退魔の剣を、　　　解き放つ！

Toji's cock twitched hard under the sheets, because he was instantly rock hard at the sight of you like this, actually every single morning, it did something filthy to him. He tried to look away, but his jaw clenched tight, the longer he tried to tell himself, not again. Just one morning he hoped his cock wasn't aching and painful because of you.

And you noticed right away. How could you not? His body language gave him away every time, the slight adjusting or where he'd pull the covers up over himself in an attempt to hide his boner. You shifted closer voice coming out soft and teasing. "What's wrong, Toji? You look like you're in pain."

He let out a low grunt, eyes flickering back to yours. The smudged kajal around them made his thoughts spiral. "Fuck. You look too good like that, Dollface. With your eyes all dark and messy. Makes me think about.. how y'er pretty mouth was taking all of me last night, stuffed ya full didn't I?

He lifted his hand mid sentence, reaching towards your face cupping your cheek as his thumb swiped right under your eye.. right where the kajal was the thickest. "Ruined that pretty liner even more."

Your heart fluttered. Heat pooled low in your belly. You knew exactly what he meant. His eyes always betrayed him. That hungry stare. The way his gaze dropped to your full lips next. He was imagining them stretched wide around his thick cock again.

You didn't say anything at first. Instead your hand roamed down his bare chest. Fingers tracing the hard lines of his abs. Lower, until you reached the heavy tent in his sweatpants. He was leaking already, a damp spot blooming under your palm.

Toji hissed through his teeth. "Shit. Yeah. Just like that."

You freed him with eager fingers. His cock sprang out. Thick, veined. The head flushed dark and shiny with pre-cum. It bobbed heavily against his stomach. You licked your lips. The sight making your mouth water.

Leaning down, you settled between his spread thighs. He opened them wider for you. Gentle and loving were his big hand as it came to rest on the back of your head. Fingers stroking through your hair with surprising tenderness.

You wrapped your plump lips around the tip first. Tongue swirling to lap up every drop of pre-cum. Salty-warm and perfect. Toji let out a guttural groan from deep in his chest. His hips bucking up just a little.

"Fuck, Dollface. Your mouth's... always so good for me."

You took him deeper. Inch by thick inch. Your cheeks hollowed as you sucked. The weight of him on your tongue felt divine. Your fingers teased along his happy trail. Petting the dark hair there. Tracing the muscles that flexed under your touch.

He guided you down slowly. "That's it. All the way, baby. Take every fucking inch f'me. I know you can."

You did. Relaxing your throat. Letting his cock slide in until your nose pressed against his pelvis. Your walls massaged him tight. Wet heat enveloping him completely. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. They spilled over. Smudging the kajal even more, black mixing with your tears, running down your cheeks.

Toji's gaze was locked on you. Hyper focused. He drank in every detail. The beauty marks around your eyes. The cute one right above your upper lip. Your hair framing your face like a halo. You looked so beautiful. So fucking ruined for him.

His thumb brushed your stretched lips. Gathering the drool that slipped out. "God, you're gorgeous. Look at you. Taking me so deep. My pretty girl."

You hummed around him. The vibration made his thighs tremble. You bobbed your head. Sucking harder. Tongue working the underside of his shaft. One hand cupped his heavy balls. Rolling them gently while your other hand stroked what your mouth couldn't reach.

Toji's fingers tightened in your hair. Not pulling. Just holding. Guiding you back and forth on his cock as his breaths came rougher now. "Yeah. Just like that. Gonna make those pretty eyes water more. Love seeing my good girl gag on my cock."

You pushed yourself further. Throat fluttering around him. Tears flowing freely. The kajal was a complete mess now. Dark smudges painting your heated skin. You looked up at him through wet lashes. Eyes glassy and devoted.

That was it. The sight broke him.

Toji came with a fevered moan. Thick ropes of cum flooding your throat. Hot, heavy and endless. You swallowed around him. Milking every drop, throat working rhythmically. Taking it all like the good girl you were.

When he finally eased out, a string of spit and cum connected your swollen lips to his glistening cock. You gasped for air. Lips shiny and wrecked.

Toji pulled you up immediately. His mouth crashed onto yours in a deep kiss. Tasting himself on your tongue. Then softer kisses followed. Across your cheek. Along your jaw. Gentle presses just under your eyes where the kajal was darkest. Kissing away the messy streaks with surprising care.

"You wrecked me, princess," he murmured against your skin. His hand stayed at the back of your head. Massaging your scalp in slow circles. "So fucking pretty in the morning. Thank you. My beautiful girl. My sultry little thing."

You smiled. Curling into his broad chest. His arms wrapped around you tight. The sun climbed higher outside. But neither of you moved. Just tangled together. His cock softening against your thigh. Your smudged kajal marking him now too.

Toji pressed one last kiss to your forehead. "Gonna need you to line those eyes every night. Just so I can wake up to this. Every damn morning."

His voice was low, a little possessive, but full of that lazy affection only you ever got to see. You nestled closer. Already thinking about tonight. How you'd line them even thicker. Just for him.

event rules!!

｡°🚂༄｡° This is an 18+ JJK x Reader writing event. You must be 18 or older to participate.

｡°🚂༄｡° Only the seven listed characters, with two writing slots open for each character. Claims are first come, first served and are not final until confirmed.

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｡°🚂༄｡° Fluff, angst, romance, smut, and dark themes are welcome, but any romantic or sexual interaction must involve clear, mutual consent. Please include appropriate content warnings.

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When the door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the noise, Sukuna was sitting alone on the low bench. His fight shorts hung low at his hips, exposing the sharp v-line of his torso, and his broad chest was already slick with a sheen of pre-fight sweat. In the dim atmosphere, the black tattoos covering his wide shoulders and ribs flexed with every deep, slow exhale he took. The fighter looked up, dark eyes locking onto yours, his messy salmon-pink hair damp against his forehead.

You didn't say a word, just stepped up to him with a fresh roll of thick white cotton gauze in your hands. The moment you slotted yourself perfectly between his thick thighs and sank into his lap, those muscular arms instantly wrapped around you. One heavy forearm locked across the small of your back—trapping you securely against him. The scent of your perfume immediately cut through the sharp, medicinal tang of liniment and deodorant filling the space between you.

The silence held fast—broken only by the slight rustle of fabric. You grabbed Sukuna’s big, scarred hand and grazed his blistered knuckles. Slowly, you pulled the white cloth taut over his calloused skin, smoothing it down.

As you focused on the final turns, Sukuna leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck. The heat radiating off his body was scorching, his damp, pink hair scratching lightly against your skin as he pressed a slow row of warm kisses against your throat. “You done?” he asked quietly against your skin, flexing his fingers beneath the fresh gauze—testing your work.

You giggled as the short strands and the warmth of his lips tickled your skin. You pulled away just enough to look into his eyes, your thumb lingering over the finished wrap. “Keep your hands steady,” you whispered, smoothing out the white gauze.

“Are you nervous?” you asked softly.

Of course he had to be, you thought to yourself. This was the championship finals. The highest stakes imaginable. In less than ten minutes, he was either walking out there to claim the gold belt, or he was coming back to this exact room with a bruised face, a busted lip, and the bitter taste of defeat. The pressure was enough to crush anyone.

“Nah” he said softly, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I've already won.”

A quiet laugh escaped your lips at his playful confidence, and before you could tease him back, Sukuna’s wrapped hand slid down the back of your thigh—his fingers sliding right beneath the hem of your denim skirt. With a strong grip, he lifted your leg up and guided your thighs wide, moving you so you were fully straddling his lap.

The movement instantly bunched the stiff denim fabric all the way up to your hips. Your bare thighs and the plump, soft flesh of your ass were left entirely exposed on his lap, with your simple grey cotton panties serving as the only barrier between you.

Sukuna didn't give you a chance to speak, his other hand instantly coming up to cup the back of your neck, fingers tangling into your hair as he pulled you down into a deep kiss. His mouth parted yours easily, his tongue sliding inside with a hungry rhythm that tasted faintly of copper and

mint. A soft gasp escaped your throat—completely swallowed by his lips as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, pulling yourself against his chest.

Unable to help yourself, you shifted your weight—your hips instinctively rolling forward. You ground your clothed cunt right against him, the grey cotton of your underwear rubbing directly over his aching cock.

Sukuna let out a low and rough breath into the kiss, his hand sliding up from your thigh to slide over your bare, exposed cheek. His rough fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass, squeezing it with a grip that anchored your hips right against his. His other hand trailed down to grip your hip—rocking you back and forth.

The fabric of his fight shorts offered no cushioning, letting you feel every rigid inch of his heavy length straining hard beneath the flat velcro waistband. He continued to rock you, pulling you harder against him with every roll of your hips. You whined into his mouth, your hips rolling desperately against his hard bulge until your core throbbed.

Sukuna broke the kiss just enough to breathe, his lips dragging across your cheek to your ear, his chest heaving against yours. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, a rough breathless laugh catching in his throat as your desperate grinds threatened to break his control before the bell even rang.

He stood up with you trapped against his chest. And in two heavy strides, Sukuna laid you onto the high training table. The short denim skirt rode all the way up your hips, with the cold wood biting into the bare skin of your lower back and thighs.

His hands gripped your knees and guided them back, flexing your legs wide as he stepped deeply in between them. Sukuna pressed his hard bulge against your clothed cunt—letting you feel exactly how thick and hard he was for you under his gear.

Slowly, his large hand slid down between your thighs, his palm flattening over the front of your plain, soft grey panties. He didn't pull them down yet. Instead, his fingers began to trace the shape of your damp folds through the fabric, outlining the plump, aching shape. Pressing his thumb hard against your clit, circling it—making a pathetic whimper catch in your throat.

As his fingers worked over the damp grey fabric, Sukuna leaned his weight forward, slowly driving his thick bulge straight into your clothed heat. The sleek material of his fight shorts slid against your soaked panties, pinning you firmly to the wood with every slow hitch of his pelvis.

Your excitement had completely soaked through the material—the grey cotton was almost translucent, darkening from the moisture and sticking directly to your sensitive, swollen folds. Every time he shifted his weight or rubbed his thumb over you, the damp cloth dragged intimately against your clit.

Sukuna leaned down, his eyes locked on yours, watching your expression fracture. “Look at you” he said with a smirk, as his thumb took one more slow dragging stroke along the damp seam before he finally hooked two fingers into the waistband of your underwear. He slid the wet grey fabric down your legs with an impatient pull—letting it drop to the floor.

Sukuna dropped to his knees, broad shoulders wedging your thighs even wider, pinning your legs back until you were completely spread out for him.

“So fucking wet already. The only lucky charm I need.” He let his breath coat your swollen, slick

folds, watching the way you shuddered just from the heat of him. Your core was oozing onto the wooden table, the wet skin glistening under the lights, and a low satisfied breath escaped his chest at the sight. And when his tongue finally made contact, he slid it from the very bottom of your opening all the way up through your slick folds to your throbbing clit in one slow, deep lick.

A sharp gasp caught your throat, your teeth immediately sinking into your lower lip as your hips twitched against the hard table.

“Stay still for me,” he mumbled against your heat, lips flattening against your clit, sucking the sensitive bud entirely into his mouth. Sukuna rested his heavy forearms over your thighs as he lapped your throbbing cunt heavily, his tongue working in aggressive upward swipes through your slick folds, that mirrored the pace of a hard, dirty fuck.

He dragged it out—taking his time to torment you, his tongue flattening to lap broad strokes from your opening to your clit, before narrowing to swirl his wet tongue on the sensitive bud until you were whining, the sound echoing in the concrete room.

Suddenly, rushed footsteps and raised voices echoed right outside the door—the loud, frantic calls of his manager and officials checking the halls. Panicking at the noise, you instantly clamped a hand over your mouth, stifling a loud cry as his tongue swirled over your clit.

Sukuna paused for a second, looking up from between your thighs with amused eyes. He gripped your wrist, firmly pulling your hand away from your face and pinning it down against the table.

“Tryna be quiet?” he murmured.

A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as the voices faded down the corridor. “They’ve heard you before.”

“Sukuna, please, someone's gonna—” you gasped out, your words dissolving into a broken moan as his tongue slammed right back into your wetness.

“Mm…yeah, you like that?” Sukuna hummed with a grin.

Your eyes fluttered back, vision blurring as you looked at the dim ceiling “M-mhm…I do…please…” Fingers instantly tangling into his damp salmon-pink hair, gripping the short strands tightly as you tried to pull him even closer against you. “F-fuck…” you gasped out as your back slightly arched off the wood, your lip digging into your teeth again trying and failing to stifle the ragged whimpers escaping you.

The booming chant of the crowd outside blended with the wet, squelching sounds of his mouth devouring you. You could smell his deodorant, his sweat sticking onto your skin, feel the scratch of his short pink hair against your lower stomach, and the burning touch of his wrapped fingers spreading your wet folds wide so he could dig his tongue even deeper into your pulsing core.

Then, he pushed two thick, gauze-wrapped fingers inside of your cunt.

The rough texture of the tape dragged against your sensitive walls—the friction so sharp it made you sob, your walls clamping tightly around the texture. Sukuna let out a low grunt, immediately taking advantage of how your tightness was sucking his fingers in. He began to pump his fingers hard and fast, the rough gauze dragging in and out of your oozing heat, perfectly hitting your g-spot with every thrust while his tongue continued to lap and suck your clit.

A ragged chain of whines and moans slipped out of your lips while your hands desperately tightened their grip on his hair. The contrast of his rough tape inside your cunt and the soaking wet heat from his mouth against your folds was driving you over the edge. You could feel yourself building, the pressure pooling heavily in your lower stomach until you were trembling from head to toe.

“Sukuna—please, I’m gonna—”

“Give it to me” he murmured against your core. “Right here. Let me taste it.”

He accelerated the pace, his fingers shoving deep and fast, your internal walls contracting violently around the tough gauze. The intense friction snapped the last of your control and your orgasm hit like a physical blow, your back arching off the cold table as your eyes fluttered shut. Your internal muscles were completely squeezing and spasming around Sukuna’s wrapped fingers.

And finally your wave of release flooded out, soaking his hands and spilling directly onto his fingers, the gauze soaking it in as you whimpered, your toes curling slightly and thighs trembling against his broad shoulders as you came hard against his knuckles.

Sukuna didn't back off—he stayed put there, drinking you down greedily, swallowing every drop of your release while his fingers continued to slowly pump inside your wet folds, wringing out every last, fading spasm of your climax, letting his knuckles coat themselves completely in your wetness. He didn't stop until your frantic breathing finally began to slow to a ragged wheeze, his tongue giving one you one final, heavy swipe over your throbbing core.

When Sukuna finally pulled away, a thick, silver string of saliva connected his lips to your wet skin. He stood up, towering over you with his face completely flushed, his lips glistening and wet with you. He used the back of his wrapped wrist to swipe the wetness from his chin—flashing a satisfied look at the mess he made out of you.

Sukuna grabbed his mouthguard off the counter, shoving it into his jaw, and adjusted the waistband of his fight shorts over his aching length.

He gave your warm inner thigh one last reassuring squeeze, smoothing the edge of your denim skirt back down over your legs.

“Shouldn't take long.”

You've gotten used to this. Satoru slipping into the shower with you like it's the most natural thing in the world. He does it often enough that your body already leans towards him without thinking.

"Baby, you're so beautiful," he murmurs, voice low and rough from sleep, cutting through the water's steady fall.

You hum softly in response, a small smile tugging at your lips. The compliment settles warm in your chest, even as his big hands find your waist. They're warm despite the water, palms broad and sure as they slide over your wet skin. He pulls you back gently but firm until your back presses flush against his chest. His frame engulfs you completely, solid and comforting, like he was made to hold you just like this. Skin meets skin, slick and heated, and you feel every inch of him behind you.

His hands drift from your tummy upward, slowly, until they cup the small, soft roundness of your breasts. They're small, always have been, but in his hands, they feel treasured. His long fingers spread wide, covering them almost entirely as he starts to massage, thumbs circling around your areolas. He strokes the hardening peaks with just the right pressure, soft and attentive, like this is second nature to him now. A ritual he can't skip, even if he doesn't say it out loud. His actions speak plenty, the way he kneads and holds, loving every curve and softness of them.

The water keeps falling around you both, rinsing away the last traces of soap on your skin. Satoru notices and reaches past you to turn the shower off with a quick twist. The steady stream cuts to dripping silence, leaving only the sound of your breaths and the occasional drop hitting the tiles.

He turns you around then, hands coming up to cup your face so tenderly. His blue eyes lock onto yours, bright and hungry, before he leans in. The kiss starts deep right away, his mouth claiming yours like he needs to taste you. His tongue licks into your mouth, coaxing those little mewls from your throat that he loves so much. You wrap your arms tight around his neck, pulling him closer, hugging him with everything you have. He smiles against your lips, pecks you once more sweetly, then pulls back just enough.

His thumbs still circle your nipples, keeping them pebbled and sensitive. He leans down, mouth hot and wet as he kisses one, then takes it between his lips. He sucks gently at first, building that sweet ache until it's sore and perky under his attention. You gasp, fingers threading into his damp white hair. He switches to the other, giving it the same loving treatment, tongue swirling, and lips pulling until both are reddened tingling.

He strokes over the places his mouth left his mark on, murmuring in that dazed, adoring tone, "So soft, pretty girl. Look how perfect they are."

Even though his praise makes you clench and tingle, you're you, and the question slips out anyway, quiet and a little unsure. "Even if they're small, Toru?"

He's heard it before, every time he gets lost in admiring them. His answer never changes, but it always comes with that same fierce certainty. "Your breasts are perfect, love. They're small and I love them because they're yours. I just love them."

His voice goes stern, eyes sharpening with that familiar mix of love and frustration, "Don't you know that? Or do you need me to prove it." He hates when you doubt, even for a second. He pulls back a bit, still holding you close. "Cup them for me."

You do timidly at first, but your hands move, coming up to hold your own breasts, offering them to him. The sight makes his gaze darken with want.

"That's it. Feel how beautiful they are, pretty girl. Don’t you see how perfect you are to me? All of you."

Satoru's words fades into a silent whisper as he leans in again, tongue sliding out to lick across your nipples right through the gaps in your fingers. The wetness of it, the heat contrasting the cool air on your skin, sends sparks straight through you. He laps at them slow and thorough, tongue dragging over your fingers and your sensitive nipples alike. Satoru will take any chance he gets to show you like this, to prove it with his mouth and hands until there's no room left for doubt.

He doesn't stop. Not until your nipples are sore and aching under his relentless care, until your legs feel shaky and soft whimpers fall from your lips. You start begging, voice breathy and needy. "Toru, please... it's too much."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, lips shiny and eyes intense. "Only if you admit it, baby. Say it. Let me hear you say it. How beautiful and perfect your breasts are."

You manage the words between gasps, giving him what he wants, and only then does he ease up. His hands soothe over your skin instead, pulling you back into his chest under the lingering steam.

The morning still remains lazy and warm around you both, wrapped in his love and that unbreakable ritual he cherishes so much. He presses one last kiss to your forehead, murmuring how you're everything to him, small details, and all.

Apollo was powerful, yet Eros was unkind. After he poked and played and had his fun, Apollo left Eros alone in the forest, giving him no mind. He didn't know, however, that the God of Love would prove far more wicked than he had thought.

As with his hurt pride, Eros plucked a few creamy feathers from his wings and prepared two arrows. They were completely different, one creating love, the other banishing it entirely. A savage decision, truly, yet how could a prideful man of Eros's sort leave Apollo without the fruit of his wrath?

So he drew the arrow of love and shot it right through his bones. Letting it seep deep and gravely, spreading the lustful obsession of the most wicked charm. The utterly deadly one, making one obsessed and wretched over the darling of their desires.

Usually, his arrows were meant to strike those who wished to be deeply in love. Yet, as the rage was ravaging Eros's mind, he decided to make Apollo the most obsessed yet unhappy man in the entire world.

As for the other one, meant to banish the love, he shot at the daughter of the River's God.

The most beautiful nymph of all, with a face carved by the waves themselves. A chin utterly kind and cheeks wholly sweet, as eyes carried a gentleness of petals' peppered kisses. A wild birdie she was, basking carefree beneath the searing sun, as she lay and drank and danced without giving a mind to no mankind nor other little divinities. Nothing plagued her cheeky mind, and no worry could ever haunt her velvety forehead.

After all, she was the River God's most precious child, and he allowed her everything, guided by a parent's blissful love.

Her giggle bloomed in the nearby trees, and tender gaze lit the powdery midnight sky. A true beauty of utterly rare sight, so impossible it seemed too not be caught in Apollo's sight!

The God of Sun and Music and Poetry had never been in love. He enjoyed the bodily pleasures rather often, yet had never come upon a thing so deadly and wicked called love.

He knew that Gods and mortals joyed in it with the passion seething in their blood – for there were Hades and his Persephone, Aphrodite and Ares, even Orpheus and Eurydice, too, although it seemed that love of humankind was of a rather cruel sort.

Apollo, or, well, Satoru Gojo, as his true name was, never gave it much thought. The Goddesses and Gods were utterly beautiful, true, yet none of them had ever made his heart race with the swell and tenderness that all the poets wrote of.

He had never felt this tickling pinch his spine, nor the sudden blissful pain puncturing through his heart. No lover had ever bewitched his soul in an almost maddening way, and so he thought that the thing called love was simply not a part of his fate. Even if, that was rather fine too.

And yet… the serpents of fate are wicked.

Another summer evening it was, while Dionysus threw a joyous party as Gods usually liked to do. With wine spilling all over the golden cups and jolly laughter swirling through the tall grasses of the midnight land.

Gods there were of all sorts – trees and rivers and plants, each with loveliest offspring too, joined the grand feast.

It happened thirty moons or so before Eros shot Satoru with an arrow of maddening love. One evening, when the God who devoted his mind to no one set his eyes on… you.

A Goddess? Dearests, no.

As if you were the Goddess, he would fear that Aphrodite, driven by jealousy, would quickly pluck your eyes out. For the moment you entered the banquet held on the hidden beach, where waves rolled in deep foams, and moonlight spilt its cold kisses onto the heavy stones, Satoru needed to hold his breath.

This feeling, which he had read – written – about so often, suddenly bloomed in the swells of his heart. His hand flew towards his chest, crumpling the ivory tunic that covered the sizzling skin. His mind was struck, as if by a trickery spell, making him lose interest in the men and women chirping by his side.

The lyre in his hands felt heavy as he plucked the crystal strings, producing an unpleasant tone. But how could he not, if his eyes were devouring a beauty he'd never seen before?

And that evening, he followed you like a lost pup. With an ocean gaze lingering longer on the swells of your body, wrapped in a flimsy dress, and on your sweet cheeks, giggling foxily as the salty breeze smooched them. The flicker of the candles peppering long tables cast a lovely flame upon your skin, basking it in gold and warmth, as he imagined licking it clean.

Satoru Gojo was a poet too. A God of Poetry, after all, yet his mind was miserably empty whenever he tried to put your beauty into words. No one had ever shone brighter than you, and no giggle forced this weird, foreign feeling to seep through the marrow of his ribcage.

He was always responsible for the music and jolly, while his dearest friend Dionysus spilt the wine into guests' cups. The merry atmosphere tickled him in a pleasant way, and the mere thought of going back to one of his temples with a few little birdies forced a cheeky smile upon his brazen lips.

The women, Goddesses, and little divinities who didn't wish to be smooched by Satoru's muscular arms were indeed few. Yet the nymph who bewitched his mind in the utmost wretched way didn't bestow him with lovely eyes even once.

Dionysus noticed Apollo's frown crumbling, so he jumped to his side with a whisper, "Hm, isn't she your type, my dearest God?"

Satoru glanced at the slyness on Suguru's lips and bit the inside of his soft cheek. "That's the problem. And yet it seems I'm not quite hers."

Suguru pushed a raven lock of his hair back behind his ear, and lavender eyes oogled your giggling body with a slight grin. "Do you wish me to give her a bit of my special wine?"

The special wine was simply spiked with an aphrodisiac. Some Gods loved to use it to heighten their own sexual pleasure, while others too… made the object of their desires a bit mellow. A bit more balmy and sweet, and so Satoru already imagined your body melting beneath his fingers as he held it dearly within his delicate grasp.

Feeding you the special wine would be easy. And yet, Satoru didn't wish to be a bastard.

"Oh, but you are," Suguru chuckled, sensing the thought in his friend's mind. "I don't think there's any God more selfish than you."

Satoru knew it was the truth, for his character was rather… oh well… let's simply say he wasn't known to be the kindest and most lovable pick among the women. The most beautiful one? Surely. The best in offering sexual pleasures? Indeed. Yet he was the most arrogant bastard on the Mountain's peak, and every creature living beneath the Midetarrean sun knew of it far and well.

You most likely knew it too, so that's why the stars bouncing off your eyes did not look his way even for a second.

His head fell against Suguru's shoulder, the heavy wine coating his tongue with a sweet taste. His mind buzzed with a clash of drunken and desperate thoughts, a pulsing desire already flowing like liquid through his veins.

"I want to approach her in a nice way," he muttered, feeling Suguru's body tremble with wicked laughter.

"You can only dream, my God. She had rejected all attempts to woo her. The men and the Gods were rebuffed before they could grasp the weight of her eyes," Suguru hummed, feeling Satoru's head suddenly grow heavy on his shoulder.

"Is it her father's fault?"

Suguru shook his head. "The River God wishes for nothing more than to see his grandchildren's blooming cheeks. It's she who sniffs at all her suitors. After all, she is a virgin huntress, bound by Artemis's chastity laws." Satoru's head grew heavier. "You'd better forget about her, my God."

But how could he! His heart raced for no one but her. And even if she was a virgin beauty, Satoru didn't mind it at all, for he truly believed in the power of his charming soul. The arrogant confidence of the Sun God was truly impossible to dim!

And so that evening, Apollo decided to fulfil your father's deepest wish and become a man worthy of his daughter's hand. The one who would turn the virgin huntress into his most delicate, lovely petal.

At first, he began strolling around the meadows you usually spent your time in. Where the river curved and bent like a serpent's snake, and crystal droplets smooched your body, immersing you deep. You often sat with other sisters, and Satoru would approach you all with his foxed smile, dripping with a few sweetish words about your utter charm.

The other nymphs giggled, blushing gently at the lyricism spilling from his lips, as if the words of the most passionate, heart-throbbing kind were meant for them indeed. They looked at your unfazed face with a sly smile, knowing that their sister would reject Apollo's advances as she did with all her other suitors.

The Sun God knelt on the riverbank, looking down at your naked body hidden beneath the water's gentle swells. He could see nothing but the swell of your breasts, with perked nipples smooched by the river's kisses. You were meant to stay a virgin, true, but no one said you couldn't use the charms of yours to make the men spill miserably right beneath your feet.

So you glanced, for the first time, at God's idyllic face and waved your hand with a soft sigh. "I don't need your courtship, my God. There's nothing you can say that will force my mind to change. And to answer the question you most anticipate – no, I won't marry you."

Other suitors would back away instantly, feeling the intimidating air your glance carried across the lush plains. Your head tilted wickedly, lips curving into a playful beam, as if you knew the wretched state you always left them in.

Because a man's nature was to challenge his luck. Who didn't think that maybe their fate would be to change the virgin's mind? As all of them thought of you as the gentle, timid petal, not knowing that the virgin huntress was indeed a true beast hidden beneath the loveliest female cheeks!

But the Apollo, of course, couldn't be more turned on by your harsh rejection. The truth was that he almost didn't hear a word. No, instead he focused on the way your lips curved into a tricky smile. How crystalline droplets clung to your half-dipped breasts, with liquid sun spilling all over your warm skin. He traced them one by one, dripping from the damp hair and down the chest. His eyes seemed to be enamoured by your heavy gaze, slightly squinted and teasing, as if you already knew that your rejection would pinch his wretched heart.

And so a truthful, "My Goddess, you're ethereally beautiful with this wrath-wrinkle of yours," fell with his deep, obsessed sigh.

The nymphs gasped, covering their lips with gentle hands. Their mingling eyes glanced between your squinted gaze and the God's wretched sigh, as they awaited how this concern would unfold.

"I'm not a Goddess, and I don't need your praise," you said, your voice dripping with disinterest. "Find yourself another muse, my God. There's no need to waste your precious time on a simple nymph."

You bounced off the river's edge and swam to the other one, where the Sun God knelt. With the golden halo smooching his pale cheeks and ivory tunic crumpling on muscular shoulders. Feet clad in long, serpent sandals, golden laurel laying high on frosted head.

You've seen men of his sort, yet he was the first to look down on you with such a wretched gaze. Like a doomed lover, trapped in a circle of unrequited love, as if his heart had never swelled for any beauty but your gentlest soul.

He watched you carefully as you swam his way, unhurriedly, slowly. Water flowed over your body in soft waves, and warm wind shook the sole strings of your hair as it fell.

Your arms rested on the lush grass as you looked up at him through a curtain of wet lashes. "My God, I think it's time for you to go."

Satoru smiled – foxily, slyly, yet truthfully – before his hand reached out to cup your lovely cheek. You quickly pulled back, letting the tips of his fingers only catch a whisper of your soft lips.

His head tilted, a few creamy strands falling loosely over his straight brows. "I don't wish to hurt you, my Goddess." He grabbed the hem of his tunic. "I simply hope you'll grant me a chance."

He was kneeling, propping himself on his toes, as his fingers itched to grab a single lock of yours.

"I won't. I pledged Artemis my virginity. I'm a huntress, not your silly muse. Leave this place, or you'll taste the blood of my arrows."

And these words had indeed been bold, as all three realms of this world knew that no man had been more skilful in archery than Apollo himself.

If anyone else had spoken them in such a daring manner, the wrath of Apollo would bring painful consequences.

Yet when he heard it in this lovely yet viper-like tone of yours, a shiver ran down his spine. His hair stood on end as if electrified, and an ethereal aura smouldering around his figure suddenly intensified.

He wasn't afraid, oh surely no.

But rather, the swelling enamour, pinching his fingertips, washed over his heart. Your wicked personality wasn't an issue of any sort, but rather made the Sun God burn with an unexplainable desire. Heat that seeped down to his loins as he took a whistling breath.

"My Goddess, do you know who you're threatening to?"

You knew, of course, yet the urge to play with his boastful ego suddenly proved stronger than the choice to simply leave him be. You've met men like him before – too proud, too arrogant, the ones who'd never heard the word no. Yet of all you'd rejected, Apollo – Satoru Gojo – was the worst of all.

He was the Sun God, after all, who took satisfaction in the fact that the world, indeed, revolved around him. A personification of vanity and smugness, surpassing even Narcissus's pompous pride.

He knew what spell his wicked beauty cast over the nymph's petal cheeks. He knew the virgin maiden would fall for him most pitiably, needing only a single glance from his lustful eyes. His touch was soft, and his hands roamed over the women's tender bodies in the most loving way, yet never leaving them with the true tenderness that should fill his heart.

Satoru Gojo was a simple scum you wished to have nothing to do with. A cheeky smile tugged at your lips as you rested your arms on the river's edge and lifted half your body out of the water.

He didn't try to hide the ocean gaze, immediately snapping down towards your perked nipples, with crystal droplets dripping down the lush glass. Your head tilted, eyes turning kitty-like, as the blessed kisses of sunshine, of his sun, peppered your wet cheeks.

"To just yet another miserable man," fell almost mockingly, prompting a sudden movement around his hips. You've noticed it, and so you turned your lips into a disgusted grimace. "Go away, my God, and know my mercy. I won't be that nice next time."

You fully lifted yourself from the water, standing next to his kneeling body, naked. His gaze followed up your thighs, the mound of your pussy, the plush of your belly, tracing every crystalline line carving into your body. When it finally met your eyes, his throat bobbed.

"My Goddess, you're truly underestimating my feelings for you."

A scoff slipped past your lips as your eyes rolled. "For the God of Poetry, I expected more flowery words."

And so, ignoring whether he wished to say anything next, you simply passed him by. Going deeper into the woods, leaving the Sun God with nothing but the lingering fragrance of your blooming skin in the air, and the painfully, wickedly wretched pleasure bubbling in his loins.

𖤓 𖤓 𖤓

You truly thought that he would give up.

That the Sun God, like any other man, wouldn't wish to pursue a woman who looked at him with nothing but a deep scowl between her beautiful brows.

And yet, for the next thirty moons, he always seemed to be there. Somewhere around, following you like a shadow, with eyes and lips and mind always speaking loudly, giving you neither peace nor serenity among the quiet fields of your home.

Whenever you went hunting, his arrows sliced through the air faster than yours, striking the animals and beasts with power that crumbled the heavens themselves, and a gasp always slipped past your lips.

Quiet, voiceless, yet somehow leaving you speechless upon seeing the strength the Sun God possessed.

He found you every single day, appearing like a spectre by the riverbank, a bow slung over his muscular shoulder, gold and softly feathered, mingling beneath the rising sun.

"Where are we going today, my Goddess?" He jumped to your side with a smile, immediately sniffing the fresh, flowery scent that clung to your sparkling hair.

You gave him no mind, simply following deeper into the warm, moist woods. The sun was barely high, and so you watched the trees wake from the slumber's tight arms.

"I'm going for breakfast, and you can do whatever you want."

Yet you knew that no matter how mundane your day was, Satoru Gojo would follow you nonstop. Just to steal a glance at your lips as you wrapped them around the orange's sweetest juice, the sugary stickiness dripping down your blooming cheeks. To watch the way your back bent whenever you drew yet another deadly arrow. How muscles beneath your flimsy tunic worked, and the sweat bubbled at the back of your neck as he traced it with a hungry gaze.

A few weeks had to pass before you started to tolerate his daily company.

He still acted bold and proud, often boasting like a peacock right in front of your irritated eyes, yet tried to keep his hands away, even though you'd noticed how his fingers curled whenever your tunic brushed their tips.

But then one day… something had changed.

You didn't know what, but well, he did.

Eros's wicked arrow had struck his bones, making his gut leak with maddening love. He was aware of the wretched ache in his heart, yet only after being struck by a love-spell of sorts did something beastly unlock in his mind.

As for the arrow meant to banish love, Eros shot it towards Apollo's dearest one. As all the Gods on Olympus already knew of his wretched state, Eros played his dirty trick, ensuring that the sweetest nymph would never glance at Apollo again.

But… well. A man in such haunting love is truly a hellish creature himself.

When the love-bound arrow struck his back, he took it with a wicked pleasure. Yet, when he saw another one flying boldly towards the curve of yours, he grabbed it swiftly, before the leaking peak could ever brush your skin.

It was a sudden movement as he stepped closer, his hand shooting toward something over your shoulder.

It happened yet another day, as you both walked the serpentine paths through his temple's lush garden. There's a little cove I wish to show you. How about a quick dip? After spending a month in his presence, you sighed and nodded, as nothing gave you more wicked pleasure than seeing him lose his mind at the sight of your naked body in fresh mountain waters.

And so, while your tunic fell to the ground and a warm wind brushed your hair with a soft tickle, he suddenly stepped closer.

Too close. Before a sudden crack of splintering wood sounded behind you, he drew an arrow, his long fingers clenching it.

"What is it?" you furrowed, looking at the long wooden arrow crushed in his strong grip.

He threw it to the side, taking the ivory tunic off his body. "Nothing, probably someone's lost arrow. Give it no mind."

But how could you, when something deep in your chest panged? You were a huntress, after all, so how could you not notice an arrow slashing at your side? There was never a moment when you would let your guard down, and yet, being in Satoru's presence somehow pulled a blissful laziness to seep into your mind.

He was always there – looking, watching, carefully observing each of your moves. Swooshing away a few men who dared to approach your side while he kept his eyes on you for too long.

To tear their limbs apart and unleash plagues across their lands with a single arrow. Something… you didn't know about, since there was no need to trouble your sweet mind. To reveal a sinister side of him that would shatter the gradually improving image you held of him.

His mind was already wicked. Heart wrenched by the pull of love so strong that it seeped into him from the inside. So the moment the love arrow struck his back, the feelings he had tried to keep within his heart suddenly burst with brutish, uncontrollable force.

He simply needed to make you his.

So you hummed softly, taking the first step into the little cove, with water slipping in from the nearby sea. A crisp chill hugged your limbs as you took a deep breath.

He watched you with a smile before dipping into the water too. "Rather good, isn't it?"

You nodded, leaning your arms over one of the sizzling stones. "Mhm."

Your bashful eyes roved over his ethereal body, lingering a moment longer on the broad, muscular back and meaty thighs. A warmth seeped through your loins, so you quickly looked away.

But he saw it. Of course he did, and so his body drifted a little closer, just to feel the saltiness wrapping your skin. Your hair fell loosely over your wet shoulder, and warmth crept up your soft neck.

The slight ache from the morning's hunt still pinched your muscles, so you turned to him again, only to see that he had suddenly come far too close.

A soft cough escaped your throat as you pressed yourself closer to the stone. "Could you, hm, give me a quick massage, my God?"

Satoru chuckled. "A massage? Is that how you wish to use the powerful Sun God?"

A scoff slipped past your lips as you turned back and rested your cheek against the warm stone. With eyes slightly lidded, you knew he, anyway, would give you whatever you wanted.

"Is there anything else you're good for?" A cheeky question slipped past your lips, followed by a low sigh.

He stood mere millimetres from your arched back, and the heat radiating from his body was smouldering your drenched skin. Long, thick fingers settled gently on your shoulders before he began pressing the muscles. Your body melted beneath his strong touch, and your mind went all fuzzy – nothing but soft moans and sighs would fill the little, hidden cove.

"I'm sure you can find a few things you could make good use of," his voice dripped with seduction, tickling your hair-covered cheeks.

A tsk fell past your lips. "You have only filth in your mind."

Well, how could he not? When your back arched so deliciously, with water hugging solely your slightly dipped hips? He could see the swell of your ass almost brushing his thighs, and if he took a little step forward, the tip of his leaking cock would surely brush your skin.

It was a blessing that you lay pressed to the stone in a blissfully unaware state, not knowing that the Sun God was going through pure torture right behind your back. With the fat, long cock sticking to his abdomen, little pearls of precum dripping down the veiny curve.

"You make me act filthy, my Goddess."

A month ago, you would have smacked his cheek and left him be. But now, with his fingers digging deep into the muscles of your back, a lovely laugh slipped past your lips.

"It's a pity I'm a wretched virgin, hm?" You straightened your spine, as if trying to give him a better view. "My God, you truly have extraordinary restraint."

Oh, how he loved this cheeky side of yours. The pure filth spilling from your virgin lips, eyes taking on a nasty look whenever you caught him staring at your nipples peeking through the tunic. The way you always undressed yourself in front of him without blushing like a birdie, taking full pleasure in the fact that he couldn't touch you as he wished.

Who said that a virgin should be timid and cowardly? If you could keep your chastity while still enjoying the wretched state you put men in?

And which God would be more fun to tease than the one who slipped through numerous affairs?

Satoru hummed, pressing your back a little harder. Slipping lower, and lower, through your ribcage and waist, rolling the little dimples just above your hips. "Have I? I'm afraid this restraint might one day snap."

A shudder ran down your spine as you tried to keep your head steady. Your bow lay still on the river's bank, and if he tried to misbehave even a bit, you would simply shoot him clean.

And yet, your hips rolled, as if trying to chase the pleasure his touch gave. "I'll be there when it happens." You looked over your shoulder, not missing the squint he gave you… "And I'll make sure to bring you to your senses," …and the reddened tip sticking to his hips. "I think you might wish to take care of it. Maybe with one of your muses?"

Or whores, as you actually wanted to say.

His cock trembled as you looked at it, and Satoru could only chuckle. Nastily, mischievously, with the fingers pulling your hips a bit closer. Yet not close enough for your wet pussy to feel the meaty shaft graze her lips.

"You are my muse, Goddess," he leaned closer, his warm breath brushing your cheeks. "Do you wish to hear the poems I've written about you?"

The sizzling sun licked your spine, eyes followed as his plush lips leaned to your ear. "Are they as filthy as your mind?"

He nodded, fingers slipping down towards the swell of your hips. Rolling deep circles, loosening the tightness in your muscles. "How could they not?" Snowy hair almost tickled your ear. "Who do you think I pleasure myself to? You may be a virgin, my Goddess, but I have my needs too."

With a sudden movement, he flipped you over, pressing your back to the warm stone. His thick cock stuck to the white trail of his abdomen, yet still not touching your dripping cunt.

You may've pledged chastity, yet you couldn't control your body's simple needs.

"You can't do anything to me," you said, yet something in your voice quivered.

His head tilted wickedly, and his eyes shone as he gripped the fat shaft. "But you can watch, hm?" A thumb swirled over the pearly tip, smearing the sticky cum over the reddened head. "Or is it also against your chastity?"

Maybe it was. Yet your head shook as back pressed closer to the stone. The water swelled over your hips, leaving your breasts bare to his starving gaze.

"Hm, thought so." His fingers slipped to your cheek, brushing a few wet locks away. "My Goddess, you truly are a wicked creature."

Pleasure, distress, haunting desire clashed with each other in your mind, yet your body froze in place. Lips fell only slightly open, eyes bulging like porcelain plates, seeing the fatness he gripped. Leaking with creamy droplets of precum, soaking his long fingers and veiny thickness.

Saying he was large would be an understatement.

Something in your belly squeezed, imagining his bulging head hit the deepest–

"Stop," the word slipped out in a shudder as you turned your head away. With warm cheeks and a trembling lip, as if the Sun God's look of himself pleasuring himself solely on your blooming face were against every pledge you had made. "Go and find one of your filthy muses."

Satoru chuckled before his fingers pinched your chin, turning your head back. He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing yours. "I can't think of anyone but you, my Goddess. Look what a wretched man I am because of you." His thumb brushed your lower lip, then slipped boldly onto your tongue. "Do you truly wish to put your Sun God through such a tor–"

Yet before he could finish, your hand met his cheek. A slap bounced off the water, turning his face left. To bring it back to face your wrath, you slapped it again.

His creamy face bloomed like the softest rose, and a shiver of pleasure ran down his spine. Excitement pinched his heart as fingers clenched around the fat shaft with a low, groany moan.

He bit the inside of his cheek, looking down at your face, burning with rage. "Slap me again, my Goddess, and I'll make you arch that pretty ass of yours for me again."

You didn't know where this sudden change had come from, yet the man standing in front of you was not the one who had pestered you for the past thirty moons.

No, as Satoru Gojo, who now stood mere millimetres from your body, with his musky scent clouding you tight and his fat cock trembling at the sheer look of yours – look much, much madder.

Wretched, obsessed, with the flame dancing behind his watery eyes and a wicked smile tugging at his rosy lips

Another shiver ran down your spine when he started pumping his shaft faster. Smearing the creamy cum all over the bulging veins, throwing his head back yet still following the gentle rise of your trembling breasts.

The rage bubbled beneath your heart, and a tiny thread of heat smouldered on your cheeks. He leaned a bit closer, and closer, and closer, until his forehead rested against your shoulder. He didn't touch you in any other way, yet the sole impact left you breathless.

"My Goddess, you smell so good," he took a deep breath close to your neck, letting another groan escape his lips. "So delicious, ah, I can only imagine how sweet the scent is down there."

A shuddered breath escaped your tightened throat, feeling his muscular, massive body looming over yours like a deathly threat. Long fingers pumped his cock faster, breathless moans hit your drenched skin, before he finally stilled.

With the gentle, petal kiss upon your shoulder and his cheek nuzzling against your skin.

Something warm spilt over your belly. And you didn't need to look down to know what it would be.

"You're disgusting," fell in pure wrath, as you pushed him away. "Nothing but filthy scum. I hope this satisfied your hunger, because the next time I see you, my God, not even your wicked arrows will be able to save you from my rage."

You left the water with a shuddering, vexing tremor washing over your spine, and this little, agonisingly rubbing feeling that spilt hotly all over your mind.

Satoru followed your body with a slick smile, the saltiness of your skin still tasting heavy on his lips.

The Sun God was of a cunning nature. Wicked and wrathful, always doing things one way. His way. 

Three weeks had passed before he had a chance to see you again.

His heart heaved in agony as he couldn't find you anywhere. As always, he came at the first break of day to join you on the morning hunt, but you simply weren't there. Waiting for him with a scowl, yet still giggling at all his foolish jokes and accepting a bit of help.

He was waiting by the river's bank from morning till night, yet you hadn't appeared even once. As if the waves themselves had trapped you beneath the surface.

He asked around – the nymphs, the Goddesses, the plains – yet everyone said they hadn't seen you for days. Or maybe they simply lied to him, as you couldn't simply disappear.

And so for the next three weeks, he walked through the lands like a shadow. He barely enjoyed anyone's company, sitting in his temple only to get drunk on the sweetest wine, letting his creamy skin be scorched beneath his own, merciless sun. A shadow of a man he was, as his heart simply couldn't bear the separation you imposed with such anger.

After two weeks, he met his twin sister, Artemis, to whom you pledged your chastity. He loved his sister dearly and knew her like the back of his hand. Thus, with a single glance, he could tell she knew everything that had happened between the two of you.

And based on her furrowed forehead and tsk that fell when she saw his grinning face entering her temple – she wasn't happy.

"I won't tell you where she is," she murmured, brushing her long, creamy hair aside as she enjoyed the warm kisses in the sun.

She lay on the sofa by her pool, with nothing but a long tunic gently wrapped around her body. Satoru hung over her wrinkled forehead and pressed a finger to satin skin. "My sister, such a beautiful woman you are, and yet you always seem so angry."

Shihori smacked his hand, glancing up at his brother with the same blue eyes. "Because you always make me angry, fool."

Satoru lifted her legs and rested them on his thighs as he joined her on the sofa. "Tell me where she is."

Shihori couldn't care less about her brother's wicked wish, so she shook her head. "You know she pledged her virginity, hm?"

Satoru hummed, playing with the long tunic as he brushed his sister's ankles. "I do."

"So you also must know what will happen if she breaks her vow?"

Of course he knew. That's why he came here.

"What if I told you I love her?" he asked, drawing his sister's attention. "I want to make her my wife. Give her to me, and I promise I will be in your debt forever."

Shihori propped herself up on elbows, letting long white hair brush her rosy cheeks. She was as beautiful as her younger brother – by a minute only. Possessing the same archery skill and a power that trembled the heavens.

With a slim chin and wicked eyes, matching the proudish smile. Strong and bold, with neatly carved muscles bulging beneath her satin skin and an authoritative tone that always made Satoru slightly squirm. But she was his older sister, after all, so how could he not feel the utter love and respect for the same blood?

"And why would I do that?" Shihori lifted her straight brow. "Why would I change my rules for this little nymph?"

"Because you love me," Satoru grinned. "And I suppose it would be rather proper to remind you that enjoying women's company also counts as losing one's virginity. My dearest virgin-goddess sister."

Shihori squinted, kicking his side with her foot. "Whatever I do with my nymphs is none of your business."

Satoru grabbed her ankle before biting her big toe, just as he used to tease her when they were children.

"I suppose some Gods would be interested in how the protector of young women and their virginity fucks with her dearest followers," he chuckled as she kicked him again. "You're no better than me, my sister. The same scum-blood runs in our veins. So let me have her, and I won't say a word."

Shihori glared at him. Morality and the need to give her little brother everything were clearly at war in her mind before she waved her hand and lay back down.

"Fine, I won't punish her. Just don't do anything stupid," she laughed, feeling Satoru's sweet kiss on her cheek. "She'll join another feast in a week. Just wait for her there. Oh, and bring me some of this Suguru's special wine."

Satoru tilted his head, another wicked grin already tugging at his lips. He knew his sister wasn't the saint everyone took her for, yet he had no idea how coy she was.

"And what do you need an aphrodisiac-spiked wine for?"

She opened one eye, shooting a set of daggers straight at his heart. But before another bark could pass her plush lips, Satoru chuckled once again. "Ah, what was this rumour, hm…" His eyes gleamed with a foul grin.

"What rumour?" Shihori asked through her teeth, yet the rosy warmth hit her cheeks.

Satoru stood up from the sofa, giving his muscular back a long, groany stretch. He scratched his chin before looking over his shoulder towards his sister. Oh, her anger only fueled his playful mind.

"Nothing, just that our dearest stepmother has been surprisingly benevolent lately," he observed, another wave of warmth wrapping around her neck. "I suppose it's because Hera truly enjoys the company of her stepdaughter. I wonder what makes her so happy that even Zeus no longer gets scolded for all his affairs."

Shihori slipped a pillow from beneath her head and threw it at his head. "Go out, before I change my mind!"

And so he left, with a crackling chuckle bouncing off the temple's walls and his older sister burning from embarrassment.

Yet now, with his sister's blessing, there was nothing that could stop him from pursuing your love.

And so he knew that the next time you met, he would make you his, whether you liked it or not.

𖤓 𖤓 𖤓

The moon spilt coldly over the feast's heavy tables as the Gods and Goddesses gathered around the flickering candles. The night was warm, as the summer breeze tickled the cheerful cheeks of the giggling nymphs, who listened to Satoru playing soft harp tunes.

An ivory tunic, as always, fell down his muscular shoulders, as the moon spilt dripping kisses on the lightened side of his face.

Finger played softly through the harp's gentle strings, yet lingered on your laughing cheeks. Something panged deep in his chest at how carefree you were with other divinities. You sipped your wine without giving Satoru much thought, as if you hadn't disappeared from Earth for the past three weeks.

Your laugh sliced sweetly through the air, tickling his ears. He desperately tried to force eye contact, yet you gave him nothing but the lovely side of your cheek.

An irritated tsk escaped his lips, an unpleasant anger bubbling deep in his chest. A few Gods approached you with a smile, forcing another wave of rage to wash over Satoru's spine.

Before he could step in, seeing how you slowly warmed yourself to some small God's side, a low, chuckling whistle slashed through the air.

"It seems like things didn't work your way," Suguru said, brushing Satoru's arm with his. "What? She rejected you?"

Satoru sighed, rolling his tense shoulders. "She's just a little nervous."

Suguru squinted his lavender eyes, clearly dissatisfied with such a roundabout answer. Raven hair tickled Satoru's cheek as he tilted his head. Satoru rarely saw his friend concerned with anyone but him, yet his forehead furrowed with a gentle wrinkle.

"Give her some of this wine," Satoru mumbled.

Suguru drew in a long breath, shooting his head towards Satoru. "But you said–"

He started, but Satoru quickly added. "I know what I said." He bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes squinting furiously. "Give her a little. Just to soothe her a bit."

Suguru chuckled, hitting his friend's back. "As you wish, my God."

"Ah, also, prepare a bit for Shihori."

Looking over his shoulder, Suguru rolled a laugh. "Your sister? What does she need it for?"

Satoru gestured with his chin towards the start of the table, where three of the brothers and their wives sat among the elite. With Persephone straddling Hades's hips, a quiet goddess wrapped around Poseidon's arm, and Hera… sitting utterly bored and giving Zeus's drunken laugh no mind.

Suguru followed his gaze before a devilish laugh escaped his throat. "Don't tell me she fucks with the queen mother herself?"

Satoru crossed his arms over his broad chest and let out a soft hum. Suguru tilted his head, admiring Hera's gentle cheeks. "Well, she's quite beautiful. No wonder she's stopped going crazy over Zeus's affairs lately."

Satoru watched as his friend took another pot of wine before rejoining the Gods. His golden tongue whispered the sweetest secrets, and the divinities laughed and blushed beneath Dionysus's soothing lines. After all, a God of Laughter, Wine and Theatre, he knew exactly how to play on people's minds.

You weren't an exception. As he approached and wrapped his arms around you and your friend, a gentle laugh made your eyes lift. Satoru bit the inside of his cheek, catching Suguru's sly glance, while his fingers clenched around your soft arm.

But still, he poured you another cup of the sweetest wine, watching you close as you took a sip. And another, another, another, before humming softly about how delicious it tastes.

A few minutes passed before something warm began to spill across your chest. A kind of fog clouded your mind – sweet and gentle, yet sizzling like the sun.

The nymph sitting right next to you grabbed your arm, looking at your hottish face with a furrow. "Hey, are you okay? Do you need some water?"

You drew in a sharp breath, feeling her cold skin against yours. Your head shook as a soft "I'm fine" barely passed your lips.

Excusing yourself, you rose from the chair and headed to a quieter part of the beach, where gentle waves lapped inside the small cove. Surrounded by the forest and shielded by tall trees, the spot offered a peaceful retreat. The salty breeze gently touched your cheeks, while your throat felt parched, and you scratched it with long nails.

The fog clouding your head was getting thicker, denser, spreading all over your body till the fingertips tingled with a pinching pleasure.

Something wet dripped down your inner thighs, and as you hid yourself behind a tree and slipped a hand beneath the long dress, you felt the stickiness coating your sizzling skin. But more so… the moment your finger brushed your swollen folds, a low bounce of the softly rolling waves.

"Fuck," slipped in a whisper, as you felt the burning pleasure fill your lower belly.

You looked around, seeing that neither mortal nor God peered into the little cove. The bay seemed completely private, with nothing but moonlight spilling onto the smooth sand and soft whispers rolling off the crystal waves.

You took a deep breath, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together. Just to feel a faint friction, yet too embarrassed to slip your finger up again.

You've never felt it before. This… sensation.

Pleasure.

Or maybe you did, yet your mind refused to accept that Apollo, or Satoru Gojo, was the only man who woke a dangerous flame deep in your chest.

Maybe you simply wished to forget about the warmth that boiled deep within your lower belly when his muscular body stood right in front of yours. The look on his handsome face, lost in utter pleasure, and his long fingers wrapped around his filthy cock.

You tried not to think of it again, as the moment the image of his shaft slipped again into your mind, another moany sigh rolled past your lips. Your pussy clenched around nothing, letting another batch of stickiness coat your thighs. Trickling down the skin, till you've noticed a little, wet drop landing on the sand.

"Fuck, fuckfuckfuck," you cried, feeling the burning sensation pinch your skin harder. Perking your nipples, softening your body, as if preparing you to accept the pleasure that needed to be spilt.

Bracing yourself against the stony wall, you took a few steps. On trembling legs, you felt the weakness slowly seep into your marrow. You walked slowly, trying to go deeper into the nearby forest, just to reach the river.

Somewhere safe.

You moved slowly, with wetness dripping down your legs and heavy breaths escaping your burning lungs. Your eyes were misty, nearly teary, as the feverish, floral heat enveloped your entire body.

Waves rolled past your bare feet, sandals long forgotten somewhere in the back. Your burning body couldn't bear the dress clinging to your skin, so you began to undress unconsciously.

One cloth after another, before falling down your knees, to crawl towards the river's banks.

"Do you need help, my Goddess?"

Someone's voice filled your balmy mind.

No, not someone's.

His.

Of the God whom you wished to see the last, as the sole fragrance of his skin pinched your senses in an utmost sinful way.

And, oh, he must've watched you now in such an embarrassing stance!

Kneeling with your sizzling body, you shed the sea-drenched dress behind you. The intense desire overwhelmed your reason as you presented yourself fully before his daring gaze.

"Go away," you barely breathed. "You can't see me in such a state."

But Satoru merely chuckled before you heard his heavy footsteps coming your way. Ocean eyes hummed at all the garments you'd left behind before settling on your clenched thighs and slightly arched back as you tried to crawl towards the nearest river.

He squinted, seeing the wetness dripping down your thighs and a gentle shimmer from your swollen pussy.

"My Goddess, it seems that you do feel unwell," He chuckled, taking another step your way. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Your head shook as you tried to crawl faster, only to get away from him as fast as you could. An attempt to stand up ended in a miserable fall onto the sand, drawing a soft giggle from Satoru's lips. He knelt by your side, brushing away a few strands of hair sticking to your cheeks.

"Oh my," he hummed, seeing the utter loveliness of your drugged face.

With cheeks sweet as fresh cherries and eyes softened by an alluring scowl. A gentle pout tugged at your lips as you unconsciously nuzzled against his skin. Another hand cupped your cheek as he held your face in a possessive grip. His big thumbs, tight yet delicate, brushed your skin.

"What is it, my Goddess?" He whispered, allowing a lenient sigh to spill past your lips. "What happened here, hm? Are you a bit too drunk?"

You nodded, thinking of nothing but the pleasant grip of his fingers.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you were slowly giving in.

A miserable attempt to push him away ended solely with you even more pathetically landing on the soft sand. Your back hit it with a dull thud, as Satoru placed his fingers on your knees. Thumb rolled gently in circles, as if he knew how much pleasure your body took from each brush of his skin.

"Say it," he muttered, leaning closer. Plush lips brushed one of your knees, eyes never leaving your fogged face. "Say that you want me to help you, my Goddess. I know how to make you feel good."

Oh, and you knew too, which is why your knees tried to close again. But his grip was too strong, and he brutally forced them forward, folding you in half.

With your bare pussy dripping filthy onto the sand and perked nipples waiting to be softly brushed by his thumb.

The moonlight kissed his handsome, sharp side as he leaned in once again. To hang right over your face, observing with wicked pleasure the tears forming beneath your lids. As if he could see the fuzzy mess of your mind, with morality and a simple, human need drawing a brutal tight.

"I c-can't," you mumbled, feeling the heat drip down your tongue. It felt much heavier than before, barely touching your feverish roof. "Stop, I can't, the chastity–"

"Shhh," Satoru cooed, pressing your thighs to your chest. Till the swell of your ass glued off the drenched sand. "Artemis will forgive you."

His nose traced the plush of your cheek. Lips peppering your skin softly, leaving traces down your chin. His tongue swirled sweetly around one of your nipples, through the burning neck, perked breasts.

You wished to fight it – you truly did, yet a sugary moan slipped past your lips.

"No, she–ah!" you cried, as he softly bit your nipple.

"It's alright, my Goddess. Don't resist it," he murmured, with one hand feeling your breasts as his lips traced a path down your body. He gently bit, grazed, and nipped your skin before resting his cheek against your mound. "Allow me to take care of you. Just say you want it," he whispered, as his finger rolled your nipple, causing another cry to escape your lips.

"I'm a v-virgin, wait…" Your hand landed on Satoru's head, tugging softly on his hair.

Satoru groaned, feeling your gentle finger scratch his scalp. "I'll take good care of you. It won't hurt, I promise," he mumbled right into the drenched mound of your cunt, as the fragrance of sugary juices already hit his senses. "Fuck, my Goddess. Just let me have a taste. I won't put it in…" promise?

You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling his warm breath almost brush your core. Not quite, yet the mere sight of him, lying so handsomely between your thighs, was enough to force a nod.

A nod, which would never happen if your mind wasn't on the verge of spilling. If your body wasn't melting beneath his touch, thighs spreading even wider, just to open your cunt to his starving mouth.

It was utterly embarrassing, humiliating, mostly sinful act and yet… when his tongue finally licked the juices off your clit, a shuddering moan bounced off the cove's stones.

He didn't waste a time, pushing the drenched muscle right inside your spasming cunt. Slurping, ravishing on the waves of wetness that spilt from your hole in unnaturally large bursts. Droplet after droplet, trickling down his chin and landing softly on the sand.

"My Goddess, fuck, I knew you would taste so good," he slurred, letting your juices stick to his lips. "My sweetest love, mhm, I was waiting a month for you."

Your fingers clenched around his hair as you tried to slightly pull him back. "W-wait, that's–nghhh–too much, my God!"

Your body had always been much weaker than his, but now, with neediness running through your blood, it seemed impossible to do anything but allow yourself to be wrapped in his lips.

He took your hand, slipping it down your belly. Down to your clenching cunt, only to press your two fingers against the swollen clit.

"Do you feel it, my Goddess?" He chuckled, looking up at your warm cheeks. "Do you feel how wet you are? That's what you wanted to take away from me."

He directed your pads to press softly, pinchily, till another moan spilt past your lips. His tongue slurping on your tight core, fingers of one hand rolling your nipples. Squeezing the plush breasts, till a painful pleasure tickled your spine.

And the other hand…

"Wait!" You screamed, quickly catching his wrist. "N-no penetration… just…" Oh dearest, how embarrassing it was to say out loud! "… use your tongue. I can't lose my virginity."

My sweet foolish nymph, Satoru thought, before an innocent, "Of course, my Goddess," fell past his plush lips.

The waves and waves of ethereal pleasure washed over your spine as he devoured your sweet pussy with a starving need. Nose all glued with your juices, cheeks nastily squeezed by your trembling thighs, tongue working on your clit and hole, trying to stretch her as much as he could.

His creamy forehead furrowed with a wrinkle, brows tight, as you pushed a few soft strands of his hair away.

"My God, please t-take a breath," you cried, yet the spilling lustfulness seeped like a flame through your skin. "I'm–mhmm–t-there's something…" Before you could point at your lower belly, his hand pressed right there.

Squeezing your little pouch, as if trying to feel the slick, filthy cum splashing beneath your skin.

"You need to cum, my Goddess," he mumbled drunkenly, sucking on your plush clit. "But for that, I need to put my finger in."

You bit your lower lip, looking down at his wretched face.

His cheek nuzzled against your soft thigh, kissing the clit softly. "Please? Just a finger. I promise, it'll be fine."

Oh, he looked stunning. With those alluring eyes and innocent pout, as if aware that his angelic face alone was enough to make your head spin.

So you nodded, rather unconsciously, and watched him push one finger in.

"Oh," slipped moany at the new feeling. "Oh, my God, mhmm, i-it's–"

"Now you can cum for me," Satoru whispered, going back to sucking your clit.

He knew where your sweet spot was – how couldn't he? – so within a second, you started squirming beneath his grip.

One of his hands rested on your belly while the other was deep inside your tight, clenching walls. He kissed, brushed, and lightly peppered your most sensitive spot with his finger until your thighs finally clenched around his head.

Locking him in a tight, shuddering embrace as he drunkenly moaned over your spilling juices. With a single flick of his tongue, you melted beneath his maddening touch, squirting all over his cheeks, chin and nose, till the Sun God was left nothing but a wretched man, hugging nastily to your velvety skin.

Your head felt a bit less feverish, with the crimson fog finally clearing from in front of your eyes and fresh summer air finally filling your lungs.

For a mere second, you felt normal again.

Satoru still lay between your spread legs, kissing the slippery skin of your inner thighs softly.

"Welcome back, my Goddess," he muttered, licking the last juices dripping from your pussy.

You watched him with pure terror swirling behind your eyes. "I… this feeling…"

"Mmm," he hummed, softly biting a plush of your thigh. "Someone must've spiked your wine, my Goddess. Have you angered anyone recently?"

Oh, he was such a scum.

Your lovely brows furrowed, a drop of sweat slipping down your temple. "No, I… I don't know. There was…" you, wanted to slip, yet you bit down on your tongue.

Satoru pouted, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. "My Goddess, I vow to find that bastard and slash his throat," he whispered, kissing your thigh and moving upward, even biting gently into your calf. "But for now, brace yourself for another wave."

And true to his promise, the heat once more kissed your cheeks. It climbed up your neck, seeped into fingertips, curled beneath lower belly, and caused another slick to slide down your cunt.

A fogginess once again swirled in front of your eyes, and an anxiety bubbled somewhere deep in your tightened throat.

Satoru flipped you onto your belly, with a soft, "Shhh, it's fine, my Goddess. You'll be fine."

Gentle, wet kisses landed on your shivering spine, leaving hottish traces down the skin.

"What a-are you doing?" fell shuddered.

But you didn't catch his reply. Truly, you heard nothing at all but the swoosh of his tunic as it landed close to your sand-plastered face.

"My God–ah!" Slipped in a pitched moan, as something fat poked on your swollen pussy.

The heat was teasing, gently pinching your damp folds, rolling waves of intense pleasure whenever Satoru stirred your cunt. His fingers spread the heat in a soft hum, and something heavy, round, pressed against your tight entrance.

"My God, what–"

"My love," Satoru let out an utterly innocent whimper, as if trying to stifle the tears wracking beneath his lids. You couldn't see the devilish smile tugging at his lips, his face tightly pressed into the sand. "Allow me to make you feel good. I can make the pain go away, just let me…" His swollen head slipped in a little, forcing a shattered moan from your throat.

"Wait!" You tried to crawl away, but he pressed a hand between your shoulder blades. Keeping you tight in place, with his massive body fully resting on yours.

"It's okay, my love. It won't hurt, I promise," he hummed, another hand massaging the swell of your hips. Spreading your drenched folds a bit farther to see the tip of his cock getting sucked by your weeping cunt. "My Goddess, don't make her wait any longer. She's just wishing to get fucked, ahh."

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to stop your hips from slamming against his. As, dearest heavens, the way his sole head stretched your cunt brought an unparalleled, maddened pleasure, bubbling deep inside your belly. The pledge you made re chastity was trying to fight the aroused, lustful thoughts. The thick, warm fog that made your body liquefy beneath his touch, and your mind go all hot.

"My virginity–" You started, yet Satoru quickly snapped back.

"I talked to my sister, love. She won't punish you," he whispered, leaning down to lick a long stripe down your spine. "Because now you're mine. So say you want it, hm? Say you want me to fuck your tight cunt and fill her up."

He bit, licked, kissed your skin, while slowly, oh so painfully slow, poking your drenched hole.

"Just the tip, my love," he whispered, brushing away a few strands of hair hiding your lovely side. "I don't want to hurt you, my Goddess. I'll slip just a little tip."

And with an arousal fogging your mind, you nodded. Forcing a wicked laugh past his plush lips as he kissed your cheek.

"Mhm, that's right, my love," his cock slid through your tight walls, snugging inside your plush warmth. "Oh fuck, my Goddess, you truly are a fucking virgin."

You drew in a sharp breath, feeling his heavy cock slip into your belly. It was anything but the tip, forcing a sudden burst of tears to roll down your cheeks.

The pain mixed with pleasure as his shaft forced its way deep inside your pussy. You could feel every pulsing vein throbbing against your walls, the pumped head smooching your sweet spot, as he pushed and pushed, while pressing your body to the sand.

A moany cry bounced pitifully off the crystal waves before he quickly rolled you again.

This time, your back hit the sand, thighs folding up to your chest.

And when you looked up at his face… oh.

The Sun God hung over your crying cheeks with nothing but an utterly wicked, handsome smile. Eyes shining beneath the cold moon, adding to their ocean-blue hues a kiss of sin. He giggled, kissing the single tear that soaked your cheek.

And an angel, no, rather a demon, keeping you in his tight, possessed embrace.

Your hands pressed to his chest, as he pushed harder. "My God, you said just the tip," fell harshly, seeing a grin coiling in his gaze.

"My Goddess, you truly are ruthless," he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips. "How could I ever lie to you? I'm barely in, I promise."

Yet when you tried to look down, his strong fingers grabbed your chin, keeping your eyes fixed on his.

"You don't trust me?" He pouted, peppering your skin with soft kisses. "Don't look down there, my love. Focus on me."

Your head lulled right as he bit the side of your neck. Licking, sucking on it gently, while still forcing his cock through your walls.

It wasn't just the tip, and although you should be angry, the way he kept you folded left little room for movement. With his single arm pressing your legs tight, fingers keeping your chin up, and massive, heavy body leaning on yours.

He started to move faster, faster, faster, pumping you poor, weeping cunt with his heavy cock. It hit every inch of your lower belly, brushing past the sweet spot and smooching up to the slowly swelling womb. You could feel his round head nuzzle deep inside your pulsing warmth, as your tight walls wrapped around him, as if trying to lock him in.

A low hiss slipped past his rosy lips as you cried out in painful pleasure. Your blood ran hot as he tried to fuck each drop of aphrodisiac from your veins, pushing your body deeper into the sand.

The nasty squelch bounced off the water, spilling deep into the cave and catching in your scattered hair. He brought your face back, giggling at the sight of your utterly fucked eyes.

"My beautiful Goddess," he whispered, before slipping his hand down your belly. At this point, with heat bubbling in your belly, your thighs stayed open, pressed to your chest, as if your body was freely inviting him in. "My sweet, beautiful Goddess. Tell me how good you feel."

His demand forced wrath and balmy submissiveness upon your fucked mind, and so a sweet, honest, "G-good, ahh, you're filling me s-so good," fell embarrassingly past your lips.

As no matter how much you wanted to refuse, it did feel good. Dearest, it felt amazing, handling his hefty cock fully sliding inside your warmth, till wet balls hit your lifted ass. Head kissing your womb, veins pulsing in rhythm with your plush walls, as they pushed out waves and waves of fresh cum. Coating his full length in your juices, till whenever he pulled out, a crystal thread formed between your cunt and his creamy, happy trail.

His hands kneading your softness turned your mind to balm, and fingers playing with your swollen bud forced a moan, so you truly, shamefully so, allowed your body to give in to his touch.

"My God, nghh, I'm going to–"

Before you could finish, he crashed his lips against yours. He slipped a groan deep inside your throat as he started to fuck you faster. More relentless, brutal, forcing upon your virgin cunt a strength you weren't used to.

"My God, p-please–ahhh–slow down," you cried into his lips, yet received only a low chuckle.

"I know how to make you cum, my love. Your pussy needs to be fucked properly," he licked the tears dripping down your cheeks before capturing your lips again. "You're close, hm? I can feel it in your belly."

His hands pressed to your lower pouch, feeling his cock hit the soft skin, before slipping down to your cunt. Rolling your clit in mean, squelching pinches.

"S-satoru," his name finally escaped your throat, as you wrapped your arms behind his neck. "So good, you're–ngh–filling me–ahhh."

He chuckled, seeing your lidded eyes and messy blabber falling past your lips. "I know, my Goddess, your–ahh–pussy feels so fucking good. My sweetest, I promise to take good care of you."

He hid his face in the crook of your neck before finally going still. Your back arched, nipples pressing to his chest, before a soaked cry ripped from your throat. Juices gushing all over his abdomen, cock, as he hit your womb painfully, filling it with sticky ropes of cum. Till you felt the heavy creaminess sticking to your walls, stuffing you heavily, madly full.

A filthy fog once again seeped into your mind, and for a single minute you felt your strength return to your body. For a mere moment, it allowed you to smack his fair cheek. It left him fully unfazed, with a cheeky grin still plastered to his handsome face and a low chuckle forcing its way past his lips.

"My Goddess, is that how you should treat your future husband?" he asked, then brutally turned you back onto your belly. You tried to crawl, kicking him back, but he simply smacked your ass. "Come on, my love. Don't try to fight me. If I hadn't found you, who knows who would?"

Your breath hitched when you felt his cock harden again. Still snuggling deep inside you cunt, as you felt his shaft stretch your poor, weeping walls.

"I–ahh–I fucking hate you," you snapped through gritted teeth, your hips slowly rocking against his. Whatever you'd drunk still flowed in your veins, forcing another fog over your mind. "I hate you, so, s-so–mhm Satoru, just, fuck, p-please–"

His fingers dug deep into your perked-up ass, ocean eyes glimmering at the sight of your arched back. Sweat beaded on your neck, and your teary gaze looked over your shoulder in a furious, desperate, pleading manner.

He chuckled, taking a little vial from his tattered tunic. Opening it with his teeth, he handed it your way.

"What is it?" you asked, trying to sound at least a bit suspicious.

His eyes squinted, lips turned wickedly up. "Just a simple water. You'll feel a bit better."

"Drink it first."

"You don't trust me?"

You bit down your lip, shaking your head a bit.

Satoru hummed before taking a sip of the liquid without hesitation. It seeped warmly through his body, dripping down to the burning loins.

Seeing that he truly acted normally, you took it from his fingers and drank it all in one go. But… oh.

You shot head his way, seeing nothing, but a nasty grin. "This…"

He leaned closer, pressing his hand back between your shoulder blades. His face drew nearer, then he licked your lips with his wine-sweetened tongue. "Tastes similar, my love?"

A wave of heat was rolling faster, an even stronger aphrodisiac flowing through your veins. Breathing became harder, your mind already blind, as he pushed your melted body into a deeper arch.

"I love you so much, my Goddess," he whispered, peppering your sizzling cheek. "I'll make you feel so good. So fucking good, I promise. My sweet, beautiful wife. Just trust me."

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

Yesss, I'll write Artemis!Femjo and Hera!Reader, because we're the milf and she's the MOTHER FUCKER

You heard his growls and breathing from behind the door. The pain and pleasure filled his body as he soon started fiddling with his jeans.

"B-baby, fuck, could you–"

He didn't finish, when you slowly opened the door.

Naked, foamed, hair curling around your wet shoulders, eyes flicking up and down his miserable body with a cheeky grin.

"You don't look quite well, sweetheart," you murmured, grabbing his lip ring and pulling it harshly. "Are you perhaps in pain?"

His head shook, lavender irises turning hearts, as he let out a shuddering breath. Leaning down to match your eye level. Your hand slowly took off his leather jacket and shirt before fiddling with a belt. Fingers brushing the fat bulge straining his jeans, before you giggled again.

"That's good, sweetheart. If you were in pain, I would need to postpone your reward for another day," you popped one button, unzipping his fly. The jeans fell to the filthy floor, joining the rest of the drenched clothes.

Long, raven hair curled around his handsome cheeks as he watched your movements with a slight grin.

"What r-reward?" he pushed, trying to hide the pain that was almost twisting his face. "Fuck, baby, what reward do you have for me?"

You hummed, dropping down to your knees. Hitting the wet tiles, as the hot droplets still coated your skin. Suguru pressed his back against the closed door, groaning lowly at the sheer sight of your lovely cheeks.

"A little something for still coming back to me."

You looked oh so wickedly lovely. With the warmth caressing your swollen lips and eyes slightly fogged by the maddening desire. Hottish droplets dripped down your velvety skin, lips pouted as you placed a sweet kiss over his clothed cock.

"Acting as if you hate me, while getting yourself wet over my cock, huh?" He tried to chuckle, but you quickly dug your nail into his wound.

A painful cry filled the foggy room. His head lolled to the side, eyes shooting the most devoted promises right at your wickedly grinning face.

"I would think twice before saying anything, you psycho," you giggled, sliding down his brieds.

Fat, leaking cock smooched your cheek, leaving a thread of precum all over your skin. You let it stick to his abdomen before nuzzling your cheek against his open, pulsing wound.

"That looks quite bad, sweetheart," you muttered, giving it a sweet lick.

Suguru shuddered, his cock pulsing from the sheer sight of your lips wrapping around the nasty wound you gave him yourself.

"Mhm, it's not bad."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh, truly? You wouldn't mind getting the same in the other thigh?"

Suguru bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the urge to press your soft lips against his cock. His fingers curled and straightened, eyes wickedly wet, as he noticed the way your back curved on the tiled floor.

"Would that make you happy?" he asked in a low groan as you pressed against his wound again. "Fuck, baby, be care–"

"Yes, sweetheart," you said, licking it again before pressing your nose into his tight, restrictive balls. You gently caught one with your teeth and kissed it softly. "That would make me very happy. But if you piss me off again, I will carve my name onto your chest."

His eyes squinted, head tilted, and you knew that he, in fact, wouldn't mind it.

"You're nasty," you giggled, before licking the underside of his cock.

The pulsing, long vein that wrapped around it up till the red head, sucking gently on his stony shaft. Your fingers played with his balls, lips wrapped around the pulsing tip, as the musty smell fully curled around your senses. The mix of sweat, his cum and your juices as you quickly took him deep inside your throat.

Till your nose nestled in his pubic hair, squinted eyes locked on him for a long time. His fingers brushed a few strands of your damp hair before gripping your head firmly at the back.

You moaned, feeling the pulsing need that almost ripped your pussy apart. Your fingers glided over your body, caressing the sensitive, perked nipples, then moved toward the swollen clit.

Your throat tightened around him in the most slutish, maddening way, and Suguru knew – oh, he knew – how many other men had the audacity to use you as he did.

"Have you moaned like a cheap whore for others too, baby?" He groaned, pinching your full cheek.

You pulled away, leaving a single thread between your lips and his cock, while rolling your hips against your fingers. With another hand pumping his slick shaft, you giggled.

"For each one of them. Moaning like a fucking slut and letting them cum deep down my throat," you kissed his swollen head, sucking it like the sweetest lollipop. "While another guy was fucking me from behind. Filling my filthy pussy wit–"

Suguru's lavender squinted in wrath.

He grabbed your hair more harshly, almost brutally, before pulling you back on his cock. Hitting the back of your throat with painful smooches, coating it in the sheer glean of precum.

You gasped raggedly as he used you with ruthless force, like a rag doll.

"It's okay, baby," he moaned, seeing how you started rolling your hips faster. Muffled cries tried to push past your throat, hitting his fat cock with trembling kisses. "It's okay, I forgive you. From now on, no one will fuck you whorish cunt, but me. Fuck–ah– try to pull another shit like that, and I will disembowel him right in front of your eyes."

His balls smooched your chin as he fully pushed your head away before quickly pulling it back in. Leaving you no space or chance to snap back.

And what irritated him the most was how you didn't gasp even once. Fuck. Your throat wrapped around him in a sinful manner, with your tongue pressed to the underside of his shaft, allowing it to slide smoothly.

Wicked, lovely eyes looked up at him from a curtain of wet lashes, fingers fiddling with your clit in desperate rolls.

When your other hand pinched his bleeding wound, he pushed you away with a hiss.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, hearing a sweet laughter slipping past your lips.

You didn't cough or cry. Instead, you simply stood up and turned around. With your palms against the wall and back slutty arched, you glanced over your shoulder.

"Well?" Your hips brushed his leaking cock. One arm slipped behind to pull your cheek open. "She's waiting for you. Come on, stuff me full, sweetheart, till I'll be sick from your–ahhh!"

A giggly moan escaped your wet lips as he pulled your hips with a brutal force. His tip was ready to burst, and it seemed like you were on the edge too. With clit already pulsing and your head falling back, you started sliding yourself down on his cock. Hips hitting his, back of thighs pressed to his, before you felt his blood soak your skin.

"Fuck, as tight as before. Baby, you have a fucking virgin pussy," he groaned, feeling your walls give him a few short squeezes.

You wrapped your arm around his neck, pulling him closer. Your back arched painfully as his shaft pressed deep inside your still-stuffed belly.

"I can be your virgin if you want me to," you moaned to his lips, biting down on lip ring. The metal tasted sweet, almost bloody, after all the times you pulled it for the past few hours. "Do you like how tight my pussy is, hm? All drenched and dripping from your cum?"

One of his hands slips up your breasts, the other falls towards the swollen clit. He kneaed your body, rubbed all your folds, and used the sticky blood to play nastily with your pulsing bud, rolling the sweetest moans from your throat.

"All mine," he licked your lower lip. "All fucking mine. I love you so much, baby. Fuck, slash my throat, and I'll still come back to haunt you."

Your hips met his in painful, pleasuring hits. Heavy cock sliding deep inside your belly, till your pouch bulged with his fatness. He brushed all your sweetest spots, hit your womb still splashing with a nasty cum, ready to stuff you even fuller.

"I would–nghh–resurrect you and kill again, if you didn't," a crying moan slipped from your lips when he sucked on your jaw. Licking it sweet, leaving purple kisses all down the drenched skin, as he kneaded your tit with one hand, the other pinching your clit.

A splashing desire already filled your lower belly as he hit your swollen womb with brutal thrusts.

"Suguru, I–oh god–I love your cock so fucking much. Fuck, I'm going to cum," you cried, head falling back on his shoulder. "Gosh, fill me up. P-please, nghhh."

He chuckled, rolling your clit faster. Pumping his cock deeper, letting himself be wrapped by your soft, viper walls, till your pussy finally locked him in.

He shuddered, biting into your arm before flooding you with his cum. Ropes and ropes of thick cream, stuffing you full again until he noticed your little bulging pouch. Squealing with each thrust as he pushed the cum deeper.

"Fuck, baby, how about I'll make you a mommy, huh?" He muttered, feeling your soft cheek pressing against his shoulder. "You don't have to finish school, just–ah!"

Your nail dug into his bloody, nasty wound as you slid off his cock with a low tsk. With fingers clamped to his face, you turned his teary, pain-washed eyes to meet your gaze.

"Don't put stupid ideas into this filthy head of yours only because we fucked twice," your poison-lined tone wrapped sweetly around his blooming cheeks.

Suguru leaned against the door, a heartbreaking smile twisting his lips. "You don't plan to fuck with anyone else, hm?"

You took a towel hanging off the door, wrapping it around your body. He didn't comment on the fact that you didn't clean your leaking pussy, fully stuffed with his cum.

"I don't know," you said softly, noticing a flash of anger in lavender eyes. "We'll see how useful you'll be. And don't tell anyone about us, or I might have to tie you up and fuck another guy right in front of your eyes."

And with the last, cheeky smile, you left him in the bathroom stall. Alone, trembling, yet with a heart swelling with the truly enraging love.

©liahcharms all rights reserved. Do not copy, plagiarise, feed AI, translate or modify my works.

Just a little something, but honestly, I love their dynamics so much that now I'm thinking about the reader fucking with another guy in front of tied Suguru...

art by @thatsallitchief dividers by @uzmacchiato

"Ahh Toji," you moaned, voice breaking sweetly into the quiet air.

He growled low against your flesh, the sound vibrating straight through your core. He held you firmly now, one hand steady on your hip. His tongue moved with purpose, licking in and around your hole in slow, teasing strokes. The tip of his tongue wormed its way into your tight hole, pushing past the tight resistance and making your thighs tremble.

You gasped, fingers clutching the sheets beneath you. Toji's arm snaked around your waist then, hugging you close to his face as he buried himself deeper. His face pressed fully between your ass cheeks, mouth latched onto your cunt like he couldn’t get enough. He sucked hard, slurping noisily, the wet sounds filling the room and making your cheeks burn with heat.

His eyes closed in pure bliss. He inhaled deeply, breathing you in, then exhaled warm against your sensitive skin. The rhythm of it drove you wild, his hunger so raw and open. When he needed air he pulled back just enough, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, leaving little red marks that only turned you on more.

Spit and slick strung between his lips and your pussy, glistening and messy. Toji stared at it for a second, breathing ragged, before he dove right back in. He licked with fresh intensity, gathering more spit on his tongue and spreading everything. He painted it all from your dripping cunt up to your asshole, leaving no inch untouched, claiming every bit of your soft flesh with his mouth.

You moaned again, pushing back against his face as much as his grip allowed. Toji only held you tighter, devouring you like a man starved. His tongue flicked and swirled, dipping inside once more before sliding up to circle your tight ring. The mix of sensations made your head spin. Pleasure building fast and heavy in your stomach as every lap of his tongue pushes you closer to the edge.

He pulled back for another breath, strings of spit connecting him to your soaked folds. "Fuck, you taste so good," he muttered, voice rough with need. Then he was on you again, mouth latching tight, sucking your clit between his lips while two thick fingers teased your entrance.

Your body rocked back towards his face with each movement. The way he hugged your waist kept you locked in place, unable to escape the overwhelming pleasure he was giving you, alternating between long, flat licks and pointed thrusts of his tongue, spreading your wetness and sticky slick everywhere, nails digging in harder when his hunger took over completely, pulling you back onto his face, rough and eagerly.

Time stretched out in that haze of heat and slick sounds. Toji ate you like he had all night, like he would never get enough of your taste, your scent, the way you moaned his name. He worked your pussy and ass with relentless focus, spit dripping down your thighs, mixing with your own arousal.

You felt yourself clenching around nothing, desperate for more, but his mouth kept you right there on the brink. He hummed against your cunt, the vibration shooting sparks up your spine. Another deep inhale, another messy slurp, as he spread you even wider with his hands.

The pleasure coiled tighter. Your moans grew louder, breath coming in short gasps against the bed. Toji didn't stop. He licked and sucked and explored every fold, every sensitive spot, until your legs shook uncontrollably in his grasp.

He pulled away just long enough to growl against your skin. "That's it. Let me hear you, Doll." Then his tongue was back, borrowing deep, spreading more spit and slick in messy strokes from your cunt all the way to your asshole.

You were lost in it. Completely his in that moment, arched and open and dripping for Toji's hungry mouth. He showed no signs of slowing down, face buried deep, arms locked around you, devouring every bit of pleasure he could pull from your body. The night was young, and he had been waiting far too long to stop now.

Your body trembled under the steady rhythm he set. Toji began fucking his tongue into you deeper, pulling you back and forth on his tongue with those powerful hands. Each tug dragged your dripping cunt along the thick muscle, forcing it in and out in a filthy rhythm that left you gasping into the sheets. The wet sounds grew louder, messier, as he devoured you without mercy.

You could barely think straight. Pleasure crashed through every nerve. His grip stayed iron tight around your waist, keeping you arched and open for him. He hummed against your flesh, eyes still closed in pure satisfaction, breathing you in like he needed it to survive.

But it wasn't enough for him. Not anymore. Toji finally had enough. He pulled back with a low growl, strings of spit and your slick stretching between his mouth and your soaked pussy. He stood up behind you, towering and impatient. In one swift motion he shoved his sweatpants down his hips. His cock sprang free, leaking pre cum, veined and heavy, throbbing in the cool air of the room.

You glanced back over your shoulder, breath catching at the sight. Toji wrapped one large hand around the thick length, stroking himself slowly as he eyed your glistening hole. He pressed the fat tip to your pussy first, rubbing it teasingly over your swollen clit. The contact sent sparks shooting through you, making your hips twitch.

He dragged the head down to your entrance next, teasing the sensitive rim. You whimpered softly, pushing back against him, desperate for more. Toji chuckled darkly, low and rough. Before he pushed in he spat, letting a thick string of saliva drop from his lips onto his cock and your pussy. The warm spit mixed with your wetness, making everything even slicker.

Then he pushed in just enough. The fat head stretched your tight walls, splitting you open slowly. You moaned loud at the burn, the delicious pressure of him filling you. Toji groaned deep in his chest, one hand still gripping your hip while the other guided his cock.

He held still for a moment, savoring the way your pussy clenched around his tip. His thumb rubbed circles on your skin, almost soothing, but the hunger in his eyes told you he was far from done. With a sharp thrust of his hips he sank deeper, inch by thick inch, stretching you wider than his tongue ever could.

"Fuck, so tight for me," he muttered, voice gravelly with lust. He kept one hand on your waist, the other sliding up your back to press you harder into the bed. Your chest stayed flush against the sheets, ass high, taking every bit of him as he worked himself inside you.

Toji started moving then, slow at first, pulling back until just the tip remained before sliding back in. Each thrust grew a little harder, a little deeper, his heavy balls pressing against your clit with every drive forward. The spit and slick made it obscene, wet smacks echoing as skin met skin.

You wiggled again in his grasp, overwhelmed by how full you felt. He only held you firmer, fingernails digging into your flesh once more. His pace picked up steadily, pounding into you with that raw strength. Sweat beaded on his skin, dripping down onto your back as he fucked you exactly the way he wanted.

He leaned over you, chest brushing your arched back, lips grazing your ear. "Been thinking about this pussy all day." His cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, making your toes curl. You moaned his name again, the sound muffled by the bed but still clear enough to spur him on.

Deep, powerful strokes that shook your whole body. His veined cock stretched you perfectly, leaking more pre cum inside your heat. The angle kept your ass up high, letting him hit so deep your lower tummy started filling out, bulging softly with his cock pressing deeper into you.

He pulled back and spat again, another thick string landing right where you were joined, adding to the mess. The extra lubrication let him slide even easier and faster, driving into you with relentless hunger. Your pussy fluttered around him, squeezing tight as pleasure built higher and higher.

Toji growled, one hand leaving your hip to reach around and rub your clit in firm circles. "Come on, give it to me." His thrusts never faltered, pounding steadily while his fingers worked you closer to the edge. The combined sensation had you shaking, moans spilling freely now.

He fucked you like he owned you, like he had been starving for this exact feeling. Pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, burying himself to the hilt over and over. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping, wet squelching, and your shared heavy breathing.

You felt yourself tipping closer, body tensing under him. Toji sensed it too, doubling down on his pace, slamming into you harder. His cock throbbed inside your walls, veins dragging deliciously with each movement. He kept rubbing your clit, never letting up, determined to push you over.

Toji stayed buried deep, hands soothing over your skin where he had gripped so hard. Pressing a lazy kiss to your spine, cock still twitching inside your pussy. To him, right now in this moment you were everything being under him, to feel your body against his, to feel you struggle and then take all of his cock, felt like a dream.

Toji straightened up, gripping both your hips now, and really began to rail into you. Deep, powerful strokes shaking your whole body. His veined cock stretched you perfectly, leaking more pre cum inside your heat. The angle kept your ass up high, letting him hit so deep you saw stars with every thrust.

He fucked the thick length of his cock even deeper, reaching that soft opening to your cervix. Each powerful drive pressed against it, sending sharp waves of pleasure pain through your core. Your pussy grew creamier around him, the messy slick coating every inch of his shaft. A thick white ring formed at the base of his cock, evidence of how wet and used you were becoming under his relentless pace.

Toji groaned low, eyes fixed on the sight of himself disappearing inside you. He pulled back slow only to slam forward harder, burying himself to the hilt again and again. The wet squelching sounds filled the room, mixing with your broken moans and his heavy breaths. Sweat dripped from his chest onto your arched back, marking you as his.

He kept that steady rhythm, hips snapping forward with controlled strength. His balls slapped against your clit on every thrust, adding sparks of sensation that made your toes curl tight. Your walls fluttered around his thick length, squeezing him as the pressure built impossibly higher inside you.

Then he pressed deeper, grinding against your cervix with a deliberate roll of his hips. That was all it took. You started to cum hard, milking him with rhythmic pulses that gripped his cock like a vice. Pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body shaking uncontrollably in his firm hold. Moans spilled from your lips without control, face buried in the sheets as you rode it out.

Toji growled at the feeling, his own release rushing forward fast. He started to cum right after you, filling you up with hot, thick spurts of cum, deep inside. He kept thrusting through it, pumping every drop into your clenching pussy while you milked him dry. The warmth flooded you completely, mixing with your own cream and making an even bigger mess.

He stayed buried for a moment, savouring the way your bodies pulsed together. Finally, he pulled out slowly. Cum spilled from your stretched hole the second he left you empty, but still full, dripping down your thighs in messy white trails. He watched it with dark satisfaction, one hand still gripping your hip to keep you in place.

Toji ran his thumb through the leaking mix, spreading it over your sensitive skin. "Look at that," he murmured, voice rough and pleased. He pushed two fingers back inside you briefly, stirring the cum deeper before pulling them out again. More spilled out, coating your pussy and making it glisten.

You trembled beneath him, body spent and glowing from the intensity. Toji leaned down, pressing soft kisses along your spine while his hands soothed over your sides. His cock rested heavy against your ass, still half hard and slick with both of you. He wasn't done admiring the sight of his work, the way your hole fluttered and pushed out more of his cum.

He flipped you gently onto your back then, spreading your legs wide to see everything. His eyes drank in the creamy mess between your thighs, the way it leaked steadily onto the sheets. A lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he stroked himself slowly, already thinking about the next round.

You reached up for him, pulling him down into a heated kiss. Toji sank against you, his weight comforting after his rough treatment. A hand slipping between your legs again, fingers playing in the slick cum as he kissed you deeper. The night enclosing you both, filled with his hunger and your shared pleasure. He had claimed you thoroughly, and he planned to keep doing it until neither of you could move.

Being in fourth year also meant he was given opportunities on a silver platter to visit other prefectures during his missions to have his night busy, and experience the other tastes than what Tokyo has to offer. Every mission ended with him leaving the black car, smiling at the assistant managers to head back to the hotel first while he scoured around the city for a quick and easy hook up.

The girl with the nice ass in Osaka.

The girl with the big tits in Kyoto.

The girl with the pretty face in Nagoya.

His contact list in his phone was endless, his thumb mindlessly scrolling down down down, never allowing him to reach the bottom until a good moment later.

That night was no different. A university student studying nursing—a cute face with a blonde bob. Except she called in sick, apologising with a phone call, desperation hinting at her sweet words.

“You’ll call me again, right?” she asked, voice coyly cute and full of hope, yet masked by the subtle edge of panic.

“Mm… maybe not if you keep on asking me like that.”

He cut the call even before she could give him a reply and he let out a sigh, cracking a muscle on his neck. His eyes lazily travelled across the bright neon lights of Kabukicho, full of chaos and trouble. He could feel the stares of girls while they walked the dirty streets, or from girls outside of maid cafes, hostesses, the sex clubs' workers, and the eyes from guys wondering if they could use him to lure in girls to their beds if they invited him over.

He ignored them and searched through his pocket, trying to find some strawberry milk candies to wash away the irritation… just to notice he didn’t have any. His brows furrowed, slowly realising that you haven’t given them these past few weeks.

Strange, but he didn’t think too much about it.

With another sigh, he headed to the closest convenience store, searching through the rows of snacks under the white lights. He paused at the surplus of options in the display, and his eyes caught onto the new gummy that you were talking about a week ago, excited at the upcoming release.

Without realising, he slid the package off of the metal hook, holding it together with his own pack of candy and went to the register to buy.

Suguru brushed past the eager eyes and headed back to his dorms for once. Maybe he would barge into Satoru’s room next door to play Momotetsu that they left off last time. Maybe he could give the packet of gummy to you on the way there as well.

He quietly imagined the look on your face when he hands you his small souvenir. The simple thing making your eyes widen for a fraction, looking up at him with a surprised smile and uncontrollable giggles as you thank him sweetly as you do.

It made him smile a bit to himself. A slow spread of satisfaction sitting comfortably on his chest. He might have asked Satoru a month ago how to let you down easy, but considering the disappointing trajectory of his night, he supposed he could entertain you for a little while and see how it goes.

But then his brows soon furrowed at the silence that welcomed him when he knocked on your dorm half an hour later.

Shoko opened her door from beside him, a brow raised as she looked up at him in distaste. When he asked where you were, she mentioned something about your room being vacant these past few nights.

“Late night missions?” he asked, frowning in concern.

Shoko smiled slightly, eyes glinting. “You could say she has, hmm… busy late night missions. I don’t think the higher ups would like to know what she’s up to.”

Strange, but he didn’t think too much about it either.

His footsteps echoed across the old, wooden hallways leading up to his dorm room, when—

“Ah, ngg…! Hahh— Satoru!!”

Suguru stopped in his tracks.

The crinkling plastic sound of the gummy dropping to the ground reverberating in his skull. His eyes slowly widened as he recognised the high-pitched moans, ears ringing at the slam of the bed’s headboard against the wall. 

Satoru’s voice joined your cries of pleasure.

“Come on baby, want to—fuck—want to make you cum ten times tonight, we’re almost half way there—”

Grunts, meowls, whines—

Suguru shakily crouched down to pick up the packet of gummy, and as he did, he tuned into your voice. At the sweet pants and chants of Satoru’s name from your lips—lips he could imagine in the back of his mind glossing prettily from spit and cum.

Suguru’s face flushed, heart racing as he pressed his palm on his cock over his pants, feeling the thudding throb of it, chest heaving as he listened to the noise…

“Ah, ah… Satoru,” you slurred sultrily, slightly muffled and wet.

Suguru imagines your mouth pressed against Satoru’s ear, heavy hot breaths tingling his best friend's ear as your tongue scraped the shell teasingly.

“What is it, sweetheart? Can’t take it?”

“No, no, no… I can, I can,” you whined breathlessly, hints of tears lodged at your throat. “I-I am, aren’t I— hahhh…!”

There was a particularly loud slap of skin against skin and the loud squelch of your pussy, promptly followed by Satoru’s groan that chanted your name like a prayer.

Slowly, Suguru stood up and stumbled to his door, fidgeting with his keys and as soon as it unlocked, he barged into his own bedroom and crumbled to his sheets. 

Satoru, Satoru, Satoru…!

He leaned his ear onto the wall facing Satoru’s room, stroking his already hard-on with heavy breaths, chest heaving erratically at the pleasure that shot at the touch. He groaned every time whenever a particularly loud, sweet cry from you buzzed the wallpaper and rang in his ear, urging him to press his hand harder against his bulge.

Even through the wall, he could hear the obscene squelches of your pussy taking Satoru’s cock, making it easy for him to conjure up the image of your wet cunt, and how heavenly it must feel for him to slide his cock along your puffy lips.

Suguru cursed to himself and quickly shoved his pants and boxers down. Collecting a glob of spit, he let it trickle down his flushed tip as his thumb roughly pressed his slit, pre cum oozing from beneath his skin. He started slow, stroking his cock alongside the steady rhythm of the slap… slap… slap of Satoru’s hips meeting your skin. The wet sound that followed his hand wasn’t as loud as the noise next door.

“Agh, babe… stop… clenching,” Satoru grunted weakly, a pathetic whimper leaving him when it seemed like you did the exact opposite. Whether that was intentional or not, Suguru couldn’t tell. All he could do was squeeze his hand around his base in response, closing his eyes to imagine it was your wet pussy clenching and drooling around his cock. Just as you were right now tightening around his best friend’s cock.

“Sa-toru… f-feels too good…!”

Suguru groaned loudly with Satoru at the sultry, breathless moan, and found himself fisting his cock harder, faster. His fingertips grazed the protruded veins, precum and spit mixing and glistening over his ridges that bumped against his palm as he desperately tried to find his release.

“Shit, baby… I’m close,” Satoru whined, voice more distant and muffled. The image of his best friend folding you in half, legs spread and wrapped around his torso in a mean mating press that had your throbbing, puffy clit rubbing against his pubes, and said best friend burrowing his face into the crook of your sweat-slicked neck flashing in Suguru’s mind. He cupped his balls, groaning as he imagined how Satoru’s was sure to be slapping harshly against your plush ass every time he thrusted into your sopping cunt, smooching your cervix that had you crying out pathetically.

“‘M close too, Satoru…”

“Let’s cum together, yeah? ‘t’ll feel good cumming—ngh!—together…”

Suguru panted heavily in his empty room, thumb pressing harshly against the slippery slit every time his fist reached his angry red tip. He worked his cock faster, teeth biting into his lower lip to urge his climax. You sounded so sweet, so pretty, so adorable next door that the next thing he knew, he cummed at the scream that tore out of your throat, painting his abdomen with pearly white cum and staining his dark uniform. The cum on his hand a sticky mess as he continued stroking himself with a deep hum, his head dizzy from pleasure and cheeks dusted in a heavy flush.

“Fuck…” Suguru groaned, leaning his head against the wall that still reverberated from the loud thuds of the headboard banging roughly from the other side, obvious that Satoru was still determined to reach your sixth climax in hopes of reaching ten.

For the rest of the night, Suguru had to listen to the two of you fuck like rabbits in heat, and every now and then he would press his ears against the wall once more to palm his cock lazily. It lasted for hours and hours and sleep only finally found him when the two of you were nearing your end. But before he could close his eyes, he heard Satoru’s words that gave him an alarming jolt to his heart.

“Got Suguru out of your pretty mind yet, gorgeous?”

༊·˚°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Um… fun night?”

The two of you didn’t seem to notice the bags under Suguru’s eyes as he asked the question. Or at the bloodshot veins creeping towards his pupils. Or the way they seemingly reflected the troubled night before.

“Yeah, too much fun.” Satoru had the most shit eating grin ever, and Suguru caught onto his best friend’s hand crawling down behind him to squeeze your ass over the shirt you wore. Satoru’s favourite Digimon shirt. Faintly, he also heard your whine of protest and the scrunch of the cloth under your nails. “How was your night, Suguru?”

Satoru, Satoru, Satoru…! Your voice still rang in his mind nonestop, haunting him even in his dreams.

“Uh…” Suguru trailed off, his gaze fixated on you and all the blossoming marks littering over your skin, “…yeah… I guess.”

Slowly, Satoru’s voice tuned out and Suguru could only hear the crinkling of the plastic package of the gummy as he fisted his hand. The bag was too warm under his touch, and inside the sugar was starting to melt into a sticky mess, ruining the excitement you had over them.

satoru's pov! (#1) & your pov! (#3)

i'd say this is how geto's characterised in the jp fandom 90% of the time. i still love him though :)

tags/taglist (open)! @daflex, @liahcharms, @moonlightbunnies, @brightbriefs

heian!sukuna is the man feared by all who are in the capital. it is imperative to know that he wanders through villages where even his mere name strikes fear into their hearts.

however, it is something that he absolutely refuses to admit that ryomen sukuna cannot read. this is something he hides well... only for the herbalist of a small kyoto village to figure out within minutes because he keeps rotating a tax ledger the wrong way. he has spent decades crushing clans, toppling shrines and making emperors tremble, yet cannot decipher a single character written on a tax ledger. nobody knows. nobody is allowed to know. the first and only person to realize is you, after watching him silently glare at a government record for nearly a full minute before threatening to kill the tax collector instead of reading it.

it is not that he is stupid. he has simply never been taught. but also, he doesn't understand why anyone would willingly stare at ink on paper when they could simply ask someone what it says. unfortunately, people keep lying to him.

heian!sukuna who finds you out in the field as your father sent you to gather herbs. you freeze in your spot as he approached, but nevertheless, you still ran your mouth about how he's using the wrong herb to heal his wound. he does not know how it happened. the next thing he knows, he is following you to your father's apothecary and being carefully patched up.

heian!sukuna who pretends he has no interest in learning. he returns to your father's apothecary because his wounds require treatment, he tells himself. certainly not because you keep sliding sheets of paper across the table with oversized characters written in careful ink. certainly not because you've begun greeting him with, "today's lesson is easier than yesterday's." he has threatened your life enough times that the words have become little more than punctuation.

heian!sukuna who discovers reading is somehow the only thing brute force cannot solve. if he misreads a battlefield, he can kill everyone involved. if he misunderstands a politician, he can burn down the estate. if a piece of paper refuses to reveal its secrets... the paper simply continues existing. infuriating.

heian!sukuna who insists the characters are idiotic.

"They look alike," he grunts. You merely shake your head.

"They do not."

"They are all scratches."

"They are words," you do not even insult him, yet you have to duck as the brush flies past your head.

heian!sukuna who insists he hates every lesson. then arrives before you every single time. he who memorizes faster than you'd ever imagined possible once his pride is wounded. you absentmindedly mention that village children usually recognize these characters after a week.

"...Children?"

"Mm."

He returns the next morning before sunrise. He learns his first few characters entirely out of spite after you casually remark yet again that village children usually know these by heart.

heian!sukuna who learns practical words first because they're the only ones he'll tolerate. mountain. river. shrine. sake. sword. tax. bounty. medicine. the first complete sentence he successfully reads is, "take one dose after eating."

heian!sukuna who begins waiting beneath the same cedar tree before every lesson despite arriving hours earlier than you. he is always there long before you finish gathering herbs. when you finally ask why he's always there first, he scoffs.

"I happened to be passing through."

"You've been 'passing through' every third afternoon for five months."

"..."

"You've flattened a path."

heian!sukuna who starts recognizing your footsteps before he recognizes the characters you're trying to teach him.

heian!sukuna who remembers every correction you've ever given him. not because he enjoys studying. because he refuses to make the same mistake twice in front of you.

heian!sukuna who grows offended whenever you praise him. somehow "good" feels more humiliating than "idiot." however, something in his chest refuses to let your word, "good," slip by. it creates an unpleasant stretch in his heart, one that he somehow wants to feel constantly.

heian!sukuna who sits close enough during lessons that you initially assume he's trying to intimidate you. eventually you realize he's simply trying to see the paper better without admitting it. heian!sukuna who accidentally learns your handwriting before he learns half the language. strangely, the man started recognizing your notes immediately, even before he can actually read them. he'd know one of your medicine packets anywhere.

heian!sukuna who remembers every idle complaint you've ever made. it has been made reality once when one day, he silently destroys cursed spirits around your herb fields because you once sighed that they made gathering plants inconvenient. it is imperative that he never says "be careful." instead, the thing that would have hurt you simply stops existing.

heian!sukuna who acts as though you've deeply insulted him whenever you laugh at his mistakes. he who was deeply offended the first time you laughed so hard at one of his mistakes that you nearly fell over. he spent the rest of the lesson glaring at you. he returns the next day anyway. he secretly likes making you laugh.

heian!sukuna who has no concept of "visiting." if he wants to see you, he simply appears. if your father is eating dinner, he waits outside. if you're gathering herbs, he finds you. if you're asleep, he leaves. it takes him months to understand there are acceptable times to arrive at someone's home.

heian!sukuna who genuinely cannot comprehend why your father starts setting out an extra bowl whenever he visits. "He expects you," you explain. sukuna only stares at the bowl before quietly sitting down. by the fourth visit, he doesn't even hesitate anymore.

heian!sukuna who has never been welcomed into anyone's home before. feared? yes. worshipped? certainly. invited to stay for tea because it's raining? never.

heian!sukuna who gradually stops threatening to kill you because it stops being effective. every time he growls, "I'll kill you," you simply reply, "Read the third line first."

heian!sukuna who thinks protecting you is common sense. everyone else thinks it's possessive. you think it's confusing. it is also not just protection—the man once burned down a tax office after hearing how much they overcharged your father. he insists it was unrelated. absolutely nobody believes him.

heian!sukuna who remembers every single thing you complain about. your worn sandals. the tax collector. the cold in winter. he'll never mention it again—but somehow each problem quietly disappears over the following weeks. heian!sukuna who discovers he enjoys listening to you talk. he doesn't contribute much—occasionally grunts—but somehow learns everything about your childhood, your father, your favorite seasons, and which village children steal dried persimmons from your shop roof. 

he doesn't realize he's started lingering after every lesson just to hear you talk. he does not know why the mere sound of your voice brings tranquility to his frame and he has absolutely no concept of awkward silence. if the lesson ends, he'll simply continue sitting beside you until one of you eventually speaks. eventually, he starts and keeps asking questions during lessons that have absolutely nothing to do with reading.

heian!sukuna who starts reading because of pride but keeps learning because he likes the sound of you saying, "good.” he has become absurdly competitive over literacy. the day he reads an entire page without stumbling, he immediately reaches for another before you can praise him.

heian!sukuna who secretly likes when you tap the back of his hand with your brush after he gets something wrong. it's become part of the lesson now. one day you don't do it because you're distracted, and he spends the entire afternoon wondering why.

heian!sukuna who finds himself listening whenever you ramble about plants despite understanding almost none of it. he does not have respect for plants, nor does he thank them for what they do at first. and yet, he starts being more careful around fields. heian!sukuna who begins identifying herbs solely because he likes hearing you say, "correct."

heian!sukuna who doesn't understand flirting, but is frighteningly good at paying attention. if you mention liking plum blossoms once, he'll remember it six months later. 

heian!sukuna who starts bringing you things with absolutely no understanding that gift-giving is one of the oldest forms of courtship. one afternoon it's a beautifully carved hair comb. herbs that don't grow near the village. another day it's silk stolen from some noble's procession. another time it's your favorite mountain flowers. he has no idea this is considered courtship.

"...You remembered,” you blink, taking the unwilted flowers into your hands. They are delicate. They contrast too strongly against Sukuna’s claws.

"You complained you couldn't find them."

"Three weeks ago."

"You complained."

As though that explains everything. Apparently, to him, it does.

you who have never once been courted yourself. you have never been in love before. you've turned down proposals politely, avoided wandering monks who became too friendly, and learned from every older woman in the village that beauty attracts as much trouble as it does admiration. sukuna should terrify you the most. somehow... he doesn't. you're the apothecary's daughter—pretty enough that your father always insisted you avoid walking home after dark, practical enough to ignore every village boy who suddenly found excuses to visit the shop after you turned sixteen. 

you've had admirers, certainly, but admiration from men in the Heian era often comes hand-in-hand with entitlement. you're careful. polite. observant. romance has always seemed more frightening than exciting. you've watched enough women become trapped in unhappy marriages to know affection from a man can become frightening very quickly.

and yet, it is heian!sukuna the man who has never concerned himself with propriety who accidentally starts courting you exactly the way he approaches everything else—with relentless consistency. he shows up. he remembers things. he solves problems. he leaves. repeat. heian!sukuna has absolutely no idea why the village starts referring to him as "the herbalist's man."

which is exactly why Ryomen Sukuna confuses you so thoroughly. because he has never once cornered you. never demanded anything, certainly not to the extent of how the King of Curses should demand for things. never touched you without reason. never expected obedience.

you who immediately reject the village rumor that Ryomen Sukuna is courting you because that would be ridiculous. you who doesn't realize you’re smiling every time you hear distant footsteps approaching the apothecary. you have begun to notice that sukuna remembers things you yourself have forgotten saying. you who began setting aside tea before he even arrived.

and you who begin writing the practice sheets more slowly than necessary. the characters grow slightly larger. the explanations slightly longer. there are easier ways to teach him now, but if sukuna learns too quickly... what reason would he have to keep coming back? 

you who catch yourself drying two teacups every morning before remembering he isn't supposed to visit until the afternoon. you place the second cup back into the cupboard. an hour later, you take it out again.

heian!sukuna who hears two old women whisper that he's devoted, a creature such as him, and spends the next hour wondering what in the world "devoted" means.

you who are cornered by three elderly village women while gathering herbs. they tell you that the demon is courting you and you shrug their ridiculous theories off even as they list off evidence of his courtship. firstly, he brings you gifts, which you respond with how he steals them. he does not gift them. you keep trying to explain Sukuna's behavior away. and yet you also defend him.

"He isn't bringing me gifts,” you say weakly to one of the many elderly women within the village, asking, or assuming, whether you are truly being courted. Everyone knows the King of Curses gives the daughter of the apothecary’s owner gifts of luxury. "...He just happened to find them."

The next day, you are talking to a merchant's son. “He is not of that sort,” you say almost furiously, immediately as he implies in his concerned cadence, that Ryomen Sukuna has been keeping you captive. They think you are being forced. "You do not speak of him like this again."

You do not realize that Ryomen Sukuna has been eavesdropping you. Nor do you realize why the merchant's son had not come back to seek revenge for your disrespect is because of Sukuna.

heian!sukuna who cannot understand why the entire village looks at him strangely. people move out of his way as usual, but now mothers begin whispering behind their sleeves whenever he walks toward the apothecary.

"They think you're courting me."

"...And?"

"You should deny it."

"Why?"

You stare at him for so long your tea goes cold.

heian!sukuna who has apparently been courting you for nearly a year before realizing that's what he's been doing. he remembers your favorite flowers. he remembers which herbs stain your sleeves. he remembers you dislike bitter tea unless honey is added. he remembers you once sighed that your comb had broken and arrives the following week with a better one.

"You were courting me."

"I was?" he asks, then as if everything came back to him he mutters, “...ah.”

"You bumbling moron," this should be the final proof that Ryomen Sukuna has been courting you. Because the King of Curses does not take lightly to disrespect and those who dare to insult his name are not far from having their limbs fed to the measly curses.

heian!sukuna who learns to read far quicker than either of you expected once he stops pretending not to care. he who read an entire sentence by himself for the first time and immediately looked at you instead of the paper. he does not understand why your smile feels more satisfying than getting the answer right. when he eventually becomes proficient enough to read your handwriting without difficulty, it is one afternoon when you leave medicine wrapped neatly beside him before leaving to gather herbs.

heian!sukuna discovers months later after his first lesson, that every medicine packet you've ever given him contains little notes in the margins. he growls as he reads the margin you left, in third person, denoting how much of a 'buffon this man is, but he is learning.' he spends an entire afternoon reading years' worth of affectionate insults. he finds out you've called him an idiot over forty times.

He unfolds the paper.

"One packet after supper," simple enough. Then, beneath it—"If you're reading this, congratulations." He frowns, yet continues, "I still don't think you are." Another packet. "Don't eat all of them this time." Another. "He threatened to kill me seven times today. Improvement." Another. "I think he's enjoying these lessons. He would rather set himself on fire than admit it."

Another. "You are lucky you're handsome." He reads that one twice. Then another. "I am mistaken. No amount of beauty could compensate for today's performance."

By the time you return, Sukuna is sitting exactly where you left him, every medicine wrapper spread around him like evidence.

"You can read those now," you say weakly.

"Yes,” silence lingers for what seems like an eternity. "You called me an ox."

"You were being stubborn."

You make it three steps before turning to flee. Sukuna follows—not because he's angry, but because after months of suffering through your lessons, he has finally unlocked years' worth of ammunition to tease you with. It is, he decides, almost worth learning to read.

heian!sukuna who is strangely disappointed when the newest medicine packet contains only instructions. then he turns it over.

"Still handsome. Still an idiot."

...Much better.

heian!sukuna who eventually realizes he no longer comes for the lessons. he comes because you're there. 

he also comes because he has now asked your father for your hand in marriage with exactly the same tone he once used to demand surrender from entire clans.

he debated writing a letter at first. he did not. he came to the apothecary.

Sukuna turned toward you with deliberate care. He didn't want to wake you. Not yet. Though the thought of pulling you from sleep in his own way made heat stir low in his loins. His massive frame shifted, the mattress dipping under his weight. He moved closer until his broad chest hovered just behind your back. His breath came slow and warm against the nape of your neck as he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent. That familiar, intoxicating mix of sleep and sweetness that was so uniquely you.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, like a secret only meant to be shared between you and him. Voice low and rough with lingering drowsiness. His crimson eyes tracing the curve of your bare shoulder, where the silk straps had fallen. The way your hair spilled across the pillow, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing that was perfect to him and cherished as his.

One large hand slid under the hem of your slip dress, fingers brushing warm skin. He took his time, palm gliding around your waist, tracing the softness of your tummy before moving higher. The goal was clear in his mind. He cupped your breast fully, the plush weight filling his palm like it was made for him. A low rumble vibrated in his chest. Your nipple was already hard, pebbled against his touch. So hard. Was it the chilly morning air slipping through the room, or had dreams of him already found you even in sleep?

Sukuna squeezed gently, his thumb circling the sensitive peak with surprising tenderness. He massaged the soft flesh, kneading it in slow, possessive strokes. Not enough to jolt you awake, but enough to feel you, to claim this quiet moment as his. His other arm hooked around you, pulling your back flush against his chest now, then draped one powerful leg over yours, caging you in that warm, overwhelming embrace only he could give.

His body reacted instantly. Of course he was hard. Pressed against the curve of your ass, his arousal throbbed with need, thick and insistent. But he didn't move to take more. Not this time. He wanted you to sleep. He just wanted to hold you like this, skin to skin, breathing you in while the world outside stayed forgotten.

"You feel too good," he whispered against your hair, lips brushing the top of your head. His hand continuing its lazy exploration, cupping and squeezing your breast with that same gentle rhythm. "Stay here. With me."

The steady beat of his heart thrummed against your back. His breath evened out again, warm puffs tickling your neck. The king of curses, feared by so many, melted into the mattress beside you. His eyes grew heavy once more. Soon, Sukuna drifted off too, still holding you close, one hand possessively curved around your breast, leg tangled with yours, his massive form wrapped around you like a living shield. The comfort of your body against his was enough to lull him back under.

Time slipped by in this comfortable haze. Minutes stretched into longer stretches of both your quiet breathing. The sunlight shifted across the bed, warming the sheets. You stirred faintly in your sleep, pressing back into his heat unconsciously. A soft sound escaping your lips, something between a sigh and a murmur. Sukuna's grip tightened just a fraction, even in his own doze. He nuzzled closer, burying his face in your hair, inhaling again as if to memorize every note of your scent.

His thumb brushed your nipple once more, a sleepy, instinctive touch. The hardness between his thighs remained, a constant reminder of how much he wanted you, but he savoured the restraint. Lazy mornings like this were rare treasures. No nuisances. No curses. Just you, soft and trusting in his arms, and him, content to simply hold what was his.

Eventually his eyes cracked open again, crimson gaze fixed on the way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks. He smiled, a rare, small thing reserved only for these private moments. "My perfect little thing," he breathed, voice barely audible. His hand gave one final, affectionate squeeze before relaxing fully. Sleep pulled him under once more, the two of you tangled together in the quiet glow of morning.

The world could wait. For now, there was only this bed, only his body wrapped around yours, only the slow, shared rhythm of breath and heartbeat that Sukuna wouldn't trade for anything.

The fluorescent lights of the university law library always hummed at the exact same frequency—a low, buzzing drone that should have been grating, but for you, it was the rhythm of your life. It was the backdrop to the most intense, brilliant, and frustrating period of your existence. It was the era of Hiromi Higuruma.

You remembered the first time you truly saw him. It wasn't in a lecture hall; it was during a mock trial practice. He had been assigned as your opposing counsel. You were both second-years, hungry, sleep-deprived, and fueled by a terrifying amount of caffeine.

“Your interpretation of the precedent is remarkably creative, Counsel,” he had said, leaning back in his chair, his tie loosened just enough to look disheveled. “If only it were legally sound.”

“And your reliance on the literal text is adorable, Hiromi,” you retorted, slamming your notes onto the table with a grin. “But we aren’t here to read a dictionary. We’re here to win.”

That was the spark. From that day on, you were inseparable. You became the classic law school cliché: the power couple that everyone either envied or avoided. Your relationship wasn't built on movie dates or soft whispers; it was built on a foundation of intellectual sparring, shared ambition, and the thrill of being the only two people in the room who understood exactly how the other’s mind worked.

There was a visceral, addictive quality to his intellect—a sharp, uncompromising edge that he saved exclusively for you.

You spent countless nights in the library, surrounded by towers of textbooks, your fingers brushing against his as you reached for the same case file. You learned the nuances of his moods: the way his jaw tightened when he was frustrated with a logical fallacy, the way his eyes would soften just for a fraction of a second when you finally managed to stump him.

“You’re doing it again,” he murmured one rainy Tuesday, his hand covering yours on the mahogany table.

“Doing what?” you whispered, your heart doing that familiar, traitorous flip in your chest.

“Overthinking the defense. You’re worried about the ethics instead of the outcome. You want to save the world, Y/N. I just want to win.”

“There’s a difference?”

“In this system? Every difference in the world.”

You didn’t know it then, but those words were the blueprint for the canyon that would eventually grow between you.

The pressure began to mount as you entered your final year. Law school was a meat grinder, and you were determined not to be ground down. You stopped taking breaks. You stopped going out for coffee. Your calendar became a battlefield of color-coded blocks, each representing a deadline, an exam, or a networking event.

Hiromi remained the same, yet he was changing. He was becoming more cynical, his early idealism replaced by a cold, sharp-eyed realism that bordered on nihilism. He started taking on cases for pro-bono clinics, getting involved in the gritty, ugly side of the law that most students were too scared to touch.

“You’re burning yourself out,” he said one night in his apartment, his voice thick with a mixture of concern and irritation. You were surrounded by statutes, your eyes burning from lack of sleep. “Come to bed. Forget the essay for one night.”

“I can’t, Hiromi. If I don’t pass this clerkship exam, everything I’ve worked for—everything we’ve talked about—is over.”

“It isn’t,” he said, stepping into your space, his presence momentarily drowning out the stress. “There’s more to life than a firm’s offer letter.”

That was the moment you realized he had stopped seeing your ambition as a shared path and started seeing it as an obstacle to the life he wanted to build.

The argument that ended it all didn't start with a bang. It started with a missed dinner. You had forgotten about an anniversary—or maybe you hadn't forgotten, you had just prioritized a review session. When you finally returned to his place, the lights were dimmed, and the tension was thick enough to choke on.

“I thought we were a team,” he said, not even looking up from his drink.

“We are. I’m just focused on the future, Hiromi! Why can’t you understand that?”

“Because your future doesn’t seem to include me unless I fit into your schedule, Y/N. You’re so obsessed with the law that you’ve become as cold and detached as the statues in the courthouse.”

“And you?” you fired back, your voice trembling with a sudden, violent rage. “You’re so busy playing the martyr for a broken justice system that you’re losing yourself! You judge everyone, including me, as if you’re sitting on a bench you haven’t earned yet.”

The silence that followed was louder than any shout. It was the sound of a bridge burning, beam by beam.

“Maybe that’s the problem,” he said, his voice terrifyingly calm, stripping you of your defenses. “We’re both playing roles. And I think I’m done playing yours.”

“Fine,” you said, the word feeling like glass in your throat. “If this is what you think of me, then there’s nothing left to say.”

You left that night, leaving your books, your pride, and a massive, gaping hole in your chest behind. You went home and threw yourself into your studies with a frantic, desperate energy, using the pain as fuel. You became the lawyer you promised yourself you’d be: sharp, successful, and entirely alone.

You didn't see him for years. You heard rumors, of course—Higuruma, the defense attorney who never lost, the man who treated the courtroom like a personal stage. You buried the memory of him, the memory of those nights in the library, the way his hand felt against your skin, and the way he looked at you before he decided you were just another piece of evidence to be discarded.

You became successful, you became respected, and yet, every time you walked into a courtroom, you were looking for him.

You spent those years convincing yourself that you had made the right choice. You had your career. You had your independence. You had everything except the only person who had ever truly challenged you. And as you stood there, years later, watching him adjust his tie on the opposite side of the courtroom, you realized that the anger hadn't faded at all.

It had just been waiting for an invitation to ignite.

The air in the courtroom was stagnant, thick with the scent of old paper, floor wax, and the metallic tang of mounting adrenaline. You stood at your lectern, your knuckles white as you clutched your files, feeling every muscle in your body coiled tight. Across the aisle, Hiromi looked like a predator in a bespoke suit. His posture was infuriatingly relaxed, his tie perfectly knotted, yet his eyes were tracking every microscopic flicker of your expression with a focus that felt like a physical weight against your skin.

You were mid-sentence, presenting your client’s testimony, your voice steady, professional, and meticulously rehearsed. You were winning, and you could feel the jury leaning in, hooked by your narrative. Then, he interrupted.

“Counselor,” Higuruma said, his voice low, measured, and dangerously calm. He didn’t stand; he simply leaned into his microphone, his gaze locked on yours with an unnerving, heavy stillness that seemed to draw the oxygen right out of the room. “Must we continue with this charade? I find myself wondering if you’re still relying on that same... academic fervor to mask the absence of a truly substantive foundation. It’s almost nostalgic, isn't it? It reminds me of those long, exhaustive nights where you would meticulously construct an entire reality just to ensure you held the final word, regardless of what the evidence actually dictated.”

The courtroom remained perfectly still, the judge narrowing his eyes, sensing an impropriety he couldn't quite name. To the gallery, he was simply a shark of an attorney mocking your legal strategy, calling you a pretentious lawyer who prioritized ego over facts. But to you, the words landed with the precision of a blow to the solar plexus.

"Constructing an entire reality." It wasn't about your legal brief. It was the exact, weaponized phrase he had used three years ago, the night he accused you of prioritizing your career over the life you were living together. He was dissecting your past right in front of the jury, using the sterile language of the law to peel back the layers of your breakup while masquerading as a concerned adversary.

Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that you struggled to hide. You slammed your folder onto the desk, the sound echoing like a gunshot through the silence.

“My preparation is not a topic for your revisionist history, Mister Higuruma,” you replied, your voice tight, keeping your tone professional for the record while your eyes flashed with a silent, murderous fury. “I suggest you refrain from speculating on my motives and focus on the discovery at hand.”

“Speculating?” He stood up slowly, a dark, dangerous smile playing on his lips, his eyes tracing the line of your jaw with a familiarity that made your skin prickle and your pulse race. “I thought we were merely discussing the integrity of the record. Or is the truth still a variable you’re uncomfortable with?”

The judge hammered his gavel, sensing the volatile, unspoken history vibrating between the two desks.

“Counsel! That is quite enough! If I hear one more personal remark masquerading as legal inquiry, I will hold you both in contempt! This court will take a fifteen-minute recess. Clear the room!”

You didn't wait for your client’s reaction. You gathered your things with shaking hands, your vision blurred by a volatile cocktail of rage and humiliation. You practically ran to the bathroom, throwing open the heavy door and rushing to the sink. You turned the tap on full blast, cupping cold water in your hands and splashing it over your face, trying to scrub the sting of his words out of your skin.

You stared at yourself in the mirror—flushed, wild-eyed, and utterly unraveling. When you turned to grab a paper towel, your breath hitched.

Hiromi was standing in the doorway. He hadn't bothered to knock.

He didn't move to touch you, but his presence alone filled the small room, stripping away the professional veneer of the courtroom. He leaned against the doorframe, his suit jacket discarded somewhere, his tie finally undone, his shirt collar slightly unbuttoned. He looked at you with a terrifying, hollow sort of hunger that suggested the courtroom had merely been the opening act of a much longer, darker performance.

“You look,” he said, his voice dropping to a gravelly, intimate register, “exactly like you did the night you walked out. Angry, defiant, and completely lost.”

“Get out, Mr. Higuruma,” you hissed, backing away until your hips hit the cold ceramic of the vanity. “This is a public restroom, not your personal office. You’ve already ruined the trial; do you want to lose your license, too?”

He took a step forward, his eyes never leaving yours. The air between you felt thick, charged with years of unspoken resentment and suppressed desire. “I’ve missed this, Love,” he murmured, his voice laced with a dark, twisted fondness. “I’ve missed the way you look at me like you want to kill me and kiss me in the same breath. It’s the only time you’re actually being honest with me.”

You tried to push past him, but he caught your wrist, his grip firm, possessive, and electric.

“Don’t,” you warned, your voice trembling as the proximity of him threatened to unravel the last of your resolve.

“Meet me at this address,” he said, his other hand pressing a folded, crumpled slip of paper into your palm. His thumb brushed against your pulse, his touch sending a jolt of pure, unadulterated electricity through your arm. “When this circus is finished, stop pretending you have somewhere else to go. Meet me there. Don’t make me come looking for you.”

He let go of your wrist as quickly as he’d grabbed it, leaving the faint, intoxicating scent of his cologne hanging in the stale, sterile air. He walked out, leaving you reeling, the paper burning in your hand like a live coal.

When you returned to the courtroom, your mind was a chaotic blur. The recess felt like a lifetime of internal warfare. You stood at your desk, but your focus had evaporated. Every time you looked at the defense table, you saw him—not as a rival, but as the man who had just dismantled your composure with a single, knowing look.

Your next argument was disjointed. You hesitated, your tongue tripping over legal precedents you knew by heart. Higuruma saw the opening. He didn't just counter your points; he pulverized them, using your own distraction as a weapon, weaving in subtle jabs about "stability" and "choices" that only you understood.

“Objection, your Honor,” you stammered, your voice lacking its usual steel.

“Sustained,” the judge snapped, “but only because the defense’s line of questioning is becoming tedious. Counselor, get your act together or I will declare a mistrial.”

You looked at Higuruma and felt the sudden, violent urge to shatter the composure he wore like an impenetrable suit of armor.

You blurted out something you shouldn't have—a desperate, unprofessional accusation about his own ethics that finally snapped the judge's remaining patience.

“That is it!” the judge bellowed, slamming his gavel down. “I will not have this courtroom turned into a domestic squabble. Mistrial! Both of you, get out of my sight before I have you both removed by bailiffs!”

The gallery was a buzz of shocked whispers. You packed your bag with trembling, frantic motions. You didn't look at your client. You didn't look at the judge. You only looked at the door.

The drive to his apartment was a blur, your pulse drumming a frantic, syncopated rhythm against your skin as you replayed the cold, calculated look in his eyes over and over again. The address on the paper pulled at you like a magnet, a relentless command you were too weak to defy.

You kept telling yourself it was a catastrophic idea—that you should go home, pour a glass of wine, and block his number until the end of time—but instead, you found your car idling in front of his house. Stepping out, the walk to his door felt like walking toward the gallows; you were driven by a masochistic need for closure, or perhaps, something far more destructive.

The door swung open immediately, as if he’d been standing on the other side, waiting for the sound. He stood there, his blazer was gone, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, looking like a man who had been counting the seconds since you left the restroom. He didn't say a word. He just stepped back, his eyes dark, sweeping over you with a look of raw, unchecked intent.

You stepped across the threshold, and the door clicked shut behind you, sealing you both in the heavy, pregnant silence of his apartment. The game was over. The trial was behind you. Now, there was only the two of you, the tension of three years of absence, and years of messy, unfinished business.

“You came,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, his gaze searching yours with a hunger that made your knees weak.

“I’m only here to tell you how much I despise you,” you countered, your heart hammering against your ribs. Your breath hitched as he closed the distance, backing you into the frame of the living room until the wall stopped your retreat.

He didn't pull away. Instead, he stepped into your space, his thumb pressing firmly against your lower lip. “Then,” he replied, his voice a low, taunting rumble, “you’re going to have a lot to say.”

His arrogance was the final spark. The restraint you’d been holding onto for the last three years snapped. You shoved his chest, putting enough distance between you to regain your footing, and began to pace his living room, your heels clicking sharply against the hardwood like rhythmic, angry punctuation. The words began to spill out of you—a frantic, unvarnished monologue of every secret, every tear, and every resentment you had kept buried since the day you left.

“You think you can just hand me a piece of paper and I’ll come running? You humiliated me in that courtroom, Hiromi! You’ve been using every tactic in the book to try and tear me down since the day I chose my career over our pathetic little ‘us.’ Do you have any idea how much I despise your arrogance? You’re so busy playing the martyr, so busy pretending the law is beneath you while you use it to dissect my life—!”

You were shouting now, your voice echoing off the sterile walls of his apartment, venting years of pent-up professional rivalry and personal heartbreak. He didn't interrupt. He just watched you, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable, until the sheer heat of your own words made you breathless.

“Are you finished?” he asked, his voice deathly quiet.

“No,” you choked out, your chest heaving, “I’m not even close to—”

He didn’t let you finish. He crossed the distance in two strides, his hand clamping around your nape to yank your mouth to his. The collision was brutal; your teeth clicked together, the sharp, metallic tang of blood blooming on your lip. You shoved him back, your palms flat against his chest, panting. You glared at him, eyes wide and defiant, and then, as if an invisible tether snapped, you threw yourself back at him.

You slammed him against the bookshelf, the wood groaning under the impact. A decorative vase shattered somewhere on the floor, but neither of you flinched. You were feral, teeth bared, hands clawing at his blazer until he hoisted you up by your thighs, your legs locking instantly around his waist. He plunged his tongue into your mouth, deep and invasive. You bit down on his bottom lip—hard—until he hissed, pulling back just an inch.

“Still so sharp, aren't you Love?” he growled, his voice vibrating against your skin.

“Eat shit, Hiromi,” you spat, dragging your tongue teasingly along his, then sucking it back into your own mouth, a taunting display of dominance before he pivoted, carrying you into the bedroom.

He tossed you onto the mattress like you were a piece of evidence. You scrambled back, watching him tear his shirt open. His chest, usually hidden behind stiff suits, was pale and corded with lean, roped muscle. His hair, stripped of its judicial perfection, was a dark, tangled mess, and the deep, violet-bruised hollows beneath his eyes spoke of nights spent just as sleepless and miserable as yours.

He caught your ankles, dragging you flat against the sheets. He kissed you with a starving intensity, his lips traveling lower, his hands tearing at your silk blouse. He popped the buttons, the black lace of your bra barely containing your heaving chest. He took one nipple between his teeth, worrying it until you let out a ragged, high-pitched moan that sounded like a surrender. He didn't stop until your skin was mapped with red marks, until he had shucked your pencil skirt and thong, tossing them into the dark corner of the room.

He climbed over you, his fingers working inside you with a ruthless, practiced ease. One digit, then two, stretching you, finding every sensitive nerve you had tried to deny him.

“Still tight,” he rasped, his gaze dropping to meet yours with a cruel, knowing smirk. “Too busy climbing the corporate ladder to let anyone else inside? Or did you just not find anyone capable of handling you?”

You bit his shoulder, drawing a faint line of red with your teeth. “Fuck you. Your arguments are all shit, and your ego is even worse. I hate that I’m here, I hate you, I hate how you—ah, God!”

He moved down, his face disappearing between your legs. He knew every map, every ridge, every secret twitch of your body. When his tongue flicked against your clit, you screamed, your fingers digging into the bedsheets. You tried to ramble more insults, to tell him how much you despised his smug, superior logic, but the words died in your throat, replaced by wet, desperate whimpers. He was relentless, grinding you into the mattress until you shattered, your body convulsing as you flooded his face.

He let out a low, dark laugh, wiping the wetness from his chin with the back of his hand, his eyes burning with a depraved triumph. “Look at you. Such a messy, pathetic girl. You couldn't hold it back for five minutes.”

He didn't wait. He shifted, his body looming over yours as he shoved into you, pinning your wrists above your head in a crushing mating press.

The friction was blistering, a frantic, rhythmic assault that left you breathless. Every time he thrust into you, he hit a nerve that made your vision white out. You were colliding against him, the sounds of your skin slapping together filling the room, punctuated by your frantic, gasping insults. "You're a bastard," you panted, arching into his touch, "an arrogant, self-righteous prick—ah, fuck, right there—don't you dare stop!" He grunted, his hips slamming into yours with more force, his gaze locked onto yours, challenging you to look away as he buried himself to the hilt, over and over, until the room was nothing but the sound of your combined, ragged breathing and the heat of your bodies.

He pushed you over the edge again, his thrusts deepening, his rhythm turning violent until you both peaked in a tangled, sobbing mess of limbs and sweat. He didn't pull away. He collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving, his weight pinning you to the mattress.

Minutes ticked by in the suffocating silence. He shifted finally, pulling the duvet over both of you, his forehead resting against yours. His hand traced the line of your jaw, his thumb brushing your swollen lip.

“I hate you,” you whispered, your voice wrecked and barely audible.

“I know,” he breathed, his voice thick with a sudden, uncharacteristic vulnerability as he closed his eyes, his grip tightening on your waist. “I love you, you idiot. I’ve loved you since the day you decided to prove me wrong.”

A massive thank you to @zaradiseee for this request! Writing the courtroom tension between these two was such a rush. I really hope you enjoy this one as much as I loved bringing it to life! (✿◠‿◠)

Likes are really appreciated and reblogs are what keep this blog alive. If you enjoyed this please consider sharing! (っ˘ω˘ς )♡