precum from the flushed tip. Veins standing out along his length. He stroked himself once, slow and then he grabbed your chin with his free hand. “Come on, ma. You’re gonna be good and use that mouth right for me.”

He guided you easily, and helped you twist and shift until you were on your knees right there on the table. Your ass still pushed out toward Satoru. The younger man never stopped, just spread your legs wider with both hands, while you were in this new position.

His thumbs pulled your pussy lips apart so he could bury his face even deeper, and his tongue fucked sloppy and eager into your cunt while his nose pressed against your ass. You could feel every wet drag, every desperate suck. His spit ran down your thighs as he moaned like tasting you was the only thing keeping him alive.

Toji stood in front of you now, tall and broad. His fat cock right at your eye level. The tip glistening as a thick bead of precum slid down the head of it. You leaned in without thinking, tongue flicking out to lick it clean, the taste was salty and warm, and he groaned deep in his chest. One big hand tangled in your hair then,“That’s it, sweetheart. Lick the tip just like that- haah good girl.”

He let you explore, he let you wrap your lips around the head and suck softly while your hand came up to stroke his thick shaft. Your other hand found his heavy balls and you rolled them gently. You felt how full they were as you took more of him into your mouth.

Toji’s praise rolled out steady and low, the same way he'd been talking to Satoru earlier. “Fuck, your mouth feels s'good. Look at you taking me so pretty while that nerd keeps eating your pussy from behind- ngh bet he’s telling you how good you taste, huh? All sloppy and eager like he can’t get enough.”

Satoru made a muffled sound of agreement right up against your pussy. His tongue still swirled messily over your clit and dipped to your ass. He never slowed down, his hands kept spreading you open, thumbs holding your folds apart so nothing was hidden from him and Toji rocked his hips forward gently.

He fed you more of his cock, voice thick with that mean teasing, “Keep sucking, ma, mhmph play with my balls just like that, h-haah you’re doing s'good for us. Gonna make sure that pretty pussy stays nice and wet for the kid while I fuck your throat, ngh that's it- a little deeper, doll.” Toji's fingers stayed in your hair, guiding but not forcful, letting you bob along the length of him at your own pace while your tongue worked the underside and your hand kept massaging his balls.

The table creaked under your knees as you stayed right there on all fours. Your mouth full of Toji’s thick cock while the heat in the room pressed down on every inch of your skin. You'd been sucking him eagerly, tongue swirling around the heavy head as you stroked the veined shaft with one hand while the other rolled his full balls nice and slow, but Toji was done letting you set the pace.

His big hand tightened in your hair and he guided you deeper until the swollen tip nudged the back of your throat. “That’s it, ma,” he growled low and rough. His hips rocking forward to push past the tight ring of muscle. “Open up f'me, m'gonna fuck your soft warm throat til' it milks me dry.” He slid in deeper on the next thrust, your mouth stretching wide around his girth. The salty taste of him flooded your tongue instantly as he started a steady rhythm that had your eyes watering and your throat fluttering around every inch.

Satoru was still behind you on his knees. His face buried between your spread cheeks. His tongue worked sloppy and desperate over your cunt and ass like he couldn’t get enough of the way you tasted. But then one of his long fingers wormed its way into your tight pussy. It slid in slow and curious until it was buried to the knuckle.

The sudden stretch made you moan loud around Toji’s cock. The vibration pulled a deep groan from the older man’s chest. Satoru’s breath hitched hard against your wet folds.

You were so fucking tight around just that single finger, clenching hot and slick and when he tugged it out a little only to push back in you gave a needy little wiggle of your hips and pushed back onto him like your body was begging for more. “Oh… fuck,” Satoru whispered, voice cracking with shock and want. His glasses still fogged and sliding down his nose. “She… she wants it. She really wants it.”

He pulled his face back from your cunt with a wet sound, lips shiny and chin dripping. He stood up on shaky legs and his hands fumbled at his pants, shoving them down just enough to free his cock. It sprang out hard and achingly, long and pretty with a slight upward curve, his pale skin flushed a deep pink at the tip.

Thick veins ran along the underside, he was leaking so much precum that it already coated the entire head and dripped in sticky strands down the shaft, making it glisten under the cheap apartment light.

This was his first time about to fuck a real pussy, the sight of how turned on he was made your own cunt clench around nothing. He looked almost painfully hard, the head of his cock all swollen and shiny, more and more precum beading at the slit as he stroked himself once with a trembling hand, eyes wide behind those big glasses as he stared at your dripping folds.

You didn’t wait, still sucking Toji’s cock deep into your throat with every thrust he gave you, made you spread your legs wider right there on the table. Your knees slid apart on the scattered bills until your pretty cunt was completely bared and open for Satoru.

The cool air hit your slick skin and you pushed your ass back toward him. Silently begging while Toji kept fucking your eager throat in long wet strokes that made obscene gagging sounds fill the room. “Look at her,” Toji laughed darkly. His voice rough from how good your mouth felt.

“Spreading that cunt so nice for the nerd while I use 'er throat. Gonna let me cum down y'er throat soon, ma? Or you saving that pretty pussy for the kid to wreck first?” He thrusted deeper, and held your head steady so every inch of his thick cock slid in and out of the tight heat of your throat. His balls brushing your chin as he chased the tight warmth of your mouth.

Satoru stepped closer. His cock throbbing in his fist, the tip already smearing more precum against the back of your thighs as his free hand gripped your hip. His fingers dug in like he was afraid this whole thing would disappear if he let you go.

He was breathing hard, inexperienced and overwhelmed, but the way your pussy glistened and winked at him had him lining up without another word. The leaking head of his cock nudged right against your entrance while Toji’s steadily fucked your throat, keeping your moans muffled and vibrating around his shaft. The apartment felt smaller and hotter now.

Every sound wet and filthy as the two of them claimed their repayment, your body caught perfectly between Toji’s rough thrusts down your throat and Satoru’s eager virgin cock ready to sink into your tight cunt for the very first time.

You stayed perfectly arched on your knees atop the dining table. Bills still scattered and forgotten beneath you. Your mouth stretched wide around Toji’s thick cock while your body trembled between the two men. Satoru’s leaking tip nudged right against your slick entrance, hot and insistent.

The sheer amount of precum he was dripping made everything slippery and messy, he paused for one shaky breath and his glasses fogged completely, pale hair sticking to his forehead and then he finally pushed forward.

His pretty fat tip breached you slow and steady, stretching your tight cunt open around that swollen head. The first inch sank in with a wet obscene sound, your walls fluttered and gripped him like they had been waiting for exactly this.

Satoru moaned shamelessly, loud and broken and completely unfiltered, a sound cracked high in his throat as his hips jerked forward another inch on instinct. “Oh god… fuck… she’s so tight,” he gasped, his voice raw and trembling. His hands clutching on your hips hard enough to leave marks. Not stopping he slid deeper in one long push until half his pretty cock was buried inside you.

The upward curve of him dragging perfectly against your walls, making your eyes roll back, more precum leaked steadily from his tip, mixing with your slick and dripping down your thighs in warm rivulets while he stayed there for a second, just feeling you clench around him like heaven.

Toji felt every single one of your moans vibrate down his shaft as Satoru filled your cunt, slowing his pace in your throat deliberately, then he pulled back until only the fat cockhead rested heavy on your tongue and then he slid back in deep and lazy so he could savor it.

Your tight throat walls squeezed and sucked around him with every whimper you gave, it milked his length like your body couldn't help itself. “That’s it, ma,” he rumbled low and rough, his voice thick with pleasure as he rocked into your mouth in long unhurried strokes.

“Feel that? Y'er throat’s squeezing me so fucking good while the kid stretches that pretty pussy, mhph- keep sucking..j-just like that,” as he kept leaking steady beads of precum right down your throat, spilling salty and warm and he groaned deeper every time your tongue pressed up against the underside, every time your throat fluttered and tightened around his thick girth.

Satoru started moving then shallow and eager, pulling out just enough for his glistening cock to catch the light before sliding back in deeper, chasing that tight heat with every inexperienced thrust. His moans kept coming shamless and loud, spilling out of him like he had zero control left. “She feels… so good… so wet… I can feel her squeezing me,” he babbled between gasps, hips snapping forward a little harder now.

The wet slap of skin on skin started to fill the room as he fucked into your cunt from behind. His balls swung heavy with every push. Already drawn up tight from how overwhelming it all was, his first time buried inside a real pussy made his whole body shake.

Toji kept that slow deliberate rhythm in your throat, he let you breathe between strokes but never pulled out completely, his big hand stroking your hair almost gently while his cock throbbed against your tongue. “Look at you taking us both so well,” he praised, dark mossy eyes watching the way your body rocked between them. “Aren't you just the prettiest, doll." He said as his gaze went from your lips, to Satoru's, the pleasure-pain showing clear on his face. "Bet he’s never felt anything so tight and hot before.”

Toji pushed in a little deeper on the next thrust and held himself there so your throat could squeeze and flutter around every thick inch. Precum continued to leak steadily as your eager sucking pulled more from him.

Your body burned between them, stretched, filled and worshipped in the filthiest way. Satoru’s shameless moans mixed with the wet sounds of his cock plunging into your dripping cunt while Toji used your throat like it was made for him.

The heater hummed in the background. The apartment warmer than it had ever been. The only thing left was the steady push and pull of their bodies claiming every part of you. They turned your desperate little repayment into something neither of them planned to stop anytime soon.

Toji gripped your face with both big hands now. His thumbs stroked your flushed cheeks almost tenderly as he tilted your head just enough to lock eyes with you, dark gaze burning into yours, watching every inch of his cock disappear between your stretched lips. He watched the way your throat bulged around him with each push. “That’s my good girl,” he growled low, voice rough and ragged. “Look at me while I fuck y'er throat, m'gonna cum so deep you’ll feel it for days, doll.”

Behind you Satoru’s hips snapped forward harder. His pretty cock plunged into your cunt with frantic eager thrusts that had his balls slapping wetly against your clit, gripping your waist tight with both hands, fingers digging into the soft flesh like he needed the anchor to keep from falling apart.

His shameless moans spilled out nonstop as he fucked you deeper. “She’s… she’s still haah- tight, sso fucking tight,” he panted. His glasses slipped down his nose, pale hair damp against his forehead, first time buried in a real pussy had him losing control fast, your tight heat kept milking every inch, while his leaking tip dragged against your walls.

Toji’s eyes stayed locked on yours, cock throbbing heavier on your tongue as he felt your throat flutter and suck around him. “Kid,” he rasped without breaking eye contact with you. “Touch 'er clit. Rub it nice'n slow for her. Make 'er cum on your cock while I fill 'er pretty throat.”

Satoru’s hand slid down instantly. His shaky fingers found your swollen little clit and rubbed messy eager circles just like Toji had done earlier, the sudden pressure made your whole body jolt, your cunt clenching harder around his thrusting cock, walls pulsing and gripping him so tight he was gasping loud and broken.

His hips stuttering as he drove in deeper, one extra squeeze was all it took and pleasure slammed through you like a wave, your orgasm crashed hard and fast, thighs shaking violently as you came with a muffled cry around Toji’s cock. Your pussy fluttered and gushed around Satorus length, slick dripping down his shaft and balls while your throat tightened even more, squeezing and milking Toji’s thick cock in rhythmic pulses.

Toji groaned deep, his eyes never leaving yours as he thrust once, twice, and then he buried himself to the hilt and came, hard. Hot thick ropes of cum flooded deep down your throat, pulse after pulse shot straight into you while he held your face steady and watched you swallow every drop with those wide teary eyes.

“Fuck…that's it. Take it all, ma,” he snarled. His voice cracking as he emptied himself completely, his cum leaking from the corners of your mouth when he finally pulled back just enough for you to breathe.

At the exact same moment your clenching cunt pushed Satoru over the edge and he moaned shamelessly loud and gripped your waist harder as he slammed in one final time and came hard inside your pussy.

Thick spurts of warm cum flooded your walls, filling you up so full it started leaking out around his cock with every shallow twitch of his hips, his body shuddering against your ass while he pumped rope after rope into you, utterly lost in the feeling of his first pussy creaming and milking him dry.

Both of them held you right there between them. Toji’s hands still cradled your face as the last of his cum slid down your throat. Satoru’s fingers still lazily circled your oversensitive clit while his cock stayed buried deep.

It pulsed and leaked inside your cum filled cunt. The table creaking under all three of you, the only thing left was their heavy breathing and the wet drip of their release and the slow filthy promise that this repayment was far from over.

Toji’s thick cock finally slipped from your mouth with a wet pop, a thick string of spit and cum stretched between your swollen lips and the flushed head before it broke, you gasped for air, throat raw and fluttering. Drool and his release shone all over your chin and dripped down onto your tits, he didnt pull away then.

Instead he leaned down, his big hands still cradled your face and he dragged his tongue slow and filthy across your chin, licking up every messy drop of his own cum mixed with your spit, the taste of it on his tongue made him groan low and satisfied before he sealed his mouth over yours in a deep claiming kiss, tongue pushing inside your mouth as he fed the salty warmth back to you like he refused to let a single drop go to waste.

“Don’t waste it, ma,” he murmured against your lips between kisses, voice rough and dark. “Swallow what I gave you. Good girl… every fuckin drop.”

Behind you Satoru’s grip on your waist finally loosened. His fingers trembled as he let go. Faint red marks blooming where he held you so tightly. Your skin already showing the shape of his desperate hands, he was so fucking sensitive, cock still twitching hard even after he had pumped you full.

Every tiny shift of your body made him hiss through his teet, pulling out slowly, inch by inch. The wet drag of his pretty cock left your stretched cunt with a lewd sticky sound and the moment he was free the sight hit him like a punch, thick white cum immediately started dripping from your puffy folds. It slid down your thighs in slow obscene trails, mixing with your own slick and shone under the apartment light. It broke him completely.

“Oh fuck… look at that,” Satoru breathed, voice cracking with raw need and he dropped back to his knees right there on the floor. His hands spread your ass and thighs wide again so nothing was hidden. Without another second of hesitation he buried his face between your legs and started eating his own cum out of your cunt like a man starved, his tongue messy and eager all over again.

He lapped long and sloppy from your entrance up to your clit. He sucked the warm load right out of you with wet filthy noises that echoed in the small room. He moaned shamelessly into your pussy and swallowed every thick spurt he could pull from your fluttering walls, tongue fucking in deep to chase more while his nose pressed against your ass.

Spit and cum coated his chin. His glasses. Even the tip of his nose. But he didn't care, he just kept devouring you sucking and licking with frantic hunger, like tasting himself mixed with your slick was the hottest thing he had ever experienced.

You trembled on the table. Still caught between Toji’s deep kisses and Satoru’s relentless mouth. The older man’s tongue slid against yours while the younger one cleaned every drop of his release from your dripping cunt. Satoru’s hands stayed locked on your thighs, he spread you wider so he could lap even deeper. His tongue curling inside you to scoop out the last creamy strands until your pussy was glistening only with his spit and your own wetness.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were shiny and swollen, chest heaving and he looked up at you with those wide fogged over eyes like he was drunk on it.

Cum and spit still clinging to his chin, then on shaky legs, his cock still half hard and twitching again already, Satoru leaned in close and he cupped your face gently this time, with his hands, the opposite of how hard he had gripped your hips, and he pressed his mouth to yours in an needy open mouthed kiss.

You tasted yourself on his tongue, you tasted his own cum mixed with everything else and Satoru whimpered into the kiss like he couldn’t get enough of sharing it with you.

Toji watched the whole thing with a low satisfied chuckle. One hand still stroking your hair, Satoru’s kiss stayed hungry and sweet against your mouth, his tongue sliding slow against yours like he was still chasing the taste of his own cum mixed with your slick and Toji leaned in from the other side and claimed your lips the second Satoru pulled back just enough to breathe.

Their mouths moved over yours in turns, deep and lazy. Tongues tangling. They shared the filthy mess they made of you until your head spun and your body felt boneless between them.

Toji finally eased you off the table with those big steady hands, lifting you like you weighed nothing and set you on your feet onto the floor. Your legs wobbled instantly, knees weak from everything they had done. But he kept one arm looped around your waist to hold you upright.

Satoru hovered close on your other side, his glasses still crooked and fogged, his cheeks flushed dark as he brushed damp strands of hair out of your face with shaky fingers.

The three of you stood there in the middle of your tiny living room, utterly spent and tired. Chests heaving, skin sticky and marked and glowing with sweat. The heater hummed on, filling the air with a warmth that made everything feel softer now, slower. Like the frantic heat of the moments earlier had burned itself down to glowing embers.

You swallowed, throat still raw and your voice a little hoarse, but you managed a small smile as you looked between them. “The showers just in there, and you both should clean up. I’ve got a decent one. Come on.”

They followed without a word. Toji’s hand never left your lower back and Satoru trailed right behind like he was afraid the moment would vanish if he stepped too far away.

The bathroom was cramped, barely enough room for all three of you. But none of you cared. Clothes came off in a slow exhausted strip. Your skirt and top already half gone from earlier, and finally took of your socks.

Toji’s jeans shoved down those thick thighs, of his. Satoru’s pants and shirt peeled away from his body, until all three of you stood bare under the cheap overhead light. Steam started rising the second you turned the water on, hot and steady the water fell and the small space filled with it quickly.

You stepped under the spray first and sighed as the heat hit your sore muscles. Toji and Satoru crowded in right after, their bodies pressing close to you in the tight stall until you were sandwiched between hard muscle and lean warmth.

Toji grabbed the shampoo bottle without asking, his big hands worked the lather into your hair with surprising gentleness, his thick fingers massaging your scalp in slow circles while warm water rinsed suds down your back. Satoru’s hands were everywhere else. Soapy palms slid over your shoulders. Your arms, your waist, then lower to cup your tits and wash away the marks his mouth had left earlier.

He leaned in and kissed your neck softly, then your shoulder and murmured against your skin, “Sorry… I got a little carried away. Didn’t mean to hold you so tight.” His voice was all shy again, That lab rat nervousness creeping back in now that the heat had cooled, but his lips kept pressing gentle little apologies all over your body. To your collarbone, the curve of your breast, even the faint bruises on your hips where his fingers had dug in.

Toji chuckled low and rinsed the last of the shampoo from your hair before tilting your chin up so the water could wash your face clean. “Kid’s right, we got rough. But you took it so fucking good, Doll.” And then he kissed you slow under the spray, tongue lazy and warm and then he turned you gently so Satoru could keep kissing down your spine while he soaped up your thighs and between your legs with careful strokes that made you shiver but never pushed.

They stayed bathing you like that for long minutes. Hands everywhere, their mouths following the water, until every trace of cum, sweat and spit was rinsed away and your skin felt soft and new again.

When the water finally shut off, the three of you stepped out dripping. Towels wrapping loosely around your waist's. Toji’s hanging low on his hips, showing the deep cut of muscle there. Satoru’s barely tied and slipping every time he moved.

They helped you dry off too, Toji rubbed your back with the towel while Satoru combed careful fingers through your damp hair, no rush, just quiet touches and soft breaths in the steamy bathroom.

They kept the towels on, you said you'd keep their clothes and wash it for them. They slipped out your door with soft promises muttered low. Toji’s smirk and a,“We’ll be right back.” Satoru gave a shy little wave, his cheeks flushed as he adjusted his glasses and stepped out after toji.

The apartment felt strangely empty once they were gone. But the warmth from the heater and the ache in your body kept you company while you pulled on soft lounge clothes and tried to straighten the dining table. Minutes passed and light settled in, quiet and dark outside your windows.

Then came a knock again, softer this time.

You opened the door to both of them. Freshly changed, Toji in a black hoodie and sweats that did nothing to hide how big he still looked and Satoru in an oversized t-shirt he had clearly thrown on over pajamas. His hair still a little messy from the shower. They both stepped inside without waiting, the air between you three easier now.

You padded to the kitchenette and made hot chocolate for all three of you. The cheap kind with little marshmallows that bobbed on top. Steam curling sweet and chocolatey when you carried the mugs back to the couch.

Toji was already sprawled on one end, a thick arm stretched along the backrest, Satoru sat on the other end. He patted the cushion between them with a shy little smile and you settled right there, tucked between them like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Toji pulled you against his chest with one arm. He let you rest your head on his broad shoulder while his free hand took the mug from you. Satoru curled into your other side. His long legs tangled with yours, his head rested on your opposite shoulder and a hand slid up to play gently with the ends of your hair.

The couch was small, but they made it work. Their bodies warm and solid on either side of you, the scent of clean skin and faint shampoo mixed with the rich chocolate, you sipped slow, and let heat spread through your chest.

Toji’s fingers traced lazy circles on your thigh under the blanket you had tossed over all three of you at some point and Satoru’s thumb brushed soft little patterns on the back of your hand. His voice quiet and sleepy when he finally spoke. “This… this is nice, better than being alone honestly.”

Toji laughed low, the sound rumbled through you. “Told you the kid needed to see the inside of a woman’s room. Looks like he’s not leaving anytime soon.” He then leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head and he tilted your chin up for another slow one to your lips. Chocolate sweet and unhurried. Satoru followed right after, kissing you just as gentle, tongue brushing yours like he was still tasting the afterglow.

The three of you stayed like that for the rest of the night, cuddled close on the couch. Mugs slowly emptying, bodies warm and tangled under the blanket while the heater kept the whole apartment cozy. No more cold air seeping in.

Just the low hum of quiet conversation, soft laugher and the steady press of two men who had come to fix one thing and ended up warming everything else.

Your tired body finally relaxed between them, the impending groceries and late notices forgotten for now, all wrapped up safe in the middle of something that felt like it could stretch on long past tonight.

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