Just dying of boredom.

Your back is pressed against a cool, slightly wet, smoothed out rock— body splayed out against the surface while your lower half is forced hovering over the dark blue, salty and sticky, ocean water by a blushing, octopus merman’s tentacles. Your tender skin is warm to the touch, slick and glistening from sweat, sensitive from the overwhelming pleasure. There’s a small puncture on your neck that appeared when Azul bite into the flesh to mark you only to end up accident injecting venom that made you completely paralyzed at the mercy of a needy cecaelia— the lustful, intense, and vulnerable feeling was an after effect of the venom.  

Thick, large, eager, and restless tentacles of Azul wrap around your plush body in a firm grip; thighs, legs, and ankles are wrapped by the slimy appendage as the suckers taste the sweet flavor of your skin. The small, scattered spots on the tentacles change in an unpredictable manner, their color alters between soft lilac, baby blue, and dark purple. The biology of the cecaelia would be quite hypnotizing if you were able to focus on anything.

“Haah—! Fuckk. . A-azul!” You whine out his name in a breathless, broken, loud, and exhausted voice.

You gasp out weakly, squirming lightly from the overwhelming stimulation. . in response, the tentacles around your lower half tightens to keep you from writhing as they kneed and squish at your body. Azul cries out your name when your gooey walls spasming around his thick length, his cheek dusted in a mixture of light lilac and blue. Those greedy hands of his dig into the soft flesh of your hips, thumb pressing into the tender skin of your belly. 

Azul grips onto you tightly as his hip snaps into yours, causing his deliciously thick and long hectocotylus to plunge deep into your drooling hole. With each relentless and rough thrust he does, his length stretches your walls wiide open; it has your eyes rolling back and lips parting to moan out his name in ecstasy. Your boyfriend gazes deeply at you, eyes dilated in pure bliss as he drinks up your fucked-out expressions; eyes rolled back, brows furrowed, cheeks flushed, drool seeping from parted lips, and the slight change in your eyes.

You look beautiful like this. . Your body jolts and shivers in pleasure, gooey walls quivering around his length— helplessly creaming around his hectocotylus until you feel like you’re drowning from overstimulation.

“Ohmygod. .! A- azul —mmhp. . b- babe!” You babble out loudly, sweat covered thighs trembling in his tentacles when azul presses perfectly against your g-spot.

“Haah. . m-my sweet pearl —nghh! D- don’t squeeze me s- so tightly!” Azul whimpers out, tears dripping from his glossy eyes as he babbles out his confession of love to you. . in a very shameless manner.

Another one of his tentacles lifts from the salty water, suctions hovering over the twitching and engorged bundle of nerves above your filled hole.

“Haah—! W- wait. . azul! Ca- can’t take it —nngh! Too biggg” you squeal out loudly, hands attempting to find purchase on his tentacles.

In response, Azul’s tentacles dart to wrap around your wrist.

“Mmhp! N- no, don’t squirm from me, my s- sweet pearl” he cries out, moaning softly at the delicious flavor of your skin melting onto his tongue.

The suction on your clit has you wailing louder than ever,  the poor bud sensitive from how the needy octopus was dragging his thick tongue against the hood— lips wrapping around it to suckle gently until you were gasping out his name. Azul was insatiable, slurping and lapping at your syrupy pussy as if it would save him from his rut. . drunk off the flavor of your addictive flavor. 

“M- my pearl. . pleasepleasepleaseplease” Azul chants out, tentacles wrapping tighter around you as his hectocotylus presses into your gummy walls. . twitching  and throbbing as it leaks inhuman amounts of precum inside your already white- covered walls.

“—please. . lo-love all of me, I beg of you” he whines in a desperate tone, angling his hips to pound into your g-spot until you're losing your breath. 

His cum makes everything sound even more nasty, the wet sloshes and squelches of your pussy as Azul easily slides back into your pussy from the wetness. But it’s too much. . a copious amount of his thick cum dribbles around the base of his hectocotylus, creamy white sliding down the curve of your ass. You’ve both created such a mess, a mixture of mostly his and your cum coating the surface below your body.

“Oohfuck! ‘M c- cumming again! Nnghh!” You wail out, eyes rolling back, back arching as you squirt around his thick length.

You want to squirm so badly, but you can’t, Azul’s venom runs through your blood. . keeping you pliant. He moans out your name, burying himself to the hilt of your velvety walls there’s a pleasurable tingle in your lower half. The grip on your hip tightens as thick ropes of cum shoots into your creamy walls, your stomach looks bloated, the excess cum spilling from your poor, abused hole.

The cecaelia leans in close, effectively trapping you against the ground as he kisses and laps at your marked up neck, hectocotylus still throbbing in your slick walls with need even though you’ve been fucking alll night. 

“Wahh. . haah, on- one more time, my beloved pearl” Azul pants out, slowly pulling his length until he watches his cum bead from your hole, only to push himself to the hilt of your cunt with a wet plapp. 

Azul drives himself slowly into your pussy, hectocotylus dragging against your walls. You murmur out his name, melting from the pleasure as he uses your body. If anyone was to visit the beach at this late hour, they would only hear the wet squelchh and sloshing sound, loud, high pitched moans and whimpers of someone’s name.

₊˚.༄ JADE LEECH

Moray eels actually don’t have an established mating season like octopuses— instead, when the temperature above Coral Sea turns blazing warm, Jade becomes clingy and attached to you

Like moray eels; Jade ensures that he feeds his dear mate more than enough food, preferring to initiate a sweet, dizzying dance with you

Your back arches from the smooth, completely soaked, mossy surface of the grotto—trembling against the ground as your lower half is submerged in the salty ocean water, plush thighs parted wiide open to accommodate the large, transformed eel that’s between it. Your tingles from the sweet abuse of overwhelming pleasure; plush body  covered in deep, bloody bite marks, covered in bruises from the eager and greedy hands of Jade, a mixture of sweat and dried cum coating your tender flesh. You feel as if you tried to fight a deep sea creature, only to lose miserably.

Jade has himself wrapped snuggly around your warm and soft skin, webbed fingers pressed between your connected bodies to roughly rub at the bundle of twitching nerves above your stuffed hole. His fingers are precious and nimble, rolling your puffy clit with the perfect amount of pressure to have you quivering around his length. His lips are pressed against the skin of your neck, hungrily slurping, lapping, and sucking at your tender flesh.

“Haaah—! Nghh! Too muchh, Jade!” You gasp out loudly between broken and breathless moans, gasps, and whimpers of the eel’s name.

His sharp nails dig into your plump hips, eliciting a hiss of pain when blood prickles from the puncture. Jade snaps his hips into yours, driving his thick, long, and deliciously big cock deeper into your gooey walls. With each mean and rough thrust of his hips into yours, an obscure, wet squealchh of your sopping pussy fills the grotto.

Jade sadistically grinds at the helpless expression on your face, thick cock bobbing in your velvety walls— his lips find yours in a passionate and needy manner, long tongue dragging against yours in an eager manner. He ruts deeper into your creaming cunt, faster and deeper— his nimble fingers rubbing slowly, firm circles over your swollen clit until it has your thighs trembling from the overwhelming stimulation. Underneath your body, a pool of cum that’s a mixture of yours and mostly his gets larger and larger from how globs of cum drips from the curve of your ass to the surface below.

In a honeyed voice, he groans out your name when your velvety walls quivering around his thick length, squeezing him so tightly it has his breath hitching. Through hooded and clouded eyes, Jade peers out a blissed out face, grinning when he sees the helpless expression on your face; fat tears dripping from your glossy eyes, swollen lips parted as sweet moans of pleasure leave them, and the delicious peak of your marked up neck from his sharp teeth. . god he could get addictive to the sight of you all pliable for only him. His thick cum, stuffed deep in your pussy, allows him to slip into your cunt with each thrust, a wet slosh echoing throughout the grotto.

“Oh, my sweet pearl” Jade purrs out in that honeyed tongue, his larger form cages you against the mossy ground as the inhuman cock bullies its way in and out of your dripping pussy with a wet sloshh.

“Q- quite the mess you’ve made —mmhp. .” He mutters between velvety groans, webbed hands pressing harder into your clit it has you choking on a moan.  

“Try not to waste my seed, my d- dear. . -haaah” Jade groans out, every thrust had his hips slamming into yours until your thighs ached from being forced apart. 

Jade presses himself harder onto you, burying his face deeper into the space between your shoulder and neck— warm breath fanning on your exposed. You let out a high pitch whine when his sharp teeth digs into the flesh of your neck, blood oozing from the puncture on the neck. He’s quick to drag that slimy, thick, and long tongue against the tender flesh of your neck— lewdly slurping at your skin as your blood coats his lips and neck. 

“Nngh—! F- feels too good! Mmhp. . J- jade!” You gasp out between moans, wailing loudly when his free hands digs into the soft flesh of your thighs.

That heat in your lower belly snaps unexpectedly, white hot heat as you lewdly squirt from the pleasure for the nth time tonight— juices spraying onto his lower stomach. Jade groans out your name from how your gooey walls spasm and tighten around him, hips flushed with yours as his cock bobs and throbs violently. He keeps himself buried deep as thick ropes of cum coats your already whites-covered walls, fat globs of white cum drools from your messy pussy. . dripping onto your ass. 

Jade slowly pulls out, tons of strings of arousal forms between your bodies, slamming his hips back into yours with a wet plap— pushing his cum back into your velvety walls. 

“My sweet pearl —haah. . do not waste my hard work. . ngh” he says simply, setting a pace; slowly pulling out a seeing the way your hole quivers around his inhuman cock before plunging himself back into you, roughly. 

Perhaps if you ignored your boyfriend’s honeyed voice cooing out to you. . begging you to help him with his upcoming rut, you might not have been pliable and overstimulated. After all, moray eels don’t have a scheduled mating season.

₊˚.༄ FLOYD LEECH    

similar to his brother, Floyd courts you in the traditional style a moray eel would; giving you a filling and delicious meal, dancing with you until you feel dizzy, soaking you in all his attention and affection

However, his favorite way to court his shrimpy is by opening his mouth and closing it repeatedly towards you 

Floyd is cruel when it comes to mating, soo eager to finally claim you that it comes out rough and borderline manhandling in his own passionate way

Compared to his brother, he prefers to mark every single inch of your body with his teeth, tongue, nails, and hands— he really gets addicted to how soft and supple your body is compared to all those other guppys in the Coral Sea!

The dark ocean’s cool, salt-laden water clings onto your exposed, flushed, and sensitive flesh— with each gentle wave of water that crashes onto your body has your skin tingling. Your breath is ragged and heavy from exhaustion, desperately trying to catch your breath as your head barely remains above the pitch black surface of the ocean. It’s hard to breathe when your son cries of pleasure interrupts you everytime; loud moans, shrill gasps, honeyed whimpers of Floyd, breathless mewls. 

It’s even harder when a certain moray eel merman seemingly can’t survive a mere second without his lips pressed firmly against yours; the intense flavor of metallic from your blood and salt from the ocean water lingers on Floyd’s lips. . coaxing you to eagerly reciprocate the way his snake-like tongue darting to flick against yours. What was originally supposed to be an exciting beach date with your dear boyfriend led to the cyan colored hair boy becoming more touchy, sweetly aggressive, overwhelming for your full attention. He opens his mouth as wide as he could in a barely concealed excited manner, gifting you the sight of the two rows of pointy teeth.

It was a repeating cycle; he’d unlatch his jaw wiiide, stare at you, close his mouth and pouts when you give him a confused look. . perhaps this was a moray eel trait that someone failed to inform you about. It was until you finally parted your lips to show Floyd your mouth that he instantly brightens up as he coos out your name in a honeyed voice, cackling at that dumbfounded expression on your pretty face. He quickly transform into his natural form, swimming further and further away from the sandy surface— peering at you with an expectant glint in his eyes. 

Within the few seconds of you being in the deep part of the ocean with Floyd, he’s already hungrily pawing and tugging at your swimsuit— the loud rippp of the fabric being torn from greedy hands. His eyes are dilated and clouded with unhidden intense desire— slowly swimming around like a predator stalking its prey. At first, your slick back was pressed against a rough rock that hadn’t appeared above the ocean’s surface— plush thighs parted wiide to allow the needy merman settle between them. . causing a pleasurable ache in your legs.

Those webbed hands of his digs into the soft chub of your thighs, sharp nails poking into your flesh until small dots of scarlet pools from your skin. . eliciting a honeyed gasp from your swollen lips. Floyd’s tongue— long, thick, and sloppy from eagerness drags against your cunt. . parting your syrupy folds. That eager tongue of his presses into your drooling hole, the wet muscle having a kind of its own as it drags against your pussy until you’re dripping a mixture of salvia and arousal. 

Floyd would moan shamelessly into your core, giggling when you tremble from the stimulation of his lips engulfing your buzzing clit— suckling hard until you just squeal out his and loudly. You’ve never seen the eel so excited like this before; he’s determined to drag out every little reaction from you, from the twitch of your hips to the gasp ripped from your lips. He whines into your honeyed folds, addicted, hungry for more of your sweet taste. . tongue flicking, licking, smearing, and dragging along your heat to coax your body to produce more and more of your sweet juices. 

“Mmhp! Shrimpy taste soo sweet!” Floyd giggles out against your puffy clit, grinning ear to ear with his lips and chin glistening from your sticky arousal.

And now, he has his flexible body wrapped firmly around your body— squeezing you tightly as he presses his throbbing cock agaisnt your puffy folds. Floyd ruts his hips back and forth in a dizzying manner, cock dragging and bumping into your poor clit. He’s already reduced you into a shivering, sobbing, and overstimulation mess.

“Ngh! F- Floyd! Haah—! feels goodd. .” You drool out, eyes squinted and clouded in a haze of ecstasy. 

Floyd giggles, smushing his lips against your swollen ones, sharp teeth nipping at the puffy flesh as his tongue darts to drag against yours in a passionate manner. He moans into your lips as his length stretches your drooling hole, the wet squeak muffled by the salty water around yours both. 

“O- oh fuck! To-too muchh!” You gasp out between loud moans, tongue darting to lick at your blooded lips. 

At the feeling of him pressing even deeper into your spasming and creamy hole has you shoveling and squirming from the pleasure.

“Shrimpy is so, so, sooo squirmy!” He giggles, tongue darting to kick a broad strip along your marked up neck. 

In your velvety walls, Floyd’s thick cock throbs and spurts out thick beads of precum into your already white- covered walls— the excess pouring from your stuffed hole and mixing in the sea water. The sweet burn of pleasure felt addictive and amazing, the way his inhuman cock drags and massaged along your gooey walls— the drag of his length in your cunt is heavy, the bulbous tip pounding into your poor g-spot with such force. . it feels amazingly perfect. His cool skin is pressed firmly against yours, sharp scales on his tail digs into your lower half— each rough snap of his hips has water spraying everywhere.

“Ya’ feel g- good? Huh? Huh, sh- shrimpy?” Floyd stutters out, those nails of his digging greedily into your hips before gently scratching find your back until you squeal from the mixture of pain and pleasure.

Weakly, you try to find purchase on his shoulders only for the natural slime substance on his skin to make it hard. . you’re completely dependable on Floyd. With a loud sob of his name, you tremble in his hold as you gush around his shaft for the nth time tonight— creamy walls spasming and quivering around his thick length. 

”haah! Nngh! O- oh fuckk!” You drool out, eyes rolling back. 

Floyd moans out, pressing his lips onto you again, ignoring his you moan out from exhaustion, tongue dragging against the torn flesh of your lips. . happily shoving his tongue to smear against yours— thick and endless ropes of cum shoots into your overstuffed pussy.

˖°༄All work belongs to only me, @/yuuna-iridescent-scales!! Translating, plagiarism, copying, posting on another website, claiming as your work will not be tolerated, instant block  .｡꒰☆꒱ ⋆

੭      ֹ   AUTHOR NOTE    🥥

Hiya hiya, cuties! Sorry for such a late post, I’m on vacation and had such limited wifi I wasn’t able to post ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ alsooo, 240+ followers?? Tysm (˃̵ᴗ˂̵)!!

Also, I wanted to say; please read my rules before requesting and I only use you/your pronouns for reader POV  but have afab anatomy! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ btw, shout out to the random person who gave me enough luck to get a Deuce card(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

At first, it was unnoticeable. . that subtle heat in his lower stomach, getting warmer and warmer with every passing second. It’s like Jack’s senses were heightened further; the scent of you, the touch of you, the sight of you has become dangerously intoxicating. Watching you closely with sharp eyes, he’s practically salivating. . but not from hunger, well . . perhaps a different type of hunger. 

It’s already early spring, Jack’s heat tends to regularly appear during spring or summer. Ooh. . so that’s what why that 

noticeable ache in his abdomen and the desire for you wholly has begun to appear. He’s going through his rut.

“Nngh. .” Jack huffs out through ragged breaths and breathless groans, the firm grip on your hips tightens ever so slightly when you squirm.

God. . how long has it been since Jack pounced on you— keeping you stuck in the mating press before manhandling you onto your knees and hands. You are moaning weakly into the sheets, the only thing keeping you from collapsing onto the bedsheets below was your dear boyfriend’s grip on your waist. . keeping you propped up for him to pound his cum into your velvety walls. With a whiney voice, you loudly moan out his name— sobbing when he presses you against the sheets, leaving to nibble at your already marked up neck. 

With each push of his hips, thick cock plunging deep into your raw pussy, his thick cum pours from your sensitive cunt. . staining the mess fabric below. Desperately, Jack slowly drags his tongue against the skin of your neck. . groaning in delight at the taste of you against his tongue, sweet and inviting. 

“Haah—! . . ohgodd, J- jack!” You gulp out, eyes rolling back with a deep and rough thrust into your gooey walls.

Your walls quiver and spasm around Jack’s length tightly, you are soo close to cumming for the nth time— overstimulation starts to bite at your flesh. You tremble violently, squealing in ecstasy as your sopping cunt squeezes around his length, squirting onto the messy sheets. Fat tears roll down your cheek from your intense orgasm, whimpering softly when Jack kisses at your shoulder— the sweetness completely contradicts those rough and mean thrust he gives.

“Mmhp. . fu- fuck, soo warm” he grumbles against your marked skin, heavy balls slapping at your puffy clit.

“Y- you feel —nngh. . wonderful, sevens—“ Jack grits out through clenched teeth, hesitating leaning in to bite at your shoulder— eventually giving into his instincts to mark you further. 

You let out a loud yelp of his name, eyes rolling back so far when Jack’s knot swells up against your glistening folds. It presses harder and harder against your cunt until it slips inside with an obscure and loudly wet squealchh.

“Haah—! J- jack!” You sob out, a new batch of tears pouring from your glossy eyes.

He lets out a soft, shaky sigh of pleasure when his knot slips into your warmth— eliciting a loud squeal of a mixture of pleasure and pain from you. Jack slowly kisses at laps at each mark on your neck and shoulder, any spot he could reach is met with delicate affection. He moves you to rest against the bedsheets, cuddling you while his knot is still plugged into your pussy— the chances of you taking his seed increases.

Once Jack’s rut is finally over, he’ll make sure to give you the best aftercare. . but for now, he’ll hold you close to his warm body.

ׅ꒰RUGGIE BUCCHI ୭ ˚

Unlike wolves, hyenas lack a specific date for ruts, rather, the female hyenas ovulate throughout the whole year

Naturally, male hyenas rely on their mate to initiate sex, due to being more submissive than their counterpart

Ruggie could easily smell it on you; that hint of spice, sour, and sweetness scent that lingers on your body. . it’s enticing. You must be ovulating, it’s the only explanation for you being so bothered and desperate at the same time. Beastmen have a better sense of smell. . they can smell certain fumes better than a regular person, for example, he knows exactly when you fingered yourself.

That tasty sweet smell on your skin is slightly subtle but still bold enough, you must have done it early ago. Ooh, Ruggie is truly desperate for a taste of you. . but his biology clearly states that the male must wait for the female to initiate sex, unless they’d like to be bitten. 

“Oooh. . fuck-! Ru- ruggie” you gasp out loudly, body trembling when he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking tightly. 

Ruggie has his hands sprawled on the inside of your plush thighs—keeping you pried apart, giving him enough time to drag his tongue through your slick folds. He’s completely drunk off the taste of your arousal, mindlessly moaning into your cunt and lapping at your pussy. . tongue smearing through your fat folds, parting them apart with each lick.

“Mmhp. .” Ruggie whimpers into your cunt, sighing when you drag your fingers through his hair, ears flattening against his hair. 

He is a wet mess, chin and mouth soaked and glistening from your sticky juices, lips swollen from how long been buried agaisnt your sopping pussy. Ruggie is shameless, lips sucking loudly onto your engorged clit— even moaning and whimpering when he suckles onto your clit, causing the perfect amount of vibrations to course through your body, ripping out another orgasm from your exhausted body. 

“H- haaah. . can’t ta- take it anymore. .!” You drool out, throwing your head back when he plunges his tongue into your quivering hole. 

Your velvety walls flutter around his tongue, gasping when he stretches your walls out by fixing his tongue into you. Your body is throbbing soo much from the pleasure, it aches in the best possible way. Your legs struggle to stay open and you don’t have to worry about it, Ruggie is easily keeping you wiiide open like you’re paying him for it.

Again, you drag your nails against his scalp, tugging on his scalp tenderly, bucking your hips. An intense shiver courses through your spine when Ruggie flattens his tongue at your spasming hole, dragging the wet muscle all the way to your buzzing bud. 

“Nngh—! Mmhp, baby. .” You mewl out, hips shakily trembling, lightly squirming from the pleasure. 

Ruggie’s grip on your thigh tightened, silently asking if you can stay still while he feats on what you give him. 

“Mmhp. . n- noo. .” He murmurs against your sticky pussy, a thin string of arousal connected between his lips and your cunt.

“D-don’t squirm from me. . need more of youu” Ruggie finishes, dipping his tongue back into your hole. . nose pressing against your clit. 

Your jaw drops, eyes roll back, your grip tightens on his hair. You let out a breathless moan of his name, gushing around his tongue, feeding his hungry mouth for the nth time of tonight. And Ruggie is there to catch every drop, loudly dragging his lips through your pussy folds. 

“Nngh. . n- no more. . please” you pant on, pushing at his forehead. 

“N- noo. . prefect, pl- please. .” He protested, resting his cheek against your thigh, pouting at you.

“Just one more. .” Ruggie says, grinning mischievously when you nod your head.

You know it wouldn’t be just one more, but how could you ever think of denying Ruggie when he gives you those eyes? Sure, you’ll be jelly-boned once he’s done it’s you. . but that’s a later concern!

ׅ꒰LEONA KINGSCHOLAR ୭ ˚

Similar to hyenas, male lions don’t actually have a specific season in which a rut can appear, in reality, lions can mate throughout the whole year but a rut can be triggered by the female’s heat

Lions are quite territorial of their mate, sometimes becoming rougher with the intent of leaving their mark. . awfully similar to Leona

The second you stepped into Savanclaw, Leona almost immediately woke up from his little nap— keen scents picking up at the distant and subtle yet sweet scent of you. He is patiently awaiting your arrival in his room while pretending to be asleep. . although the wild flicks of his tail give away his facade— in reality, he’s eagerly waiting for his dear prey to finally barge into his room. And when you do. . that spicy, musky, intense, sweet smell of you, practically radiating off your skin, invades his senses. . oooh, you’ve got him hooked just by your scent. 

“Haaah. . nngh! C- can’t take it anymoree!” You squeal out loudly into the sweat-soaked pillow, voice muffled by the soft fabric, fat tears rolling down the curve of your cheek.

You are drooling and gasping into the sheets, mindlessly gasping out your boyfriend’s name. Your body and skin tingles, a mixture of sensitivity and overstimulation. . it aches in one of the best ways possible. Leona had already reduced you into a whimpering and whining mess; thick fingers plunging deep into your quivering hole, massaging against your velvety walls as his rough tongue drags along the swollen length of your clit. . the perfect amount of pressure to have you bucking needily. 

With each mean thrust of his thick, barbed cock back into your raw, leaking, puffy cunt has a copious amount of cum pouring from your stretched hole, staining the mattress beneath your slick body further. His tongue drags roughly against the warm, marked skin of your neck, canines finding their spot on your flesh— there’s bite marks all along your neck, some on your chest, some on your thighs, there’s even some bruises indented onto your hip and thighs. It’s clear to every student, beastmen and human, that you are only Leona’s mate.

“Leonaa! L- Leona. .” You mewl out loudly, back arching further into the bed. . swollen nipples grinding against the fabric— you squirm lightly from the onslaught of pleasure.

“C’mon, herbivore. . say my name” Leona grunts out between groans of pleasure, hips snapping into yours.

“Fu- fuck. . Leona!” You sob out, whining when his grip on your hips tightens where you squirm away from his touch. 

“Again” he groans out between ragged breaths, teeth finding your neck once again, leaving his mark.

His tail curls around your thighs lightly as Leona nuzzles deeper into your neck, suckling lewdly at your skin. Your eyes roll back, an intense tremble courses through your body as you gush around his barbed cock for the nth time.

“Mmhp—! F- fuck! Ngh, Leona!” You wail out loudly, walls swallowing and squeezing tightly around his length.

He groans out your name into the sweaty skin, hips firmly flushed against your body— cock bobbing and twitching painfully, buried to the hilt of your pussy. Thick ropes of cum shoots into your white covered walls, causing globs of cum to seep around his thick base.

“Haah. . n- noo more. .” You say in a breathless and rough voice, gasping when he snaps his hips back into yours.

“C’mon, herbivore. . s- surely you’re not exhausted just from this” Leona says in that prideful and arrogant tone, you can practically imagine that smirk on his face.

However, you are wayy too fucked out to give a snarky comment back— simply melting into the sheets as his skin slaps against yours with a wet plap.

ׅ‧˚꒰♡ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ All work belongs to only me, @/yuuna-iridescent-scales!! Translating, plagiarism, copying, posting on another website, claiming as your work will not be tolerated, instant block ᶻ Z Z

ׅᛝ AUTHOR NOTE ! ׁ ׅ ᶻ Wooow. . my first smut fic on this blogദ്ദി/ᐠ｡‸｡ᐟ\ originally, I was going to add the octotrio in this post but decided I would make a separate post(ᵕ—ᴗ—). I actually wasn’t expecting 300+ people to enjoy my first fic(..◜ᴗ◝..). I’m totally not exploding rn.. one of my fav twst writes followed me back omlomloml

“got outta the gym late. lost track of time,” he walks two steps to the kitchen pulling out two energy drinks, a protein drink, and a couple protein bars. “fuck,” he cups his crotch, palming himself through his low hanging sweats. he opens his shake. “accidentally swiped on that video ya’ sent me from the summer. I watched the whole thing between my sets.” his hand tips back, throat bopping as he chugs the shake, eyes closing as he sees the video play back in his mind, hand still on his bulge.

you’re leaning against the column between your smaller than small living room and kitchen, eyeing the way he’s shamelessly groping himself in front of you, men. you sigh, internally.

“hey,” he suddenly appears in front of you, towering. his musky scent fills your nose as he cups your neck, the other resting on your hip. he slowly lowers himself, tilting your chin up with a thumb as his lips connect with yours again. “haah,” he sighs, kissing your lips like it’s his saving grace, his sweats hang low on his hips as he presses himself against you. “remember that video?” he husks, “the one with ya’ spreading your legs out for the camera—“

you gently press a hand to his chest again, cheeks flushed, but stomach churning uncomfortably. “ryo—“

“wanna see this pussy,” he doesn’t even hesitate, he drops his head to your neck, kissing the exposed skin before dropping to a knee, hands on your hips. “wanna smell how good she is—“

“ryo,” you press a hand to his forehead, face aflame, as you push him back. your heart hammers as he frowns up at you, jaw tight and hands tightening around your waist. “I got my period yesterday.”

….

a silent beat passes.

then.

FUCK!

sukuna is horrible at controlling his face.

you immediately notice his dilated pupils dissipate, and the excitement die behind his eyes. your lips purse, making a my bad king type of face. but sukuna looks absolutely destroyed, his head drops forward, desperately trying to control his eye roll, but you catch it , along with the way he presses his face into your stomach, and groans. loud. uncontrolled.

“sorry…I forgot to text you, and you came all the way here,” you pat his shoulder apologetically, though you’re not super sympathetic since it’s not your fault.

“ya’ have cramps or some shit?” he grumbles against your sleep shirt.

“had crazy cramps this morning, but just like…not in the mood right now,” you cringe while saying it, but sukuna just sighs.

you bite your cheek as you watch him sit back on his heels. his black sweats straining against his thighs, his bulge shameless as it presses up against the material. your eyes flick over him again, wetting your lip as you reach for his hair. hesitant. but eventually…your manicured nails run through the slightly damp, salmon colored hair. you watch in silent awe as his lashes weigh down, and his jaw tightens like he’s holding himself back. your nails scratch his scalp, lightly, but enough to elect a raw groan from the back of his throat.

you bite your lip, eyeing the dark flush crawling up his neck, and dusting his cheeks a light pink. his large palm rests on your outer thigh and the other flexing as it grips his erection. how far will he—

“not cumming in my fucking sweats,” he suddenly barks, getting to his feet. your hand drops as he walks towards the bathroom, pulling his shirt over his head, he kicks the door shut behind him.

your lips purse again, biting your cheek as you hear the shower turn on. men.

that was how sukuna dealt with his fuck buddy being on her period. somehow always finding out last minute that you’re bleeding, and in no mood for action — except for those very rare occasions, well he can’t divulge too much now since you never want him to mention it again — and he’s forced to take care of his problem in your shower. his rough calloused palm — a contrast from your soft smaller ones — jerks his painfully hard throbbing cock to the images of you floating in his mind until he’s finally shooting his thick white load all over your shower wall. haze clearing up as he watches the cum slide down. and then he’ll step out of the bathroom, usually wearing a pair of sweats he’d forgotten here, along with a plain black tee, and crash on the couch as you do your homework. he’ll eye you a bit, but eventually shift his attention to the tv and knockout.

it would be difficult for those five to seven days, especially when you would be slightly more clipped with him, or just plain bitchy and short tempered (like him). but it’d get him all hot and bothered, especially since he can’t act on it.

that was sukuna’s perception of a woman’s cycle. before he never cared, now he cares just a little more because he can’t have sex with you when you’re on your period.

but as smart as sukuna is, it takes a little more brain power for him to realize what this is.

this being, how he’s wound up because he’s trying to get through this studying for an upcoming exam. he’s far from prepared for and the best way for him to study is to be around someone who takes it seriously— you. and yet…

you won’t stop moving!

at first you were sitting across from him in the library. then you shift to the seat at corner of the table, and then you move to sit directly beside him.

“you need help?” he suddenly cuts. you’re shifting beside him stops, brows pulled in confusion.

“was just uncomfortable, am i disturbing you?”

his brow twitches, but you were completely innocent. your brow pulled up, like he’s the crazy one, and not you, who’s moved around like ten times in the last hour!!

“just a little,” he mutters, putting his headphones back on and turning back to his work. luckily, you seem to have settled down, attention back on your own studies. engrossed in your review sheets and notes, as sukuna reviews for his own exam.

however, what the fratboy did notice was even when shoko stopped bye to chat, and utahime came to whisper some gossip to you between her class, you didn’t move once. his brow quirked briefly when utahime chatted across the table, and instead of getting up and going to the hallway to talk freely, you remain seated, right beside him, and right against him.

what’s going on?

“I swear I told the girl I didn’t even know who she was talking about it—but she didn’t even care. girl! I wasn’t talking to your ex,” utahime rambles in hushed whispers, similar to the whispered conversations at other tables.

your brows furrow in shock, “what the hell?? why the heck is she even confronting you in the middle of class though? that’s so weird.”

“that’s what I’m sayinggg!!!”

sukuna has every reason to snap at you both right now. to tell you two to shut the fuck up or go outside. seriously, it was distracting as fuck. but his mind was short circuiting and stumbling around all because of how fucking close you are to him.

his arms are leaning over the table, biceps bulging from his tshirt, scribbling practice equations and notes. and you’re leaning over in an identical position, but your side is fully pressed against his arm. your zip up hoodie resting around your hips after you’d shrugged it off, and your usual cold skin was searing hot against his. skin to skin. and it’s been like that for the past twenty minutes.

usually when your friends stop by to ramble, you have the courtesy to step away so he can study. but not this time— well you did a similar thing a month ago too. sticking to him like glue. brushing your fingers over the veins of his forearm—

“okay, I’ll update you later, but thanks for letting me borrow your airpods!” utahime concludes her rant with finally returning your airpods and running off to her next class. sukuna lets out an air of relief, relaxing beside you.

finally, some peace and quiet in the library.

…shift…

well, it could only last so long.

his brows furrow as he glances over at you, your cheek is now resting on his arm, mindlessly reading your notes like this is normal. is it because he’s finally anxious about an exam after so long, that he’s noticing how touchy you’re being? or maybe you’re not in the mood to do your work and in the mood for something else—

tch, he doesn’t have time to find some room to fuck you in though. it’s the middle of the day and the library is packed. the last thing you’d want is for someone to see you both. however, he can’t even tell if you want any action right now. it just looks like you’re tired…and clingy…?

sukuna exhales, thumb pressing against his jaw in thought, while you shift again, oblivious to his internal turmoil, cheek smushed against his arm…

“you hungry?” he interrupts, desperate for his mind to quiet down.

“not really,” you mutter, focused on your homework.

his lips downturn, pen tapping the desk, “I’m gonna grab another celsius.” he suddenly stands, startling you for a moment, noticing the way your pretty lashes blink in surprise. you’re definitely just focused on school…but last month you were acting the same-ish…if he’s right, then when he comes back…you’ll…

he places a celsius in front of you, eyes flicking over you as he sips his drink. you hum in distracted appreciation, like you can’t even see him sliding back into his seat, legs spread, and arms coming up back to the table to grab his pen. but like glue, you’re sliding yourself right beside him, pressing your cheek to his shoulder, and taking a subtle inhale.

what the hell?!? it’s like he can predict you’re every move now?!

it doesn’t stop there. the puzzle pieces are starting to come together slowly. especially when you subtly kept a grip on his arm muttering how he can finish studying at your place, without the distraction of the frat—which you rarely pressure him to do a night before an exam. except instead of going straight to the bathroom to shower, you followed him to your couch and sat beside him.

“do you mind if I turn on the tv?” you ask with such an unnerving amount of gentleness, glancing at him with your full undivided attention.

his brow quirks, why’re you looking at him like that? “it’s your place, woman.”

you hum, relaxing back, albeit pressed to his side and your knees tucked up, as he leans over on the coffee table (aka your only desk in your small ass apartment) reviewing more work. but just moments later he’s sliding to the floor for more comfortability—

“why’d you move?” your voice cuts through the quiet apartment.

“huh?”

sukuna glances back, brow quirked with confusion at the frown you’re wearing. “leaning over is fucking with my back,” he tsks, earning him an uncharacteristically quick attitude switch from you — your eyes roll, your entire body slumps further back on the couch that you’re basically laying across it, and your cute bottom lip juts out in an irritated, subtle pout. seriously? sukuna scoffs internally. you’re acting like such a brat??? for real this time.

your cheeks press against the cushion. your hypnotizing eyes flick between his, then eventually settle on his lips. they’re slightly chapped, pink…pretty…kissable…

“ya need something?” he snaps without any bite. you’re zoning out again. your eyes drift off, and your lips part lost in thought. “zoning out—“ are the words you hear before you feel an aggressive (light in his mind) flick to your forehead. “again!”

“ow!” you groan loud, face quickly turning and pressing into the cushion in annoyance. “what the hell!” your muffled yell barely comes out.

“what the hell me?” he tsks, rough hand landing on your head, and turning your face back for air. “I was talking and you did that shit again—“

“what thing?!” you scoff, brows pinched in anger as you stare into his eyes….his deep…dark…lidded…crimson eyes…..haah—

“that,” he exhales, hand softening on your temple, and irritation slipping away with your usual antics. “how do you even zone out that fast?”

your glossy lips part, manicured nail brushing your bottom lip, heat pooling between your legs, and eyes half lidded… “was thinking about your eyes.”

the softness of your tone was more shocking than the actual words that came out of your mouth. or it’s the combination of both. or the bluntness of your gentle honey sweet voice that took sukuna by surprise…

but he blinked.

“first it was your lips,” you whisper with a breathless sigh. your finger carefully reaching out and touching his lips. you mimic the way he parts his lips with your own. his thick brows creating a shadow over his lidded eyes. “then your eyes.” you explain with such clarity, it had sukuna short circuiting as he tries to rationalize why you’re acting this way—

“that’s why i zoned out,” you conclude, shifting closer to the edge of the couch, closer to him. your eyes dot up at him, brushing his bottom lip, pulling it down with a thumb. “you distract me sometimes.” you’re tired…it was a long day of classes and it was the middle of the week. that has to be the reason, sukuna thinks.

by now, he knows that look.

you wanna fuck.

“Mmm,” you whine the moment he presses his lips to yours. your tongue immediately finding his as your nails course through his hair. tugging. “make me cum, ryo.”

he snorts in your mouth, rough hand pushing your shirt up, thumbing your bra before hooking his thumb under and lifting up. “should’ve just told me ya want your pussy wet—“

“it’s already wet,” you cut, “been wet all day.”

shiit, he groans into your lips, pushing his hand down, past your waistband. “fucking slut.” a breathy gasp slips out as he cups your wet sticky pussy. “fucking drenched, dirty brat.” his teeth sink into your bottom lip as you whine louder, unaware how sukuna’s neck is unbelievably red. why do you taste sweeter?

“Mmm lift your hips up,” he husks. you don’t get the chance to react when he’s suddenly yanking your pants and drenched panties off. “spread ‘em.”

your tongue pokes your bottom lip, opening your legs for your fuck buddy. his huge palms press against your thighs, grabbing fistfuls and licking his bottom lip as your sticky pussy comes into view. his pupils dilate as he watches your hole twitch. and your scent immediately hits his nose. “you’re gonna taste so good today.” he mutters to himself, but your brow lifts.

“what’s different about today?”

he leans forward, eyes flicking up as he exhales. is he drunk? his eyes roll back, cock throbbing in his pants and he inhales again—fuuck, you smell so much sweeter, “nothin.” his tongue shuts you right up as he licks a long wet lewd strip up your folds. your back immediately arches off the couch, nails digging into his scalp as his beefy arms lock around your thighs, moaning. your sweet honey floods his taste buds…this pussy has always hypnotized him, aroma consuming him and taste intoxicating him…but now that he thinks about…this small little difference in taste and scent, a bit sweeter, happened last month—

“ryo—haah ah mmh ya like my pussy?” your eyes flutter as you keep them on sukuna’s flushed face.

his eyes roll back, completely falling apart between your thighs as he groans a deep husky, “fuck yeah.”

your stomach burns hot at his voice, and voice pitching higher as his tongue delves inside your hole. “haaaah—your mouth is so good, baby—ngh been wet all day,” you confess in your pleasure. “was staring at your hands all day, ryo—they’re so big…l-like your di—ahh—“ fuck you’re talking a lot, sukuna groans, annoyed how worked up your voice is getting him.

his tongue laps and sucks, his salvia creating an even bigger mess. he pulls away, cheeks dusted a deep red as he spits directly onto your puffy clit, pupils dilating as he spreads the mess all over your swollen clit. “these hands,” he runs his calloused palm over your lower stomach. your pupils grow black with lust. pupils blown as you stare at the way his hand encompasses the entire surface. his crimson irises dilate once he sees the lust all over your face. “want them inside ya?”

you nod, immediately.

he doesn’t wait.

two long, thick fingers push past the initial tightness, feeling the gummy walls of your pussy hug his digits with delight. your jaw falls slack, drool slipping as he leans down to plant wet kisses along your lower stomach, forearms and biceps flexing as he pistons his fingers in n out. the squelching fills his ears as you moan above him.

“ngh! fuh ryo, feels good, kiss—kiss me down there—“ you push his head down until his lips connect with your clit again, sucking. rough. mean. teeth sinking just hard enough to make your eyes water and a choked cry slip your lips. “ryo,” you mewl with such lewd sweetness that this huge 6’5 hunk is practically moaning in response. “ry—my pussy—ahh gun —mmm c-close—gun cum—“

but sukuna has already lost all sanity with how good your slick tastes. his eyes roll back pushing you over the edge. “mmm fuck!” you cry, lashes wet as they flutter from the pleasure coursing out of you. his throat bops swallowing and lapping your sweet slick like it’s a drug — which it might as well be with the way his cock is throbbing in his boxers just from eating his fuck buddy’s sweet pussy. “taste like fucking honey,” he groans, cleaning you up like a dog. he pants, catching his breath as he climbs up to your lips like a starved animal. he smashes his lips against you, kissing your spit slicked lips with a loud groan. how do your lips taste sweet too?

“gonna be a good brat and let me fuck this tight pussy?” He grunts, unbuckling his belt and pushing his jeans down along with his boxers, freeing his painfully erect cock.

your tongues collide, dumb whine coming from the back of your throat, and hands running up and locking around his neck. “f’course.”

fucking you rough and fast on the couch as you babbled like a dumb slut, drunk on his cock, had him seeing stars. he was desperately trying to figure out how you're handling him with how uncharacteristically rough he’s being, but you haven’t told him to stop.

"ry—aa-haah!"

shit. he'd flipped you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips , ass in the air as he slams his thick throbbing cock in from behind. his rough palm is pressed into your lower back keeping you in that deep arch he loves, and hand cracking the nth spank to your sore ass. "feel good?"

"so good ryo—wanna cum again -cum-ngh haah please please-"

unbelievable.

and it’s not until he’s panting on the couch, your limp body resting across it, completely and utterly spent, does he realize just how rough he was being. his jaw tenses, as the fog clears up.

“hey…” his voice treads lightly, cautious as he turns on the couch, glancing at your resting form. your shirt covers your breasts after he finally came and let you lay back on the couch. but his spend leaks out of your abused hole, and your ass is still burning from his mean spanks. “hey…” he leans over you, hand brushing your waist. grounding. “you okay?”

he watches carefully as you turn on your side, eyes heavy as you blink up at him. “yeah…you okay?”

“you okay with how we fucked?”

you don’t blink, “yeah.”

yeah, somethings up. he was rough, even he knows that much. and you took it well. more than well, you were begging for me.

all of those should’ve been signs. the closeness, the slight sweetness spike in your slick and saliva. how unbelievably heavenly you smell, all the time. how you didn’t mind how rough he was. but the cherry on top was the party friday.

the frat is lit up like a damn fever dream. neon strips line the railings, glow paint smeared across walls and skin, bass from the dj bleeding through the floors as the pool outside shimmers under colored lights. it’s packed, but not suffocating. invite-only for once. people actually have room to breathe, but it was mainly because they didn’t want any complaints so early in the semester.

sukuna is sat back on the patio couch, shirtless, skin still damp from the heat, a thin sheen of sweat catching the lights every time he moves, tattoos flexing over his well defined muscles. gojo was loud beside him, geto half-listening while scrolling on his phone, a couple other guys scattered around with some girls mingling between them. but sukuna isn’t paying attention to any of it.

he has a drink in his hand, untouched. his eyes keep drifting. back to you. somewhere near the edge of the pool, laughing at something utahime is saying, glowing under the neon lights. your bikini hugged your tits so well he’d pop a boner if he stares too hard. the droplets run down your soft skin, as he sees you fix your necklace as you say something to your friend.

he clicks his tongue, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “you ever notice they act different sometimes?” he mutters, low enough that it doesn’t carry past the music.

nanami, sitting beside him in swim shorts, thick legs spread open for all to eye and an open button up putting his defined abs on full display, along with the sneaky patch of blonde hair peaking out of his waistband, doesn’t even look up from his phone. “that’s a very broad statement.”

sukuna exhales through his nose. “nah, like—” he pauses, frowning slightly, like he’s trying to piece a puzzle together. “it’s not random.”

nanami studies him for a second, then follows his line of sight, and finds you immediately. is he starting to realize his feelings for you?— “not random how?”

sukuna tilts his head, “just… different. clingier. or—” he gestures vaguely with his drink. “more into it.”

nanami raises a brow. “into what.”

sukuna gives him a look like don’t be fucking stupid.

nanami hums, finally catching on, taking a slow sip. “you’re asking if there’s a pattern to women’s behavior.”

“i’m saying there is one,” sukuna mutters aggressively. “i just don’t know what the hell it is.”

“you know,” nanami says calmly, “they have cycles.”

there’s a beat. then sukuna leans back, jaw ticking slightly, still watching you. “yeah I fucking know that,” he mutters. “It’s annoying.”

nanami glances at him again, lost. “what is.”

sukuna doesn’t answer right away. just takes another sip, eyes narrowing faintly. “the way it’s not consistent.”

nanami huffs quietly, amused now . “if you’re starting to notice now then it is consistent.”

sukuna side-eyes him. nanami is no better than gojo or geto, he’s just more subtle about his innuendos. “I’m not noticing shit—“

nanami shrugs, setting his glass down. unaware that gojo and geto have agreed on teams.

“okay! water volleyball!” gojo’s voice cuts clean through the bass, already halfway to the pool as he grins like he’s been waiting for this all night. a cheer ripples through the patio. of course it does. a house full of athletes, half-naked, girls in bikinis, a competition handed to them on a silver platter? yeah, they’re moving before the rules are even explained.

geto stretches his arms above his head as he stands, “hey,” he shouts loud enough for the frat president t to hear him, “try not to break anyone’s teeth this time!”

gojo laughs, already hopping to his side of the pool because obviously he’s one of the captains. “no promises.”

sukuna’s already up, taking the second captain title and just like that — whatever train of thought he was stuck on snaps clean in half. gone. replaced with something sharper, more familiar. his shoulders roll once, loose, eyes narrowing as he sizes up the space, the people already splitting into sides. his team or gojo’s team. they’re always on opposite teams. it makes it more fun.

“don’t get in my way,” he tosses to gojo as he steps around to his end of the pool, his hand brushing his stomach as he cracks his neck.

“you wish,” gojo shoots back.

people start gathering, some hanging back to watch, others eager, slipping into the water, calling out sides, laughing as they pick teams. a younger pledge scrambles to the middle, already trying to take control after geto shoves him in, to the play referee, whistle in hand like this is some official match.

and of course, even as chaos takes over the yard. your eyes find him. instinctive, something in you locks in and refuses to look anywhere else.

sukuna stands at the edge, skin still glistening under the neon, muscles flexing lazily as he stretches his arm over his head. his back, his shoulders, the deep v- line that has your eyes following down to the tuft of light hair peaking out waistband. the same one you always find yourself caressing during foreplay— it’s too much. it’s always too much, but tonight it sits heavier in your chest, lower in your stomach, something warm and insistent that doesn’t let up between your legs.

your clit throbs.

“wait—” utahime grabs your wrist, staring at you like you’ve lost your mind. “you hate this stuff.”

you don’t even look at her. “it’ll be fun,” you murmur, already pulling away. and then you’re moving. slipping from your seat on the edge of the pool and jumping in.

the water hits cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat that’s been building under it. you swim to sukuna’s side, breath catching slightly as you orient yourself to the chaos around you, because normally, usually, a crowded sweaty pool was something you’d avoid, but—he’s already looking at you. your thighs press together.

his eyes are not casual, not passing, he’s looking. his gaze drops first. slow and deliberate, catching the faint mark on your neck, the one he left last night, barely visible under the colored lights. his jaw ticks. then lower, just for a second, the way your body shifts in the water, the ripple of movement as you steady yourself, the rise and fall of your breasts threatening to spill out. the water calmly rocks underneath them. then his gaze shifts back to your face, and you’re still staring at him. you’re not even trying to hide it.

something about that makes his brow twitch.

because you’re not looking away. not when he meets your eyes. not when the noise around you spikes, not when someone splashes too close. your focus stays locked on him—heavy, almost… expectant.

it lingers a second too long. then—

“teams set!” the pledge yells, blowing the whistle way too aggressively. “first to ten wins— oh and no cheap shots—“ he glances around before catching geto lounged on the other side of the pool, some girl already pressed against his arm. “OH! no punches or choking too!”

“shut up and start it,” gojo calls from the other side, already grinning, bouncing lightly in the water.

sukuna doesn’t take his eyes off you for another beat. then he exhales through his nose, turning slightly, shoulders squaring as the ball is tossed into play and he’s in the pool.

the game starts rough. the second the ball is tossed, two guys are already lunging for it. water splashing high, bodies colliding mid-air before someone spikes it hard across the pool. girls move out of the way, squealing as huge men fight. a chorus of shouts erupts from the sidelines, music still blasting behind it, neon lights flickers over wet skin and moving bodies.

gojo, the ever responsible fraternity president, grins like a man possessed on the other side. sukuna, the very responsible vice president, is barking like a mad man.

and of course, the competitive idiots fall into rhythm with each other. fast, aggressive, locked in, and every hit gets harder, a slightly more violent. every return is sharper and people start gathering closer to the edge, phones out, recording, yelling their names like it’s a real match instead of a stupid drunk frat game.

“c’mon, kuna!” someone shouts.

“gojo! spike that shit!”

water slaps against the tile as everything moves fast. bodies move out of the way so they’re not hit by the aggressive spikes from the frat hosts, but they still refuse to leave the pool because it’s fun.

and then the ball comes your way. your eyes widen, barely able to think, so you just react. your hands come up, fingers pushing against it just right, and somehow, you’re sending it up in a clean arc, right to him.

sukuna moves instantly….he jumps, sculpted body cutting through the air, arm pulling back before he slams the ball down with violent force, sending it crashing into gojo’s side of the pool.

a winning point. a cheer explodes. sukuna lands, water dripping down his shoulders, then he glances at you. his canines are on display, as his deep voice cuts through the chaos to say, “good girl.” it’s low, automatic, and it slips out without thought, just like how he’d praise you when you’re alone, and his voice is raspy as he whispers it in your ear, cock usually deep in your guts as he gives you another mean thrust that you take with pride, pussy clamping when he bottoms.

something fast, hot, and dizzying rushes through you. your chest tightens, skin buzzing as your breath stutters for a second. your thighs press together instinctively under the water, pulse kicking up in a way that feels almost overwhelming. and from that moment on, you stick to him. you try to chase the ball for him, pushing it back into his reach every chance you get, doing your best to avoid the large men playing the game. but your focus narrows, locked in on your hot fuck buddy like nothing else exists. every movement feels sharper, more urgent, your body reacting before your brain can catch up.

on the sidelines, people notice. how can they not? most of the girls “playing” cling to the perimeter. and then there’s you, being an idiot, but a very hot one, throwing yourself in the middle. your bikini clings tight from the water, fabric hugging every curve, shifting every time you jump or twist. a few guys on the edge of the pool don’t even bother pretending they’re watching the game anymore. their eyes track you instead, murmurs passing between them. someone whistles when you jump to set the ball, breasts bouncing freely in the flimsy bikini top, your nipples hard underneath as water cascades like some playboy ad.

but sukuna, is too locked in the game to notice.

the first round ends with his team winning, and the second starts almost immediately, louder than before. people are picking sides now, chanting, recording, some still dancing on the grass behind them, focused on the dj, drinks sloshing as the party refuses to slow down around the chaos of the pool’s game.

you’re still right there again when it starts. you doubt you’re even playing anymore, but you want to see him, watch him jump high and spike the ball. watch the ink on his back ripple with his muscles. the same defined lines that you caress at night, and hug—

your attention is so narrowed, that you don’t even notice the guy at first. bodies are moving, all a blur that you don’t focus on another body moving behind you. until it’s too near, too familiar for someone you don’t know. then, a hand brushes your bare side under the water, lingering just a second too long making your blood run cold.

your eyes snap wide. “what the fuck!” you twist instantly, shoving him off hard, water splashing between you as your stomach turns. only a few people notice, the rest too consumed by the game until you’re moving straight towards a certain captain.

“THAT’S A FUCKING FOUL GOJO—what the—“

your arms wrap around him from behind without hesitation, pressing into him, chest flush against his back as you cling to one familiar form. tight, and instinctive.

it catches him off guard, just for a second. his body tenses slightly under your grip. his muscular arms lift, head turning halfway to see, “who the fuck—“ grabbed him in the middle of game! but then he sees you. and his eyes glance down at your familiar hands holding his chest. your name slips out of his lips, confused what you’re doing, but then the ball’s already back in play. and somehow he keeps going.

even with you wrapped around him, weight clinging to his back, he still moves, still blocks, still lands a hit that sends the ball flying back over the net. it’s messy now, uneven, but he’s too competitive to stop, jaw tight, focus split but still sharp. water splashes everywhere. people are yelling. gojo laughs from the other side. “what the hell is that— you got a handicap now?”

sukuna clicks his tongue, annoyed, shifting slightly to keep his balance with you still latched onto him. you don’t let go. not once. “you drunk?” he tries to talk to you mid-game.

“yeah,” you mutter over the music. but as more people fill the pool, and the third round feels much more chaotic, sukuna begins to notice. your grip tightens every time someone gets too close, every time someone accidentally touches you, every time your head spins just a little from the alcohol and the heat and everything. your cheek presses against his back, breath uneven, body still buzzing in a way you don’t fully understand, other than the fact that you can feel how hot it is between your legs. he smells so good…

the game drags on— until finally— gojo’s team takes the last point. a loud cheer erupts from his side, people splashing into the pool, celebrating, phones still up capturing everything.“told you,” gojo grins, pushing his wet snowy hair back, muscles flexing for the cameras as he sticks his tongue out.

sukuna exhales sharply through his nose, annoyed, shoulders tense— he doesn’t shake you off. but unfortunately, he doesn’t get the chance.

you’re suddenly ripped away.

“wha—! what the fuck!” you yelp as a pair of hands grab you from underneath, a drunk junior dunking under the water before popping up with you lifted high onto his shoulders. just for the crowd to erupt.

“OH SHIT— chicken fight!”

“LET’S GO!”

“get her, get her!” other guys in the pool dunk under and lift a few laughing girls up. but you’re not one of them. your thighs clamp instinctively around the stranger’s head just to keep from slipping, heart racing, balance completely shot as water drips down your legs and chest. your hands fly to his hair, trying to steady yourself, panic flashing across your face. you didn’t agree to this. your eyes lock with sukuna immediately. wide. confused. he’s not your boyfriend— but he’s still…

something in him snaps. he straightens, fast. too fast. the playful edge from seconds ago gone completely, replaced with something sharp and violent, jaw tightening as his eyes drag over the way the guy’s hands are gripping your thighs— and the whistles from the crowd don’t help, especially when your hand reaches to adjust the way your bikini top had shifted.

“damn!”

sukuna’s fist curls. “get your fucking hands off her,” he bites out, already moving forward through the water, splashing hard as he closes the distance.

the guy just laughs, drunk, clueless and not listening. “relax, man, it’s just a chicken fight. ever heard of those?”

he doesn’t get to finish. sukuna’s already pulling his arm back, when you squeak.

“wait—!” you gasp, trying to shift your weight, panic spiking as the situation spirals way too fast—but before anything can land another pair of bodies crash into you. a second drunk chicken fight slams into your side, bodies colliding, completely losing balance. and then everything goes under. water rushes over your head in a blur of limbs and noise, the guy beneath you losing his footing as you both go down. you barely have time to register it before a hand grabs you. hard.

sukuna’s arm wraps tight around your waist, yanking you up and out of the water in one sharp motion. you cough, sputtering slightly, fingers clutching onto him as he steadies you against his side. he doesn’t even look at you at first. he’s glaring past you.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?!” he snaps, voice low and dangerous, water dripping from his hair as he stares down the guy who just broke the surface, coughing. “you fucking grab girls without permission and I’m fucking snapping your arm in half!”

the junior lifts his hands, half-laughing, half-defensive. “yo, chill— it’s just a game—”

“i said don’t touch her,” sukuna cuts in, sharper this time, stepping forward like he’s ready to swing anyway.

the energy shifts instantly. people nearby start stepping in, hands coming up.

“aye, chill, chill—” one tries to come between them. sukuna doesn’t even notice that you’d managed to slip from his grip, still coughing as you swim to the steps of the pool, heart pounding as utahime, having seen the entire interaction helps you out.

“you okay?” she sits in front of you on the edge handing you water.

you nod, chugging half the bottle, before breathing again, “swallowed like…” you gag, “a disgusting amount of that pool water.” utahime cringes as she glances at the pool. the interaction growing even more heated, as a crowd watches sukuna curse out the junior.

“anyone else fucking grab a girl without her permission is getting fucking banned from this frat permanently!” sukuna shouts. murmurs break out across the crowd, a few glance towards you, as utahime notices, but you’re too busy washing your mouth out to care.

gojo’s aloof attitude steps in after coming back with a sweet juice in hand. “okay, okay, we’re clear on consent aren’t we guys?”

people hum, cheering for the games to continue. but then…

“didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”

it lands this time, cutting through the noise and sticking just long enough for a few whistles and low laughs to ripple through the crowd. the kind of comment meant to poke, to stir, to see what the hot headed vp will do with it. but what’s worse is that a majority of the crowd has no clue what your relationship is with sukuna. aside from the frat members.

sukuna doesn’t even look at him, and he doesn’t correct it. it’s not because he wants to claim you. not because it’s true. but because it’s annoying—because explaining it, denying it, entertaining it at all feels like more effort than it’s worth. he’s your fuck buddy, he knows that, you know that, and thats all. his jaw tightens once, eyes already elsewhere, done with the conversation before it can grow legs because then he’ll really break his fucking arm.

the party moves on like it always does. music swells back up, as gojo and geto thank the heavens that sukuna was in a good mood before the argument that he wasn’t tempered to continue the fight. luckily the drinks are raised again. gojo’s already laughing, pulling attention away, and just like that the moment dissolves into noise.

sukuna’s focus shifts and lands on you.

you’re still on the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water, skin slick and glowing under the neon lights. your bikini clings tighter now, nipples pebbled under your soaked top, every curve on display, highlighted by the shadows of the lights above. it makes it impossible not to look. droplets trail down your thighs, catching the light as you tilt your head back slightly, still rinsing your mouth out, brows furrowed in clear disgust.

utahime sits in front of you, just as eye-catching to the hungry men around, her own bikini hugging her frame, water beading along her collarbones as she watches you with a mix of concern and amusement.

and people are staring. not subtle glances—staring like you’re something to watch. something to linger on. like the game earlier just shifted into something else entirely and now you’re part of it without agreeing. no wonder you hate these parties.

it irritates him, fast.

sukuna clicks his tongue under his breath and pushes forward through the water, tall enough that even standing in the pool, he closes the height between you easily. the neon catches on his skin too. his broad shoulders still damp, muscles flexing as he moves, water sliding down his torso in slow lines. he’s not unaware of the way people look at him either—girls nearby pausing mid-conversation, eyes dragging over him openly—but he doesn’t care. not right now. not when he reaches you.

his hand comes up without hesitation, settling on your exposed thigh where it hangs over the edge of the pool. his palm is warm even against your wet skin, fingers spreading slightly, firm enough to ground, possessive. the contact is immediate. deliberate.

the shift is noticeable. a couple of those lingering stares drop off instantly. only then does he look at you. his gaze flicks over your face, still a little flushed, still catching your breath, before settling. his gaze is steady, assessing the way your glossy lips part with an exhale after chugging an entire bottle of watet.

“you good?” he asks, voice lower now, rougher around the edges from the leftover tension. his thumb moves slightly against your skin without thinking, a small, absent motion that doesn’t match the sharpness in his expression.

utahime has to hold back an eye roll, especially when his gaze flicks over your face, then your lips. unbelievable. what’s with him? what’s stopping him from asking you out if he gets so hot headed and possessive—ughhh…utahime holds back her anger, because she was pissed when someone suddenly grabbed you and then had you dunked in the water. why does sukuna have to be so fucking weird though?! she internally curses out sukuan for being the person that always protects her best friend, but acts like a complete jerk another second.

“how much sweat did you drink?” sukuna asks, tone laced with amusement .

your eyes snap, face grimacing, “shut the fuck—up,” you gag again, hand coming up to your mouth just for utahime to snort and sukuna to bark with laughter.

“did i tell ya why we had to drain the pool last year—“ sukuna starts, utahime’s eyes widen.

“oh my god I remember!”

your face pales, nails digging into sukuna’s shoulder while the other still covers your mouth. “don’t you dare tell me.”

sukuna grimaces with an amused expression remembering what happened at last years pool party. but distracting you has somehow managed to isolate everything else around him and have his sole focus on the way you wipe your mouth with a napkin utahime — and now nanami and geto at her side — comes back with, and the way your fingers shift from his shoulder to his forearm resting across your damp lap. and the conversation flows afterwards.

gojo was still on the dance floor, completely in his own world, some girl is pressed to his side as neon lights strobe over him laughing, loud, untouchable in the way he always is. meanwhile, the edge of the pool has settled into something more intimate and funny. the conversations around overlap as you all joke loudly and throwing around slight bickering, cooling off from the chaos, but still very much alive.

and with all that, you hadn’t left. even after everything, you’re still sitting where you are, leg still dipped in the water, skin dewy under the lights, bikini keeping your pretty tits in view for a certain salmon haired man. your hair is slightly damp, pushed back from your face, exposing the curve of your neck—the faint mark sukuna left the night before still visible if someone looks close enough. and you smell heavenly. fuck if you’re alone, he’d bury his nose closer to your breasts to smell the sweat clinging.

but people are looking. they always are now.

they just don’t linger as long anymore. not with him there. sukuna leans into the edge of the pool, upper body braced beside you, his arm draped behind your back like it naturally falls there. his other hand rests lazily against your thigh, fingers tapping absently against your skin as he takes a sip from his beer. his shoulders are broad, still slick with water, veins visible along his arms as they flex with every small movement.

he looks just as much of a problem as ever. and the attention doesn’t stop, girls nearby still steal glances, whispers, watching the way he’s positioned so close to you, the way his hand hasn’t moved from your leg once. but what’s more interesting, is that you don’t move either.

you don’t push him off, don’t shift away. if anything, you lean just slightly into his space, your fingers absentmindedly tracing along his forearm where it rests across your lap, like it’s second nature. you like it there.

and sukuna notices. of course he does, with how touchy and clingy you’ve been these past few days. yes, he’s shocked you haven’t left, or haven’t asked him to go upstairs with you. instead you’re being so uncharacteristically attached.

his gaze flicks down for a second, watching the way your fingers move against his skin, something unreadable passing through his expression before he looks away again, taking another sip like it didn’t just register. his stomach churns when you lean forward slapping nanami’s stretched out hand after he said something funny.

“why the fuck are you guys sitting here?” gojo’s voice cuts in suddenly, dripping with disbelief as he approaches, hair damp, grin lazy. he looks down at your little group, then at the pool like it personally offended him. “this is embarrassing.”

utahime snorts. “she almost drowned, idiot.”

“she’s alive,” gojo shrugs immediately, already grabbing a drink from someone nearby. “get in the hot tub. it’s waaaay better!”

a couple girls attached to him nod eagerly, already following his lead as he starts heading that way without waiting for an answer. utahime glances at you. “you wanna stay out or…?”

you don’t even hesitate as you hum, soft. “yeah, why not.”

sukuna catches it.

the group starts moving, the energy shifting with them as they make their way toward the hot tub. somewhere along the path, nanami and utahime get pulled into another conversation, stopping off to the side, leaving you and sukuna to keep going without them. your skin burns as sukuna keeps a subtle hand in your lower back, biting his lip when you reach the hot tub and you step in front of him. his gaze drops to the movement of your ass, your bikini was so skimpy it’s definitely clinging on to your pussy lips too. fuck,

by the time you step into the hot tub, the heat hits instantly. you sigh without meaning to, tension melting from your shoulders as the warmth wraps around you, soaking into your skin. your body relaxes almost immediately, the contrast from the cooler pool making everything feel heavier, slower.

sukuna steps in right after you. and immediately shoves two guys aside with a sharp nudge of his shoulder. “move.”

they do quickly without argument, clearly frat members. he settles in beside you, close again, like earlier, like he didn’t just create that space for you.

gojo drops in for half a second, splashing water everywhere before grimacing. “it’s too hot,” he complains, already climbing back out. “i need another drink.”

and just like that, he’s gone again. leaving you, sukuna, and the rest of the group laughing, talking. the conversation easy as the night keeps rolling around you. especially when geto comes back with some girls and red solo cups for beer pong.

“don’t spill any in the hot tub!” sukuna barks as the girls organize the cups in place on the edge. geto slides into the pool with the ping pong balls.

“shh shh i know,” he zips his friend up as he takes aim. and as the party is brought back to the hot tub, you’re all swept up again. and your eyes are following every movement of your friend beside you. the way he’s shouting and laughing with his frat brothers, the conversations turning to fog when sukuna flexes his large bicep, the ink that wraps around it highlights how big they are. you can’t even recall the context of this sudden flex off, but you’re not complaining.

you watch his throat bop as he throws back another cup of beer, standing beside geto. your eyes trail over his sculpted chest. you suck in your bottom lip as sukuna falls back beside you. his arm draped behind you along the edge of the hot tub, barking another laugh at some crap geto is spewing, completely distracted.

“I swear TO GOD, you told me to go for that dive!” geto throws his hands up, flabbergasted.

“nah nah nah—“ sukuna shouts over, shaking his head with an amused expression, “I told you—“

“nah—satoru!!” geto looks over his shoulder, waving down the president. “SATORU!”

gojo’s head whips around. however, the debate is the furthest thing from your mind, honestly you can’t even understand what these idiots are talking about. but— there’s one idiot that smells heavenly.

sukuna distracted, doesn’t notice how much closer you’re pressed to him, how your lashes flutter at the mix of cologne and chlorine flooding your nose, and dizzying your mind. he’s so—uh..when men— your brain is short circuiting. literally. mind so consumed by how big and strong this man beside is, that all you can think about is how he protected you. he pulled you out of the water. snapped at that guy…for you.

you’re not normally this moved. but it was the series of events that unfolded, all in the last few hours, that has you doing what you do next.

“please! you know i did not agree to that!” geto tsks, pointing his finger at gojo who’s laughing, sitting at the edge of the hot tub, legs in. and the two — along with the rest of the group involved in the debate — are distracted, and unaware of the fact that the pretty girl that sukuna almost started a fight over, is slipping her pretty hand inside his swim shorts.

sukuna tenses. breath hitching.

his eyes snap to you, stomach clenching. “what’re you—“ he chokes when you squeeze his thick base without warning. your cheek casually presses against his shoulder, wetting your bottom lip. your leg is tucked against his side, as the other swings over his knee, pretty tits squished against his arm. your wrist rolls, stroking his flaccid cock alive.

“ryo…” you speak low enough so that only sukuna can hear. “was jus’ thinking about you.” his jaw tenses, hand clenching at the edge of the tub, leaning his head down.

“you’re the one that doesn’t like this shit,” he husks, throat bopping as you bat your lashes up at him, bitting your lip as you give his cock another squeeze, pushing your wet tits against his arm. “there’s people—“

“then be normal, ryo,” you say, all while nuzzling him like a clingy g— “just wanted to feel how big you are.”

his heads tips back, what’re you even saying?

you keep your cheek pressed against his shoulder, lip tucked between your teeth as you stroke the vp’s fat throbbing cock in the middle of a party and in a hot tub full of his close frat friends.

it wasn’t difficult for his dick to fully harden within seconds of your hand making contact. you let out a soft exhale, pressing your practically naked body against him like you could get any closer than you already are. but to make matters worse, he was so unbelievably turned on that you were touching him in public! fuuck, his stomach flexes, biting back a groan when your thumb swipes his bulbous tip, the water made it difficult for you to keep a fast pace stroke, but his skin was still prickling with heat.

“ryo, is this okay?” you softly pant in his ear, a hum like moan escapes your lips just by the way he exhales through his nose, turning his head to you, aroma engulfing you.

to anyone else it just looked like you were having a private conversation with each other. the hot tub and pool, a few feet away, booming with chaos, no one was paying attention to you guys. but even with all that information, sukuna — who spreads his legs further apart in the water, biting his lip when you kiss his neck now, sucking a light bruise on his flushed skin — knows that you’d never do this. you get touchy when you’re drunk, whispering dirty shit in his ear. but you’ve only had a couple drinks to make you tipsy enough to enjoy the party and remember, not black out drunk to jerk him off in public.

“yeah—it’s okay,” his head drops forward, hot red flush crawling up his neck and stinging his cheeks as he nudges your head with his.

“yeah?” you repeat with a coo.

he bites back a pathetic groan, arm sliding to your waist under the water, gripping your flesh like his life depends on it. you’re intoxicating.

“yeah baby.”

a flush of heat runs between your legs at his deep bedroom voice. sukuna is so hot, he’s so hot, so pretty, so sexy! you squeal internally, leaning closer to press your lips against his sharp jaw, whining just low enough for him to hear. your wrist twists down his cock. you hadn’t even full realized that you’d taken him out of his swim trucks, to possessed to care as his fingers dig into your waist, while the other balls into a fist against the tub’s edge.

“are you close, ryo? is your big cock gonna cum?”

unbelievable.

sukuna’s jaw tenses, abs tightening just by your voice. you’ve been hanging up on how big he is. how big his hands are. how big his dick is — scratch that, you’re using the word cock now. yeah he’s gonna fuckin’ cum soon if you keep talkin’ like that.

“there’s so many people around ry,” you shy quietly, “you don’t think they know I’m playing with you?” your slightly tipsy eyes bat up at him, pupils completely dilated. his eyes briefly sweep around him, the alarms flashing in his mind don’t seem to phase him as he drops his lips down to brush yours.

“what if they are aware?” he husks, lidded eyes boring into yours. “does that make y’r pussy wet?” he wets his lip, thighs flexing when you give his cock a squeeze as he speaks. “ya like knowing that there’s eyes everywhere…watching your slutty self jerk me off.”

your brain short circuits. face burning hot.

“I’m not a slut,” you whisper, just as you’re practically straddling his thigh now, with the way you’re inching closer to him every second. his hand slides from your waist to your ass, gripping the flesh as he pulls it apart letting you feel the warm tub water touch your heated pussy.

“you’re gettin on top of me—“

“to protect your dignity,” you attempt a frown, but your eyes keep flicking to his lips, brushing your lips against them again, just for him to pull back, again.

“didn’t take you as someone so generous,” he quips, hips angling up, subtly telling you to keep stroking him, even if it’s starting to feel like edging. “but,” he bites back another groan, “but to me, ya just look like another slut that wants to get her little pussy stuffed.”

you blink.

sukuna can see the lust burst behind your eyes. your thighs clamp around his beefy thigh, your hand squeezing his tip, and your lips parting. “is that so bad?”

ah fuck.

“you can’t say those words to a man,” sukuna’s rasps.

you pout, pressing your wet breasts against his chest, trapping his cock between your bodies. your hot breath fans against his face, scent invading his mind, and your lips brush against his, this time licking his bottom lip. once. twice. your tongue strokes his bottom lip, waiting for him to invite you in, whining a little louder when he refuses. “ryo.”

his large palms grip your ass. your flimsy bikini could easily be pulled to the side, exposing you just like him. your cheeks flush, arching even more, your arms are tossed around his broad shoulder, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape, desperate. needy. “I’ve been holding myself back ryo,” you quietly speak, unaware how much like déjà vu this feels. memories of last month flashing in his mind about those exact words coming from your lips as you climbed into his lap in the middle of a party. “you have to take care of it.”

“i have too?” he quips with a sharp edge in his tone.

your flush with embarrassment, lips parting as your lashes flutter shut, “please…please can you take care of it.”

unbelievable.

his cock twitches violently against your stomach. his muscular thigh flexes under your pussy making your lips part.

as you and sukuna speak in hushed whispers. a good group of people have take notice of the awkward shifting in the hot tub and the unrecognizable look on sukuna’s face. but specifically the girl that the sukuna let attach herself to him during a violently competitive water volleyball match and almost pick a fight with. he’s smirking as she whispers in his ear, her lips even pressing his lobe, making the intimidating vice president blush?!

“her tits are all over him,” one whispers, taking a sip as they watch from a distance, both sitting at the pools edge watching the events unfold a few feet’s away in the hot tub. it’s not obvious unless you’re staring as hard as these guys, or if you’re a certain man laughing as you stand up at the edge of the tub, face dropping for a millisecond when you catch your vice president getting off by a hot girl.

fucking animals, geto shakes his head, eyes flicking to gojo, easily communicating with him about you know.

gojo’s brows pinch glancing over from his seat at the edge of the tub, to— “oh shit!”

geto elbows him. “idiot!”

gojo’s hands fly to his mouth, laughing hysterically as he stares at the way his short tempered friend is blushing like crazy, and making it obvious to anyone that he’s getting his dick touched right now. “do they know what they’re doing?” gojo speaks in hushed whispers.

“obviously,” geto sits beside gojo, the tub water doesn’t seem to be appealing anymore. and yet there’s still a few people on the sides laughing, too drunk to notice.

“fucking pervs,” gojo snickers.

a beat passes.

then gojo turns, eyes wide when he sees geto staring blankly at him. “what?”

“you’re worse!” geto slaps him upside the head. gojo gasps in shock. “I can’t even remember how many times you fucked someone in here and in the pool—“

“hey,” gojo frowns, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. “that was…b-because they were hot.”

geto scoffs, “you weren’t even subtle about them, everybody knew you were fucking them. YOU’RE the biggest perv.”

gojo nods, “yeah…”

your whine flows directly into sukuna’s ear, lips coming back to his. “why won’t you kiss me?” you quietly demand.

his dimples press into his cheeks as he bites back a smirk. “we’re jus’ talking,” he says your name, but in that deep way he does when he’s stuffing you with his cock…which he’s not.

you sit up closer, sliding higher up his thigh, knee rubbing harshly against his cock — “ah!” you squeal suddenly straddling his lap instead of his thigh. his red irises sink into yours, watching the way your glossy lips part glancing at the surface of the hot tub trying to make out how close his cock is to where you need him. “you’re hard ryo.”

“and?”

your eyes flick up to him, pretty brows pressing together, “and we’re not jus’ talking—“

“y’know—“ he suddenly chokes.

you’ve moved your bikini to the side, and pushed his cock down, fully sitting on his cock and sliding across it, hips shaking, stimulating your needy clit.

your name cuts through the air, his grip moves to grab your hips, trying to keep you still, but his body betrays him as he bucks against you. “fuck, woman.”

your lips press against sukuna, whining like a desperate slut when he finally kisses you back. and this was why he didn’t want to entertain you this quickly. the sweet taste of your lips immediately sends a rush of heat down to his cock, his arm wraps around your back, holding the back of your head as the other grips your ass, groaning as your lips smack in wet hungry kisses. your tongues collide, spit collecting in your mouth as he groans in response.

sukuna has to be responsible. he has too. but you’re such a fucking slut— touching his cock, stroking him in public, rubbing your body (his biggest weakness) against him like you’re alone together. and now you’re humping his cock like you can feel something with the water’s friction.

all of it was a factor, and for some unexplainable reason, all the dots seemed to have connected at this exact moment—like a huge light bulb going off in his head.

“shit.”

you hum at the way his deep voice sends a warm heat blooming in your stomach. “are you turned on, ryo?” your lips purse, kissing his, unaware of the sudden realization he’s come too. “keep kissing me.”

your fingers thread through his short locks, gripping him as you keep his lips moving yours.

but sukuna’s palm splays across your spine, groaning at the way you don’t stop to catch your breath. then his grip tightens. his mouth drags slower this time, more deliberate. he’s testing something, and the way you react—how quick you melt back into him, how your nails press into his shoulders like you’re holding on and the pitched whine that leaves your lips when he tries to pull away.

“how bad d’you need me?” he murmurs, voice low, rough, right against your pretty lips.

you don’t hesitate. “so bad,” you breathe, almost frustrated, because it’s obvious.

his eyes flick over your face, searching, calculating—then narrowing slightly. “yeah?” he hums, thumb pressing into your waist, grounding you as you shift again, his cock snug between your folds. “why,” he asks, tone not soft or gentle, but testing.

you shake your head slightly, breath catching, fingers tightening on him. “because— i just—” you exhale sharply, frustrated, needy, “i just want you to touch me.”

that’s all he needs. a quiet, almost amused exhale leaves him, something darker settling behind his eyes now. nanami’s little comment about “noticing now” makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. it doesn’t mean anything that you’ve had this friend with benefits deal long enough for him to start noticing a pattern every month. especially when this part of the cycle comes around and you’re practically begging him to just touch you. he highly doubts that you even notice it.

“been like this all night,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, but his grip doesn’t loosen. if anything, it gets firmer. “can’t keep your hands off me, huh?”

you don’t even deny it. you just pull him back in. and this time he lets you. let’s you kiss him like it’s your last time, let’s you tug his hair like he belongs to you. let’s you pull away… you’re panting at him through glossy, lidded eyes.

and then sukuna notices.

the shift.

your breathing breaks. shallow and uneven. you can’t quite catch it as your lips part, soft, glossy, letting out these higher, breathier sounds that you’re not even trying to hold back anymore. it’s quieter than the music, but he hears it. feels it.

his grip tightens instinctively.

your hips are moving without any rhythm now. they’re slow, needy, desperate. your body chasing something it can’t reach fast enough. your fingers press into his lower stomach, clutching there like you need something solid to hold onto, your head tipping forward, lashes fluttering like a fucking angel. and your mouth falls open. a soft, pitched sound slips out of you—one you don’t even seem aware of—and it’s enough to make something dark flicker across his expression.

“…fuck,” he mutters under his breath, eyes locked on your face now, watching every little change. his cock twitching uncontrollably.

your brows pinch, as you completely fall apart, cumming right then and there. your grip on him tightens, thighs pressing in, grounding yourself on his cock without even thinking about it.

and he doesn’t move. doesn’t interrupt it. he just watches. and all he can think is how unbelievably hot you look in his eyes. women that are ovulating mean they’re more likely to get pregnant. fuck. why is his brain latching onto that part? you’re his fuck buddy. this is simple. it is simple. it’s perfectly reasonable—completely normal, even—for him to get turned on thinking about how much you cling to him, how much you crave him, how much you need him, how your body reacts to him like this. that doesn’t mean he wants to get you—

absolutely the fuck not.

but still…fucking women. you’re insane. his brain is short circuiting while you’re coming undone on his lap, in a hot tub, in the middle of a packed party.

and the way you’re panting, your breasts pushed together as you keep a hand on his lower abs, pussy spasming as your orgasm rocks through you, has something low and satisfying settling in your fuck buddy’s chest. his hand slides up your back again, slower this time, more deliberate.

“yeah…” he murmurs, almost to himself, thumb pressing lightly into your side as your breathing tries to steady. “that’s what i thought.”

his lips ghost over you.

then he feels it…the eyes.

his dark gaze flicks up. meeting the dilated blue and black ones, along with the others in the crowd. they all saw, didn’t they? witnessed something that had his jaw tightening and his pupils returning to their size.

“fuck me,” you pant quietly, arms lazily coming back to his shoulders coming down from your climax. you kiss him deeply, unaware of the mess you’re causing inside his brain. “I’ve heard people say hot tub’s make you orgasm better,” you lick his tongue, “because of the hot water.”

his grip tightens around you, eyes open and staring past you at the people eyeing the arch in your back as you make out with him like you didn’t just hump yourself to an orgasm in public.

“do you wanna cum too ryo?” your mischievous smile would’ve made any man buckle, but sukuna wasn’t any man. and he sure as shit isn’t a fucking cuck.

“no.”

his sudden tone shift had you pulling back, wet hand touching his damp cheek. sukuna’s thick brows were pulled tightly, clearly angry, at what? you’re not sure. but you’re too lax to think much of it as you squish his cheeks between your fingers. his tatted arm possessively hugged you, eyes briefly leaving the not so subtle audience behind you, to meet your glass eyes.

“you mad I came before you?” you tease, head tilting in mockery. cute. “it’s okay, I’ll make ya cum,” you whisper, smile gracing those sinful lips of yours. “I’ll let you choose too…”

fuck, you’re insane.

“…my hands…my lips….or..” you smile. “my tight, pretty pussy….”

sukuna snorts, eyes meeting yours. “unbiased much.”

you shrug biting your lip, batting your pretty lashes at him. “you always call it that. I’m just using your vocabulary, mister suh…ku…nuh.”

that was his final straw, because in a blink of an eye, sukuna’s tucking himself and pushing off the tub’s seat, standing up. water cascades down the sharp planes of his abs, his swim trunks clinging low on his hips—leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. and people notice, of course they do.

your jaw drops for half a second, eyes going wide before heat floods your face so fast it burns. you shoot up right after him, fist clenching at your side, brows pinching tight. “what’re you doing?”

“we’re going upstairs,” he says simply, like there aren’t a million eyes on him, more specifically on his thick bulge. girls are openly staring now, not even trying to hide it as their gazes drag over him, over the obvious outline pressing against his trunks.

your stomach twists. uncomfortable. ugly. you don’t name it. you won’t name it because it’s stupid. you have no right to feel any type of way about who looks at him or how they look at it. but still, your jaw tightens because the way they’re staring is making your blood boil and they’re looking at something that has nothing to do with them and everything to do with you. just you.

your eyes flick back to him, to the way the water trails down his body, down the dark wet hairs of his happy trail. the way he stands there like he doesn’t give a single fuck about the attention. and it only makes it worse. he looks like he’s been carved out of stone. something untouchable. and everyone’s fucking touching him with their eyes.

your lips press into a thin line, pulse uneven, heat sitting low in your stomach now for an entirely different reason as you step closer to him without even realizing it, hand settling on his stomach blocking the view from the onlookers. your fingers twitch. and you hate…hate how much it bothers you.

“you’re hard,” you huff, pushing him to step out of the tub, heart beating uncontrollably.

sukuna snorts, leaning down, “yeah no shit.”

“people are staring,” you grit.

your pulse stops. the air shifting around you, then you feel it. sukuna’s eyes bore into you, as his palm cups the side of your neck. your lips part in confusion when his gruff voice cuts.

“they’ve been staring.” the muscles on his jaw flex, pupils moving over your face as his gaze drops to your body. “they all…” his words trail off. he can’t say it…he can’t tell you they all fucking saw you cum, or the way your entire form looked like something straight out of every guys wet fantasy. all because of that unspoken tug that twists in his chest as you look up at him.

his head tips back in defeat.

unaware of the turmoil, you continue pushing him back, glancing briefly over your shoulder to see a few eyes not on the party but staring at sukuna.

“can you walk faster,” you mutter.

sukuna suddenly grabs your wrist after another push backwards, almost making him trip. his grip is firm and fast, yanking you back toward him before you can take another step, your body colliding lightly into his chest. water still drips from both of you, heat clashing with the cool night air as he steadies himself, jaw tightening for a second.

“watch it,” he mutters, low, though there’s no real bite to it. if anything, there’s something else there. his hand doesn’t leave your wrist. instead, it slides up, fingers curling tighter as he pulls you closer until there’s barely any space left between you. you barely get a word out before he leans down and kisses you hard. it’s sudden and messy, all teeth and heat, like he’s cutting off whatever rush of thoughts were building in your head. your hands come up instinctively, gripping into his shoulders as he angles you just right, one hand now firm at your waist to keep you there. your lips part, immediately tasting his skilled tongue.

and around you, the party doesn’t stop. it never does when it’s grown this chaotic. but there are small pockets, where people notice. gojo, still leaning back against the hot tub’s edge, lets out a low laugh. “zero awareness,” he mutters, clearly entertained. geto just shakes his head, amused, watching the scene unfold like it’s expected. neither of them have the energy tonight to call their friend out, but they’ll be sure to give him shit tomorrow.

but off to the side, a couple girls lean into each other, whispering behind their solo cups, eyes flicking between sukuna and the very obvious situation he’s not bothering to hide. further back, a few of the same guys from earlier in the pool linger, their stares a little too heavy, a little too interested, but sukuna doesn’t register it.

he’s too focused on you. too focused on the way you kiss him back just as hard. how you’re still letting out those fucking whines and moans into his hot mouth. too focused on how quickly you fold into him like he’s the oxygen keeping you alive. to him, this urgency and impatience, just reads as one thing. you want him so bad.

he pulls back just enough to breathe, lips still brushing yours, his gaze dropping to your face, slightly dazed, flushed, and lips parted from the kiss.

“…yeah,” he exhales, almost amused, thumb pressing into your waist. “you taste so good.”

your fingers tighten around his bicep, the other around his shoulder, breath uneven as you blink up at him, still catching up.

“can we—” you swallow, then try again, quieter but more urgent, “can we go upstairs now?”

there’s a beat. then his hand slides down to yours again, grip tightening as he turns, already moving toward the house without another word—pulling you with him. he pushes straight through the noise that follows inside, the lights, the bodies still dancing in the kitchen like nothing. all the way up to his room, and immediately kicking the door shut.

and within a blink of an eye, your tongue is lolling out as sukuna sits behind you, fingers digging into your ass and face buried from behind.

“fuh—fuck yeah,” you drawl, lips wet at the feel of sukuna’s tongue dragging inside your pussy, lapping up and toying with your rim before going back to suck your slick juices. “c’mon ry, haah…” you’re pushing his head back, so you can sit up. you move to tug his wet trunks off, crawling onto his lap once he discards them. unbothered by the tick in his jaw at your stubbornness, because in seconds, your head is tossed back, and your back is arching as you sink down on the nine thick fat inches. “a….ah—“

your lashes flutter, eyes rolling back at the unbelievable stretch. your pussy swallowing every inch like the slut he loves.

“there ya go,” he praises, fingers digging into your ass as you stare at his lips. his sharp teeth sink into his bottom lip as your slick lubricates his cock. your pussy a generous fountain as you roll your hips, letting his cock stuff deep inside you. “take this fuckin’ cock like a good bitch.”

“ry…haah…” you’re moaning in choked gasps, drool peaking at the corner of your lips as you finally sit back on his thighs.

the man’s pupils dilate as you stroke your lower stomach, feeling the bulge as you bat your lashes up at him. “you’re inside me now, ryo.”

fuck you. seriously.

his brain short circuits in seconds. and now all he sees is you.

his body reacts like a dog with his master. obeying your needs like he’s wired to do that. and he’s not complaining. his hand falls on your ass, beefy thighs spreading, as he meets your bounces with rough snaps of his hips. your ass claps against his thighs with each bounce, gasps piercing the air as he fucks up into you with full force. and you let him.

“look like a fuckin’ porn star on top of me,” he grunts, swallowing a moan when you clamp around him, finger tugging on the knot around your neck letting your bikini finally fall off, freeing your gorgeous tits. “fucking brat—“

his tongue falls out, licking your tit that bounces in his face, lips wrapping around your nipple and sucking desperately. and he’s not nice about it. because now he knows. he knows you’ll let him. knows when you’re ovulating you’ll let him be a little harder, meaner, because it feels good. it feels good to feel his teeth bite down on your nipple possessively. it feels good when he spanks your ass for the nth time until your eyes are rimmed red and flooding with tears.

it feels good to have him obsessed with you, because all you’re begging for is…

“cu—uh—cum.”

an electric current runs down his spine, jaw clenching and head tipping back, flooding your tight pussy with his thick load.

“shit—nghhh fuuuck—fuck baby,” he’s gripping your hips as you press against his stomach, rocking on his cock. he doesn’t fully realize his back is laying against the bed. not when you’re milking his cock like he’s some fucking cow…and yet… “shit keep goin, baby—yeah ya want m-Mmm shit.”

“feel so good ryo.” you shake your ass, feeling his cock twitch inside you when his arm wraps around you, tugging you down to his chest.

“you can keep going?”

you smile, hand touching his cheek, as your tongue strokes his bottom lip. “yeah.” you sigh, whining so softly he would’ve missed it. and you continue like that, kissing him over and over, sighing and calling his name as he pulls out, his fingers push inside your pussy from behind.

“y’r killing me with this tight pretty pussy,” he coos, sending a wave of heat through your veins.

you mewl against his lips, earning a mean spank to your ass, just for his middle and ring finger to slip back inside you. and he does that for god knows how long, until you finally spasm around his digits. he’s then flipping you over, easily getting on top.

“keep em open cmon.” his low voice has your pussy pulsing, pushing his previous load out right in front of his eyes. he must know his voice’s affects on you.

you hold your legs open, bottom lip between your teeth as you watch sukuna stroke his member over you. the room smells of chlorine, you, and him. “theere we go,” he groans, palm pressing against your knee as he kneels closer to your open legs, dilated pupils staring at the mess between your legs as he slaps his hard cock on your puffy pussy. “what a dirty fuckin’ girl,” he drags his cock between your slippery folds, exhaling through his nose when his engorged tip catches your sore clit.

“ryoomen,” you call softly, like you haven’t been all over him these last two days.

he snorts, “what happened to mister sukuna? don’t tell me you’ forgot how you humped yourself to an orgasm in the pool—“

“hot tub.”

“my bad,” he remarks sarcastically, tip pushing inside then pulling out again, teasing. “still rubbed this pussy raw, look,” he slaps his cock again, thumb rubbing your little bundle of nerves making you let go of your legs— “ah—keep em open.” he spanks the inside of your thigh. “dirty girls need to be taught a lesson.”

“please,” you scoff, sitting up on your elbows, “you were literally slapping everyone around with your hard dick.”

sukuna barks out a laugh. “my dick’s that big?”

you glance down at him, then back up. “I wasn’t being dirty. you were dirty too.”

“me?” he’s baffled, you’ve been throwing yourself at him all night!

you raise a brow at him, relaxing back on the pillows pressed against the headboard, eyeing him. “you never took your hands off me.”

sukuna scoffs, “as if, you latched onto me on the pool.”

“then i went to hime to wash my mouth out, and you—“ you point at him with emphasis, “came swimming to me, touching me, stroking my thigh, my back.” your brow quirks again, and sukuna goes mute. his jaw ticks, glancing over your face as your calf subtly hooks over his thigh, stroking up as your hands lay on your stomach, waiting.

“you…” he licks the back of his teeth, sharp eyes threatening, but… “so what if I had my hands on you?” oh, he admits it. your cheeks sting, wetting your lip as you shrug.

“well,” you tilt your head again, slightly embarrassed now, glancing down at his inked chest. “like…you can’t blame me for getting turned on then.”

“because I’m touching you?”

you nod.

“like this,” his palm trails from your knee, slowly up your thigh. the warmth of his skin feels burns a trail up your body.

you nod.

his hand reaches your waist, eyes boring into yours. his cock throbbing at this point, he can feel the slick of your arousal costing his cock as it rests against your pussy.

turning to some light foreplay after just fucking you was messing with his head…because….it feels so good.

“what about when I’m touching your waist,” his thumb strokes the soft skin. “it’s not your ass.”

your breath is uneven. your heart beats against your rib cage. “still,” you exhale.

“still turns you on?” he clarifies, catching the way your lips part, breathless just by the way he’s flirting with you. his cock twitches…you’re gorgeous.

you nod.

his free hand caresses your hips, moving it up your body in feather-like-caresses. his other arm is pressed beside you, keeping himself up as he watches your arms lay bent on the bed. his hand lightly brushes the side of your breast before trailing over your collarbone. “still?”

you nod, wetting your bottom lip, blown pupils maintaining eye contact.

his thumb caresses your collarbone, eyes flicking between your eyes and the way your chest is rising and falling in uneven breaths. “how about now?” his palm glides over your bicep, then down your arm, before threading his fingers with yours.

you squeeze his hand, eyes unable to tear away from his, cheeks hot. his face inches closer to yours, exhaling against your lips. “I think you’ve jus’ proved how horny you’ve been these past few days.”

your breath stutters, angling your chin up, “obviously,” you mutter against his lips. “I’m pretty sure I’m ovulating.”

something dark and electric flashes through his eyes. a low exhale leaves him, almost a laugh, but there’s no humor in it, just heat, thick and immediate. his grip on your hand tightens to the point it almost borders on rough.

“yeah?” he murmurs, voice dropping, rougher now, like it’s scraping out of his throat. his forehead nudges against yours for a second, grounding himself, but it doesn’t work. if anything, it makes it worse. “tell me you want me to stuff you then.”

“I want you to stuff me, ryo,” you repeat, breathless as his jaw slacks finally rocking his hips into yours, slick cock massaging your folds. “with your cock…your cum….”

“keep going,” he husks.

your free hand trails up his bicep, the other still holding his hand like an anchor. “I want you to fuck me. hard. use me. cum in me.”

“ah fuck—“ he slips his hand between your bodies, pushing his cock down and snapping his hips into yours, sheathing his entire length inside. your jaw drops, broken cry slipping out. “y’ really know how to make a man fucking hard.”

your lips are glossed with spit as he presses his lips against yours. he swallows your moans, snapping his hips with a mean hard thrust, picking up a brutal pace without warning.

and you love it.

the base downstairs shakes the bedroom walls, the laughing and chatter outside is nothing compared to the way you’re panting and crying in his ear. the lights flickering from the pools strobe lights, only serve to illuminate your flushed face as you cum.

“fuck, you still want more,” he’s already kissing you again, and again. spit mixing together against your tongues as he pulls away. he pants over your face, his cheeks flushed pink and his cock rubbed raw. “fuck gunna cum…ngh yeah fuck fuck—“ he pistons his cock inside your poor cunt, dilated pupils zeroing on the mess that’s gushing from you. his chuckle is broken with his groan as he fucks you through it all. “keep squirting baby, it won’t make me stop.”

and he doesn’t. his thrusts are rough. engorged tip bruising your cervix with every snap of his sharp fit hips. he’s harder than usual, and even as you’re gasping, back of your hand raised to your mouth, pussy spasming as sukuna slams his body weight into each thrust — you don’t push him away.

“gunna cum…shiit, shit it’s coming—“ his voice breaks, and it feels like a damn crashing. his cock pulses inside you, squirting buckets inside your poor cunt. “haah fuh—“ his abs flex, body weight dropping on top of you, hugging you tight as he rocks his hips into lazy harsh humps, burying himself deep inside you, you’re sliding against the mattress. the rasp in his throat has you holding onto him tight, unbothered by how unbelievably heavy he is on top of your smaller body.

and sukuna stays like that. face buried in your neck, arms clutching onto you, and brain fried.

“you also smell sweeter,” he mutters. “when you’re ovulating.”

“I don’t. you’re just a freak.”

he buries his nose deeper in your neck, inhaling sharply. “haah fuck, nah you definitely smell good.”

your brain short circuits, cheeks flooding hot as you wiggle underneath him. “you can’t—“

“you humped me in the hot tub.”

your brows scrunch together. “so?”

he licks your neck, “then you can’t blame me for still being turned on by you.” he licks a strip up to your ear, a tingle runs down to your pussy, squeezing around him.

he smirks.

of course he does. and why wouldn’t he? you’re already nudging him to your lips, kissing him again, like you aren’t stuffed with loads of his cum.

“you’re cute,” he mutters between kisses, and even if that makes your stomach flip, your face burn, and your heart skip a beat…you don’t comment on it. you don’t address it. and you sure as shit don’t think about it.

and the simple answer is, he’s kissing you right now and that’s all you want to think about it.

more frat!kuna here

a/n: I’m blaming the grammar errors on you guys for the rush (I also hate proof reading). but I hope u guys enjoyed it. believe me when I say, I was not expecting it to be that freaking long, I just really wanted to write sukuna and reader kinda skinny dipping, without losing their dynamic or doing something super uncharacteristic, so I dragged out the plot. but still I hope u guys liked it!

The first left quietly. Said he was too loud.

The second left loudly. Said he was too quiet.

The third claimed she was frightened. The fourth didn't even give him a reason. Fifth and sixth were some ugly variation of all of the above.

Sukuna stopped caring.

He did care, at one point. That's why he let his coworker convince him to join this stupid 'hybrid nature rehabilitation program' in the first place, right? Because maybe tigers were too bold. Too frightening. Too much.

Too much. That's what the last one said.

Well, if he was too much for anyone, maybe they weren't enough for him.

The agent sighed. Pinching the bridge of his nose and probably contemplating why he chose to work for a facility that boasted a 100% rehabilitation record. Guess Sukuna was about to ruin that too. As he did most things.

"Look," the man said. His shoulders slumped. "We do not typically give up on our patients, but surely you understand that we've tried everything in the book for you, right?"

Sukuna didn't reply.

"Behavioural therapy. Group counselling. Mate pairings and courses. You've chased away every volunteer and potential mate. Somehow even frightened off your therapist last month."

"She was weak."

"She was doing her job. You act like. . ."

Sukuna grunted. His claws threatening to lash out and tear up his own shirt. "What?" He knew the answer. Knew that sickening word that they all used for him. "An animal?"

The man didn't answer. Didn't have to. He sighed again and checked his clipboard. "This is your last shot for clearance."

"And if I don't pass?"

"You'll be escorted to a private facility."

Hybrids were monitored under lock and key by the state. Sukuna guessed he couldn't really blame them. They were different. Unpredictable.

Animals.

Sukuna regretted ever approaching the program in the first place. If he knew what he knew now— that he was simply built to be on his own, he would have swallowed the furball and bit his own tail. Lived out the rest of his life without the feeling of being watched.

Now, they knew he was unstable. Now, they considered him a threat. Guess his claws really were clipped.

"Thanks to your last stunt, none of the volunteers stepped up for this," the man said, flipping through his clipboard.

Sukuna huffed. "What's the point then? Just ship me off already." At least he'd get to be alone, then.

"Because miraculously, one of our assistants offered to help." The man looked up. "She's new. And your last shot." He handed over the clipboard with a small picture clipped at the top right.

That's the first time Sukuna saw you.

The second time he saw you, you smiled at him. Stupid move, really. For someone so small, so frail— so breakable.

"It's nice to meet you," he's sure you lied as you stuck out your hand. Chirpier than a bird hybrid. Bright eyed as a squirrel. Were they sure that you were human?

"Yeah. Hi." He gruffed, not reaching for your hand. It looked too gentle for him.

You dropped your arm to your side, still smiling, but softer. Before you trotted off to lug the rest of your belongings into his home.

He helped you, of course. Tiny thing like you probably would sprain her spine if she did it all by herself. Pathetic.

This was his last hope? They might as well cage him and ship him off already.

Within a week, he was sharing his space again. The few days of blissful solitude had come to an end. Now, there was a canvas in his living room. Pink body wash and products littered across his bathroom counter. Books from authors he couldn't even pronounce occupying his empty shelves.

You were sweeter than the three spoons of sugar you dumped in your strawberry tea every morning. Softer than the dinner rolls you insisted on making every Wednesday and Friday. Shy. Gentle.

Too gentle for someone like him.

In the beginning, Sukuna had watched you. Like a tiger stalked its prey. Scouring for the first sign of discomfort. A hint of fear. Even those who started off strong couldn't keep up the act for long. Not with him.

Which was what made it so odd.

You were timid, sure. But not afraid of him. Guess he'd give it some time.

Because that's simply his fate now, right? Watch a new volunteer skip into his lair and run off with their tail between their legs once he got too much. No one stayed. Not like they did with everyone else.

Others made hybrid bonding look easy. They'd join circles and find mates in the same week. Same night, even. Claiming it all as 'the right timing'. The right person.

Sukuna was a wrong person. Therefore, no right person would fit. Like an unwanted puzzle piece.

Not that he cared. He didn't need to fit in with anyone. If he was too much for any twisted jigsaw of companionship then he'd simply be the missing piece. A corner piece no one looked for. The one that made no difference to the puzzle. The one that no one needed.

He preferred being alone, anyway.

If this last ditch effort blew up in smoke, he guessed he'd have his wish. Whatever facility they'd stuff him into— at least he would be alone. It was better that way.

By himself, he didn't have to soften his tongue. By himself, he didn't have to pretend that he did not have stripes, claws and canines. Didn't have to soften himself for someone who wouldn't soften for him.

Didn't have to watch anyone leave when he became too much.

You didn't leave.

A week went by. Then two. Three, before he knew it. You rooted yourself into his floorboards like a flourishing flower and offered him the same sunny smile every morning.

"How'd you sleep, Sukuna?" You'd ask, as if you cared.

"Fine." He'd grumble from the coffee machine. The bitter stain on his tongue refused to ever let him return the question.

Why should he bother with someone who was going to sign him off anyway? Might as well show her what she was getting herself into. His poor behaviour and slacking social skills, as his therapist put it.

You never flinched. Humans sure were resilient.

But he was hybrid. And everyone knew that tigers were ruthless.

He wouldn't shroud his nature to make himself more palatable for you. For anyone, ever again.

It's odd. You actually tried.

You adapted your body clock to him. Sukuna woke up drearily early. To catch the dawn on his ears during his morning run. He supposed you started waking up shortly after him. Giving you enough time to ready breakfast for him when he stepped back through the door.

Eggs. Bacon. Any raw protein you could think of. You were unfortunately, a good cook.

"This isn't necessary," he said from the counter, but still wolfed down your perfectly fluffy scrambled eggs.

"Waking up early has its perks." You mused, sipping your tea. Probably strawberry. Or rose. He hated that he now knew your favourites.

You made his bed whenever he wasn't looking. He scolded you for it, the first few times. You insisted it was fine. That you liked cleaning up.

You tried to watch movies with him. Plopped beside him on the sofa and struck him your signature smile.

"Wanna watch something?" You asked, soft. Already dangling the remote. Sukuna couldn't help but compare the size of your hand to his.

He scoffed. "What? Some romcom?"

"Or horror." You bashed.

His instincts told him that a gentle soul like you wouldn't last ten seconds with a horror movie. Still, he indulged you. The last thing he wanted was to endure some stupid hybrid hallmark film.

A slasher flick. He didn't pay attention to the name. All he knew was that you quivered halfway through it and that stirred an urge in his gut.

Urge to what? Now that, he once again had no answers to.

It was warm. Low. The same way he felt when kids dropped their ice creams and mothers tripped in grocery stores. He couldn't name it. But he did drape his arm over the back of the couch. Not grazing your shoulders but, there.

You'd probably have nightmares tonight. Silly girl. Now he would be obligated to return the favour.

Because you did, a few nights ago. When he tossed and turned. Creased his sheets and slashed his blankets. Sukuna wasn't one to dream— but he did have nightmares.

About the darkness. About the cold. About a void that for some, unfathomable reason, unsettled him.

"It's okay, shh." Your voice reached out to him through the shadow. Light against the darkness.

"It's okay. I'm here. Wake up, please."

You were luck he hadn't broken your arm.

His grip was too tight. Claws too wretched. Not lucid enough to realise that he snatched your wrist when he had woken up.

"Get out." His voice rumbled. Eyes bloodshot and pupils tight. Sweat burned his forehead.

It must have not sounded like a threat, or maybe it was your stupid human resilience. You leaned over him. One knee on his bed and your hand ghosting his shoulder.

"You're freezing," you whispered.

He jerked from you. Rolled over onto his side and refused to allow himself to be vulnerable under your gentle gaze.

"I'm fine." He said.

You insisted. Are you sure? — Can I get you anything? — All the things that people said to catch you off guard and then left anyway.

"I said I'm fine."

His voice boomed, final. It was the first time he'd seen you flinch. He did not bother calling out for you as you shuffled out of the room. Assumed your bags would be packed by the morning. Your pink body wash nowhere to be seen on his counters and your books vanished from his shelves.

You didn't leave. Here you were, a few days later, with shaky knees and a horror movie. But insisting that you were enjoying it for his sake.

You never turned tail. Never backed down. Maybe it was more than human resilience. Maybe it was stubbornness.

That's the only thing that made sense to him. Why else hadn't you disappeared regardless of how much steam he'd blown at you? Especially when he was too much.

"Let's get one thing straight."

You had said something stupid one day in the kitchen. Something about being there for him. Some empty promise he had heard mixed and minced several different ways until it lost all meaning.

As if his mood was not sour enough.

Your back pressed into the fridge. His strong forearm shoved above your head. Sukuna's hulking body shadowed yours. Perhaps this was it. Where you finally became apart of that void that haunted his dreams.

"You and I. Are not. Compatible." His ears pinned back to his head. Tail coiled tight. Like his jaw and teeth that clenched.

Still, you held his stare. Even when it burned.

"Not a thing. Not. Possible." He spat. "So stop acting like you aren't just gonna sign me off so I can be caged up."

"I'm not—"

"I want you to."

He cut you off. Sharp as his heave as he craned closer. Close enough to smell your cherry shampoo— but not a hint of fear.

What was wrong with you?

"I want you to sign me off. So that we can stop pretending like any of this is gonna work and that I'm anything but better off alone."

The fridge rattled as he shoved himself off. He expected your knees to shake. Expected you to clamber out of the kitchen and stuff whatever you could into a suitcase for the night.

Instead, you watched him storm off. With those same, achingly gentle eyes.

Why were you so gentle?

Why did you stay?

Why did he find himself being gentler, too?

Of course, Sukuna didn't want to snap at you. You were simply the closest thing. The softest thing. His hands weren't built to cherish the tender.

Yet, tender were his hands, as they cooked for you. If you handled breakfast, it was only fair that dinner was his responsibility. Even if all he exchanged with you were grunts and gruffs, as long as you went to bed full, he was content.

Content? Odd. That wasn't a word in his vocabulary anymore.

His voice dangered tender's territory on nights you'd be out. Work, friends, whatever he never bothered listening to but for some reason found himself worrying over when the street lights switched on.

"Do you need a lift back?" He asked into the phone. Taking note to look uninterested, even if you couldn't see him.

"I should be fine, Sukuna." You chirped.

"You sure? It's almost midnight."

"I'm sure! What's the worst that could happen?"

To a sweet thing like you? A lot. More than he'd like to imagine.

Morals, he told himself. He pulled up in the middle of the morning to pick you up because of his pesky morals.

"Sorry you had to come all this way," you said as you shut the passenger door.

Sukuna considered your dress. Hated himself for it.

"What?" His tongue clicked. "Were you expecting to walk all the way back?"

"What's the worst that could—"

"A lot."

It wasn't like the other times. His voice raised, but didn't roar. His brows narrowed, but didn't glare.

The car ride was silent.

Your smile was sickening.

Cute.

He watched you closer. Not as a tiger stalked prey. Not anymore. He couldn't name this.

He refused to call it gentle.

Even when he carefully observed the way you fixed your hair every morning. How he noted which of your curves that the sun bounced odd of. The soft plush of your body and how your thighs moulded into the couch cushions, or rounded perfectly in your shorts.

Never had he been one to appreciate art— though he stood in front of your canvases and stared at your paint patterns. Swirls of green and blotches of warmth. Illustrations of nature: jungles and wild flowers.

It called to something within him. He assumed his hybrid traits. A tiger yearned for jungle, that was his home.

Home.

Sukuna didn't have a home.

He had a house. He had you. Had pink body wash on his counters and books he'd learnt the names of on his shelves. Had a warm meal every morning and a warmer bed you still insisted on making.

He had movie nights. A running partner. Someone who finally rooted her heels to the floorboards and blossomed in his walls. Stubborn as she was shy.

But not a home.

It was only a matter of time. Until he said something that finally was the thing. Until he'd wake up to your paintings missing, and your shampoo gone. He'd come home to no protein, but a sheet of paper:

I've signed you off. Good riddance.

You told him that you wouldn't, after he insisted it that night in the kitchen.

You padded to doorway of his room, picking at your sleeves with a petal-soft voice.

"All we have to do is clear you for rehabilitation," you said.

Not once did your eyes meet his.

"Then what? I can finally be alone?" He asked, incredulous.

You nodded.

It's what he wanted. What he claimed to want. So why was your agreement a sharp pang between his ribs?

That was then. He assumed your plans hadn't changed much. A silent agreement that if he behaved, you'd leave him be by the end of it all.

That's why he was gentler, he told himself.

Just trying to ensure his goals, he insisted.

For now, he would take care of you as you did him. Whether conscious or not. If it meant that when it was through, he'd get what was best for him.

Solitude.

But if solitude was what he wanted, why did he hate seeing you in others' company?

It was late. Emergency work call. He missed his afternoon cat nap and only scuffed down half of his breakfast.

The sun peeped at him from its sprawl across the horizon. Glaring into the back of his head as he stalked home. Burning him hotter. Hot.

He felt so. Fucking. Hot.

It wasn't even summer yet. Spring had only perked its preppy head. The blossoms bloomed. Their nectar tickled his nose. Couples gifted their flowers.

Sukuna hated spring.

He hoped you hadn't cooked dinner yet. That was his job. His responsibility.

But no, you were outside. Prattling to a neighbour.

All smiles and soft. Cupping your hands in front of you as you listened to the man's stories. The irritable snow leopard that lived next door. With his baby blue eyes and boyish grin.

What were you even doing outside in the first place? Didn't he tell you it was dangerous once the street lights started switching on?

Sukuna did what he did best. He watched. Looming by the telephone wire. Feeling the sun stab into his head. His spine. Feeling the heat gurgle from his gut. Splutter up his lungs. Against the back of his teeth.

That spotted fucker touched your arm.

Sukuna scathed.

Blurred colours. A muffled yelp. His claw caught on your woolly sweater as he snatched your arm.

"Sukuna—!"

Your gasp drowned in the rumble of his growl. Grated from the back of his throat. The leopard backed off. Your muscles tensed under his calloused fingers.

"Inside. Now."

He didn't wait for you to agree nor disagree. Dragging you inside and rattling the walls as the door clattered! shut.

"Su—" he lodged your voice in your throat once more. Shoved your back into the nearest thing— the same splintering door.

Was it hotter inside? Or was that the anger?

A sweat drop sweltered between his brows.

"What the hell were you doing?" As if he had any right to ask. You weren't his mate.

Mate? Of course you weren't his mate.

Then why did his teeth crave to sink into your flesh? Mark you?

His stare hazed. Blinking rapidly. Heaving. The heat blistered into his nerves. Clenched his muscles. Suffocating. It was suffocating.

"Why were you. With him. Why—" he zeroed in. Mistake. Big mistake.

Your scent.

You weren't his mate. Why the hell did you smell like it, then?

Did you always smell this good?

Your gaped at him. Hands stiff on your sides and pressed flat into the wood. Your neck craned to account for the height difference. Were you watching him this time? Was he too much?

His eyes squeezed shut.

"Sukuna," you spoke. His name didn't deserve that gentleness. It ached him deeper today.

"I think you're. . ."

Snapping open his stare, he sucked in breath. Considered your words. The phrase your lips wrapped around.

Rut.

Shit.

He shoved himself away from the door. Away from you. The fire crawled up his throat. Thunked his heart. Thrummed a deep, dark chord in his gut.

The sweat slipping down his spine in the middle of spring confirmed it. He was in rut. With a poor, persistent, pretty human in claw's reach.

"Hey— hey it's okay," you attempted, stepping forward where he stumbled back.

"Don't."

He hissed.

You preserved.

Stubborn. Stubborn, sweet thing.

"Let me help." You offered.

"No."

He tried. Tried to stumble off. Lock himself in his room. He could hump the mattress for all he cared but he wasn't so much as touching—

You took him by the wrist. Might as well have taken his soul while you were at it.

Splintered his restraint.

The door rattled again. Creaked awfully with the weight of him. On you. The thickness of the air. The heat. Your wrists fit well in his big hands. Looked like they belonged there.

You looked like you belonged here. Pinned under him.

His chest heaved. Voice jagged, throaty.

"You don't know what you're getting into." He said.

You gulped. He paid too much attention to your throat. "I did when I signed up for this."

"Do you even know what a rut is?"

"I know you can't be alone right now."

Sukuna's breath hitched.

You relaxed your hips. Let them mould into his. Their plush softness drove him wild.

Lashes hung over deep maroons. The quiet thrummed with your heart beats. His, thundering and wanting. Yours, tender yet eager.

He craned closer. Tuffs of his pink hair tickled your forehead.

"I can do awful things to you." He whispered.

Still no flinches. You never did.

Your eyes batted at him.

"Is that so bad?"

"Yes."

"Show me."

Even the kiss, burned.

Your lips really were petal-soft. Softer than he had imagined. He hated himself for imagining this in the first place.

The knot in his gut wound tight. Urging him to flush you further into the wood. Flush further into you. Patience slipped into the simmer between your mouths. Sukuna kissed you with violence. Nothing contained. Nothing hidden.

He told you that he wouldn't placate himself for you.

Abandoning your wrists, his grip sought your plush. Squeezing your thighs between his fingers gaps. Lifting you into his arms so that your heels pressed into his back. So that he could consume you. Tongues tangling and teeth tackling.

Your hands smacked at his shoulder. Breaths huffed through your nose. A desperate sound that plunged him deeper into heat.

He let you breathe. Barely.

"I can be good for you." Was what you used the privilege to gasp.

His chest rumbled. "Yeah?"

The slope of your throat was so pretty when you gulped.

Sukuna slipped a hand to your cheek. Rough. He couldn't be gentle. Not with you. Not now.

"Gonna be good for me, pretty girl?"

Eyes blown out. Jaw tight. If you said anything other than your whined little yes as his hips ground into yours, he might have lost his mind entirely.

His mouth attacked yours again. Sucking on whatever was left of your lychee lipgloss. Surely bruising your lips in the process. He didn't care. Let him mark you. Everywhere. So that stupid snow leopards didn't get the wrong idea. So that everyone knew what you were.

His.

The home blurred into vertigo colours. The floors creaked under the weight of his footsteps. Sukuna hoisted you with him. Haphazardly avoiding furniture in the stagger to his bedroom. Hands palming at whatever part of your flesh he could reach.

He almost stumbled in the hallway. Caught you against the doorway, one of your hands gripped at it while the other clutched the back of his neck. Fisted his hair between your fingers.

"Sukuna, careful." You whined.

He didn't listen. Too busy humping on your thighs that squished perfectly between his hard body and the cold door. Nurturing his bulge. Tucking its hot curve into the smooth crux of your skin.

"Said you'd be good for me." His growl rumbled on your pulse. Teeth mapping out his new territory: your velvet flesh. "So shut up and take it. Like a good girl, yeah?"

The door swung open. You must have palmed the handle. Feet fumbled in a clumsy waltz. Hands clinging for dear life. He caught you. Kept you pressed against his blazing body as he mouthed down your throat. Latched onto a tender spot. Marked you.

Sukuna handled his ruts the way he handled everything else: alone. His hand, a pillow, and a grotesque amount of tissue boxes. When last had he felt the soft touch of a partner? Held their warmth beneath him while his mind drove him wild with fire?

He was always too much. Too much to handle. Too aggressive. Too big.

But you.

You seemed to want everything.

In the way your nails curled on his shirt. In the pitiful way your neck arched to give him more access. Offering yourself up to him. A pretty deer who craved a tiger's claws in her. His maw latched to your throat.

"You're so eager," he groaned.

You whimpered, "I'm yours."

Fuck.

The mattress sunk. Creaking in retort to the callousness of his shove. Your body moulded into his sheets. Into him, as he staggered over you. Knees digging into the bed. Teeth clamped on the base of your throat.

You jerked. A gasped cry vibrating against his teeth. Palms knocking into his shoulders. To push him off?

No— to grip. Cling. To him. To your mate.

After all, you were his now, weren't you?

Bites bloomed across your neck. Over your collarbone. Down your shoulders. Your clothes threading like ribbons under Sukuna's claws. The sound of fabric tearing accentuated the rough pants and pitched whines in the humid air.

He wanted to speak. Wanted to tell you what a good girl you were being for him. Wanted to grunt into your skin about how perfect you were. Tell you that you were everything he'd been waiting for.

The words lodged in his throat. Sticky on the back of his tongue that could only muster out wet pants and deep growls as he feasted on your flesh.

Every inch of your skin revealed to him was another blessing. Your curves. The dips. The soft slopes of your body. Salivated him all the more.

Your bra never stood a chance. Clawed away. Probably ruined at the wire. He didn't care. He'd buy you a new one. Buy you whatever you wanted if you were gonna carry his cubs.

Cubs.

The word slipped into his mind with ease, and ruined it.

Pupils blown out. Lungs clenching. He made the mistake of eyeing your tummy.

Perfect, round, soft. You'd be the perfect mate. The perfect mother for his young.

The thought spurred his hands rougher. Tearing away offensive fabrics until you were laid completely bare before him. With big, doe eyes batting up at him. So pretty. So his.

From the corner of his eye he spotted your hands slipping. To cover up. Cover what was his. Your wrists were snatched in his hard grip.

"Don't," he warned. Lips assaulting yours. Stealing your breath and tonguing on your whimpers.

"Don't hide what's mine."

Your tits were softer under his tastebuds. Delicate to the harsh swirls of his tongue. So small when compared to his mouth that sought to consume, to claim.

Sweet sounds sighed from your kiss-bitten lips. Your spine curved so that you pressed back into him. Squishing your plush breasts into his face. His groan rumbled into the flesh.

So tender it was maddening. So perfect it was addicting.

Kisses, sucks, bites. He littered your tits in more claims. Feasting on your silk flesh. Fantasising about the image of them larger. Fat and swollen with milk— just as you were round with his cubs.

His cock strained thick in his pants. Flushed hot on your inner thigh. He ground into your warmth. Rutting wildly. Like the animal he always was.

Your hands delving into his hair almost broke him. Almost. He withdrew from your chest. Eyes glowing through the dark as he found your face.

"Taste so good. So sweet." A hand roughed down your side. Cupped your thigh and strung it round his waist.

"Up."

Raw strength scooped you into his palms. Flesh spilling between the gaps of his fingers as he squeezed for good measure.

Your little squeaks were so cute.

Teeth dragged on your flesh. Callous over bites sunk into your gentle flesh. He lapped on the indents of his own canines as he wrest you over him. Shoved your thighs higher. Urging you. Demanding.

"Face. Now. Fucking sit on my face."

Senseless. Each word was a growl. It's a miracle you understood him at all. Maybe you always would. That's how mates were, right?

The cotton of your panties dragged on his collarbone. Frantic eyes darted to your face as your hips locked. Unmoving.

Stubborn little human.

"What?" He husked. Scuffling to shove you over his awaiting face. "I said sit."

Your lips pressed together. Hands scrambling for the headboard. "Wait are you— are you sure? I'm—"

"—driving me mad." He hissed through clenched teeth. The throbbing in his groin pulsed the sickening heat hotter. Seared into the back of his skull. To his hands that groped your ass. To his eyes that narrowed.

"Said I wanna taste you. So get. On."

Was that too much?

Was he too much for you?

No, course not. You wanted to be his good girl. He saw it in your doe eyes batting at him. In the quiver of your lip and the tremors of your thighs. You shuffled over him. Pressing the cusp of your panties against his chin.

"Like this?" You meeked.

"Like this."

Sukuna tugged you over him. Knocking your thighs. You stumbled. Caught yourself with shaky fingers in his hair and an adorable yelp.

The musked cotton scrunched into his nose, his mouth, the rest of his hard face. Stuffing his nostrils with the sweet, intoxicating aroma. His eyes threatened to roll back.

A muffled curse rumbled into your heat. First came his tongue. Abrasive like everything else about him. Lapping on your folds. Drenching the fabric. Trying to suck in your taste through it.

Then came his teeth. Impatient. Tearing into your panties. His head wrest, violent. Claws ripping away the cloth in a feral affair.

Your sweet heat was his reward. Slicking up his face with your clit pressed into his nose.

"Fuck," his groan thrummed. Straight into your velvet. Leaking your pussy into his agitated mouth. "Knew you'd taste s'fucking sweet."

Hands slipped up your thighs. Cupped your ass. Sukuna sought to press kisses to your quivering slit— but you dangled above him. Not pressed, not sat. Hovered.

"Said. Fucking sit."

He hauled you into him. Cramped your thighs into his head. Smothered your pussy into his face. Even with his ears muffled by your plush, he heard your stunned gasp.

The weight was perfect on his head. Your hands were perfect in his hair. Pussy pretty, pulsing, perfect, on his tongue that stroked over your slit. Lathered you in saliva. All the way to your clit.

He darted the muscle. Circled on your bud. Trying to commit to a rhythm. A pattern. It scathed into the heat of his rut. The heat to take, to claim. To make you his. Finally.

Even if you hated him after this.

Even if you signed him off and he finally got what he wanted. Solitude.

Right now, all he wanted was your pussy.

Filthy squirts and sloshes squelched through the room. Brimming the hazed air together with your whines. Moans. Gasps of his name.

He always hated how gently you said it. Like it meant something. Like it ever could mean something. Hearing it broken sounded better. Shaky and whimpered as he fucked you on his tongue.

"S-Suk— kuna, ah."

Sweet. So sweet. Sweeter than he ever deserved. But Sukuna was a greedy man. So he gripped on your thighs, bit his nails into your flesh, and feasted to his heart's content.

"There ya go. C'mon, pretty girl, ride my face."

Spank! went his hand. Clamouring your ass and fisting the jiggles. Pulling you down, harder, closer— till he was suffocating. Suckling on your clit. Guiding your hips into a sinful sway.

Your hips fell into rhythm. Atta girl. Always so sweet for him. Always so obedient. Yeah, if you stayed, you'd make the perfect mate.

He hoped you stayed.

He could make you stay.

Keep you in his bed. Make a den for you. Hold you down and fuck you into his sheets day-in-and-day-out. Fill you up until your tummy grew even rounder. Softer. Until you were swollen. Until you were his.

No. Fuck. That's the rut talking.

The rut talking.

It's the rut that had him palming your ass and squeezing you into his face. The rut that had his mouth kissing, sucking, licking and laving through your creamy mess. The rut that had him fucking you on his tongue and bucking his hip into the air just as yours ground down into his face. Smearing mess all over him.

Yeah. That's the rut. But fuck, if he wasn't drunk on your pathetic moans. Your messy pussy.

Your clit spasmed under the flat of his harassing tongue. Your thighs clamped around his head. Fingers dug into his skull. Even your pain was sweet.

"Shit— kuna." Your voice croaked. Called to him as a mate should. "I'm gonna, fuck. Think 'm gonna. . . gonna—"

His eyes fluttered. Throat rasped.

"Gonna cum? Yeah? Gonna cum, hah, all over my face?"

From between the small gap of your thigh, Sukuna witnessed your face. Eyes rolled back. Jaw slack. Tits bouncing as you rode his face as if he was yours.

He was.

In this moment. In these blurred lines of his rut. Where he pictured you as his mate. Entertained the thought of wanting. Of being wanted. Of not being alone.

He was yours. Even if for a moment.

You sung his name through the haze. Tender even when he ripped you apart at the seams. Delicate even in his claws that threatened to tear into you. Mark you with scars and blood.

Your hips clumsily rocked. Once—twice—locked up in feverish tremors. Your hands bunching his hair. Clinging. Your body hunched over his. Shattering.

Sukuna rode you through an orgasm with his lips latched around your clit. Sucking harsh on its throbs. Teething on its twitches.

You splattered his face in warmth. Sweet, sickening warmth that doused him deeper into his rut's clutches.

"That's it. There you go. Fuck. Prettiest fucking pussy," he slurred into your wetness. Tongue delving between your puffy folds. Lapping up your cum. Greedy.

You toppled over him. Breaths ragged. One hand clutched in his hair and the other on the headboard.

"Wanna— wanna help. Wanna." To his surprise you pulled on his hair. Interrupting his creamy kisses on your slit.

Stares met. His hot. Yours warm. Wanting.

"Wanna make you feel good too."

How pretty you were when you quivered. Lips glossed by drool and lashes soaked with tears. It ached a deep chamber in his heart.

"Wanna be good for me?" He panted.

Your nod was doeish. As everything else about you was. His delicate girl. So fragile in his hands.

He couldn't wait to break you.

The bed creaked again. You squeaked as he hauled you down into the wrinkled sheets. On your back with his hulking weight pressing down on you. His mouth fixed to yours. Magnetic. Addicted. Letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

"That mean you gonna let me breed you too, baby?" Catching your lip between his teeth, he grunted. Pressing the swell of his cock between your legs. Staining his crotch in your slick. "Gonna let me breed this sweet pussy?"

Your response was sweet, shy, but oh so eager. A tepid nod, as your fingers slipped to his shoulders. So small. Smaller than him in every way. He took the moment to appreciate it.

You, spread and waiting for him. Your pussy, swollen and twitching. His bulge pressed on your glistening folds dwarfed you entirely.

Oh, how you'd squirm on his cock.

At last he shrugged his shirt off. Shivered when your touch feathered over his chest. He made the mistake of watching your eyes. How they mapped out scars that your fingers traced.

You didn't have to say anything. Your gaze spelt affection he wasn't ready to receive.

"Don't stare at me like that." He gruffed, kicking off his pants.

"Why not?" You asked.

"Makes me think you want me."

"I do want you, kuna."

Damn you.

Damn you and your tenderness. Damn you and that sweet nickname your sugar lips latched onto. Damn you and the way you made his cock throb hard in the strained fabric of his boxers.

He palmed your throat. Focused on your pulse. The control he held over you in the moment.

"Shut up." His hiss muffled with a kiss. Hot and open-mouthed on yours. As if he could suck the words from your tongue and swallow them into his gut that knew better.

Knew that he was better off alone. That this was only for the sake of his rut.

Bulging and angry, his tip nudged between your thighs. Soaking up your arousal. The slippery sensation of your pussy sent shivers down his spine. So wet. For him. Only him.

He let you pull away. Watching as your gaze lowered to his thick cock sandwiched between your folds. Sliding against your slit and dragging on your clit. Your wide eyes eased a chuckle from him.

"What?" He drawled. "Too big?"

"Well. . . yes."

"And every inch's gonna fucking breed you."

He pinned you back into the mattress. Flat on your back with your knees scooped into his big hands. Dwarfed you there too. He pressed them back into you so that they kissed your tits. Folding you in half and completely exposing you entirely to his hungry eyes.

Salivating. He was salivating. Your eyes were too kind for how lewd your pussy spread out for him. Leaking a string of mess. Calling for him. Wanting him.

"Keep your eyes on me, you got that?" Maroon burned into yours. Searching for hesitance. For fear. For something that could cut into this feverish rut and remind him that he didn't deserve you. But no.

You obeyed him.

You wanted him.

His cockhead slotted against your slit. Dipping in to feel the silky sin of your pussy. A deep groan rumbled from the depths of his chest. His brows furrowed. Fuck. When last had he had this?

Blunt nails dug into the backs of your thighs as he sunk in. One inch. Two inch. Three inch. Four— popping through the first tight ring of resistance. Eyes devouring yours the entire time.

He watched your face. How it scrunched up and your mouth parted. How tears clouded your eyes as he pushed past the halfway point.

He stopped.

"You good?" He huffed. Barely gentle.

Very. Gentle.

"Yeah it's— just. . . just a lot." You croaked.

"Too much?"

His face didn't falter, but his heart sure did. His grip loosening on your limbs. Ready to let you go. Free you from him.

But you shook your head. Teary eyed. Twitching smile.

"Not enough."

Hips possessed. Mind a mess. He slammed forward at those two, pretty little words. Till his tip smooched your cervix and his balls squished into your folds. Bottomed out. Filling you to the brim.

The sound you made was sin itself. A blessing. Heaven, hell, and everything in between.

"Oh fuck." You cried, head tossed back. Unable to see him gasping out the same exclaim.

Your syrupy cunt hugged around him. Tight, snug. Nursing on an underside vein and milking him around the tip. Every pulse was your heartbeat, and it devastated him.

Cussing, he pushed down onto you. His heart tugging itself towards yours. To press into your skin as his hips started rutting. Slow, eager.

"Fuck. Look at you take this cock. Like you were born for it," his words husked above you.

Your lashes fluttered. Brows knitting at the centre. He watched your tears threaten to slip as he humped on the sensitive ring that was your cervix.

His tongue clicked. Swapping out a hand on your thigh, he snatched you beneath the jaw instead. Wrenching your face to his hot one.

"Didn't I say keep your eyes on me?"

"M sorry."

"Don't apologise, just take it."

He withdrew. Halfway at first— then shoved back in. The second time was further. And further. Until his thrusts pulled to the tip and plunged back to your womb. Languid, but hard. Sure to make you feel every inch of him pressing into your pussy nerves.

You soaked up his thighs. Splashing his balls and leaking a puddle into the sheets already. The scent was intoxicating. Flared his nostrils and dizzied his head.

The mattress shook beneath the power of his thrusts. Your body bounced with it. He made sure to coil his tail tight around your waist. Held you down like a predator did prey as he fucked you open on his cock.

Pleasure built a knot in his gut. Hot, heavy. Urging his hips to snap harder and chase bruises on your jiggling ass.

Every sound was sin. Sweet. Cries, moans, a whimper than surged into a whine of his name when he removed his other hand from your thigh to instead hold them back with a steeled forearm. So that his palm could press on the bulge swelling up the base of your tummy.

"Fuuckkk," he growled. Ears pinned back to his hair. Jaw hung and canines glinting. "Look at that. See that, pretty girl? What's here?"

You hiccuped, "your— ah. Your cock!"

"Yeah? What's it doing?"

"It's—"

You couldn't answer. Slurred by moans and the delicious drive of his dick stretching you out. He watched your eyes go static.

Spank! his palm landed hot on your clit. Bulging your eyes and jerking your hips up into his frantic thrusts. He laid another. Two. Three— encouraging your pitiful whimpers.

"Asked you a fucking question. What's it doing?"

"It's— hah. B. . . Breeed—"

"Breeding you? Yeah?"

"Uhuh! Breeding. Breeding me s-so . . . s'goood."

Drool bubbled on your lips. Your hands that had tried to scramble on his shoulders and dig your mark into his flesh now fell flat on the pillow. Beside your head. Limp like the rest of your body that surrendered itself to him.

Heat surged down his spine as you clamped around him. Sucking the air from his scathing lungs. Staining his base in a thick, filthy ring of cream.

His hips rammed all the more faster. Harder. Imprinting you into his bed. Your slick. Your sweat. Your scent.

One of your weak hands slipped down. Meeking over to his larger one fixed on your stomach. Wrapping around two of his massive fingers. Or at least trying to.

It strung a deep chord in him. Thin and vulnerable. One he has thought he cut out long ago.

His half slipped over yours. Fingers laced. Pressing you against the bulge he plunged into your tummy. Holding your hand. Holding it tight.

"Sweet pussy's milking me," his grunt fanned your pulse as he swooped down. Mouthing on your neck. Searching for your pulse to feel it race beneath his lips. "Fuck. Wants my cum so bad. Wants my cubs."

"Please!" You slurred.

He swore he could do this for life.

Shoving all the way, Sukuna paused on your cervix. Sweat dripping from his hair. Cock drumming heavy. He clamped you down through your protesting whines.

"Yeah, yeah, shut it." It didn't sound harsh. Especially not with his firm squeeze on your hand.

Slipping out just enough, he watched your juices spray all over him. Mesmerising him. He worked on autopilot. Bundling you into his arms and manhandling you into a different position.

Tossing you to your side, Sukuna slotted behind you. Hips spooning your ass. One strong arm hooked around your neck, choking you on his bicep. While the other strung around your thigh. Wrenching you open for him and his massive cock, that bullied back into your cunt. Squelching your cum and sick in messy streams.

Your angelic cries resonated into his bicep. Making him squeeze it harder against your throat. Headlocking you into his greedy mouth that sucked hickies across your neck.

The angle was deeper. Filthier. Letting him feel so much more of you.

How much smaller you were than him. How you squeezed him just right. How perfect you were in his arms.

Like you belonged.

Shit. Don't go there.

Sukuna tried to drown it out. The returning thought of you. A permanent fixture in his life. Your pink body wash on his counter, that was now his. Your books on his shelves that he could read to you. You, in his living room, painting.

Painting the jungle. Painting home. Being his home.

His cock pulsed hard at the base and sweltered at the tip. The knot in his stomach wound tight. But that thought— that thought gutted him.

That you were here. That you had been here. Warm, and sweet, and soft and for the last few weeks. His.

You could be his.

"No," he wanted it to sound like a grunt. But he whimpered. Panting, heaving, mind dizzy and thrusts frantic—

Sukuna was whimpering.

Your face was pressed into his bicep. Head limp and hand still trying to hold his that clutched your thigh. Still calling his name so sweetly.

"N-No?" You breathed.

Still attuned to him even when he was fucking your brains out.

"Don't want you to leave."

Oh.

Oh.

He hadn't realised that it slipped from his lips. Hadn't realised that through his brutal thrusts— he was breaking. Lost in the burning bliss, the heat, and the warmth of what could be.

Sukuna lost his fucking mind.

"Don't wanna— fuck. Don't wanna be alone." His face fell into your neck. Arms squeezing your body into his. Trying to melt your skin into his. Tuck himself into your warm flesh and the selfish wish you gave him.

Hazed, and hot, and so heavenly yours.

Slick hair pressed into your cheek. His body collapsed onto yours. Pounding his cock up into your creamy cunt. Chasing his blazing nerves as his mouth rambled.

"Don't want you to leave. Don't. Shit. Don't leave me, please, please don't fucking leave me."

His thrusts lost rhythm. As frantic as his rushed whispers. Plunging into your cervix. Bruising your thighs. Clutching you closer. As close as he could muster. As close as it would take to keep you here forever.

"Say you won't— say you," he slurred. Eyes squeezed shut. Words melting into a clumsy splutter of curses. "Say. Say you won't. Say—"

"Won't. Won't. 'kuna I won't— hngahh. Promise!"

That single word. So raw. So true. Choked in a gasp as you tried to nudge your face closer to him.

It shattered whatever pride he had left.

"You promise?"

He croaked. Dangerously hopeful.

You nodded. Cried.

"Promise. I promise S'kuna. Breed me— please."

He should have known you'd be trouble from the moment you first smiled at him.

Heat trapped him. Seeped into every nerve and spasming muscle. Ears drooped. Tail clinging around your waist, as his arms did every inch of you.

He held your hand.

The ache in his hips nulled to the sound of your sweet voice. Tucking promises away in his heart and sealing them with attempted kisses, even when he was choking you.

He felt your orgasm shake through you. Your body locking up as you babbled his name into the humidity. And with that Sukuna finally— finally let go.

Ramming his cock up one, final time. He stilled. Deep and thrumming within you. Heat bursting from his gut and washing over him in a devastating wave of blissful carnage.

Loud and wrecked, his moan vibrated into your back. Hips rocking in small stutters as spluttering, white ropes creamed your cervix. Pouring his thick cum into every inch of your twitching cunt. Brimming you with him and his promise.

"Fucking. . . fuck. . . hah. Take it. Take all this cum in your pretty pussy." Slurs dragged up your throat, to your ear as you face limped into his arm. His voice husked, a vow.

"Just feel me breeding you full. Filling you with my cubs."

You whined, meekly rocking back into him. But he snatched your hips and pressed it down into the mattress with a soft hush.

The throbbing at his base thrummed into swelling. His knot bloomed until it lodged stiff in your cunt. Pulsing with your pathetic little twitches.

He watched your eyes widen and brows furrow. Your body locked up and a whimper strained from your swollen lips. "Mmm. That's your—"

"Mhhm. Just stay still."

Laving his tongue over one of the bites, Sukuna held you near. Savouring your warmth.

The silence finally didn't feel like a void. Even if it was heavy.

He held onto the moment. Clung to its peace as the warmth simmered into cooling sweat on your flesh.

You broke the quiet first.

"Did you mean that?"

He didn't answer you. But his hand cupped your tummy. Fingers still laced in yours as his face tucked against the back of your shoulder.

". . . Was it too much?"

He never thought his voice could ache.

You tried to shift again, and despite the lump in his throat, he clicked his tongue. Squeezed your thigh in warning. "I said stay still, didn't I?"

"You're never too much. Not for me, Sukuna."

There you went, saying his name like it meant something.

Nudging your face to his, Sukuna licked at the tears on your face. A tender act he never thought himself capable of. "Don't say shit like that."

"That I want you? Or that I love you?"

His breath hitched.

Once the knot settled, he pulled out. Hesitantly— especially with your heat still clinging to him.

"You love me?" He muttered, laying a kiss on your cheek. Then to your jaw. To your shoulder. Down your body until you were on your back.

Calloused thumbs swept your folds back. Eyeing the lewd streak of cum leaking out of you.

His eyes found yours as you spoke, tender.

"Do you want me to say it again?" One of your hands raked into his hair.

His face nudged between your thighs. His hummed approval followed the flat of his tongue. Laving up your slit. Licking away the mess and holding your thighs open amidst their intense shivers.

Even as you whined. With your eyes on the brink of tears. They were still soft for him.

"I love you."

You shouldn't.

He shouldn't.

But he still said it back.

"My mate."

Low, and grumbled, not those three words but something that spelt a deeper bond. One he finally had.

After licking you clean, Sukuna bundled you up into the sheets. Pushing himself from the bed and returning with a warm towel and a water bottle.

He cradled the back of your head as he gave you the water.

Worshipped your flesh as he wiped you down. Tracing over bruises and bites. His mark.

And when you were finally tucked into his arms. Dozing off with your head nestled on his heart that now beat for you. His tail curled around your leg and his claws soft on your curves. Sukuna understood.

That his too much was just enough for you.

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/pixopix | art cred: @/cakkezzz ( twt )

It’s not like TRUCKER!SUKUNA had a hard time getting some. When he needed to wet his dick, he practically soaked it. But he couldn’t find himself getting as hard as he did than when you were in his proximity. Lot lizard’s couldn’t do it for him anymore, his cock flaccid when he tried to fuck literally anyone else.

TRUCKER!SUKUNA began to look forward to his unconventional brunches. No, not for the eggs or hash browns or pancakes. But for the pretty girl waiting for him. It was clear you were attracted to him at least, seeing as your pupils would dilate when he’d walk in and your gaze would fix on his rolled cuff shirt strangling his thick biceps.

TRUCKER!SUKUNA wants to fuck you. He wants to hear all the soft noises you make when his tongue flattens against your throbbing slit, how your tits will jiggle when he gropes you, how you’ll probably cry when he shoves his cock into you.

TRUCKER!SUKUNA is at risk of losing his job. His loads arrive late for drop-off and inspection, because now he lingers after your shift. He’ll sit in the driver’s seat, staring at you through the diner windows, waiting for you to clock out. And when you do, he doesn’t say anything to you, doesn’t even approach you.

No, TRUCKER!SUKUNA follows you home. You must be stupid seeing as you don’t notice the very same red truck with black detailing and flames parking down your block multiple times a week.

You need someone to look after you, TRUCKER!SUKUNA concludes. Someone to make sure you don’t fall into the wrong hands or bed, seeing as you’re too idiotic to sort this out yourself.

So, TRUCKER!SUKUNA spends the next few weeks keeping an eye on you. Making sure you get to work safely, that you receive enough of a tip to stash into your savings, to ensure you get home timely.

TRUCKER!SUKUNA has done so much for you. He scrubs the five o’clock shadow growing on his chin and jaw, certain that he’s due for a reward now. If only you’d known how he’s watched over you, you’d want to thank him, right?

Your doorbell rings in the middle of the night, stirring you from your slumber. You stumble out in a see-through tank that hugs you just right, and skimpy panties.

“Sukuna…?” you rub the sleep from your eyes, which widen when you see he’s clearly been standing in the rain for quite some time now as his pink strands have fallen over his forehead and cling to the skin, his leather jacket glistening with droplets.

TRUCKER!SUKUNAthinks you’re an angel that’s fallen from the heaven’s to bless him.

“Are you okay? I didn’t see you at the diner today,” you grab his wrist, pulling him inside and shutting the door behind you.

God, if TRUCKER!SUKUNA wanted to murder you right now, he could. Because not only have you opened the door for a stranger, you allowed him into your house.

But, no. TRUCKER!SUKUNA has other plans for you.

“Ya live alone, don’t you?”

You squint. “Yes, I do.”

TRUCKER!SUKUNA towers over you, gaze dancing across your face. He’s never realized how soft and supple your skin was. “What about your boyfriend?”

“…I don’t have a boyfriend,” you whisper, feeling your voice waver as he corners you.

Your back meets the wall, and TRUCKER!SUKUNA slams a hand down next to your head.

“You’re dim, you know that?” he reckons, the low timbre of his tone sending sparks up your spine.

“E-excuse me?” you gulp, peering into his crimson irises that have thinned into slits. You’ve never been this close to him, but you feel your stomach somersaulting at the close proximity. He smells a little like cigarettes and gasoline.

“Could have my way with you right now. Since ya let anyone into this place,” he finally breaks his gaze from yours and looks around. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“To the left.”

TRUCKER!SUKUNA smirks from ear to ear, before lifting you up and tossing you over his shoulder.

You gasp, head nearly knocking into his broad back. “Put me down!”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, bird. I’ll be nice tonight. …Maybe.”

TRUCKER!SUKUNA kicks the door to your bedroom open, tossing you onto your sheets and taking in his surroundings. You two are exact opposites—seeing the soft pastels of pink and yellow and purple decorating your space, decorated with plushies and figures.

You land on your back, blood roaring in your ears as TRUCKER!SUKUNA tugs his shirt over his head. Not only is he absolutely fucking shredded, but his skin is littered in scars and thick black ink, the tattoos only making him look all the more terrifying.

TRUCKER!SUKUNA crawls over you, slow and calculated like a predator hunting it’s prey. He slots himself between your thighs and grips your forearms just to pin them beside your head.

TRUCKER!SUKUNA kisses you. Not soft, not nice like he promised. Demanding, bruising. He’s rough as his weight settles atop you, shoving his tongue down your throat and nibbling on your lip just to hear you whimper. Teeth clashing, noses bumping, swapping saliva. He groans repeatedly, enough to tell you he’s enjoying this.

When you squirm, TRUCKER!SUKUNA presses his knee into your sex. You try to run from the mind-numbing bliss, but he doesn’t allow it. Heat settles low, your panties damp with slick and leaving a wet stain across the flimsy fabric.

You can barely breathe—chest heaving up and down, pushing against his bruising grip on your arms, but the man is a reinforced tank that refuses to budge.

When he finally pulls away, all breathless and wrecked with a flushed face and a sleazy grin, you know you’re in for a long night.

TRUCKER!SUKUNA plays with the strap of your tank, before tearing the fabric down the middle. You gasp, but he flicks a pebbled nipple with a click of his tongue. “I’ve given you enough money t’buy a millon of these, brat.”

TRUCKER!SUKUNA latches his lips onto your perky tits, leaving bruising love bites across your unmarked skin, groaning as the tent in his jeans only grows suffocating.

TRUCKER!SUKUNA wants to be gentle. But gentle isn’t what you need, no. You need a guiding hand—one that keeps you in place when you fuck up and directs you where you need it. Reprimands you, punishes you. “Don’t fight it,” he groans low and wrecked, dragging his tongue up the shell of your ear. “Let me in.”

TRUCKER!SUKUNA slots his head between your thighs, peppering soft kisses against your skin to get you to trust him. Glossy, wide eyes stare back at him. Uncertain, unsure. The first kiss he presses against your clothed clit has you bucking. “Already so wet f’me, hm?”

Your panties are torn down the middle of the gusset, and then you’re devoured like TRUCKER!SUKUNA has been starved for weeks. Suckling, nipping, biting. Spreading, teasing, lavving. You keen, tears biting your waterline as he works you open on a single digit. “S’like you’ve never been fucked… Have you? Been fucked? Can’t help but think a pretty thing like you has already been broken in… but the way you’re, fuck, squeezing n’ sucking me in… got me thinkin’ otherwise.”

TRUCKER!SUKUNA works you through an orgasm, stars blotting out behind your eyelids as his tongue flicks your hooded clit and fingers stretch you wide, nestling deep and prodding those sweet spots. You orgasm again soon after the climax. Then another. And another. You start to lose track, thighs burning and core sore.

TRUCKER!SUKUNA barely allows you to catch your breath before he’s kissing you sloppily—your juices slathered all across his lips and chin soaking into your mouth. You taste him, and you taste you. “Gonna fuck you raw now, little bird.”

TRUCKER!SUKUNA has a massive cock. After tugging his belt off, the metal clasp hitting your bedroom floor, and freeing himself from his briefs, do you feel your stomach swoon. It springs upwards with a slight curve. There’s a double band of black ink rings at the base, buried in pink pubic hair that looks rough to the touch. Bulging veins that run thick with molten lava dance across the length up to a weeping tip piercing with a horseshoe ring.

“Y-you have a-?”

“Prince Albert,” he smirks, all proud of himself as he strokes his dick. He cocks his head, muscles flexing as he watches you squirm. “You scared?”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you shake your head timidly.

“Good. It doesn’t bite. But, I do.”

TRUCKER!SUKUNA splays his large palms on the backs of your thighs as he spreads you open, his dick rutting forward while he glides himself through your folds. He rests his dick on your abdomen, captivated in the size difference. “Gonna feel me in your lungs like this, woman. So fuckin' cute,” he teases as he runs his hands across your body.

When he’s noticed that you’ve had enough foreplay, he presses his unprotected tip against your entrance. You grip the sheets, your breath catching in your throat. When TRUCKER!SUKUNAnotices your inability to breath properly while he feeds his cock to you, his calloused palm meets your cheek, slapping some sense into you. “Not gonna fuck you if you’re passed out, brat,” he grumbles, leaning down to dig his teeth into your collarbone. “Where’s the fun in that?”

TRUCKER!SUKUNA is a rough fuck. You can barely accommodate to his girthy size, but he continues to push deeper, stretching you out until all you feel is him. His thrusts start off slow, shallow. But when he’s grown impatient, he punctuates each groan with a deep stroke. You cry out, fingernails raking crimson trails to match his eyes down his biceps and shoulder-blades. “Tryna’ milk me for everything I’ve got, woman?”

It doesn’t help that his cock is fucking you senseless, but the cold, metallic feel of his piercing swathed in precum bumping your G-spot has you convulsing and screaming out his name. His grunts, barely contained nor controlled, vibrate through your ears as he pumps in and out and in and out of your drooling hole.

You’re not sure how many times you hit your peak that night seeing as you passed out at some point and woke up to a barely legible note scribbled on a napkin from TRUCKER!SUKUNA, saying he had to get his affairs sorted.

“theeere you go babydoll, show em. you got it. fuck ‘er for me.” hakaris right behind you, that stupidly large hand helping you bounce your hips down on kirara, the filthy sound of your thighs plopping down on her.

whatever hand hakari didn’t have on you was recording the scene, the good stuff that reeled in extra cash for you guys.

“o-oouuh baby.. go a little faster okay? know you can. feels greaaaat.” kirara slurred, a dumb pleased smile plastered on her face. her manicured hands going up to hold on your hips, bouncing you.

“you heard ‘er, speed up. look at the camera while you’re at it.” his hand left your hip to grip the side of your chin, pulling you back to get a view your glossy eyes in the camera. all the attention was driving you up the wall, all the hands on your body and the camera observing your pleasured face.

with all your new found courage and the need you felt to please the camera- and your oh so sweet girl beneath you, you sped up. hips clashing back down against the woman. so loud and obscene it filled the room, blocking out any distant noise from the TV-cameras. you could feel kirara shaking, sensitive girl she was. pierced cock twitching inside of you unashamedly.

“pleaaase give it ta’ me baby.. i know you can! feels so good..” kirara nearly whined out, her star shaped pupils completely blown and dilated with complete focus on your face that hakari had long released from his grasp. still recording the nasty shit going on between you two. you could feel her hips stutter and begin to fuck right back up into you jus’ the way she liked it. sloppy and quick.

you buried your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling that non perfumed scent of purely her. that alone could be your own equivalent to an aphrodisiac, heavenly. the sound of sweat damped skin slapping into eachother was something you’d hear in porn.

“pleaaaase, cmon cmon cmon.. know you want to- sooo bad!” pure rambling out of her mouth, she pulled your face up to connect your lips in a wet, heated kiss. her pierced tongue sliding its way in. her way of shutting herself up really.

“awh fuck, let me get that.” you could hear the grin and arousal in hakaris voice, even after the recording you’d be far from done. he moved the lousy phone camera over to record the sloppy scene of you and kiraras tongues fighting one another. the room was full of the pathetic whiny moans swallowed into wet kisses.

a sharp smack hit you- hakari from the pure feeling from it. you were getting sloppy.

“don’t get lazy on me now girl, ride it. show ‘em how you like taking it.” his guiding words made something in your gut twist into something much more intense- pulling a groan straight from your throat. you fucked back onto kirara with more intensity than before, disconnecting from the kiss to moan and whine into her neck, her hands immediately shooting to hold onto you- anything really. hakari gave a pleased huff of approval.

“yes- yessyesyes cmon baby, gimme- mnnhgg..” her head tilted back in pure bliss, though her hips never quit moving up to meet yours. you hadn’t even spoke this whole time, pleasure made you a very different person. all that came from your throat was uncontrolled moans and whines, chasing as much friction as you possibly could.

“g’nna cum baby- take it take it take it..” it was only a few more sloppy thrusts upwards and she was cumming- quick, thick spurts of release into you that had her reeling- fucking herself into you through that overstimulation to make it last as long as she could make it.

you hadn’t last much longer truly, hakari’s free hand that wasn’t focused on recording the sinful act was under your body using two fingers in fast, pressured circles to give you that extra push of stimulation, your body arching downward and pressing you further into the lady beneath you, chest to chest. you’re convulsing by the time kirara’s spent and done, a lazy fucked out smile on her face when you cross that finish line, tightened up around her like she’d disappear if you didn’t.

hakari let out a low whistle, hard and leaking a damp spot through his slacks. sheesh. pressing his thumb down on that red button to stop the recording.

when he sees bigger sizes being praised online he figures they don't mean him. because his cock isn't just big, it's heavy, fat, swings when he walks, and takes up all the space in his boxers. he can't even find a sex doll for him to fuck that'll withstand his size. he's torn through all of them.

how is he ever going to be in a relationship?

when you started liking him, choso had forgotten all about the monstrosity in his underwear and got all caught up in your flirtations. he's never had someone as beautiful as you pay so much attention to him. you're one of yuji's friends from college that's staying at their house for the summer. you include him on your outings with yuji, get him little gifts you say reminded you of him, call him pretty and trace his tattoos with your hands... it all has his brain melting into goo. he only remembers that he's a freak when you're sat on the couch with him sitting on the floor between your legs during movie night, and you're scratching his scalp lightly with your fingertips.

the slow, repeated motion has his cock twitching and slowly rising in his pants, giving an especially hard throb when you tug his hair gently and squish your thighs around him. your hole is close enough to his nose for him to smell you, the sweet tangy scent making his mouth water.

he doesn't notice how bad it looks until his cock is fully stood up in his shorts, and he looks down, seeing the huge tent in his trousers and pushes his hands over it, stumbling to his feet. the quick, sudden movements making him dizzy. "i t-think i left my computer on upstairs" he mumbles, pushing down on his cock and praying you can't see how hard he is. you look up at him through long lashes and tilt your head, giving him a look that's disastrously similar to one you'd probably make if you sucked him off has him starting to leak an embarrassing amount.

with a yelp, he rushes upstairs before you can see the mess he's made of himself. he's so disoriented that he accidentally finds himself in the guest room, the one you're currently using, instead of his. and it's heaven. all your little trinkets everywhere, your scent stuck in the room... he dumps himself face first on the bed and buries his face into the pillow you're using, inhaling deeply and starting to hump the mattress through his shorts.

his cock is so swollen, even fatter and more sensitive than normal, and his hip rolls are slow and heavy as he grinds down onto the cushy duvet, inhaling large gusts of your shampoo and lotion from the pillow and imagining he's grinding on you instead. soft, sweet, pretty you. he's so obsessed with you. and you like him too, he knows it... how will he fit his cock in you when the time finally comes for him to fuck you?

"mngh... s-shit-" he groans into the pillow, strings of saliva coating it from his parted lips. he hasn't had feelings like this for another person for as long as he can remember, and imagining you being able to take all of him has his brain completely messed up.

choso pants your name and reaches down to cup his balls through his thin shorts, massaging the heavy mounds as more precum shoots out of his tip and leaks onto your mattress. he wonders if you've touched yourself on this bed too. maybe you touched yourself to him- "oh ff-fuck-" he chokes out, tearing his pants off and grinding his cock raw on your mattress, his fat cock now bare to the cool air of the room and to anyone that could walk in...

"choso, are you in my room? i've been looking for you everywhere! why have you been gone so long? yuji told me to come check on-"

you barge into the room unceremoniously and look at choso rubbing his huge dick on your bed, leaking cum everywhere out of his thick, flushed tip and sniffing your pillow.

"oh my gosh."

he tries to get up quickly, but he's so dazed and his orgasm was ruined and his poor cock hurts so much... he can't stop what he's doing, continuing to hump your bed while looking at you with huge, glossy eyes. "ne- hic- need help, please..." he begs, lips parted as a moan bubbles out of him.

you'd be completely grossed out if this were anyone else in the world sneaking into your room and getting off to you like this, but you know choso. he's so sweet and gentle, and if he got this desperate, you know he must've been wanting you for a long time. you pause by the door. "h-how do you want me to help you?"

he sniffles and pouts up at you. "i wanna do this to you instead..." he says, reaching a hand out for you.

slowly, you approach him, and he makes quick work of tugging you under him. he parts your legs and lines his bare cock up with your clotched hole, starting to grind down on you while panting and looking straight into your eyes.

you gasp at the pleasure erupting through you as he starts to grind down on you. the friction is delicious, and his weight on top of you allows for firmer pressure of your crotches against one another. from this angle, you can look down proper and see if his dick really was as big as it seemed when you got inside, and you gasp at the huge, thick flesh pressing into you.

choso whimpers and frantically kisses you to distract you from gaping at his cock. "please don't look at it," he moans against your mouth, enjoying how good you taste. somehow it's even better than you smell, and he can't resist sliding his tongue past your lips and tangling your tongue with his as he humps you. " 's big and ugly."

he never thought he'd be fortunate enough to do this, but here he is, grinding on and kissing his crush, and all he needed to do was ask. you're nearly distracted by kissing him, but you catch on to his words of insecurity and pull away, panting. "that's not- ah, true, choso. your cock is mnh! nice..."

he perks up, getting overexcited by your praise and moans and squirming. he grabs your hips and tugs off your bottoms, lifting you up and rubbing himself against your naked hole. "yeah?" he pants. "you like it? ugh, 'm so close..."

you mewl each time his wet tip notches partially in your hole then slips out, offering a momentary stretch before he returns to humping you. "c-can i cum on you?" he whines, rubbing you on his dick and maneuvering your body in his big hands. "please... i like you so much, i want you to smell like me-"

"y-yeah... f-fuck, you can put it in me if you want to, too." you gasp as he pushes just a little bit inside again and pulls out, returning to rubbing against you sloppily.

he whines, not wanting to reject your offer, but knowing he'll probably never fit inside you. the thought of stretching you out again and having you cry and squirm on his dick if he buried himself inside you all the way has his vision going white, and his eyes roll as he shoots hot ropes of cream all over your tummy, with you following right after.

as you cum together, choso bends down and kisses you hard once more, dumping his body on yours and practically slurping on your tongue. he's getting all excited again and doesnt notice you grabbing his half-hard cock at the base, starting to slowly push it inside you...

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Truthfully, you are equally at fault.

A debutante turned degenerate, you're the furthest thing from pure or lotus-like. Your true nature has stayed hidden from good jujutsu society only through your father's willful blindness—and even now, thoroughly scandalized, you can still do no wrong in his eyes. Nor in Choso's, your annoyingly overprotective half-cursed cousin.

As far as they were concerned, you'd been “corrupted against your will”.

So the blame landed squarely on Toji. And with his less than stellar reputation—to put it generously—no one dared argue otherwise.

Not that it stopped his snark every time he was scolded for it: "That garden had already been ransacked—I merely pitched a tent."

So despite being little more than glorified fuck buddies, both clans scrambled to save face. A shotgun wedding was arranged overnight. Heavens forbid a disgraced black sheep and a thot-daughter spark a war between two of the most powerful families.

The result: you and your squalling little parasite are now Zenin property.

But that alone wouldn't have landed Naoya in this mess.

No—this situation is special.

Seeing as the union only granted you and your daughter entrance to the family—not Toji.

Not that he'd return even if given the chance. He only agreed to marry you for your sake, and your daughter's. Nothing beyond that. So without any real tie to an actual Zenin, you're little more than a ward who took on the name.

Yet Toji thought enough of you not to throw you to the wolves entirely. Before leaving to do gods-know-what as an assassin, Toji asked Naoya personally to watch over you both.

Naoya scoffed at first. Playing babysitter to some woman and her infant? Technically his father Naobito's responsibility—nothing he'd have to bother with until he assumed the role of heir.

Still—Naoya wasn't about to deny a request from Toji, who made it a point never to ask his family for a fucking thing (and who could also destroy them all on a whim.)

Toji-kun said he trusted Naoya alone with the task.

And to Naoya, that acknowledgment was everything.

Fine.

However, that just means seeing to your proper treatment—it didn't mean Naoya signed up to be sleep-deprived. 

Fuck—and if even a hint of a dark shadow appeared on his flawless complexion by morning?

There. Will. Be. Bl—

The final straw arrives before Naoya even finishes the thought. 

A possessed banshee, 7th ring of hell, kind of screech—that even rivals some curses he's previously exorcised—rings out so loud his right ear pops.

That’s fucking it!

Naoya is out of bed, his room and down the corridor in only four strides. 

You had to be awake. 

Not even the dead could sleep through this.

So, why the hell hadn’t you handled it already?

How hard is it of all things to get a baby to shut the fuck up? 

You’re its mother aren’t you?!

Reaching your quarters, Naoya yanks the shoji door open.

And immediately freezes.

As he expects, you’re wide awake. 

Yet nothing could've prepared him for your silk robe to be wide open and resting at your elbows—leaving your breasts completely exposed.

Seated in the midst of tangled blankets and sunken pillows, you shift restlessly to find a position that comforts your baby girl enough to latch while she stubbornly thrashes in your arms.

You give up with a weary sigh, returning to the rocking. Her cries have lessened to frustrated whimpers now that she's moving, but they haven't stopped.

From the doorway, Naoya gives you a measured once-over.

You look like shit. Hair frizzy and damp at your temples, tired eyes, a slight tremor of exhaustion in your hands as you reposition your daughter. 

That said, somehow, infuriatingly, you still manage to look appealing.

The moonlight spilling through the slatted window ensures it as it traces your plush curves, highlighting the faint sheen of exertion on your skin catching the light like a glow.

Gaze dropping, Naoya’s jaw ticks at the sight of your swollen, milk-heavy tits—nipples taut and glistening with pearlescent drops, coaxed free by your baby's cries. 

A creamy bead falls, dotting your daughter's cheek and you gently wipe it away. 

You haven’t noticed Naoya yet, too wrapped up in cooing out the same soft mantras of comfort that have proven useless all night.

Leaning against the doorway now with his arms folded, Naoya narrows his eyes, not used to being ignored. Even if unintentionally. However, his scathing reprimands die on his tongue, something about the scene turning his mouth desert-dry.

Every second drags like an hour, and Naoya with no patience remaining, sharply clears his throat, announcing his presence. 

Your head lulls over to him without startling nor making any move to cover yourself. You just give him a drowsy, crooked smile that practically screams finally, someone capable of rational thought and basic impulse control.

"Tch. Pathetic reflexes. A curse would've killed you both by now."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. 

Technically, many would consider Naoya’s very presence to be a curse all of its own.

However, in your defense, your own senses have been greatly off kilter since your pregnancy and childbirth. Not to mention, the sheer exhaustion a newborn brings to a first time mother—you’re too concerned with your daughter, Tomie, to notice anything else. 

Of course, you don’t expect Naoya of all people to realize that though.

“See, Tomie?” you whisper preciously to your daughter as you continue rocking her, “You woke up your cousin with all that fuss. Now Nao-chan’s just as grumpypuss as you, my love.”

Nao-chan?!

The nickname lands like a slap and Naoya flinches, no longer reclined on the door.

You weren’t even that much older than him—so what gives you the right to reduce his name to something so…ugh, cutesy?

It makes him sound soft. 

Like some harmless stuffy to be cooed at alongside the child in your arms. Nevertheless, a small flush creeps up Naoya’s neck all the same.

Tutting, you shift Tomie upright so she can get a proper look at her cousin, still rooted in the doorway like he's being personally affronted.

She stills at the sight of Naoya, matching his energy.

Appraising him with tiny copies of Toji's stark emerald eyes, Tomie holds that same unsettling scrutiny packaged in a cute face that carries you both unmistakably.

Not to be outdone, Naoya sharpens his gaze, his lips set in a thin line.

You snort under your breath at the scene. 

Looks like the infamous Zenin scowl curses another generation—and Naoya, the pompous heir himself, doesn't look remotely inclined to lose a staring contest to someone who can't even burp unassisted.

Growing bored, ultimately Tomie gives first as she blinks, babbling baby talk. A chubby arm wriggling free and batting clumsily toward him, breaking the stalemate.

"Oh?" you simper, eyes flicking from Naoya, who looks smug to have bested an infant, to your daughter. 

"Not you being the mature one, my girl."

Your giggles make Naoya bristle, his mouth opens to speak—but you're already talking over him.

“C’mere, she wants a truce.” you beckon sweetly, inviting him in. 

Frankly, you’re thrilled something has caught your baby girl’s attention long enough to distract her from crying—even if it is her obnoxious ass cousin.

Naoya, for his part, fully intended to reject the invitation. 

To snap at you to—shut that thing the fuck up and put those saddlebag tiddies away while you're at it—to be done with the whole debacle so he could sleep. But his scathing reply dies somewhere between your airy laughter and the light sheen of milk saturating your areolas. 

Conceding like he’s being called by some unknown force, Naoya crosses your threshold. He reasons that if a quick greeting would quiet the petite goblin for the night, he could comply just this once for his own sake.

Approaching your futon, Naoya sits beside you, back straight, on his knees. His posture is cautious, as if through mere proximity alone either your baby girl or your milk heavy tits could explode at any moment.

Which brings him to the point that you still haven't moved a muscle towards covering yourself for some fucking reason that eludes him entirely.

However, Naoya isn’t about to let a mere pair of tits shake him. If you don’t care, neither does he. At least that’s what he tells himself as he forces himself to keep his eyes level with yours. 

Noaya, steady with all the focused determination expected from the leader of the Hei and Zenin heir—eyes shoot to your tits again the moment you glance at your daughter.

Fuck.

Swallowing heavily, Naoya doesn’t even understand why he’s so enthralled with them. He’s seen plenty of boobs, ones that look way better than yours too. From this close, Naoya can make out the strain of them, skin stretching thin and the small veins showing from underneath. Not the delicate sight of a lady’s chest, no, yours are so obscenely engorged—not to mention leaking—more like fattened cow udders.  

So huge, in fact, that they look heavy and feverish. 

Or…maybe, that was just him. 

The room is getting kinda stuffy.

Shit. Naoya just can't seem to look away from your ginormous mommy milkers. Unable to decide if he's repulsed or utterly entranced. And he's so busy wrestling with that internal crisis that he doesn't stop you from doing something completely fucking unhinged—

—like handing him Tomie.

Realization hitting, for the briefest, teeniest micro-second, Naoya nearly yeets her. 

Not even to be an asshole. Just pure reflexes.

Naoya genuinely abhors children. He’s never held anyone’s child and he sure as hell hadn't expected you to dump yours into his arms out of fucking nowhere.

Thankfully—as that very well would have been his ass once Toji found out—Naoya’s a well skilled sorcerer. His own self-preservation instincts reduce the action to a mere undetectable twitch of muscle.

Even so, he looks far more petrified than he realizes and that you do pick up on. 

It doesn't register to him how ridiculous he looks until you're practically shaking with suppressed laughter at his statue-like posture. 

“She’s not made of glass, you know,” you chuckle at Naoya clearly being so majorly out of his depth. “Just relax, yeah? Rock Tomie a little—she likes you for some reason. You can manage that can’t you?”

Naoya looks at you like you've sprouted two heads. 

He doesn’t want to rock a fucking baby—even if it is Toji-kun’s offspring. 

Who the fuck do you think he is? 

Besides, relaxing wasn't really an option considering how close he'd come to his own death sentence moments ago. But even stranger, he realizes, he hasn't said anything cutting in a minute to remind you of your place, which is frankly weirding him out more than holding the baby is.

However…

You’re simply trusting Naoya to hold her at the moment, easy as that. 

He’s the Zenin heir—of course that’s fucking something ‘he can manage.’

To Naoya’s surprise, Tomie has actually settled—tension gone from her tiny body, that very Zenin furrow smoothing from her brow as though to say finally, another Zenin graces her prescenes. 

She gurgles up at him, blows a bubble and pats his chest with a proprietary little hand.

Naoya frowns. Why does this feel less like soothing a child and more like being evaluated?

"There—" you yawn unceremoniously, a flicker of life returning to your voice as you treasure the break. "See? She's just bored of mommy. Probably wondering where that deadbeat daddy of hers is."

Your slanderous, yet entirely accurate, remark about Toji is what finally has the venom returning to Naoya’s tongue. 

You of all people should consider yourself lucky to be married to him and birth his child.

Eyes flaring, Naoya turns to you and—

Big mistake.

You're in the middle of a stretch. Arms overhead, back bowed, the sheer weight of your tits pulling at your spine until something cracks between your shoulder blades. Milk beads at your nipples from the motion—then scatters. Futon. Blankets. Your lap.

A single drop landing square on Naoya's robe.

He braces for disgust. For his throat to tighten at the sheer audacity of your bodily fluids landing on him.

But the feeling never comes.

Just an overwhelming chemical need to lick the creamy droplet from his sleeve before it soaks in.

“Aha!” you whisper excitedly, attention still on your baby girl in his arms. “My little angel is finally asleep.”

You lean into Naoya, shoulder resting against his, your nipple grazing his arm—and a dribble of milk trails down his sleeve. The drops bleed through the fabric, faint but undeniable.

He doesn't want to notice.

But he does, along with its scent—something like warm mochi and milk buns and pure want to taste it surges so hard this time he bites his cheek.

"Aww, how sweet..." Seemingly oblivious, you dare to poke his cheek, cooing. “Tomi-chan loves her cousin Nao-Nao~!"

Nao-Nao?!

Hairs up on end, Naoya wants to hiss at you.

But your tone is too pure, too genuine.  

You’re just… like this. 

A gentle aura surrounding you while next to your newborn causes you to mother everything in your surrounding area.

And that makes it all the worse.

Naoya doesn’t need mothering. He never did, not even as a child himself.

Yet those thoughts contrast the awkward and unfamiliar warmth Naoya is so insistently trying to keep out of his chest.

Truly, he’d rather be put out of his misery than suffer it a moment longer. 

As a Zenin, Naoya had been trained to treat any affection as weakness—and weakness as a Zenin was the worst sin one could commit.

There’s an unspoken understanding in the clan: No scared cows. 

No one member valued more than the strength of the whole.

And now, as a Zenin, you'd be no exception either. Even at the risk of Toji’s or the Kamo clan's displeasure. 

The Zenin are well practiced at making consequences look like natural outcomes—be it accidental or personal failures. 

Watching you smile so tenderly at your child, Naoya tells himself what he feels isn't guilt.

It's obligation.

Toji left you and Tomie in his care. Therefore it falls to him to set you straight if you both are to survive.

That's all.

"You're Toji-kun's wife and my ward.” Naoya growls—albeit low, careful not to trigger Tomie into another hellish chorus.

“You will henceforth address me, the future head of this clan, as ‘Naoya-sama’." 

His words are cutting and to the point.

“And fuckssake, you will cover yourself when in front of men. You are not a Kamo any longer, you’re a Zenin. You will act accordingly or you will be handled.”

You retract immediately, smile dropping, wetting your lips into a pretty little pout that might have worked on a lesser man.

Naoya considers, for a moment, that he almost feels bad for you. Your lack of discip—

Then you dissolve into hushed giggles and he regrets it entirely.

"Oh my gawwwd, you're actually deadass right now, aren't you!?" Hand over your mouth, tears of amusement prick your eyes as you try to keep your voice contained.

“..or you will be handled”, you mimic, trying to sound as pompous as Naoya, although you don’t imagine anyone ever could.

Noaya growls but you pay him no mind through your amusement, so he is almost startled when you suddenly stop and crowd his space once more.

“Handled, huh?”

Naoya keeps his eyes on yours through sheer force of will—refusing to acknowledge your tits swaying in his peripheral.

“And just who is going to handle me…” You challenge, batting your eyes with a sensual pull of your lips, “...you, lil Nao-chan?”

Naoya grits his teeth, his eyes flashing. 

Here he was trying to warn you and you’re making a mockery of him?! 

If you weren’t Toji’s wife he’d teach you a lesson, he’d—

"Awe, c'mon, Nao-Nao," you purr, caressing his arm which he quickly snatches away. "I thought you'd be the fun one! Ya know…Toji said you were the only half-decent guy in the family."

He stiffens. 

"Toji-k-kun…” Naoya clears his throat.  “...he said that?"

“Mm-hmm.” You hum. Not missing how Naoya’s golden eyes catch light at his older cousins' praise of him. “Told me you were the only one here Tomie and I could count on.”

The light blush on Naoya’s ears creeps down his neck and just like that Naoya begins rocking Tomie as you initially suggested. Carefully, too—as if in this very moment he's made it his life’s mission to earnestly exceed all of Toji-kun's expectations for him.

Chest puffed and prideful, Naoya insists that, as future clan leader, it's ‘only natural’ Toji-kun would say such a thing about him.

You on the other hand have to perse your lips to keep from bursting into actual hysterics this time.

Why’s that?

Because you just lied through your goddamn teeth.

The only thing Toji told you was that Naoya was an easy mark.

And he is. 

Almost painfully so. 

The way his ego swells. The way his whole aura brightens just from hearing his cousin's name. 

It’s all too adorable, honestly.

Naoya is too easily charmed and you're no stranger to charming all kinds of men. Hell, that's how you got knocked up in the first place.

But this type of emotionally stunted man? 

Oh, you could definitely have some fun with him. 

With Tomie finally asleep, you feel the familiar pull of mischief tug at you. 

“Besides, Naoya-sama~~”

Your voice is all velvety compliance causing Naoya to completely miss the sarcasm underneath. He's also too distracted by your head on his shoulder and your boobs molding into his arm as you reach across him to fix Tomie’s swaddling.

"I think I'm decent enough, no?" Your lips curl deviously. "Seeing as I don't exactly count you as a man."

Naoya’s cursed energy spikes, fury bleeding through his veins—but your Tomie shifts in his arms and Naoya has to choke it back, holding his fury. 

You just cock your head, all innocence, like you haven't said something utterly slanderous.

"You shameless fucking slut—" The chill in Naoya voice drops to frostbite temps, “I know you of all peo—”

“Aye!” 

The whiplash is instantaneous—Naoya doesn’t finish the sentence before you have two fingers pinching his cheek, twisting with the particular ferocity of a momma bear who's been awake for thirty-six hours and has simply stopped tolerating bullshit.

"Watch your fucking potty mouth around my damn kid, asshole."

Naoya seethes. He wants to tear into you—the thot-daughter of the Kamo clan, standing on absolutely zero moral grounds—he really, genuinely does. But the twist on his cheek tightens and this time he doesn't even need his survival instincts to do the math for him.

Naoya doesn't know your grade but you aren’t a weakling.

Half his cheek isn’t worth it—especially if it woke the little hellhound in the process.

"...Whatever."

Satisfied at him backing down, you release him, smirking at the red blooming across his face. 

Naoya resists rubbing it. Instead he huffs, hoisting your Tomie up onto his shoulder and bouncing her there in pointed silence. She'd stirred more from your outburst than anything he'd done all night.

This is all fucking ridiculous.

Naoya thinks and the second she settles once more he thrusts her toward you.

"Here. Take her. You're welcome, by the way—since clearly it takes a real Zenin to do what her own mother couldn't manage all night."

Rolling your eyes, you stop just short of slapping the shit out of Naoya. 

The facts remain: that even as a newlywed, your ass might as well be a single mother. Your exhaustion is near biblical and your nerves are near shot and Tomie—the perceptive little thing she is—has likely picked up on every ounce of it, your nerves feeding hers in one miserable feedback loop tonight.

Yet, thanks to Naoya of all people, that loop is finally broken.

Shaking your head, you reach for your daughter—and then your body seizes. The pain hits your chest like a vice, jolting you back hard enough to steal your breath. Your hands fly to cup your breasts on instinct, fingers sinking into the weight of them.

"OH, shiiii—owwww!" You wince.

“What the hell now?” Naoya still holds the baby out to you expectantly, brow arching as you curl into yourself.

"What the hell do you think, Naoya?" You grimace, biting back at him. 

Face crunched in pain, eyes shut, you’re careful to take measured sips of air.

“She cried all night and didn't eat. My tits are fucking killing me."

Realizing this meant he’d have to hold your baby girl even longer, Naoya makes an exasperated sound as he brings her fully into his arms again.  

“You know this is your archaic ass family’s fault, right?” 

You crack an eye open at his diva-like attitude.

“I asked for a pump and the old battleaxe of a caretaker said no. ‘All Zenins are fed from the source’, you mimic in a nasally voice. “Like be so fucking for real—what damn century is this again?!”

Naoya snorts. 

You've never had house rules imposed on you—your father let you run the streets without consequence. So really, you're in no position to complain about the Zenin clinging to their traditions, insufferable as they may be, at least they had them.

"You know—Zenin wives are typically chosen for their training and poise. To think that the Kam—" Naoya stops. 

Mid-sentence, mid-thought, mid-everything—his mouth open, agape like a fish. 

Robe now pooled around your hips, you begin working one of your swollen breasts in both hands. Clinical in the way only fatigue makes a person, no couth left in you at this hour. Your thumbs knead carefully, pressing firmly into tender tissue, heel of your palm dragging across a tight knot to stimulate the stagnant flow of your milk glands.

A deep moan slips from your lips in tandem with a hard squirt spraying from your breasts as a reward for your efforts.

Another escapes, then another. 

Your oversensitive nipple is drawn taunt with the prickly pain of relief as a thin stream begins to run along the curve of your tits, painting your skin in shiny rivulets all the way to your bellybutton. 

Through it all Naoya has not even blinked, nor taken a breath for that matter. 

Oblivious to his own staring—and your haughty smile. 

"Really now, Nao-chan? You're salty I don't consider you a man—" you muse, hands still diligently working out small drops of milk, "—but how can I? When you’re drooling over my tits like a thirsty newborn."

Shaken, Naoya’s eyes lock on with yours. The flush that had been camping at his neck floods his face all at once, searing his cheeks.

“I...”

You hush him.

Two fingers find your sternum, unhurried—drifting down your chest, down your belly, tracing the streaks of milk all the way down to your navel, gathering in the soft pudge of your mommy tummy.

Fingers thoroughly soaked, you gradually lift them to his lips. You hover them patiently, like you would a treat to a dog. 

“Open.”

Not used to taking orders, Naoya hesitates—then parts his lips anyway. Your fingers slide in and the taste hits him, rich and creamy with a faint savory edge he wasn't expecting.

It's good. Dangerously good.

His brain short-circuiting, Naoya doesn't stop even when the taste fades, lapping at your fingers and sucking the remnants from your nails with an eagerness he'll hate himself for later. A low croon threatens to escape his throat—the kind of sound he'd never make consciously—and he forces it down along with the last traces of your milk.

More—he wants more.

One look in Naoya’s eyes tells you that. Dark, hooded, their usual sharp calculation completely gone—replaced by something unguarded and hungry. He's still tonguing your fingers like there might be something left to find. The needy, restless flick of his tongue stroking heat into your core.

"Good," you murmur, retracting your fingers. "Now, go put Tomie down on her futon."

Naoya doesn't move.

But this stillness is different. Every muscle is coiled, feral cursed energy strumming hot through his veins. A wire crossed. His restraint is less like surrender and more like the moment preceding a strike.

"Go on," you simper, "...and I'll let you sample from the source... you know the proper way to feed a Zenin."

Naoya says nothing. His aura speaks for him as he rises smoothly, crosses to the tiny futon, and sets your daughter down.

You simper in approval—he's not half bad at this—but you couldn't tell him that now. Not with the tension this thick.

Returning, Naoya lingers at the edge of your futon. The particular stillness of someone who's already decided how this ends—he’s just letting you go first.

"Well, c'mere—don't go shy on me, Nao-Nao."

You crook a manicured finger at him, giggling.

Poor thing doesn’t realize he’s playing right into your hands.

"I'm not shy."

He's not. But you're Toji's wife, and he's well aware of that. Somehow though, it only makes whatever this is more forbidden.

More worth taking.

"No?" Your voice dips playfully, baiting.

"Just a virgin then?"

Naoya sucks his teeth. He's never met a woman as infuriating as you he decides.

"I'm no virgin, whore."

No real bite to Naoya’s voice this time though, not as he drops to his knees in front of you like a good dog. His own annoyance betrayed only by the whitening of his knuckles in his lap.

"Gotta be mommy issues then," you murmur, closing the remaining distance with a crawl—one last barb delivered right as you sink into his lap, forcing him cross-legged beneath you.

His contained fury is the most endearing thing you've seen all night to be sure.

"Shut u-up," he grits, voice scraping thin.

You rest your arms on his shoulders, holding deliberate space between your bodies. Tilt your head and take stock—he's handsome, you'll give him that. Good bone structure, pretty mouth. 

Shame he ever has to open it.

Your fingers drift to the piercings at his earlobe, toying lazily—while your other hand works the short hairs at his nape, featherlight scratches that make him shiver.

Naoya steels himself, an unwelcome and unexplained feeling blooming in his chest as he wills himself to stay focused.

"I'll shut up once you help me." Your hand leaves his ears to find his wrist, guiding it to your body. "Please, Nao-chan. It hurts."

The need etching in your voice worms its way under his skin like a tick and Naoya is finding his ability to keep control greatly diminished from all the blood flowing into his cock.

"Massage from the base," you breathe, giving him instructions to stimulate the milk flow. "Pressure out, not in."

Naoya's palm flattens flush against your breast and whatever plans he had for control slip away on contact.

The heat hits first—it's swollen, much heavier than he expected. Then the give of it, firm but yielding as his fingers curl to sink deeper. Naoya can feel the subtle shift of milk tracking beneath your skin, your breath hitching when he finds the right pressure, your nipple drawing tight against his palm.

"Just like that," you sigh when his rhythm smooths out. "You're a natural."

He adjusts without being told, reading your body's responses, and soon adds his second hand—finding the knot easily, pressing with both thumbs.

Surprise flickers across his face when milk spurts over his knuckles.

He nearly stops breathing.

You don't. 

Your shaky exhale of relief punches straight through him and his cock throbs against his robes like a second heartbeat. 

Naoya shifts, trying to adjust himself without you noticing.

You do however, gaze dropping, at the motion. He's so much larger than you'd have guessed for a man with such a fragile ego.

"Hmm. Certain parts of you are definitely enjoying this, Nao-chan."

Naoya clicks his tongue but doesn't deny it. He's too fucking hard to deny it.

His hands move again—one on each breast now, thumbs circling, palms compressing—drawing a deep moan past your lips. He watches with something close to reverence as milk wells up with each careful stroke.

The less your chest aches, the lower heat travels, melting into your core. You’re pulsing at the thought of his thumbs sweeping the same circles across your clit.

Breath heavy, biting your lip, you grasp at the robe on his shoulders to brace yourself. A  momentary loss of your own control which Naoya is in no position to take advantage of.

Not when his attention is fully captured by a fat, opalescent drop welling on your nipple, shiny even in the dim light.

Eyes wild with need, Naoya’s tongue nearly pokes through the inside of his cheek.

"You wanna taste."

It’s not a question. 

"I already said you could—or would you rather lick it up again, like a dog?"

But you’re just as desperate to be drained as he is to drain you. Naoya notices, you can tell. But his jaw is clenched so tight his molars might crack, eyes still glued to your nipples, and you almost tell him to relax before he breaks something and really does require nursing.

Your tits ache too badly to wait on his pride all night.

This time Naoya doesn't flinch when you cup his cheek. You guide him forward with unhurried gentleness—the same patience you show your daughter—and something about that tenderness dissolves whatever protests he had left.

His mouth closes over your nipple and he sucks, greedy and unguarded. Your fingers card into his hair immediately, drawing him in as the first pull sends an achy relief flooding through your breasts.

Naoya moans around you, shameless. Gluttonous. All pompous pretense abandoned.

"There it is," you murmur, smiling as you stroke him affectionately.

Your touch only makes him hungrier though—his tongue flickering, writhing for more even as your milk flows steady now. You jolt when his hands grip your hips without warning.

Naoya braces himself but he's nowhere near steady. Nothing about him is. Breath ragged against your skin, his whole body carries a tremor he probably doesn't realize is visible.

"It's okay, I'm not going anywhere…" you whisper, honeyed coos finally reaching him. "You’re a good boy."

Naoya freezes.

He unlatches with a wet gasp—glossy white ring around his lips, golden-brown eyes blown wide and wild. Something just cracked open in him that he wasn't prepared to feel.

"Don't—"

Croaking on his own spit.

"Don't what? Praise you?" Your hands keep working through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp, lulling him toward a surrender he's still trying to fight. "For doing so well?"

"I'm not a child."

But his voice wavers, unconvincing even to his own ears. 

You're teasing him, yes—but there's no cruelty underneath it. No disdain he can pinpoint as an excuse to push you away and escape from whatever this is.

"No?"

Bending forward, your lips ghost against his temple as you whisper:

"You don't want to be my good boy, Naoya?"

His nostrils flare—anger, need, humiliation—all of it written plain across his face. 

Like an animal he’s cornered, unsure of his next move.

A moment passes. 

Then Naoya’s gaze flicks sharply to your other breast he’s yet to sample.

You raise a brow, but Naoya has just enough pride left to not dignify your question with an answer. Can't anyway—his mouth is already latching onto the next target—the conversation over.

Need won. Clearly.

Naoya feeds more ravenously this time—tongue rolling around your sensitive flesh, teeth scraping in a way you'd smack him for if it didn't feel so fucking good.

He's messy about it too. Milk running down his chin, neck and spilling into his collar.

Fuck—this little shithead can really work his tongue.

Your head lulls, arching into him, melting against his mouth as you let him take his fill. 

Your own lust is dampening your thighs now.

Damn. This wasn't the plan. 

You'd meant to tease him a bit—let him suck on your fingers, string him along and then duck him. Peel his pride back layer by layer, slowly, to keep yourself amused living amongst such a stuffy clan.

You had no idea how affection-starved Naoya was. 

Let alone how much seeing him like this would turn you on.

Your pussy is screaming at you, becoming impossible to ignore. You haven't seen Toji in weeks—relief is overdue in more ways than one.

"N-Naoya…?"

You call him, but he doesn't answer.

His thoughts are in disarray—walls crumbling around something long abandoned inside him.

What this is—what he’s feeling?  It’s deeper than anything he's charted. And it has nothing to do with your tits, your supple skin, or the way your milk dissolves on his tongue.

Naoya rarely finds himself lacking. 

An upbringing in the Zenin estate hones you for perfection built from very specific arithmetic—cursed technique, tradition and hierarchy. Assembled inside those walls you learn quickly that anything useless you cut out—or someone else cuts it out for you.

But now?

Your gentle words. 

You warm embrace.

Your hand moving through his hair like—like he's something worth tending to. 

Like his worth was never something he had to earn.

It's driving him mad.

Worse—he doesn't want you to stop.

“Hello? Earth to Nao-chan.” You lit, snapping him out of his daze. “Not you milk drunk already, baby?”

Pouty and petulant, Naoya’s arms snake around your waist to drag you closer until his face is buried between your tits, ignoring you.

Your hand slides between your bodies and finds him—thick and straining through his robes, the rigid shape of his cock unmistakable even through the layers. You lazily trace the outline of his long length with your palm.

Naoya's hips jerk up, gracelessly bucking into your touch.

You won’t let him go soft on you at the moment. Figuratively or literally.

"Aw, Nao-Nao," you coo mischievously. "What would Toji-kun think if he saw you like this?"

That finally gets you a reaction. 

Naoya looks up at you scowling—though not to much effect as your nipple stays lodged in his mouth like a binky, spit-slick against his bottom lip. 

He doesn't pull off—can't, maybe.

Because as much as he worships his older cousin, the realization is settling in like rot: Toji-kun, for all his monstrous strength—enough to tear apart the entire Zenin legacy—wasn't strong enough to resist you. 

Hell, could anyone? Naoya considers the strongest he knows but—pshhh—he’s seen how Gojo is around women, too—he wouldn’t stand a fucking chance against you either.

It makes him feel slightly less pathetic, if only barely.

"He'd not have any room to talk," Naoya growls against your skin as he continues to fuck himself against your palm, grinding his cock against your hand through the fabric in urgent thrusts.

You’re feeding him and unraveling him at the same damn time. Leaving him chasing release and something else he can't articulate.

“Shit—let me fuck you before I completely lose it.”

Naoya’s hands shoot to your ass, fingers digging into your flesh, gripping hard enough to bruise.

You blink, a part of you shocked he's even asking—even if it is half-demanding and half-begging.

"Oh? So now you want to be in charge?" 

Your hand withdraws and you let him roll your hips forward against his—it’s more leisurely than the pace Naoya wants though, especially as your robes spread around your thighs and your bare pussy slides against his clothed cock. 

You're so soaked, and he can feel your juices flooding through the silk, your wet heat branding him through the fabric.

Naoya grits, caught somewhere between rage and ruin. 

God, how he wants to slip his cock inside you—inside your mouth, your tits—and definitely that haughty lil cunt of yours.

See what was so good it even stopped Toji-kun from pulling out.

"You think you're fucking me, Nao-Nao?"

Cradling his head, you swipe at your own cream still lingering at the corner of his lips.

“You still have my milk around your mouth, baby.”

Naoya groans, barely controlled, like he's trying to rut through the layers of fabric. 

He doesn't even realize how undignified he looks. The sounds he makes suckling at your tit are sloppy and needy—and you know he'd be mortified if he could hear himself over the squelching of your pussy rubbing against his silk robe.

Tightening your grip in his hair, you wrench his head back, forcing him to release your nipple with a wet pop.

A string of milk stretches from your bud to his lip—then snaps.

Naoya gasps. 

Lips trembling, chin sopping, eyes unfocused. Poor thing. He looks completely ruined and you've barely started.

Naoya’s fists the fabric of your robe, already working at the tie. His gasps puff against your throat, mouth grazing up to your chin as he nibbles harder—threatening meaner bites.

"L-Let me fuck y-you." 

Naoya is begging now, not even trying to mask his need.

You tilt your head, considering, pondering on it like Naoya wasn’t on his last thread of sanity, driven to insanity by the treacley taste of your creamy milk.

"Mm. No."

"I need—"

Cutting him off, you push Naoya onto the futon in one smooth motion. 

"Haven’t you realized I know what you need, Nao-Nao?" Your voice is syrupy as you straddle him, hovering.

"I-I—Fuck—" The word scrapes out of him, guttural, clutching the sheets and throwing his head back onto the futon as his hips buck up into nothing.

You stay perfectly still. Not letting him take a single thing.

"Look at you." You coo, skimming a finger along his milk-stained collar. "Reduced to humping the air? Imagine, a Zenin heir with so little self-composure."

"S-Shut the fuck up, s-slut." 

But his insults don’t stop his hips, microthrusts wanting to chase the feeling of your messy pussy sliding over his cock again.

"Why?" You swivel your hips—one deep agonizing grind that lets him feel your cunt clench against his cock through the ruined fabric. He's dripping now too, precum mixing with yours. 

"I think you like it when I make you beg. You want to, don't you? So beg me."

Naoya's cheeks burn. He could easily flip you, pin you, and have his way.

He won't though.

Even through your teasing there's a care to your touch he's never let himself experience—and resisting it has his nails biting crescents into his palms, hard enough to bleed.

"I bet you'd cum just like this…" 

Your plush lips ghosting his Adam's apple, smirking as he squirms under you. 

"...without ever getting inside. Soiling your own robe like a needy, prideful little boy who couldn't simply ask nicely."

The moan that rips from Naoya's throat is feral with need and thick with humiliation. His hips shoving upward, wanton for contact.

You don't give it, suspended just above him, your drooling cunt barely grazing his cock, watching him fall apart with all the patience in the world.

"Naoya, baby" Your hand slides up to cup his cheek, tenderly. "Tell Mommy what you want."

Naoya’s eyes go wide. 

Every muscle taut. Cheeks flushed dark. 

The Zenin composure he was built from crumbling, reducing him to this. 

On the brink, never has Naoya waited this long for something. Never has he been this turned on—and as much as he’s fucking furious about it, he’s also way past giving a fuck.

His eyes rake your body and snag on the trail of milk—smeared on your tits, your belly, all the way to your cunt where it glistens in the dim light.

His mouth waters. Whatever resolve he had left shatters.

"Please..." Naoya whimpers, tears dusting the edges of his eyes, too wound up to realize he's handing you everything. "...fuck me."

You raise a brow, waiting. 

Oh, he’s so close.

He knows it too. He knows what you want. 

Naoya can see it on your face but there's no coming back from it once he says it. But what choice does he have? He’d die if you sent him away like this.

"Please, fuck me—"Naoya’s voice cracks clean in half, a single tear running down his cheek. "—Mommy."

You push his bangs up fondly, planting a chaste kiss right on his forehead. 

"That’s my Good boy."

Naoya watches you with tears burning his eyes, chest heaving, too far gone to resist you any longer.

You tug the ties loose on his robe until the fabric falls away. His cock springs free—angry, leaking and bobbing with every shaky breath he takes.

You have to admit it's pretty. His flushed red, cockhead peeked through its foreskin. You can feel his whole body shiver as you peel it back more. 

Your mouth is watering for a taste yourself and god, if Naoya wasn’t such a fucking tool you’d gladly suck him off. 

That could come later though—you’d make him earn that too. Subservience looks good on him afterall. 

You'd be tempted to deny him longer if you weren't so hard up for it yourself, your gooey walls vibrating at the thought of a cock inside, at long last. 

Toji's been gone for weeks and you need a stress release, bad.

You position your cunt just above the swollen head of his cock—close enough for your juices to drip salaciously onto his tip, dribbling down his shaft.

Naoya squirms beneath you, and you drink it in.

"Craving to wet your cock inside Toji-kun's wife, hm?"

He can't answer—not when you sweep his cockhead through your folds, letting him glide through the mess of your wetness and the milk still coating your thighs. You're soaked enough to take him whole right now, no prep needed, and the thought makes your cunt clench around nothing.

Naoya moans, hips snapping up, trying to piston into you—and you shove him back down by the hip, pinning him to the futon.

"Behave."

"I'm—" He swallows, voice wrecked. "I'm trying."

You smile, wiping the sweat off his brow with something close to care in your touch.

"Try harder for Mommy then, yeah, Nao-baby?"

You don't wait for his response.

You sink down, pussy swallowing him whole in one brutal stroke.

The stretch punches the breath out of you—wet as you are, he's still thick enough to make your walls spasm, to make your spine bow as he splits you open. You hate how good his cock feels dragging over every ridge inside you, the fat head kissing your cervix hard enough to make your thighs tremble.

Naoya gasps like you've knocked the wind out of him. You watch his mind go blank.

Hands flexing useless at his sides. Mouth falling open, slack and dumb. Eyes rolling until you can only see the whites, lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

"Y-You're f-fuckin’ tight," he rasps, too loud. "F-Fuck—you're tight, y-you're so—"

Clamping your hand over his mouth, palm pressed to his lips, your nails curl into his cheek. You feel him arch off the futon beneath you, a muffled whine vibrating against your skin.

"Shh." You hush. "You'll wake the baby."

Naoya nods furiously, chest heaving. You smile once he settles.

"Atta boy."

Naoya whines as you start to move—hand still clamped over his mouth, bracing yourself as you ride him. A calculated wind at first, controlling the roll of your hips as you get a feel for him. The way he stretches you. The way a meaty vein throbs against your g-spot as you move. 

Shit—Not bad.

Naoya trembles beneath you, hands fisted white-knuckled in the sheets, whole body wracked with the effort of staying still. Of not fucking up into you like a desperate, rutting animal.

"Mmmm," you murmur, rotating your hips in a lazy figure-eights. "Just like that, let it all go. Let me ride you. Let Mommy take care of you."

Naoya’s whimpers bubble under your palm—pathetic, needy. He knows he’s being used. He’s maintained zero control of the situation. 

And yet? 

He can’t deny a he’s a fucking fiend for it.

Not when your cunt grips him like a fist. Not when he can feel how wet you are— slick saturating his balls, staining the futon beneath you both. Your gooey pussy squeezes him so tight he can barely breathe, silky and warm, milking his cock like she was made to ruin him.

Then you feel it—his balls twitching underneath your ass, drawing up tight. He's close. 

Fuck, already?!

“C-Cumming that fast?” you pant out. “ T-That fast? From your cousin’s wife’s tits and cunt? Do I feel that good?”

Naoya is groaning as his eyes squeeze shut, biting his inner cheek and fisting the sheets.

"Nuh-uh." You tsk, stilling completely. "Bad boy. Not allowed."

Naoya's eyes fly open as yours begin to glow—red and ancient, blood-dark lines blooming beneath your lashes. He feels it. Your cursed energy pouring into him, flooding every vein, every capillary, settling hot and heavy in his balls.

The Kamo inherited technique—blood manipulation—seizes complete control.

Instantly, he veins in his balls bulge obscenely, his cock swelling even harder inside you. But he can't cum. You won't let him.

Naoya cries out, breaking into a sweat, pleasure flaring through him to excruciating levels as every one of his nerve endings lights up.

"I may be a Zenin by name," you breathe, leaning in until your tits smush into his chest and your lips brush his ear, "but I'll always be a Kamo by blood."

You bite down on the tender tissue, feeling him shudder beneath you, cock throbbing helplessly inside your cunt.

"Don't worry." You sit up, savoring his broken whine from the loss. "I'll let you cum, Nao-baby. I'm going to milk you dry—just like you milked me—after I get my nut."

You lift up just enough to meet his wild, glassy eyes.

"Nod if you understand."

Naoya nods. He understands perfectly now—understands exactly how you wound up pregnant by Toji. Understands why a man like that couldn't stay away.

He sobs beneath your hold, tears spilling hot over your fingers, breath hitching against your palm. You clench, a methodical squeeze—and his whole body jerks violently, a broken "nnngh—!" muffled against your hand.

You ride him in earnest now. Harder. Faster. Greedy for it. Your tits bounce wild, milk spilling with every slam of your hips—they’re sore but you don't care, chasing your pleasure like nothing else matters. You're soaked, the sound of it obscene—wet squelching filling the room, your arousal and milk splashing filthy with his pre where your bodies meet.

Naoya’s cock hits that gushy, spongy spot inside you over and over and your rhythm starts to falter.

"F-Fuck—"

You're getting sloppy. Losing focus. Your thighs burn from exertion but you can't stop, can't slow down, bouncing on his cock like you'll die yourself if you don't cum on it. Your pussy greedily convulsing around him—shit, you could easily fuck your own self stupid if you aren’t careful. 

You learned well enough not to underestimate Zenin dick fucking around with Toji.

Thankfully, however, Naoya is ruined. Flushed crimson from chest to ears beneath you, his tears streaming and his cock so engorged inside you that he looks like it must hurt. His hips spasm with aborted thrusts, toes curling as he is fighting his body's urge to rut even now.

He’s still trying so hard to be a ‘good boy’ for you and that thought alone almost makes you cum.

You consider, through the haze of your own pleasure, appraising his pathetic form beneath you, that you might accidentally give him a brain aneurysm if you keep this up much longer.

“P-Puulease—Mommy” he gasps out when you lift your hand from his lips.

"Wait your turn," you moan, brows furrowing as you try to concentrate.  

You're close. So fucking close. You use him like a toy now, hips rolling carnally, chasing the tingling friction. building white-hot at the base of your spine. Your nails dig into his abs as you tilt, angling yourself so his girth scrapes against your g-spot with every bounce. 

Quiet sobs tumble over your lips as you tense, fucking yourself on him until—

"O-oh—oh fuckfuckfuck—"

You shatter, orgasm ripping through you, pussy fluttering wild around his length and gushing to coat his balls as you ride it out. Vision edges white, as your thighs quake, your hips rotating in stuttering circles as the waves crash through you.

Chest heaving, when you regain your senses again, Naoya is barely there himself, sanity hanging by a thread with eyes blown—watching you cum so erotically on his cock like a man witnessing something holy.

You bring your face centimeters away from his, your lips ghosting his own as you release your technique.

"Cum."

And he does.

With a broken moan Naoya busts inside you—cock pulsing thick and hot, spurts of cum flooding your cunt white as his hips stutter up helplessly. You let him pull you down, let him clutch you like you're the only thing keeping him tethered to earth as your lips smash together.

You seal your mouth over his, devouring every ragged cry. Your tongue sweeps sweetly against his trembling one as you steady his face in your hands, thumbs brushing his tear-damp cheeks, kissing him quiet.

All the while his cock continues to pump you full—and you’ve kept your promise. 

This is the most Naoya’s ever cum in his entire life.

When he comes down enough, Naoya rolls onto his side, taking you with him as he curls into you—face buried in your chest, sucking in breaths, completely undone and still twitching inside you. 

A bit overspent yourself, not having activated your ability since Toji got you pregnant in the first place, you don't move yet. You keep him buried inside of you, pulsing with the aftershocks of what he just let himself become.

His arms wind tight around your waist like he's afraid you'll disappear. You cradle the back of his head, stroking softly.

He doesn't speak and you don't rush him. Not eager to test for any remaining snark you failed to fuck out of him.

It feels good just being needed like this, you are a mother afterall.

Eventually the heat between your thighs starts to cool, and you shift—peeling him off slowly, feeling the thick spill of his cum leak out of you. He shudders at the loss, an inaudible sound catching in his throat.

You ease him onto his back, robes rumpled beneath him, face still ruddy. He watches you through heavy-lidded eyes—quiet, stunned, like he doesn't recognize himself.

And then—

A single, involuntary whimper escapes him when his gaze catches on your breasts again. 

Still heavy and still leaking—milk beading at your nipples.

You smile.

"Still hungry?"

He turns his face into the pillow, ears burning.

You laugh—not mocking this time. Your voice is warm, almost fond.

"Poor Nao-chan," you murmur, settling beside him as you reach for a baby wipe nearby. "Your first time letting someone take care of you, and now you don't know what to do with yourself."

"I didn't say I wanted—"

You wipe his chest clean of milk, sweat—all of it with a tenderness that makes him forget what he was saying. Naoya’s throat bobs as he goes silent.

Unhurried, you wipe yourself off next. Then once satisfied, looking over to confirm that Tomie is still sleeping peacefully, you secure the discarded blanket over you both, effectively tucking him in, before gathering him in your arms.

"You don't have to say it," you whisper against his hair. "Mommies always know."

Sure, you certainly aren't his mother.

Yet something in your heart still aches for the broken little boy inside Naoya all the same. His cruel upbringing was hardly his fault, although it's been everyone else’s problem since. 

Plus, you're fairly certain you just did more for his mommy issues in one night than years of therapy could ever achieve—even if someone managed to drag Naoya there, against his will.

Sigmund Freud couldn't have even accomplished this. Someone should really give you a nobel peace prize.

You hum a low lullaby against his temple as Naoya’s eyes close. He doesn't fight it. Between your soothing song, warmth and the exhaustion your technique left behind, he doesn't have the strength to fight you—nor does he want to.

Naoya’s lips are at your nipple again. He's not sucking this time—just holding you on his tongue, lavishing slow and kitten-soft licks, nursing you like a pacifier.

"You did well, Naoya."

It's the last thing he hears as sleep pulls him under.

⟡

Hours later, Naoya wakes to the sound of your voice.

His eyes squint against the harsh morning light pouring into the room. As they adjust, he makes out your shape—sitting on the edge of the futon, knees tucked beneath you, fully dressed, bouncing Tomie in one arm while you chat on the phone.

A dizziness hits him all at once. Naoya finds himself sluggish, bodily functions recalibrating as the effects of your technique linger. 

He feels like he got hit by a goddamn truck. 

A truck that happened to also fuck him stupid and then tucked him in after.

Grumpy, the loss of your warmth pulls a low growl from him.

Naoya hauls himself across the futon and plants his head in your lap, nuzzling into you like you owe him now.

You try to ignore him, continuing your conversation, but Naoya is persistent. His nose keeps traveling higher—nudging toward the apex of your thighs and burying his face into your mound. The lingering musk of sex is still strong through your kimono and Naoya's cock stirs, already half-hard at the thought of tasting how well his seed has marinated inside you.

Naoya hums petulantly into your pussy, clearly territorial of whoever has your attention.

You roll your eyes at the display. 

Give men an inch and they will always take a mile. 

You threw him a crumb of affection and now he's acting starved for it.

Shifting your daughter to one arm and wedging the phone between your shoulder and cheek, you card your fingers through Naoya's hair. It's enough to soothe him—for now. He sighs against your thigh, using your plush lap as a pillow, and drifts back toward sleep.

"Huh? Say that again—" You grit, more irritated now at the man on the other line than the one in your lap. "Ugh, fine. I'll spot you this time, Toji."

Even half asleep, Naoya goes deathly still.

You smirk, feeling him tense in your lap as you continue to speak.

"But that’s only on the condition you visit Tomie this weekend, you oaf. She'll forget your face if you keep this up, ya know."

A pause. Then snort.

"Hm? Oh yeah. Yup, uh-huh.” You smirk amused by whatever Toji's saying on the other line. "Yeah, yeah, Ji. I'll let him know—and jeez, I got it, okay…I'll do the transfer now. GOODBYE."

You hang up with a huff, mildly annoyed—until you glance down and see your daughter happily cooing, her tiny hand patting Naoya's head alongside yours as you reluctantly transfer Toji the money he asked for.

Naoya, mortified, had been holding his breath this entire time—just in case Toji could sense it over the phone—sighs in relief.

"Shit... that was close," he mumbles, wincing as your daughter's pats turn into enthusiastic slaps against his temple. 

Toji-kun told him to take care of you, sure. 

He's fairly certain this wasn't what he meant.

"Huh? Oh, you mean Toji?" You blink down at Naoya. "I already told him."

Naoya shoots upright like you just announced a curse had just blown up half of Tokyo.

"Relax, Naoya, my god." You wave a hand, dismissing him. "Toji's cool about it. We were never exclusive or anything, ya know."

Naoya exhales, exasperated, and flops onto the futon, on his back, his hand over his face as you rise shuffling elsewhere in the room.

He knows his cousin—this won't be the end of it. Toji will definitely expect something in return.

But Naoya can't think about that now. His head is throbbing, it's early as hell, and he's gotten maybe two good hours of sleep.

He knows he should return to his own sleeping quarters—but this is his wing after all and he honestly can't be arsed to move for anything right now.

"However," you add lightly, when you see Naoya's body bracing for blow, "he did say you have to bankroll a parlay for him every time you fuck his wife."

And there it is.

Naoya doesn't even lift the hand over his face, just grunts.

"Sure."

"Anddddd, he's charging you by the ounce for—and I quote—'sucking up all his tiddy milk like a pansy lil b-i-t-c-h.'"

You spell out the word in lieu of saying it now that Tomie is awake.

Naoya groans, wishing he'd woken up earlier. He's not sure what kind of narrative you fed Toji, but he's too exhausted to argue about it now. 

"...Fine." Naoya replies, wincing at your giggles prickling his skull.

Toji's money schemes don't matter much to him anyway—he's rich, he can afford whatever bullshit ‘tiddy milk tax’ this is.

Naoya just needs you to shut up about it now.

Every chuckle out of your mouth drives another rusty nail into his skull.

"Oh, one last thing," you call over your shoulder, smirking as you scoop Tomie's diaper bag and head towards the bathroom to change her.

"Toji says if you get me knocked-up, you’re raising that one too."

You laugh hardly, leaving the room with Tomie happily cooing in your arms.

Whatever.

Naoya sighs, smashing two pillows over his face. 

He'd just pull out next time.

Simple. Problem solved. 

It's a small price to pay for your soft creamy tits and that sweet, gooey mommy puss—

...

Hold on.

What the fuck did Toji-kun mean by 'too'?

𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍. 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝚋𝚕𝚔𝚔𝚒𝚣𝚣𝚊𝚝 © 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹-𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟼

♡ hope u enjoyed! i hope to see a lot more recruits in the naoya army after this fic lol! also i loved writing in tomie here. i didn't name toji's and your's baby in the previous one but i really like this name so i decided to use it. shes so sassy shes def gonna give noaya hell. hsjdfbvjshdbfvhsd. read my other naoya fic here

Status updates: Caracal!sukuna p4 (20% done), invisible man!gojo (35%), stepdaddy!nanami (60% done), nerd!geto p2 (45%), 69 choso fic (30%) [y'all remember caracal sukuna won the poll so freddy!sukuna and elevator will have to wait!] stepdaddy!nanami next

he wants his bath drawn early. you fill the deep cedar tub in his private bathroom, scented with the  aromatic oil he prefers. you test the temperature and arrange the fresh towels. but every sound makes you start—the drip of water, the creak of wood—because you know he’ll be here soon.

the sliding door opens without warning.

naoya steps in wearing only a loose black yukata that is loosely tied. he doesn’t speak at first—just watches you from the doorway while you pretend to adjust a towel.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he says finally.

“i—i haven’t, master naoya. i’ve just been busy with—”

“liar.”

he shrugs the yukata off his shoulders. it pools at his feet. you’re mouth goes dry. he’s naked.

he steps past you without touching, but the heat of him brushes your arm anyway. he climbs into the tub, water sloshing gently as he sinks down until only his shoulders and the tops of his thighs are visible above the surface. he leans back against the edge, arms draped along the side, and let’s out a long exhale.

“stay,” he says.

you freeze halfway to the door. “i… i should go,” you stammer, voice small. “the tea for the afternoon—”

“stay.” his tone is steel. “it’s an order.”

three simple words. quiet. final. the authority in them wraps around your throat like a collar. your fingers curl into the fabric of your apron; your knees feel weak.

“come closer,” he demands.

your face flames. you take one step closer, then another, until you’re kneeling at the edge of the tub.

he hums, satisfied. leans back further, water rippling around his chest. then—without breaking eye contact—he wraps a hand around his cock beneath the surface.

“watch,” he says simply.

his hand moves beneath the surface—long pulls from base to tip, thumb circling the head you can’t quite see but can imagine perfectly. his cock looks thicker under the surface and the veins are faintly visible as shadows beneath the ripples. every upward stroke lifts him slightly; sometimes the flushed head breaks the surface for a heartbeat—glistening, swollen, a bead of precum mixing with the water before disappearing again beneath his fist. the sight is maddening.

you can’t stop staring at the way the water parts around him, the way the tip breaches the surface again—redder now, slicker—before he drags his hand back down, forcing it under once more.

god, you wish he were inside you.

you imagine how he would feel: thick enough to stretch, long enough to press against every sensitive place, filling you until you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but take him. your panties are already soaked beneath the uniform skirt. you shift your weight, thighs pressing together, but it only makes it worse.

he notices—of course he does.

“you’re shaking,” he says, voice rougher now. “still so shy, aren’t you?”

you can’t speak. your uniform feels suffocating; heat pools low in your belly.

his free hand grips the edge of the tub; knuckles whiten. his strokes speed up. his head tips back, throat working, a groan slipping free.

“fuck—say my name.”

“naoya,” you whisper, barely audible.

he groans louder. “again.”

“naoya—”

suddenly he stands—water cascading off him in sheets, splashing against the marble, soaking the hem of your uniform. he towers over you, cock flushed and throbbing in his fist, inches from your face.

“open up,” he orders.

your lips part on instinct—greedy for him.

he strokes once, twice, then aims the swollen head at your mouth.

he comes with a hiss, thick ropes spilling hot across your tongue. the first pulse lands heavy and salty; the second coats your lower lip before you can swallow. he milks himself with slow drags, painting your tongue until the last shake leaves him, then slaps the slick head against your tongue like a claim.

“good girl,” he murmurs. another slap—lighter this time, almost teasing—then he drags the tip slowly along your lower lip, painting it with the last beads. “look at you. so obedient. so fucking pretty with my cum on your tongue.”

he milks himself with one final slow drag, squeezing out the final pulse before smearing it across your lips. he exhales through his nose, pleased. his thumb traces your swollen bottom lip, pushing the last smear back inside your mouth.

“such a good little maid.”

he steps out of the tub fully, water pooling around his feet. wraps a towel around his waist without hurry, then turns back to you. “tomorrow,” he says. “same time.” and then he slides the door close behind him.

Honestly, it's more of an inside joke at this point. When someone asks if you're seeing one of them and you shake your head, suppressing a little smile that's threatening to pull at your lips. Or sometimes one of the guys, usually Satoru, will make a comment when they think you're out of earshot, asking if your roommates have 'got on that, yet,' and the two of them just sigh and tell him 'no.'

Their friends never seem to notice the little look that Toji and Sukuna share, the acknowledgement of your circle's secret.

Because another truth is that none of you guys have actually addressed the situation. No one's talked about where your relationships stand, what kinds of feelings may or may not be involved— so while it's fun to keep that knowledge private, there's also a part of you that knows deep down you're not even certain how to answer some of the questions that get thrown your way.

Sukuna and Toji seem to be quite content with the way things are— though partially because Sukuna will never admit to you how it's nearly killing him that he hasn't so much as kissed you yet, and neither him nor Toji are ready to admit why that is.

When you stumble into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes, Sukuna flashes you a grin that only widens as your tired gaze rolls over the bare expanse of his torso.

You turn, fiddling with the coffee machine, working under the guise of needing a latte instead of hiding the blush on your cheeks, despite the fact that you know he's already made one for you. He's been sweet— as sweet as someone like Sukuna can be— and lately he's always got your coffee ready by the time you make it into the kitchen.

But it's just because you do this every time.

Your back to him, skin always soft under a thin spaghetti-strap tank-top, ass threatening to spill out of your favorite sleep shorts. Practically a silent invitation for him to slot himself behind you, a firm hand on your waist as the other reaches around, mug in his grasp.

"Already made yours," Sukuna's voice rings low in your ear, raspy from sleep and going straight to your core. His chest is nearly flush against you as he towers behind you, and he wonders if you're even aware of it— the way you're nudging your hips backwards, ass pressing oh, so slightly against his crotch.

"Thanks, Kuna," you mumble in reply, gracing him with a quick smile over your shoulder before grabbing the cup from him. The ceramic is warm in the palm of your hand, a heat rivaling the furnace that is your pink-haired roommate, though it's admittedly less comforting.

Your eyes do a quick scan around the room, no doubt looking for the third roommate. You do that a lot when Sukuna's around you. Like you're going to get caught doing something you shouldn't.

It seems like you haven't realized that they didn't actually mind sharing. Whether that was sharing you with each other or sharing each other with you— they were more than happy to do either, on their own terms of course.

You raise the mug to your lips, trying to ignore the way your bodies are flush against one another, the way his hand has dipped under the hem of your shirt, calloused thumb rubbing gently along your skin.

It's robust, bold in the way espresso should be, and the milk is perfectly foamy, the syrup not too sweet. He really has memorized the way you like your coffee, and the contented sigh that falls from your lips tells Sukuna as much.

"'s it good, princess?"

"It's perfect, you should be a barista."

Sukuna hums like you bring up a good point, demeanor playful, casual like his chest isn't swelling with pride at the praise. "Nah, don't really care to make coffee for people."

You finally turn around, twisting in Sukuna's grip as he runs his other hand through his hair. "You make mine all the time," you point out.

"And?"

"Why bother making mine if you don't care to?"

"That's different," Sukuna sighs, watching the way your brows furrow.

"How?"

"Because I want to make yours."

"Why?"

You want him to admit that he's into you, but each time you try to pry it out of him he somehow manages to give you nothing.

Sure, he's always flirting and teasing, Sukuna's never one to shy away from that. He's quick to be the first one touching you— smacking your ass when you bend over in the kitchen, wrapping an arm around your waist as he reaches above you to grab the pan you need, pulling you onto his lap when it's just the two of you on the couch together.

He'll get you worked up to the point where you're dripping through the gusset of your panties, poor neglected pussy just desperate to be filled, and it's always that exact moment when he decides to pull away. He leaves you high and dry, wondering what the fuck just happened as you slip back into your room and open your nightstand to pull out your vibrator.

In all the weeks that have passed, you still don't have any real confirmation of his interest in you, and each day that goes by leave you feeling more unsure. You find yourself wondering if Sukuna just doesn't want you in the way Toji does.

But in Sukuna's mind, it should be obvious, regardless if he's actually fucked you or confessed his feelings. Because there's no way you're standing mere inches away from him with his hand on your hip, your eyes locked on his, and you're asking him why he'll make a latte for you.

"You can't be fuckin' serious," Sukuna's face is flat, lips starting to pull into a disappointed frown.

"You act like that's not a valid question," you start, voice beginning to raise in the way it always does when you're feeling defensive, "you just said you don't care to make coffee for people, so I asked why you make mine everyday. I feel like that's—"

"Yeah but that's a stupid fuckin' question, cause—"

Your jaw falls open as you set your coffee down behind you, arms coming up to cross over your chest. "It's not stupid, Kuna. And don't interrupt me, it's rude."

His eyes flutter shut, chest rising as he inhales deeply, fighting to keep his frustration at bay. How could you be one of the only people he enjoys spending time with and simultaneously the biggest pain in his ass? "Okay, my bad— even though you just interrupted me too—"

"It's not even 9:30, how the fuck are you two going at it already?" Toji's voice cuts through your silly argument, stealing both your attention away as he shuts the front door behind him.

You suck in a breath at the sound of his voice, turning slightly to look at him though Sukuna keeps you in your place within his hold.

"Morning, Toji," you greet, mustering up the courage to look him in the eyes.

A quick scan of his expression reveals little, leaving you both apprehensive and curious. Toji always seemed relatively indifferent about your relationship with Sukuna, offering nothing but a chuckle whenever he'd spot the two of you much too close together.

He flashes you a crooked grin, dropping the his gym bag to the floor. "Mornin' dollface, this guy bothering you?"

Sukuna rolls his eyes, suppressing a sigh because he can't believe that actually pulled a giggle from you. "She's the one bothering me, don't be fooled."

You spin around to swat at his arm, "am not!"

"Oh yeah?" Toji smirks, standing across the room, shoulder resting on the wall and jade eyes locked on the scene before him. Your hips against Sukuna's, his hand on your waist, not to mention the little pink tint that's dusted across his cheeks as he scowls down at you. Your pretty tits are sitting inside that flimsy top, nearly pushed up against Sukuna's chest as he leans over you, keeping you locked between him and the counter. "Should've known— she's a handful."

"Tell me about it," Sukuna drawls, the words lazy, rolling off his tongue at the same speed of his hand as it slides lower, drifting over the swell of your ass and squeezing gently.

The men lock eyes in a second, mirrored smirks reflected back to each other as you rack your brain for something to say in response to that, but in all honesty the entire situation has you feeling flustered. And nothing gets any better when Toji moves again, long strides carrying him the rest of the way over to you and Sukuna.

He's still sweaty from the gym, raven locks slicked against his forehead and compression shirt glued to his skin. You can smell the musk radiating from him, the smell harmonizing with the lingering scent of Sukuna's cologne and body wash.

Toji slips an arm around Sukuna's shoulder, their bodies pressed close. And with both men peering down their noses at you now, you can't help but feel quite small before them. Your knees shift, instinctually moving closer together as you feel that familiar heat pooling low in your belly— a subtle movement, but one that's caught by everyone in the room, two sets of eyes flickering down to your thighs before meeting your gaze again. "Gotta go easy on him, he doesn't know how to handle you like I do."

Toji's touch feels like it's burning into Sukuna's flesh, the weight of his arm resting heavy around his neck.

"And how's that?" Sukuna asks, ignoring the way he can feel Toji. There's a growing bulge in the apex of Toji's sweatpants that's nudging against Sukuna's leg each time he shifts, and you haven't even noticed.

You're too distracted by the feeling of Sukuna's own cock prodding at your pelvis through his shorts.

Heat creeps up the back of your neck, radiating off of your two roommates as they cage you in against the counter. Breath coming in ragged, your eyes flit from one man to the other, like you can't decide where to give your attention because they're both too captivating.

The tension that's settling thick in the room makes your chest feel tight and the space between your thighs ache with a glaring need.

And then, with a loud smack to Sukuna's ass, Toji breaks through the silence between you three, causing your gaze to snap up to his. "Well, I gotta shower."

"Yeah, you stink," Sukuna grumbles, doing his best to ignore the way he can feel his cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink.

Toji just grins, sly and knowing as he pulls away from your group to get a better look at Sukuna, "you stink too now, so… you coming?"

And just like that, when you think you're finally going to get what you want— what you've wanted for the last several weeks— you're left alone in the kitchen, frustrated and confused.

You're sure there's something going on between the two of them. It's not like they're doing a good job at hiding it considering all the touches, the glances, the constant showering together. But you never thought that would be something that got in your way considering how forward both men still were with you, not to mention the fact that you and Toji have continued hooking up.

With an exasperated groan you turn back around, staring glumly at your coffee that's now gone cold. Through the quiet you can hear the sound of the water turning on down the hall, the scowl on your face only pulling deeper as your thighs press closer together.

You can imagine the way the room must be filling with steam, a thick blanket of warmth covering the two men as a shiver runs down your spine.

"Fuckin' cockblock." Sukuna's grumbling as he strips down to join Toji who's already naked and standing under the water.

Sukuna tells himself he's not sure why he even follows Toji's lead— why he listens to him each time he intervenes between you and him, whether in person or as a little voice in his head. He tries to convince himself that he's irritated, that he's tired of missing such easy chances with you because of your other roommate but if that was really the case then he wouldn't be so hard.

"Just get in here," Toji mutters, rolling his eyes.

With a single stride Sukuna closes the gap, stepping over the lip of the tub and into the shower, and Toji wastes no time slipping an arm around his waist. One large hand splaying across Sukuna's lower back, Toji tugs him closer and the heat of his breath just inches from his face feels more stifling than the steaming water cascading over the two of them.

Rough fingertips trail along Sukuna's skin, drifting to his hips, his pelvis, before dropping lower. He sucks in a sharp breath at the feeling of Toji's hand finally wrapping around the base of his cock.

"You just hard all the time?" Toji teases, giving the base a light squeeze. "I mean I get it, living with her…"

Sukuna averts his eyes, gaze slipping down in time to see Toji's tongue darting out, swiping along the scar on his lips. And Toji doesn't miss it, nor does he miss the way Sukuna's length twitches in his grasp.

"Or maybe it's not her—"

"Shut up," Sukuna snaps, his own hand flying down to grasp between Toji's thighs.

Toji's heavy in Sukuna's palm, his cock already half-hard and getting stiffer with the tighter that Sukuna grips it. And Sukuna's fucking throbbing. Precum leaking just to get washed away by the shower, but the water can't hide the way his tip is all swollen and red. Toji swipes a thumb over the slit causing Sukuna to shudder, his head lolling back and eyes fluttering shut. Toji always knew exactly what he needed— how he needed to be touched.

It was infuriating.

Especially when Toji would dish out those stupid commands at the same time—

"Don't fuck her yet," he rasps, tone curt and voice low as Sukuna groans, a sound of pleasure and frustration.

Sukuna's hand works slowly, gliding up and down Toji's length with a practiced rhythm as he grits out his question, "how much longer you gonna make me wait?"

And Toji just chuckles at that. An easy sound that doesn't betray the tightness in his abdomen, his muscles tensing with each rub of Sukuna's palm along his shaft. "Dunno. Til I get bored of this."

It wasn't even jealousy that Toji was feeling, he wasn't protective over you, he was secure enough to not care about that. He just loved the power. Loved being in control of Sukuna, in control of your relationship with him, without you even knowing.

A scowl spreads across Sukuna's face, his fist moving faster. "Y'know I could just fuck her anyways—"

"You won't." Toji loosens his own grip, his touch featherlight as he twists his wrist, pumping Sukuna's cock languidly. A grin splits across his lips at the sight of Sukuna's frown tugging down further in response to his lightening grasp. "You always listen, don't ya?"

Bottom lip tugged between his teeth, Sukuna rolls his hips, chasing the feeling he was getting before but to no avail. Toji doesn't move, doesn't wrap his fingers snug around his length and twist and pull like Sukuna needs him to.

"Admit it," Toji grunts, his own hips stuttering in Sukuna's hold which hasn't relented because, despite Toji's actions, he's still pumping his cock like he has something to prove.

Sukuna's just hoping that the closer Toji gets to his release, the more lenient he'll be. He's gambling on the chance that just maybe Toji will take pity on him and finally give him what he wants.

But he should have known Toji would never give in that easy.

"You're gonna be a good boy aren't ya? Just like you have been."

The smile on his face, the tone of his voice is cruel. He's getting pure amusement from the knowledge that Sukuna's trying so hard to please him just because he'd do anything but defy him.

"F-fuck off," Sukuna rasps, breath catching in his throat at an unexpected squeeze of Toji's fingers just under his swollen tip.

Toji's thumb presses against Sukuna's frenulum before gliding down with his hand, trailing along the winding veins towards the base and back up again. "You're gonna let me keep stuffin' her with my cock instead, yeah? Just cause I told you to."

Picking up the pace, Toji works faster to match Sukuna's rhythm, drawing a low groan from him. Pink tresses matted to his forehead, they contrast with the black ink as his head hangs forwards now, red eyes narrowed at Toji. His jaw is tight, his teeth clenched together to bite back whatever retort he had because he wouldn't dare say that Toji's wrong— not when he's finally able to feel his climax building.

"Fuck— you love it though," Toji grunts, "y'love it when I'm fuckin' her. Know you're listening every time, probably jackin' off."

If Sukuna's cheeks weren't already flushed from the steam they would be now. Memories coursing through his mind of all the times he's done that very thing over the past few weeks. All the nights where Toji follows you into your room, casting a quick glance over his shoulder at Sukuna before shutting the door, leaving the pink haired man to tend to himself.

Which he did every time.

Snaking a hand into his pants to fist his already-stiff cock, the other clasped onto his mouth to try and muffle the sound of your names falling from his lips.

And he doesn't even feel that guilty about it anymore. Not since the first time he heard you calling their names.

No, he doesn't feel bad now that he knows you're also imagining him, imagining Toji, imagining him and Toji together whenever you're stuffing two little fingers into your cunt.

It's exactly what you're doing right now— out in the living room because you couldn't even wait to make it to your bedroom. Legs spread wide as you writhe on the couch that smells like your two roommates, a sticky mess coating your hand as you rub sloppy circles on your clit.

You know what they're doing every time they go in the bathroom with one another.

It used to piss you off— it still kind of does— the fact that you haven't been invited. But you can't find it in yourself to stay mad when your mind starts conjuring up vivid images of the two of them. You imagine what they might be saying to one another, what they might be saying about you. You imagine the way their sweat must be rolling over their chests and down their backs, mixing in with the rivulets of bath water as they pant, their breaths mingling.

"Course I'm jackin' off. Y'won't let me fuckin'— fuck— do anything else," Sukuna groans, irritation seeping back into his emotions.

Toji hums, eyes glinting with something that makes Sukuna's stomach flip and his cock jump. "I'll let ya fuck her if you give me somethin' else."

Sukuna's eyebrow raises at that, an indication of his intrigue, urging Toji to continue.

"Suck me off. Then you can."

"Fuck no, that's gay."

A sharp laugh escapes Toji, he'd really thought that Sukuna was past that part but apparently he's still coming to terms with some things. "You think this isn't?

"'m not— sh-shit— suckin' your cock," Sukuna grits out between broken moans.

It's taking every ounce of Sukuna's brainpower to keep responding to Toji as his orgasm looms overhead. It's rising embarrassingly fast, threatening to crash over him with every drag of Toji's thumb over his cockhead and every filthy word that spills from his roommate's mouth.

And it's only worse now that Toji's planted the idea in his head.

Sukuna can feel his composure slipping even faster as images flash through his mind. He can imagine what it would be like— Toji's dick gliding along his tongue, his jaw aching from being stretched wide open to accommodate the girth. His knees pressed hard into the porcelain tub and a rough grip in his hair, guiding him however Toji wants. Faster, deeper, until the back of his throat is bruised and being painted white.

A sound much too close to a whimper bubbles up from Sukuna's throat as he feels his cock start twitching.

"Then y'cant fuck her." There's a smirk playing at Toji's lips because he knows that Sukuna's about to cum.

No matter how much the tattooed man grumbles with feigned disgust towards Toji's desires, the truth is that each time he suggests they try something else, just a minute later he'll have Sukuna grunting out his name, leaving his hand is a gooey mess.

"God 'm gonna bust—" Sukuna groans, a guttural sound that echoes off the tile walls around them.

The two men are practically fucking themselves into each other's fists now, hips rolling as they stand inches apart. Foreheads pressed together, they're both staring straight down, entranced by the view of their arms crossed, their hands wrapped snug around the other's cocks. Each thrust pushes their flushed tips further out of their grasps until they're rubbing up against one another. Shower water and precum smearing between the undersides of their shafts as they glide together.

"Mmm, y'like that?" Toji drawls, tongue licking at the corner of his watering mouth. He spits down, a fat glob landing on their heads, rolling down between them. "Fuckin' nasty. Never gotten this close have we, pretty boy? You like watchin' our dicks rub together?"

"Fuck, yeah," Sukuna pants. He can feel the sweat forming on his forehead just to get washed away, the back of his neck burning as he brings his other hand down to tug at his balls.

"Know you're close— c'mon, want ya to cum all over both our cocks. Lemme feel the mess you're gonna make." Toji's voice is addictive. Each word easily coaxing Sukuna's orgasm to the surface leaving his hips stuttering and his fingers squeezing tighter as he feels his balls and Toji's cock both twitching in his palms.

And Sukuna cums hard. A whole body reaction as his muscles tense and his body shakes, he can't stop the shout of Toji's name that tumbles out as seemingly endless spurts white spill onto his cock, Toji's cock, their hands, the shower floor before getting washed down the drain.

"Holy shit." The sight alone sends Toji falling off of his peak right after, his hand gripping Sukuna's nape. Toji ruts into Sukuna's fist faster, craving a rougher friction until his spend is seeping between his fingers like glue. Whatever hasn't been washed away clings to their skin, forming translucent webs of their seed as they finally pull their hands back from one another.

Toji's chest is heaving when he leans away, lips slightly parted as he and Sukuna look on at one another silently. That is, until Toji starts to laugh.

"The fuck is so funny?" Sukuna's scowling again already, a result of his post-nut clarity being amplified from Toji's outburst.

"Nothin', you just really did make a mess."

Sukuna's jaw drops at that. No matter how often the two of them get off together, he's still warming up to the idea of actually talking about it afterwards. He'd much prefer if they just finished up the shower normally and continued to go about their days.

"Half of that shit was you!" Sukuna shouts, eyes squinting as water splashes on them. "Just shut the fuck up and wash your greasy hair."

Things continue the way they are for the rest of the month. Which means weeks of endless teasing, endless flirting from both Toji and Sukuna, and still Toji is the only one that ever gives you more. He's the only one that follows you back to your room when you whisper in his ear about what you need him to do to you.

He's always happy to indulge. Cock already stiff by the time he slides your panties down your thighs and slots himself between them. Tip already leaking even before he presses inside your heat, stretching you open, watching your back arch off the mattress with a saccharine moan of his name.

But no matter how many times you sit yourself on Sukuna's lap with your arms slung around his neck and lips brushing the curve of his ear— he never breaks. Even when you can feel the bulge in his pants pressing hard against your ass and you can hear how his breath catches in his throat.

He'll just chuckle, deep and strained as he plants two hands on your hips and lifts you off of him before standing and retreating to the bathroom or his bedroom.

You know he's taking care of himself in there. Or Toji is. So why the fuck won't he let you?

You're certain that they can tell that you're fraying at the edges.

You catch some of the shared glances they cast each other whenever you snap at one of them for crowding your personal space— something you never minded before. You notice the slight waver in Sukuna's hand before he places it around your shoulder during movie night, and the way Toji's eyes constantly flit down to his own hand on your thigh like he's making sure you didn't cut it off when he wasn't looking.

It's making you feel like you're crazy.

Never in your life have you seen someone so clearly attracted to you who also acts like it would be a crime to actually have sex with you. So you decide that you're done putting yourself out there and playing into their games.

Next movie night, you sit on the end of the couch instead of the middle, where you usually are sandwiched between them. When they walk in it's clear they're not expecting it. Both men pause in their tracks for a brief moment, beers in hand as they look at you quietly before finally sitting down awkwardly.

Sukuna's in the middle now, and Toji's in his usual spot on the other end of the couch.

"Here," Sukuna turns, holding a beer out for you to take.

You barely look at him when you grab it, muttering a flat 'thanks,' under your breath. His gaze lingers, mouth slightly agape like he's considering saying something else before it closes and he shifts to give his attention to Toji.

Toji always gets his attention.

Taking a swig of your drink, cold and carbonated, it's as bitter on your tongue as the jealousy twisting in your chest.

"What movie were you thinking about?" Sukuna asks, nursing his own beer.

Toji just shrugs, reaching for the remote with a grunt before reclining into the couch, "don't care, up to you guys." Legs spread wide, his thigh is pressed flat against the side of Sukuna's, his free arm slung around the back of his seat as he turns on the TV.

Sukuna looks at you once more, eyes met with the side of your face as you continue to stare straight ahead. "What do you wanna watch, princess?"

You fight against the twitch pulling at a corner of your lips, stubbornly determined to keep your mouth set into a straight line. "I don't care, something good."

A soft chuckle comes from the other end of the couch. It's obvious you're pissed off, and Toji should probably feel bad for finding it to be amusing but he can't. Not with the way you're cutely pouting, avoiding their eyes as you grumble whenever they talk to you. Maybe he'd be more worried if he wasn't so sure that there was no way you'd be able to stay mad at them.

There was always a way to make you forgive them.

Sukuna didn't look so sure. His eyebrows pulling together as he looks on at you barely acknowledging him.

"Go on, Sukuna," Toji muses, "put on 'something good'."

You flash Toji a glare, annoyed at his mocking tone which made it obvious that he wasn't taking your ire seriously. You're going to make this movie night as difficult as possible for them.

Every movie that Sukuna suggested, you said no to.

"This one? It's a thriller, I heard it's good."

"No, don't feel like a thriller tonight."

"Okay… horror? Could watch a slasher."

"Ew. Too much gore, I don't want to see that right now."

Sukuna sighs, clearly frustrated but trying not to piss you off further by expressing it. "Fine, want to watch one of those girly movies you like? 'Chick flick' or some shit."

That pulls a small glance from you out of the corner of your eye, when he continues, "Mean girls? Legally blonde? You love those."

"Not in the mood." That one hurt to say no to.

And finally, Sukuna reached his limit. You were being impossible. "Alright," he sets his beer down, arms crossing in front of his chest as he leans back to get a better look at you. "The fuck is wrong?"

Your eyes narrow into slits, mouth tugging into a frown. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously. Trying to make you feel better by lettin' you pick the movie and you're bein' difficult, so what's wrong?"

"I don't care what stupid movie we watch," you snap, causing Toji's eyes to widen slightly.

Sukuna swears there's got to be a vein bulging in his forehead by now, his voice raising slightly, "then what the fuck do you want from me?"

If only there was some popcorn for Toji, this beats any movie.

"Nothing! I just—" you pause, hesitant to continue your sentence. If you tell him what's really bothering you and he turns you down, that could potentially lead to some tension between all the roommates, and you don't want to ruin your living situation.

"You just…?" Sukuna's eyebrows raise as he looks at you expectantly. Each beat of silence that passes causes the pit in your stomach to grow as you wage an internal battle over how to respond. "Spit it out, princess."

Your eye twitches at the pet name. One you secretly adore, though it makes your chest hurt now, serving as a reminder of what you don't have. You used to be so certain that he used it because he meant it— and now you don't know. The word rolling off his tongue with sincerity, by the time it reaches your ears your own emotions have twisted it into mockery.

"Don't call me that," you mutter, eyes downcast as you grip your beer in both hands, the aluminum crinkling slightly. "Not unless you mean it."

Toji's eyebrows fly up now, looking on with intrigue at the scene unfolding in front of him. He's already caught on to the true issue, but given the confusion written all over Sukuna's face, it's clear that he still hasn't.

"What are you talking about?" Sukuna near shouts, more frustrated by his own lack of understanding than the fact that you're giving him attitude.

He hates this.

He hates the way you won't look at him, and the way your voice is small when you're normally overflowing with confidence. He hates that he doesn't know what's bothering you, because you won't just tell him what the issue is. And he hates that Toji is behind him snickering throughout this whole conversation, clearly picking up on something that he hasn't.

"You've been a brat for almost a week now," Sukuna starts, voice low but sharp, finally pulling your gaze up to his, "and I feel like I'm the only one who doesn't know what the hell the problem is, so just fuckin' tell me."

"You're my problem!"

"Um—"

"You want Sukuna, ain't that right, baby?" Toji coos.

A flush of embarrassment sears under your skin from Toji calling you out so bluntly, but Sukuna speaks before it can fester for too long.

"You seriously think I wouldn't want you?" His gaze is heavy, trailing over your body. Your neck, your lips, your bare legs exposed by the little shorts you love to wear around the house, and your chest in your favorite cotton tank top.

"Well, I don't know—"

Toji stands up from the couch and stretches, flashing Sukuna a look in silent communication with the other man following suit after.

You watch them with curiosity as you sit silently, the rest of your sentence long forgotten.

Emerald eyes hold your gaze as Toji cocks his head to the side, motioning toward the hallway, "you lead the way."

Your insecurity slowly starts to dwindle, being replaced with a burning anticipation as you push past both men on a path back to your bedroom. They trail closely behind you, watching intently, the weight of their stares bringing goosebumps to your skin.

Once inside your room, the sight of your bed makes you pause. You're no stranger to sex, but a threesome was one of the things you'd never tried before.

And as if he knew exactly what you were thinking, Toji's arms wrap around you from behind, his lips brushing by your ear as his fingertips grasp the hem of your shirt.

"Strip."

Sukuna watches, his pupils blown wide and breathing heavy as you lift your arms, letting Toji slide your flimsy top over your head.

"Fuck." Sukuna's already hard, the view of your tits alone sending all the blood in his body straight to his dick.

"Perfect, huh?" Toji hums, thumbs dipping into the waistband of your shorts and tugging gently.

Sukuna can only nod, mouth dry and tongue heavy as he watches your shorts fall over your thighs, down your calves, and onto the floor where you step out of them.

"No panties?" Toji's voice rumbles in your ear, the space between your thighs that was already wet getting slicker at the sound of it. His eyes glide up, staring into Sukuna's as his hands drift along your stomach, "your turn."

Already shirtless, Sukuna wastes no time before hooking his fingers inside his shorts and briefs, pulling them both down together. Your eyes are transfixed on the scene in front of you as you watch the garments slide down his muscled legs, your breath hitching when his freed cock slaps up against his stomach before hanging down from its own weight.

They're both huge.

And that's not all. Your eyelids widen when you notice them— the two black lines tattooed around his shaft, just under the flushed head. So he did have more tattoos after all.

"God, look at you two," Toji groans, his own cock twitching with life. You're both naked now, so perfectly on display for him. It's not like it's something very new— he's already seen the two of you but this? Both of you before him at the same time?

His hands roam, moving to cup your tits, playing with them. Pinching at your nipples and tugging gently, Toji forces Sukuna to just watch as you let out a sigh, your head falling back onto his shoulder. It's obvious that Sukuna wants to move closer, wants to touch you himself and feel your skin on his but he can't yet. He hasn't earned it.

"Y'want him to fuck you?" Toji purrs behind you, rolling his hips, making sure you can feel the bulge in his sweats against your ass.

Your eyes cut up to Sukuna, his broad chest heaving as he wraps a hand around his dick, squeezing and pulling gently, working up to a lazy rhythm. You can't help but watch, saliva pooling in your mouth at the sight as you nod.

"You know what you have to do." He's not addressing you that time. Sukuna's jaw clenches as he weighs his reply, mind thinking back to their last shower together— what Toji had asked of him. "C'mon… look at her. So needy, she's already wet for you. Don't you wanna feel that?"

He's dangling you in front of Sukuna, teasing him with the reminder of how close he is to getting what he wants. A hand slides lower, over your hips before slipping between your thighs. It's intentional, the soft brush of his fingertips over your clit, just light enough to make your hips buck and pull a moan from your sweet lips— the final push Toji needed for Sukuna to finally break.

"Fuck, okay. Fine."

"Attaboy."

You look between the men for an answer as to what exactly they're talking about but they give you nothing, both just focused on one another as Sukuna steps towards you.

"You go sit on the bed— you're gonna watch for now, baby." Toji sends you off with a pat on your ass, grinning at the sight of you pouting at him over your shoulder while you move to kneel on the mattress. You probably would have put up more of an argument if you weren't so intrigued by whatever was going on between your other roommates.

"So you just want me to…" Sukuna trails off, his nerves setting in now that he's standing before Toji.

"On your knees, pretty boy." So that's what Toji wanted.

Sukuna hesitates, still fighting internally with himself over the situation. It's embarrassing. Being forced to his knees by Toji all while you're watching him, but he'd be lying if he said that wasn't actually turning him on more. One glance down and he can already see the way he's starting to leak pre from his flushed tip.

And he can tell you're just as into this as him and Toji are, which reassures him as he sinks to the floor, knees pressing into the rug. He moves slowly, hands gingerly reaching for Toji's waistband before starting to drag his sweatpants down over his hips. The tent in his pants is evident, the head of his cock catching on the fabric as Sukuna slides them off.

He's seen Toji plenty of times and still, Sukuna can't stop his jaw from hanging slack when he sees him again this time. His cock hangs heavy, all girth and veins, the angry red tip just inches away from Sukuna's face. Fuck, it looks so much bigger like this.

A feeling of respect flashes through him when he thinks about how many times you've probably done this already.

Pride swells inside Toji at the view of Sukuna at his feet, eyes wide and tongue darting out to lick his lips as he stares at Toji's length. That was easier than he expected it to be, but he has to give the credit to you. If it wasn't for you, all soft skin and sweet sounds in front of Sukuna, there's no way he would have folded that quickly.

But now, here Sukuna is, reaching out, a large hand gripping the base of Toji's cock.

"Eager now, huh?" Toji chuckles, earning him a glare from the other man.

"Shut up, don't fuckin' drag this out." The minute the words leave his mouth and he sees the smirk on Toji's lips, Sukuna knows he should have kept quiet.

"Y'know what?" Fingers furrow in Sukuna's hair, wrapping tight around the pink tresses and tugging harshly until he's forced to look up at Toji. "Beg."

The answer is immediate— "No."

"No? Guess you don't wanna fuck our pretty little roommate then." A sound akin to a growl gets stuck in Sukuna's throat. He's really going to pull that shit. "Poor thing, got all excited at the idea and now you're not gonna give her what she wants," Toji tuts, shaking his head with feigned disappointment.

"All ya had to do is say a few words, can't even do that?"

"Fucking fine," Sukuna snaps. He inhales deeply, exhaling with a long sigh before the words come out, small and shy and so not-Sukuna. "Please, Toji."

"You can do better than that. Beg to suck daddy's cock, c'mon."

Even your mouth falls open at that. You of all people know that Toji has a daddy kink— you found that out the first time you ever fucked him— but the last thing you expected was for him to rope Sukuna into it too.

Still, there's a smile playing at your lips.

You remember the teasing you had to endure from Sukuna after he'd heard you and Toji, you remember the frustration you felt for the last week because of him, the confusion and anger.

"Do it, Kuna," you whine, voice desperate in the way you make it whenever you need him to do something for you, "thought you wanted to fuck me."

The look on Toji's face could only be described as feral. You were fucking perfect. Jumping in like that, there's no way Sukuna would say no to you now, you knew that as well as anyone and you were taking full advantage of it.

Eyes shut, Sukuna's breathing deeply in a way that looks as though he's trying to swallow his pride, when in reality it's because his cock is throbbing. Blood pumping through it, he's pulsing in a way that leaves him aching for any sort of relief.

"Please—" Sukuna swallows loudly, tongue sitting heavy in his mouth, "please, daddy, let me suck your dick."

"Good boy," Toji unfurls his hand, patting Sukuna on the head a few times before letting it rest there, "now do it."

Your eyes are glued on the men in front of you, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth as you sit, entranced by their dynamic. It makes sense now. It's not that Sukuna didn't want to fuck you, he did, and that was the whole point. Toji loved keeping that from him knowing how much he craved you, because every day that went by where Sukuna wanted to give in to you but still chose not to— that was all because Toji said so.

And Sukuna was getting off on that too. He had no idea how much he was missing that kind of dominance until he was given it for the first time, and after that he was done for. So yeah, Sukuna wanted to fuck you, but more than that, he wanted Toji to tell him when.

Toji's cock twitches when Sukuna's breath hits it, hot and humid, a preview to what awaits him when his jaw falls slack, tongue lolling out. Still gripping the base with one hand, the other comes to rest on the back of Toji's thigh as Sukuna finally leans forward, tongue flat as he licks a slow, experimental stripe up the underside of Toji's shaft. He traces the vein that runs along the length before licking at the tip, lapping up the bead of precum that was sitting there.

Mildly salty, musky, the taste fills his mouth when he swirls his tongue around the head, eliciting a groan from the man above him.

"Quit teasin'." Toji's hand presses harder, urging Sukuna to give him more.

His jaw open as wide as it can go, Sukuna finally takes Toji into his warm mouth, tongue gliding along his cock as Sukuna takes him deeper. Inch by inch, he's breathing heavy through his nose until he gags when Toji hits the back of his throat. Toji's fingers tug on his hair, a natural instinct to the feeling of Sukuna's throat constricting around his length.

Spit is pooling in Sukuna's mouth each time he pulls off and sinks back down again, determined to take Toji further each time. He's consistent, his pace steady as he focuses on just trying to throat all of Toji's length. And by the time he does, saliva is dribbling out the corners of his sputtering lips, an obscene suction sound coming from him each time he slides up Toji's cock with his cheeks hollowed. But he can't even care to think about that when he finally feels the tip of his nose buried in the hair at Toji's base.

"That's it— takin' me so well. Showin' our pretty baby exactly how much you want her," Toji grunts, hand holding Sukuna down, practically choking him. He relishes in the way Sukuna's struggling to fit all of him in his mouth, and still, he does. He makes it fit so he won't disappoint.

Your thighs are slick with your arousal, glistening nearly as much as your sopping cunt when you slip a hand between them. You have imagined the two of them together a million times before but it was nothing compared to what you're seeing now.

A quiet moan falls from your bitten lips when your fingers reach your clit, rubbing little circles on it. It's so sensitive already and you've barely even been touched. Each brush of your fingertips leaves your thighs tensing and your brows furrowing until Toji's voice rings out again.

"What're you doin'?"

His eyes are dark, an unreadable expression on his face as he stares at you now, distracted for a moment from Sukuna.

"Uhm, touching myself…" you reply hesitantly. That makes Sukuna's cock throb.

"Don't remember sayin' you could do that," Toji drawls, his hand still guiding Sukuna's head as it bobs. "Get over here."

He gives you a hum of approval when you're finally kneeling next to Sukuna, a sound that makes your stomach turn. "Help him out, doll, put that slutty mouth to good use."

You shift slightly, adjusting your position until you're able to slot yourself in next to Sukuna. Spitting into your hands you reach one out toward Sukuna and the other toward Toji, but not without glancing up at him first, silently checking if it's okay.

When he doesn't say anything you wrap your manicured fingers around Sukuna's cock, the others reaching for Toji's balls. It's hard to find a rhythm. One hand trying to glide up and down, pumping along Sukuna's length, squeezing and twisting as you go, all while the other is cupping gently, tugging and rolling without squeezing too hard.

But each sound you're able to pull from the men is motivation for you to keep going, fumbling around until you're able to get the hang of it. Only then do you lean closer, tentatively sticking your tongue out until it meets your hand on Toji. You're lapping at his balls, spit smearing around the skin before opening your mouth wide and sucking. You divide your attention between each side, your hand focusing wherever your mouth isn't.

It's obscene. The squelching sound of saliva and tongues as you and Sukuna nearly devour the man towering over you, your cheeks hollowed and tongues flicking, swirling, moving in whatever way makes Toji groan the loudest or grip your hair the hardest.

"God damn, you guys are nasty," Toji grunts, hips rolling as he starts to fuck himself into Sukuna's mouth. "Didn't expect you to be so sloppy but you're— shit- quit gaggin'— you're fuckin' drooling all over my cock." His eyes slide to you, panning over your flushed face and watery eyes that are looking up at him with pure reverence. "You too, doll. Greedy mouth s'gonna suck me dry. Y'just love havin' my balls in your face, huh?"

Toji's abdomen hurts from how hard it's tensed, fighting to keep a semblance of composure so he doesn't find himself spilling down Sukuna's throat too early in the night. But neither of you is making it easy, each one leaving a glimmering trail of spit in your wake as you let him stuff your mouths until you can hardly breathe. You're both going to fucking ruin him.

"Fuuuck," Toji growls, his fists tightening in your hair as he lets his head fall forward. Black locks drip sweat onto your faces as you stare up at him, the first few salty tears starting to fall from your eyes. You look so pretty like this, sharing him so desperately, just content to be given any part of him.

It almost pains him to know that he won't be giving you much more of himself tonight.

"Thaaat's right, get it nice and wet jus' like that— 's all the lube you're gonna get, pretty boy."

Both your eyes and Sukuna's fly wide open at that, pulling a breathy laugh from Toji that's quickly cut off when Sukuna speeds up. The hand that was gripping the base is now moving in sync with Sukuna's mouth, sliding up and down Toji's shaft, spreading his spit around while his free hand grips the back of his thigh for stability.

He lets the spit that he used to swallow down pool in his mouth now, leaking out of his lips until everything is just that much wetter, messier. But that's when Toji reaches his limit. The unexpected change in pace left him reeling, his cock twitching against Sukuna's tongue until he finally yanks him off with one harsh tug on his hair.

You get the message, pulling off of Toji with a soft pop! and taking your hand off Sukuna, leaving the three of you panting.

"Shit, you two are gonna kill me."

A small smile graces your lips at the sight of Toji struggling to keep it together. It's welcome knowledge that you're having that much of an effect on him, and if the smirk on Sukuna's lips is any indication, he's definitely feeling the same way.

Your knees are rubbing together as you wriggle in place again, trying to get some friction and Toji notices, an eyebrow cocking as he looks down at you and grins.

"Poor thing," Toji coos with feigned sympathy, "so needy. That pussy just wants some attention, yeah?"

You nod, uttering a small 'please' that isn't missed by either of the men. That earns you a soft pat on the top of your head before Toji steps away from you and Sukuna. "Take care of our girl, pretty boy."

Sukuna's on you in a second. Hands gripping your waist as he practically throws you onto the bed, making you yelp. Calloused fingers trail up the insides of your thighs, pressing them apart as Sukuna slots himself between them. You're already dripping. Puffy cunt all shiny and wet, just waiting for someone to ravage it.

Inhaling deeply, a low groan rumbles in Sukuna's throat— he's been wanting this, wanting you, for so long.

Two fingers run between your folds, gathering your arousal before he brings them back to his lips. Slipping the digits into his mouth, Sukuna licks them clean, tongue swirling around them so he doesn't miss a single drop of you. And you taste so fucking sweet.

"So perfect," Sukuna breathes. He needs to taste you again, not just on his fingers, he wants purest form of you.

Tongue lolling out he licks a long stripe up between your lips, the muscle flicking at your clit at the top. Your hips jerk instinctively, trying to chase the feeling, and he's not holding anything back from you. His mouth closes around the sensitive bud, tongue swirling as he sucks gently.

"She's so responsive," Toji muses, Sukuna humming in agreement.

"Aah! Oh god—" you gasp, the vibrations in Sukuna's mouth making your legs tremble, thighs coming together around his head.

Toji wants to be the one eating you out so badly, but he can't because if Sukuna's going to take him later then he needs to be prepared, especially since it's his first time.

So now it's his turn to watch.

He watches as Sukuna uses the same two fingers to press inside your entrance, agonizingly slow as you try to roll your hips down onto them. He watches the way your face scrunches up, eyes shut and mouth falling open as the most addictive sounds fall from it.

His eyes are still locked on you when he kneels behind Sukuna, both hands coming down to his hips. Sukuna twitches, a tiny reaction of hesitation at the feeling of Toji's hands on him but he quickly relaxes into the touch. Toji's fingers dance along Sukuna's tanned skin, trailing over the swell of his ass before splaying out across both cheeks.

Still focused on you, Sukuna's eating you out like a man starved, lapping at your juices, sucking on your clit all while pumping you full of his fingers. The digits curl with each thrust, searching for that spongy spot inside you that leaves you seeing stars.

He knows what Toji is doing. He knows why Toji's doing it too— but still that doesn't quell any of his shock when he finally feels the man's thumb trailing along the rim of his asshole. His whole body jolts as Toji keeps his ass spread open, teasing the hole with featherlight touches that make Sukuna's cock twitch against the mattress.

You want to watch but you're too lost in the feeling of Sukuna's tongue, his fingers, your own impending orgasm.

"Better be makin' her feel good," Toji murmurs, thumb pressing harder now against Sukuna's asshole. The tiniest whine falls from Sukuna's lips, muffled against your cunt as his face stays buried between your thighs, but Toji still hears it.

Letting the saliva collect in his mouth first, Toji spits a thick glob of it straight down onto his thumb. It's warm, wet as Toji smears it around, letting it work like lube when he finally pushes the digit in. That part's easy. Just one little finger, pumping slowly in and out, just trying to get everything loosened up.

Sukuna sucks in a sharp breath when he feels Toji pull out all the way, only to feel two fingers teasing him now. He does his best to relax, to breathe through it and just focus on you but he falters, a whine spilling from your lips in complaint. He was pushing you so steadily towards your climax, each movement made with deliberate rhythm, and now it's inconsistent, the man bumbling around between your thighs.

"Wait, don't stop— please I'm so close, Kuna." You're rolling your hips again, trying to grind down against his face, your slick coating his nose and lips.

Toji tuts at Sukuna, shaking his head lightly before pressing both fingers in to the last knuckle. "Can't make her cum?" He's mocking, relishing in the fact that the words die on Sukuna's tongue the minute he starts scissoring his fingers, spreading them apart and stretching Sukuna open around them.

"I can, swear," Sukuna rasps, lips moving against your cunt.

"Really? Or do I need t' show you how to eat pussy? Make you watch while I have her cummin' all over my face like she should've already."

"Don't care who it is," you mewl, "jus' wanna cum, wanna cum so bad."

"Might not let you taste her again if ya don't give her what she wants."

That threat lingers in Sukuna's head, playing on repeat when he dives back in. Every ounce of his energy is poured into you. Even when Toji's pushing his fingers in faster, harder than before, Sukuna still keeps up his pace. Sukuna still curls his own fingers in the way that makes his name tumble from your lips, still wraps his mouth around your clit in the way that makes your back arch off the bed and your toes curl.

Your mind is hazy, void of thoughts except those about your impending release. All you can think about is the feeling of Sukuna's face buried in your crying cunt, his fingers stretching you out while Toji watches. 

And when you cum, it’s overwhelming— your entire body convulsing on the bed as Sukuna’s arm pins your hips down, holding you in place as you gush, your arousal leaking onto his face while he ruts into the mattress. 

He’s painfully hard, blood pumping through his cock from the taste of you and the feeling of Toji. But the minute you’re panting, chest rising and falling deeply as your body trembles with the aftershock of your orgasm, Sukuna’s left empty. 

Toji pulls out slowly, carefully, admiring the way Sukuna’s body responds to every little touch. 

“Good girl, look so pretty when you cum. Did he make you feel good?”

Your eyelashes flutter as you nod tiredly, “felt so good.”

“Told you I could,” Sukuna points out, his ego needing to prove a point to the man who was teasing him.

“You want me to praise you?” Toji’s grinning, moving beside the two of you to lay down on the bed. He knows the answer is yes, but whatever is left of Sukuna’s pride won’t let him say that out loud. 

"C'mere," Toji nods, chin pointing at the space between his spread thighs. He's stroking his cock languidly, laid out like a king as he waits for Sukuna to crawl over to him. "Uh-uh, turn around— like that, yeah."

Sukuna is clearly out of his element as he shifts his hulking figure until he's straddling Toji with his back to him, both feet planted on the outside of Toji's legs. The older man wraps an arm around Sukuna's abdomen, fingers splayed out as he guides him to lean backwards into his chest.

You're watching in awe at the way they're fitting together, while wondering at the same time where you're supposed to be joining them.

Toji's hand stills around his base when his eyes find you. Gaze trailing over you as you fidget on the bed in front of them, obviously feeling unsure what to do with yourself. "Dollface," he pulls your attention back to him, "gonna need those little hands."

Smacking his length against the inside of Sukuna's thighs a few times, Toji waits for you to slip your fingers around him before he lets go, both hands moving to grip the backs of Sukuna's knees. Toji holds them up, keeping his legs spread wide and putting the tattooed man on full display for you.

One arm slung over his face, Sukna's trying to hide the deep red shade spreading across his cheeks. He can feel the weight of your stare as you pump Toji's cock a few times. This experience is completely new to him, apprehension swirling in his stomach, and still he swears he's never been more hard. It's honestly a bit ridiculous considering he's barely even been touched the entire night.

"Go on, put me where he needs me," Toji coos, his breath fanning against the side of Sukuna's neck as they both lean forward now to watch you.

Sukuna waits with bated breath, silently until he sucks in a gasp of air when he feels the tip of Toji's spit-soaked cock prodding at his asshole. Your lips agape, you're completely concentrated on the view before you.

You almost feel worried for Sukuna— you know how big Toji is, and you know how much bigger he feels when he's inside you. But you don't stop. You just keep angling his girth so when Toji rolls his hips you can witness the way the tip starts pressing past that tight ring of resistance.

"Shit," Sukuna grunts, body tensing in a way that makes Toji let out a hiss.

"Fuckin' relax or this is gonna take forever." He rolls his hips again, jaw clenched and teeth grinding.

Even with all the time Toji spent stretching Sukuna out it feels like there was no prep at all with the way he's practically strangling his cock. Tight walls clamping down like they can't decide if they're trying to suck him in or push him back out until finally Toji feels the head slip inside.

"Oh fuck, that feels—" Sukuna's own words are interrupted by a strained groan when Toji lifts his hips up off the bed, forcing himself deeper, "aah shit."

"Doin' so well," Toji groans, still working himself inside Sukuna inch by inch. He knows it's never easy your first time, he knows he isn't small either, and still it doesn't take long until he's over halfway buried inside Sukuna's ass. "Takin' this cock like a pro, such a good boy isn't he?"

You're nodding fervently, your hands now at your sides as you watch. "He is," you answer honestly. "Kuna, you're doing so good. You guys are so hot," you whine, hips wiggling on the bed. The praise makes Sukuna's stomach flip, a newfound sense of determination taking over when he rolls his own hips downward eliciting a sharp grunt from Toji when he bottoms out.

Sukuna's never felt so full.

Is this what you feel like every time you're getting fucked?

No wonder you're constantly acting like you're in heat whenever you're around them— poor cunt just craving the feeling of being stuffed to the brim. He can understand why you're so desperate now.

"Look at that— wasn't so hard now, was it?" Toji teases, earning an incoherent grumble from Sukuna.

"Please," you squeak, that exact feeling of desperation starting to overtake you. You're aching. You already came once and now you're just being left alone, all sticky and sensitive while they're both laid out in front of you. "What about me?"

Toji tuts, his hands sliding up Sukuna's thighs until they rest on his hips. "Our pretty girl thinks we forgot about her."

Sukuna lets out a choked laugh, trying to hide the fact that he is not sure what Toji has planned for you either.

"Climb on, dollface—" you start crawling immediately, moving on your hands and knees until you're now straddling both of them. "Just like that, you wanna ride him?"

You're already nodding your head again when Sukuna cuts in, "w-wait, you gonna support the both of us?"

"Course I am," Toji answers easily, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Honestly, you hadn't even considered he might not be able to. I mean, the man was in the gym every single day, there wasn't much he couldn't do.

You don't give Sukuna any more time to worry about the logistics, choosing instead to grind your hips against him. Looking him in the eyes while you glide your slick folds along the length of his cock, once, twice, three times until the entire thing is coated in your arousal.

"Fuckin' tease," Sukuna grunts, a hand coming up to land a harsh smack! on your ass, sending you falling forward. Your hands plant beside their heads, the softest whimper escaping you when Sukuna slaps the same place again. "Such a goddamn brat. Been waiting for this shit for weeks."

His tone carries a dangerous edge that makes your core burn. Rough fingertips dig into the fat of your ass, and using his grip, Sukuna lifts you up and slams you back down onto him in one fluid motion.

"Fuck! Kuna—" you gasp. Fully sheathed in one thrust, he's stretching out your gummy walls so nicely, your thighs quivering and pussy throbbing.

"Squeezin' me so tight, fuckin' pussy was made f'me." His voice is low in your ear, crimson irises locked on you as you let out a shaky breath.

"That pussy's perfect, ain't it?" Toji grunts, giving the two of you just a moment to adjust before moving.

"S-so perfect— ah shit! Chill—"

With his hands on Sukuna's hips and his feet flat on the mattress, Toji lifted his hips off the bed in one brutal thrust. Cock sliding halfway out of Sukuna before slamming back in, the force of it making your hips move. It was overwhelming the way Toji set such a mean pace right off the bat.

His hips slapping up against Sukuna's ass, over and over, making sure he was burying himself to the base each time. Sukuna had never felt anything like it. His tight hole being filled up while your sopping pussy is clenching down around his cock at the same time. Stuck between you two there was nothing he could do but sit there and take it.

But it's not like you were much better. You tried to grind down on Sukuna, tried to plant your feet and bounce your hips up and down just for Toji's pace to take over and leave you helpless. Hands on Sukuna's chest as your head lolls back, you're arched so perfectly, ass jiggling and tits bouncing every time Sukuna's cock is forced back inside you.

"Ohmygod, f-fuck— Toji, Kuna-aah!" You're whining, brows knit together as you look down at Sukuna now. His hands are digging painfully into your hips as he tries not to lose every thought in his head.

You look so fucking perfect like this though. Face showing nothing but need, eyes all glossy as you pant above him, babbling whatever unfinished sentences make it out.

"Feels so good," Sukuna moans, and you give a pathetic mhmm in agreement that makes Toji chuckle.

"Yeah, feels good? Gonna cum and make a mess?" He's not even addressing anyone in particular, just talking to the room because he knows that both you and Sukuna can barely even give him much of a reply.

But still, you try. "Y-yeah, gonna mmfuck—" you mewl, eyes clamping shut when your puffy clit rubs against Sukuna's stomach. The stimulation makes you jolt, legs twitching as your arousal seeps down around Sukuna's base forming a creamy white ring.

Teetering on the edge of his climax, Sukuna's trying to hold it back as much as he can but he knows he won't last much longer. Fucking embarrassing. It's only been a few minutes with him inside you and he's already about to cum.

Except that you're even closer. You're moaning a slew of curses followed by their names, mouth parted in a perfect "o" as your back arches further, cunt pressing down harder against Sukuna's abs as you chase the feeling of his rough skin rubbing against your clit.

The sounds filling the room are lewd. The squelching wet sound of your pussy sucking in Sukuna's cock, the sound of skin slapping against skin and heavy panting filling any silences.

"Shit 'm cumming, where—"

"Inside," you rasp, voice tired already, "Please, Kuna, need it— need you so bad."

"Fuuuck, yeah, gonna cum inside you, you want that?"

"Yes! yesyesyes," that word is stuck on repeat when you hear Sukuna let out a guttural groan. His cock twitches, balls constricting before shooting sticky, white ropes of his cum inside your poor pussy, velvety walls coated with his spend before it starts to leak out.

"Such a good slut, bet she's takin' every last drop— god— bet you will too, huh?" Toji's rhythm doesn't slow, it only gets faster the closer he gets to his own release. The pace turning cruel as it pushes Sukuna into the realm of overstimulation.

"H-hold on," Sukuna grunts before a whimper falls from his lips when you keen, crying out a mix of both men's names as your cunt clamps down around Sukuna's softening cock, milking him for all he's worth when you cum.

It's too much. Your sloppy pussy gushing around Sukuna, pushing even more of his seed out until it's dripping down onto his balls, down onto Toji's balls, all while his asshole is still getting stretched open.

"I can't, hold up—"

"'s too much! Tojiii," you fill in what Sukuna was scared he was going to have to say.

"You'll take it, you both will. I know two sluts like you aren't fuckin' complaining already." Toji's tone was gruff but in all honesty, he was close, and the shit spilling from both of your mouths was only driving him further to the edge. The neediness in your voice and the way Sukuna's was tense, Toji loved knowing he was the one causing it all.

"S-so sensitive," you mewl, sweat beading on your forehead as little salty tears form in your waterline with each press of your clit against Sukuna's stomach. "Daddy, please— I c-can't, need you to cum."

You don't even care how humiliating it is, or how pathetic you sound at this point. You know what Toji likes to hear, and you're determined to get what you want.

"Fuck, doll— sound so pretty when you beg like that," Toji groans, a low sound deep in his chest. "Don't worry, gonna fill this tight little hole, fuck my cum back into it—"

Sukuna can't stop the moan that tumbles out, his cock jumping again at Toji's words, the feeling making you jolt. He isn't sure how he's able to get hard again already, but it hurts the way he's getting stiff inside you now, needing to spread you open around him just to make it fit again.

"Kuna! Sh-shit."

"'m sorry, baby, can't help it."

"You hard again?" Toji breathes, sweaty hands adjusting their grips on Sukuna's hips. He doesn't last another minute.

The feeling of Sukuna's ass tightening around him with each thrust, the feeling of your cum mixed with Sukuna's dripping down onto him, the sounds of your whimpers and the knowledge that through everything Sukuna's already stretching you out again— no one can blame him when he finally breaks.

Letting out the loudest grunt, Toji's fingers dig into Sukuna's skin, his hips stuttering before stilling as his cum spills out. Hot and messy, he fills Sukuna with his seed, hips still rolling to push it back in even though it's already starting to leak out around the base.

With that he finally collapses back onto the bed, limbs limp and heavy with exhaustion, his body is covered in a sheen of sweat. You're the first to move, urging your weak knees to work as you slide off of Sukuna with whimper, the man letting out a long sigh at the sight of more cum seeping out of your cunt, webs of white connecting you to him.

"You guys are insane," Toji pants, "I'm exhausted."

"Us? That was all your idea," you remind him as you flop down on the bed.

Sukuna doesn't say much, just moving cautiously as he shifts to sit up. Wincing, he finally tries to move off of Toji, who just lays there, hands behind his head as he watches with mild interest.

"Fuck, I'm gonna be so damn sore tomorrow," Sukuna complains.

You're giggling tiredly into your pillow, even though you and Toji will probably be in the exact same boat. But you can't even find it in yourself to care about that right now.

Your eyelids are heavy, sleep threatening to take over when the bed dips next to you. Sukuna fills the spot on the other side of you, kneeling beside your body before two large arms snake underneath you. Picking you up like you weigh nothing, he moves to carry you to the bathroom, Toji following closely behind.

Sukuna tries to ignore the feeling of something warm dripping down his thigh but Toji snickering behind him is making it hard, causing him to roll his eyes— but you haven't noticed.

"Let's get you cleaned up, princess." His voice is uncharacteristically soft, his hands gentle as they set you down on your wobbly legs, feet landing on the cold bathroom tile.

"You should hop in there too, you both need cleaned up," Toji says pointedly, gaze flitting between Sukuna's legs and the scowl on his face.

"You're not much better," Sukuna snaps, his own gaze lingering on Toji's half hard and cum-coated dick.

It's true, you were all a mess.

"Quit arguing, I'm tired," you sigh, turning on the shower.

"Sorry, princess."

"Sorry, doll."

The night ends with the three of you squished together under your sheets, legs tangled in a mess and Sukuna snoring much too loud. It took little convincing for you to get them to stay with you. Just a few bats of your lashes with your bottom lip jutted out in a pout and they were folding, tucking themselves in next to you. 

In the morning, you still felt the weight of an arm draped over your waist, the sheets warm from body heat as you twist, hands coming up to rub the sleep from your eyes. 

Things remain the same for the most part. 

None of you mention dating other people, choosing instead to stay ‘single’ and pour your energy into your own relationships with each other. 

Movie nights become a little more frequent, though actually watching the movies is much less common. 

And in the mornings, on the days when Sukuna's too lazy to make a latte, Toji makes his way to the cafe down the street, returning with three coffee cups and a brown paper bag full of pastries. He leaves you and Sukuna to your own devices, knowing that each time he opens the door again upon his arrival the two of you will be bickering in the kitchen.

likes, comments, reblogs always appreciated ! i have more works here ♡

a/n this actually took me months to finish so i appreciate the patience and all the love on the first part of new girl. this fic is my baby, i birthed it so i hope you all enjoyed pt 2 as well (˃͈ ˂͈ )

pornstar!choso makes it to the shoot before you do—comes in ten minutes early to settle his nerves and get a feel for the scene ahead. the director tells him it's a simple shoot, that choso is meant to let you ride him for a while until you pull off and suck his cock for a nice close-up facial shot.

he hates the fact that your first, and possibly only, time together would be in front of a production crew, but he'd fuck on a stage in front of thousands to know how you feel wrapped around him. still, the clinical way the director speaks about sex with you makes choso grimace. like it won't change him as a man. like he wasn't up all night thinking about it—hell, he's not sure he has any cum left to give you.

pornstar!choso hates himself for stumbling over his words when he meets you. he wishes he had never looked you up, though he doesn't doubt that seeing your pretty face like this would have wrecked his confidence regardless. you're kind, and greet him with a shy smile as if he isn't about to slip balls-deep inside of you.

once he has you sitting on top of him on that bed—cameras pointed dutifully as you start to play your role and hike your skirt up to sink down on his cock—he can't handle the thought of fucking you like it's nothing. like it hasn't been the crux of all his fantasies since he first discovered you. makes him feel sick to the stomach.

probably to the detriment of his career, he pushes you back onto the bed and connects his lips to yours in a kiss that surpasses every single fantasy he's had in mind. you taste hood, and he wants more. he speaks against your lips, whines a question that makes your stomach coil.

"can i eat you out first? please?"

pornstar!choso is chided by the production team when he gets his head under your skirt and starts lapping at your pussy in the most desperate act of need he thinks he has ever displayed. those that claim he falls in love with each shoot would be wholly correct in this case—he is in love with the taste of you. he could eat you for hours. run his tongue from your clit to dip it inside of you in reverence of the holy deity he believes you must be.

and you laugh at the absurdity of his hunger. at the courage it's taken him to run off-script. and the lack of satiety in which he eats you out.

he only stops once the director threatens to cut the scene entirely. his lips are glossed with you, and his cock hurts with how hard it is as he pulls back and lets you climb over him as originally written. choso thinks the redirection of blood has made him lightheaded though, because when you sink down onto his length he swears he sees the white pearly gates.

choso can't help but whine as you ride him. there's an unfortunate addiction already laying down roots in his brain. he has to try and think of anything besides you to hold onto his orgasm, because the effect your body has on him is strong... but so is the fact he's subconsciously trained himself to associate you with him climax. he's a hair's breadth away from cumming prematurely and ruining the scene

he ends up trying to do algebra in his head to wane off his orgasm, but then he just gets confused and redirects his attention right back to you.

pornstar!choso is distracted enough when he realises that your moans aren't the same as he's heard them through the speaker of his phone. you're more breathy with him, your moans are less honeyed and more raw, as if coming from your chest rather that the back of your throat.

he wonders for a moment if he's not good enough, and you're having to fake your pleasure to save face for the cameras. but you're soaked, and even above the sounds of skin slapping against skin, he can still hear the squelch of his cock rutting in and out of you.

but before choso can question yourpleasure any further, your eyes are widening and you're latching a hand onto his throat as your pace quickens. he can feel the way you tighten around him, how your hips stutter and pupils blow out with lust. you're cumming.

and of course he remembers his directions, to let you climb off and take his load all over your face... but you're not climbing off of him.

pornstar!choso understands the pointed look you manage to give him when his brows shoot up—it's your turn to bypass the scene direction. you want to be greedy, to feel him finish inside of you. your moans aren't fake, they're the first real ones you've let sound on a porn set, and choso is the one pulling them from your lungs.

you were faking it in all of those videos.

he can't last a minute longer, not with this knowledge. he sees stars when he cums, full blown discovery channel constellations too complex to imagine. call it an out-of-body experience or not, but choso is lost in his orgasm for long enough to warrant you bringing him back down with a soft kiss to his lips..

he looks sinful: his hair loose and messy, stuck to his forehead with sweat. his eyes are going to be screenshotted and circulating by morning, though—he looks utterly infatuated.

pornstar!choso takes a few minutes to settle himself after the shoot, and watches as you walk over to him, wrapped in a robe, and press a soft peck to his lips in farewell. he assumes it's the last he'll see of you, there's no way he's worthy of ever tasting you again.

that night, he's scared to brush his teeth. what if he loses the way you linger on his tongue?

it's in bed that he debates fucking his fist to the memory of you. he's sure you've ruined masturbation for him. or sex in general—nothing could quite compare to your depths

and as if it's a sign from god that he's done enough good in his life to deserve a karmic rewards, his phone dings.

a photo of your lower half—a pink vibrator on your stomach, your laptop open and his porn playing on the screen.

attached is a message that makes the poor lovestruck pornstar cum in his pyjama pants.